Thursday, 20 November 2014

Great Deal - Limited Time

99¢ from November 22 - 28

Tough, driven Kit Kendall has replaced her frills and dresses with no nonsense haircuts and wranglers, years ago. As owner of Sage Brush, the once thriving west Texas bed and breakfast ranch, she now struggles daily to keep her business afloat. Since McCabe Resort Lodge reopened next door as a multi-million dollar hotel, her financial difficulties compound, as she suffers one cancellation after another.
Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, Kit’s childhood sweetheart turned nemesis returns as the new owner of the resort that’s now putting her out of business, resurrecting memories she thought she’d buried long ago.
Cowboy, entrepreneur Sam Dawson has returned to Sugar Creek, Texas after six years of exile with a secret that could destroy Kit’s happiness. He left town because of it and for the past two years has secretly tried to make it right. Having failed, he now returns to make one last attempt to undo the tangled web created by his father.
Set in motion by his father’s Last Will and Testament and with the clock ticking, Sam has only weeks to convince Kit to sell him her ranch or reveal the truth that will break her heart.


Sam could tell she was spitting mad. He watched her jerk the seatbelt over her chest several times before he reached over to click it into place.
He straightened up and glanced at her as he turned into the street. “Is that steam I see coming from your ears?”
Kit responded by snapping her arms across her chest.
He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “She told you, didn’t she?”
Kit didn’t say a word she just stared out the window.
“I’m sorry you had to find out that way. I was going to stop by tonight and tell you myself.”
“How thoughtful of you. So. What do you want?”
“For access to the land. Otherwise my guests have no place to hunt or fish.”
“Sell me the road frontage I need.” He’d deliberately forced her hand and hated himself for it. But far better for her to part with a few measly acres than lose everything. And if she ended up hating him in the process then so be it. He cursed both their fathers under his breath.
Kit’s mouth fell open and she slowly turned to face him, hoarse laughter tumbling from her lips.
“You’ve got to be kidding. After this stunt, do you really think I’d sell an inch of my property to you? One Kendall made the mistake of caving to a Dawson’s blackmail, but let me assure you, this one won’t.”
He hated what he was about to do. Hated to force her hand, but she gave him no choice. When did she become so stubborn? Gritting his teeth, he continued.
“Then I won’t allow you to use the Lowman property for access. You’ll be forced to shut down. Sage Brush will close. You’ll be through. You’ll lose your property to the bank when they foreclose. Then it’ll only be a matter of time before I have it all anyway. Is that really what you want?”
“Why you no good, conniving, lowlife.”
“Look at it this way, if I get the road frontage I need, then you get to stay in business. It’s a win-win.”
They slowed to a stop outside of her house.
Kit opened the truck door then turned to face him.
“You would actually do that? You’d put Trip and Jake out of work? And what about Maggie? Have you even thought of her?”
“I told you, you wouldn’t like it.”

Rogue’s Son:

>>>Buy on Amazon<<<

Connect with Darcy Flynn on the following Social Links:
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Amazon Author Page:

Sunday, 16 November 2014


New Release: Stones: 
Coming-of-Middle-Age Fiction  

Stones is a humorous coming-of-middle-age women’s fiction about closure.

New Adult fiction seems to be all the rage these days. Well, I’m starting a trend of my own—Old Adult Fiction.  
Or more accurately, Coming-of-Middle-Age-Fiction. Stones features women of a certain age. Before being published by The Wild Rose Press, the manuscript, which finaled in the Georgia Romance Writers Unpublished Maggie Award for Excellence, was called The Colonoscopy Club. 
So you have an idea of what age I’m talking about.

In Stones, readers are introduced to the concept of closure in the very first paragraph.

“Thank God for LINT. It’s the one area in my life where I’ve been able to achieve closure. I can wash a load of towels, toss them into the dryer, fold them, and, after opening the lint filter, peel back a glorious, thick, colorful strip of lint, admire it, and throw it into the wastebasket. Then I can cross that task off my to-do list. Now, THAT is closure! And, by the way, I have a new dryer that gives really good lint.”

Back of the Book blurb:                            

When Julie Paver’s husband Matt moves his business to Atlanta, she is forced to leave behind her thriving jewelry boutique, Stones. The move threatens their twenty-five-year marriage, because now if Matt isn’t out of town negotiating a merger, he’s spending late hours on overseas phone calls with his sexy-sounding second-in-command. Feeling neglected and unloved, Julie seeks closure by reconnecting with her first love, Manny, when he pursues her with his Internet innuendos. Manny is unaware he’s the father of Julie’s son, and Julie contemplates revealing the secret to him on the eve of their son’s wedding. But would such a walk down memory lane be worth the cost? Julie and Manny finally meet at her oceanfront condo — in the midst of a hurricane — and elements collide to create the perfect storm in a coming-of-middle-age crisis.
To go or not to go to Palm Coast is no longer the question. The question is what will I do once I get there? Will I really have the nerve to reconnect, or as my daughter Natalie likes to say, “hook up,” again with Manny Gellar? How will I feel tomorrow when I see him alone for the first time after twenty-five years? Will I finally reveal what I feel compelled—no, what

I’m busting a gut—to tell him? That he has a beautiful son, that our son Josh is getting married in just three months? I’m probably rationalizing, but I think he finally has a right to know.

If I could, I’d fix what is wrong with my marriage and put it back the way it was before, as easily as Ricardo fixed my washing machine. Before Matt yanked me out of Miami by my roots as if I were a noxious weed he was tossing out of a flower garden and carelessly transplanted us to Atlanta.

Before we moved a state away from my family and my best friend and a business I’d worked a lifetime to create. Before Matt sold his freight-expediting business to a German conglomerate for mega-millions and agreed to run the company for them from Atlanta for the next two years, barely consulting me. Before the German occupation, or rather before he became preoccupied

with his sexy-sounding German second-in-command, Gretchen. Before he stopped sleeping with me in the biblical sense. Before I turned fifty.

All I really want is closure. I’m convinced that meeting Manny Gellar again is the only way I will ever come full circle and reconnect with my life.


Romancing the “STONES” Novelist Interview:

What draws you as a ‘reader’ to the romance genre?
Reliving that feeling of “first love” and attraction, reading about how the couple overcomes obstacles and gets their happy ending.

What is the most difficult part of writing a love story? 

Building tension in the relationship.  I always want things to happen too quickly.

Is creating a book title easy for you? Tell us about the process. 

Coming up with the title is the first thing I do before I can even start writing the book. Anything can inspire me. I may overhear a word or a phrase and it triggers an idea. When a title pops into my head and I know it’s the right one, then I can begin. My background is Marketing and Public Relations so for me, writing a creative title is the easy part. That said, in my eighth book with The Wild Rose Press, which is under contract, the original title was “Murder on the Repositioning Cruise,” and I had to shorten it to Killer Cruise, because it was consistent with the other two-word titles in my psychic mystery series: Sixth Sense and Homecoming Homicides. And not everyone knew what a repositioning cruise was. But by the time I renamed it, I had already written the book. Other than that, all of my books retained their original names. One of my favorite titles is Murder at the Outlet Mall, a shopping suspense tale I co-wrote with my sister, a Florida artist in Ponte Vedra Beach.   

Do your characters love the direction you take for them or do they have other ideas?

The characters always have other ideas. And I usually go along with them. The characters will have complete conversations in my head and when that happens, I just listen and write it down.

Any tips for writers that you’d love to share?

Many people have said this, but it’s great advice: Finish the book. The best way to promote your book is to write another one.  Hang in there. Don’t give up on your dream to publish. You may be the last one standing, but eventually you will get published if you are persistent. Stones was some ten years in the making. And these days authors have so many paths to publication.

Marilyn will give away a PDF copy of Stones to one commenter.

Stones is available at the following sites:   

Amazon (Kindle and Paperback):

Barnes & Noble Nook:  

My Author Web site:

About Marilyn

Marilyn Baron is a public relations consultant in Atlanta, Georgia, and the author of humorous women’s fiction, historical romantic thrillers, a psychic suspense series, supernatural short stories and a musical. She has won or finaled in writing awards for Single Title, Suspense Romance, and Paranormal/Fantasy Romance and just finaled in the Georgia Romance Writers 2014 Published Maggie Award for Excellence in the Novel With Strong Romantic Elements category.

Marilyn has published six books with The Wild Rose Press (TWRP), She is under contract for two more books, The Widows’ Gallery, part of the new Lobster Cove series with TWRP, and Killer Cruise, A Psychic Crystal Mystery, Book Three. She has published four humorous paranormal short stories with TWB Press and co-authored three books with her sister, award-winning Florida artist Sharon Goldman.

To find out more about Marilyn’s books, stories and upcoming releases, visit her Web site at Visit her on Facebook at and follow her on Twitter at

Sunday, 9 November 2014

Romancing The Novelist


When twenty-year-old Ashby Overton travels to Overhome Estate for the summer, she hopes to unearth her ancestral roots and the cause of a mysterious family rift surrounding the horseback riding death of her Grandmother Lenore many years ago.

From the moment she enters her room in the oldest wing, Ashby feels an invisible, enfolding presence.  She learns the room belonged to a woman named Rosabelle, but no one is willing to talk about Rosabelle—no one except Luke, the stable boy who captures her heart. As Ashby and Luke become closer, she realizes he can be the confidant she needs to share the terrifying, unfolding secrets. 
 Ever present is a force Ashby never sees, only feels.  Candles light themselves, notes from an old lullaby fall from the ceiling, the radio tunes itself each day.  And roses, always meant for Ashby, appear in the unlikeliest places.  Are the roses a symbol of love, or do they represent something dark, something deep and evil?

Great to have you as a guest today, Susan. I always ask the question "What draws you as a reader to the romance genre?"
Actually, I do not read “pure” romance by choice. I love romance in other guises—Gothic -romance, for example or mystery-romance. To me as a reader a little romance goes a long way.  So it needs to be GOOD!
As a writer, I tend to lean in the same direction—subtle romance to enhance the mystery or the adventure or action. For my cozy mystery/Southern Gothic A Red, Red Rose, I leave much of the gore and sex to the reader’s imagination; Shakespeare might call it “off-stage.” I feel this technique leads the reader on, titillating and encouraging mental images without boundaries.

Something I always wonder is "What is the most difficult part of writing a love story?"
Well, let me begin by telling you the easiest part: conflict. In life, isn’t all romance made up of multiple conflicts? Will my parents approve? Is he right for me? Is it love or simply fascination?  As a mystery writer, I find plotting conflict is paramount and thus easily extended to the romantic elements involved. For example, in A Red, Red Rose, for her first serious tryst with Luke, Ashby, my protagonist, arrives late—having overslept in a nap. She had wanted to look perfect—but she’s a mess—hair tousled and no makeup—rain-soaked and mud-splattered. Luke could not care less. He wants romance! But when they finally settle in the hayloft, a swarm of wasps threatens to completely thwart any love-making on the horizon. Conflict! It’s the root of all romance. What’s hard is writing realistically about the physical details without sounding melodramatic , awkward or unnatural.

Is creating a book title easy for you? Tell us about the process.
It seems my books entitle themselves! I usually look for a recurring theme or symbol rather than plot or character for my titles.  Thus, I am generally well along with the writing before the title emerges. The sequel to A Red, Red Rose is entitled Beneath the Stones (The Wild Rose Press, publication date TBA). Stones are symbolic throughout the novel, so the reader is always looking for the connection with the title.
Do your characters love the direction you take for them or do they have other ideas?
Now, that’s an interesting question. I know authors who say their characters talk to them—guiding the story. Alice Walker, author of The Color Purple, for example, lived with her characters—moving from location to location, sometimes at their whim. My characters don’t converse with me—sometimes I wish they would! But they often do seem to take matters into their own hands as I am writing about them. It’s like an idea is suddenly transmitted from their mind to mine! And I admit that often I take a character down one road, only to realize it’s the wrong path for him or her. That’s when the delete key comes in handy.
Any tips for writers that you’d love to share?
Writing is such a personal journey that every writer must chart her own path. Life experiences, values, preferences, loves and losses, inspiration, role models—unique for every writer— will guide and mold and refine the individual’s craft.  That said, I would add that every writer must also be an avid reader and a close observer of life, in general, and of people, places and events specifically.  Who knows when that bubbling mountain stream might flow its way into a setting? Smell it, hear it, feel it, look closely at its depths and shallows for sensory details and jot it all down in a journal or relegate it to your writer’s memory bank. The quirky, brilliant professor whose classes generate mental lightning could be a character in your next novel. Store his mannerisms, his speech patterns, his retro clothes in your data base and bring it all out when the time comes. No detail is too small for the observant writer’s sensory antennae. Do you remember your very first extended trip away from home? The excitement of the unknown—the hopes for adventure and stimulating discoveries? Dredge up those impressions and infuse your journeying character with hopes and fears and expectations akin to your own.  Every reader can relate to the human experience.

Excerpt from A Red, Red Rose:
     As suddenly as it began, the music stopped.  Bewildered, I held out the candle as though it might illuminate the harmony I had heard so clearly only moments ago.  Except for the dying sputter of the storm, all was quiet again.  My ears strained, listening.  Faintly this time, but distinctly, I heard the melody again, this time in the hall outside my closed bedroom door.  Barefoot, holding the candlestick in front of me, I moved slowly to the door, drew the latch, and, without thinking, only feeling the music, I followed the mellow strains, like a child of Hamlin behind the Pied Piper.  Descending the steep steps, on the first floor, now, I continued to follow the path of the music, through the dining room, to the old keeping room and out a door I had never used or even noticed before,
     I halted, shook my head, trying to clear out the hypnotic tones that crowded out all thought and plugged my senses.  Once again, the music abated.  It was like a game of musical chairs.  Where was I?  No longer in the house, I felt the damp night air on my bare arms, and rough floorboards beneath my bare feet.  Holding the candle at arm’s length, I crept forward, a step at a time, my other hand grasping at the air in front.  I felt like a blind person without a guide dog.
       My reaching fingers brushed across a grainy surface, and crumbling powder dusted my fingertips.  Instantly, I recognized the metallic smell of old, rusting screens.  I knew then I must be on the ancient screened porch tucked between the wings of the house, the crumbling porch with the antique rocking chairs.  The old part of the house, reached only by the door in the keeping room.  The music had led me here.  Again the strains wafted over and around me, holding me captive as I stood, shivering, gazing at the dim light of my flickering candle.
     The music stopped as abruptly as it had begun.  Struggling to clear the cobwebs of sound spinning in my brain, I took a deep breath and looked around.   I sensed, rather than saw a movement in my periphery.  When I turned, I became aware of one of the old rocking chairs.  Gently, so as to be barely perceptible, the chair rocked itself back and forth as though someone invisible sat in it, enjoying the languorous, rhythmic motion.  Rocking, rocking, rocking, without any sound at all.
     Not conscious of moving, I found myself standing beside the ancient rocker, now motionless, dusty, the seat sagging within inches of the floor, as though it had not moved in a hundred years. I had not dreamed it.  The chair had rocked itself, and someone or something had led me here to witness it.  Led me with the music.  I had the evidence.  On the decaying cane seat lay a single fresh rose just out of bud.

>>> A Red, Red Rose on Amazon <<<

Susan Coryell has long been interested in concerns about culture and society in the South, where hard-felt, long-held feelings battle with modern ideas.  The ghosts slipped in, to her surprise.
Susan Coryell is the author of the award-winning young adult novel, Eaglebait. She lives at Smith Mountain Lake, Virginia.

Tuesday, 21 October 2014

Release Day for a Hunk

When globe-trotting photographer Allison Cain comes home to her family ranch in Montana it’s to get to know her nephew and to make amends with the widowed brother-in-law she’s left alone to raise his young son.

Evan Carver could never deny his late wife’s younger sister anything, despite the fact she’s been conspicuously absent over the past three years since her sister’s death. Now she’s home again on what she’s called an extended vacation. Evan’s first concern is for his son, Cody, and how his aunt’s visit will affect the five year old when she decides to return to her high profile career.

Allison has no intention of going back to work. In addition to getting to know Cody, she needs to confess her biggest secret to Evan. How do you tell the man you’ve always loved that you’re not just his son’s aunt, but also his mother?


Slowly she raised her head. Unshed tears filled her eyes, making them glisten like liquid stars. Evan felt a lump form in his own throat. She blinked rapidly in what Evan suspected was a conscious effort to hide her emotions. A knot tightened his gut. He had the sudden urge to take Ali in his arms, as he’d done the day she arrived, and bury her face against his chest, preferably without the argument that followed.

In the very back of his over-used imagination, he could see her coming willingly into his arms. He could feel the heat of her tears against his chest. His reaction surprised and frightened him in equal measure. He didn’t want to feel this way about her, especially when he knew she wouldn’t stay.

“Me, too,” she admitted softly, drawing Evan’s attention from her teary eyes to her soft, pink lips. The tears she’d been fighting back so tenaciously now pearled on her lashes, threatening to spill forth at any second.

Evan moved away from the tree, inching his way around Cody and close to Allison’s side. Cautiously, he lifted his hand and caught the first tear on his thumb, uncertain of exactly what had made her cry, yet knowing he selfishly welcomed the chance to offer her comfort.

“When I left South America, the only thing I could think of was coming here. I wanted desperately to feel the lush grass beneath my bare feet and to smell the fresh, clean air.”

“I don’t care what made you decide to come home. You’re here now and welcome to stay as long as you like.” Drawing her into his arms, he held her close and tilted her chin up with his fingertips until their gazes met.

At the first touch of his lips to hers, Evan tasted the cinnamon and apple of the dessert they’d just consumed. He pressed his lips more firmly to hers. She hesitated only briefly before returning his kiss with one of her own. He barely had time to consider what they’d done when Ali’s trembling voice broke through his consciousness.

“Evan,” she whispered. “Don’t, please.” Pressing her hands to his chest, she pushed lightly. Yet, when he would have backed away, she clenched the front of his shirt tightly in her fists. “We can’t . . .” she warned, still seemingly unwilling to let him go.

“Ali, it was only a kiss.”

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and Evan knew if he didn’t let her go he’d likely do something they’d both regret. Gently, he grasped her hands in his and pulled them from the death grip she’d taken on his shirt. With his thumb he wiped away a final spent tear then released her completely. A moment later he was on his feet and walking back toward the damaged fence. It would take every ounce of strength he possessed, he realized, to keep from turning around and taking her into his arms again.

Author Bio:

Like most authors, Nancy Fraser began writing at an early age, usually on the walls and with crayons or, heaven forbid, permanent markers. Her love of writing often made her the English teacher’s pet, which, of course, resulted in a whole lot of teasing. Still, it was worth it.

When not writing (which is almost never), Nancy dotes on her five beautiful grandchildren and looks forward to traveling and reading when time permits. Nancy lives in Atlantic Canada where she enjoys the relaxed pace and colorful people. She invites you to visit her website ( and follow her on Twitter (@nfraserauthor). Or, more importantly, just enjoy what she writes.


Twitter:  @nfraserauthor

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Thursday, 16 October 2014

Chrys Fey

When a woman finds herself in the middle of a war between a police force and the Mob, 
30 SECONDS is a long time.

When Officer Blake Herro agreed to go undercover in the Mob, he thought he understood the risks. But he's made mistakes and now an innocent woman has become their target. He's determined to protect her at all costs.

The Mob's death threat turns Dr. Dani Hart's life upside down, but there is one danger she doesn’t anticipate. As she's dodging bullets, she's falling in love with Blake. With danger all around them, will she and Blake survive and have a happy ending, or will the Mob make good on their threat?

She panted with fear. What if they see the chest? What if we get caught? What if my breath stinks and I’m breathing right into Officer Hottie’s face? She shut her mouth and let oxygen flow through her nose.
Her eyesight slowly adjusted to the darkness and she could see Officer Herro’s silhouette. His head was turned and he was listening to the thuds of heavy boots getting louder; the intruders were coming their way.
Then the thunder of footsteps sounded right next to them. “There’s no one here, Red,” someone announced.
“Look for documents,” a man ordered, who Dani could only assume was Red. “I want the name of the person I’m going to kill.”
A moment later, there was a reply. “All the mail is addressed to a Dr. Hart.”
Hearing her name said aloud by one of the men who had ransacked her place made her want to gasp. Her mouth fell open and her breath was reversing into her lungs, but before she could make a sound, Officer Herro lowered his lips to hers, silencing her. Stunned, she could only lie beneath him with her eyes wide and her body tense. She couldn’t believe he was kissing her. She wanted to push him back, but knew if she did he might hit the inside of the chest, giving away their hiding place. That was when she realized he was kissing her so she wouldn’t gasp.
She let her body relax. After her initial shock faded, she was able to feel his lips. They were comforting and caused a reaction deep inside her. She couldn’t stop her lips from reacting to his. It was an innocent connection, a soft touch of lips. Until his hand slid from her shoulder to her neck and the kiss deepened into something else.

Bonus: 5 facts about Dani:

1. She can speak fluent Spanish.
2. She’s a natural redhead.
3. She has two tattoos.
4. She was born at a Kiss concert.
5. She likes to read comic books.

Chrys Fey is a lover of rock music just like Dani Hart in 30 Seconds. Whenever she's writing at her desk, headphones are always emitting the sounds of her musical muses -especially that of her favorite band, 30 Seconds to Mars, the inspiration behind the title.
30 Seconds is her second eBook with The Wild Rose Press. Her debut, Hurricane Crimes, is also available on Amazon.

Discover her writing tips on her blog, and connect with her on Facebook. She loves to get to know her readers!

Author Links:

Title: 30 Seconds
Authur: Chrys Fey
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Length: Novella (105 pages)
Format: eBook
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: September 10th, 2014