Fisher Amelie is announcing who the main character in Fury is. Check out the excerpt below! The pic below is not the actual book cover for Fury -just a teaser for Ethan Moonsong.
Fisher Amelie is announcing who the main character in Fury is. Check out the excerpt below! The pic below is not the actual book cover for Fury -just a teaser for Ethan Moonsong.
Format: Paperback and eBook
Publisher: Hard Knocks Books
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Sixteen years ago, Tyne Whitlock cut all ties to her past and left town under the shameful shadow of a teenage pregnancy. Now her fifteen-year-old son is in trouble with the law and she is desperate for help. But reaching out to high-powered attorney Lucas Silver Hawk will tear open the heart-wrenching past in ways Tyne never imagined.
Forced to return to the Delaware Indian community where Lucas was raised, Tyne and Lucas are tempted by the heated passion that consumed them as teens. Tyne rediscovers all the reasons she found this man irresistible, but there are scandalous secrets waiting to be revealed, disgraceful choices made in the past that cannot be denied. Love is a powerful force that could heal them both—if the truth doesn’t rip them apart.
From Chapter 2
“Oh, wait. There’s someone here to see you.”
He frowned. “I don’t have time today.”
“I know, I know.” Martha looked apologetic. “I tried to explain that your schedule is packed, but she insisted on waiting—”
Martha glanced down at a pad on her desktop. “A Ms. Whitlock. Tyne Whitlock.”
Lucas stared. Blinked. Then he reached up and tugged at his tie, wondering who the hell shut off the room’s air supply.
“She’s waiting in your office. I tried to tell her your schedule was full, but…” Concern sharpened Martha’s tone. “Are you all right? She said she knew you. That you were old friends. That she’d only take a minute of your time. Should I not have let her in?”
Martha droned on and he watched her lips move, but he didn’t hear a word of what she said. A blind-sided punch wouldn’t have stunned him more than hearing that name. He lifted his hand and nodded at Martha to let her know everything was okay even though he had no idea if it was or not, then he turned and headed down the corridor.
“Don’t forget Larry and Nate. They’re waiting!”
Martha’s warning sounded like a distant echo.
Tyne. Here. In this building. In his office.
What had it been? Twelve, thirteen… no. Sixteen years. He scrubbed his fingers across his jaw.
He turned the corner and came to an abrupt halt. At the end of the corridor, the door of his office stood ajar. He saw Tyne’s perfect profile as she sat in a straight-backed chair staring at something out of his line of view.
In an instant, Lucas was catapulted into the past.
Darkness surrounded them like a cloak. Tyne’s soft sobs tore at his heart. Of all the girls he’d dated—and there had been more than a few—only she brought out in him a fierce compulsion to protect.
He swiped away her tears, the dark color of his thumb a stark contrast against her creamy white skin.
“I don’t understand them, Lucas. I never will.”
“Don’t worry,” he crooned. “It’s going to be all right. Trust me, babe. They can’t keep us apart. You’ll be eighteen soon too. We can do what we want then. Go wherever we want.”
He cradled her, his back supported by the massive pin oak. And when she stopped crying, she pulled away from him and gazed into his eyes. Her sweet face wrenched his heart and caused heat to spark his desire. Never had he wanted a girl the way he wanted Tyne. Raw need coursed through him.
She cradled his face between her palms and drew him to her. Her lips were hot against his. The kiss grew hungry, their breathing labored.
“Our love will last forever,” she whispered against his mouth.
He heard the question in her quavery tone, responded to her need for reassurance.
“Forever,” he groaned, tugging her down onto the mossy ground.
Lucas tilted his head to stare at the carpet in front of his shoes and gulped in the artificially-cooled air as he dragged his way out of the past. The grip he had on his attaché case made his hand throb almost as much as the memory had caused his groin to go all achy and needful.
Of course, their love hadn’t lasted forever.
He was within steps of the door when Tyne glanced in his direction. Nuances of various emotions passed across her face. And it was a striking face, Lucas couldn’t deny it. The years had refined her features—
She stood, smoothing her palms across the fabric of her skirt.
—and ripened her body. Her eyes were the same vivid blue he remembered, and her white-blond hair was still long and straight. He could easily recall the silky feel of it brushing against his bare chest. As teens, he’d thought of them as the perfect juxtaposition: she, all sunshine and light, he, dark like the night.
He forced his gaze back onto her face.
“Tyne.” He entered his office, puzzled by the strain in his voice. What really confused him was the fact that he couldn’t seem to get his tongue to form anything more.
“Hi, Lucas. It’s been a long time.” Her lush mouth pressed into a nervous smile, and his gut tensed.
He wanted to smile back. He truly did. With every fiber of his being. To let her know that he’d survived the sprawling interim since they’d parted just as well as she obviously had. But he couldn’t smile. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.
What attracted you to writing in the first place?
I came to writing from my love of reading. While growing up, I lost myself in books in order to escape an unhappy childhood.
What genre are you most comfortable writing?
Romance. I wrote for Harlequin for 20 years, writing sweet romance (as Donna Clayton) and women’s fiction/contemporary romance (under my own name). I have self-published some of my back-list Harlequin books. The Merry-Go-Round was never published by a traditional publisher, so I guess that would be my first indie-published book. Reclaim My Heart is the second of my front-list indie-published titles.
How has your upbringing influenced your writing?
I think authors who face a lot of pain and anguish seem to write stories with great depth, with honesty and compassion. It could be that dealing with trauma brings out the best (or worst) in people. I believe that losing my mother at such a young age had a huge impact on me not just as a writer but as a human being. I became, I don’t know, more maternal towards my family, my friends, heck, towards everyone I meet… more giving of myself. I’m not sure. But I know that the loss could have made me bitter and angry. I’m just so grateful that the exact opposite seems to describe me.
Where do you get your inspiration and ideas from?
My mind is always on the alert. I take ideas from everything I see, hear, read, experience. I have been known to take a snippet of conversation overheard in an elevator and turn it into a book (Return of the Runaway Bride), or from a location (His Wife for a While), or from a person I met (Taking Love in Stride). So be careful! If you interact with me, you might end up in one of my novels.
What’s your favorite place in the entire world?
I have visited so many beautiful places. The South of France, the rolling mountains of Italy, the Mediterranean Sea, the cobbled streets of Brussels, the red rocks of Sedona, Arizona, beautiful Morro Bay, California, and I spend lots of time in Ocean City, Maryland. I obviously can’t pick a favorite. Besides, there are so many places waiting to be seen!
What was your favorite part of this book to write? Which part was the hardest?
I really enjoyed writing the love scenes. In my sweet romances, all the ‘spice’ takes place behind closed doors. So this was very fun. And which part was hardest? The “kitchen love scene” (naughty pun intended!).
When you were a child, what did you want to be when you “grew up”?
I wanted to be a teacher. My aunt attended college and earned her teaching degree. I always idolized her.
If you couldn’t be an author, what would your ideal career be?
Teacher. I love kids, and I often include them in my stories. I always say that children are very honest and outspoken. Kids inject a great deal of fun into a book.
If you could live inside the world of a book, which book would you choose?
Pride and Prejudice. Love that Mr. Darcy!
Give your fans three fun facts that they may not already know about you.
I love to cook! (I often post recipes on my blog.)
My reading tastes are crazy-eclectic. I read anything and everything.
I’m a little on the chubby side.
Chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?
Depends. If we’re talking ice cream, then vanilla… and I love mine topped with sliced banana and warm caramel sauce. If we’re talking cake, then chocolate, and don’t forget the fudge frosting. If we’re talking milkshakes, then strawberry. Wow, now I’m hungry.
Please tell us in one sentence only, why we should read your book.
I put my heart and soul into this Reclaim My Heart, and I think it shows… in the characters and in the story.
So what’s next for you as an author? Any last words?
I’m thinking of writing a book that revolves around three friends in different stages of marriage, but I’m not sure yet. I’ve worked very hard on Reclaim My Heart and I’m going to take a few days off. Then I’ll get back to work!
I want to thank you for hosting me, and I want to thank your followers for taking the time to read about Reclaim My Heart.
Donna Fasano is a three time winner of the HOLT Medallion, a CataRomance Reviewers Choice Award winner for Best Single Title, a Desert Rose Golden Quill Award finalist, and a Golden Heart finalist. Her books have sold over 3.6 million copies worldwide and have been published in nearly two dozen languages. Her books have made the Kindle Top 100 Paid List numerous times, climbing as high as #17.
What others are saying about Donna’s books:
“…complex, funny, and realistic…” ~Wilmington News Journal
“Could not help myself from reading excerpts to my husband and friends. This book is well written, the characters are real, everyday folks. It is very easy to identify with them. Donna Fasano is a talented author.” ~Elizabeth M. Caldwell on Amazon
“…a fast paced riotous look at family life today. Donna Fasano is right on target!” ~Donna Zapf, SingleTitles.com
Amazon Kindle : Reclaim My Heart
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Number of pages: 225
Word Count: 83,000
Cover Artist: Exquisite Ebook Creations
Most people don’t travel to another universe to get a new job, house and boyfriend but psychic investigator Caitlin Diggs did.
Now she’s living the life of her alternate self, working for the FBI’s Preternatural Division where her first case just happens to include chasing a genetically engineered man hell bent on stealing souls. Well, there had to be consequences.
Grant’s ruggedness gave me strength. The notion that I would be flying in a single engine plane brought back the wave of nausea I had experienced when I first experienced my cold symptoms. Only the cold symptoms were gone, along with any dizziness one might feel when imbibing a cup of murky green cold medicine. I couldn’t explain this. I couldn’t explain a lot of things. Yet an eyeful of Grant gave me courage, even inspiration. Robust and bright eyed, Grant possessed a pair of broad shoulders and a six-foot-three-inch frame, nicely packaged in a gray pinstriped designer suit. Sea green eyes peered at me, hungry, curious for answers. Carter must have laid it on thick concerning my psychic skills. Did this man have every confidence in my clairvoyant abilities, or did he just want to jump my bones? Hard to tell, I thought, staring out a window at the murky brownish colored sea below us that was nothing as effervescent or alluring as Charles Grant’s eyes. Yes. It had been a long time since I dated. And my horizontal dance with incubus boy didn’t count. Youth is nice but this man could be a walking definition of the “whole” package. Charming as well, he comforted me straight away as we lifted off.
“Don’t worry Ms. Diggs, the Cessna 400 is the most reliable single engine piston powered-plane on the market.”
I smiled with the alacrity of a mental patient when he accentuated the words “piston powered.” Yes, much too long without the company of a man. I unconsciously began to fan myself although the cabin temperature had been cool enough, in fact quite a welcome relief to the ninety degree plus weather outside. So he could immediately pick up on my worries and Needs. Maybe just a coincidence, I told myself, still foolishly fanning myself with a Chinese takeout flyer I had dug out of my purse. And merely coincidental I found him irresistibly attractive. No, this isn’t about falling in love at first sight. Nooo…
Then he put his hand on my knee, and I felt my heart thump. “You know,” he began, “if you need privacy to conjure up your vision or dream state, I can go sit with the pilot.”
“Oh, no.” I nearly screamed it. His eyes told me either realized my phobia of flying in small aircraft had been a ploy to garner his attention or perhaps a real deep seated fear, one which might invite a panic attack.
“Okay, then,” he said. His voice became gentle and lilting in reaction to my squawk. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s just that it’s imperative we get a lead, any kind of lead to stop Mollini.”
“Yes,” I said staring into his sea green eyes. “I know what it means to be desperate…I…uh, mean, desperate for a break on a case.”
“Now do you?”
I wondered how Grant could not recognize me. Surely, he must have at least heard my name. I had had the best arrest/conviction rate i the Bureau. But I realized it would be best if he continued to think of me as a civilian-which I now was. The Bureau hadn’t been kind to me lately. And I had left in larg part because I believed they would never accept my gift; or how I had come to acquire it. “Oh, I just watch a lot detective shows,” I said.
He laughed, hopefully swallowing my lame-assed explanation. So he possessed an open mind, at least when it came to crunch time. That point in a case where you would rub a bald man’s head for luck if it brought you any closer to apprehending the perp.
“Then we probably realize we’ve got to make a stand.”
I could tell by the way he said it that even he didn’t give it much chance of success. And his gaze fell away, distant, probably counting the number of colleagues who would be fitted for body bags.
“Have you thought about an alternative?” I blurted out.
“I’m open to suggestion.” His eyes rejoined mine. Again, I could literally hear my heart beat.
“I suppose following protocol would be best,” I said half heartedly, my eyes fighting to disengage from his.
“I don’t want to pressure you. But do you have any inkling? Any hint where Mollini might be ultimately headed?”
Shit, I thought. I sure as hell did. And now I couldn’t share with this man, something my physical self desperately desired. And as I wallowed in guilt, I began to question my sudden attraction to this man, the irresistible urge to bare all with this man-damn it—the near uncontrollable urge to unfasten the waist ties on my halter and bare more than just the truth. What was happening to me? I thought about it for a few seconds.
Perhaps Grant believed I had fallen into a psychic trance. If so, that would buy some time. I stared, pensive, eyes trained on the floor, playing the stereotyped crystal gazing psychic to the hilt. And I realized that along with my vision, came my ability to read people. My empathic gift had come back as well. Possibly this power seemed so overwhelming to me because I had spent the last few weeks living as a shut-in. As if black clouds suddenly rolled away exposing a radiant, blinding golden blast of sunshine, I could read the goodness of this man, not only see his aura but also feel it.
Intoxicated, I realized the reconnection to my feelings and emotions had caused sensory overload.
Maybe that’s why I had nearly succumbed to infatuation when I should have been plotting how to stop Mollini. But first things first, I had to misdirect Grant. It would be for his good. And mine as well, from a selfish standpoint. Whether my lust had been organically or paranormally stimulated, I genuinely perceived Grant to be an honest and caring man. I could not lead him to his slaughter. And with that realization, came baggage. I also could honestly say that one part of me really didn’t care if a butt load of FBI agents went down fighting. That part of me, the self-righteous, self-absorbed portion, would say they had it coming, foolishly attempting to combat a supernatural power with conventional weapons, and in the process only making the perpetrator stronger. I only cared about Grant’s safety—his sea green eyes, melt-me-inhis- mouth kind of safety… Shut up, I told myself, trying to disconnect the imagery. I had to quell that voice. That would be the voice of pride speaking—and possibly the voice of lust as well. And while I was in full self diagnosis mode, it was a voice that needed to feel justified for leaving my FBI career. A voice that said they would regret allowing me to resign. Shut up, I said again, more forcefully. Who am I kidding? I am replaceable. Even this wonderful agent doesn’t recognize me. Time to get a grip, Caitlin, it’s time to do your job. You didn’t join the Bureau for glory, I told myself. You did it because you had no other choice; the job was already part of you—it never needed to become part of you. You and the job were already symbiotic. Okay, so now it’s time to do the job. Despite the fact I was no longer FBI, I would think like I was.
Unconventional, that’s how I solved the lion’s share of my cases. I would use my paranormal abilities to combat Mollini’s. It all sounded so simple, in theory. I would stick to the plan. I let my eyelids flutter as if the vision were ending. And I spoke. “I think I have a lead. I see where Mollini will make his stand.” As Grant’s eyes bore into me for detail, I glanced away for a second, to catch the time.
“Where are we now?” I asked.
“Somewhere at the end of New England, and the beginning of the tristate area.”
“That’s good. You’ll continue on—without me—to this address.” I rummaged through my cluttered purse, amazingly pulling both a pad of paper and pen in my first attempt. I wrote the address down, tore off the sheet from the pad and handed it to Grant.
“That’s where you can get Mollini. He’ll need to replenish himself there.” Grant stared at me. “Yes, with souls from living bodies,” I said in reply to his polemic gesturing. “He’ll need a mass killing. But he’ll be vulnerable for a window of time. You and an attack team might be able to take him down, even without firing a weapon, possibly in hand-to-hand combat. Although,” I quickly added, “I wouldn’t recommend that.” And even though I knew this encounter would most likely never happen, I couldn’t bear to see Agent Grant get caught in Mollini’s demonic grip.
Gary Starta is a former journalist who writes paranormal fiction with a blend of SCI FI, Fantasy, Mystery and Romance.
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Release Date: May 21, 2013
As the captain of a schooner catering to the elite on the Caribbean Seas, Sebastian Stark does his best to avoid any human encounters. Interacting with people isn’t his thing, and he prefers the company of a bottle of vodka, a shot glass, and maybe a whore. There’s no doubt he’s hiding from a checkered past, but he does well keeping everything to himself…
…until the night his schooner capsizes, and he’s stuck on a life raft with one of the passengers.
Raine’s young, she’s cute, and Bastian would probably be into her if he wasn’t suffering from alcohol withdrawal. As the days pass, DTs, starvation, and dehydration become the norm. Even the most closed person starts to open up when he thinks he’s going to die, but when she realizes their traumatic pasts are connected, it’s no longer the elements that have Bastian concerned.
He has no idea how he’s going to Survive Raine.
Bastian isn’t the most pleasant guy Raine could have ended up with in the middle of the ocean with no chance of rescue, but he has an uncanny knack for survival. As she digs through the walls surrounding the stubborn and challenging man, she finds something surprisingly different buried inside…
…and he can answer the question she’s asked for years.
As she learns more about what has brought him to this fate, Raine is determined to drag this self- destructive man back from the edge of the wave. Isolation is her only chance to tear the man out from inside of the animal, but this one has been abused for a long time.
She also has to live long enough to get through to him.
“What’s your problem?” I snapped again. I hadn’t really meant to, I was just tense and pissy.
The smoke was helping, but what I really wanted was a drink. I didn’t suppose anyone packed any of those little tiny airplane-sized booze bottles in the survival kits.
“I…um…” she stumbled over her words and looked away. Even under her darkened skin, I could see red creeping into her cheeks.
“What?” I was annoyed now. If she was going to complain about my smoking, I was going to lose it.
“I…have to go to the bathroom.”
I laughed. I took one last long drag, getting it all the way up to the filter before I tossed the butt out onto the waves.
“Then fucking go!”
“Didn’t you notice the en suite bath?” I laughed again, and then took a smidgen of pity on her. “Over the side, where do you think?”
All right, she did have a point there. Or rather, she didn’t have a point. Or a pointer. I had to laugh again at my internal joke.
“Just…I don’t know…hang your ass out over the edge. Or get in the water.
“I’d have to take off my suit.”
She blushed again.
“What? You want me to hang out in the next room for a few minutes? I promise I won’t gawk at you.”
She didn’t move. Well, actually, she was still fidgeting around; she just didn’t make a move to actually solve her dilemma. If she kept this up, she was going to pee in the fucking raft.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve already checked you out front and back, had my mouth on yours and my hand on your tit, so it’s not like…”
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. I realized how what I had said sounded, considering she had been unconscious the entire time. I shook my head.
“I didn’t mean…ah, fuck.” I grabbed my shirt and flopped down on my back, covering my whole face up with the garment. I lay there for a moment but didn’t hear her moving at all, so I yelled at her again. “Get on with it!”
She moved. I could hear her shuffle over to the front of the raft and then move around in one place, presumably taking off her shorts and her bathing suit.
“If you are going to get in the water, put the life preserver around your waist first and hold on to the fucking ladder. I don’t want to have to dive in after your ass again.”
“Okay,” she said. “Um…where is it?”
“Right outside the opening – on the left.”
“Thank you,” she said.
I listened to her move around a bit more and then felt her move closer to the opening and off to the side. There was a soft splash, and a minute later I heard her pulling herself back up onto the raft.
“There’s something similar to a towel over there,” I said – flinging my arm out in the
direction of the back of the raft and waving my hand around. “Make sure you dry off the floor, too.”
“Thank you,” she said.
I listened to her move around some more, getting pretty fed up with just lying there, baking, with my fucking shirt over my head.
“Are you done yet?”
“Almost,” she said quietly. Her voice still sounded scratchy. “Okay, I’m done.”
I grabbed the shirt off my face and sat up, looking over at her. She was adjusting the straps on her suit and still blushing.
“Do you know why my…um…throat hurts?”
“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t elaborate. After a minute she finally asked.
“Why does my throat hurt?”
“Because you inhaled a shitload of salt water,” I stated. “It fucks up your throat and your vocal cords. Give it a day; it’ll be better.”
“Thank you,” she said, again.
“Whatever,” I replied, again.
I shoved my hand down into the sealed up container for rations and pulled out a carb bar. I tore it in half and threw one of the pieces at her.
“Eat it,” I instructed. “You can have the other half in six hours.”
“Six hours?” she repeated.
“Are you a fucking recorder? Yes, six hours.”
I knew I was being a bastard, but my brain was working overtime trying to figure out what our best course of action might be. Having her here made it ten times more difficult. If it was just me, I was pretty sure I would be fine. There was plenty of food and water for just me. I could fish, I could take care of myself, and I could stay alive under pretty extreme circumstances.
Having her here with me just…complicated everything.
About the Author
Shay Savage lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her husband, two children, and a variety of household pets. She is an accomplished public speaker, and holds the rank of Distinguished Toastmaster from Toastmasters International. When not writing, she enjoys science fiction movies, and loves soccer in any and all forms. During the fall, she coaches her daughter’s soccer team. Though she currently works in the technology field, her school background is in psychology, and she brings a lot of that knowledge into the characters within her stories.
Author Contact Links
2 ARC eBook copies of Surviving Raine
2 eBook copies of Otherwise Alone
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