Sunday, February 28, 2021

#RomanceSunday #IfOnly


Title: If Only

Author: Christie L. Kraemer


Genre: Contemporary Romance

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 


Buy at: AmazonBarnes and Noble




Widow Barbara Langley, sporting a refreshed look, and her best friend, go to Tampa, Florida as she had promised. Along the way she encounters an old flame and new temptation.


BLURB: If Only


Widow Barbara Langley, and best friend, Rachel, journey to Tampa, Florida. Barbara left broken-hearted years earlier and returns with her newly surgicized body to mend her grieving spirit. Can she juggle an old love who reappears and the younger man who desires her or will she choose to return to the Northwest still single?





"You are the one my cards have foretold to me." She nodded at Rachel who stood behind Barbara, her mouth gaping.

"I beg your pardon?" Barbara moved back stepping on Rachel's toe.



The blonde women stopped before Barbara, tossing a fearful look in Rachel's direction, before reaching out and gently lifting Barbara's hand to her, palm up, and peered at the opened extremity. She took a bejeweled, ruby-tipped finger and traced the lifeline. Her dark brown eyes peered deeply into Barbara's.

"You have recently suffered a great personal loss."

Rachel harrumphed behind Barbara.

Ignoring Rachel, she continued, "You have come home seeking a glimpse of the past to answer questions of old. You will have to make a decision between two—brothers?—which will change your living arrangements as well as your life..."

Before she could continue, Rachel grabbed Barbara's elbow and propelled her toward the front door, muttering under her breath, "Any fool can see the white circle where your wedding ring used to be and, of course, you're seeking something. You came into this bloody shop. What a fraud."

The blonde turned and softly called to the retreating backs of the two friends, "By the way, Dylan says you are headed in the right direction, and he wants to thank you. Now he can rest."

Barbara's planted her feet to the floor. She whirled and, grasping her throat, whispered, "Dylan?"

The blonde approached warily, glancing at the furious face of Rachel looking over the head of her friend.

"Yes. He said you"—she pointed at Rachel—"would not believe me, but he was finding it difficult to get a message through to you. Barbara, he wanted very much for you to know the quest you have taken is the first step to setting him free. He knew he was your second choice."

Barbara gasped, tears welling in her eyes, "He never said a thing."

"He has told me to thank you for all the years of love you gave to him, and says he wants you to find your first love who also searches for answers."

Rachel growled behind Barbara, "Let's get the hell out of this place." She turned Barbara around and shoved her out the door. Glancing back, she spotted the blonde peeking from the door as they escaped to the car.

"Barbara, you're not going to believe that garbage, are you?" Furrows creased Rachel's brow.

"Well, normally, I would've laughed in her face as we walked out, but she did mention Dylan by name. I mean, how could she know the name of, of... well, you know." Barbara had stopped on the sidewalk and was looking up at her friend.

Pulling Barbara close to the building, she tenderly grasped her friend's hand in hers.


Barbara's eyes widened.

"Yeah, I know about your pet name. He told me once when I'd just read him the riot act about his drinking and how it would end your marriage if he didn't get himself together. I hate to dump ice water on your hope but... we were talking about Dylan in there, remember?"

Rachel watched her friend's shoulders droop and the hope flicker and die from her eyes.

"Yeah, I'd forgotten about that. Well, I guess mysterious messages from those who have passed over and voodoo are the tools of their trade. I'm just feeling a little guilty, I guess. I've actually felt happier here than the last two years in Oregon. Hearing his name like that brought back all the pain."

Rachel winced. "Girlfriend, we came here so you could release some of that pain and take a breather from being 'Dylan's poor widow,' remember?" She gathered her friend under her arm, and they moved toward the parking lot.

Barbara slowed her gait and turned to look up at her friend. "I know she has a very good act going, but I never told Dylan he was my second choice. Did you?"

Rachel shook her head and with her hand crossed her heart.

"Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

Rachel picked up the pace until they stood at the doors of the convertible.

"No. The woman is good at what she does—selling the occult. Everyone who goes into her shop is looking for something, or they wouldn't stop. The white spot and indentation on your finger, where your ring used to be, indicates you were in a long relationship, which has recently ended. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but, when you think no one is watching, you look incredibly sad. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out you might be looking for a new love. That part about two brothers, though; that was taking it just a little too far. You gotta give her this—she's a great actress."


Saturday, February 27, 2021

#SciFiFantasySaturday #DragonsOfTheIce


Title: Dragons of the Ice

Author: C. L. Kraemer


Genre: Fantasy

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level:  1


Buy at: AmazonBarnes and Noble




Dragonlings are a challenge at the best of times. When a plot is discovered to extinguish the dragon shifters of the world, parents to be Petra and Dagmar, Olga and Lee fear for the future.


BLURB: Dragons of the Ice


Unexpected dragon shiftings have increased since the conference in China. More deaths being covered up inexplicably sends Lee Svensson to Japan to investigate from the Swedish Embassy. Why is it World Watch, Inc., a marketing company, is always on site when a shifter dies? Lee is charged to find out. When the husband of his wife’s best friend discovers an account he is managing, World Watch, Inc., is manipulating oil companies by buying up all available stocks, the two realize their paths are the same. Now that their wives have announced the impending births of dragonlings, it is imperative the men solve this riddle. An American dragoness shifter and former full blood warrior dragon will prove courage comes in all sizes.


REVIEW: Dragons of the Ice



Dragons among us, Book III

C. L. Kraemer


Reviewed by Jeffrey Ross


5 Stars of 5


An intriguing shape shifter novel! 5 Stars!


Dragons on Ice is epic in scope-- and its global vision and cinematic presentation will remind readers of a James Bond film. The author works on numerous  current modern themes, including the influence of big oil, political manipulation, and the intricacies of marital relationships. Readers will learn a great deal about the classes of shapeshifter dragons which robustly populate the earth, including their history, mating rituals, and birthing practices. Yes, there are many wing-flapping flying scenes and numerous spouts of flame images. The bad guy is a most-villainous creature who pits himself against the decent shape shifters just trying to get along with the "two-leggeds." A fun read combining fantasy and political intrigue!



EXCERPT: Dragons of the Ice




The flight to Tokyo was tedious and Lee Svensson was not a good traveler. Airplanes exacerbated his claustrophobia, and the air turbulence upset his stomach. He disembarked with the passengers heading into the terminal. It never ceased to amaze him how polite Japanese travelers were. The walkways, while crowded, found the citizens accommodating to one another and foreigners. Lee located his luggage at the baggage retrieval. A close by kiosk offered instructions for the second leg of his journey. He purchased a rail ticket to Sapporo and flagged a vacant taxi willing to take him to the station. After settling in his window seat, Lee opted to close his eyes and allow the gentle movement of the bullet train lull him to sleep. There were two changes to make before he reached his destination far to the north of Tokyo in the Hokkaido prefecture.

This was his first trip away from Olga since they'd wed before the spring conference. If there hadn't been so much evidence against the target, he would've passed off this assignment to another. The nature of the investigation, however, required his presence at the offices in Sapporo.

"Sir? Excuse me, sir. We're at your stop."

The uniformed train attendant woke him, opting to gently rouse the stranger.

"Domo arigato."

She smiled, a shy affair showing a small dimple in her right cheek.

"You're welcome, sir."

Lee rose from the seat and stretched his muscles. He was facing one more transfer then eight hours of sleep. His meeting wasn't for two more days, but he felt the need to be rested. He'd be glad when he could stop moving and call Olga. She'd been acting very odd before he left yesterday. Was it just yesterday? He shook his head realizing his sense of timing had flown out the window after several time zone changes.

The second transfer was quickly accomplished as Lee settled his briefcase next to him. Safely ensconced in his seat on the final leg of his journey, his eyelids began to drift toward his cheeks.

The ring of his cell phone startled him awake.

"Hello? Olga! Good heavens, what time is it there?"

He listened to the voice of his lifemate, feeling tightness in his shoulders disappear. His lips slid into a smile and he stretched his legs before him.

"I know, my love, but just put up with her while I'm gone. She is, after all, the one who promoted you to the council and encouraged them to use your work."

The countryside was giving way to homes. Lee straightened and started checking around his seat for anything he may have left.

"What? Olga? What did you just say?"

The sound must've been distorted by such a long distance.

"Olga? Let me call you back. We're at the final station, and I need to get to my hotel room. I'll be able to hear you better from a landline. Okay?"

He sensed she wasn't thrilled but clicked off his phone knowing she would wait for his call. Lee made his way to the hotel and his room.

Showering away two days of travel, he reveled in the hot water sluicing down his body chasing away the aches and pains of sitting for so long. Over-sized, terrycloth towels specifically set out for him as per his reservation request, warmed and relaxed the remaining weariness from his bones. The urgency to sleep was exerting power over his need to speak to his wife. He shook off the need to sleep. He'd better call Olga or she'd worry unnecessarily.

Once he'd gone through the hotel's phone exchange, he waited on the bed as the phone rang at the other end.


Finally."Hi, sweetheart. I couldn't quite hear everything you were saying while I was on the train. Now, what did you want me to know?"

He sat listening to his wife relay the news to him. This changes everything.

"I think we best talk seriously about this when I get home. I'll be here for at least a week following up on a… situation. The outcome here will determine my next assignment. I miss you, Olga."

"I miss you, too, Lee. Be safe. If this has anything to do with the events at the spring meeting, I want you to promise me you'll be especially vigilante."

"I promise, love. I'll call you every day."

Stunned, he crawled beneath the covers depositing the damp towel on the chair next to the bed. Before he thought to turn out the light, his eyes betrayed him and closed.

Lee Svensson was sound asleep, the worries of the coming day temporarily forgotten.





Dragons among us, Book III

C. L. Kraemer

4 Stars of 5

Reviewed by G. Lloyd Helm


I found myself in a world not unlike my own, except that the actors were dragons with the magical power to appear to be people and to function in human society with plain humans none the wiser.  The dragons all seem to have the same problems humans have; the everyday jobs and interactions that we all must endure, the everyday paperwork problems, the decisions about having and caring for children, but these dragons live on a more violent plain where a self absorbed dragon thinks he should be the most powerful dragon in the world. He thinks he should do away with all the "lesser" changeling dragons and the minor dragons and let only the pure blood dragons like himself live. The racism and dictatorial desire runs rampant within  dragon kind.

The story has echoes of Harry Potter and the battle to rule the world of magic, but it also has feelings of a James Bond, or George Smiley novel. I rather liked it and it did hold my interest enough that I read most every word rather than skimming through it.

I only gave it a four because there were Cherokee Indians living in Tee Pees on the Rose Bud range and that isn't right. Cherokee's (My People) lived in long houses before Andrew Jackson drove them onto the Trail of Tears to Oklahoma, where many of them including Will Rogers, lived and continue to live. They never lived in Tee Pees. It's a small thing, but that kind of error steals credibility from an otherwise pretty diverting tale.






Friday, February 26, 2021



Title: Door to Heaven

Author: Christine Young



Genre: Historical Romance

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 4


Buy at:  AMAZON




Courageous and impetuous, Jessica Lawerence finds danger in her quest to save women from white slavery.


BLURB: Door to Heaven


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...


EXCERPT: Door To Heaven


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?"




Thursday, February 25, 2021


Title: Christel's Sunrise

Author: Christine Young


Genre: Historical Romance/Paranormal

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 4


Buy at: Amazon


BLURB: Christel's Sunrise


He Made Her An Offer...


Life has thrown Christel McClellan some experiences that could have devastated a less determined woman. Beautiful, self-assured and fiercely independent, she is trying to forget the loss of her stillborn child. But is the child alive?


She Couldn’t Deny...


Life is carefree for Ryder MacLaren who loves to see what is on the other side of the sunrise. Laird of Clan MacLaren, he is wealthy, handsome and happily unencumbered...until stunning Christel McClellan enters his life. When he hears her story, he believes the child she thought dead has been sold to a wealthy buyer.


REVIEW: Christel's Sunrise


Highland Sunrise by Christine Young
Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
Genre: Historical
Length: Full Length (174 pgs)
Heat Level: Spicy
Rated: 4 Stars
Reviewed by Dandelion


I loved the rapport between the two main characters. Although at times they both struggled to find the right words to explain their feelings for each other, somehow they managed. They both loved the other and so over time it became easier. Both were also very independent and that caused a little friction between them. However, Ryder would typically just shake his head and go with the flow. There were a huge number of sex scenes, and I think this story would have stood alone quite well without so many (there were times they did nothing to forward the plot, but seemed added just to have a sex scene), but they didn’t detract from the plot either.


There were so many other fascinating and fun characters in the story: her sister, her cousins, their husbands, her aunt, the Duchess. Reading about all the things they attempted and succeeded in doing was really fun. They were not the typical regency “tonnish” people of the days. This made this story much more fun.


And of course, although there was a lot of fighting, terror, murder and mayhem, the story has a very satisfying ending.



EXCERPT: Christel's Sunrise


But Christel pushed away from him and pointing, "There, do you see her. She is sitting on the wall."

Ryder strained to see the apparition Christel pointed toward but he saw nothing. "No, but I think I hear her."

"Yes, she is crying, not weeping as usual. Do you know anything about her story?" Christel turned to him, hope shining in her soft blue eyes.

"I've heard her lover died. But that was a long time ago."


Ryder pulled her back into his embrace, not ever wanting her to leave. He would hold fast to her for as long as she would allow him. "At war... I don't recall which one. The clans seem to have always been at war with someone, especially the English."

He felt the nod of her head against his chest. "Does anyone know the legend? I would seek them out."

Her breathing was slow and she seemed relaxed. But Ryder feared for her. If she started asking questions, would this ghost come to harm her? He didn't know anything about apparitions. But he also knew he would have to give her a chance to discover the truth. "Only if you let me go with you. I would be honored. There is a woman, older than time. She wanders the castle grounds. Most see her in the late evening and early morning."

"Old as time, no older?"

A shimmering silver light hung over the castle and floated above the turrets. Ryder pointed toward the light. "Is that her?"

"She's a bit reclusive." Christel turned in Ryder's arms. "Yes, that's her."

"One might say that about her." His hands rested at the small of Christel's back. He wanted to kiss her but didn't want to frighten her again. Maybe a lazy gentle kiss would be accepted. The thought made him grin.

He traced her neck with the tip of his finger, hoping she would find his attentions acceptable then bent close to her. "I want to kiss you. Will you let me?" She shivered in his arms but turned her face up to him.

"Yes." She breathed softly. Her words gentle yet hesitant.

Her reticence bothered him. What had happened in her past? His thoughts shot to Lord Rathen and her hasty departure from London. Every part of him tightened with disgust. He would discover the truth and make the despicable rake pay for any injustice committed against Christel.

Watching her eyes for signs of fear, Ryder lowered his mouth to hers. He touched her gently, molded his lips against her, thrilled to hear the sigh of pleasure emanate from her. He ran one hand up her back, pulling her closer, reveling in the feel of her softness against his hard planes. Her breasts pushed against him. The need to feel every inch of her pulsed through him but he didn't dare.

He moved back and once again looking into her eyes. She lowered her lashes then returned his gaze.

"Don't think, little one, just feel and know that I would never hurt you. I want more but I won't rush you."

She touched his cheek with one slender fingertip. "Kiss me again."







Wednesday, February 24, 2021

#CatchingMera #ParanormalRomance


Title: Catching Meara

Author: Christine Young


Genre: PARANORMAL Romance

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 5


Buy at Amazon

Barnes & Noble


BLURB: Catching Mera


Meara Thorton was a feisty, world-class computer hacker—cornered by the FBI and shockingly given the chance to be their newly acquired technical analyst. Brilliant and intuitive, yet aching with the loss of everyone she has cared about, her restless heart led her to discover a love she fought and a world she didn't know could possibly exist.


Jace McKenna was an enigma, a loner, impossibly handsome, sincere and committed. The Apache shapeshifter blood running through his veins burned hotter than the blistering Sierra Madre sun. Jace knew the moment he caught Meara's scent she was his for eternity. 


Review: Catching Meara


Delane of Coffee Time Romance & More says:


"Catching Meara is a superbly written mystery that draws readers in and makes them a part of the team. The characters are vivid and provide a perfect canvas for the life of a unique team that catches some truly nasty villains. Ms. Young provides a perfect blend of paranormal, mystery and romance providing the reader an entertaining adventure."

Rating: 4 cups out of 5




EXCERPT: Catching Meara


Meara had been seconds from revelation, mere seconds. Now quivering with terror, she huddled in the corner of her electrified office while lights flashed and popped all around her, knowing there was no where to run. Monitors flashed and burst, exploding and sending shards of liquid fire into the air. A cop entered the small room, his arms stretched forward, gun in both hands and a flashlight on top of his gun.


Three more cops followed behind. No, they were government agents. The logo printed in white across their chest announced their profession.


Bright lights swept the room in a slow steady arc, searching for her. Finally resting on her face, she shielded her eyes. Smoke from the crucified computers filled the cubicle, making the agents choke. Sweat from fear beaded on her forehead, and her heart lurched to her throat. She closed her hands over her heart as if she could slow the furious beating.


"Hewitt, check this out. There might be more than this one. Barrister go search through the other rooms."


"Right, McKenna."


"My name is Jace McKenna," the man said as he approached cautiously, kicking debris from under foot until he stood above her. "Put your hands in the air." 


His voice held so much authority and sounded so calm. For a moment she thought he meant to reassure then she remembered she was his prisoner. Well, she would be as soon as she complied with his demands. 


Jace appeared dark, dangerous, handsome and tall, she noted at first. Very tall, which was hard to miss, since she was skinny and short. His eyes were an amber color with a hint of green. He towered over her. Beneath the deceiving bulkiness of his bulletproof vest, she observed next, his shoulders were very broad, and though his hips were lean, his thighs, tightly hugged by his jeans, were muscled and powerful.


His hair was blacker than the midnight sky, nearly indigo with its sheen, his amber eyes were cast into a rugged face that appeared naturally tanned. He was probably somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties. He seemed fierce, alive with a striking tension and a volatile energy that seemed to exude from him.


Shaking, sweat dripping down her face, Meara slowly raised her trembling arms. "D-don't shoot--me, please" She heard the pathetic whimper in her voice as she blinked the stinging sweat from her eyes where it melded with her mascara. Her heart pounded so hard against her chest she was sure it would burst through her ribs.


"Stand up, slowly." He swept the flashlight as well as the gun up and down the length of her body, which had been curled into a tight fetal position.


Rising to her feet, she leaned against the wall behind her, trying to keep her hands up and not fall flat on her face. She wiggled her butt against the wall and inched her way to a standing position. Her life flashed in front of her in a series of leaps and bounds until she saw the faces of her parents. 


"Do as he says," they whispered. "Everything will turn out fine. You'll see. We love you." Then, just as they appeared, they vanished.


Their faces faded into the smoke and flashing lights. Her eyes open wide, she gazed at her enemy--her jailor. The man who was here to arrest her. Mind games, or was it mind think that her parents used to play with her, teaching her to communicate through thoughts instead of words. She focused on his brain, sending out feelers, trying to read his thoughts and trying to tell him she was no threat.


The next moment he was beside her, grasping one of her arms, and in one swift move he had turned her, both hands were behind her back and handcuffed. Her breath stopped for a moment. The movement had been so sudden she was thrown against the wall. Her face flattened on the smooth surface. Yet she was glad for that because the impact brought her back to the reality of this moment. Her mind cleared for a brief second. For courage she inhaled a swift deep breath.



Manic Reader Review 

Rating:  4 1/2 stars out of 5

Reviewer: Alberta 



Meara is a loner, content to spend time with her computers, without the bother of having too many people around her. When she turns from hacker to government computer specialist, she meets Jace, who knows she is his mate, but all he has to do is tell her he is a panther shape shifter and that she is destined to be his.


There is a lot of dodging bad guys, dodging another shape shifter, and trying to keep secrets from each other. In the end, Catching Meara is pretty entertaining, and I liked both characters, despite Meara’s dysfunctional personality.







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Tuesday, February 23, 2021

#TellTaleTuesday #FoolishForPiper


Title: Foolish for Piper

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance/Regency

Book Heat Level: 


Buy at: AmazonBarnes and NobleAppleKoboGoogle Play


Read first chapter




When Piper picks Brett MacLachlan’s pocket, she has no idea her life is going to change forever. 



BLURB: Foolish For Piper


The pickpocket...


Piper has spent her life surviving the streets of St. Giles Parish in London, a den of iniquity and crime. Masquerading as a boy she escapes the whorehouses the young girls are sent to as they come of age. The day she encounters Brett MacLachlan begins the same as every other one. When she picks his pocket, she has no idea her life is going to change irreversibly. 


...and the mark


Handsome aristocrat Brett MacLachlan has come to London for his amusement only to find his world turned upside down by a thief and her dog. From the moment he spots her, Brett knows there is something intrinsically wrong. In his arms, Piper discovers passion and joy. Yet secrets of her past haunt her, and a scar will tell the true tale as well as her identity.



EXCERPT: Foolish For Piper


“Mrs. Pickery!”

Good God, but he couldn’t take his gaze from her perfectly formed figure. Her tight butt was nothing like the women he bedded, his mistresses. In a flash, his body hardened with a desire he couldn’t control. “Mrs. Pickery!”

“Yes, sir.” His cook poked her head in the door. “What is it?”

“He’s a she.”

“What did you say?”

“Get her in the bath. If you need anything, ring for me and I’ll be here even though she’s naked. Don’t let her leave.” Well, that was stupid. He really didn’t think she’d run out the back door stark naked.

His gut rolled. He’d never forcefully disrobed a girl, ripped her shirt. He rubbed his face then roughed his hands through his hair. Trying to make excuses, and attempting to convince himself, he truly believed Piper was a boy. He inhaled a long deep breath, wishing he could take the last few minutes back and do them over.

“It’s alright, sir. You didn’t know. None of us knew. I’ll take care of her now.” Mrs. Pickery touched him on the back. “Don’t you worry about her.”

“That’s just it. I should have known. Every instinct I possess was telling me there was something wrong, but I didn’t listen to my gut.” He berated himself then before he strode through the kitchen door. “Don’t give Mrs. Pickery any grief. You’ll rue the day you were born if you do.”

“I’ve already done that too many times to count,” she told him, looking over her shoulder, her breasts visible to him.

His hands fisted tight, he strode through the house and out the front door. For a few seconds he thought to get his horse. A good ride might ease the tension radiating across his shoulders and throughout the rest of his damn body. The site of her naked evoked a powerful sensation through him.

He stopped himself when he rounded the corner of the house and saw the back door, the entrance to the scullery, reminding him of the girl soaking in his tub. A young lady who’d had one hell of a life. He decided to find out more about her.

Swiveling on a heel, he walked back to the house, entering through the front door. Brandy seemed to call his name. At the sideboard, he poured a full glass and thought to sit down and wait for the outcome of the bath. He didn’t hear anything emanating from that direction and decided that was a good thing.

“Ah.” He swirled the amber liquid in the crystal, mesmerized by the changing colors or thoughts of Piper, he wasn’t too sure. What was he going to do with the lass? And what about Jocko and the scarred man? If anything, she said held a hint of truth, her life might be in danger now that she was out of their fold.

The alcohol burned an enjoyable path down his throat. She would need clothing, everything a woman likes as well as a position in the house. 

The downstairs maid perhaps. 


Short Blurb.


The pickpocket... Piper has spent her life surviving the streets of St. Giles Parish in London, a den of iniquity and crime. ...and the mark Handsome aristocrat Brett MacLachlan has come to London for his amusement only to find his world turned upside down by a thief. Secrets of Piper's past haunt her, and a scar will tell the true tale.



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