Thursday, July 31, 2014

Release Day For In Between Seasons

release button


Attractive young woman near tree trunk

        Show n'ot Tell Publishing Presents:

NEW ADULT POST - APOCALYPTIC ROMANCE SERIES


In 2021 the world as we know it changed. The government collapsed, and the worst characteristics of human nature were shown as the world fell into ruins. Years after The Fall, the Tribes that were established are still at war. They still fight to keep what they pillaged, and most of all, they fight to keep their lies a secret. In a world filled with deception, nothing is as it seems.
I was born into this world.
Hunter Marks was molded into this world; a General— a person cold and harsh. A person meant to kill me.
We were told to just believe.
We were taught to never question.
We’re supposed to be robots, and accept our roles in this altered society.
Too bad Hunter and I don’t follow the rules.
And we’re a hell of a lot stronger than they ever thought possible.
They’ve been searching for the world’s deadliest weapon.
It’s me.
And I’m not following the leader any more.



Book Trailer LINK: http://youtu.be/xC5LHki61zs


Excerpt
I would have given him everything. I would have melded every part of me into him. My breath caught in my throat. I already had. Love hadn’t existed in this world. Only hate, deceit and lies, but by letting him in I’d let all of that crumble. By letting me in he’d done the same, and now we were engaged in an even deadlier game than before. We weren’t enemies as we had been born to be. We weren’t friends as we had come to be. Then what were we? I let my hands run through my hair as I clasped my eyes shut even tighter. We were cursed.


Young woman standing in dark forest
available now

Release Special Ebook- Just $1.99 for a limited time!

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about the author



Cassandra doesn't remember a time when she wasn't writing. In fact, the first time she was published was when she was seven years old and won a contest to be published in an American Girl Doll novel. Since then Cassandra has written more novels than she can count and put just as many in the circular bin. Her personal goal with her writing is to show the reader the character's stories through their dialogue and actions instead of just telling the reader what is happening. Besides being a writer, Cassandra is a professional photographer known for her automotive, nature and architectural shots. She is happily married to the man of her dreams and they live in the rolling hills of New England their dogs, Bubski and Kanga. Cassandra Giovanni is published by Show n’ot Tell Publishing based out of Connecticut, USA.

Cover Design: Gio Design Studios
Photography: Alex Kotlov via iStock

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Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Five Weeks By Dannika Dark




Five Weeks
(Seven Series, Bk #3)
By Dannika Dark 

Blurb:
Izzy has always loved the freedom and adventure of life on the road, but she’s recently decided to settle down—as much as a rogue wolf can. When her boyfriend gets her a job working at a hot Shifter bar, she runs into the last person on earth she expected to see again.

Jericho isn't the famous rock star he once was, though he still plays in a local band and loves to party. Beautiful women come and go, but music is his only passion—until a sassy redhead named Isabelle Monroe shows up unexpectedly.

Fate reunites two former friends living with one foot in the present and the other in the past. But will they have a future when one of them is forced to choose between life and death? Old habits die hard, and sometimes the toughest addictions to shake are the ones that control our hearts.




Available for purchase at 

      


Excerpt

Sunday, July 27, 2014

All about you by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

New Adult Romance
Date Published: March 7, 2014

  
I start hating Oliver just after his older brother Christian’s death. I drag him down a road of humiliation and pain to try to cope with what his brother did to me.
A few months after Christian’s passing, Oliver leaves town, and for the next two years, he is absent from my life. The demons claw their way back in, and I must learn to live with the secret that has destroyed me.
Now I’m starting a new life, away from Gargle and away from my past, but everything crashes when I see Oliver the first day at university. It’s clear that many things have changed since we’ve been apart. Now he is captain of the rugby team and the most popular bloke on campus.
Then he makes a bet and gives me an ultimatum: I leave Braxton forever and start somewhere else, or I stay and play his game… because he’s never forgotten that it was me who ruined his life two years ago.
BUY LINKS:
Excerpt:
For several long moments, no one makes a move. His eyes harden on me. Only two steps divide us, and I consider screaming. The adrenaline starts pumping through my body, but I stand there immobile, wondering what he will do or say. 
A small smile creeps across his mouth as he locks the door of the bathroom. 
This is not good, not good at all. 
My mind shouts at me to start running, but I can’t move. He’s changed so much since the last time I saw him. His lean, ripped body looks thrilling, and I begin to wonder if he always aimed to look like his brother. Strong, handsome, and not afraid of anyone, even me. His pupils dilate and he inhales quickly, taking a step forward. 
“Get out,” I say before he gets too close to me. My voice sounds weak, but Oliver doesn’t even acknowledge my order. He moves even closer. Soon I’m pinned to the basin, breathing like an asthmatic. His hands are on both sides and I’m at his mercy. His eyes are penetrating me, showing me that he is in charge like I once had been.  
My heart leaps in my throat, but I don’t dare to move. I’m afraid to touch him, to make a connection with his body. Christian was a monster, and Oliver is a man who desires his payback. He wants to break me, though, not caring that we were friends once before.
“Indi, you’re going to listen to me very carefully because I won’t be repeating myself. It’s only this once, right now, that we are going to talk,” he says, almost whispering as he leans close to my face. 
I want to move away, scream, shout or do anything to get away from him, but my body doesn’t want to react. I’m holding my breath, feeling the heat embrace every small part of me. I can’t give him any response. I’m not the person that I used to be. Here I’m weak, lost, and confused.  
“You’re will go back to wherever the fuck you’ve come from. You’re going to pack. Then you will call your mother and tell her that you changed your mind about studying in Braxton. Then you will take the next bus to Gargle and stay there until you figure out what to do with your life.” 
About the author:


Joanna Mazurkiewicz was born in Poland. She moved to United Kingdom when she was only nineteen and just finished high school. She had aspired to be a writer upon completion of the Harry Potter series but also enjoyed reading books like ‘Gone with the Wind’, ’Animal Farm’ and ‘The doll’. She graduated from Swansea University with a bachelor degree in American Studies. While studying in the UK she made a decision to start writing fiction in English.
The “Whispers of the Sprite” is her first debut novel and she is currently working on other projects. Joanna lives in Cowbridge, a small town in South Wales near Cardiff with her boyfriend Bruce. She enjoys cycling around Welsh countryside some of which has become the settings in her first series. 








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Saturday, July 26, 2014

Manroot by Anne Steinberg

Manroot is the evocative and stirring story of a lonely town in Missouri, and a young woman named Katherine who discovers a mystical side to herself that she’d never known existed. Anne Steinberg weaves together fantasy, romance, and a young girl’s coming of age into a darkly magical story.  


Synopsis:

In the spring of 1939, Katherine Sheahan and her father, Jesse, are looking for work in the isolated tourist town of Castlewood. Jesse gets a job as handyman and Katherine as a maid at a small hotel. Jesse drinks and neglects his work and eventually disappears, abandoning his daughter. Frieda Broom, the hotel Manager, takes Katherine under her wing, and teaches her about ginseng, the manroot, and other secrets of the foothills. Katherine discovers that she is a natural healer and has the ability to communicate with spirits, a gift she inherited from her Navajo Indian mother.

Among the hotels regular clientele is Judge William Reardon. Escaping his sterile marriage, he becomes captivated by Katherine. As the pair bond over astrology and gardening, Katherine becomes convinced they belong together, despite him being much older than her and married. As they begin to fall in love, the violence of dark magic threatens to annihilate all Katherine knows and holds dear. Can their love survive?

Manroot is a potent tale of destiny, spiritualism and love, written in Anne Steinberg’s signature compelling style. The kindle version was published March 2014 and is available for sale on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Manroot-Anne-Steinberg-ebook/dp/B00J1BPZJA

Amazon reviews:

“Manroot is an undeniably good read; it’s well-written with a compelling plot and memorable characters. Recommended to readers who enjoy contemporary fiction imbued with fantasy, including Native American themes and the supernatural.”

“Words to describe this book are: romantic, thrilling, memorable, spiritual, magical, and well written in a breath taking way that will keep you enthralled well after it is over. I wish it would have lasted longer and was saddened when it came to an end. 5 stars and cannot wait to see what Anne Steinberg comes up with next!”


Working alone in the kitchen, Katherine scrubbed it clean. Looking up at the calendar, she knew tomorrow was Friday. The Judge was one of the few people who stopped here regularly, even now, in late autumn. Perhaps it was telling Sally that had started it all, for now her thoughts of the Judge were like a fever that stayed with her. Last Friday when she took him his bourbon and spring water, she noticed it for the first time, the birthmark. It was on his right hand, so clear and vivid that she had almost dropped the tray. He had smiled at her nervousness, called her ‘my dear,’ and given her a silver dollar for a tip.
Katherine slept restlessly; she dreamed of the Oh mu and heard its moan of agony echoing in her sleep. She dreamed of Papa floating in the muddy river, caught and held under by a treacherous branch, his eyes vacant pools staring upward through the water. It was so real that in the morning when the siren from the firehouse once again split the air, she rushed into the kitchen where Frieda was telling Bruce, “You be careful…another one’s gone and gave herself to the river. It was a suicide, a painted woman from the Eagle’s nest…” Frieda shivered as she told the story the way that she had heard it from the postman. The woman in the night had cut her wrists, but the dying was too slow, so she ran from the clubhouse, perched only for a moment on the railing, then jumped headlong into the cold water.
Katherine moved slowly this morning. Frieda fussed at her, but knowing the girl had never been lazy, she thought the drowning must have upset her or maybe she was coming down with something.
The guests were all gone. They only expected one tonight – Judge Reardon. They’d have time to go into the woods today, hunting for herbs and the manroot. But Frieda went alone as the girl looked a bit too peaked.
Alone, Katherine cleaned the rooms again; it took no time, for they were already clean. She lingered in Number 8, The Judge’s room.
She knew a lot about him now, and she felt a very real presence that he left in the room. She knew intimate things about him – like the size of his shirts, the smell of his aftershave, which side of the bed he slept on, how he preferred his coffee, the brand of cigarettes that he smoked…numerous details about him that she had collected bit by bit, saving them in her mind and in her dreams, like pennies to be spent at a later date.
He knew nothing of her dusting his dresser, straightening the bed after he had risen. He was not aware that while he was out, she pressed his shirts to her lips, inhaling his aroma, and sat on the bed in the same crevices his body had made over the years that he had slept here. Now she knew with the wisdom and instinct of centuries, she knew that what would be, would be.
Last week for the first time she had seen it, the birthmark, on his right hand. It was paler than the surrounding skin, crescent-shaped like a slice of the moon, and within its outline, unmistakable, a perfect five-pointed star. She knew its shape by heart, as just above her right breast she had its identical replica.
The Navajo blood flowed strongly in her veins, with all its beliefs in the signs, even though her father had tried vainly to smother these strange alien traits. Since her childhood she had believed that she could speak to animals, and she could find herbs hiding under any rock and knew exactly what they would cure.
She stayed dreaming in the Judge’s room until she heard Frieda calling her. The woman had returned from the woods, carrying a full burlap sack.
“You should have come today…I found it…the time is ripe, and you’re much quicker than I. You would have climbed the higher spots where it grows.”
Placing the sack on the table, she pulled out one root. “It’s perfect…it’s prime, probably ten or fifteen years old.” She held the root up to the light. Its torso similar but lighter in color than a carrot, with no hint of orange, just tannish-brown, the root seemed to have two arms, two legs, and a fine network of tendrils. It appeared to be a miniature figure of a headless man.
“What is it?” Katherine questioned as she stared at the unusual root.
“It’s a manroot!”
“The manroot,” Katherine repeated, liking the sound of the word and feeling it described the plant perfectly. “It seems as if it could contain magic?” she said, as she gingerly touched it with a timid finger.
“Oh, they say it does. It works wonders. The Orientals prize its properties – to them it is also the love root. It does many things, cures most anything that ails you. For me it lines my pockets – Bailey’s general store pays about four dollars a pound.” Emptying the sack on the counter, Frieda explained, “You can’t let it get damp – it ruins the root.” She began taking them out, examining and inspecting and drying each root with a clean dish-towel.
“They’re not all like this one, that’s special. Some don’t come with the likeness of arms and legs, some just look like a pale carrot…but the old ones, the very special ones do. Here, Katherine – take it, it’s yours.”
They sat at the table and by habit Katherine helped her.
“If you weren’t such a lazy girl, you could have come with me today. When these are dry, I’m sure Bailey’s will be paying twenty dollars or so for the batch.”
“Twenty dollars?”
“Yes, ma’am!” She knew the girl wasn’t lazy; it was her way of trying to shake her out of the listlessness. “Put on the kettle, Katherine. I’ll slip a little of the root in it. That will perk you up.”
They drank the tea, and Frieda continued drying the root. She did a rare thing: she hummed as she dried the fine tendrils.
“It takes time for the manroot to grow. You shouldn’t harvest a root less than seven years old, and you must always plant the seed when you harvest – each red berry has two seeds – not deep, just under the leaves. It’s a sin…to harvest and not plant the seed,” she said solemnly.
Katherine watched the clock. “I better put on my uniform. The Judge…”
“No need to. When I was coming in, he was headed for the Eagle’s Nest. He told me he wouldn’t be wanting any supper.”
Katherine’s face fell with disappointment.
In previous gossip from Frieda, Katherine had learned that the Judge lived twenty miles up the road with a wife who was said to be fragile since the births of her two stillborn sons. There was not much in these parts that the Judge did not own; he was rich, well-liked, respected, and known to be a fair man. Remarkably young to be a judge, no one faulted him for his tendencies to card-playing, drinking whiskey, and relieving himself with the local women. A lesser man with these leanings would be called no account, but he was, after all, the Judge, and this title brought with it a tendency to look at vices as virtues.
It was just another Friday. Destiny waited for her; she felt it close, closer than it had ever been.
The hotel was quiet. There were no guests and the only person staying was the Judge, who would be out late.
Katherine played the radio softly, dancing about the room, pretending she was at Castlewood waltzing under the lanterns with him. She put the perfect manroot in the Valentine box with her other things. After midnight when he rang, Katherine shook the sleep from herself when she realized the bell from Room 8 was ringing.
She owned no robe, and the persistent ringing threatened to wake Mr. Taylor. She flew up to the Judge’s room and knocked timidly, aware that her hair was down, and she was in her nightgown. It was plain enough – white cotton, sturdy and sensible.
He opened the door to her. He seemed surprised.
“I’m sorry, sir, everyone is asleep,” she said, not really knowing how to apologize for her attire.
He blinked at her, his hair ruffled, his shirt-tail out; she had never seen him like this.
“You’re new?”
“No, sir I’m Katherine. It was late; I didn’t have time to put on the uniform.”
He nodded and leaned forward studying her face. “Come in.” She did so, but left the door open.
“Sit down,” he said. She could tell he was very drunk. She sat timidly in the vanity chair. He paced the floor unsteadily, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s my head… I have a headache that won’t stop. I thought maybe you had something in the kitchen.”
He kept pacing. “I went out tonight, trying to forget. I’ve drunk a lot…it doesn’t stop…my head hurts so.”
“Sir, I could go look, or…” She wondered if she should chance it – maybe he would laugh. “My grandmother had a remedy that always worked.”
He stopped pacing. “Yes? What is it?”
“Well,” she said, “if you rub your thumbs vigorously for a few minutes, it has something to do with the blood flow…if that didn’t work, then a leaf of boiled cabbage on the forehead never failed.”
He smiled and stopped. “Well, try it.” He pulled up a chair in front of her and held out his thumbs.
She blushed. She hadn’t meant that she should rub his thumbs, but he was there across from her, waiting.
She reached forward, and with a firm grip clasped his thumbs and rubbed vigorously, while he leaned back and shut his eyes. She alternated between each thumb. It seemed natural to her to be touching him.
“Do you know what it’s like to play God?” he asked abruptly.
Startled, she didn’t know if he was really talking to her, but she replied, “No, sir, I don’t.”
“Well, I do, and it’s not pleasant, not pleasant at all… Today I’ve sent a man to the gas chamber – well, not me personally, but the jury.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said quietly.
“Stop saying ‘sir’ – my name’s William. The Judge…sir…that’s somebody else. I don’t feel like a judge right now. I never wanted to be a judge.” He opened his eyes and she drew back.
“Do you know what it feels like to judge other people?”
“No, si–” She stopped herself. “No, I don’t.”
He looked down at her hands. “Don’t stop. By god, I think it helps!” He closed his eyes once more and held out his thumbs to her. The house was quiet. Somewhere a nightbird called; the ticking of the clock in the hall kept time in its steady rhythm, and Katherine felt the sound of their breathing in tune.


About the Author:



While living in England, Anne Steinberg’s first novel, Manroot was published by Headline Review in London. Manroot was heralded as an important first novel in 1994 and included in the Headline Review’s prestigious “Fiction without Frontiers,” a new wave of contemporary fiction that knows no limits. Eight modern storytellers were featured: Anne Steinberg, Margaret Atwood, Iain Banks, William Gibson, Peter Hoeg, Roddy Doyle, and E. Annie Proulx. It was an auspicious beginning to a long and varied career for Anne Steinberg, who went on to write several acclaimed novels, Every Town Needs A Russian Tea Room, the story of a wealthy socialite who falls in love with a penniless young Russian immigrant who is haunted by a bizarre shameful secret, The Cuckoos Gift, First Hands, and An Eye For An Ear. She is also coauthor of The Fence, written with her grandson Nicholas Reuel Tolkien, the great grandson of J.R.R. Tolkien. Nicholas is a filmmaker, director, and published poet. The Fence is a chilling story of a magnificent Gothic fence forged by a despicable blacksmith and infused with evil.

Anne was a partner in the world famous vintage clothing store, Steinberg & Tolkien, on Kings Road in Chelsea. After a successful run for over 20 years, the shop closed, and she returned to the US. Approaching her eighty-second birthday, she now writes, reads, and studies antiques, American Indian history, animal welfare, mythology, and folklore legends.

Anne recently re-released Manroot in kindle format. It was published March 2014 and is available for sale on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Manroot-Anne-Steinberg-ebook/dp/B00J1BPZJA

Connect with Anne on Twitter: https://twitter.com/ANSteinberg


Previously published novels include:


First Hands:

Every Town Needs a Russian Tea Room:

The Cuckoo’s Gift:

Elias’s Fence:


The Dark Seduction Of Miss Jane By Amanda McIntyre




The Dark Seduction Of Miss Jane
By Amanda McIntyre

Blurb:
A scandalous betrayal sets Miss Jane Goodwin on an unexpected journey to London to pursue her dream of being the first female investigative journalist, but she soon finds herself in a hotbed of murder and controversy. Seduced by the passions of a mysterious lover and stalked by a madman, tensions mount as Jane falls prey to her desires, only to discover a deadly secret that threatens more than just her trust in men.

Inspector Randolph Mansfield is one of Scotland Yard’s elite, battling the dark secrets of his past while trying to solve a rash of grisly murders threatening to mar Queen Victoria's Jubilee. His respite is the anonymity he finds in the decadence of a private gentleman’s club, until a determined American journalist goes undercover in search of her stalker and he finds the lines between protection and passion blurred. But as tensions heat and her life is threatened, he must choose whether to reveal his true identity at the risk of losing her trust and his career.




Available for purchase at 

      


 Excerpt:

My parents believed that women should be independent and capable. What is your thinking along those lines, Mr. Hampton?” she asked, purposely goading him.

He emitted a long-suffering sigh. “I do find a capable woman refreshing, Miss Goodwin. I have no qualms with a woman who wishes to be independent and, moreover, isn't afraid to speak her mind.”

She slid him a glance. “Indeed, I think your aunt is correct. You are a charmer.”

He shrugged. “A woman can profess to be independent in many things, but there are still times when a man’s involvement is necessary.”

“That is quite enough, Wesley Hampton,” his aunt spoke.

“Name one,” Jane fired back as she crossed her arms.

“Jane!” Isabella turned in her chair and pinned Jane with a shocked expression.

Wesley’s mouth curled into a wicked smile. He lifted his brow and set down his cup. “A conversation left to another day





About The Author




Amanda McIntyre grew up the daughter of a father who was a distributor for a New York magazine publishing firm, and usually had her nose stuck in the latest issue of Vampirella magazine or a Hitchcock Mystery paperback. She has been called  "a true artist in the writing realm' and her zest for life inspires her "character-driven" stories. Her passion is to take ordinary people and place them in extraordinary situations. She is a best-selling, multi-genre hybrid author and has received numerous awards and nominations for her work. Amanda is published internationally, in audio, e-book and in print. She currently writes sizzling contemporary cowboy romance and is about to release her first historical erotic thriller.







You can find Amanda here:

         


Giveaway
$100 Gift Card to either Amazon or Barnes & Noble






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Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Deep in Death by Colleen Helme


Deep In Death 
(A Shelby Nichols Adventure #6)
By Colleen Helme


Blurb: 
Running “errands” for her mob-boss employer, Joey “The Knife” Manetto, often ends with Shelby in trouble, making her cautious about continuing her association with him. Instead, she focuses on a new client who hires Shelby to find her missing mother. What seems like a routine case turns into something more sinister and deadly than she ever imagined. In the meantime, Uncle Joey has summoned Shelby to his office, where she runs into her former nemesis. Shelby inadvertently hears something that makes her fear for the lives of Uncle Joey and his hit-man, Ramos. This time, Uncle Joey is not sure he wants to involve Shelby in something he knows could get her killed. Keeping Shelby’s involvement to a minimum has disastrous results, sending Shelby on a dangerous path. As her investigation unfolds, Shelby finds death at every turn, and soon realizes she is in over her head. Can she escape from danger in time? Or will she find herself deep in death?



Available for purchase at 

     



Excerpt


“I’m investigating a missing person’s report.” I pulled out my file and opened it up. 

“Her name’s Darcy Shaw, and she went missing about six years ago. Do you think I could look at your files and see if there’s anything I could use?”

Dimples frowned. “From that long ago, it’s probably downstairs in the dead files room. Come on, I’ll show you where they are.”

“Thanks.”

I followed him to the hall and down two flights of stairs to the basement. He opened the door to a room and flipped on the light. Wall-to-wall filing cabinets filled the room, and a stale, musty odor permeated the air. From the smell, I’d guess no one had come down here in a long time, kind of how I imagined it would smell visiting a mausoleum. It seemed colder than normal too, and I realized that all of the files belonged to real people who had disappeared and were probably dead, and no one knew why or how.

“Go ahead and take a look,” Dimples said. “They’re filed alphabetically.”

“Um…yeah, okay.” I hesitated, not wanting to venture further into the room. It was so cold and dank that it kind of gave me the creeps. But I only needed one file. 

That wouldn't take long.

“When you’re done, come on back up and I’ll fill you in on a case I could use your help with.” Dimples was thinking he was anxious to leave me to it, not because he had a lot to do upstairs, but because the room had kind of a weird vibe that he didn't like.

“You’re leaving me here alone?” I blurted.

“What? You’re not scared are you?” He scoffed. “It’s just a room with files in it. 

There aren't even any guns or crazy killers down here.”

“Oh fine,” I said, still hesitating in the doorway and wishing I hadn't heard that part about the weird vibe.

“You want me to stay?” He folded his arms and raised his brow in challenge.

“Of course not,” I said. “Like you said, I’ll be fine.”

“Good. Hey…if one of those files attacks you…I’m right up-stairs if you need me.”

“Ha, ha.”

He chuckled and left. I shook my head and hurried over to the cabinets. As I found the cabinet with “S through T” on it, the door clicked shut behind Dimples, sealing me in. It was deathly quiet. The only sounds in the room came from me. My breathing and the shift of my feet echoed from the walls, magnifying each tiny breath and movement I made.

An unexplained sense of urgency rolled over me. I was alone in an enclosed space that seemed to get smaller the longer I stood there. A sudden stab of dread tightened my stomach, and my hands shook a little. It was mostly thoughts of the lights going out and leaving me in total darkness that did it. If Bates knew I was here, I wouldn't put it past him to do that to me, and I wanted out of this creepy place as fast as I could.

With renewed effort, I scanned the labels until I came to the right drawer and yanked it open. I quickly leafed through the folders and caught my breath to actually find the file. I swallowed with relief and pulled the bulky file out. Pursing my lips together, I set it on top of the other folders and opened it up checking to make sure it was the right one.

A larger version of the same picture I’d received from Tiffany stared back at me. Her eyes held a haunting mixture of sadness and foreboding, and goose bumps broke out along my arms. A sudden chill ran up my spine and my heart picked up speed. All at once, it felt like I wasn’t alone, and someone was standing right there beside me. I froze. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but I didn’t dare look either.

My mouth went dry and I hardly dared to take a breath. Glancing back down at the picture, I felt something cold and feather-like brush against my cheek. I inhaled sharply. It came a second time and I jerked my face away, hunching my shoulders to my neck with fear. “I…I’ll try and find out what happened to you,” I croaked. The chill intensified, then suddenly fell away in a cool breeze, leaving the scent of flowers behind, which I recognized as the distinct smell of gardenias.

With my heart racing, I grabbed the file and slammed the drawer shut, then raced out of the room as fast as I could. In my haste, I left the light on, but I was too scared to go back and turn it off. The smell of gardenias stayed with me all the way up the stairs, but disappeared as I entered the office. With my chest heaving, I hurried over to Dimples’ desk and sat down, rubbing my cold arms.



About the Author

 A long career as a wife and mother while juggling several part-time jobs gave Colleen the ambition to dream of being a published author, where she could put her imagination to good use. Now instead of making up stories to tell her children, she writes books they love to read. Hopefully you will too. She is the author of three romantic fantasy novels, Songbird, Flame of Destiny and The Relic. Her Shelby Nichols Adventures include Carrots, Fast Money, Lie or Die, Secrets That Kill, and Trapped By Revenge coming soon!




You can find Colleen here:

         








Presented By





Hearken by Kristen Day

Hearken ( Daughters Of the Sea #4 ) 
Now Available!
7/22/14

Haven't read the first 3 in the series?! Get caught up while they are on sale!



When the evil you fear is born from within, who will save us…from ourselves?

Sometimes our souls hear what our minds and hearts refuse to accept. It will whisper its continuous cadence until we're strong enough to glimpse the truth. But when the soul's whispers morph into screams, we're forced to gaze into the mirrors of time and see ourselves for who we really are.

 Grappling with her newfound leadership position, Stasia begins to experience a recurring nightmare of murder, as well as curious reveries about a violet-eyed girl who can control the moon. When tragedy grips the Tydes and several important relics are stolen from the Sons of Daimon, Stasia’s Council leaves for the forgotten island of Atlantis. Unfortunately Atlantis harbors its own secrets, and they are all calling to Stasia. As her nightmares become worse and she begins to lose control of her mind, those around her must find a way to reach her…and fast.

 Olivia Campbell is used to getting what she wants, when she wants it. But destiny never asked Olivia what she wanted. Being Chosen to be a Paladin at birth had not been something she wanted, and she definitely hadn’t wanted her charge to be Anastasia. Unfortunately their irritatingly persistent Atlantean guide, Sebastian, seems to know all about her and the secrets she’s been hiding. As she fights to protect Stasia from an unknown force, Olivia’s own courage and loyalty will be tested in ways she never imagined. Will she be able to tell Stasia the truth before it’s too late for them both.    

Purchase your copy of Hearken today!

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/BN-KristenDay


About Kristen Day
 
  I am a southern belle at heart with a crazy streak that desperately tries to escape at every opportunity. I love all things nostalgic, rustic, and quirky. I've been told I see the world through rose-colored glasses, but I prefer to think of them as kaleidoscope glasses - swirling and morphing reality into something I can digest (who hasn't pretended those pasty lima beans were really kiwi strawberry jelly beans?).  When I'm not writing I'm making jewelry, painting, drinking sweet tea, watching the discovery channel, or going on random adventures in the mountains of North Carolina with my amazing husband.