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Wednesday, April 23, 2014

The Shade The Shade Trilogy Book 1 by Matthew Tallman Book Tour and Giveaway









The Shade

The Shade Trilogy

Book 1

Matthew Tallman



Genre: Paranormal/Urban Fantasy



Date of Publication: March 9th 2014



ISBN: 9780991619207



Number of pages: 340

Word Count: 105,494 words



Cover Artist: Pixel Pixie Design






















Book Description:



James Langley's life is over. After an automobile accident leaves him comatose, James' body lies vulnerable in a hospital bed. However, his mind is lost, drifting between life and death, into The Shade.



Trapped in a world shrouded by the unknown, he meets Virgil, a mysterious stranger that informs him that his car wreck was no accident; that the man responsible has imprisoned them both, intent on keeping them there. Together they must race against time to get James back to his body in the real world before he becomes the next victim of a malevolent psychopath.



Enter the world of The Shade, where the boundaries of the human psyche are pushed to their limits and survival is not guaranteed. A place where death isn't the end, but only the beginning.











About the Author:



I am currently a part time writer and full time government employee. Reading and writing books is one of my favorite hobbies as I enjoy every part of the story telling process. I have been working on three full-length novels for the last three years. I grew up all around the world because my father was in the United States Air Force, the past ten years I have lived just outside of Dayton, Ohio, which is where I now reside with my wife and stepson.




















Giveaway 5 ebook copies of The Shade by Matthew Tallman




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The Code of the Hills by Nancy Allen Book Tour and Book Review


The Code of the Hills

by Nancy Allen

on Tour April 14 - May 16, 2014


Book Details:

Genre: Legal Thriller Published by: Witness Impulse Publication Date: April 15, 2014 Number of Pages: 400 ISBN: 9780062325945

Purchase Links:

Synopsis:

A powerful debut thriller set in the Ozark hills, about a young female prosecutor trying to do right by her vulnerable clients-but by breaking their silence, she herself may fall victim to THE CODE OF THE HILLS.

Elsie Arnold may not always have it all together, but a raucous night at the bar now and then is just how she blows off steam after a long week of hard-fought trials. When she is chosen to assist on a high-profile incest case, Elsie is excited to step up after four years of hard work as an attorney for the prosecutor’s office, and ready to realize her ambition of becoming the Ozarks’ avenging angel. There might even be media attention.

But as soon as Elsie she begins to sink her teeth into the State of Missouri vs. Kris Taney, things start to go wrong -which is when her boss dumps the entire case on her. The star witness and victim’s brother, who has accused Taney of sexually abusing his three daughters, has gone missing. The three girls, ages six, 12, and 15, may not be fit to testify, their mother won’t talk, and the evidence is spotty. To make matters worse, it seems that some people in town don’t want Elsie to lock Taney up - judging by the death threats and chicken parts left for her to find.

Elsie is determined to break the code of silence and find out what really happened, refusing to let a sex offender walk, but the odds - and maybe the community - are against her. Even as Elsie fights the good fight for her clients, she isn’t so different from them: her personal life is taking a one-two punch as her cop boyfriend becomes more and more controlling. And amidst all of the conflict, the safety of the three young Taney girls hangs in the balance.


Read an excerpt:

Tiffany picked up the tiny pink plastic brush and ran it through the Barbie’s silky hair. Smoothing the blond hairdo with her hand, she turned the new doll around to closely inspect every detail of its face and figure. She’d never owned a new Barbie before, just had to make do with cast-off dolls her older sisters passed down: old Barbies with missing clothes and limbs and ragged hair.

This doll was a Christmas gift, but it had to be a secret, because Tiffany’s daddy wouldn’t like it. Daddy didn’t hold with Christmas; he said it was a waste of money. When it came to presents and such, they kept their mouths shut if they knew what was good for them.

But the PTA ladies from Tiffany’s school delivered a basket on Christmas Eve, when Daddy was out. Mom wouldn’t have been allowed to open the door to them if he was home, because Daddy and Uncle Al didn’t like people snooping around.

So when they spied the new Barbie in the box sitting on top of the canned goods, her mom told her to grab it and get it out of sight, because Daddy would take it back to the store and swap it for money if it was still in its plastic box.

Tiffany got it out in the nick of time, right before Tiffany’s daddy and Al came home with a bottle. The men sat on the front steps, drinking and laughing until the liquor ran out. Then the fighting started, and Daddy beat Al up pretty good. Storming from the house with his face dripping blood, Al yelled about getting even. Mom said the commotion was likely to bring the police down on them. Then Daddy said he’d teach her a lesson about back-sassing.

Tiffany ran upstairs so she wouldn’t have to watch it. She took the Barbie to bed with her and stuck it under her T-shirt for safekeeping.

The next afternoon, on Christmas Day, Tiffany hid with her new Barbie, whispering secrets into her plastic ear. Huddled against the tattered back of the couch, she heard heavy footsteps stride through the living room. Tiffany froze, hardly daring to breathe, as her dad stomped into the kitchen.

The feet returned to the living room. She could see his scuffed toes when she peeked under the couch.

“Where the hell is Charlene?” he demanded.

Tiffany’s mom called from the kitchen. “She’s out back. What do you want her for?”

“I want a rubdown.”

“She don't like to,” her mom responded in a hoarse whisper, tiptoeing into the room. The silence that followed was terrible. Tiffany could imagine the expression on his face. When he said, “I ain’t gonna tell you again,” her mom went to the kitchen window and called for Charlene.

Charlene came inside. When he took her to the bedroom and shut the door, she didn’t put up a fight. It was just as well. Charlene would have to do it anyway, and she’d buy trouble if she made a fuss. Still, noises came from behind the door. Tiffany stuck her fingers in her ears and hid her face on her knees. She could stay right in that spot and no one would know she was there. She wouldn’t make a sound.

###

The ringing woke Elsie from a restless sleep. She rolled over on her side, registering a nagging headache, a terrible thirst, and a sense of chagrin. Dear God, she thought, I’ll never drink again.

Fumbling for the phone on her bedside table, she checked the caller ID: PRIVATE. “Forget it,” she said, and rolled back over.

She closed her eyes and tried to drift off again, but her thirst wouldn’t let her rest. Soda, she thought. It might jump-start her recovery.

Groaning, she tossed off her quilt and trudged into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, she pushed aside a jar of Hellmann’s to reach for her medicine: the box containing shiny silver cans of Diet Coke.

With a sigh of relief, she pulled one from the box and popped the top. It slid down her throat tasting like the nectar of the gods, and she gulped gratefully.

Making her way to the living room, Elsie thought she’d check to see whether she’d made the morning news. Reporters from the local TV stations had been at the courthouse when the jury returned its guilty verdict in the felony assault trial she’d won the night before. She squinted at the digital clock on her cable box: 8:46 A.M. She’d missed it; the morning news ran at eight o’clock on Saturday.

Well, hell, she thought. Looking around, she surveyed the damage that a week of neglect had wreaked in her apartment. Though she couldn’t see clearly without her contact lenses, it was easy to make out the dirty coffee cups, the congealed pizza on the coffee table, and the stacks of files and wadded sheets of discarded arguments for the prosecution littering the floor. Maybe I’ll clean up today, she told herself, adding, later. She was too tired to contemplate labor. The hangover was an unwelcome reminder that thirty-one was not twenty-one. She felt as old as the hills.

Elsie headed to the bathroom in search of her glasses. Digging through a drawer of jumbled cosmetics, she was conscious of the bitter taste that the Diet Coke failed to wash away. The taste brought back memories of the prior night, and she grimaced at the thought. After the jury had returned its guilty verdict in her hard-fought trial, she had joined a group of cops at Baldknobbers bar. Flush with victory, she led the pack in rounds of beer, downing one Corona after another.

After that, her recall became fuzzy. She knew the party ended when she slipped on a slick spot on her way to the restroom and landed on her back on the dirty barroom floor. Her tumble earned her a hasty departure and a ride home from Ashlock.

Now, cringing at the recollection, she wished she hadn’t played the drunken fool with Bob Ashlock there.

Ashlock was an old-fashioned law-and-order pro, a straight arrow. He was powerfully built, like a boxer, and conveyed authority with his erect military posture, no-nonsense manner, and the jut of his square Irish jaw. Juries loved him, and she liked and respected him immensely. Not forty yet, he had already served as Chief of Detectives for the Barton P.D. for nearly eight years, following a stellar decade on patrol. In her four years in the Prosecutor’s Office, his careful investigative work and ease on the witness stand had turned the tide for her in many cases.

As she sat on her couch, wondering what she would say when she encountered Ashlock at the courthouse, and contemplating how long Noah would pout, her cell phone rang. “Leave me alone,” she muttered, even as she grabbed her purse and fumbled to answer. “Hello,” she said without enthusiasm, wondering what inconsiderate oaf would call a working girl before nine o’clock on a Saturday morning.

“Elsie, it’s Madeleine. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

No, no, no, no. An early morning call from her boss, Madeleine Thompson, was not likely to be good news. She slumped down on the couch and squeezed her eyes shut. “Hey, Madeleine, what can I do for you?”

“Will you be coming into work today?”

Elsie was speechless for a moment. “Madeleine, it’s Saturday.”

“I know what day it is. Did you plan on coming in?”

“Well, no, I didn’t,” she said. She heard an apologetic note in her voice, and hated herself for it. “I just finished up the jury trial on that assault case last night. I’ve been burning the midnight oil all week. I thought I’d take it easy today.”

“Is that right? I’ve been over here at the courthouse since eight o’clock. I’m working on the Taney case. Do you know who Taney is?”

“Sure. He’s the guy who was messing with his daughters. The new incest case.”

“That’s the one.” Madeleine’s tone grew friendlier. “I need a second chair on this case, I think. I made a commitment to the voters in McCown County to aggressively pursue these abuse cases. Everyone says you have a real gift for handling young witnesses and developing rapport with children. Elsie, I want to bring you on board to assist me.”

“Great.” She sat up straight on the couch, feeling a twinge of excitement; she certainly believed in locking up sex offenders. It was the reason she’d decided on law school in the first place. And she wasn’t above appreciating that the Taney case had already sparked media attention. It would be high profile, and she was flattered to be chosen to assist. If her boss had expressed an interest in the outcome of the trial she won yesterday, she would be even more flattered.

“The preliminary hearing is next week,” Madeleine said, “but we have a witness interview scheduled at ten o’clock. Can you be here in thirty minutes?”

“Sure, thirty minutes is no problem,” Elsie replied, and then added, “I got a guilty verdict last night. The jury recommended twenty years.”

“Oh. Too bad you didn’t get more prison time. Well, see you in half an hour.

” When the call was over, Elsie stared at the phone in her hand. “Bitch.” She shuffled to the bathroom and had picked up her toothbrush when she was struck by a recollection that nearly made her drop it. She didn’t have her car. It was in the parking lot of Baldknobbers bar.

Kudos:

“Highly recommended for terrific command of suspense, authenticity and utterly engaging central character, prosecutor Elsie . . . some of the best courtroom scenes I’ve ever read, some of the nastiest people encountered in fiction and for all that, it’s illuminated by passion and kindness . . . a truly marvelous debut.” — FRANCES FYFIELD, AUTHOR OF GOLD DIGGER

Author Bio:



Nancy Allen is a member of the law faculty in the College of Business at Missouri State University. She practiced law for 15 years, serving as Assistant Missouri Attorney General and as Assistant Prosecutor in her native Ozarks. When Nancy began her term as prosecutor, she was only the second woman in Southwest Missouri to serve in that capacity. During her years in prosecution, she tried over 30 jury trials, including murder and sexual offenses, and she served on the Rape Crisis Board and the child protection team of the Child Advocacy Council. THE CODE OF THE HILLS is her first novel.


Catch Up With the Author:




My Review;

Elsie Arnold is one tough prosecutor. Once she gets started on a case she does not give up. This novel is full of suspense, intrigue and real rotten characters that need to be brought to It makes you want to jump into the story and help fix it. . This is Nancy Allen's first novel and it is a hit. The story is written with feeling and the need for justice. I give this book a 5/5. I was given this book by Partners in Crime Book Tours and all opinions are my own.

A Taste for Killing by H.K. Sterling Virtual Book Tour and Giveaway















A Taste For Killing

Chasing the Taste

Book 1

H.K. Sterling



Genre: Mystery Suspense Romance Thriller



Publisher: Breathless Press



Date of Publication: February 21, 2014



ISBN: 978-1-77101-225-6

ASIN: B00IKVVKL4



Number of pages: 48

Word Count: 14936



Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde



Book Description:



Mystery and Romance blend together when competing detectives Carolyn Woods and Jack Heart are both hired to solve the murder of Pete Wallace, only to realize they are working the same case.



To complicate things, Carolyn and Jack have an on again-off again relationship. Then there is Evan Jones, a handsome architect— but he's also a suspect.



Can Carolyn manage to solve the case as more and more murders pile up? Will her relationship with Jack hinder their investigations? And what about Evan Jones? He seems like the perfect man, but could he actually be the murderer?



One thing is for sure: someone close to both Carolyn and Jack has A Taste For Killing.












Excerpt

He had six-pack abs, and I wanted to feel the carbonation. This one dressed like the stereotype of a construction worker, down to the handkerchief he used to wipe sweat off his forehead. I don't know if he or the hot day brought it out, but sweat poured off of me too. He had no interest in me as a person, though. I was invading his territory. Still, I enjoyed the view. For my part, I knew my clothes looked crappy. I didn’t have to wear uniforms anymore, but my street clothes, well they were very—street. So there I stood, a turd in the sun in front of this Adonis. Oh well.

He pointed to a small trailer up a muddy hill. The supervisor I asked to see apparently stayed in there. Stayed, as in never left. Great. Mud. Now I'd be a dried turd in the sun. Adonis went back to digging and I started the trek up the hill. At least I came with boots. Steel toed.

Once I made it to the trailer, I heard an argument going on inside.

"Look, I don't care who you are. The plans are publically filed. Go get them yourself!" yelled someone.

Then I heard a voice I knew. Calm, cool, subversive. "Is there any reason you're being so difficult? A man did die on your watch."

An encounter I hadn’t planned on. Well, at least not until later tonight. I knocked loudly on the door and with my sweetest voice said, "Hello, boys. Am I interrupting something?"

"Great," groused the supervisor. "A party." He appeared to me like another stereotype, puffing on a cigar over a fat jowl line and rotund stomach that threatened to overturn the small desk he was behind. I guess there's a reason for stereotypes. He looked about four hamburgers away from a heart attack.

On a wooden chair in front of the supervisor sat Jack. A fellow independent detective, an ally at times, a competitor...and my on and off lover.

"Well, well, well," he said smiling, but I could tell he wasn’t happy to see me. Not here. It meant we were both working the same case. "Hello, Carolyn. Who hired you?"

"Parents."

"Girlfriend," he answered back.

We stared at each other. Complications.

The supervisor didn’t give a damn and said to me, "Well, missy, I'll tell you the same thing I told this guy." He jerked his thumb around to Jack. "The plans are publically filed and that’s all I have to say about it."

I tried a different tactic. "That’s fine with me. I have no problem going downtown for a copy." I wore my practiced, saccharine smile. "But I wonder, could you tell me the name of the architect? Please?" I smiled again. God, this job sucks at times.

The supervisor sighed. "Jones, Evan Jones."

"Thank you so much," I said, smiling my best smile again. "I'll get out of the way and leave you two boys to...whatever you were doing."

I opened the door to go and started to shut it only to find Jack following me out.

"Sure, flash your tits and get what you want." Boy was he in a bad mood.

"There was no tit flashing in there. Face it, testosterone was not a good choice in that situation."

Jack's response: a grunt.

"Besides," I tried to placate him, "I didn’t get the plans either."

"No, you did one better."

"That's assuming the architect will have anything to do with me and cooperate." A thought occurred to me. "So are you going there too?"

"No, I might as well wait and see what you turn up. Besides, I have my own leads."

"Are you planning to share?" Just call me hopeful. As in full of shit, because that’s where hope always seemed to lead.

"No," he said, still grumpy.

"I see. So it's gonna be like that."

"I guess so."

I felt like such a female. Damn. But I had to ask.

"Are we still on for tonight?"

"Yeah."

I wasn’t convinced but didn’t push it. God, sometimes I hated myself. But we were good together—when it was good—when his competitive edge didn’t get the better of him. Though I was one to talk. I did the same thing at times. Hence our on and off status. But currently we were supposed to be on. So, I kept it light in the spirit of things to come.

"Okay, master detective, I'll leave you to your leads. See ya."

"See ya," he replied, already preoccupied, pondering a piece of paper he'd taken from his pocket.

I made my way down the hill in my muddy boots.









About the Author:



H.K. Sterling is an author with Breathless Press known for stories with imagination, intelligence, a kick, and twist endings. H.K. likes to focus her writing on suspense, science-fiction, shorts, and anything that is spicy and unexpected. Sometimes her books may even go dark. H.K. lives in Virginia with her husband who graciously puts up with her passion for writing.



H.K. currently has a Mystery/Thriller out: A Taste For Killing; and two short stories in the Breathless Press Anthology, My Bloody Valentine. Her new book, A Taste For Danger has just been accepted for publication and Breathless Press also just published H.K.'s short-short titled Eyes Only. H.K.'s books are suitable for 18+.



Catch up with H.K. Sterling on the following social media:






Twitter: @HKSterling






HK Sterling "Undercover Blog": http://hksterling1.blogspot.com/














Giveaway 5 kindle copies A Taste for Killing Rafflecopter




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Dark Light of Day and Fiery Edge of Steel by Jill Archer Book Blitz and Giveaway











Dark Light of Day

Noon Onyx

Book 1

Jill Archer



Genre: Fantasy



Publisher: Ace

Date of Publication: September 25, 2012



ISBN-10: 0425257150

ISBN-13: 978-0425257159

ASIN: B007A9KSMY



Cover Artist: David Palumbo





Book Description:



Noon Onyx has been accepted into the prestigious St. Lucifer’s Law School where her mother hopes she’ll be trained as a Maegester. But Noon doesn’t want to control demons, set fires, or destroy things. She wants to become a Mederi so she can grow gardens and heal people.

Noon's best friend, Peter Aster, is an Angel spellcaster who thinks he has the answer to Noon's predicament - an ancient, mysterious, lost spell that can turn Noon into the Mederi she always wanted to be. Only one person stands in the way of Noon's dream - Ari Carmine, a fellow classmate who seems fascinated by Noon's fiery side.

Excerpt Dark Light of Day:



“I’ve been watching you, wondering, waiting to see where you’d end up. After all, there are other demon law schools,” Seknecus said, making a moue of distaste that made it clear exactly what he thought of them. “But I was happy to see that you chose St. Lucifer’s.”

Technically my mother chose St. Lucifer’s . . . But there seemed no reason to interrupt to clarify that bit of misinformation. Seknecus wandered around the room, picking through papers, flipping open and quickly shutting the front covers of various leather-bound books, never meeting my eye. I had no doubt, however, that his attention was fully focused on me.

“So, you see, seeing your name on my list wasn’t exactly a surprise, although it appeared much later than I would have liked.”

He did look at me then, with a frown of disapproval. I did my best to look expressionless because none seemed appropriate. It wouldn’t do to look amused, bored or, Luck forbid, rebellious. Seknecus stared at me with narrowed eyes and then went back to wandering.

You’ve got some catching up to do,” he said, addressing a copy of Sin and Sanction: Codification & Case Law. “It doesn’t matter why or what excuses you’ve got for yourself. You will be held to the same standards as everyone else, regardless of whose daughter you are. And you’ve missed a lot of class already.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off with a wave.

“Manipulation class,” he clarified. “You’re going to have to work ten times as hard as everyone else just to pass. Quintus Rochester doesn’t go easy on students and he’s likely to see your absence during the early part of the semester as a challenge. You know, failing is not an option. Not if you want to live . . .”

 

 


Fiery Edge of Steel

Noon Onyx

Book 2
Jill Archer



Genre: Fantasy



Publisher: Ace

Date of Publication: May 28, 2013



ISBN-10: 0425257169

ISBN-13: 978-0425257166

ASIN: B009NY48SO



Cover Artist: Jason Chan







Book Description:

Noon Onyx is the first woman in memory to wield waning magic. Her unique abilities, paired with a lack of control and reluctance to kill, have branded her as an outsider from her peers. Only her powerful lover, Ari Carmine, and a roguish and mysterious Angel, Rafe Sinclair, support her unconventional ways.

When Noon is shipped off to a remote outpost to investigate several unusual disappearances, it seems Luck is not on her side. But when the outpost settlers claim that an ancient and evil foe has stepped out of legend to commit the crimes, Noon realizes that she could be facing something much worse than she ever imagined…



Fiery Edge of Steel Excerpt



“You are familiar with Empyr wine, Ms. Onyx?” Rochester asked.

I nodded warily.

Angels were obsessed with apples. They took their love of this fruit very seriously, worshipping it as a symbol of the lost world they once ruled. A common motif in Angel art was the fallen apple that never rotted. Empyr wines were apple wines that were “enhanced” by some of the best Angel sommeliers in Halja. The enhancements were spells. Each batch had its own name, flavor, coloring, and associated spell. They were served upstairs in the Angels’ infamous restaurant on this building’s thirty-third floor.

I’d had Empyr wine exactly two times in my life. Each time it had produced life-altering effects, although in an indirect manner and not of the kind I could have guessed.

Friedrich turned back toward me and offered me the cup. Inside, the liquid was pink and fizzy and flecked with gold. I reached for the cup and there was a brief moment when I wasn’t sure Friedrich would let go. Was the spell tied to his touch? I yanked harder and the wine nearly spilled out of the cup as it broke free from his grasp. Rochester’s signature nudged mine, like a parent pinching an errant child. I glanced back at Ari, who gave me a tight smile.

I tipped the cup to my lips and drank. Immediately, a bitter, chalky taste filled my mouth. I hid my grimace, finished, and handed the cup back to Friedrich.

“This batch is called ‘Fortuna’s Favorites,’” Friedrich said. “Think you’re one of them?”

Time will tell, I thought, but said instead, “Fortes fortuna adiuvat.” Fortune favors the bold. Another of Dorio’s sayings. Maybe Fitz had the right idea.

Friedrich grunted. Ari grinned.

Rochester held off magically pinching me again. Instead, he handed me a white linen napkin.

“A gift from this batch’s sommelier,” he said. “Some words of wisdom regarding this semester’s assignment.”

I choked back a laugh. From tea leaves to wine tannins, where Angels fear not to tread . . . I accepted the napkin and wiped my mouth gently. I’d been generous in this morning’s application of Daredevil Red lip paint. Who knew what my fortune might be if I added too much of that to the mix? But the laugh died in my throat as I looked down at my napkin. Slowly, a stain of words appeared:

When traveling into the unknown, sometimes the biggest danger is the one you bring with you . . .



About the Author:



Jill Archer writes dark, genre-bending fantasy from rural Maryland. Her novels include Dark Light of Day, Fiery Edge of Steel, and White Heart of Justice. She loves cats, coffee, books, movies, day tripping, and outdoor adventuring.


























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A Promise in Pieces by Emily Wierenga Quilts of Love Series Book Tour Review and $200 "Women Helping Women" Shopping Spree Giveaway

The latest Quilts of Love release, A Promise in Pieces by Emily Wierenga is receiving glowing reviews.

Emily is celebrating the release of her debut novel with a "Women Helping Women" shopping spree giveaway.
qol-promisepieces-400-click

  One winner will receive:
  • $200 to spend at Emily's favorite shops, Noonday Collection & Vibella (Click through to learn more about how these companies exist to make a difference in the lives of women!)
  • A Promise in Pieces by Emily Wierenga
  • A Stitch and a Prayer by Eva Gibson
  • Rival Hearts by Tara Randel

About the Book
A Promise in Pieces A Promise in Pieces | A Quilts of Love Book
It’s been more than 50 years since Clara cared for injured WWII soldiers in the Women’s Army Corp. Fifty years since she promised to deliver a dying soldier’s last wish. And 50 years since that soldier’s young widow gave her the baby quilt—a grief-ridden gift that would provide hope to countless newborns in the years to come. On her way to the National World War II Museum in New Orleans, Clara decides it’s time to share her story. But when the trip doesn’t go as planned, Clara wonders if anyone will learn the great significance of the quilt—and the promise stitched inside it.
Learn more and purchase a copy here.
    Emily Wierenga Emily Wierenga is a former editor, ghostwriter, freelance writer and staff journalist, a monthly columnist for "The Christian Courier," and the author of "Save My Children," "Chasing Silhouettes," and "Mom in the Mirror." Emily and her family reside in Alberta, Canada. This is her first novel.


     
Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends on May 10th. Winner will be announced on the Quilts of Love blog on May 12th. Then be sure to stop by the Quilts of Love Facebook page on May 29th for the "Quilting Bee" Facebook party with Emily and other Quilts of Love authors. RSVP for an evening of book chat, quilting tips & tricks, prizes, and more!

Spread the word—tell your friends about the giveaway via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning.

 
 
My Review;
I cried while I was reading Clara's story and I cried at the end of her story. This is the first novel written by Emily Wierenga and I have to say that this is one of the best books I have read in a long time. It made me think about what others have done throughout their own lives to help others. I was deeply moved by the way that the story was told. I cannot say enough about this book without giving it away, but it is wonderful. I truly recommend this to everyone. I give this book a 5/5. I was given this book by Litfuse Publicity and all opinions are my own.
 

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Syphon's Song Mayflower Mages Book One by Anise Rae Virtual Book Tour and Giveaway












Syphon’s Song

Mayflower Mages

Book One

Anise Rae



Genre: Paranormal Romance



Publisher: Lyrical Press/Kensington



Date of Publication: March 3, 2014



ISBN: 978-1-61650-211-9

ASIN: B00IPQWVYE



Number of pages: 359

Word Count: 98,000



Cover Artist: Renee Rocco



Book Description:



Legends say a syphon can drain a mage dry. He’ll brave the danger. Will she?



Someone’s playing pranks. The body of the late Casteel patriarch has been stolen and gifted to the family’s enemy, the powerful Rallises. As far as Bronte Casteel is concerned, they can keep it. She hasn’t spoken to her family in thirteen years, not since they exiled her from society for her lack of mage power. But she’s a syphon mage, able to drain another mage’s power. Syphons’ destinies are always the same: death by fiery stake. She hides her secret by living among the Nons--powerless humans and the lowest class in the Republic. When her family orders her to go plead for the body’s return, she comes face to face with the one man who knows her secret.



Colonel Vincent Rallis isn’t letting his syphon get away this time. Not when she’s under suspicion of body-napping and aiding anti-mage terrorists. He’ll prove her innocence whether she wants him to or not, and then convince her they belong together...forever.

Vincent’s help comes with a steep price: Bronte must reveal her power. The inevitable ensuing witch-hunt and trial would be bad enough, but even a tough girl might buckle if her prosecutors are her own parents.



CONTENT WARNING: Hot, steamy nights with the colonel’s magic touch

A Lyrical Press Paranormal Romance



Available at Amazon  iTunes   Kobo   BN 





Excerpt:

Bronte faced the senator. “I’m here to ask for your help.”

Help with what, Bronte?” The gruff, hoarse words came from behind her, accompanied by a flood of vibes.

She wouldn’t have recognized his voice except for that energy pouring into her. She wrenched around in her seat to see the lion prowl out of the shadows.

His gaze targeted her like she was prey that might escape. “Tell us how we can help you. And then you can explain why you ran away from me.”

Her mind recorded him like a pencil scratching away at paper to save his image—his dark hair clipped short, eyebrows that formed stark lines with a skeptical bent near their ends. A crease pulled between his brows that hadn’t been there before. His rugged face had weathered storms his brother had avoided. Those storms had chiseled away any softness.

She closed her eyes, stopping the mental sketching—a necessity to save her sanity. She turned her whole body back toward the senator and only opened her eyes when she knew Vincent wasn’t in her line of sight.

Vin!” Happy surprise colored every note of the senator’s voice. “How long have you been standing back there? Your energy is so subdued I didn’t even sense you until now.”

I didn’t either.” Edmund’s voice was equally surprised. “Miss Casteel, your beauty has distracted us.”

Bronte fought to keep her calm mask intact. Her heart boomed like the senator’s voice and threatened to shake that mask right off her face. She couldn’t let that happen. Diplomatic words and composure were her only weapons in this battle, a quick escape her only viable strategy. She stood, one move closer to getting to the door. At her cue, all the men stood as well.

The closer Vincent came, the more his energy reached out to her. It touched her, filled her in places she’d forgotten were empty. Dangerous memories spilled back. If she knew how, she’d dump his vibrations out of her hidden vessel, turn it over, and sit on it like a metal bucket until it sank into the dirt with the force of her weight. She’d seal her hollow spaces shut and keep him out forever. To do otherwise would only invite death to creep close.

Vincent strode toward her.

She held her ground and looked him in the eye. “I do not need your help. I am simply the messenger. Here on behalf of the Casteels.” She cleared her throat to try again and turned to the senator. “Senator Rallis, my family requests your assistance.”

The senator’s wise gaze locked on Vincent, his expression thoughtful and full of silent words Bronte lacked the power to hear. Curiosity lit the dark depths of his gaze as they landed back on her.

Vincent leaned toward her. “And they sent you as their messenger?” His voice was soft, a caress against her skin. “The most vulnerable and weakest of them all, to fight their battles.”

I am not weak.” She risked a quick glance at him. “I have plenty of strength to fight whatever battles I need to.” She bit her tongue to stop her aggressive tone. Arguing would not help her cause.

Vincent, you are making our guest uncomfortable.” The senator’s tone went quiet. Deadly. The boom was much safer, she realized.

No, I’m not. At least not with my vibes, Granddad.” Vincent’s reply was matter-of-fact. He held all the power between them, and he was going to use it. Running for the door would not help her now.

My mage vibes do not make her uncomfortable.”

Her hold on her tongue wasn’t tight enough to stop her gasp. She’d messed up. Goddess, but she’d messed up. She closed her eyes for a moment at the realization. Instead of drinking Vincent in, she should have faked a reaction to his power, imitated the jittery anxiousness Nons felt around a mage who wasn’t suppressing his energy. Maybe that would have saved her.

Vincent. She’s a Non. Of course you’re making her uncomfortable.” The senator’s reprimand was deceptively soft.

Bronte stared at Vincent as desperation swirled inside her. “Please. Don’t.”

She’s not a Non.” Vincent’s words shattered her hope of escape.





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About the Author:



Anise Rae grew up among the cornfields and soybeans of Ohio, dreaming of being a ballerina, an astronaut, and a romance writer. Thanks to her soul deep love of chocolate and a lack of natural grace, her ballerina dreams floated away as high as the moon, equidistant with the astronaut aspiration. She stuck with writing.



Now transplanted to the south, Anise lives in the suburbs of Atlanta with her kids and a dog gifted with the power of finding dirty socks.



Syphon’s Song, a 2012 Maggie Award of Excellence finalist, is the first book in the Mayflower Mages series.

















Author photo by www.surianiphoto.com













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