Saturday Sample and Weekend Writing Warriors

 Welcome to my blog. Today I'd like to share an excerpt from my all time favorite book Blue 52. On Sunday when you finish here you can go to www.wewriwa.blogspot.com for more excerpts from a talented group of authors. 

Blurb:

First Lady Kills President Lovinggood" 

December 5, 2018 

Thirty years later, Hank Lovinggood embarks on a quest to prove his mother's innocence and punish the killers who took his family from him. Together Hank and lovely physicist Dr. Kathryn Sinclair confront an implacable, twisted, and merciless enemy who'll do whatever it takes to hide the truth forever.

Last Week's Excerpt: 

The senator tossed the scrapbook into the drawer and slammed it shut. Elaine’s high blood pressure constantly worried him, and her doctor described her heart as a ticking time bomb. It wouldn’t do to upset her.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he apologized. “I started thinking about Richard after Morton Williams called.”

“What did he want? He’s a slimy, slithery slug if you ask me.”

Elaine had always loved words. She had a huge vocabulary and especially enjoyed using alliteration. In fact, she and Richard had had some kind of word game they used to play. The last time they all dined together, she and Richard had tried to play the game using the letter x, but both of them had to admit defeat.

“Williams was calling to tell me that Richard and Elizabeth will be disinterred on November twenty-third. We’ll have to make arrangements for them.”

Today's Excerpt:

The fire died in Elaine’s eyes as she sank down on the sofa in front of the fireplace, her mouth a drooping, thin line in her wrinkled face. “Why couldn’t I have just died myself and gotten it over with? I’d rather die than see those coffins come out of the ground.” She glared at the senator. “You’d better not get all worked up.”

The senator flushed, feeling like a schoolboy caught in some kind of mischief. She always made him feel this way when she criticized him. “I...”

Elaine turned toward the hallway when she heard the front door slam. “Hank’s home.”

Richard Henry Lovinggood III, Hank to his family and friends, entered the study and gave his grandmother a kiss. “Hey, Grandma. What’s wrong with you?”

The senator’s heart gave a little leap. He looked so much like Richard! Tall and well-built with blond hair and beautiful blue eyes, he turned feminine heads everywhere he went. The expression in his eyes was different, though. Richard had burned within, but Hank had a peaceful, calm center. Elaine always said it was probably a legacy from his cursed mother because he sure didn’t get it from Richard’s side of the family. She was undoubtedly right about that.

Senator Lovinggood joined them in front of the fire. His old bones liked the warmth. “She’s upset because MortonWilliams called today.”

“And?”

“Your parents will be disinterred on the twenty-third. We have to make arrangements.”

“I see.”

Ella

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Nancy Fraser will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

To get away from her late husband’s questionable deeds, Ella Winslow takes her three children and heads west to the unsettled Washington Territory to claim land she believes she’s inherited from her father.

Tucker McAlister was fired from his position as deputy marshal for arresting the mayor’s brother-in-law for spousal abuse. His mentor has found him another job, first escorting the wagon train going west, and then as the new marshal in the growing town of Tacoma, Washington Territory.

The trail is long and hard, yet Ella is more than up to the task. Still, Tuck feels the need to watch over her and her children, whether she wants him to or not. It isn’t until they arrive in Washington that he realizes his protection will now need to extend even further than the wagon train itself.

Will Ella’s faith allow her to trust again and make a safe home for her family, while welcoming Tuck into her heart?

Read an Excerpt

U.S. Marshal’s Office
St. Joseph, Missouri
April 20, 1870

Tucker McAlister settled against the wooden railing opposite Willard Davis’ desk. The older man leaned back in his chair and raised his head. His faded brown gaze, gray hair shot through with strands of white, and grizzled beard easily gave away his age. Not to mention the wear and tear thirty-odd years of being a lawman had put on his body.

Tuck held his breath. This was it. Davis was about to announce his retirement, leaving the job of marshal open for the taking. Given Tuck was the deputy with the most experience, he figured he was a shoe-in for the job.

Unfortunately, he’d figured wrong.

“The mayor wasn’t pleased with you arresting his brother-in-law,” Davis said, his narrowed stare aimed in Tuck’s direction. “No doubt with all the high-priced solicitors making their way into town, the whole fiasco is going to be thrown out of court like so much dirty bathwater.”

“He’s guilty as sin, and you know it.”

“I know it, you know it, and—no doubt—the mayor knows it. This isn’t the brother-in-law’s first brush with the law. However, the reprobate claims his wife provoked him.”

“There’s no cause for a man to strike a woman, especially one with child. It’s assault.”

“She’s his wife,” Davis pointed out.

Tuck could feel the flush of anger staining his throat, his face. “That still doesn't give him the right.”

“And the man’s lawyers are claiming you didn’t have the right to give him a black eye and broken wrist.”

“He charged at me when I put myself between him and his missus. I was defending myself when I punched him in the eye. As for his wrist, he did that himself when he swung and missed. I can’t help it if I was standing in front of a brick wall when I ducked.”

Davis snorted a laugh before continuing. “I agree with everything you’ve said, Tuck. You’re my best deputy—the one man I’d trust to take over for me when I retire—and I know you were only protecting the woman.” Heaving a sigh, he added, “However, the mayor’s demanding I fire you. Right here. Right now.”

“No, you can’t do that,” Tuck argued. “I’ll appeal to the state marshal’s office. Surely, they’ll have my back.”

“Their hands are tied. The governor supports the mayor’s request.”

“I was only doing my job, boss.”

“I know, and it’s not fair. I told ‘em so, too.”

“What am I supposed to do? Keeping the law is all I’ve known since I came here eight years ago.”

“You should’ve already been promoted and posted somewhere within the state, Tuck. Hanging around here out of loyalty to an old coot like me hasn’t done you any good.”

“It wasn’t as much loyalty as it was gratitude. You gave an inexperienced, bitter young man a job, a purpose. I owe you everything.”

“What you owe me is to accept the favor I’ve called in from an old friend.”

“A favor? What kind of favor?”

“I got you a job escorting a wagon train headed to Oregon and then on to the Washington Territory. You leave in two-day’s time. Once you get to Yakima, you’ll need to send a telegram to Marshal Burt Macklin in Olympia.”

“They’ve got a job for me in Olympia?”

“Not there, but the territory’s expanding rapidly. They need a marshal in Tacoma who can cover the town, and the surrounding county. Macklin will meet you in Tacoma to swear you in. Then, as soon as you’re settled, you’ll be able to hire yourself a deputy or two.”

“You told them about me?” Tuck asked.

“I told Burt you were the best deputy I’ve ever trained, and darned near the best shot I ever saw. That was all he needed to hear.”

“Does he know I’ve been fired?”

Willard Davis shrugged. “Probably not. I didn’t see any reason to bring it up.”

About the Author:

Nancy Fraser is a best-selling and award-winning author who happily jumps across multiple romance genres with gleeful abandon.

She's also the granddaughter of a Methodist minister known for his fire-and-brimstone approach to his faith. Nancy has brought some of his spirit into her Christian romances. And, her own off-beat sense of humor to her clean & wholesome books.

When not writing (which is almost never), Nancy dotes on her five wonderful grandchildren and looks forward to traveling and reading when time permits. Nancy lives in Atlantic Canada where she enjoys the relaxed pace and colorful people.

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Daughter Of Lore

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Eileen Dreyer will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

He doesn’t believe...

Zeke Kendall doesn’t believe in fairies. He’s a scientist; an anthropologist who has spent the last ten years digging in the harsh deserts of the American Southwest. But things look a lot different in the soft green shadows of Ireland. There it is easier to believe that magic exists, especially when Zeke tumbles off a fairy mound and ends up in the arms of the beautiful Nuala, who seems to know everything about him. When she tells him she is a fairy, he actually wants to believe it, even as he knows better.

She can’t believe...

Nuala is daughter of Mab, Queen of Fairies. She has grown up in the twilightland of the fae, fiercely loyal and loving to her people. But she has also been in love with Zeke Kendall ever since she first saw him in her scrying water as a child. To now have him so close is both joy and torture.

For she is the heir to the great crown of the Tuatha de Danann fairy clan. She has no place in Zeke’s world. And he, a man drawn in the sharp edges of his deserts, has no place in hers. Even as passion rises and the love she’d only dreamed of blossoms into reality, Nuala knows that a future for them is impossible. And yet, she can’t find a way to send him back to his own world.

Note: This title was previously published as Dark Seduction

Read an Excerpt

Zeke Kendall did not believe in fairies. Not merely a serious scientist but a man of the millennium, he held no truck with ghosties or ghoulies or things that went bump in the night. It didn’t matter that he was standing hip-deep in what was purported to be a fairy glen in the middle of Ireland, where generations had seen, consorted with and recovered from fairies. Even standing in the middle of fairy central, Zeke could say with perfect conviction that he did not believe in the species.

Which was why the sudden sight of the delicate, sloe-eyed woman sent him reeling.

He caught her out of the corner of his eye, the way you would in a dream. Creamy skin that all but glowed in the soft, watery light. Thick, curling auburn hair that seemed oddly dry in the rain. Big eyes. Wide eyes. Clear, laughing green eyes that sparkled at him and then turned away. Eyes he would swear on his grave he recognized from somewhere.

Before he realized what he was doing, Zeke was following her. Splashing in puddles up to his ankles, he shoved aside ferns and fuchsia and oak branches in his haste to catch up with her.

She was in a dress. A floaty kind of silky thing in the most iridescent shade of peacock he’d ever seen. Tantalizing over breast and hip and thigh. Compelling a man who had never had the need to be compelled.

Zeke was no monk. He’d had his share of relationships. He’d been told by people other than his family that he was handsome. Rugged, according to his latest friend, Tina. Wide-shouldered and tall and healthy. He hadn’t needed to beg women to stop for him, nor had he ever particularly felt the gut-wrenching desire to do so.

But suddenly, after the swift, stunning sight of a woman who had laughed at him, luscious strawberry lips parted over perfect white teeth and a toss of perfect copper hair, he was running as if his life depended on it.

And somehow, on a single path to a single stream in the middle of nowhere, he lost her.

Zeke got to the very bottom of the path, all but breathless from hopping boulders, sliding through mud, and ducking under foliage, and stopped. Looked around. Stared hard at nothing.

He was sure he’d seen her. He could almost still hear her windchime-light laugh as she spun away. He swore he smelled cloves. Hell, he could almost feel that silk dress against his fingers.

Where the hell was she?

Who the hell was she?

About the Author:

New York Times bestselling author and RWA Hall of Fame member Eileen Dreyer and her evil twin Kathleen Korbel have published over forty novels and novellas, and ten short stories in genres ranging from medical suspense to paranormal to romance. She is thrilled to have joined Oliver Heber Books to continue her Drake’s Rakes series about Regency aristocrats who are willing to sacrifice everything to keep their country safe, of which Ill Met by Moonlight is a near relative.

A former trauma nurse, Eileen lives in St. Louis with her husband, children and large and noisy Irish family, of which she is the reluctant matriarch. A seasoned conference speaker, Dreyer travels to research, and uses research as an excuse to travel. Oh, who's she kidding? She doesn't need an excuse. She has the Irish wanderlust and satisfies it as often as she can to the point that she has sung traditional Irish music on four continents. She also had the incredible chance to research Drake’s Rakes by attending the 200th anniversary of not only the Battle of Waterloo, but the Duchess of Richmond ball (in period attire). She has animals, but refuses to subject them to the limelight.

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Brazen

                                                                          Brazen

by Bobbi Smith 

 

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GENRE: Western Historical Romance

 

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BLURB:

 

Casey Turner could rope and ride like any man, and she scandalized folks by wearing boys’ clothes, but when she strode down the streets of Hark Luck, Texas, nobody took her for anything but a beautiful woman. Working alongside her pa to keep the bank from foreclosing on the Bar T, she had no time for the frivolous things of life, no time for romance. But all that was about to change…

 

Michael Donovan had had a burr under his saddle about Casey for years. Ever since she caught him skinny-dipping and stole his clothes, making him the laughingstock of the whole Circle D. The last thing he wanted was to be forced into marrying her, but it looked like he had no choice if he wanted to safeguard the future of the Donovan ranch. Their families had been bitter enemies for years, but now his parents were urging Michael to court Casey, to treat her like a lady. He’d do his darndest, but he could never let on that underneath her pretty new dresses Casey was as wild as ever, and in his arms she was positively…BRAZEN.

 

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EXCERPT

 

It was a hot late-August afternoon. Young Casey Turner had been out working with some hands from her family’s ranch, checking for strays since early morning. She’d ridden away from the men to look for stock along the river that marked the property line between the Bar T and the Donovan ranch, the Circle D.

 

Casey was hot and tired, and the water looking mighty inviting, but she couldn’t allow herself the luxury of taking a break. Times were hard on the Bar T. Money was tight. She had work to do. When she heard splashing around the bend just up ahead, she expected to find cattle. She rode quietly closer, not wanting to spook the strays.

 

Then she rounded the bend.

 

Casey’s eyes widened in shock and amazement at the scene before her, and she quickly reined in.

 

There, standing in the waist-deep water with his back to her, was none other than the Donovans’ son Michael, and he was—as best she could tell—skinny-dipping.

 

Michael hadn’t heard her approach, and she was glad. She’d never seen a naked man before. As embarrassed as she was curious, she took her time looking him over. His shoulders were broad and strongly muscled, and his waist was lean. Casey was grateful he was staying put, though, for she’d seen all of Michael Donovan she wanted to see.

 

Then she had a thought… The Donovans and the Turners had been feuding for years, and suddenly Casey realized this was the perfect time to take a little revenge on Michael.

 

The thought of getting even with him made Casey smile. The last time she’d seen him in town, he’d made fun of the way she was dressed. She hadn’t wanted to admit it at the time, but his comments had hurt her. Arrogant and rich Donovan that he was, he deserved what he was about to get as a payback for being so mean.

 

She smiled. Michael was unaware of her presence. She looked around to make sure he was alone. Her grin broadened when she saw his horse tied up nearby and his clothes hanging over a low tree limb. True, the clothes were on the Donovan side of the river, but that wasn’t going to stop her today…

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

 

After working as a department manager for Famous-Barr, and briefly as a clerk at a bookstore, Bobbi gave up on career security and began writing. She sold her first book to Zebra in 1982.

 

Since then, Bobbi has written over 40 books and 6 novellas. To date, there are more than five million copies of her novels in print. She has been awarded the prestigious Romantic Times Storyteller Award and two Career Achievement Awards. Her books have appeared on the New York Times Best Seller List, the USA Today Best Seller List and the Wal-Mart Best Seller List.

 

The rights to Ms. Smith’s books have been sold to China, France, Germany, India, Israel, Russia and Sweden. Bobbi has also written two faith-based contemporary novels – Haven and Miracles – using the pseudonym Julie Marshall.

 

 

Bobbismithauthor.com

 

https://www.amazon.com/Brazen-Bobbi-Smith-ebook/dp/B00FAY1HEY/ref=la_B001JSBQMS_1_13

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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION 

Bobbi Smith will be awarding $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

 

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Beyond the Book: Like Shoes?

“Have your footwear choices changed as your life, or lifestyle, has changed?”

The short answer to this question is yes. And no.

When I was a child, children in my area went barefooted in the summer time. The climate is warm so we reveled in feeling the grass underfoot, but we had to wait until after May 1 to get rid of those shoes. I guess I was maybe in early elementary school when flip flops became popular. At first I didn’t like the thong between my toes, but I got used to them and wore them all the time. Ever since then flip flops have been a staple in my life. I still wear them, and so do many other people. 

When we had to wear shoes there are two kinds that I remember wearing, saddle oxfords and penny loafers. I don’t wear saddle oxfords today, but I do wear loafers with nice support. I found them to be comfortable no matter what I was doing. Really, though, I don’t remember wearing what we called tennis shoes until much later in my life. 

When I was in college I loved knee boots. I wore them with a mini skirt and thought I was so fine. I still like boots, but I don’t wear knee boots anymore, just the short boots. My legs don’t belong to a twenty year old now so I think the short ones look better. I think I wore them every Sunday through this past winter.

When I started teaching I wore a cute pair of sandals with heels on the first day. I soon learned my mistake. I can’t stand all day on concrete floors in thin soled sandals. Our school didn’t like the teachers to wear athletic shoes to school so I was over the moon when I discovered walking shoes. No one ever complained about them.

My footwear of choice as an adult is strappy sandals. I have a whole wardrobe of them. The heels aren’t exceptionally high so I can wear them with no problem. 

Alas, I can’t wear the nice heels that I love. I remember a few years ago buying two pair of black heels because I couldn’t decide which looked better on me. I tried one on not long ago. It was a wonder I didn’t fall and break my neck. I can barely walk in them now! Too bad. They sure looked good on me.

Now that I’m retired I wear my dress boots (short ones), shoes with a small heel, maybe an inch or inch and a half, walking shoes, hiking boots, flip flops, or sandals without high heels. And I like these shoes to have nice padding to make them more comfortable. 

I guess my style hasn’t changed, but I’ve had to adapt to older feet. That’s okay, though. I still find things I love, especially my new bronze sandals with flowers on them. They’re amazing and match so many things.

What type shoe do you like most?

My Dearest Miss Fairfax

                                                   My Dearest Miss Fairfax

by Jeanette Watts

 

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GENRE: Austenesque/Historical Fiction

 

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BLURB:

 

How much would you gamble for true love? Jane Fairfax dreaded her future as a governess. But genteel solitude seemed her fate. Then handsome, charming, rich Frank Churchill asked to marry her – IF his rich aunt agreed. If their secret engagement was discovered, Jane would be ruined. Frank seemed worth the risk; but the stakes got higher when the aunt refused her consent!

 

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EXCERPT

Mr Churchill caught the end of one of the long ribbons from her bonnet, which were flying madly in the strong breeze. He toyed with it for a long while, then looked up into her eyes. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked.

 

“No, I don’t suppose I do,” Jane answered. Her heart started beating harder. That was a lie. Maybe her breath was catching in her throat because she was lying: she fell in love with him the moment she saw him, rescuing the poor store clerk. Or maybe it was because he was standing so close to her, just on the other end of her bonnet ribbon. She felt her cheeks growing warm, and tried to talk herself out of blushing. He was not standing any closer to her than when they danced together, or sat on the same bench at the pianoforte. Why should it fluster her that he was wrapping the end of her bonnet ribbon around his fingers like that?

 

“Neither did I.” He tied a knot into the very end of the ribbon, then caught the other flying ribbon, and did the same to its end. “I thought love requires mutual respect and understanding, and complementary temperaments that can only be discovered with a judicious application of time and conversation.”

 

Jane hid her trembling hands inside her muff. She wished there was a way to hide the fact that she was trembling all over. “I understood you from the first moment I saw you,” she admitted, her voice little more than a whisper.

 

A Word With the Author

 1.Did you always want to be an author?

 

Sort of… I was always a storyteller, which is at least similar, if not exactly the same thing. 

 

When I was in fourth grade I used to make up stories that I told my best friend as we’d walk to school. She was the one that used to make me write things down. So this is really all her fault, in a way. 

 

When I was old enough to babysit, instead of reading the kids I was taking care of a bedtime story from a book, I would act out stories using their stuffed animals. Once when I moved away, one of my girlfriends took over babysitting the same kids – she ended up letting me know she was going to strangle me. She was not a natural-born storyteller who made up stories using the kids’ stuffed animals!

2.Tell us about the publication of your first book.

It was an adventure! 

 

It has been a few years since that first book baby. Ebooks came out as I was in the process of trying to find an agent, because you were NOT going to find a publisher for historical fiction without an agent. I sent out a lot of query letters, I heard back from agents, “Hey! I really loved your book, but would you change this and this and this? If you do that, I’ll represent you.” So I would spend five months rewriting the book to that agent’s specifications, and then that agent says, “Ew! I don’t like your book anymore….” I did that over and over again for five years. 

 

Meanwhile, Kindle comes out, and I have people telling me, “Just go publish it on Kindle!” For a year, I told them, “No, no, I want to publish the traditional route. Self-publishing has such a bad reputation, and to be honest, I’ve seen a lot of self-published books that make me say, “Yes, I understand why self-published books have a bad reputation. My writing is better than that. My characters deserve better than to be ignored because I self-published.

 

But after one more crazy agent had me waste my time making changes they didn’t actually want, I finally listened to the advice. I should have listened much sooner! When there was almost no content on Kindle, I might have been a best seller simply because there was so little out there to read on a Kindle!

 

Once I was on Kindle, then I needed to start trying to find my readers. But how to do that? I got invited to be in the author’s pavilion at the Ashville Viking Festival, where I could hand out cards for getting an ebook. The vast majority of the people I talked to said to me, “No thanks, I want a REAL book in my hands!” 

 

Fortunately, I was sharing the authors tent with a writer who told me about CreateSpace. It was not a vanity publisher that was going to require several thousand dollars from me: it was a print on demand publisher, people could order a copy, it was printed and sent to them, I could order a bunch of copies to bring to book festivals when I needed books to put into people’s hands.

 

And that’s how my first book came to be! It was a slow process. It got easier after that.

 

3.Besides yourself, who is your favorite author in the genre you write in?

 

Margaret Mitchell. I know that Gone With the Wind is a controversial book right now, but I will stand by her. Is it racist because the enslaved peoples around her all talked with a dialect? People to this day talk with dialects. Her black characters were not characterized as stupid people. Scarlett O’Hara feared and respected Mammy. As much as a narcissist flawed protagonist was capable of respecting anybody.

 

The reason I like Margaret Mitchell so much is that she was a reporter first, and she did her homework. Thoroughly. So much historical fiction makes me cringe. Just because the telephone was invented in 1876, housewives were not calling each other on the phone in 1877 to gossip. (Yes, I’ve seen that. In a book published the traditional way with a large publisher. It’s kinda disgraceful.) I’m a history buff who mostly reads biographies and histories, and there’s nothing in GWTW that makes me slap my head and groan and call the writer a moron who doesn’t do her damn homework.

4.What's the best part of being an author? The worst?

 

There are two best parts:

 

1)     Readers. I love going to book festivals to promote my novels, and talking to people. I have had the most amazing conversations with people who watch for me every year, and with people who have never read my books before. I have had conversations with people about my books, who have later stopped back at my booth to bring me other books they know I would be interested in!

2)     Once I have written the stories, the characters stop banging at the inside of my brain, trying to get out. It’s a relief.

 

The worst part of being an author is navigating the publishing industry. The traditional publishers don’t care if a book is well written. They just want books that will make them money. Circumnavigating that system by self-publishing, I have to do all the things that a publisher would do to get a book into the hands of readers. I have to find out what the rules are, and continually adapt to the constantly changing rules. There is an entire industry built around figuring out what Amazon does. Amazon does not TELL authors how the algorithm works. Authors have to pay thousands of dollars and spend hundreds of hours researching to find out what they need to be doing in order to get Amazon to introduce their books to the people who would be interested in reading them.

 
5.What are you working on now?

 

My newest novel, “My Dearest Miss Fairfax,” was released on March 14^th. So I have been spending all of my time working on the publicity that goes into a book release. Sadly, for every hour spent writing a novel, an author needs to spend at least two hours marketing. I wish there was a better system.

 

Once “Miss Fairfax” is really underway, I am working on re-releasing my previous romantic comedy, “Jane Austen Lied to Me.” There is a strong trend in book covers for romantic comedies lately, that I need to embrace. And I hopefully have found the composer for the stage musical version of the book! 

 

Once THAT is underway, I have a half-finished series of historical dance manuals I started during the pandemic that needs to be finished. I am a dance instructor and dance historian, and these books will help museums all over the country in teaching the period-appropriate dances to do for a house built in 1803, for example, or a historic battlefield from 1776 or 1863, or a town who holds an annual celebration to commemorate their founding in 1890.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

 

Jeanette Watts has written three Jane Austen-inpsired novels, two other works of historical fiction, stage melodramas, television commercials, and humorous essays for Kindle Vella.

 

When she is not writing, she is either dancing, sewing, or walking around in costume at a Renaissance festival talking in a funny accent and offering to find new ladies’ maids for everyone she finds in fashionably-ripped jeans.

 

Contact Links

Website: www.JeanetteWatts.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JeanetteWattsAuthor

Twitter: @JAMLW_writer

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6967936.Jeanette_Watts

https://www.goodreads.com/author/dashboard

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/jeanette2420/_saved/

Instagram: jeanetteamlwatts

 

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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION 

 

Jeanette Watts will be awarding a crazy quilt tea cosy to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

 

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Saturday Sample and Weekend Writing Warriors

 Welcome to my blog. Today I'd like to share an excerpt from my all time favorite book Blue 52. On Sunday when you finish here you can go to www.wewriwa.blogspot.com for more excerpts from a talented group of authors. 

Blurb:

First Lady Kills President Lovinggood" 

December 5, 2018 

Thirty years later, Hank Lovinggood embarks on a quest to prove his mother's innocence and punish the killers who took his family from him. Together Hank and lovely physicist Dr. Kathryn Sinclair confront an implacable, twisted, and merciless enemy who'll do whatever it takes to hide the truth forever.

Last Week's Excerpt: 

He flipped to the back of the scrapbook. God, I hate this part! He had thought of destroying the offensive newspaper articles, but without them, the record would be incomplete. “President Lovinggood Murdered!” the first headline screamed. “First Lady Kills the President” trumpeted another in huge, black letters.

Unwilling to read any more, he turned back to the front of the scrapbook. Look, there was a good picture of Richard and Joan taken in their Halloween costumes. Richard must have been five or six at the time. They looked so much alike some people had thought they were twins, but Richard was two years older than Joan. He remembered that Richard hadn’t wanted his little sister to—

“Put that damned thing away!” a strident, furious voice demanded from the door.

Elaine Lovinggood, the senator’s wife, had gone red- faced with anger. “Why are you torturing yourself, Henry? I told you not to look at it anymore.” 

“Elaine...”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Elaine...”

“Be quiet, Henry!” She slapped the door with the flat of her hand and made the senator jump. “I loved Richard as much as you did, but he’s dead, and no amount of mourning in the world can bring him back. You’ve wasted the last thirty years grieving for our dead son, and I can’t take it anymore.” Her voice rose again. “For the love of God, don’t ruin the last days of our lives!”

Today's Excerpt:

The senator tossed the scrapbook into the drawer and slammed it shut. Elaine’s high blood pressure constantly worried him, and her doctor described her heart as a ticking time bomb. It wouldn’t do to upset her.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he apologized. “I started thinking about Richard after Morton Williams called.”

“What did he want? He’s a slimy, slithery slug if you ask me.”

Elaine had always loved words. She had a huge vocabulary and especially enjoyed using alliteration. In fact, she and Richard had had some kind of word game they used to play. The last time they all dined together, she and Richard had tried to play the game using the letter x, but both of them had to admit defeat.

“Williams was calling to tell me that Richard and Elizabeth will be disinterred on November twenty-third. We’ll have to make arrangements for them.”

Blood of Azure Series

 

Blood of Azure Series

by Jonathan J. Michael

 

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GENRE: Epic Fantasy

 

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BLURBS:

 

BLURB: BLOOD OF AZURE SERIES

 

Four races with powers dictated by the seasons seek balance and prosperity. However, life instinctively primes itself for survival, and when one race commands the touch of death, all others fall in line. Tyranny plagues Azure as an immortal ruler governs the knowledge of the seasons and those wielding its power.

 

Four young protagonists, Stone, Jaymes, Goose, and Astor, each navigate their way to escape his shadow and reclaim their freedom. Simple ambitions for young souls. But little did they know, they would uncover the secrets the realm is built upon, and the unique talents they each carry. Their ignorance allows the knowledge of the seasons to escape into the world around them little by little, and with it, a power loosing anarchy upon the realm. A power most aren’t worthy of wielding. It is up to Stone and his companions to tame that power and reclaim the balance.

 

Four seasons to balance the land. Four sages to balance the life.

 

BLURB: SEASON OF SACRIFICE, BOOK 1

 

Courage is for the bold. It is not for Stone McLarin. He’s been in hiding for four seasons after being orphaned by the Taoiseach. He doesn’t care for the heroic antics of avenging his parent’s death or securing his freedom. He only desires one thing—to protect his sister’s life.

 

This proves challenging when his sister, Jaymes, possesses a rivaling power of decay to that of the tyrant ruler’s. She’s a threat to his dominance, and there will be no escaping his shadow.

 

When the Taoiseach manipulates his way into Jaymes’s life and steals her away, Stone has no choice but to follow. He must venture into the heart of the tyrant’s domain and figure out how to penetrate the impenetrable. And if he succeeds there, he will have to slay the most powerful man in Azure.

 

In a world ruled by decay, what chance does life stand?

 

Season of Sacrifice is part one of the Blood of Azure series—an epic fantasy full of grim encounters, heroic adventures, unique magic, and a captivating world to explore.

 

Author’s Note: Contains explicit language and some graphic descriptions.

 

 

BLURB: SEASON OF SUFFERING, BOOK 2

 

A villain in his own mind, Stone McLarin is labeled the hero for murdering a man.

 

Not only is Stone weighted down as a hero, but he’s idolized by the dominant religion, and he’s the sole protector of the knowledge of the ages. The pressure of the entire realm is on his shoulders.

 

Carib Reign, a shapeshifter building an army of immortals, plans to purge the Crimson Capital to find this hidden knowledge. His motive, to give the people of Azure the freedom they deserve.

 

With many adventures along the way, Stone will lead the charge to defend the Crimson Capital against the Immortal Army. Should he fail, anarchy is inevitable. Death for all Azure, a possibility.

 

Where there is life, death anticipates. But what if death is abandoned? Life will rebel.

 

Season of Suffering is part two of the Blood of Azure series—an epic fantasy with both light and dark hearts. You’ll experience many fantasy tropes, clashing swords, unique magic, fantastical beasts, and a wide range of Azure’s scenic terrain.

 

Author’s Note: Contains explicit language and some graphic descriptions.

 

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EXCERPT:

 

EXCERPT SEASON OF SACRIFICE – GOOSE

 

My heart beats heavier. I inhale and, with the back of my hand, brush a drop of sweat that has found its way down my forehead. I know what these tracks be-long to. But why now? Am I projecting my ambitions—to slay a Creature of the Night? I grab a handful of Everweed from the ground and reluctantly head in the direction of the trampled vegetation.

 

My experience with these beasts is nonexistent, but then again, there isn’t another who can claim otherwise. They’re the type of animal man stays far away from, which was the primary reason for choosing this location as a refuge. We chose to risk being mauled by the Creatures of the Night over the public execution we would have inevitably encountered by hiding in a small village. Some would consider us the biggest halfwits in all of Vedora, all of Azure even, for making the decision we made, but I know Harris Martelli personally, and the fact he is capable of persuading a strong-willed and morally sound man like my father to do what he did is far more threatening than any beast living in the wood.

 

 

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

 

Jonathan J Michael was born and raised in the greater Seattle area in the scenic state of Washington. Jonathan is an advocate of science, nature, and exploration, which has a heavy influence in his debut series, Blood of Azure.

 

When I drive down the freeway, I often want to veer onto the backroads and head for the mountains. When I'm at an evening gathering, I'm eager to step outside and gaze at the stars. When I'm on a ferry, I'm at the guardrail staring into the depths wondering what kind of leviathans lurk below. I'm an explorer, and since I'm not on the next Crew Dragon headed for the ISS, fantasy novels let me have what I seek. I write to explore a world of wonder.

~ Jonathan

 

SOCIAL LINKS

Website: https://jonathanjmichael.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jonathan.j.michael.author

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jonathan_j_michael/

 

BUY LINKS

Season of Sacrifice – Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08T1XV54W

Season of Suffering – Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09NSM62N8

 

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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION 

 

One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway