Friday, August 14, 2015

Addicted to Writing Presents: A Wife for Jay Prescott by Rosemary Indra $0.99 and Kindle Unlimited


Author: Rosemary Indra
Email: indrascloset@msn.com

Genre: contemporary romance
Excerpt Heat Level:
Book Heat Level: 1

Buy at: www.roguephoenixpress.com Buy at Amazon: Buy at Barnes & Noble: 

From the moment Jay Prescott meets his new employee Lillian Ross, she turns his orderly life upside down. He’s captivated by her take charge attitude and shapely legs. To improve his grandmother’s morale after breaking her hip, he asks Lilli to pretend to be his girlfriend for two weeks. Their friendship grows and he realizes he wants a life long relationship with Lilli.

Lillian is attracted to her handsome boss despite his unsettled lifestyle. Remembering her own loving grandmother, she agrees to portray his girlfriend. Her attraction turns to love and she longs for Jay to see their relationship in a new light. When Lilli tells his grandmother the truth she has her own plans for Jay and Lilli.



EXCERPT

The moment Jay Prescott opened the executive rest room door he encountered a delicate wild rose fragrance. The men’s room at the architectural firm of Prescott and Wilkes had on occasion smelled of his partner’s favorite green cigars or expensive aftershave, but never roses. Jay stepped back, double-checking the sign on the partially opened door. Written in white letters was the word "Men."

He breathed in the faint aroma which reminded him of a walk in a rose garden. Jay shook his head and walked farther into the carpeted lounge.

Obviously, he still suffered from jet lag if he allowed something this trivial to distract him. After a grueling three-week schedule in New York, where he’d battled record snowfall and frigid temperatures, Jay wasn’t sure which he’d looked forward to more -- returning to his regular schedule or to Oregon’s misty sunshine.

He looked around the corner expecting to see someone by the row of sinks. At first, the rest room appeared vacant; then the rustling sound of a paper bag caught his attention.

"Steve, is that you?" Jay called out to his partner.

"I thought I locked the door."

The voice from the last stall was muffled, but it was definitely a woman’s voice.  He moved closer and noticed the nylon-covered ankles, well-turned ankles, the best-looking ankles he’d seen in some time. Mesmerized, he watched her kick off one black pump. Before he could ask her why she was in the men’s room, he heard the sound of a zipper. Jay froze. Proper etiquette would call for him to leave, but he couldn’t tear his gaze off her wiggling toes as they celebrated their freedom.

"I’m sorry. No one was in here and I thought I’d be finished before anyone noticed. I’ll be out in just a minute."

Jay tried to recognize her voice, but she sounded as if she held something between her teeth. "Why are you changing in the men’s room?"

"I went jogging this morning."

"That doesn’t explain why you’re here." Jay crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Oh. The door to the women’s was locked with two "Out of Order" signs on it, and I have a meeting in less than ten minutes."

Ten minutes. With a glance at his watch, Jay swore under his breath--he also had a meeting.

Could the mysterious woman be the one Steve Wilkes hired while Jay was in New York? His partner had been evasive on the phone--something about a fresh new face and how she’d be good for the company.

Unable to curtail his curiosity any longer, Jay asked, "Are you the new personnel director?"

"Umm-hmm. I’ve only been here two weeks, and already I’m giving a presentation--Steve insisted."

Jay watched as she slipped her foot back into her shoe. He wondered how old she was. Judging from her light, breathless voice, she sounded rather young.

What an unusual way to meet an employee for the first time, behind a closed door in the men’s room no less! Although he hadn’t interviewed her, Jay didn’t doubt her qualifications. Steve had an uncanny feel for people. He had a reputation for hiring the right person for the right job.

Apparently she didn’t allow small obstacles to stand in her way, or she wouldn’t be changing in the men’s room. Instead she found solutions to her problems--he liked that trait. "I’m sure you’ll do fine."

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

The stall door opened, startling Jay. He stepped back so fast his feet started to slip out from under him. To prevent himself from falling he jerked back hitting his head on the wall. Tilting his head down, he rubbed the painful spot.

"That must hurt. Are you all right?" She moved closer.

His gaze traveled up the ankles he had secretly admired moments ago to her beige linen skirt and a white silk blouse. Not even her loose fitting blouse could hide her trim figure.  Her hand fiddling with her pearl necklace drew his attention. She had a good overall professional appearance--another plus for her. He watched her push back the thick spectacles that started to slide halfway down her nose. Her gray hair was stylishly short.

Gray hair? Heavy wrinkles flanked her mouth and creased her forehead. Stunned, Jay simply stared at her. He’d been admiring the legs of a woman who appeared to be as old as his grandmother.

"There’s a small button on the top of my blouse that I can’t reach. Would you fasten it for me?" She turned her back to him. "These old hands don’t cooperate like they used to," she explained.

He considered her request unusual, yet it didn’t surprise him. Nothing about their first meeting had been ordinary. Jay shrugged his shoulders and moved closer. He fumbled with the tiny button before it slipped through the loop. When his knuckles brushed against the soft skin at the nape of her neck, Jay jerked his hands back. He’d admired not only the older woman’s legs but also her silky skin.

"See that wasn’t so bad, now was it." She slipped on her suit jacket then retrieved a shopping bag and burgundy briefcase from the stall. A mischievous smile played across her lips. "You’re a good-looking young man. I bet you’ve helped a few women get dressed." She elbowed him in the side.

Amazed at her outspokenness, he continued to stare. So much for secretly admiring her. Jay’s mouth felt dry. He muttered something he hoped sounded acceptable.

He’d become so engrossed in their conversation he hadn’t given her lack of privacy a second thought. Or how she’d feel about it. Feeling guilty, Jay was at a loss for words to explain his inconsiderate behavior.

"Have a nice day," she said.





Thursday, August 13, 2015

Addicted to Writing Presents: A Valentine Anthology by C. L. Kraemer, Genene Valleau and Christine Young


Title: A Valentine's Anthology
Author: C.L. Kraemer,Genene Valleau,Christine Young
ISBN: 978-0-9842211-2-7
Email:

Genre:
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 1


TAGLINE


BLURB

The Lending Library-a fantasy. By C. L. Kraemer

Faeries try to fit into the human world when the forest where they make their home is destroyed by a mysterious enemy.


Chasing Rainbows-a contemporary romance. By Genene Valleau

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.


The Gift-a historical romance. By Christine Young

A man and a woman on opposite sides of the Civil War get a second chance at love after one final battle returns soldiers to their war-torn homes to rebuild their lives.


EXCERPTS:

The Lending Library:

Ailidh wobbled precariously on her high heels.

Kayne smirked. "Having problems, dear?"

"Shut up!" she snapped. "I need to practice this until I get it right. We don’t really have many options left open to us, Kayne. You had better practice, too."

He stopped and steadied himself on the railing of the porch. He wriggled his feet out of the closed leather shoes that encased them.

"I don’t know why you insist we wear these ridiculous articles of clothing. This long-sleeved shirt cuts off the circulation to my hands not to mention the lack of space for my wings and these long pants chap my legs.

"Worst of all, are these horrendous leather shoes. They pinch and make my feet swell. Why do we have to go through all of this? I don’t understand." Kayne grumbled.

Ailidh sighed and slowly, patiently explained to him, once again, why they were practicing.

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 Gift:

"Get in the house, now!"

"Mama?"

Elice Weld shielded her eyes and watched the ground fog rising in the distance. She didn't know what was coming her way, but she could guess. The rumors that a Union cavalry unit was in the vicinity had spread like a wildfire on a Kansas prairie.

Rain had fallen all morning. Now the clouds had separated, and the sun heated the earth, causing the evaporation of the water-soaked ground. The cavalry rode through the mist like dark, avenging wraiths bent on the destruction of all mankind. She could see seven men silhouetted on the horizon.

"Izzy, go." Elice didn't want to frighten her daughter but the urgency of the moment could not be denied.

"But mama?"

"Go to the cellar. Now."

"It's dark."

Izzy's voice echoed in Elice's head, filling her with a wild panic she didn't know how to stop. Every time soldiers approached she was terrified. The last four years had been the longest years of her life. "Do as I say, quickly." Elice hugged her daughter, turning her at the same moment and with a gentle shove sent her through the open door of her house.

"Izzy."

Elice knew the panic in her voice would mobilize her young daughter. She despised the fear and the terror. She loathed the war. She looked up. The fog was dissipating, and she could see the dark blue of the Union coats. She didn't have anything left for the soldiers to take. Good God, they'd taken everything already--everything save her daughter and her hope for the future.

She inhaled a quick breath then stood on the steps, hands folded together in front of her, watching the dark wraiths inch closer. She knew from experience she couldn't fight these men. She would do as they said and when they left, she would put the pieces of her life back together.

Until the next time…




Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Addicted to Writing Presents: A Marriage of Inconvenience by Christine Young



Author: Christine Young
Email: achristay@aol.com
Genre: Historical Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at Barnes & Noble:


A REGAL BEAUTY

When the duchess decides to wed her to a wastrel and a fop, Ravyn Grahm takes matters into her own hands and declares her engagement to another man. Instead of fessing up and telling her great aunt what she has done, she goes through with the pretense. Aric Lakeland is the bastard son of an earl and has a dangerous reputation. But Ravyn is willing to do most anything to keep the duchess from discovering the lie.

A DEVIL-MAY-CARE SMUGGLER

He'd bought land in America, looking to put down roots and end his life of adventure, but Aric Lakeland got more than he bargained for when he encountered a beautiful heiress who made a promise she didn't want to keep. But the promise could not be undone and standing between them were more obstacles than either ever dreamed. Aric had made plans to spend the rest of his life in America and that was at odds with Ravyn's plan of living in England and running her father's estate. Now, he'll have to choose between his dreams and the woman he loves more than life.


EXCERPT

Aric Lakeland dodged foot-traffic along the boulevard in a crazy attempt to keep up with the bouncing erratic carriage he followed. The day was intolerably hot and his mood was no better. He resented this mission. He’d left a cool pub and a cold brew to sweat beneath the hot sun.

His idea of fun was not traipsing after a notorious gambler and womanizer. Nor did he want to baby sit a spoiled debutante.

Yet, he’d promised. A wave of guilt washed through him.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping down his face. He swiped it with the back of his hand and sidestepped, nearly knocking packages from a lady just exiting a dressmaker’s shop.

“You owe me, my friend. When this is done, I will collect,” he swore beneath his breath and began thinking of all the favors he might ask of his half brother.

The carriage he followed turned a corner and disappeared from sight. He plowed into a lamppost, swore again and raced through the crowds. Richy Richmond did not deserve this absurd protection. Richy could deal with his own affairs. The other part of his half brother’s request bothered Aric. He did not want anything to happen to the lady he followed. His half brother had reason to believe Richy might do something to compromise her. His gut instincts had never been wrong. Ravyn Grahm, cousin to his half brother’s wife, was in serious trouble.

Richy’s carriage came to an abrupt halt. Richy jumped from the vehicle. His cane in hand, he strode toward a dress shop Aric had reason to visit on occasion.

Aric watched, fascinated as the scene unfolded. He started forward but noticed Richy race to protect the women Aric followed. 

“You ruffians!  Get your hands off me!”  The white-haried Duchess shrieked, her age-lined face mottled with rage, pushing at two little guttersnipes who seemed more intent on shoving the elderly woman around than stealing the packages she carried.

Ravyn swiped her parasol across a boy’s head and turned to the other, her eyes blazing, shooting violet blue sparks.

“Stop it!” she cried out, raising her parasol again and again. “Take that!  And that!”

Amused, Aric leaned against a lamppost similar to the one he had run into earlier in his race to keep Richy’s carriage in view.

He crossed his arms over his chest, grinning as he watched Ravyn batter the boys who had had the audacity to try and harm the Duchess.

He chuckled, prepared to step in if needed but it appeared the two women had the situation under control. Ravyn, he mused, the regal, classy lady who seldom had a hair on her gorgeous head out of place was decidedly disheveled. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair flowed beautifully from its perfectly coiffed hairdo. Her jacket sleeve was torn and to his amazement, she grinned as if she were having the time of her life.

“Go on, get,” Richy stepped in, shooing the two boys away. He grabbed hold of one of the boy’s arms and shook him. “Patrol,” he yelled, looking around for help. The boy stomped on Richy’s foot. Surprised, Richy let go. “Bloody hell!  Come back here. Little brat,” he yelled as the boy ran off.

Aric cocked an eyebrow, watching and wondering what would happen next, knowing Richy had a card up his sleeve. He had not forgotten he was supposed to be watching Richy, nor had he forgotten the man had suffered innumerable losses at the gaming tables and the racetrack the last few days and he might do something to Ravyn.

Aric pushed away from the lamppost and strode toward the women and Richy. He watched Richy change demeanor. Suddenly instead of rescuer, he was attacker. Aric’s heart stopped for a moment then raced.

Richy wrenched Ravyn against him, pulling her close, her arm behind her back, his mouth close to her ear as if he whispered something to Ravyn.

“Let go,” Ravyn cried out, twisting and thrashing her arms. It seemed to be the opposite scenario as moments before. The crowds that had previously closed around the women had now dissipated.

“Let go,” Ravyn cried again. 

“You’re mine, Ravyn,” Richy said in a low well-modulated voice. “You should have realized it months ago and I’d have won the wager. But instead, you ignored me. You taunted me and sometimes you pretended to care while other times you turned up your pert little nose when I walked by.”

“What do you think you are doing?  Let go of me!”  Ravyn cried out, hatred now in her stormy violet eyes.

To Aric, she sounded incredulous, perhaps confused. But strangely, not afraid.

“We--“he paused a moment--“are going to Gretna Green. We are getting married and I will inherit your estate. You will be mine.”







Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Addicted to Writing Presents: A Doleful Kind of Singing by K. G. McAbee


Title: A Doleful Kind of Singing
Author: K. G. McAbee
ISBN: 978-1-62420-077-9

Genre: Gothic Suspense
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 1


Ariela Harrington knows her brilliant father Cadmion couldn't have committed suicide in the icy waters of Loch Ness. So, being an independent young Victorian lady of some means, Ari and her servant Sophy proceed to Scotland to discover the truth, laughing when her guardian expressly forbids it. Near Loch Ness, Ari meets Carlie Douglas, an old friend of her father's who has much to tell her of Cadmion's last days. Then she meets Logan MacNiall, the laird who argued viciously with Cadmion, and on whose land her father's body was later found.  Dangers threaten, lies are discovered, past wrongs see the light of day after decades, and Ariela begins to wonder if she dare trust anyone. Then the disappearances begin...


EXCERPT


It was dark when she awoke, and her aching body was racked with uncontrollable shivers. She tried to open her eyes, but something pressed against the tender lids, imprisoning them in a heavy softness, like a ton of feathers.
She opened her mouth to ask what was happening, where she was, why it was so cold.
Only a soft, strangled grunt issued from her mouth, barely loud enough to hear herself. Like her eyes, her tongue was a prisoner, crushed against her teeth by some thick, greasy mass tasting like death. Bile rose in her throat, threatening to choke her, but she fought it down with a mighty effort.
She twisted her head to one side, trying to spit out the horrible substance before it could sicken her further, but it filled her entire mouth and, tongue immobile, she couldn't force it out. She reached a hand up to remove the nasty thing.
Another shock reverberated through her, sending a fresh surge of pain through her throbbing head. She lay still for a moment, waiting for the pain to die down while she examined this new discovery.
She could not move her arms. Twisting her head—thank God she could move something, she thought, or she would have gone mad—she tried to turn over, to sit up, but her legs refused to obey her command, even as her arms had done. Both legs and arms felt so cold and far away, crisscrossed with narrow bands of sharp, icy pain.
Blindfolded, she realized. Gagged. Trussed like a rabbit. Her arms and legs were confined, preventing any movement.
Preventing her escape.
In all her life, she had never felt so helpless, so dizzy, so sick...so frightened. Nothing of her body, save her head, none of her senses, save for taste and smell and hearing, appeared to belong to her pain-racked body at all.
Taste and smell and hearing. Well then, she would use what senses she could until she found out where she was. She sniffed the air blowing across her face, blessing it for its movement even as she tried to distinguish its components.
Smoke, acrid and bitter. Not the usual comforting odors of burning oak or alder, or the comforting reek of coal. No, this was a smell she could not identify. It called out to something deep inside her, something ancient and wild, so invasive it seemed to be a part of each individual cell of her being.
Ridiculous, she chided herself as she twisted her head again. It was just a particularly nasty smell of something burning. She tried to concentrate around the pounding within her.
Ah, she heard the crackling and popping of a nearby fire. Something burning, that was all. The rest, those other strange thoughts of an ancient wildness, were just images in her newly awakened mind still confused and drugged with dreams.
Drugged.
The last cup of tea…the one she had hoped would calm her nerves when she had been so anxious to be away, to be searching for what she was convinced was the answer to her quest. She had sipped the tea to be polite, to please her host who had been so kind to her. The taste of the strange brew had been pleasant, almost seductive, soothing her jangled nerves and calming her racing mind.
But then, she remembered, just after she had set down the empty cup, the tingling had begun in her hands and feet, a tingling that had heralded the beginning of the series of dreams...
A dream of being scooped up by rough hands and carried for an incredible distance, her vision dim, her hearing muffled. Of crossing water with the rhythmic splash of oars, the occasional muffled curse from a harsh voice, droplets of cold water splashing onto her burning face. A dream of being tossed onto an uncomfortable bed full of rocks, prickling twigs, and gritty sand.
Then nothingness as she fell into a great, black, soundless pit.
Until now when a faint semblance of consciousness had returned to her battered and tethered body.
She tried again to speak. Another muffled croak, barely audible over the crackling of the fire, was all she heard. She prodded the obstruction in her mouth with her captured tongue and the foulness nearly choked her. She fought not to swallow, not to allow the horrible, seeping bitterness to enter her. An intense fear rose in her, threatened to send her reeling back into the darkness of unconsciousness as she fought for a breath.
Air. She needed air. She lashed her head from side to side, the fear of choking, of suffocation, threatening to overwhelm her.
A rough hand seized her chin, yanked the stifling mass from her mouth.
"Now be still," a voice—surely she knew that voice?—hissed in her ear, "or I'll ram it down your throat."
As the sweet air rushed down to her straining lungs, she thought how wonderful it tasted, how delightful it was to breathe in the air wafting over her; indeed, merely to breathe at all. For a time, she did nothing but suck in the glorious, smoke-tinged currents.
But as her fear of smothering dissipated a fraction, the wondering returned in full force.
Where am I?
Who brought me here?
Why have I been tied?