Addicted to Writing Presents Friday's Featured Title: Blue Fire by Angela Castle

Blue Fire

Angela Castle

Excerpt Heat Level: Violence

Book Heat Level: 4

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BLURB:

A war has left his people on the brink of extinction; Drystan Commander of the King's Warriors will turn to any means necessary to save his people.

Jane, an ordinary woman of Earth, falls into the strange land of muscle bound, sword wielding men, unlike she has ever seen and what's worse they seem to want her!

Could this woman be the savior of their people? Savior or not Drystan knows what he wants, and he wants Jane.

As the passion starts to sizzle evil forces threaten to tear them apart, can Drystan hold onto the woman not only he needs but his people?

Crystal City

Land of the Kell

Claws dug into Drystan's arm. He swung his blade round his head, twisting his large body. Drystan, the commander of the Kell army, kicked high into the lizard-like man's underbelly then shoved the body away. The Drac Scoull left bloody scratch marks as it was hurtled onto its back. Drystan did not hesitate, his blade sunk all the way into the exposed side of the Scoull's armour. The enemy gave a high pitched squeal, its body convulsing in its death throes. He yanked the blade out and ran forward to the next target; blood and adrenaline coursed through his system. His heart, full of anguish and rage, pounded so hard against his ribs he feared it would explode. So many Drac Scoulls in the way.

The screams of the women echoed around him. Oh, by the gods. He fought not for his life but for theirs. The city had been left unguarded; the Drac Scoulls had stormed the inner city. In and out of every home they had gone. Drystan had witnessed them dragging out the women, the helpless babes, the young girls, to slaughter them. The streets were running red with their blood.

The army had been too far away, lured out to battle by Norlac, ruler of the Drac. Adalardo, King of the Kells, had seized the opportunity to end the war once and for all. Every able-bodied man had marched on the Drac fortress.

The Drac were like a swarm of insects moving in every direction. Drystan leapt over the body of an adolescent girl. His blade again hitting its mark; another Scoull's head went flying. His hard, muscled body ached from exertion and was dripping with sweat; his body armour was splattered with blood. He battled, until there were none left to kill.

"That has to be the entire Drac army," panted Melor, who had been fighting a step behind him.

"Go, keep searching. Do not rest until we know every Scoull is dead. May the gods have spared some of our women from this horror."

Melor nodded, racing off. Adalardo came hurtling around the corner on the back of his stag; his own face dark with the same anguished rage Drystan was feeling.

"Drystan, to the palace! There are still Scoulls inside." He bolted towards the Palace gate tower. Drystan raced behind his King. He hoped and prayed there were some still alive.

Angela Castle’s Blue Fire is a fabulous short novel that had me entertained the whole way through.

Lila for Two Lips Reviews

Addicted to Writing Presents: Catching Meara by Christine Young

Title: Catching Meara

Author: Christine Young

Email: achristay@aol.com

Genre: Erotic Romance

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 5

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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.

Addicted to Writing Presents: Allura by Christine Young

Allura

Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 4

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REVIEW: 

Title: Allura Genre: Historical Author: Christine Young 

Reviewer: Chrissy Dionne Reviewer Email: RJChrissyDionne@yahoo.com 

Christine Young’s ALLURA is a delightful historical novel full of suspense, lovable characters, humor and a budding romance between two characters determined not to fall in love. Allura and Hunter’s stubborn, determined natures allowed for some interesting scenes as they attempted to get one up on each other. As a modern day woman I felt bad for Allura because technically her husband would dictate every aspect of her life and the freedom she loves would be a thing of the past. Hunter is unbending as far as to how he believes a wife should behave but falling in love changes him and his perception of Allura. Hunter and Allura are the main focus of this story but there are secondary characters whom I absolutely adored and would love to revisit in future novels (hint, hint). Especially the youngest sister Aiden and Hunter’s trusted friend Blade. He doesn’t believe in love and she’s determined to do whatever’s necessary to get him to notice her. SNIPPET— Allura has come to treasure her freedom and the adventures she shares with her sisters and her cousins but her father’s decision to find her a husband threatens that freedom. He’s placed an ad in the times in search of a man strong and smart enough to discover where exactly it is that the girls venture when they leave the safety of the castle.

BLURB: 

Allura McClellan is horrified by her father’s decision to take out an ad in the Times awarding her to the man strong enough and smart enough to win her hand and uncover her secrets. She’s an intelligent young woman who takes great delight in the freedom allotted to her by her father. She’s well aware that marriage would effectively curtail the adventures she’s shared with her sisters and cousins.

Hunter Gray is nothing like the other men who’ve arrived to vie for Allura’s hand in marriage and everything that goes along with it. However, he is the first to refuse to concede defeat and pursue her despite her attempts to disguise her true appearance. It’s her temperament that is of more concern to him than her looks. Hunter has worked all his life with the hope of someday owning his own land. Now that it looks like there’s a very real possibility that everything he’s ever wanted is within reach nothing is going to deter him – including Miss Allura’s disagreeable disposition.

Eddington, Scotland 1815

"You can’t plan to wed me to that--that man down there!" Allura McClellan’s heart thundered and lodged in her throat. Balled into fists her hands trembled. "You promised I could marry for love. I thought when the last man failed to discover this imaginary secret you think I have, you would stop this craziness. I thought you would take the ad out of the Times and the other papers."

From the boxing ring below, fist met flesh, the sound echoing throughout. Hunter Gray whirled and ducked. He guarded his face to block the stinging blows his opponent rained down upon him. He spun and ducked again. The man he fought countered the attack, but he did not move fast enough. Hunter’s next jab was so fast and so hard the other man didn’t block the punch. The man staggered backwards, blood running from his eye. Men yelled and cheered for the two combatants. Hunter paused and spoke to the man he practiced with before the match continued once more.

Allura saw her life as she had planned it slip away as if it was grains of sand in an hour glass. She stopped pacing and watched the men below. She turned on her father. "The ad in the Times--giving me away to any man--you have gone too far. A marriage of convenience is barbaric. You promised." For a moment, she closed her eyes. She did not want to acknowledge anything that went on here. It was not her fault she could not find a man she loved. What horrific bit of bad luck had found her?

The laird cleared his throat. "Perhaps I have not gone far enough or soon enough. And the ad did not promise you to just any man. He must be strong enough and smart enough to win your hand."

It was not Allura’s nature to allow others to rule her fate. “These men,” she waved her hand in the air, frustration sweeping recklessly within. "They don’t want me. They come for one reason only. They are greedy and hungry for power. You have taught me everything I need to know. I can run your estate and all of your holdings. I’ve studied endless hours. I know the men who work for you. I swear I’ll defy your wishes. At the altar I will say no."

The McClellan’s grin faded as quickly as it had appeared and without further thought, he said, "Perhaps not, you are beautiful lass--one with rare promise. And," he stroked his chin, "no matter how much book learning a woman has she cannot dictate her own life. It is up to the men in her life to make sure she is happy and provided for."

A strained silence followed. She sagged against the stone wall. As if sensing her vulnerable position, she stiffened. Outraged and furious she looked upon her father. "They are money grubbers and want your land--our land. They have no right to any of your estate."

The McClellan held back for a moment, seemingly aware there was more than just a little truth in what Allura said. "How indeed?" he questioned her. Yet his smile was tight, forced. "I grow old. I only want this land secured and my daughters happy before I die. You are twenty-two. I have given you ample opportunity to fall in love. I thought it time to bring new blood to this land, a new man. I thought perhaps one would take your fancy."

"That man," she began. Her hand shook when she pointed at the man who danced and whirled avoiding each blow as if he dallied in child's play. She trembled so violently she could not speak. “Is an Englishman.”

Addicted to Writing Presents Tell Tale Tuesday: auf Wiedersehen by Christa Holder Ocker

Title: auf Wiedersehen: WWII Through the Eyes of a German Girl

Author: Christa Holder Ocker

ISBN: 978-1-62420-116-5

Genre: Historical Fiction

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 1

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

Cities in ashes, endless bread lines, potato soup by candlelight, people herded along with whips, soldiers in splendid boots and swastikas everywhere, a little girl with chestnut pigtails reaching for her first Hershey bar–these are a few of the images that come to life in my memoir.

EXCERPT

1

“But when will we come back?” My sister asked, an edge of desperation  in her voice.

Mutti stopped in the open doorway, turned around, and as if to avoid  the question, she pointed to the distant wall. “Look Kinder,” she whispered.

A shaft of sun had found its way through the ice-laced window, spilling  its silvery light on the painting above the couch, illuminating the wake on  a river flowing still.

Sadness crept into my heart, as my eyes returned to my mother – so tall,  so graceful, her ash-blond hair knotted in a bun at the nape of her neck. A tear rolled down her high cheekbone. She wiped it away with her fingertips;  then closed the door with a decisive click.

~ * ~

For as long as I could remember, this had been our home, a happy  home filled with laughter and song. The apartment, gracious and inviting,  furnished with unassuming elegance, was located on the first floor of a  new apartment building on the outskirts of Görlitz, in the eastern part of  Germany. The luscious aroma from Frau Ömichen’s kitchen on the second  floor still lingered in the stairway, and her deep foghorn voice resounded  off the granite walls, Komm rauf, Christa, wir haben Kartoffel Plinse…Günter  warted auf Dich. Come upstairs, Christa, we’re having potato pancakes. Günter  is waiting for you. Günter, at six, one year younger than I, was her only son  and my friend and playmate.

A while back, wanting a baby brother, Günter convinced me that,  although I already had an older sister, I should have a little brother too.  And so we left cottage cheese sandwiches on our windowsills. Everyone  knew, of course, that the stork brought a baby if you left him a cottage  cheese sandwich on the windowsill, at least in our part of Germany. One  day, soon after, Günter came skipping downstairs. “Guess what...” his voice  danced ahead of him. “I’m going to get a little baby brother.”

I looked at Mutti, anticipation rising to explosion force, but she shook  her head from side to side.

“I knew it!” I stamped my foot, both hands on my hips. “You didn’t put  enough cottage cheese on the bread.” I was upset. “Frau Ömichen put on  a lot more.”

“Well, that’s because Günter’s Vati was on furlough, you know, and they  got extra rations,” she sputtered through giggles. Both our fathers were off,  fighting Hitler’s war.

Yes, it had been a happy home and I, wrapped in a silken cocoon of a  child’s ignorance, was oblivious to the evil and destruction all around us.  Still, there were scenes that penetrated the walls of my cocoon and I could  not deny the dull ache of foreboding, as on one cold glacial day...