Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Love Too Hot Series by Morgan Jane Mitchell **Cover Reveal!**




Title: Love Too Hot
Series: Table 21 #3
Author: Morgan Jane Mitchell
 Release Date: October 7, 2014


Synopsis


2 sex addicts had a deal. It didn't include falling in love... 

The third installment of the Table 21 series finds Loraine and Rick after their demons have resurfaced. Taking matters into his own hands, Rick tries to convince Loraine it's never too late. Little does he know, despite her addiction, Loraine has a new life, one that can't include him. 


Gage, the assistant pastor at her sister's church is everything a woman could want, well almost. Great with her daughter and Rick's complete opposite, he's been Loraine's rock, a rock she's been lying to their whole relationship. 


Caught between a rock and a hard place, Loraine sinks deeper into Rick’s darkness only to find her own. She begins to question whether love is patient and kind or if love is demanding and... hot? Loraine's question is answered in a shocking way when she discovers both men in her life have been keeping secrets. She's left thinking a happy ending isn't in store for her until one man offers her a beautiful beginning.









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Also Available

#1 In Too Deep

Available now for only 99c as part of the Forbidden Fruit Anthology - Volume One

Releasing individually on October 1

 


#2 Never Too Late






Excerpt from

Book 1: In Too Deep


© Morgan Jane Mitchell 2014


“If I’m ever raped, I wanna be on top,” Crystal ended her introduction as I hurried through the door. Taking my seat in the circle quickly, I tried not to roll my eyes or sigh. What an idiot! Didn’t she know women really were forced to have sex against their will -raped?
It was a horrible thing to say, but the group’s counselor took it in stride. “Crystal, this is a new line. Would you care to explain?”
“I’ve finally figured it out. I want to be force fucked. I’ve set it up. Next week, five guys, it is going to happen,” she beamed.
Ms. Collins’ face stayed neutral. “So, you are saying you have arranged an ambush. You are having some men pretend to coerce you?” I was so thankful she didn’t say rape. Ms. Collins was always careful. She had to be, she was leading a support group for sex addicts.
Crystal nodded her head cheerfully, clearly proud of herself.
What was I doing here? Besides, sitting between Crystal’s gang rape fantasies and old man Charlie’s foot fetish? Looking down to hide the contempt on my face, I was just beginning to rethink my resolutions before Ms. Collins asked me to introduce myself again. We had to at every meeting because half of the members rarely attended. A long-term member would roll in after a particularly bad night.
Plastering on a forced smile, I began, “Hi, I’m Loraine.” Last names were off limits. “As I said last time, I am not a sex addict, but there isn’t a support group for my problem. So here I am.”
“You could join the frigid club if you don’t like us,” Crystal sneered.
Ms. Collin’s cleared her throat. “Loraine is not frigid. She seeks out sexual pleasure as much as you.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Crystal continued to study her nails.
“Loraine, please go on. We have some lifetime members joining us today who have not heard about your situation.”
Having rushed into the meeting, I finally scanned the room to get the shock of my life. I tried not to drool but across from me was the finest man I’d ever laid eyes on. Inhale, Loraine. Mortified, I couldn’t lie. Most of the group heard my story on my first visit. Now I’d have to spew my secret to the most desired, eligible bachelor in town. Always straight faced and serious, he now squinted, scrutinizing me before a flash of recognition shone on his face. Shit! His sultry eyes locked onto mine, I couldn’t read his reaction but could tell he was really paying attention now.
What’s worse, Richard Mahoney was my boss, the owner of the high scale restaurant I’d worked at for the last month. Only thirty, only a little older than I was, there’s no way he should ooze such sophistication. He was a fine wine where I was an American cheese. Rick was the kind of man classic novels were written about, the big sexy fish no one could catch. Sure, everyone called him Rick the dick at work, but the man made women’s panties hit the floor, and he loved every second of it. Being made of money, his main redeeming quality, at least for me was he’d worked hard to make Table 21 the hottest place in town and hadn’t stopped working when he’d succeeded. Even though he could be off playing golf on a tropical island somewhere, Rick rolled his sleeves up and was in the middle of the action.
While I contemplated if running out of the door would be just as embarrassing as speaking, Ms. Collins motioned for me to go on. I’d have to; I’d promised my doctor and my mother I’d give this a try. Assuring myself Rick’s presence alone meant he’d had to have heard worse stories, my curiosity kicked in as I realized he was sitting in this group of weirdos with me. Rick had his own demons, secrets no one in town had even whispered about. He was a sex addict.
Finding my strength, I started all over again. “Hi, my name is Loraine, and I am 25.” I shook my head. Why did I say my age? “I am not addicted to sex but to getting off. I seek out men on a nightly basis who are willing to do anything to please me. And they get nothing in return.”
“Meaning?” Ms. Collins probed. “Loraine, we all explain our addictions specifically in here.”
“I am addicted to being orally pleasured but not having actual intercourse,” I said through my teeth.
I couldn’t miss Rick’s eyes popping out of his head. “Have you had, um, intercourse before?” he asked in an odd voice.
Looking away fast, I said nothing. I didn’t want to have to go through this every time I came here. Of course, a group of actual sex addicts would think I was the strange one. Feeling exposed, I crossed my arms over my chest.
Ms. Collins patted my knee. “You don’t have to answer his question, but we all heard it last week. Rick has been with us a long time. He is a very supportive member and shares frequently.”
A girl with red hair snorted, causing Ms. Collins to give her a look of death. I spotted her nametag, Diane.
“No, I haven’t had intercourse. I’ve never been penetrated by a man, by anything,” I answered clearly and concisely. Maybe the questions would stop, but I doubted it.
“So you’re still a virgin?” Rick uttered slowly, noticeably shocked.
Eyeing Ms. Collins instead of anyone else, I blew out a breath of frustration. I so didn’t feel like a virgin. “Actually, my hymen is broken.” I knew that didn’t really mean anything after my doctor explained it, but it shut most people up. “I’ve been given the option to go through some physical therapy to try to help,” I managed to get out next. I‘d also flat out refused.
Ms. Collins provided a reassuring smile. “If you would like to share first, go ahead.”
Nodding to her, I remembered I needed this, to be understood. My therapist said it was necessary to share with people other than my mother and him. He said what I had wasn’t just a problem but an addiction. That I needed rehab but this would have to do. Here I promised not to behave badly, but came to confess my sins weekly when I did anyway. Maybe these confessions would help me make sense of myself.
“Last night, I went out to a club with a girlfriend,” I said keeping things as vague thus anonymous as possible.
Crystal perked up. “Lesbian?”
“No, a female friend. I met this guy, a college student. I have been out of college a few years now. Anyway, he was an easy target.”
“Meaning?” Diane, the red head interrupted to huffs from other members. “Trust me this is the good part,” she told Rick, touching his leg.
“Meaning, he was harmless. He was hot enough, they all are, but he was naïve. I could tell he would be thrilled someone like me chose him over his more popular friends. He'd be thrown off guard that I wanted to go somewhere more private instead of getting to know each other. We went back to his dorm, not to his room, but to the showers. He got down on his knees, pulled my jeans down and ate me out. I was in control, standing, leaning against the wall with my hands in his hair like I was a guy getting my dick sucked.” Just remembering it caused my nipples to harden as I tried not to squirm in my plastic seat.
“What happened next?” Ms. Collins directed.
“I got off and made my excuses to leave soon after.” I shrugged then laughed, “He was pretty, pissed. I don’t think he’ll call.” I didn’t give him my number.
“So you are a cock tease,” Rick blurted out.
“Now Rick, Loraine has tried to go all the way but found she can’t. It may be a phobia,” Ms. Collins studied me with her pencil to her chin. “You have no experiences with abuse, right?”
“None,” I answered honestly. It was usually the first and last question ever asked. After I denied abuse of any kind, no one took my problem seriously.
“Yeah, right. Just a cock tease,” Rick mumbled to old man Charlie.
Richard Maloney, striking black hair and light blue eyes with a statuesque body or not, was really starting to piss me off. “I am not a tease!” I almost shrieked. “How many times have you gotten your dick sucked and didn’t return the favor, not even had sex afterwards?” I challenged. Guys did that sort of thing all the time, at least in the movies. I’d never been able to date one very long.
Rick shrugged. I was right.
Crystal spoke up, “Rick won’t eat pussy. He’s not scared of it; he’s just too good for it. I for one have never slept a man who wouldn’t go down.”
Old man Charlie babbled, “I’d ram my rod up that tight pussy, fix Loraine right quick.”
“Mmm hmm,” Rick agreed.
“Gentleman! That is enough.” Ms. Collins scolded all of us and defended me gloriously to my embarrassment. Then we discussed as a group how my behavior was dangerous, no matter how careful I thought I was. Plotting daily to find sexual enjoyment had taken over my life. The others related their problems to my own. We all vowed to change, but that was easier said than done. We weren’t stupid; we were addicted.
After class, I spoke to Ms. Collins alone to tell her Rick was my boss. Reminding me he signed the same agreement I did, she added, “We all have secrets here. There has never been an issue with anyone in the group breaking our pact.” That explained why I hadn’t heard of Rick coming here. I wanted to be comforted by her assurances, but I didn’t need any more trouble in my life. Never having told my secret before in this group, I left the community center more troubled than ever.





Author Bio


Bestselling paranormal romance and erotic romance author, Morgan Jane Mitchell spent years blogging politics and health trends before she rediscovered her love of writing fiction. Trading politicians for bloodsuckers of another kind, she's now the author of bestselling post-apocalyptic fantasy novel, Sanguis City. Her action packed series of vampires, witches, demons and zombies is paranormal romance, dystopia, urban fantasy and erotica in one bite. When Morgan Jane is not creating the city of blood or conjuring up other supernatural tales, she's dreaming up erotic and dark romances. Morgan Jane lives in the beautiful bluegrass area of central Kentucky with her husband, 3 sons, 3 cats and a greyhound shepherd mix dog named Miss Penni Lane.


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Tuesday, September 16, 2014

An Exclusive Excerpt From Calinda B.'s New Release, Red Rex!


An Exclusive Excerpt From Calinda B.'s New Release, Red Rex!


"Your true name is Red Rex. The baddest of badasses, an alpha warrior beyond compare, here to wipe out the existence of the Deltarcs..." 
Or, at least, that's what he's been told.

Eighteen year old Gaige Dupond has his life all mapped out. Lose his virginity to Emily. Get married. Become a pro soccer player and travel the world. Simple, right?

His father, a pure-bred Deltarc from another planet, whose race is growing extinct on planet Earth, has other plans--either confirm that he truly takes after his warrior father, and not his dearly departed empath mother, or snuff out his existence.

All plans go awry, however, when the dangerous red darkness in Gaige is awakened like a beam of hell flickering from his right eye, in a night of relentless sexual initiation. Intense cravings and unquenchable arousal are stimulated, and Gaige must find a way to satisfy them without destroying his victims. Pursued by a vicious Deltarc bounty hunter, Deltarc tracking hounds and his father's wicked minions, he loses his home, his life, all that he holds dear in pursuit of the truth. In his quest to find his mother, victim to a corrupt cryopreservation project in outer space, and right the wrongs inflicted on him, he finds something far darker--his own sinister motivations and the need to feed on something other than human food. His only companion, a lab rat refugee named Sojourn, Gaige knows he'll never be loved--not in the way he'd always envisioned. Will he find the revenge he's seeking, or will he become an evil replica of his father? That's the last thing he'd ever wish on himself, but it may be his only option for survival.



Red Rex: Blood Echoes

Chapter 1

Gaige let himself into the house, removed his over-sized sunglasses, and tossed them on the small stand in the foyer. He wouldn’t need to hide his eyes until his freakaziod father got home in a few hours. Then again, he rarely saw his dad as the man always ensconced himself in his “office” when he wasn’t on his spaceship or wherever the hell he went.
Gaige wandered into the dining room, headed for a gleaming red apple nestled in a fruit basket on the table. He paused mid-reach, catching his reflection in the polished wood. The red spot in my eye—shit.
During the soccer match two nights ago, not only did he score multiple goals, but took a kick to the side of the head. He wondered if he’d ruptured a blood vessel that leaked into his eye. He gingerly tapped his bruised cheek, dropped his soccer ball and stepped to the mirror that hung heavy, stately, on the dining room wall.
His mom hated that mirror. Said it reminded her of pretense and bullshit, and only served to reflect her sorry marriage. Gaige had been her respite from the world. Before she died, she’d been at every soccer match, cheering him on, while his father probably didn’t know his son even played the sport.
He moved closer to the reflective glass. Shit, he mused, is that red spot glowing? He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Maybe it’s a concussion.
He bit into his apple, thoughtfully. It gave a satisfying snap as juice squirted onto his face. He ran a hand across his mouth then wiped his palm on his shorts. His bare chest was still sweaty from practice. He liked the muscles starting to bulge in chiseled, hard-edged power. He flexed his arm and stared at the reflection of his rock solid biceps and solid chest, glancing at his messy blond hair and unshaved face. Gotta clean up. Tonight I give all this to Emily. We’re finally going to do it. He’d have to keep his sunglasses on, pretend to be a badass, though. No need to elicit pity over my eye.
He snagged the soccer ball between his feet and dribbled along the hallway toward his bedroom. Taking another bite of apple, it slipped from his fingers and he flailed forward trying to catch it. In the process, the ball went airborne down the hall, bounced off the wall, hitting his father’s office door, pushing it further open and disappearing inside. Shit.
He hurried in hoping like hell nothing was broken. Standing in the middle of the bedroom-turned-home office, his pulse pounded. His father assured him if he ever went past the door, he’d wish for death after he finished punishing him.
If his mother hated the dining room mirror, she’d despised his office. “Nothing but evil secrets in that room,” he’d heard her say.
Gaige took a moment to look around. It appeared more like a tactical war room than an office. What the hell does he do in here? A massive table stood in the center of the room. The back wall held an array of monitors showing maps of Earth and news feeds from around the globe.
It made him think of a long ago cartoon he watched rerun of, Pinky and the Brain. “Gee, dad, what do you want to do tonight?” he said, mimicking the show. “The same thing we do every night, son—try to take over the world!” he said in a lower voice, pretending to be his father as the Brain. He heaved a grunt.
One monitor showed a strange, bleak, yellow, red, and brown landscape. Looked like a dying alien world in a sci-fi flick. My father’s home planet? Gaige wondered. Under the monitors, the bedroom’s original closet was filled with junk. He set his apple on the desk and stuck his head in for a peek. Sounds erupted from the front door as his father and several others stomped into the house.
Shit! What the hell’s he doing home so early? His heart hammered, both from his breach into his father’s forbidden domain and the sight of four disgusting male Deltarcs entering the dining room that he spied through the wide-open office door. Fuck. Another meeting of the High Council of Deltarc, freaks of the planet. I’m in trouble, big time.
The males trudged down the hallway.
Gaige flew for the slatted closet, barely closing it before his father appeared in the doorway, the other males behind him. Through the narrow slits in the sliding closet panel, he watched his father pause, staring at the entrance to his lair, his face becoming ugly. His eyes lifted to the desk where Gaige left his apple.
Sweat burst from Gaige’s forehead and neck. Shit, shit, shit. I’m going to be in so much fucking trouble.
A smile bloomed on his dad’s face as he resumed his human role as a bank executive. “Can I get you anything? A cocktail, perhaps? Beer, wine, bourbon?”
The men agreed on bourbon and Gaige’s father poured hefty slugs into thick crystal glasses. They solemnly lifted their drinks in a toast and tossed back swallows.
A ding rang out, indicating his father just received an email. His dad turned to the monitor resting on the desk, while Gaige squinted at the screen, trying to make out what the reading pane said.
Lyrica Dupond, he read, is being transported to a new cryo-facility. Her condition worsens.
How can a dead woman’s condition worsen?  An icy chill formed along Gaige’s head and spine.
His father frowned as he read.
We’ve tried various treatments without effect. We’re sending her to one last facility, still in a state of cryo-preservation.
What? My mother isn’t dead? She’s been cryo-preserved? He thought his father drained her dead from his “nightly feedings,” and he despised him for it—as in murderous hate, like a viper living in his gut. The wood slats in front of his face reflected a slight red glow while the rage in his belly grew molten hot. He glanced around for the source of the light.
His dad shut the laptop, and rapped on it with his knuckles before sitting, his back to Gaige.
“Bad news?” one of the males asked.
“Nothing that compromises the mission.” His father tried to divert the conversation.
“Speaking of missions, how’s your son? Any signs of his Deltarc spore?”
Gaige watched his father stiffen, his shoulders rising. “Not yet. He still takes after his mother.” He practically spit the word out like a poison seed.
“Seers say the time for Red Rex has come.”
Red Rex? What the hell is that? Gaige thought, struggling to keep it together.
“Legend says the mightiest of Deltarcs will fall to his progeny, a blood hex. Thus begins the rise and reign of the savior Red Rex.”
His father placed both hands, palms down, on the table and let out a vicious, angry squeal, sounding more like a wild boar than human.
The males’ eyes grew wide and they sat very, very still.
Gaige clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to keep from vomiting. My father’s a fucking swine? He choked back dry heaves, trying not to give away his hiding spot.
“Gentlemen,” his father said in a more conciliatory voice. “Since when did you believe in fantasy? That legend has been applied to every new ruler in Deltarc history. That story’s nothing but mythology, I assure you. Do you honestly think my whelp of a son is stronger than you, Chax?” He lifted a finger in one of the male’s directions.
The male smiled nervously and shook his head.
“Or me? Honestly. You’re like hens sometimes.” He lifted his glass to his lips. “I’m about to become the supreme warrior general.”
The what? Gaige thought. Loud murmurs and “hear, hear” cheers and shouts of assent followed his father’s declaration.
“Let me prove it. Let’s skip the tactical meeting. It’s time to force his transformation,” his father said. He pressed a few buttons on a funky looking mobile phone. “Sylvia? Remember what I asked you to set up?” He paused. “We’re ready now. No. I said right fucking now.” His father disconnected the communication device and said, “I’ve arranged it. We’ll breed him to a pure she-male.”
Prickles of fear washed along his scalp. Breed me? Like a fucking stallion? Hell, no. The only one who gets my virginity is Emily. Tonight, if I can wing it.
“Have you noticed anything unusual, my lord?” one of the males asked his father.
My lord? Gaige wrapped his arms tightly in front of his bare chest. Since when do people call him my lord?
“Why, yes, his lovely teenage hormones have finally kicked in. He’s ogling a female from his school, but hasn’t fucked her yet as far as I can discern. I’m damn tired of waiting. He’s been slow to mature but I’ve noticed him behaving oddly. I think we’ll have a warrior minion on our hands.” His father smacked his lips.
Gaige’s head began to swim and the freakish compulsions he’d been feeling lately—disturbing, bizarre cravings, like he wanted to consume his girlfriend, not merely lose his virginity to her—swirled inside. He thought he might faint, blowing his cover.
 “We know the male transformation has to be forced—we’ve all experienced it. But breed him?” another said.
“Our race is dwindling. We came here to feed and grow strong again. However, with all the she-males miscarrying, we might still become extinct if we don’t figure out what’s happening. We force the transformation and see what he’s made of.
“So far, he’s taken after his mother. But he may have more of our kind in him than we think. And we breed him to as many she-males as possible and use them to find a cure for the stillborns—he’s young and virile and his seed is no doubt superior.
“Then—if he fails to prove useful or he turns out to be some sort of fucking mutant, we snuff out his lights.” His father lifted his glass and drained it into his throat. “Gentlemen?” he said, standing, stepping to the liquor cabinet and lifting the decanter of bourbon. “Who wants a refill?”
Gaige felt weak and shaky, like his legs were going to give out. My father wants to snuff out my lights? What kind of father says that shit?
As the alcohol hit the males’ bodies, they began to relax, their true Deltarc appearances began to emerge. Gaige had never actually seen it happen—he’d only caught his father unawares after he’d transformed. His lip curled in disgust as the men’s human forms blurred and they became short, stocky, beast-like creatures with yellow and red skin, horns protruding from their skulls.
His father portrayed himself as a handsome Italian playboy businessman and now looked the ugliest of the bunch, if such a thing were possible. He shrank in stature, legs bowed, and skin glistening. His tongue slid over his lips, then darted out to snag a crumb from the floor, like a monster frog.
“Fuck me,” Gaige whispered, his stomach churning in revulsion. He put his hand on his stomach in an attempt to quell the queasy feeling. He’d never witnessed his father’s real tongue. He glanced at the small glowing tattoos on the males’ faces—all identical to his father’s. The outline of a star with a circle and a triangle inside stood as the symbol for the “supra-celestial” or “diamond body,” an invisible channel of energy supposedly surrounding every being—every superior being, his father told him once. All the big-wig, muckety-mucks in the organization wore them, distinguishing themselves from their lessors.
His father finished his second drink and rapped his knuckles on the meeting table. “Okay, let’s do this. I’ll meet you there in about a half hour. After that, I’ll need a good long feeding. I’ve never found anyone as sweet as my empathic wife’s delta brain waves.”
Gaige watched his father shudder—he actually shivered with longing. Bile bubbled into Gaige’s throat. That’s what he thought of my mother? Nothing but a feeding station?
“Not many humans have delta brain waves as good as an empath’s, and there are not many empaths on this planet. How are you sustaining?” a male asked.
“I’ve had nothing but thetas and alpha waves,” his father grumbled. “A fellow can’t live long on those.”
Another commented, “Have you heard the latest? Our scientists are getting closer to creating a drug to put humans into a deeper sleep through a process called cryopreservation.”
A wicked little smile played along the edges of his father’s face. “Yes, I know. Who do you think started and funded this revolutionary idea three years ago? Well, my wife started it,” his chuckle drove through Gaige’s core, “but she had little choice in the decision. She’s being experimented on as we speak. Permanent delta. Endless supplies. Think of it,” he said dreamily. “Our kind…” He pulled a disgusted face. “No more she-males wide awake, chattering like monkeys. Only the release and the feeding, no conversation.”
The males grunted and squealed like pigs, making Gaige’s eyebrows knit together.
His father rapped his knuckles yet again, with his signature “tap, tap” move. “We’re adjourned. Let the transformation commence.” He smiled broadly, glancing at the closet, letting his smile grow extra wide.
Fuck! Gaige thought. I’m screwed. After they exited the office, he swiftly, quietly slipped from his father’s lair, apple and ball in hand, and hustled to his bedroom one floor up.
He grabbed a duffle bag from the closet and shoved in t-shirts, jeans, socks, and underwear. Then swiped the only picture of his mom from the bedside table and stuffed it between the clothes.
“Gaige? Would you come out here, son?”
Gaige froze. He couldn’t go out the front door without confronting his father. He crept toward the windowsill, and gently pried it open.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” his father said.
Gaige didn’t turn. Instead, he tossed the duffle to the grass, two stories down.
“Found an apple in my office,” his father said in casual conversation.
“Did you?” Gaige said and flung his leg over the sill. “I hope you choke on it.”
 “Where you headed?” His dad’s voice came normal, no big deal, but Gaige felt chilled to the bone.
“Away from here. I’m done living in what you call a home,” he said without looking at his father. “You and your freakish kind can play among yourselves.”
The most sinister laugh he’d ever heard left his father’s throat. “Oh, son, how quickly you forget. Genes are genes, boy. Mine are strong.”
“Yeah, well you can fucking drown in them,” Gaige said, swinging his other leg out the window. He looked down at the side yard, thinking how little he’d miss this place. He started to push off to freedom when his father’s tongue noosed around his neck, wrenching him up and over the sill, to slam him against the solid hardwood floor, unconscious.

An award-winning web designer and certified SEO specialist, Calinda B has worked in the Internet industry as a web page designer/developer since the early 1990's. She has also taught web site design and computer graphics at community colleges in Northern California. In addition to writing, Calinda B creates fine art and music, and enjoys scuba diving, kayaking, and bike riding. Calinda B makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with the love of her life and her two cats. She is currently working on the fourth book in The Wicked Series, tentatively entitled A Wicked Ending, or the third book in The Beckoning Series or maybe those are done and she's working on.... She loves to write and does it daily.
Connect with Calinda B.
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Monday, September 15, 2014

Introducing Author, Calinda B **Author Spotlight**

An award-winning web designer and certified SEO specialist, Calinda B has worked in the Internet industry as a web page designer/developer since the early 1990's. She has also taught web site design and computer graphics at community colleges in Northern California. In addition to writing, Calinda B creates fine art and music, and enjoys scuba diving, kayaking, and bike riding. Calinda B makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with the love of her life and her two cats. She is currently working on the fourth book in The Wicked Series, tentatively entitled A Wicked Ending, or the third book in The Beckoning Series or maybe those are done and she's working on.... She loves to write and does it daily.

Follow and connect with Calinda B.
 Website, 
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Saturday, September 6, 2014

Willowmere Hall: Aurora Snow **Episode 1**

"Her beauty was her gift."

Willowmere Hall: 

Aurora Snow 

**Chapter One**



SLAVERY AWAITED AURORA SNOW, and yet she couldn’t be more excited if she’d won a million pounds.
A smile was brought to her pale cheeks as the warm, sweet breeze blew at her cheeks. She closed her dark brown eyes and stuck her head even further out the limo's window as she beheld the glory of the Willowmere Hall grounds.
Manicured daily, the grounds were lush and green with all manors of flowers perfectly placed on either side of the long driveway that led from the private roads, through the silver gates, and towards the main building that sat pristine just beyond the pond.
Raised as little more than a precious commodity, it had always been known that Aurora would be the one to upgrade the Snow family’s status.
Her cousins were all sent to university, destined to do great things with the money Aurora’s acceptance had provided to her family. Aurora didn’t mind being sacrificed for her family’s sake.
Being selected was an honor.
Willowmere Hall was going to be everything the letter from Claire Willowmere claimed.
A ringlet of dark brown hair flew onto Aurora's long lashes. She pulled it free and tucked it behind her ear. She felt a tug on her lavender and glanced over her shoulder.
"Sit," Aunt Bridgette chided. She gave Aurora a stern look but remained as composed and ladylike as ever. With her ivory hands folded on her lap, she nodded toward the seat across from her.
Sometimes Aurora was too afraid to look at her. She looked too much like her mother.
Aurora pursed her lips. She would not allow herself to think about her dead mother. Not on this day. She could not afford to have her happiness spoiled by poisonous thoughts.
"Just because you are free from our household does not mean that you can act like a wild forest creature."
"Pardon me, Aunt Bridgette. I'm just terribly excited," Aurora said in her American accent. She’d been shipped off to England at fifteen, but still couldn’t shrug her Savannah accent. The deep south was in her past, and yet it would always be present in her speech.
"I understand your excitement. Willowmere Hall is a glorious place. You are lucky to have been accepted. But Aurora, please remember that you are always being watched. Do not shame your uncle and I. Remember that we had been planning for this for the last two years when Lord Willowmere chose you out of all of those girls at that ceremony."
"I know. I was there."
The ceremony had been beautiful. Like a fairy tale they'd been sent official invitations to a ballroom in a posh London hotel. All of the girls in attendance, including Aurora's two cousins, had been there dressed in fancy gowns. The best stylists in all of London had been summoned to make them all presentable to a family that was more powerful than the Queen.
Out of all of the girls, Aurora had been chosen to come and live in the most magical of places.
Willowmere Hall.
Only when the limousine stopped inside the cobblestone courtyard did the nerves start to set in.
Her face flushed when the driver opened her door. She didn't even glance at him as he held his gloved hand out to help her from the limo. Butterflies filled her stomach and her mind raced with all of her excitement and doubts.
Her high-heeled shoes clicked onto the cobblestone as she stepped out and into the fresh Yorkshire air.
Aunt Bridgette didn't exit the limo. Instead, she simply gave Aurora a blue-eyed glance.
"Make us proud, Aurora."
Aurora nodded. One year as a slave, and the Snow family would all obtain unimaginable wealth and privilege.
Wind swept through her hair and her eyes looked up to the white doors at the top of the stone steps. Countless windows looked back down at her.
A woman with neat blonde top bun and a simple black sundress smiled at Aurora from the top of the stairs. She was stunning, like a model in a high-fashion magazine. Her eyes were large and blue, and her skin was the perfect shade of cream.
With parted lips, Aurora reminded herself to breathe.
At the top of the stairs, stood Lysett Willowmere, the person that had told her father to choose her out of all the girls at the ceremony.
Aurora smiled at Lysett.

Her new mistress.

"Stayed tuned for the release of Aurora Snow, the first installment in the deliciously naughty Willowmere Hall series." -Lady Emmi Rue











Thursday, September 4, 2014

Lady Emmi Rue's Top 5 Book Boyfriends...and Girlfriends!


All right, ladies and gentlemen, let's take a time out to swoon over some of my favorite book boyfriends...and girlfriends. ;)

Pardon if many of my picks are British! They cannot help it that they are hot.
Cheers!
Tom Hardy: Impeccable charm and charisma.
Hugh Dancy: He has proved himself to be a talented actor in both classic movies based on literature, as well as in the show, Hannibal.
Lea Seydoux: French and fierce. This woman can say so much with just a look.
Eva Green: My goodness, just look at those eyes. 


Chris Martin of Coldplay: Not only does he have an incredible voice, but his eyes are captivating.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Lawrence BoarerPitchford (Author Spotlight & Book Feature)

Introducing our guest, Lawrence BoarerPitchford and his newest novel, The Lantern of Dern Blackhammer!


Bio
Within the fiery crucible of the abyss of time I was conceived. From that sticky and unwashed oblivion emerged a man that clawed his way to the bottom rung of the ladder of life. From there he could only go up – and since it was the clear choice, up he went. It is to that second rung that I pulled myself up to. Through heroic trials of bold deeds, and burnt offerings, a muse came to me, and with it the passion to put ink to paper. Unfortunately, skill took a little longer, and again I clung on with inspiration and jarring reality clinging to my feet as I dangled from the rung. That's when hard work, divine intervention and blind luck came together to shape this lump of clay into what I now think to be an author. 


But, it is not up to me to determine the outcome of all my hard work. It is up to the reader - for without those critical and ever hungry eyes prying over each word, my self-worth would be naught. Therefore, take this un-to-me, that you are the biographer of the author, for it is you who will tell the tale of my success or failure.



Book Blurb
The Lantern of Dern Blackhammer
There was a war. In a desperate moment, a handful of 
warriors came together to forge the single most 
powerful magic weapon that had ever existed. It was
the one thing that could defeat a pair of gods, and set
the very plane of existence back upon its balance.
Then, it was lost. 

It is a gilded age. A time when city states come together
in the name of commerce, and wealth. The finer things 
can be had by the common being, and magic relics are
sought after for their beauty and power. Such ancient
things can lead to trouble, so the city state of Moore
conducts a cold war of espionage to further its interests,
and truth be told, so does everyone else. While the
average citizen enjoys a walk in the park, or a carriage 
ride to the theater, evil strides the land in search
of ancient magic to undo the  very fabric of the world.

Ford must lay hands on an ancient magic relic that
could spell doom for his city and possibly the world.
The  problem? An ambitious mage named Raven Hill
has set  his eyes on the item, and all the power it will
imbue him with.  Ford races against time, the elements, and
even fate, to keep the single most powerful magic
weapon that exists from falling into the hands of a mad
man. If he fails, Ford’s beloved city, and all other cities,
will bow down to a self-made god.

An excerpt from the book
He could almost hear the words of Pil’tuk the goblin glass maker, “The lens will not scratch, and can take the impact of a god’s battle hammer!”
      “But, do you think the lantern will work?” he had said to Pil’tuk.
      “If the mad magician Valen of Del can produce us a Dark Star gem. But, only chaos magic is strong enough to do the trick, and we both know what that means; if he fails to condense the energy just right, we might all be blasted into ash.”
      Looking over his shoulder to the corner of the forge-room Dern could see the large black gem locked between wooden pincers. A shiver ran up his spine; the unnatural gem was the final touch, the power, the light, the quantillian dark gem with the power of a star. The magician had done his job all right, making something terrifying that did not belong on this world or any other, and for his trouble he was torn into atoms by the power of chaos. Poor bastard, Dern thought.
      He approached the gem. From the black surface the reflection of his own eye looked back at him. For a moment the blackness was all consuming, as if it was absorbing not only the light, but his thoughts as well. The eye in the reflection blinked, and he shook his head in surprise. Did he blink? He didn’t know. Looking at the surface again he seemed to be looking back at himself, looking into the gem, looking back at himself…his skin crawled and his hair stood on end. He looked away concentrating on the lantern to clear his mind, then he looked back at the wooden clamps.
      Carefully taking the gem, he carried it over to the lantern, opened the small door in the side and placed it within the rectangular chamber, angling the gem so the flat surface faced the lens. Closing the door he locked it tight. “Now to ignite the flame!” said Dern, a slight headache forming in his skull.
      He closed his eyes and envisioned the complex relationship between the geometry and the elements within, linking fields of force with the matter’s energy channels. As he opened his eyes a near blinding light dazzled him as a beam shot from the lantern onto the wall. The atoms of the wall vanished and a hole of pure blackness appeared. He secured the lens cap, careful not to expose himself to the light. Looking at the contraption he was startled by a sudden knock at the door.
      “Blackhammer, is it finished?” said a soft feminine voice.
      “Are you trying to cause my death!” he said. “I am as finished as this lantern. Let’s hope it works.”
      She opened the door and came into the room, the light of pure energy taking shape into womanly form. “The war is nearly won, and for all your sacrifices, you will be given rest and worship in the Netherworld,” she said.
      “You spiritual beings are all alike, bend us mortals to your will then we are forgotten.”
      “Not so,” she said. “We prize you mortals for the role you play in this universe. Besides, do you want to exist forever in this form?” She laughed and her laughter lifted his spirit with joy. Bending down she put her hands on either side of his coarsely bearded face making his skin crackle with static as she kissed him on the lips.
 Continue! March 1, 2012
Format:Kindle Edition
A rich, and well told tale by a relatively new author! The span of this sword and sorcery adventure not only kept my interest, but to use a comfortable and well worn cliche', a real page turner (or screen tapper in this case)! It reads like a fast paced, riveting late night game of D&D... only without the tedious dice and "checking traps" routine!


First, BoarerPitchford drives one deep into right field with "Hyborea" tales, now this! I see, by his web page [...], that he has also written "historical fiction," though not yet published. It's good to see that for a relatively new author he is not only prolific, but certainly NOT a "one trick pony!"

Social media links

Purchase links





Any other promotional material (i.e. book trailer, 3D models mockups, press releases, etc.)

BoarerPitchford.com Thadius the Novel

Sacramento, California

Author Lawrence BoarerPitchford presents The Lantern of Dern Blackhammer

The readers out there are flooded with prose. The written word is so prolific today that most people take it for granted that works of fiction are within easy reach. Kindle, Nook, i-Pad, and a host of other electronic reading devices make access to literature the easiest that has ever existed on the earth in the history of man. And, so the reader is lost in a sea of authors competing for visibility in the commercial space.
Lawrence BoarerPitchford, author of such works as Thadius, Sawbones, In the World of Hyboria, and the cheeky novel Tales of Mad Cows and Brothels, presents a work of fiction that will appeal to those who love high-fantasy adventure. In a world where orcs, goblins, elves, humans, giants, and dwarves all live and work together, there’s trouble brewing. “I’ve taken the concept of high-fantasy and painted it with a new brush. In a land that resembles nineteenth century Europe, the characters in The Lantern of Dern Blackhammer must find and steal a relic that could spell doom for their civilization. Imagine if you will, Tolkien’s world, but after a thousand years or more. Magic is a profound technology, along with steam, and water-power, but those ancients knew something; they had a secret. Now that secret can undo reality,” the author stated. 
Now Lawrence BoarerPitchford, the man with the huge name, is offering his novel The Lantern of Dern Blackhammer as a paperback as well as the various e-book formats. If you have an e-reader, it is a snap to purchase a BoarerPitchford novel, and if you like the feel of paper in your hands, they’re in paperback form too.
Having four novels on Amazon, all for sale and download onto Kindle, Lawrence knows the struggle new authors face. “I write fiction to entertain. While it is true I have a degree in business, a degree in public policy, and a degree in information technology, I choose to write fiction because I have a strong desire to see people enjoy escaping their mundane lives and exploring a land of adventure and excitement in a world of my making. Perhaps it is the acme of hubris that I think I can entertain, but I am hardly qualified to be the judge of that. It really is you the readers who should be the measure of my success or failure to entertain; having said that, I offer up to you my works for your accolades or ire.” 
“If you like rugged adventure and action stories, stop by, purchase a book, and enjoy, then make your voice heard by posting a review on GoodReads, Amazon, or any place you feel you can be heard.”  The author also encourages readers to drop by his web site and contact him. 
Lawrence BoarerPitchford works and lives in the Sacramento region. His work can be located on Amazon books, Smashwords, Barnes and Nobel, and many other places where fine quality fiction can be found. One can also read samples of his novels on his web site http://www.boarerpitchford.com. Take a moment to explore www.BoarerPitchford.com and visit the author on Facebook, Twitter, Google +, and Goodreads.

What an interesting fellow! Check out his Amazon author page!