Showing posts with label Blog Tour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blog Tour. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

A Madaris Bride For Christmas Blog Tour and Giveaway!




Synopsis:

IN HER 100TH BOOK, NEW YORK TIMES AND USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR blends heated sensuality and drama into a dazzling new novel featuring one of her most unforgettable Madaris heroes yet…

One by one, Madaris men have surrendered to the matchmaking schemes of Felicia Laverne Madaris, matriarch of the family. But Lee Madaris isn't letting anyone else control his destiny. He'll bring a bride of his own choosing to the family's holiday gathering—if his hotel's gorgeous new chef will agree to a marriage of convenience.

It's not just the chance to work at the Strip's hottest hotel that brought Carly Briggs to Vegas. Witnessing a crime in Miami may have made her a mob target. Though she's reluctant to complicate their working relationship, Lee's tempting offer is so hard to resist. And soon, desire is clouding their no-strings arrangement.

The danger that made Carly flee Miami is about to land at their door. So Carly and Lee must decide who to trust, when to let go—and whether a love they never anticipated is strong enough to pass the ultimate test.

About the author:

A New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling and award-winning author of more than seventy-five romance titles, Brenda is a recent retiree who divides her time between family, writing and traveling with her husband.

Connect with Brenda online at her website and Facebook.

Giveaway:  I am so excited - I have two print copies of Bride for Christimas to give away to anyone in the US or Canada.  Just leave a comment (and your email) letting me know if you have ever attended a holiday wedding?  Giveaway ends 12/10/2013 at midnight (EST).

Excerpt:
Lee Madaris glanced at the clock on his wall before rubbing away the tension forming in the back of his neck. Although it was nearing midnight, he was still in his office working. It was imperative that he do so.

Five potential investors would be arriving tomorrow and spending four days at the Grand MD Vegas hotel. He would be catering to them at a level that was unprecedented. The five men had enough cumulative capital to balance the national budget, if they'd chosen to do so. However, balancing the national budget wasn't Lee's goal. His objective was to get them to invest in his next hotel—the Grand MD Paris.

After the success of the Grand MD Dubai, as well as all the attention the hotel in Vegas had received since opening its doors four months ago, a number of investors were ready to provide funds for his next venture. But he didn't want just anyone; he wanted men willing to take a chance on a hotel that would be astonishingly different from its two predecessors. It would be a hotel of the future.

Both Grand MD hotels had been Madaris-Di Meglio joint ventures—highly successful and breaking sales records. But the third hotel, the one planned for Paris, France, would use state-of-the-art technology while maintaining the rich architectural design Paris was known for.

Lee's cousin and the architect in the family, Slade Madaris, had designed the first two Grand MDs and would likewise design the one proposed for Paris. Slade's design was nothing short of a masterpiece and would be unveiled at one of the meetings this week. Slade's twin brother, Blade, would be the structural engineer. No two Grand MD hotels would look the same. Each would have its own unique architecture and appeal.

Pulling in a deep breath, Lee returned his attention to the documents in front of him—bios on the five men. The name that topped the list was that of his grand-uncle Jake Madaris. Lee didn't need to read his uncle's bio.

The man was a walking genius when it came to playing the stock market, and as far back as Lee could remember, Jake had been financial adviser to the entire Madaris family. If it hadn't been for his uncle's smart move of establishing a trust fund for all his nieces and nephews when they were still in high school, Lee would not have had the money to partner with his good friend DeAngelo Di Meglio to build their first two hotels.

Jake and another family friend, Mitch Farrell, had been the hotels' financial backers. Mitch—the second man on the list—and Jake had already confirmed they were on board for the Paris hotel since the last two hotels had been a successful venture for them.

However, the price tag for a Paris hotel was higher than the price of the other two combined, and Jake had suggested bringing in other investors. All were good friends of Jake's, but his uncle had warned Lee that convincing them to invest would be Lee's responsibility.

He was ready.

The third person on the list was Kyle Garwood, a multimillionaire who made his primary home in Atlanta. Kyle was married, the father of six. Lee liked Kyle and highly respected him.

The last two men were sheikhs from the Middle East. Sheikh Rasheed Valdemon of Mowaiti had such a close relationship with the Madaris family that he had been named an honorary family member and occasionally went by the name of Monty Madaris when he did business in the United States.

Finally, there was Rasheed's brother-in-law, Sheikh Jamal Ari Yasir of Tahran. Lee had never met Sheikh Yasir but had heard he was a shrewd businessman, always looking for a good investment. He was married to an American woman, the former Delaney Westmoreland.

Lee would be wining and dining the five men in the Grand MD style. Everything was in place and would be set in motion as soon as they arrived tomorrow morning.

Their visit had been strategically planned down to the last detail. They would be given a tour of the hotel before they were served lunch. Since tomorrow was a traveling day, no meetings had been planned. However, early the following day, Lee's skilled marketing team would kick things off with several video presentations and meetings. Around three, the men and their wives would be given the chance to rest and relax before a dinner fit for royalty.

Afterward, they would enjoy the nightlife Vegas was famous for—from right inside the Grand MD. The casinos, live shows, state-of-the-art IMAX theater and the exquisite mall on the fifth floor that offered twenty-four-hour shopping all guaranteed that the Grand MD would gain a reputation as the hotel that never closed.

A winning hotel had to have a winning staff. He and Angelo had handpicked all of his executives and managers. Each had hotel experience and had come with sterling resumes and excellent recommendations. He and Angelo were pleased with every staff member, and those who didn't deliver were quickly replaced. Second-best was not an option at the Grand MD.

Lee moved away from his desk, intending to walk around and get his blood flowing, but the moment he stepped into the executive suite's lobby he stopped to stare at the huge picture hanging on the wall. It was a portrait of his great-grandmother Felicia Laverne Madaris the First, whom they fondly called Mama Laverne.

She was the matriarch of the Madaris family. Having borne seven sons, his grandfather Lee being one of them, Mama Laverne had raised her sons by herself after her husband, Milton, had died. All her sons were still alive except for Robert, who had been killed in the Vietnam War. Lee's grand-uncle Jake was Laverne's baby boy.

Mama Laverne had insisted that Lee hang this particular picture of her right there on that wall. She'd given the same directive to his other cousins. They all had the same framed photograph hanging in the offices of their various businesses. She was dressed in her Sunday best, with a huge dressy hat on her head, and she appeared to be looking directly at the viewer with those shrewd eyes and an all-knowing smile. At least she was smiling. A Mama Laverne frown could make him quake in his boots. She definitely liked giving orders, and she expected them to be carried out.

Lee chuckled. He wished he could say she was getting bossy in her old age, but as far back as he could remember, she'd always been bossy. Besides that, she was a notorious busybody when it came to meddling in the lives of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Even at ninetysomething, he figured she would still be around to meddle with the great-great-grands' lives as well.

He didn't want to think of a time when she would no longer be in their midst. Their love for her was the main reason why he and his still-single brothers and cousins overlooked a lot of her shenanigans, especially her determination to marry off each of them.

Closing the door behind him, he walked along the spacious lobby hallway, noting the elegance, style and sophistication that were such integral parts of his Vegas hotel. Besides being the tallest building on the Strip, with seventy-five floors, it had an amusement park on one of its lower levels, making it an ideal place to stay for both adults and families. From the carpeting on the floor to the paintings on the wall, from the furnishings to the hotel's special amenities, anyone would agree that the hotel deserved the seven-star rating reviewers were giving it.

Sliding back huge glass doors, he stepped out onto the terrace of the executive suite. Normally, he wasn't one who took the time to appreciate a lot of greenery, but with the quality of the hotel on his mind, he couldn't help doing so. Various plants had been flown in just for this terrace.

Lee inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of the plants mixed with the September air. He looked beyond the Vegas view to study the looming desert. The rain had lessened the heat and now a sultry breeze stirred the air. The sky overhead looked dark and dreary. There didn't seem to be a single star. A part of him longed to be back in Houston, gazing up into a Texas night.

Lee shook off the longing. He had too much work to do to be melancholy. He hadn't been home since last Christmas and another one would be coming up soon, but opening the two Grand MDs had taken up all his time, personally and professionally. Now luring investors for a third hotel would make him even busier.

Just as he turned to go back inside, his gaze landed on a woman standing on the balcony a couple of levels below. His breath was snatched from his lungs. A low groan passed from his lips as a jolt of sexual energy rocked him to the bone.

She was beautiful. Sensually stunning. Picture-perfect.

She stood leaning against the balcony rail, wearing a sexy green dress and chocolate-colored stilettos, her hair blowing in the breeze. From her expression, as she stared down below, he could tell she was fascinated by the bright lights of the Strip.

Was she a guest at the hotel? He scanned the balcony connected to a tri-level observation deck. It appeared she was alone. Something about her pulled at him. She looked happy, peaceful, but lonely.

Lee didn't know the woman yet he felt as if he could read her perfectly. He stood and watched her, totally mesmerized. A slow heat flowed through him and pooled in his groin—she was arousing him in a way no other woman had. What was there about her that made every muscle in his stomach tie into knots? Made full awareness of her fill his every pore?

Granted, he hadn't dated in a while because of his stringent work schedule, but still, there was something about this particular woman that had lust rushing through his veins.

Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He checked his watch. It was getting late, but he had to meet that woman and find out why he found her so captivating.

Anticipation filled him as he made his way off the terrace and toward the elevator bank.

She simply loved it here, Carly thought. Bright lights lit the Strip and each hotel seemed to compete to shine the brightest.

It was hard to believe she had gotten the job of pastry chef at the Grand MD's Peyton's Place restaurant a little more than a month ago. The hotel had been gracious enough to give her time to resign from her job in Miami and remain in Florida long enough to pack up her things and attend Heather's wedding.

Initially, she had missed South Beach and wondered if she would ever get acclimated to Vegas's dry summer heat. But she had discovered that in addition to being a fun city with its infamous Strip, Vegas was also a nice place to live.

Her house was in a residential area of town not far from shopping. Because she had everything she needed right at her fingertips she rarely came into town on her days off.

Except for today.

Today was her twenty-eighth birthday, and she had decided to celebrate with a night on the town. She had even treated herself to a night at the Grand MD. It had to be the most beautiful hotel she had ever seen. Her room on the fiftieth floor was to die for and the service was excellent.

Carly had stumbled across this particular balcony a few weeks ago while on break. She loved the view, and it had become her favorite. There had been several other couples here earlier, enjoying the view as well, but they had departed, leaving her alone. She didn't mind. It was the story of her life.

Carly forced the depressing thought from her mind.

After all, it was her birthday and she intended to have fun. So far it had been a beautiful day. Before leaving home this morning she'd gotten calls from Aunt Ruthie and Heather. They had remembered, and they were the only two people in her life that counted.

There was a party going on in one of the ballrooms upstairs. She could hear the music playing, a Marvin Gaye classic. She felt like dancing. What the heck. It was her birthday and she had every right to be silly if she wanted to.

Turning from the rail, she waltzed across the floor. She closed her eyes and pretended she was at a party, celebrating her birthday in style, dancing around a ballroom filled with tall, dark, handsome men. One would come forward, claim her hand and ask—

"May I have this dance?"

At the sound of the deep, husky voice, Carly's eyes flew open and she stared into the most gorgeous pair of dark eyes she'd ever seen. And there was a very handsome face to go along with those eyes. Where on earth had he come from? She blinked, wondering if she was still clutched in the throes of her fantasy. She had to be.

"Are you real?" she asked, making sure she hadn't conjured him up in her mind.

He smiled and the sight of the dimple in his chin nearly brought her to her knees. It definitely caused every hormone in her body to sizzle.

"Yes, I'm real. Now, how about that dance," he said, taking her hand in his. A different song was playing now, this one by Luther Vandross.

Carly nodded her consent and he pulled her into his arms. The man was a total stranger. Had it not been her birthday, she would not have allowed him to hold her. But she had already decided that it was okay for her to act silly today. And it wasn't every day that such a good-looking man asked her to dance. Not only was he handsome, but he smelled good too. And to top it off, they danced well together. The way their bodies swayed and moved against each other had her fighting a desire she hadn't felt in close to four years.

A desire that had never been this strong.

She was reminded how it felt to be held by a man, in powerful arms. Every part of her body tuned in to the solid hardness of his. It was staggering; she was mindful of his every movement, the steady sound of his breathing, the way his arms encircled her waist.

Carly looked up at him to find him staring down at her. His predatory look made her insides simmer. Swallowing deeply, she said softly, "Where did you come from?"

He smiled again and she felt a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. "From my terrace."

She nodded. He was a guest at the hotel.

"What about you? Are you a guest here?" he asked.

"Yes." She wasn't lying. She had checked into the hotel that day. There was no need to tell him she also worked here. "It's a beautiful hotel."

"I think so too. I'm Lee, by the way."

"I'm Carly."

His smile widened. "Nice meeting you, Carly. Is there a reason you were dancing alone?"

Her face warmed as she wondered if he thought she'd looked ridiculous. "It's my birthday and—"

"Happy birthday," he said.

She smiled up at him. "Thanks. I was having my own private party of one."

He tilted his head. "That's no fun. A beautiful woman should never party alone."

He was smooth, she thought. As smooth as he was handsome. And she'd noticed he wasn't wearing a ring. She knew some men didn't cherish the sanctity of marriage vows, but she did.

"For me that's no problem. I'm a loner anyway," she said.

"Why?"

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Monday, December 2, 2013

Candlelight Christmas Blog Tour and Giveaway!







Synopsis:

#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR SUSAN WIGGS INVITES YOU TO AN UNFORGETTABLE CHRISTMAS IN THE CATSKILLS

A single father who yearns to be a family man, Logan O'Donnell is determined to create the perfect Christmas for his son, Charlie. The entire O'Donnell clan arrives to spend the holidays in Avalon, a postcard-pretty town on the shores of Willow Lake, a place for the family to reconnect and rediscover the special gifts of the season.

One of the guests is a newcomer to Willow Lake— Darcy Fitzgerald. Sharp-witted, independent and intent on guarding her heart, she's the last person Logan can see himself falling for. And Darcy is convinced that a relationship is the last thing she needs this Christmas.

Yet between the snowy silence of the winter woods, and toasty moments by a crackling fire, their two lonely hearts collide. The magic of the season brings them each a gift neither ever expected—a love to last a lifetime.

About the author:

Susan Wiggs's life is all about family, friends...and fiction. She's been featured in the national media, including NPR's Talk of the Nation, and is a popular speaker locally and nationally.

From the very start, her writings have illuminated the everyday dramas of ordinary people. At the age of eight, she self-published her first novel, entitled "A Book About Some Bad Kids."

Today, she is an international best-selling, award-winning author, with millions of copies of her books in print in numerous countries. Her recent novel, Marrying Daisy Bellamy, took the #1 spot on the New York Times Bestseller List, and The Lakeshore Chronicles have won readers' hearts around the globe. Her books celebrate the power of love, the timeless bonds of family and the fascinating nuances of human nature.

She lives with her husband and family at the water's edge on an island in the Pacific Northwest, where she divides her time between sleeping and waking.

Connect with Susan on her website and Facebook.

Giveaway:  I am so excited to be able to host a giveaway as part of the Candlelight Christmas Blog Tour.  I have two print copies of Candlelight Christmas to give away.  All you have to do is leave a comment (and email address) letting me know what was the best gift you have received.  Contest is open until 12/9/2013 at midnight (EST).  Giveaway is for anyone in the Us or Canada.

Excerpt:
Summer's End

Logan O'Donnell stood on a platform one hundred feet in the air, preparing to shove his ten-year-old son off the edge. A light breeze shimmered through the canopy of trees, scattering leaves on the forest floor far below. A zip line cable, slender as a thread in a spider's web, hung between the tree platforms, waiting. Below, Meerskill Falls crashed down a rocky gorge.

"There's no way I'm going off this." Logan's son, Charlie, drew his shoulders up until they practically touched the edge of his helmet.

"Come on," Logan said. "You told me you'd do it. The other kids had a ball. They're all waiting for you on the other side, and I heard a rumor about a bag of Cheetos being passed around."

"I changed my mind." Charlie set his jaw in a way that was all too familiar to Logan. "No way. No W-A-Y-F."

Logan knew the shtick, but he went along with it. "There's no F in way, dude."

"That's right. There's no effin' way I'm going off this thing."

"Aw, Charlie. It's almost like flying. You like to fly, right?" Of course he did. Charlie's stepfather was a pilot, after all. Logan crushed the thought. There were few things more depressing than thinking about the fact that your kid had a stepfather, even if the stepfather was an okay guy. Fortunately for Charlie, he'd ended up with a good one. But it was still depressing.

Charlie spent every summer with Logan. During the school year, he lived with his mom and stepfather in Oklahoma, a million miles away from Logan's home in upstate New York. It sucked, living that far from his kid. Being without Charlie was like missing a limb.

When he did have his son with him, Logan tried to make the most of their time together. He planned the entire season around Charlie, and that included working as a volunteer counselor at Camp Kioga, helping out with the summer program for local kids and inner-city kids on scholarship. The zip line over Meerskill Falls was a new installation, and had already become everyone's favorite feature. Nearly everyone.

"Hey, it's the last day of camp. Your last chance to try the zip line."

Charlie dragged in a shaky breath. He eyed the harness, made of stout webbing and metal buckles. "It looked really fun until I started thinking about actually doing it."

"Remember how you used to be scared to jump off the dock into Willow Lake? And then you did it and it was awesome."

"Hel-Zo. The landing was a lot different," Charlie pointed out.

"You're going to love it. Trust me on this." Logan patted the top of Charlie's helmet. "Look at all the safety features on this thing. The harness, the clips, the secondary ropes. There's not one thing that can go wrong."

"Yo, Charlie," shouted a kid on the opposite platform. "Go for it!"

The encouragement came from Andre, Charlie's best friend. The two had been inseparable all summer long, and if anyone could talk Charlie into something, it was Andre. He was one of the city kids in the program. He lived in a low-income project in the Bronx, and for Andre, it had been a summer of firsts—his first train trip, his first visit upstate to Ulster County, where Camp Kioga nestled on the north shore of Willow Lake. His first time to sleep in a cabin, see wildlife up close, swim and paddle in a pristine lake…and tell ghost stories around a campfire with his buddies. Logan liked the fact that at camp, all the kids were equal, no matter what their background.

"I kind of want to do it," Charlie said.

"Up to you, buddy. You saw how it's done. You just stand on the edge and take one step forward."

Charlie fell silent. He stared at the waterfall cascading down the rocky gorge. The fine spray from the rushing cataract cooled the air.

"Hey, buddy," Logan said, wondering about his son's faraway expression. "What's on your mind?"

"I miss Blake," he said, his voice barely audible over the rush of the falls. "When I go back to Mom's, Blake won't be there anymore."

Logan's heart went out to the kid. Blake had been Charlie's beloved dog, a little brown terrier who had lived to a ripe old age. At the start of summer, she'd passed away. Apparently Charlie was dreading his return to his mom's dogless house.

"I don't blame you," Logan said, "but you were lucky to have Blake as your best friend for a long time."

Charlie stared at the planks of the platform. "Yeah." He didn't sound convinced.

"It sucks, losing a dog," Logan admitted. "No way around it. That's why we're not getting one. Hurts too bad when you have to say goodbye."

"Yeah," Charlie said again. "But I still like having a dog."

"Tell me something nice about Blake," Logan said.

"I never needed an alarm to get up for school in the morning. She'd just come into my room and burrow under the covers, like a rabbit, and she'd squirm until I got up." He smiled, just a little. "She got old and quiet and gentle. And then she couldn't jump up on the bed anymore, so I had to lift her."

"I bet you were really gentle with her."

He nodded. After another silence, he said, "Dad?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"I kinda want another dog."

Aw, jeez. Logan patted him on the shoulder. "You can talk to your mom about it tomorrow, when you see her." Yeah,, he thought. Let Charlie's mom deal with the mess and inconvenience of a dog.

"Okay," said Charlie. "But, Dad?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Kids were telling ghost stories in the cabin last night," he said, picking at a thread in the webbing of his harness.

"You're at summer camp. Kids are supposed to tell ghost stories."

"Andre told the one about these people who committed suicide by jumping off a cliff above the falls."

"I've heard that story. Goes way back to the 1920s."

"Yeah, well, the ghosts are still around."

"They won't mess with the zip line."

"How do you know?"

Logan pointed to the group of kids and counselors on the distant platform. "They all got across, no problem. You saw them." The other campers appeared to be having the time of their lives, eating Cheetos and acting like Tarzan.

"Show me again, Dad," said Charlie. "I want to see you do it."

"Sure, buddy." Logan clipped Charlie to the safety cable and himself to the pulleys. "You're gonna love it." With a grin, he stepped off the platform into thin air, giving Charlie the thumbs-up sign with his free hand.

His son stood on the platform, his arms folded, his face screwed into an expression of skepticism. Logan tipped himself upside down, a crazy perspective for watching the waterfall below, crashing against the rocks. How could any kid not like this?

When Logan was young, he would have loved having a dad who would take him zip-lining, a dad who knew the difference between fun and frivolity, a dad who encouraged rather than demanded.

He landed with an exaggerated flourish on the opposite platform. Paige Albertson, cocounselor of the group, pointed at Charlie. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh yeah, my only son. Oops."

"Why is he staying over there?" asked Rufus, one of the kids.

"I bet he's scared," said another kid.

Logan ignored them. On the opposite platform, Charlie looked very small and alone. Vulnerable.

"Everything all right?" Paige put her hand on Logan's arm.

Paige had a crush on him. Logan knew this. He even wished he felt the same way, because she was great. She was a kindergarten teacher during the school year and a Camp Kioga volunteer during the summer. She had the all-American cheerleader looks, the bubbly, uncomplicated personality that most guys couldn't resist. She was exactly the kind of girl his parents would want for him—pretty, stable, from a good family.

Could be that was the reason he wasn't feeling it for her.

"He's balking," said Logan. "And he feels really bad about it. I thought he'd love zip-lining."

"It's not for everybody," Paige pointed out. "And remember, if he doesn't go for it, the world won't come to an end."

"Good point." Logan saluted her and jumped off, crossing back to the platform on the other side, where Charlie waited. The zipping sound of the pulley and cable sang in his ears. Damn, this never got old.

"Just like Spider-Man," he said as he came in for a landing. "I swear, it's the coolest thing ever."

Charlie shuffled across the wooden planks of the platform. Logan reached for the clips to attach him to the pulley. "That's gonna be one small step for Charlie," he intoned, "one giant leap for—"

"Dad, hang on a second," Charlie said, shrinking back. "I changed my mind again."

Logan studied his son's posture: the hunched shoulders, the knees that were literally shaking. "Seriously?"

"Unhook me." Beneath the helmet, Charlie's face was pale, his green eyes haunted and wide.

"It's okay to change your mind," Logan said, "but I don't want you to have any regrets. Remember, we talked about regrets."

"When you have a chance to do something and then you don't do it and later on you wish you had," Charlie muttered.

Which pretty much summed up Logan's assessment of his marriage. "Yep," he said. "At the farewell dinner tonight, are you going to wish you'd done the zip line?"

Logan unhitched himself. Charlie studied the cables and pulleys with a look of yearning on his face. Okay, Logan admitted to himself, it bugged him that Charlie had conquered the jump off the dock with his mom, but Logan couldn't get him to push past his fear of the zip line. He had a flashing urge to grab the kid, strap him in and shove him off the platform, just to get him past his hesitation.

Then he remembered his own pushy father: get in there and fight. Don't be a chickenshit. Al O'Donnell had been a blustering, bossy, demanding dad. Logan had grown up resenting the hell out of him in a tense relationship that even now was full of turmoil.

The moment Charlie was born, Logan had made a vow. He would never be that dad.

"All right, buddy," he said, forcing cheerfulness into his tone. "Maybe another time. Let's climb down together."

The final dinner of summer at Camp Kioga was served banquet-style in the massive dining hall of the main pavilion. There was a spaghetti feed with all the trimmings—garlic bread, a salad bar, watermelon, ice cream. Awards would be given, songs sung, jokes told, tributes offered and farewells spoken.

The families of the campers were invited to the event. Parents arrived, eager to reunite with their kids and hear about their summer.

A sense of tradition hung like the painted paddles and colorful woven blankets on the walls. The old Catskills camp had been in operation since the 1920s. People as far back as Logan's grandparents remembered with nostalgia the childhood summers they'd spent in the draughty timber-and-stone cabins, swimming in the clear, cold waters of Willow Lake, boating in the summer sun each day, sitting around the campfire and telling stories at night. In a hundred years, the traditions had scarcely changed.

But the kids had. Back in the era of the Great Camps, places like Camp Kioga had been a playground for the ultrawealthy—Vanderbilts, Asters, Roosevelts. These days, the campers were a more diverse bunch. This summer's group included kids of Hollywood power brokers and Manhattan tycoons, recording artists and star athletes, alongside kids from the projects of the inner city and downriver industrial towns.

The organizers of the city kids program, Sonnet and Zach Alger, pulled out all the stops for the end of summer party. In addition to the banquet, there would be a performance by Jezebel, a hip-hop artist who had starred in a hit reality TV series. The show had been filmed at Camp Kioga, chronicling the efforts of the outspoken star to work with youngsters in the program.

Tonight, the only cameras present belonged to proud parents and grandparents.

Charlie was practically bouncing up and down with excitement, because he knew he was getting a swimming award. Andre was next to him as they took their seats at their assigned banquet table.

Paige, who stood nearby, handing out table assignments, leaned over and said, "Those two are such a great pair. I bet they're going to miss each other now that summer's over."

"Yeah, it'd be nice if they could stay in touch. Tricky, though, with Andre in the city and Charlie off to an air force base in Oklahoma."

"Must be hard for you, too."

"I can't even tell you. But…we deal. I'll see him at Thanksgiving, and he's mine—all mine—for Christmas."

At the moment, Christmas seemed light-years away. Logan wondered how the hell he'd keep himself busy after Charlie left. He had his work, a thriving insurance business he'd founded in the nearby town of Avalon. If he was being honest with himself, he was bored stiff with the work, even though he liked helping friends and neighbors and made a good living at it.

Initially, the whole point of setting up a business in Avalon had been to enable him to live close to Charlie.

Now that Charlie's mom had remarried and moved away, Logan was starting to think about making a change. A big change.

His sister India arrived to join in the festivities, and Logan excused himself to say hi. Her twin boys, Fisher and Goose, had spent the summer here. Charlie had had a great time with his two cousins, who lived on Long Island, where India and her husband ran an art gallery.

Red-haired like Logan and Charlie both, and dressed in flowing silks unlike anybody, India rushed over to her twin sons, practically in tears.

"I missed you guys so much," she said, gathering them against her. "Did you have a good time at camp?"

"The best," said Fisher.

"We made you some stuff," said Goose.

"Real ugly jewelry, and we're gonna make you wear it," Fisher told her.

"If you made it, then I'm sure it's beautiful," she said.

"Uncle Logan taught us how to light farts."

"That's my baby brother," India said. "Now, you need no introduction, but I'll introduce you, anyway." She indicated the woman behind her. "Darcy, this is my brother, who probably needs to be sent to the naughty corner, but instead, he's a volunteer counselor."

"And head fart lighter," said the woman, sticking out her hand. "I'm Darcy Fitzgerald."

He took her hand, liking her straightforward expression. She had dark hair done in a messy ponytail and a direct, brown-eyed gaze. Her hand felt small but firm, and she had a quirky smile. For no reason Logan could name, he felt a subtle nudge of interest.

"Are you here to pick up a kid?" he asked her. "Which one belongs to you?"

"None, thank God," she said with a shudder.

"Allergies?" Logan asked.

"Something like that."

"Then you came to the wrong place." He gestured around the dining hall, swarming with excited, hungry kids. To him, it was a vision of paradise. He liked kids. He liked big, loud, loving families. It was the tragedy of his life that he was restricted to summers and holidays with his only child.

"Except for one thing," said Darcy, turning toward the dais where the band was setting up. "I'm a huge Jezebel fan."

"You must be. We're a long way from anywhere."

She nodded. "I came along for the ride with India when she invited me to pick up her boys. Thought it would be nice to get out to the countryside for a weekend."

"So you live in the city?" he asked.

"In SoHo. I didn't have anything thing else going on this weekend. Yes, I'm that pathetic friend everybody feels sorry for, all alone and getting over a broken heart." She spoke lightly, but he detected a serious note in her tone.

"Oh, sorry. About the broken heart. Glad to hear you're getting over it."

"Thanks," she said. "It takes time. That's what people keep telling me. I keep looking for distractions. But hearts are funny that way. They don't let you lie, even to yourself."

"Not for long, anyway. Anything I can do to help?" He instantly regretted the offer. He had no idea what to do about someone else's broken heart.

"I'll spare you the details."

Good.


Purchase at: Amazon           Barnes & Noble        Indie             Books-A-Million        Walmart

Monday, November 18, 2013

Severed Colours by Dawna Raver ~ Scavenger Hunt and Giveaway



Book Information
Title:   Severed Colours

Series: Colour Wielders # 2

Author:  Dawna Raver

Published:  November 18th, 2013

Genre:  Romantic Urban Fantasy

Content Warning: Erotic sexual material and language

Recommended Age:  18+


Synopsis:  The epic continues…
Quinn Sinclair trusted Arik Morgaine until he betrayed her. Scared and alone, she finds herself delivered into the hands of the evil Morgana le Fay. When Quinn discovers Morgana's plans are beyond demented and seriously depraved—making life with the Changeling seem like a day at the beach—she wonders if death is a better option?

Arik Morgaine vowed he'd save Quinn no matter the price. When his well thought out plans failed (go terribly awry), a desperate and heartbroken Arik is forced to beg the cruel Triarchia for help.  Unwilling to go on without his Älskling, he answers a question that irrevocably alter their lives.

Can Arik and Quinn find a way back to each other, or will the price of saving her rip them apart forever?


From GoodReads
About the Author:  Dawna Raver is an author of erotic romance, romantic urban fantasy. When she's not spending time in her fantasy world, Dawna loves football, reading, and pretending she's a top chef in the kitchen. Oh, and fawning over her dogs and husband, sometimes in that order.





Now on to the scavenger hunt! A special excerpt has been shared exclusively for this event and can’t be found anywhere other than participating blogs. This excerpt has had twenty words removed and it’s up to you to find these key words on the blogs taking part

~ Where can the key words be found? ~

 One key word is located on each participating blog in green text. Some will jump right out at you with ease while others will be a little harder as you search for the cleverly hidden words. Each word gets you another entry in the giveaway below.

~ When will the posts go up for the hunt? ~

 All key words will be posted on November 18th. If you miss a word or get turned around while searching, below is the entire schedule so you can pick up where you left off. 

~ Hunt Bloggers ~


Excerpt – Shared specifically for the Scavenger Hunt and cannot be found anywhere but participating blogs:

"Zaira!" Arik yelled, standing outside Quinn's _______ in Conifer. Thank the Gods Quinn wasn't here to see the state of her property. The land was once again battle scarred. But the state of the royal sibling's home was in ruins. But the property was the least of Arik's problems. Buildings could be rebuilt. Lands could be _________.
Broken hearts weren't so easily mended.
"Arik Morgaine! Why do you ______ me again? Do you fancy me your beck and call girl? You risk much by coming here. Morgana will note your absence."
"Quinn thinks I've ________ her. The pain in her eyes…. I—I can't do this."
"Arik Morgaine, it is too late to turn the tide now. The lot is cast. You must stay the course."
"What if she can't _______ me? What if—?"
"Stand and be the man you are." Zaira crossed her arms over her chest, her opal eyes narrowed as she looked down at him. "Would you rather the Princess enter the Fading Times? For that is the alternative.”
Arik forced himself to his feet sans his ______ swagger.  "Call the quest completed," Arik implored. "Let me take her home to the Magykal Realm."
"You know that is impossible. Once the quest is set only _______ lifts its prohibitions."
"I know who carries the __________ Valknut," he said, playing his one trump card.
"Do you now?" Zaira lifted her perfect white-blonde brows.
"Aibrenne." Arik ______ his chin and pinioned Zaira with a _________ stare. "And what's more, I think you've known all along, haven't you?"
"I will not deny your assertion." Zaira's voice was cool and unaffected as if they discussed the color of the sky. "Admittedly, I gambled. One that ______ to return the bargained for rewards.
Arik ground his teeth together. "Why does it seem like I'm the only one who cares about what's at _____? Screw this! I'm taking Quinn out of there, and I'll ______ it out myself."
"Arik Morgaine! You will do no such thing. Either you stay and follow the Princess into the Marbh Chamber, or you watch her die. Choose now!"
Arik clawed both hands through his hair. "You don't understand," Arik said, his voice a regretful whisper. "This is killing me. I—I can't be _______ her."
Zaira blinked rapidly as if she warred with some decision. "I told you both your _______ would not be an easy one. I will do what I can.
Arik leaned his head back and howled, letting out his rage, frustration and fear. His dark emotions manifested into _________ clouds and loud claps of thunder.
Zaira lifted her eyes heavenward as she ______ for his fit to pass. She shook her head in a chiding manner. Her ass-long braid shimmied with her ire much the way a dog's tail ________ when agitated. "It is about faith, Arik Morgaine."
"Fine, Emissary, I'll operate on faith." Arik unsheathed Magyk Slayer and planted it in the ground between himself and Zaira. "But make no _______," Arik said and glared down at her. "I swear to the Gods above and all we hold precious, if Quinn doesn't survive this, I will use the Magyk of Making to make the _______ of the Dubh War look like a stroll through a field of daisies on a summer day. Are we clear?"
With that, Arik shifted away.

GIVEAWAY INFORMATION

A winner will be randomly selected via Rafflecopter to WIN a $10 Amazon gift card! Giveaway is International!



Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Blog Tour & Giveaway: House Rules


Synopsis: It takes a wealth of collected experiences, emotions, successes and failures to craft the personality of a true Alpha Male Jack Gordon, real estate broker, licensed builder, Juris Doctorate, has had his fair share of strife. His ability to cope, to fall down and pick himself back up has lead him to a place where he believes he has it all. Friends, money, cars, more women than he can count, and a club in Detroit where he can exorcise his inner demons, fill his days and his nights. 

When he walks up to a penthouse door on a hot Ann Arbor summer afternoon, frustrated, exasperated and ready to call it quits after hours of condo shopping with a wealthy couple, the last thing on his mind is meeting his destiny. 

House Rules: The Jack Gordon Story. A prequel novella of the Stewart Realty Series. 

Excerpt:  Chapter One
The young boy was only on the cusp of manhood that day. The day he wandered into his kitchen, hung over, hungry, mad at the girl who’d teased him all night yet wouldn’t let him past second base no matter how hard he begged. Plus as a bonus, he was already late for basketball practice.

It was also the day his mother died. On this day, he stepped into the room lit only by weak sunlight, rubbing his face and wondering if he could squeeze in a shower, or if he should just go straight to the high school gym and beg his coach’s forgiveness.
When his foot met something that was not a chair leg or anything else that made logical sense on the floor he stopped, looked down, and saw her. His brain quickly flipped through events even as it attempted to process what he saw.
He dropped to his knees and rolled her over, his lovely, quiet, smart and creative mother—the first woman he ever loved and would always, as is the way of boys, despite his frustration at her willingness to put up with his father. Her eyes were open, face drained of all color but for the dried vomit on her cheek.
The boy’s hands shook as anger swelled in his chest. He brushed at the crustiness on her face. Raw fury made his vision dim. How dare she? What the hell was she thinking?  How could she give up on herself, on him, on their family?
His eyes burned. He felt wetness on his cheeks. His entire body shivered as he picked up the phone and called the ambulance. When they arrived he backed up, fast, then sat on the floor, tears streaming down as he watched the paramedics try to revive her.
They kept asking him how long she’d been like this, as if he knew. As if he could have known, sunk so deep into his own selfish bullshit the night before.  No one knew how long she’d lain face down in her own puke.
He swiped at his face, embarrassed, but unable to stop crying. His mother was dead. On her own scrupulously clean kitchen floor she’d lain while he fucked around, got drunk, tried to get in some girl’s panties. He had let her down when she needed him. Not that she would ever ask for help. No, that was not her way. Silence, stoicism, extreme organization, and tidiness—that was her method against the madness that had become her marriage.
His chest hurt so bad it frightened him. He heard a sob, and when one of the paramedics glanced over at him, he realized it had burst from his own lips.
He looked up when the front door flew open, revealing his father’s shocked face.  Fresh fury shimmered down the boy’s spine, coalesced in his freezing cold fingertips when he saw it--that horrified look. The asshole had the nerve to actually be surprised by his wife’s condition.
 “You did this,” he growled, not even recognizing his own voice. His hands formed fists of their own accord and he leapt across the kitchen, his finely-tuned athlete’s body giving him strength and his rage motivation.  He could hear his father’s sharp voice, angry and demanding. Saw the fear in the man’s eyes as he looked down at his already dead wife. He barely registered the sight of his sister, standing slightly behind the man in the doorway.
When the man looked over and met his son’s gaze. The sickeningly familiar sneer was all it took to turn what could have been a simple punch thrown by an unhappy teenaged boy into a beating that it would take John Gordon Senior weeks to fully recover from.
“Jack! Stop it! Daddy!” The young girl jumped onto her brother’s back, yanked at his hair, scratched at his face. “Stop it! Please!”
 There was no stopping Jack. The grown man now no longer fought back, but cowered and tried to cover his face with his arms. He made no sounds, didn’t beg for his son to stop, but his hard blue gaze said it all, reminded the young man of all he hated about his father from the time he could remember having feelings about him.
He kept hitting. Finally, one of the paramedics yanked the boy off, threw him halfway across the room to get him to stop. 
He sat, chest heaving, staring at the utter fucked-up mess that was his family—dead, puke-covered mother; bloody-faced father groaning in pain in the opposite corner of the room. A small sob caught his ear, making his inner caretaker jump to the surface. Tamping down the anger, he stood and went to his sister who stood gripping the doorframe.
He glared at them all, took her hand, and walked out of the room, soothing her while swearing on all he held holy that he would never speak to his father again.

Meet the Author:  Microbrewery owner, best-selling author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major college town. Years of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse, plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry), has prepped her for life as a successful author. 


When she isn’t sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or implementing promotions for her latest publications.  Her groundbreaking literary fiction subgenre, “reality fiction,” has gained thousands of fans and followers who are interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”)

Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury.

For more information on Liz Crowe, please visit her website www.lizcrowe.com or www.brewingpassion.com (her author blog).  She enjoys interacting with her fans on her Facebook author page www.facebook.com/lizcroweauthor. Information for all of her books, including eBook and print formats (where available), can be found on her Amazon author page


Guest Post:  Of all the things I wish I had more of: money, clean laundry, sex—the greatest of these is time (well, ok, sex but you get my point I think).


As the part owner and marketing manager of a growing craft microbrewery and newly kind-of-successful author of published books my creativity is pulled in multiple directions daily. I get a book idea but have to sublimate it for the greater good of beer events, brewery tours, press releases for beer and other random small-business ownership crises.  I have a giant editing project and am forced to spend the wee hours shoving it through the process when I’d rather be able to use normal working hours on it.

But it is the reality for most writers. And I am lucky in that I have a “day job” that I truly enjoy. But I tell you, if we could somehow add, say, 5 or 10 hours to each day, and still be allotted 5 or 6 to sleep I swear I would be among the ranks of the lofty on the best seller lists, with a premium cable deals tucked into my back pocket.

The harsh reality of today’s publishing world is that if you find a bit of success, with a small contingent of fans, like I have managed to do you are nearly constantly working to find ways to keep them engaged. As an author, your only real stock in trade is your work—the words you conjure about established or new characters, new plots and original concepts. So I keep coming up with “deleted scenes” or other products of my imagination so that my little group doesn’t forget about me.  I don’t have a giant marketing budget and my “day job” precludes me from gallivanting around from town to town at huge group book signings.  So I seek the ever elusive extra 5, 6 or 10 hours in the day to keep up my own personal buzz, to not be lost in the forest of constant bombardment by authors, books, publishers and “best seller lists.” 

I’m not complaining about having to write. I’m just asking for more time to do it in, if at all possible. Oh, and throw in some sex for me while you’re at it. That is a proven cure for my writer’s block.

I wrote HOUSE RULES, the free prequel novella of the Stewart Realty series, as part of that near-constant self-driven publicity thing. But along the way, I fell in love all over again with Jack Gordon, the uber hero of the series. I hope you enjoy it.

Happy Reading!

Giveaway:  One (1) bundled eBook set of the "Jack and Sara" Trilogy (first 3 books in the Stewart Realty Series: Floor Time, Sweat Equity, and Closing Costs  OR
One (1) signed set of paperback copies of the first three books of the series.



Purchase: You can purchase House Rules at Amazon, Barnes & Noble or  All Romance.