Friday, August 31, 2012

Song Of The Highlands

It's Guy Day Friday again. I love this post because so many times we don't see the pov of the hero. Heros are complicated and I do love an Alpha hero. With Highland Song the hero is a British solder, Aaron Slade who is commanded to find Lainie MacPherson and bring her to trial for treason.

Oh and there is so much about this situation that he doesn't know. He also doesn't know he is about to fall in love with his captive.

If you entered the coffee time romance contest that ran the last two weeks, I will be positing the winners as soon as possible. I was waylaid by various events. But I have't forgotten you and will make sure the winners are posted by the end of weekend.



Slade inhaled a long slow breath, and fought for the control he always prided himself on having. He called himself every kind of fool he could think of for wanting the little treasonous spy he been sent to bring to trial. He had never thought that another little tease would ever get the better of him.

'"I don't force women," he told her through clenched teeth.

"Then get off me."

He remembered another time and a girl who was called Anna--Lady Anna. The sexual knots she had tied him in still haunted him. He’d wanted to give her the world and all she wanted was a fling before she married the richest man--the Earl--her daddy could find for her. She’d teased him with promises before she ever let him touch her. Each time the passion grew hot and intense she would fasten her bodice with calm fingers, smile at him and leave.

"Give me a good reason," he told her smoothly.

"Because I don't want this," she said.

Slade couldn’t turn the passion on and off. Not at first. But he had learned. He hadn't expected Lainie MacPherson to bring him to a passion he couldn't walk away from.

"I didn’t promise to stop," Slade said coolly. "I told you we’d negotiate what came next. Offer me something that is as fascinating as this."

Slade’s hand moved, pressing against Lainie, caressing her. She squirmed and tried to push his hand away.

"French brandy and perfume. Set to anchor just north of Dundee," she told him.

"You’re a spy. You can do better than that."

She shook her head. "Weapons on board."

"We’re at peace right now."

"There are always those who resist."

Slade shrugged and leaned close to Lainie. "You’re my fortune, when I deliver you to Bertram."

"My journal, the one you took. It’s no good to ye without the code," she said quickly, knowing what she said to be a lie. Her journal was personal, nothing else.

He paused, watching her. She had teased him with her kisses but now she wanted only to be free of him. Yet there was genuine fear in her eyes. He had done nothing to elicit that. She was afraid of him--or of his lovemaking--and the notion irritated him. He wanted to understand why.

Angry with himself and the fear he saw in her sky blue eyes, Slade withdrew his hand and moved away from her. He refused to be seduced into wanting a woman more than she wanted him. That was the kind of mistake he would make only once in his life.

"What code?" he asked skeptically.

"The ones the resistance designed to keep the English from intercepting anything important."

Slowly, Slade sat up, giving Lainie more room. But he was careful not to give her room to escape. He had seen Lainie move. She was fast, nearly as fast as he was.

"All right, little fox. Talk to me. If you’re willing to decipher it," he let the words hang between them. "The knowledge might save your life."

Monday, August 27, 2012

Sugar Sugar

Please Welcome Mysti Holiday author of Sugar Walls.

The author will be giving away a $10 Amazon gift card to one random commenter and to one random host at the conclusion of the tour.

Don't forget to comment! :)

Sugar Walls
by Mysti Holiday



When Emilie is dumped by her boyfriend, best friend Jack Voss offers a shoulder and a place to live--the other side of his duplex. He’s always there, fixing her problems, her car, her sink. Emilie doesn’t know what she’d do without him, or with the feelings she’s having for him. His shoulder doesn’t just offer comfort anymore; his touch is a turn-on. Their shared wall is the only thing keeping them from sharing a bedroom—and fanning the flames might risk breaking something that Jack can’t fix.



Emilie hadn’t lied about the leak in her pipes.  Just  like she hadn’t broken her dishwasher, or the leg off her couch, or the alternator in her car on purpose. But, to be honest, it was almost a relief when those things happened, because they gave her an excuse to see Jack.

She’d called him first thing this morning when running water for her coffee had resulted in puddles beneath the sink. He’d come over the first chance he’d had and now he was on his hands and knees on the linoleum looking at the pipe that oozed moisture, oblivious to the woman behind him who was also soaking wet, albeit for an entirely different reason.

His ass looked good enough to take a big bite out of. Emilie couldn’t help herself; it was right 
there, sticking out from under her kitchen sink, and she had to clench her hands into tight fists
to keep from grabbing it. Still, that didn’t keep her mind from wandering, and when one of his
hands reached out for a wrench, she pictured it on her, cupping her breasts, thumbs circling the
rosy buds. Instantly her nipples puckered, as tightly clenched as her hands, and her crotch dampened even more.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Mysti Holiday is the pseudonym of a very busy SAHM who dreams of warm climes and hot bodies.  Most people know she writes, but not what she writes about:  sexy men and the wanton women who love them.
She's married to a wonderful man who happily sacrifices himself for research, and she spends most of her days dreaming of interesting and unusual situations in which to place her characters.  But most of all, she's a sucker for a happy ending.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Bauble Head Babes


...The continuing saga...

I made bread yesterday. A very nice fat free white with applesauce in it. The first ingredient was water. I filled a half cup with good old H2O + 3 tbls. Thought this isn't enough double checked the recipe. Ok, 1/2 cup is right, poured it in added the rest of the ingredients and set the bread machine to knead my dough. When I went to get it out and bake the bread, it was the strangest consistency I had ever seen. Had to throw it away as I wondered what I did wrong.

Chapter 2... Started the recipe over and read 1 cup water. A whack on the forehead and a couple of hours later I had one loaf of bread. I keep telling myself if I still baked bread the old fashioned way this would not have happened. But I don't work much of anything the old fashioned way and so instead of two loaves of bread, I had only one.

Our name was walking partner likes this better. I don't really care. I'm sure she had some bauble head moments but I don't recall.

Stay tuned for more bauble head moments...

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Runes and Magick

Runes are an ancient Germanic alphabet, used for writing, divination and magick. They were used throughout northern Europe, Scandinavia, the British Isles, and Iceland from about 100 B.C.E. to 1600 C.E. Runic inscriptions of great age have even been found in North America, supporting stories that the Vikings arrived in the Americas long before Columbus.

Runes were used to write many languages including, Gothic, German, Frisian, English, Danish, Swedish, Norwegian, Icelandic, Lithuanian, Russian, Hebrew and other Semitic languages (due to trade relations with the Khazars, a Semitic tribe of traders of the Silk Road).

Just a tiny bit about runes and the art of fortune telling. As with just about everything from the past many experts tend to disagree. The more I read and research this the more controversy I find. 

And yet in writing Highland Magic I have a great deal of fun casting the runes. Keely was known as the witch woman for her healing skills but she also cast runes. This seemed to get her into trouble every now and then. While it didn't bother Ian MacPherson that she cast them (he didn't tend to be superstitious) it scared the .... out of him when he thought it might put Keely in danger.


Celtic Cross

Check out Highland Magic:


Throughout the Highlands she is known as Keely, the witch woman. She is a great healer-a woman whose dreams come true. Ian MacPherson is a man who puts honor, loyalty and duty above everything. Their lives are entwined when Ian is sent by the Scottish King to bring Keely to trial for witchcraft. He is attacked and left for dead, but Keely rescues him. When he wakes, he discovers he has no memory. As he remembers his lost past, Ian finds that his need to protect the woman who has saved his life eclipses his duty to his king and country., He is a man torn between honor and duty to his country and the woman he loves.

Friday, August 24, 2012

The Magick of Keely

Hey all, it's Guy Day Friday again. I'm featuring Highland Magic the second book in my Highland series. Ian MacPherson fell in love with Keely the moment he saw her. Keely found in near death in a field near her home and nursed him to health against the wishes of dear and very elderly friend Whipple.

This is the last day of my Coffee Time Contest. So leave a comment!

Leave a Comment and you will be entered to win a $25.00 Amazon gift card, a copy of The Gift, or a copy of Star Crossed.

This contest will run until August 25, 2012. The more time you comment the better your chance of winning. wink

The drawing will be held on August 28th.

Ian stepped into the room. "Smells as if ye crushed a whole bunch of those herbs ye have into that stew pot. And I am starved, nay, famished." Ian walked around Keely's hut, his eyes closed, savoring the delicious aroma emanating from the pot. His stomach grumbled hungrily.

"You were right," she spoke softly, but did not turn to face him while she mixed and swirled the stew. She straightened, her hands at the small of her back, and rubbed the muscles.

Whatever Ian had been going to say was forgotten beneath the impact of the supple reach and sway of Keely's body while she worked out the kinks that had been made by working too hard. He marveled at the gentle flare of her hips, and the sweet, evocative curve of her breasts. And he wanted nothing more than to give her a life of ease. She was made for finer things than living in a hovel away from all humanity--away from him.

"About what?" he asked, wishing he could see into her mind--read all her thoughts.

"You don't remember?"

"Nay." He paused thoughtfully, still watching her.

"I thought you would find trouble in the village. I thought that as the moon rose and you had not returned, I would have to trek into the village and rescue you."

He chuckled, then he cleared his throat, not wishing to give away his thoughts. "There was no trouble to find or I'm sure it would have found me. You need not fret about me. I have hidden talents. Come here," he said gruffly, watching her and wishing he could ease some of the pain. "This will help." He didn't give her the chance to come to him. In one large, quick stride, he was by her side.

Keely jumped when she felt Ian's strong hands knead down her spine to her hips and back up again, lingering at the curve of her waist, rubbing the muscles in the small of her back, then caressing her waist once more. When he discovered the knotted muscles in her shoulders, he pressed down firmly, smoothing away the knot, making her tremble beneath his touch. He felt her gentle shudder, and heard the soft moan of what he could only assume was pleasure.

"Oh, that feels good," Keely said huskily, her voice catching. "Yes, there. Ahh...You're unraveling me one small strand at a time. If you keep this up, I'll be a pool on the floor."

With a low sigh that could have been a moan of pleasure, Keely let her head slowly drop back until it rested on Ian's shoulder. His fingers paused as his heart thundered, sending blood sweeping through his body, making him feel both heavy and powerful. Inhaling a discreet, deep breath, he resumed the leisurely, gentle massaging of Keely's back. Each murmur of her pleasure felt like flames licking over him, hardening every muscle in his huge body, flushing him with sensual heat. Touching her, he knew, had been a mistake. But it was a mistake he wasn't about to correct.

He wanted her, had longed for her ever sense he first woke and saw her.

The lavender-and-thyme smell of Keely's hair intoxicated Ian. The curve of her neck above her clothes tantalized him. The tiny breathless sounds she made sent an inferno raging within him. He felt an urgent need to lean over and taste the clean skin along her collarbone. Then he wanted to peel her clothes away and taste soft skin that had never been kissed by the sun. Yet beneath his fingertips, she felt so fragile, almost frail. The thought of hurting her frightened him as nothing else ever had.

She healed you, nursed you back to health, Ian reminded himself harshly. Taking advantage of her gentle, giving nature was reprehensible. Loving her today and then leaving her tomorrow was the act of a villain.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Do You Believe In Magic?

Is there magic in the highlands? I believe there is. Meet Keely and Ian MacPherson and discover the enchantment.

Highland Magic
Christine Young
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at:

Scotland, Summer 1513:

For a moment the man's gaze met hers, bored into her heart, questioned. Blood curdling war cries rode the wings of death through the timeless night. Claymores clashed. Dark eyes the color of midnight flashed a challenge. The holy man's opponents hesitated then lunged once more.

Moonbeams reflected light from the gold chain he wore around his neck. Brown robes fell from massive shoulders. Three more enemies appeared from the trees. The priest fell to the ground, wounded by the broadside of his enemy's weapon. Motionless, he lay on her flower-strewn meadow, blood staining the grass and wildflowers, marring the colorful, summer landscape.

Keely Gray woke, heart pounding a rapid staccato. She pressed against her throbbing temples with sweat-slick palms, hoping to ease the horrific pain that always accompanied the dreams. Death--the scent of blood, fear and treachery still hung heavy in the darkened hut. The prickling sensation radiating from her spine to encompass her body was too familiar.

She listened and heard nothing.

A dark void impaled her. The usual night sounds stilled. She heard no hoot of owl, no chirp of crickets, no croak of frogs, nor could she hear the mournful sighing of the wind through the branches of the old oak trees.

Silence emptied her heart as well as her soul, leaving only an ever-present loneliness.

Keely wanted nothing more than to cuddle into her bed and pull the covers over her head. Despite the unspeakable agony deep in the pit of her stomach, she rose from her pallet. Her limbs trembling, she slipped a shapeless tunic over her head and soft-soled shoes onto her feet. As she swept past the front door, she grabbed her woolen cloak.

Light from a full moon illuminated the path. She could see, but she could also be seen, the moonlight both a curse and a blessing. Approaching the meadow she'd watched in her dreams, she slowed her pace and waited. Her fingers wound tightly around the amber pendant she always wore, her only keepsake from her mother.

The sounds and scents hovering on the wind would tell her if danger still lurked. Caution guided her. A vigilance she'd learned long ago held her motionless.

 A familiar dragging sound reassured her she wasn't alone. "Whipple?" she whispered.

A self-appointed guardian angel appeared as if from nowhere then nodded, though there was a wary cast to his faded blue eyes. "Aye, lass, I'm here. I heard ye leave your hut. I would not leave ye alone to face whatever dangerous mission awaited."

Keely waited for Whipple to close the distance between them before she spoke. "I would argue with you about your appearance here at this great hour, but I ken it would do no good. You should not be here. Your heart--"

Whipple spat. "My heart is fine."

She determinedly stepped forward, approaching the meadow of her dream, knowing she wouldn't like what she found.

"Have it your way, then." Given a choice, Keely wouldn't have come to this meadow. But she had to know the truth--had she seen the future or something happening at that very moment?

Whipple didn't reply. On his clubfoot, he followed her, his trailing leg sliding behind him with a soft swish. The hard thud of his crooked oak cane followed at a slightly skewed interval.

Together they crested the hill. Below her, she saw her dream. A priest lay on the ground, his head twisted at an odd angle. For a moment her heart stopped. She bit down on her lower lip while she studied the man.

Keely tried to ignore the helplessness pooling deep within, and attempted to push the burgeoning tears away. A frisson swept over Keely's skin.

She approached the priest cautiously; he could be playing with her, waiting for her to get within reach of those powerful hands.

Warily, she eyed Whipple. A few moments of silent observation convinced Keely the stranger wasn't lying in ambush. He was too still, not visibly breathing. Keely feared the man was dead. He lay utterly motionless; his limbs at awkward angles, his head wound oozing blood. The slow welling of blood from the wound told her he was still alive. She kneeled beside the priest. "He's not dead, Whipple." Her fingers hovered above his weak pulse. She watched the slight rise and fall of his sturdy, broad chest. Yet she did not dare touch him.

Whipple inhaled sharply. "Do ye mean to take him to your hut, lass? I cannae allow ye to do such a dangerous thing. Ye have no idea who or what he is. Ye do not ken his purpose here or his intent."

"He is a priest. Besides, there is nothing else we can do."

Monday, August 20, 2012

Blood Memories

Please welcome K.J. Dahlen author of Blood Memories.

Leave a Comment and you will be entered to win a $25.00 Amazon gift card, a copy of The Gift, or a copy of Star Crossed.

This contest will run until August 25, 2012. The more time you comment the better your chance of winning. wink

The drawing will be held on August 28th.


1.What or who inspired you to start writing?
I dreamed about being a writer as a kid but I never did anything about it at the time. Then after I was married with a couple of kids I started thinking about it again.  I have always loved reading and one day I thought after finishing a book, I could do a better job than that. You see I am one of those people that could always figure out the ending of the book, long before I got there.  I sat there and thought about it for three days before I picked up a pen and began my own story. The first time I wrote the story it was okay but the more I thought about it the more I wanted my story to be different than all the rest. It took me a while but I managed to find my groove. My first story turned out ok, but I found the more I wrote the better writer I became.
It took a long time for me to get the courage up to submit my work and when I did I really didn’t expect anyone to want it but they did.

2.How did you come up with ideas for your books?

I have no idea where the ideas come from. It can be an overheard conversation, something I see or a dream. One of my books was built on a question? I wrote the Prophet on the question, “Has he asked to convert yet?” Sometimes I can look at a person and suddenly an idea will come to mind.  I’ll think about it for a day or so then sit down and begin an outline. As I write the ideas start flowing and before I know it I have an outline. Of course my books don’t always stay within the outline but it’s a good start. At some point in all my books the characters take over and finish the story.

3.What expertise did you bring to your writing?
I don’t have any expertise. The only schooling I have is high school. But I do like to watch people and I have a great imagination, or so I’m told.

4.What would you want your readers to know about you that might not be in your bio?
I am a simple person that lives a different life every time I open a book, whether it’s mine or someone else’s. I love to read. I think it’s an author’s job to take a reader into the pages of their book and  allow them to experience the story first hand. If I can do that then I’ve done my job.

5.As far as your writing goes, what are your future plans? Are there any more books planned for this series?
 I would love to become the next J.K. Rowlings. It may not happen but I can dream, can’t I?

6.If you could be one of the characters from any of your books, who would it be and why?
I would be the female character in all my books. I love the intrigue.

7.Do you belong to a critique group? If so how does this help or hinder your writing?
I haven’t hooked up with a critique group yet. I know I can’t please everyone, no author can but I have learned to take a critique and make my work stronger.

8.When did you first decide to submit your work? Please tell us what or who encouraged you to take this big step?
My first submit was a short story. I found a contest and worked on a story I thought would fit and it did! They bought it. The feeling I got was wonderful.

9.What is the best and worst advice you ever received? (regarding writing or publishing)  My best advise- Your story could be better if you did this, blah blah blah.
The worst- I don’t think I ever got worst- I guess I look at a critique as a way to strengthen my work, not so much as dragging my work down.

10.Do you outline your books or just start writing?  I start with an outline but by the end of the story it doesn’t resemble the outline. At some point my characters takes over and do their own thing. I like to add twists and turns that no one sees coming.

11.Do you have any hobbies and does the knowledge you've gained from these carry over into your characters or the plot of your books?
I love to read and may borrow ideas from others but I always change them enough not to take what another author made their own.

12.Do you have an all time favorite book?  No, I love them all

13.Have you started your next project? If so, can you share a little bit about your book?
 I just began another outline for a book titled, The Huntress. Her name is Willow and she’s part witch, part vampire. When she comes out age she begins a lifelong hunt for the man that sired her. He doesn’t know he fathered twins and she uses that knowledge to her advantage. She knows she has a brother out there but he has no knowledge of her.

14.Who is your favorite actor and actress?
Sam Elliot I think he’s sexy

15.Anything else you might want to add?
To all the want to be authors out there- never give up on your dreams about being a writer… It took me a lifetime to get there and it’s all worth it!


Blood Memories
K. J. Dahlen

Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 1

Buy at:


When an accident turns out to be not an accident but murder Savannah must solve a double murder that happened over twenty years ago to find the truth. She was the only witness to her parent’s murder and now their killer is after her. She puts her trust into a man her aunt has known and all these years but evidence soon points to him being involved with the man she thinks killed her parents. Will she prove him innocent or fall prey to his intent? Her life and over two million dollars in diamonds is at stake.


As the dirt hit the casket, the sound it made echoed through the cemetery and caused Savannah to flinch. The sound was so final but then so was death. Savannah's heart was breaking as she listened to the thud of the earth hitting the wood of her aunt's final resting place. She glanced at the temporary headstone marker. Tears rolled down her cheeks when she read the name on the marker, Donna Marie Kelley.

A voice inside her head screamed at her that the name on the headstone was wrong. It should have read Donna Marie Weston, not Kelley. Donna had been the one person in her young life who protected her after her parents died. She was the one who held Savannah when she was sick or the nightmares got the best of her. Donna had been there to make her laugh and kept her safe all these years. It made Savannah sad that when her aunt needed her the most, she wasn't there for her.

Donna had died four days ago in a car accident. Her car plunged off the road and down into a ravine. The paramedics said she might have lived if help had arrived right after the accident, but Donna wasn't found until the next day. She had been all alone and in pain when death came to call.

Tears slid down her cheeks as she thought of how long Donna had suffered. The medical examiner's report told her that Donna suffered two broken legs and a fractured rib. The rib punctured her lung and eventually her abdomen filled with blood. The coroner had determined she bled to death internally. The police were looking into the accident, but she knew there was nothing they could do. There wasn't anything anyone could do. Donna was gone and now she was alone in the world.

Savannah thought back on her life. They had lived in twelve different cities over the years, but when they moved to Seattle, Savannah put her foot down and refused to move again. She had been sick of not staying in one place long enough to make friends. She remembered the look on Donna's face when she refused to move again. Donna seemed scared about something, but she would never tell Savannah what frightened her. It had taken Donna a few days to come to terms with not moving again but she had. Savannah was old enough to know they had been running for a long time, but when she asked Donna who or what they had been running from, Donna wouldn't tell her. She had made Savannah promise to keep their secret and Savannah would have been willing to promise her the moon at the time.

Savannah glanced at the temporary marker again. She knew Donna wouldn't want her real name on her final resting place but she was tempted to put it there. Savannah George wasn't her real name either. She had been born Georgia Michelle Corbin, but she hadn't been called Georgia for a long, long time, almost a life time, her lifetime.

Savannah looked around the cemetery. Green Haven cemetery was located on a slope overlooking Puget Sound, in Seattle, Washington. Donna had brought her here to Seattle seven years ago. Back then Seattle had been just another town. Savannah's eyes looked past the town to the edge of the water and the gentle lapping sound she could almost hear calmed her. It was one of the things about Seattle she loved. Whenever Savannah got scared or lonely, she would go down to the edge of the Sound and gaze out over the sea. The smell of the water and the soothing sounds of the ocean were Savannah's escape. All of her fears melted away by the sound of the sea.

Glancing toward the sky, Savannah could see the dark gray clouds. It looked as dreary outside as she felt inside. Donna's death had been the result of a car accident, and Savannah hadn't had time to think about her future yet.


K. J. Dahlen lives in a small Wisconsin town with her husband and dog. She can see the Mississippi river on one side and the bluffs where eagles fly on the other. She has two kids and two grandkids. Kim loves to people watch and she uses what she sees in her books. She loves to create intense situations for her characters and sit back and see what they do to get to get themselves out of trouble. Sometimes her characters even surprise her. Her characters come alive for her, and what starts out as just an idea becomes a story with unusual twists and turns. She loves to keep her readers guessing until the very last page.


Where you can reach K.J. Dahlne

facebook: K.J. Dahlen or K.J.'s Blog

Friday, August 17, 2012

Misha is Ariel's Guy, But Can They Figure This Out?

It's guy day Friday and Misha Petrovich is the featured guy today. Who is Misha? He has old money but his family in Russia has been brutally murdered. Now he seeks revenge. And his search for vengeance bring him to Mist Harbor, Oregon and Ariel Cameron's boarding house.


"Don’t worry about my leg." She tapped on the cast with her fingernails. "I feel quite ready for more fresh air and an invigorating ride down the beach. I should like to go all the way to Astoria."

He barked with laughter, his heart swelling with love. Her exuberance was a breath of lightheartedness. "I do believe we could try."

"Perhaps another time." She lowered her lashes, enticing him closer, her hands fluttering softly in her lap. He would like to hold her hands in his, feel their smoothness against his roughness.

"Perhaps. Now," he looked at her thoughtfully, "you will need a shawl. The wind might be chilly." He meant to make this ride perfect for her.

"A shawl would be fine and perhaps a blanket for my legs. I am feeling somewhat old and decrepit." She smiled a crooked smile that sent cupid’s arrows straight to his heart.

In return, he shot her a puzzled glance and the merriment shining in her eyes surprised him. "You little tease," he said half-reverently and half-angrily. She mocked him and he had only her best interest at heart.

As if embarrassed, she lowered her lashes and stared at her fingers. "I know. I thought perhaps..."

"That I would like to hear you laugh? I would, you know." He lifted her chin to see into eyes that weren’t quite as bright as they were a second before. "I’m sorry," he said quietly. "The last thing I wanted was to ruin this outing for you."

"Don’t be sorry." She held out her hand to his. "And the ride will be fun."

Her hand in his was exactly what he yearned for. He accepted the gentle intimacy, closing her small fingers within his, absently caressing her wrist with his thumb. He delighted in the unexpected shudder that swept through her, the response unmistakable.

"I’ll get the buggy." He kissed the top of her hand, his steady gaze never leaving her face and her eyes.


He intended to do just that. The thought of a few hours of privacy lightened his step. He bounded down the porch stairs and set off for the back of the house and the barn.

The place he meant to take her was a vivid picture in his mind. Expectations ripe, he whistled a tune from the old country. A detour to the kitchen and a quick word with Helen produced a picnic lunch before he could finish readying the buggy.

"Now you take care of her," Helen chided him. "I want her back in one piece." Helen rested her arms on the railing overlooking the barn and handed him the basket.

Helen was a delightfully eccentric old lady and full of surprises. She had once recounted her tale of the trip around the horn to meet her husband, a man she’d not met but had been betrothed to by a cantankerous old man that called himself her father. The trip had been long and full of misadventures but the lady had enjoyed herself and recounted the months on board ship fondly.

"Don’t you worry. I’ll take good care of her," Misha promised.

"See that you do." Helen puffed on the long stemmed pipe she smoked, her tone filled with a subtle promise that didn’t go unnoticed.

He winked at the elderly woman who gave him a knowing grin.

"We might not be back until dark so don’t send a search party."

"No shenanigans in that carriage, you hear me. The lady has a broken leg."

But Helen handed over a blanket and the basket held a vintage bottle of wine along with a large assortment of food. Enough food, he thought wryly, to last several days.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Can A Doctor And A Gun For Hire Find Happiness?

I love giving my characters a piece of jewelry and a scent that are theirs and theirs alone. In The Talisman Moriah McKeown has her talisman that she keeps with her.

Leave a Comment and you will be entered to win a $25.00 Amazon gift card, a copy of The Gift, or a copy of Star Crossed.

This contest will run until August 25, 2012. The more time you comment the better your chance of winning. wink

The drawing will be held on August 28th.

The Talisman by Christine Young
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4
Buy at: 
This is the 4th book in the Lakota/Pinkerton series
Dakota's Bride, My Angel, The Locket, The Talisman, and Forever His

Buffalo Creek,
South Dakota

Hot, dry air scorched the prairie grass. Sweat slid along his spine. Danger clung to every whisper; seemed to swirl and grow with each passing second. Ivan Civanovich watched the woman below. With deadly purpose, he studied the lady who had hired him--the woman who had bought his gun and perhaps death.
"Reckless courage," Ivan mused.
"Si Senor, she does have what you call a great courage, but I don’t know about the reckless part. She is always so very careful," Pedro said.
"I’m a dangerous man, Pedro."
"This is why she hired you."
"The lady has no business hiring men like me. She’s a woman. She is supposed to nurture lives."
"She needs you to keep the bad men from taking the land away--our home," Pedro said.
Ivan pushed the tip of his hat back from his brows. From his vantage point, he considered the woman while she hung the freshly laundered white sheets on the line. A strange shudder swept through him, his muscles tensing with the sudden feeling he knew this woman, had known her forever. The sensations were too strong, the feelings too acute, and it troubled him because knowing her was impossible.
Her hair, a wild mop of red curls, battled with the stiff, hot wind rising off the prairie. The breeze and her hair flowed in undulating currents between the lines, threatening to tangle themselves in the wire. She bent over at the waist, giving him a perfect view of her backside while she toyed with something on the ground. Seconds later she picked up the object of her curiosity, turned it over in her hands then tossed it aside.
He didn’t like to think about what could happen to her in the next few weeks. She’d advertised for a gun for a hire. She didn’t know what she bargained for, and he’d bet his inheritance she didn’t have any idea what kind of trouble she’d purchased.
When she looked up the hill, his grin widened. She couldn’t see him, but her shoulders tensed and she sucked air. Her hand touched her forehead, shielding her eyes from the blinding sunlight. She scanned the horizon, turning a complete circle before she stopped.
"Good," he said, "she is cautious."
"She knows someone is up here," Pedro announced.
"She’s got more starch in her drawers and the stiffest backbone of any woman I’ve ever seen." Ivan whistled through his teeth, his eyes intent and focused upon the woman.
"Si." Pedro agreed. "She sure enough does but her heart is made of spun gold."
Ivan wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. Beads of sweat dripped down his back. His gaze swept across the barren landscape then followed the line of trees that bordered the creek. He lifted the glasses to his eyes and turned his attention to a spot about a mile north of her ranch. The railroad wanted easement rights. So why wouldn’t she sell to them. "Spun gold, huh." He dropped the binoculars, letting them dangle from their strap around his neck.
"Si, boss."
"I see." Ivan leaned forward, resting his forearm on the saddle horn.
Ivan wasn’t sure he understood. Women had a lot of fine qualities, many of which he didn’t want to live without but a soft, feminine heart shouldn’t be deciding life and death matters.
Spun gold. No, he’d never met a female with a heart of gold, spun or otherwise. He’d never known a woman who wouldn’t betray a man for a piece of gold. Save one, he amended, and his best friend had married her. Alexi Popov had his trials too. He had kidnapped Angela and spirited her away to his home in the Crimea. In the end though, he gave up his title, his land, and most of his wealth for Angela. He followed her back to America and married her.


This is a wonderful tale, full of action, emotion and a bit mystical at times. Enjoy this one.

Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More  4 Cups

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Bauble Head Bag Ladies of Shaw Square

Leave a Comment and you will be entered to win a $25.00 Amazon gift card, a copy of The Gift, or a copy of 
Star Crossed.

This contest will run until August 25, 2012. The more time you comment the better your chance of winning. wink

The drawing will be held on August 28th.

Bauble Head -- When an event is scheduled for one day and the participant arrives a day early.
     My walking partner was excited for days about going to the Mariner game on the Saturday they were giving away bauble head dolls of certain baseball players. She searched the internet looking for the cheapest tickets. She finally found two tickets in the bleacher section for her and her so. She calculated when they would have to leave Salem in order to get to Seattle in time to get one of the bauble heads. They were only giving away a limited number.
     She and her son arrived at the Mariner stadium and the lines were huge. They finally found one and slowly moved to the entrance. At the entrance the attendant gave her a strange look and said. "Mam these tickets are for tomorrows game.


Needles to say, she left her adult son in line and ran to an admissions booth to procure two tickets then ran back.

Yes...they both received bauble head dolls.

      I on the other hand, have a relatively short story. I had a dr. appointment on Thursday and arrived on Wednesday. The poor receptionist thought she had done something wrong. We finally figured it out. Oh yeah, I was day early.
     My husband gave me an excuse. I have been going to this dr's. office since February for B 12 shots. All of my appointments have been on Wednesday.

Silence again...

Bag Ladies -- When two crazy walking and weight watcher partners decide to help out another young lady with the ww fee. We decided to pick up cans along shaw highway and silver falls highway. At 5 cents a can one can imagine how long this will take. So we took off with two plastic bags hanging on belts. Yesterday was $1.50 day but TODAY WAS A $5.00 DAY. We collected 100 cans.

Woo hoo!!!

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Dust of my Wings

Please welcome Carrie Ann Ryan author of Dust of my Wings.

Carrie Ann will be awarding Dust of my Wings "swag" packs to one commenter at every stop, a $25 Amazon GC and necklace (pictured included in attachments see below) to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour and a $10 Amazon GC to the host with the most comments (excluding the author's and the host's).

Dust of My Wings
by Carrie Ann Ryan



1. What or who inspired you to start writing? 
I've always been a writer. I've always had the ideas and characters in my head. But it wasn't until recently, about a couple years ago, that I had this one church in my head that would not go away. So I sat down and wrote a story. That's spawned my Redwood Pack series.

2. How did you come up with ideas for your books? 
Pretty much everywhere. I'm more of a character author at first, meaning, I go through and find out which characters are in my mind, and start writing. It could be an image, sans, feeling, or anything like that gives me inspiration.

3. What components are necessary for the genre of this novel?
Dust of My Wings is a paranormal romance, meaning I had to make sure that whatever world I made how to be consistent. I didn't want it to be boring and just have two people hanging out not doing anything. I wanted to make sure each characteristic conscription was vivid and made sense in my own world. I also wanted to make it mine, not anyone else's.

4. What expertise did you bring to your writing? 
I went to college for science and math. I have numerous degrees and those and have written many science papers over time. That is completely different than what I do now. Science requires passive writing. Something that is a big dildo in fiction writing. However the fact that I loved reading and writing with a view that time really helps me focus on what I'm doing now.

5. What would you want your readers to know about you that might not be in your bio? 
When I say I'm an avid reader, I mean it. I recently seven books a week. Yes, it takes time, but I read so fast that it helps. I love, love meeting new characters, and hearing new stories by authors I can't wait to meet.

6. As far as your writing goes, what are your future plans? 
As of July, I am now a full-time author. Meaning, I have so much in store. I have at least four series I'm working on right now, with many books going on at each of those. So this isn't the last of my Redwood Pack, nor any of my other serious. I've so much to share so excited!

7. If you could be one of the characters from any of your books, who would it be and why? 
I don’t know if I could do that. My characters are just so different and so themselves, be weird for me to be one of them. But I will say I always wanted to marry Maddox or Shade. *wink*

8. Do you belong to a critique group? If so how does this help or hinder your writing? 
 I used to, but it's a lot of work to keep up with everyone. Plus, as I learned more and more, everyone had such different styles, it really helps us to have one or two partners. And I have that with my partner, Lia Davis. Her and I have a similar voices and similar ideas of what we like. In fact, we worked so well together that were writing a whole series together.

9. What is the best and worst advice you ever received? (regarding writing or publishing) 
Write. And remember you’re a professional so act like one.

10. Do you outline your books or just start writing? 
I plot everything. I outlined my outlines and spreadsheets of my spreadsheets. It really helps me delve into what my characters my world could be. I can't just sit down and write a whole book without knowing where I'm going. I'd end up in a corner, and it would be really really boring.

11. Do you have any hobbies and does the knowledge you've gained from these carry over into your characters or the plot of your books? 
Not so much hobbies, as my past life of being a scientist. A few of my characters also have a science background so I like to be able to let the world know it's okay to be a geek.

12. Do you have an all time favorite book? 
Nope. I read over 5000. I can't just pick one. But I will say Nalini Sign and Lauren Dane are fantastic.

13. Have you started your next project? If so, can you share a little bit about your book? 
Yes, I have two books that I'm writing, another in edits, and the other in pre-writing. I will say you can find everything on my website since each of these are different series.


Humans aren’t as alone as they choose to believe. Every human possesses a trait of supernatural that lays dormant within their genetic make-up. Centuries of diluting and breeding have allowed humans to think they are alone and untouched by magic. But what happens when something changes?

Neat freak lab tech, Lily Banner lives her life as any ordinary human. She’s dedicated to her work and loves to hang out with her friends at Dante’s Circle, their local bar. When she discovers a strange blue dust at work she meets a handsome stranger holding secrets – and maybe her heart. But after a close call with a thunderstorm, she may not be as ordinary as she thinks.

Shade Griffin is a warrior angel sent to Earth to protect the supernaturals’ secrets. One problem, he can’t stop leaving dust in odd places around town. Now he has to find every ounce of his dust and keep the presence of the supernatural a secret. But after a close encounter with a sexy lab tech and a lightning quick connection, his millennia old loyalties may shift and he could lose more than just his wings in the chaos.



The motorcycle vibrated beneath Shade as he pulled off the side of the road and parked. The rain pelted him, the cold seeping into his bones, but he shrugged it off. He was in northern Washington and this seemed to be the norm in terms of weather.

He lifted his leg and got off the bike, ignoring the stares of the women around him. They watched him stroll, his powerful legs leading to long strides. He’d tucked his wings into the slits into his back to hide the fact he was an angel, but he couldn’t hide his face or the fact that women seemed to fawn over it.

It had been a long time since he had a woman. Not since that were jaguar a century or two ago in a night of deep depression and loneliness for him. But the heat, claws and desperation and only served to fill a physical need that left him even lonelier than before. From then on he left his carnal needs up to his hand. Before the jaguar it had been even longer, but he didn’t want to think about her. The one he’d lost. She was long since gone.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Carrie Ann Ryan is a bestselling paranormal and contemporary romance author. After spending too much time behind a lab bench, she decided to dive into the romance world and find her werewolf mate - even if its just in her books. Happy endings are always near - even if you have to get over the challenges of falling in love first.

Her first book, An Alpha's Path, is the first in her Redwood Pack series. She's also an avid reader and lover of romance and fiction novels. She loves meeting new authors and new worlds. Any recommendations you have are appreciated. Carrie Ann lives in New England with her husband and two kittens.

Carrie Ann loves hearing from readers. You can find her at:

Heartthrob Haven:
Facebook Author Page:
Facebook Friend:
 Goodreads |:
Twitter: @CarrieAnnRyan
 Tumblr :

An Alpha’s Path

A Taste for a Mate

Trinity Bound

Carrie Ann will be awarding Dust of my Wings "swag" packs to one commenter at ever stop, a $25 Amazon GC and necklace (pictured included in attachments) to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour and a $10 Amazon GC to the host with the most comments (excluding the author's and the host's).

Don't forget to leave a comment! :) This pendant is gorgeous.