Sara Daniel Romance Author: April 2015

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Executive Decision #BoxSet @kdgrace w/a Grace Marshall #romance @cw1985

Out Now! The Executive Decision Box Set by K D Grace, writing as Grace Marshall (@kd_grace) #romance #boxedset #kindleunlimited #ku

The entire Executive Decision Trilogy is now available in a boxed set! An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis & The Exhibition are all three now available in one intense, sizzling, yummy package from Amazon. If you liked Interviewing Wade, you’ll love The Executive Decision Boxed Set. Go ahead, indulge yourself with the rest of the story, and what a story it is! Here’s your chance to meet the rest of the Pneuma Inc inner circle and indulge in the sometimes funny, sometimes hair-raising, always steamy adventures of Dee & Ellis, Kendra & Garrett, Stacie & Harris as they battle their way to success, happiness and, of course love. The Executive Decision Boxed Set is a binge reading must for those who like an intense, fast-paced story with hot romance between characters who are more than up for the task.

Here’s what you get:

An Executive Decision – Book One in The Executive Decision Series

Overworked CEO Ellison Thorne has no time for sex, let alone romance. The only answer, at least where his retiring business partner Beverly is concerned, is a no-strings sex clause in her replacement’s contract, designed to make Ellis’ busy life easier – and hotter. But she’s joking, right?

When Dee Henning takes over Beverly’s job, sparks fly between her and Ellis, but work takes priority in driven Dee’s life too. Can one night of passion in a Paris hotel room prove Beverly’s Sex Clause is their secret to success in the boardroom and the bedroom, and what will happen if that private clause becomes public knowledge?

Identity Crisis – Book Two in The Executive Decision Series

This romantic suspense novel is recommended to hopeless romantics who know love triumphs over all.

Tess Delaney is the hottest property in romantic fiction, but the reclusive Tess has a secret – she’s really the alter ego of Garrett Thorne, bad boy brother of business tycoon Ellison Thorne. When Tess is nominated for the Golden Kiss Award, Garrett recruits PR specialist, Kendra Davis, to keep his secret and be Tess for the awards despite their mutual animosity.

Hatred turns to scorching passion, but when Tess is stalked by a rabid fan, an identity crisis is eclipsed by a battle for survival. It seems Tess, the woman who doesn’t exist, just might understand Kendra and Garrett’s hearts better than they do.

The Exhibition – Book Three in The Executive Decision Series

Successful NYC gallery owner, Stacie Emerson, is ex-fiancĂ©e to one Thorne brother and ex-wife to the other. Though the three have made peace, Ellison Thorne’s friend, wildlife photographer, Harris Walker, still doesn’t like her. When Stacie convinces Harris to exhibit his work for the opening of her new gallery she never intended to include him in her other more hazardous plans. But when those plans draw the attention of dangerous business tycoon, Terrance Jamison, Harris comes to her aid. In the shadow of a threat only Stacie understands, can she dare let Harris into her life and make room for love?

***Grab it from Amazon now! FREE for Kindle Unlimited Members!***

Excerpt from The Exhibition:

Outside someone shouted, ‘Hastings, check the crappers.’
Before Harris knew what hit him, Stacie pulled him into the cubicle at the other end of the row and locked the door behind him talking in a fast whisper. ‘Sorry about this. Not very professional, I know, but I promised to do my best to keep us out of jail, and I’m thinking groping in the ladies’ room’s not what this raid’s all about.’ The words were barely out of her mouth before she launched herself at him lips first. Damn it; he wanted to be mad at her. They were about to go to jail, for fuck sake! But instead of giving her a piece of his mind, he kissed her right back, hard, and felt her yield and open, and his tongue was in heaven sparing with hers, tasting, testing, thrusting. He found himself hoping that the inevitable arrest would wait until after he got his fill of Stacie Emerson, and that could take a while. She felt way better than she had even in his fantasies, and when his badly-behaving hands moved down to cup her magnificent bottom and pull her closer, she returned the favour and gave his ass a good grope. As though that gave him permission to explore, he slid anxious fingers inside her trousers wriggling down past a miniscule thong to cup an impossibly soft, impossibly firm buttock that gave a muscular clench in his hand, forcing her hips forward until she couldn’t possibly miss the press of his appreciative hard-on straining his jeans to get closer to her.
In the hall the noise got louder and the door burst open.
She had just managed a good firm stroke to the front of his trousers that had his full attention and then some, when a heavy-handed knock on the door caused her to yelp, and he nearly fell back onto the commode.
‘All right, you two, tuck it in, and come on out.’

'Grace has this amazing knack of creating sexual tension not just through a few pages, but the whole damn book... ending in incredible sex.' - Midnight Boudoir

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

KD has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Erotic Review, Ravenous Romance, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.
K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition are all available.

Find Grace Marshall/ K D Grace Here:             

Friday, April 24, 2015

#CoverReveal for @ClarissaJohal #ghost #PsychSuspense @Saphs_Books

"Sometimes the ghosts from your
past…are real."

Welcome to the Pre-Order and Cover Reveal Blitz 
for VOICES by Clarissa Johal

Book Details:

Genre: Paranormal Psychological Suspense
Author: Clarissa Johal
Editor: Bobbie Metevier
Published by Permuted Press May 19, 2015
ISBN: 9781618685698
Pages: 264


Sometimes the ghosts
from your past…are real.    
Moira Flynn is arrested for attacking a door-to-door solicitor with a knife. She claims a voice told her the man was intent on assaulting her. The trouble is, she was the only one that heard that voice. Moira strikes a plea bargain and is sent to a psychiatric hospital for voluntary treatment. Dr. Richard Cassano is hesitant to treat her as schizophrenic, as she does not show the standard symptoms. As their sessions progress, Moira confesses there are two voices—and they aren’t voices in her head, but the voices of ghosts. Are they imaginary? Or are they actual spirits, attached to her for reasons of their own? As Moira’s doctor uncovers more of her past, he begins to realize that her ghosts are real. And one of them is determined to drag Moira into the afterlife with him.

Excerpt from VOICES:

Moira choked down a congealed glob of oatmeal. Bland, like all the food here. She picked up her plastic knife and smeared margarine onto a piece of dry toast. Patients were only given plastic utensils. She washed the toast down with a gulp of tepid decaf coffee and sat back, miserable. “I hate this place, I want out.”
“At least your session was cancelled for tomorrow,” Jack said. “One less thing I’ll have to sit through.” 
Dr. Cassano didn’t say why, either, Moira worried. He seemed nervous about cancelling too.
“We’ll get out.”
“Not we, Jack, me. I want out.” She stared mournfully at the food on her tray. “I don’t care what happens to you.”
“That’s not nice,” Isabella said. 
“I don’t care what happens to you, either.”
“You’re mean!” She retreated to the corner of the room to pout.
“Don’t be mean, Moira,” Jack reprimanded. “Isabella’s just a child.”
She let out a sound of frustration. They both knew Jack didn’t care the slightest about Isabella. “I wonder why Dr. Cassano cancelled it.”
“Why do you care?” 
Moira turned away pointedly and undid her braid, hoping to dissuade the headache coming on.
“Don’t ignore me,” Jack said, his voice hardening. “I didn’t like the way he looked at you this morning.” He grabbed her arm.” I don’t like the way you look at him either. I see the way you look at him.”
She shook him off. “You’re paranoid, Jack.”
“You know what I’m talking about, don’t play dumb.” He sat back, his eyes watchful. “Don’t trust him, Moira. Who knows what he’s planning?”
“If you do anything, Jack, I mean anything. They’ll lock the door and throw away the key.” She moved away from his presence. “And don’t think they wouldn’t medicate me with a dozen different pills, all guaranteed to make you go away forever.”
“You know pills won’t make me go away, Moira,” Jack bit out. “They might make you sleep, but they won’t make me go away.”
Silence filled the room. Moira picked up her brush and started brushing out her hair.
“It would be his word against yours, if he ever tried anything.”
“Just drop it, Jack,” Moira said.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “He’d medicate you so you’d never remember it, either.”
She shook her head in disgust.
“Maybe you could bust out of here!” Isabella jumped up. “I’ll bet you could open the window with that knife.” She ran over to the window and pushed against it.
“It’s completely sealed, Isabella.” Moira watched her, feeling helpless to the noise from her efforts. “Stop banging on it! You’re going to get me into trouble.”
“You could cut through the walls!”
“Hello? Plastic knife, it can’t cut anything.”  
“It can’t?” Jack asked. “Have you tried?”
She caught his look and quickly turned her attention to Isabella, who was still thumping on the window. “I’m not breaking out of here, Isabella. Do you want me to go to jail?”
“But what if they keep you in here forever?” Isabella asked.
“They’re not going to.” 
“But what if they do?” Isabella jumped up and down. “What if they keep you here until you’re old and grey and all your teeth fall out?”
“It would be awful to be stuck here forever,” Jack said quietly. “Wouldn’t it, Moira? Just awful.”
“They’re not going to keep me here forever!” Moira said. “Isabella, stop it!”
The door opened. “Problem?” the nurse asked.
She glanced over at Jack. A slice of a smile crept across his lips. “No. No problem. Just…thinking aloud.”
“Finish up your breakfast, then,” she said briskly. She shut the door again.
Moira picked up her carton of juice and took a sip.
Jack pushed her hand upwards, sloshing juice into Moira’s face and down her T-shirt.
Whoops!” Isabella giggled.
“Asshole,” she muttered. She went into the bathroom with Jack trailing her. Their eyes connected in the mirror.
“Looks like you’ll need another shower,” he murmured.
She pressed her mouth in a straight line and turned her back to him.


VOICES Pre-Order Links:

About the Author:

Clarissa Johal has worked as a veterinary assistant, zoo-keeper
aide and vegetarian chef. Writing has always been her passion. When she’s not listening to the ghosts in her head, she’s dancing or taking photographs of gargoyles. She shares her life with her husband, two daughters and every stray
animal that darkens the doorstep. One day, she expects that a wayward troll will wander into her yard, but that hasn’t happened yet.

*Member of the Author's Guild

(May 2015) Permuted Press

(January 2014) 1st Edition Musa Publishing, LLC
(March 2015) 2nd Edition Clarissa Johal

*Second place in the Preditors and Editors Readers Poll 2014
*Winner of the Indie Book of the Day Award

(December 2012) 1st Edition Musa Publishing, LLC
(March 2015) 2nd Edition Clarissa Johal

*Second place in the Preditors and Editors Readers Poll 2012
*Paranormal Reads gives BETWEEN 4 out of 5 Bats

(2010) Clarissa Johal

*Second round finalist in Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award Contest 2012 

Find Clarissa Online:

Tour Hosted by Sapphyria's Book Promotions:

Follow the Tour:

A Bookaholic's Fix: Feeding the Addiction:

Alicia Joseph:

Author Carole Browne:

Babs Book Bistro:

Book Babble:

Clarissa Johal:

Drue's Random Chatter:

Lynn's Romance Enthusiasm:

Marie's Cozy Corner:

Sara Daniel Romance Author:

Sapphyria's Book Promotions:

Sapphyria's Book Reviews:

Lakeview Times Online: (Will be posted on Wednesday, April 29, 2015)

Saturday, April 18, 2015

#MySexySaturday Sexy's Got You - One Night With the Best Man #newrelease @DecadentPub

One Night with the Best Man

“Do you want me to give you a minute?” Susie’s compassionate voice next to his ear startled him.

Too discombobulated to attempt a callous or flirtatious reply, he allowed the truth to slip free. “Yes.”

After patting his shoulder, she strolled toward the doorway. The memories and boxes in the room closed around him as if he’d stepped in suffocating quicksand. He might summon the strength to tackle the task with her at his side, but he didn’t stand a chance alone.

“No! Don’t go. Please.”

Pausing, she raised her eyebrows, but otherwise didn’t move closer or farther from him.

A raw sense of desperation, not unlike when an enemy cut off his reinforcements, enveloped him. “I’ve harassed you and acted like a jerk, and I’m sorry. I promise not to feel you up or jump you. I just really suck at trips down memory lane and could use a little moral support, if you don’t mind staying with me.”

Her gaze softened and she slipped her arm around his waist, her warm curves burning through his clothes and into his flesh. “Of course I’ll stay.”

Alejandro “Alex” Cortez vowed never to return to the family farm, but when his sister makes it the destination for her wedding, he has no choice. The farm’s new owner, sexy agricultural professor Dr. Susan Gundersen, is his only hope for a diversion from the haunting memories.

Susan knows better than to count on people sticking around for her. The farm gives her the roots and permanence she’s craved her entire life. As she helps Alex clear out his family’s mementos from the house, Susan is drawn to the raw and vulnerable man under his carefree exterior. A few kisses later, she falls hard and fast.

Despite their mutual attraction, Susan will never leave the farm and Alex will never consider staying.  Will one passionate night with the best man give them the courage to face what they each fear most or drive them apart forever?

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Friday, April 17, 2015

#NewRelease One Night with the Best Man @DecadentPub #militaryhero #farmgirl

Will a one night stand give them the courage to face what they fear most or drive them apart forever?

“Are you ready to go to the bedroom?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He winked.

Heat flooded her cheeks. “You know what I mean. Don’t try to create a sexual context where there isn’t any.”

“Professor, from the moment I saw your assets through that hospital gown, all I’ve thought of is sexual contexts with you.”

“Grow up, Alex. And my name is Susan.” She gestured for him to leave the kitchen ahead of her.

“Lead the way, Susie.” He gestured right back. “If I have to go to the bedroom for any other reason, I’m going to revel in being immature and hormonal, and check you out while we walk.”

Marching through the living room and down the short hallway, she tried to ignore where his gaze rested, but her stomach flip-flopped and every nerve ending sparked with awareness. “If you’re so into backsides, you should have become a doctor, so you could see a new one every day.”

“I don’t want to see everybody’s,” he said from behind her, so close his breath brushed her neck. “I have standards, and let me tell you, in those tight jeans, you’ve met and exceeded every one of them.”

Despite the promise of heaven in his voice, the last thing she needed was a guy with a sworn avoidance of all attachments. She did not need a fling with a man who wouldn’t stick around. She had a plan for permanence and stability and to build an organic dairy legacy. People would come and go from her life, but she could count on the farm and her university research to always be there for her.

Alejandro “Alex” Cortez vowed never to return to the family farm, but when his sister makes it the destination for her wedding, he has no choice. The farm’s new owner, sexy agricultural professor Dr. Susan Gundersen, is his only hope for a diversion from the haunting memories.

Susan knows better than to count on people sticking around for her. The farm gives her the roots and permanence she’s craved her entire life. As she helps Alex clear out his family’s mementos from the house, Susan is drawn to the raw and vulnerable man under his carefree exterior. A few kisses later, she falls hard and fast.

Despite their mutual attraction, Susan will never leave the farm and Alex will never consider staying. Will one passionate night with the best man give them the courage to face what they each fear most or drive them apart forever?

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Do Authors Manipulate Readers? #Regency and #RomanticSuspense author Vonnie Hughes Weighs In

Do Authors Manipulate Readers?
by Vonnie Hughes

You bet they do! Authors know what buttons to push.

By ‘what buttons to push’ I mean what buttons do authors use to manipulate (yep, being honest) their readers’ emotions, to get them on side with the characters in their books. For example, perhaps the author creates unlikeable, evil antagonists and emphasizes the sterling qualities of his protagonists.

The most obvious ploy is the ticking clock. It not only lends urgency but it yanks the reader along at a rush, keeping him intrigued.

Then there’s characterization. Of course in this dynamic world, what worked ten years ago may not have the same appeal in 2014. The innocent 1960s virgin, so prevalent in romances of that time, would drive a reader from 2014 to drink. We are much more cynical, well-informed and downright demanding than we were then. Historically though, some classics retain their appeal because they are much more than the sum of their characters’ emotions. To Kill A Mockingbird’s racial tensions are still not outmoded today, and that lazy description of the syrupy south’s inbred attitudes is not far from the truth in some out-of-the-way places. And that is why books like these are classics. They endure not just because of the characters in the books but because of the settings and historical attitudes. And Harper Lee manipulated the readers’ emotions. Think of the way she pushes Scout’s lack of desire to be a ‘lady’ so that the reader is on Scout’s side.

Perhaps today’s writers manipulate the readers in more subtle ways. What of Dick Francis’s heroes who are often of the working class up against a criminal upper class or just up against class bigotry where he is on the outside looking in? Dick Francis does that so well that even if the protagonist is not your usual Everyman, the reader is still very much on his side. That’s right. The modern protagonist need not be a perfect hero as he has been in novels and movies of the past. Some have patchy backgrounds and they’ve made mistakes.

There’s Lee Child’s Jack Reacher who thrums a string in every male heart. They all want to be Jack with his freedom and lack of possessions but with an innate sense of responsibility. And of course Jack has been in the military and knows how to handle himself in vicious situations. Every man’s dream. There are a lot of wannabe Jacks out there. And Lee knows how to manipulate those readers.

Tami Hoag’s heroines are believably imperfect. They make mistakes and have hang-ups that readers can empathise with and they frequently have to form alliances with people they don’t trust. There’s that little brush of reality that lends credence to the stories.

So…empathy and sympathy are the buttons. And the harder those buttons are pushed by authors and movie makers, the more a reader/viewer becomes invested in the characters. We need to see how the protagonists get themselves out of a bind, or if the evil antagonists get their come-uppance. And the best books of all are where you know darned well that the author is pushing your buttons, but you just don’t care. The book is so good!


Vonnie Hughes is a multi-published author in both Regency books and contemporary suspense. She loves the intricacies of the social rules of the Regency period and the far-ranging consequences of the Napoleonic Code. And with suspense she has free rein to explore forensic matters and the strong convolutions of the human mind. Like many writers, some days she hates the whole process, but somehow she just cannot let it go.

Vonnie was born in New Zealand, but she and her husband now live happily in Australia. If you visit Hamilton Gardens in New Zealand be sure to stroll through the Japanese Garden. These is a bronze plaque engraved with a haiku describing the peacefulness of that environment. The poem was written by Vonnie.

All of Vonnie’s books are available on Amazon.

Learn more about Vonnie Hughes on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Goodreads.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

#MySexySaturday Are you sexy? #reunitedlovers #secondchance @DecadentPub

“Blake.” Her heart bled as if she’d stabbed it with a pitchfork. She dropped her hand from her stomach to her side. “What are you doing here?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea.” His lips curved in a crooked smile.

Aching to wrap her arms around him, to kiss his sexy mouth, to soak in his presence while grinning at him like a fool, she took a step back. She might not be hallucinating, but his sudden appearance had the power to drive her over the edge of insanity and longing. Her heel caught on the threshold at the opening of the barn, and she stumbled.

He reached for her, but she steadied herself on the doorframe, holding out her other palm to ward him away. She couldn’t handle seeing him, let alone skin-on-skin contact.

“Give me a minute,” she begged. “I’m kind of shocked to see you.” Kind of, ha. Completely would have been an understatement.

His smile faded. “Good shocked or bad shocked?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Buy Links:
Barnes & Noble
All Romance eBooks

Read all the books in the One Night With the Bridal Party series:

One Night With the Best Man (coming 4/17/15)
One Night With her Husband (coming 5/15/15)
One Night With his Wife (coming 6/12/15)

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Got Leftover Easter Eggs? Devil them! #recipe

I love to eat deviled eggs—as long as someone else makes them! But as I approached my fourth decade of life, I realized maybe I need to cross this item off my bucket list even though the creation seemed way too complicated and fancy. I’m a busy mom with a full-time writing job. When it comes to food, I don’t do complicated or fancy.

Last spring I had a bunch of leftover Easter eggs and a whole lot of company coming over. I needed my guests to eat those eggs, so they weren’t sitting in my fridge until Halloween! So I scoured recipes online (Thanks Google!) and simplified the simplest recipe. I haven’t figured out a way to simplify peeling hard boiled eggs, but once I got past that part, these eggs were easy-peasy to make.

Easy Deviled Eggs
1 dozen hard boiled eggs
1/3 cup mayonnaise
2 tsp. honey Dijon mustard

Peel hard boiled eggs. (Muttering and cursing is optional, but I find the eggs respond better to threats and bad temper!)

Slice eggs lengthwise. Scoop yolks into a bowl. Mash yolks, mayonnaise, and mustard together.

Scoop mixture with a small spoon into egg white halves. (If you want to use some fancy thing to make pretty, complicated designs, knock yourself out!)

Sprinkle with paprika. Cover with cling wrap and store in the refrigerator until you're ready to serve.

Monday, April 6, 2015

"This Is No Joke" Campaign: Finding Mercy by @Dlaree69 #PTSD @DecadentPub

This is no joke.
Every 65 minutes, a military veteran commits suicide.
Guest Post by D.L. Jackson
I'm going to be honest here. Finding Mercy took a lot out of me when I wrote it. I had so much to say and there was no other way I could think to show you what I felt. Finding Mercy is not a warm and fuzzy romance. It is a struggle for one man to learn to love again, himself, and someone else. It is a book about hope, when all seems hopeless. It is a book about choosing to step out of the dark, no matter how impossible it seems.
Combat medics have a dangerous job, and part of that job is dragging wounded off hot battlefields. They have hearts for healing and helping, and because of this, cannot help collecting a few scars of their own, both physically and mentally.
If you haven't read Finding Mercy, I’ll warn you, it probably has one of the most grisly battle scenes I've written. The hero is damaged—searching for peace and a way to start over. He is at a crossroads in his life that many vets face every day. He's in pain and a very dark place. He has a weakness for the bottle, desperate to drown memories he can't forget. For some readers, I've been told, the scenes are hard to stomach. What the hero goes through is too painful to read. I am aware I was pretty brutal to my hero, but I needed to paint a realistic portrait of the face of PTSD in our active duty military and veterans. This story has been called everything from graphically violent to an anti-romance.
So be it. It got your attention. 
We cannot erase PTSD by pretending it doesn't exist. But we can move forward by supporting our military and vets, as they face those crossroads. Here’s  a link to some facts about veterans and active duty military featured on PBS, Public Broadcasting System:
I’d like you to join me in raising some money for a great cause. I’ve asked my publisher to track all sales for this book for the month of April, May and June 2015. I’m not asking for reviews or a bump in the ratings. You don’t even have to like this book, but I hope you do. What I am asking, is that you buy this book April 1st- June 30th 2015, and share the link. It costs $2.99, the price of a cup of coffee. Not a huge chunk of change. We spend more than that on a salad or burger at any given time.
Starting April 1st and running through June 30th, I will donate my total royalties from the sale of Finding Mercyan erotic military romance, to a charity that helps military and veterans who suffer from PTSD. I have to be non-specific which charity, because of federal regulations. Buy the book, help a warrior. It’s that simple.  This is about something I strongly believe in. You see, I’m a vet. My husband is a vet. His grandfather served in the Navy in WWII, my father in the Air Force during Vietnam. My mother-in-law is a Marine, and both of my sons are active duty. My oldest is currently on his third deployment. My youngest, a Combat Medic, is preparing for his first.
I’ve seen the face of PTSD. It belongs to our sons and daughters, wives and husbands, fathers and mothers, grandmothers and grandfathers. It is our neighbors, friends and co-workers.  It doesn’t discriminate, and it doesn’t just go away. Wounded vets need help.
Help me, help them.
Thank you for your help,

D. L. Jackson

Saturday, April 4, 2015

#CoverReveal Rain by @TarynKincaid #BeyondFairytales @DecadentPub

A Beyond Fairytales Story
Taryn Kincaid

In a world gone mad, where little remains but a vast wasteland of sand, the leader of a troop of roving warriors welcomes a brave young woman into his midst.

Much as he burns for her, Major Clay Worthington swears to keep his distance from the mysterious woman, so sensitive even the stinging rain can wound her.

Rosina Brierly is besotted with the formidable soldier and will gladly trade her life for one torrid night of blissful passion in his arms.

But when sleep overcomes them, will true love prevail?

Coming in May 2015 from Decadent Publishing

Friday, April 3, 2015

FREE #kidlit #chapterbook April 3-5th from @BravestSquirrel #middlegrade

FREE April 3 - 5, 2015
on Kindle
The Bravest Squirrel: 3 Books in 1

As a special addition to The Bravest Squirrel family, The Bravest Squirrel Ever, The Bravest Squirrel in the Forest, and The Bravest Squirrel in School are now compiled in a special 3 in 1 print and Kindle book edition at a significant saving to buying all three books separately. In addition, if you are a member of Kindle Unlimited, you can download and read the digital version free!

The Bravest Squirrel: 3 Books 1

The Bravest Squirrel Ever: Scared of thunder, lightning and being "flopped" by the humans, Pippi the squirrel wants to return to her mama's warm, cozy nest. Instead, she and her siblings stumble on a better forbidden human territory. When she becomes trapped inside, Pippi must depend on her wits to survive, proving to herself and the world just how brave a little squirrel can be.

The Bravest Squirrel in the Forest: Max is determined to prove he is the bravest squirrel ever. He devises a plan to rescue his Uncle Louie. Instead, he is locked in cage, sprayed by a skunk, dumped out of a truck, and abandoned with a hungry coyote hot on his trail. Max has to give up being brave and beg others to help him. When he has the chance to save Uncle Louie or risk his life to save a friend, Max discovers just how brave he really is.

The Bravest Squirrel in School: Lana has no interest in being brave, but she would like to be cuddled by a human. She ends up in a school bus full of children with no other squirrel to take care of her. With no one coming to rescue her, Lana needs to stand up for herself against the playground bullies and figure out a way to get back home. If she’s not brave enough to rescue herself, she’ll be stuck in school forever.

Amazonprint and e-book
Createspace (print)
Barnes & Noble (print)

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

The Road Leads Back ... and to Indie Publishing @MarciBoudreaux #newrelease

Guest Post by Marci Boudreaux

Thanks for having me, Sara!

As I’m making the rounds celebrating the April 3 release of The Road Leads Back, I am actually a wee bit shocked that I pulled this thing off.

I’m sure those authors who have self-pubbed several times are like, “pfft, so easy,” but for me, this presented a challenge. I never realized how much I relied on my publisher to ease the stress of putting a book release together.

I am perfectly capable of doing the design, the cover, finding a qualified editor, connecting for a blog hop, so this should have been a breeze, right? Wrong! It isn’t just the basic work, it’s the emotional ups and downs of finding errors after thinking it is perfect (the last error—at least as of this writing—was finding “bewtrayed” on the back cover after 40 print copies showed up on my door!), it’s the stress of wanting—no, needing—everything to be perfect, it’s the self inflicted pressure of doing everything right the first time. Or, maybe I just take myself too seriously and the rest of the authors who jump into self publishing can take these things in stride. Whatever it is, I wasn’t quite prepared for the stress of writing, editing, and releasing The Road Leads Back.

Even with all the blood, sweat, and tears (okay, maybe just tears), I am so proud of this book. There’s quite a story packed into these pages and I’m so happy to get to share it with you.


Kara Martinson and Harry Canton weren’t exactly high school sweethearts, but they did share one night neither will ever forget. Twenty-seven years later, Harry surprises Kara at an art gallery opening and discovers he left her with more than just memories when he went away to college. Desperate to connect with the family he never knew existed, Harry convinces his son to move to Stonehill—and pleads with Kara to come, too.
Kara hasn’t stepped foot in their hometown since the day she was sent away to a home for unwed mothers. Now Harry’s back in her life and as they put together the pieces of their parents’ betrayal, old heartaches start to feel anew. She wants to be near her family, but returning to Iowa means facing some things…and some people…she isn’t quite ready to.
Can Harry convince her to forgive the people who betrayed her so they can embrace the future they were robbed of so long ago? Or will the pain of the past be too much for Kara to overcome?


Kara squeezed her way toward the crowded bar, nudging between two kids who she couldn’t quite believe were old enough to be legally drinking in public. Shouldn’t they be funneling cheap beer in a college dorm somewhere? Or sneaking shots from Daddy’s liquor cabinet?

Art gallery openings used to be much more sophisticated than this. When she was a young artist, openings were about appreciating the art and the artist, not the free booze.


Had she really gone there? Kara shook her head at her bitter thoughts.

The bartender, a walking tattoo with spiked black hair, leaned close so she could hear him. “What’ll it be?”

She realized all she wanted was wine. And quiet. The kids around her were acting more like pre-teens jacked up on sugar than art aficionados. One made a face, squished and reddened, as he held up an empty shot glass as proof of his triumph.

She wondered when she had gotten so damned old. She never used to snub her nose at a good drink. Actually, she completely understood what her problem was, and it had nothing to do with age. She’d conformed. She’d fallen into line. She’d done what she was supposed to do. Agent? Check. Gallery opening? Check. Interviews with all the local fancy-pants magazines? Check.

But this wasn’t her. None of this was her.

Frowning, she leaned in as well, making sure he heard her over the jeering of the kids next to her. “Tequila.” Within seconds he set a glass in front of her and filled it with amber liquid. He started to walk away but she held up one hand and lifted the glass with the other. She downed the drink, slammed the glass down, and gestured for another—one shot wasn’t nearly enough to numb the misery of this evening.

The young man lifted his brows and smirked as he gav­­­e her another shot. He laughed as she motioned for him to fill the glass a third time. “I can’t do this all night, lady.”

“One more.”

“Some of the crap in here costs more than my car. No puking. Got it?”

Kara chuckled. Clearly he didn’t recognize her as the artist who had made the crap. “Honey, I was doing tequila shots before your daddy dropped his pants and made you.”

The barkeep threw his head back and laughed, then filled her glass one more time. “Nice one, babe.”

Babe? Kara snorted as she lifted the glass. It was almost to her lips when a hand squeezed her shoulder.

 “Kara?” asked a deep, smooth voice as if the man wasn’t certain who he was touching.

She turned. Her eyes bulged as she looked into an intense dark gaze she hadn’t seen since the night she’d lost her virginity.

The music had been loud, the beer lukewarm, and everybody who was anybody—and several nobody’s like Kara and Harry—in their senior class of Stonehill High was at the graduation party. The only person she had cared about, though, didn’t care about her. Or so she’d thought. Until she’d somehow ended up on Shannon Blake’s disgustingly pink- and ruffle-covered bed with Harry Canton, book club president and algebra superstar, clumsily removing her clothes, leaving slobbery kisses in their wake.

Kara swallowed hard as the flash of a memory faded, and the man standing before her, looking as shocked as she felt, came back into view.

She downed the liquor, slammed the glass against the bar, and sighed before she announced, “I’ve been looking for you for twenty-seven years.”

He sank onto the vacant stool next to her and lifted his hands as if he were at a loss for words. Something that appeared to be guilt filled his eyes and made his full lips sag into a frown. She’d be damned if temptation didn’t hit her as hard as it had when she was a hormonal teen.

“I wanted to tell you I was leaving,” he said, “but I didn’t know how.”

“You should have tried something like, ‘Kara, I’m leaving.’”

“You’re right. But I was a kid. I didn’t have a lot of common sense. All I could think about was how I finally had my freedom.”

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “You had your freedom? You selfish prick.”

His eyes widened. “Well, that might be a little harsh. I was just a kid, Kara. Yes, I should have told you I had no intention of staying with you, but I was a little overwhelmed by what had happened. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?

Harry’s shoulders slumped, as if he had given up justifying sneaking out on her in the middle of the night. “Look, I saw a flier for your gallery opening, and I wanted to say hello. I thought maybe… I don’t know what I was thinking.” He sounded hurt, dejected even. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He stood. She put her hand to his chest and shoved him back onto the barstool. The move instantly reminded of her their one night together. All of seventeen and totally inexperienced, she’d fancied herself a seductress and pushed him on the bed before straddling his hips like she had a clue what she was doing.

Touching his chest now, warmth radiated through her entire body.

She glared, pulling her hand away and squeezing her fingers into a fist. “Are you living in Seattle?”

He shook his head. “I had a conference in town. There were fliers at the hotel. As soon as I saw your picture, I knew I had to come.” His smile returned and excitement oozed from his face. “I can’t believe you have a gallery opening. This is amazing, Kare.”

She wasn’t nearly as thrilled by her accomplishment as he seemed to be. She felt like she was selling her soul instead of her art. She’d always preferred to go the indie route, but that crap agent had cornered her at a particularly vulnerable moment and convinced her she needed him…just like he convinced her she needed to be in a gallery. Although, now she was glad she’d conceded on the open bar.

The tequila swirled through her, making her muscles tingle, preventing her from fully engaging the near-three decades of anger she’d been harboring. She had spent an awfully long time wanting to give Harry Canton a piece of her mind.

Even so, hearing him say she’d done something amazing warmed her in a way very little ever had. If he had come looking for another one-night stand, she hated to admit that she would consider reliving that night again—only this time with more sexual experience and less expectation of him sticking around.

He might be almost three decades older, but his face was still handsome and his brown eyes were just as inviting as they had been when he was a high school prodigy and she was a wallflower.

She smirked at a realization: he was in a suit, probably having just left a corporate meeting, while she was wearing a red sari-inspired dress at her gallery opening.

He was still the straight arrow. She was still the eccentric artist.

“Did you hear what I said, Harry? About looking for you for the last twenty-seven years.”

His shoulders sagged. “I never meant to sleep with you that night. I mean”—he quickly lifted his hands—“I was leaving and should have told you before taking you upstairs. I shouldn’t have just left like that, but I didn’t think you wanted to see me again anyway. If it’s any consolation,” he said giving her a smile that softened the rough edges of her anger, “I’d been working up the courage to kiss you since junior year when you squeezed a tube of red paint in Mitch Friedman’s hair after he made jokes about Frida Kahlo’s eyebrows in art class.”

She frowned at him. That hadn’t been her finest hour. Then again, neither was waking up thinking she was starting a new life as a high school graduate and the girlfriend of the cutest boy she’d ever met, only to find the other side of the homecoming queen’s bed empty. “There’s nothing wrong with a woman embracing her natural beauty.”

His smile faded quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “I shouldn’t have left you like I did. I hope you believe that I regret it. Not being with you,” he amended, “but leaving without explaining.”

She laughed softly. He’d had that same nervous habit in high school. He’d say what was on his mind and then instantly try to recover, afraid his words had come out wrong. Usually they had. For as awkward as she’d been, at least she’d always been able to say what she meant and to stand behind it. Of course, that ability got her in trouble more often than not.

She’d told herself a million times that Harry didn’t owe her an explanation. They hadn’t been in any kind of relationship. She’d drooled over him from afar, but other than an occasional smile in the hallway, he’d barely acknowledged her existence in high school. Even if he hadn’t gone off to start his Ivy League college career the day after graduation, he likely never would have looked at her again. Well, at least not until she could no longer hide the truth of their one-night stand from the world.

 “I expected so much more from you, Harry,” she said sadly, the sting of what he’d done back then numbed slightly by the tequila.

His shoulders sagged a bit. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you ever write me back?” Her voice sounded hurt and pathetic. She was surprised that after so many years of being angry, there was still pain hiding beneath her fury. “I must have sent you a hundred letters.”

He creased his brow. “Letters? I didn’t get any letters.”

Kara searched his eyes. He looked genuinely confused.

“I sent them to…” Her words faded. Suddenly the tequila-induced haze wasn’t so welcome. “Your mother said if I wrote to you, she’d make sure you got my letters.”

“My mother? I never got any letters.”

“But you sent money.”

Harry shook his head slightly. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I send you money?”

She stared at him as realization set in. He hadn’t responded to her letters because he hadn’t received her letters. And if he hadn’t received the letters, he hadn’t sent her money. And if he hadn’t sent her money, he hadn’t known that she needed it. Sighing, she let some of her decades-old anger slip. Her head spun, either from the alcohol or the blurry dots she was trying to mentally connect. Leaning onto the bar, she exhaled slowly. “She never told you, did she?”

“Told me what?”

Kara couldn’t speak. Her words wouldn’t form.

An arm wrapped around Kara’s shoulder, startling her and making her gasp quietly. She turned and blinked several times at the man who had just slid next to her.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I need to get home.” Leaning in, he kissed her head. “Congratulations on the opening, Mom. It was great.”

“Um…” She swallowed, desperate to find her voice. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She flicked her gaze at the man sitting next to her. The longer Harry looked at her son, the wider Harry’s eyes became.

Phil cast a disapproving glance at Harry then focused on his mother again. “Don’t forget that Jess is expecting you to make pancakes in the morning. You promised.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Kara returned her attention to Harry. His jaw was slack and his cheeks had grown pale.

Phil nodded at Harry as if he were satisfied that he’d made the point that his mother didn’t need to be staying out all night and walked away. Harry watched him leave while Kara waved down the bartender and pointed at her glass. The tattooed kid hesitated, likely debating the ethics of giving her another shot. She pointed again, cocking a brow for emphasis, and he finally filled her glass.

“Kara…” Harry’s voice was breathless, like he’d been kicked in the gut. “Was…was that my…son?”

No. His mother definitely hadn’t given him the letters Kara had written. She lifted her shot, toasting him. “Congratulations, Harry. It’s a boy.”


Sorry, but I do have to put in one little rule here. International shipping is crazy expensive. If the winner is not in the Continental US, you will receive an e-copy of The Road Leads Back and your choice of one of my backlist.

About Marci:

Marci Boudreaux lives with her husband, two children and their numerous pets. Romance is her preferred reading and writing genre because nothing feels better than falling in love with someone new and her husband doesn't like when she does that in real life.
As well as writing erotica under her pen name Emilia Mancini, Marci is a content editor for Lyrical Press, an imprint of Kensington Publishing. She earned her MS in Publishing from University of Houston-Victoria in 2014 and worked with Des Moines publishing company Big Green Umbrella Media, Inc. as a freelance writer until she recently opted to focus on working in books.