THURSDAY THREADS Welcomes CD HERSH


TITLE: The Turning Stone Chronicles: “Son of the Moonless Night”AUTHOR: C.D. HERSH

GENRE: Urban fantasy, Paranormal, Romance

HEAT LEVEL: Sensual
Currently available in eBook on Amazon at: http://amzn.com/B00XK3E172
Owen Todd Jordan Riley has a secret. He’s a shape shifter who has been hunting and killing his own kind. To him the only good shifter is a dead shifter. Revenge for the death of a friend motivates him, and nothing stands in his way . . . except Katrina Romanovski, the woman he is falling in love with.

Deputy coroner Katrina Romanovski has a secret, too. She hunts and kills paranormal beings like Owen. At least she did. When she rescues Owen from an attack by a werebear she is thrust back into the world she thought she’d left. Determined to find out what Owen knows about the bear, she begins a relationship meant to collect information. What she gets is something quite different-love with a man she suspects of murder. Can she reconcile his deception and murderous revenge spree and find a way to redeem him? Or will she condemn him for the same things she has done and walk away from love?
Excerpt from Son of the Moonless Night:
A crash in the alley stopped Katrina Romanovski mid-stride. Like the October mist swirling in off the lake, her gypsy blood stirred sending her intuition into high gear. Something unnatural was happening.

Go see what’s wrong. She heard her father’s voice as clearly as if he stood next to her.

On the heels of his words came her mother’s pragmatic warning in clipped British tones. You know what curiosity killed. Katrina pushed the ever-present warning aside. Mom never approved of Dad’s supernatural hunts and even less of his drawing her into them.

Pulling the oversized cross she always wore out from under her shirt, Kat looked around for a weapon. Please, not a vampire. I hate vampires! A piece of wood sticking out of the trashcan at the front of the alley caught her eye.

Grabbing it, she broke the end off into a sharp point. The mist-filled air filtered the light from the single bulb over one of the alley doorways. The wind swirled the loose trash around making a quiet approach difficult. Sidestepping the paper, with the stake in one hand and holding the gun she took from her purse in the other hand, she crept into the alley.

A roar echoed against the buildings, the sound nearly sending her running. That roar wasn’t a vampire. It sounded more like an animal. Kat inched closer. In the yellow pool of light from the back door of the building, a black bear, over seven feet tall, reared on its back legs and swung its paw at the man standing at the edge of the light. He crashed to the ground, shirt torn open from the slashing claws. Blood covered the fabric, and he clasped his left hand over his shoulder to stem the flow. The bear bent toward him, teeth bared in a smile. A wicked smile.

Kat aimed her gun, but before she could pull the trigger, a shot rang out. The flash of gunpowder lit the face of the injured man. The blast reverberated against the buildings. With an enraged bellow, the bear staggered backward against the wall. Shaking his head, the animal dropped to all four paws. Weaving like a drunk, he lumbered toward his attacker. The man took aim again, shooting the animal between the eyes. Animal and human collapsed on the dirty, littered pavement.

As she started to move forward, Kat’s gypsy senses crawled over her skin like angry red ants. As she slipped back into the shadows, the bear shed fur. Changing size. Then, finally, turning into a man.

Shape shifters. Her stake wasn’t any good against them, and her bullets weren’t silver. This one appeared dead anyway. Had the wounded man seen the shift? Tossing the stake aside, she paused by the shifter and quickly moved to the wounded man. Out cold. Still human.

When she touched him, his eyelids fluttered open. “Did I get it?”

“What?”

“The bear.”
Where you can find CD:

Soul Mate Publishing: http://smpauthors.wordpress.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cdhershauthor

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/C.-D.-Hersh/e/B00DV5L7ZI

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCDHersh

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/CDHersh
   
 

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THURSDAY THREADS Welcomes Carol Ann Moleti


The Widow’s WalkParanormal Romance

Sexy, Heat Level 3-4

(available in ebook and print)
http://www.amazon.com/Widows-Walk-Carole-Ann-Moleti-ebook/dp/B00PHYCLHY
  
Mike and Liz Keeny are newlyweds, new parents, and the proprietors of the Barrett Inn, an 1875 Victorian on Cape Cod, which just happens to be haunted. By their own ghosts. The Inn had become an annex of Purgatory, putting Mike, Liz, and their infant son in danger. Selling the historic seaside bed and breakfast was the only answer, one that Liz and her own tortured specter refused to consider. Were they doomed to follow the same path that led to disaster in their previous lives? Was getting out, getting away, enough?
Excerpt:

Look, for now, we’ll just stay where we are–together. If Liz and Mike are united, then Jared and Elisabeth aren’t going to be able to get in between us.” He brushed the tears off her cheeks.

She stared at him intently, fear, maybe desperation in her eyes. “We can only talk to each other about this. Others might use any information against us.”

“Who would do that, Liz?’

Her demeanor hardened. She sat up, raised her chin. “My son. Your daughter. Sandra.”

“You’re paranoid. The kids have no inkling about ghosts. All Sandra has are theories. She doesn’t know about your incident–or my illness. And I’m not going to tell her.” Guilt twanged in his gut. Sandra had come up with all the ghostly interpretations on her own, right?

Liz jumped up. “She knows about my injury. Maybe not how it happened, but when Mae went in there to get my things, she figured out it was for me. She reads minds, or manipulates people into blabbing what they know.”

Mike lowered his voice to a whisper. “It doesn’t take much for Mae to spill information. I think you’re giving Sandra too much credit.” Yet, she did ask him about the ghosts as soon as he sat down.

“You can joke all you want, Mike, but this is serious. We can’t let anyone else in.”

“I won’t say a word about anything ghostly to anyone. As long as things stay under control.”

Liz studied him. 

Mike squirmed. “I think I’m going to take a nap.” He settled back on the sofa.

She tucked the blanket around him and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll go help Mae with dinner.”

She didn’t believe him. He didn’t trust her. This was never going to work.

  

THURSDAY THREADS Welcomes Carly Jordynn


TITLE: FOREST OF THE MIST: AwakeningGENRE: YA Fantasy Romance

HEAT LEVEL: 3

BLURB:   

Upon awakening from the coma that put her in the alternate realm known as Paradise Valley, Jennifer Burke Kyle discovered her infant son was half-grown, had some rather unique powers, and was the new leader of Paradise and the adjoining Dark Land. If that wasn’t enough to make her want to go back to sleep, she finds her dead husband, David Kyle, has ordered a complete stranger, Alex McGuire, to marry her and raise her young son as his own. Together, Alex and Jennifer, with the help of Davy, must escape the agents of PRI, a government research group, in order to protect the still comatose, Colin O’Brien. 
AMAZON BUY LINK: 

   http://www.amzn.com/B012T8JT5W/
EXCERPT:

_“What?” Jennifer said. “I’m not ready to be married to you. I don’t even know you.”

Alex had had just about enough of her routine. “Listen, sweetheart, it’s no picnic being with you either. I’m tired of trying to live up to your lofty expectations. I’m not David Kyle, nor would I want to be. I’m doing this all for you, to protect you and Davy. A little gratitude would be welcome.”

“Excuse me?” Anger flashed in her eyes. “You are darn lucky that I even give you the time of day. You overbearing, egotistical control freak.”

“Control freak!” Alex shouted weakly. “Are we back to that song and dance again? Can’t you come up with some original material? I’ve busted my ass in order to help you, and you have the nerve to say I’m controlling you?”

“Oh, what a load of crap, Alex! You are not doing this for me or Davy. You are doing it for Lily.” Jennifer spun away from him in disgust.

Alex wanted to pound something in frustration, but he could barely move his arms. “For crying out loud, Jennifer, Lily isn’t here. She married Connor. They moved away. Lily has nothing to do with this. If she did, I would already be in Texas. I’m here with you because I want to be with you.”

“You do not know me!” she shouted.

“Because you won’t let me get to know you!” Alex countered.

Alex stopped speaking. His face turned red. Spots appeared before his eyes, and he had a hard time catching his breath. He saw Jennifer back away from him as the machine he was hooked up to began to scream. A team of doctors rushed into the room and began working on him. Alex felt himself begin to fade and then he was gone.

ALSO BY CARLY JORDYNN:

FOREST OF THE MIST: Travelers

http://www.amzn.com/B00ND8C3RE/

SASHA BISHOP: Retired Slayer

http://www.amzn.com/B00O99U4V8/

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

http://www.carlyjordynn.com

http://www.facebook.com/carlyjordynn777

http://www.twitter.com/@CarlyJordynn

http://www.pinterest.com/CarlyJordynn

http://carlyjordynn.blogspot.com

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7200409.Carly_Jordynn

   
 

Romance Writer’s Weekly: Guilty Pleasures


If you’re here, you’ve hopefully hopped from Dani Jace, so welcome! Today’s installment is from the ever-delightful Sarah Hegger, who asks: What is your secret passion? I have a thing for shoes and B-grade fantasy movies, what are some of your guilty pleasures?

Well. Hm. While guilty pleasure implies I feel bad about this–and I don’t– I have a thing for pens. I love pens. Fountain pens, fine point pens, calligraphy pens. I even have a thing for a certain edge on my Expo markers. Buying a pen (if I care about it; I do own BIC pens, after all, but I hate them) is a very personal thing for me. I like a certain weight of pen, not too heavy, but not too light, something firm with a certain weight so that the ink falls just so–except for fine points, which are supposed to be light.  The right pen just has a certain… je ne sais quoi about it. The type of pen, to me, determines the optimum weight and the optimum width. Not every pen has to be the same, but I do like them when they are the right pen for a given task. I’ve even been known to go out on a hunt for the right pen, and gotten excited when I found a pen that I knew was THE PEN (I once got breathless with excitement over a pen that was pewter, engraved with Celtic symbols, fine point–shoot, it’s almost like I’m describing a wand in Harry Potter. I then gave it to my husband. I must like him.)

Gah, I sound like such a weirdo. “I like pens.” Who says that? Well, me, I guess. I suppose am that weirdo.

Why not take a peek at what JJ Devine has to say on the subject?

M

Thursday Threads Welcomes Char Chaffin


TITLE: JESSE’S GIRLAUTHOR: CHAR CHAFFIN

GENRE: NOSTALIA ROMANCE

HEAT LEVEL: SWEET/SENSUAL
BLURB: Tim O’Malley returns to his home town of Skitter Lake, Ohio, to clear his name and get the girl: Dorothy Whitaker, the love of his life since eighth grade. Blamed for a destructive fire he didn’t set, only Tim and Dorothy know the truth; that Jesse Prescott, Tim’s best friend and Dorothy’s boyfriend, did the deed that changed an entire town. But Jesse died in that tragedy and seven years later, Skitter Lake still honors him as a hero, rather than Tim, the boy from the seedy side of town whose father was a drunk . . . and whose quick actions saved six people from perishing in that horrendous fire. 

In trying to set the record straight and finally claim Dorothy as his own, Tim—and Dorothy, too—will discover that in some small towns the legend often outweighs the truth . . . and their family and friends will forever see Dorothy as “Jesse’s girl.”
AMAZON BUY LINK: http://www.amzn.com/B00JK0DUD0/

BOOK TRAILER: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjWlGAvbbrM

EXCERPT:  
Excerpt:

Now the need to lock Dorothy in a tight embrace, and never let go, overwhelmed him. He would have picked her up and carried her to his car, then driven her all the way back to Los Angeles just to get her away from a life he instinctively knew made her miserable. Tim remembered her folks. Wilma Whitaker had been a difficult woman when she was healthy and relatively happy. He couldn’t imagine how losing Dorothy’s dad would have twisted Wilma up inside.

He must have squeezed too tightly, because Dorothy let out a breathy gasp and wriggled until he loosened his arms. She stepped backward with a blush and downcast eyes. “I really do have to go, Tim.” She raised her head and all the longing he’d already been experiencing, all the need, was plain to see on her lovely face, for about half a second.

Then, her expression shuttered, she picked up her purse from the battered nightstand next to the bed where she’d laid it, and moved toward the door. Tim followed, unsure what to say even though a hundred different lines crowded his head. Stay with me. Get to know me, again. Love me, the way I never stopped loving you.

They remained locked behind his compressed lips as he escorted her to the door and wished the last seven years had never happened.

In the open doorway she formed a smile that fell short of her eyes. “I’m glad we got to spend a little time together, Tim.” She slipped her arms around his waist for a quicksilver hug, then stepped back before he could reciprocate. “Please give your folks my best when you get back home.”

Tim flicked his eyes up to hers, then over her face, prettier than ever and without a speck of makeup. Her silky, red-blonde hair, combed back in its usual ponytail, was so unlike the current style he’d seen not only in California but here in Skitter Lake. Her dress wouldn’t have been out of place at the sock hops he remembered from twelfth grade. It was almost as if Dorothy Whitaker had frozen herself in time.

And he suddenly knew he wouldn’t be leaving at the end of the week. He’d stick around and see what was what. For Dorothy, and maybe even for Jesse.

Slowly, Tim reached out and clasped her fingers, then her wrist. Before he could talk himself out of it, he yanked her into his arms, up against his body, catching the back of her head, right below her ponytail. As her lips parted to speak, protest, whatever, he covered them with a kiss that spun out of control the instant it began. He wound an arm around her waist to anchor her tightly, but she’d already thrust her hands into his hair as she kissed him back. Tim groaned into her mouth and felt it echo back to him in the whimper she uttered that throbbed in the scant space between them.

For what seemed like an eternity, he kissed her, deep, then slow, then fast, greedy, pouring years of want and desire into a single, perfect moment. If he’d ever kissed another woman like this, he couldn’t remember. He deepened the kiss even more, and felt her fingers fist reflexively in his hair. He didn’t care if she ripped it out by the handfuls, as long as she never let go.

And as if she’d somehow heard his thoughts, she stiffened, opened her fists, slapped her hands on his chest, and pushed until he released her lips. Rosy red and swollen, they quivered as she stared up at him with shock in her eyes. She pushed again, a silent demand for him to let her go. It about killed him, but he loosened his arms and stepped back.

Silently, Tim bent to pick up the purse she’d dropped, and gave it to her. As her fingers closed over the pale yellow leather, she whispered, “Why?”

He managed—barely—to keep his hands to himself as he replied, “Because I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying. And when I do leave, Dorothy, you’ll be coming with me.”