LOVE FINDS A WAY boxed set

Love Finds A Way
Boxed Set

 
 
Four unconventional
love stories, from popular and bestselling romance authors,

(Margaret Ethridge ~ Karen Booth ~Kare Stivali ~ Holly Gilliatt)
each with sequels
from Turquoise Morning Press
 
 
 
Limited time offer… $ .99
(Special Promotional Price)

 

 

~
 

BRING ME BACK by Karen Booth

 

Claire
Abby was a starry-eyed teenager when she fantasized that British rock star
Christopher Penman was her boyfriend. More than twenty years later, she’s about
to fall in love with him for real.

 

“Fast-paced, sexy and altogether irresistible. A flat-out
fabulous read!”–New York Times Bestselling author Celia Rivenbark

 

“Ms. Booth has hit a home run with this riveting story
that’s full of life, trials and tribulations, joy, but most of all, love.” –5
stars and a recommended read, BlackRaven’s Reviews

 

“If you are a fan of drama, humor and heart with a wonderful
blend of bittersweet and delicious sensuality, then you need to read Bring
Me Back. I’ve added it to my absolute favorites, the ones I curl up with when
I’m down and need to remember to love and laugh and believe in magic.”–5
Stars, The Book Tart


Included on the Top Ten Romances of All Time list by Patience Bloom from
Harlequin. An All-Romance bestseller.

 

Karen Booth is a Midwestern girl transplanted in
the South, raised on 80s music, Judy Blume, and the films of John Hughes. A
former music industry exec, she loves to write about the world of backstage
passes and band dynamics
.

 

 

 ~


CONTENTMENT by Margaret Ethridge

 

Fifteen
years after saying “I do”, Tracy Sullivan feels lost in a tangle of marriage,
family, home, and career. Poised on the verge of losing it all, she embarks on
a quest to redefine her life. With the help of a few good friends and the
enduring love of her husband, she discovers that while happiness fleeting, contentment
can last a lifetime.

 

“The story is honest, well told, and so sweet. I loved it.”
–5 stars, Amazon bestselling author Jennifer Johnson


“You’ll want that Hollywood ending that never happens in real life. What you
will get a story that is so true to real life that it’ll make your stomach
twist and your heart hammer.” –5 stars, Another Look Book Reviews

 

“This is story-telling at its best.” –5 stars, Amazon
customer review


“Have you not read Margaret Ethridge? Hop to it! Although she is a new author,
her work is consistently intriguing, even while writing different romantic
genres.” –Booking It


Margaret
Ethridge
is the Amazon bestselling author whose stories of life and
love have made her a fan favorite and a Booksellers Best finalist. 

 

 

 ~

 

MEANT TO BE by Karen Stivali

 

Sometimes
you’re already committed to the wrong person when fate finally brings you the
right one. Daniel and Marienne’s friendship has helped them weather every
hardship—now they’re both secretly wondering if it can survive a first kiss.

 

Best Books of 2012 –Literati Literature Lovers (Meant To Be and its sequel Holding On)

 

Books That Rocked My World 2012 –Guilty Pleasures Book
Reviews


Meant To Be is simply an amazing
story that is heartwarming and genuine, it is one that will make you believe in
soul mates.” –5 stars, Jersey Girl Book Reviews


“If you’re looking for engaging, soulful characters, enough drama to take you
through a myriad of emotions that entail everything from laughter to anger to
crying, and enough passion to make you sizzle in all the right places,
then Meant To Be is the book to
read.” –5 stars and a Recommended Read, BlackRaven’s Book Reviews


Karen
Stivali
is a multiple award winning author of contemporary and erotic
romance. She writes novels about love…like real life, only hotter. 

 

 
~
 

 

′TIL ST. PATRICK’S DAY by Holly Gilliatt

 

Over
the course of one winter, three best friends encounter what happens
when love doesn’t go

according
to plan.

 

“With the author’s ease of putting words on paper, the story
flows through your mind, connecting on a deep emotional level. You will find
yourself hoping, gasping, shedding a tear or two and smiling with happiness
as the story unfolds.”

–Literati Book Reviews


“Gilliatt creates characters who you connect with… The reader is placed in the
middle of these three women’s lives; you experience their ups, their downs
and their own journey of self-discovery.” –BestChickLit.com


“The main theme of this novel was friendship, but it’s followed very closely by
love—and not just romantic love. …It’s fantastic.” –5 stars, Pink Fluffy
Hearts

 

Holly Gilliatt writes funny, heartwarming tales of
love and friendship. She is the author of two published novels with a
third due out in July.

 

 

 

Release Date:
April 29, 2014

Category: Mainstream Fiction > Women’s Fiction > Romantic Elements

Length: Four full-length novels, Boxed Set

ISBN: 978-1-62237-291-1

 

Ebook Price:
$0.99

(Special
Promotional Price)

 

AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | KOBO | IBOOKS | SMASHWORDS |

ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS | PUBLISHER

 

~

 

Giveaway:

 

These 4 great authors are giving away a $25 gift card to Turquoise Morning Press!

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Buy LOVE FINDS A WAY:
AMAZON http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00K0MBEWG
ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00K0MBEWG
KOBO http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/love-finds-a-way-boxed-set
SMASHWORDS https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/430641

Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy! 4k Like Giveaway

Welcome to the Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy 4k Like Giveaway!

PimpinAintEasy

Check out the Rafflecopter, enter to win, and peruse all the authors and artists available on the site.

Here’s the Rafflecopter link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/61050a14/

Here’s the Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/groups/559739890732073/

Check out all the artists’ pages as you go through the entry form!

Impulsion

Title: Impulsion
Author: Jamie Magee         
Genre: New Adult
Reveal Host: Lady Amber’s Tours

BLURB

With a glance Wyatt Doran stole Harley Tatum’s heart. With each summer that passed, touch by touch, they robbed each other’s innocence, birthing a love that was so deep that it scorched within. Without warning, they were ripped from the clutches of each other, placed in lives that were worlds apart. Only to cross paths after a freak accident where Harley’s horse rig was flipped. An accident that Wyatt Doran, from fire station 32, responded.

The tension was immediate, the emotions were raw. One breath told them they were not the same as before, one touch…changed their world.

The fun non boring Bio 🙂
I’m an obsessive daydreamer. Lover of loud alternative music. Addicted to Red Bull. I love to laugh until it hurts. Fall is my favorite season. Black is my favorite ‘shade.’ Strong believer in the saying: there is a reason for everything, therefore I search for ‘marked moments’ every moment of everyday…and I find them. Life is beautiful!
Boring one….
Jamie Magee has always believed that each of us have a defining gift that sets us apart from the rest of the world, she has always envied those who have known from their first breath what their gift was. Not knowing hers, she began a career in the fast paced world of business. Raising a young family, and competing to rise higher in that field would drive some to the point of insanity, but she always found a moment of escape in a passing daydream. Her imagination would take her to places she’d never been, introduce her to people she’s never known. Insight, her debuting novel, is a result of that powerful imagination. Today, she is grateful that not knowing what defined her, led her on a path of discovery that would always be a part of her.

Buy Links:
ibooks preorder – 

His fingertips slowly moved down her face, down her neck. He noticed how all the tension in her body drifted away, how her eyes slowly closed, the long, deep breaths that were causing her chest to rise and fall.“The sight of you brought it all back, past and present colliding with a magnitude that is so great…that I have no choice but to stop and realize that the only thing holding us back this go ‘round is us.”He reached his arm around her waist and pulled her body against his, causing her eyes to fly open, those breaths to come even faster. “And Harley, I’m going to fight like hell for you. And as soon as I make you mine again, I will die before I ever let anyone take you from me again.” His hand rose to her face, his thumb grazed her flesh, his eyes dipped to her lips, then met her gaze once more. “You’re the only woman I have ever loved. That I ever will love.”All at once, they both moved forward, their lips connecting as if they were molded from one source, a well-practiced dance of flesh, the perfect rhythm, teasing brushes of tongues that knew just when to fall into a deeper kiss, a kiss that was so devouring that all thought, all reason vanished. The impulse of the heart, that deep passion that lies dormant within erupted to a euphoria that made it impossible to fathom life outside of that very instant.


Finding Her Dream, by Jennah Scott

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jennah will be awarding a $10 Gift card (to the winner’s choice of e-book retailer) to a randomly drawn commenter via the Rafflecopter at the end of this post. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. Remember, the more stops you visit, the more chances you earn to win.

It wasn’t until she watched her best friend find the man of her dreams that RayAnne Hill realized there was a part of her missing. She knows the empty space can only be filled by finding her own true love, complete with kids and the white picket fence. Fear of letting someone in stops her cold, and it’s much bigger than just finding Mr. Right.

James Shaw moved away from Kentucky and the family business to chase his own goals, settling in the small town of Kimmswick, Missouri. His business is succeeding, now he’s ready to complete his life with a wife and kids. One night, one look and he’s found her. RayAnne is everything he’s been searching for.

As hard as James has fallen for RayAnne, can he be enough to help her overcome her worst nightmare? Or will he decide he can’t wait forever, and walk away to find happiness?

Now enjoy an excerpt:

“I’m sorry, Ray.”

What? She whipped around to face him. “Why?” she squeaked.

“For that night. For being late. For letting you down. All of it. I hated not getting to spend some time with you.” James clasped his hands in front of him. Her gaze lingered a little below his belt. He cleared his throat and she jerked her head up. At seeing his smirk Ray’s cheeks warmed. She’d been caught.

“I should be apologizing to you, James. It was wrong of me to ignore you. I was being selfish, too worried about myself and how much I wanted to have dinner with you. Everything ended up okay, right? I mean I know it’s been a while, but…” she trailed off. Rambling would get her nowhere.

James grinned. The cooling fire inside ignited once again. “Yeah, sugar. Everything’s good. Shadow was perfect and her foal, Levee, is a beauty.”

“Levee? That’s an odd name for a horse isn’t it?”

“Maybe. I don’t care. She’s named after the Levee Apple Pie at the Owl.”

“Why would you name your horse after an apple pie?” Ray didn’t know much about horses, but she figured an odd name like that had to have a story.

“It’s not the apple pie. Once upon a time I met this girl and I screwed up. So this was my way of reminding myself what can happen if I don’t pay attention.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Born and raised in Texas, Jennah is a transplant to Missouri long enough ago she should probably consider that her hometown. But she will forever be a Texan. She loves to write any story that will make a reader smile, laugh, and maybe even cry (although you won’t ever hear her admit that she cries). Whether the next story she writes is contemporary, urban fantasy, LGBT, or whatever other crazy idea she comes up with, there will always be love and romance in the midst of trials and turmoil.

When she’s not writing you can find her on Twitter, with her family, or buried in a book trying to escape reality for just a minute.

Website: http://www.jennahscott.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jennah_scott

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorjennahscott?ref=hl

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6820280.Jennah_Scott

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jennahscott/

Buy Links:

All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-findingherdream-1461203-147.html

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Her-Dream-Midwest-Kisses-ebook/dp/B00JCAZTX2/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1396238996&sr=1-4&keywords=jennah+scott

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/finding-her-dream-jennah-scott/1119020767?ean=2940149369669

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Spotlight On Lore: An Anthology


Lore: Tales of Myth and
Legend Retold
Release Date: 03/2014
Summary from Goodreads:
A collection of six
folklore retellings that will twist your mind and claim your heart.

SHIMMER: A heartbroken boy rescues a mermaid… but is it too late to save her?

BETWEEN is about a girl, a genie, and a ton of bad decisions.

SUNSET MOON: Eloise doesn’t believe in Native American magic–until the
dreamcatcher spiders spin her down an unknown path.

THE MAKER: An incapacitated young man bent on revenge builds a creature to do
it for him.

A BEAUTIFUL MOURNING: The story of a Maya goddess torn between duty and love,
and the ultimate sacrifice she must make to achieve true happiness.

THE BARRICADES: When a human girl risks everything to save the life of an
Eternal prince, will their feelings for each other change the world they know,
or tear it apart?

__________________
Excerpts

Shimmer by Brinda Berry:

Draven Manning watched the naked female wade into the inky waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Silent as a hermit crab, he sat on the sand hidden by tall sea oats and studied her petite body, long hair thickly draped to the waist. She held a backpack, an odd addition to her nakedness, which she dropped on the sand. He could have loudly cleared his throat or walked back up to the house. But he didn’t.

Not that he was a total creeper. She’d appeared from nowhere like some magical mist formed in a female shape. The wind lifted strands of her hair away from her body increasing the otherworldly feel of the scene.

He continued to watch and acknowledged that wishing he could see better or had binoculars did fall into creeper territory. His friends always talked about what a nice guy he was. Maybe he didn’t want to be a nice guy.

Being the nice guy had landed him here in this tiny Gulf Coast town with his dad for the summer. He had no choice, because he couldn’t stand to look at the people he’d trusted. They had betrayed him, and he’d pretended it was no big deal. He lowered his forehead to his bent knees and pulled air into his lungs. A deep exhale steadied the shaking. He was eighteen, not eight. It was time to man up. Move on with life. Forget what had happened and quit feeling sorry for himself.

For a week, he’d strolled the beach by himself. In the daylight hours, families cluttered the sand so he waited for nightfall. He always returned to this spot on the sand to sit and think. He could’ve sat on the deck with the same view, but that’s where his dad always sat and smoked cigars.

His dad would already be in bed at this hour.

The girl swam farther and farther out to sea. Her moonlight swim went beyond his seeing range. She was far enough out that he couldn’t tell if a glint on the water might be her head or a fish or a buoy. She had to be an excellent swimmer.

Clouds moved across the moon to dim his view of her even more. A gust of wind blew sand into his face. He jumped from his spot and ran, his bare feet pounding on the packed sand. He saw the crashing wave deliver her body to shoreline and teasingly pull her back. Why hadn’t he noticed that she was in trouble?

He stomped into the chilly ocean. “Shit.” His jeans sucked up the water and clung to his legs. “Shit, shit, shit.” Waves pushed against his thighs, whipping him off balance until he braced himself for the tide.
She floated face down with her hair billowing out in thin tentacles. He grabbed her upper arms, flipped her body, and pulled her to shore. Her lower body dragged in the sand, so he picked her up. She probably didn’t weigh much, but her limp body sagged as he carried her like a sleeping child.

Out from the tide’s reach, he placed her on the sand and pressed two fingers against her neck. Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. But not breathing, either. He couldn’t remember the steps. His heart slapped against his chest like paper caught in moving bicycle spokes. People learned CPR just in case. He never expected to actually need it. He squeezed his eyes shut, heard Coach Vorlosky’s calm instructions, visualized each step, and began chest compressions.

One push, two, three, four…one push a second how many times? Maybe thirty. He’d barely passed the test and wished he’d paid more attention. “You better not die. I’ve had a shitty week. Come on, come on.” Her head lolled to the side. He grabbed her chin, tilted her head back, pinched her nose, covered her mouth with his and blew.

He hovered above her mouth to see if she breathed. Strands of long, dark hair draped over her face. He brushed the hair out of the way and started again. On his fifth round of administering CPR, he glanced around for help, which wouldn’t happen at 2:00 a.m. on a deserted strip of beach in the middle of nowhere.

Her loud gasp, sounding like the reverse of a balloon losing air, startled him.

She turned her head to the side and coughed out water. “What…” She coughed again.”…do you think you’re doing?”

He barely heard her. The girl must be out of her mind, which would explain why she thought a night swim by herself was a good idea. “Saving you.”

“I didn’t need your help,” she muttered.

He scooted back on the sand several inches—his heart starting to slam again—and rubbed his face. Sand coated his hand and clung to his eyelashes. “Not the way I see it.” His voice sounded strangled and loud.

She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. Anger flashed in her eyes. “What’s your deal?”

“You weren’t breathing.” He wiped dripping water from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I was scared that you’d…never mind that thought. You’re alive.”

“Um hmm. Sure am. Back here on the shore whether I like it or not.” She was all hair and limbs with her arms wrapped around her knees.

Between by Karen Y. Bynum:

God, what had Lucy done? She rubbed the butterfly charm at her throat. She should never have ignored Natasha’s calls. If Lucy had just sucked it up and broken up with her, Natasha wouldn’t have shown up at Gaston. And Lucy wouldn’t have belittled her in front of the Royals. Her stomach churned, and she clutched the charm. Natasha’s grandmother had given it to her, and she hadn’t ever taken it off—until the day she gave it to Lucy. She swallowed her own shame and ripped the chain from her neck. She couldn’t look at it anymore. Couldn’t stand to feel its guilt weighing her down.

“I wish I could just forget you!” She threw the necklace into the abyss of the closet. Holding herself, she wept with her head pressed back against the wall. Slow, gasping tears quickly turned into sobs so gut-wrenching they made her teeth hurt.

“You can’t wish to forget.”

She froze mid-sniff. The blood must have drained from her face because her tears scorched as they rolled down her icy cheeks. A shadow moved in her peripheral vision.

Slowly, she lifted her head. Gasping, she pressed her hands to the floor, ready to jump up and haul ass. But in car-wreck fashion, she couldn’t look away. Fire floated in front of her. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. Was the house burning down? Surely not. The flames didn’t seem to be spreading. Instead, they drew down, drew together until they had a distinctly human shape. And eyes. Oh, God, the eyes. They glowed a frightening green, dark and bright at the same time.

This was just like every horror movie Lucy had ever seen. Her time had come. Either this thing would drag her to Hell or she’d be acting out The Exorcist any second. She wiped away a streak of tears.

Forcing herself to stand, to acknowledge what she’d done, she said, “This is about Natasha. Isn’t it?”

The figure didn’t move forward. It just lowered its arms, smaller flames sparking away from the movement. Why didn’t the closet catch fire?

“I’m here,” it said, “to grant you three wishes.”

Sunset Moon by Laura Diamond:

Eloise doesn’t bother sneaking in. Her mom’s probably passed out from drunk anyway.

She pads to her room, flicks on the light, drags the duffle from her bed and lets it slam to the floor. The next nine months of her life are in there, reduced to a few bits of clothing. She kicks off her shoes and wanders to her desk, gaze locked on the photo of Micah and her. Her vision blurs with fresh tears. This was their last night together, and he’s being such an ass. He should be thanking her for what she is doing. So should Jimmy.

She picks up the frame and removes the picture, then carries it to the bathroom. The sour odor of beer clings to her like a heavy reminder of her fight with Micah. She tucks the photo into the wooden mirror frame on the medicine cabinet and turns on the tub faucet.
While the tub fills, she peels off her damp shirt and throws it in the hamper. She tugs off her jeans, then her underwear. Naked, she shivers, though the house is warm, stuffy even, from the mid-summer night’s air.

Her tremors aren’t from being cold. They are from a vacuous emptiness that hollows out her insides, turns her heart to ice, and chips away at her soul with each ragged breath.

She grips the sink with both hands and steadies herself. The gush of water echoes in her ears, sloshes in her skull, and drowns her mind. Her head pounds from the surge of blood coursing through her brain with the rapid beating of her heart. The row of bulbs blazing above the medicine cabinet stabs her in the eyes, coring out her orbits.

It’s too much. She needs something to take the edge off.

Now.

The Maker by Jayne A. Knolls:

Cassandra Francesca Levinsky had been mine, more or less, since the second semester of freshman year. Addiction was probably a better term for it than a romance—I couldn’t get enough of her—nor she of me. Everyone knew us as Brettandra—I know, like Brangelina—that’s how legendary we were—Brett and Cassandra, the best looking couple on campus.

In the end, I only drank so much to deal with the sight of her throwing herself at every other guy in the room—and to obliterate the green haze of jealous rage that overtook me when others wanted a piece of her. But if I were forced to admit it, I kind of got off on that, too. Like I said, we couldn’t get enough of each other.

I’m not sure exactly when those long weeks of getting the cold shoulder first started. My memory’s not what it used to be. And I don’t have much of a recollection of what happened after we left the party. Maybe I blacked out. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed, my skull on fire. I learned later that Cassandra walked away from the wreck without a scratch on her. She left me for dead, my skull cracked open like an egg.
The guy we hit never walked again. Yeah, I felt kind of bad about that, but I’m not in such great shape either.

They found me in the driver’s seat, the engine’s firewall inches from the tree we plowed into. The wrecked BMW was registered to me—so as far as anyone knew at the scene, Cassandra was never even in it. The medical report stated that if she’d called for help right away, instead placing an anonymous call after she was long gone, the bleeding might not have been so extensive.

That I might have made a good recovery.

But, if that were the case, then this story would never have been written.

A Beautiful Mourning by Theresa DaLayne:

I could not help but smile at the newly budded flowers scattered over the hills of the middleworld. My bare feet sank into the cool grass. It sprang between my toes, reminding me of the many walks my mother and I took together when I was a child.

It had been many years since she last strolled beside me. Many years since her soul left her body and joined the breeze of the heavens.

I paused beside a tree and lay my hand upon its bark.

I missed my mother’s laughter. Her sparkling green eyes and her sweet voice. No longer a child, I ached for her guidance and advice in the matters of life, and especially love.

A hummingbird buzzed past me and broke my gloomy thoughts. I turned and watched it hover over blooms and feast on the bounty of the nectar. I extended my hand. The tiny bird startled.

“I intend you no harm,” I said softly. It was not only for the mortals, but for the creatures of this realm that I tended to the greenery on which they depended to survive. I loved them, and wished them nothing but prosperity and joy.

Yet their happiness was a constant reminder of my sorrow, and some days, my heart did not have the will to carry on.

The rhythm of the bird’s rapidly pumping wings soothed my disparity and brought a smile to my lips. I lowered my hand and the creature vanished from sight.

It was then I noticed the large cat weaving between the trees. I smiled and stepped toward the jaguar. “Balam. How nice to see you. It’s been far too long.”

The middleworld deity slinked toward me. One large paw lazily moved in front of the other until he was close enough to touch.

His fur was like silk under my fingers.

“What special occasion brings you?”

Balam did not answer, which was typical for him. Even when in his human form, the middleworld god had never spoken a word. Instead he simply butted his head against my leg and rubbed his body along me. His tail brushed across my belly as he continued past me and headed to the forest.

I spun just in time to see Balam vanish into the foliage. There was no use in calling him back. He would wander in the forests and jungles until he decided to return. When that would be, I couldn’t say.

I turned back toward tending to the flowers. Spring in the mortals’ realm was my fondest season. It was, after all, the beginning of seasons in which I spent the most time with Kinich.

I pulled my hair to one side and wove it into a braid over my shoulder. My touch prompted tiny purple flowers to blossom in my hair. They were Kinich’s favorite color to see paired beside my skin.

My father knew not of our romance, though it could not be deemed a surprise. I was the tender of flowers and trees for the mortals, and Kinich…

I paused beside a struggling rose bush as the sun warmed my shoulders. My smile widened, and the grass, which I had raised from seedlings, flourished into thick, green blades.

A beam of light focused on the bush beside me. The branches bloomed with wild rosebuds.

I stooped beside the flowers and touched their silken petals. They were so lovely.

The sound of light footsteps caught my attention. The warmth of the sun intensified on my back. I took one last moment to admire the blooms before I stood and turned to see Kinich standing behind me—golden hair, and eyes that beamed with shades of orange and yellow.

He smiled.

My heart jumped.

His gaze wandered to the rose bush. “Your flowers no longer struggle for life.”

I arched my brow and strode toward him. “And you believe you are responsible for giving them life?”

“Perhaps.” He reached out and twisted my braid around his fingers. “Without my light and warmth your flowers would not bloom.” He allowed my braid to slip out of his gentle grasp.

I tiptoed around him. “And without my touch, the light which you provide would have nothing to nurture.” I walked past him and gave him my back.

“Then I suppose we need each other.” His hands rested on my hips and then rounded my waist. Kinich pulled my back against his chest. My eyes fluttered shut.

His lips grazed the curve of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “I have no shame in admitting I need you.” He pressed a kiss on my shoulder.

The Barricades by Cate Dean:

Daniel Reed fought for his life.

But he knew, even as he ducked the blow meant for his face, that the three boys who dragged him out here wouldn’t stop until he lay bleeding at their feet.

He decided to make it as difficult as possible.

“Is that the best you can do, Mandore?” Tomas Hurdy, the obvious instigator, taunted the tall boy who had just taken the swing at Daniel. “My baby sister can throw a better punch.”

I bet she can. Daniel stumbled backward over ground left ridged by the terra machines.

Hurdy probably came out of the womb punching.

Hurdy barreled toward Daniel, all two hundred plus pounds of him. Daniel waited until the last possible moment and leaped sideways. Hurdy roared past him, tripped on a rock hard ridge and slammed face first into the dirt.

Daniel spun around, knowing that retaliation would be swift, and probably fatal—and ran smack into his third tormentor. Trevor Harp—someone he thought was his friend.
Before he could escape Trevor grabbed his right arm and wrenched it up behind his back. The pain nearly doubled him.

“Good job, Trev.” Hurdy dusted off his shirt as he stood. “Now hold him still.”
Through a blur of pain Daniel saw the long, curved knife appear in Hurdy’s right hand. Panic lent him strength and he struggled to free himself. Trevor tightened his grip, caught Daniel’s left wrist, leaving him completely defenseless.

Hurdy buried the knife in Daniel’s left arm, just below the elbow. He screamed, agony exploding through him. The knife was iron—and would keep him from healing the wound himself.

“Shut him up!” Hurdy hissed. Trevor obeyed and let go of Daniel’s right arm, reaching up to cover his mouth. The returning blood flow was a small pain compared to the fire raging down his left arm. Hurdy followed with the blade, opening his forearm to the wrist.

“That’s a good start.”

Daniel screamed again when Hurdy yanked out the knife. Blood poured down his hand, pooled on the hard packed dirt. What was left of his strength ran out with the blood and he collapsed against Trevor.

“I think that’s enough,” Trevor said, his voice quiet. He let go of Daniel’s mangled arm and caught him around the waist, holding him upright. “We were not told to kill him, Tom.”

“Well, I guess the rabble got carried away. Walk now, Trev, if you don’t have the stomach. I’m going to cut on him a while, make up some for what his dad took from mine.”

Daniel swallowed, heart pounding. Hurdy Senior had stolen from Father, lied about it, and been punished severely. Now he was about to pay for the rash decision to make the older Hurdy an example.

Mandore moved in, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Tom, I don’t think—”

Hurdy turned on him. “You losing your nerve too?” Daniel knew he wasn’t meant to survive this—not with Hurdy using iron on him, and throwing around names. Names Daniel recognized. “Wouldn’t you do the same if you had the chance? Self-righteous bastard had no call—”

“She did not authorize this,” Trevor said.

“Just shut your mouth!” Hurdy raised the bloody knife, the point inches from Trevor’s face. Trevor flinched, but he didn’t pull away. “You hear me, Trev—I’m in charge. She put me in charge—”

“Why?” Daniel’s raw whisper cut through the tirade.

Hurdy smiled, and instead of using the knife again, he flipped the pendant Daniel wore out of the way and dug the sharp edge of his garnet signet ring into the left side of Daniel’s chest.

Daniel tried to jerk away. One hand fisted in his hair, halted his retreat.

“Since you’ll be dead,” Hurdy tightened his grip, “you don’t need to know.”
_____________________

Buy Links:
Author Bios:
Brinda Berry:
Brinda
Berry lives in the southern US with her family and two spunky cairn terriers.
She’s terribly fond of chocolate, coffee, and books that take her away from
reality.  She doesn’t mind being called a geek or “crazy dog lady”. When
she’s not working the day job or writing a novel, she’s guilty of surfing the
internet for no good 
Find
Brinda at
www.brindaberry.com .
Karen Y. Bynum:
Dragons,
unicorns, genies…oh my! NA/YA author, coffee-lover, olive-hater, tea-drinker,
music-listener. Random becomes me. Easily distrac—
Blog
Laura Diamond:
Laura
Diamond is a board certified psychiatrist and multi-published author of all
things young adult paranormal, dystopian, and horror. When she’s not writing,
she is working at the hospital, blogging at
Author
Laura Diamond–Lucid Dreamer
,
and renovating her 225+ year old fixer-upper mansion.
Jayne A. Knolls:
Jayne
A. Knolls lives and works in New York City.  The Maker is her first
published work of New Adult Fiction. Jayne can reached at
JAKnolls@optonline.net
Theresa DaLayne:
My name is Theresa DaLayne and I’m a new adult
author with Bloomsbury Spark, an amazing digital imprint of Bloomsbury
publishing.
Website
Cate Dean:
Hi
there – thanks for checking in. My name is Cate Dean, and I write romantic
suspense and paranormal, with some action packed YA paranormal and fantasy
thrown in. I love to write, and I have been doing it most of my life. I’ve made
up stories in my head for as long as I can remember, and I am thrilled to be
able to write them down and share them with you. If you want to be the first to
know when the next book is released, or be in on some fun, exclusive contests
and giveaways, join my list here:
http://catedeanwrites.com/join-my-list. You can learn more about me and
my books at my website:
http://catedeanwrites.com
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Sneak Peek Sunday: More LEGALLY UNDEAD!

Legally Undead
Coming May 2014 from World Weaver Press!

A reluctant vampire hunter, stalking New York City as only a scorned bride can.

Elle Dupree has her life all figured out: first a wedding, then her Ph.D., then swank faculty parties where she’ll serve wine and cheese and introduce people to her husband the lawyer.

But those plans disintegrate when she walks in on a vampire sucking the blood from her fiancé Greg. Horrified, she screams and runs–not away from the vampire, but toward it, brandishing a wooden letter opener.

As she slams the improvised stake into the vampire’s heart, a team of black-clad men bursts into the apartment. Turning around to face them, Elle discovers that Greg’s body is gone—and her perfect life falls apart.

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Excerpt

All About the Magic ~ A Guest Post by L. Jagi Lamplighter

Welcome today to the inimitable L. Jagi Lamplighter, one of my favorite writers (I love, love, LOVE her Prospero’s Daughter trilogy!) and an all-around amazing person. Today, she’s here discussing magic in a guest post she has generously allowed me to republish from Magical Words. Check out her thoughts on magic, geese, and unicorn poop below, then take a look at her latest book, The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin before you go!

All About The Magic: Or the Gosling of the Golden Creek Vs. The Unicorn Pooper-Scoopers

Beside the road leading to my street, there is a small pond. This pond is the favorite nesting place of a flock of Canadian geese who like to walk out in the street.

The other day, I found myself sitting and waiting for the geese to depart, so I could drive home without running over them. As I watched the birds waddle by, I thought of people I knew who had expressed hatred for these creatures that stop traffic and leave goose droppings all over the sidewalk and golf courses. Their hatred added to my impatience.

After all, I wanted to get home. I had things to do, man!

But then I remembered something.

As a child, I had loved these birds. Why? Because at the gateway to the local county park was a river. Canadian geese used to nest on the river bank. If one was lucky, if one came at just the right time, one might catch a glimpse the tiny goslings paddling behind their august parents.

These adorable creatures were the only baby wild animals visible to us as children. Seeing these little beige and yellow bundles of fluff lit our hearts. It was as wondrous as magic!

When had I lost the magic?

Was it familiarity that had bred such contempt? I saw them all the time, now, so the magic had fled? This thought led me to the following question:

If flocks of unicorns roamed my hometown, would the magic go away with them, too? Would I be sitting here wishing the herd of unicorns would just get off the road?

And then it struck me.

The difference between my current thought about unicorns and my childhood memory was like the difference between urban fantasy and stories of wonder. In a story of wonder, ordinary creatures, such as Canadian geese goslings, became objects of awe and magic. In an Urban Fantasy, people argue about who was responsible for scooping up the unicorn poop.

Before I go on, I should clarify: I am a big fan of urban fantasy. This insight is in no way meant to detract from the delight of reading about a tarnished pixy with tattered wings, a base-playing goblin, or an elf in a fedora asking questions and taking names.

However, there are much better writers, here at Magical Words, than I for giving advice about writing good urban fantasy. So, I will concentrate on the subject of how to bring that childhood sense of wonder back to our stories.

If Urban Fantasy is about the magical in a mundane setting, Stories of Wonder are about mundane things in a magical setting. The first drags fairytales, folk lore, and mythology into our world, kicking and screaming. The second lifts us out of our ordinary daily life and into the extraordinary.

So, how does one capture this magic when writing? How do we portray pixies up close without tarnishing their wings? How do we become familiar with unicorns and yet not grumble about how irksome it is that they have been eating our flowers? How do we turn the geese holding up traffic back into creatures of enchantment?

The key is to look around and imagine what the world would be like if it were alive…and it loved us.

The marvelous world in stories of wonder is not always friendly. It can be grumpy, or angry, or tricky. It can be dangerous, sometimes terrible. But, underneath, there is a sense of something wonderful, something precious, something that makes you catch your breath from joy.

If that is lacking, it is not a Story of Wonder.

So, how is it done? By looking around and imagining what the things we see would be like—if they just happened to fall into fairyland.

The small stone pump house on the corner becomes a home for tiny folk who peek their little whiskered snouts around the edge of the door and peer at us with very large black eyes.

Little doors into the crawl spaces of an attic become gates that transform those who pass through, so that they can fly, or turn invisible, or talk to fish.

Misshapen tree trunks, with a horizontal section low to the ground, become riding trees that can pull up their roots and run though the forest during the mysterious cusp of twilight.

Go ahead, try it. Pick a perfectly normal object in your environment and think about what it might be if you suddenly discovered it was a friendly visitor from the Court of Oberon. (Feel free to note your discoveries in the comments section.)

The next question one might ask is: Who does this well? Whose writing can we look to as an example? In my humble opinion, I believe the mistress of writing wonder is British author, Barbara Sleigh. (Who is that, you ask? If you missed her in your childhood, I am so very sorry! I will introduce you now, as I first met her.)

Once, in the long ago dream time, I attended an old elementary school that had a marvelous library. This library was not as libraries are today—filled with new books all shiny with bright picture on their dustcovers, all published in the last twenty to thirty years. This library was filled with old books.

I wouldn’t be surprised if a book bogie* had lived there as well.

One day, while peering into the shadows of the dimly lit stacks, I found a slim volume I don’t think anyone else had ever checked out. It was KINGDOM OF CARBONEL by Barbara Sleigh. It would be years before I met anyone else who had read this book. And more years before a friend traveling to England finally brought back the first book, CARBONEL, for me. But these two slim volumes, in their own quiet way, remain among the most magical I have read.

(I may not be the only author who has felt this way. These books were written in England in the 1950s. The villain is referred to as You-Know-Who, and there are characters with names like Tonks and Pettigrew. So it is possible that another author, far better known than I, once fell under their spell a well.)

The fantasy in the books is low key. The children need to deal with mundane issues such as chores, being home in time for supper, and finding enough money to cross town by bus. Yet the magic, when it comes, seems all the more wondrous for its unexpectedness. There is a talking prince of cats, a flying rocking chair, and a cantankerous witch who is losing her powers.

Yet, there is so much more. Only a step away from the roofs of mundane England is the Country of Cats, another land that the children glimpse but briefly. And when they need magic to speak with animals, they are given a prescription that causes the clerk to scratch his head and then climb up on a ladder to draw liquid from the large red bottle propped as a display in the window of the chemist’s shop. (There is even an amusing sub-plot for the poor clerk, who accidentally licks his finger after pouring out the liquid and believes himself to be going mad when he begins to understand the speech of worms and bugs.)

In this bestowing of magic to ordinary things—roofs, rocking chairs, and window display bottles—there is the curious wonder that comes from peeking into another world not meant for human kind, a world to which the children can only be temporary visitors—and yet when they leave, we know that they have been changed forever and will never again be quite as other people are, that they will always be something more.

And isn’t that, really, why we read? So we, the reader, can enter a magical kingdom that gives us a glimpse of something beyond the ordinary, beyond the world we know, in the hope that we, too, will emerge from the book changed, having been made better by the experience, so that we, too, will never again be quite as mundane as we were before?

So that, while others sit in the road grumbling about being held up by “rats with wings”, we alone will behold the majesty of the graceful dancers of the sky, who once were the goslings of Golden Creek.

* — creature said to haunt libraries and help children find the perfect book.

Who is your favorite weaver of Stories of Wonder?

What ordinary objects would you like to see woken to fairy life by the breath of enchantment?

_________________

lamplighter

Rachel Griffin wants to know everything. As a freshman at Roanoke Academy for the Sorcerous Arts, she has been granted to opportunity to study both mundane and magical subjects.

But even her perfect recollection of every book she has ever read does not help her when she finds a strange statue in the forest—a statue of a woman with wings. Nowhere—neither in the arcane tomes of the Wise, nor in the dictionary and encyclopedia of the non-magic-using Unwary—can she find mention of such a creature.

What could it be? And why are the statue’s wings missing when she returns?

When someone tries to kill a fellow student, Rachel soon realizes that, in the same way her World of the Wise hides from mundane folk, there is another, more secret world hiding from everyone—which her perfect recall allows her to remember. Her need to know everything drives her to investigate.

Rushing forward where others fear to tread, Rachel finds herself beset by wraiths, magical pranks, homework, a Raven said to bring the doom of worlds, love’s first blush, and at least one fire-breathing teacher.

Curiosity might kill a cat, but nothing stops Rachel Griffin!

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About the Author

L. Jagi Lamplighter is the author of The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin, as well as the Prospero’s Daughter Trilogy (Prospero Lost, Prospero In Hell, and Prospero Regained).She has also written a number of short stories, articles on anime, and is an author/assistant editor in the BaddAss Faeries series.

She is a graduate of the St. John’s College in Annapolis, MD. When not writing, she switches to her secret identity as a stay-home mom in Centreville, VA, where she lives in fairytale happiness with her husband, author John C. Wright, and their four darling children, Orville, Ping-Ping, Roland Wilbur, and Justinian Oberon.

Visit her website: http://www.ljagilamplighter.com/

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