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Friday, July 1, 2016

Tour for Can’t Forget by Colleen S. Myers




Can’t Forget
Solum Series
Book Two
Colleen S. Myers

Genre: Science Fiction Romance

Publisher: Champagne Books

Date of Publication:  June 6th, 2016

Number of pages: 253
Word Count: 82,000

Cover Artist: Elaine Smith

Book Description:

Is it better to be safe or loved?

Four months have passed since the E’mani destroyed the Earth and scooped up the remains. Elizabeth “Beta” Camden was one of those taken. With the help of their enemies, the Fost, she escapes and confronts her prior captors successfully. Though she knows she should remain vigilant toward the E’mani, she follows her heart instead and falls in love with Marin, the sexy Fost warrior..
She should have trusted her first instinct.

This time the E’mani don’t come in force--they slip in silently. And any hope Beta had of a peaceful life is lost. She leaves in the dead of night to find the E’mani stronghold and end them once and for all. But love is a tricky bitch.  It takes a threat to Marin’s safety to make Beta realize, if she can’t forget her past, she won’t have a future.
 Chapter One

The snowball hit the back of my head dead-on. Bam.
I stumbled forward from the force of the blow. The flakes created a halo of white powder around my head in the cool, crisp air then settled all over my face and neck.
What the…oh no he didn’t. A growl rose in my throat. I turned to confront my foe. I creased my eyebrows and I glared at him, mean-like.
With a smug expression on his face, Marin stared back, tossing another snowball between his hands.
“Elizabeth, you appeared distracted. I wanted to help.” His voice was smooth, deep like aged rum, and echoed in the unique way of his people, the Fost, almost like he was being dubbed. The sound got me every time causing me to shiver, or maybe it was the snow dripping down my back.
“That was helping?” My ass.
“Yes, you were about to walk into a tree,” he said dryly, dropping his ammunition.
I whipped around. Sure enough, a tree loomed in front of me. Dark-gray bark, feathery fronds interspersed with lethal spikes, blue moss climbing its trunk. Yep, that was a tree. Well for here anyway, not like on Earth.
I glanced back at Marin, who stood so trustingly under the boughs of another nearby tree laden with snow. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. See, I could help too. He looked hot, literally and figuratively.
“Okay, thanks.”
With a thought, my power twisted deep inside, and I sent out a burst of air through the branches. They shuddered in response and unloaded their cold, wet contents on Marin’s head with nary a sound.
The snow dusted his brows, his cheeks, and obscured the single streak of dark green that coursed down the left side of his mahogany hair and framed his face. A single flake melted on his lips.
Our gazes met and held. His light brown eyes had a slit pupil that dilated then contracted as he focused on me. I used to find it…disconcerting, but it was just him, along with his long limbs, sharp features, and elaborate tattoos called jatua. All small differences but strange enough to have unsettled me in the past. Now it was so damn unfair how sexy I found him, alien race and all.
Marin raised an eyebrow and licked at his bottom lip, watching me watch him. My gaze followed the path of his tongue.
Heat spread through me as I imagined myself tasting those lips. I tucked a strand of red hair behind my ear. My breath slipped out in a sigh.
He smiled wide. “Lands, I love how you look at me.”
“Stop.” I blushed, twirling back and starting down the path we’d been walking before he ambushed me.
“How much farther?” I asked when he caught up and bumped into my side.
“We are close,” Marin replied. He was  so busy shaking the snow out of his hair, he didn’t see my smile.
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
Ha, so literal. “Are we there yet?”
His hands stopped and his brow crinkled. He looked so confused I had to laugh. Then I tripped flat on my face in my clunky snowshoes and it was Marin’s turn to snicker. He picked me up and settled me against him, my face tucked into his shoulder.
“You all right there?” His words whispered past my ear.
“I’m fine.” My voice came out a lot breathier than I intended. Damn it.
The corner of his lips curled up. He traced the side of my face. Tingles trailed along my skin. I put my fingers over his and stood on tiptoe in invitation. Marin obliged and brushed his mouth along mine. Our lips clung for the briefest of seconds before he shoved snow down the back of my coat.
I shrieked, dancing backward. Cold, cold, cold.
Marin bolted down the path, much more sure in his steps than I.
The jerk. He was lucky he got out of range, or I would have gotten payback.
I fiddled with my jacket to get the rest of the snow out, shuddering at the feeling of wet fabric sticking to my back.
God, I hated winter. The first snow, I marveled like everyone else. Oh, so pretty. The world sparkled underneath the coating of white. Then the freeze set in, the biting wind, the forced isolation. And did I mention the cold? Give me spring or summer any day.
We were traveling to the mines outside the city of Groos. The miners had reached a type of rock they’d never seen before. It was dense and coarse. They couldn’t blast through it, and their efforts were destabilizing the tunnels. They tried to dig around it, but so far they’d had no luck. Nobody knew how thick the vein was or how far it reached. They wanted me to try magical means to remove it. Fat lot of good that would do.
When I caught up to Marin, I gave him the evil eye.
Marin grinned. “What?”
I flipped him the bird.
He grabbed my middle finger, “What does that mean? You do it all the time.”
“Nothing.”
His brows wrinkled again. “Woman.”
“Man. And don’t talk to me. You put snow down my back.”
Marin laughed. “Sorry.”
“My ass, you are not the least bit sorry.”
“Wait, what does your bottom have to do with this?”
I blinked. Ha, I forgot sometimes that certain expressions didn’t translate. “Nothing.”
He growled and kissed my knuckle before dropping my hand. “I hate when you say that.”
“I know, thus, why I do it.” I grinned and stepped ahead of him with a wiggle in my step.
He swatted me on the ass as I passed. While I acted angry outside, inside I loved when he played. He only ever did it when no one could see him. He was Clan Chief after all, even though he was only five years older than me at twenty-five. The position left him little time for fun and his own sense of responsibility precluded it.
A few minutes later and we reached our destination. A box canyon opened up in front of us, filled with barren trees and snow. At the far end of the canyon, a cave entrance loomed, braced by wood. A single railroad track led out of the opening to the left and a snow-laden press stood to the side, up against the high stone walls.
Con waited outside the entrance, his red and green Mohawk vivid against the backdrop of white. His stout form and kind face emphasized his resemblance to a Santa, A badass one. No fluffy red suit for him.
Marin inclined his head, straight to business. “Show us this rock.”
With a flourish, Con gestured ahead, and we entered the mines with cautious steps. Just past the entrance, the light from the two suns outside faded and darkness fell. I slowed and Marin’s hand brushed my lower back.
“Let your eyes adjust for a moment,” Con muttered from behind us.
As I stood there, the walls started to glow. Streaks of aqua phosphorescence lit the pathway ahead.
“What is this?” I asked in wonder, moving in a circle.
“Theris, a weed. It grows in the caves. When you break its shell, it glows.” Con held out a small stick almost like an aloe branch that he snapped before our eyes, and a thin, clear liquid trickled out. “The glow lasts almost a week. We carry some on us at all times. Come, follow me.”
Con led the way down the cramped passageway. Gravel and ice crunched underfoot. The smell of dust filled the stale air. My breath steamed. Damn it. I shivered and rubbed my arms through the jacket. Marin ran his hand down my spine.
It took about five minutes of hiking to reach the antechamber. When we got there, Con stared at me with a hopeful expression.
“Okay, you want me to, you know.” I made woo-woo gestures at the wall.
“Yes,” Con replied.
Four months ago, I’d escaped from an E’mani spaceship and ended up here on Solum. The Fost, Marin’s people and the sworn enemies of the E’mani, took me in and hid me from their foes, but the E’mani didn’t give up easily. In one of their attempts to draw me out of hiding, they set bombs at these mines. Several people had been trapped inside. I’d used my magic to move the rock—how I got magic, I still don’t know—and created a new entrance. Now they wanted me to do it again. No pressure, right?
I reached out and touched the wall. The dark surface crumbled under my fingertips. All throughout the flaky stone, a silver metal streaked. Not dust or ore. This was metal, hard and thick. No wonder they couldn’t get through it.
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes. The power sprang eagerly to my summons. Heat spread outward from my core and my palm tingled where it touched the rock. The chill from being deep in the cave during winter faded.. A pulse vibrated in the air around me, pulling me deeper. I concentrated on that sound, letting it center me. My heartbeat synchronized to the sensation.
One. My skin grew tight. I let my breath rush out in a slow exhale.
Two. The stone warmed underneath my fingertips.
Three. The ground shook in response to the power rushing to my call. I kept my hands square on the wall.
Four. My hair stood on end, strength rushing through me, filling me until the force of the earth beneath my hand made me feel stretched like taffy. My mind screamed from the pressure and I squeezed my eyes shut. I needed to hold it as long as I could. My body shuddered until every pore sweat and my body strained from the contact, pushed to its limits and beyond. And then I shoved all the power out with my mind into the rock.
Please move. Please.
A beat.
Nothing happened.
“Anything, Beta?” Con asked right next to my ear.
I jumped.
“Nope,” I squeaked out, trying to bring my pulse under control, oddly empty.
“Keep trying,” Marin said and touched the rock to my left. Con did the same on my other side. We all focused this time, but unlike the time we freed the miners, there was no movement. The metal seemed inert. Its light gray color contrasted starkly with the dark-brown stone.
My shoulders slumped. “Nothing. I’m sorry.”
“And this means we cannot mine the ferok, doesn’t it?” Marin asked, rubbing his forehead.
“Correct, it covers the veins,” Con said.
My fists clenched. The Fost had found another metal--ferok. It was pliable and could be imbued with magic. With it, they could shatter the technological defenses of the E’mani. That was a good thing, but the metal kept us from it. And we had so little of the ferok to begin with. This was not happy news.
“Land’s sake, why can it never be easy?” Marin echoed my thoughts.
Marin slapped Con on the back. “We will search the library for more information. You continue to try to mine this rock. See what you can do.”
Con nodded in agreement as Marin gathered me up and we trudged out of the caves. Silence reigned for the next half hour.
“Stop worrying,” Marin said.
“I’m not worrying.”
“I can practically hear the thoughts racing through your head.”
“I am not worrying.” I enunciated slowly, my steps deliberate
“Yes, you are.”
“Well, fine, I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking about the E’mani. Without the ferok, we only have our magic and we need more. And there’s this feeling of dread,” I splayed my hand across my chest, “right here, and it’s getting stronger. The E’mani are out there. I know it. I’m not sure why they haven’t attacked us yet, but they will. We need a weapon.”
The E’mani wouldn’t have forgotten about me or the Fost. I didn’t hold out hope that they’d forgotten about the men they’d lost in their attempts to recapture me either.
“The land protects us,” Marin replied.
A snort escaped me. “Magic vs. machine. That didn’t work out so well for you guys the last time.”
Marin tossed me a chiding look. “We survived, did we not? That is what matters. And we have lived as we are meant.”
God, his words made my teeth itch. “You can’t think the E’mani aren’t planning retaliation. They are not a forgiving race.”
I’d know having been their prisoner and all. And the more I thought about the E’mani, the more hatred stirred inside me. I loathed those pale freaks. They’d destroyed my world, in their never-ending quest to “make things better.” Then they brought me here. I didn’t remember much of my time with them, not yet. But I recalled enough to despise them. They were not kind masters.
White eyes stared at me through amber glass, E’mani eyes.
“Hello, Elizabeth,” Xade crooned. Light flashed off the razor sharp edge of the scalpel in his hands. “Time for more samples.”
Marin’s words snapped me out of my memories with a jolt. “We all know the E’mani are coming. But the winter has been harsh, more so than usual. And before they came after you, it had been ages since the last time we saw them. They left this world long ago to recoup their losses after the war. They left even while we were still fighting and maintain only a small presence out in Industry.”
My jaw set. “Good. Industry is where I need to go. I need to find one of their labs.”
Marin sighed. “We have talked about this, Elizabeth. First, you have no idea where to find a lab. And second, you have no idea what you need to do if you did find it.”
“I remember some of what they taught me. And being in the labs, where they kept me, will help me remember even more. I scared them, Marin. Me. When I confronted them—”
“It might not have been you. It might have been all the lightning you were throwing around, or the blade Zanth wielded,” he argued.
I grit my teeth until my jaw hurt. Damn him. Why wasn’t he listening? Tears blurred the path in front of me.
“It was me; I could tell. I know something that can hurt them, I can feel it. The E’mani were frightened enough of me that they came in force to capture or kill me and it has to do with the labs. I know there is something I’m meant to do, and soon. If not, something bad is going to happen.” Chills shivered down my spine. I heard the faint echo of screams—men’s and women’s—from long ago. They had a plan for us, just like they had for Earth. How could I stop it? “Marin?”
“Yes.”
“If I asked you to, would you leave with me, today, and travel to Industry?”
Marin blinked. “Today? No, we need to plan these things, you know that, Elizabeth. To go now would be stupid.”
I stomped forward on the trail. “Of course it would be. How silly of me. You’re right.”
“Elizabeth, please.” Marin caught up and put his arm around my shoulder. “We will go to Industry soon. I promise.”
“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that.” I let my head fall against his shoulder. Arguing with Marin never seemed to end how I wanted it to. No use being pissy about it now. And he was right, which was even worse. To go during winter would be foolish, but still…
A few minutes passed. The snow crackled beneath our feet. It was cold enough, I’d long since lost feeling in my toes.
The entrance to the city of Groos came into view. There was a large chiseled gate built into the natural arch that fronted the valley. They built the gatehouse into the valley walls itself and tunneled above the gate, giving the guards a clear sight line of anyone approaching.
Bas-relief scenes covered the arch’s surface blending with the rock face. One scene depicted a Fost couple embracing in a corner their arms wrapped around one another. In the other corner was a Coreck, a catlike creature that stood on two legs, with a long tongue. Yet another showed a battle. Men fought with swords and spaceships flew overhead. The pictures were so vivid, they seemed to flow across the rock, lifelike and real. My fingers itched to touch the stone. Every time I saw it, I was struck by how natural it appeared. It fit.
Unlike me.

 About the Author:

Colleen Myers was raised in a large family in the outskirts of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where she grew up on Harlequin teen romances and stories from her mother’s work as a paramedic. She was her high school salutatorian and attended Allegheny College on the Presidential Scholarship.

After college, Colleen spent a year in service in the Americorp giving back to the community at a local Pittsburgh Women Infants and Children Clinic (WICC) before attending Kirksville College of Osteopathic Medicine on a military scholarship.

Upon completing medical school, Colleen attended residency at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland during 9/11. She earned three meritous service awards from the military along with outstanding unit awards. After serving seven yearsof active duty, she promptly landed a position at the VA to provide fellow veterans with optimum medical care. Still an avid fan of romances into adulthood, her love of the genre inspired her to hone her craft as a writer, focusing on contemporary romance and science fiction. Her background in medicine and the military provide an inspiring layer of creative realism to her stories and characters. 

Her first book, Must Remember, the first of the Solum series, is being published by Champagne Press. The sequel, Can’t Forget is the recipient of the 2015 RWA New England Readers Award.

Colleen currently resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with her son, and spends her spare time writing novels.

Interview for Colleen Myers

Today we welcome Colleen Myers and her new character Beta as we discuss their new book. Hello Colleen, hello Beta. It’s lovely to see you.

“Thanks for having us.” Colleen smiles and nudges Beta, who nods.

Beta, why don’t you tell us a little bit about your life before the E’mani came?

Beta sits forward. “I had a normal life. I’d just started college and well, it was fun. I don’t know what more to say.”

Colleen and Beta, what can you tell your readers about this new novel?

Colleen looks at Beta before answering. “Well it is about an apocalyptic event on Earth started by aliens called the E’mani to harvest humans. Beta is one of those humans.” Beta glances at the floor and crosses her arms.

I hear there is a love interest. Beta, will you tell us about him from your point of view?

Beta smiles. “Yes, Marin. He is wonderful, a bit controlling, but he lets me be me.”

Now Colleen, spill the details. We want the goods on Beta and Marin. Berin, or Mata. Do you like those couple names Beta?

“Whatsa MATA with MATA.”

Now, I know you can’t say too much, but we have to know. Is this the last of the E’mani, or will we see them again?

“You will be seeing a lot of the E’mani”

Well, thanks guys for joining us today! Don’t forget to check out Can’t Forget, coming to e-stores June 6th.

Website  http://www.csmyersmusings.com

Twitter  https://twitter.com/ColleenSMyers

Facebook Author  https://www.facebook.com/ColleenSMyers/

Facebook personal  https://www.facebook.com/colleen.laughlin.7

Goodreads  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14553363.Colleen_S_Myers

Google +  https://plus.google.com/u/0/114862374558510360435/posts

Linked in https://www.linkedin.com/in/colleen-myers-883a66b6

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Tour Giveaway

$25 gift card and ecopy of Must Remember




Book Blast INDIE LOVE MAGAZINE 2


IndieLove Magazine,Issue 2


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GENRE: Magazine

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BLURB:


IndieLove Magazine is a publication promoting independent Authors, Musicians, Crafters, Artists, Film etc.

Issue 2 has some of the best, Authors Mia Sheridan and Amy Harmon grace the pages as well as Goddessfish promotions. Artist Kim Walker, Actor Shawn Hawkins, Derek Webb, Co Founder of Noisetrade etc.



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Excerpt One:


Kelly Oliver- recently enchanted assembled music lovers around the country on her 18 date second album tour. Kelly is a guitarist/ harmonicist, with influences ranging from the song style of Bob Dylan, the intense lyrics of Alanis Morissette and a touch of Kate Bush around the vocals. Her album Bedlam, which was released, March 6th, has been carefully crafted to show off Kelly's strengths to full advantage. BBC Radio 2's Bob Harris is a fan and says she has a 'beautiful, pure voice and is 'a vital voice in British Folk' and Chris Hawkins, who has played her on BBC 6 Music said she is 'fabulously gifted, something special'.

Kelly Oliver is one of the new breed of bright young musicians who stands out from the crowd with her 'golden vocals'. Bedlam features a range of songs with themes ranging from war to migration, and social injustice to love in all its guises as well as the ever tempting eternal triangle.



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AUTHOR Bio and Links:


For 3 days only from the 1st of July to 3rd of July Is-sue 1 will be Free for readers of the blogs!

On my website!

www.indielovemagazine.com

https://web.facebook.com/indielovemagazine/



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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION

The publisher will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour





Release Day Blitz for The Mannequin Offensive by Kirsten Weiss




The Mannequin Offensive
Rocky Bridges
Book 1
Kirsten Weiss

Genre: Mystery/Suspense (paranormal)

Publisher: Misterio Press

Date of Publication: July 1, 2016

ISBN: 1-944767-02-9

Number of pages: 328
Word Count: 72,300

Book Description:

After an overseas assignment goes bad, all Rocky Bridges wants is out of the global security business. No more personal protection gigs. No more jaunts to third world countries. No more managing wayward contractors. But when her business partner is killed, Rocky must investigate her own company and clients.

Rocky’s no PI, but she’s always trusted her instincts. Knife-wielding mobsters, sexy insurance investigators, and a Russian-model turned business partner are all in a day’s work. Now her inner voice has developed a mind of its own, and she finds herself questioning her sanity as well as reality as she knows it. Rocky can’t trust those around her. But can she even trust herself?

The Mannequin Offensive is a fast-paced novel of mystery and suspense.

Release Day Sale. 99

Amazon      Kobo

Chapter 1
It was just meat.
Sickly green tiles, slick with something I didn’t want to identify. A wall of cabinets with square, metallic doors. And on the autopsy table…just meat.
I adjusted my mask, adapted my breathing. My stomach flipped at the smell of ammonia and petroleum. By this point, I should have been used to the oil stink. Baku, Azerbaijan’s capital, reeked of the stuff. It seeped from the ground, staining the sand, hanging heavy in the air. But surely I was imagining the odor here, in the morgue two stories below the city’s streets.
My scalp itched where my blonde hair had been shorn away. My brain throbbed, spun, and I recognized the signs of a potential faint. I relaxed my knees so I wouldn’t pass out and focused on his toes. Not his toes, I mentally corrected, its toes, the corpse’s toes, crooked from a lifetime in dress shoes.
It wasn’t Derek, not anymore. The man who, yesterday, had skipped out on a meeting with Azeri officials to drag me to see the burning gas fields was gone. He’d told me the fields had been holy to the Zoroastrians. Mystical. But he’d told me a lot of wild stories, about missing pirate ships and Vikings who’d made their way down to the Caspian.
“Who knows?” he’d said. “One might have been your ancestor. You look like a Valkyrie, tall and blond and powerful.”
“Viking pirates.” I’d rumpled my hair, scanning the low, brown hills for marauders, pickpockets, and corporate spies. “Sounds like a movie.” And I’d launched into a fantasy screenplay, complete with axe-play, wenches, and a traitorous Viking who’d doomed the expedition.
“They were wiped out by disease,” he’d said.
I’d snorted. “Non-fiction. Who needs it?”
The coroner cleared his throat.
I glanced across the table.
The coroner’s black eyes gleamed maliciously over his surgical mask. I was an intruder, my appearance in his morgue an insult to his professional standards.
“Are you all right?” They were the first English words he’d spoken, and they surprised me.
“I’m fine.” I shrugged. “It’s just meat.”
A sunburst of light glinted off the coroner’s scalpel, expanding, disorienting me.
He placed his fingers on the body’s clavicle.
Oh God, he’s going to cut him. My heart thundered. Meat, I told myself. Just meat.
Something grabbed my leg, and I jerked, woke up. My feet swung off the suede couch, and I swayed drunkenly, blinking.
My neighbor, Glenda, stepped hastily back and adjusted her lightweight green duster. A fit seventy-something, she favored flowy fabrics. Her lips moved, silent. Her white brows creased, and her mouth moved again. Glenda prodded the neat coil of white hair piled upon her head with a long finger.
Shaking my head, I tried to escape the remnants of the nightmare. I yanked the earplug from my right ear. “Sorry. What?”
Sun slanted through the sheer curtains, making rectangles on the burnt orange and blue oriental rug. My dog, Churro, panted on the bamboo floor next to Glenda, his black and white head tilted with concern. He was a dachshund-beagle mix. It was a mystery to me how two short-legged breeds had combined to create a svelte, mid-sized dog that looked like neither. But Churro, like me, was his own dog.
“I said, your phone’s been ringing off the hook.” Glenda raised a white brow. “I can hear it in my townhouse.”
I grimaced. My landline was intentionally loud. I checked my cell, lying on the glass coffee table. Dead. I tugged down the hem of my rumpled, white t-shirt. “What are you doing in here?”
She rested her hands on her narrow hips. “You gave me a key. Remember?”
I remembered. We’d exchanged keys when I’d first moved in. Glenda would water my plants when I was away, and I’d make sure that if Glenda died, her body would be found before being eaten by her cats. (Her words, not mine.) Since I traveled often and Glenda could only be eaten by her cats once, it had seemed a good deal at the time.
I squinted at my fireplace mantel, painted a butter-cream yellow, and the clock perched on it. Three o’clock. My gaze drifted upward to the painting of sunflowers. Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.
A garbled murmur turned my attention back to my neighbor. “Did you say something?” I asked.
“Sorry. I keep forgetting.” Glenda motioned toward my head, and my hand automatically rose to the shaved patch of skin above my left ear. Fine hair grew over the puckered scar. I’d tried parting my hair on the other side, covering it up. But it looked odd, and so I wore my blond hair in its usual long braid.
“I asked when you were planning on returning to work. This moping isn’t healthy.” Glenda’s lips pulled down, deepening the lines around her mouth, and I felt an unreasoning guilt.
“I’m not moping, and I’m not returning. I’m done.” I was done with the travel, done with the health hazards, done with the egos. Done, done, done.
Besides, a lifetime of new possibilities stretched before me. I could do anything. I could open a bar. I could open a bookstore. Or a bakery. Or a bookstore and bakery. I could even start something that didn’t start with the letter B. Lifetime of possibilities? There was an entire alphabet of possibilities.
“Done.” Glenda’s mouth pinched. “You’ve been sleeping all day, ignoring your responsibilities…”
“I’m on leave.”
“You’re too old for this.”
“Thanks.” Sheesh. She wasn’t my mom. Though she was old enough to be.
I stood, unpeeled the t-shirt from my back, and arched, feeling rather than hearing the crack. I was built like a German barmaid, able to carry six steins of beer in one hand, all curves and hidden muscle. It had been a useful physique in my role as security consultant. I rubbed my hands over cheeks splattered with freckles.
The dog pawed at my knee, whining.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I opened the glass door that looked over my fenced garden.
Churro bolted past.
“What will you do?” Glenda asked. For a moment, I thought I heard a hint of motherly concern in her voice.
But I was imagining it.
I watched Churro race in circles, ears flapping, ball in his mouth. He stopped before a New Zealand palm and dropped the tattered ball, cocking his head, as if waiting to play. He nosed the ball toward the plant.
I snorted and shook my head. I loved Churro but was under no illusions about his degree of smarts.
“Well?” Glenda asked.
“Well, what?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to open a combo wine bar and bookstore.”
Glenda lowered her chin. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’ll be great,” I said, spinning the fantasy. “I’ll call it the Book Cellar. Get it?”
“What do you know about running a wine bar? You don’t even drink wine. You’re a beer drinker.”
“Yeah, but the Book Keller just doesn’t have the same punny ring.” I laid an earnest hand on my chest. “People buy books during the day and drinks at night. It’s an optimal use of the space.”
“What space? Have you already found a space?”
The phone jangled, and I flinched.
“I told you it was loud,” Glenda said.
I walked into the light-filled kitchen and picked up the phone. “Rocky here.”
Someone pounded on the black-painted front door.
I jerked my chin toward the door, covering the phone with my hand. “Would you mind?” I asked Glenda in a low voice.
My neighbor glided toward the door.
The voice on the phone cleared his throat. “It’s Hank.” He paused. “Rocky, you need to prepare yourself for some bad news.”
My breath hitched, and I leaned against the gray granite counter. I knew those words. I’d spoken those words. And there was no way to prepare for what came next.
The front door swung open, and Glenda stepped aside.
Two uniformed police officers walked in.
“Who?” My throat tightened.
“It’s Pete. He’s been killed.”
My brain stumbled, hit a wall. I pressed my palm into the edge of the granite counter, felt its coolness beneath my skin. The bastard couldn’t be dead. I hadn’t forgiven him yet. I tried to swallow, failed.
“Rocky?” Hank asked.
“How?” My voice was a croak.
“Knifed. They found his body in a parking lot this morning. Must have happened sometime late last night.”
I bowed my head and ran my palm over my hair. My scalp was damp with sweat. “What do you need?” I finally said.
“The police are looking to talk to you. Don’t say anything.”
“Why? I don’t know—”
Hank broke the connection.
I stared at the phone. I wasn’t in the habit of blabbing to cops. Over two decades of working in third world countries had taught me the authorities were not my friends. American cops were light years ahead of the thugs I’d dealt with overseas, but old habits died hard. More importantly, there was nothing I could tell the officers. I didn’t know anything.
It made no sense. Pete couldn’t be dead.
The uniformed police moved toward me, their broad faces grim.
I leaned against a cabinet.
I didn’t cry.


About the Author:

Kirsten Weiss worked overseas for nearly twenty years in the fringes of the former USSR, Africa, and South-east Asia.  Her experiences abroad sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.

Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes genre-blending steampunk suspense, urban fantasy, and mystery, mixing her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem.

Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer re-runs and drinking red wine. Sign up for her newsletter to get free updates on her latest work at: http://kirstenweiss.com


Web: http://kirstenweiss.com

Blog: http://parayournormal.wordpress.com

Twitter: @KirstenWeiss

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kirsten.weiss

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5346143.Kirsten_Weiss

Tour giveaway

$10 Amazon gift certificate



Release Day Blitz for Love, Alchemy by Eden Ashley




Love, Alchemy
Eden Ashley

Genre: New Adult Romance/Fantasy

Publisher: Eden Ashley

Date of Publication: July 1, 2016

ASIN: B01ENMA95G

Number of pages: 300
Word Count: 60,000

Cover Artist: Laura Gordon

Book Description:

Daveigh Little is preparing for college, planning to leave behind the tiny hick town she’s spent her entire life in once and for all. But plagued by a trouble at home and school, Daveigh makes a series of bad choices that land her in hot water with a local kingpin. Suddenly, people around her are dying and Daveigh finds herself on the run.

And then there’s Ethan. Fresh out of the academy, Ethan Remington represents the authority Daveigh has come to despise, but she is inexplicably drawn to the handsome rookie of few words. From the first moment she laid eyes on him, Daveigh knew Ethan was different. She just didn’t realize how different. Reasons of his own have led Ethan into the tangle strands of danger with the town of Harpey…but those reasons aren’t nearly as mysterious as Ethan’s origins or the irresistible passion between them.

Amazon



About the Author:

Realist, cynic, and hopeless romantic all rolled into one, Eden lives in a small, sunny town in SC where thunderstorms inspire her best ideas. When not daydreaming about her next novel, Eden can be found curled up with a musty old paperback and a cup of coffee...or mired deeply in her next plot to take over the world. She enjoys reading or watching anything with supernatural elements, so writing paranormal and fantasy romance is a natural fit.


Blog: http://edenbynite.blogspot.com/

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

Twitter: @Eden_byNite

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7150184.Eden_Ashley

Tour giveaway


One $25 Starbucks Gift Card (Because what goes better with books than coffee?)