Book Blitz: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Tanith Davenport and Anne Bronte

 

 

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
Tanith Davenport and Anne Bronte

Genre: Erotic romance

Publisher: Total-e-Bound

Date of Publication: 6 September 2013

ISBN: 978-1-78184-444-1

Cover Artist: Posh Gosh

Total e-Bound Print eBook

Book Description:

Into the quiet village of Lindenhope comes Helen Graham, an attractive young widow and mother. Living alone with her son at Wildfell Hall, her seclusion attracts curiosity from the local people, in particular Gilbert Markham, whose interest in her is soon edged with desire—and Helen, despite herself, begins to reciprocate his love for her.

But when scandalous rumours begin to circulate about Helen’s behaviour, Gilbert is filled with anger and jealousy. Helen attempts to clear her name by offering Gilbert her diary, which reveals the dark, passionate story of her former marriage to debauched rake Arthur Huntingdon, whose sexual and sensual desires fill her with excitement and pleasure but precipitate a gradual descent into hell.

Gilbert believes he could forgive her anything, but the lies continue to spread, threatening Helen’s peace of mind and, above all, her physical safety. Will the secrets of Helen’s past get in the way of their future?

Excerpt -

He was already in the room when I entered. I felt his hands rest on my shoulders from behind and he gave a low chuckle at my gasp of surprise. I was in my nightgown—Rachel had helped me disrobe before retiring herself—and his breath heated the nape of my neck as he teased his fingers along the silk edging. I had chosen the material deliberately. It clung to my body, the sheen of the fabric highlighting every curve.

“Would you like me to undress, Arthur?” I asked.

“No, Helen,” he answered, pressing a kiss to my shoulder and sending a chill along my spine. “I want to undress you myself.”

My heart quickened, but I held myself still as slowly he slid the gown from my shoulders. The cool air on my skin made me shiver, my nipples hardening as the soft material dropped past my waist to land lightly around my feet, exposing my naked body to his gaze. I closed my eyes, feeling conscious of my bare skin, the curls at my quim, the growing wetness inside me.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, and with his fingers he began a slow, tortuous glide along the curve of my spine. I felt one hand slide around my ribs to cup my breast, his thumb brushing against my nipple, and I was unable to suppress a moan as sparks of pleasure radiated from that tender spot. Instantly the movement was repeated, his other hand mirroring the motion until I cried out, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation.

“I love that this is all so new to you, my Helen,” Arthur whispered in my ear as I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, my body weakening as he continued his sweet assault on my breasts. My knees began to tremble. I clenched my fingers tightly, aching for his hands to move lower, to touch me where I had touched myself so often while thinking of him, but afraid he would think me too wanton if I asked. So new to me, indeed! What would he think if I touched myself in front of him? Would he be surprised? No—he would not, I was sure. But he might insist on pleasuring me himself, and my clit pulsed at the thought, imagining myself on the edge of ecstasy, him removing my hands and holding them until I begged him to bring me to completion.

He slid his hands down to my hips, leaving me moaning at the loss, and turned me to face him. Before I could stop myself, I reached my hand out to touch his swollen member, which jutted towards me, almost brushing against my stomach. He groaned as I closed my hand around the tip, which was glistening and sticky with moisture, hardening farther under my touch.

How strange it was to know that I had such power, that I could bring him such pleasure with only a simple touch! I tightened my grip, feeling the skin move as I tugged, but before I could continue he had caught both my hands in his and was holding them at my waist.

“My darling,” he said, with a smile, manoeuvring me backwards as he spoke until my calves hit the edge of the bed. “If I let you do that, I shall lose all control, and that will never do. Lie back for me—let me see you waiting for me.”

Trembling, I lay back on the bed, my breath coming faster as he stood watching me, his casual gaze lowering to rest at my quim. Instinctively I parted my legs, blushing as I felt the moisture seep from inside me and dampen my folds.

The smile on his face took on a possessive, lascivious quality.

“How beautiful you are,” he whispered. Slowly he placed one knee then the other on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moved towards me. He laid one hand on my breast, my heart beating rapidly beneath.

“Arthur,” I gasped.

He lowered his head and kissed my nipple, laving it with his tongue, then trailed more kisses down my body—my ribs, my stomach, my hips—until I was trembling with anticipation. His breath rushed over my quim, and for a moment I thought he would kiss me there—oh! How I wanted that!—but instead he paused, watching me with desirous eyes, and slowly slid one finger inside me to the second knuckle.

“So pure,” he whispered, caressing me as I moaned. He reached forward with his thumb and swept it back and forth over my clit. I cried out at the sensation, my body convulsing. It was so much sweeter, so much more pleasurable than when I had touched myself, and I longed for him to continue.

“Helen,” he growled, “tell me you want this.” I recognised the words from our first kiss, and felt my heart bound and my quim tighten at the knowledge that now I could be truthful. Now I could tell him what I wanted.

“I want this, Arthur.”

“Tell me how much you want this.”

“I want this more than anything,” I moaned. His finger was still moving inside me, his thumb still applying delicious pressure, and my wetness was leaking onto his hand and the bed.

“How long have you wanted this, Helen?”

Oh, he was torturing me! “Since I first met you,” I whispered, shifting my hips to match his touch. He smiled and crooked his finger inside me, touching a spot that made me clap a hand over my mouth and shriek—the pleasure was exquisite, and I was on the verge of begging him to take me.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

I arched my back, aching for him. “Please, Arthur, take me.”

 

Tanith Davenport began writing erotica at the age of 27 by way of the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Scheme. Her debut novel "The Hand He Dealt" was released by Total-e-Bound in June 2011 and was shortlisted for the Joan Hessayon Award for 2012.

Tanith has had short stories published by Naughty Nights Press and House of Erotica. She loves to travel and dreams of one day taking a driving tour of the United States, preferably in a classic 1950s pink Cadillac Eldorado.

Tanith's idea of heaven is an Indian head massage with a Mojito at her side.

www.facebook.com/TanithDavenport

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Book Blitz: Her Ghost Wears Kilts by Kathleen Shaputis

 

Her Ghost Wears Kilts
Kathleen Shaputis

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Crimson Romance

Date of Publication: August 26, 2013

ISBN: 978-14-4405-7215-9

ASIN: B00ECGP8XM

Number of pages: 240 approximately

Word Count: 69,660

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Book Description:

Drag queens, a ghost and murder, oh my. Love spirits through the modern day tale of inheritance and greed, crossing the vale between worlds.

Baillie thought life was content, successful in the Pacific Northwest until her bookshop became haunted. Inheriting a Scottish castle leads her on a wild adventure of Celtic chaos where she meets her gorgeous ghost. Finding her life in danger, Baillie calls the diva squad to the rescue: her friend Gillian Nation and his girls.

Will she choose her normal, safe existence or grab onto an unusual love that makes life magical?

Excerpt -

Chapter One 
The cat flattened itself to the carpet near the front bookcase, ears lost against its orange-striped head, frozen in fear. A terrified hiss leaked through his open mouth and, slinking backward, the cat spun and ran toward the back of the store.  Catching a brief flash of orange out of the corner of her eye, Baillie shook her head. “Now what’s gotten into Sebastian? Must be a mouse.” She fanned her painted fingernails along the spines of books stacked on the shelf beside her. Listening to the hushed clicking sounds of her nails against the bindings as she walked down the aisle, she inhaled the intoxicating aroma of paper and leather around her. She loved opening her bookshop every morning, where antique classics, used and new volumes of various sizes filled the shelves around her. Framed paintings by local artists dotted the walls between the bookcases.  “Morning,” Baillie called to the previously owned hardbacks without the slightest apprehension of appearing insane. She talked to inanimate objects all the time—great audience, no heckling. Besides, I’m alone in here unless you count the cat, and you can’t count on that spoiled feline for anything. Where did he dash off to just now in such a hurry?  A thin volume of poems lay exposed on a shelf. “You don’t belong here,” Baillie said, sweeping it up to reshelve. She hesitated; the book cover felt cold in her hand, the worn leather chilling her fingers, sucking the warmth from her fingertips in seconds. She quickly shook her head to keep her thoughts from running amok. Of course the book was cold; in the Northwest, things always seemed cold.  “I swear someone helps themselves around here at night. The least they could do is put the books back where they belong when they’re done.” She turned and pushed a ceramic bookend aside and placed the wayward book next to the others as a quick chill shivered down her spine.  “Hey, Einstein, ol’ buddy.” Baillie grabbed an ornate feather duster from a brass umbrella stand nearby and took a few housekeeping swipes against the framed lithograph hanging on the wall. “Dang, I’m looking more like you every day.” She checked her reflection in the glass. “Tell me, did you see who moved Robert Burns’ book of poems last night? Maybe I need to borrow your glasses —going blind in my old age and missed putting it away after closing.”  Baillie turned, whistling the theme song from Fame, at the end of the aisle. She missed seeing the slow, deliberate movement as the same book silently shifted out from the shelf. The dark brown edition slid away from the other poetry books, hanging suspended for a moment, then lay back on the empty surface of the shelf. The ceramic bookend moved, closing the empty gap.  The front door of the shop opened with a tinkling of metal chimes. “It’s just me,” yelled a female voice as she came in.  “I’m in the north quarter, Sally. Would you turn on the computer?” Baillie responded from somewhere behind the walls of books. “Time to open up, I guess.”  “No problem, boss.” Sally dropped her purse under the counter. 
Baillie knew her assistant’s routine by heart: She’d click the black toggle switch on the power strip with the toe of her shoe, sending juice to all the electronics at the same time. Baillie heard the calculator, printer and credit card unit each create its own hum as Sally pressed the power button.  “How are the hot flashes this morning?” Sally asked.  “Midlife under control, thank you very much young whiner.” Baillie dusted another shelf with a few fast swishes. “You can kick the personal heater on for a while.”  “Just a little damp for June this year, you know. Some of us don’t have the benefit of hormonal heaters,” she taunted.  “I heard that!” Baillie continued up and down the aisles, swishing the duster back and forth. Suddenly, a bitter cold swept around her, sending a blinding chill through her body. She gasped from the icy shock. Baillie couldn’t catch her breath as the splash of numbing cold flowed into her heart and out again, pounding inside her chest. The reddish blond hairs on the back of her exposed neck stood on end. Her teeth chattered against the chill, like Lucy Ricardo locked in the meat freezer.  “What the …?” She leaned against the shelving for support. “Whoa.” Baillie blinked rapidly and focused on her right hand, more specifically the beige metal shelf under her crimson-painted fingernails. The metal felt warm, warmer than her soul at the moment. Goose bumps traveled up her bare arms and under her short-sleeved blouse. Titles describing Scotland and its clans stood in military straight rows in front of her.  As quickly as it had struck, the air around her trembling body returned to normal temperatures. She took a shaky breath, mentally searching for some logical explanation for the bone-chilling cold. “Who turned the air conditioner on?” she whispered to herself with mock confidence. Looking around the cramped quarters of bookshelves as she moved away, the store seemed peaceful. She dropped the feather duster into a stand with a soft thud. 

 

Kathleen Shaputis, author/ghostwriter, lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, Bob, where curling up with icy Diet Coke, writing romantic comedies is her ultimate paradise.

www.shaputis.com

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Cover Reveal: Chasing Flames by Emily Fogle

Book Info-

Title: Chasing Flames

Author : Emily Fogle

Genre: YA Paranormal

Audience: 13 and up

Formats: Paperback and E-book

Publisher: Anchor Group

Cover By: Robert Immings

Editor: Melissa Ringsted

Pages: 169 pages

Expected Date of Publishing:

Oct 31, 2013

 

Blurb-

Aydah Bell was happy in her normalcy; she was never the class clown or the sports hero, never the beauty queen or little Ms. Honor Student. One day, after a pointless family mini-vacation, Aydah returns to school and finds that her sheltered little world has turned upside-down. Besides the fact that she is beginning to crave raw meat, people are also disappearing.

 

 

Suddenly, an alarming disappearance in the quiet and serene city she calls home puts the whole town into high-alert. One of Aydah’s schoolmates vanishes during the weekend and is conveniently replaced by a newcomer. To Aydah’s surprise, the new boy is the completely beautiful and oh-so mysterious Liam Bailey.

Aydah finds herself drawn to Liam. He consumes her thoughts and she aches to be with him. In the mix of passion, jealousy, and hatred that follows, Aydah is too distracted to see the horrible fate headed straight for her.

 

Book Links-

Goodreads

About the Author –

Emily Fogle was born and raised in Southern California. Her dream and ultimate goal was to get her Masters degree in English and become a teacher with enough time to write, as well. However, she soon found out that the best dreams often come true when they aren’t planned. Instead of fulfilling her teaching goal, real life took over and she married the man of her dreams. She now has an amazing 7 year old son and another beautiful baby boy on the way.

She dedicates the majority of her time taking care of her family, volunteering at her son’s school, and being a Cub Scout Den leader. And though she loves every minute of it, the thought of being a writer still tugs at her heart. So, after the busy days are done and everyone is finally sleeping quietly, she squeezes in time for all the other loves in her life: the characters running wild inside her head.

     Now, incredibly, her writing dream is also coming true. Her first novel, Dragon Wars, is being published by Anchor Group. Emily feels sincerely blessed to have been given so much in life and can’t wait to start the next chapter.

 

Media Links –

Facebook / Goodreads / Twitter/ Website

Character Interview with Melantha Caldwell of Catching A Sorcerer by Sara Walker

Today on the blog we have Melantha Caldwell from Catching A Sorcerer for an interview, so sit back and let’s get to know this awesome girl.

Character Name: Melantha Caldwell

Character Bio: I'm fifteen, a math geek and a spell-turner—or I will be a spell-turner when I turn sixteen. I was homeschooled my whole life, so basically I have no friends. And now that both my parents are dead, I have to live with my Gran. She'd like to keep me sheltered for the rest of my life, but she also wants me to get my high school diploma. So you see my problem? Now I have to go to high school and I have no friends. And I wish that was the worst of my problems.

Six weeks ago, a sorcerer killed my mother. And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, the Magic Council wants me to help with the investigation. Me! They're supposed to be powerful spell-turners and elves, and I don't even have my powers yet! What can I do to catch the sorcerer? As it turns out, they want me to play a small but pivotal role: I just have to get into the sorcerer's house and then invite the Magic Council inside. To do this, they want me to befriend the son of the sorcerer, Savion Lebrun, the wimpiest, most picked on kid in school. Right. The girl who's never had a friend in her life, now has to make friends with a social outcast who happens to be the son of her mortal enemy. Can you say "Mission: Impossible"? But I also want justice for my mother's murder. And there's only one way to find out if Savion was involved…

 

 

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

I wish other people could understand what it's like to be a blood turner. Not even other spell-turners understand what I'm going through. Yes, the power courses through my veins, just as it does for them, but they get to use a focus, an object that helps them to channel that energy. For a blood turner, there is no focus. The power jumps from our fingertips, and sometimes, like arcing electricity, the power can jump to another turner with fatal results. That's a hell of a burden to carry.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

Only my family knows I'm a spell-turner. No one at school can know. They wouldn't believe it, for one thing, and they'd only think I was crazy, for another. I'm already a social outcast for being home-schooled, let's not make it worse, shall we?

What are you most afraid of?

Going through life alone. My parents won't be there when I graduate or get married. Who is going to be there to help me get through life? Gran is already ancient; she won't live forever.

What do you want more than anything?

I want my parents back. Since I can't have that, would it be too much to ask for people to stop killing each other?

What is your relationship status?

Did I mention that I don't have any friends? Yeah, how many boyfriends do you suppose I had while being homeschooled? * sigh * Still, there's this guy. I like him. And he likes me. But then there's my warden—I mean, my Gran. Kind of hard to have a boyfriend when your grandmother won't let you out of her sight, you know? So, yeah, relationship status? Single. Probably for the rest of my life.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

Jeans and a t-shirt. We didn't exactly have a lot of money after my father died.

How much of a rebel are you?

I'm a rebel, but I'm not stupid. I know my world is dangerous and I don't know enough about it to navigate it on my own. So I'm cautious. I'm a cautious rebel, trying to get away with what I can.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

I could tell you, but I've already told that story in CATCHING A SORCERER.

What is your idea of happiness?

Being part of a family that loves me.

What is your current state of mind?

You might say I'm deeply grieving the loss of my mother, but it would be more accurate to say I'm totally pissed off with the world for making me an orphan.

What is your most treasured possession?

A locket that has a picture of my mother and father inside.

Which living person do you, most despise?

Gerard Lebrun. The sorcerer that killed my mother.

What is your greatest regret?

My greatest regret is not that I didn't have more time with my mother, but that I didn't make better use of the time I did have. I wish I'd had the chance to get to know her better because as it turns out I hardly knew her at all.

Book Blitz and Giveaway: Catching A Sorcerer by Sara Walker

 

 

Title: Catching A Sorcerer

Author: Sara Walker

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Audience: Young Adult

Formats: Paperback and E-book

Publisher: Sara Walker

Cover by: Melody Simmons

Pages: 198

ISBN-10: 1491049804

ISBN-13: 978-1491049808

ASIN: B00CTLG5A2

Date Published: May 2013

 

 

Blurb –

After a sorcerer kills her mother, fifteen year old Melantha is asked to help catch him. She wants nothing to do with it, but then she learns one of her classmates is the son of the sorcerer. With her spell-turner powers not yet developed, the mission will be dangerous, but it will be downright deadly if the sorcerer figures out who she is and decides she will follow in her mother's footsteps.

Book Links - Amazon / Kobo / Barnes and Noble / Goodreads / Smashwords

Excerpt –

Sunday night and I was learning to turn a summoning spell. Though I'd spent most of my life being home schooled, I had a feeling this was not a normal family activity for other fifteen year old girls.

"Gran, when I told you I wanted a cell phone, this wasn't what I had in mind," I said.

Gran picked through a handful of wheatberries, looking for just the right one to add to her pot. We stood at opposites sides of the round table with a copper pot in front of each of us and a host of ingredients filling the table between.

"Cell phones don't work for members of the magical community," she said.

"What community? It's just you and me."

Dumping ingredients into a pot had nothing on the convenience of electronic communication. Kids at school were constantly using theirs to call each other, text, watch videos. But not me. I wasn't allowed to have one. I had to learn the "old ways."

Gran sighed, and I knew by the way her lips were pursed that she didn't intend to elaborate. She'd been trying to get me to learn spells every night for weeks now. I'd finally caved in hopes she would back off, but that plan hadn't worked out quite like I'd hoped.

"I have to go to the library tonight," I said. I dumped a handful of crispy dried lavender flowers—for devotion so the line of communication would stay clear— into my pot.

In another time we might have been called witches. But now that term was considered derogatory. We were spell-turners. Well, Gran was. I wouldn't be a full spell-turner until I turned sixteen and came into my full powers. In all my fifteen years, in all the time I'd spent in Halifax and my current residence in Ottawa, I'd never met another turner, not another magical creature of any kind, until the day my mother died.

If there was a magical community out there, I wouldn't know it.

I hadn't been out of the apartment except to go to school in six weeks. I needed to get away, to hang with some friends— even just for a little while.

"We have books here," Gran replied in a stern tone. This was an old argument.

She was right— we had books here. Every wall of the living room was filled to the ceiling with shelves, every shelf filled with books. All had belonged to my mother.

Without coming right out to say so, Gran was subtly reminding me of the reason I was confined to the apartment. My mother had been killed by a black-spell sorcerer— that is, a sorcerer who chooses to use death to fortify his spells. For some reason Gran thought he would come after me. But I wasn't a full turner yet. I had only partial powers. Until my sixteenth birthday, every spell I turned would dissipate the moment it came together. "Learning powers," Gran called them. "Just enough juice to see what you're doing, but not so much as to harm yourself or anyone else."

She seemed convinced I had these learning powers, but for some reason my spells never seemed to turn out right no matter how carefully I followed her instructions. And that was bad news. Even though they didn't want me to know, I'd heard my mother and Gran fighting about me. Gran thought I was either a late blooming white turner or a null— a turner's daughter born without powers. My mother refused to believe I was a null. So Gran was on a mission to prove one way or another I had learning powers or I was deliberately faking not having them out of extreme laziness.

"Your mother was a good white turner," Gran said. "She loved turning spells with me when she was your age. Couldn't get enough of it."

Her mention of my mother hit me square in the gut.

"Didn't she like to do anything else? Anything normal?"

Gran pinched her lips together again. She didn't like to speak about my mother beyond her gifted spelling abilities.

I directed the conversation back to the topic at hand.

"I really need the books at the library," I said. I followed her actions and, using a wooden spoon, swirled in two cups of diluted bay leaf extract for strength. I turned the spell clockwise, same as she did. We were on opposite sides of the small round kitchen table, so I had to think for a minute which way to turn my spoon.

"Why?" Gran asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes. Everything was suspicious to Gran.

I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes. "I have homework."

"What homework?"

"What do you mean? I go to high school now. I get homework." I used to be home-schooled. Right up until 52 days ago when I lost my mother. Then Gran had to take over as my teacher. She used to be able to teach my lessons for the few months of the year when I went to live with her in Halifax, but now that I was in grade ten, my studies had advanced to the point where she didn't understand anything in my textbooks. So she marched me down to the nearest high school. She would have signed me up right then, but they were closed for winter holidays. Imagine that.

"The new semester starts tomorrow, February second, according to the literature I received from the school," she pointed out.

Crap. "I'm catching up from last semester," I said, carefully examining a handful of calendula. I felt more than saw Gran carefully examining me.

"Who's the boy?" she asked.

"There's no boy," I answered quickly. Too quickly. Double crap.

"I might not know much about quadriplegic equations or—"

"Quadratic equations," I corrected.

"Or, what goes into a good Theseus statement, but—"

"Thesis statement. Theseus killed the Minotaur."

"But," she said again with emphasis, ignoring my corrections, "I know my granddaughter."

This time I did roll my eyes. "Whatever."

His name was Rory Macdonald. But I wasn't about to tell Gran that. I met him in the principal's office on the morning of my first day. It was his first day, too. A drunk driver had killed his parents and now he was living with his aunt. I met him again later in the day at the guidance counsellor's office. A special grief counsellor had been brought in to meet with us. Neither of us wanted to meet with her, but nobody asked us. His aunt was almost as controlling as my Gran.

We didn't have plans for tonight, so I didn't have to worry about calling him to cancel. He'd mentioned he'd found this place, where he liked to go on Sunday nights to play bass guitar for a band. I'd only hoped to stop in and hear him play.

"You may invite him to come here," Gran said, ignoring my denials. She released three drops of cedar oil, for dedication, into the liquid swirls in her pot. "But you won't be going out."

I bit back a scream. It used to be my mother and Gran had no trouble keeping friends out of my life, what with shipping me off to Halifax twice a year and homeschooling me. I never got to go to birthday parties, Halloween parties, camping trips or any other fun thing that normal girls did.

"Friendship is dangerous," Gran would say. My mother would agree. She would even agree when they were having that big fight that lasted for weeks.

I tried a new angle. "I need to use the computers at the library."

"What do you need those confounded contraptions for?" she asked. Her tone was one of surprise, even though this wasn't the first time we'd talked about my needing a computer for schoolwork. She just didn't get the concept of computers. Ever.

I listed the reasons on my fingers. "Research, report presentation, statistical analysis—"

"Hmph. In my day we had to do all of that by hand." She peered down her nose at the runny swirls in my pot. While mine was little more than a pathetic soup stock, hers had taken on shimmering hues of purple and green. I didn't have to see her face to know she was disappointed.

Still, I pressed my case. "Look, it's not a big deal. I can take care of myself."

"Hmph." She tapped the wooden spoon on the pot rim.

"Please? Can I go for an hour?" Oh, man. That sounded so desperate.

"No," she said simply, placing her spoon on the table next to her pot. She carried the empty vials to the sink and turned on the hot water.

"Gran—" I cried.

"I cannot permit it, Melantha. If you do not go outside this apartment with me, then you do not go outside this apartment at all."

I rolled my eyes and groaned. "You are completely impossible!"

If my words stung even the slightest, she didn't show it. She carried on with washing the dishes. "I'm sorry, Melantha. But I promised your mother."

"Promised her what? Promised you would keep me a prisoner and never talk about her?"

I slumped into a chair with my arms crossed. This was hopeless. Gran was super stubborn. I needed a new approach.

Temporarily abandoning my potion, I snagged the tea towel on the way to the sink. Unexpected helpfulness always put Gran in a good mood. I hoped it would be good enough to let me out.

She cleared her throat. "Your potion is incomplete."

"My potion is nothing but water with twigs and leaves in it." I noticed she didn't tell me not to dry the dishes. Nor did she tell me to start over and make the potion again. We'd been down that road before. It always resulted in the same thing: failure. Whatever it took to make a potion, I didn't have it. My mother and Gran had been convinced my spells would come together the closer I got to my sixteenth birthday, but so far they always amounted to nothing.

"Did you project your light into it?" she asked in that snippy tone that said she already knew the answer.

"Yes." I hated it when she said "light" instead of "magic".

"And?" Gran prompted.

"And what? Nothing happened." I shrugged. I felt my power, my magic. It flowed through me, the same as blood and oxygen flowed through me. It was there. I could feel it the entire time we put together these spells. But magic also dredged up too many memories of my mother. And there wasn't much light there when I thought about how she died. It was more like a choking sensation. I hated that feeling.

"You're not trying hard enough," Gran said. That was what she always said. I didn't answer. There was no point. She'd already made up her mind.

Maybe the truth was, I could have tried harder, but turning spells just felt wrong. If my mother had been killed by bullets, would I still be expected to attend target practice?

"I don't understand what's so bad about having friends," I said, plucking a soapy plate from the drain board.

She shut off the water. "You know the reason. They can be used against you. And you against them. It's better for everyone if you just don't have them to begin with."

Yeah, I'd heard that part before. It was stupid. For some reason my mother and Gran thought I would be kidnapped and held for ransom. I couldn't understand why. We didn't have anything of value. It wasn't like we were millionaires.

So who were they protecting me from?

"As for going out alone," Gran continued as she washed a pot, "there are many kinds of evil out there. You are not safe on your own."

"But I won't be on my own. I'll be with friends!"

"Together you'll be on your own."

"But that makes no sense at all!"

An eerie wind howled outside the windows. If the weather was getting worse, I was sure to lose this argument. I crossed the apartment to the living room windows and used the tea towel to clear away the condensation on the cold glass. Snowflakes swirled under the streetlights below. Even the weather wanted to keep me inside.

There was a sharp knock at the door. I met Gran's gaze. She appeared as surprised as I was, but where I welcomed any and every visitor, I knew she would send away whoever was on the other side of that door. By the expression on her face, she suspected I'd invited a friend over without permission. I hadn't, but knowing Gran, that wouldn't make a difference.

I dove for the door, but Gran beat me to it. She leaned cautiously up to the peephole.

"Open up, Alberta. I'm here to speak to the girl." It was a man's voice— muffled, old and tired. The voice of someone older than Gran, someone ancient.

The girl? I hoped for his sake, he wasn't referring to me. There was something familiar about the voice, something that sent a nervous sense of foreboding all the way down to my toes. This was one visitor I didn't want to see.

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A former bookkeeper, Sara always preferred books over numbers, and finally put aside her calculator to write stories and work part-time in a library. She is the founder of UrbanFantasyLand.net, a website established in 2008 that specializes in promoting urban fantasy and speculative fiction. Her articles and fiction have been published in anthologies and online.

Author Links – Website / Blog / Facebook / Goodreads / Amazon Page

Author Interview with Samantha Holt, author of To Steal A Highlander’s Heart

Today on the blog we have author Samantha Holt for an interview. Her book To Steal A Highlander’s Heart is today’s spotlight on the blog. So sit back and let’s get to know her.

 

Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?

I originally wanted to be an archaeologist. I studied it at college and again several years ago but unfortunately it’s not a very family friendly career! I also trained as a nurse. Writing as a career never occurred to me until I actually sat down to write.

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

When I could actually pay all my bills with my royalties! Up until then, I considered it more of a hobby but I try and take it a bit more seriously now and ensure I do a sort of 9-5pm type day with writing.

How long did it take to get your first book published?

Not too long actually. I was pretty lucky. I picked the publisher I really wanted and subbed to them but did have to wait 3 months to hear from them. Thankfully they said yes.

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

My latest book is To Steal a Highlander’s Heart. Quite simply, it’s story of love, war and a little bit of magic set in the Highlands.

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

I’m a mix. I have two publishers at the moment—Jupiter Gardens Press and Lyrical Press but I have some self-published titles and the most recent one will be. I love working with publishers but I like to be able to offer some of my titles at cheaper prices, as a thank you more than anything and self-publishing allows me to do that.

How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?

I can be quite speedy. Not really quick. I have friends who can churn out a book month by month if not quicker but I write almost every day and have strict work count targets. This latest one only took a month and a half! Which is quick for me. Normally it’s about 3 months.

What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

I have another medieval one to finish, the third book in The Borderland Legacy series, and another one leading on from To Steal a Highlander’s Heart. I will probably always stay within in the romance genre I imagine but I do intend to explore different sub genres. I wrote a short cowboy romance for an anthology recently and really enjoyed doing it so I hope to do more of that and I have a fantasy romance coming out next April.

What genre would you place your books into?

Historical Romance

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

I love history and specifically the High medieval period. I’m lucky to live near two beautiful castles and there’s always plenty of medieval inspiration around. So it seemed natural to write in that genre.

Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?

I am terrible with titles. Usually they come last. To Steal a Highlander’s Heart actually came very early on which is unusual for me but that was mostly because I forced myself to sit down and think about it. But it only came about because I knew the story very well before I’d written it.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

My place names are usually fictional. It’s tough because you have to have realistically historical names for both places and characters. I often look at old maps and create a name from two different places or just tweak a name slightly. The Highland place names were conjured up with the help of a friend who has a lot of knowledge of Gaelic so that they made sense. For character names, I have a very reliable list of medieval names but it does limit you sometimes. Particularly with men’s names! They were all called Richard, John, William and Henry mostly!

Are character names and place names decided after their creation? Or do you pick a character/place name and then invent them?

Character names usually come right at the beginning. Some secondary characters may remain nameless, usually written as ???. Sometimes I use my own name for female characters if I haven’t figured it out yet. Place names usually come right near the end.

Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")

Not at all. My books are intended to be just a little bit of escapism. Some light-heartd, occasionally steamy, romance. All I want is for someone to come away from my books with a smile on their face and hopefully a feeling of having been in the past for a short period of time.

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

I prefer paperback. I have a lot of Kindle books but have struggled to get into any recently so I’ve gone back to paperbacks for a while.

Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?

Not usually though I loved the BBC version of North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell and also the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The Hobbit was fun too. I can’t think of a bad one but there’s plenty out there.

Samantha resides in Warwickshire, England with her twin girls and husband. She's a romance addict and has been devouring all kinds of romance for as long as she can remember.

Having studied archaeology, Samantha likes to blend her love of the past with her passion for romance to create thrilling and passionate tales set to medieval backdrops. She thinks there's nothing sexier than a rugged warrior and a feisty maiden falling head over heels for each other.

STALKER LINKS -

Amazon Author Page – http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008FKHIXY

Website/Blog – www.samanthaholt.org.uk

Blog: www.samanthaholtauthor.blogspot.co.uk

Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/romanticfiction

Twitter – https://twitter.com/SamanthaHAuthor

Book Blitz, Giveaway and Review: Patch Up by Stephanie Witter

 

Book Info –

Patch Up by Stephanie Witter

Genre: Contemporary New Adult novel with a slow building romance.

Publisher: Anchor Group

Date of Publication: 16 Sep, 2013

ISBN: 9780989707336

Number of pages: 260 pages

Cover Artist: Cover It Designs

Editor: Melissa Ringsted

Length: over 85 000 words.

Due to some shocking scenes, this novel is not intended for readers under 18.

 

 

Blurb:

Skye followed her long time boyfriend to Seattle for their first year of college, but he dumped her after only a week. The relationship brought only pain and destruction in Skye's life, and yet, she can't bring herself to open up and live her life.

"What if I am already broken into pieces?"

She hates to be touched, hiding under her oversized shirts and behind her wild frizzy hair. Even her bubbly roommate can't reach her. And yet ...

"I'm the guy who knows how you can hurt so much that your insides feel like they're cut and bleeding."

The tall, handsome, and tattooed TA in her psychology class changes everything when he literally collides with her and confronts her. For the first time in a long time, she wants to try and open up to this guy whose dark, intense eyes can't hide his own pain despite his dazzling smile getting to her.

However, just when she's starting to live again, her ex-boyfriend comes back, breaking her time and time again, making it all the more complicated.

She wants to fight for herself and for this building thing with the TA, even when he pushes her away, but can two broken people patch each other up?

"I never thought colliding with someone could change lives, but it is possible."

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Excerpt:

(The first meeting)

Without paying attention to my surroundings, I turn to my left to walk toward the row closer to the door where a seat is available. I take a step and collide with a hard body, almost toppling me over on the ground for the second time in less than an hour. A strong hand grips me firmly by the forearm. My body stiffens and my breath catches in my throat. It’s as if I can’t move besides yanking my arm free without looking up to see who I collided with.

“Are you all right?” he asks me in a deep and calm voice.

My eyes wander from my red Converse to his dark boots. I have to calm down. I’m being ridiculous. Calm down. I take a deep breath and look up slowly. Long, muscled legs in beat up dark blue jeans, an old black leather jacket open over a dark grey V-neck sweater that showcases an impressive tall body with broad shoulders and finally, longish and messy black hair, perfect straight nose, full lips, high cheekbones and expressive soft dark eyes that lock with my bluish-greyish ones. He looks older with his goatee perfectly trimmed. A perfect hot mess many girls would say. I’m just intimidated by this stranger, though.

“I’m fine,” I reply, my voice even. I push away some of my untamed locks and curse my auburn frizzy hair that is always all over the place.

5 out of 5 Stars

Patch Up by Stephanie Witter

Wow this was such an intense read!

After three years of hell in an abusive relationship, Skye is trying to piece herself back together again. But it’s easier said than done. Her ex boyfriend is still around and makes sure she remembers every painful and embracing moment with him. She tries to hide away, tries to hide from everyone, until a TA spots her.

Duke forces Skye to step away from the dark corners she was so used to. When Skye finally sees some light in her gloom life, her ex boyfriend see her reaching for another change in life, he quickly reminds her why she hid in the first place.

Let me start off by saying thank you to the author. I was one of those people who always judged a girl for staying in an abusive relationship. I mean, what can be so difficult to tell him to go to hell? Stephanie forced me into the mind of such a girl and for the first time I could see how scared they are. And most of all, how painful things can be for them. When the world has been so cruel, why risk another painful memory? At the end of this book I was crying hard and wished I could reach in and save Skye from her fate.

One of the things Stephanie brings to a novel is the reality of life. We are so used to happily ever after, that real life issues are suddenly shocking to encounter. Stephanie doesn’t paint a pretty picture, the gives you real life with real people and real situations. I was brought back to earth and reminded that the world can be a cruel place. But I was also reminded that sometimes when we least expect it our savior is right there in front of us just asking for one chance.

Another great eye opener in this novel was Duke’s story and feelings. We are so used to guys just shutting down and never baring their feelings, that it was such a great experience to see a guy heartbroken and looking for his own savior. In the end two broken souls saves each other and help mend on another.

This was an incredible emotional ride, and to me it gives voice to those that could not be heard before.

Well done to Stephanie and a huge well deserved 5 Stars from me. Get this book now!

 

* 2 amazon gift cards - $10 each

* 2 ebooks of the winners' choice from amazon up to $5

* 5 e-copies of Patch Up

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Stephanie Witter is a French dreamer. She started English at three and fell in love with the language. Always with a book - or two - close by, she soon started reading in English when she couldn't wait to see Harry Potter translated in French. After a while, reading wasn't enough and she started writing young adult and new adult contemporary novels always filled with drama. Now she hopes to translate English novels in her mother tongue as her everyday job. By My Side is her debut novel.

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