Guest Author: Guy Portman

Hello Everyone.  I am an author, blogger and keen Twitter observer.  My latest book, Necropolis (released last week), is a humorous work of dark Fiction about a sociopath, who works for the Burials and Cemeteries department in his local council. It is a satirical black comedy with a fast-paced plot. 

Necropolis is aimed at fans of the Transgressive genre, and/or those who appreciate black comedy and erudite satire.  If you don’t identify yourself with any of the aforementioned then Necropolis is probably not for you.  Some people may call me delusional, but it is my firm belief that Necropolis will one day be regarded as a cult classic. 

As for me, I started writing some years back now.  My first book, Charles Middleworth, is a humorous tale of the unexpected about an Actuary named Adrian.  Charles Middleworth was well received, and this alongside my new found enthusiasm for writing, and desire to satirise elements of modern society, particularly political correctness and bureaucracy, inspired me to write Necropolis.      

My writing has been influenced by a number of iconic Transgressive authors, including Bret Easton Ellis, Chuck Palahniuk, Hunter S. Thompson, Charles Bukowski, in addition to the Russian born Vladimir Nabokov (Lolita), and Scotland’s own Irvine Welsh.

Prior to my writing career I studied theology at university, before embarking on a career of sorts that has entailed short stints in the sports industry, teaching English, and working in the public sector.  When I am not writing or reading Fiction I am an enthusiastic blogger and keen observer of the Twittersphere.  I have written posts on my blog about all that is good, bad and ugly on Twitter, including detailed studies of the various species that inhabit the Twittersphere, how authors use Twitter, and much more besides. 

This is the blurb for Necropolis:

Dyson Devereux works in the Burials and Cemeteries department in his local council.  Dyson is intelligent, incisive and informed.  He is also a sociopath.  Dyson’s contempt for the bureaucracy and banality of his workplace provides ample refuge for his mordant wit.  But the prevalence of Essex Cherubs adorning the headstones of Newton New Cemetery is starting to get on his nerves.
  
When an opportunity presents itself will Dyson seize his chance and find freedom, or is his destiny to be a life of toil in Burials and Cemeteries? 

Brutal, bleak and darkly comical, Necropolis is a savage indictment of the politically correct, health and safety obsessed world in which we live.  

‘Not only a funny, twisted, erudite satire on the psychopath 

genre, this novel also boasts a compelling plot and 

finely sculpted characters’

‘A black comedy of true distinction’

‘I was at once fascinated and disturbed by the devious Dyson Devereux with his malicious pedantry, wicked schemes and grotesque 

good taste.  A barbed joy’

Necropolis 

Author: Guy Portman
Kindle & Paperback
Print Length: 303 pages
Publisher: CreateSpace
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Amazon.co.uk / Amazon.com

For more information, visit: www.guyportman.com
Twitter: @GuyPortman

Book Spotlight: Sheep's Clothing by Elizabeth Einspanier

Sheep's Clothing
by Elizabeth Einspanier

Paperback: 126 pages
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform; 1 edition (February 12, 2014)
Amazon Paperback Link

Kindle Edition
File Size: 513 KB
Print Length: 117 pages
Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Amazon Kindle link

About the book:

It is the year 1874. Doc Meadows, frontier doctor working in the small town of Salvation, has always considered himself a sensible man, and has not believed in monsters for a long time. When injured half-Indian Wolf Cowrie staggers into his practice one night, however, he brings terrifying news--a vampire he hunts plans to settle in Salvation and turn it into his own private larder. Now Doc has to overcome his skepticism and fear in order to face down this new threat to his town, before Salvation becomes just another ghost town in the territories. Sheep's Clothing hearkens back to early depictions of vampires as bloodthirsty, charismatic monsters, borrowing more strongly from Dracula than more common modern interpretations.

Excerpt

My name is Nathaniel Meadows, and I swear on my mother’s eyes that every word written in this manuscript is true. 

I had not planned to become a frontier doctor, but clearly Fate had another path in mind for me. I had received my education back East, and hoped to practice there—but a combination of factors had conspired against me, not least of which was my lack of patients. As a new face in medicine, a field where word-of-mouth can make or break a practice, I found myself ignored by most. A cousin of mine told me of this little town that was in need of a doctor. Their old physician had passed on a few weeks previously, and as I had found myself otherwise short of work, I agreed to pack my things, scrape together what little savings I had, and catch the next wagon train headed to the area. 

In preparation for my journey, I acquired a .44-40 Winchester repeating rifle and learned to shoot. I considered myself a decent shot, sufficiently able to help the men of the wagon train hunt for dinner during our journey. Additionally, I learned many of the more rustic aspects of frontier medicine, such as the identification, harvesting, and preparation of local medicinal plants that I could use if more modern remedies fell short. I arrived in Salvation, a small town of less than two hundred people, on a rainy day in mid-April of 1874, and set up shop in the very building once occupied by my predecessor.

Mind you, I had heard little of Salvation or its inhabitants, and being so far from outside aid—as it was three days’ journey to the nearest town to the east—left me a bit doubtful, but the locals seemed friendly enough, and they did their best to help me settle in. I learned my way around quickly—not a great feat considering how small the town was—and soon could recognize most of my neighbors by sight. Because of how close people tended to be in Salvation, I was fairly unprepared to receive a stranger that evening in early September when I was getting ready to go to bed.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!” I called in response to the insistent pounding that threatened to knock my front door from its hinges. I pulled on a pair of pants over my nightshirt, grabbed a lantern, and opened the door without glancing out my front window. I found myself staring down the barrel of a revolver. I will freely confess—as this is an honest account—that I let out a yelp of fright and instinctively put my hands up, nearly dropping the lantern in the process. Nothing happened for perhaps fifteen seconds, during which the entirety of my world centered on the gun that was pointing at my face, and the heavy breathing of the man behind it.

“Are ya a doc?” came the man’s voice, a rough, heavy growl that put me in mind of bears—but my medical training told me that he sounded rather out of breath.

“Y…yes?” I ventured, “Do… do you need medical attention?”

He coughed, a raspy, burbling sound that boded ill for him. The gun shook but remained largely trained on me. I craned my head to see past the weapon, and saw beyond it a rangy, wild-looking man, perhaps six feet tall, leaning heavily against a nearby post on my front porch, using it to brace the shoulder of his gun arm. From the shadows of his hat I could make out a rough, craggy face that hadn’t seen a razor in some time, framed by a shaggy, tangled mane of dark brown hair that fell past his shoulders, with a lock of it twisted into a tight braid by his left ear. 

His lips were stained with blood and drawn back in a grimace of pain, and I nearly imagined that his glaring eyes shone yellow. His left hand—the one not holding the gun—was tucked underneath the folds of his duster, and I saw a rip in the coat, surrounded by a dark bloodstain.

“I got stuck in the ribs,” he summarized, “He broke off the point in me. I can’t get to it. It hurts like Hades. Are ya gonna help me or not?” He thumbed back the hammer on his revolver, and I considered that I would do well to answer this question correctly.

Now, looking back, I realize that had I shut the door on him as I wished to, things would have been considerably easier on me than they ultimately were. However, I took an oath as a doctor to aid people in need. Salvation and everyone in it was under my protection, and however frightening he might have appeared to me, turning him away was an act of cruelty of which I simply was not capable.

“I’ll be happy to help you,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage, “But please… would you lower the gun first? I can’t work at gunpoint.” After a few moments’ consideration, he un-cocked the weapon and lowered it, to my immense relief. I stepped aside as he lurched in, shutting the door after him.
“I’ll need you to leave all your weapons by the door,” I told him, and he turned back to scowl at me. “This is a place of healing, not violence.”

He grunted and shrugged off his backpack, dropping it on the floor in a cloud of dust, followed by his similarly-dirty duster. I saw that he wore crisscrossing gun belts on his hips. Also, on the right side there dangled a loaded crossbow. I wondered that he would have so many weapons on him, but travelling through the uncharted territories can be dangerous for the unprepared. I decided it would be prudent to bite my tongue as he unbuckled the weapon belts and dropped them onto his coat. 

His dark gray shirt bore a large bloodstain on his right side, and he moved gingerly, clearly in considerable pain even if he made no sounds to indicate it.

“Take off your shirt,” I said, gathering up his belongings and moving them out of the way of the door. 
He gingerly unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off, favoring his right side. This operation revealed a dark pelt of coarse hair on his chest and back.

“Lie down on your side on the bed over there,” I said, pointing. “Under the light so I can get a look at things.”

As he settled himself in, I washed up.

The stranger’s hide was deeply tanned, as though he spent most of his time outdoors in the sun, though his complexion was dull. His chest and arms were crisscrossed with the white lines of old scars, some of which showed up in parallel lines that looked like he’d been attacked by wildcats—and, if the placement was any indication, he’d faced them all head-on. Underneath he seemed all muscle and sinews, like some wild animal, but so thin that I could see the outline of his ribs. On a bit of cord around his neck he wore the skull of some small bird of prey that I could not readily identify, though I guessed it was that of some sort of hawk. This accessory, along with his sharp features and swarthy complexion, led me to the conclusion that he was half-Indian, or some similar mix of breeds. His fingernails were thick, yellow, and slightly overgrown, coming to blunt points like claws. I bit back my apprehension as I washed up, for I would not be a true doctor if I did not help all those in need.

The flesh across his ribs along his right side was inflamed and angry, as though someone had smacked him with a nest of hornets. The worst of it was a red, blistered area about the size of my hand, centered on a wound between two of his ribs with a folded up wad of blood-soaked cloth stuffed into it, and radiating out from the wound itself I saw dark lines indicating potential blood poisoning. 

He was shivering badly as though chilled. I pulled out the makeshift bandage, and he let out a snarl. As he bared his teeth in a rictus, I half-imagined that his eyeteeth were a bit longer and sharper than most, but I dismissed it as the product of fear and imagination.

“I could give you a bit of morphine,” I said, “For the pain.”

“No,” he said.

“I won’t lie to you. This is going to hurt, a lot.” I never much believed in candy-coating the truth except with young children and frightened women.

“It don’t do nothin’ for me anyways,” he retorted, “Do ya see the bit of knife, or don’t ya?”

I looked closer, probing the wound, and saw a glint of metal. “I see it.”

“Then get it out of me, damn ya!” This outburst triggered an attack of coughing that caused blood to spray from his mouth. I felt certain that he would die right then of the punctured lung I believed was a certainty, but the coughing eased back into labored breathing. “Get it out before it kills me,” he gasped.

I went to my surgical tools and selected a pair of forceps, a suture needle, and some sinew. Returning, I saw that his face had gone ashen with either pain or shock, and I knew I would have to work quickly.

I dug out the bit of metal from his side—a shiny, broken-off wedge of what I took to be steel, a piece about the length of the last joint of my thumb—without problems, and I was gratified to note that his breathing eased almost immediately. I cleaned the area with soap and water, sutured the wound, and bandaged him up.
“Sir?” I asked. His eyes were dull and half-closed, but they swiveled in their sockets to focus on me. “I’m done, sir. You’re in pretty bad shape though, so you’ll need to rest here for the night.” 

I wasn’t too keen on having the man in the clinic overnight, but the doctor in me wasn’t too keen on him wandering off in the night and keeling over, either. 

He rasped out a few syllables, cleared his throat, and repeated himself: “Where is it?”

“The piece of metal? Right here.” I showed him the metal bowl with the broken knife-point in it, but he recoiled from it and pushed the bowl away.

“Get rid of it,” he said urgently, “Get it away from me. Stuff’s poison.” He coughed. “Bury it. I don’t wanna see it again.” He rolled onto his back with a groan.

Puzzled by his reaction, I mentally shrugged and set it aside; out here, metal was a valuable resource, and I knew the smith would be interested in even small scraps. I did wonder how long the man had had it in his side to produce that much inflammation, but by the time I thought to ask he was already asleep and snoring like a bear. Relieved, I tossed a blanket over him, locked the front door, went up to my own room (locking the door securely behind me) and did my level best to get some sleep.

Buy Links

Amazon Paperback link / Amazon Kindle link

Guest Author: Melanie Kerr

Writing like Austen: a trip down Regency lane

15 years ago, I was introduced to Jane Austen and the channel for all my interests became clear, for in her work, drama, make-believe and grammar came together in a charming, intelligent and escapist way that captivated my imagination. I have been sewing my own petticoats and dreaming of Colin Firth ever since.

Two years ago, I was given a book, called How to Write a Sentence and in it the author proposes that, as a painter should love paint itself, so a writer must love sentences. I realized when I read this that I must be a writer.  I studied linguistics and English language in university, and a well-made sentence thrills me with its beauty as much as any masterpiece in any other medium. Now that I have taken on a large writing project, I find I cannot get enough of it.

Aside from being a lawyer, I am also a mother of two small children. I have no time to write a novel, yet miraculously I have done so. People always ask me when I wrote it. I answer that I am a junkie, and a junkie will always find a way. I will sell my soul for a few hours with my word processor. 

For many years I wanted to be an actress, but like so many before me, I gave up and wrote the LSAT. Now, I find myself contemplating the other cliché – of quitting a lucrative legal practice to pursue my dream of being a writer. It may be that I was only able to write my book because I was not supposed to be doing it. I have children to raise, a house to keep and work to do, yet I have begged, borrowed and stolen every moment I could in order to create this piece of art. If my book is successful and I am able to devote myself full time to writing, maybe I will not be so driven, but find myself procrastinating from writing by cleaning the house and spending time with my kids. I hope I get the chance to find out.

The book with which I chose to start my writing career is Follies Past: a Prequel to Pride and Prejudice. One of the great things about Jane Austen’s storytelling is the way she ties everything up into a deeply satisfying ending. We all want the books to go on and on, but extending the characters and the plot after the final chapter felt to me like interfering with that perfect ending. And it would all have to be speculative. Nobody knows what happens after the close of a book, but Jane Austen herself tells us what happened before Pride and Prejudice. So, I thought if I could extend the story backwards in time, I would be able to explore more of her world, spend more time with her characters and create the experience I longed for as a reader, but without offending anyone’s ideas about what might have happened. Everyone ends up exactly as they are at the start of P&P.  Also, I love the history of things. I love the depth that a prequel can give to an original story, not that P&P needs anything from me, but just to expand on the back-story, to delve into the history, felt really exciting. 

My dream is to write many more books after this one, in various styles and genres. My greatest ambition is that my work be adapted into a three-part mini-series for British television, though I would settle for a blockbuster film starring Emma Thompson or Emily Watson, or even Emma Watson.

Follies Past: 
a Prequel to Pride and Prejudice

Author: Melanie Kerr 
Kindle Edition
File Size: 1664 KB
Print Length: 281 pages
Publisher: Petticoat Press (January 6, 2014)
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Amazon Link

About the book:

"I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being..." 

So begins Mr. Darcy to lay before Elizabeth his faithful narrative of Mr. Wickham's villainy toward his sister, Georgiana. The facts he sets out are brief but potent. They contain a story unto themselves, and that story is the subject of this book. 

Taking its facts from Austen’s own words, Follies Past opens almost a year before the opening of Pride and Prejudice itself, at Pemberley, at Christmas. Fourteen-year-old Georgiana has just been taken from school and is preparing to transfer to London in the spring. It follows Georgiana to London, to Ramsgate and into the arms of the charming and infamous Mr. Wickham. 

To read this book is to step back into the charming world of Jane Austen’s England, to pass a few more hours with some of her beloved characters, sympathetically portrayed as they might have been before ever they came to Netherfield, and to discover a host of new characters each with engaging histories of their own. Authentic in its use of language and meticulously researched, it is a truly diverting entertainment.

Book Spotlight: Layla's Gale: A Paranormal Romance by Nicole Pouchet

Layla's Gale: A Paranormal Romance 

(Elemental Myths Series)

by Nicole Pouchet

Series: Elemental Myths Series

Paperback: 296 pages

Publisher: Difference Press, The (March 12, 2014)

Amazon Link Paperback

Kindle Edition

File Size: 3099 KB

Print Length: 296 pages

Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited

Publisher: Difference Press (March 31, 2014)

Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.

Amazon Link Kindle

About the book:

Life is finally on track for fledgling stage actress Layla Cohen until she realizes her gorgeous new director, Sebastian, is the star of the erotic dreams which she's been having for months. She could handle the uncomfortable work situation if not for the further evidence she's losing her mind: The wind suddenly whooshes at her command; memories of a past life emerge; and she's sure someone is trying to kill her. 

Meanwhile, director Sebastian Tawanti is steering his small D.C. theater company into the big-time with his Incan mythology-based play. The culmination of his life's work, he won't let anything stand in the way of his play's success--not his mother's objections, not the inappropriate heat he feels for Layla, and not even the mysterious, empathic symptoms he's experienced since meeting her. 

As Layla and Sebastian struggle with new love and burgeoning power, a sinister force unravels to fulfill an ancient prophecy. Will they learn the truth behind the Incan script in time to save their lives, the love they're destined to share, and the future of humanity?

Excerpt

Exhaling, he stood, crushing her in a hug. “I just saw her two days ago. She can’t be gone.”
The breath from her lungs was literally squeezed out, but she didn’t complain. He needed this release. When he lightened his grip, she gasped for air, feeling her breasts swelling against his torso. He looked down, need darkening his green eyes. His tongue moistened his lips, and this time, she knew nothing would stop him.

Tilting her face up, she let her eyelids slip shut and felt the firmness of his lips meeting hers. Softly at first, he pulled her closer with one hand buried in her tresses. His tongue entered her mouth, gently exploring, asking for permission. Her body acquiesced, ignoring common sense and her perfect plan to remain professional. She deepened the kiss and caressed his sinewy back.

His hand dropped to cup her bottom and he pulled her up the length of his body so she was better positioned. His hardness pressed against her pelvis. Her knee lifted on its own, compressing her center to its match.

Sebastian moved his magical mouth to her neck, nibbling a path to her collarbone. The feathery sensation traveled to her core, fully awakening her passion. She opened her eyes, eager to see the beautiful man and gasped.

It couldn’t be. Over his shoulder she watched her messenger bag—the one holding her new prayer sphere—hovering three feet above the floor in mid-air.

Layla disentangled herself and stepped toward the bag. What the hell? It dropped back to the rug without a sound.

“You’re right.” Sebastian panted as he held up his hands. “We should stop.”

“What? No, that’s not—” Her head swiveled from the now-innocent bag to the man straightening his clothes.

“I’m sorry. I was sure you felt the same way. Damn, now you’re scared. I’ll go.” He picked up his jacket and rushed out while she crept toward her bag.


“Wait, Sebastian!”

Buy Links

Amazon Link Paperback / Amazon Link Kindle

Book Review: Fixed on You by Laurelin Paige

Fixed on You

Book 1 of the Fixed Trilogy

Author: Laurelin Paige
Series: Fixed Trilogy
Paperback: 228 pages
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform; 1 edition (September 13, 2013)
Amazon Paperback Link

Kindle Edition
File Size: 2095 KB
Print Length: 228 pages
Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited
Publisher: Laurelin Paige (June 24, 2013)
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Amazon Kindle Link

Ratings: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 



My thoughts:

The book tells the story of Alayna, a very intelligent and beautiful woman who is suffering from obsessive love disorder.  Right after finishing MBA, she  hopes to achieve her dreams of getting into the 'upper management level'. She knows what she wants, what to do and definitely what NOT to do. Do not date incredibly gorgeous men. Just focus on work and date 'safe' men. Safe means average men or above average without sparks - fuck and forget type of men. She's been clean for three years until she met Hudson Pierce, her boss.

Hudson needs to break off an engagement with his longtime girlfriend and he believes Alayna is the perfect girl to do it. Since Alayna has money problem and didn't want to disappoint her boss, she accepts the job. Only Hudson cannot be considered as 'safe' and 'average'. She knows it will be a struggle not to fall back to  her problem but she wants to try. 

I picked up this book mainly because I was intrigued by the synopsis. A woman suffering from obsessive love disorder, stalking someone, weird and dangerous behavior, yikes! Read the book and wow, loved it! I read the whole story in 3 hours and double wow, on a weekday! Yay, it was sooo good. 

I liked that Alayna, her character and the situation she is in felt real. Even if I never experienced her obsession over a guy, Alayna's story is relatable. Or maybe because falling in love with someone you 'shouldn't' have I believe everyone can relate to that. It was interesting at the same time depressing to read the story. Aww, the saddest part is falling in love with Hudson, a man who is incapable of loving. I laughed and cried with her, it was such an emotional journey for me reading this book.

Btw, I started the book not knowing (missed that part from the synopsis) this is an erotic romance book, too many HOT sex scenes in here, but I think the story alone is seriously a must read. Definitely reading book 2 soon!

About the book:

Fixed on You is the first book in a trilogy but ends without a cliffhanger. Due to mature material, it is recommended for ages 17+. 

Stalking and restraining orders are a thing of Alayna Wither's past. With her MBA newly in hand, she has her future figured out--move up at the nightclub she works at and stay away from any guy who might trigger her obsessive love disorder. A perfect plan. But what Alayna didn't figure on is Hudson Pierce, the new owner of the nightclub. He's smart, rich, and gorgeous--the kind of guy Alayna knows to stay away from if she wants to keep her past tendencies in check. Except, Hudson's fixed his sights on her. He wants her in his bed and makes no secret of it. Avoiding him isn't an option after he offers a business proposition she can't turn down and she's drawn further into his universe, unable to resist his gravitational pull. When she learns Hudson has a dark history of his own, she realizes too late that she's fallen for the worst man she could possibly get involved with. Or maybe their less than ideal pasts give them an opportunity to heal each other and finally find the love their lives have been missing.

About the author:

Laurelin Paige is the NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Fixed Trilogy. She's a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there's kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn't seem to complain, however. When she isn't reading or writing sexy stories, she's probably singing, watching Mad Men and the Walking Dead, or dreaming of Adam Levine. She is represented by Bob Diforio of D4EO Literary Agency.

Guest Author: Greg Thompson

My Inspiration for writing Dreams of Marrakesh

This romantic suspense novel is a rare thing – a story of lesbian love penned by a man, inspired by the work of Gustave Flaubert - widely considered to be one of the greatest novelists in Western literature - who wrote about love from the female perspective. My debut novel will never bear comparison with Flaubert’s work but I do hope that you will be tempted to know more.  I was also influenced in my thinking by Zoe Heller’s 2006  novel and film ‘Notes on a Scandal’,  in which Dame Judi Dench played the role  of a predatory female with Cate Blanchett as her unsuspecting victim.

After a hesitant start in 2013 I set about writing  properly in 2013, whilst recovering from a serious illness. I was undeterred by the slightly bemused smiles of my male friends and family and enjoyed the full support of my wife Wendy who painted the water colours on the front and back covers. To me it seemed entirely fitting to write about women. Their presence in my life has provided me with fifty years  of  enjoyable contemplation and an ongoing  search for understanding,  As the years have passed my admiration for the female sex has grown. This novel is almost a work of homage to women. Writing about a lesbian relationship provided even greater appeal and additional challenges. 

I appreciate that the subject of sado-masochism is not to everyone’s taste but I have tried to present this most frequently sensationalised subject in a way which is grounded in the reality of the lives  of working women, albeit from very different  backgrounds.

This is not an erotic novel  but as I wrote I did wonder if the story, written by a man,  might be judged in some way, to be exploitative of the female sex,  Although the work is understated the slight feeling of guilt remained with me and I looked for a way to assuage  my feelings.  It was at this point that I identified the lead character’s concern for the ongoing and widespread exploitation and abuse of women across the world  - regardless of prevailing  wealth or poverty – a problem which man fails to address in an effective way ,  Given the nature of  sexual orientation perhaps I am naive  to think that the problem will ever be addressed. However,  it  remains my hope that readers might be inspired by the idea of  Women with Butterfly Wings and will act in a concerted way to  improve the lot of those millions of  less fortunate women.

Dreams of Marrakesh

Author: Greg Thompson
Paperback: 434 pages
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (14th February 2014)
Amazon Paperback link

Kindle Edition
File Size: 1013 KB
Print Length: 434 pages
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Language: English
Amazon Kindle link

About the book:

Vicky is young and lonely and longs for the love of another woman – but she lacks the self-confidence to go out and find it – perhaps because she is so ashamed of her inner most desire to be humiliated and experience pain.

She succumbs to the charms of wealthy Suzanne who has no qualms about grooming the younger woman for her own sadistic pleasure. It comes as a surprise to Suzanne when she finds she is falling in love with Vicky.

Their ‘honeymoon’ in the delightful summer warmth of a forest hideaway in central France is idyllic, but it cannot last. A betrayal of trust causes the story to move inexorably towards a dramatic climax with Vicky’s life being put at risk.

This is not an erotic novel and the more explicit scenes are handled factually without hint of salacious dramatisation. It is the story of two intelligent women, both vulnerable, who succumb to their irrational desires to abuse and be abused – and both have to pay the price in different ways.

The story winds between scenic backdrops in the British Isles, New York, Paris and the Sologne Forest. Vicky visits Marrakesh in her dreams. 

Website /Facebook / Twitter

Thursday Trailer: Waybrooke (Carrie) by Julia Barkey

Waybrooke (Carrie) 
(Volume 1)

Author: Julia Barkey
Series: Carrie
Paperback: 236 pages
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform; 1 edition (August 16, 2013)
Amazon Paperback Link

Kindle Edition
File Size: 380 KB
Print Length: 194 pages
Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Amazon Kindle Link

About the book:

Carrie Kent leaves her home in California to help at her Aunt Crystal's institute. There, she meets an interesting group of people with very interesting abilities. What starts off as a side job soon turns Carrie's life into chaos as she, and her new friends, face a secret criminal organization called E.Y.E who are willing to sacrifice everything in order to keep the group quiet.

Guest Author: Nicole Pouchet

Waiting for Super Powers

I have a confession to make. I’m still waiting for my super-hero powers to manifest. They didn’t develop at puberty. And I watched enough X-Men cartoons to be pretty disappointed when I got extra bodily hair but no Storm-like weather manipulation skills at 13.   

So, I wrote my own characters with their own kick-ass super-powers. My paranormal romance series, Elemental Myths, follows four women who discover they’re each guardians of one of nature’s elements—wind, fire, earth, and water. 

Their powers become clear when they meet their mates. (It’s a yin-yang thing, not a “dependent on a man” thing.) As I wrote the first book, Layla’s Gale, A Paranormal Romance, I realized that I could go quite far with this concept. The big question is which of these powers I’d want for my very own if the gods finally correct their error in making me a muggle.

Layla gets to control the wind. This is the substance that’s all around us. So, with that power, she can cause freak storms, stop horrible accidents, push anyone anywhere, run really fast, fly… the options are limitless! 

That should be the obvious choice, but now I’m writing about fire for book 2. And, I must go with the power to control fire and heat. Besides never having to be cold again, Cadence, the fire elemental, ends up guiding everything that heat can possibly affect. She doesn’t just start fires; she can manipulate electrical circuits and heat any substance to any temperature. In one scene, Cadence accidentally increases an entire audience’s libido. 

Yes, fire is the definite choice for this non-practicing pyromaniac. 

Check back when I’m writing the story of Riley, the earth elemental. I’m sure she’ll have some fun with the stuff that’s under our feet at all times (even if it’s floors and floors below). And, to the final elemental’s benefit, water is present in 75% of the planet and our bodies. The possibilities are endless!

About the Author

Nicole Pouchet’s paranormal romance series, Elemental Myths, began with Ceiba’s Grace, A Paranormal Romance Novella, published in December 2013. Book one of the series, Layla’s Gale, A Paranormal Romance, is available now on Amazon. Publishers Weekly said Nicole Pouchet “provides an intriguing blend of the earthly and supernatural worlds with emotional telepathy, reincarnation, superhero-like powers, and explosive carnal energy.”

Find the Elemental Myths series on Amazon, published by Difference Press!

You can keep up with Nicole and her Elemental Myths world on Facebook, on Twitter, and on her author website.

Layla's Gale: A Paranormal Romance 

(Elemental Myths Series)

by Nicole Pouchet

Series: Elemental Myths Series

Paperback: 296 pages

Publisher: Difference Press, The (March 12, 2014)

Amazon Link Paperback

Kindle Edition

File Size: 3099 KB

Print Length: 296 pages

Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited

Publisher: Difference Press (March 31, 2014)

Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.

Amazon Link Kindle

About the book:

Life is finally on track for fledgling stage actress Layla Cohen until she realizes her gorgeous new director, Sebastian, is the star of the erotic dreams which she's been having for months. She could handle the uncomfortable work situation if not for the further evidence she's losing her mind: The wind suddenly whooshes at her command; memories of a past life emerge; and she's sure someone is trying to kill her. 

Meanwhile, director Sebastian Tawanti is steering his small D.C. theater company into the big-time with his Incan mythology-based play. The culmination of his life's work, he won't let anything stand in the way of his play's success--not his mother's objections, not the inappropriate heat he feels for Layla, and not even the mysterious, empathic symptoms he's experienced since meeting her. 

As Layla and Sebastian struggle with new love and burgeoning power, a sinister force unravels to fulfill an ancient prophecy. Will they learn the truth behind the Incan script in time to save their lives, the love they're destined to share, and the future of humanity?

It's Monday! What Are You Reading?

"It's Monday! What are you reading?" is a fun meme hosted by Sheila @ Book Journey. This is where we share the books we have read the last week and our reading plans for this week.

Book Reviewed



Thrown to the Wolves by Veronica Blade - 5 star / All-time favorite

For Review

Stalking and restraining orders are a thing of Alayna Wither’s past. With her MBA newly in hand, she has her future figured out—move up at the nightclub she works at and stay away from any guy who might trigger her obsessive love disorder. A perfect plan.

But what Alayna didn’t figure on is Hudson Pierce, the new owner of the nightclub. He’s smart, rich, and gorgeous—the kind of guy Alayna knows to stay away from if she wants to keep her past tendencies in check. Except, Hudson’s fixed his sights on her. He wants her in his bed and makes no secret of it.

Avoiding him isn’t an option after he offers a business proposition she can’t turn down and she’s drawn further into his universe, unable to resist his gravitational pull. When she learns Hudson has a dark history of his own, she realizes too late that she’s fallen for the worst man she could possibly get involved with. Or maybe their less than ideal pasts give them an opportunity to heal each other and finally find the love their lives have been missing.

An old flame rekindled . . .

Zara Cinders always knew Ham Reece was the one, but he wasn't interested in settling down. When she found someone who was, Ham walked out of her life. Three years later, Zara's lost her business, her marriage, and she's barely getting by in a tiny apartment on the wrong side of the tracks. As soon as Ham hears about Zara's plight, he's on her doorstep offering her a lifeline. Now, it will take every ounce of will power she possesses to resist all that he offers.

Ham was always a traveling man, never one to settle down in one town, with one woman, for more time than absolutely necessary. But Ham's faced his own demons, and he's learned a lot. About himself, and about the life he knows he's meant to live. So when he hears that Zara's having a rough time, he wants to be the one to help. In fact, he wants to do more than that for Zara. A lot more. But first, he must prove to Zara that he's a changed man

Book Spotlight: Making Memories by Georgia Evans

Making Memories
by Georgia Evans

Author Website: www.gaevans.com
Publisher: Author House
Pages: 262
Amazon Buy Link - Paperback / Kindle

About the Book:

“Let’s go to Myrtle Beach together, Mel…”

It has been over four years since Devin Gage spoke those words to Melanie Bates—four years with barely a word passing between them. Of course it was just a high school student’s fantasy. So why was he at her house now—telling her it was time for them to go?

Friends since birth, Devin and Melanie set off on their dream vacation. Their first stop is to visit quirky Aunt Bert near the lovely town of Mount Airy, North Carolina, where they spend days visiting Andy Griffith’s Mayberry. When they reach Myrtle Beach, they get some long-awaited sightseeing in and meet new people. From the boy-crazy teenager with her heart set on Devin to the identical twins who could be Melanie’s Malibu Ken doll come to life, Dev and Mel see it all.

Along the way, the two of them reminisce about their past and catch up on the past four years. Nothing is off limits—except Devin’s rich and beautiful fiancée, Roxie Newcomb, and those pesky phone calls he keeps receiving. That’s alright though, because Melanie is determined to make as many special new memories as she can during their vacation, even at the risk of her own heartbreak. It seems somewhere along the way, her feelings for Devin have grown into something stronger than friendship.

Regardless, Mel knows that once Devin is married, Roxie will put a stop to his and Melanie’s relationship. This vacation is her last hope for making memories.

Chapter 1

$4,884.79. That was the amount in the savings account passbook I was holding. I thought of how much I had scrimped and cut corners in order to save that amount. It wasn’t necessary to look at the small manila envelope the passbook had been kept in. The words, “Melanie Bates: Carolinas or Bust” had been written on it for over four years. Right then it was looking like more of a “bust” than the Carolinas.

Many things had changed since I started saving that money, but I didn’t feel like I really had. Granted, I had grown older, but wasn’t any worse for the wear as far as I could tell. My eyes were still what my friends and family referred to as “denim blue”. I’d always thought they looked like Grandma Foley’s, my mom’s mother, which was fine with me since she had very pretty eyes. My hair was still long, falling almost to my waist. It was light brown (referred to as dishwater blonde by some people, but what do they know?), and so naturally curly I had always been accused of having it permed. As if I’d ever be able to sit still long enough for that ridiculously thick amount of hair to be wound around those curlers! When the stubborn tresses hung straight, it was because I had taken up my electric straightener and gone into battle with it, waging a war that usually lasted close to an hour. My hair and I were often not on speaking terms.

Unlike my sister Tami, who was tall, slim, and beautiful with her long black hair and contrasting light complexion, I had inherited Dad’s darker skin tone and my mom’s petite figure – almost. While we were both a size four from the waist down, I was two inches taller than my mom’s height of 5’2”, and had somehow managed to inherit a recessive gene resulting in an unusually large chest. If it weren’t for Mom’s sister, Bertha “Aunt Bert” Foley and her ample bosom, I would have serious concerns about adoption.
To explain what “Carolinas or Bust” was and how it began, there are a couple of people you need to know about – Devin and Roxie.

Devin Michael Gage was born on March 6th, exactly three months before me. (That makes my birthday June 6th for any of you mathematically challenged readers – you know who you are.) My parents, Rex and Judy, have lived next door to Jim and Brenda Gage since long before we were born, and they’ve always been good friends, doing things together like bowling, dining out, playing cards, and partaking in other forms of adult entertainment. (Not that kind of adult entertainment; get your mind out of the gutter.) Consequently, Devin and I grew up spending an inordinate amount of time together. It was fortunate that not only did we share many of the same interests, we genuinely liked each other. Before we knew about the boy-girl issues, we had already become best friends, and it just stuck.

I really can’t tell you if he was “cute” when we were kids because I didn’t think of Dev that way, but a girl would have to be blind not to notice he was h-o-t by the time we made it to our junior year of high school. He had collar length black hair that his mom was always trying to get him to cut, the darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and had topped the height of six feet. Since he played baseball and basketball, he kept himself in shape if you know what I mean. Okay, the guy was ripped.

As strange as it sounds, he didn’t date. The girls at school were interested in him, and some had no trouble letting him know, but he just shrugged, grinned, and pretty much ignored their flirting. When he wasn’t playing ball or working for his brother, he was hanging out with me.

Of course, I didn’t date either. One of the boys in our class, Larry Benson, had told me none of them thought it would do any good to ask because since I was with Devin so much, they just assumed I was his girlfriend. Even though that wasn’t true, I didn’t set him straight because the truth was I’d rather have been watching paint dry on a barn with Dev than go out on a date with any other guy. We were best friends.
Roxie May Newcomb transferred to our school at the beginning of our senior year. She had bright orange hair, lime green eyes, and a wicked overbite –okay, I’m lying. She was beautiful. Her hair was the shade of auburn that women try to get from a bottle, but can never get quite right. Her eyes sparkled like emeralds and she had straight white teeth. While she shared my chest size, she had the 5’8” frame and rest of the figure it belonged on.

Did I mention she was rich? At least her family was. They owned a chain of fast-food restaurants called “Roxie’s”, of course, that were located throughout the country. Why they had settled in our little town was beyond me.

Barton City has an apparently fixed population of five-hundred. The sign hasn’t been changed as long as anybody I’ve asked can remember. The only reason we have our own school district is because there are so many farms and houses in the outlying rural area.

It surprised me when Roxie started sitting by me in classes, at assemblies, lunch, and even at ballgames. Then one day she called me her best friend. Of course if she and I were friends, then by extension she and Dev had to be friends too.

I was afraid things had forever changed in mid-December of our senior year. Roxie and Devin became a “couple”. After a couple of awkward days, Devin reverted to acting almost like nothing had changed between the three of us. And except for some limited PDA, it stayed that way – as long as Devin was around. When he wasn’t, Roxie was very unfriendly, responding only when I started a conversation, and even then speaking condescendingly to me. What really got my goat was when she talked about Devin as if he and I were mere acquaintances. I had to restrain myself from performing bodily harm to her more than once.

So, “Carolinas or Bust?” We were high school seniors when it began.

Amazon Buy Link 

Paperback / Kindle