Saturday, May 31, 2014

A LADY IN FRANCE #Excerpt by Jennie Goutet #AmReading #GoodReads #Memoir

at 7:00 AM 0 comments
Why did I go to France in the first place if I was so fearful? And I am about one of the most fearful people you can meet. I have been terrified of everything outside of my small life, haunted by the “what ifs,” accosted by worry and the fear of dying or of grief, ever since I can remember.
But I had these grains of courage that propelled me towards France because the alternative was worse: it was the fear of not being good enough as I was—of remaining the same. I was compelled to do something extraordinary in order to be worth something, and to seek every opportunity to remake the old model that I knew to be deeply flawed.
And I did recreate myself in France. When I sat outdoors on a stone bench eating a baguette with butter and cheese, and shared a bottle of wine with friends over lunch, I became a bohemian. When I spoke in class with, what I considered to be, a good accent and with great fluency, I was an intellectual. When I met friends after school for wine or beer at an outdoor café (cheered by the no-age-restrictions in France), I was a sophisticate. And when I took the train to Besançon and Montpellier by myself for an overnight stay, I was an adventurer.
I was full of hope and the promise of becoming something extraordinary as I walked the streets of Avignon. But it was in those hours alone, especially in the dark, that I always came back to loneliness and fear; I always came back to myself.
It wasn’t the country that attracted me—at first. I even stopped taking French in tenth grade since I wasn’t particularly gifted at it. Nevertheless, I took French up again in college as a predecessor to studying abroad, and I think I might have been prompted to do so because of the dream I had when I was seventeen.
I was walking through a forest, hand in hand with someone. The trees made everything seem dark and shady, but I wasn’t afraid, just curious. We walked for a bit before entering an open sunny space where we spotted a low, stone wall in front of us. We sat down on the wall together, enjoying the day and the warmth of the sun.
We were having an easy, intimate conversation, and he said something, which made me laugh and turn to look at him. At that moment, I remember being surprised about two things: for one, I had grown up and become the confident woman I longed to be, so that I was almost unrecognizable to myself. For another, the man I was talking to was French, and he was my husband. I was surprised to be so at ease with a man—any man, much less someone who was from another country.
So I found myself going to Avignon, feeling quite small, but determined to inject the necessary elements of change—a cosmic Botox for a new and improved soul. There, I discovered that I actually did have a knack for languages, discovered that I actually was smart, and got my first rush from traveling.
Oh, and I sunbathed topless on the beach in Cannes.
But all along, deep down inside, I think I was searching for that French husband of my dreams. And I’m guessing that is why I went to France.

At seventeen, Jennie Goutet has a dream that she will one day marry a French man and sets off to Avignon in search of him. Though her dream eludes her, she lives boldly—teaching in Asia, studying in Paris, working and traveling for an advertising firm in New York.
When God calls her, she answers reluctantly, and must first come to grips with depression, crippling loss, and addiction before being restored. Serendipity takes her by the hand as she marries her French husband, works with him in a humanitarian effort in East Africa, before settling down in France and building a family.
Told with honesty and strength, A Lady in France is a brave, heart- stopping story of love, grief, faith, depression, sunshine piercing the gray clouds—and hope that stays in your heart long after it’s finished.
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Memoir
Rating – PG-13
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Friday, May 30, 2014

A Day in the Life of JennaLee Gallicchio @allstarpaws #DogTraining #NonFiction

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Being that I am a professional dog trainer and not a full time writer my day usually starts with two lumps of dog somewhere pressed against my body.
During the colder months Ryder, my 2 year old Australian Shepherd/Cattle Dog mix,  and Emmy, my 11 month old Alaskan Husky/ Greyhound mix,  think that I am their personal heating pad. During the warmer months I’m not sure what they think but they both like to stay close.
I am not complaining because honestly I love waking up with them every morning.
What time we get up varies from day to day but we all start with a great good morning greeting.  If you’ve never had a dog I can’t fully explain with words what that feels like. If you have a dog, you know exactly what I am talking about.
After I take care of any necessities I bring them them out for a quick morning pee break.  Then it is time for breakfast for all of us.
I don’t have a normal 9 to 5 job and my schedule varies from day to day but I always try to get some play /training time in with them.  They, well really all of us, thrive on it!
After I’ve taken care of them I will then head on over to my clients houses for a session which can last anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. Some people I work with them and their dogs and others I work with just the dogs. Regardless it is always extremely gratifying work.
During this time it is usually when ideas for instructional books or videos will come into my head.  Sometimes the flow of them is overwhelming but it’s always exciting to identify where I can continue to help people all over the world with their dogs.
And more importantly help the dogs with their humans!
After my appointments are finished I come back home to my adorable puppies and just spend some time with them.  They fill my life with laughter and joy – it’s great!
One of the things that I love doing with them is Agility.  Ryder and I are becoming quite the team as we learn the sport.  Emmy and I are starting to learn how to work together.  Building a strong foundational relationship with them makes everything easier.
In the quiet time of my day sometimes I will write, (I have a book that has been in process for a while because it’s been on hold a bit since Emmy came), I will blog for my training website, work on a clients website (I dabble in Web Design), or just chill out watching a good movie or reading a good book.
I am enjoying creating the life that I’ve never dreamed about because honestly I didn’t know that this life was possible.  I just keep moving forward one step, sometimes tiny, baby steps and miraculous things keep happening.  Life is good!

Two books in one! This book combines “The Secret To Getting Your Dog To Do What You Want” and “Teach Your Dog To Pee and Poop Outside: House training Made Easy”.

The Secret To Getting Your Dog To Do What You Want

With so much information available today, training your dog can become confusing. Trying to understand exactly what is meant by a “reward” or “reinforcement” and how to use it properly can be frustrating to say the least.

Once you understand what defines a reward, why they are important and how to use them effectively only then will you have the secret to getting your dog to do what you want.
  • Does your dog get crazy when it’s time to go out?
  • Does getting their leash on take forever and a day?
  • What about their food?
  • Are they calm or crazy?

Jenna shares with you a simple training exercise that will forever change what it’s like to go out or getting their dinner ready. By using their desire to get what they want you can get them to do what you want! Calm and relaxed is the name of the game!

Once you’ve learned this simple exercise make sure that you apply it to every routine or behavior you want to change.

Teach Your Dog To Pee and Poop Outside: Housetraining Made Easy
  • New puppy?
  • New Dog?
  • Trouble with an older dog peeing and pooping in the house?
  • Multiple dog household that just seems to be out of control?

In this book you will learn:
  • Why an instinct that your dog possesses could sabotage your efforts if you’re not using it to your advantage.
  • How to know your dog has to go BEFORE they go.
  • The different reasons people fail.
  • A step by step example of what a successful potty routine should look like.
  • An example of a schedule.
  • How to put peeing and pooping on cue.

This proven method of training will get you a housetrained dog, at any age in 30 days or less.

Jenna has put the program that she has used, not just with her dogs, but also with her clients, in writing just for you. This program is fail proof if you are committed to the end result of having a housetrained dog.
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre - Dog Training, Animals
Rating – G
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Connect with JennaLee Gallicchio through Facebook & Twitter

Rising Tide: Dark Innocence by Claudette Melanson @Bella623 #Excerpt #YA #PNR

at 11:30 AM 0 comments
My name wasn’t Mink, it was Maura.  The embarrassing nickname was given to me by my mother because of the particular brown of my hair.  Mom had told me I was born with a large shock of it on my head and it reminded her right away of a mink cap.  Attractive….  But my real name had been a constant source of bother to me, so much that I would cringe almost anytime I heard someone speak it aloud.  I had looked its meaning up one time, hoping for something generic, like “flower” or “happiness,” only to be stuck with “Sea of Bitterness,” glaring back at me from the web page.  When I’d growled this discovery at my mother, her apologetic tone made me see that the dark meaning wasn’t an accident.
“It was a hard time for me, Mink,” she said casting her cat-green eyes down, “but really, don’t you think it’s a pretty name?”
I hadn’t known what to say in response.  In time, I resigned myself to accepting that I was just a part of the disappointment that seemed to overwhelm her life.  I knew that I was a constant reminder of my father, whom she’d lost before I was born.  He had been the most magical thing she’d ever experienced, she’d told me once.  I guess you could say I was the consolation prize she got stuck with.  I tried hard to make up for his absence, but finally realized that none of my efforts could ever completely repair the fissure in her heart.  The realization wasn’t enough to make me stop trying, though.

Rising Tide will sink it’s teeth into you, keeping you awake into the wee hours of the night
Maura’s life just can’t get any worse…or can it?
Isolated and sheltered by her lonely mother, Maura’s never been the best at making friends. Unusually pale with a disease-like aversion to the sun, she seems to drive her classmates away, but why?
Even her own father deserted her, and her mother, before Maura was born. Bizarre physical changes her mother seems hell bent on ignoring, drive Maura to fear for her own life. And her luck just seems to get worse.
Life is about to become even more bewildering when her mother’s abrupt…and unexplained…decision to move a country away sets off a chain of events that will change Maura forever. A cruel prank turned deadly, the discovery of love and friendship….and its loss, as well as a web of her own mother’s lies, become obstacles in Maura’s desperate search for a truth she was never prepared to uncover.
Featured on one of the most popular health blogs on the internet as a giveaway!
Be sure to check out the blog on Maria Mind Body Health to win a free copy today! Go to and check out the blog Chicken “Wild Rice” Soup for your chance to win!
Offered as a giveaway on Goodreads!
Head over to Goodreads for a chance to score a free copy today!
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Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – YA Paranormal Romance
Rating – PG
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Saturday, May 24, 2014

Lazar’s Target (Jack Lazar #Series) by Kevin Sterling @KSterlingWriter #Mystery #Action #Suspense

at 8:30 AM 0 comments
Edinburgh, Scotland
“How’s your breakfast?” Annabel asked as she sat down at the kitchen table across from her husband, coffee cup in hand. It was a beautiful, cool morning, and she loved the way the sun streamed through the lace curtains at the bay window and bathed the breakfast nook in warm light.
Mark smiled at her, his green eyes sparkling. “Absolutely perfect. Just like you.”
Brian, their son, dropped the fork to his plate. “Gross!”
The young lad was just eleven, so his hormones hadn’t quite surged enough to spark an interest in girls, much less give him an understanding of why his parents made goo-goo eyes at each other.
“Finish your food,” Mark said, checking his watch. “We have to leave here in less than ten minutes if we hope to get you to school on time.”
“Yes, your highness.”
Mark laughed as he looked toward his wife and shrugged. It was apparent he had no interest in correcting his son’s arguably disrespectful sarcasm, apparently because he thought the cuteness factor overrode the infraction.
Annabel narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow. “Is that any way to address your father, young man?”
“Sorry.” Brian turned toward his dad and offered a sharp salute. “Yes, sir!”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Impossible.”
Mark and Brian grinned as they exchanged a fraternal look of understanding. The two seemed more like buddies than father and son.
Annabel hadn’t felt this way about her husband in years. They had always been happy and got along just fine, but this was like puppy love. And it was all thanks to Mark’s premature heart attack a couple of months ago, which gave them both a slap of reality in the face as well as a reminder of how precious life really was.
They didn’t even know Mark had a heart condition. He was a marathon runner, for God’s sake, with healthy blood pressure and low cholesterol, and there was no history of coronary problems in his family. Yet, an episode of ventricular fibrillation came out of nowhere, seizing him in the middle of the night. And if it were not for Annabel’s proficiency with CPR to resuscitate his heart before the ambulance arrived, he probably would have ended up with brain damage. Or worse.
Annabel didn’t work outside the home anymore, but those years of nursing school and her stint at Western General Hospital had finally paid off in spades.
The cardiologist said Mark had an arrhythmia, and it was likely to surface again, though one could never predict when or where. So he installed an S-ICD, or subcutaneous implantable cardioverter-defibrillator, in Marks’ chest, which would virtually eliminate his risk of sudden cardiac death. Even better, his doctor was able to enroll him in a clinical trial with a company in Denmark that gave him the latest, state-of-the-art version of such a device absolutely free.
The apparatus was supposed to be a medical breakthrough with features far beyond a normal S-ICD, but the most important thing to Annabel was that she had her husband back, and she had never adored him more than right now.
“What time should I expect you this evening?” she asked.
“I have a lecture at three o’clock, but I plan to come home after that. So, perhaps around four thirty?”
“Early? How nice!” She gave him a suggestive smile after ensuring Brian wasn’t looking. “Perhaps you and I can spend a little quality time together before dinner. I bought something at the mall the other day that I’ve been waiting to show you.”
The man had an arrhythmia, not blocked arteries, so he could use the exercise.
His eyes brightened. “Really? Well, I look forward to it.”
Brian looked back and forth at them, inquisitively. “What are you guys talking about?”
“Well, uh,” Mark stammered. “Your mother and I need to…um…go over the family budget.”
“Really? So that’s what ‘quality time’ means?”
Annabel raised an eyebrow and smiled. “As far as you’re concerned, young man, it most certainly does.”
“Huh. Okay.”
The room fell quiet for a moment, the air soft and serene until a well of disturbing energy erupted around them. Mark clutched at his chest with his right hand as his body convulsed, and he looked toward Annabel with a chilling fear in his eyes.
“Mark?” she asked. “What’s happening?”
“Annabel!” He reached out with his left hand as the convulsions continued. Then they stopped, and he fell off his chair to the floor.
Brian’s eyes welled with fear. “Dad!”
“No!” Annabel sped around the table and dropped to her knees. She dug her fingers into Mark’s neck and didn’t feel a pulse, so she immediately rolled him onto his back and started pumping his chest.
“Brian!” she screamed. “Call 9-9-9, and have them send an ambulance!”
Brian just stood there with tears streaming down his face.
“Go! Now!”
“Okay!” He ran to the phone and started dialing, after which she could hear his shaky voice instructing the operator to send help.
Mark’s eyes stayed wide open and lifeless as she closed off his nose, descended to his mouth and puffed air into his lungs. Then she reared back up and continued pumping on him. But there was no effect at all.
“Mark, goddamnit! Don’t do this to me! Please!”
She worked on him for almost fifteen minutes until the paramedics arrived and took over with a portable defibrillator, manual respirator and injections of adrenaline. They descended on him with expert efficiency and skill, but nothing they did made the slightest difference. It was like someone had flipped a kill switch, and Mark was never coming back.
Annabel sensed Mark’s spirit drifting away, his figure seeming to fade into a blurry light right in front of her like a scene-ending camera shot from a Hitchcock movie. It was the most haunting and soul-chilling experience of her life, and the worst part was she couldn’t do anything about it. Evil forces had descended on her perfect little home again, but this time they were set on taking her husband with them.
After another ten minutes of battling with his lifeless body, the paramedics finally gave up and pronounced him dead on the scene. The two men pulled away, settled back on their heels, dropped their arms in resignation, and sighed.
The older of the two looked up, his face straining in anguish. “I am so sorry.”
Annabel pulled her son into her arms and turned his face away. They cried together as she wondered what could have possibly happened.

“James Bond Meets Fifty Shades of Grey”

Immerse yourself in the world class novels that combine action, mystery & suspense with tantalizing and tastefully written erotica. You’ll find all your sensibilities roused at once with Kevin Sterling’s ultra-sexy, action-packed Jack Lazar Series.

In this fourth action-packed thriller, Jack travels to Denmark for a business venture, but what seems to be a textbook transaction turns into a nightmare after he gets involved with Katarina, a vivacious Danish girl who apparently lacks a moral compass, not to mention an off button. After naively believing their liaison was just a random encounter, Jack discovers she’s connected to his business deal, and there’s a dangerous political group with skin in the game, too.
Katarina makes a convincing case of being a victim, not part of the conspiracy, but can Jack really trust her?
The firestorm gets out of control as Jack digs deeper, unearths the convoluted plot behind it all, and discovers that innocent people are being heartlessly killed. He’s not only horrified by the reason why it’s happening, but how it’s being done, and there appears to be no way to stop it from occurring again.
Then the scheme’s real objective emerges, launching Jack into action with intelligence operatives to prevent it. But that’s not so easy with assassins on Jack’s tail, forcing him to struggle for survival while trying to prevent Katarina from getting caught in the crossfire.
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Action, Mystery, Suspense
Rating – R
More details about the author
Connect with Kevin Sterling on Facebook & Twitter

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Peter Simmons and the Vessel of Time by Ramz Artso @RamzArtso #YA #SciFi #Adventure

at 12:30 PM 0 comments
Portland, Oregon 
October 22nd | Afternoon Hours

I sauntered out of the school building with my friends in tow and pulled on a thickly woven hat to cover my fluffy flaxen hair, which was bound to be frolic even in the mildest of breezes. I took a deep breath and scrutinized my immediate surroundings, noticing an armada of clouds scudding across the sky. It was a rather blustery day. The shrewd, trilling wind had all but divested the converging trees off their multicolored leaves, pasting them on the glossy asphalt and graffiti adorned walls across the road. My spirits were quickly heightened by this observation, and I suddenly felt rejuvenated after a long and taxing day at school. I didn’t know why, but the afternoon’s indolent weather appealed to me very much. I found it to be a congenial environment. For unexplainable reasons, I felt like I was caught amidst a fairytale. It was this eerie feeling which came and went on a whim. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Perhaps it was triggered by the subconscious mind brushing against a collage of subliminal memories, which stopped resurfacing partway through the process.

Anyhow, there I was, enjoying the warm and soporific touch of the autumn sun on my face, engaging in introspective thoughts of adolescent nature when Max Cornwell, a close, meddlesome friend of mine, called me from my rhapsodic dream with a sharp nudge in the ribs.

‘Hey, man! You daydreaming?’

I closed my eyes; feeling a little peeved, took a long drag of the wakening fresh air and gave him a negative response by shaking my head.

‘Feel sick or something?’ he persisted.

I wished he would stop harping on me, but it looked like Max had no intention of letting me enjoy my moment of glee, so I withdrew by tartly saying, ‘No, I’m all right.’

‘Hey, check this out,’ said George Whitmore,–who was another pal of mine–wedging himself between me and Max. He held a folded twenty dollar bill in his hand, and his ecstatic facial expression suggested that he had just chanced upon the find by sheer luck.

‘Is that yours?’ I asked, knowing very well that it wasn’t.

‘No, I found it on the floor of the auditorium. Just seconds before the last period ended.’

‘Then perhaps you should report your discovery to the lost and found. I’m sure they’ll know what to do with it there.’

‘Yeah, right. That’s exactly what I’m going to do,’ he said, snorting derisively. He then added in a somewhat defensive tone, as if trying to convince himself more than anyone else, ‘I found it, so it’s mine–right?’

I considered pointing out that his intentions were tantamount to theft, but shrugged it off instead, and followed the wrought-iron fence verging the school grounds before exiting by the small postern. I was in no mood for an argument, feeling too tired to do anything other than run a bath and soak in it. Therefore, I expunged the matter from my mind, bid goodbye to both George and Max and plunged into the small gathering of trees and brush which we, the kids, had dubbed the Mini Forest. It was seldom traveled by anyone, but we called it that because of its size, which was way too small to be an actual forest, and a trifle too large to be called otherwise.

I was whistling a merry tune, and wending my way home with a spring in my step, when my ears abruptly pulled back in fright. All of a sudden, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was being watched. But that wasn’t all. I felt like someone was trying to look inside of me. Right into me. As if they were rummaging in my soul, searching its every nook and cranny, trying to fish up my deepest fears and darkest secrets. It was equivalent to being stripped naked in front of a large audience. Steeling myself for something ugly, I felt the first stirrings of unease.


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Genre – Young Adult, Action and Adventure, Coming of Age, Sci-fi
Rating – PG-13
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High Maga by Karin Rita Gastreich @EolynChronicles #Fantasy #AmReading #GoodReads

at 11:30 AM 0 comments
“I speak in earnest, Renate.” Adiana’s words were slurred by drink. “Borten would be an excellent suitor for Eolyn. He’s good man, a considerate lover—”
Wine escaped Renate’s lips in a sputtering laugh. “How would you know Borten’s a considerate lover?”
Adiana shrugged. “I can see it in his face.”
Renate let go a high pitched cackle and shook her head. “See it in his face? I’ll wager you’ve seen more than his face. You’ve been restless as a lynx in heat since Eostar.”
Adiana gave a mock cry of protest and struck Renate playfully on the shoulder. “How dare you! One does not have to be a maga to see into the hearts of men. I learned a few things working the taverns in Selkynsen, you know. I can read a man as surely as Eolyn reads her books.”
“As surely as Eolyn reads her books in bed,” Renate replied in crisp tones.
Adiana flopped back on the blanket with an indignant harrumph. They had settled in the courtyard for an evening of wine and companionship, after having tucked the girls into bed. Days had passed since Eolyn departed for the South Woods, and the week would likely see its end before she returned.
“And you accuse me of inventing stories and gossip!” Adiana complained. “Even if I had ‘read Borten in bed’, what would it matter? The magas always had untamed teachings with respect to that sort of thing. Isn’t aen-lasati the source of a woman’s greatest magic? I swear to the Gods, Renate, sometimes you seem too much of a prude to be a maga.”
A prude. Renate rolled the word over her tongue as she swirled the wine in her cup. Yes, that’s what she was. Tight inside, dry as autumn leaves underfoot. Forever bound by the failures and disillusions of her past. “The Magas of the Old Orders were disciplined women, not harlots at a summer festival. To lay claim to their understanding ofaen-lasati while ignoring all their other teachings does their memory a disservice. It’s precisely that sort of myth that led us to the pyres in the first place.”
“Oh, Renate.” Adiana groaned, sat up, and reached for the wine skin. “Why must you take everything so seriously? It’s finished, remember? The war, the purges, the rebellion, the prohibition. We’re free now. The magas have been restored to their rightful place in Moisehén. We’ve got a proper Aekelahr, aspiring young magas, the protection of the Mage King, and a nice little regiment of handsome guards. Even you could have some fun, you know.”
The thought of her tired old body wrapped around one of the King’s men made Renate giggle until the giddiness shook her ribs and broke upon her lips.
“That’s the spirit!” said Adiana. “Here, have some more wine. And tell me, which one of the guards do you like the most?”
“Oh, for the love of the Gods, Adiana!” Renate was laughing uncontrollably now, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I am an old woman.”
“Age is meaningless for a true maga. That’s what Eolyn says.” Adiana rested her head on Renate’s shoulder.
The older woman returned her warm embrace, inhaling the sweet smells of night mingled with Adiana’s vibrant aroma, of primrose and summer winds, of the riverside city that had once been her home. She envied her friend in that moment, not so much for her youth and beauty, but for her continued faith in the possibility that anything could be finished. Someday time and experience would break that faith. Desire and loss, terror and death, treachery and abandonment, all of it stayed with a person until the end of her days, animating the shadows at night, invading dreams, stealing away tranquility in the lonely hours before dawn.
“I love this moment.” Adiana sighed and lifted her cup to the sky. “When the wine makes the stars shine brighter than ever. Gods bless the vineyards of Selkynsen!”

Lands Ravaged. Dreams destroyed. Demons set loose upon the earth.
War strikes at the heart of women’s magic in Moisehén. Eolyn’s fledgling community of magas is destroyed; its members killed, captured or scattered.
Devastated yet undaunted, Eolyn seeks to escape the occupied province and deliver to King Akmael a weapon that might secure their victory. But even a High Maga cannot survive this enemy alone. Aided by the enigmatic Mage Corey, Eolyn battles the darkest forces of the Underworld, only to discover she is a mere path to the magic that most ignites their hunger.
What can stop this tide of terror and vengeance? The answer lies in Eolyn’s forgotten love, and in its power to engender seeds of renewed hope.
HIGH MAGA is the companion novel to EOLYN, also available from Hadley Rille Books.
Buy Now @ Amazon & Kobo
Genre – Epic Fantasy
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Karin Rita Gastreich on Facebook & Twitter

Friday, May 16, 2014

Researching Locations with @PatriciaLeslieA #Fantasy #WriteTip #AmWriting

at 7:30 AM 0 comments
Usually location comes with the story idea and I choose whichever matches up. The location of The Ouroboros Keycame about as I wanted to set part of it beside a real river. So I looked for rivers called “Snake” and came up with Little Snake in Wyoming/Colorado. Though I was hoping for one a little closer to where I live, that suited me fine as I spent time in Colorado when I was a teenager and have been back a few times. Also, I have a strong interest in native American history – this was one of my story ideas that I was able to weave into the larger work.

Prophetic dreams have haunted Dan Tenney since childhood, foretelling him of a life-changing event that is soon to take place. But before he can learn the meaning of his visions, he is attacked by a shadowy group of extremists: the Brotherhood of the Grail.
Finding sanctuary underground, an ancient relic comes into his possession and Dan begins to understand the path his visions have laid out before him. His quest will be fraught with an otherworldly people and an event that could tip the balance in favour of human existence-or disastrously against it. The mysterious Brotherhood will do everything in their power to prevent Dan from fulfilling his destiny as the Bearer of Ouroboros

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre - Fantasy
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Patricia Leslie through Facebook & Twitter

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Will North's SEASON'S END #Excerpt @WillNorthAuthor #Women #Fiction #MustRead

at 8:00 AM 0 comments
When they reentered the living room, Young Adam was playing with Eileen, and Edwinna had roused herself and gone to the kitchen. Pete, terribly ill still, was asleep again in the bedroom.
“Whatever else it is, it’s also lunchtime,” Edwinna announced from the door. “Peanut butter and jelly work for you?”
“Fine with me,” Justine said.
“I had a late breakfast,” Colin lied.
“I’d love a PB&J, Miss Edwinna,” Patsy said. “Want a hand?”
“I think I can still cope with this particular culinary challenge.”
Patsy ignored this and she and Colin followed Edwinna into the kitchen. “I’ve got the jelly,” Patsy said. You handle the peanut butter; I always tear the bread with it.”
“Hey guys?”
It was Young Adam’s voice, in the next room.
“I think you should look at this.”
The three adults drifted out into the living room again.
“What’s up, bro’?” Justine asked.
“The dog.”
“Check it out.”
Eileen was skidding around the polished fir floor, swatting at a woman’s silver high heeled sandal with her front paws and watching it skitter around the room.
The adults watched the dog’s pure joy in its play and smiled.
After a few moments, Young Adam became irritated.
“So what’s wrong with this picture, people?”
“Excuse me?” Justine said.
Eileen picked the shoe up in her soft mouth and loped around the room, tossing her head.
Colin looked at Patsy.
Edwinna stared at the dog. Then she strode across the room and grabbed the shoe from the dog’s mouth.
She turned the sexy sandal over in her hands a few times. Then she reached out and cuffed the side of Young Adam’s head playfully. “Your mother didn’t bring up no idiots, did she, boy?” she said.
Adam beamed.
“Somebody going to let the rest of us in on this?” Colin asked.
Edwinna tossed him the sandal.
“What do you see, big shot?”
Colin held the shoe for a moment and gave it back.
“It’s one of the shoes Pete had on when I found her. So?”
Edwinna thrust the shoe at Patsy.
“What’s wrong with it?” she demanded.
Patsy looked at the shoe for a few moments and then dropped her hand to her side, as if the shoe were made of lead.
“It’s all wrong,” she said.
Justine took the shoe from Patsy, turned it in her hand as Edwinna had, and finally the light came on: there were no scuffs on the sole. There were no scratches on the high silver heel.
“They’ve never been worn,” she whispered.
“Which means?” Adam demanded.
“Somebody put them on her.”
“And left her there in the middle of the Highway. She didn’t walk there.”
“Elementary,” the boy said. He was not smiling.

Every summer for generations, three families intertwined by history, marriage, and career have spent “the season” at their beach cottage compounds on an island in Puget Sound. Today, Martha “Pete” Petersen, married to Tyler Strong, is the lynchpin of the “summer people.” In childhood, she was the tomboy every girl wanted to emulate and is now the mother everyone admires.
Colin Ryan, family friend and the island’s veterinarian, met Pete first in London, years earlier, when she visited his roommate, Tyler. He’s loved her, privately, ever since. Born in Manhattan’s Hell’s Kitchen, son of a bar owner, he’s always been dazzled by what he sees of the sun-kissed lives of the summer people.
But this summer, currents strong as the tides roil: jealousies grow, tempers flare, passions clash. Then, on the last day of the season, a series of betrayals alters the combined histories of these families forever.
As in previous novels, The Long Walk Home and Water, Stone, Heart, with Seasons’ End, Will North weaves vivid settings and memorable characters into a compelling tale of romance and suspense.
Buy Now@ Amazon
Genre – Women’s Contemporary Fiction
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Will North on Facebook & Twitter

Bangkok Transit by Eva Fejos @FejosEva #MustRead #Women #Fiction

at 7:00 AM 0 comments
‘He only noticed the woman, arriving unexpectedly from behind like a cyclone, when a shopping bag hit the back of his knee and he was nearly toppled off his feet by the bag’s owner… whom he then had to catch. The first thing he noticed was the blondish cascade of hair draping itself all over his shoulder and the sweet scent emanating from it. Then the woman herself appeared from behind the surge of hair. She was tall, willowy, and young; she wore a black, spaghetti-strap top and black linen pants. Paul found her very lovely, her jaw defined and her lips pink and full, but her most attractive feature by far was her eyes. Contrary to her expression, her gaze did not imply annoyance, but rather wise sorrow.
The woman Paul held in his arms for a moment fell into the category of women that he could never, even for a moment, dream of having, because he knew they were inaccessible to him. This knowledge began to root itself in his mind when he was twelve years-old and deeply longing for the fourteen year-old girl who lived next door; Marcy was incredibly beautiful and was correspondingly adored by all. When Paul confessed to his father his adoration of the girl and his hopes that perhaps one day he might marry her, his father looked at him sincerely and said the following:
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, son. Don’t waste your time on girls who definitely won’t want you, girls that all the other boys compete for. Choose a simple, sweet, ordinary girl, and you won’t be disappointed. I did the same,” he said, hinting at Paul’s mother.
Paul was initially shocked by his father’s words, but later, each time an exciting and significantly attractive woman appeared on the horizon, he always retreated.
The woman quickly regained her balance, mumbled something in German, then switched to English.
“Thanks so much.”
“No problem,” answered Paul, helping her collect the scattered shopping bags. “Are you a tourist? Bangkok is such a strange place,” he added, a bit flustered.
The woman seemed lost for a moment, not answering, but after the pause, her lips formed a faint smile.
“Well, thanks again,” she said finally, reaching for the bags.
“Wait, let me carry these!” exclaimed Paul trying to seize the opportunity. “I suppose you’re taking a taxi. Let me walk you out to the taxi,” he added, swinging the shopping bags. His tongue seemed unhinged. “Bangkok is a great place to shop. Though I don’t usually do much shopping, I bought a whole bunch of faux brand names from the street merchants.”
The woman laughed.
“Did I say something funny?” asked Paul in disbelief. No one had ever found him humorous before. Even he thought he had no sense of humor. He finally checked himself. “I supposed you’re laughing at me for blabbing all this nonsense. If you even understand what I’m saying.” After all, I haven’t heard you say a single word besides thank you and some German cursing, he added in thought.
“I’m Helen,” said the woman, finally extending her hand with a smile.
Paul wasn’t able to shake her hand because he was holding the woman’s rather heavy bags printed with names like Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, and other similarly high-end designers.
“Paul.  Paul Marshall,” he introduced himself.
“Hello, Paul. I’m glad I ran into you, otherwise I would have fallen flat on my face in front of everyone. Let’s head out to the taxi then.”
Paul noticed that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and didn’t know what to think. Did it mean that she had no husband? That she didn’t like jewelry? Of course, she must still be rather young, maybe thirty, if that. Women these days don’t marry so young anymore. But surely she had a boyfriend.
They cut across the square among the tables. A crew was just setting up on stage and the smell of grilling chicken wafted from the direction of the buffet counters. Paul suddenly felt very hungry.
“Would you like to grab something to eat?” he said, turning to Helen.
She looked at him with astonished, wide eyes.
“Right now?”
“Or anytime. Whenever.”
The woman didn’t answer, but strode resolutely towards a taxi.
“You have to haggle,” Paul called after her. “Don’t get in unless you have your price.”
“Okay. Haggle for me then.”
“Fine. What price do you want?” Paul asked pensively.
Helen laughed again.
“How about a hundred?”
“Alright. But where do you live?”
“At the Oriental Hotel.”
“Is it far from here?”
“About half an hour.”
Paul stepped over to a taxi idling by the sidewalk.
“How much to the Oriental Hotel?”
“What?!” Paul began to walk away.
“Okay. How much you give, mister?” called the driver.
“A hundred.”
“A hundred-thirty,” said the little Thai man.
Paul nodded and began to load the woman’s bags into the car.
“A hundred and thirty bahts,” he said to Helen victoriously when he finished. “How long will you be staying in Bangkok?”
“For a longer while.”
“Are you on holiday?”
“I’m working. At a photo shoot.”
“As a photographer,” the answer arrived after a short pause. Helen extended her hand in parting. “Well, thanks again for everything.”
One second from now she will be sitting in the taxi and speeding out of my life, Paul thought tensely. She’ll be off to the Oriental Hotel, and I will never have the courage to look her up. Everything depends on this second. He mustered his courage and surprising even himself, he asked:
“May I invite you to dinner sometime?”
The woman seemed astonished.
“Call me tomorrow night. I’m in room seven-eleven,” she answered after slight hesitation. Then she added: “Helen. My name is Helen Schmidt.”
“Paul Marshall,” Paul said, introducing himself again awkwardly, which made them both laugh.
Helen got into the car and waved goodbye. Paul waved back and realized that he had never been so full of happy anticipation before.’
Bangkok: a sizzling, all-embracing, exotic city where the past and the present intertwine. It’s a place where anything can happen… and anything really does happen. The paths of seven people cross in this metropolis. Seven seekers, for whom this city might be a final destination. Or perhaps it is only the start of a new journey? A successful businessman; a celebrated supermodel; a man who is forever the outsider; a young mother who suddenly loses everything; a talented surgeon, who could not give the woman he loved all that she desired; a brothel’s madam; and a charming young woman adopted at birth. Why these seven? Why did they come to Bangkok now, at the same time? Do chance encounters truly exist?
Bangkok Transit is a Central European best-seller. The author, Eva Fejos, a Hungarian writer and journalist, is a regular contributor to women’s magazines and is often herself a featured personality. Bangkok Transit was her first best-seller, which sold more than 100,000 copies and is still selling. Following the initial publication of this novel in 2008, she went on to write twelve other best-sellers, thus becoming a publishing phenomena in Hungary According to accounts given by her readers, the author’s books are “therapeutic journeys,” full of flesh and blood characters who never give up on their dreams. Many readers have been inspired to change the course of their own lives after reading her books. “Take your life into your own hands,” is one of the important messages the author wishes to convey.
Try it for yourself, and let Eva Fejos whisk you off on one of her whirlwind journeys… that might lead deep into your own heart.
About Eva Fejos, the author of Bangkok Transit
- Eva Fejos is a Hungarian writer and journalist.
- has had 13 best-selling novels published in Hungary so far.
Bangkok Transit is her first best-seller, published in 2008.
- has won several awards as a journalist, and thanks to one of her articles, the legislation pertaining to human egg donation was modified, allowing couples in need to acquire donor eggs more easily.  
- spends her winters in Bangkok.
- likes novels that have several storylines running parallel.
- visited all the places she’s written about. 
- spent a few days at an elephant orphanage in Thailand; and has investigated the process of how Thai children are put up for adoption while visiting several orphanages. 
- founded her own publishing company in Hungary last year, where she not only publishes her own books, but foreign books too, hand-picked by her. 
- Her books published in Hungary thus far are:
Till Death Do Us Part (Holtodiglan) | Bangkok Transit | Hotel Bali | Chicks (Csajok) | Strawberries for Breakfast (Eper reggelire) | The Mexican (A mexikói) | Cuba Libre | Dalma | Hello, London | Christmas in New York (Karácsony New Yorkban) | Caribbean Summer (Karibi nyár) | Bangkok, I Love You (Szeretlek, Bangkok) | Starting Now – the new edition ofTill Death Do Us Part (Most kezdődik) | Vacation in Naples – the English version will be published in summer, 2014 (Nápolyi vakáció)
To be published in spring of 2014: I Waited One Hundred Nights (Száz éjjel vártam)
Bangkok Transit (English version):
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Women’s Fiction, Contemporary
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Eva Fejos on Facebook & Twitter

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