Sunday, October 12, 2014

Addicted to Writing Presents Romance Sunday: Her Guardian Angel by Khloe Wren



Title: Her Guardian Angel
Author: Khloe Wren

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


Buy at Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/her-guardian-angel-khloe-wren/1115467084?ean=2940016415772

The last thing Snow Leopard Shifter Dominic expects to find at an accident scene is his mate, the beautiful Adele. But after four years of dreaming of her, there she is, right in front of him.  However, winning the heart of his lonely, grieving mate is no simple task. Just as their relationship begins to heat up, a gravely injured child, Kelly, stumbles into their lives after escaping and fleeing her abuser.  Will Dominic and Adele's bond grow stronger as they nurture and protect Kelly? Will their relationship be able to survive all that fate plans on throwing their way?


EXCERPT


Rosebery, Tasmania

Conner let loose a low whistle as Dominic walked into the station house kitchen.
"Damn, you look like shit Dom, why don't you go crash out back for a bit? I'll come get you if we get called out."
"Thanks little brother, so feeling the love right now." Dominic threw back sarcastically as he made a beeline to the coffee machine to caffeine up.
Conner sat back taking a sip from his own caffeine fix and frowned as he took in the sight of his older brother. Dominic wasn't standing tall and proud like he normally did, he appeared to be inches shorter than his actual six foot six height as he dragged his feet over the floor. His short black hair, normally clean and neat, looked greasy like it was at least a few days overdue for a wash and his face had, Conner would guess, three days worth of growth on it. They had always been close and could read each other so well that often they could communicate without using words. A very handy skill when they were out fighting fires. It also meant it hadn't slipped Conner's notice over the last few days that Dominic was getting worse, looking more wrecked each day. He was worried about his big bro, both on a personal level and a professional one. With summer and the bushfire season just around the corner, none of them could afford to be off their game. Conner set his can of Coke down on the table as Dominic sat across from him and took a long drag of his coffee.
"I'm serious Dom, something's up. Has been for couple of days. You gonna spill? Or do I have to sic Dad onto you?"
"Yeah right, like to see you try pulling that one off." Dominic said on a chuckle.
Conner watched as the humor left his brother's face--finally, they were making some progress.
"They're just dreams, Conner. I'm fine." Dominic ground out.
"Bullshit you're fine. What dreams?" Conner shot back.
"My mate turned twenty-one about six weeks ago." Dominic said as he looked straight into Conner's eyes.
"Wow, you're dreaming of your mate already? You've only just turned twenty-one this year. But hang on, why has it got you so stressed out? I thought once you started dreaming of your mate, life is all sunshine and lollipops or some shit? Did you meet her and stuff it up or something?"
Conner remembered their father had explained to them once how when a male shifter's mate turns twenty-one he would start to see her face in his dreams. As time goes by the visions reveal what she looks like from head to toe and also exposes places, people and things that she holds dear. If he hasn't met his woman by that point, he would then have enough information about her he could go looking for her. Generally speaking, fate put them in each other's path long before they needed to go searching. Dominic's deep voice pulled Conner back to the present.
"It was in the beginning. Six weeks ago it was amazing. After the first dream I felt so alive; you know how it feels after you go for a good solid run? Like that, but 24/7. And at night, every night, she's all I see. She's so damn beautiful..." By the glazed look in Dominic's eyes, Conner guessed he'd lost him to memories of his nocturnal visions. Time to pull him back, or they would be getting nowhere fast.
"Yeah, yeah, don't need my nose rubbed in it...so what changed?" He said with a smirk before taking another mouthful of his Coke.
"I'm not sure, it's like--damn it--I think she's in trouble or in pain, but I don't know how to find her. I've never seen her outside my dreams and it's still too early for me to see anything other than her. I just don't know where to start or what to do." Dominic scrubbed his hands over his face on a sigh.
"Have you spoken to Dad about it? I'm pretty sure he'd have an answer for you. He did tell us to inform him when our mate-dreams started."
"Nah I haven't. He has his hands full at the moment. You know that. Fire season around the corner, he's flat out getting everything ready, and with the Search; I mean, hell, they've only found three pairs globally. That means there are still four couples out there, including one in Australia. Would have been one hell of a surprise on their fifteenth birthdays in 2001 when they suddenly shifted to snow leopards at nightfall don't you think? It's important we find them before they lose their minds. Six years not knowing what is going on is a long time. That's more important than my mate issues."
"Bullshit bro--you're scared that's all. You know as well as I do Dad is never too busy for family. Hell, he's never too busy to help anyone who needs it, and he manages to multi-task just fine. He'll be pissed if you don't go to him for help when he finds out you needed it."
Shaking his head in resignation, Conner got up and using every ounce of his supernatural strength, he hauled his brother’s butt out of his chair. Before Dominic could come to his senses and stop him, he had him half way out the door. Pulling his arm free Dominic growled at him.
"What the hell Conner?"
"You need to go ask Dad for advice, and I want to know about how this whole mating thing works, so I'm coming along."





Saturday, October 11, 2014

Addicted to Writing Presents Sci/fi Fantasy Saturday: Star Crossed by Christine Young



Star Crossed
Christine Young
achristay@aol.com

Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 2



Ireland in 1817, when tensions are high between Protestants and Catholics and faey people guide the fate of villagers. A lovely Catholic lass stumbles upon the weakly ritual fisticuffing between Irish lads. She falls into the lap of a handsome young Protestant. Family ties, grudges, and two conniving faeries threaten their budding love. But the faeries outsmart themselves when they hijack a time machine that has mysteriously appeared in their forest.

EXCERPT

Casey pushed on the green grass, trying to unwind herself from the man beneath her, but fell again. All right, Casey lass, you're in a heap of trouble right now with no way out. You are seeing the earth whirl and tumble around and you're on top of a brute of a man--a Protestant.

"All right, lads, we'll meet here next Sunday, same place, same time," her brother's voice filtered through the air as if it floated in the fog that surrounded Casey.

Once again she pushed on the damp grass and didn't seem to make headway, her arms feeling as if they'd changed to soggy twine. Don't you abandon me, Patrick O'Connell. You know I have the Devil's own luck. If you leave me here, I'll never forgive you.

"What about Casey?" one of her brother's friend asked. "She looks a little worse for the encounter."

"Do you think we should leave her here--with Kelly?"

"He's a right stand-up guy. Of course you can leave her here. We'll see her home," a Shaunasey said.

"Well, Kelly is a fine bloke. He won't hurt her. In fact with my feisty lil' sister involved, I fear for him--not her," Patrick said laughing. "She'll do as she pleases. She always does. How can I control her when father cannot? She does not need a second father." He shrugged his shoulder and looked behind him at his little sister as he strolled down the hill.

"She's hurt," another friend called after Patrick. "What kind of brother are you?"

"One who is tired of looking after an accident prone little lass. She has to take responsibility for herself sometime, does she not?"

"She is that," one commented. "You rescue her night and day."

~ * ~

"You should have blessed her with a wee bit o'Irish coordination," Oran said dryly as he flew to a hovering position near the girl.

"And you should remember what our blessed mother told us, 'if you cannot say anythin' nice, don't say anything at all'." Moya rose above the flower petal, her wings buzzing with her anger toward her brother.

"I didn't say anything that wasn't the truth." Oran whistled out of tune for a moment. "We could kidnap them."

"And that is your solution to everything?" Moya pointed one finger at him and shook it. "Why, Oran, I believe you may fancy the lass for yourself. I will not have it. Go play your tricks on someone else's charge. She is mine to see to safety and long life. And don't be forgettin' the lad is yours to watch over."

"You best stem your anger, Moya. You're wings have turned golden," Oran said with a hearty chuckle.

~ * ~

"Let Kelly handle her," Casey's brother said with a light chuckle. "He lost and so he must deal with the object of that loss and assume the consequences. It's only fair."

"Hey!" Kelly said, "Don't leave me here with your sister. It will be hell to pay. She's a little girl. What will your father say?"

The others laughed. "Just don't take too long to decide what to do with her. Little girl or not, father will come after you with his pistol."

I just turned eighteen years old--little girl--how dare he…

"Bloody hell, Patrick. What are you thinking?" Kelly cried out.

"I'm thinking the Catholics won this fight. What are you thinking?" Patrick turned his back on the pair and whistled a jaunty tune as he strolled down the hill.

"Revenge will be sweet. Next Sunday…" Kelly shook his fist at the departing back of Casey's brother.

From what seemed like a great distance Casey heard the moan emanating from inside her battered and bruised body. She squished her eyes together, wishing her head didn't pound so fiercely, and the ground spin so wildly. "Who are you?" she whispered next to the man's chest while a soft spring breeze whispered against her heated face.

"Who am I?" the man chuckled. "Lass, you are the one who landed atop me. I should be inquiring into who you are? Only I know." His hands rested around her waist and squeezed as if he were testing--perhaps exploring--entirely inappropriate. Yet for some strange reason, Casey didn't mind the supposed to be unwanted attention. "And I don't think your brother should have left you here with the likes of me. I'm afraid I've landed myself in a dangerous predicament. And I'm thinkin' one that will be very hard to explain."

"Shame on you," Casey said. "You take liberties." The words stole her breath and she had to lean on Kelly once more in order to minimize the pounding of her head and the strange feelings emanating from where his hands were.

"I only want to remove you from--my--ah--person. And if I were taking liberties with you, lass, you'd be near swooning with passion."

"Ah, it seems you are a wee bit arrogant," she opened her eyes and gazed into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. "The color of a summer sky," she whispered to him, still feeling woozy and not quite sure what he'd just told her--but thinking at the moment something besides the fall caused the earth to spin and the sky to tilt with a crazy, wild abandon.

"What is, lass?"

"Your eyes," she said, struggling against him and finally rolling to the side so she lay sprawled on the grass, staring into the sky she'd referred to a moment earlier and watching a white billowy cloud float past. "I'm not a little girl," she told him. "Don't ever call me that again."

"Then you want me to tell lies?" he asked with a lazy half-smile that stole Casey's heart and left her floundering. "I dinna think I can do that."

"It isn't a lie," she said, trying to sound indignant, yet frustrated beyond anything she'd ever felt before.


Friday, October 10, 2014

Addicted to Writing Presents Friday's Featured Title: Catching Meara by Christine Young



Author: Christine Young
Genre: Erotic Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 5


10% of all profits from this book goes to the World Wildlife Federation to help save endangered species.

BLURB:
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:

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

REVIEW:

Manic Reader Review
Rating:  4 1/2 stars out of 5
Reviewer: Alberta
Review:

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.


EXCERPT:

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.







Thursday, October 09, 2014

Addicted to Writing Presents: Highland Magic by Christine Young



Highland Magic
Christine Young
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 3


REVIEW:

4.0 out of 5 stars
February 24, 2013
By 

I have enjoyed this series. Strong alpha highlanders....what more could a girl want. The heroin is strong but sometimes just doesn't think....but that makes for the drama. Off to the third book.

BLURB:

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.

Excerpt:

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.