Urban Fantasy Author
Book Bling Blog
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time. Be sure to link to this page and display the badge in your post. Let’s rock the neurotic writing world! Our Twitter hashtag is #IWSG
The awesome co-hosts for the June 1 posting of the IWSG will be Murees Dupe, Alexia Chamberlynn, Chemist Ken, and Heather Gardner!
Driving Ms. Crazy An Adventure in Terror
I am driving myself crazy. Yup. Just call me Ms. Crazy. I have finally begun writing again in earnest. That's the good part. I write at least a little almost every day. That's the better part. So I am actually going somewhere. I write action/adventure fantasy so it takes place all over the globe--which requires a lot of research and imagination. I just wish it could all be in person. I write romance so the chapters often switch back and forth between H & H and location to location, which takes some creative focus and plotting for a pantser who happens to be ADHD and often has to work on her own writing in choppy, fragmented moments in time, like many writers with busy lives and work obligations. I want to just get it all down on paper and then go back and revise. I do. Honestly. I know I should. I know I must. But I can't. I have changed from first to third person. I have rearranged scenes. I have fleshed out scenes and done rewrites. I am driving myself crazy. But that is behind me now. I swear. I am now going to move forward and just write, without looking back...without looking back all the time. Okay, without looking back so much...as much, hardly ever. Is there a twelve-step program for perfectionist writers?
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors, the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday 05/28/16 and 9:00 AM on Sunday 05/29/16. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8sunday posts or snippetsunday!
I've been sharing from my current WIP Book 2 of my Illuminati series, The Tree of Life. This week mommy dearest, Isis is here and you will see two sides of her. You will also see how the family feels about another member of the family, Hassidim, for lack of a better desciption, Luc's self-appointed valet! He's a favorite with many readers from book 1. BEWARE creative punctuation to meet sentence guidelines ahead.... Also, a friend's raffle copter shared below for some free gcs and reads.
“There is little I can say to defend my lack of rest, you’re right; I’ve been driven beyond reason, and beyond rest, but thank you for healing my exhaustion, both mental and physical, mother.”
“What mother would do less for her child,” Isis said tenderly.
Quite apparently summoned by Isis, both by the timing of her arrival and the way Isis paused and glanced at the door, Nalini entered.
“Ah, and now you must eat, my little flower,” Isis said.
“Hassidim is here and has been overseeing things because he fears you have not been taken care of properly and cook has prepared your favorite foods to tempt you, Kirin,” Nalini confirmed.
“Hassidim is here?” Kirin laughed, and clapped her hands as she glanced at Luc, chuckled and said, “Oh, he will hate your housing facilities, but oh well, there is no hope for it then for I must obey. Thankfully, I am starving.”
The door closed with a solid metallic thud behind the two women and Isis nearly hissed, “Anubis,” and nodded to her son, “hold the woman still. Help him, Ljluka,” she commanded, using the true form of her sons’ names.
I hope you enjoyed this week's snippet! I am off to run my first race in AZ! Yikes! Be sure to visit the other fine Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday authors! And enter to win the GC and other prizes on my friend's giveaway below!
Here’s the link to the Weekend Writing Warriors central page, so you can visit all the participants sharing excerpts today…a fun way to sample new books and find new authors! (Also welcome to the Sunday Snippet visitors!)
Last week in my weekly snippet from my WIP Rodrigo discovered that there were Zombies in the rainforest, created by his former partners who were testing experimental drugs on the forest natives. In this snippet, Isis has arrived and is observing Kirin at work.
Her lavender silk gown flows softly behind her as Isis approaches the bedside on noiseless leather sandals.
A young forest maiden thrashes upon the gurney. In an effort to prevent her from injuring herself, they limit her movement with the use of a multitude of strappings at her neck, mid-drift, waist, thighs, shins, ankles, biceps and wrists. She conducts an orchestra of click-clanks with the metal O-rings of her padded restraints, playing them all at random, disjointed intervals. The sound is disturbing in the small chamber.
Kirin seems impervious to the metallic melody as she instead stands before a machine putting out more measured electronic beeps and studies jagged, moving lines on an illuminated display next to the bed, her face pale from weeks underground. She taps the screen of a personal computer tablet in her hand, scribbles a notation and sighs. Fine lines of concern furrow her porcelain forehead as she frowns. Dark smudges under her eyes bear witness to the countless hours she has spent in the lab and in this and other clinical rooms nearby, trying to reverse the damage caused by the serum Set’s minions have administered. For most of them, my help will mean little more than allowing them the dignity of death, Kirin admits sadly.
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors, the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts. Spread the word, share the love, warriors. Twitter hashtag #8sunday.
Be sure to visit the great authors on the facebook #SnippetSunday group too!
Last week in my WIP, Book 2 of my Illuminati series, The Tree of Life, Kirin had called upon her mother, the goddess, Queen Isis, a perfect scene for Mother's Day.
This week, we shift to the hero, Rodrigo, who owns a sizeable pharmaceutical conglomerate and now has a healthy distrust of both Kirin and her family who not only kidnapped him and stole a specimen from his lab (claiming it had been stolen from them) he also distrusts their long-time enemy (his new partner), a drug cartel who have apparently implanted a tracking device under his skin without his knowledge and are using his research drugs on human subjects. His party, including a lifelong friend and media mogul, Jose, are in the rainforest, searching where he had once done research with his reportedly untrustworthy new partners, trying to find unwilling test subjects Kirin claimed were to be found there. It's the middle of the night and unfortunately his men have just killed a sick forest tribesman who stumbled into their camp and refused to halt or identify himself. Rodrigo had them put his body into the back of a pickup until morning, but there seems to be a problem. His men call him over, terrified at what's happening...
The bloodied blue tarp no longer covered the near-naked forest dweller. Rodrigo opened his mouth to explain about postmortem spasms, and his mouth remained open, but no words came out because instead he could only stare in disbelief.
He was a doctor, a researcher, so he had seen disease, suffering, death, all stages of life, but what he saw before him had no name, no words, no explanation...this tribesman his men had killed couldn’t have survived their attack because they had put round upon round into his body. Yet his eyes were open, the corneas opaque as if they were not receiving oxygen, moisture or blood flow; the pupils were dilated to a point of overtaking his irises with an unseeing blue-white haze, though they were indeed the eyes of a corpse, they were more in keeping with a body that had been a cadaver for far longer than the few minutes this man had been reposed in the back of this pickup, and the biggest problem was that he was no longer reposed.
His movements couldn’t be dismissed as spasms because the feather-wearing native was trying to rise, to escape the confines of the contoured plastic bed-liner with its blood-streamed crevices, empty water bottles, and crumpled beer cans. Thrashing from side to side, his movements violent in their neurological resurgence, he managed to tumble onto his side with his hands on the floor of the bed; downward dog, a mighty thrust and he was up, staggering in that same disjointed, awkward gait, as if he had never died.
Walking as if he wasn’t already dead.
“Zombie,” Carlos cried, putting into words what no one else had dared to even think.
“Mãe de Deus, nos proteja,” Jose muttered, backing away, Mother of God, protect us, the media mogul in him dug instinctively in his pocket with shaky fingers, fumbling for a cell with a camera.
In a wicked game, the God of Love falls to his own arrow, and a gentle scholar learns how dangerous knowledge can be.
Aphrodite has had it.
It was bad enough that her son Eros walked a fashion show in drag, but did he really have to show the entire world his wings? Desperate to rein in the impulsive young god, she recruits the scholarly muse Rees to lure him back to Olympus until the scandal dies down.
After hundreds of years, Eros has finally located the reincarnation of his former love, Psyche. The only way to her heart is through fame, so the God of Love plans a daring campaign to win her back. Yet the closer he gets to Psyche, the more he’s drawn to a geeky young professor who came crashing into his life.
Eros drags Rees into his wicked world of high fashion and risqué parties, only to expose him to danger from an unexpected source. When Rees’ secrets come out, they threaten to destroy Eros’ love for him. Yet when Rees is kidnapped, Eros is forced to turn to the woman who set this catastrophe in motion—his mother, Aphrodite.
Reader Advisory: This book contains some scenes of kidnapping/captivity and graphic scenes of death and violence. This book also contains references to/discussions of rape.
Pride Publishing: https://www.pride-publishing.com/book/the-tenth-muse
He looked up and relief flooded through him—Eros strode down the hall. He was clad in a long black coat over jeans and a T-shirt. Oddly, his hair was messy and one eye seemed swollen. There was a slight bruise at the corner of his mouth, making it a little lopsided.
The feeling of dread returned. His entire existence narrowed down to the blond god approaching him, and once again, he was dizzy. Everything was about to change.
He broke away from the other two, briefly forgetting their presence. “Is everything all right?” He reached and brushed his fingers against the injury, and Eros flinched away.
Gods didn’t bruise easily.
“Why do you think something’s wrong?”
Even Eros’ voice was odd…strained. “Just one question, Rees. Did she send you? Did my mother send you for me?”
“W-what?” His heart crashed. For an eternity, maybe longer, they stood staring at each other, oblivious to Barry and Elena. It took Rees a moment to recover, then he took Eros by the arm and led him into the makeup room.
“Don’t bother to deny it, you may be good at deception, but you aren’t very good at the outright lie. The truth is on your face.”
Eros waited, gazing at Rees, and what little hope that lingered in his eyes withered and died. Rees was at a loss for words. How did he explain…how did he justify his actions?
“Yes. She hired me to keep an eye on you. To keep you out of the tabloids. She was—”
“Fuck!” Eros shook him off, walking away. It didn’t matter that he gave Rees his back, he could see the god’s furious image reflected back in dozens of mirrors.
“Who hurt you, Eros?”
He turned, facing Rees. “What else?”
Rees swallowed, his mouth suddenly parched. “She wants you to go home. To Olympus. I explained about Psyche, so she agreed to give you more time. Rumors are beginning to spread, though. Both here and…there. We were trying… We were trying to keep it from Ares.”
Obviously, they’d failed.
Eros stood, his golden head bowed. When he looked up, his blue eyes glittered. He laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and angry.
“Of course, it was all for my own good. The timing was perfect. I was able to fob off Ares with the promise of good behavior. I believe I might also have agreed to spend time with him…learning.”
“No.” Rees shook his head in denial. “You don’t belong with him.” The thought of Eros at the mercy of the God of War…it sickened him. “Eros, you know what you did. You know Aphrodite did the best she could. You may be immortal, but that doesn’t make you immune from the wrath of the pantheon.”
He stepped forward, reaching out, and Eros backed away. He let his hand drop.
“Did my mother suggest that you seduce me? Brilliant plan, except that she had to realize how…how furious I’d be when I found out.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I find that at the moment, I hate my mother. I hate you too. The difference is, in time I’ll forgive her, because I know she acted out of love. You though…”
“I do, Eros. I didn’t lie. I lo—”
“Stop! Don’t say it.” Eros took a step back. And another. “I packed your things and sent them to your hotel. I’m sure you won’t need the room, you can just flash back to wherever you came from.”
“I can’t, Eros. I have no powers, not anymore.”
Eros rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll manage. Aphrodite must have you covered in some way, right? Now move out of my way so I can leave.” He blinked rapidly, tears filling his brilliant eyes. “I can’t believe she was so stupid to send you and not realize I’d figure it out. And you know what gave it all away?”
Wordlessly, Rees shook his head.
“Your friend out there…Barry. He said…he said you’re like a muse. And I didn’t really understand the literal fact. But you are, aren’t you? A Muse?”
Rees shook his head. He pressed a hand to the wall, fighting to stay on his feet. “My sisters, they are. I’m just a teacher.”
Eros stared at him, an expression of near-horror on his face. “Gods. You’re the son of Mnemosyne and Zeus. You’re a full-on fucking god. You’re literally the Tenth Muse. Too reclusive to walk among the humans or even to visit Olympus. You came from your gleaming castle in the Elysian Fields just for me. I’m so honored.”
He pressed a hand over his heart and gave a mocking bow. He then edged past Rees as though he were something repulsive. “Go back to your life in those shining heavens. Bother me no more, Rees, or I promise you’ll know the revenge of Eros, and it will not be pretty.”
Belinda was born in Inglewood, California, but grew up far to the north in the shadow of Mt. Shasta. While her upbringing seemed pretty normal to her, she was surrounded by a fascinating array of friends and family, including various cowboys, hippies, scoundrels and saints.
She has a degree in history and cultural anthropology, but in 2006 made the life-changing decision to quit her job as a public health paraprofessional and stay at home full time to care for her severely disabled niece. This difficult decision gave Belinda the gift of time, which allowed her to return to writing fiction, which she’d abandoned years before.
Belinda’s hobbies include soap making, dog shows, collecting gemstones, travel, and Chinese martial arts. She has two daughters, three Siberian Huskies, two Salukis, and an array of wild birds that visit the feeders in the front yard.
As an author, Belinda loves crossing genres, kicking taboos to the curb, and pulling from world mythology and folklore for inspiration. She won the Passionate Plume in science fiction for her m/m romance An Uncommon Whore and the EPIC in paranormal romance for Blacque/Bleu, and in science fiction for The Bacchi. She, along with co-authors Cherise Sinclair and Sierra Cartwright were nominated for an RT Reviewer’s Choice Award.
I like to say that I've never met a mythological being I didn't love and McBride's are no exception. If the Greek gods were driven by larger than life human characteristics and emotions (and they were), then McBride has captured the essence and flavor, the essential mythos of the genre in this character-driven story.
One can’t help but appreciate the passion and anger the main character, Eros, feels as he experiences the betrayal and disappointment only centuries of longing and denial of his true love can produce, and McBride portrays his emotion in a believable way and sets the scene for the sequence of rather spectacular events that follow. It's a love story, after all, his long lost love, Psyche, that he feels he can't live without that leads him to earth where he meets a new love, Rees, (secretly sent by his mother to seduce and bring him home) who he thinks he doesn't care about, until he realizes he does.
There are other gods and demi-gods and muses and amusements and world-building aplenty to keep you rooting for your next favorite role players in this series, because between fashion model cross-dressing and love interest gender-swapping, the main character in this novel plays no favorites at all and shoots his arrows wherever they fly. This romance novel is certainly not for the gender-friender shy.
Book Bling gives this 4 stars!
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors, the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday 05/07/16 and 9:00 AM on Sunday 05/08/16. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8sunday posts.
I have been sharing from my WIP, Book 2 of my Illuminati series, The Tree of Life. Just so I don't leave you hanging, Rodrigo managed to escape by jumping from a helicopter into the rooftop pool, just as they were taking off, at the last minute. This scene takes place in a laboratory hidden within an overgrown ancien ruin within the rainforest. In honor of Mother's Day I have chosen a snippet that fits the occasion!
What Would Mother Do?
“These were forest people, from remote, scattered tribes, and I've no idea how many more have fallen victim to the disease.”
“I’m afraid you’re right to be concerned, Kirin,” Luc said, walking up to join them. “We just had a call from Andrew and the problem may be bigger than just that Set infected more victims, because Andrew thinks the infection has gone viral at a molecular level and is mutating and spreading of its own volition.”
“It may already be too late," she said softly. Then she did the thing that all the immortal children of Isis both feared to do and yet dared not fail to do immediately whenever they encountered a catastrophic problem. She called out, “Mother,” knowing wherever in all the world her mother was she would immediately hear and respond.
It was the knowledge of her love for them and her almost limitless power her children depended upon, but it was the uncertainty of her mood and response to their handling of the catastrophe they had been sent to deal with that made Kirin hesitate.
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time. Be sure to link to this page and display the badge in your post.
Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!
The awesome co-hosts for the May 4 posting of the IWSG will be Stephen Tremp, Fundy Blue, MJ Fifield, Loni Townsend, Bish Denham, Susan Gourley, and Stephanie Faris!
Take a Chance, Win a Prize
So I took a chance, and attended the Saguaro Chapter of the RWA (The Tucson branch of the National Romance Writers Association) meeting, my first gathering of writers since moving from Michigan to Arizona four years ago. As luck, fate, timing, the spin of the wheel would have it, I ended up seated next to a fellow paranormal writer and a table full of writers who didn't spit or bite or throw things at me (at least not at this first meeting-though I hold out hope they may learn to be less restrained later on).
A very review-savvy author (who wisely never reads her own) discussed getting out there and just doing it, review-wise, and two dare-devil-card-may-care authors demonstrated using various tarot decks to build plot bridges. This long-time reviewer and tarot reader found both sessions interesting and the writing gab provided well-needed savory bits for this writer's soul.
I also discovered one of the members is a nutso extreme running/obstacle course enthusiast, like many of my buddies back in MI! And, some of the paranormal writers are forming a new paranormal critique group, like the one I left behind in MI! The Tucson group is a very large, active group, but their seating is small, round tables, so intimate groupings that lend themselves to quiet conversations during lunch. Not everyone at my table bothered to speak to me or introduce themselves, excited to see their friends and catch up with them at this once a month meeting, but most did, and most were kind enough to even introduce me to others in the extended group who wrote in the same genre, or shared some same interest, during the break.
I just may find a niche with this group. I have received some emails and offers to join a new critique group. I feel that I can take another chance and it won't require me to get "out there" in an uncomfortable way until I become used to getting to know a few people from the group better first. Starting over really does mean you can keep old friends and make new ones too! I feel much encouraged for having taken a chance. It's a good thing I had an old friend to push me into making new ones!
When an old friend disappears, Martin learns nothing is what it seems…
Martin Russell can barely face the future. With dismal life prospects and an estranged family, he is at the end of his rope. When an old friend, Hannah, elbows her way back into his life, Martin’s luck begins to turn around.
Hidden within the shadows of evil, there must be some good…
Ex-policeman Bobby Tanner lost everything one rage-filled night. Now he runs a reading group for alcoholics where he meets a young drug dealer, Zack, who disturbs him in a way that’s hard to define. Bobby soon discovers the teenager is in over his head and has been dealing with a despicable individual known as The Chemist.
The roots of evil run deeper than we imagine…
Martin’s lucky streak begins to unravel when Hannah suddenly goes missing, and he turns to a friend of a friend, Bobby, for help. Thrust into an underworld empire of corruption and half-truths, he learns his friend may not be who he thought she was.
In a shadowed world of deception, stalkers, and despicable drug dealers, Bobby and Martin must uncover the truth, and fast…
Several lives depend on it.
A large part of The Chemist’s wealth came from something that started out as a petty sideline but now provided an ever increasing income—money lending, loan sharking, pawn broking. It served a double purpose. Obviously it created wealth, but it also increased the footfall of deprived humanity passing through the front door of Shortcross Drive. This meant that when the police did a stop-and-search on visitors leaving The Chemist’s house, all they found were small amounts of cash in new white envelopes. Positive feedback within the local police force went up the line, and it was duly noted that local drug related problems were on the decline. Statistics made fine reading at County Hall and everyone was happy. No matter how much Mario increased the interest rates to his borrowers, people paid their debts. It was an undisputed fact. No matter how much financial difficulty The Chemist’s borrowers were in, they always found a way to pay up. If anybody at County Hall had bothered to correlate the figures, they could surely not have missed the numbers showing that criminal break-ins and burglaries within a twenty mile radius had increased even more markedly.
The largest amount Mario had ever lent to one person was £1,000. It went to a young local tearaway who was quite happy to agree to repay Mario the sum of £1,200 within three days. The young thug duly turned up on the Friday with the cash and a nice bottle of champagne to go with it. Next day, while Mario was sitting down with his copy of The Sun, he read that there had been a robbery at a Post Office in the Peak District, and that the Post Mistress was in a coma after being attacked with a sledge hammer. The paper stated that the thieves got away with over £6,000. Mario felt something akin to parental pride. Mario carried on lending monkeys and tons to his regulars until he received a phone call that came out of the blue. The request came as something of a shock, even to Mario’s fireproof ears.
“Hello, my name’s Jeremy. I’d rather not go into any more detail over the phone, but I was given your name by Eddie Parsons.”
Eddy Parsons, The Peak District thief.
The rather snooty voice continued, “I want to borrow ten-thousand pounds for ten days. I can pay you back the second of next month. Guaranteed.”
It was a strange and twisting road that led to the publication of my first novel. From my humble beginnings, as an office clerk, to ownership of a multi-million dollar business I always maintained my love for literature.
Born and raised in Bristol, England. I spent most of my life in business, my companies turning over in the region of $500 million. The majority of that time marketing cars, eventually owning the largest Saab specialist in the world, before a bitter divorce forced me rethink my priorities. Particularly between 2003 and 2005 when I had to accept that I was no longer a millionaire but literally penniless. I avoided bankruptcy by the skin of my teeth and slowly rebuilt my life.
This led me to the life changing decision to leave the bustling city and move to live halfway up a mountain in the Welsh valleys. At the same time I started a part time six year English Literature course at Bristol University, and attended creative writing classes at Cardiff University. I left school at sixteen and this was my first taste of further education and an immense challenge.
I eventually adjusted my thinking to the academic life, and on 30 June 2015 had confirmation of my 2.1(Hons) degree from Bristol University. At the same time I also won the prestigious Hopkins Prize for my essay on Virginia Woolf and the unsaid within her text. Now the university courses are finished it will, with any luck, gives me plenty of extra time that I can devote to my fiction writing.
Thanks to the university experiences, my interest in English literature has flourished over recent years. Hopefully I have evolved as a writer from my earlier work in short stories (over ninety of them.) Although interestingly my first three novels have all been developed from a long forgotten short story.
Life is, once again, very good, and I live very happily halfway up a mountain, in the Welsh Valleys, with my wonderful partner Mari, and our rescue dog Wolfie.
Enter to Win!
When American Indians from the future move their entire island nation to our Earth, Ell Harmon makes the first alien contact. The take-charge Seattle biologist has yearned to find intelligent aliens, and her dream comes true when she meets Prince Tro Eaglesbrood.
Ell and Tro are quarantined together, while the fearful world wonders whether the newcomers are friends or foes, neighbors or conquerors. Ell knows Tro is honorable and Kwadrans are peaceful … but how to convince the world?
They broadcast a show, which she flippantly titles Alien Contact for Idiots. Every day, Ell interviews Tro and tries to humanize Kwadrans. The show is wildly popular, and the romance developing on-screen between Ell and Tro reassures the world. If a smart woman like her can fall for a Kwadran, they must not be monsters, right?
But Tro’s duty lies with his people, and soon that duty threatens not only the show but Ell’s heart -- as well as the peace and survival of our world.
When Ell turned to leave, Tro placed his hand on the wall between her and the door. "What are you doing?" she asked in a small voice.
She was small and fragile. Her gentle fragrance enveloped Tro in a cloud of swarming, buzzing sensations. He touched her cheek, smooth and warm. Many women's cheeks felt smooth and warm—but this was different. Ell's skin transmitted something unknown and unexpected, something from a long-forgotten dream of youth and innocence. Maybe it was that she hailed from an alien Earth alien, or the memory of her law-abiding robe. Perhaps it wasn't her at all, but an enchantment stemming from the magical transformation of disaster into the anticipation of a woman's embrace.
Whatever it was, he wanted more. He slid his hand to her neck, causing the lapels of her robe to part. A sliver of cleavage escaped from hiding and peeked shyly out at him. That narrow ribbon of flesh, dimly seen in the shadows, inflamed his desire more than full nudity. He cupped her nape, exposing more cleavage. Running his fingers into her hair, he urged her toward him.
"Tro," she demanded, her voice louder, "what are you doing?" She knew, surely, yet her stern demeanor commanded a response.
Oh, very well, then. "Something really bad," he whispered, "for a really, really good reason."
He lowered his mouth toward hers.
What kind of guy writes romance? A guy who married his high school sweetheart a week after graduation and still lives the HEA decades later. A guy who’s a certifiable Harlequin hero—he inspired Vicki Lewis Thompson’s Rita Award finalist Mr. Valentine, which is dedicated to him.
Ed started out writing contemporary romances for Silhouette Books, but these days he concentrates on science fiction romance. He’s been a teacher, principal, technical writer, salesman, janitor, and symphonic oboist. He and wife Judi live in Tucson, Arizona. They have three sons, a daughter, a mutt, and the galaxy’s most adorable grandson. Visit him at http://eahoornaert.com
Ell Harmon is a Seattle biologist who has always wanted to find intelligent life from another planet, but she may have gotten more than she hoped for when she meets Prince Tro Eaglesbrood, an American Indian from the future who must move his entire island nation to earth.
Ed Hoornaert demonstrates his ability to incorporate humor into his writing in a unique and entertaining way in this sci-fi romance. The scientist and alien are quarantined together while the terrified world waits to see if the aliens are friend or foe, so Ell broadcasts a show which she titles Alien Contact for Idiots. She interviews Tro and tries to humanize Kwadrans (the alien American Indians). And of course one can't fail to see the twisted humor of calling American Indians from the future aliens on planet earth.
Their budding romance reassures the human populace, but the Prince's loyalty lies with his own people. Nothing ever runs as smoothly as one hopes.
There's a lot going on, so take your time settling in or you may miss some important details in the initial world-building. The characters are worth getting to know.
Book Bling gives this a solid 4 Stars!
Alien Contact for Idiots will be $0.99 during the tour.
Amazon Canada http://www.amazon.ca/Alien-Contact-Idiots-Edward-Hoornaert-ebook/dp/B00TRRRBY0/
Amazon UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00TRRRBY0/
Amazon Australia http://www.amazon.com.au/Alien-Contact-Idiots-Edward-Hoornaert-ebook/dp/B00TRRRBY0/
Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/alien-contact-for-idiots-edward-hoornaert/1122134901?ean=2940151968041
Kobo Books https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/alien-contact-for-idiots
When we left off in my WIP, Book 2 of my Illuminati series, The Tree of Life, Kirin and her brothers were at The Magic Ball in Rio and their enemy had just discovered they were there because the scientist they kidnapped, drugged and took to the ball with them is wearing a tracking device...so instead of rushing up the elevator to their penthouse suites they're headed to the ballroom to get lost in the crush...
He stayed close behind as she wove her way through the throng of bystanders and then darted straight onto the dance floor, swinging around to clasp him against herself, and then spin away to the flash-paced rhythm of a Brazilian Samba.
“I’ll explain later. I’m sorry, but if you want to get out of here alive, follow my lead,” she said into his ear as she gyrated in front of him.
“Shouldn’t I be leading?” he quipped, surprising Kirin by raising her hand above her head and spinning her away, then quickly pulling her back against him and showing off some amazingly sensual moves for a man who spent much of his life in front of a microscope.
The scientist pulled her up against his chest, nearly knocking her breath away, and not just because she was surprised by his sudden movement. The gleaming challenge in his eyes bore into hers as he looked down at her. She could imagine the mocking smile behind his mask, and she met his swiveling pelvis with her own sashaying hips, daring him to continue the knee-pumping, core-flexing duel. Encouraged, he stalked her movements like a predator, the fluidity of his movements measured and seductive. Kirin, breathless and impressed, laughed up at her handsome captive.
I blog there the 18th of each month!
Elizabeth Alsobrooks's books on Goodreads
Illuminati - The Book of Life
ratings: 12 (avg rating 4.33)
Illuminati: The Book of Life
ratings: 5 (avg rating 4.80)
The Keeper's Secret: Tell-Tale Publishing's Annual Horror Anthology
ratings: 2 (avg rating 5.00)
2016 NaNoWriMo Winner!
My Newest Release
An Amazon Bestseller!
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