Friday, July 31, 2015

'The Homecoming Masquerade' by Spencer Baum


Blurb: 

In a posh suburb of the nation’s capital, at the most exclusive high school in the world, the vampires who secretly run the government have created a game for America’s daughters of privilege. Show up to Homecoming in a black dress and you’ve entered yourself in a contest where the winner becomes a vampire, and the loser becomes the winner’s first victim.

Buy links

Author bio: 

Spencer Baum is the author of 7 novels, the voice of two popular podcast audiobooks, and the author of the transmedia sci-fi series The Tetradome Run.

He lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico with his wife and three children.

Friday, July 10, 2015

Read an excerpt from 'Catchpenny (Part 1: Wicked Lover)' by Sarah Wathen & Win a copy!


Check out the first book in this serial novel, including an excerpt below! And then stay tuned for more!


Blurb:

Have you ever wondered about that girl at the edge of the crowd? The one who has dark, bushy hair that hides her eyes while she's reading, but tight shirts that don't even try to hide the size of her breasts? You've heard the rumors, you know the rude nicknames, and you wonder what she really does when she's not in school. She never comes to parties and she lives in a neighborhood where nice girls never venture. Everyone tries to ignore her...but there is something about her that's impossible to ignore. Especially for the star quarterback, apparently. Because he just asked her to the Homecoming dance, after dumping the head cheerleader.

Catchpenny tells the story from the eyes of "that girl," and Wicked Lover is just the beginning of this coming of age serial novel. The small town minds of Shirley County have underestimated Meg Shannon for too long. She’s even more fun than she is trouble…but maybe she has finally met her match.






Read an excerpt:

“Careful, you’re really close to the edge.”
I shot him a look full of arrogance. Valley boys visited the mountains, but they never played there. “Please.”
A narrow column of rock jutted up from the valley, separated from the main cliff by about two feet. We had always called it the exclamation point (or just “the point” for short) when I was a kid, because that’s exactly what it looked like. It was the first and smallest of the buttes, as the valley below met the canyons, and the mountains on either side squeezed the land into a bottleneck, with violent rapids rushing below. The point was wide enough for a couple people to sit on, maybe four people to stand on carefully. I hopped out onto the column of stone, my bare toes gripping the stone when I landed, steady and sure. I’d done it a million times. I focused on the moon; it looked as big as a planet about to crash right into the earth. A yellow sphere of Swiss cheese, in planetary proportions.
“The wolves will be out in force tonight,” I said, then threw my head back in a long howl. A prompt response echoed in the distance, the owner of which was more likely a hound dog hunting with his master than a roaming wolf. I laughed and looked back to see my date turning green behind me. “Don’t worry, I’ve got good balance—my mom says I’ve always been a mountain goat.”
He shook his head, sizing me up from the rear. “More like a mountain lion. Please come back, though.”
He held out his hand, obviously closer to the rim than he was comfortable with, but I ignored it. I turned back to the moon. “It’s not full yet.”
“Looks pretty full to me.”
“No, it’s still waxing. It’ll be full tomorrow.”
“Want to bet?” He stuck his hand out further, daring me to accept a shake on it.
“Okay. I know I’m right.”
The instant my hand made contact with his, his grip turned to iron and he yanked me towards himself, off the point and across the chasm. I crashed into his chest and he moved backwards with me—solid, not stumbling. His arms wrapped around my shoulders like steel girders, his body immovable and his face unflinching.
“You’re dangerous,” he mumbled, eyes blazing.
I tried to say, “You should talk,” but I’d somehow lost my voice.
“Away from the sheer drop.”
“Okay.” I nodded, glad to finally produce a sound with my startled vocal chords. I let him thread his fingers through mine, and he led me back to the car.
In the safety of the limo, he lounged back onto the seat, his eyes smoldering as he watched me. I settled myself opposite, arranging the beads of my cocktail dress and fluffing my curls, not really sure what had just occurred between us. Maybe he was angry with me; he sure looked it. I said, as innocently as I could manage, “Are you afraid of heights?”
“Afraid of having to dive off a cliff to catch you, maybe.”
I snorted. “Right.”
“Reckless,” he sighed, shaking his head.
“Sorry…”
“Sorry? You’re not like any girl I’ve ever met, Meg. It’s a lot to take in, but there’s no reason to be sorry.”
I fumbled with my beads a little more, unsure of how to proceed. I felt the car start to roll and I looked up in reaction, to see a door in the ceiling just over Tristan’s head. I had an idea. “Hey, we can get a perfect view of the moon from in here. That’s a sunroof, right?”
He looked above his head and his expression cooled. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to try that ever since I first got in.”
“You mean...ejector seat?” I met his spreading grin and he nodded, then reached over to push a button by his armrest. The window in the ceiling slid open and Tristan grabbed my hand, pulling me over to crouch with him on the seat below the skylight.
“Ejector seat!” we yelled together, springing up through the open roof, him laughing and me cheering like a five-year-old. The sky spread over us like velvet lavender, a blanket of winking stars around the glowing lunar orb. It felt so close I wanted to reach up and touch it—moments like that are the closest I ever get to church.



http://amzn.to/1LIEKHq

Author Bio

Sarah Wathen is an artist and an author. A painter at heart, she says, “Writing a book was my obvious next step, once I realized I’d been trying to tell stories with pictures for years. Painting with words is even more fun than painting with oil.” In 2012, she founded the independent publishing house, LayerCake Productions, specializing in the fun part of creative writing, like original artwork, video trailers, and musical soundtracks. She lives in Florida with her husband, son, and at least a dozen imaginary friends from her novels. Her characters are derived from the people and places that have influenced her own life, but the stories they live will take you places you have never imagined and won’t want to leave.

Links




https://open.spotify.com/track/5QSzzjhxaboo8cJEEPCnM9


On-demand T-shirts 



a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

#Amish Romance: 'Sanctuary' by Sandy Goodridge


Blurb: 

When her two best friends are falling for Luke, the same man who stole her heart, can Olivia somehow manage to find happiness without losing her friends?

Olivia, Suzie and Sarah were the best of friends since they were
babies. They not only shared their most intimate thoughts and
feelings, they literally shared their dreams.

It seemed liked nothing could keep them apart from each other, until one day, a new Amish family moved into their community. And then they met Luke.

Will Luke choose Olivia and will they manage to get create a happy life together?

Or will Luke break her heart and tear the best friends apart?

As tensions are rising between Olivia and her friends, the looming
specter of Death and the Englischer world threatens a swift and
unfortunate conclusion. Can Olivia find enough light within her heart to cast away this darkness?

Come spend some time with the Amish in this story of friendship, love, loss and redemption.

http://amzn.to/1dFZAJI

Friday, July 3, 2015

'Catchpenny (Part 1: Wicked Lover)' by Sarah Wathen


Check out the first book in this serial novel, including an excerpt below! And then stay tuned for more!


Blurb:

Have you ever wondered about that girl at the edge of the crowd? The one who has dark, bushy hair that hides her eyes while she's reading, but tight shirts that don't even try to hide the size of her breasts? You've heard the rumors, you know the rude nicknames, and you wonder what she really does when she's not in school. She never comes to parties and she lives in a neighborhood where nice girls never venture. Everyone tries to ignore her...but there is something about her that's impossible to ignore. Especially for the star quarterback, apparently. Because he just asked her to the Homecoming dance, after dumping the head cheerleader.

Catchpenny tells the story from the eyes of "that girl," and Wicked Lover is just the beginning of this coming of age serial novel. The small town minds of Shirley County have underestimated Meg Shannon for too long. She’s even more fun than she is trouble…but maybe she has finally met her match.




Read an excerpt:

I opened up Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, the pages blue after letting my closed eyes bake in the sun. I thumbed a few pages forward to see where the chapter ended, not really in the mood for reading, but always more comfortable to have a book in hand at lunchtime.
“Meg?”
He was standing just behind me, his head cocked to one side, looking over my shoulder at the Tolstoy. I gasped—I couldn’t help it.
“Hi, I’m Tristan.”
He was squinting into the sun, and it was hard to tell if he was smiling or frowning.
“Yeah, I know who you are.”
He shaded his eyes and laughed. Didn’t everyone know who he was? He was on the billboard in front of the football field, for god’s sake, his arm cocked back to throw a winning pass. Go Bobcatts!
“What are you reading?” His voice was soft and curious, with the hint of a Southern drawl that you didn’t hear in my neighborhood. High-class molasses. He squinted to read the pages I held open in my lap.
“Uh…” I faltered. The sun shone through his light irises like glass, shocking against his dark hair. His black polo shirt was gathered loosely around one hip, the hand in his pocket pushing it up casually over the waistband of his jeans. A slice of flesh was made visible. He stood in perfect contrapposto, bookbag slung over his shoulder like Michelangelo’s David holding the slingshot. I closed my book and tossed it onto the table, pretending not to notice how his jeans hung, low and delicious on slender hips. “Just something for English Lit.”
“How can you read out here? It’s so bright.”
Because I’d rather read a book than sit alone with no one talking to me. “I heard that people with light eyes have a harder time adjusting to bright light.”
“Really?”
He stepped closer to me, shifting his weight and putting his back to the sunlight. The color of his eyes reminded me of Halls Mentho-Lyptus cough drops after I’d sucked on one for a while and the zing got too strong to keep it in my mouth—icy blue and transparent.
“I don’t want to bother you or anything,” he said, dropping his voice lower, since we were face to face then. He smelled like soap and clean laundry, with something gritty underneath. Something undeniably male.
“No, I—” I cleared my throat. He was even better looking up close. “I’m not busy.”
He glanced back over his shoulder and the group of girls who had been watching suddenly picked up their conversation again, all of them talking at once and fumbling with their lunches. I was waiting with as much anticipation as they had been—why on earth was he talking to me?
“I’ll let you get back to your book, but I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure. What’s up?” Those eyes.
“Would you be my date for Homecoming this weekend?”
“Cough drop—” I spluttered.
“Huh?”
I slapped my chest and choked out a cough. “I mean…uh, the dance?”
“Yeah, the dance.”
“Wait. Don’t you have a girlfriend?” I wasn’t exactly buddies with anyone in the popular crowd at Andrew Jackson, nowhere close. But everyone knew that the star quarterback and the head cheerleader had been together since freshman year. Sugary sweet.
“No. I don’t have a girlfriend.” That smile again, but with an undercurrent in his voice.
The neighboring table had gone silent once more, the bombshell news of Tristan’s single status freezing them all mid-prattle.
“Absolutely.” I grinned over his shoulder—a present for our shocked audience.
“Absolutely, you’ll go with me?”
Did he really think I would say no? The curiosity itself was enough for me to agree.
“Sure. Why not?” I shrugged, like it was nothing to me. Yeah, right.
“Great. Okay, lemme just get your number...” He handed me his phone and I punched my number in, wondering what kind of psychedelic rabbit hole I had accidentally wandered through. Had somebody drugged my orange juice that morning? He took his phone back and saved, whispering, “Meg…Shannon,” as he typed. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you around, then?”
“Yeah, see ya.” I resisted the urge to bite down on my knuckles.
He winked at me and waved over his shoulder as he turned back to the courtyard entrance. His jeans looked even nicer from behind, snug around his well-shaped glutes and muscular thighs. “Bye, Meg.”
“Bye.”
I picked my book up again, refusing to gaze at his retreating form in concert with the other females. A wink, though. What did that mean? Maybe it was just the bright light on his Mentho-Lyptus eyes. I opened Anna Karenina again and pretended to concentrate for the rest of lunch. But I couldn’t read another word.



http://amzn.to/1LIEKHq

Author Bio

Sarah Wathen is an artist and an author. A painter at heart, she says, “Writing a book was my obvious next step, once I realized I’d been trying to tell stories with pictures for years. Painting with words is even more fun than painting with oil.” In 2012, she founded the independent publishing house, LayerCake Productions, specializing in the fun part of creative writing, like original artwork, video trailers, and musical soundtracks. She lives in Florida with her husband, son, and at least a dozen imaginary friends from her novels. Her characters are derived from the people and places that have influenced her own life, but the stories they live will take you places you have never imagined and won’t want to leave.

Links




https://open.spotify.com/track/5QSzzjhxaboo8cJEEPCnM9


On-demand T-shirts 



a Rafflecopter giveaway