Eighteen-year-old Cayenne barely
remembers her mother, who died of breast cancer when Cayenne was four. The
women in her family have a history of dying young. Cayenne figures she’ll meet
the same fate, so she might as well enjoy life now, engaging in death-defying
risks like dodging trains and jumping off cliffs with her boyfriend.
When Cayenne receives a series of video
messages her mother made for her before dying, she isn’t sure she wants them.
Her aunt Tee has been her true mother figure. But then Aunt Tee tests positive
for a BRCA gene mutation–the one that doomed Cayenne’s mom–and decides to get
a mastectomy to reduce her chances of developing cancer. As Cayenne helps her
aunt prepare for the surgery, she finds herself drawn to her mother’s messages,
with their musings on life, love, and perseverance. For the first time, Cayenne
starts to question what it truly means to live life to the fullest, even when
death might be written into her DNA.
Sarah Lynn (Scheerger) works as a clinical social worker with
at-risk youth, helping them figure out who they are and who they want to be.
She also provides counseling to adults and couples. She lives in southern
California with her husband and children. Sarah started out writing under her
first and middle name (Sarah Lynn) because she thought having a pen name seemed
mysterious and cool. However, over time she’s transitioned to writing under her
real name as well (both Sarah Scheerger and Sarah Lynn Scheerger). Sarah loves
reading, watching movies, and spending time with her family and friends.
Hope Ellson is from the wrong side of
the tracks, but her genius transcends class. When Hope joins FearToShred, a
Silicon Valley extreme gaming startup, Hope’s mission is to groom the scrappy
company for prime time. Enter Doug Wiser, her very married ex. While the two
work in tandem, nefarious forces are at work behind the scenes. Adding to the
excitement of this thriller are the stars and heroes of surfing and
skateboarding. With a keen eye on women in tech, business ethics and dangerous
stunts, “Extreme” will leave you breathless.
Winner of the Cervena Barva and Chaffin
Fiction Awards, Joan’s work has appeared in The Huffington Post, Vanity Fair,
Rattle, Pank! The Meridien Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, The Los Angeles
Review of Books, Chicken Soup for the Soul and over 200 literary journals,
blogs and magazines.
A member of the National Book Critics
Circle, Joan has worked for California Poets in the Schools, Poetry Out Loud,
Chiat/Day Advertising and other Bay Area companies. She currently coaches writers
and teaches in the San Francisco Bay Area.
With a poet’s sensibility and a novelist’s instinct
for plot, Joan Gelfand has produced a whip‑smart
page‑turner of a book, complete with startup fever,
romantic intrigue, and a cast of sympathetic ‑‑
and not so sympathetic ‑‑
characters. Read Extreme and you’ll have a better sense of what really goes on
in Silicon Valley, far better than TV shows like Silicon Valley could ever
provide.”– Katie Hafner, Author,
New York Times and Wall Street Journal columnist.
After fruitless circling of the Purple, Coral, and Lime parking lots, Hope surrenders. She drives underground, winding four levels down into the bowels of Palo Alto’s small Civic Center garage. She surrenders, but not before considering several vacant red, blue, and yellow spots, as tempting to her as any gooey dessert. Employees only, Electric vehicles only, and Disabled sat empty as a tossed Starbucks cup. It was tempting. But not today. Anything can happen in the five minutes it takes to run into CVS, including a beat cop under pressure to get his numbers up. When did parking in downtown Palo Alto at three P.M. become an Olympic event? Did the student population at Stanford just increase by a factor of ten? WTF?
Leaving the underground lot, Hope steps into daylight as harsh as the brightness after a matinee; a brutal transition from fantasy to reality. Today is very real. Today, Hope’s fantasies are about work, even if FearToShred is its own movie.
Today there are questions to answer: Does the young company have legs? Why did Arthur turn down an eighty million dollar offer to sell it to Datex, his former company?
FearToShred hasn’t gone public yet. That’s a good thing for her as a potential employee, but a fact which had blocked Hope from getting the boatload of intelligence she wanted for the interview. Crunchbase was little help. She could call around, but sleuthing would sound an alarm that she’s leaving Manuserve.
Hope squints. The sun is bright, but that’s nothing new; the sun has been bright all year. She slips on Ray Bans, as integral to her outfit as her Apple watch or Blahniks. All of California has been steamy, smoky, and stuck in an endless summer. Is it November? August? January? Who can tell?
University Avenue and the surrounding roads are an obstacle course rife with a nonstop parade of joggers, cyclists, and mothers and nannies pushing baby strollers.
The fires have been creepy. Hope’s yard has deteriorated to a dusty grey; her showers are bullet short. One dry winter has turned into three.
The water company’s banned watering of lawns; abusers are ridiculed on the front pages of the press. Northern California blames Southern California. Tony golf courses of the wealthy are under civic scrutiny. All while California’s economy shoots into the stratosphere.
With Google and Facebook gobbling up tech veterans, startups were desperate for talent. Which was why Hope wasn’t surprised when Arthur called. Though never as successful as she may have hoped to be, her name was one of the ones raised when recruiters, hiring managers, and CEO’s played the “who’s innovating” game at meetings and cocktail parties. While Hope had been hiding out at Manuserve, collecting a fat paycheck and doing banal B2B, her reputation was still out there, reaching far and wide. What she and Doug had pulled off at Topia had been the stuff of urban legend. Topia was one of the very first companies to break through from geeky to a global audience. Yes, Arthur knew who she was even if she’d been heads down the past year.
Despite the severe lack of rain, today the world was fresh and new. Gardenia and jasmine scent the air; the breeze whispers ‘possibility.’ Through the glass doors and up the wide aisle at CVS, Hope heads for the cosmetics to suss out a chintzy replacement lipstick for the MAC she accidentally left on her desk.
A wall of options waits like a chorus line of Vegas dancers. Hope checks her watch: thirteen minutes to pick out a shade that says, ‘serious, smart, perky.’ She assesses the check-out line – decent. Two cashiers, one auto pay, and only a few customers standing in line. Hope sets her phone alarm for ten minutes.
Five foot eight, Hope weighed in this morning at 136; not her best weight ever but she’s been busy. A thick lock of auburn hair stretches midway down her back. Her legs are long and slim. She woke up feeling good in her skin. A sexy wake-up call from James in bed this morning didn’t hurt. She’ll get back to 129, her fighting weight, soon. Lipsticks. Maybelline, Cover Girl. Hope frets. Her go-to shade is Diva by MAC, but CVS doesn’t carry the upmarket brand. Firecracker. Too wild. Ruby Woo. Milf. Hot Passion. Not for work. Ah, wait. Monte Carlo. Rich. Smart looking. She rubs a sample on the back of her hand. Possible. With a clean Q-tip she swipes her lips. Deep. But wait. There’s American Doll. Looks like Diva’s poor sister. Same shade, cheaper packaging. She wipes off the Monte Carlo with a moistened towel from a handy dispenser, swipes a fresh Q-tip.
With a hint of Monte Carlo adhered to her lip she creates an impromptu blend of the two shades. Perfect. Pursing her lips in the small makeup mirror mounted on the wall, wondering if her cheeks have flushed or if it’s the lighting, she catches sight of Doug Wiser.
Hope swings her hair in front of her face, kneels down low to fumble with her Coach slouch bag. She’s searching for her credit card when his warm hand alights on her shoulder.
Hope looks up guiltily, her head uncomfortably level with Doug’s crotch. Unfolding herself to full height, the single button on her pencil skirt pops.
Doug throws his arms around her in a cozy bear hug.
This is Doug? Doug Wiser? In skinny jeans and Nikes? This is Doug, clean shaven, bed hair and cheekbones? This is Doug in CVS at 3:10 P.M. holding a pregnancy kit and a bottle of vitamins? This is Doug who asked Hope (kindly) not to call because he ‘was lost?’ A whirligig of thoughts spin. Her phone alarm buzzes. How is she? She’s tense. And worse, she’s ruffled by running smack into her ex in CVS a half an hour before an interview.
“I’m great!” Hope half smiles. “I’m just on my way—I’m late actually!” Hope nervously juggles the two lipsticks.
Doug’s gaze lingers on her torso, taking in the whole of her. When her eyes finally meet his, he’s looking at her the way a parent looks at a child accomplishing a new feat—a climb up the monkey bars, a ball caught. Or was that condescension? He, calm. She, frazzled.
“Go. We’ll talk later.”
“Totally,” Hope promises, proffering a fingertip touch to Doug’s exposed forearm. “Sorry to rush off.”
At the check-out counter, she grabs a package of safety pins. It’s been over a year. She’s missed him. She thinks about Doug almost every day. Ahead of her on the line, a small woman with dark glasses holds the leash of a service dog, a beautiful short-haired golden that reminds her of Gracie, the first and last dog she owned. She peeks in her makeup mirror, checking the aisle behind her.
Hope exits the automatic doors, hurries toward High Street. Did she really just crash into Doug in CVS holding a pregnancy test? In all of her fantasies, in all the past year of secret dreams and fears, the last place she would meet Doug Wiser was in the lipstick aisle of the University Avenue CVS.
Now, she’s got to rock that interview. Her nerves are jangled, and her button is popped. She suddenly tumbles a notch from Ninja-warrior Hope down to disheveled working woman. She checks her Apple watch—3:25 P.M.
Slipping into Philz, Hope orders a green tea and scoots into the restroom to replace the popped button with a safety pin.
Perfunctorily repaired, she snags a tiny table. Creating lists, a habit she developed in college when she was juggling a late shift at Oscar’s Burgers at night, parts modeling when she got the gigs, five classes, and an endless parade of reading and homework assignments, calms her. It’s a habit she’s never bothered to break.
She taps out a list of questions on her tablet: Arthur rejected an eighty million offer from Datex. Why? Was there a back-up offer? Was he hoping to create more value? Was Arthur passionate about FTS, or was he just in it for the money? She scratches out the last question; too forward.
At 3:35, her pre-Doug equilibrium nominally restored, Hope walks the two blocks to High and Homer. Past Serenity Yoga, Brew News Beer pub, Bucca di Beppo, and the Party Store: Yes, she really did just see Doug for the first time in a year. But it wasn’t a reunion, was it? Reunions are planned. Hope erases the interlude like she’d erased the lipstick on the back of her hand.
Halfway across High Street, her iPhone rings. “Doll?”
“That was sweet this morning. You good?”
“Yes. Listen, I’m running late,” Hope’s stomach churns. “Catch you later?”
“No prob. See you tonight?”
“Yes. No. I’m not sure. I’ll call.”
“Hope . . . we have that dinner tonight. Remember? John’s out from New York?”
Three forty-six. She hadn’t told James about the interview because she did not want to listen to a lecture on the fallibility of startups.
Outside FearToShred’s frosted glass doors, she sneaks a peek in her tiny makeup mirror. Gone is the high cheek color of this morning; she looks pale, spooked.
Joan Gelfand’s reviews, stories
and poetry have appeared in national and international literary journals and
magazines including the Los Angeles Review of Books, Rattle, Prairie Schooner,
Kalliope, The Toronto Review, newversenews.com, The Sycamore Review and
RiverSedge. Joan’s work has also appeared in “Chicken Soup for the Soul: Dreams
and the Unexplainable” and “Chicken Soup for the Soul: Dreams and Premonitions”
Chair of the Women’s National
Book Association National Writing Contest, a member of the National Book
Critics Circle and a juror for the Northern California Book Awards, Joan blogs
for the Huffington Post and coaches writers. She is the recipient of over
twenty writing awards, nominations and prizes.
“The Ferlinghetti School of
Poetics,” a poetry film based on Joan’s poem was featured at the 4th Annual
Video Poetry Festival in Athens, Greece, the Meraki Film Festival in Madrid and
won Certificate of Merit in a juried art show at the International Association
for the Study of Dreams.
Joan has been teaching at book
festivals and writer’s conferences on “You Can Be a Winning Writer” for the
past ten years. She coaches writers around the country.
She lives in San Francisco with
her husband, Adam Hertz and two beatnik kitties – Jack Kerouac and Lawrence
Being a sex goddess should be my dream
come true—as much sex as I want, with magic powers to heal people, too. Until I
realize the enormously strong human I desire most is completely off-limits. My
people will put me in prison if I’m caught with a human.
But one encounter together leaves me
panting for more. So I kidnap him and take him to an alien sex retreat. I soon
discover not only is my big strong human a virgin, his bio-engineering might
have made him the largest person I’ve ever seen, but also it made him unable to
feel any sensation on his skin.
We’ve got three days to try to heal him
with my sex powers before I risk someone discovering us. Then I find out his
The Fellamana judges handing me my winner’s trophy stare at me like I’ve asked for a moon. They look at my finger as I point to Graven and then back at me and shake their heads in panic.
“No, Niva. He’s human. You can’t—”
“He’s my prize. I claim him,” I declare in Fellamana loud enough for everyone in the stadium to hear. It became so clear to me when I realized all the other acts of the sex games had humans in them, how odd it was that of my seven, I had only Fellamana.
It had to be obvious to the audience as well—the humans and the Fellamana.
The judges look toward the council members sitting in the stands as though for help, and the council members sit stunned and staring at me.
As their sex goddess, I outrank them in every other way. They answer to me. I may be young and less than a month into my power, but as the sole possessor of the power on this planet, I am the goddess, the supreme being, the divine made manifest, according to the beliefs of our people.
My wishes are to be obeyed.
I turn to the stagehands, the ones who’ve been orchestrating the event tonight. I point to Graven once more. “Please bring him up to the stage.” They hesitate, but as I stare at them with authority, they do as I say.
Graven’s expression is severe, and his already tangled aura becomes a mess of anxiety. I worry for a moment he’ll refuse, that he’ll put up a fight. He’s so large, no one could possibly move him anywhere he didn’t want to go.
But he appears unable to disobey my request. He lets them lead him up the stairs, and he comes to the edge of the stage. He pauses there and comes no closer. We all wait to see what he’ll do.
The hush in the audience, at least from the Fellamana, has also to do with what they see.
Graven’s aura looks painful. It’s hard to see it and not feel his pain. His emotions, if healthy, would visibly flow freely all around him in waves of orange and red—fear and desire. But instead, there are small flickers of orange and red; it’s clear fear and desire are what he would like to experience, but they don’t flow freely. They stop and start in fits and spurts, as though his aura is broken. As though his heart is broken. As though he’s forgotten how to have feelings purely, uninhibited. As though he is blocked by numbness—depression.
I turn my eyes to the crowd. “This is the only prize I want. To heal this human.” With my sex powers.
ROBIN LOVETT enjoys
trips to alien worlds to avoid earthly things, like day jobs and
housework. When not reading romance with her cat, she’s busy writing sexy
books, which may or may not involve anti-heroes, aliens, or both,
but almost always enemies-to-lovers. She’s a big fan of her husband
who regards writing romance as far more important than practical things, like
paychecks. Her favorite surprise in the world, or the universe, was
finding out by some miracle other people want to read the same kind
stories she loves to write.
In a past life, Robin worked as a
professional opera singer who grew tired of playing dying heroines and took up
writing Happily-Ever-After instead.
For the writers, check out her
weekly posts on #RWChat, a
Twitter chat for romance writers every Sunday evening. She also writes a
monthly romance writing column on diyMFA.com and was a contributor to the former Heroes & Heartbreakers blog.
She is represented by Rachel Brooks of BookEnds Literary Agency.
Field of Dreams + This Is Spinal Tap =
No Way Back Today. Midlife demands some reckoning and Eric realizes he can wait
no longer. As Eric hurtles headlong toward the big 5-0, he realizes there is
unfinished business and is determined to find his childhood friends, convince
them to form their own rock and roll band, and to go on tour! He searches out
Todd, Laurel, and Lorelei so he can fulfill that dream. The story of four
Midwestern grown-ups and their childhood desires to create No Way Back Today in
the face of improbable odds and middle age will have you both laughing and
cheering as you recognize your own unfulfilled dreams. No Way Back Today is the
incredible story of the improbable journey of a reunion tour for a band that
Reviewed by Anne-Marie Reynolds for Readers’ Favorite
No Way Back Today by Eric Shoars is a hilarious, bittersweet tale
of childhooddreams and middle-age. It isn’t just a novel, it’s about not
letting go of yourdreams, of taking second chances when you get them and of
never lettingyourself down. The friendships between the four main characters
were amazinglydeveloped, an inspiration to us all, and real people that we can
all relate toin some way. This story will make you laugh and it will give you
hope as itsteadily marches towards the end; you will be cheering them on, you
will beholding your breath but, most of all, you will be compelled to read to
the veryend and you will find yourself thinking back on your own dreams,
especially theones that you never realized. Anything is possible if you just
put your mind to it. A fun read!
Reviewed By Sherri Fulmer Moorer forReaders’ Favorite
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It was a compelling novel not only
about secondchances and pursuing your dreams but about friendship and
self-worth as youmove through different stages of life. I’m a bit younger than
the protagonistsbut so much of what they felt resonated with me as I found
myself wondering ifthere are any dreams from my youth that might be worth
pursuing as I entermid-life myself. The evolution of the relationships with
Eric, Todd, Laurel, andLorelei was amazing and inspiring and shows that
friendship can remain nomatter how much life changes. It also seemed to me that
they “bonded”and their relationships matured as they shared their
experiences and as newopportunities arose for each of them as a result of
pursuing this dream. No WayBack Today is an excellent novel of inspiring
redemption and shows thatmid-life doesn’t have to be a crisis at all – in fact,
it can rock! Great work,Eric Shoars! I loved this novel!
A deleted scene or a scene from another character’s POV.
The scene from another character’s point of view would be in Chapter Seven. The four friends are relaxing between shows – they’re playing two shows this night – and Laurel starts to pick Eric’s brain about something very personal for her that really doesn’t have anything to do with the band yet does. That picks up a conversation string with the other three and they begin to share their personal issues and Eric is a spectator at this point. Through this journey Eric has been the instigator, he’s had the vision of getting the group together and being the band that he never got to form. So, for him, we know what he gets out of this reunion tour. In the Chapter Seven scene, the three others really dive into the key question: “What do I get out of this journey?” It’s not the money or notoriety but what is the lesson, what is the big revelation about their lives as they enter middle age and a new stage of life. My goal with the scene is not only to provide a moment where we get to know the other band members on an even more personal level but for readers to ask themselves what they are getting out of this journey they’ve been on as they’ve read about the Onions.
Eric Shoars is a serial
storyteller who considers the English language his playground and who never met
a pun he didn’t like. Eric is a modern day Walter Mitty with a serious twist.
His writing style is best described as “fly on the wall” putting the reader in
the shoes of the lead character experiencing what he does as he does. His
heart’s desire is to have a personal narrator for his daily life. It works in
comic books so why not in the real world?
No Way Back Today is Shoars’
first foray into fiction. His non-fiction works include Women Under Glass: The
Secret Nature of Glass Ceilings and The Steps to Overcome Them and Evil Does
Not Have The Last Word.
Today Caryn Mahan and Rockstar Book Tours are revealing
the cover and an exclusive content for BATTLE OF THE WOLVES, her Urban Fantasy
Book which releases June 26, 2020! Check out the awesome cover and enter the
Patience has lived a hard and lonely
life on the Reservation in the Upper Northwest. Her father’s a drunk and
abusive, and her mother tolerates it. Patience does not. Her best friend is now
married to a college professor with a son their age, Saul Reardon. He could be
her ticket to a new life. Ifan is a young man, her friend, with plans of being
a doctor and returning to his people providing the care they need. He also
loves Patience. Patience is tugged between the two men. Until Little Sister, a
wolf, bonds with her, an ancient rite, narrowing her choices. Now bound to her
people and to the land, she must come to terms with it. Add in her father’s
recovery from alcoholism, his need for her forgiveness, and his desire for
reconciliation, her life has tumbled into chaos. Unknown to her and her
friends, an ancient evil is on its way. It must be stopped. Who will survive
the deadly creature bearing down on them?
He was monstrous. His mom—a Polar bear driven south looking for a mate—his
sire a Grizzly. The color of his thick coat was a mottled cream, tipped in
reddish-brown. Small dark eyes gleamed as he gripped the log with long thick
claws, rocking it back and forth before flipping it over. Fat white worms,
crickets, and other various bugs fell to his greedy tongue. Winter had been
long. The bushes rustled behind him. Snuffles and low growls raised the hair on
the man’s neck. A large, bulky shadow moved on the outermost edge of his
vision. A bear. The man crept slowly toward his rifle, leaning against the arm
of a chair; his breath held tight in his chest. All might have been well but
for the bellowing fear-filled shout from the river. The air shifted as the bear
charged, almost as if the powerful thrust of the bear’s legs on the earth tore
through the fabric of space and time.
I wrote my first story in third grade.
It was about an Oriole family.
I have a love for the written word and
have devoured books by great authors over a reading lifetime of sixty years. I
firmly believe in the notion that a writer must also be a reader. I also firmly
believe I gained a veritable treasure trove of writing skills through my
reading. Writers such as James Michener, JR Tolkein, Leon Uris, Robert Jordan,
Carol O’Connell, Albert Payson Terhune, Anna Sewell, Edgar Allen Poe, and so
many more I could list.
I sincerely hope you enjoy reading my
books as much as I have enjoyed writing them.
Welcome to the Van
Helsing Academy: a rehabilitation center for vampires, shifters, and witches
who don’t like to follow the rules.
Mina can’t remember anything about the night she was
attacked. All she knows is what she’s been told: she got separated from her
team during a mission and turned up two months later covered in cuts and
bruises alongside two dead vampires.
After being blamed for their deaths, she is sentenced
to three years at the supernatural rehabilitation center, the Van Helsing
As Mina searches for answers, lies are slowly
unraveled and alliances forged. Soon she will uncover a secret plot that
threatens to destroy her family legacy and ignite a war between the
Van Helsing Academy is
the first book in a new YA paranormal romance series. No harem. Perfect for
fans of Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead, Hex Hall by Rachel Hawkins, and
Mythos Academy by Jennifer Estep.
INSERT YOUR POST HERE!
Award-winning author, Stacey
O’Neale, lives in Annapolis, Maryland. When she’s not writing, she spends her
time fangirling over books, blogging, watching fantasy television shows,
cheering for the Baltimore Ravens, and hanging out with her husband and
Her career in publishing started as
a blogger-turned-publicist for Entangled Publishing. Stacey writes young adult
fantasy and adult paranormal romance. Her books always include swoon-worthy
heroes, snarky heroines, and lots of kissing.
Stacey loves hearing from readers.
Follow her on Twitter @StaceyONeale, look for her on Facebook, Instagram,
Pinterest, and Tumblr. You can also visit her blog at staceyoneale.com/.
As he turned to leave, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “There was one more thing I wanted to tell you.”
He closed the distance between us and spoke low enough that only I could hear him. “Alphas can smell emotions too.”
With my hands on my hips, I replied, “Please don’t say you can smell guilt on me because we both know that’s bullshit.”
“It’s not guilt,” he corrected. “Since the moment I approached you, all I can smell is lust. It wraps around you like a second skin.”
My cheeks burned, and I prayed it was too dark for anyone to notice. “You think I’m attracted to you,” I scoffed. “Not a chance.”
A couple of the pack members chuckled, and I sneered at them. “I never said you were attracted specifically to me,” Sacha smirked. “But, I do find it interesting that you came to that conclusion on your own.”
“It’s dark, brutal, and horrific, yet
it still contains a tender strand of redemption.” – Amazon Review
“I couldn’t stop reading it. It’s
very captivating. This book had me hooked and I loved it.” – Amazon Review
“Echoes of Stephen King and I Know
What You Did Last Summer.” – Amazon Review
The first thing Marie noticed when she walked into the house was the
smell, the second thing she noticed was the water. It smelled like the lake,
and there were puddles of murky water all over the house. She followed a trail
down the foyer and was blocked from going any further by the many men and women
going in and out of the bedroom at the end of the hall.
“You didn’t find his body here, did you?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.”
She walked back down the hall and into the living room, everything was
exactly where it had been left after he had gone to bed. She looked around,
then started toward the sliding glass door. She looked down at the floor and
realized she had just stepped off the plastic, and onto the rug. There, on the
dirty beige carpet was the outline of a foot. She could clearly see each and
every indentation of the toes. Toes that clearly belonged to a woman. She could
even see the shape of a ring on the second toe. She stared at the footprint for
a long moment before his voice penetrated her thoughts.
“That’s as far as you go. Okay, I let you come in here and look around.
Now it’s time to tell me what you know.”
She turned and walked out of the house, down the pavement, then ducked
under the tape and stood by her car, shaking.
Daniel Morris followed her, then put a hand on her shoulder, “You said
you had information for me.”
Her tear-stained face looked up, “He killed my daughter. If he didn’t, he
He ran his hand through his hair, “You told me you knew who killed him.”
“My daughter did, of course.” She turned and got into her car, then drove
away without another word.
Mary Cook is
a retired police detective that lives in a small town right outside a ring of
fire, just on the other side of…no wait, that’s a different character.
retired, with hours and hours to write the next great novel, oh wait…nope
that’s me. Yes, totally retired. Worlds come alive in my head, characters stand
over my shoulder, and sometimes they wake me up at night. All of them want to
come alive, to have their stories written. No matter how I think the story
should go, it goes according to how the character decides it should. An evil
character finds redemption. A beloved character is massacred for no good
reason. They all write their own stories.
come to me, the character develops a personality, and the result is a book. I
sincerely hope that everyone will love my books, but what I write isn’t for
everyone, and that’s okay. (Is it Mary? You sure you don’t want me to take care
of it?) (Get back in the book, Ann!) I love to write stories that make you
think, maybe make you a little uncomfortable. I am actually a pretty boring
person. Retired, live in a dungeon (my office), two birds and a dog. Every now
and then my husband expects me to come out and interact with the world, and I
do (begrudgingly). Writing is my hobby, I used to do other things with my
hands, crochet, knit…but then I got old(er), and they just don’t work as good
as they used to.
On a more
personal note, I do have children. I have three grown children, and lots and
lots of grandchildren, with a few great-grandchildren. It’s like they’re in a
competition on who can produce the most. If any of you read the back of the
book, you’ll know that there’s more. But, outside of that, nothing. Boring. So,
I bring life and color into the world through the pages of my books. Every time
someone buys a book, or gives a review, I’m delightfully surprised. My eternal
gratitude to all of you, for reading what I have written, and allowing me to
become a small part of your life.
“You lived your entire life feeling like
half of you was missing. Fight for the missing part. Fight for this.”
Emory Fae has abandoned everything she thought
she knew about her previous life on Earth. Stepping up to her role as Queen of
Kiero she makes a startling sacrifice- feigning her allegiances to Adair
Stratton, the man who murdered her parents and casted Kiero into ruin. Emory’s
memories slowly piece together, and she soon realizes the Mad King may not be
all he seems– and the man who was once best friend, may be fighting beneath
With the King’s attention on her, can she buy
Black Dawn Rebellion enough time to recuperate their forces? And when the times
comes, will she be able to kill Adair, ending his tyranny and rising herself as
the rightful Queen? Fighting to hide her secret, Emory navigates the brutal
trials of the Mad King, trying not to lose herself in the process.
Sequel to Heir of Lies, now a bestselling
series, the sparks are ignited, as Emory learns the cost of freedom, and her
heritage. Will the rebels unite in time? A sinister force has spread across the
land, stripping everyone bare- their betrayals, their secrets, their
intentions. But above all, what will their decisions cost? By refusing to give
in to the darkness, will Emory rise as Queen?
“Hope was a dangerous
thing. It could consume every dream and make them take flight, becoming wild
daydreams in one’s heart and mind. Or hope could incinerate everything you
thought you knew, burning you down to your core, leaving you raw and exposed
for the world.”
Emory Fae has only
known one thing—life at The Academy, a school for those who have special
abilities. Following in her parents’ footsteps, the pressure to uphold their
dream falls on her and one of her best friends—Adair Stratton. An outcast and
feared by most, Adair longs to break away from the expectations dictating his
future. With whispers of dark magic spreading across Kiero, Adair starts to
doubt The Academy is all it seems.
An unexpected visit
ignites new tensions as the roguish king from across the Black Sea, Tadeas
Maher of the Shattered Isles, and his heir, Marquis Maher, sail to Kiero.
Notorious for their pirating and wrath, for the first time in years, they
demand the Faes listen to their proposition for a new treaty. Caught in the
middle of politics, Adair and Emory, with the help of their best friends Brokk
and Memphis, search for the one thing that matters the most—the truth.
Their world is tipped
upside down as unlikely alliances are made, and war ravages Kiero. Through the
throes of betrayal, lies, hidden magic, and love, Adair is faced with a life
changing decision. Will he fight or bow to the darkness within?
But, Adair’s decision
will change the course of Kiero forever, setting in motion irreversible
destinies for everyone at The Academy as Emory Fae rises as heir.
Heir of Lies is the
first book in the bestselling Black Dawn series.
The Black Dawn series is re- releasing and “Heir
of Lies” (book one) is coming April 21 2020! This edition will have an
exclusive map and bonus content!
INSERT YOUR POST HERE!
currently lives in Sarnia, Ontario with her husband and their three dachshunds
Link, Lola and Leonard. When she isn’t working on her next novel or reading,
she can be found day dreaming about fantasy worlds and hiking. Other favorite
pastimes involve reorganizing perpetually overflowing bookshelves and seeking
out new coffee and dessert shops.
Adair Stratton tugged his button-down jacket tighter around him, trying to block the wind from his lookout post. The vastness of the sky was consuming, a strange energy clinging on the night air. The churning dark clouds cast a purplish hue, bleeding with the softness created from the moon. The stars shone between the pockets, obscuring the scene and making it beautiful. Far below him, the Ruined City lay in its grave, quiet and still, the broken buildings reminding him of splintered bones. The once thriving capital of Kiero—Sarthaven—was nothing more than a whispered memory to him now. His gaze wandered to the edge of the Draken Mountain range, the wildness of the Noctis woods flourishing, the purple hues of the trees pulsing like gems. It had taken years to build his kingdom, shackling Kiero in fear. The people that now lived in the Draken Mountains valued their lives and were loyal to him. Sighing, the darkness in his veins was smothered ever so slightly as he breathed in the crisp air. In this brief and flickering moment of clarity, his mind wandered to the girl who was locked in the cells of his kingdom, waiting for him: Emory Fae, the Princess of Kiero. Popping his collar up, he scowled. Under the blanket of night, he could trace back to the man he used to be when Emory had known him-an echo of his humanity. Thinking of her, he could see the splaying of memories come back to life all around him, of his friends, of the Academy. And it was in these sparse moments of lucidity, he allowed himself to remember, relishing it, pushing back that yearning for destruction, pushing back the voices, trying to lock them away. And like every other night, he lost. The wind howled, making the edges of his coat and pants tug upward, his hair standing on end from the sudden chill. His heart raced as the smooth voices filled his consciousness. “Adair, this kingdom is yours. Make her bow, make her bleed… make her pay for what she has done.” He closed his eyes for a beat, digging his fingernails into his palms. “Why do you wait? You know what you want. What you have always wanted.” Images were thrown at him; so quick and enthralling, they swept his breath away: The inky crown, embedded with roses and thorns, lay delicately on top of Emory’s ebony hair. Memphis Carter, the once commander of the Black Dawn Rebellion, bowed, pleading for his life as Adair smirked above him. His darkness had whisked away any trace of rebellion and Emory was by his side as they watched the world continue to burn until it was only them. Always for them. Adair snarled, then said, “Leave me alone.” Their snickers bounced around him, their whispers tugging at his heart. “Do not falter now, our Mad King. You have come so far, achieved so much. The binds your father tried to keep you in, you broke. The ones the Academy kept you in, you turned to ash.
“We are a team. We know the desires of your soul, how you revel in watching the world shudder in your reign. You have always been more. A reckoning force that no one can stop. Can never stop.” He became still, his muscles taut. Opening his eyes, his gaze fell a thousand miles away, to where the Academy had stood. Where a boy that once wanted to explore the world and not shackle it had lived. He knew both were dead. Ice coursed through his body, spreading through his core faster than he could register. His pulse slowed, the roaring emotions he felt slowing as well. Darkness encased him, pulling him down, down, down: Locking him away, roaring, snarling, and clawing at him. A slow exhale escaped from between his dry lips, and as he stood, every movement was precise, a predatory grace. Flicking his gaze below him once more, instead of the dark beauty that he was met with earlier, the world around him was bleeding. Dark, black blood gushed from the mountainside, thickly caking the field and the Ruined City. Echoes of screams filled the air, and Adair was reminded of his bloodshed, of his control and power. “Do not disappoint us, our King.” The corners of his lips tugged upward as he whispered to the wind, “I won’t.”
Foster girl. Trash. That’s all I am to the world. And that’s fine.
After surviving New Jersey’s foster system, I can survive anything. Even taking
a dangerous job from a tall, gorgeous stranger so I can keep my little sister
safe—a job that goes very, very wrong.
Suddenly I’m facing a brutal choice: a decade in jail or four
years as a ward of Talonswood Reform Academy—a place with an all too perfect
correction record. A place that makes bootcamp look like a spa.
But Talonswood and its cruel cadets are far more than they seem,
and so are the four men who rule it. Ellis. Asher. Reese. Cassis. Powerful,
impossibly beautiful men who ignite a wildfire inside me—and who will stop at
nothing to make my life a living hell.
But it turns out I’m more than I seem, too. And I’m not going down
without a fight.
LAST CHANCE ACADEMY is a full length dark reverse harem paranormal
romance. This is the first of four books in Immortals of Talonswood, a new
series from Amazon’s top-100 author Alex Lidell. With hot shifter-fae,
delicious vampires, one lone witch, Talonswood isn’t your normal reform
INSERT YOUR POST HERE!
Alex Lidell is the Amazon Breakout
Novel Awards finalist author of THE CADET OF TILDOR (Penguin, 2013) and Amazon
top 100 author and KDP-all star winner for POWER OF FIVE and LERA OF LUNOS
(Danger Bearing Press, 2018). She is an avid horseback rider, a (bad) hockey
player, and an ice-cream addict. Born in Russia, Alex learned English in
elementary school, where a thoughtful librarian placed a copy of Tamora
Pierce’s ALANNA in Alex’s hands. In addition to becoming the first English book
Alex read for fun, ALANNA started Alex’s life long love for fantasy books with
strong heroines. Alex lives in Washington, DC.
“Is that how vamps make themselves feel good about compelling girls into their beds?” I ask, my drink suddenly tasting sour. “‘She wanted it, otherwise my compulsion wouldn’t have worked.’”
“I wouldn’t know,” Cassis answers, stepping close enough to me that I smell his spicy perfume, his powerful body spilling like liquid night through my space. Reaching out with his finger, Cassis traces a blunt, neatly trimmed nail along my jaw, and I feel myself dampening from the unspoken suggestion alone. The tip of his tongue flickers over his teeth, and he brings his lips so close to my ear that his breath tickles my skin. “I’ve never had a female not wanting to bed me.”
“Cassis.” Ellis’s hard voice breaks between us as the male strides over with Asher, Reese following warily a few steps behind. Reese’s eyes flick to me for a moment before settling somewhere in the air above Cassis’s head. In a black suit with his dark hair slicked into a tight bun, hands clasped behind his back, he looks like a very dangerous, very expensive bodyguard. “Have you paid your respects to Count Victor yet? I think there might be a ring to be kissed or something similarly enticing.”
“Oh, I’ve plenty of enticing ideas,” Cassis says, dropping one hand casually on my hip while Ellis crosses his arms over his chest. “Few of them involving Victor, though.”
The air between the males seems to thicken.
Exchanging a quick glance with Asher, Reese steps forward. The kind of step that would send mere mortals crawling under the closest bed. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” “Many,” Cassis assures him.
Today Lynn Veevers and Rockstar Book
Tours are revealing the cover and an exclusive content for EDEN’S ECHO, her new
Own Voices YA Romantic Suspense Book which releases May 15, 2020! Check out the
awesome cover and enter the giveaway!
RWA (CIMRWA) ELEVATION OF LOVE 1ST PLACE WINNER
True love knows no boundaries, it sees no color,
even if that love is forbidden. Believing that got Eden’s mom, Echo killed at
the age of sixteen, and the identity of Eden’s father was one of many secrets
she took to the grave. Instead of moving on, Echo’s soul moved in. With her
mother’s presence in her body, Eden can feel Echo’s emotions and hear her
thoughts. When Eden tells, pseudo father, Uncle Daryl, about the voice in her
head, it takes her down a road that leads to a diagnosis of multiple
personalities. Now at seventeen, Eden has a secret love affair of her own with
Drew. If Uncle Daryl ever found out the consequences would rip them apart, but
that’s the least of Eden’s problems. As new clues surface surrounding her
father’s identity, Eden finds herself on a dangerous path that could answer her
paternity questions and the mysteries of her mother’s death, but at what cost?
Eden can feel the weight of the secrets Echo keeps from her—secrets that have
Echo’s killer returning after seventeen years with a mind to make history
“You’re too far away,” he said, pulling at the sleeve of my baseball tee a
Heat rose in my cheeks, and a ball of fuzzy flutter overtook
my stomach. I wiggled across the windshield and ended up exactly where I wanted
to be—comfortably settled in his arms. Dad was determined to make sure I kept
my virginity intact until I was married, by all means necessary. The temptation
that was Drew might very well make him fail. With all my physical reactions to
his nearness and the presence of my overbearing morals, it made me question my
affections and urges. Were they the real deal? What if they were simply
Wonderlust, yet another doubt good ol’ Dad had drilled in my head when I was
barely starting to look like a woman instead of a young girl. He’d said, “Any
feelings you think are love before you turn twenty-one aren’t really love.
They’re just lust.” I reined in the lustful, curiosity, and the
feeling of shame that quickly followed.
If Dad could hear my thoughts, I’d definitely be a goner. The
thought trotted through my mind, and I mentally shivered over the possibility.
But he can’t, and I won’t say anything if you decide to
bend his little rule. What’s life without a little rebellion?
I inwardly rolled my eyes and directed my thoughts toward
the same place.
Echo, even if you wanted him to, he wouldn’t hear you,
because only I can, remember? You exist only in my head. Besides, the reason
Dad is so strict is because of what happened to you. He is terrified your
history will repeat itself with me. Talk about living in someone else’s shadow.
You and I are nothing alike.
You know what they say, Eden, “Great minds…”
At that, I laughed mockingly within the confines of my head. Unlike
you, Echo, I’m responsible and think things through. You didn’t then and still
I am too responsible, Echo whined, and I
do think things through. You wouldn’t be here with this boy right now if I
Oh, you did, the resentment I felt toward her
rolled through me, sweeping any tact I may have used with her swiftly
away, then why are you dead, Echo?
My challenge was met with silence—I sensed her withdraw into
the deeper recesses of my mind and instantly felt guilty, something I knew she
felt too because of how our emotions were tethered and intertwined.
Lynn Veevers is originally from
Washington State. An award winning author she is both traditionally and self
published. With her mother being from Christchurch, New Zealand and her father
being a well-traveled retired Navy Chief, Lynn has always had a fascination
with different cultures around the world. An avid reader, she prefers books
that take her to a place she’s never been and teach her something new at the
same time. The Young Adult Genre is her absolute favorite to read, so it comes
as no surprise that it is also her favorite to write. Lynn, on average, pens
two to three novels a year.
Today Lynn lives with her husband and kids in Southeast Oklahoma. Her young
adult and adolescent children are supportive and avid beta readers of her work
and give her a straightforward and honest point of view about how authentic her
characters voices and personalities are for their age group. What better
reference than someone close to the same age as the main character. Her kids
always have and always will be her greatest inspiration.