Monday, May 18, 2015

Book Spotlight: Ghost Love by Nelli Rees

Ghost Love
Nelli Rees





Genre: Romance (with a hint of the paranormal)
Publisher: Phaze
Date of Publication: 20th January 2015
Number of pages: 332
Cover Artist: Niki Browning



Book Description:

In the madcap, chaotic days when Communism crumbled in the USSR, Tonia meets and falls in love with Englishman, Peter Monroe. Despite the protests of her family and the more strenuous
objections of the KGB Tonia agrees to marry Peter only for him to mysteriously disappear.

Twenty years later a life-toughened Toni must revisit these bitter-sweet memories when she finds herself and her daughters endangered by the consequences of that love affair.

In her despair Toni comes to realise that true love really does conquer all … even death.

Phaze | Amazon  | BN  | ARe 

Excerpt:


Prologue

Present Day: Dorset, England

Excitement being a kindred spirit to fear, Toni was undecided as to whether it was a trickle of fear she felt shivering down her spine or a trickle of excitement.
As she sat staring at the screen of her laptop, the darkness shrouding the room seemed to draw in on her: her head swam, her palms became clammy. Tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away, hoping that by doing so the message on her screen would disappear. It didn’t.

Peter Monroe wants to be friends on Facebook

Hesitantly she maneuvered the cursor over the ‘connect’ button and pressed ‘enter.’ The screen mutated to show the Facebook page for ‘Peter Monroe.’ It was Peter! She recognized the profile photograph instantly. She’d taken it. She remembered posing him in front of the bandstand in Gorki Park on that spring day back in 1990, remembered laughing at the stupid faces he pulled, remembered the way his long chestnut hair flopped over his forehead, remembered…
How could she forget? He had been her one true love.
Love. A word made empty by misuse…by overuse. She wondered how many had ever endured the touch of real love, that soul-eviscerating sensation that comes when you know you have found your soul-mate. Very few, she decided. Perhaps this was all for the good: true love brought anguish in equal measure to joy. As the last twenty years had taught her, finding true love was a bitter-sweet blessing. Her fingers trembled as she typed.
Is it really you, Peter?
The reply was instantaneous.
Yes…I’ve missed you, Tonia.
She couldn’t stop herself: the tears flowed down her cheeks.
But…
She paused, terrified that what she would type next might cause this marvelous mirage to vanish.
But I thought you were dead.
The seconds ticked by, then:

I am.

About the Author:


Nelli Rees, born in Moscow, trained as a linguist and a musician. With her future husband Englishman Rod she worked and travelled around Russia, finally coming to live in England in 1998. Nelli has had several successful careers: recording a critically acclaimed nu-jazz album “Jazz Noir”, becoming an award-winning jewellery maker, writing a book “Glass Bead Jewelry Projects”, and doing all this whilst being a mother and a wife. “Ghost Love” is Nelli’s first novel and draws heavily on her own experiences as a young woman in Soviet Russia and the obstacles she and her husband-to-be faced during those difficult times.

Author Links:
Blog | Facebook | Goodreads

Video of Nelli performing "Falling In Love Again":

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Series Spotlight & Tour Giveaway: Circle of Sun Series by Kim Luke

Circle of Sun
Circle of Sun Series
Book 1
Kim Luke


Genre: Fantasy
Cover Artist: Anne and Marshal Tezon at Personal Chapters



Book Description:

Something is wrong in White Oak, MO After a deadly climbing accident, 30-year-old Quinn Clarke loses her job and retreats to the sleepy Missouri riverside town of White Oak to heal her fractured body and rebuild her life. But the tourist village, with its wineries, quaint shops and rich history, turns out to be anything but sleepy.

Something is wrong with the water in White Oak. Birds are dying and bizarre weather conditions threaten the town’s future. Quinn is sucked into the chaos, beginning with a mystery woman who delivers a message suggesting her climbing tragedy was no accident. Quinn meets handsome detective Keefe Remington, then visits nearby Royce Estate. She loses her way and her peace of mind on that visit and is confused and unprepared for what lies behind the massive stone walls and how she is somehow connected to the Royce family.

The first book of the Circle of Sun series takes Quinn from main street bookstore owner to unlikely heroine and straight into a darkness that could turn White Oak into a battlefield . . . and into her destiny.


Excerpt:
Circle of Sun Prologue

     No one will visit his final resting place. In death, as in life, his name had long been associated with broken promises, broken rules and broken lives. He embraced nothing, and was embraced by nothing. His only lasting impression was darkness, keeping even the most forgiving souls from speaking a kind word about him, even in death. A brisk October wind forces a tighter clenching of the scarf covering her throat. The only sound heard is the crunch and swish of fallen leaves as she walks to the pauper's section of the cemetery. She pauses, and kneels with devotion to the memory of Colton LaMont. Melanie clears debris and places a few flowers upon the site. Sorrowful tears fall for her undeclared love, and the parched and thirsty soil drinks.

Chapter 1

     Brilliant sunlight floods the rock face we climb. The quartz veins in the limestone shimmer near my gloved hand. The two of us scale the forty-five foot challenge with ease. We take pictures of one another.    
     Alec teases me about my pink camera, and my sloppy climbing technique. We gather our gear and walk across to the next plateau, passing crevices and brush. He leads, and I follow. His sandy hair dances with every September gust. Alec's shoulders are broad and he is tall compared to my petite frame. His body is fit and the bronze of his skin reveals seasons of living to the fullest. Alec is beautiful. The adage might be true that opposites attract. He is dark, and I am fair. Alec thrives on adventures while I find adventure in books and history. I am not glamorous like the women I would pair with his kind, but his love for me is pure. I don't have to be anything more than what I am, making me love him even more, if it were possible.
     The azure sky is a breathtaking backdrop for puffy white clouds to sail by. This day is magical only because I am alone with him.
     Alec jogs back in the direction of our last climb when I realize my camera is missing, and I continue on the trek to set up for our next climb. I grow uneasy; does he need my help? He's been gone too long, and I try to stay calm as I make my way back to the top of the ledge.
     "Alec...Alec!" I say, but no answer comes.
     Eyeing the ledge, my fear mounts and can no longer be ignored. Panic grips me and without hesitation I make my way to the drop off. I slowly peek over. His voice behind me says my name.
     "Quinn!"
     Turning, I am blinded by the searing rays of the afternoon sun. I see only a tall shadow before large hands violently shove my shoulders with such force I am thrust over the rock wall. My scream fills the canyon. I am free falling down, down.  My lungs ache for a breath in this deep darkness. I am suffocating. I experience excruciating pain and ultimate despair. All hope escapes my consciousness.
Sound and sight are extinct now. My world is black.
     Warmth surrounds my feet and travels slowly up my body. My afflictions are gone. My eyelids are open, to a foreign place. I rise and begin to walk, but my feet don't touch the sand. I float along a quiet shoreline. The sterling sea is calm. Without sun or moon this place is neither day nor night, but dusk-like. Through the mist a figure approaches.
     Her body glides towards me. She is draped in shimmering silver, her face expressionless. Her gaze is not at me, but beyond me.
     Curious, I turn, only infinite shoreline. My quivering hands cover my racing heart.
     She seems to sense my fear as she studies me. Large round eyes peer into mine, into my soul. Her blank expression is replaced with tender mercy. Her friendly eyes promise no harm. I am no longer afraid. I can't see, but I feel her smile. She is blissful; her immense joy radiates around her like sparkling crystals.
     My face is now wet from the mist, yet her ivory skin is smooth and dry. Before I can form words, she does.
     "No one can prepare for a time as this. The sun itself fades in brilliance a bit with each passing day. Eyes look but do not see. Purity drains from the hearts of good men. Find the Circle of Sun. A tender seed must push through bitter soil to survive," she says and points behind me. "Let the prints lead you."
     The footprints behind me are mine.
     She interrupts my thoughts.
     "Follow their path to your sun."
     I bask in her radiant warmth as her graceful hand touches my face.
     Her gaze never leaves me as she glides away.
     I watch as she melts into the distance. I want to follow, but she is gone. Few and unclear were her words. All I can do is begin. I turn and take the first step.
     My heavy eyelids open to blurred edges of brilliant color, strange bouquets cover the ceiling. I blink to focus and the scene becomes clear. Taped to the ceiling are vivid crayon-filled pictures, children's artwork thoughtfully placed for those waking up.
     Suddenly a face casts a smile down at me.    
     "Dr. Crenshaw is here to check in on you," says a nurse.
     "Quinn, how are you feeling? Your surgical procedure went very well, and with your recent progress, we can begin to discuss getting you out of here after all of these months. I am sure you are ready," the doctor says.
     I am completely baffled by this conversation and I struggle to communicate. My confusion is obvious to him and he pats my hand. Me? In the hospital for months? I am disconnected to reality, free falling again.
     "You are still groggy, I will be back in the afternoon to check in on you," he says kindly.
     My drowsy state can only mean I am still dreaming. The memory of the misty grey ocean beckons and I remember the mystical place. Desperate to return to the silver shoreline, I fall into sleep hoping to see her again.
     During the next week reality rolls in like an unwelcomed storm. Added to confusion is loss. Alec is gone. Pain permeates every fiber of my being, and the waves of grief crest and ebb. Hikers found us at the bottom of the rock face, Alec dead and me clinging to life. In death, Alec saved my life, his body breaking my fall. I am horrified at the picture this paints in my mind. Alec is gone, and even though I survived the accident, I will need months of recovery. Investigators did not seriously consider what I told them about being pushed. My pink camera was never found, perhaps it never existed. Trauma can produce false memories, they explained. The only logical theory of what happened on the cliff has been difficult to accept. Alec fell and my shock at seeing him dead, caused me to fall too. Although I could not identify who the shadowy figure was, I know it was Alec's voice making me to turn. How is it possible? If he pushed me, how could his body break my fall? I can't put the pieces together. As my body heals, answers elude me. I recall the panic as I approached the edge. I heard Alec's voice behind me saying my name. I was blinded by the sun. I remember hands forcefully pushing me. It's not possible. Alec would never hurt me. I reluctantly accept their version of the accident as reality. Logically it makes sense, so I struggle to recapture my confidence and stabilize my mental state.


Amazon  | BN | Smashwords 




Black Inferno
Circle of Sun Series
Book 2
Kim Luke




Genre: Fiction Fantasy
Date of Publication: March 28, 2015
Number of pages: 218
Cover Artist: Anne and Marshall Tezon
Personal Chapters


Book Description:

The second installment in the Circle of Sun series finds the Guardians on a quest to save a city of innocent souls from potential decimation by illness and some seemingly innocuous chocolates.

As some of the Guardians are battling unseen evil away from home, their former leader and patriarch is falsely imprisoned and his daughter disappears. What does it take to recover another Fidesorb?

The discovery of a secret society of Guardians has created a new reality for Quinn Clarke and her friends in the little riverside town of White Oak. The first Quest with Quinn as the Polaris to the Circle of Sun transports our Guardians to a suspended season in time. Wearing the armor of faith, will they be able to rescue a city of innocent souls spellbound by a faceless enemy? Is the return of tranquility to White Oak after the defeat of the River People only the calm before the storm?

As new ties of friendship are laced, they quickly become restrictive and threatening. A tragic turn of events puts Romulus in danger of losing his freedom, and Sapphire is missing, leaving the Circle of Sun fractured and vulnerable.

Will a victorious Quest cost lives on the home front? What secrets lie within the lush rolling vineyards, hidden oak barrels, the Grand Royce Estate and even Fireside Books?

In the second installment of the Circle of Sun, our characters must grow into courageous defenders of light, if they are to break free of the vast and sticky web of deceit that threatens them. Their goal is to recover another precious Fidesorb so it can be returned to its rightful place in the angelic realms.



Excerpt:
Black Inferno Prologue
     Quinn can't sleep. She takes in the view of the rolling Missouri hills from her window at Royce Estate. At first glance she could be any woman, but Quinn Clarke Royce is no ordinary woman, not any more. Since discovering her family and being chosen as the new Polaris to the Circle of Sun, there is little remaining of her former life. Quinn and those she loves navigate in a new world as Guardians. The lack of sleep is a fraction of the price she will pay while growing into a leadership role that defies reality. Few days remain before the announcement of the Quest. A selected Guardian must accept before knowing any details about the Quest, and only Quinn knows a Quest can take them to a place untouched by the passage of time.
     Her past days of collecting and selling books, merchandizing and marketing, are replaced by a crash course in the angelic realms. She's learned the various ranks of Guardians, Sleepers, Pathfinders and Knights and the existence of Living Stones and how they are used to measure the balance of goodness. Like opening the cover of a book and reading a fantastic tale of the battle between light and dark, her journey now spans the ages.
     Quinn's homeland, identified in the angelic realm as Nadellawick is peaceful this night, but only a short time ago the battle raged, destroying the evil Petulah and her River People. The victory over the darkness and recovery of a missing Fidesorb in Nadellawick was celebrated by everyone except one. A storm brews and bubbles and a thick fog moves in from the river.

Chapter One  
White Oak, Missouri
Present Day

  There is nothing good about a bad dream, except waking up. His new reality is a walking nightmare. The initial shock faded but his hopelessness remains.  The emptiness is constant, his existence black like this moonless night.
     The windshield wipers cannot compete with the driving storm. Wheels careen around a sharp curve high on the bluff. The lost soul pushes harder on the accelerator, inching closer to the white line. Air fills his lungs as he inhales for the last time. A loud and deafening crack of lightening jolts the senses of this broken man and illuminates the road and a figure before him. Thud! A sudden impact thrusts the car into a spin, ripping a path into the opposite ditch. He lies motionless, sprawled across the seat. Regardless of his intent, consciousness returns in fuzzy lined scenes. The engine is dead, but he is not. Headlights show nothing but pellets of rain cutting through the darkness. For a moment he forgets the incident that put him there. Nothing happens when he turns the key. The driver side door can't be opened so he slides to the passenger side for exit. With the vehicle at a steep angle, the weight of the door flies open and dumps him into the saturated roadside.
     Attempts to stand are thwarted by the relentless wind. Not wearing boots his shoes fill with water as he sloshes through the tall grasses. Relieved when his feet reach pavement, he scans the perimeter for a victim. The gusts whip drops that sting, making the search difficult. A flickering light between boulders at the bluffs edge captures his attention. Could it be a signal for help? The massive rock is slippery, but his second attempt finds a small foothold to boost himself up. The boulder places him even higher above the dangerous rim. Unsteady against the punishing winds he crouches down. The source of the mysterious flashing illuminates his wide-eyed gaze and nature muffles his terrified gasp. The empty man searches for signs of life amidst the blood and bits of fur. Motionless, he stands as the familiar moves and reveals itself to him. On this night, seconds before his life should have ended, he finds the reason to go on.

Book Video 

Amazon  | BN  | Smashwords  | Createspace


About the Author:


Author Kim Luke once had to help a customer at her family Christmas tree farm chop down a fresh tree in a business suit and heels. She was comfortable in that attire, the “uniform” of her marketing profession. She was not as comfortable as a Christmas tree farmer, but she’s learned to be supportive in this family endeavor.

The tree farm is located in Missouri, the setting for both of Kim’s two novels in her Circle of Sun series.   A literature major in college, Luke has always enjoyed a good story and loves using her imagination.  Of her many passions, writing has been with her the longest.

The cornerstones in her life are her faith and family. Kim and husband Bob are blessed with three children, incredible in-laws and three grandchildren. The Lukes live with their Alaskan Malamute dog on a beautiful 20 acre farm, where Kim indulges her love of books, coffee, wine and positive thinkers.

Author Links:

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
 

Tour giveaway:
Copy of Book-1
$25.00 Amazon Gift Card

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Spotlight: Heuer Lost and Found by A.B. Funklauser

Heuer Lost And Found
Unapologetic Lives
Book 1
A. B. Funkhauser




Genre: Adult, Contemporary, Fiction,
Metaphysical, Paranormal, Dark Humor
Publisher: Solstice Publishing
Date of Publication:  April 23, 2015
Number of pages:  237
Formats available:  Electronic, Paper Back
Cover Artist: Michelle Crocker

Book Description:

Unrepentant cooze hound lawyer Jürgen Heuer dies suddenly and unexpectedly in his litter-strewn home. Undiscovered, he rages against god, Nazis, deep fryers and analogous women who disappoint him.

At last found, he is delivered to Weibigand Brothers Funeral Home, a ramshackle establishment peopled with above average eccentrics, including boozy Enid, a former girl friend with serious denial issues. With her help and the help of a wise cracking spirit guide, Heuer will try to move on to the next plane. But before he can do this, he must endure an inept embalming, feral whispers, and Enid’s flawed recollections of their murky past.

Is it really worth it?



Available at   



Add it to your Goodreads List

Reviews:

Fresh writing filled with rich vocabulary, this story features a vivid cast of colourful, living-breathing characters. This one will keep you reading late into the night until the final page.—Yvonne Hess, Charter Member, The Brooklin 7

Ms. A.B Funkhauser is a brilliant and wacky writer …Her distinctive voice tells an intriguing story that mixes moral conflicts with dark humor.Rachael Stapleton, Author, The Temple of Indra’s Jewel and Curse of the Purple Delhi Sapphire

The macabre black comedy is definitely a different sort of book! You will enjoy this book with its mixture of horror and humour. —Diana Harrison, Author, Always and Forever

Heuer Lost and Found is a quirky and irreverent story about a man who dies and finds his spirit trapped in a funeral home with an ex-lover who happens to be the mortician. The characterization is rich the story well-told.—Cryssa Bazos, Writer’s Community of Durham Region, Ontario, Canada


Author A. B. Funkhauser strikes a macabre cord with her book "Heuer Lost and Found". I found it to have a similar feel to the HBO series "Six Feet Under".--Young, Author, A Harem Boy’s Saga Vol I, II, and III

Excerpt:
Chapter Two
Two Weeks Ago

The house, like the man who lived in it, was remarkable: a 1950s clapboard-brick number with a metal garage door that needed serious painting. Likewise, the windows, which had been replaced once in the Seventies under some home improvement program, then never again. They were wooden and they were cracked, allowing wasps and other insects inside.

This was of little consequence to him.

The neighbors, whom Heuer prodigiously ignored, would stare at the place. Greek, Italian, and house proud, they found the man’s disdain for his own home objectionable. He could see it on their faces when he looked out at them through dirty windows.

To hell with them.

If the neighbors disapproved of the moss green roof with its tar shingles that habitually blew off, then let them replace it. Money didn’t fall from the sky and if it did, he wouldn’t spend it on improvements to please strangers.

They were insects.

And yet there were times when Jürgen Heuer was forced to compromise. Money, he learned, could solve just about anything. But not where the willful and the pernicious were concerned. These, once singled out, required special attention.

Alfons Vermiglia, the Genovese neighbor next door, had taken great offense to his acacia tree, a towering twenty-five foot behemoth that had grown from a cutting given to him by a lodge brother. The acacia was esteemed in Masonic lore appearing often in ritual, rendering it so much more than just mere tree. In practical terms, it provided relief, offering shade on hot days to the little things beneath it. And it bloomed semi-annually, whimsically releasing a preponderance of white petals that carried on the wind mystical scent—the same found in sacred incense and parfums.

What horseshit.

It was a dirty son of a bitch of a tree that dropped its leaves continuously from spring to fall, shedding tiny branches from its diffident margins. These were covered in nasty little thorns that damaged vinyl pool liners and soft feet alike. They also did a pretty amazing job of clogging Alfons’ pool filter, turning his twenty-five hundred gallon toy pool green overnight.

This chemistry compromised the neighbor’s pleasure and it heightened his passions, blinding Alfons to the true nature of his enemy. He crossed over onto Heuer’s property and drove copper nails into the root system. It was an old trick, Byzantine in its treachery; the copper would kill the tree slowly over time leading no one to suspect foul play.

But Heuer was cagey and suspicious by nature, so when the tree displayed signs of failure, he knew where to look.

The acacia recovered and Alfons said nothing. Heuer planted aralia—the “Devil’s Walking Stick”—along the fence line and this served as an even thornier reminder that he knew. And if there was any doubt at all, he went further by coating his neighbor’s corkscrew hazel with a generous dose of Wipe Out.

Intrusive neighbors and their misplaced curiosities were, by turns, annoying and amusing and their interest, though unwanted, did not go unappreciated. The Greeks on the other side of him weren’t combative in the least and they offered gardening advice whenever they caught him out of doors. The man, Panos, talked politics and cars, and expressed interest in the vehicle that sat shrouded and silent on Heuer’s driveway. He spoke long and colorfully about the glory days of Detroit muscle cars and how it all got bungled and bargained away.

“They sacrificed an industry to please a bunch of big mouths in Hollywood,” Panos would rant in complete disregard for history: Al Gore and Global Warming didn’t kill the GTO; the OPEC oil crisis did. But there was no point in telling him that.

Panos was an armchair car guy and incurable conspiracy theorist. He also kept to his side of the fence, unlike his wife, Stavroula, who was driven by natural instinct. Not content to leave an unmarried man alone, she routinely crossed Heuer’s weedy lawn, banging on the door with offers of food and a good housecleaning.

Heuer had no trouble accepting her cooking. But he declined her brush and broom. Was it kindness, or was she trying to see inside? He suspected the latter.

No one was ever seen entering Heuer’s house and while this piqued public interest, he never gave in, not even to those who were kind to him. He liked Panos and Stavroula and he regretted poisoning their cat.

But not enough to let them in to his home.
Others on the street had less contact with him. Canvassers at election time would disturb him, in spite of the lawn sign warning the solicitous away. That this didn’t apply to neighbor kids brave enough to pedal cookies and magazine subscriptions in spite of the sign, was a testament, perhaps, to some residual soft spot in his heart that endured.

Even so, he knew that people talked about him and, frankly, he had trouble accounting for their fascination. Short, curt, bespectacled, he courted an ethos that favored enforced detachment. When people got close enough to hear him speak, they detected a trace of an accent. Now faded after years of U.S. residency, his speech still bore the unmistakable patterns of someone undeniably foreign. Elaborate, overwrought and heavy on the adverbs, he spoke very much like his neighbors. Yet the distance between them was incalculable…
***
Day 1: Post Mortem

Heuer shook his head, finding it especially odd that he would think of such things at this particular moment. The circumstances, after all, were beyond peculiar. Coming out of thick, dense fog, standing upright, looking wildly around, and having difficulty comprehending, the last thing that should trouble him was human relations.

The man on the floor would have agreed, had he not lacked the resources to speak.

Heuer canvassed his surroundings. The room, still dark, the shades drawn, and the plants Stavroula forced on him, wilted and dry, bespoke of an unqualified sadness. His computer, left on and unattended, buzzed pointlessly in the corner, its screen saver, a multi-colored Spirograph montage, interspersed with translucent images of faceless Bond girls, twisting ad infinitum for an audience of none.

What happened here?

The bottle of Johnnie Black lay open and empty on the bedroom floor, along with a pack of Marlboro’s, gifts from an old friend. The desk chair lay on its side, toppled, in keeping with the rest of the room. His bed sheets were twisted, the pillows on the floor, and there were stains on the walls; strange residues deposited over time representing neglect and a desire to tell.

He looked down at his hands. They kept changing; the veins, wavy, rose and fell like pots of worms.

Trippy.

There was no evidence of eating, however, and this was really weird, for it was in this room that Heuer lived. Flat screens, mounted on the ceiling and on the desktop, kept him in line with the world outside in ways that papers could not. Screens blasted twenty-four and seven with their talking heads and CNN, whereas papers were flat and dirty, suitable only for the bottoms of bird cages. He cancelled the dailies first and then the weeklies, seeing no value whatever in printed words.

Pictures were another matter. Several in paint and charcoal and sepia covered the walls and floors. He loved them all, and he stared at them for hours when he pondered. His beer fridge, humidor, and model rocket collection completed him; housing the things he loved, all within perfect reach.

His senses, though dulled, honed in on a scent, distant yet familiar, coming from inside the room. It was bog-like-foul like a place he’d visited long ago, buried under wood ash. He frowned.
What was the last thing he ate? Did he cook or go for takeout? He wanted to go down to the kitchen to check, but found, to his astonishment, that he could not get past the doorframe into the outer hall.

Nein, das kann nicht sein!—Now this is not right!—he fumed, switching to German. He would do this whenever he encountered static. The spit and sharp of it forced people back because they could not understand what he meant.

Unballing his fists he felt his chest, registering the sensation of “feel”—he could feel “touch,” but he could not locate the beating heart. Consciously knitting his brows, he considered other bodily wants, his legal mind checking and balancing the laws of nature against the laws of the impossible. He could not, for example, feel “hunger” and he wasn’t dying for a drink either.

Was this a mark of passage into the nether? The man on the floor had no comment.

He thought about his bowels and if they needed attention, but that, to his great relief, no longer appeared to matter. Regularity, in recent years, wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. When he was young, he reveled in a good clean out after the morning coffee because it reset his clock and established the tone for the rest of the day. Not so latterly. His prostate had kept its promise, letting him down, enlarging, pressing where it ought naught. Awake most nights, he lost sleep and dreams.

With this in mind, he bounced up and down on the soles of his expensive shoes in an effort to confirm if he was awake or not. Perhaps he was sleepwalking, or heading off to the can for another urinary evacuation that wouldn’t come?

The man on the floor ruled out these options.

He tried the door again, and again, to his dismay, he could not leave.

What to do? What to do?
‘I think, therefore I am,’ went the popular saying, but what good was ‘being’ when one was confined to a bedroom like a rat in a cage?

He struggled to remain calm, just as he became aware of that heavy oppressive feeling one gets before receiving bad news. Pacing back and forth across the ancient floorboards in the house he was born into, he checked for the kinds of incriminating evidence the court of public opinion would hold against him once found. Pornography, loaded handguns, too many candy wrappers all had to be dispatched before someone inevitably broke the door down.

As light turned to dark and day gave over into night, Heuer’s thoughts came faster and faster, in different languages, interspersed with corrugated images, accompanied by generous doses of Seventies rock; a fitting sound track for the old life, now ended.

He fell to his knees. Somewhere in this mélange was something to be grateful for and with time, he was sure, he would figure out what that single, great, thing might be. For now, all he could really do was take comfort in the fact that his death had been perfect.



About the Author:


A.B. Funkhauser is a funeral director, fiction writer and wildlife enthusiast living in Ontario, Canada. Like most funeral directors, she is governed by a strong sense of altruism fueled by the belief that life chooses us and we not it.

“Were it not for the calling, I would have just as likely remained an office assistant shuffling files around, and would have been happy doing so.”

Life had another plan. After a long day at the funeral home in the waning months of winter 2010, she looked down the long hall joining the director’s office to the back door leading three steps up and out into the parking lot. At that moment a thought occurred: What if a slightly life-challenged mortician tripped over her man shoes and landed squarely on her posterior, only to learn that someone she once knew and cared about had died, and that she was next on the staff roster to care for his remains?

Like funeral directing, the writing called, and four years and several drafts later, Heuer Lost and Found was born.

What’s a Heuer? Beyond a word rhyming with “lawyer,” Heuer the lawyer is a man conflicted. Complex, layered, and very dead, he counts on the ministrations of the funeral director to set him free. A labor of love and a quintessential muse, Heuer has gone on to inspire four other full length works and over a dozen short stories.

“To my husband John and my children Adam and Melina, I owe thanks for the encouragement, the support, and the belief that what I was doing was as important as anything I’ve tackled before at work or in art.”

Funkhauser is currently working on a new manuscript begun in November during NaNoWriMo 2014.


Author Links:
Website | Twitter | Facebook 


Tour Giveaway: 
5 signed paperbacks- open to international shipping

Friday, May 8, 2015

Kindle Count Down & Series Spotlight: Roman Time Travel Series by Morgan O'Neill








Love, Eternally
The Roman Time Travel Series
Book 1
Morgan O'Neill


Genre: Time Travel/Historical Romance
Publication Date; February 2015
Publisher: Time's Arrow Productions



About the Book:
A witch's ancient curse propels talented flutist Gigi Perrin back to A.D. 408, to the court of the depraved Roman Emperor Honorius and his admirable sister, Princess Galla Placidia. There, Gigi grapples with her disbelief about what has happened, and with the strange, new world of violent politics, social upheaval and barbarians straining at the very gates of an empire. Through it all, she must struggle with her powerful attraction to a pagan senator and military commander, Quintus Magnus, a man exotically different from anyone she has ever known. On the brink of a dark and war-torn age, Gigi joins forces with Magnus, battling to save a princess and her people, and ultimately finding love amid the chaos, before the fall of Rome.  

Only 99ȼ Amazon



After the Fall
The Roman Time Travel Series
Book 2
Morgan O'Neill




Genre: Time Travel/Historical Romance
Publication Date; February 2015
Publisher: Time's Arrow Productions



About the Book:
After the Fall ratchets up the tension as time traveler Gigi Perrin and her husband, the Roman warrior Quintus Magnus, join forces with the Visigoth King Alaric to march on Rome. There waits Princess Galla Placidia, the admirable sister of the despicable Emperor Honorius. About to be forced into an arranged marriage by her brother, Placidia fears a bleak future, trapped in a loveless union.
In an attempt to save Rome from barbarian invasion, Placidia puts aside her troubles and meets with Alaric’s delegation, which includes Gigi and Magnus, and the king’s second-in-command, the Visigoth prince, Athaulf. The attraction between Placidia and Athaulf is instantaneous and overwhelming, but theirs is a forbidden love, destined to fail because of implacable politics and impending war.
Bound by a friendship that transcends time, Gigi and Placidia must do whatever they can to protect the men they love, after the fall of Rome.

Kindle Countdown Sale Price 99ȼ Amazon  



Return to Me
The Roman Time Travel Series
Book 3
Morgan O'Neill



Genre: Time Travel/Historical Romance
Publication Date; February 2015
Publisher: Time's Arrow Productions



About the Book:
Return to Me finds time traveler Gigi Perrin happily settled into twenty-first century life with her husband, the former Roman senator and military commander, Quintus Magnus. Gigi has resumed her successful musical career, playing the flute for her adoring fans, while making her first foray into Hollywood by creating the musical score for a feature film about the Roman emperor Nero.
At the film’s wrap party, Gigi is presented with a gift to commemorate her work: an ancient Roman ring depicting the goddess Victoria. Stunned, she and Magnus recognize it as the very ring that brought them together, and the one subsequently stolen from her and lost in A.D. 410. How did it make its way back to them? Magnus believes the answer is clear; Victoria sent it as a warning about their dear friend, Princess Galla Placidia. They start researching what happened to Placidia after Gigi and Magnus time traveled from the barbarous fifth century. To their shock, they discover Placidia's life took a series of terrible turns, culminating with the murders of her children.
Realizing they have no other choice, Gigi and Magnus prepare to embark on a perilous quest to go back in time and rescue them. But one ominous question remains – how can they save the children without altering the course of history?







About the Authors:

A chance meeting at a writers' conference brought Cary Morgan Frates and Deborah O'Neill Cordes together, two award-winning authors who connected because of a mutual love of time travel fiction. Collaboration ensued, the search for a pen name the first step in their working relationship. Their maiden names provided the solution - and "Morgan O'Neill" was born. 

Cary and Deborah's backgrounds are uniquely suited to writing stories steeped in atmosphere and history: Deborah has a Master's Degree in history and is a dedicated genealogist; Cary is a talented linguist in French and is currently a student of Latin. They've traveled to Europe's ancient and medieval sites many times, with Cary living on the Continent for five years. 
The Morgan O'Neill time travel novels have received a number of literary awards, including two finalist wins in the Booksellers' Best Awards, two semifinalist wins in the William Faulkner-William Wisdom Creative Writing Competition, first, second, and third place wins for the Mainstream Novel with Strong Romantic Elements category of the Golden Rose Contest, a top ten finalist award in the Pacific Northwest Writers' Conference Zola Awards Literary Contest, and a top ten finalist win in the Orange Rose Contest. 

Author Links:


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Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Book Spotlight and Giveaway: Duke by Candace Blevins

Duke
Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club
Book 1
Candace Blevins



Genre: Motorcycle Club, Paranormal Romance
Publisher:  Excessica
Date of Publication:
Word Count:  105,000 words
Cover Artist:  Syneca Featherstone


Book Description:

Book one of the Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club...

Duke’s friend’s little sister had been off limits when they were growing up, but Gen is all woman now, with the sexiest curves ever. However, bringing her into his life now, as the new Rolling Thunder chapter establishes itself as a powerhouse in Chattanooga, would put her in danger.

Gen has no idea she already knows one of the bikers until she arrives to show them some downtown properties they’re looking to buy.

They live in different worlds, and despite being a successful businesswoman, Gen has led a sheltered life. She wears couture, while Duke wears Levi jeans and his MC colors on a black leather vest. Not to mention, he's a werewolf and she's a blissfully unaware human. Can two people, so different, possibly work?

Warning: Graphic sex, and a controlling, drop-dead gorgeous werewolf who happens to be president of a motorcycle club.

This book is also part of the Kirsten O’Shea Universe, but reading the other series in Kirsten’s Universe is not  necessary in order to enjoy the Motorcycle Club books.

Amazon

Other Books by Candace

Only Human series (Urban Fantasy)

* Only Human (Feb 20, 2015)
* Book two - title tba (late 2015)

Chattanooga Supernaturals (Paranormal Romance)

* The Dragon King (winter 2015)
* Riding the Storm (spring 2015)
* Acceptable Risk (June 2015)
  
Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club

* Duke (spring 2015)

Safeword Series

* Safeword: Rainbow
* Safeword: Davenport
* Safewords: Davenport and Chiffon
* Safeword: Quinacridone
* Safeword: Matte
* Safeword: Matte - In Training
* No Safeword: Matte - The Honeymoon
* No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After
* Safeword: Arabesque


About the Author:
Candace Blevins lives with her husband of 17 years and their two daughters. When not working or driving kids all over the place she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming.

Candace writes BDSM  Romance, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and a smokin’ hot Motorcycle Club series.

Her Safeword Series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each book in the Safeword series highlights a couple with a different BDSM issue to resolve. Books are standalone and can be read in any order, with the exception of the two Davenport books, and the four Matte books.

Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, as well as a variety of other mythological beings exist.

Candace's paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals, is a sister series to the Only Human series, and gives some secondary characters their happily ever after.


Author Links:
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Tour giveaway:
2 ebook copies of The Dragon King, winner’s choice of epub, mobi, or pdf.