New release! Secrets of the Ravine by Brenda Whiteside

Secrets of the Ravine by Brenda Whiteside

An unsolved murder and the disappearance of her love decades ago
are back to haunt Magpie MacKenzie.

Solve the murder or become the next victim…

Have you ever walked into a room and felt you’ve been there before? Or have you met someone and instantly thought you’ve always known them? Have you made plans, but you hesitate to see them through, and you don’t know why you have such an ominous feeling?

I can say yes to all of these. Maybe because I’m a child of the sixties, a wannabe hippie, my mystical beliefs are strong. Auras, déjà vu, intuition, crystals, empathic visions, and the universe all speak to me. I’m not gifted, I believe whole heartedly.

A couple of decades ago, we were gathered in a room with other parents and a group of Austrian boys who had come to our town to play hockey. We were going to house one of the young men in our home. I glanced at the group and immediately locked gazes with the blue eyes of Harte, and I experienced a moment of feeling like I’d known him forever. When they drew names, Harte was chosen for us. Coincidence? I think not. We’ve been fast friends from afar ever since. And I’m convinced we knew each other in another time and will again.

In my latest novel (released on 9/15/2020), Secrets of The Ravine, book one of The MacKenzie Chronicles, my characters use a little bit of the mystical to solve a decades old murder and prevent their own demise. The series is set in present-day Joshua, Arizona, an 1800s mining town, turned ghost town, turned hippie haven, and now a tourist town, hanging on the side of Spirit Mountain.

The mystery and suspense unfold in present-day Joshua, using three points of view. Within this present-day story is a tale that chronicles the life of Magpie’s father, Frank. Clues to the present are found in Frank’s past from the time he settled in the hippie haven, The Ravine, on the outskirts of Joshua, to the present when he is likely to be charged with murder.

Have you ever experienced déjà vu or an empathic moment? Intuition? I’d love to hear.

Blurb:
When a ringer for her long-dead love walks into her life the same day skeletal remains are found at the edge of town, Magpie MacKenzie can’t ignore what the universe is telling her…solve the mystery, or become the next victim.

Lawyer Zack Peartree’s life is orderly and entanglement-free until he visits purportedly haunted Joshua, Arizona, and meets free-wheeling shopkeeper Magpie. Despite experiencing troubling visions and odd moments of déjà vu, Zack’s instantly drawn to Magpie and to the unsolved murder which troubles her so.

Using clues from her father’s past and Zack’s déjà vu moments, Magpie and Zack race to solve the mystery, avoid a murderous fate, and to discover their future…together.

About Brenda:
Brenda WhitesideBrenda Whiteside is the author of suspenseful, action-adventure stories with a touch of romance. Mostly. After living in six states and two countries—so far—she and her husband have decided they are gypsies at heart, splitting their time between Central Arizona and the RV life. They share their home with a rescue dog named Amigo. While FDW is fishing, Brenda writes.

Visit Brenda at https://www.brendawhiteside.com

Or on FaceBook: https://www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/brendawhitesid2

She blogs and has guests: https://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003V15WF8

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3972045.Brenda_Whiteside

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/brenda-whiteside

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brendawhitesideauthor/

Same gender loving #MFRWauthor

There was a time when I never would have considered reading MM romances. Not that I had anything against them, I just never thought of them. Then hubby went out of town for a business meeting and I went along, just to go. We had dinner with one of his colleagues and he asked what I did. I told him I wrote romance—erotic romance. It had only been recently that I’d admitted that to people. Was I ever surprised when he said his sister also wrote erotic romance—of the MM variety. He put us in touch with each other and after exchanging a few emails. she sent me one of the works she’d just finished. Oh. My. God. It was fabulous!!!

Like my erotic romances, she placed the emphasis on romance and not especially on the sex. And her sexy sequences were explicit but without seeming raunchy—which can happen whether writing MM or MF sex scenes.

After dipping my toe into the “other” side, so to speak, I read other MM romances—even chose them over other books when I reviewed for Romance Junkies, if they sounded like a good story.

I don’t write MM romances, however. I think we have to use our strengths, and MM romance isn’t mine. However, I enjoy a good, strong romance, and if it’s single gender, then I’m okay with it. What do you think?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

 

Be it ever so humble… #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

Blurb:
Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Daniel Goodman is a man on a mission. He aims to become headmaster of Westover Academy. For that he needs a particular, special woman to help him set high standards. Into his cut and dried life of moral and upright behavior, comes Eve Star, formerly one of Europe’s foremost exotic dancers. Her life is anything but cut and dried, black and white. Daniel is drawn to her like a kid to chocolate. Nothing good can come of this attraction. Or can it? He is after all, a good man.

Buy link:

Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt:
Question: What can cause a grown man to return home, despite his rarely even visiting in years?
Answer: A woman he’s obsessed with or a crisis. Or maybe a woman he’s obsessed with who’s in a crisis.

“Daniel, am I talking to myself, here?”

“Oh, no, I’m…” He chuckled an amused admission. “Tell me what you said again.”

He could almost hear Eve smile. “I said, you called at four-thirty on Saturday and Sunday, so I took a wild leap that you would today, too.”

“Ah.” Smiling to the empty room, he squirmed to get into a more comfortable position. “A woman of logic.”

“Absolutely. You don’t want to play me in chess. I think five or six moves ahead.”

“I’ll remember that. There’s nothing worse than seeing a guy cry when he’s been beaten at chess by a girl. Now tell me why you’re upstairs. I know you don’t have a lot of help this time of day.”

“I’m paying Jed extra to come in a bit early.” Her voice was low, as though she didn’t really want to tell him. The words struck his heart.

“You don’t have money to be paying Jed extra, Eve. I’ll start calling later, after dinner and before I grade papers.”

“No, don’t. It’s quiet this time of day and I want these few minutes to myself. Jed doesn’t mind, and he can use a few extra bucks.”

“Well, okay.”

“Besides, you won’t be calling forever. Soon you’ll be head of the school and won’t have free time for the likes of me.”

Daniel hadn’t promised her on Friday that he’d call. He’d simply felt the desire and acted on it. Then, by unspoken agreement, they hadn’t mentioned what might happen next in their relationship. They’d spent time sharing that day in their respective worlds.

Today, he’d discovered the desire to talk to Eve wasn’t an “at loose ends” feeling that sometimes came over him on weekends. After his dorm assistant had arrived, Daniel had locked his doors, put his books and papers away, and picked up the phone. Only after they’d been well into the fantasy did he remember he hadn’t even removed his gown and jacket before pressing her number. He’d wanted to hear her, find out what her day had been like and communicate his own. He felt seventeen again, with an infatuation about to drive him crazy. Except men his age didn’t have infatuations. They had obsessions.

“Hey,” Eve charged, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, like I was hunting for compliments or reassurances. I was simply stating a fact, the way we both know it to be. I want this to be short term as much as you do, so don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

But he was. How long did obsessions last, anyway? Daniel had never allowed himself to be distracted by a woman or anything that might waylay his goals.

Until now.

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A spy in the making? #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!
Perilous Love by Jan SelbournePerilous Love
Blurb
Europe is on the brink of the First World War. Gabrielle and Adrian, their marriage on the rocks, are thrust into a world of territory lies and deceit. Not knowing who to trust, they find themselves fleeing for their lives across war torn Europe, the brutal German forces are hot on their heels, determined not to let them escape. Adrian is between the devil and the deep blue sea as he’s accused of treason and doesn’t know what awaits him back in England. All he does know is he must reunite his family safely back in England. Will this mend their broken marriage or tear them apart forever? The odds are stacked against their survival. Will they have what it takes to overcome obstacles?

Buy Links
Amazon
B&N
Goodreads

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt
Adrian Bryce nodded to the doorman of Number 2, Whitehall Court, Westminster and walked briskly towards the waiting car.  While not handsome in the classical sense, his immaculate attire, bearing and manner was one of wealth, authority and confidence.  He was a man who gives orders, never receives them.  His dark eyes set in an angular face barely concealed his anger and worry.  He knew, along with everyone else with a brain, that war was looming in Europe.  Since the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, rumours and intrigue and political double talk had been flying through Britain and the Continent.

Now, because of his family connections in Europe, he’d been ordered to accompany his wife and children on their annual visit to her stifling Belgian relatives who’d never emerged from the Victorian era.  It did not matter to the men at Whitehall Court that he and his plain boring wife of eight years, the mother of his plain, boring children, had lived separate lives for five years.  His wife was related to aristocratic families both here and in Europe and had been introduced to him at a diplomatic reception and as both were expected to marry well, he thought it a good match at the time.  However, their honeymoon proved they had nothing in common except for them to do their duty and produce children.  For the last five years they’d rarely spent time together except for the annual Christmas rituals and the children’s birthdays.  He preferred his townhouse in London, she and the children lived at their country home in Kent.

As the car turned in the direction of the small elegant lodgings in Bruton Street, his mind and body were anticipating what would be waiting for him.  Beautiful, voluptuous, passionate, pleasing Maryanne, Christ he was becoming hard thinking about her.  He couldn’t wait to push his head between her magnificent breasts and soak in her body.  He’d enjoyed the charms of several women but never before had he experienced anything like the heat and passion that Maryanne gave.  She was expensive, but she was worth every penny he spent on her.

Stepping out of the car, he told the driver not to wait, opened the ornate door and strode up the thickly carpeted staircase and into the beautifully furnished rooms.

‘Adrian, my darling,’ she put out her hands to him. ‘You have kept me waiting, you dreadful man.’  The beautiful, auburn haired woman pouted playfully then smiled, highlighting her high cheekbones and tawny eyes.  Her husky accent inflamed his lust even more and he pulled her to him.  She mouthed ‘wait’, dropped her loose robe to the floor, and then her warm breath was against his ear.

‘Darling, I cannot wait a minute longer.’ Taking his hand, she led him to the adjoining bedroom.  Neither wanted foreplay, both desperately wanted release and it came quickly.  Collapsing on the pillows, they smiled at each other.

‘Why do you keep me waiting?’ she tickled his chest.  ‘Your note tells me one time and you arrive at another.  Is there another woman you prefer to me?’

‘I wouldn’t have the strength,’ he chuckled.  ‘I was delayed at a rather important meeting.  I’m now obliged to travel to Brussels, my sweet.  Will you miss me?’

‘Brussels?  Why must you go away?’ She stroked his cheek.  ‘I will be alone and so hot thinking of you.’

‘Family duty.  I must accompany my wife to visit her relatives.’  He wanted to tell her more.  She was intelligent and her conversation refreshingly different from the polished, elegant, brittle women of his class. But he couldn’t, the real reason was classified.  He shrugged.  ‘Some of my investments in Belgium and France need my personal attention.’

‘You have so many investments.  You will be away from me forever,’ she sulked.

‘I know what I’ll be thinking of while I’m away.  Tell me where you were born. France or Belgium?’

‘On the border, I do not have happy memories.  I have told you all this, my papa was German.  He lost all his money and disappeared.  My mother struggled to feed and clothe us. Not one of his horrible family cared about us.  I hated them all,’ she pushed his fingers into her moist folds.  ‘Why are you accompanying your wife?  You never accompany her anywhere.  Don’t you love me anymore?’

He watched her eyes glaze with pleasure as his fingers pushed deeper into her wetness.  His lips touched her nipples and he felt her hips grinding against him.  Then she cried out and clutched at him as her body shuddered with its shattering climax.

Mon Dieu, je vous adore,’ she whispered and moved down his body to his painfully swollen organ.  Her lips enclosed him, her tongue drove him up and up and he was lost.

God Almighty, she gave as good as she got every time.  Slowly opening his eyes, he ran his fingers through her auburn hair, ‘Not love you?   Christ, I can’t get enough of you.’

‘Darling, let me get up so we may drink some wine.’

He lay back on the huge pillows and watched her naked body move to the bottle and crystal glasses waiting on the dressing table.  She was beautiful.

‘Who is so important you must visit in Brussels all of a sudden?’ She pouted crossly and handed a glass to him.

‘The Comte de Meyvier, the patriarch of Gabrielle’s Belgian family. She spent a lot of her childhood in Belgium,  I can’t stand him and I’ve avoided most family occasions for years but I’m afraid I must go this time,’ he savoured the wine on his tongue and gestured for her to refill his glass.  ‘He has a lot of influence in banking and commerce.’

***

An hour later he looked at his watch and at Maryanne.  ‘I must leave, my sweet.’

Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘Will you think of me?’

‘Think of you?  I won’t think of anything else. I’ll send you notes and will inform you when I’m due to return.’  He pushed a little packet into her hands.  ‘Don’t even think of looking at another man.’

Adrian walked back towards his club with a small smile on his face.  Maryanne had been his mistress for three months and he was besotted with her.  She instinctively knew what he wanted as soon as he walked in her door, whether it be passionate sex or to talk over a bottle of wine.  His mind drifted back three months to that overcrowded reception for German and French industrialists.  He’d turned and bumped into her standing behind him.  She’d smiled at his profuse apologies and said she’d forgive him if he fetched her a glass of champagne.  The next morning, he sent her a note with a posy of flowers asking permission to call on her.

A week later she was installed in the small but comfortable townhouse.  Many times since then, she’d asked him if he loved her and he always assured her he did.  But he didn’t.  He couldn’t remember loving any woman.  Obsessed with lust over her, yes, but actually in love?  No.  And he would never fall into that trap.  His satisfied smile disappeared. The meeting today had worried him intensely.  Like it or not, he must travel to Brussels immediately.

***

Maryanne waited until she heard the front door close before opening the packet.  A diamond and pearl necklace twinkled up at her.  She kissed it lightly, murmuring in German how beautiful it was, then sat down and pulled the perfumed notepaper and pen towards her.

Thanks for reading!
Jan
https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne/
https://twitter.com/JanSelbourne
https://www.linkedin.com/in/jan-selbourne-2817b6140/
https://nomadauthors.com/

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Alana Lorens: Strong women and why I write them

1911

Alana Lorens
My grandmother and her kitty

As a romance (and also sci-fi/fantasy) writer, one of my goals is always to have a strong woman as a central character. Why is this? They’re more interesting. They have more resources, mentally and physically. They’re just more fun to write!

My mentor and best example of a strong woman is my grandmother, Mildred Moore Ogle. Today would be her 109th birthday. Born in 1911, when strong women were discouraged, she grew up in Indiana farmland, daughter of a well-to-do family. She was the only girl child; her two brothers were educated well, as was the custom of the day. She didn’t get to go to college.

Her brothers went on to join the military. Jim would become a decorated Navy veteran who survived Pearl Harbor. Paul was captured by the Japanese and died as a prisoner of war. That left her as the one who stayed home, doing what women did at the time, learning to care for a home and family.

She inherited the family home in Bunker Hill, Indiana, an old brick two-story that was a homestead farm established by her parents in 1883. She married a man who’d worked in a bakery, but gave up his job to come live with her and learned to run the farm. He may have worn the overalls, but for those of us who saw their relationship later, I’d definitely say she wore the pants.

They had two children, one of whom was my mother. My grandmother

My square-dancing grandparents

proved to be too strong for my mother, and she spent her life trying to avoid contact. Her son, on the other hand, did his Navy service, then returned to the area with his family. They grew up close to my grandmother and experienced her strength, as my grandfather passed, and she continued running the farm business on her own, keeping it a success even through the difficult economy years.

As for me, and my three sisters, we grew up with our fathers. This provided the opportunity to visit with my grandmother, who we called Maudie, after she came to take care of us during a mumps infection blitz. She said, “Just call me Maude the maid,” and it stuck. Over the years, she came to be the woman who filled our need for female mentorship. She really tried to make sure we had the “family” influence in our lives.

Zinnias–my grandmother’s flower

She succeeded. We wanted to be like her. To this day, we all try to cultivate zinnias, because of the gardens she grew. We admire and collect Fiestaware because that’s what she served her home cooked meals on. We eat rhubarb and rice and raisins because that made us feel loved at her table.

The woman with a spine of steel and limitless determination lived to the age of 93, and she continues to inspire us. Let’s celebrate the strong women we know and we write about! We owe them the world. Who’s your favorite strong woman, real-life or fictional?

BIO:
Alana LorensAlana Lorens has been a published writer for more than forty years. Currently a resident of Asheville, North Carolina, she loves her time in the smoky blue mountains. One of her novellas, THAT GIRL’S THE ONE I LOVE, is set in the city of Asheville during the old Bele Chere festival. She lives with her daughter, who is the youngest of her seven children, two crotchety old cats, and five kittens of various ages.

ROMANCE/suspense Alana Lorens

Website  https://wordpress.com/page/alana-lorens.com/21
Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/AlanaLorens/
Goodreads   https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4829967.Alana_Lorens

Amazon Author Page  https://www.amazon.com/Alana-Lorens/e/B005GE0WBC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

SCI-FI/ fantasy Lyndi Alexander

Website https://lyndialexander.wordpress.com/
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lyndialexander13/
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4185290.Lyndi_Alexander

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Lyndi-Alexander/e/B005GDYPU2/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Bookbub https://www.bookbub.com/profile/lyndi-alexander

Character desires—Jan #MFRWauthor

Historical charactersAs a reader what attracts you most to a character?

I think all of us want to read books with a captivating story and memorable characters, books we can’t put down until the last page.

I’m not attracted to the he-man with hot eyes, growling voice and the body of Adonis, or the luscious blonde with an impossible hourglass figure because they aren’t real.

It doesn’t matter if our choice is historical, modern or futuristic, I believe our characters should have faults and flaws, just like us. We can relate to how she’s feeling when those scales notch up another 5 pounds, smirk a bit when he finds a few more grey hairs, mutter ‘don’t be so damned stupid’ when they stuff up and feel happy for them when they come through.

Downton Abbey, the incredibly popular British drama television series, is a perfect example of wonderful true-life characters. Whether they were the aristocracy, the poor relations or below stairs servants, they were not plastic stereotypes, they were believable. Just the same as not wanting a good book to end, we hated saying goodbye to them.

I loved the Poldark series, based on the novels of the same name by Tin mine in CornwallWinston Graham. Those characters, with their strengths and weaknesses, held millions of people captivated until the final scene.

I’m sure what attracts us to these characters is seeing a bit of ourselves in them.

What do you think?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Jan

Perilous Love
The Proposition
The Woman Behind the Mirror
Lies of Gold—Silver Historical for 2019: Coffee Pot Book Club

Make me laugh! #MFRWauthor

CharactersOver the years of reading, I’ve fallen in love with angsty characters (ooo-la-la, Mr. Darcy!), sweet characters (Donald in Finding Camlann), quirky characters (Don in The Rosie Project), and any number of alpha males (any of the SEALS in Suzanne Brockmann’s books). But the character that will steal my heart for real, is the one who shows humor. That goes for male or female. If a character makes me laugh, that’s most often a 5-star read for me.

I love good banter. Whether characters hate each other or feel that first Banter and humor in dialoguespark of electricity, if they also share a great back and forth in their dialogue, I consider that a winner. Sarah Ney has written a series called How to Date a Douchebag, and all of them contain great banter, Her books make me laugh—and a few have made me tear up. Spectacular interaction. In fact, while writing this post I started reading one of the books in the series again. So, if you’ll excuse me, I plan to add a little humor to my afternoon.

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

New! From Lucy Felthouse–Search and Rescue

Search & Rescue by Lucy FelthouseBlurb:
Kim’s trying to save the world—but is she actually going to make things worse?

Kim Medhurst is an ex-British military intelligence officer turned scientist and climate activist. A thrilling, potentially world-changing discovery leads her to a cave on a remote island off the Scottish coast. But before she can return to the mainland, a natural disaster traps her in the cave with limited food and water. Fortunately, she is an intelligent and resourceful woman who made a backup plan even before she stepped out of her own front door.

Enter Jason Chastain—owner and operator of a private security firm—and his friends Aidan Smith and twins Taylor and Joshua Greig. The foursome are also ex-military, so rescuing Kim should be a walk in the park for them.

However, her discovery is so top secret she hasn’t even told Chastain and his buddies precisely what their mission is—instead relying on money and intrigue to get them to do the job. It works, until a series of events turn the rescue mission into an escape mission. Throw in a further revelation that will change all of their lives irrevocably and Kim begins to wonder if she’s bitten off more than she can chew.

Should she have left things well alone, or can this colossal mess be turned into something positive? This is about so much more than just five human beings, after all.

PLEASE NOTE: Search and Rescue has a cliffhanger ending.

Buy now, or read in Kindle Unlimited: http://books2read.com/searchandrescue

Search & Rescue by Lucy FelthouseExcerpt:

Chapter One
Jason Chastain

Jason gripped tightly onto the controls of the rigid inflatable boat—otherwise known as a RIB—as it bounced on the relentless, white-capped waves of the Atlantic Ocean. According to the GPS, they were closing in on their destination. And thank God for GPS; simply looking for their target was futile—it was pitch black, and the remote Scottish island they were headed for was uninhabited, so there were no lights to help guide them. Not even a bloody lighthouse. To make things worse, they didn’t know exactly what—or who—they were going to find when they landed, so they were in stealth mode, meaning no lights on their boat, either. When they got close enough, they’d have to kill the engine, too, so as not to be heard by anyone who might be waiting for them.

He hunched his shoulders against the biting wind which still managed to worm its way in through his layers of technical gear and muttered to himself. Complaining out loud was pointless—the waves and wind would stop the others from being able to hear a word he said, anyway.

Besides, he was really in no position to complain, since it was his fault the four of them were here in the first place.

The job offer had come in via the contact form on his security firm’s website—all mysterious and anonymous, and on the first read he’d almost dismissed it out of hand, his finger hovering over the ‘delete’ button even before he’d read the final line. It was so vague he’d thought it was spam, or someone pissing about—even organisations who wanted to employ him for highly classified missions usually gave more information than that. Not to mention more notice. But something, the merest grain of intrigue, had made him read the message through again and absorb it fully. Despite all the cloak and dagger, it seemed legit.

And when his phone pinged with an alert, prompting him to check his business bank account and find the promised amount just sitting there, all nonchalant-like, the grain of intrigue had turned into the Sahara Desert’s worth. Particularly since the amount in question was just a deposit to help with expenses and getting the mission off the ground. What would have happened if he’d refused the mission? Did he get to keep the money anyway? By this point, that wasn’t really an issue, anyway, since there were a hell of a lot more zeroes at play if he and the three buddies he had in mind to come with him managed to pull this off—a ridiculous sum, even when split four ways and taking costs into consideration.

Whoever the client was, they were extremely important, or insanely rich. Maybe both.

In other words, a good person to get on side. If he played his cards right, this mysterious client could keep him in work for a long time to come—if not personally, then by way of sharing contacts and word of mouth. Either way was good, as far as he was concerned.

Despite the secretive nature of this mission, it would certainly beat some of the two-bit jobs he’d taken on out of necessity in the past few months. Unfortunately, the need to eat and the requirement to pay bills didn’t go away just because the exciting work had dried up.

But this job could be the turning point. The one that launched him from dull bodyguarding of ‘celebrities’—some of those fuckers have been so Z-list that even Google doesn’t know who they are—and protecting sensitive goods to actually making a difference, like he used to do back in the military. Helping people. Taking bad people off the streets.

It could also be the job that launched him into the Atlantic Ocean—not for the first, but possibly for the final time. The RIB lurched violently, and Jason heard the rest of the crew swearing and exclaiming even over the roar of the elements. And these were guys who weren’t afraid of anything. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder and counted three large figures. They were all still there, and for now, that would have to do. There was no time to check in—according to the GPS, the shore was coming up fast, and he’d need all his concentration, skill, and brass fucking balls to land them on the beach in one piece. More importantly, the boat needed to be in one piece, since that was their way out, once they’d secured their target. Without it, they were royally fucked. Unlike in the military, they had no one to call, no backup, no rescue teams.

They were it.

He shook his head, wondering for the umpteenth time who the hell threw so much cash around in order to hire a four-man team to take on a monumental, potentially very dangerous task, knowing perfectly well that if it went tits up, there was no second chance? No clean up team?

The best he’d been able to come up with was: Someone desperate, with a need for secrecy.

So exactly who was desperate, secretive, and filthy rich?

It’s only a matter of time before we find out. If we ever make it onto this bloody beach, that is. He took a deep breath and squinted into the darkness, willing his eyes to pick up something useful. Normally he’d have donned his night-vision goggles, but the rain and the sea spray would splatter constantly onto the lenses, rendering them useless. All he could do was keep flicking his gaze between the GPS and the landscape in front of the boat and hope for the best. He wasn’t a religious man, but he mumbled some random words of prayer to the heavens anyway, just in case. Couldn’t hurt to try, and it certainly wouldn’t make things worse.

Finally, his vision and the gadget seemed to agree the beach was imminent. With another deep breath, Jason killed the engine and mentally crossed his fingers and toes they were close enough that the waves would wash the boat up onto the shore, rather than dragging it back out to sea. He’d researched tide times and planned accordingly, but he knew better than most that things didn’t always go to plan. Especially when it came to Mother Nature. She could be a sadistic bitch at times. But then, given the way the human race treated her, he could hardly blame her for lashing out from time to time.

Thankfully, after what felt like an interminable amount of time, but was actually only a few minutes, the equally terrifying and relief-inducing sound of the boat scraping on to dry land rang out—audible even over the wind and waves. Jason maintained a fierce, knuckle-whitening grip on the controls as the boat lurched, more to keep himself steady and to take out his nervousness on the rigid material beneath his fingers than anything—after all, the steering had lost most of its effectiveness the minute he’d switched off the engine. He’d never admit it to the guys, not in a million years, but his heart was in his mouth. These boats were built to be sturdy, designed to carry out exactly this kind of mission, but it wasn’t impossible that a particularly sharp rock or even something manmade that had been left or washed up onto the beach could puncture it.

He released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding when the boat came to a surprisingly gentle stop on the sand. He let go of the controls and gingerly relaxed his fingers and hands, then flexed them, wincing a little as the muscles, joints and tendons protested. Immediately, he dropped into a defensive crouch and began readying himself to disembark—they weren’t out of the woods yet. Far from it. For all they knew, there could be a hostile force lying in wait for them.

Once he was ready, he turned to the rest of the team, barely able to make out who was who in the darkness. He shuffled closer to ensure they could hear him. “All right, lads, this is it. Stay alert. We might be on dry land now, but it doesn’t mean we’re safe. I have literally no idea what we could be walking into here, so be prepared for anything. Comms check.”

They ran through the necessary, removed their lifejackets and stashed them in a heavy-duty container, and ensured they had all their gear. That done, Jason took the lead and carefully leapt off the boat, knowing the others would be right behind him. The four of them had always had each other’s backs, and that wasn’t about to change now. Especially not when the stakes were so high.

He dropped back into a crouch immediately after landing on the sand, and paused momentarily to flip his night-vision goggles—usable now they were off the ocean and in a more sheltered spot—into place before setting off to find a route off the beach. He turned his head from side to side, examining his surroundings. It was clear this was no sunbather’s beach, not even in the height of summer—such as it was in this part of the world. He reckoned he’d be more likely to bump into a smuggler here than a sunbather or a swimmer. The sand ran right up to the base of some inhospitable cliffs, craggy and steep.

Shit. I knew this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park, but I didn’t think we’d fall at the first fucking hurdle. Even smugglers wouldn’t be so daft as to end up here.

 Buy now, or read in Kindle Unlimited: http://books2read.com/searchandrescue

 Search & Rescue by Lucy Felthouse

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Join her Facebook group for exclusive cover reveals, sneak peeks and more! Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter here: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

Writer Marketing Services

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

New release! When Your Time Is Up: Thoughts from Stephen Paul Tolmie

When Your Time Is Up by Paul TolmieNA: Hi Paul, it’s nice to have you back with us again.

NA: Your new book, When Is Your Time Up has been released, would you like to tell us about it, and what inspired you to write this book?
SPT: I felt I needed to put a lot of my previous thoughts and written material, all together as one complete book. This was to cover all the topics I previously wrote about. Also, as well, as exploring new aspects of escaping death, coming back from death, and the concept of guardian angels. The main reason was to explore my concept of being given a number at birth, when you descend from heaven, and that you will not die till that number comes up?

NA: What is the main thing you want readers to take away from your book?
SPT: The main thing I want people to take from reading this book, is that you have so little precious time on this earth (as you have been given a specific number, to have time on this earth). Not to waste it but to make sure you leave your footprint in the sand, that you were in fact here, and left a lasting impression. You only get one chance at leaving a lasting impression, so make it count!!

NA: What was the hardest part of writing?
SPT: The hardest part of writing this book was to come up with appropriate poems. I totally wrote these poems to capture the moment on the subject, I was dealing with at the time. I wanted the poetry to reflect what I felt as the author and what message I was trying to get across with my poetry. I wanted to make an impact or lasting impression on the reader to feel or at least think, he or she got the message I was sending out. Hopefully some of the poetry was felt by the reader to reflect back on lost loved ones and their emotions at that time, and now on how they felt after reading the poetry?

NA: What started you on the path to writing?
SPT: I guess what started me on the path of writing a book was two things. The most important was after my wife’s death to write a book as a tribute to her called “Now You Have Her…Now You Don’t”. This was to explain her fight with cancer and to showcase her strength and her love for me doing this fight.

The second reason was that it was something on my bucket list that I always thought that I wanted to do. The thing that amazed me, was that I am 7 books later and still enjoying writing as a hobby. I truly hope that I am having some impact on my readers, of my thoughts, convictions and purpose in writing, as a “SELF HELP” type book that people could connect with.

NA: The biggest surprise you had after becoming a writer
SPT: I guess the biggest surprise as an author/writer of books is how enjoyable a hobby it is, as it keeps your mind active, and making you plan a new book idea. Also, your plan on how you are going to approach that particular topic.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
SPT: Compliments on my writing. How in some cases it was just the right book for them to read at that particular moment in time? This book writing game to me is not about selling books as I mostly give my books away to friends and family. My sole purpose is to get the feedback of their opinions, and expression, of their inner feeling, that is worth much more than money to me. Knowing my idea of writing a book on a certain topic is well received and appreciated for its content, and that to me is what writing is all about.

NA: A pet peeve.
SPT: A pet peeve for me is not the writing of the book but all the frustrations and problems from the publisher. They are so intense about every word and saying in the book that they go over it with a fine-tooth comb. I realize that they have to do this, so there is no slander or lawsuits pending but it goes further than this. You have to go through so many people to finally get to the publication process. You have to have all your ducks in a row as permission from your graphic designer, to use his work even though it was your idea and only his skill in creating your idea.

NA: What are you working on now?
SPT: I am taking a break from writing any more books at the moment and just taking time to smell the roses and enjoy a less stressful time in my life.

NA: What is any question we didn’t ask that you would like to answer?
SPT: I guess in closing is that I would like to say to any potential writers/authors out there to write from your heart and on what you know and feel about the subject .You’re going into a period of the unknown, into your mind’s zone to find your inner feeling on the subject, to look at the both good and bad possibly on the issue, so be true to yourself!

Buy links:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Author House

Stephen Paul TomieFind out more about Paul through his social media links. And read more about his first book, The Quest, here.

Author links:
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001652342265
https://www.linkedin.com/in/paul-tolmie-21082429/

On a planet far, far away #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

The Triple S Bride by Dee S. KnightBlurb:
For most women, one husband is more than enough to handle. But Sabina Volt has three mates. Gosh, that would have been nice to know before she’d left Earth in the dust. Being a mail-order bride on a planet far, far away might be more of a challenge than she’d anticipated.

Buy links:

Amazon https://tinyurl.com/y67f948v
B&N https://tinyurl.com/y6clqmur

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
“Do you need help with your bags, ma’am?”

Sabina Volt looked up into the earnest young face of the transporter steward. He set her two duffel bags beside the seat, retrieved from the storage closet assigned her. Once petrified of stepping aboard a plane or shuttle, Sabina now wished she could hide in the cabin and avoid disembarking. She no longer had that option—she had to get off.

She shoved to her feet. “No thanks. These are all I have.” A glance up the aisle showed an empty cabin. Though the young man’s face didn’t show impatience, he probably wished she’d get her sorry ass in gear so he could leave.

The steward politely stood aside so she could follow the flashing green lights embedded in the floor leading to the hatch. Dragging her feet as much as possible, dread building with each step, she made her way.

How had she ended up here? It had been sheer madness, signing a contract as a mail-order bride to a man she didn’t know in order to escape a man she knew all too well. But the remaining ache from nearly-healed broken ribs proved that most any action would be better than staying on Earth as Kevin Groman’s punching bag.

“Thank you for flying with us,” said another steward at the hatch.

“Sure,” Sabina muttered. Hopefully she wouldn’t soon fly with them or anyone else. Not back to Earth at least, or anywhere near her former fiancé.

She took a deep breath, eyeing the length of insulated portable structure connecting the shuttle to the terminal. You’ve come this far. Don’t turn coward now. “It’s going to be all right,” she muttered. “Buck up.”

The lights in the terminal stung her eyes, and after the quiet of the shuttle the noise struck her like a living thing. Comm sets dotted the walls every fifty feet or so, all sending out the latest news from Earth at top decibels. Dozens of people, mostly men and shuttle crews, stood around watching the sets or holding shouted conversations over the din. She blinked and stood a moment, adjusting to the new environment.

Then she saw him. Or at least, the cowboy with crossed arms who leaned insolently against the check-in desk sure looked like Walter Sheridan. She’d stared at his hologram often enough to have his features memorized, yet the man watching her wasn’t exactly what she expected.

His face looked sculpted from stone, with a squared chin and sharp cheekbones. Wives’ tales claimed smiling caused wrinkles, but no tell-tale lines marred this man’s face. He had the coloring of someone with brown hair, but she couldn’t tell the color because a sweat-stained, dusty cowboy hat covered his head. When their gazes met, his eyes gave her pause. Green as late spring fields depicted in laser paintings, they were also penetrating and unforgiving. This man wouldn’t trust easily or give any quarter. Like Kevin.

Oh, God. She couldn’t breathe. For a panicky moment she thought she might pass out. Turn around! Get back on that shuttle. Make them pry you out if need be. She swung back toward the door only to find it locked. Fanning her face with her hand, she had no choice but to find someplace to hide. Coming here had been a mistake, a horrible mistake. Run! Anywhere would be better than—

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t look but knew instinctively who stood beside her and took her elbow. He firmly guided her to a chair. When she sat, he forced her head down between her knees.

“Breathe,” he ordered.

“I’m fine,” Sabina said at last, and she did feel better, though a little silly. Kevin was a long way off. It might have taken her half a year and two beatings, but she finally regained her mind, took back her life and escaped him. The method might prove cowardly and impulsive, but she didn’t care. As long as coming here didn’t mean jumping from the solar roaster into the core generator.

Please don’t let Walter be like Kevin!

With her head down she couldn’t help but notice the dust covering his boots and the hems of his worn jeans. This was the way he came to meet his new bride? The lack of care on his part didn’t bode well. She chose this planet for its distance from Earth and Kevin, thinking her former fiancé would never find her here, or think it not worth the trouble and expense to come for her. She had to stay, she had to. Yet if Walter took so little care when coming to meet his new bride, what did it say about his wanting a wife? “I’m fine,” she repeated, then added, “Thanks.”

Then she had no choice. She looked up. And up. Warm pools of emerald colored eyes stared back with a hint of worry. His shirt wasn’t in much better shape than his jeans and boots. A threadbare collar topped a dull khaki colored shirt almost completely faded. Spots of rust-red plaid marked the fabric here and there. He’d rolled up his sleeves, showing muscled, tanned forearms sprinkled with light-colored hair.

“Are you Sabina Volt?”

She nodded.

He stared a moment longer, examining her face. He must have agreed that she was better because he said, “I’d about given up on you bein’ on the transport. Everyone else who got off is long gone. Let’s get out of here.” He scooped up her bags and took a few steps away before stopping to turn around and look. His gaze softened. “You comin’, or do you need another minute?”

In that instant she knew this man was nothing like Kevin. Kevin wouldn’t have given her a moment’s thought. Sabina’s stomach stopped its loop-de-loops, and her head quit spinning. Standing, she said, “Before we go, I’d just like to be sure of who you are.”

He took in a breath and huffed it out. “We don’t have time to waste pulling out papers. You have my hologram. You should know I’m Walt Sheridan. Your future husband.” He stared and waited, as though letting that sink in. “Now hurry. My truck’s parked outside and the sooner we get going the better.”

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