Suspense by Joan Hall Hovey

Posted on June 16, 2013 by

VBT-Suspense-by-Joan-Hall-Hovey

Joan will award one randomly drawn commenter a $50 gift certificate for sunglasses at Sunglasses Shack (US/Canada only). So follow the tour links at the end of this post and comment at each stop to increase you chances to win. Thank you for stopping by A to Z Reviews.

Blurb: Nowhere to Hide:                                                                                                    Eppie Winer ~Best Thriller -1992

SHE DARED TO CHALLENGE A MERCILESS KILLER

Raised in an atmosphere of violence and unpredictability, Ellen and Gail Morgan have banded together, survivors of a booze-fertilized battleground, forming a fierce united front against an often cold and uncaring world. When their parents are killed in a car crash, Ellen becomes the mother figure for Gail.

 When fifteen years later Gail is brutally raped and murdered in her shabby New York basement apartment, practically on the eve of her big breakthrough as a singer, Ellen is inconsolable. Rage at her younger sister’s murder has nearly consumed her. So when her work as a psychologist wins her an appearance on the evening news, Ellen seizes the moment. Staring straight into the camera, she challenges the killer to come out of hiding: “Why don’t you come after me? I’ll be waiting for you.”

Phone calls flood the station, but all leads go nowhere. The police investigation seems doomed to failure. Then it happens: a note, written in red ink, slipped under the windshield wipers of her car, ‘YOU’RE IT.’ Ellen has stirred the monster in his lair … and the hunter has become the hunted!

Cover_NowhereToHide                                    

Excerpt from NOWHERE TO HIDE:                                                     NOT ALONE

It was nice to be alone. As she brushed her hair, Gail launched into her favorite fantasy of buying her sister a white Ferrari. Ellen’s birthday was coming up in May; she’d have the car delivered right up to her door, a big red bow tied on the antenna … dream on, girl she told herself, grinning at her reflection in the mirror.

Tiger padded into the room just then, winding his sleek, warm body around her bare ankles, purring like an old washing machine.

I owe her so much, Tiger, Gail said, reaching down to stroke the cat’s soft, glossy fur. If it wasn’t for…

Suddenly, Tiger’s back arched under her hand and he hissed. Gail’s heart leapt in her breast and her hand drew back as if burned. “What the…?” But Tiger, fur standing on end, had already fled the room. Gail turned in her chair just in time to see his electrified, retreating tail…

Then she caught a movement from the corner of her eye. Turning, she froze at the sight of the closet door slowly opening.

Chapter One                                                                                                                                      August 6, 1979

The closet door was at the top of the stairs at the end of the hall. To get to it he had to pass by two doors, one on either side, both now partly open. He could hear talking, very low. Farther away, the sound of running away. In three quick strides he was past the doors and inside the closet. He knew he was smiling. He felt excited the way he always did when he got past them. Even if anyone had got a glimpse of him, it wouldn’t really matter. He was invisible. The invisible man.

The secret door was to his right, just behind the wide rack of musty-smelling winter coats in varying sizes. He ducked beneath them, and opening the door, let himself into the narrow, cave-like space.

The space separating the inside and outside walls went nearly the whole way round the third floor, stopping abruptly at the wall of the stairwell where he had to turn around and go back the way he had come. Once, this space had been used for storage – old bed springs, broken chairs, trunks – but the doors, except for the one in the closet which he had come upon quite by luck, and through which he had come again and again, had long since been replaced by sheetrock and papered over with rose-patterned wallpaper.

It was pitch black in front of him and all around him, like he was all alone in the world. He had his flashlight, but didn’t turn it on. He knew the way. Besides, it might shine through someplace.

As he made his way along the darkened corridor, breathing the stale, hot air, his progress slowed by the long, heavy skirt he wore, he had to stoop. At seventeen, though narrow-shouldered, he was nearly six feet tall.

Sweat was trickling down between his shoulder- blades, and under the wig, his head felt squirmy, so he took the wig off and stuffed it into his pants pocket, under the skirt.

And then he was there. He could see the thin beam of light shining through, projecting a tiny star on the wall. It was coming through the place where two Sundays ago, when they were all at Chapel, he had made a peephole. He’d made it by simply pounding a nail through, then drawing it cleanly back out so that there would be nothing detectible on the other side – no more than a black dot.

A giggle floated through to him and the smile froze on his face, his fists clenching involuntarily. No, it can’t be me they’re laughing at. They can’t see me. They don’t know I’m here. I’m invisible, remember? Calming himself, he slowly brought his face to the wall.

Eight narrow, iron-framed beds faced him, each covered by a thin, grey blanket with a faded red stripe across the top and bottom. Twelve beds in all, but the two at either end were cut from his view. A few religious pictures hung above the beds. The one facing him said ‘Suffer the Little Children to Come Unto Me’. It had a picture of a lamb on it. Only three of the beds were occupied. It was still early. Some of the girls were probably downstairs watching their alloted hour of T.V. Others would still be doing kitchen duty. At least one troublemaker would be doing ‘quiet time’. He grinned.

He understood now that the laughter he’d heard had come from one of the two girls sitting on the edge of the bed flipping through a teen idol magazine. He’d caught a look at the cover – some weirdo with a green punk hairdo and a guitar slung around his neck. The two sluts, heads together, were still at it, giggling, whispering, low and secretive. He felt a hot surge of hatred course through his veins. He wished SHE would walk in on them right now. He knew what they were doing. They were talking about who they liked, who they thought was ‘cute’, who they would let do it. They were thinking and talking about that.

Two beds over, a fat girl with short brown hair that looked as if someone (guess who? Ha-ha) had cut it around a bowl, lay on her back with her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. A jagged scar travelled from a spot between her eyebrows right up into her hairline. He could tell she’d been crying; her raisin eyes were all red and puffy, practically disappearing in her moon face. They cried a lot in here. Mostly in the middle of the night when they thought no one could hear. It always excited him hearing their soft muffled sobs. Sometimes, though, it just made him mad like it did when they laughed. Then he wanted to fix it so they didn’t make any sound at all.

His gaze wandered back to the girl who had first caught his attention, the one who sat under the lamb picture, and who he’d wanted to save for last. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a writing tablet balanced on her knees, her long, pale hair fallen forward, though some damply dark ends curled against her neck. He watched as she scribbled a few lines, then frowning, looked over what she had written. She would chew on her yellow pencil, then write some more, the pencil making whispery sounds on the paper. He watched her for a long time, taking in the flushed, shiny cheeks that made him think, as had the darkly damp curls, that she might just have stepped out of the bath. Yes, he remembered hearing the water running. He liked to see them when they just got out of the bath – all that damp flowing hair, pinkly scrubbed skin, soft necks. Sometimes they changed into their flannel nightgowns right there on the edge of their beds, right there in front of him – though of course they didn’t know that.

That was the best part. Them not knowing. It didn’t matter that they dressed so hurriedly and so slickly that he often didn’t get to see much. Though occasionally there was a flash of white shoulder, a curve of breast.

I’m watching you, he thought, and had to stifle a giggle of his own.

And then she raised her head and those clear blue eyes were staring right at him, stabbing fear into his heart. He couldn’t move.

She was frowning, not in the way she did when she was thinking of what to write, but with her head cocked to one side, as if she were listening for something. A terrible thought struck him. What if he hadn’t just almost laughed, but actually done it, right out loud? Adrenaline pumping crazily through his body, he backed slowly away from the peephole. Standing perfectly still with his back against the wall, he waited. When after several minutes there were no screams, no sudden cries of alarm to alert the other girls – and HER, especially HER – he began to relax. His heartbeat returned to normal; once more he brought his eye to the hole. She was back to writing. Of course she was.

He smiled to himself.

He hadn’t laughed out loud, after all. And she hadn’t seen him. Of course she hadn’t. His gaze slid down to her breasts, their shapes round and firm as little apples under the flannel nightgown.

But you will, he thought. You will.

 Blurb: 

Defective:

Therapist Melanie Snow is driving to her office when her Honda is struck by a dark-colored van and sent spinning into a ditch, where it catches fire. The driver never stops. A passerby pulls Melanie from the car just seconds before it explodes.

Waking from the coma nine days later, she is devastated to find she is blind.

As Melanie struggles to cope with her new reality, life as a blind woman, her fragile state of mind is further threatened by a madman who is stalking and strangling disabled women. The first two victims were mentally challenged and Detective Matt O’Leary, who carries a torch for Melanie, (even though Melanie is engaged to someone else) tells himself she is not the killer’s targeted prey. But then a woman who lost a leg to cancer is murdered, and another physically disabled woman is stalked. Even with a whole town in terror, Melanie refuses to live her life in fear and reopens her practice in the basement of her home. She has a living to earn.

And Detective Matt O’Leary must find a way to keep Melanie safe until the monster is caught. But how? Her door is now open to the public and the killer can just walk through anytime he chooses.

 And he does.

Cover_Defective

Excerpt from DEFECTIVE:

It was mid-afternoon, overcast, and The East End Mall in Kingsdale was crowded with shoppers. The Eraser, as he liked to think of himself, sat at one of the molded plastic tables by himself, nursing a Pepsi and eating fries from a small cardboard plate, and people watching. It was one of his favorite things to do, especially in nice weather when the girls wore shorts or tight jeans, some with their tanned midriffs bare, skimpy tops that showed off their boobs and skinny jeans that accentuated their tight little butts. Why not? He was a normal guy, he told himself.  He avoided looking at the ones with flab hanging over their waistbands.  He had girlfriend once or twice, but it didn’t last. The last one said he was weird and just stopped returning his calls. Well, to hell with her.

His eye strayed momentarily to the big screen monitor advertising Nike sneakers. Then it changed to a rent-a-car commercial and on to something else, but he’d already looked away. Idly dipping a French fry in the small pool of ketchup on his plate, he popped it in his mouth and went back to girl-watching. They did little for him today. His hand moved to cover the scratch that the retard left on his cheek, though it was fading now. That Polysporin ointment was good stuff.

Music played over the sound system, competing with the jabbering of shoppers, nothing he recognized. Probably supposed to keep people shopping, buying junk they didn’t need.  His gaze narrowed ever so slightly as a young girl with a silver ring in her lower lip and wearing black eyeliner got up from a table not far from him and limped heavily to the waste bin and dumped in the remainder of her meal, a half-eaten hamburger, fries. She sat the tray on top of the stack. Behind her, someone called out, “Hey, Lana,” and the girl turned in his direction and took a step forward so he could see her full-length; she looked past his shoulder and waved. He felt his heartbeat rev up, his throat go dry.

She had short dark hair, and was wearing a khaki skirt and cream-colored blouse. Her dimpled smile, the gleam of white, even teeth barely registered on him. He didn’t even glance behind him at the woman who had called out to her. He had no interest. As he had no genuine interest in the woman who returned the wave, really.

 No. It was her foot in its big brown shoe that drew and held his attention. Not brown exactly, but like tea when you put milk in it. Taupe. Yes, that was what his mother called that color. It was all he could see when he looked at her: that big clunking shoe.  So ugly it offended him, as deformities of any kind offended him. Even horrified him. A chill had crept down his back. He had to work extra hard to keep the disgust and pity from his face. She was a mistake. A blight, a tragic spawn. She must be erased. Like when you’re a kid and you draw a picture of something and it doesn’t come out right. You just erase it. Or rip out the page, and start again.

He was the eraser of mistakes. The good Lord had chosen him to do this work. Not that he was blaming God. No, there was no blame to be handed out here. Some small voice told him his reasoning was flawed, that that wasn’t why they had to die. But he wasn’t listening. As people were born of sin, women carried the faulty limbs, twisted features and minds within them. Carriers. As his mother had been a carrier, her womb spewing forth a defective, barely human—thing. Not the defective’s fault either. But since the flaw couldn’t be repaired, the whole issue had to be erased. The burden lifted. The Eraser held that kind of power; he could end suffering, change lives for the better. He remembered well the very moment he had changed his own life   but no time for that now. She was heading for the exit doors. He rose casually from his chair, tossing the remainder of his own fries and drink into the trash, dropped his tray on top of hers, and followed. He was really following the ‘shoe’. His eyes were riveted on the shoe. It filled his vision, his consciousness. That big, ugly shoe that rose and fell, rose and fell, her left hip dipping in sync, the shoe dragging it downward, seeming an entity in itself. When she stepped through the automatic doors into the grey, drizzly day, he was right behind her. Close enough to touch her. He buried his hands deep in his pockets to stifle the urge.

The bus pulled up with a hiss of air brakes and a belch of exhaust, and she hitched herself up onto the step. He followed, paid his fare. His bike was chained and locked in the parking lot; it would be fine. She took a side seat near the driver, and he sat himself two seats behind her and pretended to look out the window.

 In the grayness of the day, his reflection in the glass was faint, but almost at once he could see his reflection begin to morph into that of another, as she had once been. A raindrop ran down the window and caught one corner of her mouth like the drool he remembered, couldn’t forget, and he could not tear his eyes away. The small voice in his head spoke to him, sending the familiar chill through him, as if his heart had just received an infusion of ice water. The voice could form words now, where once it was capable only of mindless gibberish. “You know it’s me in there, don’t you. I’m watching you. I’ve come back. I’ll always come back. I’ll never leave you.”

 ”No! No!”

 Fearing he had cried out, he jerked his head around in sudden panic, but no one on the bus was looking at him. One man was reading a newspaper. A woman was talking and smiling at her little boy. Relief swept through him, but he was trembling just the same. A Chinese man seated across from him turned the page in his paperback, paying him no mind.

The girl had put earphones in her ears and her lips were moving to a song only she could hear. Her legs were crossed, the shoe swinging in time, mocking him.

 AuthorPicAUTHOR Bio and Links:

 In addition to her critically acclaimed novels, Joan Hall Hovey’s articles and short stories have appeared in such diverse publications as The Toronto Star, Atlantic Advocate, Seek, Home Life Magazine, Mystery Scene, The New Brunswick Reader, Fredericton Gleaner, New Freeman and Kings County Record. Her short story Dark Reunion was selected for the anthology investigating Women, Published by Simon & Pierre.

Ms. Hovey has held workshops and given talks at various schools and libraries in her area, including New Brunswick Community College, and taught a course in creative writing at the University of New Brunswick. For a number of years, she has been a tutor with Winghill School, a distance education school in Ottawa for aspiring writers.

She is a member of the Writer’s Federation of New Brunswick, past regional Vice-President of Crime Writers of Canada, Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.

 http://www.joanhallhovey.com

 Defective on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Defective-A-Novella-ebook/dp/B00CO81XAW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1367880554&sr=1-1&keywords=Defective

 Nowhere to Hide on Amazon:

 http://www.amazon.com/Nowhere-to-Hide-ebook/dp/B0045Y2F4G/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1335885750&sr=1-1

 Praise for Joan Hall Hovey’s Books

 “…suspense that puts her right up there with the likes of Sandford and Patterson…” Ingrid Taylor for Small Press Review

 ”…Alfred Hitchcock and Stephen King come to mind, but JOAN HALL HOVEY is in a Class by herself!…”
J.D. Michael Phelps, Author of My Fugitive, David Janssen

“…CANADIAN MISTRESS OF SUSPENSE…The author has a remarkable ability to turn up the heat on the suspense… great characterizations and dialogue…” James Anderson, author of Deadline

“…a gripping style that wrings emotions from everyday settings. Oh and by the way …is your door locked?” Linda Hersey – Fredericton Gleaner

 “…will keep readers holding their breath until the very end…” inthelibraryreview, Melissa Parcel

“This one is a chiller – you won’t be able to put it down – guaranteed!”- Rendezvous Magazine

“If you are looking for the suspense thriller of the year-look no further…you will find it in Nowhere To Hide…” Jewel Dartt Midnight Scribe Reviews

FOLLOW THE TOUR:

June 17:  Straight from the Library
                                                                                     June 18:  Nickie’s Views and Interviews
                                                                             June 19:  The Snarkology of a Romance Author
                                                                  June 20:  Welcome to My World of Dreams 
                                                                      June 21:  Sharing Links and Wisdom
                                                                                    June 24:  Beyond Romance
                                                                                                June 25:  Christine Young Romance Writer
                                                                          June 26:  Melissa Keir- Sexy Between the Covers
                                                              June 27:  Andi’s Book Reviews
                                                                                          June 28:  Dalene’s Book Reviews
                                                                                     July 8:  Blood Red Shadows
                                                                                               July 9:  Sandra’s Blog
                                                                                                          July 10:  Janna Shay’s Fair Play
                                                                                             July 11:  Deb Deb Reviews
                                                                                               July 12:  Book ‘Em North Carolina
  July 12:  STOP 2  Whit’s Book World                        July 15:  fuonlyknew
  July 15:  STOP 2  Journey of a Bookseller 
                                    July 16:  Wake Up Your Wild Side
  July 16:  STOP 2  Dawn’s Reading Nook Blog 
         July 17:  Bea’s Book Nook
                                                                                                July 17:  A to Z Reviews 
   (Review of both books on this stop)                                           July 18:  Vampires, Werewolves, Book Reviews…oh my!
                                                  July 18:  STOP 2  Renee Luke 
                                                                                              July 19:  Worlds of Possibilities
 July 19:  STOP 2  My Devotional Thoughts

 

Posted in Book Blog Tours | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Wanted: One Ghost by Loni Lynne

Posted on June 3, 2013 by

SBB Wanted One Ghost Book cover BannerFollow the tour and comment often.  Loni will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B&N gift card (winners choice) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

 BLURB:

Stuck in ghostly limbo for 238 years, James Addison can’t move on to an afterlife.  After being falsely accused of treason and executed, fate’s cursed him to remain an earth-bound specter until he meets a historian sent to research his past.

Distrustful of fate, Dr. April Branford wants to be taken seriously, but her unique ability to divine history by touching objects seriously compromises her credibility. Her latest assignment?  James Addison, a legendary colonial ladies’ man with a shadowy past.  Without much to go on, she doesn’t hold out much hope to discover the man behind the legend until the day she accidentally touches him and brings him back to life.

With the help of family and ghosts from James’s past, they unravel the truth. But after falling in love and with time running out, it’s hard for April to believe in fate and a future where forever is now.

 Cover_Wanted

Excerpt:

April’s digital camera came to life and she switched the setting to playback, scrolling through the photos. She’d taken a bevy of pictures, ones of the hanging tree, the colonial storefronts and historical houses, the front and back of the courthouse. She came across the last picture, the one she’d taken right outside, and then it went back to her older photos. Everything was there but the picture of her guide. She gasped and thumbed frantically through the pictures again.

 “What’s wrong, April dear?” Her aunt got up from the chair and came over to her, bringing her cup of tea with her.

“It was here…I mean, the picture is here but he isn’t.” The photo showed part of the lamp post she’d had her guide stand in front of. There was a bright, fuzzy ball of light obscuring part of the gaslight. Could it be a possible reflection off the light and her flash? She’d captured him in the frame, she was positive!

Her aunt looked over her arm at the frame revealing the street along with the courthouse. April didn’t like the knowing smile and twinkle to her aunt’s eye. “Oh, he’s there,” she said, peering up from over her tea cup.

“What do you mean?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“You’ve managed to capture what we call residual paranormal energy. See the spot of fuzzy light in the middle of the picture? You’ve captured an image of a paranormal orb. Welcome to the family, April. You’ve seen your first ghost.”

AuthorPic AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Loni Lynne is a stay at home mom, domestic goddess, U.S. Navy Veteran and lover of all things vintage/shabby-chic/Victorian and antique. From china cups and tea sets to lace doilies crocheted by hand (her grandmother made the best) she believes a touch of femininity never goes out of style.

Growing up all over the country she’s been blessed with experiencing a good deal of culture and lifestyles. Much like her personality, she has eclectic tastes in what she likes to read and write. There is no ‘one’ genre in which she settles for.

God and fate have been big influences in her life. Both have taken her to places she never thought she’d be, both in the physical sense and in the spiritual. She wrote brief stories and snippets of life as it happened to her in her youth, and encouraged by her teachers, continued to write. Blessed with a loving supportive family growing up, she was able to explore her options which at times have been put into use in her stories. The Navy–and fate, afforded her the opportunity to meet her Army, “Annapolis-native” husband and team up with him to parent two beautiful daughters.

Years later, her husband gave her the best birthday present ever–a laptop, a membership to Romance Writers of America and a goal to complete a manuscript for submission by her next birthday. She did it. A few years later she was blessed with one of those novels, Wanted: One Ghost, as her debut novel.

Believe in Fate

 Links: http://www.lonilynne.com  http://www.crescentmoonpress.com

https://twitter.com/#!/LoniLynne1  https://www.facebook.com/lonilynne

 

Posted in Book Blog Tours | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

“Kidnapped Cowboy” Book Blast

Posted on May 23, 2013 by

Lindsey will be awarding a $10 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour, and a gift basket to a randomly drawn host.

BB Kidnapped Cowboy Banner BLURB:

After countless attempts to speak with the owner of the retreat for troubled teens she runs on the outskirts of Lone Tree, Montana, Caitlin Myers resorts to kidnapping Brandon ‘The Ogre of Lone Tree’ Barnes in a desperate attempt to change his mind about turning Stoney Brook into a vacation resort for the wealthy.

Retired rodeo star, Dalton Barnes, gets the surprise of his life when he’s abducted by a soft-spoken female with a ‘gun’ and taken to the retreat his family owns. He soon learns she’s kidnapped the wrong cowboy by mistake. She wanted his brother. Things go from bad to worse when a late spring snowstorm strands them together at the cabin. But it’s during their snow-in that Dalton learns why Caitlin has gone to such lengths to save Stoney Brook. Having had issues with his older brother himself and a not so happy past, Dalton promises to do what he can to help her.

When confronted Brandon tells Dalton he’ll hold off on his plans for the retreat, but only if Dalton agrees to stick around and help run it. Keeping his promise to Caitlin, Dalton agrees and what starts out as a common goal to turn the troubled teens’ lives around that summer ends up turning theirs around as well. Can a man who has always avoided putting down roots and a woman with a deep-seated fear of abandonment hang on to the happiness they’ve found together? Or will the past return to threaten their newfound love?

Love, laughter and a heartwarming read…

 Kidnapped Cowboy CoverExcerpt:

 “Going somewhere?”

She spun around to find Brandon Barnes standing in the open doorway.  Other than Dalton, he was the last person she wanted to see right then.  It was hard to even look at him, he reminded her so much of his brother.  The man who had crushed her heart to smithereens.  “I’m done here.  I told you that.”

“Well, you might wanna hold off on leaving.”

She walked over to grab more books.  “Why would I do that?  Once the kids leave, my commitment to this place is over.”

“Because my brother wants to have a word with you.”

“It’s a little late for that don’t you think? 

“He’s on his way here.  Stay long enough to hear him out.”

She dumped the last load of books into the box and then folded the flaps, sealing it shut.  “No can do.  I have a life to get on with.  One that doesn’t include a smooth-talking, heart-breaking cowboy.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”  Brandon stepped into the room with a frown.  “Dalton’s right.  You’re a stubborn little thing.”  He turned and gave a whistle.  “Kids!”

The screen door opened again and the counselors stepped inside, behind them came the rest of their groups, forming a tight circle around her.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking around at the determined faces of the young counselors and teens.  “Billy?  Leah?”

It was Jimmy who stepped forward.  The boy she had seen the most change in.  Had grown the closest to.  “You’ve taught us to trust ourselves to know right from wrong.  How to use what we learned to help others.  And now it’s our turn to help you, Miss Myers.”

“Me?”

“You’ve gotta talk to Dalton,” Kylie said, the others nodding in agreement.

“No,” Caitlin said stiffly, “I don’t.”  She turned to Brandon in fury.  How dare you bring them into this!”

He smiled.  “All’s fair in love and war, Caitlin.  And my brother loves you.”  He glanced past her with a nod.  “Kids.”

The next thing she knew, the circle around her began closing in.  It was then she noticed the coils of rope in a few of the teens’ hands.

They wouldn’t.

They did.

 Lindsey Brookes pic

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

 

Romance author Lindsey Brookes grew up reading romance novels. She penned her first romance, a historical, at the age of seventeen. From there she went on to join Romance Writers of America where she learned the ins and outs of the publishing business and ways to hone her craft. She switched to writing contemporary romance and has finalled in/or won more than 75 RWA chapter sponsored contests with over a dozen different manuscripts. She is also a four time RWA Golden Heart finalist as well as a past American Title III finalist and winner of Harlequin’s Great American Romance Novel contest. She’s married to her childhood sweetheart, her hero, with whom she has two beautiful daughters.

Check out her websites:  http://www.lindseybrookes.com

 www.possumhollowseries.com

Facebook page – https://www.facebook.com/lindsey.brookes.9?ref=tn_tnmn

Twitter – https://twitter.com/Lindsey_Brookes

Buy links: Amazon: 

http://www.amazon.com/KIDNAPPED-COWBOY-ebook/dp/B00BG0TI6A/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365463124&sr=8-1&keywords=kidnapped+cowboy

 Barnes & Noble:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/kidnapped-cowboy-lindsey-brookes/1114581224?ean=2940016254630

 

Posted in Adult Romance | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

The Cracked Slipper

Posted on May 22, 2013 by

 SBB The Cracked Slipper Banner copyStephanie will be awarding a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

BLURB:

When Eleanor Brice unexpectedly wins the heart of Gregory Desmarais, Crown Prince of Cartheigh, she’s sure she’s found her happily-ever-after. Unfortunately, Prince Charming has a loose grip on his temper, a looser grip on his marriage vows, and a tight grip on the bottle.

Eight years of mistreatment, isolation and clandestine book learning hardly prepare Eleanor for life at Eclatant Palace, where women are seen, not heard. According to Eleanor’s eavesdropping parrot, no one at court appreciates her unladylike tendency to voice her opinion. To make matter worse, her royal fiancé spends his last night of bachelorhood on a drunken whoring spree. Before the ink dries on her marriage proclamation Eleanor realizes that she loves her husband’s best friend, former soldier Dorian Finley.

Eleanor can’t resist Dorian’s honesty, or his unusual admiration for her intelligence, and soon both are caught in a dangerous obsession. She drowns her confusion in charitable endeavors, but the people’s love can’t protect her from her feelings. When a magical crime endangers the bond between unicorns, dragons, and the royal family, a falsely accused Eleanor must clear her own name to save her life. The road toward vindication will force a choice between hard-won security and an impossible love.

 The Cracked Slipper is a book club friendly fairytale retelling in the vein of Gregory Maguire, with a dash of romance. Set in a pseudo-renaissance, corset-and-petticoats enchanted kingdom, The Cracked Slipper brings a magical twist to women’s fiction.

 Barefoot girl in white dress with shoes in hand is on the field.Excerpt:

“The dragon stood and lumbered toward the first cave. It passed the other unicorns, slowing every few steps, and they responded with reassuring whinnies. The next dragon appeared, followed by two more of Tremor’s unicorn guides. The first dragon called to the second, who screamed once in return. Both creatures seemed eager to get underground.

The transfer continued for nearly an hour without much fanfare. Eleanor thought she must have miscounted when there was a break in the procession.

“This will be the last one,” said Gregory. “I wonder what’s taking so long.”

Tremor paced at the mouth of the cave. Dark smoke rolled from under the ground. Tremor sent two of his fellows down below, and when after a few minutes they did not return, Thromba called to him to send two more.

Without warning, and with an earsplitting scream, and a new dragon burst from the cave. Stubby horns revealed her as a doe.

“Ho!”Gregory yelled. “Nestlings!”

Three baby dragons, about the size of saddle horses, squealed and circled their mother’s feet. She screamed and shot fire at the wall of men and unicorns. The men fell back. The unicorns just shut their eyes. As Gregory steered Eleanor toward the cabin she caught a flash of white behind the dragon’s legs.

Teardrop had somehow been pushed from the line. She was pinned between the raging dragon and the canyon walls. As the dragon backed and reared, her massive tail, all wrathful muscle, swung in a deadly pendulum.

“Teardrop!”Eleanor screamed.

Teardrop zigged, looking for a way around the mother dragon. The dragon’s tail came down hard and clipped the mare across the shoulder. Teardrop slammed into the rock wall. She cowered, stunned and heaving.

“Teardrop!”Eleanor yanked free of Gregory’s grip.

“Eleanor, stop!”

She ran past the startled guards and into the chaos.

 “Get back!” Tremor snorted.

“I won’t!” She yelled to be heard over the dragon. “I’m going to help her.”

“You can’t, and we must control this situation.”

“I will, damnit!” She tried to get around the stallion but he stepped in front of her again. “Get out of my way!” she stormed.

He lowered his head. “If you insist on this foolery at least let me help you.”

Gregory was shoving past the guards, but she climbed onto Tremor’s back before he could reach her.

“Eleanor!”Gregory screamed.

She clung to Tremor’s mane as he raced at the dragon. Her eyelashes stuck together in the blinding heat. Tremor dodged and wheeled as the dragon spit fire. Two other unicorns flanked them.

Tremor skidded to a stop. Eleanor leapt off and ran to Teardrop.

“Hurry!” Tremor called.

Foam dripped from Teardrop’s muzzle as she pressed against the wall. She wasn’t bleeding—her thick hide was nearly impenetrable—but a raised welt marred her shoulder. Her eyes rolled.

“Teardrop,”Eleanor tried to keep her voice calm over the screams of the dragon as it went after Tremor. “Help me. Take me back to Gregory.”

Teardrop swung her head at Eleanor’s voice. Her dark eyes came into focus. “Why are you here?” she whispered. “You will be killed.”

 “So you must take me out.”

Teardrop nodded, and Eleanor grabbed her mane and pulled herself onto the mare’s back.“Go, now,” she called. “I need you to get me past this dragon.”

Teardrop scraped at the ground with one hoof and pricked her ears. She watched Tremor and his helpers and the mother dragon. She spotted an opening and dove for it. The dragon spun and swung her tail again. Eleanor held on as Teardrop leapt. They barely cleared the spinning spikes.

 They came to a stop past the line of unicorns, and Eleanor’s legs gave out when she slid to the ground. Gregory caught her, cursing and kissing her.

 “Dammit, Eleanor,” he said. “You’re the most stubborn, disobedient, brave, exasperating woman.”

She sat on the ground with her head between her knees. The magicians bustled around Teardrop. They tried to examine her injury, but she snorted them away. She stood over Eleanor, breathing down the back of her neck.

Eleanor raised her head as Tremor called a dozen of his fellows into the skirmish. The doe blew fire, but more unicorns pressed in and she backed down. Her children squeaked and smoked around her. Tremor stepped from the line and knelt on one knee. To Eleanor’s amazement one of the nestlings crept out from under its mother’s belly and slunk toward him. The doe hissed a warning. Tremor stood, and gently touched the baby dragon with his horn.

The doe exhaled a long blast of fire, but this time there was no fight in it. The other baby dragons came forward, and Tremor touched them all before nudging them toward the new cave with his muzzle. Their mother let our several low whistles and followed them.

 Once the doe disappeared under the ground, Thromba ran to Eleanor and Gregory. “Dear HighGod, sire,” he said. “It was a botch-up, and the princess nearly roasted.”

“No, Thromba,” Gregory said. “We both know you can never tell how the does with nestlings will react. Last year we lost three men to a new mother. Not so bad, really.” He knelt beside Eleanor.

 “Are you angry with me?” she asked.

 “No,”he said. “How can I be angry? But you must be more careful.”

 He helped her stand on her shaky legs. She ran a hand over Teardrop’s withers and the white hide twitched under her fingers. “Does it hurt?” she asked.

 “Some, but we heal quickly.”

“Princess,”said an airy voice behind her. It was Tremor.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry if I made things more complicated.”

 Tremor lowered his head. “I thank you,” he said. “For reminding me of what is important.”

 

Eleven Hearts Photography

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

 

Stephanie Alexander grew up in the suburbs of Washington, DC, the oldest of three children. Drawing, writing stories, and harassing her parents for a pony consumed much of her childhood. After graduating from high school in 1995 she earned a Bachelor of Arts in Communications from the College of Charleston, South Carolina. She returned to Washington, DC, where she followed a long-time fascination with sociopolitical structures and women’s issues to a Master of Arts in Sociology from the American University. She spent several years as a Policy Associate at the International Center for Research on Women, a think-tank focused on women’s health and economic advancement.

Stephanie embraced full-time motherhood after the birth of the first of her three children in 2003. After six wonderful years buried in diapers and picture books she returned to her childhood passion and wrote her own fairytale. Her family put down permanent southern roots in Charleston in 2011. Stephanie is an adjunct professor of Sociology at the College of Charleston.

 www.thecrackedslipper.com

blog.thecrackeslipper.com

 www.facebook.com/thecrackedslipper

 twitter: @crackedslipper

 http://www.amazon.com/The-Cracked-Slipper-Series-ebook/dp/B007FLG8KS/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1364778060&sr=1-1&keywords=the+cracked+slipper

 

Posted in Fantasy | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

Wind River Refuge Video Book Teaser.

Posted on May 16, 2013 by

Wind River Refuge by J. M. Anton release date June 15, 2013.

See excerpt posted below.

Posted in Adult Romance | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Natalie Roers book blast for YA novel “Lucid”

Posted on May 14, 2013 by

SBB Lucid Banner copy BLURB:  

Being hailed by critics as an intelligent new voice in young adult fiction, Roers’ debut novel tells the anything but ordinary, coming of age story of a small town, teen aged, misfit named Travis Hunter.

Disfigured at birth and ostracized at school, Travis dreams of acceptance and secretly yearns for the affection of a beautiful young woman named Corrine. When a mysterious doctor promises to help Travis through something called lucid dreaming, Travis suddenly finds himself ushered into a secret society called “The Lucid”, a collection of social outcasts like himself, who have created their own world inside of dreams.

When Travis discovers he is able to bring Corrine into these dreams, he gets more than he ever bargained for and soon finds himself learning the secrets of love and life in a fantastic unconscious world.

An instant classic, Lucid is a timeless story of self-acceptance with a fresh paranormal twist. 

MEDIA KIT_Book Cover EXCERPT

Then, through the window, she appeared. Corrine was carrying an armful of books to the front of the store. She had a huge smile on her face. Although I couldn’t hear through the glass, it looked as though she was singing. She was so caught up in whatever she was listening to, or whatever it was that she was

thinking about, that she didn’t once seem to notice me standing in front of the window. For a moment, I let myself believe I was the reason for her distraction.

I watched with amusement as she carefully and methodically set out new hardbacks on the wooden display shelf. You could tell just by the way she handled them how much she cared about the stories inside. As the normalcy of the task sank in, so did the absolute absurdity of me being there. Corrine was

going on about her life and I was watching life from the outside. She was like a beautiful butterfly inside of a glass case, and I was the grubby kid who leaves nothing but fingerprints behind, imagining what it’s like to actually touch something so perfect.

Nothing had changed.

Satisfied with my mission and the acceptance of our respective roles, I took one more appreciative look and turned to go. But as I did, I realized that someone had been watching me while I had been watching her.

Readers can download “Lucid’ for only $4.99 this month! That price won’t last!

Here’s the link to buy on Amazon- http://www.amazon.com/Natalie-Roers/e/B00CQCCJ0O/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1368395305&sr=8-1

Here’s Barnes and Noble- http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1115281192?ean=2940016700366

REVIEW SOUND BYTES

“Roers’ debut novel heralds the arrival of an intelligent, heartfelt voice in the world of young adult fiction. The rich characters, emotional complexity, and confident prose are matched only by the landscape of dreams that Roers sets them against… a landscape brought vividly to life by the author’s seemingly boundless imagination. This is a novel that respects its readers as much as its characters, and that’s a beautiful rarity.”
~ Mike Flanagan, Filmmaker, Absentia and Oculus
 

“Natalie Roers’ debut novel is both riveting and relevant. More than a paranormal/fantasy/thriller, this is a complex tale that cuts to the very of heart of issues facing young adults today. Well sculptured characters and powerful imagery propel Roers’ fascinating narrative.”
~ Jason Tinney (Award-winning freelance journalist, musician, actor and the author of the story collection Bluebird.)
 

“Lucid is an interesting story and a fun read.”
~ Amy Carol Reeves, author of Ripper and Renegade
 

“Natalie Roers’ voice is amazingly confident for a first novelist. Her journalist’s eye for human detail draws you in, and makes you care about the people who populate the LUCID world. The more I got to know them, both awake and asleep in the world of lucid dreaming, the more time I wanted to spend in their world.”
~ Jeff Howard, writer for Film District and Focus Features.

   MEDIA KIT_Author PhotoAUTHOR INFORMATION:

 Natalie Roers is a veteran writer, voice artist, and on-air personality. A journalist by trade, Lucid is her first work of fiction. She is busy at work on her second novel and hopes to raise money and social awareness for worthy causes with each book she writes. Natalie plans to donate a portion of every sale of this book to her favorite anti-bullying organizations. She lives with her husband Cory, and son Austin, in Columbia, South Carolina.

  LINKS:

Websites: jointhelucid.com

http://natasha-r.com/writer/

FB: https://www.facebook.com/natalie.roers?fref=ts

https://www.facebook.com/jointhelucid?fref=ts

 Blog:  http://jointhelucid.com/blog/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16214486-lucid

  Natalie will award a $10 Amazon or BN.com gift card to one randomly drawn commenter.

Okay folks follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:  http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2013/04/super-book-blast-lucid-by-natalie-roers.html

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Wind River Refuge preview!

Posted on April 30, 2013 by

Wind River Refuge Cover 4613

1

       Jax trembled as an occasional shadow moved from the eerie darkness of an alley, but she kept running. Dark clouds bent on colliding with the earth appeared to be devouring the tallest skyscrapers. A thickening fog rolled in off the lake to obscured buildings and muted the glow of city lights. She held on to the stitch in her side and moved closer to the street, so one of the malevolent creatures couldn’t reach out and drag her to some worse fate. Her feet splashed into a huge puddle formed by the indent of a drive as she crossed its apron; only then did she become aware she had taken flight without her shoes. She stood gazing down at her bare toes bathing in the shallow pool.

      As she caught her breath, and her senses returned, the emptiness of the street registered. Streetlights and traffic signals reflected on the empty pavement; an occasional taxi or car disrupted the surreal landscape. St. Clare Ave. sent shivers through her small frame; all the businesses, even the bars, were closed. Their usually bright neon signs dead. A sense of urgency forced her on from the respite of the small footbath. She traveled a few more blocks before calling another halt. A bit more lucid, she investigated the sticky substance she suddenly felt on her skin. The foggy glow of a street lamp highlighted the blood on her hands and arms. Red, all she could see was red! Her stomach pitched with the realization that she was covered in it, except for her clean bare feet. She was losing the battle against her rebelling tummy when the strobes atop a CPD black and white added to her red nightmare. Jax lost what little food she’d eaten just before that night’s ordeal began. Clothed only in a huge over sized blood soaked T-shirt and baggy shorts Jax collapsed on the soggy tree lawn, beneath the revealing light.

      She vaguely remembered the Cleveland police officers asking her, “Are you hurt? Have you been in an accident?” Even foggier was the memory of the trip in the ambulance summoned by the two concerned officers.

      A booming voice over the airport public address system startled Jax from her slumber. She banished the disturbing memories that had penetrated her unguarded mind. It was hard to dismiss her resurrected specters. She calculated the passage of time. It was1972 she was stuck in the Atlanta airport during an epic ice storm with several hundred other folks. This was not how she wanted to spend the short Christmas Break. That particular nightmare hadn’t reared its ugly head in nearly six years. Why now? Was it some kind of a warning? What brought back the terror of her flight down a Cleveland street more than a decade in the past?

 

      Thirty minutes had elapsed since she disembarked from the horrendous flight from Atlanta to Denver. Dexter wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and she had been keeping an eye out for him upon entering the terminal. Jax scanned the area around the baggage claim one more time before making the hike to the closest line of pay phones to call Maggie.

      “Hi. I am in Denver, and I don’t see Dex anywhere!”

      “Oh Lord! I am sorry Jax; it isn’t Dexter, but I sent his cousin Garrett to bring you home. It completely slipped my mind that you hadn’t met him.”

      She scanned the immediate area again. “Well, there isn’t anyone around here that even resembles a McBride.” Dexter, and the rest of the male clan she was acquainted with all had auburn or darker brown hair with a red cast. “What does he look like?”

      “ He’s very tall.”

      “Come on Maggie, a little help here? You know that half the world looks tall to me.” Her disgusted observation brought a chuckle from the other end of the line.

      “Oh… say, six foot four, broad shoulders, black hair and beard. Probably wearing jeans and a Stetson.” Jax was busy scanning the crowd while she listened to Maggie’s description of her assigned pilot.

      “Wait a minute.” Phone receiver placed safely on the counter, she cautiously made her way around a column near the baggage claim carousel. All of the McBride men were big, but this one was even larger than the rest! She prayed, “ Please, let him be someone else.” She sucked oxygen into her lungs, like a swimmer preparing for a deep dive, let it out slowly and skirted around the far side of the large column near where he stood. Jax mastered her trepidation and approached slowly, after assessing the tall dark stranger at a safe distance. It was a supreme effort to sound calm and confident. “McBride?”

      He looked down at her from his towering height. “You Jax?”

      All she could manage was to nod her head. He was easily a foot taller than her, and had to weigh twice as much. She quickly executed a sharp one-eighty and fought the urge to run back to the phone. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and gritty! The usually simple reflex of breathing became a struggle. God! He was intimidating. At least Dexter was a known quantity, and his six foot two athletic frame didn’t bother her anymore. Fingers trembling, she fumbled with the receiver on the counter. Jax informed Maggie she’d found Garrett. Of course, Maggie wanted to speak with him. She turned around with the intention to call him over to the phone and nearly jumped out of her skin. He stood right behind her, and she ran smack into his large muscular form.

      “Shit!”

      “Nice language,” he told her with obvious disapproval.

      “You scared the hell out of me. I didn’t realize you were there!” He looked at her as if she were simple minded. Jax shoved the phone at him, and then all but ran to claim her luggage.

 ######

 

      Maggie had always been good to Garret as a boy, and for years they had been more like family than neighbors. So, he flew to Denver to pick her adopted daughter. He wasn’t sure why the girl flew to Denver and not Sheridan, but he agreed to transport her home.

      In desperate need of a distraction, he was more than happy to be of service, but he should have gotten more information. All he knew about her was that she was in her early twenties, and her name was Jax. Sure a strange name for a girl he thought. Maggie had been distracted when she called to ask him to pick up her daughter. He could excuse her for forgetting that he didn’t know the girl, but what was his excuse for not asking for a description? The need to put distance between himself and his father was the catalyst that sent him flying south. His annoyance with his father was secondary to the urgency he felt to avoid Alicia’s company. He’d been fighting the very real urge to strangle her, so he jumped at the chance to fly to Denver.

      Jax’s flight wasn’t due for another twenty minutes. He took advantage of the time checking on the weather and filing his return flight plan. Planes were stacked up on arrival, and he knew that he would have to wait a while longer. He decided to ease the gnawing and audible rumbling of his stomach. An over priced cup of hot coffee and a couple of bear-claws were just the ticket. He’d taken flight before lunch and was doubtful they would make it back for supper. Not that the meal was his motivation, but Maggie’s promise of a thick cut of prime rib increased his anticipation and hunger.

      Another unknown was the disposition of his passenger. “She might be a bit testy, if tired or aggravated.” Maggie warned him. Now, he wondered what the hell that had meant? The words Maggie had used to describe the girl should have been a sane man’s cue to ask for more information.

      The flight was finally at the gate, which prompted a huge sigh of relief. Garrett speculated that they might, yet, make it in time for dinner. A quick stop removed the sticky residue from his hands and relieved his bladder before heading to the designated gate.

      Passengers were beginning to enter the terminal, and he mentally kicked himself for not asking for a description. A long legged blonde caught his eye as the first class travelers entered the terminal; she appeared to be alone. He glanced in the direction she waved, and an elderly couple rushed forward to embrace her. One down, he thought. He was sure that there couldn’t be to many young females traveling alone, on the same flight.

      The coach passengers filed into the terminal He noticed a brunette, a little on the plump side, but very attractive. She looks too old to be Jax, he estimated. Sure enough, hubby and the kids were there to meet her.

      A Marine caught his attention. He could tell by the way the man was moving that the sergeant had been wounded. His arm was around a cute little girl, and she was hauled up against him like he was afraid to let go of her. Garrett waited; no one else entered the terminal. “Better check to make certain she’d actually been on the flight,” he mumbled to no one in particular as he made his way to the information counter.

      “Did you say Duncan sir?”

      “Right” As an after thought he added. “The first name is Jax”

      “No Sir… But…there was a Jax Wyse on that flight.” He was directed to the baggage claim area for the flight. “If you don’t find her there just have her paged.”

      He wondered how the hell he’d missed her. Garrett stationed himself where he could keep an eye on the baggage area and still see people coming and going.

      “McBride?”

      He looked down into the face of the little girl who’d been wrapped around the Marine! “Jax?”

      She nodded, and then just walked away. He followed her while pondering her strange reaction. She picked up the receiver resting on the counter that underscored a bank of wall phones.

      He thought it strange that her voice sent chills down his spine! The sensation had only happened prior to this in extremely hazardous combat conditions. The woman appeared harmless enough. Then she turned around and ran smack into him.

      “Shit!” She hollered at him.

      He reprimanded her choice of words, but she just continued to tell him off, threw the phone at him, and then marched off. He picked up the phone while attempting to keep an eye on her retreating form as he raised the receiver to his ear.

      “Garrett you better be careful with her, she means a lot to me.” There was a definite threat in Maggie’s tone, which took him back a bit.

      “I’ll get her home in one piece Maggie.” He hung up the phone then looked around to see where Maggie’s precious girl had gone. She was small enough that he’d lost sight of her in the mayhem of passengers collecting baggage. He zeroed in on her as he walked over to the baggage conveyer. As he watched her surveying the pile of luggage passing before her, he was thinking, Christ! Two huge bags already sat next to her, and she watched the conveyer for additional luggage to come around. “How many bags did you bring?

      “There’s only one more.”

      “That’s a relief. I was beginning to worry about getting enough altitude to clear the mountains.”

      “Mountains?”

      “Yep, there are a few between here and home you know.” He made the casual comment as he picked up the two largest bags and walked off.

      “Right,” She was really feeling queasy, now. Jax had to hustle to catch up with him. “Umm…Mr. McBride, I really need to make a pit stop, if you don’t mind waiting a few more minutes?”

      “Sure,” He watched her add the third bag, and her carry on to the two he’d already set down in front of him. So, there he was standing there in the middle of all her baggage and waiting for Maggie’s pint sized girl to return.

      I drank too much water, she thought, explaining away her face down encounter with the public toilet bowl. Exhaustion made the small chore of brushing her teeth and rinsing her mouth seem like a humongous task. A wet paper towel on her face helped revive her some, as she attempted to pull herself together. “God! You look like crap.” She scolded the tired and frail girl with huge dilated hazel eyes gazing back at her from the mirror. Still procrastinating, she found herself wishing it had been Dexter who’d come to fly her home. That wish caused her wonder about her mental state. Dexter was a known quantity, a friend, and she knew how to deal with him. Garrett was out there waiting, but she’d not a clue how patient a man he was, and his size alone made her uneasy. She surveyed the two pills in the palm of her hand, and considered the advisability of taking them. His voice invaded her thoughts, along with his comment about not getting enough altitude over the mountains. Well… she reasoned, if I’m going to be splattered all over a mountainside, I don’t want to know about it. She coaxed one tremendously heavy foot in front of the other; at the nearest drinking fountain she shook out one more pill and downed all three. Jax pulled on her black winter coat with the fur collar that matched her white wool bell shaped hat. She experienced some difficulty fastening the large buttons. Her fingers didn’t seem to be functioning correctly! She inhaled deeply breath to shore up her lagging courage, and then rejoined Garrett.

      He stood with all her luggage in front of him, and it appeared that he hadn’t moved a muscle. Without a word, he latched on to the two largest bags, and walked off before she could suggest a baggage cart. Was he aggravated at the delay? She’d taken an inordinate amount of time pulling herself together and working up the nerve to join him. She snatched up the carry on and pulled the third bag behind as she followed him. It seamed she trudged a hundred miles through the terminal. It was becoming more difficult to keep up with his long stride; the effort to keep pace was beginning to take its toll. The floor began to sway like a ship on a rough sea. Jax fought the overwhelming urge to just stop, curl up, and snooze. She was woozy from lack of sleep as well as not having any decent food the better part of three days. For the first time it occurred to her that she could have taken too many motion sickness pills. She sucked in a deep breath as Denver’s frosty air rudely smacked her in the face. She was grateful that the long red, navy, and black, plaid skit was a heavily lined wool that covered most of her tall black winter dress boots. An audible sigh of relief that sounded more like a groan escaped from her as they approached a group of private planes. Her sense of relief blew away on a quick gust of wind, and stopped Jax dead in her tracks.

      Garrett opened the door to the passenger side of the cockpit before he reached down to load the luggage. At that point he realized that she was standing about thirty feet from him and appeared as white as the snow that was now falling! He walked back to her, “Are you alright?” No answer, not a word. “Jax?”

      She gazed up at him and asked; “Is that the plane?”

             “Yep.” He grinned at her.

      She looked at him skeptically, surveyed the plane again, her complexion turned more pale, though Garrett was not sure how that was even possible. She shook her head in the negative, turned, and started back the way they had just come. He caught her by the upper arm. “Whoa.” To his utter amazement she looked at his hand like it was a rattler. He quickly removed it, but stepped in front of her.

      “Please move.” She requested in a weak voice that scared the hell out of him.

      “Where are you going?”

      “To rent a car and drive home.”

      “NO.”

      “What do you mean, no?” She demanded in a belligerent tone.

      He wondered if this was what Maggie meant when she warned him the girl could be testy. “No” He repeated. “You aren’t driving anywhere, in your condition. I promised Maggie I would get you back to her safely, and in one piece.”

      “Stop, shouting at me!” She yelled at him.

      He hadn’t really shouted at her. He’d just annunciated every syllable, in a commanding voice.

      “I am not going over the mountains in that, that, that puddle jumper!”

      Garrett exercised considerable self-control to avoid laughing at her obvious skepticism regarding the flightworthiness of his plane. “I thought you’d flown, with Dexter?”

      “Why do you think I want to drive?”

      For the second time in a matter of seconds he suppressed the long forgotten urge to laugh. His mirth was brought on by the disgust in her voice, and he made an attempt to reassure her. “I’m not Dexter.”

      “No shit, Sherlock. That still doesn’t mean you’re any better of a pilot.”

      “Why don’t we find out, Jax?” He relieved her of the carry on placing it under his left arm, and picked up the piece of luggage she’d been towing behind her. Then he placed his right hand on her upper arm, and guided her to the plane. Garrett assisted her into passenger seat. Once she was seated he continued to load and secure the luggage while keeping an eye on her, incase she decided to make another run for it.

      Jax was not able to stage an escape, should her very life depend on it. She was exhausted and could barely keep her eyes open. However, they flipped up, like and old fashioned roller shade wound to tightly, when he got into the plane filling the small cockpit with the overwhelming aura of a self-assured, dominate, male. Ingrained mistrust and self-preservation welled up threatening to break through the fragile barriers she’d painstakingly erected to hold them at bay. She kept a suspicious eye on him while he went through the preflight requirements with the controllers in the tower. Now, he was waiting for further instructions. She was entranced by his dark good looks, even though his powerful build and equally powerful presence unnerved her. She’d noticed when first locating him in the terminal that his eyes were so dark they appeared black. A trick of the lighting she’d figured and wondered what color they really were. Now that he’d replaced the wide brimmed hat he’d been wearing, tipped low on his brow, with the headset she could see his hair was pitch black and wavy. His beard was just as black, close cropped and neat. It flitted through her foggy mind that he sure didn’t look like any of the McBride clan that she new. A strange out of body experience overtook her; head buzzing, she was finding it difficult to concentrate. Then she felt him touch her and panicked! Jax slapped at his hands with what strength she could gather.

      “Calm down. I’m only checking to make sure you’re fastened in correctly.” He turned away from her, said something into the radio, then they were moving. Eyes scrunched closed, she began to recite a string of Hail Marys.

      “You can open your eyes now, we’re up.”

      She looked over at him, alarm in her eves, “Do you supply barf bags on this flight?”

      He reached over and dumped something out of a paper sack that smelled suspiciously like donuts. The aroma of the spilled contents made her stomach roll and growl. He handed her the empty bag, but never looked at her or took his eyes off of the mountains in the distance.

      “Thank you.” Saints be praised! She didn’t have to use it. Her stomach was settling now that they had leveled off, but she was so tired that her eyes closed of their own accord.

      Garrett glanced over at his passenger who was sound asleep. He figured she must be beat, after spending two days stranded in an airport; she probably hadn’t slept much. He wondered how much of that time she’d spent with the Marine? The thought aggravated him. It wasn’t any of his business what the girl did or didn’t do. It sure didn’t add up though, she recoiled when he’d touched her arm, and nearly jumped out of the seat when he’d reached over to check her safety belts. She’d let out a panicked little cry and started batting at his hands. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she’d been disoriented. Jax slept the remainder of the trip.

      He focused on the air currents and unpredictable wind shears that could develop in a heartbeat crossing the mountain ranges. Concentrating on the flight broke his speculation about his passenger. The landing accomplished, he taxied toward the hanger, shut down the engine, and transferred her luggage from the plane to his truck. Then fired up the engine to warm the cab of the pickup while he worked on clearing its windows and mirrors.

      His passenger was still asleep. She didn’t wake when he opened the cockpit door; carefully he reached around her to unfasten the safety belt. She came awake with a look of pure terror. Once more, she didn’t seem to know where she was. She didn’t scream, just whimpered deep in her throat and tried to move away from him. “Take it easy Jax” He spoke to her in the calm quiet voice he used on frightened or skittish young horses, and he then backed away. “We’re here.”

      “Oh!”

      He continued to observe her as she unbuckled her belt then stepped out of the plane on to solid ground. He would not have been shocked had she knelt down and kissed the ground; her relief was so profound. She gazed around at the snow, the mountains, and the clear star filled sky, at that point she almost fell over.

      Garrett held his breath as he moved to steady her. He was preparing himself for her to get worked up again, but he couldn’t just stand there and let her topple over.

      “Oops!”

      His mind registered her response. “Oops”… that was it just oops?” Then, she had the nerve to look at him and giggle. “That tears it! Maggie owes me big time for this one.” He grumbled into the night, as he grasped her upper arm. He maintained his hold until she was seated in the truck. “Put your seat belt on.” He growled in his best don’t mess with me voice. “I’ll be back as soon as I get the plane in the hanger.”

      Jax was still a little foggy. However, she was able to manage the adjustment of her seatbelt. His truck must be new, she thought, the older models didn’t have them. The cab had warmed up considerably. Jax yawned, snuggled into the seat, and closed her eyes.

      Garrett settled behind the wheel and aimed the Jimmy down the long drive toward the road. She was out again. He didn’t think her behavior was normal, and he didn’t give a damn how tired she was. They’d been driving for a good twenty-five minutes when she joined the living again.

      “Where are we?” She uncurled her body and stretched like a lazy cat. “Garrett, thank you”

Her voice sent a shock through his body that he was unprepared for. Now what is she up to? His inner voice asked, but all he said was, “Your welcome, Jax”

      Maggie must have been watching for them; she was standing on the porch waving, like a mad woman. As soon as he stopped the truck, the tall slim graying blonde boss of the Double D came rushing to the passenger side to yank the door open. Jax had barely unbuckled her seat belt when Maggie hauled her out of the truck and tried to squeeze the stuffing out of her. The tough no-nonsense woman’s dark blue eyes looked suspiciously moist. Garrett grinned and watched them walk up to the front steps where Maggie encountered Sid, the older couple stood eyeball to eyeball. She gave him a peck on the cheek then directed, as she shepherded Jax into the house. “Sid, give Garrett a hand with the bags. Then wash up. Dinner is waiting.”

      For a man in his middle fifties, Sid was in good shape. About six foot one, and maybe one sixty-five, ranch work kept him fit. Thick salt and pepper hair, more salt than pepper these days, contrasted with his rugged weathered complexion and soft brown eyes. As requested, he marched down the porch steps to shake the younger man’s hand, and help with his little darling’s luggage.

Look for the e-book release of this adult novel  in May 2013 on Smashwords.com, Amazon, and other e-reader points of sale. 

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