Month: June 2022

New! Mystery, history, and prizes! Jan Selbourne and Anne Krist

Evil Lives in the Night
Two historical, suspense, noir novellas

Out now! From award-winning authors Jan Selbourne and Anne Krist, two mysteries written to keep you guessing.

Check out our contest below!

Blurb:

In Jan Selbourne’s The Next Stop Is Dead, a woman boards a city train one night and finds herself alone in the car with four strangers, all men. When she discovers one of them is dead, she has to find a way to exit the train and get help. Will she escape, or will the next stop be her final one?

In Anne Krist’s Missing, sisters Audra and Daina communicate using “twin language.” But how much difference will that make when Daina disappears? Can Audra find her sister before her abductor ends Daina’s life? Even with the help of an over-protective detective, saving her missing twin might not happen in time.

Buy links:

U.S. Amazon Kindle Unlimited

Australia Kindle Unlimited

Excerpts:

From The Next Stop Is Dead

Alison buttoned her coat against the cold wind blowing along the platform. Melbourne might be dull and staid, but we hosted the 1956 Olympic Games, we are known for our theatres and culture and Flinders Street Station was once the busiest in the world. Something the bragging Sydneysiders hadn’t achieved.

She looked at the ticket in her hand and up at the train timetable. The next train would go express from Richmond to Caulfield then stopping all stations to Dandenong. You can’t sit here all night.

Wheels on the tracks and the train pulled into the platform. Not one of the new blue trains but an old red rattler that should have been pensioned off years ago. Three young, laughing women wearing Footscray Tennis Club jackets got out of the end carriage and hurried down the exit ramp. Feeling miserable, Alison got in hoping she’d be on her own. Empty except for three men sitting together on the last row of seats. She walked to the other end of the carriage and sat down. The whistle blew and the train moved away from the platform and into the tunnel.

The train increased its pace through Jolimont Yard and without meaning to, Alison glanced at the three men at the other end of the carriage. They hadn’t moved, just sitting there reading newspapers without speaking. The man next to the window looked at her, lit a cigarette and after blowing a cloud of smoke into the air lifted his newspaper closer to his face. She turned to the window again as they passed the huge Melbourne Cricket Ground, holy ground for cricket fanatics and home of Australian Rules Football. Watching grass grow was more interesting than watching cricket.

The train was slowing down to stop at Richmond station. The door opened and she looked up as a man with a newspaper tucked under his arm got in. He walked past her and took a seat on the other side of the aisle. The train began to move out of the station.

Four men and one woman and they’d express through the next five stations before stopping at Caulfield. Feeling very uncomfortable she held her overnight bag closer and gazed through the window as the train gathered speed. Except for the clattering train wheels it was quiet, creepy quiet. They’d just passed South Yarra station and the reflection in the grimy window moved. That man was looking at her. Oh hell, he was standing up. Her chest thumped when he crossed the aisle and sat beside her.

A wide smile. “What are you like with crossword puzzles?”

Alison felt the blood drain from her face. Should she get up and go closer to the three men? It struck her then they hadn’t spoken or moved since she got on the train.

He lifted his newspaper. “The crossword is very hard today. Can you help me?”

Her throat went dry. “Pardon?”

“Two heads are better than one,” he said brightly and pointed to the top of the page. For a few seconds her eyes refused to absorb the words in thick capital letters. DO NOT LOOK UP. GET OUT AT THE NEXT STOP. THE MAN IN THE MIDDLE IS DEAD.

From Missing:

Something woke her. She moved and the magazine fell to the floor. Groggy, she scraped her hair back from her face and then rubbed her eyes. She didn’t need to look to see that Daina’s bed remained empty—she’d feel her sister if she were there.

The room was dark, the door closed. But she’d left the light on in the living room and the bedroom door open. Hadn’t she?

She’d forgotten to wind the alarm clock and it had stopped at two-oh-five. She clicked on the lamp on the table between their beds and got up to check her watch on the dresser. Three o’clock. Her heart raced and her mouth dried. Where in the world was her sister?

Suddenly, the front door closing sounded like a shot. She slid into her slippers and tightened the sash on her robe. “Daina!” She threw open the bedroom door and rushed to the apartment door.

Automatically grabbing her key from the dish by the door, she rushed out into the hallway and down the stairs. She hadn’t reached the bottom step when she saw a man halfway out the door. He turned to look at her and she gasped. His face was rough. Stubble made it dark. A jagged, angry scar ran from his left temple to his jaw line. There was no smile, no lightening of expression. With a scowl, he pulled a black, flat cap low and then left.

The door hardly made a sound but his presence in her building set off an explosion in Audra’s mind. Who was he? How had he gained entrance? What was he doing at three o’clock in the morning skulking around her building?

Fear gave way to panic. Her knees nearly gave out when the thought occurred that he might have been in their apartment, that it had been he who she heard closing their front door. Then the thought that screamed in her mind. Did he have anything to do with Daina’s disappearance?

On shaky lags, she climbed the stairs. She’d make a pot of coffee and then wait until daylight made it safe to walk to the bus stop to start the trek downtown to the police department. She’d think later about calling her parents but first thing this morning she’d have to file a missing person report for her sister. Her twin. The other half of her soul.

Contest!

Take a chance on winning an Amazon gift card! After you’ve read our novellas, read the question. Then click the appropriate email link (Anne if you live in the U.S. and Jan if you live in Australia) and send us your answer, your name, and email address. Contest begins June 30 and ends July 20. Winners will be selected on July 21. More details are on our website, Nomad Authors.

It’s way too cold if you’re heading into winter in Oz!

Author Anne Krist:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Where to find Anne:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com/annekrist/index.html

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Author Jan Selbourne:

Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

Where to find Jan
Website: https://nomadauthors.com/JanSelbourne/index.html
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JanSelbourne
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/jan-selbourne-2817b6140/
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

Charity Sunday: RWJ Barnabas Field of Dreams

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

A few weeks ago, I saw a news feature of a playground in Toms River, New Jersey. The B.W.J. Barnabas Health playground is very special because it’s designed to fit every level of ability a child can manage. (The playground can also be used by adults who have special needs and even some recovering from surgery.) The design of the playground is phenomenal, all due to the vision of Christian Kane, the town of Toms River, and corporations who pitched in to help. Kane’s brilliant idea is to benefit his son who was severely injured in a car accident as an infant, but who now, and age 8 or so, wants to play baseball.

The mission of the complex is: The Toms River Field of Dreams (TRFOD) is a project with a mission to encourage and engage our communities (Monmouth and Ocean Counties), with a focus on those with special needs, in physical and social activity by building a community complex to provide opportunities for special needs individuals of all ages and abilities to engage, explore and socialize together.

If you check out the website, scroll down the Home page and watch one of the videos that describe this amazing place. You’ll see why I’m so impressed. This donation will be going to the Toms River complex, where they still have work to finish. But these types of playgrounds can, and should, be available all over the country. Think of the joy! Thanks for your help!!

My book this month is a fantasy and study in adults who need special things, things that will—mysteriously—make their dreams come true. Your Desire

Your Desire by Dee S. Knight

Blurb:
Your Desire. A mysterious shop appears in town for one reason: to bring the spice of passion and the thrill of love to one special person. Magic is in more than the item purchased—it’s in the heart of the buyer, often hidden, usually surprising. And after enchantment takes hold and the fantasy is fulfilled? The store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town…?

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:
The whir of a sewing machine traveled across the ether. As intended, the sound blended with the those of a lawn mower in Cleveland, a blender in Dallas, an electric razor in Seattle. Some people, those specially attuned to properties outside the normal realm of humans, heard buzzing that could have been a sewing machine, but it was faint and truly indistinguishable for what it was. More like a mosquito at the ear. They heard it but couldn’t decipher exactly where to swat, so they did their best ignore it.

Of course, the sound was not supposed to be heard, and therefore not investigated. The very few who did hear it clearly, who also heard Nigel and his granddaughter clearly, well, they generally resided in a hospital setting where three squares a day were provided and tranquility came in the form of little green pills. At the least, they saw a shrink three times a week. Their knowledge wasn’t taken seriously.

This worried Nigel, but what could he do? It wasn’t his fault humans had devolved to the point where they no longer believed in enchantment. He shook his head and tsked as he sewed. When he was a boy learning the business from his grandfather as his granddaughter now learned from him, no one would have believed the universe could get to this point, where people believed in the “magic” of technology but not the magic that could be found in their own hearts.

Of course, challenges were exciting, and skeptical humans certainly kept him on his toes.

Absently, he hummed as he completed the final seam on the full, purple satin skirt. He pulled it from the machine, snipped the threads and shook the material out before pinning it on the dress form.

“Edwina! I have the skirt finished. Come here, dear.” Standing back to cast a critical eye over how the skirt hung, he held up an artist’s rendition of what the final product should be. He looked from drawing to garment, made a few small adjustments to the pleating around the waist and nodded in satisfaction.

“Hey, Gramps,” his granddaughter said, bounding into the room.

For the millionth time, he mentally cringed at the lack of style in today’s youth. Their kind had the ability to appear any way they wished. Glancing in the mirror, he saw a debonair David Niven reflected back. The sleeves of his snowy white shirt were rolled to his elbows, but the Windsor knot in his tie was perfect, as was the knife-sharp crease in his trousers and the shine on his shoes. When he rolled down his sleeves and put on his jacket, he would look every inch the gentleman. Quirking his brows in approval, he unconsciously ran a fingertip lightly over his moustache. Instead of selecting what he would consider an appropriate shell, Edwina—a name which screamed propriety—chose to look like a bag lady gone wild.

Like today, for instance. Long blond hair, streaked with pink and purple, pulled up into a ponytail to hang down the side of her head. Black lipstick and eye shadow. Two earrings in one ear and four in the other. A bright orange tank top and faded jeans—separated scandalously by a good three inches of bare stomach—looked as though they’d been worn (and torn) for centuries. And her feet—her lovely, dainty feet!—were shod in horrid, ugly brown things that not even the most desperate soldier in Caesar’s army would have donned.

When he had questioned her once about her appearance, she’d said with delight that she was starting her own trend. A Lauper-Madonna-Pink look. It was not something he’d understood. Today, after a quick perusal, he leaned closer.

“What is that?” He swiped his thumb across her cheek, then examined what was on the pad.

“Body glitter. Isn’t it cool?” She grinned at him.

Her enthusiasm, as well as her utter lack of self-consciousness, brought the slightest of smiles to his eyes, even as his mouth formed a moue of reproach.

“Yes, well.” He wiped his thumb on a handkerchief pulled from the pocket of his jacket, hanging on the wall behind Edwina. “‘Cool’ is what ice cubes provide. I don’t know what body glitter is good for.”

Giggles flowed from her, reminding him of when she was a small girl instead of the nearly grown youngster she was now. Where had the centuries gone? Despite the shudders her wardrobe caused, he loved Edwina enormously and strove to give her the very best education in what they did, which was make dreams come true.

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for her newsletter for exclusive access to free novellas, poetry, and stuff.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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A new space romp! Celtan Dilemma by Eileen Troemel

Blurb:
Traitor or criminal?

Lieutenant Lillian Buckner receives orders to take her squad of women pilots out to specific coordinates and destroy an unarmed transport. Lilly must decide whether to be a war criminal by firing on an unarmed vessel or to be a traitor and disobey her orders. Her life and those of her six pilots depends on her decision. No matter her decision, the punishment may kill her if she returns to the human forces.

Trust or Punish?

Lord Hugh Korol fights against the humans. They invaded the Celtan’s territory and took sectors of space from them. The humans attacked their home world. When human women aid one of their unarmed transports, he must decide what to do to them. Can he trust the one he desires or will she break more than the fragile trust growing between them?

Buy link:
Amazon Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:
A big man, Ray Harris took anyone to his bed he wanted. He wanted Lillian but she steadfastly refused. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way.

“Are you clear on the mission,” he growled at her as he brushed against her breast, squeezed her bottom as he paced around and around her.

“Sir, we seek out this ship,” Lillian repeated her orders, careful not to call it a transport. “Once we find the ship, we destroy it.”

“Will there be any chatter, like you hens normally do,” Ray insulted them.

“Sir, my squad follows protocol,” Lillian defended her squad.

“There are complaints about your squad,” Commander Harris smirked. “You should be nicer to me. It will help me better address those complaints.”

“Sir,” Lillian realized a solution to both her problems. “When I return from this mission, I’ll be happy to discuss in detail how we can make my squad better. If you don’t mind a private meeting with me.”

Ray Harris smiled. His hands slid down to her bottom and squeezed. He walked around to stand in front of her. He yanked her into a tight embrace, pressed his lips against hers, thrust his tongue in while he squeezed her breasts. “I think a private meeting is optimal. There might need to be several,” he murmured against her lips.

“Yes, sir,” Lillian tried not to cringe or curl her lip at the prospect.

“We could start now,” he suggested.

“I don’t want to be late for the mission,” Lillian evaded his advances. “I think our meeting is too important to hurry, don’t you?”

“In your quarters,” Ray narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Lillian affirmed while meeting his eyes. “We can both get comfortable.”

“Very well,” Commander Harris pulled her tighter against him before letting her go. “Get out there and make sure you follow all protocols.”

“Yes, sir,” Lillian said walking away. She managed to not jump when he slapped her ass.

Another excerpt:
“It appears you are the last one to claim your mate,” Npin prompted Lilly.

“I may select any male in this room,” Lilly asked.

“Yes,” Npin said.

Lilly looked at each of the men. Most of them looked away from her, didn’t meet her eyes. She looked into Lord Korol’s eyes, saw kindness there. She walked up to him, held out her hand and waited.

Npin smiled as Lord Korol swept her into his arms, sealed the claiming with a kiss rather than holding her hand. Lilly tried to withdraw but his gentleness overwhelmed her reserve. His lips teased hers. Her eyes closed, her body melted against his, wanting him to kiss her, a first for her. Long moments passed as he accepted the woman who claimed him and sealed the claim with a long sweet sensual kiss.

When he raised his head, she gasped, “Oh.” She touched her lips, felt her body tingle with need and desire.

“We will retire to my quarters,” he said not taking his eyes off her.

Buy Celtan Dilemma now!