Here's an awesome review with Katie and Rachel! They're talking about Wild Cards by Simone Elkeles.
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Title: Replacing GentryAuthor: Julie N. Ford
Genre: Women’s Fiction/Suspense
Publisher: WiDo Publishing
Date of Publication: April 2013
Synopsis:
When Marlie agrees to attend a cadaver ball at Vanderbilt Medical School, she did not expect to actually see any cadavers. Or, that a strange apparition would issue her a chilling message.
Despite the cadaver's warning, Marlie is married a year later to Tennessee State Senator, Daniel Cannon, and living in a plantation-style mansion with two step-sons. Add to the mix her growing suspicion that something is amiss with the death of Daniel’s first wife, Gentry, and newlywed Marlie is definitely in over her pretty Yankee head.
What begins as an innocent inquiry into her new husband’s clouded past ends with Marlie in the midst of a dangerous conspiracy.
A modern twist on the classic Gothic romance novels of Rebecca and Jane Eyre, Replacing Gentry follows Marlie’s precarious journey as she learns the truth about the man she married.
Excerpt:
The loud clank of the door fastening shut behind me gave me a start. My steps skidded to a stop in the sudden darkness, and I pulled a breath deep into my chest. The air was heavy like icy needles probing my throat. I rubbed the chill bumps on my arms with the heat of my moist palms.
Where am I?
Squinting against the hazy glow of a single bulb, I scanned one way, then the other, unable to determine the end of the passageway in either direction. From the other side of the door, the steady drumming of the bass from the Cadaver Ball sounded miles away. The perceived distance was a welcome relief. I needed some time to think, to center, and to get a grip. What had just happened between Daniel and me? One minute he’d been leading me around the dance floor, the next I’d lost track of how many dances we’d shared and found myself kissing him. Sure, I’d considered the possibility, but fantasizing about kissing a total stranger and actually going through with it were two very different things. I’d only known one man before who’d been able to draw me in so quickly.
Finn.
I’d also met Finn at a ritzy Nashville party I had attended with my best friend Anna-Beth. Only that had been years ago, back when she and I were still in college. Like Daniel, Finn had been handsome and wealthy. My time with him had ended in heartbreak and loss. Tonight, being back in Nashville, it was like I could feel him all around me—a cagey presence deft at staying just beyond my line of sight. And then I’d met Daniel.
Paul leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Next question.” His eyes took a discerning turn around our fellow dinner guests as if he were about to say something profound. “Do you believe in love at first sight? And if so, if you met the man of your dreams and he asked you to marry him right then and there, would you say yes?”
As had been the case the entire night, my thoughts rushed to Finn, how I’d fallen for him the first time we’d met. And how two weeks later I had boarded a plane to Vegas where I’d become his wife.
Obviously, my true answer would be yes.
“I’d like to send the dilemma to the social worker,” Paul’s voice sailed
“I’d like to send the dilemma to the social worker,” Paul’s voice sailed
across the table, bringing everyone’s focus to me.
“Marlie is a therapist for the California Department of Corrections,”
“Marlie is a therapist for the California Department of Corrections,”
Anna-Beth corrected.
Her reproach was polite, as always, with a touch of perkiness. She
Her reproach was polite, as always, with a touch of perkiness. She
slanted another salacious look to the dark-haired, fair-eyed plastic surgery intern she’d introduced earlier as Steven. A far cry from the teary-eyed socialite who had picked me up at the airport the day before after insisting twenty-four hours earlier that she couldn’t possibly go on living without the support of her “dearest friend.” Yesterday she’d been practically suicidal after the loss of her latest “future hus- band.” Tonight she’d evidently discovered that there was at least one more potential spouse left to explore.
“Psychiatric social worker,” I clarified. “And, my training and experience has taught me that a man willing to jump quickly into marriage is more than likely hiding some unfortunate character flaw, something he’s afraid he can’t keep hidden for long,” I answered, feigning a professional confidence.
I was looking into the black hole of my thirty-first birthday, doubting with every day that slithered by I’d ever again meet a man I could pledge my heart to. Besides, what woman, over thirty or otherwise, doesn’t secretly fantasize about a chance meeting with the man of her dreams?
Paul considered my answer with a shrewd stare. “I don’t believe you. I think you, like all women, would jump at the chance to be married,” he said, his drawl stained with a hint of headiness.
Despite the fact he was clearly wearing a platinum band on his left ring finger, Paul had been ogling me all evening, and I could sense a growing affinity. But I was one hundred percent sure I wanted no part of it. I inwardly groaned. This impromptu game of Scruples was get- ting on my last nerve. It ticked me off that Paul had accurately called my bluff, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of yielding to the fact.
I fixed him with a cold stare. “I’m wondering why you bothered to ask me the question when you’d already made up your mind as to my answer?”
Paul’s smirk, downright creepy now, tugged at his lips again. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “Your boss congratulates you for a brilliant suggestion and hints at a promotion. One of your subordinates gave you the idea. Do you mention this to your boss?”
Clearing my throat, I offered up an answer. “Of course I would give my subordinate his or her due credit.”
Paul leaned forward. “Even if it meant you’d get passed up for the promotion?”
I squared my shoulders. “How could I feel good about a promotion I hadn’t earned?”
Shaking his head, Paul grunted out a snort. “I’m sorry, Marlie, but no one subscribes to such outdated, bogus ideals of integrity anymore.” He sent his gaze around the table for confirmation. “I say she’s bluffing.”
I rolled my eyes in return. “So, outdated stereotypes regarding women are perfectly alive and well but showing a little integrity ... that’s old fashioned?” I retorted, though an announcement had every- one shifting toward the front.
From the stage, the emcee was lamenting about a doctor—Dr. Peter Daschle—a pioneer in the field of reconstructive plastic surgery who’d been strides ahead of his time when he’d met with tragic death and how his expertise would be sorely missed ... Then, after a minute of silence, the emcee introduced the band and invited everyone to the dance floor. The buzz of attendees taking one last drink, or bite of dessert, before pushing back their chairs was quickly overpowered by the band’s version of Hip to My Heart as everyone paired up and filed out to the dance floor.
Glancing across the table, I could see Paul fighting the flow of bodies, cutting a path straight for me. A look of cool, self-assuredness seemed to be driving him against the fray. My gaze flitted quickly around the room as I considered my options. I had two choices: run for the safety of the service exit and spend the rest of the night hiding, or turn, face him, and let him know exactly what I thought of his presumptions. Given that I had a general dislike for cowardice, option number two was my obvious choice.
I’d just started in his direction when I heard a voice asking, “Would you like to dance?”
“No, not right now,” I said through tight lips. “I’ve got something I need to take care of first.”
The voice came back along with the light touch of fingertips on my elbow. “I think what you’re fixin’ to do can, and should, wait for a more appropriate settin’.”
I hesitated. It wasn’t like I was planning to make a scene, and who was this man that thought he knew what I had in my mind to do? Whirling around, I shot a bothered stare into the face behind the voice.
Gazing down at me, the hint of a smile on his lips, was a man Anna- Beth had introduced as her cousin, Daniel something-or-other. In his early forties, he had thick dark hair tapered neatly around his neck and ears but longer on the top and combed back. His nose was slightly crooked, his chin distinctive. A trace of gray at the temples gave him the look of striking maturity, a man accustomed to the finer things in life.
His dark blue eyes conveyed a subtle insistence as he stepped to the side and motioned to the dance floor. “After you,” he said with all the graciousness of a Southern-born gentleman.
Swallowing back a portion of my resolve, I found myself at a sud- den loss for words. Unnerving since I rarely, if ever, found myself with nothing whatsoever to say. After a final glance back at Paul—I would deal with him later—I adjusted my course and headed for the dance floor. Daniel pulled me in close and proceeded to lead in a smooth cowboy cha-cha. After a few silent turns around the parquet floor, I glanced up to see that his eyes, dark blue like a moonless night, were searching mine as if looking for a truth that eluded him.
“Back at the table ... your answers, were they sincere, or were you playin’ devil’s advocate?”
My head spun under the heat of his gaze. At the moment I couldn’t recall each and every response, there had been so many, but thinking back, I was fairly certain I’d meant them all.
“As hard as it may be to believe, they were all my true opinions.” Pulling me closer still, his mouth was just a kiss away as he whispered,
“Just so you know, I don’t think integrity is outdated.”
Why am I so inanely attracted to all the things I’m not? I mused as I began to pace the tight circle of light that fanned out into the darkness. Even
more puzzling, why had Daniel been attracted to me? I wasn’t particularly tall, and while my face and figure were not unfortunate, I tended to blend easily into a crowd. But then, he had said that I reminded him of a slightly older Emma Stone, which I modestly denied, while secretly I’d kind of thought so too.
And then there was always the possibility that because I was from out of town he’d considered me an easy mark for a torrid one-night- stand. Except from what I could see, he seemed to be a perfect gentle- man—not at all the womanizing type. I stopped pacing and started chewing my thumbnail while the toe of my sandal tapped the floor.
Why was I so cold?
I should go back in. Only now I felt like an idiot for running out the way I had. It was too frigid out here to spend any more time second- guessing my reaction. How should I play it when I see Daniel? Act casual? Ignore him? I was mentally pounding my head when another sound joined the echo of my tapping foot. Slamming my shoe to the floor, I held it still and listened to the darkness. I couldn’t hear a thing, not even the muffled drumming of the band.
Turning in a circle, my eyes searched the shadows, unable to see anything beyond the thick blanket of blackness surrounding my solitary swath of light. An unsettling feeling began a slow crawl up my spine. Was it the sudden quiet or the complete darkness that had me feeling on edge? I couldn’t be sure at first, but then there was noise, or maybe just a feeling as the presence of something unseen crept over me, and I realized I wasn’t alone.
“Hello,” I called, my voice echoing down the dark passageway. “Who’s there?”
The only reply was the hiss of my own breath, the rush of my blood as it beat against my ears. “I know you’re there,” I said. I thought I heard something—a sigh or a brush against the far wall.
“Hello?” I tried again. Nothing. Maybe my imagination was getting away from me? I mean, who wouldn’t be creeped out in a dark, frigid hallway? Nothing to worry about.
In case something feral was indeed lurking out there, I retraced my steps, one foot behind the other, my eyes sweeping the abyss in both directions until I bumped up against the steel of the door.
Reaching back, I pushed down on the handle and then pulled while keeping a close eye on a predator I wasn’t sure existed. The door didn’t budge. I turned to face the door, pushed down with both hands this time and pulled. Then I lifted and yanked again. The door stayed put.
I was locked out. The fear of being trapped squeezed my chest with a ruthless grip. Droplets of perspiration rolled from my temples and down to my neck, burning a steamy trail over my cold skin. The air grew more frigid. The darkness pressed closer. My heart began to race, my breath grew more shallow as panic pushed hard at my need to stay calm.
“I’m locked out here!” I pounded my fists on the door as the music started up again. “Can someone—anyone—hear me?” I yelled until my throat was raw, the shrieks shooting from my lips in puffs of white smoke.
Pressing my cheek against the door, I listened to the muffled sounds of a rousing party. The cool metal did little to relieve the heat of my exertion. There was no indication that anyone had heard my screams—at least no one on the other side of the door.
A thump, followed by a drag was the first undeniable conformation that someone—something—was there.
I slowly turned. “Who’s there?” my voice rasped out again. I heard no audible answer, just another thump and a drag. “Can you help me?” I asked. “The door seems to be stuck.”
I waited. The dragging grew closer, the darkness slowly consuming what little light was there in the dark hallway.
“Please, say something.” My voice crackled against the black walls, my eyes focused toward the sounds as the silhouette of a body materialized out of the haze.
At first, all I could make out the bareness of a man’s feet and legs against the grey floor, one foot taking feeble steps forward while the other dragged along in its wake. His flesh was white like a thin sheet of paper stretched over iridescent blue veins.
“Are you all right?” I called out, thinking maybe he wasn’t an attacker at all but someone in desperate need of help. “Do you need medical assistance?”
Another thump and a drag brought him closer. The dim light turned blinding as it reflected off the whiteness of his skin. He was completely naked. His shoulders were slumped over. His arms hung long and limp at the sides of his torso. A stitching in the shape of a Y marked across his chest. His hair was disheveled and receding from a long forehead above sunken cheeks and lifeless, gray-rimmed eyes. He looked like a walking corpse.
My hand flew to cover the scream that exploded from my chest. “Oh my gosh!” I pressed my back harder against the door, feebly edging
myself away. My ankles gave way beneath me.
The man took a few more steps and stopped.“Marlie Evans,” he said,
The man took a few more steps and stopped.“Marlie Evans,” he said,
the words booming over stiff lips.
The breath solidified in my throat. Absolute silence filled the flickering shadows cast by the light of a dying bulb. A flash of steel running down to a wheeled box on the floor behind him caught my attention. Then the squeak of a pulley had my mind leaping back to the dark-
The breath solidified in my throat. Absolute silence filled the flickering shadows cast by the light of a dying bulb. A flash of steel running down to a wheeled box on the floor behind him caught my attention. Then the squeak of a pulley had my mind leaping back to the dark-
humored skits that had opened the medical school ball, but I was unable to recall this particular prop.
“Is this some sort of joke?” I called out through quivering lips.
“You don’t belong here,” he said, raising a shaking arm to point a crooked finger in my direction. “You should go back, go back to where you belong.”
I cranked the door handle down again. Again, the latch didn’t release. “Yeah, no kidding,” I said, forcing a weak chuckle. “I would go back in but like I said before, the door seems to be stuck.”
“Marlie Evans,” he repeated with more insistence.
I shrank farther back, my eyes darting about the space, waiting for
I shrank farther back, my eyes darting about the space, waiting for
the prankster to reveal himself. “If this is meant to scare me for some twisted amusement you’ve done a good job . . . I’m officially freaked out!” I screamed then waited, my gaze unwittingly locked with the unfathomable site before me. “Enough is enough already!”
His face was like that of a ventriloquist’s dummy. “You are weak and will lose all that is precious to you, and still, you will not change what has already been decided.”
Each syllable pressed down on me like a heavy weight. I sucked in a ragged breath. Why was I trapped in the cold, the darkness, with death standing before me? Suddenly, this didn’t feel like a joke.
Supporting my weakening body against the exit, my nails bent and cracked as my fingers dug into the hard surface. “Change what?” I pled, tears blurring my focus. “I don’t understand.”
He blinked once, slowly. “The end has already been written,” he said with what sounded like considerable effort.
Terror pushed the blood hard through my veins. “What are you talking about?” I cried. “What end?”
A sneer pulled across his sullen face, his features contorting into a look so vile I felt as though something evil had reached inside me and taken hold of my soul.
“Your end.”
About the Author:
Julie N. Ford graduated from San Diego State University with a BA in Political Science and a minor in English Literature. In addition, she has a Masters in Social Work from the University of Alabama. Professionally, she has worked in teaching and as a Marriage & Family Counselor.
In addition to Replacing Gentry, she is the author of two women’s fiction novels, The Woman He Married and No Holly for Christmas, published in 2011. She also wrote a romance/chick-lit novel, Count Down to Love, published in 2011. Count Down to Love was a 2011 Whitney Award finalist.
Currently, she lives in Nashville, TN with her husband, two daughters and one baby hedgehog. For more information or see what Julie is working on now, you can visit her at JulieNFord.com.
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Meet Hailey - possessed by an otherworldly being who was trapped in her Kindle.
Hailey Parrish was quick-witted, irreverent, and hadn’t had a date in three years. She only wanted an eBook reader because her collection of paperbacks threatened to take over her small living space. Little did she know that the "special offers" that prompted the purchase included much more than a reduced price in exchange for a few ads. The device came pre-loaded with the essence of Sebastian Kess, an erudite womanizer with magical abilities from a parallel dimension. When she inadvertently releases him and he inhabits her body, she finally has a man inside her, just not in the way she imagined. And soon her predicament introduces her to yet another supernatural, the handsome could-be-the-man-of-her-dreams Alex Sunderland. Can Alex and Hailey find a way to return Sebastian to his own body, stay one step ahead of the criminals who want to keep him where he is, and not lose their sense of humor?
Hailey Parrish was quick-witted, irreverent, and hadn’t had a date in three years. She only wanted an eBook reader because her collection of paperbacks threatened to take over her small living space. Little did she know that the "special offers" that prompted the purchase included much more than a reduced price in exchange for a few ads. The device came pre-loaded with the essence of Sebastian Kess, an erudite womanizer with magical abilities from a parallel dimension. When she inadvertently releases him and he inhabits her body, she finally has a man inside her, just not in the way she imagined. And soon her predicament introduces her to yet another supernatural, the handsome could-be-the-man-of-her-dreams Alex Sunderland. Can Alex and Hailey find a way to return Sebastian to his own body, stay one step ahead of the criminals who want to keep him where he is, and not lose their sense of humor?
Special Offers, the first book of the Coursodon Dimension Series, combines paranormal romance, urban fantasy, a bit of science fiction and a healthy dose of quirky humor.
Find this book:
Amazon | B&N | Smashwords | iTunes | Kobo
Excerpt:
I landed sprawled on the floor on my back, Alex covering me with his body. Normally, I have no problem having him on top of me, but in this situation, I just felt squished. His face was mere inches from mine, and even in the dark I could tell he had morphed into Xyzok-mode. He placed a finger to his lips to make certain I would stay quiet and rolled off me into a crouch.
“Stay here, and stay down,” he whispered with such intensity, there was no way I was moving even if I had been so inclined. Which I wasn’t. Slipping silently across the room, he grabbed his gun from a drawer in the small desk across from the sofa, popped the clip in place, and returned to where I was laying. “Sit up, but keep your back to the wall.” I complied, and when I was upright, he handed me the gun. Still keeping his voice low, he said brusquely, “You know how to use this, right?”
I nodded with as much moxie as I could muster, which probably wasn’t much, considering it felt like my heart was about to pound out of my chest. Alex, being a well-trained Xyzok, was used to random shit like this happening. He seemed alert and ready to spring into action. I, on the other hand, was completely thrown off by this unexpected assault on my own turf.
“I’m going to check outside,” he continued. “If anyone comes in here while I’m gone, shoot. Aim for the chest. It’s the biggest target.” He started to slink away, but turned back and added, “But make sure it’s not me.” He winked, and then moved stealthily to the still partially open sliding door to the patio.
He moved like a predator stalking its prey; completely focused on the task at hand. Vigilant, nimble, deadly. Beautiful and enthralling. If I wasn’t so rattled, I probably would have been turned on.
About the author:
M.L. Ryan is a professional woman – not that she gave up her amateur status, but rather that she is over-educated with a job in which she spends a lot of time writing dry, science non-Fiction. In an effort to strengthen the less logical side of her brain, she decided to write some of the many stories rolling around in her head. She lives in Tucson, AZ with her husband, son, four cats, two dogs and an adopted Desert
Tortoise.
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Blog | Goodreads
**M.L. will be awarding a $25 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.
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Hello, Peeps!
When I was waiting for an author signing at ALA I was next to the Bloomsbury publisher booth. Myself and one of their publicists started talking about the process of making a book cover, and it was super interesting! She got me in touch with someone who makes covers and I did an interview with her. If you want to know how publishers creates covers like Wild Cards, Crown of Midnight, and Me, Him, Them, and it, check out the interview!
There is the designer, and sometimes for children's and YA books there is also an illustrator who is producing the actual art. The art director and the editors also help to guide the process by giving the designer information about the book and its intended audience.
2. Does everyone have to read the book in order to work on the project?
It depends on how much time the designer has, and how early the editor gets the manuscript and can pass it on to the rest of the group. Usually, editors write a design brief for the designer, which can include a basic plot summary, an excerpt of the manuscript, character descriptions, and other similar books on the market that can serve as inspiration or design models. If the editor has the manuscript, they usually give it to me and I will read at least a few chapters. But it varies. For some books, I know the designers have read the whole thing. And for others, they haven't.
3. Where do you get the models from?
Most of the time, if the cover uses a photograph or a photo-illustration, we get the images from stock image sites like Getty or Corbis. We can search through thousands of photos to try to find something that fits, and then we buy the rights to use the photograph based on how many copies we're going to print, where the book will be sold, etc. If we need a really specific image and can't find it on a stock site, we will do a photo shoot. We scout for models, contact modeling agencies, and hire photographers to try to get the image we need.
4. Does the author get a say in what they want the book to look like?
Sometimes. Big, successful authors get a say (sometimes a lot of say) in their cover design and can approve it before it goes to press. Smaller or first-time authors might not. Authors have contracts with their publishers, and there is usually a clause in the contract about the cover, so depending on what they agree to, they can often at least see the cover before it goes to press.
5. On average, how many drafts do you go through?
A lot, usually. I will almost always come up with at least three or four different initial ideas for a cover
and then we go from there. For some books, I have done more than 50 drafts. For others, one of the first three to five drafts will satisfy everyone and we just fine-tune it.
6. How do you pick the typography?
You want to pick type that works with the imagery, and that also conveys a certain mood. If the book is a romance, you might pick something with beautiful curves and swirls. If it's about friendship, it could be a little more simple or fun. You want something that suits the story and the characters and the audience.
7. What are your thoughts on judging a book by it's cover?
I always judge books by their covers! I love books not just because I like to read, but also because books can be really beautiful as objects. A lot of the ones on my shelf were purchased because I liked their covers. I think a lovely cover design and a nice package (good paper, interesting special effects, etc.) can make the reading experience even better, and if it's a book you've never heard of before, the cover is your first introduction to the story.
8. What book cover was your favorite to work on?
I used to design adult books; my favorite of those is Beautiful Fools by R. Clifton Spargo. It's a novel about the Fitzgeralds, and it was fun to try to make something that was reminiscent of the 20s and 30s but also felt modern. Right now, my favorite of the YA covers I've worked on is for a book that isn't coming out until next fall; it's about a girl who learns how to fly a plane, and it was fun to play around with the title and make it look like skywriting.
9. Why are covers in different countries not the same as the US edition?
When publishers acquire a book, they acquire the rights to publish it in a certain territory—maybe in just one country, maybe in North America, maybe for all the English-speaking countries, and so on. When I design a cover, that cover goes on my publishers' books wherever they are allowed to sell that book. Another publisher will have the rights to publish it in other countries—in Asia or in the UK. So that publisher will usually do a different cover. If they want to use the same cover design that another publisher uses, they will have to pay the original publisher to use their design.
10. What kind of degree is needed to get a job in book cover making?
In general, you should have a bachelor's degree in art or graphic design. I majored in writing and minored in art in college, and then I went to grad school for writing and publishing. I took a lot of classes about book publishing and a few design classes, and when I moved to New York I started with very small design jobs and odd freelancing gigs to build up my portfolio, and gradually I moved on to larger publishing houses.
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Title: Operation Earth
Author: Maria Hammarblad
Genre: SciFi
Release date: August 11, 2013
Seven billion people on Earth go about their daily lives, and no one is prepared when a global EMP slows the world to a crawl. With all our technology incapacitated, everything changes. Within days alien soldiers line the streets, and life will never be the same. Rachael struggles to adapt to the new order, doing her best to keep herself and her cat alive.
On a ship far above the planet surface, Peter just got his new Earth name, and can’t even remember his identity from the last world he visited. It’s another day on the job, one more world on a never-ending list. That is, until Rachael bumps into him, dropping exotic objects all around his feet. His culture taught him females should be obeyed and protected, but he never had an urge to leave himself at a woman’s mercy until now.
Rachael’s neighbor Ryan hounds her to join a brewing resistance movement and make a stand against the newcomers. She still befriends Peter, enthralled by his enigmatic personality and hypnotic golden eyes. Would falling in love with an alien be treason against humanity? When the rebellion gains momentum and open conflict with the newcomers is a fact, Rachael’s personal insurrection might be her doom, or bring salvation to us all.
About the author:
Born in Sweden in the early 1970's, Maria showed a large interest for books at an early age. Even before she was able to read or write, she made her mom staple papers together into booklets she filled with drawings of suns and planets. She proudly declared them, "The Sun Book." They were all about the sun. She also claimed, to her mother's horror, that her being on Earth was a big mistake and that her alien family would come and bring her home at any moment. This never happened, but both the interest in space and the passion for bookmaking stayed with her.
As an adult Maria's creativity got an outlet through playing bass in a number of rock bands, and through writing technical manuals and making web pages for various companies and organizations. She did write drafts for a few novels, but the storytelling muse was mostly satisfied through role playing online on Myspace. It was here, while writing stories together with people from around the globe, she stumbled onto Mike. They started talking out of character, and she moved over to Florida to him late 2008. Today the two are married and live in the Tampa Bay area with three rescue dogs.
Besides writing and playing bass, Maria enjoys driving off-road, archery, and Tameshigiri.
Upcoming releases
Borealis XII, to be released by Desert Breeze Publishing November 2013
Fun Facts
Favorite color: Blue
Favorite food: Chicken with cashew nuts
Doesn't eat: Mammals
Favorite TV Show: Star Trek TNG and Leverage
Favorite animal: Border Collie
Quotes: "Full Speed Ahead" and "Caffeine is good for you"
Find Maria on the web
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Title: Returned (Pendle Hill Series #1)
Author: Keeley Smith
17 year old Cora Hunt has one wish, to live the life of a normal teenager. Her wish never comes true.
After her reluctant move to a sleepy village in the middle of Lancashire Cora's life is turned upside down when she discovers she is a witch. Cora is not just any old witch, she is the daughter of Alizon Device who was one of the most powerful witches of her time.
Dealing with her new found powers is quite a challenge, but when the past she didn't know about unearths new complications in the form of Jack Thomas, her life becomes increasingly dangerous with each waking minute. Jack also has a secret past, a past that clashes with Cora's.
A confrontation between the two results in a life or death situation. The brutal events of 1612 happened hundreds of years ago, but what Jack and Cora face is a definite déjà vu.
The only question is, will their fate be the same as those who perished in 1612?
Title: Before (A Pendle Hill Novella)
Author: Keeley Smith
Cora and Jack are childhood friends who have always lived next door to each other in a beautiful, idyllic part of Lancashire. What binds them as lifelong friends are their powers.
As young witches, life is hard. If the commoners find out their secret, they will be killed. But Cora is lucky, she has her best friend Jack by her side.
Having grown up together they know each other, they trust each other, they love each other. However their blossoming relationship is cut short by the events of one day. A date that will bring their perfect worlds crashing down around them.
20th August 1612
Cora and Jack are forced to face the reality of being a witch during these turbulent times, however they don’t know that their lives will become part of one of the most famous witch trials to have ever hit England.
The Pendle Hill witch trials of 1612.
About the Author:
I've always loved reading, it is a common known fact that I pretty much demolish a book a day. Expensive hobby, but a great one! I've dabbled with writing since the day I could actually write. So, it was only fitting that I had my first book published when I was 15.
If I'm not writing you would generally find me reading, creating jewellery, trawling social networking sites and listening to music. I will pretty much listen to any kind of music but I have two favourites, country music which has been with me since I was a little toddler and I also love to listen to movie scores, especially when I'm writing!
I currently live in Yorkshire with my husband.
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Author: S.T. Anthony
Release day: October 28th
self-published
Synopsis:
One awkward girl combined with four rebellious kids on their own reality show creates the recipe for disaster.
When Spinelli’s mother inherits a mansion from a billionaire, four orphaned children are found living in the basement. The family adopts them. They look like precious angels, but brooding within them are mini devils who turn Spinelli’s life upside down. The family becomes the main focus of the town and experience instant fame. Spinelli’s wacktastic summer break before her freshman year of high school will be filled with funny shenanigans from the residents of Faircrest Falls.
About the Author
Shirena Anthony has had a crazy imagination since the old kindergarten days and excited to finally put it down on paper. She is currently in college and loving every moment so far. Aside from being True Blood and Shameless obsessed, Shirena's love to pursue medicine and to write is her passion in life!
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We are thrilled to be able to share with you the cover for SOUL POSSESSED, the second book in Katlyn Duncan's The Life After Trilogy, which releases next month on October 28th. We think the cover is absolutely beautiful and we can't wait for its release!
We also have an awesome excerpt from the book so be sure to check it out below!
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SOUL POSSESSED (The Life After Trilogy #2) by Katlyn Duncan
About the Book
Release Date: October 28, 2013Publisher: Carina UK
Series: Book 2, The Life After Trilogy
Genre: YA Paranormal
ISBN: 9781472044556
Description:
Life after Life
Now Maggie has been given the chance of her after-life to become a Guard, nothing will stand in her way. Not even the undeniable attraction she feels for her trainer and past love—Jackson. But when the battle between Shadowed and Guard begins again which side will she choose?
When her boss, Felix, partners Jackson and Maggie up with Ally and Cooper to investigate terrifying Shadowed activity, she doesn’t think it could get any worse. Jackson and Cooper barely tolerate each other and this time, Maggie isn’t just proving her loyalty to the Guard during one mission...she has a side mission too. One so secret and so dangerous she can’t tell a soul...
***
About the Author
Katlyn Duncan was born and raised in a small town in western Massachusetts. Her overactive imagination involved invisible friends, wanting to be a Disney Princess and making up her own stories. Her bibliophile mom always encouraged her love of reading and that stayed with her since. Even though she works full time in the medical field Katlyn has always made time for books, whether she is reading or writing them.
Katlyn now lives in southern Connecticut with her husband and adorable Wheaten Terrier and she is thrilled to finally share her stories with the world.
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The Excerpt
Jackson nodded and lifted his hand again. I stepped forward, swallowing any doubt as he reached out, one hand cupping my cheek, the other grasping my hand lightly, tracing circles with his thumb and before I could worry about how those circles made me melt inside, the memory slammed into me.
"Margaret!" Gemma shouted with glee. "Come out of there, I know you are trying to scare me!"
I watched the young red-haired girl put her hands on her hips, trying to be brave. She scanned their father's study, narrowing her eyes. The fire roaring in the hearth was the only source of light in the room, casting dark shadows across the furniture.
Maggie hid behind her father's chair, in silent wait for her prey.
"I'm going to tell Mother!"
Maggie's little hands tightened on the chair but she didn't make a sound. I walked over to her, watching her mouth twist up into a sly grin. She was the older of the girls, but she protected her sister fiercely, proclaiming she was the only one who could tease her. Gemma hated when Maggie played games, but it thrilled Maggie no end and I could feel excited anticipation roll off her in waves.
Gemma's bravery faltered as she stepped forward toward the overstuffed armchair, expecting her sister to jump out at her at any moment.
But Maggie waited. She had incredible patience, but I sensed that part of it was stubbornness and a desire to test boundaries. Her head poked out from behind the chair just as Gemma turned toward the love seat. I watched as Maggie slowly came out of her hiding spot and charged at her sister.
Gemma let out a scream but Maggie covered her sister's mouth with her hand.
Both girls collapsed on the floor, Gemma's muffled squeals threatening to break through Maggie's tiny fingers.
"Shh," Maggie cooed.
Gemma managed to wrestle her mouth away from Maggie's hand. "I hate you!" Her indignation faltered into a fit of giggles and Maggie quickly joined her.
As she helped her sister up from the floor Maggie said, "Gemma. You need to always expect the unexpected. You can't go through life being scared all the time." Even though Maggie was a mere nine years old, she spoke as if she'd lived lifetimes before. It was one of the things that drew me to her more than any other Prognatum I'd watched.
Maggie took a handkerchief and wiped her sister's cheeks.
"A lady wouldn't do that to her sister," Gemma said, finally relaxing.
"I don't want to be a lady," Maggie stated firmly. "I want to see the world and not just make babies for the rest of my life."
Gemma shook her head. "That's what we are supposed to do. That's what Mother does."
Maggie's indignation flowed through her and into me. I knew Maggie was born to follow through with her Prognatum duties, she just didn't know it yet. It was rare for a Prognatum to want the Guard position but Maggie would be thrilled when her father revealed it to her at seventeen.
As Maggie reached down to help Gemma up from the floor she whispered, "It's not for me."
Gemma wrapped her sister in a tight hug. "I will love you either way, dear sister."
Maggie rested her head against Gemma's shoulder. "I love you too."
I fell out of the memory just as quickly as I'd fallen in, my legs shaking.
***
Other Books in the Series
Author: Katlyn Duncan
Publisher: Carina UK
Release date: June 4th
Formats: eBook
After-life just got a lot more complicated
Maggie is a Soul Collector. It’s her job to transport souls from the Living Realm to the After – but during a mission to find a stolen soul, she ends up stuck in a teen mean girl’s body.
Trapped, Maggie’s soul is catapulted into Ally’s life – and the human world she hasn’t experienced for one hundred years. But, as a descendant of the most powerful beings in the After, Maggie must rescue Ally before the girl’s soul dies…
To survive, Maggie must uncover devastating secrets – because with one soul taken by a terrifying enemy, Maggie’s could be next!
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Summary:“We got so busy living life that we forgot to live our dreams.”
Danni Lewis has been playing it safe for twenty-six years, but her sheltered existence is making her feel old ahead of time. When a sudden death plunges her into a spiral of grief, she throws caution to the wind and runs away to France in search of a new beginning.
The moment ski instructor Olivier du Pape enters her shattered world she falls hard, in more ways than one.
Their mutual desire is as powerful and seductive as the mountains around them. His dark gypsy looks and piercing blue eyes are irresistible.
Only she must resist, because he has a wife – and she’d made a pact to never get involved with a married man.
But how do you choose between keeping your word and being true to your soul?
Find this book:
Amazon
Excerpt:
Olivier sits next to me on the piano stool. We’re even closer than that day up the mountain and it’s even more intoxicating. His body is so close to mine that the slightest adjustment would have us touching. I can feel his heat, an electrical charge which makes the side of my leg that’s almost brushing his tingle all the way down. He pulls up his woolly, navy sleeves. “Shall we?” I note the gold wedding band on his dark, manly hands as his fingers hover above the keyboard. I nod, not trusting myself to speak, thinking the sooner he starts playing piano the better, to distract me from this powerful attraction. He crashes both hands down with flair and starts playing his version of the Boogie Woogie. It’s slightly jazzier and more sophisticated than mine. I let him play by himself for a while, enjoying watching him, surprised by how good he is.
The rhythm gets to me, my upper torso unconsciously pulsing forward, toes tapping in my shoes. I put my mug down on top of the piano and start trying to improvise a Gerswhin-esque melody line, fluttering my right hand up and down the keyboard in syncopation to Olivier’s beat. For about ten minutes we thump away, cheesy grins on our faces, occasionally catching each others’ eye. We play whatever comes into our heads, changing the mood and key from time to time. Sometimes it works and sometimes it’s a discordant mess, but it doesn’t matter. By the time Olivier eventually tires and crashes a final chord, our bodies are touching all the way from our shoulders to our knees. I don’t want to move, which is exactly why I do. I stand up, to recover my senses and my drink.
About the author:
When Jo was ten years old she wrote a short story about losing a loved one. Her mother and big sister were so moved by the tale that it made them cry. Having reduced them to tears she vowed that the next time she wrote a story it would make them smile instead. Happily she succeeded and with this success grew an addiction for wanting to reach out and touch people with words. Jo lives in London with her husband and three children where she works as a TV and print journalist. She tells life stories and can often be found travelling the globe researching the next big holiday hotspots for readers to enjoy. Since becoming a mother anything even remotely sad makes her cry. She’s a sucker for a good romance and tear-jerker movies are the worst. She’s that woman in the cinema, struggling to muffle audible wails as everyone else turns round to stare.
P.S Jo’s pretty certain one of her daughters has inherited this gene.
Find her:
Website
**Giveaway: $50 Amazon or BN.com gift card
Excerpt:
Olivier sits next to me on the piano stool. We’re even closer than that day up the mountain and it’s even more intoxicating. His body is so close to mine that the slightest adjustment would have us touching. I can feel his heat, an electrical charge which makes the side of my leg that’s almost brushing his tingle all the way down. He pulls up his woolly, navy sleeves. “Shall we?” I note the gold wedding band on his dark, manly hands as his fingers hover above the keyboard. I nod, not trusting myself to speak, thinking the sooner he starts playing piano the better, to distract me from this powerful attraction. He crashes both hands down with flair and starts playing his version of the Boogie Woogie. It’s slightly jazzier and more sophisticated than mine. I let him play by himself for a while, enjoying watching him, surprised by how good he is.
The rhythm gets to me, my upper torso unconsciously pulsing forward, toes tapping in my shoes. I put my mug down on top of the piano and start trying to improvise a Gerswhin-esque melody line, fluttering my right hand up and down the keyboard in syncopation to Olivier’s beat. For about ten minutes we thump away, cheesy grins on our faces, occasionally catching each others’ eye. We play whatever comes into our heads, changing the mood and key from time to time. Sometimes it works and sometimes it’s a discordant mess, but it doesn’t matter. By the time Olivier eventually tires and crashes a final chord, our bodies are touching all the way from our shoulders to our knees. I don’t want to move, which is exactly why I do. I stand up, to recover my senses and my drink.
About the author:
P.S Jo’s pretty certain one of her daughters has inherited this gene.
Find her:
Website
**Giveaway: $50 Amazon or BN.com gift card
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