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Friday, February 28, 2014

Saturday Sample: Her Kind of Man

Today's post is from Her Kind of Man which is published by Lachesis Press.  In this excerpt my heroine Kara is at the library with her sister Katie. They're looking at pictures of wedding dresses because Kara is soon to marry her high school sweetheart.

Kara turned at the softly spoken greeting. “Oh, hello, Ross. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I saw your engagement picture in the paper. Best wishes.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Ross nodded and moved toward the circulation desk.
“If Brandon ever gets tired of you, you can always marry Ross,” Katie whispered as she pulled another magazine from the stack on the table.
“He’s a dairy farmer for crying out loud.” Kara rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine me milking the cows?”
Katie clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “I’d love to see you pulling on a cow’s teats. Seriously, though, Ross may be a cow farmer, but you’ve got to admit he’s cute.”
“Shh, keep your voice down. He’ll hear you. To tell you the truth, I’ve never given any thought to his looks.”
“Neither have I until now,” Katie agreed. “He’s awfully tall and good looking. It’s hard to believe that in high school he always faded into the background.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s because he wasn’t an athlete.”
Kara’s gaze drifted to Ross who had just handed his library card to the librarian. He had to be six three at least. Katie was right. Why had she never noticed how handsome he was? He had dark brown hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders, and a strong face with regular, even features. Even though he wasn’t an athlete in high school, he certainly had the physique for it.
“My, oh, my,” Katie breathed. “Look at the muscles across his back.”
“Probably from farm work. I think his father worked him pretty hard when he was a kid,” Kara whispered. “Don’t you remember? Ross didn’t go to the prom our senior year because his father needed him at home.”
“I bet he didn’t go because you were going with someone else. Ross always reminded me of a devoted, old spaniel. He adored the ground you walked on, and I think he still does.”
Kara chuckled when she remembered Ross’s lovesick behavior. “That’s a pretty good description. Every time I spoke to him I expected him to duck his head and blush. One word from me and he was too tongue-tied to put two syllables together.”
Katie closed her magazine. “Remember when you let him change a tire for you in the senior parking lot?”
“I remember. Brandon and I sat on the tailgate of Ross’s truck talking while Ross changed the tire.” The smile faded from Kara’s face. “That wasn’t very nice was it?” She bowed her head. “I can’t believe I did such a lousy thing.”
“I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it,” Katie comforted. “In high school girls can be such—”
“Don’t say it.” Kara slid another magazine across the table and sat back in her chair. “Here. Take a magazine, and let’s look for the perfect dress.”

Is it possible she’s finally found Her Kind of Man?

Ross Williams has been in love with Kara Cochrane since they were kids so when Kara's fiancĂ© Brandon Miles cheats on her and calls off their wedding—Ross steps in to rescue the damsel in distress.

A heartbroken Kara just wants to get on with her life and hunky Ross provides her with a definite distraction—that is until she starts falling for him. Big time.

But a devastating family secret threatens to destroy everything that Kara holds dear—including her relationship with Ross. 
Buy Link: and at most other retail outlets.

Fathoms of Forgiveness

If you came for Fashionista Friday scroll on down, but why not enjoy this post first?

Fathoms of Forgiveness


Nadia Scrieva



Meet the brave and fearless Visola; a woman unlike any you've ever encountered. Her wit and humor take her through the darkest of dangers with a smile always on her face--and her smile only grows larger as the odds become more impossible. With no concern for her own safety, Visola dives headfirst into the throes of battle to protect the people and country she loves, even if it means facing her worst enemy--the one man who can get inside her head and break her down like no other: her own husband...   


When Aazuria entered the room, her eyes were immediately drawn to Visola’s wild red hair, which had recently been a lustrous mass of audacious curls. Now, her hair was limp. It hung against her head flat, frizzy and defeated. Aazuria’s eyes darted to the warrior’s sunken cheekbones and gaunt face. She saw the bruises on Visola’s neck before her eyes traveled further to the withered, wasted limbs. Every visible part of her friend’s body was covered in fresh scars. She saw the bandaged hands. Visola had been starved and tortured.


Perhaps in these modern times, even under the surface of the sea, kings, queens, and the aristocracy had close to zero significance. Perhaps the words and decrees which left Aazuria’s mouth would have minimal consequences. No one in the throne room felt this way as they awaited Aazuria’s judgment with bated breath. Sionna was standing aside, with her arms crossed. The newly-crowned queen gripped her husband’s sword tightly in her fist as Trevain and Elandria entered the room behind her.


Aazuria shifted her eyes to the man standing beside her friend. Her face was expressionless.


“Approach me, Vachlan,” she whispered.


The man began walking toward her. Although his stride was dignified, there was hesitation on his face. Visola began speaking, pleading words which Aazuria could not hear over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.


When Vachlan was close enough to strike, Aazuria gazed at him with death in her eyes.


“Kneel,” she commanded him. Her chest was rising and falling perceptibly.


Vachlan knew that this would be a very unwise thing to do, but he owed it to Aazuria. He owed it to Visola, and to Adlivun—the nation he had once called home.  He lowered his head and dropped to one knee before the queen, saluting her across his chest. His eyes were level with the sword she held, and he could see the veins bulging through her translucent pale skin from how tightly she clutched it.


“It would be futile to order you punished,” she said slowly. “No one can even attempt to hurt you as much as you have hurt her.”


“I know,” he answered quietly.


“But it is my duty to try.”


She struck out with her sword, slicing the air until the blade collided with his face, knocking Vachlan off his knees and onto the floor. Aazuria could vaguely hear Visola screaming for her to stop, but she was already standing over Vachlan and forcing the tip of her sword between his teeth. Her previous strike had resulted in a huge bleeding gash along the side of his handsome face, but it had not been enough to kill him. She was poised to finish the job.


Vachlan moved his tongue against the steel, tasting the freshly-sharpened metal edge garnished with the metallic taste of his own blood. It is rare that the wine so perfectly accompanies the main dish, he thought as he swallowed the coppery fluid accumulating in his mouth. Kind of like a German Pinot Noir. He looked into the azure eyes of Adlivun’s queen and realized that this was no longer the innocent, charitable philanthropist he had known hundreds of years ago. She was hard. He wondered what percentage of the tempered rage behind her eyes he was responsible for generating.


“One reason.” Aazuria was demanding. “Give me one convincing reason that I should not thrust my blade directly through your skull.”




Nadia Scrieva lives in Toronto, Canada with no husband, no kids, and no pets. She does own a very attractive houseplant which she occasionally remembers to water between her all-consuming writing marathons.

Contact Information

Fathoms of Forgiveness


Purchase Links

Nadia will be awarding the box set of Sacred Breath Series or the box set of Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak (winner's choice)to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. You can find her schedule at

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Fashionista Friday

Untitled #2316

SPURR pointy toe shoes
$45 -

Botkier faux leather purse

Forever 21 necklace

Call it spring earrings
$8.34 -

LancĂ´me lipstick

Mustang Kind of Girl

Mustang Kind of Girl

What’s your favorite car? Lexus? BMW? Jaguar? Ford? Jeep? There are lots of cars in the marketplace, but Liesel Wolf, heroine of Never Trust a Pretty Wolf, has a definite favorite. She’ll pick a Mustang every time, and if the Mustang should be a classic from the 1960’s, so much the better. You see, Liesel has a thing for fast muscle cars. (Yeah, I know Mustangs were mostly called Pony cars.)

You have to admit that the 1964 cars were beautiful. They were sporty and stylish with a galloping mustang logo, cool colors, and were powerful enough to move some of them into the muscle car category. They were affordable too which appealed to the young people.

Why does Liesel like fast Mustangs? Her father was a collector who shared his passion with his daughter. Her father’s gone now, but Liesel’s memories of good times together comfort her.

Liesel is a woman who could really use a good car. She’s running away from her husband who’s a major bad guy. In this excerpt, Liesel is on the run.

 The blue Mustang barreled down the interstate at ninety miles an hour. Why had she thought she could escape William’s reach? She didn’t know those men, but she knew plenty more just like them−cold, hardened killers who’d just as soon murder you as

look at you. William had surrounded himself with such men.


Liesel grimaced as a slow minivan blocked her way. Joseph knew the truth about William. Oh, he wasn’t any better than William, but he understood his son. Joseph hurt people or ordered hits as needed to further his ‘business’ dealings, but William killed

just for the enjoyment of it.


A chill seized her when she remembered the man who had kicked her. She hated him for what he had done, but at the end she had felt nothing but pity for him. When the courts refused to punish him, William had taken justice into his own hands. He had

apprehended the detective and taken him to a secluded warehouse. By the time William finished with him, she felt sure the man had wanted to die.


She had wondered why William insisted she take a ride with him that last afternoon. The doctor had told her to rest, but since she feared William she had gotten into the car with him. He had taken her to the abandoned building where the detective’s body lay. She had taken one look at him and lost her lunch.


“An eye for an eye, Liesel. We lost our baby, but he’s been punished. You can rest easy.”


She had wiped her mouth and ridden home with William, her flesh crawling with revulsion. As soon as she could get away from him, she had called Joseph. She could still remember every single word of their conversation.


“What can I do for you, Liesel?”


“William killed the detective.”


She had heard Joseph sigh. “I thought he might.”


“I want out.”


“Out of what?”


“My marriage. I know you didn’t want William to marry me, so you should be pleased with my decision. Make him let me go.”


“William doesn’t give up what belongs to him.”


“Joseph, make it happen. William is a sociopath. One day I’ll do something to tick him off, and he’ll kill me. Help me. I’m not pregnant now, so you won’t be losing a grandchild. Help me.”


A long silence had ensued. “All right, Liesel. I’ll try.”


She never knew what Joseph said to William, but two days later Joseph’s men packed everything she owned and drove her to the airport. “You’ll get your divorce papers in the mail,” they had said. “Sign them and return them. Mr. Wolf said you should keep a low profile for awhile. Don’t do anything that will bring you to William’s attention.”


She had disobeyed Joseph’s last order because her freedom had gone to her head. In her desire to win that money, she had put herself in harm’s way. If the Wolfs got wind that she had seen that body and been questioned by the police… no, that couldn’t happen. They imagined betrayal from every quarter, even a former wife. Especially a former wife.

Never Trust a Pretty Wolf is available at Amazon, B&N and most other retail outlets.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Blind Mercy

Blind Mercy
by Violetta Rand



The Sigurdsson family legacy continues…

A woman who prayed for a hero…

Orphaned at a young age, Rachelle Fiennes prayed for a hero to rescue her from her tragic life in England. When her only kinsman goes missing after the Battle of Stamford Bridge, Rachelle braves the aftermath of the battlefield to find him.

A man who lost everything…

Damned by the gods for surviving the bloodiest defeat in Norse history, Jarl Tyr Sigurdsson is still determined to get home. Hiding until nightfall so he can escape to his ship, his dangerous endeavor is disrupted when he’s accidentally discovered by a beautiful Saxon.

Brought together by war, Rachelle and Tyr face many obstacles. Can sworn enemies find peace through love, or will fate be cruel?


Rachelle tried to wiggle out of her bonds. He didn’t try to stop her. Why did Prince Edwin want to see her again? The Norse liked English slaves. “I’m shocked you’d sell a Christian into servitude.” She expected the worst from him.

“We all fall short of the glory of God.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Marriage can hardly be considered slavery.”

Panic gripped her heart. Marriage? Oh my God. “Maybe not for a man,” she countered tartly.

“You’re to be wed to a prince. I hardly think you’ll be expected to work your fingers to the bone, unless you view bedding your husband as an unpleasant task.” He grinned lecherously. “Some women never learn to enjoy bedsport.” He caressed her cheek. “Somehow, I think you will.”

She jerked away. “Don’t do this, I beg you.”

“Milady,” he replied. “Men conduct this sort or business every day. Without a proper guardian, someone needed to act on your behalf. It’s a fine match. You’ve done your duty. Rose above your unfortunate circumstances and secured a man most women would trip over their skirts to get to. Prince Edwin may be a bastard in the Biblical sense, but he’s rich and comes from a reputable family. Celebrate your good fortune. I could have shipped you to a place where women are expected to perform the marital act without the benefit of nuptials.”

Her hands burned to slap him. He’d done this with the intent to harm her. From the moment she stepped foot on Tyr’s ship, this man had seethed with contempt. She swallowed thickly. “Why?”

His startling gaze pierced her. “I hate Tyr. And everything about you reminds me of the home I dearly miss. I don’t need a constant reminder of things I cannot have.”

His confession took her by surprise. “I thought you despised Scotland.”

“I’ve only implied it to keep my enemies confused.”

What kind of man denied his own heart? A man without a home was likely the most wretched creature on earth. Beholden to no one, he’d do as he pleased. “Why do you stay?”

“There’s opportunity for me here.”

 “Tyr will notice I’m gone.”

“I suspect he’ll do more than that,” he added. “He might start a bloody war.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Violetta Rand holds a bachelor's degree in Environmental Policy and a master's degree in Environmental Management. Serving as an environmental scientist in the state of Alaska for over seven years, she enjoys the privilege of traveling to remote places few people have the opportunity to see.

 Violetta has been "in love" with writing since childhood. Struck with an entrepreneurial spirit at a young age, at five, she wrote short stories illustrated by her best friend and sold them in her neighborhood. The only thing she loves more than writing is her wonderful relationship with her husband, Jeff. She enjoys outdoor activities, reading whatever she can get her hands on, music, and losing herself in the ancient worlds she enjoys bringing to life in the pages of her stories.

One randomly chosen commenter will win a $50 Amazon/ gift card. Use the following link to enter.  You can find her schedule at