Tag Archives: Author Spotlight

Wrong place, right time? ‘Fresh off the Starship’ #humor #WomensFic #SciFi @ann_crawford1 @GoddessFish

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Ann Crawford and her story Fresh off the Starship!

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I’m a fun-loving, world-traveling, high-flying, deep-diving, and living-to-the-max author of eight books. When I’m not flying planes, scuba diving, climbing every mountain (on the back of my husband’s motorcycle) or riding the world’s fastest roller coasters, you can find me in my writing nest with a view of Colorado’s Rocky Mountains out the window. I’ve lived all over–from both oceans white with foam, to the prairie, and now to the mountain. Yes, a little backwards, but what the hey.

My bestselling and award-winning novels go as high and deep as I do—they’re profound yet funny; playful although poignant; heart-opening and heart-lifting; thought-provoking and inspiring; and edgy while universal. I’m also a screenwriter and award-winning filmmaker and humanitarian.

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Website ## Amazon Author Page ## Twitter ## Facebook ## Pinterest ## Goodreads ## Instagram ## Linkedin

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I asked Ann Crawford, “What is the best and most rewarding thing you find about being a writer? Want to share what you think is the worst and most frustrating thing you find about being a writer?” and here is the response.

This is such a great question. The best thing about being a writer, for me, is all these wild, wonderful, way-out-there characters who come knocking on the doorway to my mind, saying, “Write my story!” How could I refuse?

I have to be a writer…there’s nothing else I would do (well, given that I don’t have a rockstar singing voice, LOL). In all honesty, though, it’d be like not breathing.

Writing is not the easiest of paths, however. I actually tried not writing for a while, trying the “practical” route. Ha! That worked like a charm—not.

The hardest part is the amount of time it can take to get established plus the seemingly endless marketing authors have to do, even when traditionally published.

My favorite part is hearing feedback from readers. Writing is the gift I love to give; when readers tell me about how my books have touched them, made them laugh, and lightened up their day, well…that is one of the best feelings of my life.

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Love to laugh? You’ll enjoy this feel-good tale.

A starbeing skyrockets to Earth from the other side of forever with a specific assignment: to help steer humanity away from the collision course it’s on. But we all know how travel can get drastically diverted–instead of landing in Washington, D.C., where she could assist on a grand geopolitical scale, she ends up in…Kansas!

Wrong place, right time? Join our shero on this whimsical journey as she pursues her purpose as well as discovers the beauty of life and love on Earth.

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Matt hands her a large drink with a little mountain of fluffy white stuff on top, with stripes of brown dripping down the mountainsides.

“Here, got you extra whipped cream and lots of car’mul on top, just the way you like it.”

Missy takes a lick of the whipped cream and her eyes go wide. “Oh!”

“Well, yer not supposed to lick it like an ice-cream cone. Sip it.”

She does and then slaps her hand on the table.

“Missy! You okay?”

“Oh, my! How can you beings ever complain about anything?”

“How’s that now?”

“Nothing.” She takes another sip and moans again. Several customers seated nearby look over at her.

“Missy, sweetheart, can you calm yourself a bit?”

She takes a bite of the round treat on a stick he’d set down by her. The moans escalate.

“Geez,” Matt says, trying to sink farther into his seat, “I feel like I’m straight out of When Harry Met Sally.”

“Who’s Harry? Who’s Sally?”

“The main characters in one of yer favorite movies. You made me watch it at least half a dozen times.”

She takes another sip and bite. The moans escalate even more. By this time everyone in the café is looking at her.

“Missy! Perhaps we should eat these in the car.”

“Wherever you want!”

The customers in the café receive one more rendition of “Ohhhhhhhh!” as Matt leads her out the door and she takes another sip of her drink.

Okay, maybe it’s not thaaaat bad here.

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

Amazon: US The book will be on sale for only $0.99.

~ * ~ GIVEAWAY ~ * ~

Ann Crawford will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. CLICK HERE to enter to Win! Readers, follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates and places can be found here: Tour Schedule

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Ann Crawford, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

may bring it all together or destroy everything ‘Spice & Vanilla’ #Gay #BDSM @KatherineWyvern @evernightpub

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Katherine Wyvern and her story Spice & Vanilla!

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Katherine is a gipsy soul who lived in Italy, Norway, Germany, France and Spain but mostly in some private universe of her own. She still lives a nomad life between Dordogne and Catalonia, with a tipi as a home and her boots and a horse as only means of transport.

She’s worked as a printer, a welder and a gardener, and been writing since she can remember, mostly poetry, fantasy and erotica, sometimes mixed together in weird ways.

Nowadays, when not busy with walking, horse-whispering or dream-weaving, she is usually painting, embroidering or working her backbone off in the pastures.

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Website ## Blog ## Twitter ## Facebook ## Instagram

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Hello, and thank you so much for having me here today to talk about my new release, Spice & Vanilla. This is the darker, naughtier sister of my previous release, Woman as a Foreign Language, but it can be read as a complete stand alone.

The BDSM element in Spice and Vanilla came about in part because I had just finished reading Katerina Ross’ beautiful novel Tenderly Wicked, so I was in the mood for something a bit spicier than my previous release, and partly because I had this idea for Raphael, the main character, that he would be “in two minds about anything”. He’s gender-fluid, bisexual, and as it turns out, a switch (he is in fact the sort of character that can piss off absolutely every reader on earth, lol).

I always like sex scenes to carry some of the character building in my stories. I think sex is one of the most visceral things we do in life, and the way we have sex with different people and different sex with the same people at different times can say a lot about us, about our feelings for our partners and where we are in a relationship. You can put so much more than smut in a sex scene (although a good amount of smut is most welcome), and when you stray into BDSM that potential for character exploration rises tenfold, because there are so many more layers to it. Why do we feel the need, in a caring, loving relationship, for giving or receiving pain? Why do power and humiliation become a turn on, even a necessity, at certain times? And can these things add more to our relationships than just a passing kinky thrill? Can they possibly become a way to express feelings we don’t have words for? I do not pretend to have full answers to these questions, but I did enjoy searching for them in the company of such complex characters as Raphael and Hugh.

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Time was, when Di could dance all night. Time was, when she could ride any horse in the stable. Time was when she had a fiancée, a future and a home she loved. Until a silver SUV came out of nowhere and broke her life in half.

Well concealed under a sarcastic, spiny hide, Hugh has a darkly romantic, passionate soul. Torn between love and terror, he’s held the talented, elegant, magnetic Raphael carefully at arm’s length since the day they met.

Male or female, men or women, kinky or sweet, top or bottom? Angel or devil? Raphael’s life is a string of unanswered questions. And Lucie, his long-hidden female self, may bring it all together or destroy everything he has.

Be warned: cross-dressing, gender-queer, explicit M/M and M/F sex, anal sex, spanking, flogging, bondage, forced orgasm, sex toys

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Hugh watched him stroking away with great contentment. He was totally worn out after a crazy day at work, and it was not always easy to find the energy to satisfy such an enthusiastic masochist. There were days when he wished Raphael were a bit less fond of being spanked and whipped, but he always did his best to oblige him. The thought of his Raphael going out there looking for release from God-only-knows-whom, and getting hurt for real by some less scrupulous or talented Dom was just unbearable. Still, tonight he would lie back and relax. Mostly. I will have to help him eventually, he thought with a slightly evil grin, but I can take a breather first.

Raphael stroked in perfect tempo. He was one of the most technically exact musicians Hugh had ever played with, after all. Too exact, in fact.

It would do him so much good to let go a bit, to just go with the flow, be wild and imprecise and purely passionate. Then he would not need so much of this.

Tick—tock—tick—tock—tick—tock, went the metronome, and Raphael stroked and stroked. It was a good while before Hugh could tell, from a small furrow between those blond eyebrows, that the unchanging, slow rhythm was beginning to frustrate him. He smiled a bit wider and said nothing, devouring his beautiful quarry with his eyes. He watched, entranced the fluid play of flesh and skin as Raphael’s long pale cock, a nice ruddy purple by now, sank and reemerged into and from his fist, the velvet-like foreskin lapping beautifully over the shinier, silky glans, the testicles bouncing softly to the rhythm as the scrotum was pulled up and released. It was hard to resist the temptation to throw the whole scene to the devil and just take that cock in his mouth and suck it empty.

This is without exception the best use a metronome was ever put to.

Raphael’s body was developing a number of small, charming tics and twitches. He briefly lifted his left knee from the mattress then relaxed again. His right wrist was pulling on the strap from time to time, and his breath was coming in slightly ragged bursts.

Still it took a long time. Too much control, thought Hugh, smiling. Tsk-tsk.

Tick—tock—tick—tock.

He slowly unfolded his hands and moved to sit between Raphael’s legs. He spit on his middle finger and watched Raphael’s face, half hopeful, half anxious, as he slowly approached his anus. He didn’t hurry. He let Raphael wait for it. He would beg, in time, Hugh knew, but there was no need for that, not yet. He finally pressed his fingertip to the twitching, tight, live rose of flesh and felt it jolt and spasm. He massaged it in circles, with relish, and didn’t even try to penetrate it. Raphael was shaking all over, trying to press down on his finger, but there was just so far he could stretch, tied as he was. His belly muscles went taut. They were contracting in random, jerky convulsions. Hugh had never seen anything so beautiful.

Then Raphael missed a beat. His hand had picked up pace, ignoring all orders. Raphael whimpered, trying to compensate to get back in the right tempo. The double change of pace made him squirm all over. He swallowed twice and missed the beat again. This time Hugh slapped the inside of his thigh, very hard. Raphael could take a long regular series of well-spaced blows with relative ease, but a single hard slap coming down out of the blue like that drew a ragged cry from him.

“You do know what tempo means, I asked?” Hugh said, in a plain chatty voice. He had never had any taste whatsoever for histrionics. He was not, he had never been, a theatrical Dom. He wasn’t in it for setting up a show. He just got the job done.

“Yes. Yes!” said Raphael, a bit frantic. He managed to stick to the rhythm for a minute longer, until Hugh gently stuck his finger just within the ring of his anus. All of Raphael’s body twisted, and he lost all track of the cold, mechanical rhythm of the metronome.

And that is exactly what you need, my love. Too much playing by the rules, too much fucking control. You need to find your own tempo, and just let go.

Five or six fast hard strokes followed. Hugh slapped him twice, on his thigh, and, when he turned suddenly, on his butt. And then Raphael came, on the third slap, as he flopped flat on his back again, crying out in pleasure or pain, or both. It was hard to tell. Semen spurted out in beautiful, long, arched white streamers, splattering over Raphael’s belly, chest, and even his face.

It is difficult to aim while being spanked hard.

Hugh watched him coming, avidly.

He was so naked. So vulnerable, so unguarded. Hugh, who felt, every day, that he might shatter like glass, on Raphael’s unearthly, impossibly graceful, self-possessed beauty, lived for these moments, to watch him released of all self-consciousness and all bonds. Strange, how it took a bunch of leather straps to get him to do that.

“Ah, oh, shit. That hurt,” Raphael whispered after a minute. “Not complaining, mind,” he added, with a small edgy laugh, wiping some drops of sperm from his lips and eyebrow.

“Good,” said Hugh, quite composed, despite the erection straining in his pants. Watching Raphael twitching and jolting while covered in glistening semen was not a sight to leave him unmoved. He reached out for the metronome, stopped it and lowered the weight a tad, then started it again.

This was a faster, business-like tempo.

“There you go, hot lips,” he said to Raphael, who was still breathing hard from his orgasm.

“What? Wh—but…”

Hugh gave him a small devilish smile. Raphael was perfectly capable of coming two or three times in one night, but, like most men, he needed a while to recuperate in between. Well, tonight, he wasn’t getting it.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

You can also find an exclusive excerpt on my website, here.

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Evernight Publishing ## Amazon

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Katherine Wyvern, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

a past that pursues her #Fantasy #Romance #DLieber @GoddessFish

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to D. Lieber and her story The Exiled Otherkin!

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D. writes stories she wants to read. Her love of the worlds of fiction led her to earn a Bachelor’s in English from Wright State University.

When she isn’t reading or writing, she’s probably hiking, crafting, watching anime, Korean television, Bollywood, or old movies. She may also be getting her geek on while planning her next steampunk cosplay with friends.

She lives in Wisconsin with her husband (John), retired guide dog (Samwise), and cat (Yin).

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Website ## Facebook ## Goodreads ##
Google + ## YouTube – Book Video

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I asked D. Lieber, “How did you get your start in writing and what fuels you to continue?” and here is the response.

Writing for me began as a way to release emotions when I was feeling overwhelmed. When I was younger, I wrote poetry to deal with life. I wrote about everything from first love to the death of my grandfather. At that time, I only really shared my work with family and close friends.

I never thought I was anything special until my poetry professor in college took me aside and urged me to pursue a master’s in poetry. I was flattered, of course, but I was far too worried about feeding myself after I graduated. Oh, how I admire people who throw caution to the wind and pursue their artistic dreams!

In any case, I’d always had a secret desire to write fiction, but I honestly believed I didn’t have to imagination for it. I felt compelled to try my hand at it when an author on a panel at a convention told the audience that she wrote stories she wanted to read that hadn’t been written yet. This struck me in just the right way, and I thought: if I’m only writing for my own entertainment, I don’t have to worry if it’s good or not. Well, once Conjuring Zephyr was finished, I figured it didn’t hurt to submit it to publishers and agents. I mean, if I enjoyed it, others might as well, right? And thus began my journey as a fiction author.

As far as what fuels me to continue, that is the stories and my desire to find out what happens. I still write for myself and my own entertainment. When I get a story idea, it just keeps nagging me until I complete it. It’s the same reason I kept a notepad by my bed at night when I was growing up. The words will torment me until they get out.

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Exiled from Faerie when her father dies, half-Fae Ember is surprised by how much the human realm has changed since she was there last. She takes a dangerous job on a merchant airship, hoping a life on the move will keep her well-hidden. Sure, she misses her brother, but years of apathy have numbed her emotions.

When the optimistic and naïve Reilley follows her, it’s annoying to say the least. But when she starts feeling responsible for him, long-stifled emotions crack the ice around her heart.

Faeries, pirates, and traveling players meet in this steampunk fantasy adventure as Ember tries to cope with feelings long forgotten and a past that pursues her.

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I scanned the crowd, but there was no sign of them. My stomach lurched, and I swallowed my panic. I moved as quickly as I could to the place where Reilley had just stood.

To the right was a dim alley with curtained doors lining the sides. I shot into the shady street.

“Reilley?” I called and received no answer.

Up ahead, a curtain covered the light that spilled into the alley. I rushed for that doorway. Ripping open the curtain, I lunged inside.

In the small room, two men sat on crates playing cards on a box in between them. They looked up as I entered.

“Where is he?”

Neither responded as they returned to their game. I spotted a door at the back of the room and barreled toward it. The two men moved to stop me.

“I don’t have time for this,” I told them as they blocked my way.

The one closest to the door I wanted to get through crossed his thick arms over his chest and lifted his chin, looking down at me with a smirk. His wirier friend stepped toward me and pointed the way I’d come.

“This party is closed,” he said with a heavy accent. “If you don’t have an invitation, leave.”

“I just need to get my friend. Then, I’ll leave.”

He shook his head and grabbed my upper arm to escort me out. “You will leave now.”

I rotated my elbow and broke his grip then pulled back and drove the heel of my hand into his nose.

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

blackrosewriting.com ## Amazon ## Barnes & Noble

~ * ~ GIVEAWAY ~ * ~

D. Lieber will be awarding a fancy homemade bookmark (US ONLY) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. CLICK HERE to enter to Win! Readers, follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates and places can be found here: Tour Schedule

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D. Lieber, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

bring out his inner dragon #Contemporary #Fantasy @ErinAJensen @GoddessFish

Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Erin A. Jensen and the books in The Dream Waters series!

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Erin Jensen is a part-time pharmacist and a fulltime creator of imaginary worlds. She lives in upstate NY with her incredibly supportive husband, two sons (who are both taller than her) and a Yorkshire terrier who thinks he’s the family bodyguard. In the early days of her writing career, Erin vowed to get a dragon tattoo—once her books received a milestone number of reviews—but she won’t disclose that number any longer, for fear of actually reaching her goal and having to go through with it.

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Website ## Blog ## Twitter ## Facebook

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I asked Erin A. Jensen to tell us how she balances life and writing and here is the response.

In addition to being a writer, I’m a part-time pharmacist and a mother. I’m not going to lie. Balancing writing and the rest of life is a challenge but if you want something bad enough, you find a way to make it work. Some writers get up at the crack of dawn and write while the rest of the world is still asleep. I’ll probably never be one of them. I’m not a morning person and if I haven’t become one by this point in my life, I doubt I ever will be. Other writers stay up late and write long after everyone else has crawled into bed. That’s not me either. By the time I get a chance to sit down, it’s usually after eleven o’clock at night. By then, I have just enough energy to curl up on the couch with my husband and watch something on television for a little while before bed. And by that, I mean I lay down on the couch, we turn off the lights and I’m asleep five minutes into the show. (My husband would tell you I’m snoring five minutes in, but I don’t think I snore. I’m blaming that on the dog.)

So, when do I squeeze in the time to write? I write during every spare second of the day. If I don’t have to be in to work until later in the day, I’ll sit down and write as soon as I’m done exercising (if I put that off till later in the day, it almost never happens because I’m not super motivated). If I have an hour between picking my son up from school and heading off for an evening shift at the pharmacy, I’ll sit down and write. Whenever I find myself with a little bit of downtime, I don’t turn on the television or nap or surf the internet, I write. And over time, little by little, all those minutes of writing add up. Paragraphs become pages, pages become chapters, and chapters become full length novels. It’s not a quick process, and there are plenty of moments when I wish I could just plop down on the couch and turn on the television. But I don’t because I love being a writer. I feel like it’s what I was meant to do.

Bottom line, there’s no magic formula for balancing life and writing. It’s different for every writer but the one thing that holds true for all of us, is that we put in the time. We sacrifice whatever we’re willing to do without. For me, that’s down time during the day. For others, it’s sleep. Whatever you choose, the important thing is that you stick to it. I promise the time sacrificed will be well worth it when you hold that finished book in your hands for the first time, or a reader tells you how much they loved your story. Life is short. Do whatever you have to do to make your dreams come true. You won’t regret it. I don’t think any writer ever looked back and said, “I wish I’d watched more T.V.”

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Book Two of The Dream Waters Series – Dream World

Recently released from a psychiatric facility after discovering that he is a dragon and his Dream Sight is not a delusion but a gift, Charlie Oliver sets off to accept the invitation extended by a powerful dragon and potential mentor to join his ‘family’ of Sighted individuals. As his demon guides begin to instruct him, Charlie quickly discovers just how little he actually knows about the Dream World and the creatures who inhabit it.

While Charlie stumbles through his lessons and struggles to bring out his inner dragon, Emma Talbot has her own struggles to deal with now that she’s been taken from the facility and placed under house arrest. Imprisoned within the same walls as the husband she suspects of being an adulterer and a murderer, Emma grows weaker while her world continues to crumble around her.

As Charlie begins to tap into his dragon instincts, he learns more about Emma’s past and becomes increasingly convinced that he needs to save her. But what if the very prison that binds her is the only thing protecting her from what lurks beyond?

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It was exactly the sort of evening that I relished slipping into. No moon, no stars, just the pitch black of the eternal night sky and the air that sweltered thick and hot enough to rob the breath from your lungs. I sat down on a boulder beside the seemingly bottomless pool of Water and watched the Water cascade into it from the rock high above. Dark and powerful, the Water fell without a sound. In fact, not a single sound emanated from the forest. Nothing dared make a sound in my presence. I sank into the darkness, merged with it, became it. Then I looked to the top of the canyon a short distance from the Waterfall and knowing black eyes blinked in the darkness, vowing to take my place as soon as I stepped away.

I turned as a creature noiselessly emerged from the forest. Dressed in a heavy black cloak, beads and potion flasks and the teeth of various beasts strung around his neck and waist, he walked upright like a man. But beneath his cloak, the creature sauntered toward me with the bestial grace of a predator. His skull and facial bones were the bones of a man, but no flesh covered them, just pure white bone gleaming in the darkness. A wiry tuft of black hair grew from the top of his skull and eyes darker than the starless sky searched for me through fleshless sockets.

Though he couldn’t see me, he stopped just inches from my feet. “How are you, my old friend?”

I stood and let the darkness slip away from me. “That depends on whether you can help us.”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a disconcerting smile. “Still the same ray of sunshine, I see. I’m well, too. And my journey was uneventful. Thank you for asking.”

I took a step toward him, and he instinctually took two steps back. “I’d lose that smile if I were you. And save the cleverness for your potions. No one here is in the mood for jokes.”

He shook his bony head. “I’ve missed you too, Darkness. You always were the life of the party.”

~ * ~ BUY Dream World: Book Two of The Dream Waters Series ~ * ~

Amazon ## Barnes & Noble ## iTunes ## Kobo

~ * ~ GIVEAWAY ~ * ~

One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. CLICK HERE to enter to Win! Readers, follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates and places can be found here: Tour Schedule

~ * ~

Erin A. Jensen, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

the one man she is most vulnerable to #erotic #RomanticSuspense @AnniFifeAuthor @GoddessFish

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Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Anni Fife and her story Luke’s Redemption!

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Last year, Anni Fife closed the door on a twenty-year successful career in television production, to fulfill her lifelong passion, writing. In the space of one month, she closed her business, packed up her city life and moved to a small seaside village. ‘My writing has always been constrained by client briefs,’ Anni says. ‘Now, I finally have the opportunity to write to the beat of my own heart.’ LUKE’s Redemption is Anni’s debut novel and she hopes you enjoy it as much as she loved writing it. Anni loves to spend hours walking on the beach searching for pansy shells, more hours drinking red wine with her gal posse, and the most hours writing romance novels filled with women you can relate to and men you love to dream about. She is currently working on her second novel, GRAY’s Promise.

Anni is published by The Wild Rose Press.

Join Anni’s Posse and get regular updates and Bonus Treats

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Website ## Amazon Author Page ## Twitter ## Facebook Page

~ * ~ TOPIC du JOUR ~ * ~

I asked Anni Fife, “How did you get your start in writing and what fuels you to continue?” and here is the response.

I was a TV Producer for over twenty years so I spent a lot of time writing creative proposals and scripts. But of course, this was always constrained by client briefs. For many years I realized I was unhappy, the stimulation and passion necessary for such a demanding job just wasn’t present. But what else was I to do? There were bills to pay and responsibilities to meet. And although I have always loved making up stories in my head, I never entertained writing novels as a feasible career choice. I’d daydream about it, but writing fiction seemed an unreachable dream.

Early in 2015, a confluence of life events and opportunities came together and allowed me to make a life-changing decision. In the period of a month, I shut down my film business, cancelled my apartment lease, and packed up my city life. Weeks later I arrived in a small seaside village, and began my new life…as an author.

I began writing Luke’s Redemption in June 2015. It was the first book I had ever written, or even attempted to write. I always had a secret passion for steamy romance so my choice of genre was easy. My storyline came flowing into my head a few nights before my departure. I don’t know what triggered my muse, but suddenly I could hear Katya’s footsteps beating a desperate rhythm down a dark cobble-stoned road in the early hours of the morning. It was deathly quiet. New Orleans was hung over from Mardi Gras. As I watched her, I realized I was looking through the scope of a sniper lens. Was I her hunter or her hero? Or both? My story unfurled at such a rapid pace that I spent the next hour typing manically on my iPhone. When I turned off the light, I had the beginnings of my novel.

During the early weeks when I was setting up my new life, I quickly realized that for romance writers the process starts before you sit down to write. Romance readers know their stuff. I should know because I am one. We can smell a fake from the first page. If you don’t like romance, don’t write it. If you don’t read romance, don’t write it. You don’t have to believe in the reality of HEA (Happily Ever After), soul-mates and ‘the special one’, but you should believe in the idea of them, and the infinite hope and pleasure we get from reading these heartfelt stories.

I kick-started my new writing brain by devouring guides on genre and how to structure a romance novel. I soaked up information on character development, authentic dialogue, points of view and writing tense. It was overwhelming but I persevered because the more I read, the more I connected with particular lines of thought. By filtering these down, I was able to create a hybrid outline plan that made sense to me. It was an intensely personal experience, because as a debut author it helped structure my approach to storytelling, and enrich my characters and plot. And I also discovered that I am most definitely a plotter rather than a pantser. Being a new writer, I’m a bit of a snail. (I get hives when I see how prolific some best-selling authors are.) The thought of writing whole chapters that end up being chopped because they don’t contribute to my story, sends icy shivers rippling down my spine.

What drives me to continue writing?

Passion and finally, a love for what I do. My motivation is no longer to follow the money or a rigid business plan, but rather to listen to the beat of my own heart. My writing philosophy is shaped by my desire to move a reader. If I can move somebody to smile or to shed some tears, then that is a beginning. But if my novel can move a reader enough to want to read my next book, then I have succeeded. I don’t think beyond that. I have found my freedom and creative drive by following this philosophy.

I wrote Luke’s Redemption for my own tastes. So if you like contemporary erotic romances with a lot of angst and some suspense; hot alpha heroes with damage; smart sassy heroines, also with some damage; and burning chemistry that drives lots of conflict, and even more heat—then why don’t you give this story a go?

If you’d like to read more about my approach to writing, visit my website and blog and read my articles from Random Notes from a Debut Author – http://annifife.com/the-beginning/

Many thanks and happy reading.

Anni xx

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Chased by her criminal kingpin father, Katya Dalca runs to New Orleans and straight into the arms of Luke Hunter. Sucked into the carnal world of the French Quarter, she succumbs to Luke’s potent sexuality. He not only steals her breath, he steals her heart and the only leverage she has against her father. She is left with no choice except to pick up the pieces and rebuild her life alone.

Undercover DEA agent Luke Hunter thought his newest assignment—recover a stolen flash drive to gain the trust of the Russian mob—was like any other. But his target brings him to his knees, and after one taste of her intoxicating beauty, he’s in too deep. Doing his job means walking away, leaving his heart behind with nothing but a promise to reunite. It’s a promise he can’t keep.

When Katya’s past reaches out and her world unravels, her only hope is the one man she is most vulnerable to—Luke.

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I snuggled deeper into the cosy bedding, lazy and heavy-limbed. Shifting slightly, warmth spread through me as the slight stickiness between my legs brought with it delicious memories of the night before. I never dreamed that I could be so wanton, so wildly desperate for one man’s touch.

And boy, did he touch! His potency evident in every aching muscle in my body.

Mmmm. Heat flickered as his musky scent infused my senses.

“Katya.”

I loved his voice. Especially when he said my name, so deep, rich like dark molasses.

“Katya!”

I forced my lids open. And drowned in sensual, male beauty. “Hi,” I purred. And it was a purr. I sounded like a sated cat. Inching a hand out from under the covers, I reached up, hungry to stroke his rough morning stubble.

He reared back as if stung.

What?

My hand hovered midair as he lowered himself to a chair that was pulled up close to the bedside.

How did that chair get there? Was he watching me sleep?

Sluggish, I looked at the window. The curtains were drawn together but didn’t quite meet. Faint light trickled in. It was barely morning. I looked back at Michale and cold started to seep in. Shit. He was fully clothed, he was even wearing his jacket. Only his hair looked out of place. He obviously couldn’t find the cord that I’d enthusiastically pulled from it like a wild woman, and now it hung loose to his shoulders. Bed-hair. Do men get bed-hair?

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

The Wild Rose Press ## Amazon ## Barnes & Noble ## BookStrand ## iTunes ## Kobo

~ * ~ GIVEAWAY ~ * ~

Anni Fife will be awarding $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. CLICK HERE to enter to Win! Readers, follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates and places can be found here: Tour Schedule

~ * ~

Anni Fife, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

a hot Scot with a secret past #EroticRomance @TheAnnaDurand @GoddessFish

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Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Anna Durand and her story Dangerous in a Kilt!

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Anna Durand is an award-winning romance writer specializing in steamy romances populated with spunky heroines and hunky heroes, in settings as diverse as modern Chicago and the fairy realm. Her romances have to date won eight awards and her novel Intuition was a 2016 RONE Award nominee, while her short story Tempted by a Kiss was a finalist in The Romance Reviews 2016 Readers’ Choice Awards. Anna also maintains a blog, Spunk & Hunks, where she writes her own articles and reviews romance books, as well as hosting wonderful guest authors.

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Website ## Blog ## Amazon Author Page ## Twitter ## Facebook ## Pinterest ## Goodreads ## Google +

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I asked Anna Durand, “How did you get your start in writing and what fuels you to continue?” and here is the response.

I’ve been making up stories for as long as I can remember, but it wasn’t until my teen years that I started putting those ideas on paper. For almost a decade after that, I wrote and threw out a few bad novels, experimented with songwriting (wrote over a hundred), and eventually settled on books as my preferred medium for creative expression. I became a published author in 2003, under my real name, and my first romance written as Anna Durand was released in 2013. Since then, I’ve focused almost exclusively on romance writing.

What keeps me writing is that pesky part of my brain that just refuses to stop coming up with story ideas. I make notes on every idea, but most will probably never make it into print. I think I’d need ten lifetimes to write them all! Feedback from readers also encourages me, as do the awards I’ve won for my romance writing (fast approaching a dozen).

Most all, I keep writing for my dad, who passed away in February 2016. My dad was a writer himself and always encouraged me to keep writing. Whenever I won an award, he’d smile and say, “Hey-hey! All right.”

Writing is in my blood and in my heart.

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Good-girl Erica Teague is out on bail, charged with a crime her ex-lover committed. Her desperate bid to experience one wild night of sizzling sex, before her trial and certain conviction, lands her in the arms of Lachlan MacTaggart, a hot Scot with a secret past. She can’t resist his offer to enjoy one month of sex and companionship with no strings. But when their hot fling gets personal, can their passion free their imprisoned hearts?

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“Let me buy you a drink.” He gestured to the bartender. “In the name of neighborliness and all.”

Neighborliness? A totally nutso part of me, “buckled” on hormones, urged me to forget any and all flaws this hot Scot might reveal. Take a risk. I’d already enacted that part of the mantra, by asking out a guy I met online. Next, I needed to engage in an adventure, aka one night of mind-blowing sex as a send-off before my freedom was snatched away from me. Part three urged me to be wild whenever the opportunity arose.

And arise it had. In the form of one tantalizing man in a kilt.

Danger, danger, a warning siren screamed in my brain. I smashed the blasted thing to shreds. It was a remnant of the old me, the boring, organized accountant who never had any real fun.

Cliff picked up my half-empty glass and swished the liquid inside. He scrunched his nose in mock disgust. “Brandy? That’s a bairn’s drink.” He deposited the glass on the bar. “You’re in a club. Have a real drink with me.”

Be wild. I leaned against the bar, shoulders rolled back, and flicked my hair. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

Amazon ## Barnes & Noble ## Google Play ## iTunes ## Kobo ## Smashwords

~ * ~ GIVEAWAY ~ * ~

Anna Durand will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. CLICK HERE to enter to Win! Readers, follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates and places can be found here: Tour Schedule

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Anna Durand, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

the truth may ruin everything #RomanticComedy @patricelocke @GoddessFish

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Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to Patrice Locke and her story Exit Signs!

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As a journalist, Patrice Locke wrote a lot of stories with unhappy and even tragic endings. Facts are facts, and a writer doesn’t mess with facts.

But fiction is another world. Patrice began writing novels, where she could control the endings and make them as happy as she wants. The best thing about fiction, she says, is having time to think before her characters speak, so they can say the things most of us only come up with after the perfect moment has passed.

She loves to write, read, and watch romantic comedies where life always turns out the way it should. Her only obsessive relationships are with semicolons and Oxford commas.

Though she doesn’t like to brag, Patrice is an award-winning artist. She won a gold and diamond watch when she was 13 for decorating a turkey drumstick bone to look like Batman. Alas, that was her last recognition in the fine arts.

Patrice lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where the blue sky is brilliant, the air is thin, and the vistas are breathtaking. She is none of those things, which is one reason she enjoys living among them.

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Website ## Twitter ## Facebook ## eMail

~ * ~ TOPIC du JOUR ~ * ~

I asked Patrice Locke, “How did you get your start in writing and what fuels you to continue?” and here is the response.

“Exit Signs” is a romantic comedy that’s been brewing in my mind, along with other stories, for a long time. I always knew I’d write, and I always have, though the formats and genres have shifted.

Because I always enjoyed writing, I studied journalism at Michigan State and then I worked as a reporter for a number of years.

I especially loved writing feature stories about such things historic buildings, haunted houses, World War II secret code writers, and family lore. I even got to interview saint Mother Teresa and singer Bonnie Raitt, though not at the same time or about the same things.

When you’re writing all day long, it’s hard to write all night too, so I didn’t seriously pursue fiction writing.

I switched to teaching so that my schedule corresponded to my children’s school calendar and I found that even though teaching is challenging, I can switch that off in my brain and focus on writing in my off-hours, so that’s what I do. The bonus is that in writing fiction I get to use my imagination and also my reporter-developed research skills for background information. I get the best of both worlds, and I have the power to give all my fictional characters exactly the ending they deserve. I choose happy endings whenever possible. It’s fulfilling and rewarding.

The hardest thing about fiction writing for me is saying goodbye to the characters I have created. I usually end up wishing they were real.

One thing that fuels me right now is the support for my work from others. When editor Caroline Tolley at Soul Mate Publishing first expressed interest in “Exit Signs,” I felt validated, and that’s something every writer needs to find inside first, but some outside encouragement is always helpful. I also get lots of encouragement and support from online writers’ groups and individual critique partners.

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Tracy Price has a documentary-style life until rockstar Jesse Elliot rewrites her script and takes the wheel to drive her crazy.

In her quest to find a writer missing since the 1930’s, Tracy thinks she has discovered exactly how to handle her new relationship. But she may be listening to the wrong voice.

Then Tracy and Jesse find out they’ve both been keeping some big secrets, and the truth may ruin everything.

Will sharing the missing writer’s story open both their hearts?

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Jesse raked some strands of his blue-black hair away from his forehead. The hair fell right back onto the shoreline of his face like a wave on a beach. I thought of the cliché movie scene where the action cuts to an agitated ocean to symbolize sex. I cleared my throat, and ordered myself to get a grip.

Instead, I surprised us both by asking him my name. “Tracy Price?”

“Yes.” He confirmed my identity. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He was all-business; I was all over the place.

This was how a romance novel would begin, and, as the designated hero, he was free to relax and be two-dimensional for now. I’d provide the script because I thought I knew the genre, but I had it wrong from the start because, on second thought, he was from another planet. He had to be. And if this was science fiction, anything could happen. Aliens are tricky.

When he sat next to me I wanted to leap up and run away. Instead, I asked, “How do you like Albuquerque?” Very original, Tracy. What I wondered was, How does it feel to look like you do?

“I like it,” he said, answering both my questions. “I like it so far.”

I felt a surge of power. “I bet. And how long are you staying?” Or, more to the point, would it be too forward of me to sit on your lap?

“I can’t say yet. Maybe six weeks? This was kind of an unexpected trip.” Bingo. Both questions addressed.

This was working. Let me know when you decide about the lap thing. I covered my mouth for a fake cough to clear my head.

We were silent. I was contemplating his perfection. Maybe he was, too.

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

Amazon

~ * ~ GIVEAWAY ~ * ~

Patrice Locke will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. CLICK HERE to enter to Win! Readers, follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates and places can be found here: Tour Schedule

~ * ~

Patrice Locke, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey