Saturday, 5 December 2015

Welcome to the very lovely J. M Davies to my blog with her debut adult paranormal romance

Capturing the last Welsh Witch.




Hello everyone and thanks for letting me take over your blog to introduce myself and my latest release, which is an adult paranormal romance called Capturing the last Welsh Witch. A couple of quick facts about me, I was a nurse/midwife for seventeen years. I love chocolate. I love talking about my journey in writing, and I believe hard work is the answer to achieving your goals.  

I loved writing this book and developing the characters Ella Masters and Marcus Drayton, both strong but damaged characters because of their past. To celebrate my release I’m giving away a FREE ARC copy to one lucky reader if you click on my author FB page and like it, leave a comment so I know who you are and a winner will be chosen at random. 








                                      PICTURE OF ELLA &   MARCUS

The inspiration for Ella’s story really came from a desire to stretch myself as a writer and to test the waters to see if I could write a paranormal story and after discovering the true story of the first woman in Wales to be hung as a witch it inspired me to create my story. I started writing this book in 2011, but at the time I was also writing my YA romantic trilogy Children of Annwn and ended up leaving my adult romance on the back burner. Writing romance for adults is so different than it is for YA, and this again was a new area for me as a writer and one that I totally loved and enjoyed. I hope you enjoy the read too! 

                                                                        Biography   

J.M. Davies is the author of Capturing the Last Welsh Witch which is her debut adult paranormal romance. She has also written a young adult romantic fantasy trilogy called Children of Annwn under the name of Jennifer Owen Davies. 
In general, she loves creating character driven stories that touch your heart and take you away to a magical world that leaves you craving more.  When she isn’t writing, she loves to read and her tastes include Nora Roberts, Catherine Cookson, Jane Austen, Jodi Picoult, Deborah Harkness, Cassandra Clare, Suzanne Collins, P.D. James, Patricia Cornwell, Pittacus Lore, Diane Gabaldon and many more. 
In her spare time, she enjoys managing a local writers group and maintains an Alzheimer’s support group on Facebook, a cause close to her heart. She also loves discovering old treasures at yard sales and revamping them, watching Grey’s Anatomy, Madam Secretary, and Vampire Diaries, walking on the beach, cooking, and when there’s time the gym. 
Jennifer has been married for twenty years, and is mother to four boys. Jennifer and her husband are originally from Cardiff in Wales, but they now live on the East Coast of America in North Andover with her family and two cats. Jennifer fell in love with New England, and among the pages of the books are references to both local beauty spots and historic sites from the area and from back in the UK that have captured her imagination. She loves to hear from readers and here’s some links to stay in touch. 

FB Author page https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jennifer-Davies/1421409368089313

Web-site            http://www.jenniferowendavies.com/

Email                 Jendaviesuk@gmail.com






                                      Blurb for Capturing the Last Welsh Witch


Ella Masters’s soul is five hundred years old and in each life, she has been fatally betrayed by men. This is her fifth and final life, and legend says she must meet her true love or this time death is eternal. Wanted for the murder of her latest boyfriend and on the run from the FBI, as well as the ruthless group the Elusti, it doesn’t bode well for any would-be suitors. 

Marcus Drayton has a sixth sense when it comes to knowing people, which has helped in his career as a special agent for the FBI, as well as his previous stint as a Navy SEAL. His latest assignment is to deliver Ella Masters, the Witch, which will give him the prized promotion in New York. After he meets the mysterious Ella, and realizes the Elusti are involved, the ghosts of his past force him to seek the truth, making every one he loves a target. 

As she runs for her life and freedom, Ella needs to discover whether Marcus is the warrior she needs. And can she trust him with her heart and soul before it’s too late? 
                                       PICTURE OF THE BOOK COVER



                          Snippet from Capturing the Last Welsh Witch

Her fingers touched the torn edges of the material and she stared into the distance, blinking as an old memory shook her.
“Come here, before I come and get you.” Aidan’s voice was deep and hoarse. His piercing eyes glared into hers, and she looked back as she contemplated her options. She glanced toward the door; if she moved, he would grab her. She could try to seduce him. However, that would be hopeless with Aidan. No, the only way was to trick him.
Aidan inched closer. So close, she could smell his musky aftershave. Ella let him get closer still. Let him think he had won. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs, but still she waited, barely breathing. Aidan inched closer, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Are you ready to admit defeat?” He raised one eyebrow, and his mouth spread into a lazy smile.
“Never, Professor.” She flicked her leg outward and kicked as hard as possible, just like he had taught her.
“What the…” He fell to the ground, doubled over and clutched his stomach. 
Sucking on her lower lip, she hesitated before she turned away. That split second of doubt was her undoing. Arms came from nowhere and grabbed her legs. Whoosh. The view of the room shifted, and the floor went from under her feet. She ended up flat on her back, with Aidan’s body impaling her to the floor.
“Never trust the enemy,” he said.
She spluttered and coughed as the memory swirled away. Professor Aidan O’Connor was an enigma: a historian, friend, pretend-lover, and expert at martial arts. He’d taught her how to use her body as a weapon.
“But last night wasn’t practice, was it? Aidan, what have you done?”

Friday, 20 November 2015

Jean Joachim

I would like to welcome the lovely Jean Joachim to my blog. This is the first of a ten book series. If you are a fan of sports romance then this is the book for you.


Jean is offering a $10 Amazon gift card and all you have to do is leave a comment in the box below.


  Sly "Bullhorn" Brodsky By Jean Joachim








BOOK INFORMATION
TITLE –  SLY “BULLHORN” BRODSKY
SERIES –  FIRST & TEN
AUTHOR –  Jean C. Joachim
GENRE – Contemporary/Sports Romance
PUBLICATION DATE – Nov. 16, 2015
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) -  66,900 words
PUBLISHER – Moonlight Books
COVER ARTIST – Dawne Dominique



BLURB:
Sly “Bullhorn” Brodsky wished winning the heart of Samantha Drake was as easy as protecting his quarterback. A top offensive lineman in the NFL, Bull tried to live down his rep as a womanizer. Locker room chatter had elevated him to the level of “player” in more than football. But Samantha Drake, dark-haired, stunning sister of a teammate, didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Or did she?
On his best behavior, Bull pulled out all the stops to woo the reluctant beauty. He was making progress until a woman from his past reappeared. Tiffany, the one woman who broke his heart, is in trouble. Is Bull the only man who can help?
Samantha is overcoming her doubts about Bull until Tiffany arrives. Is the blonde really in hot water or does she just want another chance with the man she discarded?
Enjoy the return of your favorite First & Ten characters in this book, too. Surprises, twists, and football action scenes will keep you turning the pages.






EXCERPT:
“I’m grubby. I need a shower,” she said, pushing to her feet to glance in the mirror.
The next image to take over his mind was stepping into a steamy shower behind Samantha. He blinked a few times and took a deep breath, hoping his thoughts wouldn’t inspire an erection.
“You okay? Were the boxes too much?” Her dark, chocolate brown eyes held concern.
He laughed. “You kiddin’? That’s nothin’. I take down guys ten times that weight in every game. Geez. What do you think? I’m a pussy or something?”
She made a face.
“Sorry. I need to clean up my words.” He sensed color in his face. He’d never had a girlfriend like Samantha Drake. She was smart, beautiful, and nice. She did volunteer work at the New Life Shelter for battered women and kids. But she wasn’t his girlfriend, only a friend. With no benefits. He sighed.
“My brother, Devon, talks like that too. You’d think football players never went to college.” She handed him a cold bottle of water.
He downed the liquid. “What’s next?”
She turned around in the room and sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “Bed, books, clothes, rocking chair. Hmm. How many boxes are still in the car?”
“Two.”
“Then that’s it. The place looks pretty empty.” She perched on the mattress, tucking her feet under her.
“You’ll have it furnished before you know it. Come on. I’m gonna bring those boxes up then take you out to dinner.”
“Thanks. Be right back.” Her thousand-watt smile turned his innards to jelly.
He sat in the rocking chair while Samantha washed the dirt off her luscious body. Or what he assumed was luscious. Sylvester “Bullhorn” Brodsky, known to his teammates as “Bull,” had the hots for Samantha Drake, and it was keeping him up nights. While he waited for her to want him back, his imagination ran through a half dozen things he’d like to do to her under the warming spray of hot water. She was a little slip of a thing, and he was huge. Six foot three inches tall and two hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle, the offensive lineman could lift her up with one hand.





SHORT SNIPPETS:
1.      Denial of their physical attraction crumbled in the dead of the night, when truth can’t be easily sidestepped. She’d noticed him the first time he’d passed in the hallway. Then the second time, when on a search for her brother, she’d spied Sly draped in nothing but a towel in the locker room. Embarrassment had filled her cheeks as she’d scurried outside to wait for Devon. The lineman had simply laughed, showing no modesty at all.
            Sly Brodsky. Bull. Did she want him? Sam smiled to herself. Of course, she did. But she wasn’t about to tell anyone, especially him. She could barely admit it to herself. He appeared content to wait, which was fine with her. She enjoyed being in control. Still, to be honest, she wouldn’t make him wait forever. Only as long as she could stand to back away, even when she longed to lose herself in his arms and let him take her home.






2.      Bull shifted his weight. Blood rushed to his face, and his palms sweated. “This friend thing is great. But I’m interested in more than that. I want you to be my girlfriend.”
“Maybe. Don’t you have a girlfriend?” She tilted her head back to make eye contact.
“Nope. I haven’t dated anyone more than a couple of times in a long time.”
“Huh? I’m surprised. Thought football players had women crawling all over them.”
“Not the kind of women I want. I’m looking for a real woman, not a hook-up.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And what’s a ‘real woman’ like?”
“One-of-a-kind, like you.” 


LINKS:
AMAZON


AMAZON U.K.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0180YBND0?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

AMAZON CANADA

BARNES & NOBLE

ITUNES/APPLE

KOBO

PAPERBACK


Friday, 30 October 2015

Bucket List

Everybody has a bucket list whether it is written down or milling around n your head. It’s unique to each individual and you write down everything you want to do before you die. I have a notebook for mine and as I think of things I want to do I make a note of them. At the moment it stands at twenty-seven and I have crossed off fourteen of my things I want to do. I am constantly adding to it and enjoy that moment when I can score another item of my list.

Here are mine
1/ Visit my friend in America…Yes
2/Write a book…yes
3/Publish a book…yes
4/Ride a motorbike…not yet
5/Visit Greece…not yet
6/ Drive along Route 66…not yet
7/Stay in New York…not yet
8/ Visit Ocracoke Island…yes
9/ Go to Nags Head…yes
10/Get a tattoo…yes
11/Write a best seller…not yet
12/ Visit Paris…not yet
13/Go horseback riding…not yet
14/Go and see The Northern Lights…not yet
15/Witness A Solar Eclipse…yes
16/Dance with Michael Buble…I wish!
17/See Michael Buble in concert…yes
18/ See Matchbox Twenty in concert…yes
19/See Donny Osmond in concert…yes
20/Go to a Drive-in Movie…not yet
21/Fit into my small black jeans…yes
22/Become a vegetarian…yes
23/Go to a jazz club…not yet
24/Play snow angels…yes
25/Feed a homeless person and pay for them to have somewhere to stay…yes
26/Write a children’s book…not yet
27/ See Niagara Falls…not yet

So there it is my Bucket List…out of 27 things to do I’ve scored off I’ve achieved 14 of them.










Thursday, 1 October 2015

Autumn Time




Autumn is the third season of the year. When the leaves begin to turn red, brown and all different shades of orange they fall to the ground by the winds leaving a carpet of colour beneath the trees.
The weather changes turning cooler, the winds stronger and raining more often. Nights draw in and mornings become lighter, sometimes misty. Dewy grass, spiders webs, animals like hedgehogs getting ready to hibernate until spring.

Birds like swallows and swifts start to fly south going to places like Africa because they don’t like the cold weather we have here in the UK.
Long country walks, the smell of the autumn coolness in the air.

We change our clothing for warmer wear, our make-up to more autumnal colours and our skincare so that we can accommodate the cold biting winds and impending winter.
Food plays a big part in the change of the seasons. Home-made soup, casseroles with dumplings and fresh bread to accompany these. Puddings are more hearty like apple pie and custard.

Although I am a sun girl and hate the cold weather, I do like this time of year when so many changes are going on. The earthy colours suit my Capricorn sign and I have to profess a great pleasure in being able to wear my boots with skirts and jeans. Red nail varnish is a favourite of mine and perfect for this time of year. Spicy perfume, a darker shade of lip gloss and going for a pumpkin spice cappuccino.




Virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, sliced
3  garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 celery sticks, trimmed and thinly sliced
3  large carrots 
1 yellow peppers, cut into 2cm/1in chunks
400g/14oz tin chopped tomatoes
2 vegetable stock cube
1 tsp dried mixed herbs
400g/14oz tin butter beans, drained and rinsed
1 head young spring greens (approximately 125g/4½oz), trimmed and sliced
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Chick peas
Spinich
Preparation method
1.     Add tablespoon of  oil and cook the onion, garlic, celery and carrots and peppers gently for 10 minutes, stirring regularly until softened.
2.     Add 1 litre of water and the chopped tomatoes. Crumble over the stock cube and stir in the dried herbs. Bring to the boil, then add all your other vegtablesw then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes.
3.     Season the soup with salt and pepper .Season to taste and serve in deep bowls.
4.     Serve with fresh bread



 

Thursday, 20 August 2015

Sunday, 9 August 2015

Yoga A Better Approach To Life

Yoga and a better approach to life

Yoga is a Hindu spiritual, ascetic discipline which is a mixture of breath and muscle control. In using simple meditation technique this will bring your breath and body into one single element of being.

Yoga is fundamentally a cleansing process. Committing to a regular practice eliminates our bodies of nasty toxins, not just physically but spiritually as well. The great emphasis on breathing will create awareness deep into your soul and beyond. This will help to let go of any burdens that are weighing heavily on your shoulders. The internal rubbish that we accumulate inside of us will diminish with every breath you take each pore of your skin being purified and open to take in each clean breath.

Practise is not easy, all requires concentration and muscle control. The power of yoga is can be intensely soul cleansing, it has brought me through many hard times where I have needed to understand my inner chaotic emotions. The breaths are smooth, thoughtful and extremely energising.

Meditation
Meditation is the art of focussing on one single thing. Breathing is the key element to this practice. Focussing the mind onto one point is actually very hard to do; completely clearing the mind of everything is sometimes very frustrating when things keep popping up. This is where I think a mantra is needed. It doesn't have to be the same thing; it can be just one word or a few words. Saying this in your mind over and over will stabilise and eliminate any other pesky thoughts that try to creep in. When you start to feel you limbs relax and your breathing flow slowly and freely you know you’re on the right path to total relaxation as you've never experienced.



Tuesday, 14 July 2015

Marriage!

Marriage can mean lots of things differently to couples.

1/ You love each other
2/ Committed to each other
3/Respect
4/ Laughter
5/ Perhaps start a family together

The reason a marriage breaks up is when one or even all of those things cease to mean anything any more. The sadness when a relationship of any kind splits up is unbearably sad whatever the whys and wherefores.

However when you have been with someone for thirty plus years, it becomes hard to comprehend where it all went wrong. It would be easy to blame one or the other but it always takes two to tango and somewhere along the years something breaks up and you become divided.

The easiest thing in the world is to pretend that there is nothing wrong. The hardest decision is to pack up and walk away and leave everything you’ve known, everything that has been in your life and start anew.

It’s scary!
It’s terrifying!
It’s monumental!

And it is very hard to stay on your feet without crumbling into a ball and asking ‘why you’?
When you’re in your fifties it is so much harder to start over again. For years you have been part of this family unit that has kept you secure. Even through the eons of struggles that have been hard, even though the relationship has been slowly disintegrate for more years than you care to remember.

It is hard!
How do you get through it?
Great friends.
Strong mind.
Strength from somewhere, to take that step into the world as a single person, it is horrifyingly scary.
But there is hope on the other side.
A better life.
And remembering whatever has happened or will happen  YOU ARE WORTH IT.





Thursday, 25 June 2015

M.S Spencer Guest post.

Please welcome the lovely M. S. Spencer as my Guest for today




An antique train, a mysterious corpse, a bank robbery, a treasure map, and romantic rumblings make for passion and adventure in small town Maine.

Griffin Tate, hero of my new mystery romance the Penhallow Train Incident,  is a retired Middle Eastern history professor and becomes ensnared in the search for a fictional map to the Queen of Sheba’s tomb. Now, it’s uncertain whether the Queen of Sheba ever existed, or where the land of Sheba was, but according to the Bible, the Ethiopian Book of Kings, and many legends throughout the Middle East, she came from a nation in the south to meet with King Solomon. She has always intrigued scholars and in the Penhallow Train Incident, she draws  not only Tate, but the lovely Rachel Tinker and a slew of quirky characters into her mystery.

The Penhallow Train Incident
M. S. Spencer
Sweet Cravings Publishing (June 2, 2015)
Romantic Suspense/Mystery, M/F, 2 flames

BUY LINK: http://store.sweetcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=278


BLURB:

In the sleepy coastal Maine town of Penhallow, a  stranger dies on a train, drawing Rachel Tinker, director of the Penhallow Historical Society, and Griffin Tate,  curmudgeonly retired professor, into a spider’s web of archaeological obsession and greed. The victim’s rival confesses that they were both after a map to the Queen of Sheba’s tomb, and with his help they set out to find it. Their plans are stymied, however, when a tug of war erupts between the sheriff and a state police detective who want to arrest the same man—one for murder and one for bank robbery. It falls to Rachel to solve both crimes…and two more murders, if she is to unlock the soft heart that beats under Griffin’s hard crust. 

EXCERPT (G): WE MEET GRIFFIN

“Another Geary’s, Rachel?”
“What? Yeah, I guess so. Just to keep you company, Maude.”
“Thanks.” Her companion, a woman of about sixty with close-cropped, iron-gray hair and the beginnings of jowls, gave the word all the sarcasm she had available. The bright brown eyes that reminded Rachel of an intelligent squirrel sought out the waitress. “Hey Katie, can you bring us a couple more?”
The waitress, a compact brunette with a wide grin, brought two bottles over. As she uncapped them, she nodded at the window behind the two women. “Looks like we’re in for a blow.” Rachel and Maude followed her gaze to Penhallow Harbor. The sky to the north held piles of white cloud, cascading down the cliff to hover over the mouth of the river as it flowed into Penobscot Bay.
Rachel stared at them dubiously. “They don’t look all that threatening to me.”
Katie shrugged. “Ask Griffin. He considers himself our resident weather expert.” All three shifted to stare at the tall man seated at the bar, his back to them. The cap, flannel shirt, and worn trousers with suspenders should have signaled an old salt, grizzled and wrinkled, but they knew better. Griffin was only about fifty, but he liked to pretend he was time-worn and crusty. It rarely worked. Any vulnerable woman who took note of his strong chin, deep blue eyes, and thickly curling, salt-and-pepper hair, would immediately recognize a sexy man with depths of feeling only a special strategy could penetrate. Add to that a barrel chest, long-fingered hands, and shapely legs, and you had what Maude described as a latter-day Prince Valiant—“Only without that stupid hairdo.”
Griffin twisted on his stool. “Cumulus. Five thousand feet. They’ll pass out to the bay.”
Katie shook her head, but Rachel noticed a gleam in her eye. “No sirree, those are storm clouds. You folks from away can’t read ‘em like we do. See that gray mass over there by Young’s?”
“Huh.” He peered at it, his eyebrows wiggling. “Most likely smog.”
“Smog! That’s ridiculous. How could we have smog in Maine?”
“Wood fires.” The man turned back to the bar.
Maude rolled her eyes. “Griffin gets less verbose every day.”
Rachel demurred. “To be fair, he’s never been much for words.”
“True. Hardly said two or three since he arrived in Penhallow…how long ago? Two years? Wait, wasn’t that just about the time you moved here?” She winked. “You sure there was nothing going on between you two down at Queenstown University?”
Her companion glared at her. “I told you before. I didn’t know him then. He was a professor of Middle Eastern history at the Institute and I was a lowly instructor in Anthropology in the college. Paths like ours never crossed.”
“Institute?”
“Institute of Higher Learning.” She raised her voice. “It’s a glorified think tank for the most eminent scientists and academicians. Gives ‘em an excuse to laze around dreaming up inoperable systems and unworkable theories to gum up our lives.”
“Whoa, somebody has a chip on her shoulder.”
“I can’t help it.” Rachel pondered her former colleague, his head bent over his plate, and whispered, “Griffin was a prick then and he’s a prick now. Too bad he’s so handsome.”
Maude sniggered. “Yeah, too bad.”
The subject of their abuse did not react and after a moment the two women returned to their beers. When Katie arrived with two plates piled with lobster rolls, French fries, and coleslaw, Rachel asked her, “So, have they identified the corpse yet?”
The waitress nodded, her eyes alight. “Yeah—Sheriff Quimby was in this morning. He says the guy was a foreigner—Omar something. I couldn’t possibly pronounce his name. Some kinda Middle Eastern type.”
Maude glanced toward Griffin. “Middle Eastern, huh? Hmm. And he was shot, you say?”
“That’s what the sheriff says. Shot with a .45 caliber—just like the ammunition in Elmer’s and Hank’s guns. Only theirs were blanks. Somebody used real live deadly bullets.”
“Gracious me.” Maude dunked a French fry in ketchup and splashed Tabasco sauce on it. “So how come no one heard the shot?”
Rachel snorted. “Maude, hello? Elmer and Hank were banging away at the same time. Come to think of it, the murderer must have planned it that way.”
“Oh, really. Now you’re Miss Marple. What makes you think it was murder?”
“Well, what else could it be?”
“Suicide? Accident?”
Rachel showed these suggestions the disdain she was sure they deserved.
Katie had remained standing by their booth, ignoring the increasingly desperate signals from the two tourists at the next table. “Say, Rachel, weren’t you taking tickets for the excursion on Saturday? You must have seen the victim. What did he look like?”
Before Rachel could answer, they heard an angry growl from the bar. “God damn it, can’t a man eat his lunch in peace? God damn ghouls around here.” Griffin scratched his stubbly chin and pointed a fretful finger at the women. “You’d think no one had ever been killed before, the way you people go on and on.”
Rachel, enchanted by the way his eyes shimmered in the sunlight, didn’t respond. Maude snapped, “Professor Tate, just because you’re an old roué doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a little mystery. Not much happens in Penhallow after all. We’re entitled to some excitement.”
Griffin bristled at her. “A man is dead, Maude. This isn’t a movie.”
“Well,” she bristled back, “At least he was from away.”
Griffin gave her a long, hard look and, before turning back to his plate, muttered, “Like me.”
For some reason his words struck hard at Rachel’s heart. She couldn’t see his face, and knew it wouldn’t show the hurt anyway, but she could feel it from across the room. To a Mainer, anyone who couldn’t trace his Maine lineage back to at least the French and Indian War was considered “from away.”


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five continents, the last 30 years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

CONTACTS:

Blog: http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com OR
http://bit.ly/1aBzraT
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/msspencerromance
Twitter: www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor
GoodReads:http://www.goodreads.com/msspencer
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/
About.me: http://about.me/msspencerauthor
Tsu.co : http://www.tsu.co/msspencerauthor
Linked in: www.linkedin.com/in/msspencerauthor

AUTHOR PAGES:

Secret Cravings Publishing: http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=products_all&filter_author=56
Romance Books 4 Us: http://romancebooks4us.com/Romance%20Author%20M.%20S.%20Spencer.html OR
http://bit.ly/1d6ehza
Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/M.S.-Spencer/e/B002ZOEUC8/

OTHER BOOKS BY M. S. SPENCER

Romantic suspense and mystery, they are available in ebook and print from Secret Cravings Publishing and all fine on-line book stores. For more information, visit http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com/p/my-books.html


Whirlwind Romance
The Mason's Mark: Love and Death in the Tower (an Old Town Romance)
Lapses of Memory
Mai Tais & Mayhem: Murder at Mote Marine (a Sarasota Romance)
Artful Dodging: The Torpedo Factory Murders (an Old Town Romance)
Triptych
Losers Keepers


An antique train, a mysterious corpse, a bank robbery, a treasure map, and romantic rumblings make for passion and adventure in small town Maine.

Griffin Tate, hero of my new mystery romance the Penhallow Train Incident,  is a retired Middle Eastern history professor and becomes ensnared in the search for a fictional map to the Queen of Sheba’s tomb. Now, it’s uncertain whether the Queen of Sheba ever existed, or where the land of Sheba was, but according to the Bible, the Ethiopian Book of Kings, and many legends throughout the Middle East, she came from a nation in the south to meet with King Solomon. She has always intrigued scholars and in the Penhallow Train Incident, she draws  not only Tate, but the lovely Rachel Tinker and a slew of quirky characters into her mystery.

M. S. Spencer
Sweet Cravings Publishing (June 2, 2015)
Romantic Suspense/Mystery, M/F, 2 flames



BLURB:

In the sleepy coastal Maine town of Penhallow, a  stranger dies on a train, drawing Rachel Tinker, director of the Penhallow Historical Society, and Griffin Tate,  curmudgeonly retired professor, into a spider’s web of archaeological obsession and greed. The victim’s rival confesses that they were both after a map to the Queen of Sheba’s tomb, and with his help they set out to find it. Their plans are stymied, however, when a tug of war erupts between the sheriff and a state police detective who want to arrest the same man—one for murder and one for bank robbery. It falls to Rachel to solve both crimes…and two more murders, if she is to unlock the soft heart that beats under Griffin’s hard crust.

EXCERPT (G): WE MEET GRIFFIN

“Another Geary’s, Rachel?”
“What? Yeah, I guess so. Just to keep you company, Maude.”
“Thanks.” Her companion, a woman of about sixty with close-cropped, iron-gray hair and the beginnings of jowls, gave the word all the sarcasm she had available. The bright brown eyes that reminded Rachel of an intelligent squirrel sought out the waitress. “Hey Katie, can you bring us a couple more?”
The waitress, a compact brunette with a wide grin, brought two bottles over. As she uncapped them, she nodded at the window behind the two women. “Looks like we’re in for a blow.” Rachel and Maude followed her gaze to Penhallow Harbor. The sky to the north held piles of white cloud, cascading down the cliff to hover over the mouth of the river as it flowed into Penobscot Bay.
Rachel stared at them dubiously. “They don’t look all that threatening to me.”
Katie shrugged. “Ask Griffin. He considers himself our resident weather expert.” All three shifted to stare at the tall man seated at the bar, his back to them. The cap, flannel shirt, and worn trousers with suspenders should have signaled an old salt, grizzled and wrinkled, but they knew better. Griffin was only about fifty, but he liked to pretend he was time-worn and crusty. It rarely worked. Any vulnerable woman who took note of his strong chin, deep blue eyes, and thickly curling, salt-and-pepper hair, would immediately recognize a sexy man with depths of feeling only a special strategy could penetrate. Add to that a barrel chest, long-fingered hands, and shapely legs, and you had what Maude described as a latter-day Prince Valiant—“Only without that stupid hairdo.”
Griffin twisted on his stool. “Cumulus. Five thousand feet. They’ll pass out to the bay.”
Katie shook her head, but Rachel noticed a gleam in her eye. “No sirree, those are storm clouds. You folks from away can’t read ‘em like we do. See that gray mass over there by Young’s?”
“Huh.” He peered at it, his eyebrows wiggling. “Most likely smog.”
“Smog! That’s ridiculous. How could we have smog in Maine?”
“Wood fires.” The man turned back to the bar.
Maude rolled her eyes. “Griffin gets less verbose every day.”
Rachel demurred. “To be fair, he’s never been much for words.”
“True. Hardly said two or three since he arrived in Penhallow…how long ago? Two years? Wait, wasn’t that just about the time you moved here?” She winked. “You sure there was nothing going on between you two down at Queenstown University?”
Her companion glared at her. “I told you before. I didn’t know him then. He was a professor of Middle Eastern history at the Institute and I was a lowly instructor in Anthropology in the college. Paths like ours never crossed.”
“Institute?”
“Institute of Higher Learning.” She raised her voice. “It’s a glorified think tank for the most eminent scientists and academicians. Gives ‘em an excuse to laze around dreaming up inoperable systems and unworkable theories to gum up our lives.”
“Whoa, somebody has a chip on her shoulder.”
“I can’t help it.” Rachel pondered her former colleague, his head bent over his plate, and whispered, “Griffin was a prick then and he’s a prick now. Too bad he’s so handsome.”
Maude sniggered. “Yeah, too bad.”
The subject of their abuse did not react and after a moment the two women returned to their beers. When Katie arrived with two plates piled with lobster rolls, French fries, and coleslaw, Rachel asked her, “So, have they identified the corpse yet?”
The waitress nodded, her eyes alight. “Yeah—Sheriff Quimby was in this morning. He says the guy was a foreigner—Omar something. I couldn’t possibly pronounce his name. Some kinda Middle Eastern type.”
Maude glanced toward Griffin. “Middle Eastern, huh? Hmm. And he was shot, you say?”
“That’s what the sheriff says. Shot with a .45 caliber—just like the ammunition in Elmer’s and Hank’s guns. Only theirs were blanks. Somebody used real live deadly bullets.”
“Gracious me.” Maude dunked a French fry in ketchup and splashed Tabasco sauce on it. “So how come no one heard the shot?”
Rachel snorted. “Maude, hello? Elmer and Hank were banging away at the same time. Come to think of it, the murderer must have planned it that way.”
“Oh, really. Now you’re Miss Marple. What makes you think it was murder?”
“Well, what else could it be?”
“Suicide? Accident?”
Rachel showed these suggestions the disdain she was sure they deserved.
Katie had remained standing by their booth, ignoring the increasingly desperate signals from the two tourists at the next table. “Say, Rachel, weren’t you taking tickets for the excursion on Saturday? You must have seen the victim. What did he look like?”
Before Rachel could answer, they heard an angry growl from the bar. “God damn it, can’t a man eat his lunch in peace? God damn ghouls around here.” Griffin scratched his stubbly chin and pointed a fretful finger at the women. “You’d think no one had ever been killed before, the way you people go on and on.”
Rachel, enchanted by the way his eyes shimmered in the sunlight, didn’t respond. Maude snapped, “Professor Tate, just because you’re an old roué doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a little mystery. Not much happens in Penhallow after all. We’re entitled to some excitement.”
Griffin bristled at her. “A man is dead, Maude. This isn’t a movie.”
“Well,” she bristled back, “At least he was from away.”
Griffin gave her a long, hard look and, before turning back to his plate, muttered, “Like me.”
For some reason his words struck hard at Rachel’s heart. She couldn’t see his face, and knew it wouldn’t show the hurt anyway, but she could feel it from across the room. To a Mainer, anyone who couldn’t trace his Maine lineage back to at least the French and Indian War was considered “from away.”


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five continents, the last 30 years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

CONTACTS:


AUTHOR PAGES:

Amazon Author Page:

OTHER BOOKS BY M. S. SPENCER

Romantic suspense and mystery, they are available in ebook and print from Secret Cravings Publishing and all fine on-line book stores. For more information, visit http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com/p/my-books.html




Sunday, 21 June 2015

Peace Of Mind

Peace of mind means to be free of negative emotions. How many of us can say that this is a perception they have often.
It’s a sentiment and emotion that is very hard to sustain and believe in. It’s how we perceive to see a world around us, within us.

Everyone’s basic desire is to be loved.

Society dictates a state of feeling that’s not always congenial to a way of life; a life that is by right ours to live in whichever way makes us happy.
If you don’t like your life, then change it…seems quite simple in words but reality tells a truly different story as probably most people assist to.

Commitments?

Thinking of others around us?

The upheaval of a life which, quite often gives us a security we all seem to need, can be so very hard to attain.
The bravest people in the world are those that make that change, they peek out from the curtain they're hiding behind and face the world full on.

Does that give us peace of mind?

We will only know if we take that leap!




Wednesday, 10 June 2015

Dilys J Carnie Romance Author www.dilysjcarnie.com : Nikki Belaire

Dilys J Carnie Romance Author www.dilysjcarnie.com : Nikki Belaire: Please welcome the very lovely, talented writer Nikki Belaire to my blog today. Wine & Whiskey by Nikki Belaire N...

Nikki Belaire



Please welcome the very lovely, talented writer Nikki Belaire to my blog today.

Wine & Whiskey by Nikki Belaire


Nick DeMarco
A wealthy financier with alleged ties to organized crime. He's arrogant, stubborn, and obsessed with the quiet,gentle woman who may not be as delicate as she seems.



Shae Armstrong
A sheltered pop star living a life created by others. She's bold on stage, yet guarded when the lights fade.
.
 Blurb
No longer controlled by her mother, manager, or former fiancé, pop star Shae Armstrong steps out on her own and into the path of Nick DeMarco, a wealthy investor with alleged ties to organized crime and real childhood scars to overcome. She wants to take it slow. He needs her now, in his life and in his bed.


Nicks enemies threaten her career, her friendships, even her sanity, but not her heart - the one thing Nick holds precious. He proves his love is real, and she stops running. Until everything around them falls apart, including him. He swore he would never hurt her. Instead, he almost destroys them both.


Buoyed by her new-found confidence and strength his love instills in her, Shae makes a dangerous choice, sacrificing her happiness for his, just like he always does for her. Unable to let her break the connection between them, Nick accepts the trust she places in him, the depth of her love giving him the courage to try again.


Now that she’s found her own voice and helped him see who he really is, can Shae survive the challenges of living in Nick’s world?


Nikki Belaire Biography
Nikki writes contemporary romantic thrillers and admits to a weakness for alpha males and bad boys, especially ones who can’t live without the strong women they love. She spends more time in her characters’ lives than her own. But, when she’s in the real world, her passions include reading, wine appreciating, running, and spending time with her husband and daughter.


The first book of Nikki’s Surviving Absolution series is Wine & Whiskey, which launched through Secret Cravings Publishing. Heat level: three flames


Social Media Links nikkibelaire.com facebook.com/nikkibelaire


Buy Links
Secret Cravings Publishing
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Bookstrand


Excerpt 1
When the jet begins its descent, Shae turns from the window and looks at him. “Now are you going to tell me where we are?”




Nick holds up his finger. “Patience. I said when we land.”


His breath catches as she rolls her eyes and laughs, soft and silky, warming him in the cool cabin. He didn’t think it was possible for her to be more beautiful than she already is. Her face flushes and eyes sparkle with excitement, matching the hint of
glitter across her bare shoulders, completely exposed with her hair in loose curls behind her head. He would take a beating just to taste the soft, sweet skin at the base of her neck.


At the bump of the landing gear rolling across the runway she looks back at him again. “We’ve landed. Tell me!”


Were slightly northeast of wine country. I read an article in one of the business journals about a man from Indiana re-opening his grandfather’s winery. I thought we could check it out before he launches.”


“Oh, I love it. I can’t wait.”


Once the pilots open the door and disembark, Max and the two security men accompanying them file out. She starts to stand up, but he puts his hand on her arm. Loath to rouse any uncertainty, he attempts a casual tone. “Just a minute, sweetness. Let Max take care of things first.”


Two black SUVs sit on the tarmac with a young woman wearing a navy blazer standing next to them. Max talks to her as the other two men open the doors and inspect the interiors. A slight frown darkens Shae’s angelic face, and his stomach clenches at her anxiety.


“Is everything okay?


Its just a precaution. I don’t want anything to ruin our day.”


Her lips curl into a smile and she squeezes his hand, releasing some of his tension. “Nothing will.”


After the inspection is complete, Max signs the woman’s clipboard and takes the keys from her. Nick pulls Shae up from her seat and leads her down the steps. “Let’s go.”


They drive along the countryside with Max and his team following behind. Tall trees border farm fields, separating them by owner or crop. A few stray clouds float above the distant mountains, no barrier to the abundant sunshine.


Resting her head against the seat, she turns to him. “How did you arrange for us to have such beautiful weather?”
Im good at charming angels.”


She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re still as slick as the day I met you.”


He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses each knuckle. Somehow,  she saw past his arrogance and gave him a chance. And somehow, he’s lucky to earn more even when he fucks up. “You’re still as beautiful.”


“What am I going to do with you?” “Love me.”


Excerpt 2 (Adult)
Pinkness tints her cheeks as she tilts her head, tucking a strand of hair behind
her ear. Her sudden shyness intoxicates him, a heady combination of adorable and sexy, making her pleasure his only goal. He slips his hands under her negligee, lifting it off and tossing it aside. The pressure in his groin almost erupts at
her pink nipples straining taut against his chest.


his chin, studying his face, scanning his features as if searching for something beyond the surface. He freezes under her gaze. She delves deeper than any other woman, almost farther than he can endure, fearful she’ll pierce the mask hiding the real him. And, despise what she finds underneath. His voice chokes in his throat. “What?”


A soft smile graces her angelic face. “Has anyone ever told you how wonderful you are?”


No. Because no one’s ever thought it but her.


Her mouth finds his. Chaste kisses, smiling against his lips. “And romantic.” Pressing softly, barely touching. “Thoughtful.” Driving him to the edge as he resists every urge to devour her. “Sexy.”


Just when he can’t hold back any longer, she thrusts her tongue inside, making him moan as his fingers slide across her cheeks and into her hair, absorbing all of her sweet essence. Fighting to control his desire, he breaks away, dipping
his head and flicking his tongue against the hardened nub, keeping her in place as her back arches. She drives her hands through his hair, wrapping her fingers around the burgeoning curls on his neck he hates, her breathy whisper like fireworks against his skin. “These are perfect to hold on to when you make love to me.”


Okay, maybe they aren’t so bad. She lifts up from straddling him as he grasps the waistband of her panties. Her fingertips burn his skin in their urgency to help him push them down. In her raised position, he teases her wet core, stroking the soft folds before plunging a finger inside. She gasps, her legs
trembling, and begins to lower herself back down. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he holds her up as she rests her head on his shoulder. His body flames
with need at her lips on his ear. “Your fingers are magic.”




As she whispers his name, her hands move to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them as he lifts up to free himself from the fabric separating them. He reaches
into his pocket and pulls out a foil packet before kicking his pants all the way off. Her eyes never waver from his as he guides her hips over his throbbing tip. She slides down his length, her lips parting in a sharp gasp, her small fist wrapping around his shirt. Pain grips his chest at her hesitation. “Are you okay?”


A slow smile curls her lips as she nods. “I’ve never been on top. You’re a lot to take in at once.”


“I don’t want to hurt you.” “I’m fine.”
Coiling her arms around his neck, she slowly raises and lowers her body, letting him stretch and fill her, building tension in him begging to be released. Silky perfection moving under his fingertips. All he can see is her. Nothing else
exists. No barriers between them. Only her sweetness surrounding him, flowing over him like the purest honey. “Do you know how much I love you?”


She nods, her eyes heavy with desire, locking with his. God, she’s so beautiful. “How right this is?”


Her head dips again, her gaze boring into his, humbling him with the enormity of her love.


“How I'm never letting you go?”


Her pace quickens at his words. Their bodies’ slick with sweat, skin sliding against skin as she accepts him completely. He grasps her hips, grinding into
her while helping her ride him faster and deeper. The rhythm of his hard thrusts


matches her racing heart against his chest, her muscles pulsing and tightening around him. “Nick, I

He can’t hold back, and he’s taking her with him. “Tell me, sweetness.”


Playlist
Hold On, We’re Going Home - Drake
Demons - Imagine Dragons
The Heart Wants What it Wants - Selena Gomez
Say Something - Great Big World
Stay - Rihanna
I Could Not Ask for More - Edwin McCain
Let Her Go - Passenger Adore You - Miley Cyrus Clarity - Zedd
Here Without You - Three Doors Down
Far Away - Nickelback