 Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance Sex. Lies. Two "reformed" Hollywood stars. And one hell of a war of wills. Movie director Jake Wild lives up to his name. A dangerously sexy playboy, he's used to getting any woman he wants when he wants. Until he meets his nemesis: the beautiful, equally notorious Star Davis. Ready to leave behind her party-girl ways and set to play the lead in his new film, Star doesn’t expect to fall for the charms of her director. And the last thing Jake wants—or needs—is for his life to spiral out of control. Two beautiful misfits have met their match. A match that lights a bonfire... From the Hollywood Hills to the grasslands of Africa, the epic Star Trilogy takes you on a thrilling journey shrouded in secrets, masked by betrayal, and with unforeseen twists and turns that will make you question whose side you're on. Lights . . . Camera . . . Action . . . Strap up your seat belt . . . you're in for a bumpy ride. #1 Shooting Star #2 Falling Star #3 Shining Star ~Excerpt~ I looked out of the open window as Los Angeles crawled past in the traffic and exhaled a sigh of momentary defeat. This town was doing my head in. Making me lose sight of reality. The palm trees towering into the azure sky like skinny skyscrapers reaching as high as they could go—everyone reaching beyond their means. Grabbing, aspiring, grasping, taking. Even the trees, goddammit. And the houses on Sunset with their manicured lawns, making you believe that life could be controlled, clipped, neatened. Like my father. A control freak who’d move a pencil one inch to the left if he felt it was out of place. Not on set, no. In his own freaking home! A pencil. And I tried to be like him. Organized. Sharp. On the ball. Controlled. A colonel-in-the-army type. But that wasn’t me and never had been. I secretly welcomed madness with relish. Unintentionally courted it. Nurtured dysfunction as if it were a breastfeeding baby, willing chaos into my life the way some people attract money or women. Right now my mind was rattling with a sort of hectic glee. Star Davis represented turmoil and for some unknown reason it excited me—my curiosity piqued. “I wanted an unknown for the role of Skye,†I told Brian, willing my thoughts back to safer waters. A nice, new actress with no baggage, no ego and no “historyâ€â€”that’s what I need. “I’ve been auditioning at drama schools all over the world. I’ve seen sixty-two actresses. I’d narrowed it down to eight. And now you tell me I’ve basically wasted my time?†“You tell the press that very same thing. ‘I saw sixty-two actresses and, you know what? None of them hold a candle to Star Davis.’ †“A candle that’s going to start a fire.†“You’ll figure it out, Jake. I mean, let’s face it, she’s met her match—match, haha, no pun intended, Get it? She can set you alight.†I didn’t laugh at his joke. “What’s that supposed to mean, ‘met her match’?†“Bad boy Jake Wild—you’ve had some good times on the casting couch yourself, my friend. You can’t deny you’ve clocked up quite a reputation over the years.†“The couch has been reupholstered, Brian. The past is the past. I don’t take advantage of starry-eyed actresses these days. I’m a professional. I get the job done and don’t screw around with the talent anymore. Ever. Well, as of last week. It’s my number one rule.†“Well leave Star in peace, you know what I’m saying? She’s vulnerable. She’s fresh out of rehab and needs to be looked after.†He fixed his piggy gaze on me, a bushy eyebrow twitching ironically. “Oh no! Don’t look at me, mate. There’s no way I’ll be her fucking nanny!†“You’re the only one, Jake, who can keep her on the straight and narrow. We can’t have her going AWOL in the middle of a shoot. She’ll need to be watched like a hawk.†“What about her sea of bodyguards? her PA, her father, for that matter?†“None of them can be trusted. She’s too manipulative. Besides, they’re all on her payroll.†“Her father too?†“He’s her unofficial manager.†“Great ‘manager,’ †I murmured. “Star’s been supporting her entire family ever since she did that diaper commercial when she was two years old. She has a strange perspective on life. She has never been told ‘no.’ So she’s used to being boss, and getting what she wants.†“Well she’s not bloody bossing me.†I said that with bravado, yet here I was being ‘bossed’ by the system. Brian. The executive producers, the producers, the moneymen, the money women . . . the goddam accountants. The suits whose faces I’d never even seen. And indirectly, Star herself. She’d slithered her way into winning the part of Skye with her wily ways, by offering herself practically free. Clever girl. She’d probably sucked someone’s dick to get the part. She had me in a corner and I hadn’t even met her yet. “And one more thing,†Brian added. “Apparently her house is about to be remodeled and she was planning to move into a hotel for a while. But I don’t trust the idea of Star Davis running around loose in a hotel, you know? Too many distractions—too much booze on tap.†“What’s your point?†I said, meeting his eyes with a stony glare. “I thought until every shot is in the can it would be a good idea if she stayed in your home—you can make sure there’re no temptations—no drugs or liquor anywhere near her.†I stared at him incredulously as he smoothly took a bend, the Porsche revving with a quiet growl. He went on, “We can hire our own bodyguard— someone who can’t be bribed by her to slip her anything— he could live in your guest house—the one in your garden? And she could stay in one of your guest bedrooms. So, you know, she’ll be under your roof.†He was serious when he said this. “No. Brian, you’re really pushing your luck. I have limits. I don’t want some wayward teenager telling me to fuck off in my own house. I’m not her father. I’m a film director. I have work to do. Storyboards to prepare, scenes to plan out. I have to stay on top of the shooting schedule, liaise with my assistant director, my lighting cameraman—Jesus, what the fuck? I don’t have time to deal with some drug-addicted, attention-seeking, Cristaldrinking brat!†~About the Author~ She lives with her husband and coterie of animals in France. She loves to travel and meet people and is thrilled that her books have touched readers from all parts of the globe. ~Giveaway~ Arianne Richmonde is giving away one print set of the Star Trilogy to one lucky winner during the tour. Enter the rafflecopter below for a chance to win,    Captured by a rival clan, Ariana is chained to a wall and about to be tortured. The Four Kingdoms aren't safe anymore. As if crossing dangerous territories wasn't bad enough, she is now trapped in a cave with her jailers. But they have it all wrong. She isn't a spy, she's just a healer on her way to her sick aunt. Escape is out of the question as she's a weak woman, yet fear twists her stomach when she realizes who will decide if she lives or dies. The legendary Lord of the Clans will believe her or execute her. He's huge, he's powerful and he has the power of life and death over all the tribes. But maybe she has it all wrong. Excerpt THE LORD OF THE CLANS Men had captured her as she had been entering a cave she thought deserted. Fighting hadn’t crossed her mind because, like her, they belonged to a clan. She’d been surprised when they’d handed her over to the tribesman currently torturing her. He’d stripped her of her weapons and tied her to the wall. This one wasn’t a great thinker. He scratched his head some more, dirty fingernails rubbing on his short hair. Was he finally starting to believe her? He brought the knife back against her face. She whimpered, the cold wall behind her preventing any movement. The iron bands around her wrists struck it as he threatened her with his blade, and the short chains rattled. He snorted at her alarm while he applied pressure on the corner of her eye. “Don’t try to confuse me, wench. I ain’t nobody’s fool. So what do you say I gouge out this little piece of you? Would you be more talkative?” Not a chance, given that she’d definitely be half-blind and screaming her lungs out. A shiver coursed through her when the long blade touched the inside of her eye. “Come on, out with it. I’m your best bet, you know. He won’t be as indulgent when he gets here.” Who was he talking about? Why did the mention of this mysterious person make her stomach churn? She held her breath while the wild thumping of her heart tolled against her ears and uttered a small, pitiful sound. “Refresh my memory, would you, Blahort? When did I ever order you to interrogate prisoners?” The question shattered the moment of torture. Her tormentor wheeled round at the sound of the chilly, commanding voice and dropped down on one knee. “I’m sorry, my lord. We caught her entering our caves, and I thought you wouldn’t be back before dawn.” “That’s when you took upon yourself to extract information out of her, because she’s a spy?” She couldn’t make out the source of the authoritative voice. Tears blurred her vision, and she wondered if the tribesman might have scratched her eye with his knife. “Right, my lord.” “I see. You may leave us now.” The tribesman scrambled up to his feet. As he went past the man in the shadows, his name clacked throughout the cavern like the strike of a whip. “Blahort!” “Yes, my lord.” “Don’t ever disobey my orders again.” With a vigorous nod, the tribesman scampered away. The big, dark shape moved forward. Breath caught in her throat, she tensed as the mysterious man finally appeared in her range of vision. He wore the usual sheepskin coat clansmen favoured but his size made her pulse race. She was tall for a woman, yet she wagered the top of her head wouldn’t rise above his neck. Shoulder-length, straight fair hair framed a face chiselled in ice. A long scar ran from his temple down to the side of his mouth. With eyes the colour of a still lake on a cloudy winter morning, his gaze blew away her ability to think. The gray eyes seemed to see right through her while an aching pulse took complete possession of her body. She flinched, unable to meet his icy stare. 18+ Excerpt THE LORD OF THE CLANS She woke up moaning from pleasure. Her back blazed with heat and her breasts swelled with desire. She touched her side, only to find that the towel and the blanket separating her from the Lord of the Clans had disappeared. Air rushed out of her lungs. The skin of her back prickled against his strong chest, and her stomach tightened with want. She felt his face in her hair, his hard sex pressed between her buttocks. So hard. So big. “I desire you much more than I should, Ariana, but I’ve never forced myself upon anyone.” A violent need to become slave to his passion overwhelmed her. Limbs quivering with lust, pulse throbbing, she gasped as his confession ripped her mind apart, as his cock stiffened like an iron bar. Her pussy didn’t seem to belong to her anymore, but to the heated flesh pushed against it, to the powerful man who enfolded her in the clutch of his desires. A surge of wetness pelted out of her while his voice against her ear couldn’t conceal his feral arousal. “Do you want me, flower?” So much. Her out of control body pleaded to be stroked, penetrated, taken. It demanded the thick shaft inside, rubbing, thrusting, invading. She demanded it too, and a single word burst out of her like a long-awaited liberation. “Yes.” His harsh intake of breath inflamed her, yet she couldn’t move. Eyes closed, she let herself melt down under the touch of his hand. As if she was a fragile trinket, he passed a gentle finger along her side, around the curve of her buttock. Goosebumps erupted wherever he caressed her. A fierce craving drilling her stomach, excitement swallowing her, she opened her mouth to pant. His rigid sex shivered against her folds. Although he wanted her as badly as she wanted him, he didn’t appear to be in any hurry. But the fire blazing inside her belly needed to be quenched. Buy Links:  Author bio: Welcome to Chris Lange's fantasy world where she lives most of the time. She loves alpha males, badass bikers, sensitive men, hot vampires, angels, demons, cowboys, cops, ghosts, knights and kings. She's a dreamer and a storyteller. She writes about love, love, love, and sometimes she leaves her characters' bedroom door open. Contact links: Amazon author’s page: https://www.amazon.com/author/chrislange Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/chrislange Twitter: @chrislange3  Genre: Contemporary Romance / Romantic Suspense A librarian, a mechanic, and a psychotic ex. What could go wrong? When her marriage came to a devastating end, Janice Meyers moved to Montana to try to escape her past and get a fresh start. She's sworn off men, but she didn't anticipate meeting Chris. After the death of his wife, Chris Jamisen focused all his time and energy on running his auto repair shop and raising his children. He's not looking for love, and when he first meets Janice, the town's new librarian, he never imagines they might embark on a relationship. Sure, he'll admit he finds the smart, sexy blonde attractive, but the frustrating woman expects miracles from him. Her vehicle is practically beyond repair, but she insists he has to keep it running. As Chris gets to know Janice, he begins to develop feelings for her, but he's reluctant to pursue a relationship. He's Native American, and he worries about the complications of a biracial relationship. He's experienced prejudice first hand, so he knows how difficult it can be. When Janice's ex-husband shows up seeking revenge, things could reach a horrible end. Will Chris save Janice in time? And will he and Janice be able to set aside their painful pasts and give their relationship a chance? Content Warning: contains some sexual content ~Excerpt~ Janice had butterflies in her stomach as five o'clock came and Chris arrived at the library. "Hi, Chris," Janice said. "Hello. What's this all about?" he asked pensively. "I wanted to take you downstairs to the basement and show you something," she said. They walked down the stairs, Chris following Janice. When she turned on the light a rat slithered across the floor, and she let out a shriek. Chris looked around the room. "We have all these books here," Janice said. She lifted one of the old books and opened it to the pages and within where some were eaten away. "The vermin and bugs have been attacking these, and in some cases, the books have disintegrated. See here? This is a book about Colstrip back in the 1800s and we can't even open the book to read it because it has totally disintegrated inside. Some of these books are real gems. This is one of a first edition, Samuel Clemens, do you know of him?" "No." "His pen name is Mark Twain. He wrote Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer." "Oh," Chris replied. "Look at his book. It's totally destroyed, and it would have been worth a lot of money now, if it had survived." Janice went over to the ladder and stepped up on it to show Chris the books on the top shelf. The ladder gave way, and she came crashing down. Chris caught her before she fell to the floor. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern in his tone. "Um, yeah, I think so." She put her feet on the floor and turned, facing Chris, her breasts against his chest. His arms were around her waist, holding her tightly. His breath mingled with hers, and he was looking down at her lips. Oh, she wanted him to kiss her. Please, please kiss me. The sweet, intoxicating musk of his body overwhelmed her. He bent slightly toward her, and his lips touched hers softly. She kissed him back, lingering, savoring every moment. She felt the kiss all the way through her body as she put her arms around him. A loud rustling noise broke their kiss with a start. Chris looked around and saw that there were rats in the corner rattling paper. He turned back to her. "Are we finished here?" "Yes, I think we are." Janice hoped she had convinced him that there was work to be done in the basement. When they went upstairs, he turned around and asked her huskily, "What was the purpose of our little meeting, Janice?" Janice thought about how she should answer the question then said, "I submitted the request to the mayor's office for several things, and I heard that you would probably be the one person that would oppose spending any money for the project I'm suggesting, so I wanted to show you the benefit of my proposal and the problems we are faced with currently." Chris had a gentle smile on his face as he looked at her. "Good persuasion, Janice. Does that include the kiss too?" Janice looked down at her feet, embarrassed. "No, the kiss was not part of the persuasion. At least, not on my part." Buy Links: Beachwalk Press Amazon Barnes & Noble ~About the Author~ Constance Bretes is an author of contemporary romance and suspense. Her romance books are often set in different parts of the country, but her favorite site is Montana. She's married to her best friend and resides in Michigan with him and a houseful of cats. When she's not at her regular 8-to-5 job, she can be found writing, researching, and spending time with her husband. Constance is giving away a $10.00 Amazon or Barnes & Noble GC (winner choice) during her tour. For a chance to win please fill out the rafflecopter below.  The Best of What’s Left by Mike Coyle  Tag Line: Would an able bodied man choose a paraplegic woman . . . if he can look beyond the wheelchair and see the soul of the person in it? Blurb: When paraplegic Mandy Sorensen, who is an engineer for the Air Force, meets Lew Pecci she doesn’t expect love or adventure. His warning of a serious flaw on an experimental fighter plane sends them on an adventure to stop the first test flight and save the life of the pilot. They fail and the pilot is seriously injured. Mandy helps the pilot’s wife understand his predicament and reactions to the injury. As they work together they fall in love. Lew’s friends and family don’t understand his attraction to Mandy. His mother would prefer a South Philadelphia girl who is Italian and Catholic. Lew’s old girlfriend, Jessica Marrozi, fills the criteria and is more attractive. Mandy wonders if her limitations would prevent her from being the right choice for Lew. Will his tenderness and affection for Mandy let her choose The Best of What’s Left in her life? Excerpt 1 Mandy shook her head and looked at Victoria. “That’s when I thought he was an idiot. So many people just ignore me. But, after we talked awhile, I got the feeling he has a deep concern for the pilot. I like that.” Victoria waited momentarily before making up her mind. She seemed skeptical. “This time I’ll take a hunch. You’re a reasonable person. If you suspect something, I can ask for a test. I’m surprised he ignored you. I’d think you would be more attractive than a teenager.” “Most men ignore me. They just don’t see women in wheelchairs as real people. If they have to talk to us, they’re polite, but they never see potential dates. I’m used to it, but it bugged me.” “You thought he was a jerk, and you still believed him.” “It annoyed me that he couldn’t see that I was a twenty-seven-year-old woman. I wasn’t expecting a boyfriend. Life is lonely when nobody wants to date me because they think I’m helpless.” “You would like to have a boyfriend, wouldn’t you?” “I would, but I’ve adjusted to the idea I won’t.” “Could this guy be a prospect?” “I doubt it. He ignored me until he was told who I was. I expect Lew went back home to Philadelphia. He might call, but I won’t be seeing him again.” “Making a life for yourself is important. I tried marriage twice. Men don’t like women who are bigger than they are. My two husbands were both taller and stronger than me. They thought I should be a retiring little pipsqueak. I don’t want to be dominated. I want someone who will be an equal. I haven’t found it.”’ “An equal sounds good, but I don’t know that I’ll ever find that either.” “Don’t underestimate yourself, Amanda. You’re an attractive young woman.” “Not to most men. They look over the girls, and if they see nice bodies, then they see date material. They can’t evaluate my butt because I’m in the chair, and I don’t have what you would call an ample bosom.” “You have a decent figure.” “I’m not ugly, but I’m not any spectacular beauty. My bra size sounds like it belongs in the Air Force museum, a B-34. There is nothing about me that makes them look past the wheelchair.” “You have a pretty face. It’s symmetrical. Symmetry is supposed to be the essence of beauty, isn’t it?” “Men aren’t into geometry. They don’t see me as a suitable partner.” “How did your game go over the weekend?” Victoria often changed the subject to relax her employees. Mandy knew the tactic worked with her. “The kids won.” “You never take credit for a win.” “The coach can lose a game, but the kids have to win it.” Mandy went back to her desk. In about two hours, Victoria was back with the letter. She had a few changes to Mandy’s letter. “I think you shouldn’t say why you want this done. Without proof, you shouldn’t accuse Quaker City of anything.” “You’re right. A subtle approach is better.” Later in the afternoon, she got a call from Lew. “How did you do?” “I put in a request to test the system. It will be awhile before I get an answer.” “What are you doing for dinner tonight?” “I was planning to fix something at home. Are you still in town?” “I’m staying at a motel. I’m going through the want ads. I need a job. Do you want to go somewhere to eat?” “Okay. Something light. Is there a restaurant near your motel?” Mandy thought it might be fun. Lew had probably asked her because he was in town by himself and a little lonely. “I thought I’d pick you up at your place.” “It’ll be easier if I drive. That way I won’t have to transfer the chair.” Although he seemed nice, Mandy preferred not letting him know where she lived. She wished she had used a better excuse than transferring the chair. “If it will make it easier, you can pick me up here. It’s off Interstate 675, near a college. I’m across the street from their arena.” Excerpt 2 “Rose, you’re home at last,” Tony Pecci said to his wife. Lew and his sister, Ann, walked into the house behind their parents. “Take me up to the bedroom. I want to sleep in my own bed.” Tony lifted Rose off her feet. She put her arms around his neck and he had his left arm around her back and the right one under her knees as he ascended the stairs. Ann and Lew went to the kitchen. “Dad looked like a newlywed carrying his bride over the threshold,” Lew said. “He is carrying his bride.” Lew laughed a little and said, “He is.” They sat across from each other at the kitchen table. “Mom told me you’re dating a handicapped girl.” “I am, but I wish people would stop looking at the wheelchair and see the person. Mandy is a delight. She’s kind and sensitive. You should have seen how hard she worked to try to save the pilot I was telling you about.” “Kind and sensitive describes you too, little brother. Be careful, Lew. Your compassion could get you into trouble. If you fall in love with her, make sure she fulfills your needs too. I remember Father Lebonte telling me that marriage is a sixty-forty relationship. You have to think you’re giving more than you’re getting if you are going to have it work out close to even. But if you think you’re giving all the time, you’ll get resentful. You have to be getting something for yourself.” “I remember when he first came to Saint Catherine’s. Mom was so upset that we had a Frenchman instead of an Italian.” “Stop avoiding the issue, Lew. I’m sure Mandy is a nice girl. You have always chosen the good girls over the sexy ones. I can see you being so concerned over this lovely girl with the handicap that you marry her without paying attention to all the consequences.” “Mandy takes good care of herself. She has her own condominium. She has a good job at the airbase. Mandy often tells me the same things you’re telling me. She cares more about my happiness than she cares about her own.” “I believe she’s a good person, Lew. Like I said, you choose the nice girls. Listen to what she says. Think about how her handicap will affect your everyday life. Will her limitations get to you over time? Be sure you want her enough to deal with all that.” She looked up and said, “Hi, Dad.” “Keep talking,” Tony said. “You’re doing a better job than I do of putting my thoughts into words.” “Are you going to gang up on me? I should bring her back here so you can get to know her. We love each other.” “We aren’t against Mandy,” Tony said. “She seems like a good young woman. I liked her. It’s like Ann said. You need to get something out of this relationship. Just think it through. If Mandy is the girl for you, we will welcome her into the family. We want the best for you.” “Exactly,” Ann said. “I’d like to see my brother married to a woman who will be good to him. I want to meet her.” “She isn’t helpless. Mandy has done her own carpentry work to make a used table fit her. Dad can tell you what I told him about her swimming skills. She doesn’t need a caretaker.” Buy Links: Secret Cravings Publishing All Romance ebooks Amazon Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-best-of-whats-left-mike-coyle/1120864029?ean=2940046438864 Bookstrand Smashwords http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=The+Best+of+What%27s+Left Author Bio Mike Coyle is retired from a career with the US Department of Defense. He lives in southwest Ohio with his wife. They have been married for 43 years and have two sons, two daughters-in-law, and one granddaughter. He is an enthusiastic reader. He likes contemporary and classic fiction, history and science non-fiction. He is an avid skier and enjoys hiking, playing chess, and writing. The Best of What’s Left is his first novel.  Blurb: After serving his king during time of war, all Melvil wants to do is get back to his family estate in the French countryside. Weary and homesick, he doesn’t even stop at night to rest in his eagerness to see his family. On the side of the road in the middle of nowhere he finds a lost and disoriented woman all alone. The chivalry his lived by insists he must stop for her, even if everything else tells him something is wrong and he should run. That night, that moment, changed everything for Melvil. If only lightning had not illuminated the sky, everything would be different. One act of kindness dooms him to a life that he never wanted. How can he live with himself now? And what can he do about the creature who made him? The woman he loathes and lusts after at the same time? Excerpt: Honnor was standing over him smiling when he next awoke. He must have passed out around dawn as he still prayed for release from this nightmare. Now it looked as if his prayers and protection spells had been ignored. The she-devil had come to make her work complete and destroy him as promised. This time he didn’t bother to scramble away, all he could hope for now was for her to change her mind and kill him instead of turning him into a monster. Fate would not be so kind to him, though it seemed for Honnor was not the only other presence in the room. There was a human man. Melvil could hear his heartbeat and the blood pumping in his veins. It was the most wonderful thing that he had ever heard in his entire life. A powerful lust that he had never felt before overtook him. Despite himself and the disgust he felt, he craved the blood that smelled more delicious than any previous meal. Melvil moved against his conscience toward that which he craved to the point of insanity. The man cowered as he approached, begging for his life, but all Melvil could hear was the faster beating of his heart, feeding his blood lust. Instinctively he grabbed the man and bent his mouth, biting his victim’s neck, gnawing through the skin as he didn’t have fangs, until the delicious nectar of life began to flow into his mouth, causing Melvil to moan with pleasure. Soon the man stopped struggling, the last of his fight and life drained out of him. Melvil raised his head and wiped the blood from his mouth, then looked down at the dead man. Now that his hunger was satiated he came back into his own mind. Horrified at what he had done, he dropped the body and moved away, shaking his head and mumbling, “No, no, no…” Honnor clapped her hands together, smiling broadly. “Fantastic, you are now complete! Even your fangs have grown in. Doesn’t the first kill feel fantastic?” He turned to her, thinking she must be daft to not notice how disgusted he was with himself, not to mention the hate that he had for her. “Fantastic? I just killed a man!” She tilted her head to the side, “But you have seen war with the king, have you not? I found the evidence in your belongings. Surely you have killed before.” “Not by drinking their blood!” Melvil spat. “You have turned me into a soulless monster, like yourself!” Buy Links: Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00R8P7JOK Secret Cravings Publishing: http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=1006&zenid=rmpht0q9cda7gan3d1pksle7d2 Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/curse-of-the-blood-sheri-velarde/1120957711?ean=2940046474213 Author Bio: Sheri Velarde, who sometimes uses the pen name Kelly Ryan, lives in New Mexico and grew up with a fascination for all things that "go bump in the night", so it is no wonder that she turned to writing paranormal romance. In her spare time, she fancies herself a cryptozoologist and loves to paranormal related outings, searching for things that might not really exist. She is an avid exerciser and gets some of her best ideas while on runs. She also has a bit of a wild side, which only leads to inspiration for her writing. Being an avid reader since an early age, she has wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. She has been writing all her life, but only recently started to actually try to pursue her dream of writing for a living. She is constantly putting out new material, so it is best to keep up with her on her website. Sheri is a multi-published author; you can keep up to date with all things Sheri Velarde at: www.sherivelarde.weebly.com.  A Dangerous Reality By Layla Wolfe Book i of The Bent Zealots MC  Keep your lovers close—and your enemies in bed. TURK My club sent me to track him down. And when my mission was over, I never wanted another one again. When I found him, I kicked the shit out of Havelock Singer. I issued the mightiest beatdown of all time. Problem is, we’re evenly matched. We’re equals in every way, and when we finished whaling on each other, exhausted, we fell into each other’s arms. I’ve never regretted it for an instant. It’s been the ride of my life. But loving another man in the MC world is a risky business. As if our business isn’t already brutal and ruthless enough, Lock’s homophobic sergeant-at-arms Stumpy gets an eyeful of our lovemaking and blackmails us into doing some of his dirty work, or be exposed for what we are—a couple of deviants. This run into the Indian reservation is sleazy and beneath us, but now I’m cornered, and I’ll do anything to keep my sweet master Lock from being lynched by his club. LOCK When that kingpin Carmine Rojas got a load of my beautiful stallion Turk Blackburn, he’d stop at nothing to have him—and Rojas gets what he wants. It’s my fault we’re in this situation. I should’ve kicked Turk’s ass and sent him packing back to The Bare Bones. I wasn’t even close to being ready to come out, but now they’re forcing my hand. I can hear my destiny calling me. Either I’ll slink back to my club like a hetero bounty hunter with no morals—and no respect from anyone in my own backyard—or I’ll step up to the plate and be the lion of the day. Either way, my lover and I are screwed. Our clubs are going to hound us underground or into another country before we escape this mess—if we don’t die trying. “Living off the grid and being an outlaw brings a dangerous reality.†–Ron Perlman Publisher’s warning: This book is not for the faint of heart. It contains scenes of gay sex, consensual BDSM, illegal doings, dubious consent, and man-on-man violence.  About the Author: Bestselling author Layla Wolfe is satisfied with a leather jacket, one bad-ass pink camo compound bow, and a vicarious outlaw lifestyle. Layla Wolfe is the pen name of multi-published erotic romance author Karen Mercury. You can find her at:  BUY LINKS:
All Romance ebooks - https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-adangerousreality-1722201-153.html Inktera - (Page Foundry, epub) http://www.inktera.com/store/title/2c65b1dd-a249-49a3-a7fb-8aa5ed495a61 Createspace (Print) - https://www.createspace.com/5251210?ref=1147694&utm_id=6026 Amazon Print - http://www.amazon.com/Dangerous-Reality-Bent-Zealots/dp/1507502540/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1421027453&sr=1-1&keywords=wolfe+dangerous+reality Amazon ebook - http://www.amazon.com/Dangerous-Reality-Bent-Zealots-Book-ebook/dp/B00S4BZHZU/  This year I opened my gift from my sister to find fleece pants, a fleece scarf, scented bath soap, hand lotion and a box that looked like a spray bottle for your home. Little did I know what it really was.... Poo~Pourri is a real product that you can purchase in a variety of places. I was a little confused and didn't really even want to ask my sister. Did she think we made big stinks the bathroom? I don't even use the bathroom around my family. Or was it simply a mistake? Did she pick up a gift and not read the box, potpourri and Poo~Pourri are similar in looks and sounds. Would you have asked her? What if you upset her by asking? I am still laughing at this product and thought you'd love the videos. A MUST WATCH video!  Blurb: At sixteen, unwed and scared, Cat O’Brien gave up her newborn daughter for adoption. Seventeen years later Eve reappears…pregnant. Tanner Burke never forgot his first love. Or the daughter he gave up at eighteen. Forced together for the sake of their pregnant teenage daughter, can Tanner and Cat find a way to forgive each other and fall in love again? Excerpt: She grabbed the candy dish and peered through the peephole before sliding back the deadbolt. Someone stood on her porch, but Cat couldn’t make out any features through the tiny opening. She swung the door open and a gust of wind-driven snow blew in her face. The storm had picked up to be a regular winter gale, swirling snowflakes around them. Blinking, she looked around for small children, but only an adult in a heavy coat and a shawl covering most of the face stood there. Was this a teenager trick-or-treating? If so, as what? Obviously not a ghost or princess. “Can I help you?” The bundled-up figure mumbled something, but the words were lost in the wind. Cat struggled to hold the door with one hand, and held out the candy dish with the other. The stranger said something unintelligible. Cat raised her voice to be heard over the protesting shutters. “I can’t hear you.” The black scarf again muffled the answer. Cat shivered in the wind, but she was unwilling to let a total stranger in her house. This might be Granite, population eight hundred, but she had spent too many years in Denver to be careless. She motioned to the wicker chairs still sitting on the porch. “Step over here and tell me what brings you out in a storm.” Instead of moving toward the chairs, the stranger pulled the scarf from her face and striking blue eyes met Cat’s. “Are you Cathleen O’Brien?” “Yes.” A vague unease rose up Cat’s back. “Do I know you?” “No.” The girl jutted out her chin in an all-too-familiar gesture and shoved a wad of papers toward Cat. “But you gave birth to me.” “Oh, God.” Cat let go of the candy dish and it crashed to the floor, sending miniature candy bars and cheap plastic toys flying across the porch. Her knees threatened to buckle and she grabbed for the door. Was she hallucinating? How could this be? It wasn’t possible for the baby she’d given up almost eighteen years ago to be standing in front of her. She stared at the daughter she’d given birth to, but never seen. Her eyes, her nose…his mouth. She would not think about Tanner Burke. Buy: Amazon  Bio:
Falling in love with romance novels the summer before sixth grade, D’Ann Lindun never thought about writing one until many years later when she took a how-to class at her local college. She was hooked! She began writing and never looked back. Romance appeals to her because there's just something so satisfying about writing a book guaranteed to have a happy ending. D’Ann’s particular favorites usually feature cowboys and the women who love them. This is probably because she draws inspiration from the area where she lives, Western Colorado, her husband of twenty-nine years and their daughter. Composites of their small farm, herd of horses, five Australian shepherds, a Queensland heeler, two ducks and cats of every shape and color often show up in her stories! D’Ann loves to hear from readers! Please contact her at [email protected] http://dlindunauthor.blogspot.com/ http://www.facebook.com/DLindunAuthor https://twitter.com/DLindun http://www.amazon.com/DAnn-Lindun/e/B008DKL9TU  Entangled Interaction  Blurb: Shy's stalled relationship with Meat, her alpha liger shape-shifter boyfriend, seems defunct, her teleportation abilities appear more miss than hit, and her twin boys are clamoring for a father. If her life wasn't complicated enough, her boss throws in his bid as a potential date, she's kidnapped by a snow monster while visiting the clothing-optional Yeti resort, and finds herself leading a rescue mission to save her former boyfriend's sister from an overly determined wolf shape-shifter. To top matters off, a shaman drops a bombshell on her world by informing her of a new magical talent she didn't realize she had. She grapples with the life-altering decision until disaster strikes. Will love win out over the vast species differences between Shy and Meat? Can she make the right decision and save not only their relationship, but his life as well? ***Author strongly suggests reading Human Interaction and Species Interaction before reading this book*** Buy links: Amazon: Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/entangled-interaction-cheyenne-meadows/1116970604?ean=2940046477191 Author contact info and bio: Growing up in the Midwest, I began reading romance novels in high school, immediately falling in love with the genre, to the point where I decided to write professionally for a career. However, that dream splattered against a brick wall and resulting quick death in my first writing class in college when my professor told me bluntly that I wasn’t any good at it. I shifted gears quickly, and left my writing dreams behind, eventually settling on being a nurse. A few years back, I stumbled across a fan-fiction writing site on a favorite author’s webpage. I began to read stories others wrote, not only making some wonderful close friends from the experience, but also, really learning to write for the very first time. Here I was able to share short stories, practice my writing skills, and truly develop into a writer. More than that, the experience allowed me to revitalize my dream, as I rediscovered joy in writing. When I’m not working or writing, I enjoy working in the garden, canning, and seeing my backyard as a living canvas for my whimsical landscaping, and, of course, reading romance novels. Facebook Blog Email Excerpt: The male body jingled a memory. Tall, muscular, toned, butt you could happily squeeze ‘til the cows came home. He lifted the helmet off, releasing the long waves of near ebony. Dark blue eyes sparkled in the dim light. “Hey.” Black leather pants molded to those legs and bottom, while a white button-down shirt flittered in the breeze. From the looks of his attire, he either was on his way to or from work. I strolled closer, readjusting my purse on my shoulder. “Now, this is a surprise.” He shrugged before his attention focused on the chattering people leaving the same door I recently vacated. “After work meeting?” “Something like that.” His eyes focused on my face for a long moment before a devilish smile slowly formed. “Speed dating, baby?” My jaw dropped open before I clammed back up. Someone must have blabbed to him about my plans for the evening. Since I only told Jessica, she had to spill the beans to someone else who took it upon themselves to mention this little tidbit of my life to Meat. When I found out whom, they would be indefinitely cut off from any more cookies. Infuriating hyena didn’t need to know everything. “Who, me?” I followed with my best innocent blink. He actually laughed. “Find anyone interesting? Got any dates lined up?” I worried my lip for a second. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. No sense in letting him see how badly I bombed at speed dating. His ego matched that of an entire professional sports team. He lifted a leg, sliding off the cycle in a motion of grace. Eyes never leaving my face, he ambled toward me, stopping only to reach out with a large hand and cradle my cheek. “I’m more man than any of those others.” Oh, yeah. Arrogance in spades. “None of them want you nearly as much as I do.”  Genre: Romance Mercy hasn’t had an easy life and has just escaped her sadistic and sociopathic ex-boyfriend Alex. Fearing the repercussions she’ll face if he finds her, she flees Florida leaving behind everything and everyone in exchange for a new beginning. Aiden lost his submissive and fiancée one year ago to a random act of violence. At drift he believes seeing the criminals brought to justice is what he needs to start living again. When Mercy Winters shows up at Aiden’s company everything changes. Sent by the temp agency to fill a receptionist position, their instant attraction has sparks flying, surprising them both. While Aiden is prepared to hold on to the first woman to turn his head over the last year, Mercy would just as well run in the other direction. After Aiden manipulates the circumstances of her employment Mercy has no choice but to confide in her hot new boss. Aiden’s more than willing to help with ANYTHING she needs. While Mercy is willing to give up her body and experience the intense pleasure only he can provide, he wants everything, body, heart and soul. Can she even consider his offer and keep one step ahead of Alex? ~Excerpt~ She exited on the 21st floor, squared her shoulders, and decided her behavior would determine what she accepted so she was going in unrepentant. Determined, she marched through the glass doors and down the hall to Mr. OMG’s office, and straight to her desk. She placed her purse in the drawer and sat in her chair for precisely nine. “Miss Winters, please come in here a minute!†Aiden called from inside the palace. “Yes, Mr. Booth," So, we were back to Miss Winters, are we? No problem. I can live with that. She silently wished for a few additional minutes before facing the firing squad. She found her tablet and turned in the direction of his office, with a determined gait, since she had nothing to be ashamed of. God, she missed her power shoes. On the corner of Aiden’s desk was a black shopping bag. He gestured to it without sparing her a glance. “I believe this belongs to you, Miss Winters.†She peeked into the bag only to find her shoes, her blouse, and her skirt. On the top of the pile sat her bra and panties. The rushing blood filled her ears and her face flamed in embarrassment. This was going to be a replay of yesterday. “Mr. Booth, if I could explain…†Mercy started, only to be quickly interrupted. “Miss Winters, your behavior spoke volumes of explanation.†Instantly Mercy was chastened. She hadn’t been fair, so now neither would he. No, she knew she’d treated him with cold disdain, but he returned the treatment in spades. It was a bitter medicine to swallow. As she struggled around the lump now closing her throat, in preparation of a second attempt at explaining, he barreled on. He continued, “I’m leaving the office at lunch and will be gone for two days. Legal has contracts I need you to pick up. I will not be here, but I need you to liaison, so you must be here and you need to have your company cell with you. I need to be able to reach you at any time.†He paused to let her absorb. “Human Resources has set up an email account for you. In order to keep my word about keeping your identity confidential, your email address is unconventional: [email protected]. Changes can be made if your circumstances improve. Contact Monica and she will provide you with your temporary passwords. My contact numbers and email addresses are on the card I left in your desk yesterday. You will forward my messages and any documents requiring my attention to me. Do you understand?†he challenged. She nodded mutely. He continued once again, “Downstairs, in legal, ask for Kate. She is supposed to have the files I need ready. Do you have any questions?†He met her eyes for the first time since she arrived. Her chest tightened. The heat that danced in his eyes yesterday was now dimmed. “No, I don’t, but…†she stammered. The coolness in his voice was setting her off balance. She’d expected a confrontation, demanding an explanation for why she left without a word during the night. Not complete indifference. As if she’d accidently forgotten a bag with undergarments on his desk? Even worse…he’d treated her like an inconvenience. The truth was that he’d carefully peeled each layer of those garments off her body, as a form of sensual torture. Aiden roused her from her reverie. “Is there a problem, Miss Winters?†She shook her head, took the bag, and retreated back to her desk. She flung the drawer open and dropped the bag next to her purse. Mercy slammed the drawer shut and headed out of the office, towards legal. Realizing that her behavior towards him right now was illogical and unjustified, she thought back to earlier that morning. She’d come to work this morning expecting to justify the reasons for their not being together. This was what she wanted; she’d chosen to walk out on him, and it had been empowering at two in the morning. She should be ecstatic that her impulsive fling with Mr. OMG hadn’t damaged their professional relationship. She wasn’t. ~About the Author~ Born and raised in Montreal, Quebec, Canada I still call Montreal home. Surrounded by my husband, five children and my Siamese cat. I love reading, the smell of spring rain and walking in the first snowfalls of December when the snow is crunchy, especially at night. I enjoy curling up with a book and losing myself in the characters. I turned that love towards writing to create stories I hope you love too. I believe everyone is entitled to their own person happily ever after :)  Genre: Contemporary Romance Can you find what you need hidden within the dark? Hiding out in his sister's bakery to recover from a recent injury isn't an ideal solution for newly unemployed meteorologist Damian Trent. Especially since he doesn't like cake. But hiding anywhere is preferable to facing the media frenzy revolving around his life. He has no intention of being seen by anyone. That is, until he hears a honey-toned voice over the phone. Public relations agent Sophie Rose has a boss who makes her working week a hellish one. He drives her to her need for sugar, so the recently opened Sweet Delights Bakery is perfect for her much needed Friday treat. But one day when she calls to place an order, she gets an unexpected surprise. Sophie's keen to dump her V-plates, though only the right man will do. Damian, with his sexy, yet familiar sounding voice, seems the ideal person for her to gain some much needed experience with. But why do they need to date in the dark? Content Warning: contains sensual sex ~Excerpt~ Damian rested his arm across his forehead and sighed, trying to blot out the ringing sound and failing. Sleep wasn't happening. He ached from his walk after pushing it to a run. With each step he'd remembered Sophie's voice. He had very little else to occupy his mind, so she was an easy focus. Every stride had gathered pace, and before he knew it a walk had become a jog; a jog becoming a run. And her voice was still inside his head. Stretching out on the creaky sofa bed, he winced at the movement. Irritated, he tugged the sheet down from his bare chest to lean over and grab the phone. He placed it to his ear and muttered something unintelligible. "Hi, sorry—did I wake you?" "Sophie?" Or was he asleep and dreaming? "Oh, crap. I did, didn't I? I'm so sorry. I couldn't sleep, so I thought… Anyway, my apologies. Pretend it never happened, and goodnight," she said, speeding over her words. "Sophie, wait!" he called out, wanting to stop her before she hung up, needing to listen to her voice for a little while longer. "I couldn't sleep either," he reassured her as he heard her soft breaths. He shuffled higher against his pillow and propped one hand behind his head. Why couldn't she sleep? Because of him? And how had she gotten his number? "Really?" Her relieved sigh made him smile. If he wasn't careful, smiling could become a habit of his. "When you left your number in the box, I thought…" Left his number? He had no idea what his number was. "What did you think?" "I thought you might want me to call?" she asked hesitantly, as if she was worried about his response. She wouldn't be worried if she could see the stirring going on beneath the sheet. Or maybe she would be? Though she seemed confident, he still detected a shyness behind her words. "And did you want to call?" "I did." His jaw clenched at her immediate response, a muscle flickering in his cheek. Interesting. Her honesty was evoking things inside that he was starting to like. A lot. "I like hearing your voice." Christ, what was she doing to him? "What do you look like?" he asked, without thinking about the repercussions of his question. Silence. "Does that matter?" she said quietly, the warmth in her tone dropping a degree or two. "No, no it doesn't." He frowned, the admission taking him by surprise. "Tell me what you're wearing instead." "Why?" "Because if you don't tell me you're wearing something hideous, I won't be sleeping for the rest of the night either." She laughed then, the sound not helping his libido whatsoever. "Damian." "Yeah." "I'm not wearing anything hideous." He groaned then, obviously out loud because Sophie was laughing again. "I'm not wearing anything." Oh, hell. A sudden spike of desire sliced through his veins, making him regret his impulsive words. "Then I'm now very grateful I don't know what you look like." "You could. Know what I look like I mean." "You want to tell me now?" "No. I want to show you. On a…date?" Damian lifted a hand to his face, massaging his fingers above his brow, then lower to scrub over his jaw. His breath felt restricted by his tightening lungs. As much as he wanted to see her, to touch her, to have someone touch him in a way that wasn't clinical or trying to fix him—he couldn't do it. How could he see her, without her seeing him? Buy Links: Beachwalk Press Amazon Barnes & Noble ~About the Author~ A devourer of books from an early age, I spent much of my childhood stepping into wardrobes, searching for that magical snowy world where conversing with animals would be expected. When I wasn't searching for those worlds, I wrote about them instead. My first step into the world of romance was when I stole sneak peeks into my nana's books. I'm still in that world and refuse to leave. I live in Staffordshire, UK, with my husband and three wonderful children. An avid reader and writer of romance, I strongly believe that words make the world go around. ~Giveaway~ Tracey is giving away a $10.00 Amazon GC to a lucky winner. For a chance to win please fill out the rafflecopter below. 
 Blurb: Now that she’s found him again, all Mia Crawford wants is some downtime with her fallen angel boyfriend, Michael. But the call of duty keeps him away—from school and from her—with more demons to smite than ever. When Michael is mortally wounded by a cursed sword, Mia must perform an ancient blood ritual to save him. But the spell exacts a price. Haunted by visions of war, torture, and despair, Mia discovers the world is in more danger than she ever imagined. Behind the scenes, an evil adversary pulls all the strings. After redemption, there’s Hell to pay. EXCERPT: I found Michael waiting on the stone path outside his basement suite. He greeted me with a brush of his lips, lacing his fingers through mine, and led me into a large back yard, bordered by evergreens. The center of the soft, moist grass featured a rocky pond, complete with a trickling stone fountain and two Adirondack chairs. Though the yard was well kept, leaves from a giant maple lay strewn about like reddish-brown confetti, glistening with raindrops in the late afternoon sun. Michael tugged off his old, gray hoodie and slung it over one of the chairs. Underneath was the white tank top he normally wore flying. Goose bumps raced along the length of his bare, powerful arms. Turning to face me, he shook out his shoulders, the muscles rolling as he gave them a shrug. “Ready?” he asked. “For?” “Combat training.” He stretched an arm across his chest and cracked his neck as though he were warming up. Was he expecting a workout? “Combat training? Don’t you think that sounds a bit intense?” I swallowed. My voice sounded tight and high. “Violent, even?” “What did you expect? Origami?” Stretching his other arm now, he cocked an eyebrow at me. “You wanted me to teach you, right?” “No—yes.” I cleared my throat. “I mean no, I didn’t expect origami and yes, I want to learn.” “Good.” He smiled. Was he enjoying my awkwardness? I tuned into his energy, attempting to get a feeling off him, but hit a wall. Was he blocking me? His expression became neutral too. Above our heads, flyers hovered at the edges of the sigils that surrounded the yard, circling a constant threat, like giant vultures. I motioned to the sky. “Can’t they see us?” “Not really. They can’t see or hear anything inside the protected space.” Changing the subject, he turned to me and winked. “Ready for your origami lesson? I thought we’d start with escapes.” I folded my arms across my chest. The idea of fighting Michael felt like a joke—a David and Goliath joke. “Escapes?” “Yeah. We’re gonna start with the basics. Teach you how to get out of that stranglehold the soldier demon had you in yesterday.” His feet shoulder-width apart, he motioned for me to come closer. “But we can’t do it if you’re all the way over there.” I took a hesitant step toward him. Though I’d asked for this, the reality of it sounded painful. “Combat training,” I muttered disdainfully. “I won’t hurt you.” “I know,” I said, but I wasn’t so sure.  A Canadian-born author, Lisa Voisin spent her childhood daydreaming and making up stories, but it was her love of reading and writing in her teens that drew her to Young Adult fiction. A self-proclaimed coffee lover, she can usually be found writing in a local café. When she's not writing, you'll find her meditating or hiking in the mountains to counteract the side effects of drinking too much caffeine! Though she’s lived in several cities across Canada, she currently lives in Vancouver, B.C. with her fiancé and their two cats. Find her: Twitter | Facebook | Website | Blog Don't forget to read the first book in The Watcher Saga...only 0.99! Editorial Reviews
Review"Grips the reader, pulls them in and leaves them cheering for good!" -- InD'tale Magazine Grand Prize Winner Best Paranormal Fiction, 2013 - Chanticleer Book Reviews First in Category: Angels and Demons, 2013 - Chanticleer Book Reviews A 2014 Rone Award Finalist: Honorable Mention: Young Adult Paranormal Romance "Voisin's THE WATCHER blends paranormal mystery and romance into a book that is sure to keep readers turning the pages late into the night."--Eileen Cook, author of THE ALMOST TRUTH "Filled with forbidden love and a war between good and evil. If you are a fan of the Twilight Saga and The Mortal Instrument series, you will love this book." --Selena Lost in Thought "The Watcher was a book that I fell completely in love with and I was incredibly sad to see it end. If you love the idea of good verses bad and right verses wrong combined with a love that defies the constraints of time, then The Watcher will capture your heart the same way that it did mine. 5/5 madly in love with Michael stars!!" -- YA Book Addict "The Watcher pulls you in with unexpected sexual tension combined with rich and unique characters. It's a compelling thrill ride and a hit for Lisa Voisin." -- Stephanie Keyes, Author of THE STAR CHILD Series. "This book was amazing and grabbed me from the very first chapter." -- Twinsie Talk Book Reviews From the Inside FlapMia is caught between two fallen angels. One seeks redemption; the other, revenge. How far will she go to save the one she loves? Now Only $0.99!! Buy Link: Amazon  Gambling On A Secret Book 1 of The Colton Gamblers…. In anticipation of the June release of Book 3: Gambling On A Dream, Kensington Publishing has put Book 1: Gambling On A Secret on sale! ***ON SALE FOR THE MONTH OF JANUARY FOR $0.99*** Blurb: When Charli bets everything on a secret, will she find the deck stacked against her? Former runaway-turned heiress Charli Monroe is hiding her sordid past and planning a future in Colton, Texas. Attending the local college for a degree in social work, she intends to raise cattle on her newly purchased ranch, which she plans to open as a home for troubled teens. Only a few glitches—the Victorian mansion is crumbling, the barn needs a roof, and her oilman neighbor wants more than friendship. When she meets Dylan Quinn, Charli is willing to take a chance on the town drunk to help her rebuild the rundown ranch. Dylan has his demons, too. The former Special Forces commander can’t get past his ex-wife’s betrayal and the botched mission that left him with much more than a bad limp. Certain the greedy oilman next door to Charli wants much more than just her heart, Dylan’s even willing to stop drinking in order to protect her. When things get dangerous and secrets of the past are revealed, is he only looking out for his new employer, or is she the new start he so desperately needs? COVER QUOTE: “Full of intrigue, tangled pasts, and raw emotions, this one is guaranteed to keep you turning pages from start to finish and then wishing for one more chapter!” Carolyn Brown, New York Times bestselling author. Ms. Brown also named Gambling On A Secret as one of her favorite romance reads in 2012 in the Happy Ever After Blog on USA Today. “HONESTLY this was a FABULOUS read. Gambling on a Secret is a gripping, entertaining and an absolutely delightful romantic read which is set in the town of Colton located in Texas. Sara Walter Ellwood has scored with this book. This has been one of my favourite reads for 2013…” Read the rest of this 5 Satin Pillow review at Satin Sheets Romance Excerpt: Dylan regarded her for a long moment and cocked a brow. Damn, was he making fun of her? He looked her up and down. “Wouldn’t a woman like you be more comfortable getting manicures and massages in a Dallas spa, not worrying about cattle breeds and barn roofs? It’s no secret around town you’re the heiress to the Monroe Farm Equipment fortune, and you sold a huge ranch in Oklahoma your grandfather left you. Why on Earth did you buy a dump like this?” Now he’d pissed her off. Charli might have more money than she’d ever dreamed of having. She might like to dress in designer clothes, but it was none of this jerk’s business which ranch she bought. Or why she wanted it. She had a business plan and a vision for the ranch; what else mattered? “I happen to like this place. It suits me better than the ranch I sold.” “Is that so? Did you bring any equipment with you? A tractor, a planter, hay mower, baler, anything?” He would bring up one of the stupidest things she’d done. Sighing, she admitted, “I sold the equipment with the ranch when I decided to leave Oklahoma. One more reason I need a manager.” Her cheeks burned. “When I sold the ranch after inheriting it, I didn’t intend to buy another.” “Why did you buy another ranch?” He slid his gaze back to hers and peered at her as if he could read her every thought--but what had her swallowing hard was the spark of something hot in his eyes. She tightened her arms in the hug she gave herself--a self-protecting, insecure gesture she’d acquired while she lived with her abusive lover in Las Vegas as a teenage runaway. “Buying a ranch the size of this one isn’t something most folks just wake up and decide to do, Miss Monroe. A ten-thousand-acre spread takes commitment and dedication and is damned hard work.” Yeah, she knew that. He looked down at her multicolored Manolo Blahnik five-inch heeled slides. The ghost of a smile touched his lips again, but this time little crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, which held a spark of interest she didn’t want. Damn, he was good-looking. She squelched that notion like the roach she’d killed earlier in the house. Hadn’t her life with Ricardo taught her a handsome face meant nothing but trouble? “I can’t imagine you stuffing those pampered and polished feet into rubber boots to muck around in the barn.” Me, either. But she would if she had to. She drew in a breath and dropped her arms to her sides. “I think we should get back to asking questions about you. When your sister called about my newspaper ad, she said you were exactly what I’m looking for.” He shrugged again in a not-a-care-in-the-world way again. What was this guy’s problem? If she weren’t running out of time, she would tell him to leave. She couldn’t waste this year, which meant she had to get someone hired. And her prospects were limited. “Can you do the job?” “Affirmative.” She waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, she frowned. “Do you have any references?” “I expected you to ask. Everything you need to know should be in here.” She moved closer and took the folded sheet of paper he held out the window. After glancing at it, she wasn’t surprised it was a resume, but his listed experience had her heart beating a little faster. She looked up at him. “You have a degree in agricultural business from Texas A & M, started up your own ranch and served in the Army?” He looked off in the distance. “I was in the service for thirteen years, three years in the Corps of Engineers, four in Airborne and the last six in Special Forces.” His jaw clenched, making his face the chiseled block of cold stone again. “And I know something about building. When I wasn’t deployed, I built the house and barn on my two-hundred acre ranch.” “You don’t own the ranch now?” “No. My ex-wife got it in our divorce settlement. I planned to get out of the Army after my last tour in Afghanistan and raise cattle. But things never happen the way we want them to.” The bitterness of his tone had her stepping away. She shivered again and busied herself with looking at the resume. Whatever his ex-wife had done to him, it wasn’t good. “Your reference list is pretty skimpy.” “The first name is my old commander, but I just got word he’s shipped out on a secret mission.” Something wasn’t adding up. Either he was hiding something or his sister had lied about his experience. “Your sister said you worked on Oak Springs Ranch while in high school, but it’s not listed on your resume. Are you related to the owner, Leon Ferguson? You said your mother grew up there.” His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned into a tight line. “Leon is my mother’s stepbrother. While my grandfather was still alive and ran the ranch, I worked there until I joined the Army after he died. I chose not to mention it.” But why? She didn’t press the matter. She wasn’t seriously considering him for the job anyway, was she? She studied the resume again. “Brenda Dailey. Is this person off-limits, too? Or can I speak with her?” “My ex-wife. I’d appreciate it if you don’t involve her. I put her on there because of the ranch.” She looked up at him. “The divorce that bad, huh?” Dylan shrugged and looked away. He gripped the top of the steering wheel hard enough to whiten his knuckles. “Suppose it’s no secret. Our divorce has only been final four months, and she married her baby-daddy the day after it became official. You figure it out.” “Ouch. Okay, I won’t call your ex. Nevertheless, I’d like to see your house. Your sister mentioned you were a carpenter.” She glanced at the address of his former ranch. “Killeen’s south of here?” He nodded. “It’s your two hours and tank of gas.” “Thank you for stopping by. Your number’s on here. I’ll call you.” “Thanks for your time, Miss Monroe. Good luck with this place.” He looked around at the buildings and over her before he turned the key in the ignition. The rusted bucket of bolts sputtered and the starter groaned before the engine turned over. As he pulled away, she looked at the piece of paper in her shaky hand and studied his name at the top. Damn, she’d hoped he was the one. She crumpled the paper, and the memory of his weathered eyes, as dull and gray as her ranch buildings, came to her. What ghosts did he see when he closed them? She opened her palm and stared at the wad of paper. Feeling haunted by the past was something she understood very well. Buy Links: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | iTunes | Kobo | Google  Bio:
Although Sara Walter Ellwood has long ago left the farm for the glamour of the big town, she draws on her experiences growing up on a small hobby farm in West Central Pennsylvania to write her contemporary westerns. She’s been married to her college sweetheart for over 20 years, and they have two teenagers and one very spoiled rescue cat named Penny. She longs to visit the places she writes about and jokes she’s a cowgirl at heart stuck in Pennsylvania suburbia. Sara Walter Ellwood is a multi-published and international Amazon bestselling author of the anthology set Cowboy Up. She also publishes paranormal romantic suspense under the pen name Cera duBois. Author links: Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads Also look for: Book 2: Gambling On A Heart at Amazon | Barnes and Noble | iTunes | Kobo Available now for preorder—Book 3: Gambling On A Dream at Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo  Trial By Fire (Black Irish Series #4)  Sloan’s only chance of freedom is Abbey…but is she becoming him? Blurb: Being lured home to Belfast, Northern Ireland, by the lie that he is a free man, Sloan O’Riley is arrested for the bombing in London he never committed. His only chance to stop his condemnation and execution is his wee wife, Abbey. Abbey throws herself into her husband’s past with the Irish Republican Army to construct the one thing that can free him – a bomb. With the help of her mother and Sloan’s sister, Maggie, she targets empty, crumbling buildings throughout Belfast to cast doubt on Sloan’s guilt.As things heat up in the courtroom and on the streets of Belfast, Abbey fights for Sloan’s freedom. Will her actions free Sloan from prison and from those who would like to see him dead? And will their love withstand Abbey becoming just like Sloan? Buy Links: Sweet Cravings: http://store.sweetcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=250&zenid=771jv3poja5i58r1b6eckf59h6 Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Trial-Fire-Black-Irish-Book-ebook/dp/B00QH49O8M/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1418276666&sr=8-4&keywords=tricia+andersen Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/trial-by-fire-tricia-andersen/1120853916?ean=2940046435450 All Romance E-books: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-trialbyfireblackirish4-1689845-149.html Excerpt One Sloan stared out the window at the asphalt as the wheels of the jet skidded across the black surface. He was back. His gaze took in the Belfast International Airport, flicking around, looking for military vehicles or platoons of troops ready to take him prisoner. All he found were flight crews darting about on baggage carts to prepare the next flight, and the occasional traveler peeking out the window of the terminal.He let go a large sigh, his sensual, trademark smirk gracing his lips. I knew there was nothing to worry about. He glanced over to Gordon and Liam, meeting their scowls. They almost seem disappointed that Fitzgerald told me the truth. His thoughts quickly returned to Abbey. He couldn’t shake her from his mind, his heart, since their lips had parted in Minneapolis. As soon as he checked into his hotel, he would call her and tell her he was safe. Then, he would send the jet back to get her, Maggie, Mary, and the children. In a day or two, she would be back in his arms, his face buried in the sweet curve of her neck, his hands roaming her body. Once the celebratory lovemaking was over, he would take her to rediscover all the precious places of his childhood. He wanted nothing more than to share his past with the woman he loved, at least the parts of it that had been pleasant. Once the jet had crept to a halt, the men rose and made their way to the door. They slowly descended the rolling staircase to the tarmac. Sloan’s grin widened. All was still good. His smile faded when he heard the cock of a gun. He glanced to the side as over three dozen soldiers marched from around the aircraft, guns drawn and pointed at him. “Well, well, well. Look who’s back,” a voice boomed over the crowd. Sloan clenched his eyes shut. “Brown,” he growled. The tall, balding man, dressed in his impeccable uniform, strode between the troops and stopped in front of Sloan. “I was hoping to get to say this again. Sloan O’Riley, you’re under arrest.” “Go to hell.” Sloan’s vision blurred as the butt of a rifle was slammed against his temple then into his rib cage. His knees buckled from the force. He fought to stay on his feet, to face his enemy standing tall and proud. He lost the battle as he crumpled to the ground. He grunted as his arms were wrenched behind him and cuffs were clamped on his wrists. “Let him go!” Sloan could hear Gordon struggle against the men restraining him. “Fionainn, I suggest you let the men do their job.” Sloan’s head snapped up. Through the still-lingering haze from the blow, he could see Fitzgerald standing over him, his gaunt face beaming. “Welcome home, boy.” “You set me up.” Sloan’s voice was violent through clenched teeth. His eye became hot as it began to swell. “I completed every task you gave me, completed every order. And you turn me over to the enemy?” “Every task? Not everyone, Sloan.” Fitzgerald leaned into him, his hot breath inflaming Sloan’s ear. “I wanted blood, boy. Innocent, guilty…it didn’t matter. I wanted Northern Ireland in my grip. But you wouldn’t hit the targets I gave you. No. You set your sights on the military. Not the good, obedient soldier you thought you were. “And then, you tried to leave. You met with those recruiters from the All Blacks that those imbeciles I let raise you invited to watch you play rugby. So, I fixed it so that you could never leave. I took one of your precious toys to London and left it there loaded with enough C4 to blow up say…a marketplace?” For a moment, Sloan’s veins turned to ice as the revelation hit him like a shard of lightning. It had been Fitzgerald who had set him up, destroyed his life, and forced him to flee from his Ma and Maggie to save himself. It had been Fitzgerald who had murdered all those innocent people and pinned it on him. Rage quickly replaced the chill within him. He rose in a lunge at Fitzgerald. Sloan was quickly brought back to his knees as the butt of another rifle cracked him across the skull. Fitzgerald’s laugh echoed across the airfield as he strutted past Brown. “He’s all yours, Commander Brown. See to it that he is hanged, will you?” “It’ll be my pleasure, Jack,” Commander Brown crooned. Two soldiers roughly tore Sloan from the ground, dragging him to his feet. Sloan shook his head violently to clear the fog that had invaded his senses. His head throbbed. Fitzgerald’s confession echoed in his brain. Although Sloan knew the truth, it wouldn’t change a thing. His words meant nothing in a court of law. Here, he was a terrorist. A murderer. No amount of protesting would change anyone’s mind. He looked up slowly, his eyes catching Liam and Gordon’s. Both men were restrained by at least three law enforcement officials apiece. Sloan ripped his gaze away from them. He couldn’t take the looks of horror on their faces. He knew what they meant. He closed his eyes, clinging to the image of Abbey, Ame, and Ethan that he held in his heart. He had been a fool to leave them. Now, he would never see them again. There’s no way out of this one. I’m as good as dead. Excerpt Two Abbey listened to his footsteps fade away before she opened the door and retrieved the bag. She excitedly rummaged through the contents. She giggled as she pulled out pajama bottoms and tugged them on. She nearly yanked the top on also before her eyes spied the white plastic container. Right. The salve. Unscrewing the top, Abbey dipped her finger into the cool gel. She reached behind her back and rubbed it on the first gash she found. A sharp sting bit through her. She searched higher for another cut, contorting herself to find it. “Let me help you.” Abbey turned to find Sloan in the bathroom doorway watching her. His thick, black hair was damp and tousled. His blue jeans hung off his hips. His hard curves glistened from his shower. Abbey’s hands instinctively crossed over her naked breasts to hide them. He chuckled. “It’s not like I haven’t seen them before.” Crossing the room to her, he placed a hand on her shoulder to turn her toward the dresser. Scooping some salve onto his fingers, he gently rubbed it into her wounds. Abbey shuddered at his touch. His hands had a way of doing that—turning her into a puddle of goo. He looked up at her with a concerned expression. “Are you all right?” “Fine,” she breathed as she watched him in the mirror. She thought for a moment then, “You tried to kill me.” “If I had wanted you dead, Abbey, you would be. I trust your da with my life. I don’t trust him with yours. You’re mine. I’ll protect you.” “It was kill or be killed.” He winked at her through the reflection. “Your da doesn’t need to know. Besides, you nearly killed me, too.” Abbey felt her face flush warm. Her voice was quiet, “You left me in Belfast.” Sloan’s fingers stopped. He wiped them on his jeans then caressed her hips with his hands. Nestling his head against hers, he let go a deep breath. “I thought I had ruined you. That I had turned you evil. Destroyed your soul.” “You were disappointed in what I did.” “Not in you. In myself. I could never be disappointed in you. It took your da to make me see. You and I are more alike than I realized. When put to the test, you adapted and survived. I thought I had found a perfect angel. In reality, I found the perfect complement to myself. The yang to my yin.” Abbey turned to look at him. Her gaze wandered to his mouth. Lord, how long had it been since she had kissed him? The answer popped into her head. The night before he left for Belfast. Far too long. Sloan must have shared the same thought because he parted her lips with his, his tongue tasting her, his breath stealing hers. She willingly surrendered as his fingers slid from her hips and up her rib cage until they reached her hands. He pried them from her breasts then replaced them with his. She gasped at the sensation. Sloan broke free of the kiss then took her hand, leading her to the bed. An evil smirk spread across his face as he sat and pulled her to him. “What a pity, Abbey. You went to all the trouble of putting those pajama pants on just so I can take them off you.” He hooked his thumbs around the waistband and slid them down, leaving her naked before him. Abbey didn’t need his encouragement. She climbed onto his lap, wrapping her legs around his as she kissed him, her fingers weaving in his thick hair. Slowly, her hands slid down his chest and abdomen until she reached the button of his jeans. Her mouth didn’t leave his as she popped it and slid the zipper down. Sloan lifted his hips enough to move the jeans and briefs past his butt. Abbey didn’t give him time to take charge. She lowered herself onto him, gasping as he filled her. She held him close as she made love to him, listening to his breaths come in ragged gasps. He clenched onto her tight, not allowing them to part even a little bit. She whimpered as she was pushed over the edge, her whole body shaking from the pleasure. His groans followed her as she felt him throb inside her. Looking down from her perch, she smiled at the sleepy look in his eyes. “Luv, we have quite a bit of lost time to make up, don’t we?” he purred. “That we do.” Abbey tugged down on Sloan’s bottom lip then covered his mouth with hers. He moaned as he flipped her beneath him, returning her fierce kiss with one of his own. Author’s Bio: Tricia Andersen lives in Iowa with her husband, Brian and her three children – her sons, Jake and Jon, and her daughter, Alex. She graduated from the University of Iowa with a Bachelor of Arts in English and from Kirkwood Community College with an Associate of Arts degree in Communications Media/Public Relations. Along with writing (which she loves to do), Tricia practices mixed martial arts, coaches and participates in track and field, reads, sews and is involved in many of her children's activities. Tricia is the host of the Blog Talk Radio show Freshly Booked, a part of Writers Online Network. Social Media Links: Language of Love Book 5 of the To Love a Wildcat Series by V.L. Locey Blurb: Life was so much easier for Margarite Lancourt before she had set eyes on Petro Shevenko. Her diploma to teach hearing impaired children would be in her hand within a year. Then she would find the right man, the right neighborhood, and bear the right children. Her deafness was not going to get in the way of her aspirations. But were they her dreams or her mother`s? Now that she has met Petro, the Wildcats sexy new acquisition who has an unquenchable thirst for the wild side of life, Margarite`s nicely mapped out life is in chaos. Can she tame this unruly Russian Wildcat? Or will his family demons drag him, and Margarite, back into the darkness the couple have struggled to break free from?  Buy Links: Buy Links- Secret Cravings Store- Excerpts PG: I had to smile when I saw what had lured him from our bedroom. Breakfast. Of course. Well, at least it hadn’t been booze or some trashy bimbo. Since I had been here, he had been remarkably well behaved. He attended AA meetings weekly. He never missed a training session with Clarkie, Bernie, or Schultz. He ate well, worked hard, stayed sober, and kept his pants zipped. Aside from last night. Olaf swept us into our chairs, talking as she served bowl after bowl of her homeland’s delicacy. I thought that athletes who were training as hard as Petro was were supposed to eat chicken and pasta. Most of the Wildcats had a strict nutritional, as well as personal, schedule. Morning skate of twenty to forty minutes to loosen up, light stretch or bike, home or hotel for the biggest meal that is usually around lunch, then a nap followed by a return trip to the arena about two hours before game time. Perhaps because it wasn’t in-season he didn’t feel the need to be so strict. I poked at the heavy foods laid out before me. Petro ate his fill and then some. I made a small sandwich out of one slice of dark rye, or “black bread” as Olaf called it, folded over to hold some scrambled eggs with a fat slice of ham and butter. I suppose the bread counted as his carbs, although ham certainly wasn’t as lean as chicken. The coffee was thick, strong, and invigorating. I stirred some sugar into my coffee as Petro and Olaf fell into a rather animated conversation. She sat down beside me with a huff. I peeked at her over my cup of coffee. The hot brew trickled over my tongue. “So, when wedding?” Danny Thomas would have been impressed with my spit-take. Petro shook his head then growled something at his grandmother. She waved the man off with a strong hand. I grabbed a handful of napkins to dab at my chin, my dish, and the table. “Bad news no wedding. Back in Chatsky if couple found naked gooey together, they make vows. But.” She threw her hand into the air dramatically. My shirt was wet with spewed coffee but I could not pull my sight from Olaf. “This is America, land of free and funny TV shows. You two make me great-grandmother, you get married. End of discussion, “she spat at her grandson who must have been retaliating verbally. I was so mortified I couldn’t move. Coffee soaked through my shirt. “So,” the rumbling Russian tank said her steely eyes back to me, “Petro say he makes good with you. I like this match. You make good player out of him, keep him on narrow path. Walking the line, yes?” Petro slapped the table. My stunned sight jack-knifed over to him. He was smiling widely. Olaf grinned at me, shoved a platter of potato pancakes at me then pinched my hip. I jumped in pain. This morning was just going so well. “You need more meat. When I coached women’s team, I make players get more muscle. You too skinny, thighs too thin. Eat more.” My mind was completely overwhelmed. Coached women’s team? What women’s team? My thighs were fine. Now my ass on the other hand… The touch of Petro’s warm fingers on my arm startled me. My head whipped back in his direction. His fingers slid down my arm to my wrist. Far more gently than one would think, he lifted my hand to his lips then tasted my palm. R- A moment later I stood outside the Wolverines’ locker room, my eyes fastened to the sign barring anyone except authorized personnel. Placing my purse back on my shoulder, I turned the knob slowly. The aroma of stinky pads, sweaty skates, soap, unwashed man, and old socks hit my nose. I hurried to close the locker room door. If Petro were in there, he could stay in there. Rubbing at my affronted nose, I glanced back the way I came. Something wet hit my arm. I jumped in fright. Spinning around I saw him, leaning on the doorway of another room minus his skates and jersey. I threw a glare at the wet washcloth he had chucked at me. Then I grabbed it off the dirty floor and flung it back at him. It missed by ten feet or more. Petro laughed then stepped back into the open door behind him. Down the hall I went, my purse slapping my hip, my hair bouncing, my eyes locked on my goal. I slammed into the training center. Massage tables, cold plunge tubs, and whirlpools greeted me, as did the Russian Romeo. Petro was shucking off his padding. The door drifted shut. He threw his shoulder pads to the floor. My mouth filled with saliva. I swallowed roughly then stood there, rooted to the spot, as he worked on divesting himself of every damn bit of gear he had on. When he got down to his compression shorts, my legs grew a little rubbery. Down they came, as did his cup. I ogled his ass. He gave me a sly look over his shoulder before he walked toward a whirlpool. He took just a moment to turn the jets on then he stepped down into the frothy water. His cock hung down the inside of his thigh, growing fatter and longer as I looked at it. “Come,” he called over the rumble of the whirlpool. I chewed my lip with indecision. Dare I? Dark eyes smoldering, prick now rising to the task, he called to me yet again. I ran back to lock the training room door, and then scurried past the six massage tables. This rink was bare compared to the new training facility at the Houseman, but that whirlpool seemed to be in fine shape, as was the nude man waiting for me with foam and hot water swirling around his knees. I couldn't undress quickly enough. My eyes roamed over him as I shimmied out of my panties. His hand took mine. Petro pulled me against him as soon as my feet were on the bottom of the whirlpool. My fingers took hold of his sweat-soaked hair. Down I pulled his mouth. His lips roamed over mine. His cock was pinned between us, hard yet soft. The taste of him was divine, sinspirational even. The smell of him? Gross. I broke the kiss then tried to wiggle free. He cocked an eyebrow as if to ask what was wrong. I pinched my nose shut. The man lifted up one arm to smell his pit. Oh God. Even he made a face. I was then yanked downward into the hot, bubbling water, his arm never moving from around my waist. I slithered free once our skin was wet. He leaned back, arms on the side of the tub. His head dropped back as his eyes drifted closed. My legs were resting over his. I decided to do as he had done. My head rolled back as well. My lashes fluttered closed. There we sat, letting the hot jets work their magic. I cracked one eye open when Petro slid out of the whirlpool. His ass and legs were simply amazing. Muscles flexed and rolled with each step. Water ran between his tight buttocks. My mind filled with wicked thoughts of nipping that ass repeatedly. He unlocked the door then left. I sat up stiff as Nana’s back, my hands over my wet breasts. What kind of game was he playing? Enough time had passed that I was seriously contemplating getting out when his naked form filled the doorway. He had a bar of white soap in his hand and that erection that made my mouth water. He stopped only long enough to shut and lock the door. I was all over his fine ass when he lowered himself back into the whirlpool.  Author Bio: V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted goofy domestic fowl, and two steers: one named after a famous N.H.L. goalie while the other carries the moniker of a 60`s pop legend. When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads. I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at- Twitter- https://twitter.com/vllocey Pinterest-http://www.pinterest.com/vllocey/ Secret Cravings Backlist Books and Upcoming Releases Pink Pucks & Power Plays (Book One of the To Love a Wildcat Series) A Most Unlikely Countess (Book Two of the To Love a Wildcat Series) O Captain! My Captain! (Book Three of the To Love a Wildcat Series) Reality Check (Book Four of the To Love a Wildcat Series) Tumble Dry Coming in 2015 only from Secret Cravings . . . Final Shifts (Book Six of the To Love a Wildcat Series) and Clean Sweep (Book One of the Venom Series) Torquere Press Backlist and Upcoming Releases Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse (Part of the He Loves Me For My Brainssss anthology) Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 2: It Came From Birmingham Two Guys Walk Into an Apocalypse 3" He's a Lumberjack and He`s Undead Love of the Hunter Goaltender`s Penalty All I Want for Christmas Every Sunday at One (Part of the 2013 Charity Sip Anthology) Night of the Jackal Coming in 2015 exclusively from Torquere Press . . . An Erie Operetta and Early to Rise - A Toms & Tabbies Tale. |
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