Saturday, June 30, 2018

#Sci/FiFantasySaturday #DragonsAmongUs #Fantasy

Excerpt Heat Level: 0
Book Heat Level: 

Buy at Amazon:
Buy at Barnes & Noble  


An urgent call from her newspaper editor sends Aleda to report on an accident whose driver appears to be a dragon. Authorities have the scene locked down and aren't allowing access to anyone. Television broadcasts flash pictures of scaly legs hanging from a crashed car. However, the bodies disappear into thin air. When the stations try follow-up reports, all they find are state highway workers busily tearing up the roads.
In determining the truth of the shifter disappearances, Aleda finds the truth of her own dilemma.


Rain thwacked against Aleda's leathery black a
ppendages. Her arms ached; heck, every muscle in her body ached. This flying thing was going to take more practice. The continual downpour of the spring night slithered past her shielded turquoise eyes, bathing her scales in cool refreshment. As much as she would like to have frolicked in the showers, she was more interested in landing in one spot, curling up and sleeping for the next four days. If only…

Cyre winged up to her side.

"You go in first and I'll follow. I want to wash off the grit of the trip."

Aleda pulled back her lips in a semblance of a smile.

"No problem," she shouted over the wind drafts.

When Cyre's sister, Brittany, had first suggested Aleda attend the dragon council in China, she'd been ecstatic. Her recent discovery of her true identity--half human, half dragon--had put her beliefs to the test. She imagined being around those like her would make her transition simpler. Cyre and Brittany, full-blooded Celtic dragons, had helped as best they could by explaining rules of dragon protocol and pointing out the good guys from the bad guys at the council meetings. By the end of the week, Aleda's fairy tale illusion had fallen abruptly on sharp rocks. Politics and power were as rampant in the dragon-shapeshifter community as in the human community.

Brittany was going to spend a night or two in Cyre's den before continuing her journey back to Scotland. Then Aleda and Cyre would be faced with the decisions they'd both been putting off since their first meeting.

She felt the solid rock beneath her talons and breathed a sigh of relief. The council meeting had been exhilarating, educational and overwhelming all at once. It was nice, really nice, to be back in the Northwest of the United States. Aleda stood, getting her land legs then shook the extra moisture from her body. Placing her talon on the button in the rock wall, she pushed and the door of the cave slid open. Watching the heavy glass trundle into the backside of Mt. St. Helens still gave her chill bumps. So much about the twenty-first century dragon world made her shake her head. How could they survive with all the advancements humans had accomplished? Knowing the answer still didn't stop her from asking the question.

The few minutes she'd stood contemplating questions already asked had given the cavern a chance to air out. While her sense of smell wasn't as acute for some things, sulfur being one of those, she still hadn't been able to adjust completely to the acrid aroma Cyre tolerated in his cave.

As she dragged her tired feet over the threshold, Cyre backwinged his way on the landing. Aleda turned just in time to catch the wicked twinkle in his eyes.

He sprayed water over the landing, his laughter bubbling over the surrounding rocks like thunder.

"Cyre! I just dried off! Jiminy!"

Aleda wrinkled her brow and glared at the young gray-green dragon. His mirthful smirk did nothing to help her anger.

"Hey, you two. Get in here and dry off. I did some hunting before you got here and there's dinner in the great room. I've had mine and to be quite frank, I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep."

Brittany tromped back to the great room and found a warm spot near the back wall. 

Cyre and Aleda located the carcasses of the deer where Brittany had dropped the bodies. Each took one and moved off to eat, alone, before settling in for the night. Minutes after devouring their meals, the trio of dragons were fast asleep, the decisions of the previous week set aside for the normality of life.

Dragons Among the Eagles is an excellent sequel that will hold your attention until the very end and leave you craving more. Well done Ms. Kraemer for delivering yet another awesome book!

Worthy of a 5 Angel Eyes rating
L. Nickels for Rogue's Angels

Friday, June 29, 2018

#Friday'sFeaturedTitle #BorrowingAMooseHead #LiteraryFiction

Title: Borrowing a Moose Head from Cole Porter
Author: G. Lloyd Helm
ISBN: 978-1-62420-370-1
Genre: Literary Fiction/Family Life
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 1

Buy at: Amazon, Barnes and Noble


I had a bad feeling about Indiana from the first instant I heard we were going to be stationed there.

BLURB: Borrowing a Moose Head From Cole Porter

In our time as members of the US Air Force we had lived in many places and gone through many things. We didn’t expect that being stationed at Grissom AFB in Indiana would be the trial it turned out to be. We were leaving Germany, a foreign place, to come to middle America, supposedly home, but Grissom certainly didn’t feel like home.
Between the circus that seemed to run the town of Peru, the god-awful weather and the hostile locals we felt like we had moved into a war zone. But, military families make the best of what they are dumped into so we did our best.

EXCERPT: Borrowing a Moose Head From Cole Porter

We started Barnum meetings/rehearsals the following Thursday, at the Ole Olson Theater building on the edge of Peru. It was just a big warehouse where lots of stage sets were stored and a piece of floor could be tape marked like the Peru High School stage. Rehearsals would take place there on the improvised stage. The production would actually take place in the high school auditorium/theater.
We were given scripts and notified what parts we would play. As I thought, the main characters were all townies who had been connected with Ole or the circus for a long time.
First night rehearsals were a real trip. We had clowns, jugglers, riggers, fliers and high wire walkers. Most came prepared to perform so there were juggling clowns, balancing acts, and tumblers all over the place. One of the clowns seemed completely ready to work. He was a good deal larger than me, meaning over six feet, made up with white face and red wig, stripped pajamas and floppy shoes. He kinda reminded me of Bozo but not exactly. He did remind me of the Jimmy Stewart character in the movie The Greatest Show on Earth. You know, the clown who never took off his make up because he was hiding from the cops? Anyway, this hulking clown was in full make up, and I wondered if he was hiding from the cops as well. Gave me an itchy feeling which increased when he said hello to Mitch. They seemed to know one another, and that didn’t make me happy.
When I got close enough to ask I said, “You know that clown, Mitch?”
“Yeah, and so do you.”
I looked at the clown again and said, “I do?”
“It’s Big Mike from Church,”
From church and from Our Gang.
“Damn. I didn’t even recognize him.”
“Well, the clothes make the man,” Mitch said, with a grin.
“Smart ass.” 
He laughed and went back to talking with Mary who was over by the piano.
I watched them and looked over at Big Mike a few times and had thoughts, but like an idiot, I put them away for later consideration instead of grabbing Kathy and Mitch and running for the base. Instead, I calmed my queasy feeling and looked around at the mess of people there for the first Barnummeeting.
I was fascinated by one girl who rode a unicycle. She was a beautiful young high schooler who spent her waiting time that evening hopping her unicycle up a movable stage prop staircase. She would hop up one step, regain her balance then hop up the next step. The stair was only four steps high, but when she got to the top she would lift her arms in victory, turn and bounce back down the steps. I said, thinking out loud, “How the hell can she do that?”
Sam Grant who was not only the piano player but also the musical director said, “My daughter, Linda. She started doing unicycle when she could barely walk. Now she is the national youth champion.”
“There is a competition for unicycle riding?”
Sam laughed. “There is a competition for everything if you look hard enough. Get a Guinness world record book.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“She won a scholarship to Clown College and a thousand-dollar savings bond.”
“Clown College? You’re kidding me.”
“Absolutely not. Clown College is sponsored by Barnum and Bailey Circus and several other circuses worldwide. If you graduate from there you can go clown at any of hundreds of circuses around the world.”
“Hum. Well, she is good at it for sure. Amazing to watch.”
Sam smiled a proud fatherly smile and said “That’s my girl.”
I let it go at that, but I still wasn’t exactly convinced so, being an information geek, I looked it up and it was for real. I found out later that many of the kids who participated in the Peru Circus went on to life in circuses around the world including Barnum and Bailey. Where some students might talk about going the University of Indiana or Ball State a lot of kids around Peru talked about going to Clown College in Florida with perfectly straight faces.

Facebook page: Ghelm@facebook

Twitter handle: glhelm

Thursday, June 28, 2018

#ForeverHis #WesternHistoricalRomance

Forever His by Christine Young
Excerpt Heat Level: 
Book Heat Level:

August 30, 1895
Near Buffalo Creek,
South Dakota


Isolated in their cabin, they discover their love for each other and learn to trust. But the trust is shattered when Jacob learns she is married to his sworn enemy; the man who left him in the desert to die.

EXCERPT: Forever His

More than a half-dozen men and one woman were gathered in the sage-patched backyard of the run-down shack. So far not one person made a sound as they watched Chavez wield the whip, stripping the flesh off his back.

If Chavez weren't so angry and seeking revenge of his own, he would probably have just had him shot. Revenge was a powerful motive. Chavez wanted Jacob to suffer, to yell before he died. It seemed Etta Barringer did too. So far Chavez was toying with him, taunting and teasing him, cutting an inch here, ripping an inch there, not doing much damage but making mincemeat out of his back.

Jacob hadn't made a sound yet, not even a sharp, indrawn breath. He wasn't about to even though he knew Chavez would get impatient and start slashing. There was no hurry. Chavez had as long as he wanted. No one save Etta knew where he was, no one would come looking for him, at least not until the sun went down. By then Chavez would be done with him, and he would either be dead or buzzard-bait. For the life of him, he couldn't figure why Etta would hand him over to Chavez. She had always been Pinkerton to the core, yet she had betrayed him once before. If he survived this, he meant to have answers. He'd move heaven and earth to search out the lying Etta Barringer and find out exactly what she had against him.

The pain of betrayal at the forefront of his mind, and vows of revenge against the instigator of this kept him going. He focused on the woman's laughter and the scent of lemons that permeated his soul.

He had been taken by surprise. Still, he didn't go down easily. It took all of Chavez's men to get him bound securely to the post in back of the shack. And of those men, not one came away from the encounter without a scratch. Blood from the multitude of small cuts Chavez had inflicted ran in rivulets from his back, pooling on the parched thirsty ground, soaking into the dirt, staining it. 

He stood, his head proudly erect and that seemed to draw anger from Chavez. The grip of his fingers curled around the top of the post, the only sign of Jacob's pain--and fury.

The first real stroke of the whip felt like a red-hot branding iron searing across his back. Jacob didn't flinch, nor would he as long as he could hear her laughter or smell lemons floating languidly on the breeze. He wished he could see her, stare into her beguiling, green eyes until she knew he'd never stop hunting for her. Fury at his own weakness rose, and the anger he felt deep inside simmered, because she'd always attracted him. Ever since she showed up in a small town in Oregon, seduced him then drugged him and left him to sleep off the opium-laced whiskey, she'd fascinated him.

Concentrate on her--on what you're going to do when you find her again . . . 

Christine Young has done it again in this historical romance. The blizzards, betrayal, deceit and a ruthless bandito like Chavez made this a great romance.

Melinda for Night Owl Romance     5 out of 5

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

#DoorToHeaven #HistoricalRomance

Title: Door to Heaven
Author: Christine Young
ISBN: 978-1-62420-295-7

Genre: Historical Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4



Jessica Lawrence is the stepdaughter of a woman born in the twentieth century transported back in time to the year 1868. An acclaimed suffragette, she raises Jessica to believe in the equality of women. Jess Law believes everything she was taught, and when the time is right she becomes a private investigator. Courageous and impetuous, Jess finds danger in her quest to save all women from white slavery. Her passionate mission results in a wedding to Roc Newman, a man she knows can steal her heart...

Roc can't trust the sapphire-eyed spitfire who invades his home in search of secret papers and knocks him flat with her karate moves. Jessica's refusal to obey his wishes serves to inflame the war between them. Still, he cannot control the intense desire his reluctant bride inspires, or make her surrender her independence, until he has conquered the headstrong beauty on the battlefield of love...

Salem, Oregon 1886

            No one would have ever guessed the little spitfire could create so much havoc in Roc Newman's life. He would never forget that first bizarre meeting with the pernicious but lovely Jessica Lawrence. That night set the tone for their tumultuous and stormy ride through life.
            She had shown her true colors; the wildfire that possessed her soul, the passionate spirit, and the will to triumph even when the battle seemed lost.
            When the moon appeared as a silver slipper in the sky...
            He waited for her, primed yet not prepared, forewarned through the political grapevine that Jessica Lawrence stalked him.
            Jessica Lawrence was a five foot four inch pest. In the midst of it all, no matter how precarious the situation, she seemed to remain, completely, almost unerringly, on his trail--until now. At the window, Roc scrutinized the black form below, fighting the overwhelming urge to give her a shock she would remember forever.
            She seemed hell bent on suicide. Consequently, he followed the young lady one day, dodging her path, keeping in the shadows. He had seen her enter an office mysteriously from a side door and discovered it housed a private investigator. The sign, etched in his mind, Jess Law, PI, alias Jessica Lawrence. It hadn't fooled him for a second, just gave him pause, and the fury seizing him rocked his usually placid facade.
            He gambled on her naiveté. Perhaps because he had thought her harmless, a mere girl in a man's world, inadequate. Perhaps it had even been the notion she would eventually become distracted and quit. Whatever the reason, he had made a Herculean mistake, and now he pondered her next move. Dressed to blend with the night, she was out there, an apparition of darkness, wrapped in ghostly shadows.
            He moved through the house, turning off lights, banking the fires, before settling in a shadowed corner of his study where he could watch Jess. Purposely, he waited until well after midnight to lower the lights. Roc was tense, ready for the intrusion of his privacy. He was peering through the lace curtains, wondering at the girl whose appearance would have shocked most men. A long rope looped over her shoulder, the lone woman strode surefooted across the gardens.
            The sky was clear, except for a ribbon of low clouds and a sliver of moon. The house, a bastion against the silent assault about to come. A soft wind blew through the open window from the south; it cleared his head as he watched the approach.
            Jess Law shrugged the rope from her shoulder. Silhouetted against the sky, he watched the cord snake upward, grappling hook deftly clenching the chimney. He stood in awe of the mastery. Jess Law pulled on the rope, tightened it, and with a proficiency contradicting her sex, ascended. The lady moved cautiously, and when she reached her goal, she smiled. Her even white teeth glowed against the blackness of her face.
            With lithe movements, she swiftly opened the attic window. One jean-clad leg moved through the opening. She balanced precariously, for a moment, as if she were a bird ready to fly. Then her foot rested on the hard wood. The rest of her followed quickly, dropping to the floor; silent, ready to spring.
            He felt the tension, knew she listened for the sound of footsteps. She was inside. He watched the window, imagining each moment, each breath, sensing the emotions that must surely riffle her body. Roc listened for the soft whisper of her steps as she descended and thought he could almost hear the wild racing of her heart. Only a moment passed before the sounds became audible. Once on the first floor, she made her way through the house. Her fingers rested on the tumbler of his safe and turned. He heard the click, saw the handle as she pushed down. The door swung open.
            Then, without warning, he gripped her mouth. She wrenched away, turning quickly, groping for the documents, even while she tried to avoid him. Her actions, quick and agile, proved adept, throwing him off balance, but he would not relent and managed to grip her arm. No matter how swiftly she countered his moves, he still held mastery. He turned her, prepared to hog tie her if necessary. She allowed him, relaxed then surprised him, maneuvering expertly.
            Jess swiftly shoved her elbow into his chest, and he gasped for air. With a skill he didn't suspect she possessed, Jess Law threw him to the floor, and Roc bellowed, landing at her feet. The force of her action amazed him. For a second time, the breath rushed from his lungs, and Roc found himself on the cold floor. Papers, pens, and books clogged the air and littered the Persian rug then a sudden crash reverberated in the once cozy room. His shirt dampened as cold seeped through to his skin. She hadn't just thrown him upon the floor in his private sanctuary. No. She had humiliated him, threatened life and limb, and sent a pitcher of ice water on top of him. If he still held a breath of air in his body, he would have retaliated, a throw for a throw.
            He inhaled swiftly, contemplating revenge, thoroughly irritated. He'd held his own in every fight, every barroom brawl he'd ever participated, and now, in the middle of his study, he had been deflated by a plague upon the female persuasion.
            Studying the ceiling from this new vantage point, heaving, feeling the stab of mortification against his gender, he looked into the leering countenance of what was rapidly becoming the bane of his existence. Then she spoke, surprising him, since he had expected her to run. Her voice, soft and feminine, one that pinned him to the floor with its arrogance. "To the victor belongs the spoils. Would you like a repeat performance?"

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

#TellTaleTuesday #ChasingRainbows #Fantasy #Humor

Chasing Rainbows

Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 

An eccentric aunt, an inventive uncle, a mother who wears poodle skirts, and a brother who wears pearls provide a hilarious backdrop for the courtship of a young woman who yearns for a "normal" family.

Excerpt: Chasing Rainbows

Ka-boom! The blast shattered the settling peace of dusk as Marissa Madison pulled into the circular drive. Rissa threw open the car door and sprinted toward the gray stone house.

"Please, no blood this time," she whispered as her feet hit the rough-hewn steps leading up to the broad double doors.

A bespectacled man stepped through the doorway amid a confetti shower of envelopes and leaflets. His silvery hair stood in startled spikes around a balding pate as if it too had been a victim of the explosion. 

"Too much torque in the mail conveyor," he muttered with a frown.

"Please turn it off, Uncle Horace!"

"Right." The old man disappeared back into the house. Within moments, the clanking stopped and silence fell over the rolling hills once again.

Just another normal day, Rissa thought, as she surveyed the day's mail scattered in gay abandon across the landscape. 

The sullen gray sky rumbled ominously and tossed a few raindrops against her face. Rissa grabbed a check out of the privet hedge, an overdue bill off the bird bath, a shampoo sample from the branches of the azaleas, and a plain brown envelope from the lawn.

I hope I didn't miss anything important.Rissa scanned the inner courtyard once more. Lightening crackled across the sky, hurrying her steps back to the navy blue sedan to grab her briefcase and a bag of groceries. She closed the heavy wooden door behind her as a gust of wind pushed fat, sloppy raindrops against the mullioned windows. 

Maybe Uncle Horace should invent a mail dryer instead of a mail conveyer. Rissa dropped the soggy mail on a cherry wood table as she stepped out of her shoes. With the bag of groceries balanced on one hip, she padded barefoot toward the kitchen. A tall figure in a sweeping lavender print dress stood at the sink.

"I couldn't tell if the grocery list said chips or cheese, so I got both." As Rissa moved closer, the person she thought was her aunt turned toward her. She shrieked and dropped the groceries. "Ryan!"

Rissa's twin brother grinned at her from beneath the purple feathers of one of her aunt's collection of hats. 

"Do I want to know what's going on?" Rissa asked warily.

"I'm going to a Valentine's party tonight," Ryan replied.

"Dressed as Aunt Madelaine?" Rissa retrieved a head of lettuce and a package of marshmallow pinwheel cookies from the marbled tiles.

"It's a great way to pick up women." Ryan bent down and caught an escaping tomato. "You'd be amazed at what they tell dear Aunt Mads."

"You've done this before?" 

"Sure. Madelaine thinks it's a hoot."

"Where is Madelaine anyway?" Rissa pushed aside a stack of unwashed dishes to set the tattered grocery bag on the counter. 

Ryan shrugged. "She's been gone all day. By the way, I left your food in the microwave since I knew you'd be late."

Rissa opened the microwave and poked at the still-warm entree. 

"It's beef tips over rice--one of your favorites."

"Thanks." Rissa glanced over her shoulder. With the hat pulled low across his face, Ryan bore an uncanny resemblance to their tall, raw-boned aunt. She couldn't resist one jibe. "You'll make someone a wonderful wife some day."

Ryan fisted a hand on one hip and struck a pose until Rissa chuckled. 

"Come with me," Ryan urged. "When was the last time you went out?"

"Thanks, but I'm tired." 

"You work too hard."

The truth of her brother's statement stirred a wistfulness in Rissa, which she quickly pushed away. 

"I think Madelaine might have a special surprise planned for tonight." Ryan grinned wickedly.

"What are you scheming now?" Rissa frowned at her brother.

"Guess you'll have to come with me to find out."

Monday, June 25, 2018

#MysteryMonday #LegacyOfAngels #RomanticSuspense

Legacy of Angels
Genie Gabriel
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 3


Claudia deGras was forced into prostitution by her mother at age twelve. In spite of the trauma and abuse, she dreams of a respectful life filled with joy, laughter and the love of one man. Ironically, that man is Patrick O'Shea, a priest facing demons of his own. Since seminary, he has suffered memory loss and darkness at the edges of his vision that extend into his soul. They are drawn together in a deeply emotional journey of healing that becomes a life-and-death challenge to outwit the twisted man-beast who has vowed revenge against all he thinks have wronged him.
"I'm not safe anywhere." Terror beat in Claudia deGras' heart, pulsed through her veins, shut down any rational thought. Get out of here!

EXCERPT: Legacy of Angels

She bolted toward the door, not daring to look back as the sound of heavy footsteps followed her.

The old brown sedan sitting in the driveway always had the keys in the ignition. Most of the time, it started without much protest.

Claudia flung open the door and cranked the key. The engine caught and roared as she shoved the accelerator to the floor. Two doors banged shut as the old Buick slid sideways on the gravel, then found traction on the pavement.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Patrick O'Shea on the wide bench seat beside her, his hand braced against the dashboard for balance, but his face reflected his normal serenity.

Could she trust him? Did she have a choice? And where was she going?

She eased her foot off the accelerator and settled the old sedan into a speed that wouldn't get them stopped by the police, though patrols were rare on this sparsely traveled road in Eastern Oregon. 

While she drove the highway in silence, the childhood memories of curses and shouting and fists landing heavy blows on her body receded, and her panicked mind calmed down. 

No one had harmed her today. In fact, over the last few weeks the O'Shea siblings, including Patrick, had rearranged their lives to protect her from the man-beast who stalked her. 

She shivered. 

The man-beast was the real danger.

"Take the next exit." Patrick's deep voice interrupted Claudia's thoughts. 

Patrick's wisdom and gentleness had provided a balm to Claudia's soul many times during the time she had been recovering from her physical wounds at his mother's rambling farmhouse. Today, she discovered the emotional fears were deeper than she imagined. Facing the man-beast again--even in her memory--pushed her into a panicked flight.

Now reason was returning and adrenaline ebbing, and Claudia floundered. Once again, Patrick's reassuring voice provided an anchor, so she followed his instructions. Down a paved road for several miles, flanked on either side by acres of rangeland turning dusty gold in the early summer heat. Then another turn onto a graveled road with no other traffic. Finally off any road entirely, bumping over the rangeland to come to a stop under a sheltering copse of trees near a lake.

After Claudia turned off the engine, Patrick opened the car door. "Come with me." 

He walked toward the lake, not looking back. 

Claudia watched him for long minutes. Was he simply going to leave her? 

The land sloped downward where Patrick now walked, making it seem like he was disappearing. When only the top of his head was still in view, panic seized Claudia once again. "Wait!" 

She jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind her, running to catch up with Patrick. She topped the knoll and stopped, her chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion and fright. 

Patrick stood looking up at her, the same serene expression on his face. Then he turned and continued walking to the water's edge. Hidden in the tall reeds was a raft that looked as if it would sink with the weight of the family of ducks swimming nearby. However, when Patrick climbed on, the craft barely dipped before stabilizing. He turned and reached out his hand in invitation. Cautious but curious, Claudia climbed aboard.

Using a long pole, Patrick pushed them across the lake and under a rocky outcropping. He secured the raft to a sawed-off tree stump that served as a pier post for a make-shift dock and stepped off. "Be careful. It can be slippery." 

Intrigued, Claudia once again took Patrick's hand and climbed off the raft. They walked toward a sheer rock cliff topped by ruins of what could have been an ancient stone cathedral. However, as they reached the cliff, Patrick slipped through a notch in one of the rocks. Once inside, he retrieved a flashlight from a pocket in the rock wall and turned it on, revealing a narrow corridor. Claudia followed him down a winding pathway for what seemed like miles. Patrick walked without hesitation, turning down side tunnels until she felt totally disoriented. 

At last he stopped in front of a solid rock wall. Well, it appeared solid. Until he slid aside what must have been a doorway, revealing into a cavernous room.

"Where are we?" Claudia asked. 

Patrick turned with a half-smile. "Safe. That's what you wanted, right?"

Sunday, June 24, 2018

#RomanceSunday #StealingFire #Sci/fiRomance

Stealing Fire by Angela Castle
Excerpt Heat Level: 2
Book Heat Level: 5


     Adalardo, King of Kell, has found his queen in Penny, an abused housewife from Earth. Adalardo must challenge Penny’s husband in order to claim her as his queen.
     The soul demon, who is angered over the betrayal of Tuthal, seeks revenge, targeting not only Tuthal but all those around him.
     When the demon strikes a blow right into the heart of both men, they must join forces in hope of defeating the evil that has taken their women.

Tamara's feet dangled above the precipice. No matter how she tried to calm her racing pulse and rapid breathing, she felt the panic rising.

How had four weeks with the most gorgeous magical man she had ever met, turn into this? Tuthal, sorcerer of Kell had shown her the wonders of his alien land, brought her pleasures that left her weak, sated, and never wanting to leave his side. He had stolen her heart in a matter of days, yet she sensed there was a hell of a lot more to her magical sorcerer than he chose to reveal.

Tuthal's tower, and the place he called home, remarkably resembled a lighthouse. It was positioned by a bay inlet along the eastern side of the Kell coastline. Tamara was curled up on a soft couch by a blazing crystal fire. She glanced up at him as Tuthal had come down the steps from the upper room.

"It is time, my Tamara."

"Time for what?" She gave him a seductive smile; there was always time for some hot sweaty sex with her hunky alien sorcerer.

"There is someone I wish you to meet."

"Okay, cool." She jumped up, trustingly putting her hand into his. Tamara had seen the glint of his sword as the robes he wore parted slightly then he turned and waved his staff to open a red glowing portal; portals being a source of magical transport between worlds, and only Sorcerers like Tuthal were able to open them.

"Remember when the time comes, my beauty, I need you to scream for me." Before she could question what on earth he had meant, Tuthal had tugged her though the red swirling portal.

Tuthal did not allow her time to think or react. He gripped her wrists, lifted her off her feet, and shackled her wrists either side of her head between two poles.

"Tuthal, what the hell are you doing?" She was trying to stay calm, hoping this was some kind of kinky game he wanted to play. Tuthal's expression was passive, giving nothing away behind his miss-matched eyes.

"I need you to be my sacrifice to the soul demon, Tamara; you are the one I have needed for a very long time. Trust me Tamara, all will be well." She watched as he had opened another portal and stepped through, leaving her alone in the darkness of what could only be described as hell.

"Stay calm, it'll be alright, stay calm, stay calm." Tamara repeated like a mantra trying to believe the words she spoke. The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxyalways had the best advice in situations like these; 'Don't panic.' But that was easier said than done.

Stealing Fire has everything you could ever want in a fantasy romance! I absolutely LOVED it!
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More 5 Cups