Under Texas Blue Skies Blurb Blitz Tour

Under Texas Blue Skies

by Debra Holt




About the Book


J.D. Sterling, the sexy star of country music, had come back home to McKenna Springs, Texas. Years before, he had left to chase his dream and had succeeded. His life was almost perfect. Almost. He was still missing the part of his heart he had left behind…Mandy Lawson.

Amanda Lawson had changed from the young, innocent Mandy…the teenager madly in love with the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Heartbreak and tragedy would do that to a person. She was determined to keep her well-ordered, work-driven life on the successful path she had fought to achieve on her own. No singing cowboy with a devil’s smile in his green eyes and a sexy body in tight jeans was going to be allowed close enough to break her heart again.



“I have other business in town also,” Amanda spoke up. “I don’t know why I was called out here but…”

“Because I want you.” Those jade green eyes pinned her to her spot. J.D.’s choice of words knocked the air out of Amanda’s lungs for a moment. Did he think that he could turn that look on her, along with that famous half-grin that sent deep grooves down his cheeks and made fingers itch to touch them and females swoon at his feet?  He was still the lying, no good cowboy who had played her for a fool and then left her behind when the bright lights beckoned. He wanted her? Well, he’d had her once, but never again.

Cold blue eyes pinned him. “People don’t always get what they want, J.D. But sometimes they do get what they deserve.”

When Mandy stood looking at him with those blue eyes, where once there had been the warmth of love glowing in them for him, there was now a cool curtain, devoid of anything but a banked anger mixed with a dash of indifference. For some reason, he felt he had been judged and found lacking in her estimation. He definitely had to regroup. There was another battle ahead, and he had fought many in his lifetime and won each of them. This would be the most important one. Losing was not an option.


About the Author

AuthorPic_Under Texas Blue Skies

Born and raised in the Lone Star state of Texas, Debra grew up among horses, cowboys, wide open spaces, and real Texas Rangers.  Pride in her state and ancestry knows no bounds and it is these heroes and heroines she loves to write about the most.  She also draws upon a variety of life experiences including working with abused children, caring for baby animals at a major zoo, and owning a wedding planning business (ah, romance!).

Debra’s real pride and joys, however, are her son, an aspiring film actor, and a daughter with aspirations to join the Federal Bureau of Investigation. (more story ideas!)  When she isn’t busy writing about tall Texans and feisty heroines, she can be found cheering on her Texas Tech Red Raiders, or heading off on another cruise adventure.  She read her first romance…Janet Dailey’s Fiesta San Antonio, over thirty years ago and became hooked on the genre. Writing contemporary western romances,  is both her passion and dream come true, and she hopes her books will bring smiles…and sighs… to all who believe in happily-ever-after’s.

The Seymour Agency represents Debra and she is soon to have two contemporary romances published by Spencer Hill/Tulip Romance and Astraea Press.

Connect with the Author

Debra invites you to visit her website at www.debraholtbooks.com.

She loves to hear from other aspiring authors or readers via email at debraholtbooks@gmail.com.



Debra Holt will be awarding a $10 Amazon/Barnes & Noble gift card to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour.

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Corsica Gate Release Day Blast

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A heroine who has stopped believing in fairy tales and happy endings, Dia Sophia Romani, jilted three days before her wedding, has lived with Mama in San Diego’s Little Italy for six months. She’s tired of everything Italian, and is ready to move on…

Enter an unlikely hero. Carlo Antonelli is of Italian descent. He adores Dia, but he’s willing to take his time and not rush her. When he learns she will be vacationing in Italy and Corsica, he must step up his game.

Will a wish made at a magical gate destroy, or strengthen, their newfound love?


“You mean…?” She looked back at the guy.

Nah, impossible. I’ve never been that lucky.

“Yeah, that’s Carlo Antonelli.”

“You don’t want to accept the date, just make up whatever excuse you want.” Tony beckoned.

A jolt of heat spread through her abdomen when Carlo grinned and waved. He ducked through the slow moving traffic and stopped in front of her smiling a crooked smile. Pushing his sunglasses onto his head, white teeth flashing, and mahogany eyes sparkling, he held out his right hand.

My wedding date? Her heartbeat pounded, and her mouth went dry.

“You must be Dia.” He tucked the book underneath one arm and held her hand gently with his other big warm hand. “Carlo Antonelli.”

“Yes.” The word came out on a soft breath. She swallowed hard. “Tony mentioned you wanted to speak to me about Marco’s wedding.” Something inside of her shifted, as if a huge iceberg started to melt in her chest and slide sideways, leaving a pool of cool, blue, bubbling water. She floundered for a minute wondering what to say next, because she couldn’t use the word date. Not while looking into his magnificent eyes. Then she remembered he was Italian, or at least part Italian.

Strike one.

Her shoulders stiffened. She had no interest in Italian men. She hitched up the purse onto her shoulder, and squinted from behind the dark sunglasses.

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Robena Grant writes contemporary romance about ordinary women in extraordinary circumstances. Travel and discovering new places brings Robena great pleasure, and she often includes these discoveries in her stories. She is Australian by birth, lives in Southern California, and has two grown children. Robena may be contacted at her website.

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Bitter Sweet Love Blog Tour

Bitter Sweet Love

by R.C. Stephens

Release Date: Jan 18, 2015


After enduring an abusive childhood and having her heart broken by the only boy she trusts, Alexis White vows to never let anyone hurt her again. She’s left her troubled past behind and starts a new life at college. For the past seven years, her social calendar has been filled with frat parties, drinking, and meaningless sexual hook-ups. Until one night she unexpectedly gets saved by a tall, dark, and handsome French foreigner, Luc Blanchard. He’s charming, sophisticated, and very interested in Lexi, who has presented herself as a challenge when she tells him relationships aren’t her thing.

She finds herself sucked in by his own intriguing past. But everything changes when Dylan Priestley, the gorgeous boy who broke her heart and shattered her faith in friendship and love, suddenly shows up in her life again while back home on a visit. Dylan doesn’t hide his feelings for Lexi, but she can’t forgive or forget being betrayed by the one person she ever truly loved.

Despite the pain Dylan’s caused her, Lexi is once again drawn to the blue-eyed-boy-next-door. Will Lexi choose the man who seems perfect but hides a dark side or the boy who smashed her heart into pieces so many years ago?

Warning: this Book Ends in a cliffhanger. This is book one of a trilogy. Release dates will be held close together.


All proceeds from Jan 18 – Feb 1 will be donated to the SickKids Foundation



January 2013

Have you ever been at such a low point in your life when you saw the light to the other side? I thought it was something that people experienced when they were old and gray and had lived a life full of hopes, dreams, accomplishments, and family. I never thought that the angel would come for me at twenty-five. It’s my birthday.

It’s also the day I die.

She’s here. I can see the light around her and feel the warmth of her presence, amber liquid pouring too quickly over my head. The heat flows between my legs.

What’s happening? So much blood leaves my body. I can’t feel pain. I see only light and crimson. This is my end, but I’m not ready. I have so many things left unfinished, so many mistakes to correct. This is all my fault. The baby will die and I did this.

He will never forgive me. I need to see him one more time. I need to tell him the truth. He needs to understand what happened. I thought life would be different. I thought I had more time. If only I had more time.

My life can’t end like this.

Join the Facebook Release Day event hosted by R.C. Stephens and Wicked Women Book Blog, including many author take overs and a Kindle Fire HDX 7 giveaway! Click here to join now!

R.C. Stephens was born in Toronto, Canada. She graduated from York University with a Master’s Degree in Political Science.

Her debut Novel Bitter Sweet Love is book one of the Twisted Trilogy. Followed by Twisted Love and Sweet Love Forever.

R.C. is an avid reader, so when she isn’t cooking for her clan or on her laptop writing, she’s snuggled tight with her Kindle devouring any romance novel she can. Okay, with the exception of Thursday nights. She makes time for Scandal and Vampire Diaries. She’s a fan of drama and suspense but she’s also a sucker for a happy ending.

Her husband was her first teenage love. They live together with their three children in Toronto. Loving Canadian winters she could never think of living anywhere else.

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Seasons of Time Cover Reveal

Seasons of Time

by Miriam Khan

Seasons of Time_300dpi (2)


About the Book

With her father and his new wife needing time alone, seventeen-year-old, Lara Voight, has no choice but to accept her trip to Spring Mills, Pennsylvania and stay with her step-mom’s grandmother.

On arrival, Gracen, is as cold and devious as her granddaughter, and Lara begins to experience a burning sensation. The only thing to soothe the horrid pain is the aromatic phantom scent that seems all too familiar.

And when Lara learns a girl named Penelope Le Rose was murdered at the mansion, she begins to explore the story further. Gracen is even willing to help, going as far as to show her a painting of Penelope which proves she is the spitting image.

Lara then finds Penelope’s Diary and becomes haunted by visions of a ghostly boy. He seems angry at her growing affection for another.

The more Lara reads the diary, the more she realizes certain people are beginning to resemble those described. One of whom could be Penelope’s killer, back to finish her, too.




The woman who was lying on her bed was beautiful, with hair a reddish gold and a face as pure white and soft as ivory silk. Although bestowed with love and cherished by those who knew her well, she lacked what most would have called “blessed with substantial wealth.” Even so, she imagined she could win the affections of an honorable prince, perhaps a count, a true royal, one who could sustain her heart and flourish within her dreams.

She laughed at her foolishness and stroked the small painting of her beloved, decorated in twine and rose petals she had weaved throughout the night. As she placed a finger to his lips, she marveled at the likeness, wondering if she truly was a gifted artist.

But it was inevitable she would paint him so. He was etched to her mind. Even with her eyes closed, she could see every curve of his exquisite face, the deep earthly heaven of his eyes and sensuous lips. He had betrayed her, yet she still hungered for his touch, she still longed for the press of his lean physique that made her feel light and feverish.

Of course, the wench he craved was rich and that helped her in gaining his attention.

But Elias was hers. Only hers. Not Penelope Le Roses’.

The young woman sat up and grimaced, distorting her cumbersome features.

With her mind set, she knew what to do. She would cast her spell and severe the bond he’d declared for the imposter once and for all.

Chapter One

The sun shifted to the right and I could see the miles of dusty roads and fewer cars up ahead.

Susan, my step-mom, who now even controlled Dad, had insisted I stay with her Grandmother Gracen for some of the summer. It was why my trip to Pennsylvania was a command I had to adhere to. It was why my teeth had been gritted throughout most of the drive from Delaware.

She had practically packed my bags and shooed me out the door this morning. Dad, as usual, wasn’t there to argue in my defense. Not that he would have anyway. He was a renowned surgeon, and had probably been placing a new kidney donor as I chugged out of our driveway; my suitcases packed and my date of return unknown.

Ever since Mom left to be with her personal trainer five years ago, Dad barely looked at me. He just noticed the poodle haired blonde he liked to call Flick, the matchstick woman he rushed all the way home to have candlelight dinners with as I sulked in my room.

Stopping at the nearest gas station that looked as if it hadn’t been visited since the seventies, I took a short break then set off again. It wasn’t long before dotted aspens and maples no longer concealed the entryway to Gracen’s large estate. Terra-cotta stone and the edges of a lavish roof were just about visible. I was told Gracen came from a line of successful merchants and oil diggers. It was why she considered herself a cut above the rest of the residents of Spring Mills. Her inherited wealth was the only thing to keep me from pulling up and hyperventilating.

After parking my cherry red Mustang in the pebble driveway, I took in the place. The mansion was breathtaking, complete with a cylinder roof crowned and decorated with golden leaf detail. It reminded me of a centerpiece to a castle.

My smile vanished though as soon as I got out of the car. I sensed I wasn’t alone. It was as though someone was watching me, and closely. When I spun around, there was no one around. I rubbed the goose bumps popping up all over my arms and shivered, gasping as a fiery heat crawled from my feet to my neck. The air turned sour next, as if the flowers in the crescent shaped garden were decomposing. The added smell of ash and smoke stung my eyes, and the driveway darkened.  Slowly, the ground became paved, horse hooves clamored and large wheels of a carriage creaked to a halt. A barrage of screams erupted from the nearby forest as flames licked at my waist.

“Lara. Lara Voight!”

I turned and almost stumbled. The flames disappeared as a man in a black tuxedo came ambling down the stone steps: rake thin and with a silver goatee.

“Lara Voight?” he repeated, getting closer.

“Y-e-s,” I stuttered.

“Where are your things?” he asked, looking at my beat up car.

I tried to catch my breath. It was if the wind had been taken out of me. My legs even shook.

What had happened? Was it heat stroke? Five hours on the road could probably do that to a person. I could sue Susan. It was her idea I came all the way to Spring Mills while she “worked things out” with Dad. I was so easy to manipulate.

“In the trunk,” I muttered.

The man shook his head without a care for the way I was panting.

“Who are you anyway?” I tried to ask.

“Henry.” He held out his hand. His long, boney fingers reminded me of the creature from Alien. “You can give me the keys. I’ll take care of your luggage.”

I shakily did as asked. It wasn’t like I had anything to steal.

“You need to go and see Mrs. Miller before she takes her afternoon nap,” he said gruffly. “You’re late as it is.”

His aggravated tone wasn’t appreciated, but it helped me to feel less disturbed by what had happened.

Who was he? Why was there a strange old man in Gracen’s home? Was he a live in lover no one knew about?

“Who are you to Gracen?” I queried, trying to match his clipped tone.

“Her chau-ffer,” he said, as if I was too dim to know what that was.

He carelessly dragged my luggage out of the trunk and waved me away. He actually waved.

What a jerk.

I ran up the stone steps to blow off steam before I said something I would regret. I couldn’t make an enemy as soon as I arrived.

Inside, the house welcomed me with a cool draft that helped me to breathe a lot easier. The interior was less ambient than expected, with a dark hallway and distressed wood on the floor that was partially bordering the empty walls. My name was called out and I flinched, spinning around. Henry was nowhere in sight.

“Make yourself at home,” a nasally voice said from behind me, making me jump.

An old woman in a wheelchair zoomed my way. Salt and pepper curls bounced on broad shoulders. My heart stopped thumping when I realized it was just Gracen. She wasn’t overly wrinkly for someone close to her eighties.

“Stare all you like.” She harrumphed.

“Sorry. I was—”

“I’m not seventeen, but I have my uses,” she added seethingly, parking her wheelchair in front of me and lifting her chin. “As you can see, I’m Gracen Miller.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller.”

“You may as well call me Gracen for now.” She grimaced. “Follow me, Lorna.”

“It’s Lara.”

“Same thing.”

Balling my hands into fists, I watched her wheel away from me. The woman was reminding me of Susan already.

The rectangular room we entered had mismatched furniture cluttered like bonfire piles on either side. Collectable items such as tribal masks, globes of the world, and ceramic Chinese figurines, confused the theme that might have been in mind when decorated.

Unlike the foyer, the walls were lined with watercolor paintings of naked damsels and huntsmen clasping large rifles. Beneath these were pleasant enough antique tables and cabinets. A chessboard beside a mustard leather couch, though, clashed with the pea green walls. It looked like someone hadn’t a clue how to coordinate.

“My husband, Charles, was a prideful hunter,” Gracen said as if to explain. “Would you care for a drink?” She began to pour a murky orange concoction into a tall blue glass.

I was suspicious of the act of kindness. It wasn’t like I got along with her granddaughter to be made to feel welcome. No. I felt extra wary. It was totally unfair of Dad to make me stay here in some stranger’s home. I was even more wary of Gracen’s choice of beverage. But the last few hours in my non-air conditioned cocoon had dried out my throat too much to care in the end.

I waited for her to hand me my drink. Gracen supped it herself before pouring herself another glass. I tapped my fingers on my pants as way to a hint that I was getting impatient. Gracen made the effort to glance at me before pouring a third drink, yet only halfway before roughly handing it to me. Then off she wheeled again, almost riding over my sandaled toes.

“Sit,” she commanded, pointing her crooked finger at a beige leather couch.

I sipped what was thankfully just ice tea.

“Let’s start with a few questions, shall we?” She eyed me.

I nodded, hoping to get on her good side; if she had one that is.

“Susan tells me you’re a spoiled brat.”

I almost spat out my drink but somehow kept smiling. “It depends on what you think is spoiled.”

She harrumphed in that horrible, condescending way of hers. “Do you bathe often?”

Seriously? “Um. Yes.”

“Do you smoke, drink excessive amounts of alcohol, dabble in drugs?”

Maybe this was literally a test. “No.”

Her bushy eyebrows rose in insinuation. “Are you promiscuous?”

My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Just answer the question.”


“No, you won’t answer the question, or no you’re not promiscuous?”

“No, I’m not promiscuous.”

“Have you ever dated?”

My cheeks burned. “No.”

“Excuse me? You need to speak up.”


“Why not?” She eyed me, this time a lot more thoroughly. “You’re attractive enough, I suppose.”

I sipped my drink. It was starting to leave a bitter aftertaste, a lot like Gracen. “I haven’t…found anyone…yet.”

“I must say you remind me of someone else. She was just as dark, tall, sinewy, but plentiful in the right places. She had your emerald green eyes, too, even your awfully small lips, but a confidence that made up for what she lacked.”

I gritted my teeth for what must have been the fifth time. I’d had a semester of psychology in high school. I tried to seem unfazed by her remarks.

“Really? Who was she?”

“A childhood friend of my mother’s.”

The strained conversation was interrupted by a petite woman who entered from an adjoining room. She patted her brown hair that was pulled neatly back into a ponytail. Her cheeks were ruddy, and her apron was stained with what looked like dark chocolate. She seemed Puerto Rican or Hawaiian. I was never any good at guessing someone’s ethnicity.

Gracen fluttered her fingers at the woman. “This here is Celine. She takes care of all the household chores and serves as my cook, nurse, and maid. The woman can do just about anything.”

Gracen’s compliment sounded chiding. Celine simply bowed like a lifelong servant.

“Celine will show you to your room,” Gracen added, wheeling across the room and out of another side exit.

So that was it? The end of my supposed welcome?

It was more like snoop at my innermost thoughts before leaving me with the housemaid. My summer was going to suck worse than I thought.

Celine had already headed to the dull foyer, explaining the ground rules and what each room contained in her timorous voice. There was a library, a parlor, a ballroom and dining area; a kitchen, downstairs bathroom, pavilion, tea garden, and one elevator.

Elevator? So that was how the old ogress got up and down the stairs.

The house had more rooms than I could have counted, with extra doorways leading to locked compartments at every stop, rooms that restricted me from having a look around more than I should have wanted to. The spiral staircase reached toward a diamond-drop chandelier; a pleasant addition, and the only thing, so far, that I liked about the place.

Celine stopped at the top of the stairs and pointed at a door to the right. “That’s Henry’s room. He keeps mostly to himself.”

“I bet,” I muttered.

“Oh, he’s a kind man at heart,” Celine insisted with a stiff smile.

“Really? You don’t think he’s a little…”


“So it’s not just me he snaps at?” I was grateful Celine was pleasant.

“He can be demanding. But he warms to you once you take the time to consider his reasons.”

“Which are?”

“A lonely man is afraid to get too close too soon. But please, don’t mention his family.”

I was about to ask why when she turned and headed to the next room. I took that as a sign to stop poking around in other people’s business. It wasn’t like I wanted to confess that I’d been abandoned by Dad because he was besotted with a horrible witch, I mean Susan.

Celine pointed to her room beside Henry’s, then Gracen’s which was on the other side, clearly separating herself from her employees. The hall bathroom and a pantry for any supplies such as fresh blankets, sheets, pillows, and air fresheners, was next to the broom closet. During our exploration of her cleaning supplies, I decided Celine was kind of skittish but friendly, and spoke English fluently, even if I didn’t have a clue where she originated. She was coy yet happy to offer up a smile—unlike the other two residents.

Susan had obviously sent me here to change my ways or go live with Mom or probably even some hostel. But Mom was living the life I could only dream about, dating guys young enough to be on a sophomore baseball team.

I tried to block out the argument I had with Dad late last night and the way he yelled at me for the first time. He’d apologized and explained he had a lot on his mind. That was when he dropped the bombshell. Susan was pregnant. With twins.

“It’s just here.” Celine’s voice broke me from my reverie. I brushed away a tear that had escaped, glad Celine had her back to me.

We stopped abruptly beneath a dangling piece of frayed rope that looked to be leading to an outline of a pull door in the ceiling.

Was I expected to sleep in the attic?

“You’ll be sleeping in the attic,” Celine confirmed. I could hear the outright pity in her voice. “Mrs. Miller ordered the spare rooms to be fumigated. Right now they’re not…habitable.”

Habitable? Did Dad know about this? Susan? My guess was it was her idea to put me in the attic. My blood boiled and my nails dug into my palms. How could Susan be so mean? Especially after the sacrifice I’d made to help them work things out?

I wanted to think up an excuse not to visit the attic and call Dad to have a hissy fit. But he would have been too busy at this time of day, and it would only have given Susan a reason to gloat. It was something I couldn’t handle right now.

“Fumigated from what?” I asked, pretending not to care as I followed Celine up the slanted stairs.


She was a bad liar. She had even stuttered. A house like this wouldn’t just have had its spare rooms fumigated. Still, Celine was doing her job and obeying orders. I couldn’t take my frustration out on her.

When we reached the top, I decided the attic wasn’t a total horror. With a lick of paint, two weeks dusting, a new window and a dumpster to haul out ninety percent of the junk, it would have been close to five-star accommodation.

“I cleaned up a little before you arrived,” Celine said, adding tedious adjustments to my makeshift dresser—a shoddy cardboard box.

“I can tell,” I lied. Two could play this game. “Thanks, Celine.”

I forced a smile and walked over to my wheel suitcase. It looked like Henry had tossed it on to the floor and stomped all over it. I unzipped the top and bit back the urge to yell and stomp my own feet like a detained five-year old. I probably would have caved in the brittle floorboards and landed in the kitchen.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in,” Celine chirped, backing away from me as if I was holding a loaded musket. “Call me from the stairs if you need anything. And remember, dinner will be ready at six-thirty sharp. Mrs. Miller doesn’t appreciate tardiness.”

I smiled, letting it drop the moment she left me with the contents of an undiscovered rummage sale.

Poor timing?

There wasn’t a word or phrase for what seemed to be about to happen in the next few weeks. I was stuck in a dusty hellhole with a grouchy old woman who had little social skills, not to mention a chauffeur who was acting kind of a jackass. Only Celine had the potential to be different. The other two seemed unchangeable.

I headed to my one window to look at something uplifting. I found a nice view, mainly of the darkening woods and a few patches of hills and cattle grazing in the distance. A river trickled west and disappeared among a bushel of leaves and pines. There was nothing unusual about it, just familiar from certain angles, as if I’d once followed the pathway beyond the wooden pole, the one with the lantern hanging from it. I imagined passing through to the opening of gnarly branches. Maybe I had been here as a child, I thought. The closer I looked, though, the more I imagined the light of the moon glowing on the riverbed, gradually illuminating the night. I could see myself gasping for breath, my hands grappling for long blades of grass as I became immersed in frigid water.

Shaking off the vision, I hurried to my bed, my heart thrumming like a wild bird. The scents from the driveway re-emerged like a forgotten memory. This time with a hint of violet and vanilla. My hands burned and a fermenting heat crept up to my waist, bubbling in my chest before cooling down again, making me pant and wheeze.

What was going on here? Where were all the scents coming from? The burning sensation?

Why hadn’t I run away like I’d planned?

 Seasons of Time_300dpi

About the Author

Miriam is from Cheshire, England and a family of six siblings. Her love for creativity led to acting at her local theatre before being a lead vocalist in rock bands. During those years, she often found solace penning her thoughts and feelings through lyrics or poetry. She chose not to continue singing in 2006, and two years later she woke up with the idea for The Lebrus Stone, which was published in 2014.

Connect with the Author

Blog: http://miriamkhannovels.blogspot.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9793155.Miriam_Khan

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100007806765011&fref=ts


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Without You Release Day

Without You

By Reylynn Purdue


Releasing: January 29, 2015

 With Out You

About the Book

Roxanne Daniels was supposed to be spending her summer getting ready to head off to Julliard. That was the plan. But that was before- Before she found her mother’s lifeless body- Before she walked in on her boyfriend in bed with someone else. Before she knew what heart shattering pain felt like.

Now all she wants is for the pain to go away. But it never does.

Until him. A complete stranger who could end up being much more.

But letting go and moving on is easier said than done.




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I blinked my eyes as I looked up at the ceiling. Music from downstairs came into my room and woke me up. I looked at my alarm clock. It was twenty after six. I rolled onto my side and opened my nightstand drawer. I retrieved the orange medication bottle and sat up. I dumped out the contents into a small pile on my pastel pink comforter.

One, two, three, four, five, six…

I counted the white pills as I put them back into the bottle.

Seven, eight, nine, ten…

I wondered if I belonged at one of those meetings for people with addiction problems.

I imagined myself standing in front of a room of strangers.

“Hi, I’m Roxanne, and I…”


“And I’m a…”

The room I was standing in suddenly got a lot smaller. As I looked out at all the faces staring back at me, my stomach twisted. Those weren’t the faces of complete strangers. Every face now belonged to my mom.

The word addict stuck in my throat, choking me.

But I wasn’t an addict. I could stop at any time.

I beheld my mom’s face. Her beautiful blue eyes that had once

shined with pride for me were now full of disappointment. I hated seeing her looking at me like that.

“You know me. I didn’t used to be this way. I have a good reason for using your pills. I need them. It’s the only thing that eases the pain.” I was begging for her to understand.

But her expression of disappointment stayed with me, even as each one of her disappeared.

The sound of a slamming door downstairs pulled me back to reality.

I glanced around my room, feeling empty. I shook my head, trying to forget the image of my mom’s face.



About the Author

Born and raised in California, Reylynn Purdue lives with her loving husband and three beautiful kids. A lover of books, she reads like crazy. She has also always enjoyed writing, but one day, she decided to take it to the next level. She started writing her debut novel in 2013. To say she had no clue what she was doing is an understatement. As of today, she still has no clue what she is doing when it comes to publishing a book, but she is learning as she goes. She loves her story and hopes you will as well. She also finds talking about herself in third person to be very strange, and she kind of hates it.

Connect with the Author

Twitter \\ Facebook \\ Goodreads



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Dragonflies Trilogy Book Tour


Dragonflies Trilogy

Author: Samantha Fontien
Series Tour: Dragonflies Trilogy Jan 27- Feb 6
Hosted By: SBB Promotions

The Duncan Peters Files

Book 1 in Dragonflies Trilogy


Duncan Peters Cover



From the Author of ‘How to catch Butterflies’ books 1 & 2 comes the first book in the Dragonflies Trilogy.

Be prepared to read a story that will stay with you for the rest of your life.

Duncan Peters is not your typical Alpha CEO, Playboy – He is a good man with a painful past. – Ex Military (SAS) now a Senior Partner at ‘Blackcard’.

He is a natural born tactician with a license to kill….

We also met his naughty best friend, Rubin Miller, who he meets one night at a rowdy University weekend bender.

That night a friendship was made, that would last a lifetime…

Rubin Miller is a ladies’ man, through and through, with an immense appetite for life. But most of all he is a man of honor. He too joins the military serving by his friends’ side, through thick and thin. There is nothing these two men have not shared, women included.

Can these wild men ever be tamed?

* This book contains Drama, Heartache and Mature content, intended for readers 18+ *

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The Rizzo Protocol

Book 2 in Dragonflies Trilogy


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Feisty Rizzo is an elite ex hacker who loves to play games.

Now she is a senior executive for ‘Blackcard’ and Duncan Peters ‘eyes in the sky’.

With the world at her finger tips, she had what she would call an ‘uncomplicated love life’.

But all of that is set to change…

. Will an old flame or a new love, make her rethink her decision of choosing a career, before matters of the heart?

Rizzo will have to make choices… Will she make the right ones?

* This book contains Drama, Heartache and Mature content, intended for readers 18+ *

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Cousins The Next Generation

Book 3 in Dragonflies Trilogy

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Prepare for the end to the saga that is the ‘Peters family’…

Duncan Peters is not your typical Alpha CEO, Playboy.- He is a good man. – Ex Military (SAS) now a Senior Partner at ‘Blackcard’.

He is a natural born tactician with a license to kill….

Life has transformed quite considerably for Duncan Peters.

And change is very much in the cards for our hero…

We now find him out of his comfort zone, mentoring his two boys into men.

What will life have in store for the man who believes in taking Love, Friendship, Honour and Loyalty ‘above and beyond’…?

Can he deal with it all in his normal smooth fashion… or will life again deal him blows that he will never recover from?

This… IS the conclusion of


* This book contains Drama, Heartache and Mature content, intended for readers 18+ *

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Author Bio

Samantha Fontien

I’m a Happily Married, MUM of two. I LOVE Music… I should do as I am the daughter of Musicians; I was reared with a Guitar in one hand and a pen in the other.

Fun Facts

I only wear one perfume.

I’m a huge Titanic buff; seriously, I could do a Degree in it.

My favorite museum is London’s Natural History Museum. I could spend a whole day there quite happily.

My Dad was in the RAF and was a huge Military buff, so that’s where I get all my military knowledge and interest… Years of conditioning bahahaha.

I named our puppy Rubin after a character in one of my books.


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Another Mazzy Monday Blog Tour

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Presented by:
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Another Mazzy Monday – Tawnee Mountain Resort #1
by Savannah Young & Sierra Avalon

Audience: Adult
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Formats: E-book
Publisher: Short on Time Books
Pages: 200 pages
Date Published: January 6, 2015

When the wealthy and charming Drew Graham walks into the Tawnee Mountain Resort where I work and offers me a lucrative part-time job it sounds too good to be true. I just have to pretend to be his fiancée until he wins the election for Governor and then we can go our separate ways. It seems like an easy way to make a hundred thousand dollars…until his brother, Austin, returns from Europe and moves in with us. And I’m completely overwhelmed by my attraction to my fake fiancé’s rebellious younger brother.
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When I finally hit the last room in a long row of rooms I see a guy sitting there looking bored and staring at two fast food containers in front of him on the table.

He glances up at me when I enter. The first thing I notice is his piercing green eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that green on a human being that weren’t Photoshopped

The second thing I notice is his messy, light brown hair. It doesn’t look like it’s been combed it in a week. It makes me wonder if it’s some new hair trend or if he just doesn’t bother to style it. Not that I have too much room to talk when it comes to hair. My curly red mop has been the bane of my existence since I was a kid. About the only thing I can ever do with it is pull it back into a pony tail.


I nod.

“Have a seat.” He points to the chair right next to him.

I remember Lewis’s warning and take a seat across the table instead. I want to be as close to the door as possible. The guy is big and muscular and much more intimidating than I imagined he’d be.

My heart is thumping in my chest because his size and rough demeanor are making me nervous.

When he pushes one of the fast food containers in my direction I cringe. I rarely eat fast food and when I do it’s from Just Veggies, an organic vegetarian place near campus.

He doesn’t hesitate to open his container and take a bite of the messy burger that’s dripping some kind of white sauce all over his pile of fries.

My stomach turns in response.

“I bought you a burger.” He points to the second container he’s pushed in my direction. “Ambrose scheduled our sessions during lunch.”

I make a point of pushing the container back over to him. “No thank you.”

He frowns. “It’s from Frankie’s. Everybody loves Frankie’s burgers.”

“Clearly not everyone.”

His brows knit like he can’t believe I refused the food he bought.

“You don’t want it?” He actually sounds hurt.

“No, I don’t.”


I lift my book bag from the ground and point to one of the many political cause buttons I have covering the knitted tote my mom made for me.

He barely acknowledges it. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Now I’m the one who’s frowning. “Meat is murder. It’s a slogan. It means that I don’t eat animal flesh.”

“You’re one of those vegans?” He doesn’t bother hiding the condescension in his voice.

“Technically I’m a vegetarian. I eat free range, organic dairy products.”

“Fine. I’ll eat the burger.” He glares at me as he opens the second container and takes a huge bite of the burger.

I’m appalled until I notice that he slyly pushes both containers away and doesn’t take another bite of either burger.

“I guess I should have brought an apple for the teacher.”

“Only if it’s organic. And I’m not actually a teacher. I’m a tutor.”

We both stare at each other for a long moment. Awkward does not even begin to describe our pairing. We’re like two people from different planets trying to communicate when we don’t speak each other’s languages.

I remove a slip of paper from my bag. “Mr. Ambrose gave me your schedule of classes for the semester. You’re taking Film Appreciation, The History of Jazz, Advanced Yoga and Stress Management. What’s your major?”

He shrugs. “Undeclared right now. But I’ll probably go with Sports Management.”

“So these are Gen Ed classes?”

He cocks his head and looks confused.

“General Education classes,” I clarify. “Elective classes you need to take to fulfill requirements that aren’t directly related to your major.”

“I guess so.”

I’m a little disturbed by his lackadaisical attitude, but I let it go for the moment. We’re clearly not going to be able to develop much of a rapport so maybe it’s best just to get down to business.

“We’re just handed a class schedule,” he clarifies. “Assigned classes. We don’t pick them ourselves.”

“And they assigned you the History of Jazz? That’s the class that you’re having trouble with?”

“The dude who was supposed to teach the class croaked and they got this new chick who apparently doesn’t like basketball.”

There is so much wrong with his statement I don’t even know where to begin. “Might I suggest that you call your professors either professor or doctor and not chick.”

I bristle at my own use of the derogatory word, but I continue, “And what does her not liking basketball have to do with your performance in the class.”

At this he gives me a sly smile. “Let’s just say she’s not willing to play ball the way the other professors are.”

I’m not sure exactly what he means by that, but there seems to be some kind of sports reference that is lost on me.

“So you’re saying your other classes are going well and you’re just having trouble with the one class, History of Jazz?”

He leans back in his chair and eyes me for a few seconds before he nods. I don’t like when he looks at me like that. It’s like he’s examining some weird, new specimen and trying to make sense of it.

“All of my other teachers are huge basketball fans and they know I’m the in the starting lineup. I’m not sure what the jazz goddess’s problem is.”

I take in a deep breath before I say something that’s sure to get me fired. “Why don’t we start by calling her Dr. Fisher? I think that might help. And why do you think she has a problem?”

“She doesn’t like basketball. That’s not normal. Everybody loves basketball. This entire campus lives and breathes the sport.”

“I don’t love basketball. I don’t even like it. Not even a little bit.”

He actually looks stunned for a moment. Like I slapped him. Then he regains his cocky composure.

“You’re one weird chick,” he mutters almost to himself, but still loud enough that I can hear him.

“Excuse me?” I say even though I heard him. I just didn’t like having an insult hurled at me by someone I don’t even know.

“You. Are. One. Weird. Chick.” His words are slower and louder as if I didn’t hear him the first time.

“I actually heard what you said. I just didn’t like it.”

A smug smirk appears on his face that I would love to slap right off if I could.

I continue. “In case you haven’t noticed I’m not a bird I’m a human being. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t refer to me as a chick.”

He bites his bottom lip as if he’s actually giving it some thought. Then he says, “You’re one weird woman. Is that better?”

“I’m not sure why you have to bring gender into the equation at all. Why not just call me a weird person?”

That makes him laugh. “You don’t care that I think you’re weird. You just don’t want me to call you a chick?”

“I’ve been weird my whole life. I’m used to it.”

“At least you’re willing to own it.”

“So did you bring your textbook with you or are you just going to spend the next ninety minutes taunting me?”

“I kind of like taunting you.”


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Drew Graham  bioMazzy Olsen BioAustin Graham bioSuzie Olsen Bio


  about the author

clip_image006USA TODAY Bestselling author Karen Mueller Bryson writes romance under four pen names.
SAVANNAH YOUNG’s stories take place in fictional OLD TOWN, which is very much like the rural Northwest New Jersey town in which she grew up.
SIERRA AVALON’s stories always include a bit of sass and lots of spice.
When Karen isn’t on her computer writing new novels she likes to spend time with her husband and their bloodhounds in their home outside Phoenix, Arizona.



Tour Schedule – One Week Blog Tour
Another Mazzy Monday, Tawnee Mountain Resort #1
by Savannah Young & Sierra Avalon
Jan 26 to Feb 3, 2015
Jan 26
Books, Authors, Blogs – Promo
Coffee Books & Art – Promo
Fictional Rendezvous Book Blog – Promo
Jan 27
3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, & Sissy, Too! – Promo
Angels with Attitude Book Reviews – Promo, Author Interview & Playlist
Jan 28
The Avid Reader – Promo, Dream Cast, Character Bio’s, Author Interview & Playlist
Room With Books – Promo
Jan 29
Reading by the Book – Promo & Top Ten
Booky Ramblings of a Neurotic Mom – Promo & Top Ten
Jan 30
Evanlea’s Bookshelf – Promo & Playlist
Indy Book Fairy – Promo & Character Bio’s
Feb 2
Deal Sharing Aunt – Promo
Eclipse Reviews – Promo, Dream Cast, Character Bio’s & Playlist
Feb 3
Portals to New Worlds – Promo, Dream Cast, Character Bio’s, Author Interview & Playlist
A Little Bit of R&R – Promo, Character Bio’s, Dream Cast & Playlist
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Thrown to the Wolves Tour

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Thrown to the Wolves

by Rochelle Paige

Black River Pack 3


About the Book

Annora Channing’s entire world changes the moment she discovers she’s a bear shifter. With mated wolves for parents, she should have been a wolf also. When the man she grew up thinking was her father realizes she isn’t his daughter, he devises a plan to use her existence to his advantage in a way that will get her out from under his roof.

When her situation goes from bad to worse, Annora escapes but is badly injured in the process. Luckily, Elias Reve comes to her rescue while on his way to Wolf’s Point and the daughter he lost years ago. With nowhere else to go and nobody to turn to, Annora joins him on his journey and ends up running smack-dab into the arms of her mate.

Parker Tate knows Annora is his the moment he lays eyes on her. When he manages to mate and mark her within hours of when they meet, he considers himself lucky. Then the trouble nipping at Annora’s heels finds her and Parker realizes the path to claiming his mate won’t be as easy as he thought – especially not with the bears involved.

This is book three in the Black River Pack series. Each novella features a different couple.


Purchase Links


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My heart raced at the thought of finally finding her—the woman who was destined to be my mate. My brothers liked to tease me about being a bit of a white knight because I had a habit of helping women who were in distress, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing it. Ever since our grandmother had told me that my mate would have been discarded by her family, I’d struggled with the knowledge that she could be out there somewhere, desperately in need of help,without my being able to give it to her. So I’d compensated by aiding other women in the hope that someone else would be there for my mate when I couldn’tbe. If Eliza’s dream was right, then I might not have to wait much longer.

“When?” I rasped out. “Were there any signs pointing to when she would be here?”

“I can’t be sure,” Eliza said with a look of apology on her face. “But I feel like it might be this winter.”

“Thank f*ck,” I whispered, a huge wave of relief rolling through me.


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Other Books in this Series

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Crying Wolf

Black River Pack 1


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Shoot For The Moon

Black River Pack 2


Purchase Links




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About the Author

I absolutely adore reading – always have and always will. My friends growing up used to tease me when I would trail after them, trying to read and walk at the same time. If I have downtime, odds are you will find me reading or writing.

I am the mother of two wonderful sons who have inspired me to chase my dream of being an author. I want them to learn from me that you can live your dream as long as you are willing to work for it.

When I told my mom that my new year’s resolution was to self-publish a book in 2013, she pretty much told me “About time!”

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Cursed by Fire Release Day

Cursed by Fire

By Danielle Annett


Release Date: January 28th, 2015

 Cursed by Fire

About the Book

It has been six years since the Awakening and peace in Spokane, Washington is still tenuous at best. The vampires and shifters are all vying for control of the city and the humans seem to be the ones suffering the consequences, or so it seems.

Aria Naveed has spent the last two years of her life fighting to make the many wrongs of the world right, but soon finds out that the humans aren’t as weak as they appear and may be a more terrifying foe than any of the other races combined.

When a stranger rolls into town with trouble on his heels, Aria finds herself trapped in the middle of a battle that could cost her more than she has bargained for as a fight for justice turns into an unexpected fight for her life.


Purchase Links

iTunes/iBooks || Kindle || B&N Nook

GooglePlay || Kobo || Smashwords


Behind the scenes look at how Cursed by Fire’s cover came to be:



Beginning of Chapter 1

All I saw was blood. Blood soaked my hands and coated the walls. It stained the concrete flooring of the abandoned warehouse and dripped from fixtures that hung from the ceiling, trickling like a slow rain. My vision blurred as anguish filled me. How could this have happened? How could I have been too late?

I stared down at the lifeless body of a child. A boy. Kneeling in a pool of congealing blood, I ran my fingers through his chestnut hair, ignoring the now-cool moisture seeping into the denim of my pants. His face was unrecognizable. Gone was the child with the dimpled cheek and brilliant blue eyes. Left behind was a mass of flesh and bone—a ruined body drained of its life force at such a young age.

Reality snapped like an elastic band, bringing me back to the present as I sat at my desk in Sanborn Place. Ripped from the haunted memories of finding Daniel’s body.

The world was a cruel place. It was a fact of life and even though I knew it was true, I still had a hard time coming to terms with the atrocities people committed. The cruelties that for some god-forsaken reason, people thought were okay. Staring down at the wallet-sized photo now crumpled in my hands, I was greeted by a crown of chestnut hair, bright blue eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a brilliant smile; a single dimple on his left cheek. The face of an innocent seven-year-old boy, cut down like he was little more than a calf brought to slaughter. I found myself struggling to link the image of this smiling boy to that of the ruined body I’d found less than forty-eight hours ago.

Inside, a small part of me burned. My blood heated and a turbulent rage rolled through me, one I had to fight to contain.

“Ari, you’ve got to stop staring at the kid. He’s gone. Let it go,” I heard Mike say.

I couldn’t let it go. I didn’t understand how he could either. I looked up from the photograph and stared Mike straight in the eyes. He cringed but held my gaze.

“He was seven-years-old, Mike,” I said through clenched teeth. “Seven!”

I shook my head, the poor kid had barely lived, barely tasted what the world had to offer. I take that back, he’d tasted too much of what the world could give and it had cost him.

Ever since the Awakening six years ago when all things that went bump in the night decided to come out of the woodwork and play, safety had been tenuous at best and kids like this, like seven-year-old Daniel Blackmore, were suffering the price.

Vampires, shifters, mages, witches and many more creatures of the night so to speak had seemingly popped out of nowhere, deciding they were ready to integrate themselves into everyday, or night, society.

Daniel had been abducted by a rogue vampire. I’d found his mangled body, broken and discarded as if he were nothing more than a piece of trash and I was going to find the bastard that had killed him and make him pay.

“Ari, I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no.”

 I looked Mike up and down. He was an older man in his late forties with a streak of silver in his otherwise midnight colored hair. The wrinkles around his eyes would lead you to believe he smiled a lot but I knew better. Those lines were from his ever-present frown. Dressed in black slacks and a grey button up shirt, his mid-section strained against the buttons looking like they could pop off at any moment, likely taking someone’s eye out in the process.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission,” I told him, my gaze going back to the photo.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass if you were asking. I’m telling you, Ari, let it go! You can’t help him anymore. All you’ll end up doing is getting yourself hurt or worse, killed for your trouble.”

That was the problem with people who had lived through the Awakening. Their only concern was self-preservation. Nothing else mattered. Well, screw that because this little boy, he mattered. His life mattered and he deserved justice. I had scrubbed my hands after finding his broken body but couldn’t scrub the stain his death left on my soul.

I stood up from my desk and grabbed my keys and daggers. I sheathed the twin blades on either side of my waist, grabbed my leather jacket, and made a beeline for the door. Mike crossed the room to intercept me, arms folded over his chest blocking my way.

“Move,” I bit out.


“I can move you.”

“You can, but you won’t.”

I ground my teeth together. He was being ridiculous. This entire situation was ridiculous.

“Mike, this isn’t some game. A little boy died. He died! Does that even matter to you? I couldn’t live with myself if I let this one go.”

“What’s your plan, Ari, you going to just storm into the coven and force them to tell you who did it? They won’t tell you. They protect their own and you’re one person against an entire Coven of bloodthirsty vampires. Even the kid’s parents know it’s a lost cause. They’ve dropped the case and are focusing on burying their kid. They’re coming to terms with his death. It’s over.”

I’d been hired by Jessica Blackmore, Daniel’s mother, a little over two weeks ago to find her son who’d gone missing one afternoon. He had been walking home from a friend’s, only five houses down from his own, but never made it to the front door. She’d thought it safe enough to allow him the small bit of independence but with paranormals about, it was never truly safe.

Mike knows I’m different. He knows I have pyrokinetic abilities and he knows I can take care of myself. This wasn’t reason talking, this was him being overprotective. Feeling the temperature in the room begin to rise I forced myself to inhale and exhale slowly. Trying to calm down and keep my pyrokinesis locked up tight. It wouldn’t help the situation to start a fire. All it would do is prove to Mike that I wasn’t in control and right now I was in no mood for a lecture.

“Look, Ari, you’re a mercenary. You take on a job when you have a client. There is no client so there is no job. We’re not the police. We don’t try to clean up the streets or bag the bad guys. We’re mercs.”

I couldn’t blame him for his way of thinking. Hell, two weeks ago I would have said the same thing, but this was different. He was just a kid and I couldn’t believe everyone was so willing to leave his murderer out there.

“Why don’t—”

Mid-sentence I heard the distinct buzz of a cell phone. Mike dug his phone out of his left pocket and answered it without looking at the screen.

“Hello,” he said. Mike’s face scrunched in confusion, a furrow forming between his brows. He listened for several moments and then with a grunt he hung up and stared me down. At six feet tall, he towered over me by a good five inches, but I didn’t back down. Lifting my chin and giving him my best try me stare. The one I knew drove him crazy.

“Looks like you’re getting exactly what you asked for,” he said.

“And what exactly is that?”

“That was Declan Valkenaar on the phone.”

Holy shit, the Pack Alpha. What the hell was he doing calling Mike?


Q&A with the Author

How did you come up with the idea for this story?

I’m not entirely sure to tell you the truth. I think when I decided I wanted to write something this story just popped into my head because it was one I wanted to read myself. Overtime it took shape and changed drastically but the idea itself more of less popped in out of nowhere.

Where do you find your inspiration? 

I find my inspiration at the Library. There is something entirely exciting about walking through a room filled with books and looking at all of their covers that just inspires you to write more.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

Finding the time to write is difficult. Between my day job, my blog, my home life and beautiful daughter, it all adds up. Time is something I definitely wish I had more of.

What are your current projects? 

Currently I’m working on Book 2 in the Blood & Magic series, and a side PNR project that is just beginning to take shape.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Not particularly. If there is a message in my book then it is coincidence. I’m a story telling and don’t really look to add special messages in my writing but I do think Cursed by Fire may have developed one, can you guess what it is?

Does music play any type of role in your writing?

Music is HUGE. I tend to assign a song to every scene. Music makes you feel something and I want my book to make my readers feel something as well. Music for specific scenes allows me to strive to draw that emotion into the scene.

What books have influenced your life most?

I feel like I should list the classics here but truth be told, Urban Fantasy novels such as those by Ilona Andrews and Patricia Briggs have inspired me to want to become a writer. Additionally, On Writing by Stephan King has been an extremely helpful tool in developing my craft.

Are there any new authors that have grasp your interest?

Yes. ML Brennan is not completely new but is newer and has caught my attention. Additionally, Sherry Palmer who wrote Life with Charley. Something completely outside my genre scope but so touching has grabbed my attention and held on tight.

Why did you choose to write Urban Fantasy stories?

I chose to write Urban Fantasy because it’s what I enjoy reading most. There is something about fantasy creatures living in today’s society and dealing with everything it brings.

What is for you the perfect book hero?

My perfect book hero is someone you can relate to. Someone who goes above and beyond to help others but is not all that extra ordinary. I want to feel like I can be that person.

When you start a book, do you already have the whole story in your head or is it built progressively?

It starts progressively. I typically outline first but even my outline changes as I go. Cursed by Fire went through four different outline revisions and three major rewrites.

When and why did you begin writing?

I began writing passively about two years. I was just playing around with an idea and slowly it began to take shape. Only within the last year have I taken my writing seriously though and really buckled down to finish a book.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

That’s tough, I suppose when I typed THE END. That was when I felt accomplished enough to say, I’m a writer.

List three books you have recently read and would recommend.

Magic Breaks by Ilona Andrews

The Kraken Kong by Meljean Brook

Archangel’s Shadow by Nalini Singh

Will you write more about these characters?

Yes. I have four books planned so far for this particular series.

Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

I hope you love my story as much as I loved writing it.


About the Author

Danielle Annett

Danielle Annett is a reader, writer, photographer, and the blogger behind Coffee and Characters. Born in the SF Bay area, she now resides in Spokane, WA, the primary location for her Blood & Magic series.

Addicted to coffee at an early age, she spends her restless nights putting pen to paper as she tries to get all of the stories out of her head before the dogs wake up the rest of the house and vie for her attention.

Connect with the Author

Website ||Facebook

Twitter || Goodreads



Print copy of Cursed by Fire and 3 e-copies

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Karen Rose Smith Author Spotlight


Karen Rose Smith


Karen Rose Smith was born in the Susquehanna Valley of Pennsylvania. Although she was an only child, she remembers the bonds of an extended family. Since her father came from a family of ten and her mother, a family of seven, there were always aunts, uncles and cousins visiting on weekends. Family is a strong theme in her books and she suspects her childhood memories are the reason.

In college, Karen began writing poetry and also met her husband to be. They both began married life as teachers, but when their son was born, Karen decided to try her hand at a home-decorating business. She returned to teaching for a while but changes in her life led her to writing romance fiction. Now she writes mysteries and romances full time. She is a USA Today best-selling and award-winning author. Her 86th novel, GILT BY ASSOCIATION, will be released in 2015 by Kensington Books.

When she isn’t writing, she cares for four rescue cats and a couple of strays, gardens, and cooks. Married to her college sweetheart since 1971, believing in the power of love and commitment, she envisions herself writing relationship novels, both mystery and romance, for a long time to come!


Ten Things About Me
  1. I was an only child who always longed for a sister.
  2. During my childhood I always had access to a relative’s farm.
  3. This summer my husband and I took in a stray pregnant cat and helped deliver her kittens.
  4. When I was in my late twenties, I learned to swim and ride horses!
  5. I attended the Beatles concert at Dodger Stadium.
  6. With my cousin I wrote a script for The Monkees tv show.
  7. I wrote for six years and finished 13 manuscripts before I sold two books in one week to two different publishers.
  8. I use a tape recorder to write and like to tape on the patio on summer nights under the moon.
  9. I love 60’s fashion.
  10. I’m a crazy cat lady!


Join Karen Rose Smith’s Street Team, Team Caprice
Staged to Death (Book 1) – on sale for only $2.99
Deadly Decor (Book 2) – on sale for only $1.99
Gilt By Association (Book 3)
Drape Expectations (Book 4)
Coming August 2015


Nathan’s Vow (Book 1)



Audio Book: Amazon ~ Audible ~ iTunes


Jakes’s Bride (Book 2)
Audio Book: Amazon ~ Audible ~ iTunes


Always Devoted (Book 3)
Audio Book: Amazon ~ Audible ~ iTunes


Always Her Cowboy (Book 4)
Audio Book: Amazon ~ Audible ~ iTunes


Heartfire (Book 5)
Audio Book: Amazon ~ Audible ~ iTunes


Cassidy’s Cowboy (Book 6)
Audio Book: Amazon ~ Audible ~ iTunes


Her Sister (Book 7)
Audio Book: Amazon ~ Audible ~ iTunes





Categories: Author Spotlight | Tags: , , , , , , , | 1 Comment