Monday, September 30, 2019

The War Queen by J.M. Robison


ISBN: 9781370236688
ASIN: B01LXD0C6N
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Blurb:

How do you dethrone a heart when its owner has stolen your kingdom?

Altarn is used to tolerating the biases of men. It comes with being the first female to secure the political State Head of Blindvar. But Kaelin, the State Head of Ruidenthall, crosses the line when he proposes a merger of their two states. Altarn has reason to believe this is Kaelin’s attempt to make himself king of both. Believing it’s her responsibility to “dethrone” him, she rides to her last ally to ask for aid.

While on the road, she’s kidnapped and taken to Ruidenthall. She wakes from a drug-induced sleep to hear about a foreign army marching upon Blindvar, and Kaelin capitalizing on her kidnap to make himself king. He threatens her life if she tells anyone, but she will suffer tyranny under a king if she does not.

When the final battle forces her hand, she has but one choice: to save Kaelin’s life or let him die. She never expected to dethrone his heart instead.


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Extract:

All seven members were already seated, one baron for each major city in Blindvar. There were actually six cities, but there could not be an even number on the court.. The seventh was a random member qualified to be a court official, currently held by a female named Brigot. The idea of females serving in positions of authority was not settling easy.
Altarn walked to the head of the table, sitting in her large, leather chair which felt awkwardly like a throne, reminding her of the last king the Blindvarn citizens had dethroned more than three hundred years ago.
Her seven members waited for her to speak. Perseth pushed his glasses higher up his sweaty nose. Leodin coughed into his sleeve.
Females were not discouraged from positions in politics, but the concept still troubled many. It had been a traditionally male position to hold both the state’s title and to fill the positions in court, but Altarn had been in a particular mood eleven years ago and had broken it. She became the first female State Head and had already served one year out of the three-year session.
Two men had competed for the State Head with her. The background check on one revealed he had a criminal record. The second was leading the election by a large margin until authorities discovered he was born in Luthsinia.
“The minutes will reflect the presence of all representatives from their respective cities,” Altarn began. “On seven Midar, year three twenty-four After the Reign of Kings.” She paused to let the court scribe catch up. “So being, I am unaware as to the nature of the request for court so I will let another member proceed from here.”
Perseth stood from his chair and straightened his buttoned waistcoat over his round belly. “Baron Perseth of the City of Fellsbarren requested this session due to concerns with the present dealings with the State of Ruidenthall.”
His nasally voice made Altarn want to hand him a tissue. She drummed her fingers on the armrests. She had suspected as much.
“May I speak freely, Lady?”
“Proceed.”
Perseth pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “We all think it is impulsive of you to threaten Ruidenthall with war.”
His eyes, too round and too close to his nose, swept over the other members of the room, who all nodded.
“They have been our friends and allies since the war to dethrone our king. If Luthsinia didn’t cut straight between our two states, we might even be one. A lot of us have family who either came from Ruidenthall or who live there now.”
“Is it so easily forgotten the Lord of Ruidenthall is trying to steal Blindvar from us?”
The members at the table moaned.
“Please reflect on my use of the word ‘impulsive.’”
It pushed on the edges of her serenity to listen to Perseth’s boldness and not respond to it. But she’d been called to court to listen to a problem, not create one.
“Scribe, will you please read us the letter from the Lord of Ruidenthall concerning the matter our lady has just mentioned?”
The scribe pulled a book off the shelf at his desk and thumbed through it, pages snapping crisply. “Seventeenth of Kaidar,” the scribe read. “Year three twenty-four After the Reign of Kings. Addressed to Lady Altarn Shadheing from Lord Kaelin-drath Morrendrake. It reads:
Greetings, Lady of Blindvar.
It is fortunate our two states are such great friends. It has come to my recent attention that a number of Ruidenthall citizens have taken a fancy to your small town of Heathe. So much so, that there are more Ruids than Blindvarns. I’ll have to visit to see what the attraction is. After all, who would sacrifice great Ruid food to live in a small Blindvarn town where the closest city is thirty miles out?
Of course, having this offset of Blindvarns to Ruids must make it a tad more difficult for the yearly census for you, which gave me an idea. Since our states are such good allies, I propose—just as a speculative thought—that Heathe be merged into the State of Ruidenthall in exchange for a small bit of land out of my own good state, if you like.
Maybe this small exchange can start something bigger, and maybe someday Endendre will eventually be one state instead of divided into three. Of course, it is just an idea, and something like this has never been done before between our two states. Please reply with your thoughts. If it is disagreeable, I’ll digress.
Signed, Lord Kaelin-drath Morrendrake of Ruidenthall.
The members at the table watched Altarn like ghosts waiting for the moment they could pounce on the living and suck out their souls.


About the Author:

Born in small town Bennington, Idaho, J.M. wanted to be just like her big, story writer sister. Big sister paints now, but that initial role model was all the springboard J.M. needed to fearlessly leap into writing the novels of her heart. Getting around the world as a soldier has helped broaden J.M.'s views on cultures and personalities, and settling down as a Deputy Sheriff in Nevada for a time has helped her maintain all the fine intricacies humans are capable of which has helped define her characters into something realistic and believable. Without any prior claims to fame, J.M. is proud to showcase that hard work, even from rock bottom, DOES pay off.

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• Find J.M. Online •

Monday, September 23, 2019

Deadly Alliance by Kathleen Rowland



Blurb:

Finbar Donahue, former Army Ranger, walked on the wild side in Iraq, but now he lives in the shadows. After his evasive partner, Les, was shot in a random drive-by, Finn discovers cash is siphoned monthly. He fights to keep his investment company afloat. When the late partner’s girlfriend, Amy Kintyre, applies for his bookkeeping job, Finn suspects she knows about his company drain and hires her.
Amy needs a nine-to-five with free evenings and weekends to get her fashion design business back on track. She unearths Les’ s secret bank account and alerts Finn. Freezing of the money laundering account sets off havoc within an Irish gang. Amy witnesses a gang fight between a brutal ISIS fundraising organization and the Irish. Desperate to escape a stalker’s crosshairs, she seeks refuge with Finn. As danger heats up, sparks fly hotter.
Les is alive. After cheating the Irish mob, he became their target. Mistaken identity took the life of his disabled twin brother. Now Les makes another deal—trading Amy and stolen drugs for their forgiveness. Stakes are high as Finn tracks assassins across the San Bernardino Mountains. If he gets her back, can he trust her?


Extract:

The front door opened. “Sorry, we’re closed.” Holding a broom, Burlie swept behind the bar.
Finn stepped closer. Drunken merrymakers, they were not. His heart hammered like it was stuck in overdrive.
“We offer protection.” Speaking with a Spanish accent, the shortest of the trio dressed like the others, donned the ISIS-style full face black mask.
“I have protection.” Burlie’s big mouth nailed his coffin.
A second thug grabbed the bartender’s hand and pulled out clippers. “You’ll change your mind, one finger at a time.”
“I just paid the Irish.” Panic burrowed into Burlie’s high-pitched cry. He thrashed his arms as he tried to pull his hand back.
“Us you pay”. His utterance with the object in the first position identified him as an Arab speaker. Light glinted off shiny metal. The thug pulled a combat knife, grabbed Burlie’s arms, spun him, put the blade to his neck. Finn dialed 911 and then shouted, “Finn Donahue here. Gang trouble. Burlie’s Jazz Club,” To grab their attention even more, he heaved in a breath and released a long whistle. His distraction worked.
Burlie broke from the hold, and Finn thanked God for the curious.
“Where are you?” Heavy boots pounded toward him.
Finn’s phone vibrated, but he killed the call and darted into the first door he saw, the one with the frosted pink window. He spotted Amy at the sink and pointed his index finger up.
He took off his coat and wrapped it around his fist. After rapping on the glass, he wound up and threw a hard punch through the window. Glass splintered as he connected with the thug’s nose. Prepared to jump aside, he opened the door.
Amy followed and jumped over the guy spread on the floor, holding a hand over his bleeding nose.
He struggled to stand. Finn patted him down, took his gun, and pointed it at him. After the guy stood, Finn walked him to a chair. “Don’t move.”
“I’ll phone the police.” A high-pitched squeal came from the back of her throat. “Never mind. Police are here.”
From the street, the blue light of a cop car radiated across the club’s interior like a strobe. Uniforms burst through the door.
The first officer made radio contact with homicide, and the second, much younger, rushed to the nearest thug and pulled out flex-cuffs.
“Stand over there, Amy.” Finn motioned toward a corner.
She rolled her eyes and dashed toward Burlie who wrestled with the Arab and tried to keep him from moving toward the young rookie. Amy pulled an item from her purse. A Swiss army knife? Out came a miniature cork screw.
The rookie cop turned the Arab around to be handcuffed and leaned him against a wall. The thug used the hard surface as leverage to throw himself against him.
Finn saw it coming. A switchblade . . .


Meet the author:

Book Buyers Best finalist, Kathleen Rowland, is devoted to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes suspense with a sizzling love story sure to melt their hearts. Kathleen used to write computer programs but now writes novels.She grew up in Iowa, where she caught lightning bugs, ran barefoot, and raced her sailboat on Lake Okoboji. Kathleen now happily exists with her witty CPA husband, Gerry, in their 70’s poolside retreat in Southern California, where she adores time spent with visiting grandchildren, dogs, one bunny, and noisy neighbors. While proud of their five children who’ve flown the coop, she appreciates the luxury of time to write while listening to characters’ demanding voices in her head.

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• Find Kathleen Online •

Monday, September 16, 2019

Irish Echoes by Paula Martin



ISBN: 9780463311790
ASIN: B07WFQXFB9
Kindle USKindle UK
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Blurb:

Rachel Pearse and Elliot Quinn had been deeply in love—until Rachel made a huge error of judgement which deprived Elliot of the acclaim for discovering a long-lost famine village in Ireland. Elliot denounced this as a deliberate attempt to betray him and ended their relationship.
Seven years later, they meet unexpectedly when Elliot turns up at Mist Na Mara Arts Centre in the west of Ireland for a week-long conference which Rachel has agreed to manage as a favour to a friend.
New tensions mount when it becomes apparent Elliot isn’t prepared to forgive and forget, even though they are both aware of the revival of their feelings for each other.
Surrounded by the echoes of their own past as well as those of Ireland’s Great Hunger, can Rachel and Elliot resolve their problems and find their way back together?



Extract:

Rachel watched as Dan and Ellie set off, hand-in-hand, along the corridor to the stairs, and a frisson of envy shivered through her. They’d had a perfect day and were so happy and in love.
With a sigh, she turned toward the door of the function room. It was only eight-thirty, but if she collected her camera equipment now, she could wait in the entrance lounge. Anything was better than having to watch Elliot dancing with whoever he’d brought with him.
As she reached the door, she was about to push it when it was opened from the other side. She would have toppled forward and landed in a heap on the floor if two firm hands hadn’t grasped her arms.
‘I’m so sorry,’ a man said. ‘Are you okay?’
She looked up, straight into Elliot Quinn’s clear, blue eyes. A fire of embarrassment rushed to her cheeks. In the same moment, he jerked his hands from her arms, almost as if they had been red-hot to touch.
‘Yes, I—’ Her tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of her mouth. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m grand, thanks.’
She didn’t know where to look, but Elliot stepped sideways and held the door open. ‘After you.’
‘Thank you.’
And that was it.
She walked past him and he went out of the room. No smile, no nothing. They could have been total strangers.
Somehow she managed to return to the bar, pick up her camera bag, and head along the corridor toward the hotel entrance. How was it possible to feel numbness and pain at the same time? She bit her lip hard to stop tears flooding her eyes. Hadn’t she shed enough of them seven years ago?
When she reached the lounge, she faltered. Declan, a pint of Guinness in his hand, stood near the fireplace, talking to Guy Sinclair, the owner of the Mist Na Mara Arts Centre.
‘Hi, Rach,’ Declan said, then frowned. ‘Everything all right?’
Was it obvious her world had tilted on its axis?
‘Yes, I—I’ve—Yes, I’m getting ready to take photos of the newlyweds leaving.’
Declan held up a car key. ‘I’ve brought Dan’s car to the bottom of the steps. Of course, I have absolutely no idea what Kevin and Finny are doing right now, but I’m thinking helium balloons might be involved.’
Rachel gave him a weak smile as she placed her bag on one of the coffee tables and pulled out her camera.
Declan turned back to Guy. ‘I’ll probably arrive about seven tomorrow evening. Maddy, my assistant, will also stay overnight, while we get everything organised for the start of the conference on Monday.’
‘We’re ready for you,’ Guy said. ‘It’s the first time we’ve had the Irish History Society at Mist Na Mara, but it sounds like it will be an interesting week. Anyhow, I’d better go and find Jenna now, if Ellie and Dan are about to leave. Not that my wife needs to catch the bridal bouquet,’ he added with a grin. ‘See you tomorrow, Dec.’
‘What’s up, Rach?’ Declan asked once Guy had left.
She gave a small shrug. ‘I was right about a certain person ignoring me.’ After telling him about the encounter at the door, she shrugged again. ‘Silly of me to expect anything different, wasn’t it?’
Declan raised his eyebrows. ‘Were you hoping for something different?’
‘No, of course not.’ The denial came out too abruptly and she backtracked. ‘All right, maybe I half-expected a polite “Hello, Rachel, how are you?” but I’m not really surprised it didn’t happen. It proves the point that Elliot belongs in the past, doesn’t it?’
‘If you say so.’


About the Author:

Paula Martin lives near Manchester in North West England and has two daughters and two grandsons.She had some early publishing success with four romance novels and several short stories, but then had a break from writing while she brought up a young family and also pursued her career as a history teacher for twenty-five years.
She returned to writing fiction after retiring from teaching, and is thrilled to have found publishing success again with her contemporary romances.
Apart from writing, she enjoys visiting new places and has travelled extensively in Britain and Ireland, mainland Europe, the Middle East, USA and Canada. Her other interests include musical theatre and tracing her family history.

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• Find Paula Online •


Monday, September 9, 2019

One Night in Budapest by Lucy Felthouse

From the Tirgearr City Nights series, I'd like to introduce Lucy Felthouse! You can read other Tirgearr titles by Lucy, HERE.


Blurb:

An unexpected break-up means Hermione’s visiting Budapest alone. Determined to make the most of it, she goes on a night-time river cruise and meets Emil, sexy cocktail server. When he asks her out for dinner, she’s tempted, but she’s a long way from home and he's a complete stranger. She decides to take a chance, and what follows is an unforgettable night which will transform her life forever.



Extract:

Locating the correct pier, Hermione pulled her ticket from her pocket and showed it to the girl welcoming passengers onto the boat. The girl—the badge pinned to her blouse giving her name as Reka—glanced at the ticket, and smiled. “Thank you. Please take a seat inside until the boat arrives. Enjoy your trip.”
With a nod, Hermione gingerly headed along the gangplank and boarded the vessel, wondering what Reka meant. Surely this was the boat? She shrugged, smiling at the other members of staff she passed, and followed the buzz of chatter to find the other passengers. Maybe it had been a misunderstanding, her meaning lost in translation or something.
Heading up a couple of steps to a bar room full of other tourists, she quickly took a seat at an empty table by the window. She’d have a great view of Budapest’s riverside highlights from here—and she was sure they’d look different again once night fell. Already the sky was darkening—it was almost four p.m. on a chilly January day.
She was so intent on admiring the Chain Bridge that she didn’t know there was anyone beside her until someone said, “Excuse me, madam? Would you like to take advantage of our special drinks offer?”
Turning to the source of the voice, her fluttering heart the only indication that she’d been startled, she smiled. “Maybe. What’s the offer?”
Her smile widened as she studied the man who’d spoken. He looked to be around her age—early twenties, and damn cute. Dark, slightly overlong hair curled on his head, deep brown eyes gave him an intensity that increased the flutters in her heart, and the dimpled smile he flashed as he replied lit up his handsome face. “It is happy hour. Two drinks for price of one.” He paused, looked at the empty seat beside her, then glanced over his shoulder as though checking if anyone was coming to join her at the table. “But perhaps you would only like one? Maybe I can see if yours can be half price…”
“It’s okay,” she replied firmly. “I’m going to be on the boat for a while, I’m sure I can manage two drinks. I don’t have to have them at the same time, do I?”
He shook his head. “No. I will be serving on the other boat in a moment, so I will look after you and your drinks to make sure you get special price.”
Immediately following his mention of an additional boat, a loud voice rang out. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now ready for you to board the tour boat. Please be very careful while stepping from one boat to the other. As soon as you are all seated, we will begin the trip. Thank you.”
It was then Hermione realised that as she’d been gazing out of the window to one side, a smaller boat had pulled up alongside the one she was on. Everyone was getting up and moving to the staircase. “Thank you,” Hermione said, glancing at the man’s name badge. “Emil. I would absolutely like to take you up on your offer.”
He smiled, and she returned the gesture, only allowing the grimace to take over her face once she was out of his view. She was glad of any language barriers at that moment—hopefully it had prevented Emil recognising the blatant double entendre in her words, inadvertent though it had been.


Meet the author:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes.

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• Find Lucy Online •


Monday, September 2, 2019

Fade by A.K. Morgen

Tirgearr Tuesday

Thirteen Steps to the Cellar by Teresa Matthews



Blurb:

There were thirteen steps to the cellar. They were steep and they were narrow—but was a fall down them enough to have caused the twenty-seven deep lacerations to her aunt’s head?
Callie Harris travels from her home in Alabama to her aunt’s former mansion in Maine to unravel the haunting forty-year-old mystery of Dr. Laverne Harris Doss’ brutal death.
Why wasn’t a murder weapon found? Was her uncle justly convicted of the killing? Was his mistress involved? Or was the murderer the bearded stranger rumored to have arrived by train that night?
In the charming town of Richmond, located on the banks of Maine’s historic Kennebec River, Callie uncovers the community’s darkest secrets—a botched police investigation, a betrayed widow’s lie, a dead woman’s blackmail, and a wealthy philanthropist’s shame. The web of intrigue extends far beyond Callie's suspicions and its connection to her personal story pierces her to the core.


Extract:

A man hovered over the crumpled body of the woman at the bottom of the cellar stairs. An awful, guttural sound forced its way up from deep in her lungs. A cavernous head gash bled profusely, the blood pooling, forming a red halo around her auburn hair. Her glassy, fixed eyes looked up at Callie, pleading for help. I must stop the bleeding, Callie cried. She hurried down the stairs, her feet heavy, her heart pounding. Why can’t I breathe? Why can’t I reach her? Why won’t my feet move faster? She was only steps from her aunt when the grimacing man turned toward her, then looked back to Laverne and raised his hand for a final blow.

Callie awoke with a start. Sitting on the side of the bed, she ran her hand across her forehead to feel the perspiration. Since the funeral, she’d endured recurring dreams about both her father and deceased aunt. It’d been two weeks, and still, she couldn’t shake the nightmares.
She looked at the bedside clock. In an hour, she had a scheduled meeting with her brothers. Wanting to arrive a few minutes early, she dressed, skipped breakfast, and drove to her vacant childhood home.
A heaviness surrounded Callie as she unlocked the front door and walked into the quiet house. Turning on lights, she paused in the family room. For a moment, she imagined she could hear pots rattling in the kitchen. She turned her head to one side to listen to the ghostly strains of her mother singing her favorite hymn. In her mind, Callie could see her father sitting in his recliner, reading the newspaper with his feet propped up. Her two brothers were roughhousing as they came through the door, all sweaty and dirty from playing football in the front yard. So many memories
Walking down the hall, she opened the linen closet where years ago she’d found the newspaper article about her aunt. I didn’t know Laverne, yet I can’t seem to get her out of my head. Reaching under the sheets on the top shelf, she slid her hand side to side across the cedar boards. She checked the remaining shelves, then closed the door. Empty-handed, she wandered into her father’s bedroom.
On an impulse, she walked to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer to see several sets of folded pajamas. Beneath was a sheaf of papers. With her heart fluttering, she pulled out the stack and took a seat in the nearby chair.
Carefully unfolding the papers, she spread open a section of the Boston Globe. Front and center was her Aunt Laverne’s photo. With anticipation, she read the ensuing article. It confirmed her aunt’s body had been found in the cellar of her Richmond, Maine home. It established the brutality of her death. Otherwise, not many details were divulged. Sighing, Callie folded the newspaper back into its original four creases.
Sitting beside his empty bed, Callie attempted to remember every word her father had uttered about her Aunt Laverne.


About the Author:

Teresa Mathews is a graduate of The University of South Alabama. She’s a member of the Mobile Writers Guild and serves on the Board of Directors for the Alabama Nursery and Landscape Association.An avid gardener and artist, she has multiple book covers to her credit. Several years ago after visiting the site of her real-life aunt’s murder, Teresa discovered another passion–storytelling. Although inspired by an actual tragedy, Thirteen Steps to the Cellar is fiction.
Raised on the Gulf Coast, Teresa, her husband, and son now live on a farm with a second home on the sparkling white sands of Fort Morgan, Alabama.

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• Find Teresa Online •