Saturday, December 16, 2017

Bring It Back(list) - Rhea 41070, a Sci-Fi Romance by Linda Mooney

Posted by: Linda Mooney
RHEA 41070
Sci-Fi Romance 

by Linda Mooney
Word Count:  64.3K
$0.99 e / $9.99 p / $19.95 a  

Bock Gammon is a freedom runner. A man with a space ship for hire. He has heard of Replacements and knows they exist, but he has never personally come across one. In fact, he finds the whole idea repugnant--growing a living being specifically for the purpose of harvesting his body parts. So do the governments in many of the galaxies who have declared Replacements illegal.

Which is why he is stunned to discover his latest assignment is to bring a Replacement to one of the wealthiest men in the Chatta Dul system. If he hadn't so desperately needed the money, he wouldn't have accepted the job.

It doesn't take long for Bock to realize that Rhea 41070 isn't just one-of-a-kind, she's also unlike any woman he has ever met.  And the closer they get to the point of delivery, the more he knows he can't walk away and leave her behind to be dissected.  Somehow, he has to find a way to save her, despite the odds and hundreds of well-armed men awaiting their return.

Warning!  Contains idol worship, twisted old men, blackmail, apathy for human life, black market medicine, a shootout, a taste of the good life, and more gold than you can shake a stick at.       

From December 1st through the 31st, you can get the ebook for only 99 cents! Available at this price only on Amazon and this website. (Note: Click BUY EBOOK to get the Nook or PDF version.)    

Friday, December 15, 2017

What WEREWOLVES have to do with Christmas...

Posted by: Dani Harper, AUTHOR
Of all the folklore surrounding this holiday season, the last one you'd expect involves werewolves. In fact, there are MANY old legends and beliefs connecting werewolves and Christmas!

A common belief in many countries on both sides of the Atlantic was that a person could become a werewolf if someone cursed them. And the person doing the hexing was often a priest or even a saint, punishing you for real or imagined sins!

Repeatedly failing to attend annual confession at Easter or Christmas was a trespass likely to result in a lupine curse...

In 14th century Normandy, the varouage was an excommunicated person who became a werewolf between Christmas and Candlemas or during Advent. During this time, the sinner was either redeemed – or doomed to belong to the devil and run as a wolf forever. (By the way, in Finland, if you were lucky enough to break the spell, you were still stuck with a wolf’s tail for the rest of your life!)

Curses abounded for anyone with the misfortune to be born on the wrong day. In Italy, it was bad luck to be born on the winter solstice, December 20-21, and a sure way to become a shapeshifter. In many other European countries, such as Poland, it was believed that children born on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day automatically became werewolves when they grew up. In Germany, a child was still in danger of becoming one if he or she was born during the 12 nights of Christmas, which run from December 25 until the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6.

Whatever the country and the legend, it was generally agreed that the lupine curse was some sort of divine punishment for blasphemy, as the hapless baby was viewed as competing with the Christ child! Many kinds of rituals were vigorously performed for the first few days after Christmas to help the infant avoid his wolfish fate

In Romania, this legend went a step further. Children conceived on Christmas Eve were cursed to become werewolves because their parents were supposed to have abstained from sex at that time!

Winter solstice (which falls about December 21st), was traditionally celebrated as the first day of the 12 days of Yule. The veil between worlds was thin during that time, and people stayed indoors at night because supernatural creatures were out and about – and that included werewolves!

In 1555, Swedish archbiship Olaus Magnus wrote “The History of the Northern Peoples”, in which he said that at the festival of Christmas, there was a strange conversion of men into wolves. “There is a gathering of a huge multitude of wolves which have been changed from men, and which during that night rage with such fierceness … that the inhabitants suffer more hurt from them, than they ever do from natural wolves, for these human wolves break down doors … and descend into cellars where they drink out whole tuns (sic) of beer or mead.” 

Magnus goes on to describe a high stone wall where the werewolves would afterwards gather, and eventually compete to leap over it.”

Image: Public Domain
The concept of werewolves waiting at the wall was illustrated by Maurice Sand in his 1858 lithograph of Les Lupins (shown above).

Physician Casper Peucer recorded a similar legend of mass lycanthropy in 1560 in Livonia (now Estonia and Latvia). “At Christmas a boy lame of leg goes round the countryside summoning the Devil’s followers, which are many, to a general conclave… The human form vanishes, and the whole multitude become wolves… They fall upon herds of cattle and flocks of sheep.” The entire transformation, he wrote, lasts twelve days: “…at the expiration of which the wolf skin vanishes, and the human form reappears.”

On the flip side, there were some beliefs in the notion that the sheer holiness of the Christmas season would suppress a werewolf’s transformation, enabling him to walk freely among men without fear of his animal nature getting the better of him. After this blessed period of dormancy however, werewolves in January were all the more active and aggressive.

In some parts of Poland, it was believed that werewolves only transformed into their animal form twice a year: on Midsummer Day and on Christmas. In Slovenia, the Twelve Days of Christmas were also known as Wolf Days. The original story was that the Wolf-Shepherd, or Master of Wolves, was active during that time and could do the most damage then. Later, the story shifted so that St. Blaise (Saint of the Wild Beast) became the Wolf-Shepherd. It was his job to summon the wild wolves, and then to banish them for a time, thus preserving the herds of livestock from predation.

One final, rather odd, holiday superstition also comes from Slovenian folklore. Farmers would make a special effort not to leave manure lying in the fields over the Christmas season by plowing it into the soil. Apparently one of the easiest ways a werewolf could make his transformation was by rolling in manure!


Book 1 of the Haunted Holiday Series by Dani Harper 
A Yuletide Paranormal Romance

Purchase link:

5 stars ~ JUST LOVE MY BOOKS ~ “One of my top ten holiday romances ever.”
4.25 stars ~ NIGHT OWL REVIEWS “An excellent combination of sizzle and emotion.”
5 stars ~ REDZ WORLD REVIEWS "Action, adventure, and a whole lot of love inside.”


Thursday, December 14, 2017

Throwback Thursday: This Winter Heart

Posted by: PG Forte
It's occurred to me, recently, that it's really not all that surprising that I sometimes write about characters that are more-or-less indestructible. I'm starting to realize that my octogenarian mother, who's just returned home from the hospital after breaking her neck for the second time in three years, could probably give any of my semi-mechanical people a run for their money. 

I come from really tough stock. 

However, caring for my mother full-time while she's still largely bed-ridden has left me with too little time to come up with a new blog post, so I'm posting a throwback excerpt from This Winter Heart, the book that led to my inclusion in this wonderful group.

Here's a look at how my steampunk family might have celebrated Christmas in Santa Fe. I've also included a link at the bottom to a short story I wrote involving the same characters.  

“How will we be spending Christmas this year?” Arthur asked, half turning in his seat to look up at Dario.
The boy’s voice pulled Dario back to the present. He was surprised to find that, while his thoughts had wandered, he’d somehow allowed his horse to slow to a walk. He frowned absently, annoyed at his own inattention. “What was that?”
“Christmas,” the boy repeated, his tone unexpectedly stern. “You said that’s why we were coming here, because it would make Christmas more enjoyable.”
“So I did.” Dario felt a small stab of guilt. His motives for wanting Ophelia and her son out of the hotel had been purely personal. But, all the same, who wouldn’t prefer to be here, rather than in a hotel?
“But how will it be enjoyable? What do you intend to do to make it so? Everyone says you don’t do anything anymore—that you never celebrate Christmas—that you rarely even leave the house. That doesn’t sound very enjoyable to me.”
Everyone? “Who have you been talking to?” Dario asked, equally affronted by the idea of the child asking questions about him as he was by his accusations. True, he hadn’t had a reason to celebrate much of anything in the past few years and the stares and whispered comments his presence always seemed to elicit made going out in public something of a nightmare, but his behavior wasn’t unalterable either. He could still celebrate Christmas if he wanted to.
Arthur shrugged. “Just the maids. And the grooms. And Mrs. Harrison, of course. She said it was because you were so unhappy. And Mama said I was to stop asking so many questions and not to trouble you about it either, but I’m not troubling you. Am I?”
“Not at all,” Dario answered, lying smoothly. He gazed curiously at the boy. “How are you used to celebrating Christmas?”
“We’d always have a tall tree set up in the parlor, all lit with candles,” Arthur said promptly. “With presents underneath. Oh, and there’d be cookies, of course, and sweets, and sometimes in the evening, carolers would come to the door, singing.”
Dario nodded. “And what kind of presents do you like to get?”
“I dunno. Games, I guess, and toys, maybe some books. Last year I got a pair of ice-skates.” His face fell. “But there’s no pond to skate on here, is there?”
“Not really.”
“And there’d always be one special toy that Grandpapa would have made for me,” the boy said wistfully. “But he’s gone now. I don’t suppose I’ll be getting any more like those.”
“No. Probably not.” Dario could only imagine the wondrous toys an inventor of Charles’ caliber might have made for his grandson: marvelous electrical games and puzzles, miniature steam-powered vehicles that were working replicas of their real-life counterparts, clockwork dolls that could walk and talk, he would not think of it.
“Here, it’s your turn.” Seeking distraction, Dario took hold of Arthur’s hands. He lifted them from the pommel and placed them on the reins, keeping his own hands loosely clasped atop them. “Guide her where you want her to go.” He smiled at the small tremor that ran through the boy, the way he sat up a little bit straighter in the saddle, the way his hands firmed on the reins. “Yes. Just like that. Very good.”
A pleasant silence settled between them, broken only by Arthur’s murmured encouragements to Leveche.
“You know, my father used to take me riding like this when I was your age. This is how he taught me.” And now I’m teaching my own son in the exact same fashion. The thought came to him unbidden and once again set his heart to racing. He wanted so desperately to believe it was true. Why should it not be so, even if he couldn’t prove it? What could it hurt to at least entertain the possibility? And what possible goal could Ophelia have for seeking to deceive him in this fashion?
“Did you always live here?” Arthur asked.
“What, here in this house? No. But, if you mean in Santa Fe, then yes. Always.”
“It must be nice to live in the same place your whole life.” Arthur’s voice held a wistful note once again.
“Oh, I think both paths have their own advantages.” Dario gave the boy’s hands a slight squeeze. “Think of it this way, you will get to experience so much more, and at a much younger age, than I ever did. And, if something here is not to your liking, perhaps in the next place you go, it will be.”
“I don’t want there to be a next place,” Arthur muttered beneath his breath. Dario pretended not to hear.
“What did you used to do here at Christmas?” Arthur asked after a moment’s silence. “When you were my age, I mean.”
“It was very much like what you described—a tree, presents, special foods. And then on Christmas Eve we’d go into town to view the posada and see the plaza, all lit up with faralitos. But there were quite a few more of us in my family, so it was very noisy at times and we always had to share. And we lived too far from town for anyone to come caroling, there was no pond for skating and I had no grandpapa to make me wonderful toys.”
“But you had horses, didn’t you? I should think they’d make up for a lot of the other things.”
“Yes. We always had horses.” Dario smiled, for he, too, had been crazy about horses from a very young age. “And each season the whole family would ride out to the river for Balloon Glow, which is something else I imagine you don’t see much of back in Pennsylvania.”
Arthur craned his neck again to frown up at him. “Balloon Glow? I’ve never heard of it. What is it?”
“It’s a local festival involving lighter-than-air craft—mostly balloons. Even back in those days, you know, almost all of the most wealthy families had at least one. On a specific date, we’d gather out on one of the mesas along the river. People would come from miles around. For some, the trip was so long it would take them several days to get there and back. On the day of the event, vendors would set up camp, offering coffee and hot apple cider as well as fry-bread and other snacks. Shortly after dusk, all the other lights would be extinguished and the balloons fired up. They’d glow from within like giant lanterns and we’d walk around among them, admiring all the many designs, listening to the carolers sing...” Dario’s voice trailed off as the memories overtook him. He almost missed Arthur’s next question.
“Do they not do that anymore?”
Dario looked at him in surprise. “Why, no. Why would you think that? It’s still held every year. It takes place this coming weekend, I believe.” It had been years since he’d gone, years since he’d even thought about it.
“Might we go?”
Dario smiled at the tension in Arthur’s voice; surely that combination of hesitancy and eagerness could not be manufactured? Noticing the boy had let the reins go slack he took them back and urged Leveche toward the stables. “I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t. Especially seeing as you haven’t been to one before.” In such a vast crowd one little boy was unlikely to attract too much attention and, with any luck, even Dario might be able to go about his business undetected by the gossips. It was a holiday. Why should he not chance it?

Blurb: Santa Fe, The Republic of New Texacali, 1870

Eight years ago, Ophelia Leonides's husband cast her off when he discovered she was not the woman he thought she was. Now destitute after the death of her father, Ophelia is forced to turn to Dario for help raising the child she never told him about.
Dario is furious that Ophelia has returned, and refuses to believe Arthur is his son—after all, he thought his wife was barren. But to avoid gossip, he agrees to let them spend the holidays at his villa. While he cannot resist the desire he still feels for Ophelia, Dario despises himself for being hopelessly in love with a woman who can never love him back.
But Dario is wrong: Ophelia's emotions are all too human, and she was brokenhearted when he rejected her. Unsure if she can trust the man she desperately loves, she fears for her life, her freedom and her son if anyone else learns of her true nature...


FREE READ: This Winter Night

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

AYDARR New #SciFi Romance Release with Excerpt

Posted by: Veronica Scott
I've started a new scifi romance series, the Sectors New Allies Series, and the first book is out - AYDARR (A Badari Warriors SciFi Romance Novel). The heroes here are genetically engineered warriors, developed by alien scientists to fight against the humans in the Sectors (which is my interstellar civilization). I've always LOVED books which featured such heroes, like Lora Leigh's Breeds and Laurann Dohner's New Species, so it was fun to take a try at writing my own variation on the trope.

I was also a bit influenced by the general atmosphere of the movie "Predators," where the characters have been kidnapped by aliens and dropped onto an unknown world to fight for their lives.

Here's the plot of my book:
Jill Garrison, a maintenance tech at the Sectors Amarcae 7 colony, goes to sleep one night as usual only to wake up in her nightgown stranded in the middle of a forest on an unknown world. There’s no time to think as she’s stalked by carnivorous predators and rescued by genetically engineered warriors calling themselves the Badari. Turns out they and she, along with her whole colony, are now prisoners of the Khagrish, a ruthless race of alien scientists. Working for enemies of the Sectors, the Khagrish have created the Badari to be super soldiers.

Aydarr, the Badari alpha, isn’t sure he can trust Jill but his attraction to her is undeniable. He impulsively claims her as his mate to prevent her death at the hands of the Khagrish.

Can he continue to protect her from the experiments already underway?  Will his claiming her put his pack in jeopardy from their alien masters?

As Jill searches for a way to rescue her fellow humans and get them all to safety, she finds herself falling for Aydarr, despite the secrets he’s keeping. She has a few of her own.

The situation becomes dire when Aydarr and his pack are sent offplanet on a mission, leaving Jill unprotected, prey for the senior scientist. Can she escape the experiments he has in mind for her? Will she be able to thwart the Khagrish plans and liberate humans and Badari alike? How will she and Aydarr reunite?

And an excerpt, from the very beginning of the novel:
      Why am I lying face down on the wet grass in the rain?

      Jill rolled over, putting a hand to her forehead in an attempt to quell a ferocious headache. Opening her eyes gingerly, she blinked at the vividly colored pink, purple and blue leaves on the tree above her, which certainly had never grown on Amarcae 7. She’d been all around her home colony on various repair jobs, and nothing there had riotous leaves in these colors, much less with spikes at the tips. As she watched, one of the leaves snapped into a tight roll to capture a slow moving insect.
“Thank the Lords of Space I’m too big a bite.” Wary, nauseous, she sat up, swaying a bit, and examined her unfamiliar surroundings. She was in the midst of an old growth forest, with other forms of vegetation besides the carnivorous trees but nothing recognizable.

A loud roar in the distance gave her the shivers, and she forced herself to stand, staggering a few feet to lean on a less colorful tree’s broad trunk to stay upright. Despite the rain, her mouth was dry, and she had a hard time swallowing. “What the seven hells?”

Her mind was curiously blank, no memory of how she’d gotten to this place, or what had happened in the last few hours. She guessed it might be late afternoon here, from the glimpse she got of the white sun above the horizon, before the clouds drifted in front of the orb again. She refused to contemplate the fact that the star providing heat and light to her colony was yellow. If the sun here was white hot, the reality of where she stood, lost in the galaxy, was terrifying.

She remembered eating dinner in her small modular house on the edge of the colony, falling asleep watching an adventure trideo she’d seen a hundred times then…nothing.

                “And now I’m here.” She took a closer look at her left arm and did a double take. A black bracelet she’d never seen before was solid against her skin just above the wrist, with no visible hinge or fastening. As she gawked at it, prying at the edges in an increasingly desperate attempt to make the band move, flickers of red and yellow pulsed inside the cool, hard surface. The bracelet and what it might mean scared her more than the loss of short term memory or even the unknown sun above her.
                The roar came again, closer, and was answered by another. Something hunting me maybe? 

                Distracted from the ominous mystery of the bracelet, she was briefly tempted to try climbing the tree, but the lightheadedness persisted. Also, the smooth trunk didn’t offer anything in the way of handholds. She pushed off, realizing she was barefoot, wearing her short, pink-and-black nightgown, molded to her body by the rain. Lingerie was her secret luxury after a day spent in technician’s coveralls, but certainly not suited to this experience.

                Am I dreaming? She paused, gazing at the sky and pushing her damp hair off her face. The shower had tapered off and now the sun was shining but an ominous gray storm front was advancing. A bolt of lightning arced across the sky, and Jill broke into a zigzag run, forcing her body to respond to her terror. Standing anywhere close to a giant tree in a thunder storm was a recipe for disaster.
I’m in a nightmare, not a dream, but it’s all too real. In her headlong flight, she stepped on a rock or a sharp root and cried out, but she kept going as thunder boomed. She had to find either a stand of small trees surrounded by taller ones or a ravine. Of course, an actual shelter would be better than either of those make-do options but probably too much to hope for.

                Running full tilt, ignoring the pain from her foot, she suddenly slammed into an invisible barrier and bounced off, falling on her back. Cautiously she rose, extending her arms. The barrier was a tingling against her palms. She tried going right then left, but the wall ran for quite some distance in both directions. Being in an invisible cage was the most unsettling thing since she’d awakened, especially when coupled with the bracelet affixed to her arm.

               A boom of thunder directly overhead startled her into motion, and she ran in a new direction, terrified of being struck by lightning. The rain lashed her face and barely-covered body, like stinging nettles, adding impetus to her desperation to find cover.

                The ground gave way under her feet. She teetered on the edge of the sinkhole or pit, but her precarious state of vertigo betrayed her. Screaming, she half slid, half fell into the deep hole, debris raining down with her.

                Scrabbling at roots embedded in the wall as she fell, the flimsy vegetation snapping off in her hands, Jill managed to partially break her fall. Landing in a substantial mud puddle, she rose to her feet, staring upward, realizing there was no easy way to climb from the pit. At least the rain was tapering off.

                A rumbling sound like an engine behind her made her pivot, to find two huge, faceted glowing eyes staring at her from a tunnel opening into the hole. A giant body lurked in the gloom. The creature blinked and emitted the sound again. Jill retreated one step at a time to the opposite wall of the pit and snatched a loose rock from the small debris pile at her feet. Whitened bones were mixed in with the rocks on the pit floor next to the rainwater puddle. She shuddered and gripped her rock hard enough to make her hand sting.

              The creature watched her and moved forward a bit from the tunnel, the front segment of its body sinking onto the ground, while the rest remained in the tunnel. The segmented body expanded like a child’s toy as the predator closed the space between them. Opening an outsize mouth, revealing a yellow, forked tongue, the animal hissed and reared as if preparing to charge at her.

                Jill shouted defiance in a combination of rage and fear, and threw the rock hard, striking one glowing eye in the center, shattering the facets. She dodged as the predator made a high pitched sound like an exploding generator and lunged toward where she’d been. As she scrambled in the slick muddy water at the bottom of the trap, she searched for another rock, finding only small ones. She gathered a handful of them as better than nothing and spun around as the half-blind animal tried to locate her.

                With a hoarse yell, a man jumped into the pit from above and landed between her and the predator. He didn’t seem to have a weapon but, as the lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the scene in stark white light, Jill gaped. Were those talons?

Buy Links: Amazon      B&N  Google   Kobo     iBooks

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Q&A with Ruth A. Casie

Posted by: Ruth A Casie
From time to time readers ask me about my writing. I love sharing information about myself and my writing with them. Below are some of the questions they've asked. Please leave a comment if there is something else you'd like to know.
1 -What is your author name?
I write as Ruth A. Casie. It's sort of an acronym of my children's names. Ruth is my given name. I was afraid I wouldn't answer to anything else. A. is for Ari. C is for Cori (the bride) and 'asie' is for Staci (her maid of honor).

2 - What is the first book you ever published?
The first book I wrote was Knight of Runes
3- What is your publishversary?
The book was published on November 14, 2011
4- What is your favorite book you've written thus far?
Each book has something that makes it my favorite, but if I had to choose one book it would be Knight of Rapture. Arik will move heaven and earth to be with his Rebeka.
5- What book took you the longest to write?
I knew the story for the second story, Knight of Rapture, in my Druid Knight series, but it took me a long time to put it down on paper. When it was done it was wonderful and worth the time.
6- How long did it take you?
About 10 months, but it will be eclipsed by a contemporary time travel story I’m working on intermittently that’s been in the works for a year!
7- What kind of music (if any) do you listen to while you write?
I like soft jazz and classical when I’m writing. Nothing with lyrics. I get distracted or worse, I find snippets of lyrics in my writing. Really, no kidding.
8- Who is your favorite character from any of your books?
Rebeka from Knight of Runes and Knight of Rapture
Jamie Collins from The Highlander’s English Woman and The Guardian’s Witch.
Beth from Happily Ever After. She’s a romance author.
9- What are you currently working on?
I’ve just finished The Einstein Theorem. This is a time travel romance about a time traveling art detective who must decide if she will sacrifice a once in a lifetime career for her last chance for a timeless love.
10- Do you have anything you snack on while you write?
I snack on lots of sparkling water, Crystal Light pink Lemonade and Hershey Kisses
11- What is your favorite quote or line from one of your books?
This is not a fair question. It’s like asking me to choose a favorite child. However, in Happily Ever After. I’ve put my favorite lines into memes. See for yourself.
12- Are you a self-published or traditional published author?
I’m a hybrid author published with Harlequin, Carina Press and self-pubbed under Timeless Scribes and Knight Media
13- What is your writing inspiration?
I enjoy telling stories. There are times I can see a picture or read an article and a story plays out in my head. I get some of my best ideas for stories or work out plot issues while I’m driving. If you want to hear about how the hero in The Maxwell Ghost got me out of a speeding ticket, leave me a comment below.
14- What genre do you write?
I write what I love to read, Medieval Historical Romance and Contemporary Romance.
15- Do you have any writing rituals?
Butt in chair, music on, write.
16- Do you have a specific place you write or time?
A year after my daughter got her own apartment. I commandeered her room and turned it into an executive office. I spend a lot of time in my office and I wanted it to be comfortable and mine. It’s filled with books, a large library table, did I say books, and a corner computer with two screens. Oh, and more books. I have found that my best time for working on deep POV is the morning and drafting and outlining in the afternoon.
17- Do you have any advice for inspiring writers?
Yes. My advice to new writers is finish the book. You can’t edit and make it beautiful until you have it on the page. Also, after you get the first book out, write the next one and the next. That was a hard lesson for me to learn.
Shh! This is a sneak preview!
18- What are your writing goals?
Create stories that people can’t put down.
19- What authors inspire you and your writing?
Barbara Michaels, Sarah MacLean, Julie Garwood, Johanna Lindsey, Clive Cussler, Tom Clancy
20- What will be your next release?
Never Say Never, April, 2018
Eion – Havenport’s Highlander, October, 2018
Einstein’s Theorem *sigh* soon, I promise, soon!

Monday, December 11, 2017

Here Be News

Posted by: Veronica Scott
New Releases:
Veronica Scott released the first book in a new scifi romance series:
AYDARR (A Badari Warriors SciFi Romance Novel) Sectors New Allies Book One. 
The plot:
Jill Garrison, a maintenance tech at the Sectors Amarcae 7 colony, goes to sleep one night as usual only to wake up in her nightgown stranded in the middle of a forest on an unknown world. There’s no time to think as she’s stalked by carnivorous predators and rescued by genetically engineered warriors calling themselves the Badari. Turns out they and she, along with her whole colony, are now prisoners of the Khagrish, a ruthless race of alien scientists. Working for enemies of the Sectors, the Khagrish have created the Badari to be super soldiers.
Aydarr, the Badari alpha, isn’t sure he can trust Jill but his attraction to her is undeniable. He impulsively claims her as his mate to prevent her death at the hands of the Khagrish.
Can he continue to protect her from the experiments already underway? Will his claiming her put his pack in jeopardy from their alien masters?
As Jill searches for a way to rescue her fellow humans and get them all to safety, she finds herself falling for Aydarr, despite the secrets he’s keeping. She has a few of her own.
The situation becomes dire when Aydarr and his pack are sent offplanet on a mission, leaving Jill unprotected, prey for the senior scientist. Can she escape the experiments he has in mind for her? Will she be able to thwart the Khagrish plans and liberate humans and Badari alike? How will she and Aydarr reunite?

Amazon      B&N  Google   Kobo     iBooks
Other News:

Now Available as an Audio Book!

Every Little Thing She Does is Magic
Humorous Contemporary Fantasy, Paranormal Romance

by Linda Mooney writing as Carolyn Gregg
Word Count: 13K
$1.99 e / $6.99 p / $6.95 a

Narrated by Guy Veryzer

Length: 1 hr, 33 min.
Hear a Sample

Gus Balfour has lived with his “shortcomings” all his life. He’s been picked on, made fun of, and obviously had problems in the bedroom. But through the years, he’s learned other ways to please the ladies. Or so he thought. When his girlfriend leaves because he simply doesn’t have enough to give, he decides it’s time to take matters into his own hands…or well, maybe a surgeon’s.

After learning about the complications and exorbitant costs that go along with the surgical enhancement, he thinks all hope is lost. But a name and number left by his housekeeper could change his life.

Syan isn’t the old, wrinkly witch he was expecting, but she quickly proves there’s no job too big, or too small, when you’ve got the magic touch. 

Bring It Back(list) Feature:
Jody Wallace shared Holiday on Ice

Saturday, December 9, 2017

Bring it Back(list): Holiday on Ice by Jody Wallace

Posted by: Jody W. and Meankitty
By Jody Wallace
A Tallwood Tall Tale

Travel Queen Survival Tip #23: If you get stuck in an ice storm, find a hot guy to melt it!                            

Travel agent Darcy Burkell has a secret. Because she's claustrophobic, she doesn't precisely jet around the world despite what’s implied in her popular newsletter about vacation destinations. When she hires photographer James Jones, who grew up in the same town she did, to illustrate her stories, they become cyber-friends.

James decides Darcy might be the one woman to help him settle down--or at least someone who’ll travel with him instead of expect him to stay home all the time. Right before Christmas, he shows up unannounced and suggests they take a holiday trip together.

Darcy is too embarrassed to admit her phobia and turns him down flat. She knows what kind of woman he wants, and she’s not it. Her resolve is tested when she and James become gridlocked near the same bridge by an ice storm. Impassable roads force them to spend hours together in his vehicle...shivering. And cuddling. It's freezing outside, but inside it gets hot enough to melt all the ice in Alaska. The question is, can their affection remain toasty after Darcy confesses her big secret?

Warning: This title contains dreadful weather, a medium-sized misunderstanding, jelly beans that taste like boogers, and coitus interruptus by redneckus.




Darcy noticed his ass first. It was perfect, cupped in old denims that weren’t too tight or too loose, the faded outline of a wallet in his back pocket. It was an ass that enticed her to drop her papers or beg him to check the pressure in her tires, just so she could watch him bend over.

Of course, she could check her own tires, even change them if she had to. She had a bookcase of nonfiction and how-to books. She never knew when she might need to identify animal tracks of the Southwest or give advice about deep sea fishing.

Yeah. Or change a tire.

Darcy maneuvered around the welcome desk of the crowded Arkansas rest area, hoping for a better angle of the man. As it was right before Christmas, this place was travel central. People milling and gabbing, waiting for bathrooms, watery coffee and the feeling to return to their "sitters", as her Pop termed it. She tiptoed past a squabbling family to peek around the hotel coupon display at the man she’d spotted.

There he and his butt were. Nice. Very nice. She deserved something nice after the stress of the past couple of days. He was taller than he’d seemed from across the room. His shoulders were broad, and he was dressed for the weather—a thermal undershirt and a T-shirt over that. Dark blond hair brushed his nape. 

From where she hovered, she couldn’t tell if his front lived up to his back.

The man rearranged the coat tucked under his muscular arm, making space for an old woman who also wanted to read the state map. They exchanged a few comments, too quiet for Darcy to hear. There was something familiar about his posture, about the way he shoved his hair back and tilted his head toward the lady beside him.

She booked a lot of vacations for outdoor enthusiasts. Snowboarders, bikers, hikers, kayakers, wilderness junkies. He had that look about him, a kind of suppressed energy that said he didn’t belong under a roof, growing roots and gathering dust.

And then there was the national park logo on the back of the guy’s T-shirt and his battered hiking boots. She was canny, all right. She’d make a great detective, as long as detecting didn’t involve surprises, small spaces, other people’s germs and confronting suspects.

This guy—this guy was clearly not her type. She could tell just from his tush. But who would it hurt if she ogled him a little longer? The guy, maybe, if he disliked being objectified, but he’d survive. The truth was, Darcy couldn’t bring herself to return to the confines of her car just yet. She could only tolerate it so long before she needed a breather.

When she traveled, she made a lot of stops.

A lot of stops.

Thus she was behind schedule, as usual. Her tardiness was made worse by the fact she’d been delayed at the office this morning. Ironic, considering one of her top travel tips for clients was always set out earlier than you think you need to.

The old lady near the map hurried off, flipping open her cellphone as she went, but Mr. Dream Jeans loitered like he had nowhere to go. Was he not running late like everyone else? Rushing home for the holidays before the grey skies made good on their promise of nasty weather? Darcy’s father was going to chew her out for hitting the road after the all-powerful Weather Channel had predicted record snowfalls for the Southeast.

It didn’t matter that she hadn’t seen a single flake. The Weather Channel had predicted snow and that meant it was going to snow. There’d be drifts over cars. Houses. Drifts that forced the entire Southeast to walk to school uphill both ways.

Come to think of it, snow might liven things up. Darcy hadn’t seen anything in the miles of scrubby terrain other than SUVs filled with fighting kids and the occasional family dog.

Until now. The man-scape was highly preferable to a picturesque snowfall. She wasn’t going over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house anyway, just to Pop’s to join the rest of the Burkell clan.

Darcy feigned interest in the brochures, but her eyes were on the prize. Her heart beat faster, like it did right before she hooked a new client. His ass was probably taut and muscular beneath the denim. And tan. Every inch of him tan.

Thanks for stopping by! I hope your holidays are warmer and less icy than this one...

Jody W & Meankitty

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