Hi everyone! I was invited to participate in this blog hop by Shehanne Moore and her adorable but ornery hamsters. You can read her post here http://shehannemoore.wordpress.com/2014/08/24/meet-my-charac…-the-courtesan/ When you stop by, say ‘hi’ the hammies for me. They don’t bit but don’t turn your back on them either.
First, a bit of info about Shehanne Moore:
When not cuddling inn signs in her beloved Scottish mountains, Shehanne Moore writes dark and smexy historical romance, featuring bad boys who need a bad girl to sort them out. She believes everyone deserves a little love, forgiveness and a second chance in life. Visit her blog to find out about past releases and hear more about her forthcoming time-slip historical, The Viking and The Courtesan. http://shehannemoore.wordpress.com/
Thanks for the invitation, Shey! Now, I’m supposed to choose one character from a work-in-progress or a recently published book and answer seven easy questions. Here goes!
Rolf’s Quest is the first book in my new Medieval Encounter series.
What is the name of your character? Is he/she fictional or a historic person?
My main character’s name is Rolf. He is a descendant of Merlin.
When and where is the story set?
It is set during the reign of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitane in the 12th century. Eleanor was a big fan of Arthur, the Round Table and chivalrous knights.
What should we know about him/her?
He is a wizard and court advisor to the royal couple. He is also a shape-shifter. He loves to move through the night as a wolf or hawk.
What is the main conflict? What messes up his/her life?
He is on a quest to break the curse that has plagued his family for generations. Merlin has been trapped in a laurel tree since Nimue bewitched him centuries ago.
What is the personal goal of the character?
He must find a woman whose love is true without the use of magic. The twist: she must also be willing to give up everything for him. But will he fight for her?
Is there a working title for this novel and can we read more about it?
Rolf’s Quest is the working title. It is coming soon in the ‘Love Least Expected’ anthology to be released February 2015.
That was fun! Now who to poke for next week … hmmm. How about the talented Valerie Clarizo? Her third book in the romantic suspense series ‘A Nick Spinelli Mystery‘ will be released in February.
Valerie is a writer of romantic suspense, contemporary romance, and women’s fiction novels. She lives in beautiful Door County Wisconsin with her husband and one very spoiled cat. She loves to read, write, and spend time at her cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. She’s lived her life surrounded by men, three brothers, a husband, and a male Siamese cat who required his own instruction manual. Keeping up with all the men in her life has turned her into a successful hunter and fisherwoman.
She is a member of Romance Writers of America and the Wisconsin Romance Writers of America. Additionally, she was a finalist in the 2011 Celtic Hearts Romance Writers, Novellas Need Love, Too! Contest.
Ms. Clarizio’s Links:
And perhaps the lovely Kishan Paul? She has a novelette in the same anthology with Rolf’s Quest and her debut contemporary romance to be released in 2015.
I am an aspiring new author currently working on a psychological thriller. A wife and proud mother of two, I love chocolates and all things spicy. I believe there is humor to be found in most aspects of life.
Ms. Paul’s links:
In Aimee’s world where one touch can reveal a cesspool of carefully guarded secrets, the last thing she wants to be caught up in is a quest to expose a murderer, let alone fall for the cute, popular guy that has the biggest, dirtiest secret of all – and it’s a killer.
Sixteen year old Aimee doesn’t like to touch people. One touch and she sees their past. One touch and she can see all the good and bad deeds a person has ever done. It isn’t until a bomb explodes during lunch that she realizes exactly how many dirty secrets the students in her school harbor-or exactly how far one of them would go to keep his secrets safe.
In the aftermath of that fateful day of the bombing Aimee is brushed by a fellow student as they are caught in the mob running for their lives. Images of tortured and murdered young girls rise up to choke her. The problem is Aimee doesn’t know who touched her. Somewhere in this school a fellow student is a killer, and Aimee is the only one that can find him before he kills again. Though Aimee loathes human contact, she embarks on a mission to find the killer. She enlists the help of her friends in school to aid in sifting through her stolen memories to determine clues. The quest to find a killer unravels the very fabric of her carefully woven life and puts her in even more danger as one of her classmates is murdered and dumped in the woods behind the school. The killer leaves a note for Aimee –“you are next.” He won’t stop until he silences her- for only she knows all his secrets. She will have to summon all of her inner strength to decide what she must do: hunt or be hunted. Are some secrets worth dying for?
YouTube Trailer Link
We have a surprise visitor today. Aimee, from The Haunting of Secrets, has stopped by to tell us a little about herself and give us the scoop on Shelley’s YA Paranormal debut novel. Let’s see if she gives away any secrets of her own. she has promised not to scare us.
Why were you given that name?
My mother I’ve never known gave it to me
Is there a nickname you’re known by? Do you prefer it?
Aim, cause that’s what Logan calls me
When were you born?
Do you have any scars, tattoos, piercings? What do they mean to you?
Yes, I have a nose ring.
Do you have a personal scent (perfume or cologne)? If yes, what?
Yes, Moonlight Path from Bath and Body works
Do you have any siblings? If so, what are their names and ages?
I’m an orphan so if I do I don’t know them
Who has been your greatest influence (parent, friend, idol)? Why?
Mary. Because she’s one of the few people whose memories are not sinister and who accepts me despite the evil that follows me.
Where do you currently live (town, neighborhood, locale)?
I currently live in Bartow, GA
What sort of a home is it (castle, apartment, cardboard box)?
I live in a small house with my adopted mother Mary
With whom do you live? How do you feel about that person / people?
I live with my adopted mother Mary who loves me despite my curse.
How do you think your colleagues would describe you?
As a Goth girl who likes to be alone
Who is your best friend? Describe them briefly.
Dejana – she’s popular, pretty and a great artist
Who is your biggest rival / enemy?
Everyone. One touch and I know their every secret; hold their every memory. So my greatest enemy is anyone and everyone.
How would you spend an unexpected day off?
Alone reading a book in my room
What makes you blush?
Logan, his smile is intoxicating.
Have you undergone any dramatic physical transformations in your life?
I dye my hair black to go with my Goth exterior I show to the world. But my hair is really blonde.
How do you feel about children? Do you have or want to have your own?
I don’t’ feel comfortable around people so children would be out of the question. And it is also a possibility that they could inherit my curse which I would never do to a kid.
What do you dislike most about your life? What is missing?
The same thing actually – the Simple touch of another human being. Something I both fear and crave
About The Author
Shelley Pickens has been in love with anything and everything on the dark side of paranormal since the time she learned to read. After 15 years of teaching Spanish to high schoolers, she decided to take her unique firsthand knowledge of young adults and apply it to her passion for creative writing and fantasy. When not teaching or writing, Shelley likes to spend time with her husband and two beautiful children in Atlanta, Ga. Her escape from reality is her love of complex thriller and science fiction TV series like Supernatural and Sleepy Hollow. In her spare time she is an avid reader of all types of genres. THE HAUNTING OF SECRETS is her debut novel.
Keep In Touch With Shelley:
Fire And Ice Author Page: http://www.fireandiceya.com/authors/shelleyrpickens/index.html
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Shelley-R.Pickens/e/B00M3BNI2Q/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
“Oh! Do link arms with me, Calliope,” Blanche whispered, her brown eyes widening with apprehension. She took Calliope’s arm, tightly linking it with her own. “The old Mulholland house still gives me the willies every time I walk past it. I hate to think on what might have gone on inside. It’s truly terrifyin’!”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Blanche,” Calliope said, feigning calm. “Poor Prudence’s lunacy…it’s sad. And besides, her fiendish acts were not committed inside the house. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just…it’s just a sad, empty building.” Calliope Ipswich felt the hypocrite, however, as an uncomfortable shiver of residual dread and unease shuttered down her spine,
More than six months had passed since the All Hollow’s Eve when the dangerous state of Prudence Mulholland’s fracturing mind had been revealed to the townsfolk of Meadowlark Lake. And now, each time Calliope thought of poor Prudence and her family, not only did her heart ache for their family’s unhappy lot but a chill of lingering horror rippled through her being.
In truth, at times Calliope wondered if it had all been simply a bad dream—a nightmare. But it hadn’t. It really had happened—all of it.
Purchase your copy on
Marcia Lynn McClure’s intoxicating succession of novels, novellas, and e-books, has established her as one of the most favored and engaging authors of true romance. Her unprecedented forte in weaving captivating stories of western, medieval, regency, and contemporary amour void of brusque intimacy has earned her the title “The Queen of Kissing.”
Marcia, who was born in Albuquerque, New Mexico, has spent her life intrigued with people, history, love, and romance. A wife, mother, grandmother, family historian, poet, and author, Marcia Lynn McClure spins her tales of splendor for the sake of offering respite through the beauty, mirth, and delight of a worthwhile and wonderful story.
Title: The Sword of Lumina: Mira’s View
Author: Erin Elliott
Publisher: Fire and Ice Young Adult Publishing, an imprint of Melange Books LLC
Cover Artist: Stephanie Flint
About the Book
Galena is just like every other elf, enslaved by the powerful Rau. Once a beautiful and powerful race, the elves has been reduced to slave labor in the mines of Rau. Galena grew up hearing the stories of old about a sword, when wielded by the right elf, ending Rau’s tyranny. Unsure if she believes these stories, she finds herself plunged into a world unfamiliar to her, hunted by Rau for her unnatural magical abilities. Will she find the sword promised to her people? Or will she fall prey to the idea of a sword that doesn’t exist?
I’d like to welcome part of the cast from Mira’s view, Erin Elliott’s debut YA fantasy novel. Galena, Elenio and Tark have joined me for an informal Q&A today. They have promised to behave but we’ll see.
Do you have any scars, tattoos, piercings? What do they mean to you?
Tark: We all have the marks of Rau on our hands and feet. They are tattoos that keep us from using our magic, placed on us by mauks for Rau. If most elves even think about magic, they get headaches, but Galena is different.
Galena: I’ve been able to use small bits of magic for at least the last couple of years. I didn’t know what that meant until Rau started sending his torlics to hunt me down. Now, I find myself in the middle of the stories we heard about as children. Tark, Elenio, and myself are on a quest now to find the Sword of Lumina, promised to us by the lone goddess, Mira.
Do you have any siblings? If so, what are their names and ages?
Galena: My brother Tark, is the oldest at 34 and my other brother Melan, is just behind him at 32.
Elenio: I’m an only child.
Who has been your greatest influence (parent, friend, idol)? Why?
Galena: My father. He taught me everything that I know and encouraged me to free the elf race.
Tark: my sister, Galena. Despite everything going against us, she is still determined to free the elves. Nothing gets her down.
Elenio: my promised one, Galena. She is the strongest elf that I’ve ever known. And it doesn’t hurt that she’s awesome with a sword. Total turn on.
Where did you grow up? How do you feel about it now?
Galena: All of us grew up in the small village of Tomeka. It’s on the northern most point of Tomiro. I liked growing up there. It was quiet, my whole family was there; I had a lot of good memories there.
Elenio: Would I happen to be one of those memories. (Addressing Galena) Galena: You’re at the top of the list you conceited brat.
Tark: I plan on going back after this quest, if we live through it that is. My commitment partner and daughter are still there.
Do you have any pets?
Galena: I recently acquired a ferret on my trip. They’re supposed to have vanished when the elves fell. What can I say, I’m just lucky or Mira is playing a mean trick on me.
Tark: I have a daughter, does that count?
Elenio: Putting up with Galena is enough of a chore for me. (Galena smacks Elenio in back of the head)
What is currently your biggest responsibility / commitment?
Galena: Hands down finding the Sword of Lumina and destroying Rau. Tark: Keeping Galena safe.
Elenio: Keeping Galena from hurting herself too badly. (Galena knocks Elenio to the ground and proceeds to punch him a couple of times, which Elenio is too busy laughing to defend himself properly.)
Who is your biggest rival / enemy?
All three in unison: Rau.
Galena: Haulua comes in a close second though. He’s the god that created Rau specifically with the intent of bringing down the elves. Stupid, paranoid god.
What is your greatest talent?
Galena: I rock with the sword, plus, unlike the other elves, I can use magic.
Tark: I’m pretty good with the sword as well.
Elenio: I pretty good at making Galena mad. (Runs from the room cackling laughing with Galena hot on his heels)
What are you the most hopeless at?
Tark: Keeping those two from picking on each other.
What, if anything, do you do to keep fit and healthy?
Tark: Training with the sword on a daily basis generally keeps one pretty fit. Running from torlics also does a nice job of keeping me in shape.
How did the two (or however many) of you meet?
Galena: I grew up with Elenio. He’s been my best friend since birth.
Elenio: I think I’m the only one who can handle her (holds hands up in truce.) I got to know and like Tark through Galena.
Tark: And that pretty much sums up my answer.
What were you doing before you met? How was your life different?
Galena: Training for the day that one of the elves were called to find the Sword of Lumina. I just didn’t think it would be me.
Elenio: Galena convinced her father to train me as well so she wouldn’t have to do it alone.
Tark: I had completed my training and was working in the village and building my own family.
Galena: Now, we’re always together on this quest. It’s been kind of stressful and I’m still not completely sure that this sword actually exist.
Tark: It does, why else would Father train us?
Galena: Because he was a mindless elf like all of our ancestors. (Tark rolls his eyes).
Elenio: Other than the running for our lives and Galena constantly trying to give us heart attacks, this trip has been great. What?! (Addressing Galena) You have!
About the Author
I am a preschool teacher in a Washington Court House, Ohio. I am a graduate of Washington City Schools and I currently live in Circleville, Ohio. I have a wonderful husband and between the two of us, we have five children, four boys and one girl. We also have a wide variety of animals living with us. Everything from the more common pets like dogs and cats to more exotic like cockatiel and cockatoos. I love watching football in the fall and swimming in the summer. Christmas is awesome and without a doubt, my favorite time of year.
Believe it or not, I did not like reading until about the fourth grade when I finally found a genre that really sparked my interest—fantasy. From there it became a passion of mine and often times the perfect way to escape the difficult times in everyday life. Mythical creatures are another love of mine so I combined my two loves and set forth to accomplish what I have always wanted to do: write books for everyone to love.
Keep In Touch With Erin:
Facebook page: www.facebook.com/swordoflumina
Twitter page: https://twitter.com/eelliottauthor
Blog Site: http://www.erinelliottwriter.wordpress.com
Award winning author Tarah Scott cut her teeth on authors such as Georgette Heyer, Zane Grey, and Amanda Quick. Her favorite book is a Tale of Two Cities, with Gone With the Wind as a close second. She writes modern classical romance, and paranormal and romantic suspense. Tarah grew up in Texas and currently resides in Westchester County, New York with her daughter.
To Tame a Highland Earl
A man torn between two worlds. Both need him…neither wants him.
Groomed for a life amongst the English aristocracy, Lord Erroll Rushton is unexpectedly thrust back into his father’s Scottish world when the Englishwoman he compromises refuses to marry him.
No gentleman breaks into a lady’s bedchamber…but then, no lady sleeps with a pistol under her pillow.
Miss Eve Crenshaw will marry for love or won’t marry at all. When London’s most notorious rakehell breaks into her bedchamber in the dead of night and compromises her beyond repair, Eve plans a daring escape that shocks even the Earl.
To Tame a Highland Earl
My newest book, To Tame a Highland Earl: A MacLean Highlander Novel, is now available for preorder for the sale price of $2.99.
If ever a woman deserved to be shot, it was Miss Crenshaw. But dawn appointments weren’t meant for the weaker sex. Weaker sex. The lady was anything but weak, which is why Erroll intended to throttle her.
Erroll laid a shilling in the innkeeper’s palm. “You understand the need for discretion.”
“Indeed, I do, my lord,” the man replied. “Your betrothed’s reputation is safe with me.”
Erroll managed to maintain a bland expression as the innkeeper handed him the key to the lady’s room. So news of his impending nuptials had sped from Coventry to Manchester even quicker than he had—which meant London society would hear the news by morning light and the story would cross the border to Edinburgh just as quickly.
Which of the gossipmongers had he to thank for that? He was grateful to the heavenly powers that his mother had remained in Scotland and not accompanied his father to England this month. God help him if she got wind of this entanglement before he had a chance to extricate himself from the tenacious claw of the husband-hunting wench.
“A beautiful woman is hard to resist,” the innkeeper said.
“Indeed,” Erroll murmured, glad the man had interrupted the mental picture of his mother outfitting the deceitful huntress in her wedding dress. No bachelor’s mother was more determined to see her son wed than Erroll’s own dear mamma, and since his return from the navy, his father had put his considerable weight behind her efforts.
He whirled toward the stairs, climbed to the second floor and made a left down the hall. At the third door on the left, he stopped. Erroll had endured his father’s hour-long diatribe that ended with the command to marry the woman who had accused him of compromising her—a woman he’d never laid eyes on—before he finally broke away to discover his accuser had fled Coventry. The hard five hour ride to catch her before she reached her father’s estate would have been in vain if not for the fact a wheel on her carriage broke forty miles distance from Manchester.
This experience would teach him to dally with the women outside of London. Had he satisfied himself with the eligible ladies in Town—if those females could be called ladies—he wouldn’t have gone to Coventry and attended the damn house party that had gotten him into trouble. The fact he’d spent a pleasurable hour with a lady in the hostess’ gardens had only served to put him in the very place his accuser said he’d been. Erroll felt sure the cunning creature was well aware he’d been in the gardens, and therefore claimed to be the object of his attentions.
Erroll quietly unlocked the door, slipped into the darkened room, then eased the door shut and slipped the key into his pocket. Faint moonlight filtered in through thin curtains and outlined the sleeping figure in the bed. Erroll crept forward until he reached the bed. He braced a knee against the side of the mattress, then placed a hand on each side of the woman and brought his face to within an inch of hers.
She shifted in her sleep and lush breasts grazed his chest. He wondered how long it would be before she became aware a man was in her bed, then concluded that since she hadn’t awoken with a shriek she must be accustomed to having a man in her bed. He should ravish her as she’d said he had just for good measure. The thought froze at the pressure of a pistol jammed against his abdomen.
“I am a crack shot.” The feminine voice was steady—as was the hand holding the gun. “But even the worst shot in Great Britain couldn’t miss.” The gun dug deeper into his belly. “Move away.”
Erroll considered. Her calm response to his presence almost made him think she’d expected him. “If I’m to be shot, I should at least commit the crime for which I’m accused.” The click of the pistol’s hammer being pulled back was his answer. “I see you do not agree.” He straightened off the bed.
“Step back,” she ordered.
He retreated two paces.
He moved back another two paces.
“I promise you, sir, my aim is as true at such short a distance as it was when you were an inch from my face. Back against the door.”
Erroll complied. A light click indicated she had released the hammer back into place. She rose, a small figure in the shadows, and picked up something from the night table. The clink of glass was followed by the scrape of a match on wood, then light flared and he got his first look at the woman who claimed he had ravished away her innocence. Dark brown eyes pinned him with a hard stare. Honey-brown hair tumbled down her shoulders. The top of her head was no higher than his chest.
The muff pistol remained pointed at him as her attention shifted to the lamp on the nightstand. She bent slightly and her full breasts strained against the nightgown as she lit the wick. His cock jerked and he couldn’t deny his good fortune in not having met her at Lady Baldwin’s party. He very well might have fallen prey to her charms and been guilty of her accusations.
She blew out the match and tossed it onto a metal tray, then took a step toward him. The lamplight illuminated the outline of her body through the nightgown. The curves he discerned were fuller than were fashionable and the kind he’d sought without success. His cock began to lift. He might end up shot after all.
“You are no common housebreaker,” she said. “Who are you?”
Erroll’s mind snapped to attention. The wench didn’t recognize him. Fury doused his lust. He gave a mocking smile and bowed. “Lord Erroll Rushton, at your service.”
Shock registered on her face, then an answering fire appeared in her eyes. “I see we shall have to break you of the habit of entering a lady’s room uninvited.”
“You use the term lady too loosely.”
“That is the pot calling the kettle black.”
He nearly laughed.
“One would think a prospective groom could keep his cock in his pants with his wedding but two days hence,” she said.
“Three days,” Erroll corrected. That was how long it would take him to get the special license his father ordered him to procure. “Pray tell, what sort of lady carries a gun?” He didn’t ask what lady used the word ‘cock’ as easily as the word ‘groom?’ That was perhaps too obvious.
“The sort who knows what to expect of a man,” she replied.
“The very sort who understands a man might object to being forced into marriage?” he said.
She gave a derisive laugh. “You are a rakehell, sir.”
“I never denied being a rake, madam, but I am no liar.”
She wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d been told this was to be her second season, but this woman was no debutante and, given the way she unabashedly stood before him in her nightclothes, he would wager she was no virgin.
“Surely, you’re a little old for this game?” he drawled.
Her brow knit, but he detected no shame. She was too collected. But a level head—along with a liberal dose of nerve—is exactly what it took to accuse a complete stranger of compromising her.
“Did you really think you could get away with it?” she asked.
The question startled him.
“Now who is the pot calling the kettle black?” he said. She shifted and Erroll could have sworn he discerned a dark patch between her legs. “A shame we met under these circumstances.” He flicked a glance at her breasts. “We could have been friends.”
Her mouth thinned. “By God, I really should shoot you.”
“Tut tut, love, not until the vows are said and I claim what is left of your virtue.”
She drew in a sharp breath.
“Your righteous anger is completely undone by the fact that you’re nearly naked.”
Her mouth twisted in a derisive smile. “Forgive me, my lord. Had I known you were coming, I would have dressed for the occasion.”
“You are impeccably dressed for the occasion.”
Did she have any idea how visible the contours of her body were with the lamplight behind her…or how her nipples pressed against her nightgown? She shifted, widening her stance slightly and his cock jerked harder. Oh yes, the witch knew.
“I should send you to hell this instant,” she said.
He lifted a brow. “The marriage vows will take care of that—had I any intentions of marrying.”
“My father will ensure that you do not escape this time.”
“That sounds as though you think I am getting what I deserve.”
“You do not deserve such a good and innocent wife.”
Erroll laughed. “Innocent? A woman who puts herself in such a position is no innocent.”
“How dare you?” she hissed.
“How dare I? I understand there were several suitors for the honorable Miss Crenshaw’s attentions at Lady Baldwin’s party. I wager none of them were as good a prospect as I, which is why you gambled that no one would notice if I was included on that list.”
He didn’t miss the way her fingers flexed on the gun.
“Everything I’ve heard about you is true,” she said. “You have no conscience.”
“In that we are alike. Should my father succeed in coercing me into marriage, I will make the worst sort of husband you can imagine. I will not settle down and sire an heir as he expects. Instead, I will send my wife to the family estate in Scotland while I go about my pleasures in London.”
“So the choice is desertion or ruination?”
“Be honest, the ruination was done long before you concocted this plan.”
“Plan?” she repeated. “I feel certain I can convince the magistrate of self-defense. After all, you broke into my room.”
“Think again.” Erroll reached into his pocket.
“Beware,” she said.
He slowly withdrew the key from his pocket and held it up. “The innkeeper was very obliging. He feels nothing should stand in the way of true love.”
She frowned, then comprehension cleared her expression. “I should have guessed. You think you can browbeat me into helping you avoid the marriage vows. You, sir, are the worst sort of knave.”
“So we do understand one another.”
“You are a fool,” she muttered.
He’d had enough. “You are the fool if you believe I will marry you.”
“Marry me? What—”
Erroll started toward her.
She took a faltering step backwards and he lunged. She gave a startled cry. He seized the hand holding the gun and shoved it upward in their tumble backwards. They landed on the bed, him on top of her. Her lush body yielded beneath his hard planes—his stiffening cock in particular. To his surprise, she didn’t struggle, but released the pistol. The weapon bounced off the mattress and struck the carpet with a thud.
“Is this how you described my having ravished you?” he demanded.
Shock registered on her face. He blew out a frustrated breath. He’d come ready to battle the vixen and she was already crumbling. Moisture appeared in her eyes. Ah, there it was. She was simply moving onto another tactic.
“Lies, pistols, tears, and…” He moved suggestively against her breasts and felt the rigid nipples beneath his shirt. “Your arsenal of weapons is impressive, madam.”
“I tell you, mamma, I heard a scream.”
A woman’s voice penetrated the door on the right wall. Erroll jerked his gaze in that direction as the door swung open. Two women stood in the doorway staring, one young—in her second season, he would guess—the other, the mamma the girl had addressed.
Erroll looked at the woman lying beneath him. “I thought that was a closet.”
Title: Burst Into Flame
Series: Burning Lovesick
Author: Lyssa Layne
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 2014
“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.”-Albert Schweitzer
Life before her husband had been simple. Dr. Katy Garrity ran, went to work, came home, and repeat. It wasn’t a glamourous life by any means but it was safe. She didn’t have to worry about getting close to anyone, getting hurt, or worse—losing them. But that was before she met Nick Garrity.
In a matter of ten months, they’d met, married, she’d become pregnant, and then in one quick instant, he was gone. She was a widow. It was a title she never thought she’d carry, especially not at thirty, but that’s what she was. She was no longer known as a runner or a doctor or a mother, she was a widow.
After losing both her father and her husband in the line of duty with FDNY, she should’ve learned her lesson but she was a stubborn woman which was part of the reason why her husband’s best friend fell for her. After Nick died, his comrade, Jesse O’Neil, stepped up as the man of her house and the head of her family. But can she fall in love with another fireman and risk being burned again?
Dr. Katy Garrity hopped out of the St. Luke’s Roosevelt ambulance, stepping cautiously onto the sidewalk. Fire and glass rained down from the inferno in the high rise building. Heat fanned from the fire, but Katy stood frozen watching the scene unfold in front of her.
A child’s screams could be heard above the sirens and splashes of water from the violent stream of the firemen’s hose sprayed the doctor’s cheeks. The stench of burnt plastic and wood filled her nose while soot and ashes now covered Katy’s chestnut ponytail, which was whipping against her face in the wind. Her eyes stung from the smoke that hung heavily in the air she was breathing.
Jolted forward by a passing paramedic, Katy snapped back to reality shaking her head. She rubbed her shoulder where her co-worker had run into her and looked at the triage area. Instead of heading to the red or yellow patients, her feet took her to the black section. Black meant the victims were already dead.
Her eyes scanned quickly searching for one fireman. Her stomach settled when she didn’t see who she was looking for. Satisfied for the moment that her heart wasn’t broken again, she returned to the red patients who were in need of immediate attention.
Seconds, minutes, hours passed and she cared for burn after burn until she couldn’t see straight anymore. The smell of burnt skin and the cries of the victims as she cleaned each wound were not things that would easily wash away when her shift ended. Tears had stung her eyes as she treated the first of the victims but now she was numb. Numb to their pain, numb to her compassion, numb and ready for the night to be over.
A commotion behind her broke her concentration. She heard firefighters screaming and shouting as they ran out of the building. She turned her attention to them and there was the fireman she’d been looking for earlier—slumped lifelessly between the two men calling for help.
Her pulse pounded loudly in her ears, blocking out everything, and her eyes focused only on the man in front of her. Sprinting to the injured fireman, Katy did her best to remain calm. Her finger pressed against his carotid artery, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. She moved her fingers checking for it again. Still nothing.
Her body trembled as panic took over her body. She shook his shoulders trying to rouse him but his head bounced lifelessly. A pot belly pushed against her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her away. She thrashed her arms and legs trying to get out of his hold, but he only squeezed her tighter. Watching them take the lifeless man away, she cried out, “Jesse!”
Lyssa Layne is first, and foremost, the proud momma to her precious daughter, AR. In addition to working full-time and being a mommy to AR, she is also an avid St. Louis Cardinals fan, a runner, blogger, and an infertility survivor.
Having watched one too many medical dramas and being inspired by author Rachelle Ayala, who introduced her to the world of indie writing, Lyssa decided to try her hand at writing a romance story. Her attempt turned into the Burning Lovesick series. You can find Lyssa’s own interests throughout her stories although all stories are fictional.
You can visit Lyssa’s writing blog at http://www.lyssalayne.wordpress.com. You can also follow her on Twitter @layne_lyssa or check out her Facebook page at Lyssa Layne Her debut novel, Love is a Fire, is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
1 ARC Copy of Burst Into Flame
1 e-book of Love is a Fire
1 Kindle Cover from Bags by Diane
1 Bookmark Pack from Biblioreviews
1 Nook/Kindle Cover from Caosta
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If you liked When Harry Met Sally, you’ll fall in love with Robb and Gertrude from Strangers on a Bus…
Robb is crushed by a failed relationship with the love of his life and finds himself unexpectedly on a long bus trip from his adopted home in the U.S. back to his native Canada.
At the first stop in NYC, a girl gets on and so begins a contemplation of life, love, and strange events that will bring tears of laughter and heartache streaming down your face.
Is this girl Robb’s real true love or just a rebound? How far can they get on a bus ride anyway?
This is a true story.
Robert Manary is an international playboy and man of mystery, with the charm and sophistication of James Bond shaken not stirred with a couple ounces of Cyrano de Bergerac, a dash of Rasputin, and garnished with the rapier wit of Thurston Howell the Third.
That’s how he sees himself, anyway.
The truth is Robert Manary is a construct created to protect the dubious reputation of his Clark Kent like mild mannered writer/puppeteer/the man pulling the levers and breathing life into the Great and Powerful Oz (don’t look too closely behind the curtain).
Manary is an award winning blogger, an erotic romance novel writer, the author of a pretty decent romantic comedy, and for a brief period in the early nineties served as dictator of a small South American country.
Most of that is true.
Manary is also an experimental artist who has no clue how to write an Author’s Bio, and definitely no idea how to end one.
P.S. He is also a shameless plunderer of pop culture.
Find out more at:
The Authors and their Stories
Aaron Calnan has seen enough of the horrors of war. Now, Aaron finds himself immersed in a world where humans work within the realms of the paranormal, where Werewolves and Vampires become friends and Fae like to kick your ass. One encounter changes everything and Aaron finds his life turned upside down. Will he finally find his own piece of heaven?
*All proceeds will benefit The United States War Veteran’s PTSD Foundation*