Sara Daniel Romance Author: November 2015

Monday, November 30, 2015

Put Your Ho Ho's On #ChristmasErotica #anthology @ErzabetBishop

This is a saucy, sassy, fun Christmas Collection, an Anthology of Multi-Genre ErocoThrobbers from Award-Winning NYT, USA Today Bestselling Authors!
~~~~~~~~ Hot and Spicy ~ Cool and Cozy ~ Scorching to the Touch ~~~~~~~~


You are going to love this great collection of Sexy Christmas Stories that celebrate the Hallowed Halls of Christmas so beautifully decked out with lights, balls...and more balls...a few naked butts, some kinky fur chains and satin ribbons sure to warm the cockles of your hearts and...well, other anatomical parts.

This book is dedicated to you, our loyal friend, family and reader fan. As a gesture of our appreciation for your loyal support, unfaltering encouragement and insatiable appetite for the romantic, erotic, sometimes kinky literotica we so love to write. While we adore what we do, no matter our struggle in our love/hate relationship with pen and ink, our muse or the censors, without you none of what we do would have purpose.

So...don't bother keeping your hands to yourself ~ It is Christmas! Unwrap, unribbon, untape, and crack out the eggnog! Parade around naked while you deck the balls and halls!! And celebrate!

Buy links:
Google Play ~

Introduction By International Bestselling Author C.K. Laurence

I was so honored when Muffy Wilson asked me to write the introduction to this holiday compendium of the bestselling Literotica authors that could be found that I immediately dropped my pants and pulled on my ho hos to begin deliberation on how I could possibly do justice to the joy, love, humor and sincere holiday spirit in PUT YOUR HO HOs ON.

Sleigh bells rung in my head here in 90 degree Miami Beach heat and I tingled in all those special places as I read each of the best selling Literotica author's entries. It was so buoying to be one of the first to have the opportunity to read the entire collection of delightful tales of love, romance and hot sex--in the spirit of Christmas!

Relax in your most comfortable chair--or if you're reading it with one of your particularly special partners you might be more comfy wearing your birthday suit and cuddling in bed. You are about to read the works of over twenty bestselling Literotica authors, all carefully chosen for their always titillating books and the most capable to write these erotic tales of six-pack Santas, hung so well that you'll have sugar plum genitals dancing in your heads! (OOOOPS! Did I say that out loud?)

I'm going to turn the anthology over to you now, because even if you're not breathing a little heavier just yet, you will be when you get to the 'meat' of the stories. So put your ho hos on and get ready for the hottest winter holidays ever!

~ C.K. Laurence
International Bestselling Mystery Author
The Mystery of Jessica Benson

From the Inside Flap
Muffy Wilson
Christmas Marine
"Carpe Marine Christmas Package."
Airicka Phoenix
Heads or Tails
"Heads, I'm yours. Tails, you're mine."
Ashen White
8 Yule Swords
"A coven of skyclad witches initiates a novice on the Longest Night of
Bernard Tristan Foong
Naughty Bad Boys
"Let's be naughty and bad. That'll save Santa the trip."
Blak Rayne
Turkish Delight
"One box of candies, one blindfold, and in one night everything
 C.P. Mandara
"She's waited ten years for one night."
Erzabet Bishop
Naughty Cookie
"Wooden spoons will fly..."
Gale Stanley
Cry Uncle
"Dumped by her soulmate, Polly is afraid to trust another man--until she embraces a lifestyle where trust is everything."
Gemma Parkes
Calendar Girl
"The camera never lies, but sometimes it can reveal more than was intended."
Gina Kincade
On Santa's Naughty List
"Sometimes there's more rewarding fun to be had on Santa's
naughty list!"
Jacintha Topaz
Skid - Black Storm Pack 5
"Alpha finds a mate in the most unlikely man and place."
Ju Ephraime
Pleasure Intense
"This Christmas he plans on taking her in every position possible...
all sixty-four of them."
Kiki Howell
Silent Night
"The peace of Christmas Eve eludes a vampire in love."
Maddie Taylor   
His Naughty Christmas Angel
"Will her dominant boss jump at the chance for some yuletide delights or will her naughtiness prompt a different response entirely?"
Pablo Michaels
Little Old St Nick
"Is sex before dinner with Little Ole St. Nick the true meaning of Christmas?"
Paige Matthews
A Devoured Christmas
"Christmas gets kinky and devoured"
Phoenix Johnson
A Bride for Christmas
"All he wants for Christmas is a bride to call his own."
P.T. Macias
Blood Moon Mate
"Paranormal bad boys are sexy, wild, and full of suspense!"
R.B O'Brien
The Bed, the Blindfold and the Belt
"Will Michael allow Natalie to cum home for Christmas?"
Rebecca Lorenson
A Christmas Ornament
"Far from home, Dawn gets a little Christmas spirit."
Sky Purington
A Christmas Miracle
"Love found across time is put to the test when tragedy separates a Highlander
from his lass."

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Thursday, November 26, 2015

Sharing #poem by HL Carpenter #HappyThanksgiving


by HL Carpenter

On a fabulous fall afternoon,
the chicken is cooked, the soup stock bubbling.

The house is warm with the scent of good food,
abundance and plenty.

There’s more than enough.

We open the door and share with the neighborhood.


Books, bliss, food, friendship--whatever you choose to share, we wish you a happy Thanksgiving.


HL Carpenter is the pen name of a Florida-based mother/daughter duo who writes from their studio in Carpenter Country, a magical place that, like their stories, is unreal but not untrue. They write sweet, clean fiction suitable for your entire family. When they're not writing, the Carpenters enjoy exploring the Land of What-If and practicing the fine art of Curiosity. Learn more about HL Carpenter and their multi-genre books on their website where you'll also find gift reads and the latest Carpenter Country news. Be sure to check out their Amazon Author Page.

Stay connected on Pinterest, Linkedin, and Google+.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

#NewRelease from @VSMorgan1 @DecadentPub #shifterromance #pnr

Rex's Mate
Decadent Publishing
Cover by Tibbs Design
Genre: m/m Multicultural, paranormal/shifter, erotic romance
~25,000 words
Heat Level 5
Sequel to Hunter's Mark but can be read as standalone

Former assassin Rex realizes retirement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be without someone to share it with. He longs for the kind of connection his friends Hunter and Casey have. Tired of meaningless hookups, Rex and his wolf are ready to find their mate. But what if his mate is the human-were bunny shifter his former boss placed in his care? Can he win the heart of this fierce and beautiful man?

Abducted and genetically altered against his will, Aaron is thrust into a world he’d thought was only make-believe. Under the protection of a Minnesota wolf pack, he struggles with his new abilities as a rabbit shifter and his growing attraction for his cocky protector. Can he trust the former assassin to keep him safe and find his brother still being held captive by the evil group responsible for changing his life forever?


Something tickled his ear, and teeth nipped the lobe. Oh, he liked it a bit rough.

“Oh yeah, baby. Bite me again. Harder.” Rex opened his eyes, finding himself on his side, face-to-face with the rabbit.

“Screw that!” He scrambled back, landing bare-assed on the floor.

Screw bunny?

His wolf’s puzzled response had him crab walking toward the door. How the hell had it gotten in bed with him? Hunter. That shithead.

Leaving the rabbit there, Rex shoved onto his feet and stormed upstairs to their room. He opened the door with so much force it slammed against the wall, causing Priss to bark at the end of the bed.

His righteous indignation diminished slightly with Hunter’s Glock trained on him. Maybe he needed to rethink how soft the former assassin had gotten. His friend lowered the gun and glared at him.

“What the hell, Hunter?” He planted his hands on his hips, more confident without a gun pointed at his face.

Casey sat up and rubbed his eyes, his reddish-blond hair standing on end. “What’s the naked, crazy man yelling about?”

Hunter covered the little wolf’s eyes. Shifters weren’t prudes, but he was one possessive dude now he had a mate. “What’s your damage? And go put some clothes on. Casey doesn’t need to see your man bits.”

“As if you didn’t know. I moved here, froze my balls off last winter, and how do you repay that friendship? By putting a rabbit on my bed. That wasn’t funny. I could have eaten him.” His stomach churned even though his wolf huffed in denial, insulted by the accusation.

No eat. Wolf like bunny.

Yeah, probably too much, you dumb wolf.

About the Author:
V.S. Morgan has lived all over the US but calls Minnesota her home now. Her family includes her hubby, son, and a menagerie of pets.

She's been writing stories since she could hold a pencil and dreams of happily-ever-afters - even for two hot men - because love knows no boundaries. V.S. writes IRMC contemporary, paranormal, and suspense m/m and m/f with heart. 

V.S. is a GLBT ally and a lifetime contributor of The Trevor Project.

Author Links:

Amazon Author Page:

Friday, November 20, 2015

#Thankful4You #BlogHop #printbooks #giveaway @herdingcats2012

Thankful for You Hop

Dear Reader,

Thank YOU for following me on my crazy publishing journey.Writing romances to bring joy, hope and pleasure to others is my very favorite thing in the world. Thank you for making it possible for me to do what I love.

As a thank you gift, I will send print copies of Construction Beauty Queen and Love Him or Leave to one random person (US address only). If you are international, I will gift you e-copies through Amazon instead. You can read the blurbs for each book here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Return to blog hop here

Thursday, November 19, 2015

My 1st #audiobook is now here - A Man Worth Fighting For @WiccanHaus @DecadentPub #pnr

A Man Worth Fighting For - audio version

narrated by Hollie Jackson
Now available!

Buy Links:

He has nothing left to offer. She's determined to show him how much he's worth.

Shot by a member of his elite military team, Justin Lawson goes into hiding, cutting all ties with his girlfriend to keep her safe from the traitor who’s hunting him down. With his body shattered, he no longer has anything to offer her anyway.

Holly Walters refuses to accept her boyfriend’s out-of-the-blue rejection without an explanation. Intent on seeking closure, she tracks him to the Wiccan Haus. Once there, she is drawn to help him heal his broken body and spirit, even though she knows she has to let him go.

The rogue assassin catches up to them, but this time Holly is in his crosshairs. Before Justin can make her believe he’s a man worth fighting for, they’ll have to fight for both their lives.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Texas Twister #shifterromance #fantasy by @Danawrite @etopiapress

Texas Twister (Blue Moon Chronicles) by Dana Wright -

Sometimes love finds you in the darkest places.

Magdalay Rousseau is having a bad day. She can't find the
charging cable to her laptop, and when she goes into her husband's office to
look for it, she discovers he's been cheating on her. She decides to hire a
private investigator to dig into her husband's secrets, but what the detective
discovers about her turns her world upside-down.

Carter Zusak is a private detective--and a cat shifter. When
a new client shows up, he's almost certain she's a flake. What kind of woman
writes romance novels and owns a shop selling supplies for witches? He's sure
she's got a bat or two loose in her belfry--until he delves deeper into her
case. No one in her life is what they seem, and Magdalay has just put herself
in danger more insidious than he ever imagined. Something about this witch sets
his heart on fire. But he'll have to figure out a way to save her before they
both get burned...

Buy links:

Published By: Etopia Press
Published: Oct 27, 2015
ISBN # 9781944138158
Pages: 99

blue moon chronicles, cat shifter, cisgender, dana wright,
etopia press, fantasy romance, ghost, heterosexual, magic, male / female,
paranormal, paranormal / horror, paranormal romance, private detective, private
investigator, shapeshifter, shifters, shifters / cats, shifters / felines,
supernatural, witch, wizard / witch / mystic


Magdalay Rousseau stared at her lifeless laptop and groaned.
It wouldn’t turn on. Again. So much for a lasting battery. Already irritated
from lack of sleep, she pressed the on button one more time and tried to recall
where she’d left the charger. It should be in the little plastic bag she
usually kept next to her laptop, but it wasn’t.
“Great. I can’t believe this. I ought to just spell you and
be done with it.”
She growled and pushed herself up from the small space at
the kitchen table. Perhaps it was in her work bag in the foyer. She hated
resorting to magic when real world solutions worked just fine. It had been a
point of contention with her mother for years. Besides, she wasn’t very good at
it. Wish for rain and get a flood in her kitchen. That was her life right now.
Magdalay peered into the bag.
“Oh. This is just getting better and better.”
Magdalay spun on her heel and considered her next move. She
had a deadline for her publisher, and today would be her only day off with no
distractions until next week. Not that she could focus anyway. Not with the
antics Russ was pulling lately. Her mind kept circling him like a dog with a
He’d been out with the boys from the club, but something in
the back of her mind kept digging at her. Their poker games didn’t last that
long. Neither did their dinners at the club, which she now refused to attend.
Not after the last time with his uppity friends and their equally unpleasant
wives. She didn’t fit in with the country club scene, and that was more than
all right with her.
Russ hadn’t come home—again—by the time her head hit the
pillow last night at midnight. It was becoming par for the course. Magdalay
couldn’t concentrate on anything and that included leaving her damn charging
cable someplace. She could swear it was next to her workstation last night when
she went to bed, but she could have been dreaming. She couldn’t remember, and
that just pissed her off, making her already foul mood even more noxious.
“Did you wash my pants?” Russ called out from the bedroom,
his voice lacking any of the warmth she used to receive from him.
“Yes,” she ground out, barely containing her urge to demand
where the hell he’d been all damned night. It didn’t do any good. He never
answered her anyway. “They’re folded on the dryer.”
Her husband, Russ, clad in a blue pullover shirt and
tighty-whities bolted from their bedroom down the short hall toward the laundry
room. The door opened and shut, and she caught a streak of blue out of the
corner of her eye but no acknowledgement or thank you.
Next time she ought to let his clothes just pile up and see
what happened. Well…she took that back. A week ago, she’d been too busy to keep
up with the laundry and he’d shaken her awake after a long day at the shop and
writing, demanding to know when she would get around to it. The icy stare was
enough to motivate her into preemptive action. She’d never been afraid of her
husband before that night, but things had changed between them at an alarming
She poured the water into the coffeepot and flipped on the
switch, sighing as the rich aroma of the Columbian blend pervaded the kitchen.
It was still early, and she’d spent a sleepless night tossing and turning and
imagining his car wrapped around a pole or worse. The man hadn’t come home
until after two. At least that was the last time she recalled on the blinking
clock on the nightstand. Russ hadn’t even had the decency to let her know where
he was or if he was OK. Magdalay didn’t remember him sneaking in. She’d tried
to stay awake so she could talk to him or at least give him a piece of her
mind, but she must have drifted off in a wave of jittery exhaustion.
Last night had just been the latest in a long line of
whatever was happening in their marriage and fixing it was becoming a pipe
dream. He’d grown more and more distant over the past three months and she
didn’t know what had gone wrong. Well…except for her working. He hated the
hours she spent away from home, but with her mother’s passing, Broomstix had
become hers. The irony wasn’t lost on her. A witch who didn’t want to be, or
worse yet, was terrible at it.
She thought back to her mother’s last days and the love she
had for her trusty cat, Jules. They’d been inseparable.
“You need a familiar, love. Sometimes having someone at your
back and by your side is the most powerful magic in the world.”
Magdalay’s lips twisted and she sighed. It wasn’t like she
hadn’t tried. Every cat she’d gotten went missing in a matter of days. When
she’d gone to Russ about the missing animals, he’d had nothing to say.
Frustrating wasn’t even half the word for it. Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for
animals. Then she thought all she needed was her soul mate. That would have to
be enough. She’d always thought Russ was that person, but more and more, she
sensed a tremendous gulf between them, and it left her hollow inside.
Last month she’d been at the stitching circle and each of
the ladies was practicing poppet magic. The little cloth dolls danced and
frolicked in anticipation of whatever task they were intended for. Hers lay
there, looking still and unresponsive. It was to be a creative muse for her
magic. She figured if she could cast a spell and have a poppet work on some of
her overdue plot lines and synopses, she’d be ahead of the game. No such luck.
The stitching circle, full of her mother’s old friends,
thought it was hilarious. Now on top of her writing schedule, it was her
responsibility to keep Broomstix going. People depended on her, and she was
trying to learn as much as she could. Gaining the knowledge she needed wasn't
going as smooth as she’d like.
Her gaze raked the cluttered counter where her husband paid
bills and recoiled. No way was she touching that. “Not a chance.” Then she
remembered Russ had the same model laptop she did. She could borrow his charger
and pick hers up tomorrow when she went back into work. Problem solved.
“I’m out. See you tonight,” came the clipped response from
the front hallway followed by the slamming of the decorative lead glass door.
He hadn’t even come into the kitchen. Not even for coffee.
“Wow.” Now she knew he was avoiding her and likely hiding
something. Magdalay shook her head, the bitterness of her new reality sliding
down her stomach like a Ping Pong ball. His behavior stung, and she didn’t know
what to make of it. She moved down the hall, her linen nightgown floating
around her legs. In the Texas heat, it helped to have something comfortable and
the Eileen West nightgowns were her guilty pleasure. Goddess knew she needed something.
She paused in the doorway to his office and sighed. Goddess,
she hated invading his space. Maybe the charger was right out in the open and
she could snap it up and be out before she disturbed anything of importance.
Then she saw it. Propped on a pile of paperwork next to his computer was her
small, holiday design-covered Ziploc bag with her cord dangling off the desk
over the top of it.
“What the heck?” Her lips slid into a frown and she
unclenched her hands. He took it. Probably to do the same thing she’d been
about to do, but at least she would have replaced his where she found it as
soon as she was done. She reached down to pick up the bag and wind up the
charging cord, and her hand brushed the mouse on his desk, the darkened screen
erupting to life. His e-mail was up. She wouldn’t have stopped save for the
name on the screen.
Slowly, Magdalay lowered herself into the chair and began to
read. She hadn’t meant to intrude on his privacy. They’d always respected each
other enough to be honest. At least she’d always thought so. But with every
line she read, the trust she believed her marriage was based on was revealed to
be nothing more than a lie.
She hated wives who resorted to sneaking into their
husband’s phone records and all of those things to find out what they’d been up
to. Now, here she was, and she didn’t have a clue what to do about it. What was
done was done and couldn’t be taken back. One e-mail turned into two. Two
turned into a dozen, and at that point she had to stop, the contents of her
stomach churning like wildfire in her gut.
Fuck me. Fuck me like you did in your office.
I want it all.
You motherfucker.
Tears stung her eyes. There was no other explanation was
there? It was all laid out in black and white. The only thing missing was a
frigging video of them fornicating. Her stomach lurched.
The lump in her throat threatened to overtake her, and she
had to pause and take a deep breath. Her mother’s absence was a raw and gaping
wound. Eleanor would have known what to do, but Magdalay was frozen with
indecision. Her thoughts turned to the ladies in her stitching circle. They met
once a month but it wasn’t scheduled until next week. Goddess, but she sure
could use some comfort now. Or at least, a sounding board for her fury. Her
fingertips itched to zot the fucker but no…not yet. Not that she was fully
capable, but her circle was. She’d seen it time and again.
But the emails…she read the last line again.
I want to run my fingers down your long, long legs and part
your… She had to stop. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her once again.
“You cheating bastard,” she whispered. She had to be sure.
It was possible it was only emails. In her heart, she knew that was a lie.
Magdalay stood, her knees shaking and made her way out of Russ’s office to her
work space in the kitchen. She hooked up the laptop to the charger and shoved
the plug into the wall.
Magdalay considered her options. She could wait and confront
him when he got home. Whenever that would be.
Or she could hex him where he stood and watch as his dick
shriveled up and fell off. A tiny smile twitched at the corner of her lips at
the idea. If only. With her luck, she’d turn him into an overlarge piece of
beef jerky and have to explain that one to the police.
Not a good idea. Her magic was unpredictable at best. She’d
hid it from him, not wanting to go there. It wasn’t her fault she was born a
witch. It was her choice whether or not to use it. If something needing a spell
came up, she waited until her hubby was off doing engineer things or sleeping
in front of the television. Proof. She needed more proof. The laptop whirled to
life and she pulled up her search engine.
What about a private detective? She had a little mad money
put aside for the dress she wanted for the romance writer’s convention in a few
months. Magdalay had no idea what the detective would cost, but she had to
know. With unblinking eyes she typed, private investigator Spinnaker, Texas
then she closed her eyes, rolled the mouse, and clicked on the Blue Moon
Detective Agency.

About the author:

Dana Wright has always had a fascination with things that go
bump in the night. She is often found playing at local bookstores, trying not
to maim herself with crochet hooks or knitting needles, watching monster movies
with her husband and furry kids or blogging about books. More commonly, she is
chained to her computers, writing like a woman possessed. She is currently
working on several children's stories, young adult fiction, romantic suspense,
short stories and is trying her hand at poetry. She is a contributing author to
Ghost Sniffer’s CYOA, Siren’s Call E-zine in their “Women in Horror” issue in
February 2013 and "Revenge" in October 2013, a contributing author to
Potatoes!, Fossil Lake, Of Dragons and Magic: Tales of the Lost Worlds, Undead
in Pictures, Potnia, Shadows and Light, Dark Corners (upcoming), Wonderstruck,
Shifters: A Charity Anthology, Dead Harvest, Monster Diaries, Holiday Horrors
and the Roms, Bombs and Zoms Anthology from Evil Girlfriend Media. She is the
author of Asylum, The Invitation and Texas Twister.   Dana has also reviewed music for specializing in New Age and alternative music and has been a
contributing writer to Eternal Haunted Summer, Massacre Magazine, Metaphor
Magazine, The Were Traveler October 2013 edition: The Little Magazine of
Magnificent Monsters, the December 2013 issue The Day the Zombies Ruled the
Earth. She currently reviews music at New Age Music Reviews and Write a Music

Follow Dana’s reviews:

Twitter: @danawrite
site and newsletter:
Facebook fan page:

The Romance Reviews:

Monday, November 16, 2015

Easy Apple Chutney #recipe from #fantasy author @chrispavesic

Fantasy author Chris Pavesic is in the kitchen with her delicious and healthy addition to your dinner menu. The kitchen is all yours, Chris.

This recipe is one of the first I make during the fall season to go along with the bountiful harvest of apples available in my area of the Midwest.

Photo by kornnphoto
TeaOrganic Ginger Candy

I use organic ingredients whenever I can. I find that it improves the flavor and I think it is healthier for me and my family. However, this chutney can easily be made with non-organic ingredients as well. It is all up to you—the cook.

Traditionally apple chutney is a savory sauce made from apples, brown sugar, vinegar, onions and various herbs and spices. It has a sweet and tart flavor that complements meat dishes such as roast chicken, beef, ham and pork chops.

In my family, certain people are allergic to onions (myself included). So I adapt recipes to take these allergies into consideration. I thought I would share my recipe with you.

Easy Apple Chutney
⅔ cup brewed tea, warm*
8 organic ginger candies
5 large apples, peeled, cored, and diced.
1 cup celery, diced very fine
⅓ cup Key Lime Juice
¾ cup light brown sugar, lightly packed
¾ cup cider vinegar
1 tsp. dried mustard powder or 2 tsp. yellow mustard
1½ tsp. sea salt
¾ cup dried cherries

Partially dissolve the ginger candies in the tea. Do not be concerned if the ginger candies do not completely dissolve. They will continue to melt during the cooking.You can substitute 1 tbsp. powdered ginger or 2 tbsp. minced fresh ginger in place of the candies. If you do, increase the light brown sugar to 1 Cup, lightly packed.

Combine the tea mixture and all remaining ingredients into a Dutch Oven. Cover and simmer for 50 minutes on your stovetop, stirring occasionally. Remove the cover and cook for about another 20 minutes. You want the excess liquid to evaporate and the chutney to thicken.

Dutch OvenRemove from the Dutch Oven and set aside to cool. Store covered in the refrigerator.

I like recipes that can be made in Dutch Ovens and Crock Pots. They really save a lot of time/effort. This one is probably one of the more elaborate ones—and yet the prep time is only about 15 minutes.

Prep Time: 15 minutes
Cooking Time: 70 minutes

*I use Trader Joe’s Specialty Pomegranate White Tea made with Organic White Tea Leaves, Hibiscus Flowers, and Lemongrass.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated in any way with any of the products/companies discussed in this post.)


Here is a brief introduction to Wonderland, the latest fantasy book by Chris Pavesic. Enjoy!

You may think you know her story.

You don't.

Throughout her life Alice has faced fear and isolation, but she has never given up hope. In the City by the Bay she has one last chance to find happiness; one last chance to find friendship; one last chance to find Wonderland.

Click here to watch the YouTube video.

Read excerpts from all of the books written by Chris Pavesic on Amazon.

Chris Pavesic is a fantasy author who lives in the Midwestern United States and loves Kona coffee, steampunk, fairy tales, and all types of speculative fiction. Between writing projects, Chris can most often be found reading, gaming, gardening, working on an endless list of DIY household projects, or hanging out with friends. Learn more about Chris on her website.

Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter.

Friday, November 13, 2015

The Wild Life by @WeitzMysteries #wildlife #nature

by Michael Weitz

Growing up in a small rural community has its charms though we rarely appreciate them until we’ve grown up. One of the things I enjoyed was looking for deer, badgers, coyotes, birds and whatever else might be wild and not on a farm. It passed the time while my dad drove us through the surrounding agricultural fields on our way to a movie or to the home of a friend who happened to live seven miles out of town and surrounded by acres of wheat fields.

Today I live in a larger city that, if they’re smart, animals of an untamed nature tend to shy away from. After all, a raccoon driving a minivan around town to pick up his forest pals just doesn’t wash unless it’s in a Pixar movie, right? Besides, even though a raccoon has “hands” that could grasp the steering wheel, it lacks the size to reach the gas pedal and still be able to see where it’s going. That being said, my neighborhood surrounds a pond that is home to a number of creatures and my wife and I feel very lucky to be able to sit and watch their activities while we relax after a long day.

There are Canada geese, but the Canada moniker seems dicey because every spring we watch the newly-hatched goslings form a maritime train behind their parents in our pond so there is obviously some dual citizenship agreement; frogs and toads perform a nightly chorus that sounds more like broken fog horns than anything of the “ribbit” variety; Mallard ducks build their nests and receive an occasional visit from a colorful Wood duck, and there’s a turtle or two who are only seen when they sun themselves on a rock. We’ve even spied a fox trotting through our neighbors yard, but my favorite is a Blue Heron that appears nearly every day to stand majestically along the shore. It’s all very serene.

We’d recently bought our house and had been living in it for a few months before I finally dug out our binoculars in order to get a better look at the heron we’d arbitrarily dubbed “Simon.” The bright yellow eyes glared down his saber-like beak seemingly fixed in a permanent scowl of concentration. His grayish blue plumage smoothed back as he slowly stepped into the water of the pond. “Honey, come check out Simon!” I called to my wife. “The binoculars really bring him in close.”

She’d just poured a glass of wine and came outside to enjoy the warm weather. I handed her the optics and pointed to where the bird was standing stock-still. She looked through the binoculars and said, “Ooh, he’s so neat. He’s looking at something under the water. I wonder if-Oh! Blegh! He got a frog!”

“What? Let me look!” I said. She handed me the binoculars and I quickly focused on Simon. Sure enough he had a frog the size of a football dangling from the end of his beak. No sooner had I seen this, though, than the bird dropped the frog onto the grass and stared as it leaped twice and back into the water. Two giant steps and a flap of his mighty wings brought Simon to the water’s edge just as fast and with a lunge he snatched the frog and brought it back ashore. Again he dropped it and again he caught it and brought it back from the water.

“Do you want to look somemo…” That’s when Simon cocked his long neck into an S and with Bruce Lee-like speed, unleashed his beak of fury. In a flash Simon stabbed the frog, reared back and stabbed it twice more. That frog was dead, yep, no question. “Never mind, honey,” I mumbled and tried not to retch. The swift and bloody violence was shocking and worthy of a Scorsese film.

But I kept watching. The prey was dead, the predator victorious, now it was time to dine. If you’ve seen a heron, you know their necks are about as wide as a champagne flute and there are no knives and forks available at the pond side restaurant. I was genuinely, if somewhat morbidly, curious to see how Simon intended to down his dinner. In fact, it was a gluttonous scene of maneuvering the carcass into his mouth head first, lifting his head high and swallowing the frog whole. Through the binoculars I was awarded a splendid view as Simon’s neck swelled to near bursting as the night’s menu slid down into his stomach. No sooner had his neck returned to its slender, graceful state than he knocked back a quick sip of pond water. If he had lips I swear he would have smacked them.

That was the first time we’d witnessed Simon dining on the local wildlife and it was the last time my wife took up the binoculars to look upon his beauty. But we still feel blessed to live here on the pond. Simon has grown fatter and the number of frog voices singing the nightly song has diminished, but we’ve seen other birds and been visited by the occasional mammal. Oddly enough though, no raccoon. Although now that I think about it, there were some unaccounted for miles on the car after I left the garage door open the other night...

All my best,
Michael Weitz

Here is a short intro to Michael’s mystery novel for your reading pleasure.

Making house calls or meeting people in public places is how Ray Gordon makes his living. He’s not a doctor. He’s not a prostitute. Ray Gordon is a chess teacher.

When one of Ray’s students, Walter Kelly, is found dead in his shop, the police and his family let it go as an accident. Ray, however, doesn’t buy it. As a former cop with a lingering curiosity, Ray snoops around and stumbles into the murky world of methamphetamine, the worst drug epidemic of our time.

The problem? Walter Kelly was sixty-five years old and his only addictions were woodworking and chess. How does a sixty-five-year-old man become involved with illegal drugs? Why is a neighbor glad Walter’s dead? And just how do dead men play chess?

To take my mind off the task at hand, I thought about Brian Kelly. Was it just the cabin going to waste that rubbed him the wrong way or was it the land value he was afraid of missing out on? Real estate assessments had been big news over the last month or two. Housing prices and land deals had gone berserk and sellers were making massive profits. Maybe Brian was in trouble financially and he just couldn’t take it anymore? Walt refused to sell and Brian killed him for it, knowing the cabin would eventually come into his hands or he would at least be able to talk his mother into putting the land up for sale.

Outside, I heard Ed Carter’s back door creak open and closed. I poured fresh water over the floor and started mopping it up. If Ed planned on being neighborly again, I didn’t think he needed to witness the clean-up process. But after several minutes passed without an appearance from the Kellys’ neighbor, I began my attack on the table saw with a scouring pad.

Just as I got into a nice scrubbing rhythm, Morphy growled low in his throat and raised his head off of his paws. I stopped and watched him. His ears were erect and his gaze was on the window behind me. Goose flesh erupted on my arms. To hide the shiver that ran down my spine, I resumed wiping down the table saw with calm casualness. I kept my attention focused on Morphy, though, and he growled again. This time, the hair over his shoulders stiffened and rose up as his emotions kicked in. Someone was watching or trying to look in the window. Morphy wouldn’t get so angry over something like a skunk or a cat.

I twisted around just as Morphy leapt to his feet and barked. Someone ducked down before I could see a face. I ran to the door and pulled it open. Morphy tore around the corner, barking after the intruder and I followed as close as I could.

In the darkness of Margie Kelly’s backyard, I saw Morphy’s blond fur disappear into the black shadow of Walt’s shop. He chased a dim figure, which ran toward the back of the property, to Helen Parker’s house. I ran full out once I saw the shadowy form of the person who had been spying through the window. Gone were the trepidations of twisted ankles and bloodied shins from unseen objects lying hidden on the grass.

I ran.

Even Dead Men Play Chess

Michael Weitz is an award-winning author who grew up in the Pacific Northwest, usually reading anything he could get his hands on. He wrote his first novel in the 6th Grade -- an eight page rip-off of Star Wars.

A variety of jobs including waiter, gas station attendant, truck driver and a host of others, helped shape his world. After college he landed in the television industry where he wrote and produced a multitude of award-winning commercials, two documentaries about Mt. St. Helens and various other projects.

After a few years in Phoenix, AZ, Michael, his wife, and their dogs are back in the Pacific Northwest. Currently working on the next Ray Gordon mystery, Michael may also be found reading, playing chess or shooting pool. As an avid photographer, he enjoys traveling anywhere picturesque with his wife.

Learn more about Michael Weitz on his website and Goodreads.

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Thursday, November 12, 2015

#CoverReveal Sophie's Voice @HelenHardt @BareNakedWords @bnwauthorservices #historicalromance

Book: Sophie’s Voice
Author: Helen Hardt
Genre: Victorian era, erotic, historical
Release Date – 9th February 2016
Amazon Pre-order


Lady Sophie MacIntyre has the voice of an angel, but due to her timid nature, no one ever hears it. After losing a bet to her conniving sister, Sophie auditions for the new musicale at the Regal Theatre run by handsome actor Zachary Newland. Though distracted by Zach’s elegant masculinity and her own nerves, she sings well and earns a role in the production.

Zach is a confirmed bachelor, and his taste in women leans toward the glamorous and uninhibited…until he meets the demure Sophie. Her delicate soprano and understated beauty captivate him. She responds to his inappropriate kiss, but quickly dismisses the heat between them. She’s a lady of the peerage, after all, and not one to associate with a rake like him.

Zach, however, is not so easily dissuaded. He gets what he wants, and he intends to help Sophie find her true voice…in more ways than one.

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Author Bio

Helen Hardt is an attorney and stay-at-home mom turned award-winning romance author and freelance fiction editor. She writes contemporary, historical, paranormal, and erotic romance from her home in Colorado. She’s a mother, a black belt in Taekwondo, a grammar geek, an avid fan of opera and football (as long as her older son and younger son are performing/playing, respectively), and a lover of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

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