Shadows to Light excerpt – Regan Black @ReganBlack

Guest Post 12 Shadows to Light excerpt

Thanks for hosting this stop on the Justice Incarnate blog tour organized by the fabulous Orangeberry Book Tours. I’m excited to share an excerpt from Shadows to Light, book five in my Shadows of Justice series of paranormal romantic suspense novels.

In the following excerpt, Mira is about to get intimately reacquainted with a man she’s met just once before…

Jameson watched the woman disappear into the building. “I’ve got a possible situation,” he whispered.

“Explain,” came the reply from HQ.

“Female nosing around. Appears to be alone.” A status he knew would only raise more questions.

“Verify and report.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do not engage,” Callahan added.

But Jameson was already too close to the potential threat to risk a verbal acknowledgment. He clicked his mic in the affirmative. A stealth suit was one hell of an advantage in the daylight the way it refracted light and sheltered the wearer. At night, in a deserted area, he might as well be truly invisible.

It was a heady freedom as he reached the door where Mira – the woman – had entered the building.

He knew what Callahan must be thinking. Anyone in this deserted area of campus had to be connected to the situation they were monitoring. As long as he didn’t find Mira inside that building he’d agree. Telling himself it couldn’t be her, that his mind was playing tricks on him, he turned the knob.

It couldn’t be so easy. This kind of easy made him wary. He took his time, listening for signs of the woman, adjusting his night vision until the room glowed an eerie green. Nothing. Not a whisper, not a shout, not a single movement.

He edged toward a counter, certain she was hiding behind it. Unless she’d seen him coming – highly unlikely – there hadn’t been enough time for her to do anything else. The soft whoosh of movement wasn’t enough warning and though he turned, tried to deflect, the impact of a body running for the door took them both straight to the floor.

Even bathed in the eerie green light and with absolute panic etched on her face, he recognized Mira. Disappointment and answers had to wait until he had her contained and calm. In her rush to get off him and escape, she was damned close to trampling on some sensitive places.

“Stop.” He flipped them over, blanketing her with the weight of his body.

She squeaked. Not a scream, a squeak, followed by squirming that only compounded his natural reaction to having her soft body under his. “Mira, stop. I won’t hurt you.”

“What? How? What the hell is going on?”

He understood her desperation and confusion, was feeling more than a bit of the same himself. “Hold still?”

“Jameson?”

He froze. He hadn’t removed the stealth disc. Did she have some sort of detection or sensor he didn’t know about? Her hands found his shoulders, her fingers were skimming over the stealth suit. “Stop,” he hissed. He wanted to kiss her, to forget where they were and why, and just sink into the miracle of holding her again.

Remembering the other biofeedback technologies attached to him, he eased off her, just enough to see if she’d try to run. She stayed put, well everything but her hands did. He figured all these little fires where she touched him was like being in the center of a sparkler. The comm tech was probably having a field day with his vital sign readings.

He caught her hands and trapped them at her midriff. “Do. Not. Move.”

The order was as much for him as her. If either of them shifted the slightest inch, his body would reject all his training in favor of the promises her body was making.

There have been many days when I wished for a healer like Mira (for myself or friends) and I hope her compassion comes through as much as her inherent strength during her adventure with Jameson as they strive to save her father and the future of her order.

Mira has made a cameo appearance in each of the previous Shadows of Justice books:  Justice Incarnate, Invasion of Justice, Veil of Justice, and Tracking Shadows and bringing her story to life was one of the best experiences of my career.

Live the adventure,

Regan

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Genre - Romantic Suspense

Rating – R

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Website http://www.reganblack.com

Tales of Mi7: The Kramski Case by J.J. Ward @MI7Ward

Chapter 1: Them Ol’ Paparazzi Blues

Kendal, Cumbria.

Someone called Jilly’s name, then the name of her band, Four Girls on Fire. At first, she thought she was dreaming – they’d just won the nation’s biggest talent show all over again, and from now on, life was going to be really amazing! - then her stomach turned over.

She disengaged herself from Rob, got out of bed and went to the window. Bloody hell, yes, down in the narrow cobbled street that fronted the guest-house. Paparazzi, sixteen or seventeen of them, all men, full of last night’s chip fat and strip-club testosterone, leering up at the net curtain like they could see through it. She swallowed.

The other girls had warned her about dating a member of a boy band, but only tongue in cheek. Twice the publicity, babes, sure you can handle that? She couldn’t help herself, though. Two years ago he’d been her hero and she’d been a nobody. Now they were equals.

“They’ve found us,” she told him.

Rob stretched and yawned. He discarded the bedclothes, picked up his boxer shorts and put his foot in one leg. “The press?”

“You don’t seem very bothered.”

“You were bloody brilliant last night, Jilly.”

“How did they know we were here?”

“I mean it. Outstanding.”

She realised she didn’t even like him much. “Did you tell them?”

“Me?”

“Wake up, Rob! It’s the press! I said the press have found us!”

He pulled on his boxers and put his arms round her. She disengaged herself, plonked herself at the dressing table and brushed her long brown hair, pulling halfway down as if it was full of knots. She was trying to stop herself shaking.

“Anyone could have told them,” he said. “It definitely wasn’t me, babe.”

“Put your clothes on. We’re leaving.”

“Why? They can’t get in here.”

She fished her bra from the pile of clothes on the floor and put it on. “We’re in the bloody Lake District, Rob. We’re supposed to be miles from anywhere. How did they find us so quickly?”

She looked round the room: the plaid curtains, the beds with valances, the 1920s lampshades, all the varnished wooden surfaces, so unlike the places she always stayed when she was touring with the girls. She’d fallen in love with it at first sight. She’d been drunk, true, but she’d never wanted to leave.

Rob pulled his socks and T-shirt on then looked at her. “You’re not frightened, are you?”

“They’ve probably got the place surrounded. And yes. Yes, I am frightened.”

“We’ll just call a taxi. We can be downstairs and in the car before anyone knows it.”

“I’m not bothered about us, Rob. I’m bothered about them.” Tights, tights, where were her bloody tights?

“‘Them’?”

“Yeah, ‘them’. The photographers, journalists, whatever they call themselves. Them!”

He laughed. “First time anyone’s cared what happens to paparazzi. Anyway, what could happen to them?”

“Haven’t you been watching the news recently? Are you really that self-obsessed?”

“Hey, now - ”

“Four photographers shot dead in four weeks. Following Bobby Keynes, Zane Cruse, Mikey from Bad Lads Zero, Stallone Laine - ”

“No such thing as bad publicity, from what I hear. Not that you need it, girl, but it won’t hurt. Besides, they’re all douche bags, right?”

She pulled her dress on and smoothed the waist. She’d had enough now. She wanted out. Of everything. “I misjudged you, Rob. They’re still human beings.”

“No, they ain’t. Anyway, what are the chances?”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

He picked up the telephone. “Is that reception? Hi, yeah … Room …”

“Fourteen,” Jilly said.

“Fourteen. Could you get a taxi pronto for me and the shorty? And fetch us the bill for the room? … Yeah, we’re leaving … Yeah, all good things have to come to an end sooner or later … Yeah, we’re disappointed too.” He put his hand over the receiver. “She knows us,” he told Jilly. “It’ll be her that told the reporters.”

“Bitch.”

He put the phone down. “About fifteen minutes. Get your face on, gorgeous.”

“I’m not waiting for her taxi to come, Rob. Not if she’s with them. I’ll get my own. There’s a rank down the road. Come on.”

“What about your make-up?”

She rammed a pair of sunglasses on and picked up her travel bag. He followed her downstairs. They didn’t stop at reception. Rob reached into his wallet, pulled out four fifties and thrust them at Mrs whatever-she-was-called, the proprietress. “Keep the change.”

Suddenly, they were out on the street. Paparazzi to their right, shouting Jilly. Jilly take off your shades, Jilly flick your hair, Jilly wave, Jilly smile, Jilly stop, who’s that with Jilly, that’s Rob from Simply Boyz, Rob give us a smile, Rob –

She took off her glasses, grabbed Rob’s hand and turned left and accelerated. She almost changed direction. There was a loud crack and she jumped like she’d been hit.

Behind them, the paparazzi roared. One of them – a photographer, about twenty-five - lay prostrate and bloody. Four others photographed him, ten or twelve were in full flight, one was trying to get a signal on his mobile. No one was interested in Jilly and Rob any more.

Rob looked at them then at her. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

Jilly started screaming.

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Genre – Espionage Thriller

Rating – PG

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Whitley & Austin, Where Truth and Fiction Meet by Parker Paige @parkerpaige86

Against her better judgment, Charlie kept her lunch date with Camina and Laura. It was just a short walk from where they worked, but seemed endless as Charlie listened to Camina boast about her boss and lover, Bruce Colby. As far as Camina was concerned, she and Bruce were a match made in heaven and naively believed that Bruce would one day leave his wife of fifteen years to be with her.

It was one o'clock when they reached Giordano's restaurant on Randolph Street. Even after having pre-ordered their food, they still ended up having to wait 30 minutes before their pizza was served. Seated at a table near the window, Charlie sipped on an iced tea while Camina and Laura enjoyed daiquiris. Though Charlie treated herself to many bottles of wine at home, somehow, it felt strange for her to have cocktails in the company of others. It was as if she accustomed herself to drinking alone. Not having much of an appetite, Charlie barely touched the pizza in front of her except for a few nibbles at the sauce and crust. Meanwhile, Camina and Laura chowed down as if the daiquiris elevated their hunger.

Laura reached for the napkin from her lap, gently wiped her mouth, and sipped her water. "Edward and I are going up to Wisconsin this weekend, and I've been working so much overtime, I haven't had a chance to pack a thing."

"I don't think I could steal Bruce away from his family for an entire weekend, but we make up for it," Camina said.

It was as if Charlie was a piece of furniture as she sat there, observing, not saying a word. She was without anything to contribute to their conversation, having no big plans to speak of and no boyfriend to boast about or complain about. Had she made a mistake in coming out with the two of them? Charlie hesitated to say anything negative about Camina's relationship with her boss because it was sure to arouse uncomfortable emotions in Camina, but after thinking about it, Charlie refused to sit quietly any longer. "You better be careful with him," Charlie said. "I heard he has a heart condition."

Camina didn't even look at Charlie. Instead she chuckled and glanced over at Laura. "Who do you think gave it to him?" Camina asked with a giggle.

Laura and Camina both shared a laugh as if everyone got the joke, but Charlie.

"Really?" Charlie asked.

Laura glanced at Charlie. "She's just kidding."

"I gave him a lot of things, but I didn't give him that," Camina said.

THREE beautiful redheads – THREE Motives – ONE Murder

Tapping into the common wish to be someone else, if only for a short time, this suspense drama explores what happens when a woman, bored with her humdrum existence dyes her hair red and takes on the persona of her late sister.

After the murder of her beloved sister, a quiet and warmhearted legal secretary, Charlie Weiss, who works for the prestigious Whitley & Austin, is in search of an escape. A few sessions with her psychologist propel her to the realization that the excitement that she seeks is in a new life, the life of her late sister.

With a daring wish to continue the wild life of her late sister, she colors her hair red and dares to reinvent herself. And with this new persona comes a different type of experience, including becoming one of three redhead suspects to a murder.

“This whodunit suspense drama will keep you guessing until the last page.”–Elance book editor

Parker Paige has been writing fiction for several years with a passion for creating eccentric characters. She is fascinated with true stories and for that reason, she is drawn to the network Investigation Discovery like a drug. She is the author of “The Color Pink” and “Whitley and Austin.” She is not completely insane, maybe just a little bit crazy. She lives in Los Angeles.

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Genre - Romantic Suspense

Rating – PG-13

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Website parkerpaige.wordpress.com

Shelf Life: The Publicist, Book Two by Christina George @publicistgal

Chapter Two

Mac leaned back in his chair and observed Rebecca, a fellow editor, as she walked in and sat down.

“So how is it to be back?” he smiled, knowing the answer.

“It’s hard to leave a newborn,” she sighed. “It’s even harder when the minute I get back to work, Edward’s insisting we sign nothing but porn.”

Mac laughed, “Well, he tactfully called it ‘erotic romance’ but yeah, same thing.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, “I hate Fifty Shades. Well, I hate what it’s doing to the industry. This hideously written book is being marked as a game-changer. I have to wonder if anyone who actually read the book said this. It was a repetitive and boring pile of crap. I want more literature. I was hoping to come back and do more children’s books and instead I’m ‘encouraged’ to sign porn.”

Mac spotted Kate walking past his office, “Katie, come in and say hi to Rebecca. She’s back from maternity leave and mad as hell.” Mac’s light blue eyes were on her; as usual, she heated up instantly. A smile rose from his lips, crinkling those eyes set off by his dark, thick hair. She wished she could run her fingers through it.

Pull yourself together, she thought. She took a deep breath, walked in, and sat down.

“Good to see you back. You’re not mad at me, are you? Chelsea did great this morning.” Mac’s eyes were still on her, burning into her. Kate shifted in her seat.

Chelsea was one of Rebecca’s authors, Kate wondered if she should tell her that she had to drug her up. It looked like her coworker had enough on her mind; Kate decided to wait to share Chelsea’s fear of national television.

Rebecca shook her head, “It’s not Chels, though I do appreciate the update. It’s the memo Edward sent around this morning.”

“I didn’t see it.” Kate was puzzled.

“It only went to editors,” Mac began, “encouraging us to sign more erotic books. ‘It’s what the readers want,’ Edward insisted.” Mac tapped a pen on his desk, clearly impatient with his boss.

“Shocker.” Kate threw Rebecca an encouraging smile, “I’m sorry, but you know this will wane. At some point housewives will get tired of reading about red rooms and being tied up.”

Rebecca laughed, “You’re right, I know we need to jump on trends. It was one thing when we were trying to sign young adult after the Potter craze, but this takes the cake.”

“I know,” Mac said supportively, “but you know Kate’s right. Edward will lose interest once something else shiny pops up on his radar screen.”

Rebecca stood, “You’re right, Mac, thanks for listening.” She turned to Kate. “Glad it went well with Chels this morning, I’ll catch her segment online.”

After Rebecca left, Mac turned to Kate. “So,” he smiled a broad sexy smile that drew her in, “how did it really go this morning?”

Mac observed a tiny muscle flicker near her eye. It always happened when she was stressed. She’d smile, her poise never wavering, but Mac knew. He could always tell when she was feeling ready to punch someone.

“I had to drug her to get her to go on. Her manager told me that she gets nervous from time to time, but it’s nothing major. Nothing major my ass! She was in a full-blown meltdown and there I was, shoving a pill under the door.”

Mac laughed so hard, he rocked his chair back. “Katie, world class publicist and author rescuer saves the day, again.”

A tiny smile slipped across her face. Mac was right; she was often less of a publicist and more of an author 911. She shook her head. “I have to call her manager and tell her that she’s either here for the rest of Chelsea’s TV gigs, or I’m pulling them. I barely got her to go on air this morning.”

“I think as a general rule, all authors should be sedated from the moment we sign them.”

Kate stood up. “It sure would make my job easier.”

Mac’s laughter followed her down the hall.

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Genre – Contemporary Romance

Rating – R

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Nadine Ducca – Twitter Hashtags for Writers @NadineDucca

Twitter Hashtags for Writers

By: Nadine Ducca

In August 2012, I opened a Twitter account…and since I had no idea what I was doing, I did very little. I used it to post my thoughts, and to post links to whatever I had recently published on my blog. For about two months, I hovered between 16 and 18 followers. Nobody cared what I had to say. Even I didn’t care, and I was very close to abandoning Twitter and forgetting about the whole thing.

Fortunately, instead of giving up I decided to seek advice on how to revamp my account. This guest post by Richard Stephenson had all the info I needed to kick start Twitter: Indie Author’s Guide to Twitter. I can’t recommend it enough!

The main advice is to have interest in others. Building relationships is the funnest, most rewarding, and probably most difficult part of Twitter. To build relationships with other writers and readers, first you have to find them. And how do we do that?

With hashtags.

A hashtag is a word or string of words without any spaces or punctuation, preceded by the pound sign (#), sometimes also called a “hash.” They are links you can click on to see all the recent tweets posted under that tag.

Hashtags classify tweets by topic. Jumping from one hashtag to another is like wandering from one chat room to another.

Identifying Hashtags

Most hashtags are self-explanatory, such as #amwriting or #selfpub, but what happens when you don’t understand a hashtag? What the heck do #asmsg and #ian1 mean? I used to see these all the time and wonder what they were about. When in doubt, you can always refer to Tagdef. On this site, simply write in the unknown hashtag, and check the definition:

#asmsg is Authors’ Social Media Support Group : A Talented Group of Independent Authors from Around the Globe Offering a Diverse Collection of Books.

You might not find every single hashtag, but Tagdef is a good place to start. What’s more, if you know the meaning of a hashtag, you can always add it to the database and help out others.

Below you’ll see a list of 30 popular hashtags for writers. You’ll find hashtags to connect with other authors and readers, to share and ask for advice, to find inspiration and to promote your work. Each hashtag in the list is a hyperlink to the Twitter search page. Just click on your hashtag of interest to see what people are saying now.

Tip: once you have the hashtag in your Twitter search box, and if you like what you see, save the search. That way, you’ll get a drop-down menu of all your saved searches each time you click on the search box. This is very useful for forgetful people like me!

#amediting

#amreading

#amwriting

#askagent

#askauthor

#askeditor

#authors

#book also #books

#CampNaNoWriMo Active during the Camp NaNoWriMo months (varies).

#NaNoWriMo Active during November.

#followFriday also #FF Promote interesting Twitter users.

#followreader

#Fridayreads

#getpublished

#greatread

#mustread

#nonfiction

#novel

#paperbacks

#promotip

#pubwrite

#shortstories

#storytelling

#whattoread

#WIP

#wordcount

#writers

#writerWednesday

#writetip

#writingprompts also #writingprompt

If you liked this list of hashtags, check out 40 More Twitter Hashtags for Writers on my blog!

Are there any other hashtags you use to connect with other writers? Share your comments below! Oh, and feel free to connect with me on Twitter @NadineDucca!

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Genre –  Science Fiction/Fantasy

Rating – Adult

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Website http://nadineonwriting.blogspot.com/

Icarus Rising by Rob Manary @robmanary

Thursday, Day 4

I’ve decided to leave for Toronto tonight. After hearing Wayne’s report I might have left immediately, I am that taken with St. Claire, but guilt holds me here. I visit my sister, Elise, each week without fail, but I doubt she would realize if I have missed a week, or indeed if I never visited her again.

My mother was “not well” is how it is politely put. My earliest memory is of scalding hot water and the stink of bleach. I remember vividly my mother pouring bleach on my tender young skin and scrubbing my hands raw with a wire brush. “Dirty, so dirty, how do you get so dirty?” she would intone over and over again as she flayed the skin from my hands. I would cry out in agony and Elise, my saviour, my older sister, would come to my rescue.

I can hear her shaky, terrified little voice as she interceded on my behalf. “Mother,” she would say in that weak voice, struggling to be strong for me, to take the pain from her younger brother. “Look at my hands. I’m filthy, so dirty.”

Mother would drop my hands and appraise Elise as my sister held out her hands to Mother for inspection. Elise was my Christ. But Mother didn’t stop with Elise’s hands. Mother would also attack Elise’s beautiful sweet face with the wire brush and scrub raw her porcelain skin.

This terrible ritual seemed to bring Mother to a cathartic release of sorts. Realizing at last what she had done to her children she would hold us close and weep, begging us for forgiveness, promising to never lay a hand on us again. And then she would take to her bed for weeks or months. Her “lazy days” is what she called them and how thankful I was when they would come.

Home was a sprawling twelve bedroom prison to me. Most of the rooms were never used and we were not allowed to go into much of the house. At night I was tied to my bed, and there were days when Mother would leave me restrained, days when I would scream and scream because I didn’t want to empty my bowels and be left in my own excrement.  Mother kept the place like a museum. Her husband, my father, left her before I was born. Elise told me years later that Mother thought her love would one day come home and she must keep the house as he left it.

We had two servants that served the family faithfully for decades, a married couple, Charles and Abigail. They served my grandmother before my mother inherited the family estate and by all accounts my grandmother was, like my mother, “not well.” They were, therefore, accustomed to my painfully eccentric family. They were kind to Elise and me, but kept silent about what went on under the roof of their long time employers.

I’ve never blamed them. They lived in the little cottage house on the grounds, were paid little, and were already advanced in age when I was young. I don’t think either can read or write and serving our family was all they knew. They must be in their late seventies now and they still live in their little cottage house on the grounds of what is now my estate, I suppose. They care for my museum prison.  I pay them well and Abigail keeps the place spotless for visitors that will never come. Charles, I am told, still maintains gardens that are the envy of the neighbourhood. They were kind to Elise and me so I am kind to them.

My fondest memories are of working in the garden with Charles when Mother had her “lazy days” and of sitting in the kitchen and listening to Abigail sing as she prepared elaborate meals that only my sister and I would eat.

When Mother began wandering the halls of the estate in her faded and tattered wedding gown, cradling a shotgun, Abigail was finally moved to call the police.

 

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Genre – Erotic Romance

Rating – R

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Website http://robmanary.com/

#SciFi #Free The Alpha Choice (The Te'an #Trilogy) by MD Hall

Three thousand years ago, the Vespoid Khitine are about to learn they must live with the disappointment of trade negotiations collapsing - or at least most of them will have to live with it - Chindara has other things to occupy her mind.

Their erstwhile partners to be, the Te, have their own plans. This is merely one more conquest, hardly different to scores that have gone before, Well, that isn't quite right; it's the first time they have had their actions halted by the appearance of a tiny electric blue light, a Custodian. Never have they watched, helplessly, as two of their battle cruisers blinked out of existence, before receiving a polite, but firm warning: attempts to circumvent the, hitherto unheard of, Accords will result in their complete destruction.

Twenty-one years ago, in the Gallsor system, the warning all but forgotten, Commander Jaron makes a choice that will have unimaginable consequences, the least of which follows his return to Te'ath, when the Supreme Council are prompted - on the urging of the most dangerous of the three heads of the covert Agency, Garnoth - to sanction a plan circumventing the Accords. The target? Telluria (Earth).

Garnoth's most able protégé, Tala, is tasked with leading the expedition, the success of which is dependent upon the Tellurian, Hugo Black (a Boston corporate attorney) heading up a multinational corporation, TeCorp.

Only two people can disrupt Garnoth's plan: Gorn, a twenty-one year old Te'an prodigy, whose brilliance is matched by his self-doubt and social ineptitude. He is recruited, when particularly vulnerable, to the cause of the Te'an rebellion by the single minded Narol. Gorn will betray his best, his only friend and, if he succeeds in his 'mission,' condemn his people to almost certain destruction. While taxing his mind over the choices to be made, he is completely unaware he has been marked for assassination.

The second potential fly in the Te'an ointment is history lecturer, Jonathon (Jon) Tyler and his recently acquired, rebellious young companion, Emily. Spirited from his bed, in the dead of night, he meets the physical embodiment of the electric blue light; a woman, whose beauty reminds him of a classical statue, an impression heightened by a cold and humourless aspect enhanced, in turn, by her inhuman electric blue eyes, completely electric blue eyes. Jon is told that an Artefact exists - a sentient, artificial life form, which may, or may not choose to help - and his job is to bring it to the attention of those who speak for Earth. How difficult could that be?

He is allowed to glimpse the consequences of converging forces, far beyond the danger posed by the Te'an threat, and guesses this to be the real reason for Custodian interest in his planet. For now, he has no choice but to act as a Custodian pawn in an opening gambit, on a board only just beginning to take shape, and where all the pieces have yet to arrive.

Amazon Kindle US | Amazon Kindle UK

Rating – PG13

Genre – Sci-Fi

5.0 (8 reviews)

Free until 16 January 2014