Tuesday, August 26, 2008


Okay, first I'd like to welcome sexy, sassy author Savannah Chase as my wonderful guest today. Savannah is a talented writer, and just generally a very special and cherished friend. She writes a wicked tale, and I know you're going to enjoy meeting her and sampling her terrific work....

First off I want to thank Denyse for giving me this chance to be a guest on her amazing blog.Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the opportunity.

Being an author one question that comes up the most is Why did you become a writer?

For me it has been something that I knew I was meant to do. I have always loved to write. Even as a kid I remember writing short stories and bringing the tales that were stuck in my head to life. I was always a quiet person and this was my own way of expression. This was my form of getting to say what I sometimes wasn't able to say out loud.. I had always loved to write. If it wasn't songs, it was in my diary, or short scary tales of haunted houses. All I know is I love to write.I love to be able to bring worlds to life. To take readers away if only for a the duration of my book. When I see the world I see inspiration and a playground for my stories. I'm one of those writers that constantly has ideas forming in her head. The plotting never shuts off. Even at night time as I go to bed I find myself jotting down notes and ideas. That's one of the reasons I installed a lamp onto my headboard.....

So if you want to know why I do what I do, it's because I love it. It's who I am.


Her fantasy man is up for auction. Will Nico dare to bid?

Nico’s history of romantic disasters has taught her when she gambles on men, she fated to lose. That doesn’t stop her from secretly lusting after Jeff, the handsome construction worker she sees everyday on her way to work.

When the New York’s Sexiest Bachelor auction begins and Jeff comes up on the block, she’s seriously tempted to place a bid. The wager can’t be taken lightly — it might be for a good cause, but she’s making a bid for love……


Nico was intrigued by the things people revealed when they only had three minutes to talk and make a first impression. So far, most of them were not good ones.

After all she had seen so far, she was more than ready to bolt, and fast. The only thing left was to figure out how.

Just as her last three minute nightmare was coming to an end, she glanced around the room. Surprisingly she saw something that made the evening even worse than it already was.

There on the other side of the room, sitting at a table, was Jeff. The man who rocked her world. The man she wanted with every fiber of her being.

He was seated with a drop dead gorgeous brunette who had the tightest little number on she had ever seen. The woman’s extra large sized breasts were pushed up and out for every guy to see. There was no way to miss them.

Nico tried to finish off the last few moments of her meeting with her current so-called date, but her attention kept shifting back to Jeff. It didn’t help that the woman he sat with was throwing herself at him. The flirtation couldn’t have been any more obvious, especially considering her leg was rubbing his up and down before it disappeared above his knees. One of Jeff’s hands was also under the table.

She could only imagine what he was doing. Actually she didn’t have to, she knew exactly what he was doing and she wished she wasn’t here to witness it.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Guest Blogger: LISA JACKSON

Today it is my distinct pleasure to have author Lisa Jackson as my guest. Lisa's forte is romantic suspense, and if you haven't had a chance to look into her wonderful books, now's your opportunity to discover this wonderful and talented writer....

People always ask me why I chose to write the kind of books I did, specifically Romantic Suspense Novels. It was a natural evolution for me, I think. I grew up cutting my teeth on mystery, read Nancy Drew as a kid and as I got older got into Gothic novels with mystery. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier come to mind.

So when my sister, Nancy Bush, and I started writing romance novels, we were asked to "cut down on the mystery and suspense" which was difficult. Fortunately, I began writing "bigger" novels in the early 1990's and I was allowed to write whatever kind of book I wanted. Ha! I added suspense and, as it turned out, the more I added, the more popular were my books. What a thrill!! Now, my books are a balance of romance and suspense, but I gotta admit, suspense is usually the driving force.

I play up the suspense angle on my web site http://www.lisajackson.com/, as well as in my book trailers and information about each book. (Check out the latest trailer for LEFT TO DIE and you'll see what I mean.)

I guess I was lucky enough to see my work come full circle as now my editor is saying, "put in more mystery and suspense!"

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Guest Blogger: JENNIFER COLE

My special guest today is my wonderful and talented friend Jennifer Cole. Jen's books are great, she's a terrific author, and I think you're in for a treat if you like steamy romance.... Enjoy....

Stranded in Paradise
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
Genre: Contemporary

While en route to the most important meeting of his legal career, Dax Winslow’s car breaks down in the small town of Milton Ville. Dax has never believed in love at first sight, but when he finds himself face to face with the owner of Kenny’s Service Station, the effect the stunning mechanic has on him, knocks his otherwise structured psyche off balance. Kendall Zurich is a laidback auto mechanic in a very small town. With the arrival of the sexy, dashing counselor, Kenny finds her quiet existence turned completely upside down. Together, they find themselves caught up in a whirlwind of exquisite seduction. Their attraction is unstoppable and the pleasure they find in one another, undeniable. Sparks fly as their passion explodes. Dax and Kenny realize that as fulfilling as they once thought their lives were, the one component that would complete them was missing; each other. When Dax discovers a secret Kenny has been keeping from him, he battles an emotional struggle. Can he forgive her little white lie? Or is her deception big enough to shatter their future together in paradise?

Publisher's Note: This title contains explicit sex and graphic language.


Daxton M. Winslow III drove his rental car along the deserted county road. He hadn’t passed another vehicle in close to an hour and had seen only a handful of old farmhouses. The fields lining either side of the dirt road contained acres upon acres of thriving crops or pastures of livestock.

He was thankful to have arrived a day early to familiarize himself with the area before his meeting with the law firm’s newest potential client. Dax tapped the GPS unit mounted atop the dash and cursed under his breath. Since leaving the airport he’d been driving four hours, and had yet to come upon his destination. The firm had been more than holding their own in corporate law, but the reputation attached to the Waterston Corporation would put MacIntyre, McQuaid and Winslow at the top of the legal food chain.

To say Dax was royally pissed the senior partners had assigned this specific trip to him would be an understatement. Law wasn’t Dax’s passion...it was his father’s. Three years earlier and fresh out of law school he was appointed junior partner in his father’s firm. Dax figured he would have made junior partner on his own impeccable record--three years of practice without a single loss in court--but law wasn’t what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

Architectural design had always been his first love, a passion he had kept hidden from his father. Over the past two-and-a-half years, Dax had successfully sold his designs for several small office buildings throughout the state.

As pissed as he was about the assignment, during this trip Dax planned to kill two birds with one stone. The day after his father informed him he would be leaving by the week’s end, Dax received a call from a conglomerate of doctors in search of a new medical facility. Having a design in mind sure to be just what they were looking for, according to the specifications they had emailed him, he arranged an appointment, following his meeting with Clayton Waterston.

Catching himself smiling in satisfaction, Dax couldn’t have been happier because during this trip, he was also getting a reprieve from the egotistical, self-centered Molly McQuaid. A couple of months earlier his father had suggested, to be more accurate demanded, Dax see his partner’s daughter socially. Not wanting to disappoint his father and in an effort to keep the peace in his parent’s home, Dax had agreed to a couple of dates with her.

Immediately Molly had latched on to Dax, proclaiming them engaged. The only things Molly had going for her were her heart-stopping beauty and her father’s money. A whiny, needy, selfish pain-in-the-ass, the only relationship Molly enjoyed being in was the one with her mirror. For weeks Dax had been giving Molly the brush-off, but the spoiled brat refused to take ‘no’ for an answer. Twice he changed his cell phone number, fed up with her calling all hours of the day and night. As of late, she’d taken to showing up at the office to see him.

Glancing at the dash-mounted GPS monitor for the hundredth time, Dax cursed under his breath. He should have been at the hotel long ago. It was clear he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, but where? He had been following the f**king GPS to the letter. Sort of.

On the shoulder of the dirt road, a sign came into view: Milton Ville 5 Miles. And just below that: Population 250.

“Finally,” he muttered, reaching over to crank up the volume of the stereo.

Sharp pinging sounds came from the engine. A glance at the dashboard identified the engine light glowing at him. When the car suddenly lurched he glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see a cloud of thick black smoke. Another lurch, followed by chugging and choking noises, had Dax clutching the steering wheel. The CD player then spit his AC/DC CD toward the back window, shattering the thin plastic disc into pieces.

“Oh this is just fucking great,” Dax said through gritted teeth, pounding the steering wheel with the palms of his hands.

A mile outside of town the car started to lose speed. Black smoke continued to spew from the rear and the loud pinging had turned into a harsh constant knocking.

As he pleaded with the car to fix itself, Dax took a moment to survey his surroundings. Bungalows and cottage style homes lined either side of the main street. Various shades of faded pastel paint colored the houses; one was robin’s egg blue, another buttercup yellow, several were mint green, a couple were soft lavender; and just about every property was surrounded by a waist-high white picket fence. In one yard Dax watched three children playing ball with a puppy.

Branches from tall trees hung over the street, the leaves offering cool shade from the hot sun above.

Dax spied the Milton Ville General Store on the far corner of what appeared to be the only intersection in town, and in his opinion, the structure was in dire need of renovation. He speculated the merchandise in the store itself had to be the only thing preventing the building from collapsing to the ground. On a bench out front a man sat, his legs outstretched and ankles crossed, his fingers interlaced atop his big belly and a straw hat was pulled over his face. Dax wondered if the man was asleep.

“Oh just beautiful,” he growled as the engine finally died, the car rolling to a stop some twenty feet from the entrance to a service station.

When a man and a little boy appeared around the corner on the opposite side of the street from the store, each with a fishing rod resting on their shoulder, Dax dropped his forehead against the steering wheel.

“I’ve landed in f**king Mayberry,” he groaned.

Click HERE to purchase!

Monday, August 18, 2008

Guest Blogger: MARY BURTON

Today we have another amazing and special author with us, the very talented, multi-published Mary Burton. Visit her website, and check out all the terrific titles she's already had released, and the next one I'm Watching You, which looks fabulous, too!! Mary's talking about the dreaded "Writer's Block" today and if you've experienced it, you know it's a writer's worst nightmare... So, over to Mary now....

Writer's Block

All writers fear Writer's Block. But there are going to be times when the words just won’t flow. Those days can be maddening and frustrating but I’ve come to accept them as part of writing. When I do find myself bogging down, there are a few tricks I’ll now try to get the words flowing again.

Change a key element in a scene. Change the point of view, move the setting or change the time of day. One modification creates a ripple effect that can really get your mind working.

Get away from the computer. I’ve known other writers that take a walk, do pottery or retreat to their gardens. If I’m really stuck, I head to the kitchen to bake. I don’t tackle anything huge, maybe a batch of cookies or a dozen cupcakes. Its amazing how doing something that stimulates the right side of the brain can open my mind and get the pages flowing again.

Reviewing research. Often the answer is in the research. Reviewing textbooks or interview notes often jogs my brain and before I know it I’m writing again.

Take a nap or meditate. Sounds silly but just a few minutes of shut eye or extreme silence can get my brain into a creative mode and unblock what’s holding me back.

Skip the tough part. Some days, with a deadline looming, I’ve got to get the pages in the computer no matter what. In these cases, I skip the part that’s giving me trouble and move on. Often writing ahead will answer story questions that had me stumped earlier.

The trick about writer’s block is not to get too worked up about it. It’s a fact of most writers’ lives. Try some of my suggestions and see if it gets your brain moving.

Mary Burton

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Something special....

This is from my wonderful friend César Mesa's debut CD - it's fabulous!! Enjoy....

Thursday, August 14, 2008


Today it is my distinct pleasure to have my wonderful and talented friend Colleen Love as my guest. Colleen's agreed to share a preview of her next release, Eden at Twilight. I've read this one, it's breath-taking and beautiful, so mark it on your "must have" list and keep watching for the release announcement!

Coming soon from The Wild Rose Press!

EDEN AT TWILIGHT is the story of Lily, a woman who wants love, and Leaf, the man who risks it all to love her.

Lily Moore is an ordinary accountant who works long hard hours, leaving room for little else. After strange occurrences begin haunting her, she’s convinced by a motherly friend to take a vacation in Scotland . While there, she meets the man of her dreams, a handsome stranger with shifting hazel eyes.

Leaf falls for Lily the moment he sees her, love at first sight. Never has a woman taken his heart so quickly. When trouble stirs and threatens her, he stands by her side, traveling through time and dimension to reclaim her from a deadly Drow leader. Lily has no choice but to trust him and hope his strength will pull them through. But is his strength alone enough?


Lily was glad when the plane ride was over. A feeling of awe surrounded her as the shuttle pulled into the drive of the cottage. It was as if she was entering into the picture on her post card. After paying the driver and stepping from the car, she stood looking around in an enthralled stupor. The scents, sounds, everything was just as her imagination had promised it would be. Shading her eyes against the late afternoon sunshine, she just couldn’t help standing motionless, looking at her dream come true. She finally moved to pick up her luggage without taking her eyes from the grand Cottage before her. It was as if she were afraid it would disappear before she could get inside, if she took her eyes from it. Reaching down, she fumbled for the handle of her suitcase, her fingers meeting the warmth of a large hand. Her attention suddenly snapped from the scenery unfolding before her and back to reality. A reality snagged straight from her dreams. Standing in front of her was a kilt-clad man waiting with her luggage in hand. Her eyes wandered upward and she unconsciously pressed her hand over her heart when her gaze locked into his sharp, hazel green eyes. Yellow flecks, hypnotically kept hers transfixed for a brief moment before she could tear them away. She blinked and her heart stood still, time seemed to have stopped.

“I’m Leaf,” he held out his free hand to her. “I’m the caretaker here at the Country Cottage.”

Lily took his hand in hers and felt it wrapped in calloused warmth, “I’m Lily,” she breathed. Unwarranted chills chased over her skin from his touch. The thick burr of a Scotsman lilted in his voice and a warm smile curled the edges of his lips, making deep dimples at the corners. A rough dark scrub of stubble blended into wild sand colored, wavy hair that stopped just past his shoulders. Releasing her hand, he turned to pick up her bags. The flex of muscle pulled his plain white tee shirt taut, and she felt her breath catch when his kilt rode up the back of thick, stout thighs and white socks peeked out from the tops of his tall work boots. He turned and waited for her with baggage in hand. Picking up her smaller bags, she followed quietly, praying he hadn’t noticed her ogling him as she blinked her eyes and physically tried to will her heart to slow.

Visit Colleen's lovely website here: www.freewebs.com/colleenlove

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Guest Blogger: MAGGIE JAGGER

Today I am welcoming author Maggie Jagger, who is going to talk about critiquing, and the craft of writing... Her book sounds wonderful, and her discussion is very interesting! Enjoy it! Over to Maggie now....

Why do I encourage critiquing? Because it’s how I learned the craft of writing.

When I wrote my medieval, I had no idea what emoting for the scene meant. When I reread it years later I asked myself--Why did the hero have to shout all the time, when he knew the heroine had sensitive ears? Because he was emoting for the scene, is the answer obvious to me now.

There isn’t a newbie mistake I haven’t made. Hero and heroine met on page 64, after 30 or 40 pages of backstory, with enough head hopping to give the reader a bad case of vertigo. I didn’t understand info dumps, viewpoint, overuse of adverbs and adjectives, stage directions--the list goes on and on.

A How to book never tells you what is wrong with your ms.

Most people can see some advantage to being critiqued--it might be useful. Many writers don’t see what advantage there is in critiquing others. But by critiquing others, you learn to see what is wrong with your own writing. It is amazing how easy it is to see errors other writers make, and then see it on your own pages.

Critiquing in a group can be useful. 5 opinions make you realize how subjective it is. Every editor, agent, and contest judge will have their own opinion. When you critique, don’t rewrite anyone’s words, instead explain how it might be done differently.

The key to critiquing is never to expect anyone to make changes you suggest--and you must suggest nicely, after all, it will be your turn next. There are lots of books with styles I don’t admire, and others that make me green with envy--and they are all published.

Study your competition--all those published authors whose books soar up the bestseller lists. How do they introduce characters, start and end scenes and chapters, describe setting. Look at dialogue and action tags. Look at how the pros do it and take notes. All those authors on the bestseller lists are bought by the same editors you want to impress.

If you want to really see how they construct their magic, take some colored highlighters and designate color for dialogue, emotion, introspection, backstory, setting, etc.. Think of them as layers. Then highlight a few pages of your ms. Are you missing any layers? At first, I was always missing setting and often emotion. I learned to add telling details for the setting and to find fun ways of showing the characters’ emotions.

My first published book--note I did not say the first book I wrote--is Every Midnight, historical romance set in the Regency. Lizzie and Dace make a pact when they marry--she will go to him every midnight if he is faithful to her, but there are other rules as well, like her obligation to pretend she loves him. Here is an excerpt from the wedding night. The Beast has promised not to touch her, if she will spend the night with him--the only night she will be safe from him. She has accidentally hit his wounded shoulder when she entered his bedroom. He fell to the floor in pain and hit his nose, which accounts for the blood He is now safely in bed, but Lizzie is having trouble joining him.

excerpt 3 from EVERY MIDNIGHT

Lizzie knew she'd made a pact with the devil when she agreed to meet the Beast every midnight and allow him to debauch her. Sensuality: SPICY -- Click HERE for a first chapter excerpt.

Lizzie held out a dose of laudanum for the Beast. She stood as far away from his bed as she could and willed her hand not to tremble and spill any from the glass.

James and Molly had gone to their beds, leaving her alone with him. Their whispered assurances of her safety had not worked as much to ease her mind as the Beast’s acknowledgement, delivered with lurid groans, that she was innocent of a plot to drive him insane with pain. All the while he promised dire retribution if she dared so much as touch him with the tip of her finger.

“Is it poison, dearest Lizzie?” The bolster under the pillows kept the Beast sitting almost upright. His nightshirt, a pristine white--was borrowed from James. The viscount’s manservant had been left behind in London with most of his clothes.

The Beast had washed fastidiously, cleansing himself of all traces of blood. His nose looked no worse than before, but his expression was one of a man goaded beyond endurance. “Drink some of it, my own dear wife, to prove it is not poison.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Felmont.” Her hand shook, spilling a few drops onto the carpet.

He stared at her. Lizzie took an involuntary step backward.

“Remember Lizzie, my love, you are to show me affection at all times or our pact is null and void. Perhaps you wish to break it and free me from your ridiculous rules and regulations?”

“The pact requires me to show you affection only during the day. Is that ferocious look meant to show your affection for me, dear Felmont?” She had answered him back. She was alone with the Beast in his bedchamber and she was managing to remain dignified.

“I apologize for having a Felmont face, Lizzie, unfortunately I can do nothing to change it.” A wicked smile hovered on his lips. “You can’t call me Felmont in my bedroom, dear heart. Come closer.”

He was sin personified.

Words tumbled from her mouth. “I don’t know what else to call you.”

“Give me the laudanum, loveliest bride of mine, before you spill it.” He took it from her and sniffed it. “Get into bed and I’ll tell you what you may call me.”

Lizzie shook her head. Impossible. She simply could not do it.

“Then, drink some of this--I am taking no chances on surviving the night, my love.” He held out the glass. “Take it, Lizzie, drink some.”

The huge bed seemed shrunken by his presence. He looked even taller lying down. Death would be easier, and a grave more inviting than his bed.

“Hellfire, Lizzie! Don’t look at me like that.”

“D ... d ... don’t swear at m ... me.” There, he had reduced her to stuttering again! She hated him.

He sank back against the pillows. “Lizzie, let us try again. I apologize for not speaking gently to you, though I beg to point out, if you could be a trifle more sympathetic for the terrible pain I am suffering, you’d soon realize you have nothing to fear from me.”

“Hitting you with the door was an accident, husband. I am sorry for it.” It was best to speak with dignity at all times. Arguing with the Beast would gain her nothing but his anger roused.

“You are safer with me this night, my love, than you have ever been in your entire life. Not only am I incapable, I worry that even if I were well, I might be unable to ... to ... interest myself in proceeding to know you better. Now, with those comforting words, share this laudanum with me and let us both get a good night’s sleep. Please, dearest wife, just in case you have decided to do away with me, taste it.”

“Give it to me, I’ll drink a sip. You are making a great fuss over nothing.” At his warning glance, she hastily added, “Dace, it is laudanum not poison.”

He let her take the glass from his hand.

“Don’t call me Dace, it’s what my friends call me. Until you can honestly claim to want my friendship you must call me such sweet nothings as come to mind. Perhaps, dearest Devil, darling Demon, sweet Satan? How clever of you to have my portrait painted on the dome welcoming the family into hell. Dear Lizzie, did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Lizzie sipped the laudanum rather than answer. He put a finger at the bottom of the glass to tip half the mixture into her mouth, so she coughed and choked and, at last, managed to swallow the brew.

Beast! She had meant the dose to relieve his pain and make him sleep. He was twice her size. Half the doze was enough to knock her out for the night and most of the morrow.

“Get in, dearest Lizzie.” He took the glass back and downed the remaining contents in one gulp. “Remove the bolster for me, you can put it between us to divide the bed. And don’t dare move from your side. This is the one night I get to share my bed with you, dear heart, what a pity I shall spend it in a drugged sleep.”

The Beast muttered a curse when she slid the bolster out from under the pillows. He lay back and clutched his shoulder protectively when she placed the long cylindrical cushion carefully down the center of the bed.

Lizzie got into bed with the Beast.

The laudanum was not long in taking effect. Her eyelids grew heavy, long before sleep claimed her. Her limbs grew weak and the sound of her breathing filled her ears. She could hear but not speak, feel but not react. She floated over and over until she lay in the Beast’s embrace.

“Are you asleep, my love?” he whispered in her ear. “Let me hold you to keep you warm. Forgive me. Hush. There is nothing to fear.”

Here are some books on the craft of writing.

Self-editing for the Fiction Writer by Rennie Browne and Dave King
Characters & Viewpoint by Orson Scott Card
The first five pages, Noah Lukeman

Happy writing and reading!


Website: http://www.maggiejagger.com/
© Maggie Jagger

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

A NEW Interview

Hey everyone!

I did a wonderful new interview last week with Manic Readers, and it's just been posted, so drop over and have a look! Just click on the banner, or this post heading.... Talk to you soon!!!

Monday, August 11, 2008


Today it is my pleasure to introduce you to Author Cody McFayden. I hope you'll take a moment to read this interesting article, and visit Cody's site. Now.... my guest:


I guess I have to say a little bit about me. I’m okay with that, so long as it’s just a little bit…

I’m forty, I was born in Texas, I now live in Southern California, and I write. There. I think that covers it.

I currently write a series featuring Smoky Barrett, a female FBI agent who heads up the LA branch of the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime. The NCAVC is actually headquarted in Quantico, Virgina (duh – ‘National’) but every FBI office has someone who acts as a local coordinator, or liaison point, for their area. Smoky runs things in Los Angeles.

She’s a troubled woman, and she has good reason to be. She lost her husband and her daughter to one of the men she was hunting. He broke into her home one night and he took away her family. He also assaulted her, and disfigured her face. When the series opens, she’s trying to decide whether to kill herself or go back to work.

The series has evolved from there, and it’s been a path of darkness and light. Melodramatic sounding, but it’s true. I’m accused (when I’m accused) of writing about dark things, and while I accept that, it miffs me sometimes, just a little. Because there’s a lot of beauty in the books, too. That’s the whole point. You can’t know what’s good unless you know what’s evil. And my books absolutely show both sides of the coin.

I’m asked frequently about why I, as a man, chose to write about a lead female character. The question threw me the first time I was asked about it, because I hadn’t analyzed it at all. Smoky was Smoky, and she was a woman, and that was that. I think I came up with something clever, like ‘because she told me she was a woman’ or something like that. Since then, I’ve more time to ponder, and I think the reasons are various.

For one, right or wrong, sexist or not, I tend to view loss of family in a much more poignant way through a wife and mother’s eyes. I also think it comes back to my love of contrasts: Smoky is a woman in a man’s world, and she excels. She’s 4’10” and she’s been victimized, but she’s formidable and has this incredible strength to her. She wears high heels and carries a gun. She doesn’t flinch when she looks into the darkness.

Plus, sometimes, ‘write what you know’ is boring. It’s just interesting to write from a woman’s perspective. Thankfully, my unconscious hubris hasn’t gotten me into too much trouble… yet. I have a lot of female readers and one of the best compliments I’ve been paid is to be told that they were surprised to find that I was a man, because I wrote a woman so well. Though I guess there will always be blind spots. Someone once wrote in a review that I didn’t mention clothing and accessories enough (shoes and purses and the like) and that this showed I was a man writing a woman. All I can say is… be patient with me, ladies. I’m doing my best here, and I am a fan of the gender.

The book that just came out in paperback is The Face of Death. It posits the question: what if a killer left his victim alive? What if, instead of killing her, he followed her throughout her life, killing anyone and everyone she ever loved? It was an interesting idea, one that came to me from god knows where, and it led me as a writer down a twisting path, full of all those contrasts I enjoy so much. I hope, if you read it, that you’ll agree.

Visit Cody's Website here: http://codymcfadyen.com/

Thursday, August 07, 2008

New from Cricket Sawyer!

Today, I'm really excited about introducing you to yet another creative and wonderful author.... isn't this cover just stunning? The book is undoubtedly a winner, too.... So, enjoy!!!

Erotiqué Press
(a division of Echelon Press Publishing)

Dark Thunder
Release Date: August 2008
ISBN: 978-1-59080-597-8 (1-59080-597-6)
Genre: Erotic Suspense (Erotiqué Press)
Pages: 228
Price: Price $12.99 US -- $14.99 CAN

This summer has been weather intense. Dark storm clouds on the horizon signify danger, the potential for intense storms. In a novel these same storm clouds signify danger of another sort. Dark Thunder is about more than just the noise of an impending storm. It is not a fluffy romance. It is a knife-edged tale of desperation, passion and yes, even perversion that strikes with lightening-like intensity at the heart of our comfort zone and reverberates across the fiber of our being thundering through the atmosphere of our status quo, ordered world.


Jumping from the frying pan and into the fire, Cyan regrets her move too late. When she trades a loveless marriage for lust and passion, she discovers that Derian, her dark-eyed prince, has turned into the prince of evil, manipulating and controlling.

The hypnotic control of his demon talents steal her heart and make her a slave to his blazing obsession and insatiable appetite for sex, but her willpower wilts under the heat of his lovemaking. Finally, after finding some balance, things once again turn chaotic when her friend, Derian's cousin, is murdered. The dark prince once again returns, and hell-bent on revenge, embarks on a manhunt, determined for justice, despite Cyan’s attempts to stop him. Where will the taste for vengeance end in a land where nothing is as it seems, and love isn’t enough to fulfill all the appetites of a raven warrior?


Cricket Sawyer has written several novels, many short stories, flash fiction, non-fiction articles, and won poetry contests for her erotic poetry. Her stories have been published in various e-zines and newsletters, both in print and online. Her favorite genres are Romance with an edge, a hint of paranormal, and lots of sizzling suspense. In her spare time she reads, writes, plays piano, gardens, knits, crochets, and quilts. For almost nine months out of the year she shovels the snow northern Wisconsin is usually buried under, a delight for snowmobilers and skiers. Living somewhere without the four seasons is unthinkable. She lives with her husband in the small village of Amberg where the winters are cold and long perfect for curling up in front of a fireplace with a good book, but the people are warm and friendly all year round.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

The Wedding War

It is my pleasure today to feature Jenny Gilliam's wonderful novel, The Wedding War - NOW available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble!!


What happens when a fairytale-believing wedding planner and a jaded hot-rod builder who thinks love is nothing more than a chemical reaction end up on opposite sides of the aisle at the wedding of her best friend and his brother? A wedding war erupts.

Jake Ryan will do just about anything to keep his brother from making the same mistake he made. He’s convinced there won’t be a wedding because he’s out to stop it. Mia Briscoe’s determined this will be the most spectacular wedding she’s ever planned. And when she discovers the groom’s brother is out to break up the happy couple?

The battle begins.Jake and Mia have both suffered deep emotional wounds that prevent them from making lasting connections. And both are baffled by the intense feelings they bring out in each other. Can Mia teach Jake that love is something to cherish and not loathe? And if she can, will he be strong enough to bury his past so they can have a chance at a future together?

Visit Jenny's sites here:

Website: http://www.jennygilliam.com/
MySpace: www.myspace.com/jennygilliam
Blog: http://www.jennygilliam.blogspot.com/