Tuesday, October 21, 2014

****Cover Reveal for City Lights by Julie Morgan****



Music brought them together. A gamble with love could break them apart.

Blaine has reached rock and roll stardom. After surviving an overdose, Blaine was forced into a decision; change and be a better person, or continue down the dangerous path and lose everything he has worked for. Making the decision to change, he turns his focus and attention to writing and producing music in an effort to keep the bright lights of live performances and potential drugs at an arms distance. 
Bassist to the band Blaine is producing, Penelope knows all too well who he is. He’s the sexy as hell, but also drug addicted singer of the mega band, Deep Ember. As excited as she is to get her band signed, she’s none too thrilled to find out her producer is Blaine. Leaving her boyfriend back home to follow her dreams, Penelope will find herself in uncomfortable situations with Blaine. He’s expressed a genuine interest in her and she feels drawn toward him in return. Unfortunately, knowing who he is and what he’s done puts up an invisible wall between them.
Emotions will be on the line and chords will be played… but can Blaine win over the heart of a woman who’s made it clear she wants nothing to do with him? Will Penelope be able to trust her emotions and will Blaine be able to prove he is not what his reputation says he is?
So what do you think of City Lights? This is Blaine's story, who you met in Southern Roots, book one in the series. I had a great time writing the story and even more fun creating the image. 
Thanks go out to Jordan Hill, the model featured on the cover, photography by Michael McCann and illustrations by Stella Price.
Look for City Lights when it publishes October 28th!
Don't forget to check out our review of Southern Roots the first book in the Series!

Review of Hometown Girls: Reunion By Tressa Messeger

reunion 2.jpg
                                              Author : Tressa Messenger
                                             Amazon:  http://tinyurl.com/lr8tu34
                                                   B&N:   http://tinyurl.com/lnna733


Marissa left town as soon as high school ended, carrying with her deep dark secrets that she never intended to divulge, but once she went back home after twenty years for her high school reunion she knew that was exactly where she wanted to be. Once back in her home town in North Carolina it all comes rushing back to her, both good and bad, even the uncontrollable desire for her first love, who happened to be her best friend’s husband.
Marissa and her three best friends could never have imagined the events that would take place once these once inseparable County girls are back together again or the fun nights that are sure to come.

This story follows a group of 4 friends starting at their high school reunion. I couldn't get enough of this book. One thing I loved is that not a single one of the characters was perfect. They all had issues and downfalls just like all of us do. It also shows what some people go through to make their friends happy And that even if it is 20 years later than what you thought  it would be it is never to late to find your true happiness or your true self.


Hi, my name is Tressa Messenger and I am a seasoned health care professional in Polysomnography as well as an author. I have 7 indie books published as well as 3 books published through Limitless Publishing; a paranormal romance series (Protector, Protect Me, Protect Us), a murder mystery series(Too Close To Home and I'll See You Soon) and an epic love story (This I Promise You) and a contemporary series( Hometown Girls: Reunion and Hometown Girls: Beginnings). All of my books can be found at amazon.com or any electronic book site. I live outside of New Orleans, LA with my amazing husband and daughter. You can follow Tressa on Facebook , Twitter and Website .

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Tour of Southern Roots
  by Author Julie Morgan

A modern day romance! -- My Thoughts Exactly blog

MUST READ!!!!!! Seriously……MUST READ!!!!!!!!!!!! One Click RIGHT NOW! -- Battery Operated Book Blog

Holy hotness batman! -- Engaging Secrets Publishing reviews

Love them country boys!!! -- Amazon review

A captivating contemporary romance!! One you don't want to miss!!! -- Who's Reviews and More

Returning home never looked so good...

Home from college to help her mother on the family farm, Lexi Griffin expects things to be quiet and normal. She's back in her hometown, and everything is the same as she left it, including the slowly mending broken heart given to her by her high school sweetheart, Blaine.

After years away, Robert Shaw has returned to his hometown for his father's wedding, looking forward to reconnect with old friends, but he has no clue what's in store for him when he sees Lexi again. Sparks fly between the two, and Lexi is a bit reluctant to start anything with Robert, especially when past wounds haven't healed the way they should have. Robert is determined to have her, against all odds and good sense. A girl like her came around once in a lifetime, and he never forgot her.

And then Blaine comes back to town, intent on rekindling what he had with Lexi, even though his past cheating and drug use has slightly soured him in her eyes. She still loves him, but can she forgive him?

As Lexi takes a leap of faith, she suddenly faces the ultimate betrayal from one she trusted. Will she realize the truth in time or will corruption ruin the best thing that has just walked out of her life?

Excerpt from Southern Roots:
“Well, I have pretty much everything I want, yes. But not everything I might need.” His thumb gently ran over the back of her hand.
She held her breath for a moment before she lowered her gaze. In her entire time with Blaine, he had never talked to her like this. It was always about his music, getting signed, and getting the hell out of Dodge. Looking back on it, she believed he never intended for her to be part of his future. She turned away from Robert for a moment and removed her hand.
“What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?” He asked her.
“Hardly,” she scoffed. “If anything, you’re saying all the right things.” She looked over and glared at him. “Why? Why are you here with me? Why are you doing this?”
“Whoa, wait, what? What am I doing? I’m not sure I understand.”
“You told me yourself that you’re leaving at the end of summer. You told me you didn’t want to become serious, you know, just be friends.”
“Yeah?” He answered.
“Then why do this? Why go through all the trouble of trying to flatter me when it’s all for nothing?” She sat back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest.
He raised his brows, having no idea where this outburst was coming from. He watched her for a moment and considered a different approach. “If this is about Blaine, I’m not him.”
“It’s obvious you’re not him.” She turned and glared at him.
“Then what’s the problem? I fail to see what I did wrong here.”
“That’s it right there!” Her voice began to rise.
He shook his head, still not getting it. “What is? Help me understand.” He kept himself calm and at the same time, felt something inside of him want to yell out for her to cut the shit… that he wanted to be with her. But did he? He was leaving, like she said.
“Bobby Ray, really?” She looked over to him. “You are saying and doing all the right things to woo me.”
“Woo you?” He raised his brows and tried not to smile.
“YES! Woo me!” She huffed and turned away from him. “And dammit, it’s working, okay? You’re leaving and… and…” She stopped and sat there, not saying anything else.
Robert stood up from his chair and ran his hand down his face. Since they were done with their dinner, he felt it was time to change the scenery. He walked around in front of her and offered his hand.
“What are you doing?” She looked up at him.
He saw her eyes wet with threatening tears. “Well, if you’ll take my hand, you’ll find out.”
She shook her head and looked away.
“Lexi, come on. Take my hand. Don’t make me beg, because I have no shame in begging. I’ll get down on my damn knees and cry out for you to take my hand.”
She gasped and looked back at him. “You wouldn’t!”
“Oh I most certainly would!” He grinned and began to get down on one knee.
She immediately put her hand in his. “My god, don’t do that!”
He helped her stand and gave her a lop-sided grin.
She found herself smiling and shook her head. “Okay, now what?”
“Let me lead and you follow. Remember?” He offered more of a smile, softening his face. He saw reluctance in her response, but she followed him nonetheless.
He led her down the stairs to the dance floor. The song ended and To Make You Feel My Love began to play. He led her out to the dance floor, and turned her to face him. He placed his hand on her waist and took her hand.
She rested her hand on his shoulder.
He led her in a slow two-step, keeping his eyes on hers. The first few steps he felt her rigid body. “Relax,” he told her.
“I’m trying,” she replied.
His fingers spread across her back and he pulled her closer to him. His head leaned in and his cheek touched hers.
Her hand moved up around his neck and she began to press her body against his. She relaxed more into his hold as they danced.
"You are the most beautiful, most caring woman I've met in a long time.” He whispered into her ear. “You carry so much on your shoulders, yet you seem free. It's as if nothing can hinder you. Even with me, you see me, not the person everyone else sees. This is what attracts me to you. You're like my light in a dark tunnel."
Her arm tightened around his neck. He pulled her hand in and rested it above his heart, holding her closer. Their steps were small as they danced together.
She raised her gaze up to his and looked into his eyes. “You have no idea how much what you said means to me.”
“I can only guess.” He smiled.
The song ended and their eyes remained on each other’s. At the last chord, he stopped, cupped her face, and kissed her. It was soft, sweet, and not rushed. 


Where to start on this review.....This story is beyond captivating...  Bobby Ray is just your everyday guy with a good heart. Then you have Lexie who is the broken hearted ex-girlfriend who is gun shy to jump in to a relationship with any guy not just Bobby Ray.  Bobby Ray didn't let that stand in his way cause he didn't want a forever love with her, But they were exactly what each other needed. I fell in love with Bobby Ray and his story with Lexi. When I was finished with Southern Roots I was speechless and just like a good glass of sweet tea. You just want more.. This story has it all love heartbreak, betrayal ,cowboys (which is my favorite part) and a rock star bad boy. I have to say Julie out done herself with this one... I would even go so far as to say one of the best books I have read in awhile.. A must read for anyone.

From the author:
"As the author of Southern Roots, I had so much fun writing this story! The inception came to me one day when I watched a few kids jump from a cliff into the lake below [it]. That took me back to when I was a teenager and we would go to the lake. The friends would jump the cliffs, not me. I was always too chicken! However, the story began building itself from there. Bobby Ray developed, as did Blaine and Lexi. Blaine's characters is actually loosely based off someone I used to date years ago. Look for his story, City Lights, coming in October 28th, 2014!"

Originally from Burleson, Texas Julie always had a love of books, especially paranormal stories. Julie finally took the leap and began writing with encouragement from her family.

Having worked in IT her entire career, Julie now spends her free time writing. Living in Central Florida with her husband and daughter, her favorite pastime is reading children's stories to her daughter, especially those around animals.

Where to find Julie Morgan:
Webpage/Blog     |     Facebook     |     Twitter     |     Instagram     |     GoodReads     |     Amazon

Buy Links:
Amazon     |     Barnes and Noble     |     Kobo     |     Inktera

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Release Day Review: Queen of Someday

Queen of Someday
by:  Sherry D Ficklin




Before she can become the greatest empress in history, fifteen-year-old Sophie will have to survive her social-climbing mother’s quest to put her on the throne of Russia—at any cost.

Imperial Court holds dangers like nothing Sophie has ever faced before. In the heart of St. Petersburg, surviving means navigating the political, romantic, and religious demands of the bitter Empress Elizabeth and her handsome, but sadistic nephew, Peter. Determined to save her impoverished family—and herself—Sophie vows to do whatever is necessary to thrive in her new surroundings. But an attempt on her life and an unexpected attraction threatens to derail her plans.

Alone in a new and dangerous world, learning who to trust and who to charm may mean the difference between becoming queen and being sent home in shame to marry her lecherous uncle. With traitors and murderers lurking around every corner, her very life hangs in the balance. Betrothed to one man but falling in love with another, Sophie will need to decide how much she’s willing to sacrifice in order to become the empress she is destined to be.

In a battle for the soul of a nation, will love or destiny reign supreme?

Rating: 5/5 Stars


This is a fabulous book that I feel that all young girls could learn a solid message about strength and perseverance.  Sophia is raised by a fairly dysfunctional mother.  She reminds me a bit of a pageant mom.  The most important things are how others see you and being impressive to those people.  Although I'm sure this was the norm in the time frame that this book takes place in, I found it alarming and a little disturbing.

Sophia has to grow up quickly and make decisions that girls shouldn't be forced to make at such a young age.  Sophia knows that if she doesn't win over the love of Peter, she will be sent back home and forced to marry her older, creepy uncle who has shown a fancy to her.  Although she has no real feelings beside friendship for Peter, she does her best to win his love, taking the advice of Peter's best friend.

This book was very powerful for me and make me second guess things that I felt had gone so wrong in my life.  This helped me see that things can always be worse, so it's best to be thankful for what you do have, rather than what you want.  This is a great, clean read that I would suggest for readers of all ages.  I can't wait to read the second book.

Monday, October 6, 2014

The Satyr's Curse II Blog Tour

Title: The Satyr's Curse II: The Reckoning
Author: Alexandrea Weis  
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours

Jazzmyn Livaudais is struggling to hold it together. With a continuously cranky baby, a rocky relationship with her fiancĂ©, Kyle, and money getting tight at her restaurant, she’s having trouble staying focused. But when the strange nightmares begin, Jazzmyn knows it can only mean one thing: Julian Devereau is back.  
In order to protect her daughter and Kyle, Jazzmyn must keep Julian from his moment of reckoning. Will the satyr’s curse be lifted, or will Jazzmyn find the strength to destroy Julian Devereau once and for all? 
Some curses are never meant to be broken, and some desires are never meant to be undone. 
Beware The Satyr’s Curse.


    Jazzmyn darted through the tall cypress door and headed toward her daughter’s bedroom. She hurried down the burgundy carpet, sick with the realization that Kyle had known all along about their daughter. Jazzmyn had only gotten a short glimpse of Jackie after the delivery, but the instant she had set eyes on the small bundle of dark curly hair presented to her by the nurse, she knew Kyle was not the father.
    As she followed the loud crying down the hall, the disapproving gazes of long dead Livaudais relatives glared back at her from the portraits on the walls. It was as if she had let the family down and brought an unwanted element into their exclusive bloodline.  
    When she pushed the cypress door open to her daughter’s room, she peeked in and found a small figure standing in her bright pink crib with tears streaming down her cherubic cheeks. Jazzmyn quickly strode across the white Oriental rug to her daughter’s crib. After picking up the wailing child, Jazzmyn began humming to her, knowing that music always soothed her sad moods, just like her father. Kyle’s words came back to her, and she fought back a surge of tears.
    When Jackie began to settle down, Jazzmyn noticed something shiny clasped in her tiny hand. She reached for the object and gently pried it from Jackie’s strong grip. Jazzmyn’s heart fell to the floor when she saw the gold figurine of a satyr at the end of a gold chain in her hand.
    “Where did you get this, Jacks?” Jazzmyn interrogated, knowing full well her daughter could not answer.
    She gaped at the gold figurine in her hand and reflected back to the moment Julian had given it to her, and also to the night he had taken it away. Jazzmyn hugged her child, holding on as tightly as she could. With her heart galloping in her chest, Jazzmyn settled her daughter back down in her crib and gave her the white stuffed goat to placate her.
    Grasping the figurine necklace, she bolted through the bedroom door and made her way down the wide oak staircase to the first floor. After punching the alarm code into the panel on the side of the front doors, she pulled the heavy leaded glass doors open and stepped into the warm summer night. She stood on the porch of her home and peered out into the quiet street beyond. Despite the early morning hour, the city of New Orleans hummed with activity. In the distance, she could hear the rumble of the trolley on nearby St. Charles Avenue, and the faint bustle of traffic on the adjacent streets.
    “I know you’re out there, you son of a bitch,” Jazzmyn growled into the night. “Stay away from my daughter, Julian. You can’t have her. You can never have her.”
    Jazzmyn thought she heard someone snickering from behind the thick oak trees that stood before her home. But then the wind picked up and rustled the branches on the trees, sounding almost the same as laughter.          
She turned back to her front doors and stepped inside. As Jazzmyn slowly shut the doors, her eyes stay peeled on the red-bricked walkway that led from her house to the street. She imagined Julian’s tall figure striding down that walkway as she had seen him do several times in the past. After closing the doors, she drove the deadbolt home and rested her forehead against the cool glass.                 

    He was back. Jazzmyn could sense his presence and shuddered at the idea of seeing him again. When she turned from the doors, her eyes traveled up the wide oak staircase, with its twisting grapevine carved banister, to the second floor landing. She thought of Kyle and what to tell him, but she knew in the end she would say nothing. Ever since that night in Lafayette Cemetery Number One, when Julian’s plans to lift his curse had been crushed, she had been waiting for this moment. It seemed the day Jazzmyn had been dreading had finally arrived. Julian Devereau was back for his moment of reckoning.  

Author Bio:
Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans.  Having been brought up in the motion picture industry, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective and began writing at the age of eight. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her award-winning novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story moving and memorable. A permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans.

Author Links
Amazon pagehttp://amzn.to/1orDPLT

Friday, October 3, 2014

Review and Excerpt Of Hollow's End by Marianne Morea

                                      Author: Marianne Morea
                                    Genres: YA


The dark water of the Hudson River isn’t the only blackness looming in the distance of the quaint river town of Sleepy Hollow. Two hundred years of secrets and lies are bleeding into the present, and high school seniors, Hunter Morrissey and Rowen Corbett, find themselves linked with unseen forces shrouded in mystery and violence.

Truths, buried and long forgotten, have risen at a time when the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest. Only Hunter and Rowen hold the key to locking the past in the past, and setting old wrongs to right. Can justice be served? Can the two find a way to straddle both worlds and solve the mystery when they don’t understand the clues? Inspired by true historical events that surround the village of Sleepy Hollow and the famous legend that shares its name, this Young Adult Horror takes you on a journey full of history and suspense with a splash of romance and the paranormal.


Excerpt from HOLLOW’S END by Marianne Morea

The basement opened into a large rectangular space with small egress windows that gave a ground level view of the gravel parking lot to the side of the historic house. A narrow corridor led to a series of rooms, each housing different sets of antiques—from furniture and clothing to artifacts from the infamous capture of Major Andre and the treasonous plot hatched by American turncoat, Benedict Arnold.

Libby had drawn a makeshift map, showing which artifacts were stored in what room. She had even set up a long folding table for us to use while examining each piece.
There were swords and dirks from the time of the revolution, as well as bits of pottery, candlesticks, choir books and even a collection plate from the Old Dutch Church. In one box there were dozens of grave rubbings, buttons, shoe buckles, and bits of lace from the 18th century.

We carried a few items to the table and laid them out. I took a turn examining the grave rubbings, while Hunter busied himself with the weaponry.

He held up one of the regimental dirks, holding it in the flat of his palm. The blade was ten inches long with an intricately carved handle inlaid with silver. "This is amazing," he said, wrapping his hand around the hilt. "It fits so perfectly into the palm of your hand."

I sorted through the tray with the buttons. The items were mostly brass and dull, tarnished silver, but one caught my eye. It was a single cufflink, most likely silver, but what piqued my interest was the crest embossed into the front circle.

"Hey, take a look at this," I said, tapping Hunter on his sleeve.

He looked up, craning his neck slightly. "That’s the Van Tassell crest." He put the knife on the table and took the cufflink. "I remember seeing this in my grandfather’s house," he said, turning the small rounded discus over in his hand.

After a moment, he glanced up. "It’s a miracle this survived in such good condition. I know it’s a long shot, but take a look and see if its match is in the box, as well."

I rummaged around, picking up and discarding item after item, but luck was with us and at the bottom I found its mate. "Whaddya know!"

Holding up the second one, it was my turn to examine the design, from the engraved banner flags and plumed helmet, to the baroque lion at the center.

Hunter put the cufflink down and picked up the knife again. "You don’t suppose Libby would let me take the pair home, do you?"

I shrugged, watching as he examined the dagger again. "She might, after all it’s your family crest. Here, you’d better keep the two together," I offered, handing him the one I had.

Our fingers touched and a wave of vertigo hit me hard. I gasped, squeezing Hunter’s fingers, the cufflink pressing painfully into both our hands.

Hunter’s face changed, and his breathing became shallow and rapid. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and his knuckles whitened around the hilt of the dagger in his opposite hand.

I let go, the cufflink dropping to the table with a dull plink, and rushed around to the opposite side of the table.

"I can’t let go," he rasped. His eyes were saucers as his other hand came up of its own volition and wrapped around the hilt, forming a double fisted grip.

I didn’t know what to do, my eyes glancing between him and the stairs. "I’m going to get Cameron." I took two steps away from the table, only to have Hunter whine in pain.

"Don’t. Leave. Me," he struggled out.

I stood frozen in fear, realizing what Hunter must have felt being on the watching end of my visions. He was fighting some unseen force, and I didn’t know what to do.

Pressing my lips together, I reached for my phone in my back pocket. "I’m calling my mother." I announced it as if I were calling in the marines, only to find I had no signal.

"Crap on toast!"

Hunter’s eyes grew even wider, and we both watched as the blade turned in his hands, his forearms shaking with the effort to stop it as it pushed its tip downward, tilting straight for his heart.

"Oh, my God!" I rushed to the table and tried to pry his fingers loose from the hilt. His hands were a vice grip, and I looked at him, my heart sinking at the fear in his eyes.

I dragged in a breath and tried to think of everything my mother ever taught me about directing and redirecting energy. Why didn’t I pay more attention?

Regardless of who raised the energy, the source needed a conduit in order to travel. It was the same in the physical world as in the magical. Power formed in a spiral either from the earth upward, or in reverse from the universal crown, but either way it could always be directed back into the earth.

"Hunter, listen to me. We have to pool our energy and form a block, a wall of will, and send whatever this is into the ground."

His lips were dried and cracking. His tongue darted out to try and wet them. "Hurry, Rowen. I can’t hold on much longer."

Ugh. This place was solid concrete. My eyes searched the floor and the base of the walls, finally moving up to the egress window. Alarm tape covered the corners as well as the connecting alarm wire, but I was sure Cameron had turned the system off with us down here.

The window was street level and butted against landscaping, which meant dirt. With a hiss of, "yes!" I grabbed Hunter’s chair and pushed against it with all my might, turning him around to face the window. With no time to worry about the consequence, I grabbed one of the other blades from the table and dragged my chair to the base of the window. Hopping up, I sliced through the connection tape, severing the alarm wires and opened the window.

Fresh air drifted in, and the cool feel fortified me as I pushed the hair away from my sweaty forehead.

"Okay, let’s do this. Like Gran said, I’m a conduit and you’re a magnet, so let’s send whatever this is back to hell."

Hunter moaned and I swallowed back on the panic squeezing my throat. I wrapped my hands around his, digging my fingers beneath his as far as they could go. My fingernails tore at his skin and he hissed at the pain, but I ignored the pang of guilt that washed passed, concentrating all my energy into breaking whatever it was that held him in thrall. His grip gave slightly, and I slid my fingers even further in, breaking the invisible hold at bit more.

Our eyes locked and I pressed my forehead to his. "Together," I murmured, and kissed the bridge of his nose.

I concentrated, gathering my thoughts and my desires, focusing on my longing for Hunter, my want of him, both physical and emotional. The air around us chilled to freezing, and I knew it wasn’t from the open window. My breath sucked inward, the sharp intake almost knocking me backward. Hunter was trembling, and I squeezed his fingers, not caring if I broke them in the process.

The air swirled around us, and vertigo took me, nausea biting into my throat and I tasted bile. Images danced on the periphery, and I pressed my forehead harder into Hunter’s, willing the vision to take us both.

We weren’t in the basement store rooms any longer. The wind howled, and the icy cold bit into our arms. Across a winter barren front garden, fire billowed from the cottage farmhouse I saw in an earlier vision. A woman was on the ground in her nightclothes, and I felt the snow turning her exposed flesh red and raw. Anguish and fear lashed through me, and suddenly I knew her child was inside the inferno.

Watching from a distance, I cried out, as her husband was beaten and dragged through the snow and muck, a dagger at his throat as his captors lashed him to the back of a cow.

"Hunter, can you see this?" I asked in a low hiss, but he shook his head. I pulled one of my hands free and lifted his chin so I could see his face, screaming when I saw his eyes had been hollowed.

Helpless tears stung my cheeks in the cold, and I turned back, watching as the woman begged on her knees in the snow for the life of her children, only to be backhanded and sent sprawling to the ground. Cruel laughter and drunken jeers followed as she landed with her night dress pushed around her naked thighs.

A single soldier took off his coat and offered it to her, but she shook her head, instead pointing to the house, a plea of desperation in her voice as she begged again. The man looked to his commanding officer, but he stood laughing with the others. Disregarding orders, the soldier plunged his coat into the well and tossed the soaked garment over his head, rushing headlong into the burning house.

Injured and coughing from the smoke, the man emerged holding the toddler in his arms. The soldier’s eyes held such pity as he

wrapped them together in a feather bed, but his empathy was short lived, as his commander seized a whip from the confiscated barn and beat him, a curse on his lips with each lash.

Vertigo whirled again and we were back in the basement, but the entity’s hold on Hunter hadn’t lessened. The air churned in the room, whipping up papers and sending artifacts flying.

In the depths of the din a voice called out as if struggling to be heard. "Revenge and justice only found if blood and truth meet." The voice was ethereal, nothing more than a moan in the swirl of the air, yet its words were clear.

The howling stopped and the room settled, but just as I thought it was over, the concrete groaned and the thick basement walls breathed in an out, and the air was heavy and loathsome. I drew in a deep breath and focused everything, all my fears and hopes, and issued a final and definite demand. "Leave. Us. Alone!"
Enjoyed the excerpt? Want more?
HOLLOW’S END by Marianne Morea

Available in eBook and Paperback!

Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple iBooks


With it being the season of all things paranormal and spooky. I thought I would start the month off right and do a review of on of my favorite books that is set during the Halloween season.  As a huge fan of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow I went started this story with high hopes. I have to say I wasn't disappointed. Once I opened Hollow's End I couldn't put it down. I was so taken in by Marianne's plot and the actual history of the legend that she wove into an amazing story. This one of those stories that you just connect to the characters and can see a bit if not a lot of yourself in them.  I have to be honest I actually bought this book around a year ago and I have since read it several times. I just can't get enough of Hunter and Rowen. I can't wait to read the next book in this awesome series to see where Marianne takes it to next.

                                           Preorder at Amazon
Rowen threw her arms in the air. “What am I supposed to say when I move into my dorm? Hi. I’m, Rowen. I’m a Liberal Arts major. I like music and hiking, and by the way I’m also a witch and really good with weird…”

Sparring with the fates.
Rowen Corbett and Hunter Morrissey are no strangers to powerful magic. Their senior year was a baptism by fire, caught in the paranormal crosshairs of a two hundred year old battle for justice and retribution. Now, weeks before college life is set to begin, the two are desperate to put to rest past events too hard to fathom and too painful to forget…so they head to the mountains for an innocent weekend of fun…

…But destiny isn’t finished with them.
Beckoning visions haunt Rowen’s dreams until unseen forces hurl her back in time to a colonial world of betrayal, revolutionary intrigue, and death. She finds herself face to face with people and events with a dark history not written in any textbook.
The power that summons her has unfinished business to complete and Rowen is the key. If she refuses, she faces far reaching consequences in the future where Hunter struggles to find a way to bring her back. With only her wits and a basic knowledge of the past, she must survive long enough to earn her way home or die before she was ever born.

Excerpt from TIME TURNER by Marianne Morea

Mom laughed, pulling me from my bed. "Get cleaned up." A soft shove and a love tap on my butt directed me toward the bathroom. "When you’re dressed, come downstairs and have something to eat. Gran has an early birthday present for you."

"Birthday? What, is she planning a world cruise or something? My birthday isn’t until September.
My mother picked up my duvet and fluffed it, giving me a noncommittal shrug. Her, you know better than to question Gran, expression was almost comical it was so true.

I snorted. "Last year her big surprise was telling me my aura was bleeding. Maybe this year she’ll tell me the stars have aligned and I’m destined to be Miss Teen New York."

She folded the blue cotton down over my footboard and turned with a frown as she surveyed the rest of my messy room. "Get moving smarty pants. Ten minutes," she instructed tapping her wrist.
Mom closed the door behind her and I stretched, one last yawn giving up the ghost on my last vestige of sleep. Gran was up to something. My birthday, really?

Eighteen. It didn’t seem possible, but there it was looming right along with college dorm shopping I had yet to start. To the casual observer, my future seemed bright. Except for the little hiccup of having two friends die and another ostensibly trapped in a purgatorial no man’s land, I had a lot going for me. Despite my heavy grief I managed to earn a decent scholarship to good school, and of course there was Hunter.
A derisive snort left my mouth. Defying evil and setting old wrongs to right while nearly dying in the process makes for quite a bonding experience. Either you end up marrow deep in love or you end up psychotic, and considering my residual nightmares and self-imposed seclusion impersonating Miss. Havisham from Dickens’s Great Expectations, crazy was still on the table.

I stripped and turned on the shower, stepping into the spray trying not to think about my mother’s ten minute mark. Not that she would hold me to it, but Gran would. Something was up for her to be here on a weekday afternoon, birthday gift or not. Then again, Gran had reasons for everything she did.

I washed my long dark hair, giving my curly locks an extra shot of conditioner in the lather, rinse and repeat. July was no one’s friend when it came to frizz. Finishing up, I rinsed off, slicking a quick layer of baby oil gel over my wet skin before reaching for a towel.

I avoided the sink as much as possible these days, choosing instead to brush my teeth in the shower. Most of my friends thought it weird or gross, but then again they never had visions of blood pouring from their bathroom tap.

Wrapping my hair in a towel, I shrugged on a three-quarter sports bra and a pair of terrycloth shorts before wiping a hand through the steam gathered on my mirror. Condensation dripped in small rivulets down the glass. I peered at myself, running my fingers over my high cheekbones in the streaky reflection. My face was thinner, but with all the sleep I’d forced on myself lately at least my dark circles were gone.

I took my makeup bag from the side drawer, but put it to the side. It was just lunch with Gran, so there was no need to primp. I’d save the effort for later and towel dried my hair instead, smiling in anticipation of Hunter’s face when he saw me waiting at the end of the gateway.

Dropping the damp towel on the vanity I lifted my head and pushed the tangled mess from my eyes. A wide toothed comb made fast work of the snarls in my hair as I decided what to do with dark mass. A flat iron was of no long term use when it came to summer humidity, so straightening my riotous locks was not an option. But a little anti-frizz gel and a tight bun would do the trick to combat the weather and leave my hair in soft waves for later. I wound my rapidly curling hair and held it with one hand while I searched for my clip. I hunted around the sink, in my toiletry drawer, and even bent to look on the floor next to the toilet. Nothing.
Great. Now I’ll be a giant frizz ball when I meet Hunter.
A tinkle of wind chimes jerked my attention from my narcissism. I had one hand on my head holding my hair and the other flat against the wide midriff band on my top. My stomach flip-flopped because I knew the sound didn’t belong in my bathroom. I pushed the door open and checked my bedroom windows hoping for my own neat, little box of truth. Nope. Both windows were shut tight and the telltale hum from the central air the only discernable sound.
My hands shook and my stomach clenched against the familiar spike in adrenaline. I pressed my lips together. Collateral damage? Try Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for the rest of my life…

Annoyed, I let a rough exhale out through my teeth, dismissing the sound as imagined and turned back the task of taming my hair.

The wind chimes tinkled again, only this time the sound was accompanied by the scent of smoke. Not a fire and brimstone stench, but a pleasant campfire aroma thick with a sense of peace and woodland solitude. I closed my eyes, ignoring what I knew was not my imagination.

Whispers called my name, the voices as subtle as a summer breeze.
Oh God...
From the visions that hit months ago, I knew God had nothing to do with it and I cringed. The lilt from the chimes became frenetic, their pitch increasing in volume and speed. The air around me whipped and blew in a torrent. I covered my ears, my hair dropping to my back as my shoulder muscles bunched against the blasts sending my curls flying around my face, the still wet ends stinging my cheeks.

My back was to the mirror, and I knew whatever or whoever caused this used the reflective glass as its portal.

"Enough! You’ve got my attention, now what do you want?" I shouted, my voice lost to the squall.

The wind stopped and the chimes resumed their fairylike serenade. Whoever or whatever had heard me despite its tantrum in a tempest. I turned, swallowing hard against my rising fear. I thought about Gran. She heeded the cosmos, acknowledging the supernatural play by a different set of rules, yet never discounted her own power and strength of will. I was from the same unbroken line, and the universe needed to remember that as much as I did.
I exhaled the breath caught in my throat.
"Look at me, child…"
I opened my eyes to find a milky blue pair staring back at me from the mirror. My stomach clenched again, but at least I didn’t flinch. I refused to allow myself to be an otherworldly pawn…again.

The eyes were clear but the face obscured, as if peering through smoke or fog. Wisps blurred most of the features, yet I caught a glimpse of steel gray hair poking out from beneath soot smudged white lace giving the impression my visitor was female. Her eyes crinkled and I knew they did so in an acknowledged smile.
"It is time…"
Layered whispers formed the words and the woman in the mirror turned, her hand beckoning me from the glass, but the vision went dark before I could respond. Different set of rules, remember?

Outside, my mother’s footsteps took the stairs two at a time and I heard Gran’s voice yelling after her from the kitchen.

"Rowen! Are you alright?" She shoved my bedroom door open and found me standing with my hands clutched over my stomach. She sniffed the air, her eyes scanning me completely before shifting to the mirror. "What happened?"

"I…I don’t know exactly. I think it was a spirit of some kind."

She stepped I front of me, holding her hand over the mirror. Her gaze narrowing even as her fingers closed into her palm.

"Do you smell that?"

I nodded. "There was smoke in the vision.

"Downstairs. Now."

I swallowed. Mom wanted Gran to weigh in on what she sensed from the glass and a sense of foreboding crawled over my chest…
Enjoy the excerpt? Want more?
TIME TURNER by Marianne Morea

Book two in the Legend Series
Now available for Preorder on Amazon


The Professional...Well, people. As far as my professional career as a published author goes, you're lookin' at it. It's beginning right here, right now. That's right. You're witnessing my history in the making. This website is just the start...hopefully.

I've always been what some people would call a scribbler. From the time I could write my name I've been making up stories. In fact, I often have conversations in my head with the characters I create. Some people might call that part of the creative temperament...others just call it crazy. It's probably a little of both.

I do however, have a B.A. in Journalism and an MFA in Fine Art. So the gal can blather with the best of them! 

 I spent years knocking on doors, honing my craft, and as always, writing. I'm proud to say that while most editors respond solely with form letters, enough responded to my work personally, giving me hope that I truly did have talent.

So here I am...living my dream and still hoping for a fabulous future...for all of us.   

The Woman..
Who am I? Well, that's a good question. When most people think of romance authors, the image of Kathleen Turner as Joan Wilder in 'Romancing the Stone' usually comes to mind.  A lonely woman sitting in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, conjuring lovers and adventure in her imagination. In other words, one step away from being the neighborhood cat lady.

If that description just made you go "eeewww", then you know how we writer's must feel. Thankfully, for most of us that image is far from accurate.

I myself am 40-something. I have been married for 19 years, have three beautiful kids, two dogs and a cat. I am a 2nd degree black belt in traditional Japanese karate, and as I've said, I 
love to travel, and my romantic and spontaneous husband shares that passion with me, so my stories get plenty of inspiration!  

In the meantime I am also a founding member, previous President and current co-event coordinator of 
The Paranormal Romance Guilda not-for-profit organization for readers and authors of the genre. Of course, I’m still writing, and when I’m not ‘bichok’ (but in a chair hands on keyboard), I'm off with my hubby and our kids to exciting destinations.

Cat lady? I don't think so.

While my world may not be as daring as those I create, the ones I love certainly make it an adventure.
You can follow Marianne on her blog, Facebook and Goodreads.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Requiem by T.G. Ayer


                                                                Title: Requiem (Chronicles of the Irin, #2)
                                                                Author: T.G. Ayer
                                                                Release Date: September 30th 2014
                                                                Publisher: Infinite Ink Books
Add To Goodreads
                                                                Pre-Order Links:
iTunes | Amazon


Her name is Evangeline and she is Nephilim.

Evie is stuck in the Underworld until she can find a way to be released from her newfound role as Hades. And the longer she remains in Hades the more secrets are revealed about her true origins. A confrontation with a Dark Angel brings two revelations to the Evie - the true identity of Daniel, the Master of the Irin's assistant, and who is he to Evie herself.

While a trip into the depths of Hades leads Evie into the fiery depths of Tartarus and eventually to the eternal peace of Elysium, will Evie find the peace she seeks? And what about the smoking hot Julian, god of Hades? How far is he willing to go to keep Evie at his side?


Chapter 1 

Two weeks to the Ascension Ceremony
Evie stared at her hands and wondered, not for the first time, why they didn't shine with the blood she'd spilled a few days ago. She flexed her fingers, turning her hands over to study them in the light of the blazing fire. Long lean fingers, neatly manicured nails. Elegant hands for a cold-blooded killer. Only the slightly darker calluses on the inside of her fingers hinted at the hours of weapons-practice, hours of using weapons to kill.

She was used to being the executioner, although never guilty of ending an undeserving life. Not until the insidiously evil Marcellus Bactor had taken over as the Master of the Brotherhood of the Irin. As a warrior under the Brotherhood she'd performed missions of charity, missions of freedom, and of course missions of death. But under Marcellus death had become the sole function of the Irin.

Breakfast had not appealed to her at all. She hadn't expected to feel so strange after dispatching Marcellus. He'd been running the Brotherhood, his own needs more important than those of the humans whom they were all meant to protect. And, now she knew he'd killed her guardian, Patrick, and robbed her of the only father she'd ever known.

And yet here she was, feeling as though she ought to receive some sort of punishment for murdering the Master of the Irin. And for the first time she wondered what the Brotherhood and all her fellow Nephilim were doing right now. Choosing another Master? Perhaps Daniel? She shuddered at the thought. What was that saying? Frying pan and fire.

She sighed and shifted in the sofa, moving her cheek away from the warm flames of the fire. Julian's study was warm and cozy, and modern. Unlike anything she'd ever expected to see deep within the bowels of the earth. Dark wood shelves covered the walls filled to overflowing with books from every age, in every language. Comfortable sofas in earthy tones were scattered around the space, convenient spots for curling up with an interesting read. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and away from the heat from the fireplace.

She smiled at the memory of Castor's reaction to Marcellus' death just hours ago. He'd barely blinked on seeing the bloody remains of their old Master. Not that she should have expected tears considering Castor had borne the brunt of Marcellus's fury when Evie had left Greylock Estate in search of the Underworld. Evie's stomach tightened when she thought of Castor's little home on the grounds of the estate. A place the half demon had loved, a place now burnt to ash. But Castor's woes didn't seem to worry him too much right now. He was being well entertained by Pollo and his eclectic band of servants.

Julian had gone off on an errand in a bit of a hurry; something about a volcanic eruption in the South Pacific. That left Evie to her own devices, which wouldn't have been so bad if she had not needed to worry about Persephone. Evie was constantly on guard where the cold-hearted goddess was concerned, what with Persephone having already tried once to kill her. But so far she didn't seem to want to repeat the attempt. Maybe she was concerned about what Julian would do to her should she succeed. Evie snorted. No chance she'd let her guard down though.

Evie's skin tingled and she glanced at the shifting letters tattooed into her skin. They seemed alive, twisting and writhing beneath the surface of her pale skin like living things. Something Evie was yet to get accustomed to. She studied the markings then returned her attention to the pages of the ancient book lying open on her lap.

A book of dead languages, scripts from a time long gone. Perhaps a source of information, perhaps a way to undo this curse that she'd brought upon herself. Twelve seals to make a god. Not a bad way to turn an angel into the King of the Underworld.

She suppressed another sigh and rubbed her forehead. Suddenly the room seemed to close in on her and she felt desperate to leave the confining comfort of the study. She'd been on edge for hours now. What she probably needed was a sparring session. Something she wasn't likely to get down here.

She shut the book and left it on the sofa, heading for the door on feet that seemed to think she was in a hurry to be somewhere. Outside, the cool air from the shadowed tunnels teased her overly warm cheeks. She glanced up and down the passage listening for the sounds of approaching feet or hooves. Nothing. Torches shone at both ends of the tunnel, their flickering yellow light dancing and reflecting against the ominous jagged black stone of the tunnel walls.

Evie let her feet guide her, although part of her knew exactly where they were leading her.


She felt awkward standing there in front of him. Until he rested his hand on her arm. The touch of his skin to hers set off a million tiny sparks, sending a shiver of anticipation up and down her spine.

She moved forward and so did Julian, until their lips were a hairs-breadth from meeting. Electricity sizzled between them and for a moment Evie's legs wobbled. She tipped forward toward him, reaching for Julian's shoulder to help steady her. Only touching his hard, muscled arm didn't help to steady her in any way.

Touching him set her body on fire, and she felt him shift, move toward her. He cupped the back of her head, tilting her face, giving him access to her lips.

And then he kissed her.

This time his exploration was not tentative. He kissed her hard, with a pent-up passion that felt dangerous and delicious all at the same time. Evie's heart thundered against her ribs as she kissed him back. She curled her arm around his neck and pulled him closer.


<a id="rc-189f5a3244" class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/189f5a3244/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>

<script src="//widget.rafflecopter.com/load.js"></script>
Share code:



I have been a writer from the time I was old enough to recognize that reading was a doorway into my imagination. Poetry was my first foray into the art of the written word. Books were my best friends, my escape, my haven. I am essentially a recluse but this part of my personality is impossible to practice given I have two teenage daughters, who are actually my friends, my tea-makers, my confidantes… I am blessed with a husband who has left me for golf. It’s a fair trade as I have left him for writing. We are both passionate supporters of each others loves
it works wonderfully

My heart is currently broken in two. One half resides in South Africa where my old roots still remain, and my heart still longs for the endless beaches and the smell of moist soil after a summer downpour. My love for Ma Afrika will never fade. The other half of me has been transplanted to the Land of the Long White Cloud. The land of the Taniwha, beautiful Maraes, and volcanoes. The land of green, pure beauty that truly inspires. And because I am so torn between these two lands I shall forever remain cross-eyed.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Facebook Page |Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads | Shelfari