Friday, October 21, 2016

Cover Reveal: Guarded By The Warrior by Eliza Knight


Inside the Book:

Title: Guarded by the Warrior
Author: Eliza Knight
Release Date: November 29, 2016
Publisher: Knight Media LLC
Genre: Historical Romance
Format: Ebook

A lady in need of protection...

Suffering through a short marriage to an enemy of Scotland, Lady Emilia MacCulloch manages to escape just before her husband dies. But the Ross clan will stop at nothing to get her back, for she plays a big part in their plans to thwart Robert the Bruce. She fears for her own family being labeled traitors and for her life. Placed by her king as a governess in the household of a devastatingly handsome warrior, Emilia finds herself drawn to the man, when she had previously sworn off love all together. His passion, charisma, loyalty and strength shake the very foundation she's built around her heart.

A warrior in need of saving...

Ian Matheson has spent his entire life trying to prove himself. To belong. When his father passes away and his mother takes her vows at a nearby abbey, he is suddenly left in a position he was wholly unprepared for. And then his father's dozen illegitimate children arrive on his doorstep in need of a father figure of their own. They are adorable and reckless, and he's certain they'll drive him mad. Just when he thinks he might actually need to find a wife to help him, Lady Emilia is presented to him by the king. She needs his protection, and he needs her help with the bairns. Ian is tempted by her angelic face, her fiery tongue, and the secrets that surround her. He must resist the growing desire that's laying claim within him. He must prove to his clan that he is a worthy leader. But maybe, just maybe, he can have the respect of his people, and Emilia, too.

Meet the Author:

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a princess…

Growing up, I was a proficient story teller, with most of my plots encompassing princesses and princes and dreams coming true. Now as an author, some of my stories are still about royalty, knights, duels, ladies, intrigue, betrayal. History fascinates me and I try to bring history back to life in each of my stories.

My favorite time periods are medieval, renaissance and Regency eras of Europe. Growing up, I was lucky to have grandparents who lived in Paris, so many a summer was spent exploring medieval ruins and historical sites.

One of my all time favorite books is Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte, and I am of course Jane Austen fan, my two favorites being Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. I love the in-depth, emotionally riveting and intriguing works of historical author, Ken Follett. I am also a fan of Shakespeare, and you will find in a lot of my writing reference to the literary God and his work. Not only Shakespeare, but other period poets and literary notables of history are on my keeper shelf. My love affair with the romance genre started young. I picked up my first romance novel, The Bride, by Julie Garwood when I was in high school, and I haven’t been able to stop reading or writing romance since.

When I’m not reading or writing I am usually doing research for fun. If you love history, come visit me at History Undressed, where we discuss all the wildly fascinating and titillating facts of history! Recently I’ve started to post reviews of historical fiction and romance novels as well.

You can visit her website at

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Book Feature: Altered Starscape by Ian Douglas


Inside the Book:

Title: Altered Starscape
Author: Ian Douglas
Release Date: October 25, 2016
Publisher: Harper Voyager
Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy
Format: Ebook

Galaxies collide in a thrilling new series from bestselling author Ian Douglas, as the last humans in the universe face off against a new threat 2162.

Thirty-eight years after first contact, Lord Commander Grayson St. Clair leads theTellus Ad Astra on an unprecedented expedition to the Galactic Core, carrying more than a million scientists, diplomats, soldiers, and AIs. Despite his reservations about their alien hosts, St. Clair is deeply committed to his people—especially after they're sucked into a black hole and spat out four billion years in the future.Civilizations have risen and fallen. The Andromeda Galaxy is drifting into the Milky Way. And Earth is most certainly a distant memory. All that matters now is survival. But as the ship's Marines search for allies amid ancient ruins and strange new planetary structures, St. Clair must wrap his mind around an enemy capable of harnessing a weapon of incomprehensible power: space itself.

Meet the Author:

Ian Douglas is one of the pseudonyms for William H. Keith, New York Times bestselling author of the popular military science fiction series The Heritage Trilogy, The Legacy Trilogy, The Inheritance Trilogy, Star Corpsman, and Star Carrier. A former naval corpsman, he lives in Pennsylvania.

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

The Darkness Between - Guest post from Jesse Teller, author of Chaste


Inside the Book:

Title: Chaste Author: Jesse Teller
Release Date: October 5, 2016
Publisher: Amazon Digital
Genre: Dark Fantasy/Horror
Format: Ebook/Paperback

  When her devout parents died, Cheryl turned her back on her god. Years of denial and self-loathing have defeated her. Her life consists of taking orders and succumbing to abuse. A group of strangers stops in Chaste for the night, but an unnamed threat is preying on the town. Tragic deaths have become more and more frequent. Cheryl wants to protect these travelers, expose the evil force, and save her fellow citizens, but she must find a way to believe in hope.
The Darkness Between

In 2010, I dedicated myself to writing books. I wrote every day. Well, five times a week, and I got in the habit. You can get in the habit of anything—anything. I got in the habit of creating. At the time, I had dedicated myself to rough drafts. I was trying to teach myself how to write a story, how to master novels. So, I wrote new material every day. The ideas kept coming, and I kept writing.
It must have been three years later when it started getting out of hand. The work swelled and became more than I wanted. It came to life. It started to breathe, and it began chewing, little bites at first, gnawing at my sanity.
I was in between books. I had just written Eleacont and was taking a break. My breaks are usually two weeks long, but the next book was going to be the third in a series. It would continue a tale I had written 1,600 pages of. So, for reasons you can probably understand, I read those two books first.
Well, it takes a while to read 1,600 pages. I had taken two weeks off already, and then reading took another three. About two weeks into the reading, the work stomped its foot and roared.
At about 2 a.m., I was walking from my office to the bathroom when I saw smoke. With a sleeping wife and two kids in the house, my heart exploded into a sprint. The fear in my skin ripped at me, breaking out into sores of terror as I grabbed the door to the stairs and rushed. When I reached the living room, I froze and nearly screamed. It was not my house burning down. It was a character.
A character I had burned at the stake stood atop a stack of wood in my living room, burning. I could smell her flesh searing. She bucked and arched her back, fighting to get away from the flames mercilessly engulfing her. I stood in my living room, staring at the horror of my book now in my life.
I looked away. I had to. I am ashamed of having done it. I always told myself I would not flinch at the horrible things that happen in my work. But this time, I did. I looked away in grief and fear. When I looked back, she was gone.
Staggering, I went back downstairs to my office. I was spent, exhausted by the emotional turmoil. I told my wife the next day. She looked at me with no reaction whatsoever. About five minutes later, she asked, “Did she say anything?” I told her she hadn’t, and she nodded. We talked about it for a while but came to no conclusions.
The next night, I heard the soft cry of my youngest and I went to soothe him back to sleep. I opened his door and, in the corner, out of reach of the straining light, stood a creature. It was shaped like a short man, a kid even. It held a shadow that looked like a weapon. I stepped between my son and the figure, my terror almost crippling, and I fought to speak, to grab my son and run, to fight, maybe, anything. But I couldn’t. Fear had locked me up. When the shadow stepped into the light, it was worse than I could imagine. I stood before Aaron the Marked, a damaged, uber-violent character on the verge of psychopath. He snarled at me and my blood ran like ice. I could not bear his gaze. His snarl had unmanned me. When I looked away and then back at him, he was gone.
My son stopped crying immediately.
For days, they came. They found me everywhere I went. I saw them on the street. I saw them in the back seat of my car. They all looked angry. They looked as if they had decided they would take me back.
My only guess was that they had come to drag me back to work. I read those two books as fast as I could. When I started writing again, they were gone, a whiff of smoke on the breeze the only sign I had not been making it all up.
When I take a break, they show up. Two weeks they give me, then they come get me. They haunt my house. They sulk near my children. They leave puddles of blood in my office. They stare, stalk, and threaten me, until they scare me from the world of rationale and drag me back to their world.
I am a hostage of my own world, a dedicated slave to the realm I created and the characters that people it.

In January, I’ll sit down to write the sixth and seventh books in that series. Before I can, I have to read over 3,100 pages to remind myself of everything happening in the story. During that time, they will come for me. I can’t escape them.

Meet the Author:

Jesse Teller fell in love with fantasy when he was five years old and played his first game of Dungeons & Dragons. The game gave him the ability to create stories and characters from a young age. He started consuming fantasy in every form and, by nine, was obsessed with the genre. As a young adult, he knew he wanted to make his life about fantasy. From exploring the relationship between man and woman, to studying the qualities of a leader or a tyrant, Jesse Teller uses his stories and settings to study real-world themes and issues.


Tour Schedule

Monday, October 10 -Book featured at The Review From Here
Tuesday, October 11 -Guest blogging at Literal Exposure
Thursday, October 13 - Book featured at As the Pages Turns
Friday, October 14 - Guest blogging at Lover of Literature
Monday, October 17 - Book featured at CBY Book Club
Tuesday, October 18 - Guest blogging at A Title Wave
Thursday, October 20 -Interviewed at Voodoo Princess
Friday, October 21 - Guest blogging at From Paperback to Leatherbound
Monday, October 24 - Book featured at The Writer's Life
Tuesday, October 25 - Book featured at All Inclusive Retort
Wednesday, October 26 - Guest blogging at Straight From the Author's Mouth
Thursday, October 27 - Book featured The Bookworm Lodge
Friday, October 28 - Guest blogging at The Dark Phantom
Monday, October 31 - Book featured at Bound 2 Escape
Wednesday, November 2 - The Literary Nook
Thursday, November 3 - Book reviewed at A Room Without Books is Empty
Friday, November 4 - Book reviewed at I'm Shelf-ish

Friday, October 14, 2016

In the Spotlight: When Johnnie Doesn't Come Marching Home by Marian Small

We are happy to bring you Marian Small's WHEN JOHNNIE DOESN'T COME MARCHING HOME blog tour!  Please leave a comment to let Marian know you stopped by!

Title: When Johnny Doesn’t Come Marching Home
Author: Marian Small
Publisher: Friesen Press
Pages: 341
Genre: Memoir

First-time author Marian Small’s WHEN JOHNNY DOESN’T COME MARCHING HOME does for World War I what Tom Brokaw’s THE GREATEST GENERATION did for World War II.

Written as a memoir of her father, WHEN JOHNNY DOESN’T COME MARCHING HOME expands to pay tribute to the generation that fought in the trenches and on the battlefields of what has been called the “forgotten war.”

Employing an inherited cache of her father’s letters home, his diary of the war, and voluminous family and historic photographs, Small, at age 89, has scrupulously created a narrative rich in vivid, sometimes heartbreaking detail of First Sgt. John Small’s experiences on the front lines and as a returning wounded veteran.

As a young man touched with the “spirit of adventure,” John R. Small enlisted in the Ohio National Guard in 1916, when he was 20 years old. He was first sent to Gen. John J. Pershing’s command on the Texas/Mexican border in pursuit of the legendary revolutionary and bandit Pancho Villa. When America entered World War I, in 1917, Small was mustered into the Army and promoted to sergeant. His unit was sent to France in 1918. Among his personal possessions was a diary given to him by his wife, Mary. He made almost daily entries during his time witnessing and enduring the horrors of the war.

John Small was severely wounded by a high explosive during the Meuse-Argonne campaign. His legs were badly mangled. After six months in hospitals in France, he was sent home. “At the tender age of 23 years, Johnny didn’t come marching home,” says Marian Small.

Although John Small’s incredible story took place nearly 100 years ago, it is still relevant today as American troops continue to be deployed around the world in harm’s way. WHEN JOHNNY DOESNT COME MARCHING HOME is certain to appeal to military history buffs, veterans, their families and friends, and readers who enjoy a compelling tale.

Marian Small believes that her book is unique “in that every word is true as told by Johnny in his diary or in his letters as narrated by me. I do not believe it can be compared to any other World War I war story that I have read or that has been written.”

Readers are sure to agree with her.

For More Information

  • When Johnny Doesn’t Come Marching Home is available at Amazon.
  • Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
Book Excerpt:

August 1: Worked hard all day taking over and assigning more men to my Platoon sector. Aeroplanes continually flying over our dugout. A few shells went over early in the evening. Wrote letter to my wife this night while lying on the floor of my dugout with only a candle to light the darkness.
August 1st, 1918 — Somewhere in France
My Dear Wife: It has been several days since you last heard from me, and now, while waiting for ‘mess’, I will endeavor to keep you acquainted with the experiences I am allowed to tell you about. I say ‘experiences’, Honey, for since I last wrote to you, they have been many. War has vividly impressed them in my memory and I will never forget them. I will be able to tell you all when I come back to you, free from all the privations which we soldiers have to encounter. We will live and love all over again.
I have been on the go since I last wrote to you. We left our station and marched through shell-torn towns, up and down hills, and reached a place where we stopped to camp at three in the morning. Everyone was almost dead from the long march in the dark. To tell you the truth, ‘War is Hell’, emphasis on the ‘Hell’.
We lay in the Camp undercover, not allowed to march in the daytime on account of enemy aeroplanes. We left this Camp in the evening at 8:30 and, with the heavy load we each had to carry, hiked again in the night with aeroplanes flying overhead and bombs bursting everywhere. Six hours later we reached our destination.
When we set out on these marches, we never know where we are going. We are now in the trenches, I know not where.
From here, my experiences and love for adventure grew and I will relate only parts of it since we are severely censored now.
The first thing that I took notice of was the crack and roar of the heavy shells passing overhead. Honest, I never felt so lonesome as then for our little cottage in
Camp Sheridan.

About the Author

Marian Small was born in Cleveland, Ohio; she has been writing for most of her life. She began her 25 year business career as a secretary, a cashier and manager of a Detroit mortgage company, and as an Operations Manager of a Florida stock-brokerage firm. She moved to Beverly Hills, Calif. with her the 10-year-old son from her first marriage and became the Administrative Assistant to a Vice-President of the Regional Office of the same brokerage firm, which entailed frequent stints within the Wall Street office.  She married again in 1973, at age 46. She and her husband shared a 34-year long marriage before they divorced. After surviving breast cancer and minor strokes, Marian resumed writing at age 86 and has been writing ever since.

For More Information

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

First Chapter Reveal: Wanna-Be's by Mark Connelly

Author: Mark Connelly
Publisher: Mark Connelly Productions
Pages: 188
Genre: Literary Fiction/Humor/Satire

With his new girlfriend – a soccer mom with a taste for bondage – urging him to “go condo,” failed screenwriter Winfield Payton needs cash. Accepting a job offer from a college friend, he becomes the lone white employee of a black S&L. As the firm’s token white, he poses as a Mafioso to intimidate skittish investors and woos a wealthy cougar to keep the firm afloat. Figure-skating between the worlds of white and black, gay and straight, male and female, Jew and Gentile, Yuppie and militant, Payton flies higher and higher until the inevitable crash. . .

For More Information

  • Wanna-be’s is available at Amazon.
  • Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
First Chapter

            Winfield Payton awoke to a mother’s voice.  Not his mother—but someone’s mother. It was the commanding yet compassionate voice mothers develop, stern but apprehensive.  It was a voice rarely heard in Downer Estates, a brick apartment complex housing the usual collection of upscale “singles” who live within Frisbee range of urban universities, attend jazz concerts in the park, practice safe sex, drive alphabet cars (BMWs, SUVs, VWs), cybersex on company laptops, faithfully recycle Perrier bottles, and sip low-cal cappuccino in Starbucks while checking the fates of their mutual funds.
            It was a suburban voice, a beach voice, a picnic voice.  The voice of a concerned mother directing her brood.  “Now, look, Brandy, I told you before.  Mommy will be home in just a little while.  You can have cereal.  Where is Heather?  OK, tell Heather to give you some raisin bran.  Take your vitamin.  And don’t go near the pool until I get back. Do you understand? Don’t go swimming until Mommy comes home.”
            As yet Win had not opened his eyes; he was too exhausted. Confronting daylight would be painful. Feeling the sun warm his naked back, he buried his face in the pillows.  For a moment he imagined he was at Bradford Beach, snoozing while mommies and kiddies trooped over him, sprinkling his blanket with sand and popsicle drippings.
            But no, he was in bed.  His bed.  His fingers felt the familiar smooth lacquered headboard. The pillow bore the scent of Old Spice, his cologne—mundane but reliable.
            Home. He turned his aching neck. This simple movement triggered intracranial alarms. Now everything hurt.  His head throbbed. His neck tightened. His back ached. Streaks of raw flesh burned across his chest and thighs.
            Oh!  His body bore the imprint of what his clouded mind failed to recall. Opening an eye to the sun, he saw a gleaming bottle of Absolut on the bedside table.  The bottle was nearly empty.  Oh!  A ceramic ashtray held the twisted remains of weedy joints.  Oh!  Two broken poppers lay on the carpet.  Oh!  Leaning over, he saw—amid the tangled debris of his clothes—three lipstick-stained balls of Kleenex, each containing a spent condom.  Oh!
            Rolling over, Win groaned, feeling like a crash victim.  The female voice in the other room called out to him.  No longer the mommy voice, it was the supportive, deferential, eager-to-please voice of a Sixties sitcom wife.  Mary Tyler Moore exuding “Oh, Rob!” compassion. “Do you want Motrin?” she asked, “I’m making coffee.”  He heard the sounds of housewife bustling in his bachelor kitchen.
            “Motrin,” he croaked, like a wounded GI begging for morphine. Motrin, hell. He needed intensive care. IV’s.  Oxygen. And Band-Aids. Sitting up, blinking in the sun-light, Win noted the thin, blood-lined scratches and nicks across his chest and thighs. Steve McQueen tangled by barbed wire in The Great Escape.
            “Here, baby.”
            The woman standing in the doorway bore no relation to the voice flowing with flight attendant charm.  Despite the black eye makeup, false eyelashes, and hooker-red lipstick, she was clearly pretty. Her sensibly short blonde hair was cutely, boyishly cut. It complemented the husband-bought Mother’s Day earrings. No doubt she had been trying to look like Debra Harry since fifth grade.
            Below the chin she was decidedly dissimilar.  Her neck was gripped by a two-inch leather choker studded with steel points. Metal chains led to a leather corset which maximized her cleavage and girdled her waist with tight belts and more chains. Handcuffs dangled over a thigh encased in torn fishnet. Her wrists and ankles sported matching leather cuffs.
            Instinctively, Win drew back.  Only her soft voice re-minded him that he was not in mortal danger.
            “Oh, baby, look at those scratches.  I’m so sorry!  I for-get about these nails.”  She wiggled the fingers of her right hand, their dagger-like points flashing blood-red in the sun-light.  Her left palm cupped three red caplets.
            He took the pills, then, reaching for a water glass accidentally gulped three and half ounces of Absolut.  God!
            “Oh, honey!”
            Sitting up, Win rubbed his eyes and brushed his unruly hair.  The woman sat on the edge of the bed and began un-buckling her cuffs, dropping them into a black leather shoulder bag.
            “Mind if I take a quick shower?  I have to get home to the kids.”
            “Go ahead, Barbie.”  Barbie.  Gratefully her name came back to him. She disappeared into the guest bath. The architects of Downer Estates had thoughtfully equipped each two-bedroom apartment with two full baths.  Single tenants and their partners of choice could shower at the same time, going through their customary after-sex hygienic rituals in private.  Alone in the main bath, Win gargled with Scope, doused his sore member with hydrogen peroxide, then drew a bath.

            Sitting in the steaming water, he felt his muscles un-wind. Since his thirty-seventh birthday, a loosening morn-ing bath had become a necessity before he could take a shower and actually wash. Rubbing his neck, Win heard water running in the next room.  The grip of alcohol fading, the night’s events played over in his mind.
            Win had naively assumed that one had to call an escort service, troll BDSM dating sites, or stalk FetLife profiles to locate someone like Barbie Monreal. It seemed highly un-likely to run into a woman with her tastes at a real estate seminar.
            Normally, Win avoided attractive professional women with wedding rings—unless he met them in a singles bar.  A real estate seminar held in the student union of his own college was an improbable place to get lucky. Money rather than lust was on his mind that afternoon. He accepted Barbie’s Century 21 card gracefully enough and was pre-pared to move onto the next booth when she suggested a rendezvous at Henri’s for drinks.
            Barbie Monreal reminded him of Doris Day in Please Don’t Eat the Daisies.  Attractive.  Cute.  But too domesticated to arouse any libidinous interests—until her third white wine spritzer, when, suitably lubricated, she calmly announced her motives.
            Now that the kids are older, and I have some time, I’d like to get back into psychodrama.”
            “Acting?” Win asked naively.
            “In a way,” she smiled, giving him a patronizing nod.  “Role play.  Fantasy.  I like the tension, the intimacy.  I like power. Both asserting and receiving. Strength and sub-mission.  It’s like sexual I Ching.  Give.  Take.  Dominate. Submit.  But nothing violent, you understand.  I play it safe, sane, and consensual,” she said as if repeating radio jingle.  “Nothing too perverse.”
            “Nothing too perverse?”
            “Consider it a hard massage.  I like it both ways, but nothing painful.”
            “Nothing painful,” Win repeated, recalling his dentist’s reassuring lie about the ease of root canal.
            “Not at all. I mostly like the costumes. It’s like adult Halloween.”
            “Sure. Like playing dress up. Gives you a chance to let your mind go, explore the dark side. It’s the ultimate safe sex. You can’t even consider it cheating. Not really.  I never do straight. Well, maybe oral,” she added quietly, sounding like a dieter surrendering to a Weight Watcher sundae. 
            “I have the rest of the afternoon off,” she said, fixing her eyes on him with Nancy Reagan admiration.
            Thus began the first of many encounters, most of which Win could only perform or endure under the influence of alcohol.

            Lying in the tub, Win rubbed his temples, then forced himself out of the warm embryonic water to shower and, more tentatively, shave.
            Clad in a bathrobe, Barbie was making his bed when he returned. She fluffed the pillows, smoothed the comforter, then collected the accouterments of modern romance—body oil, vibrator, adult DVDs, and five-inch spike heels.
            “Honey, you really shouldn’t drink so much.”  She smiled, offering him coffee.
            He nodded, taking burning gulps of Eight O’Clock French Roast.
            As Winfield dressed, he watched Barbie slip into white pantyhose, cream skirt, white blouse, sensible heels, and gold Century 21 blazer.
            “I’ve got to buzz home to check on the kids,” she said, consulting her smart phone. “I’ve got appointments the rest of the day.  Do you want to get together Thursday?  Around two?”
            “Sure,” Win agreed, feeling like a casual user sliding in-to addiction.
The July morning was cool. He walked Barbie to her car.  “You know, I lived in New York right after college,” she said. “West Seventy-Second. I love that town. Went to Hellfire once.  Didn’t like it.” She wrinkled her nose as if recalling a disappointing dessert at Le Cirque.
            Still the neophyte, Win volunteered an apology, “I hope I didn’t hurt your wrist.”
            “Oh, this?” She pulled back her sleeve, revealing a circle of darkened flesh.  “My bruises fade.  I tell Jerry they come from aerobics.”
            They reached her car, a dark blue Volvo bearing a “Have You Hugged Your Kids Today?” bumper sticker.  She opened the trunk and dropped in the black shoulder bag with a heavy thud.
            Donning sunglasses, she smiled at Win. “Until Thursday.  If something comes up, text me.”
            Win nodded, the fresh air reviving his headache.
            “Look, Win, I’ve just gotten to know you.  I realize I shouldn’t make any judgments or tell you how to live your life, but I am beginning to care about you.  As a special friend.”  She paused, grating the steel tip of her heel against the curb.  “Win, I think you should seriously consider going condo.”

About the Author

Mark Connelly was born in Philadelphia and grew up in New Jersey.  He received a BA in English from Carroll College in Wisconsin and an MA and PhD from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee.  His books include The Diminished Self: Orwell and the Loss of Freedom, Orwell and Gissing, Deadly Closets:  The Fiction of Charles Jackson, and The IRA on Film and Television.  His fiction has appeared in The Ledge, Indiana Review, Cream City Review, Milwaukee Magazine, and Home Planet News.  In 2014 he received an Editor’s Choice Award in The Carve’s Raymond Carver Short Story Contest; in 2015 he received Third Place in Red Savina Review’s Albert Camus Prize for Short Fiction. His novella Fifteen Minutes received the Clay Reynolds Novella Prize and was published by Texas Review Press in 2005. 
Mark’s latest book is the literary fiction/humor/satire, Wanna-be’s.
Connect with Mark on Facebook and Twitter.

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Book Feature: Perfect Prey by Laura Salters


Inside the Book:

Title: Perfect Prey
Author: Laura Salters
Release Date: October 18, 2016
Publisher: Witness Impulse
Genre: Thriller/Suspense
Format: Ebook

"Laura Salters is a vibrant new voice." --C L Taylor, Internationally bestselling author of THE LIE

When best friends Carina Corbett and Erin Baxter are assigned to cover a Serbian music festival for their magazine, it seems like the opportunity of a lifetime. And it is, until Erin vanishes into thin air on their last night in the country. Terrified, Carina launches a desperate search, discovering that the details of her friend’s disappearance are eerily similar to another tragic incident ten years before. Could history be repeating itself?Frantic to find Erin, Carina takes off on a journey deep into the Serbian criminal underbelly, and uncovers a world more sinister than she ever dreamed . . .

A twisting, edge-of-your-seat suspense perfect for fans of Jamie McGuire.

Meet the Author:

Laura Salters is a suspense author (represented by Suzie Townsend of New Leaf Literary & Media Inc) from Berwick-upon-Tweed, the northernmost town in England. When Laura isn’t writing, reading or thinking about writing or reading, she’s a music lover (and terrible singer), pet cuddler, beach-goer, runner (*cough* jogger), passionate foodie, caffeine addict, tennis player, lipstick wearer, Harry Potter fangirl (yes, still), housework dodger and relentless chatterbox.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | YouTube  

Monday, October 10, 2016

Book Feature: A Vampire's Honor by Carla Susan Smith


Inside the Book:

Title: A Vampire's Honor
Author: Carla Susan Smith
Release Date: September 27, 2016
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Genre: Fantasy
Format: Ebook/Paperback

Sins Of The Past ...

Rowan Harper thought being with a vampire would keep her out of harm's way. But true evil lurks in the darkness, and not even her lover, Gabriel, knows all of its tricks.

Rowan may be his Promise, the one woman who can save Gabriel's soul, but the two of them have a long and complicated history that Rowan is only now discovering--complete with old enemies who will stop at nothing to make them suffer.

When Rowan is abducted and forced to witness unspeakable violence, secrets of the past begin to unfold. Secrets that show Gabriel's best friend Aleksei in a new light.

Will the truth destroy all three of them or bind them more tightly together, and if evil prevails, will it be Rowans's soul that ultimately needs saving?


Meet the Author:

Born and raised in England, I now call South Carolina home where I  live with my wonderfully supportive husband, awesome son, and the most discerning canine critique group ever - if tails aren’t wagging then the story isn’t working!

I owe my love of literature to my mother, who, after catching me  reading by flashlight beneath the bed covers, calmly replaced the romance book I’d ‘borrowed’ with one that was far less risqué, and much more appropriate for a pre-teen! She encouraged me to include a wide variety of genres in my reading tastes, but romance, and  paranormal romance in particular, has remained my first love.

I never really thought about writing a romance novel until I read one that was so bad I can only assume it got published by mistake! Making such a comment to my BFF, Sharon, she challenged me to do better. The result was a 250-thousand word epic that I affectionately refer to as my ‘bodice-ripper’ romance - and yes, I still have it!

When I’m not writing I can be found in my kitchen. I love baking, and my husband will actually admit his love of Christmas fruitcake. (Personally I think all that brandy in the fruit has something to do with it!) If not baking then I’m working on my latest tapestry project or  playing catch-up with my reading list where I always seem to be at least three books behind!

It’s a crazy-good life, and I wouldn’t change it for anything, although I wouldn‘t object if I came up with the winning lottery numbers!

Visit her at


Tour Schedule

 Tuesday, September 27 - Book featured at Books,Dreams, Life
Wednesday, September 28 - Book featured at Bound 2 Escape
Thursday, September 29 - Book featured at Celticlady's Reviews
Friday, September 30 -Book featured at 3 Partners in Shopping
Monday, October 3 - Book featured at The Book Tree
Tuesday, October 4 - Book featured at I'm Shelf-ish
Wednesday, October 5 - Book featured at The Literary Nook
Thursday, October 6 - Book featured at Mello and June
Friday, October 7 - Book featured at The Review From Here
Monday, October 10 - Book featured at A Title Wave
Tuesday, October 11 - Book featured at Harmonious Publicity
Wednesday, October 12 - Book featured at The Dark Phantom
Thursday, October 13 - Book featured at Write and Take Flight
Friday, October 14 - Book featured at Authors and Readers Book Corner
Monday, October 17 - Book featured at Confessions of an Eccentric Bookaholic
Tuesday, October 18 -Interviewed at Deal Sharing Aunt
Wednesday, October 19 - Book featured at Fundinmental
Book reviewed at I Smell Sheep
Thursday, October 20 -Book featured at The Bookworm Lodge
Friday, October 21 - Book featured at Paranormal and Romantic Suspense Reviews