Addicted to Writing Presents Mystery Monday: The Locket by Christine Young

The Locket by Chrsitine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level:

Oregon Coast,1894

Bone-weary from a hard day at sea, Misha trudged up the long mud-rutted road to the boarding house that sat on top a hill less than a mile outside Mist Harbor, Oregon. A thick, cold mist hovered close to the ground wetting everything: the rhododendrons that grew wild, the azaleas that lined the cement walkway to the front porch, and the saw grass that grew easily in the sandy soil. Misha paused a moment to push back a lock of hair that repeatedly fell across his brow and into his eyes.

The land was windswept and salt battered, yet he enjoyed the salt-taste of the air and the swooping sea birds as well as the playful sea animals. He loved the way the trees bent to the power of the wind and found a way to survive despite the brutality of the elements.

His purpose here was short lived, he reminded himself. He didn’t intend to find himself attached to these parts in any way.

He smelled of a hard days work. The lingering aroma of sweat and Chinook salmon filled his nostrils. It was not a scent he had any use for, but for the time being the job on the fishing boat gave him a reason for staying in the small coastal town. Right now he couldn’t wait to submerse himself in a hot bath, wash the stench from his body, and ease his stiff, strained muscles.

The sea had always been one of his favorite places. But fishing?

By God no, he’d just as soon relax and watch the sails billow on a clipper as the majestic ship rounded the horn or stand at the tiller with the wind whistling around him. He’d even rather battle a hurricane off the Bermudas.

Blending in with the people who lived in this small coastal village had been imperative.

The quest he’d undertaken had led him straight to Miss Ariel Cameron’s boarding house in Mist Harbor, and there the trail stopped. Thinking about Ariel set his nerves on edge.

Ariel was willow thin, femininely delicate, and hardly capable of the atrocities he’d set out to avenge less than a year ago. Yet the evidence he’d uncovered had sent him here, to her home. The name he’d followed had been her name. The men he’d followed had landed in Mist Harbor more than once, her father one of them.

He walked up the immaculately kept steps to the house and opened the door to the screened in porch.

"Misha," the captain boomed out a welcome. "Fine weather we’re havin’ now. Just right for the salmon runs."

The rocker squeaked as the captain moved back and forth in the wicker chair.

"Just right," Misha acknowledged and stepped through the next door to the parlor. A blast of heat met him as he nodded his head in polite recognition to the other borders. In a pale blue day dress, Ariel moved with a slight limp through the hallway and disappeared into one of the first floor rooms. Even though she seemed to favor one leg, the sway of her hips enticed all of Misha's senses.

He didn’t understand the feeling but in a way no other woman had touched him, she beckoned to him. Her amber colored eyes were wide and when she smiled, they glistened and shimmered, reminding him of the bronze mosques in Constantinople when the sun beat upon them. Miss Ariel Cameron was unique--unconventional--and she fascinated him. She was the key to his revenge as well as his salvation.

The Locket is a very exciting tale with a dramatic setting. Overall, this is a very entertaining story.

Maura
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance

Addicted to Writing Presents Romance Sunday: Highland Magic by Christine Young

Highland Magic

Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 3

Buy at: www.roguephoenixpress.com

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REVIEW:

4.0 out of 5 stars February 24, 2013 By  H. Murphy "H"

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.

Addicted to Writing Presents Sci/fi Fantasy Saturday: Storm Clouds by Tamsin Baker

Title: Storm Clouds

Author: Tamsin Baker

ISBN: 978-1-62420-107-3

Email: erotictamsinbaker@gmail.com

Genre: Fantasy Erotic Romance

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 5

Buy at: Rogue Phoenix Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble

Naylaa is United to her beautiful unicorn Bronte. She knows the legends and is waiting for the United pair that will complete their life.  When Gorvan arrives with Seinna, his United, Naylaa knows instantly Gorvan is her soul mate. But Gorvan is stubborn and scared. He wants to keep moving from town to town and doesn’t believe Naylaa about their need for one another. Naylaa must make him see it...before greed and stubbornness tears them and their beloved unicorns apart forever.

EXCERPT

A laugh bubbled out of her as Bronte galloped through the forest. Naylaa loved the feeling of his powerful body between her legs. The power, the speed and pure exhilaration that came with riding an animal such as Bronte.

“You are incredible my friend. It has been too long since we have run like this.”

I know Naylaa.

Bronte’s home was just ahead of them, hidden amongst the rocks and trees. Beneath her hands, Naylaa felt Bronte’s skin prickle.

“What is it Bronte?”

I can smell something, foreign and delicious.

The tingle of excitement and arousal that ran through him made Naylaa shudder. She had never felt that particular current within Bronte before and in turn felt her own body soften.

I need to go.

He turned without her direction and began to run. She let Bronte have his head.

“I trust you, Bronte. Take me to it.”

She knew they both must find what he had sensed and she trusted his instincts much better than her own.

Almost there.

Bronte slowed just before they reached the edge of a waterfall pool.

Naylaa jumped off his back and crouched down in the brush, just out of sight.

The black stallion didn’t stop when she did. He walked straight through the greenery and into the water.

I found her.

Naylaa heard the declaration and gasped. No it wasn’t possible.

She stood up to see if what she thought she sensed was true. If what had dragged Bronte all this way, truly was their United halves.

Gasping in shock, she saw a white female unicorn standing beneath the waterfall.

“Oh, Bronte. She’s beautiful.” She was a breathtaking sight.

The white unicorns were almost extinct and most people assumed they were gone completely, but she’d never believed that. Naylaa had always wondered who hid the last of the beautiful and rare creatures. It seemed they had found one.

“Where is your United, beautiful creature?” Naylaa couldn’t stop herself from asking. If this was Bronte’s mate, then the unicorn’s United was Naylaa’s.

Her heart began to thump harder in her chest.

“Is it really possible?”

Bronte reared up and pranced like a dancing horse in front of the white female. She was small and very beautiful when she turned to him, extending her horn. Bronte walked forward and rubbed his horn against the female unicorns in a heart breaking show of affection.

“Oh, Bronte…”

Pleasure ran through Naylaa, from her heart down to the place between her legs. She had always known she was connected to Bronte, but these sensations were new and rather strange. Her body was heating, wetness pooling between her thighs, without any stimulation.

“You’ve found us.” A man’s voice startled her and she jumped around to confront him.

The man who had calmed Bronte in the town square stood in front of her with a look of surprise and desire on his handsome face.

Addicted to Writing Presents Friday's Featured Title: Change of Heart by Lilliana Rose

Title: Change of Heart

Author: Lilliana Rose

ISBN: 978-1-62420-087-8

Genre: Steampunk

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: Rogue Phoenix Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble

Vickie wants spice in her life, but her husband George is more interested in his work as a doctor. As a Victorian lady she is struggling to find her place in the world. An outbreak of a mysterious illness threatens the ordered world of Vickie and George. George becomes ill, and Vickie is left to care for him, keep him safe, as well as trying to work out the cause of the mysterious illness. Vickie must take charge in her world in order to survive.

EXCERPT

The ex-war time airship hung in the afternoon sun, tethered to the top of the four-story building. A survivor from the First World War. Floating with the warm air, the leather balloon looked out of place, like a bird that had come to nest on a leafless tree. It wasn't alone. Other airships, brand new, trimmed with polished brass reflected the glamor of the new era; the future was in the sky and people rushed to join the developing fashion.

An unusual Christmas present for his wife, Vickie, this particular airship cost Dr. George Wenderlen much more than a brand new model. The sentiment had been too hard to resist when he'd first seen the beauty in the yard at the wreckers. Deflated leather, punctured from bullets, a tangle of ropes and pulleys, wood decaying with the help of white ants, sparked the romantic in him. He saw the queen she had been and wanted to restore her to the sky, where she could be crowned by sun once more, buffered by thin white clouds, flying over land, free and majestic.

To restore the airship, George employed a man, Matt Moore, a genius inventor who'd fallen on hard times, to repair the ship. Now she was ready.

His gift to Vickie. A peace offering because he worked long hours at the hospital, and he didn't have time for holidays. He knew he was losing her. Five years of marriage, no children and now they hardly knew each other. He couldn't remember when they last sat down together to eat or even talk. He wanted a private get-away. A special place for them, somewhere they could escape, the two of them, so they could rediscover each other and maybe finally begin a family. This gift was his chance to change things around.

George stood with pride, watching the airship blossom in the morning sun.

"She's a beauty," George wiped the corner of his eye.

"A queen of the sky." Matt watched her, entranced by the marvel of the technology he'd used to bring her back to life. Both men had eyes for her and she was large enough to accommodate them and many more, just by hanging in the blueness. She ruled them, their hearts and mind.

"Queen." George stared at the ship, soaking in her beauty.

"Sir?"

"Queen. Her name."

"Now she's completed."

"Shall I paint her name on the bow?"

"Yes." He turned to Matt and thumped him on the back. "Good job, mate."

"Pleasure." Matt tipped his hand to his head as if wearing a hat. He'd enjoyed restoring the ship and finding purpose for his life again. The airship pin reflected in the light just under his collar showed he once had a profession, and maybe he would again soon.

George gave Matt a final pat on the shoulder, turned away and went back inside.

The Queen hung in the lazy sky, filled to almost bursting with a man's expectations of rekindling lost love.

~ * ~

"George, this had better be worth the climb to the roof with all the smog outside." Vickie closed her eyes shut as he tied the blindfold.

"Have I ever not made it worthwhile?"

She blushed. Newly married, they'd treated the rooftop as a bedroom. Back then, five years ago, before he became addicted to practicing medicine and experimenting making up his own medicine.

"And what happened to the rat infestation you told me about?" She stood and held out her hand.

"Fixed." He guided her out of the front room, near the kitchen to the hidden door leading to the roof. The servants didn't bother to go up this spiral staircase after he started the rumor of the oversized rats.

He opened the door, camouflaged in the embossed floral pattern wallpaper. Stale air greeted them, sucking fresh air from their lungs. His father rebuilt this house in the style of the Victorian era, before giving the house to him as a wedding gift. The roof had been modified, square topped with strong iron railings for the purpose of tethering airships.

"Just follow me." He began walking up the stairs slowly, the gaslights failed this morning and he cursed to himself for forgetting to ask Matt to fix them.

"Don't let me fall." She followed confidently for someone who couldn't see.

He guided her up the dusty staircase to the roof. She wore a long brown walking dress, practical attire for the viewing, simple and smart, emphasizing her bust and waist.

They climbed, George behind trying to guide Vickie up each step. The tight spiral staircase held them close together in the dim light. Halfway up the staircase, Vickie stumbled. George grabbed her waist as she fell forward. He misjudged and fell onto the stairs, just missing her.

"You okay?" He gasped trying to ignore the pain in his ribs.

"Yes." She began to pull off the blindfold.

"No, not yet." He stopped her.

"George, I want to remain unhurt, able to walk, and alive." Her cheeks reddened and her shoulders tensed.

"Trust me." The words punctured her anger and she ripped off the material covering her eyes.