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Brandi Kennedy is a romance novelist who is finally living her childhood career dream. As a child, books were her world and through adulthood, that love of words has never changed. Brandi is now a contemporary romance novelist and poet with a deep love of writing and a curiously adventurous desire to someday write in several other genres.

A woman of varied interests, Brandi loves photography, music of all kinds, knitting, crochet, and of course, mothering her two young daughters. Currently, she finds her home in the heart of Knoxville, Tennessee, among the mountains and the members of her extended family, where she spends her days at the computer, bringing fresh and incredibly real characters to life.

BIBLIOGRAPHY


https://www.amazon.com/Fat-Chance-Kingsley-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00B42Q8OA/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1485906046&sr=1-1&keywords=Brandi+Kennedy+fat+chance


https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00CFTEO2Y/ref=series_rw_dp_sw


https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00GPCZYW6/ref=series_rw_dp_sw


https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B017OFM9NY/ref=series_rw_dp_sw


https://www.amazon.com/Selkie-Trilogy-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00DV810OI/ref=la_B00AQIJJ5S_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1485906582&sr=1-6


https://www.amazon.com/Fighting-Freedom-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00EG0L8PG/ref=la_B00AQIJJ5S_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1485906582&sr=1-5


https://www.amazon.com/Courageous-short-story-Brandi-Kennedy-ebook/dp/B012HFJ87G/ref=pd_sim_351_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=V52W0D0GHA847KKB3Y8S
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WHERE TO FIND BRANDI

Blog: www.authorbrandikennedy.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/brandi.fields.kennedy.923?fref=ts
& facebook.com/authorbrandikennedy
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6861198.Brandi_Kennedy
Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+BrandiKennedyAuthor
Pintrest: https://www.pinterest.com/brandikennedy84/
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/brandi-kennedy-a2916990
Twitter: @brandikennedy84
Instagram: @authorbrandikennedy
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCt7nmTKO2K_fH4jAWWB4V3A
Snapchat: @brandikennedy84
Amazon Author Profile: https://www.amazon.com/Brandi-Kennedy/e/B00AQIJJ5S

**For some exclusive fun, different and exciting new information as well as an extra monthly flash fiction, join her for as little as $1 per month at:
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/authorbrandikennedy

Now, hop on over to the other blogs hosting Brandi for the entire month of February:
2/2 www.barbara-custer.livejournal.com
2/3 www.facebook.com/sallyssneakypeeks
2/4 www.authorbrandikennedy.blogspot.com
2/5 www.jenniferzamboni.blogspot.com
2/8 www.blynngoodwin.com
2/9 www.barbarawinkes.blogspot.ca
2/12 www.jenniferzamboni.blogspot.com
2/17 www.jodiepierceauthor.blogspot.com & www.thevampirequeen1.blogspot.com
2/19 www.www.jenniferzamboni.blogspot.com
2/23 www.margobondcolling.com & www.bookiaimfortheheart.blogspot.com
2/24 www.authorgeorginahannan.blogspot.co.uk
2/25 www.authorbrandikennedy.blogspot.com & www.jenniferzamboni.blogspot.com
2/26 www.sandiewill.com/blog
2/28 www.debbieherbert.com/blog
Stop by these blogs and leave a comment…there may be a prize for the person who’s visited and commented on the most blogs (other than the blog participants…aw shucks)!

Black Friday: a Blessing or a Nightmare?

Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving when shoppers crowd the malls at the wee hours in the morning, first got its name before 1961 because of the disruptive pedestrian and vehicle traffic. Its use became more popular around 1975. Later on, merchants tried to put a positive spin on the term, declaring that the sales would put them “in the black.” I did not go to the mall Friday because I’d already done my holiday shopping. I’d much prefer taking my time selecting gifts or other items without a crowd pushing at me. Better yet, do my holiday shopping at home in the safety of my balloons, and get the bargains via Cyber Monday.

About a week ago I went to the bank, and about fifteen of us waited in line for the bank to open. We wound up chatting, and the subject turned toward Black Friday. One woman described her experience with Black Friday shopping. She’d gotten in line, but about fifty people behind her knocked her to the ground in their hurry to get to the sales. Her injuries necessitated hospitalization, though she didn’t go into details. I was saddened to hear about people in so much of a hurry to buy that they kicked safety to the curb. I found myself wondering what happened to the spirit of the season.

At first, the stores opened at 6:00 am, but recently, they might open as early as 12:00 am or on Thanksgiving during the evening hours. Some people I know have scooped up bargains by hitting the malls in the early hours in the morning. I never understood the rationale of getting up so early to get to a mall. On my days away from the day job, I like my sleep.

Given the lack of sleep and crowds, I’d have to consider Black Friday a nightmare, but Cyber Black Friday and Cyber Monday offer some blessings. I was able to get a sweet deal on business cards from Vistaprint and this Monday, plan to get a deal on my favorite coffee from Ocean City Coffee Company. I expect my inbox to be filled with “special deal” emails from department stores, and that’s okay. If it’s something I need, I might buy. Otherwise, I hit the “delete” button. Cyber Monday will go further in putting stores in the black without the casualties of excited mobs.

What is your take on Black Friday? Do you consider it a nightmare or a blessing? I’d love to hear your thoughts.


BLURB:
Two years have passed since Inanna stole Junco away from Lucan. Two years of unimaginable pain. Two years of isolation, mutilation and torture. Two years of fear and loneliness in a morph tank. And that’s not something you just get over, even if you are psycho-assassin, Junco Coot.
Now Junco has to learn to live with the consequences. Her Siblings are suspicious and angry, half her team is dead, Tier is wreaking death and destruction, Lucan is holding his secrets close, and she is spiraling out of control.
There is only one partnership that matters anymore – only one person she will trust and take direction from – and only one way out of the Hell she’s been sentenced to.
Junco is tired fighting and death. She’s had enough and this time she means to end it – once and for all.

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Excerpt:
Selia comes out of the bathroom, her eyes darked up, her lips glowing and pink, and her golden hair flowing down her back in large bouncy ringlets.
She’s beautiful.
And I’m jealous of how easy she fits into her own skin, at how she can make small talk with strangers - even the guards in the elevator and downstairs in the lobby. And most of all, at how her face always seems to be smiling.
No wonder Ashur fell in love with her while I was away being morphed. She looks happy.
I have a permanent frown, I’m afraid to talk to anyone except Gid and Sel, and I feel like my brain has been forced inside a body I’ve never met before. Even when I came out of the tank with wings back on Amelia I never felt this awkward about myself. My replaced fingers and missing scars just make it worse. When a nightdog eats two of your fingers and a psycho slices a SEAR knife down your jawline, you’re supposed to have to live with the consequences of those things forever.
And when you cut yourself in half to save the man you love, there should be evidence of that.
But my scars have all been erased. Every bite from the mutants in the Stag, every prairie lion claw mark, every battle wound I’ve ever had inflicted on me is gone. Even the one I inflicted on myself.
Just gone.
On the outside anyway.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:
J.A. Huss writes new adult speculative fiction, contemporary romances, and an entire line of science non-fiction textbooks that cater to home learners. She also runs the New Adult Addiction and Clean Teen Reads book Blogs. She has an undergraduate degree in equine science and a graduate degree in forensic toxicology. She adores everything science and considers herself a major geek! Her first series is called I Am Just Junco.

Website: http://www.iamjustjunco.com/
Author Blog: http://jahuss.com/
Book Blog: http://newadultaddiction.blogspot.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/IAmJustJunco
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JAHuss
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6446815.J_A_Huss

CLUTCH – Book One: http://www.amazon.com/CLUTCH-Am-Just-Junco-ebook/dp/B009BIOJTU/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1362700731&sr=8-2&keywords=clutch+junco
Goodreads for CLUTCH: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15763262-clutch
Book trailer for CLUTCH: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iz0PWDGoTJY
FLEDGE – Book Two: http://www.amazon.com/FLEDGE-Just-Junco-Dot-ebook/dp/B009D0U6LQ
Goodreads for FLEDGE: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15764009-fledge
Book trailer for FLEDGE: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_LYS0N1OAY
FLIGHT – Book Three: http://www.amazon.com/FLIGHT-Just-Junco-Dot-ebook/dp/B009E9MMWM
Goodreads for FLIGHT: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15781131-flight
Book trailer for FLIGHT: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_-uY4NnamM

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J.A. will be awarding a $25 gift card to Amazon or PayPal cash, winner's choice, plus a custom angel necklace, plus swag (Book marks, stickers, postcards) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. (USA ONLY). Please follow the tour. The more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2013/02/virtual-super-book-blast-range-i-am-not.html


Blurb: Being hailed by critics as an intelligent new voice in young adult fiction, Roers' debut novel tells the anything but ordinary, coming of age story of a small town, teen-aged, misfit named Travis Hunter.
Disfigured at birth and ostracized at school, Travis dreams of acceptance and secretly yearns for the affection of a beautiful young woman named Corrine. When a mysterious doctor promises to help Travis through something called lucid dreaming, Travis suddenly finds himself ushered into a secret society called "The Lucid", a collection of social outcasts like himself, who have created their own world inside of dreams.
When Travis discovers he is able to bring Corrine into these dreams, he gets more than he ever bargained for and soon finds himself learning the secrets of love and life in a fantastic unconscious world.
An instant classic, Lucid is a timeless story of self-acceptance with a fresh paranormal twist.

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Biography: Natalie Roers is a veteran writer, voice artist, and on-air personality. A journalist by trade, Lucid is her first work of fiction. She is busy at work on her second novel and hopes to raise money and social awareness for worthy causes with each book she writes. Natalie plans to donate a portion of every sale of this book to her favorite anti-bullying organizations. She lives with her husband Cory, and son Austin, in Columbia, South Carolina.

Buy Links:
Websites: jointhelucid.com; http://natasha-r.com/writer/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/natalie.roers?fref=ts
https://www.facebook.com/jointhelucid?fref=ts
Blog: http://jointhelucid.com/blog/
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16214486-lucid

Natalie will award a $10 Amazon or BN.com gift card to one randomly drawn commenter.

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Excerpt:
Her eyes widened. What I saw in them made me want to drop to my knees. She knew who I was! I could see it. She recognized me! It was real.
“The bird! You made the bird!” I bellowed. “It was yellow and its eyes were made of stone!”
Corrine shook her head back and forth in disbelief. As I staggered toward her, she tripped backwards and fell into the line of coffee pots behind her.
“What the? Grab him!” I heard John yell.
In all the excitement I had forgotten there were other people in the room.
“The guy’s gone nuts!” Terry screamed.
I felt their arms grab me from behind.
Marissa, who had been watching the scene unfold in stunned silence, now ran to Corri to help her to her feet. “Get him outta here!” she yelled.
John and Terry started to pull me back by the shoulders. I swung around and hit Terry square in the face. The smacking sound that my hand-made against Terry’s cheek shocked them enough to let me go for a second.
The enormity of what I had just done didn’t register at all.
I rushed forward, completely out of control. But as I got closer to Corri, her image started moving away from me. Terry and John had lifted me clear off the ground. They were carrying me by my arms, backwards, out the front door.
There was no pain as my body slammed against the cold cement outside. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins. The feeling was in every part of my body: every finger, every toe, was alive and on fire.

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“Natalie Roers' debut novel is both riveting and relevant. More than a paranormal/fantasy/thriller, this is a complex tale that cuts to the very of heart of issues facing young adults today. Well sculptured characters and powerful imagery propel Roers' fascinating narrative.” ~ Jason Tinney, award-winning freelance journalist, musician, actor and the author of the story collection Bluebird.

Zenobia Renquist’s Cream



BLURB:
She’s entered a world where blood, sex, and cash rules everything around her.
What do a four hundred-year-old vampire and a mid-level necromancer have in common? Money. Jeliyah needs it to pay off the people who trained her and Teaghan enjoys killing to get it. Together they hunt rogue vampires—assuming Teaghan can focus on something other than getting her in bed and Jeliyah doesn’t put a bullet in him first.
The uneasy partnership promises to be lucrative until Teaghan and Jeliyah get on the wrong side of a feud. Jeliyah is forced to use forbidden magic and finds herself bound to a man she should hate—but whom she can’t stop fantasizing about.
Every second they stay alive fuels a growing desire Jeliyah is unwilling to deny. Is it the magic? The danger? The only way to get the answers she craves is to outrun the enemy or kill them. She knows Teaghan’s preference but it’s Jeliyah who must put their mind-blowing sex aside and make the choice that will decide both their fates.

First chapter online (link goes live 03 May):
http://drb1stchp.com/2013/05/cream-by-zenobia-renquist/

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Zenobia Renquist lives in her imagination. When not traveling through her fantasy worlds, she can be found in Hawaii living with her husband and two cats.
She is an Air Force brat turned Air Force wife, which means she’s accustomed to travel and does it whenever possible (so long as she doesn’t have to fly). Her favorite pastime is torturing her characters on their way to happily-ever-after for the enjoyment of her readers.
On the few occasions her muse flees the scene of the crime, Zenobia likes to read (comics, manga, and romance), go to the movies, play a few levels of whichever puzzle game has hijacked her interest or experiment with a new chain maille weave.
website - http://zenobiarenquist.com
blog - http://blog.dreneebagby.com
FB - https://www.facebook.com/Author.DRBagby.ZRenquist
Twitter - http://www.twitter.com/zenobiarenquist

Buy Links:
Ellora’s Cave - http://www.ellorascave.com/cream.html
Kindle - http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00B3UYBJC/
Nook - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cream-zenobia-renquist/1114503151?ean=9781419944659
Kobo - http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/CREAM/book-B0GDBxjujEKbzoyNiqjG7g/page1.html

Zenobia will be awarding a $25 Starbucks GC to both a randomly drawn commenter during the tour, and a randomly drawn host.

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Excerpt:
Teaghan knew it. A coup was about to happen. He didn’t know the players and didn’t care. So long as the bills got paid, the person in power didn’t matter. From one leader to the next, nothing ever changed.
He said, “Fine. You want me. I get that. Leave the necromancer out of it. No one would miss me but take her out and you’ll have the higher-ups gunning for you and your boss.”
“You’re right, the higher-ups would be quite upset if we killed the necromancer, and that wasn’t my intention. The others wanted to have some fun with her before handing her over but that was all.”
Jeliyah gripped the door handle and her eyes widened.
Teaghan said, “The higher-ups won’t overlook you molesting one of their own.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. They’ve given us permission to do with her as we please so long we return her to them intact.”
Jeliyah yelled, “They would never do that.”
Fredrick chuckled. “Well, hello, Jeliyah. Ephraim tells me you smell of vampire seed and blood. Recent seed. Old blood. I had thought you would hold out against Teaghan much longer given your initial reaction to him. Either I overestimated you or underestimated him.” He made the vocal equivalent of a shrug. “Doesn’t matter since I felt the need to pass on the news of your little indiscretion to Hirsch, who then relayed it to the higher-ups. They are very displeased that a high-middle class such as yourself would give a vampire permission to invade her body. That displeasure graduated to anger when I informed them of the blood sharing as well.”
Oh please, no. No. No.
Teaghan grabbed Jeliyah’s hand in a firm grip to anchor her to the here and now. She clutched at him and stared at his profile. Tears rimmed her eyes. He knew she was holding it together by a thin thread of will. Images of the bleeding chamber raced through her mind. She was imagining herself in the place of the person she’d seen when she was young.
He told her through their link, I’ve got you, Jeliyah. Nothing’s going to happen.
Fredrick said, “Stop the car and give up. Make this easier for all of us.”
“Denied.” Teaghan released Jeliyah’s hand so he could snatch the phone off the dash and hit the end button.
Jeliyah asked, “What do we do? They want you dead and me—” Her words choked to a halt and she pulled in a shuddering breath. A single tear slipped down her cheek.
He retrieved her hand and squeezed it. “Easy there, necromancer. Don’t fall apart on me now.”
“Why? All you did was kill a rogue.”
“That’s why. It’s a changing of the guard. It happens every few centuries. Family infighting. They involve people from neighboring families who have been promised some little tidbit or other to help the wannabe head take power. It’s a story as old as the vampires. Seems you and I got in the way.”
Teaghan changed his destination. The enforcers probably knew which hotel they’d used by now and might be lying in wait. He steered the car back on the highway. If one family wanted him dead then his only protection was to seek refuge in another family’s territory.
While a risky proposition without petitioning for entrance first, the destination Teaghan had in mind came with a sponsor. He released Jeliyah’s hand once more to bring up a number he hadn’t called in years. He hoped it still worked.



BLURB:
When Eleanor Brice unexpectedly wins the heart of Gregory Desmarais, Crown Prince of Cartheigh, she's sure she's found her happily-ever-after. Unfortunately, Prince Charming has a loose grip on his temper, a looser grip on his marriage vows, and a tight grip on the bottle.
Eight years of mistreatment, isolation and clandestine book learning hardly prepare Eleanor for life at Eclatant Palace, where women are seen, not heard. According to Eleanor's eavesdropping parrot, no one at court appreciates her unladylike tendency to voice her opinion. To make matter worse, her royal fiancé spends his last night of bachelorhood on a drunken whoring spree. Before the ink dries on her marriage proclamation Eleanor realizes that she loves her husband's best friend, former soldier Dorian Finley.
Eleanor can't resist Dorian's honesty, or his unusual admiration for her intelligence, and soon both are caught in a dangerous obsession. She drowns her confusion in charitable endeavors, but the people's love can't protect her from her feelings. When a magical crime endangers the bond between unicorns, dragons, and the royal family, a falsely accused Eleanor must clear her own name to save her life. The road toward vindication will force a choice between hard-won security and an impossible love.
The Cracked Slipper is a book club friendly fairytale retelling in the vein of Gregory Maguire, with a dash of romance. Set in a pseudo-renaissance, corset-and-petticoats enchanted kingdom, The Cracked Slipper brings a magical twist to women's fiction.

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Biography and Buy Links:
Stephanie Alexander grew up in the suburbs of Washington, DC, the oldest of three children. Drawing, writing stories, and harassing her parents for a pony consumed much of her childhood. After graduating from high school in 1995 she earned a Bachelor of Arts in Communications from the College of Charleston, South Carolina. She returned to Washington, DC, where she followed a long-time fascination with sociopolitical structures and women’s issues to a Master of Arts in Sociology from the American University. She spent several years as a Policy Associate at the International Center for Research on Women, a think-tank focused on women’s health and economic advancement.
Stephanie embraced full-time motherhood after the birth of the first of her three children in 2003. After six wonderful years buried in diapers and picture books she returned to her childhood passion and wrote her own fairytale. Her family put down permanent southern roots in Charleston in 2011. Stephanie is an adjunct professor of Sociology at the College of Charleston.

www.thecrackedslipper.com
www.blog.thecrackeslipper.com
www.facebook.com/thecrackedslipper
twitter:@crackedslipper
http://www.amazon.com/The-Cracked-Slipper-Series-ebook/dp/B007FLG8KS/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1364778060&sr=1-1&keywords=the+cracked+slipper

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Excerpt:
The dragon stood and lumbered toward the first cave. It passed the other unicorns, slowing every few steps, and they responded with reassuring whinnies. The next dragon appeared, followed by two more of Tremor’s unicorn guides. The first dragon called to the second, who screamed once in return. Both creatures seemed eager to get underground.
The transfer continued for nearly an hour without much fanfare. Eleanor thought she must have miscounted when there was a break in the procession.
“This will be the last one,” said Gregory. “I wonder what’s taking so long.”
Tremor paced at the mouth of the cave. Dark smoke rolled from under the ground. Tremor sent two of his fellows down below, and when after a few minutes they did not return, Thromba called to him to send two more.
Without warning, and with an earsplitting scream, and a new dragon burst from the cave. Stubby horns revealed her as a doe.
“Ho!”Gregory yelled. “Nestlings!”
Three baby dragons, about the size of saddle horses, squealed and circled their mother’s feet. She screamed and shot fire at the wall of men and unicorns. The men fell back. The unicorns just shut their eyes. As Gregory steered Eleanor toward the cabin she caught a flash of white behind the dragon’s legs.
Teardrop had somehow been pushed from the line. She was pinned between the raging dragon and the canyon walls. As the dragon backed and reared, her massive tail, all wrathful muscle, swung in a deadly pendulum.
“Teardrop!”Eleanor screamed.
Teardrop zigged, looking for a way around the mother dragon. The dragon’s tail came down hard and clipped the mare across the shoulder. Teardrop slammed into the rock wall. She cowered, stunned and heaving.
“Teardrop!”Eleanor yanked free of Gregory’s grip.
“Eleanor, stop!”
She ran past the startled guards and into the chaos.
“Get back!” Tremor snorted.
“I won’t!” She yelled to be heard over the dragon. “I’m going to help her.”
“You can’t, and we must control this situation.”
“I will, damnit!” She tried to get around the stallion but he stepped in front of her again. “Get out of my way!” she stormed.
He lowered his head. “If you insist on this foolery at least let me help you.”
Gregory was shoving past the guards, but she climbed onto Tremor’s back before he could reach her.
“Eleanor!”Gregory screamed.
She clung to Tremor’s mane as he raced at the dragon. Her eyelashes stuck together in the blinding heat. Tremor dodged and wheeled as the dragon spit fire. Two other unicorns flanked them.
Tremor skidded to a stop. Eleanor leapt off and ran to Teardrop.
“Hurry!” Tremor called.
Foam dripped from Teardrop’s muzzle as she pressed against the wall. She wasn’t bleeding—her thick hide was nearly impenetrable—but a raised welt marred her shoulder. Her eyes rolled.
“Teardrop,” Eleanor tried to keep her voice calm over the screams of the dragon as it went after Tremor. “Help me. Take me back to Gregory.”
Teardrop swung her head at Eleanor’s voice. Her dark eyes came into focus. “Why are you here?” she whispered. “You will be killed.”
“So you must take me out.”
Teardrop nodded, and Eleanor grabbed her mane and pulled herself onto the mare’s back.“Go, now,” she called. “I need you to get me past this dragon.”
Teardrop scraped at the ground with one hoof and pricked her ears. She watched Tremor and his helpers and the mother dragon. She spotted an opening and dove for it. The dragon spun and swung her tail again. Eleanor held on as Teardrop leapt. They barely cleared the spinning spikes.
They came to a stop past the line of unicorns, and Eleanor’s legs gave out when she slid to the ground. Gregory caught her, cursing and kissing her.
“Dammit, Eleanor,” he said. “You’re the most stubborn, disobedient, brave, exasperating woman.”
She sat on the ground with her head between her knees. The magicians bustled around Teardrop. They tried to examine her injury, but she snorted them away. She stood over Eleanor, breathing down the back of her neck.
Eleanor raised her head as Tremor called a dozen of his fellows into the skirmish. The doe blew fire, but more unicorns pressed in and she backed down. Her children squeaked and smoked around her. Tremor stepped from the line and knelt on one knee. To Eleanor’s amazement one of the nestlings crept out from under its mother’s belly and slunk toward him. The doe hissed a warning. Tremor stood, and gently touched the baby dragon with his horn.
The doe exhaled a long blast of fire, but this time there was no fight in it. The other baby dragons came forward, and Tremor touched them all before nudging them toward the new cave with his muzzle. Their mother let our several low whistles and followed them.
Once the doe disappeared under the ground, Thromba ran to Eleanor and Gregory. “Dear High God, sire,” he said. “It was a botch-up, and the princess nearly roasted.”
“No, Thromba,” Gregory said. “We both know you can never tell how the does with nestlings will react. Last year we lost three men to a new mother. Not so bad, really.” He knelt beside Eleanor.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “How can I be angry? But you must be more careful.”
He helped her stand on her shaky legs. She ran a hand over Teardrop’s withers and the white hide twitched under her fingers. “Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Some, but we heal quickly.”
“Princess,” said an airy voice behind her. It was Tremor.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry if I made things more complicated.”
Tremor lowered his head. “I thank you,” he said. “For reminding me of what is important.”

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Stephanie will be awarding a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

Loni Lynn’s Wanted: One Ghost



BLURB:
Stuck in ghostly limbo for 238 years, James Addison can't move on to an afterlife. After being falsely accused of treason and executed, fate's cursed him to remain an earth-bound specter until he meets a historian sent to research his past.
Distrustful of fate, Dr. April Branford wants to be taken seriously, but her unique ability to divine history by touching objects seriously compromises her credibility. Her latest assignment? James Addison, a legendary colonial ladies' man with a shadowy past. Without much to go on, she doesn't hold out much hope to discover the man behind the legend until the day she accidentally touches him and brings him back to life.
With the help of family and ghosts from James’s past, they unravel the truth. But after falling in love and with time running out, it’s hard for April to believe in fate and a future where forever is now.

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Author Biography:
Loni Lynne is a stay at home mom, domestic goddess, U.S. Navy Veteran and lover of all things vintage/shabby-chic/Victorian and antique. From china cups and tea sets to lace doilies crocheted by hand (her grandmother made the best) she believes a touch of femininity never goes out of style.
Growing up all over the country she's been blessed with experiencing a good deal of culture and lifestyles. Much like her personality, she has eclectic tastes in what she likes to read and write. There is no 'one' genre in which she settles for.
God and fate have been big influences in her life. Both have taken her to places she never thought she'd be, both in the physical sense and in the spiritual. She wrote brief stories and snippets of life as it happened to her in her youth, and encouraged by her teachers, continued to write. Blessed with a loving supportive family growing up, she was able to explore her options which at times have been put into use in her stories. The Navy--and fate, afforded her the opportunity to meet her Army, "Annapolis-native" husband and team up with him to parent two beautiful daughters.
Years later, her husband gave her the best birthday present ever--a laptop, a membership to Romance Writers of America and a goal to complete a manuscript for submission by her next birthday. She did it. A few years later she was blessed with one of those novels, Wanted: One Ghost, as her debut novel.
Believe in Fate

Links:
http://www.lonilynne.com
http://www.crescentmoonpress.com
https://twitter.com/#!/LoniLynne1
https://www.facebook.com/lonilynne

Loni will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B&N gift card (winner’s choice) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

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Excerpt:
“Who are you?”April asked.
“You already know the answer, Dr. Branford. You saw me out at the mill the other day.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re…James Addison.”
She knew. But whether or not she accepted the knowledge was yet to be seen.
“Really, I did want to tell you the truth about me, but I couldn’t. Not knowing how you would react, I couldn’t take the chance of having you run away from me. I don’t want you to fear me, or what I am. You’re the only person who has ever been able to see me in this form. But more importantly, you’re the only person who’s cared.”
She stopped and turned. “I can see you. But you’re not real…I don’t know…”
“You make me feel real again,” he said softly.
She muttered profanities under her breath. “I don’t have time for ghosts. I’ve a case to solve. Go back to wherever it is you came from.” April waved him off.
“I can’t. This is where I am. Right here, right now. There is no place for me to go back to.” James knew this couldn’t be easy for her to understand. “Perhaps I could be of assistance to you, since you know who I am.”
“How do I know you really are James Addison?”
“You don’t,” he agreed. “But what would it take to prove to you I am?”
“Tell me where he is buried,” she challenged.
James shrugged. “Easy enough, but I would prefer to show you.”

Casey's Cadence of Gypsies



BLURB: Three high-spirited 17-year-olds, with intelligent quotients in the genius range, accompany their teacher and mentor, Carolina Lovel, to Frascati, Italy, a few weeks before they are to graduate from Wood Rose Orphanage and Academy for Young Women. Carolina's purpose in planning the trip is to remove her gifted, creative students from the Wood Rose campus located in Raleigh, North Carolina, so they can't cause any more problems ("expressions of creativity") for the headmaster, faculty, and other students – which they do with regularity. Carolina also wants to visit the Villa Mondragone where the Voynich Manuscript, the most mysterious document in the world, was first discovered and search how it is related to a paper written in the same script she received on her 18th birthday when she was told that she was adopted – a search that will take them into the mystical world of gypsy tradition and magic, more exciting and dangerous than any of them could have imagined.

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AUTHOR INFORMATION AND LINKS:
Originally from Carrollton, Illinois, Barbara Casey attended the University of North Carolina, North Carolina State University, and North Carolina Wesleyan College where she received a BA degree, summa cum laude, with a double major in English and history. In 1978 she left her position as Director of Public Relations and Vice President of Development at North Carolina Wesleyan College to write full-time and develop her own manuscript evaluation and editorial service. Since that time her award-winning articles, short stories, and poetry for adults have appeared in several publications including the AMERICAN POETRY ANTHOLOGY, the SPARROWGRASS POETRY FORUM, THE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF POETRY (Editor’s Choice Award), the NORTH CAROLINA CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE MAGAZINE, THE NEW EAST MAGAZINE, the RALEIGH (NC) NEWS AND OBSERVER, the ROCKY MOUNT (NC) SUNDAY TELEGRAM, DOG FANCY, BYLINE, TRUE STORY and THE CHRISTIAN RECORD. A thirty-minute television special which Ms. Casey wrote and coordinated was broadcast on WRAL, Channel 5, in Raleigh, North Carolina. Ms. Casey's award-winning science fiction short stories for adults are featured in THE COSMIC UNICORN and CROSS TIME short story anthologies. Her essays, also written for adults, appear in THE CHRYSALIS READER, the international literary journal of the Swedenborg Foundation, and A CUP OF COMFORT ANTHOLOGY by the Adams Media Corporation.

Her two middle-grade/young adult novels, LEILANI ZAN and GRANDMA JOCK AND CHRISTABELLE (James C. Winston Publishing Co.) were nominated for awards of excellence by the SCBWI Golden Kite Award, the National Association of University Women Literary Award and the Sir Walter Raleigh Literary Award. SHYLA'S INITIATIVE (Crossquarter Publishing Group, 2002), a contemporary adult novel of fiction, received the 2003 Independent Publisher Book Award and received special recognition for literary merit by the Palm Beach County Cultural Council. Ms. Casey’s novel THE COACH’S WIFE (ArcheBooks Publishing), a contemporary mystery, was listed as a Publisher’s Best Seller and was semifinalist of the Dana Award for Outstanding Novel. In 2007 her novel, THE HOUSE OF KANE (ArcheBooks Publishing), also a contemporary mystery, was considered for a Pulitzer nomination, and in December 2009 her novel, JUST LIKE FAMILY (Wandering Sage Publications), was launched by the 7-Eleven stores in St. Louis, Missouri. Her young adult novel, THE CADENCE OF GYPSIES (Gauthier Publications), was released in March 2011 and considered for the Smithsonian’s Most Notable 2011 Books. It has also been selected by Amazon for its 2013 List of Best Books. THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO PRISSY (Strategic Media Books), a novel for adults, was released in March 2013 and received an IPPY Award for Best Regional Fiction. It has also been listed as a “2013 Best Summer Read” by Conversations Live Radio and has been placed in nomination for a Pulitzer Award.

Ms. Casey is a frequent guest speaker at writers’ conferences and universities throughout the United States. She is former director, guest author, and panelist of BookFest of the Palm Beaches, Florida; and for thirteen years she served as judge for the Pathfinder Literary Awards in Florida. She held the position of Florida Regional Advisor for the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators from 1991 to 2003.

Ms. Casey is president of the Barbara Casey Agency. She represents clients nationally and internationally in fiction and nonfiction for adults. Her past and present professional associations are numerous and include being editorial consultant for The Jamaican Writers Circle in affiliation with the University of West Indies and Mico Teachers College in Kingston. She also received special recognition for her editorial work on the English translations of Albanian children’s stories.

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Barbara will be awarding a $25 Amazon or BN.com gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

www.barbaracaseyagency.com
http://www.amazon.com/The-Cadence-Gypsies-Barbara-Casey

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EXCERPT:
"Ouch! You're standing on my fingers!" This from the petite girl with a long, blond ponytail, wearing a nightgown, most of which was pulled up between her legs and tied into a knot at her waist to keep it from getting tangled on the limb where she was perched. Somewhere above her the sound of a saw and splintering wood filled the darkness followed by a stream of profanity repeated in several foreign languages for emphasis.
"It doesn't look right. It's supposed to have a rim and a dent." Clinging to a 12-foot ladder as she pointed the flashlight first this way and then that, the heavy-set girl wearing a nightshirt buttoned at the neck offered this with a slight lisp.
The girl with the blond ponytail giggled.
"What do you mean--dent?! Let me see that picture." The tall black girl completely hidden aimed her flashlight toward the magazine that was being thrust upwards through the thick branches in her direction.
"And the top is supposed to be rounded--like a button mushroom," the girl in the nightshirt added, the word "mushroom" sounding more like "muthroom."
"That's because it's circumcised," supplied the girl with the ponytail, from which she removed a small twig and a handful of leaves.
"Shekoo, baboo!” More profanity. “Okay. I know what to do." The tall black girl disappeared back into the upper-most branches of the tall plant that was more tree than bush. After several additional minutes, the sawing, crunching, and clipping sounds finally gave way to the more gentle sounds of tiny snips. And then, silence.
"That's it; everybody down."
The petite girl, with the magazine that had been overlooked in the last confiscation and now wedged firmly under her armpit, started the perilous descent first since she was nearest to the ground, followed by the tall girl. The girl in the nightshirt eased her way down the ladder juggling pruning shears, a hand saw, and scissors. Once on the ground, the three girls stood back to admire their work.
"That is one honkin' Peni erecti," said the tall girl causing a fresh explosion of giggles. "Let's get out of here." After quickly rolling down the legs of her pajama bottoms, the tall girl grabbed one end of the ladder and, along with her two friends, lugged it and the other tools back to the shed that housed lawn maintenance equipment. Task accomplished, they returned to their rooms, and to their individual beds, careful not to disturb the other dorm residents, the floor monitors, their suitemates and, most importantly, their slumbering dorm mother, Ms. Larkins. Within minutes, they fell into a deep, peaceful sleep--the sleep of innocent angels.
It would soon be light; and Wood Rose Orphanage and Academy for Young Women would start another day.

Why Wear a Wristlet

Everyone needs time to shop, even if it’s not balloons that they’re buying. There comes a time when I must purchase other necessitates, things I can’t get at the supermarkets. Macy’s doesn’t sell balloons, but they make up for the lack in sales with pocketbooks and wallets. I need something to carry my ID, credit cards, and money if I’m to buy balloons. The color and tailoring of a pocketbook should go with the season. Pennsylvania has four seasons; ergo, four pocketbooks with matching wallets are ideal. I’d also want a clutch purse for dress-up occasions, one for “dressing down,” and one for conferences.

Macy’s has tempted me with its glittery towels and pocketbooks. Coach and Kate Spade, to name a few. Alas, I have champagne taste, but beer finances. The trick is to get my champagne during sales at “beer” prices. I have one lovely purse I received as a gift, and most of my wallets are too big for it. The one that fits doesn’t go right with the colors. When Macy’s had its Labor Day sale, I thought I’d browse its website for affordable wallets that would fit. A Coach wallet like the one below called it me from the page. I thought the glittering fuchsia would go nicely.

What I ended up with was a beautiful wallet that was still too large for my purse. Then I realized I could use it for a wristlet. Wristlets are becoming stylish, and you can read about their uses here. Basically you wear it on the wrist, using it for a mini-purse. I decided to give mine a go since Mike’s nursing home was holding a flea market sale. I’ve read about other people wearing them on the wrist, using as a mini-purse. I tried mine out and liked it. Mine went on the elbow though because my arms are small. It left my hands free to shop, take notes, and not have it get caught on something. I could fit my ID, insurance, and other important cards in the purse. Makeup, too. At the Giant and Acme, both of my arms were free to latch on to my balloons. The wristlet might make a good getaway purse during a zombie apocalypse.

I still like having a regular shoulder bag, so I’ll keep my eyes open for the ideal wallet for that one purse. I’ll still come home from the supermarket wearing Mylars in my hair. Whether it’s food, balloons, or purses, I’ll always need time to shop.

Have you considered getting a wristlet? Do you feel it’s practical? I look forward to hearing about your experiences.

Joan Hall Hovey’s Suspense



Nowhere to Hide (Blurb):
Eppie Winner ~ Best Thriller - 1992

SHE DARED TO CHALLENGE A MERCILESS KILLER

Raised in an atmosphere of violence and unpredictability, Ellen and Gail Morgan have banded together, survivors of a booze-fertilized battleground, forming a fierce united front against an often cold and uncaring world. When their parents are killed in a car crash, Ellen becomes the mother figure for Gail.
When fifteen years later Gail is brutally raped and murdered in her shabby New York basement apartment, practically on the eve of her big breakthrough as a singer, Ellen is inconsolable. Rage at her younger sister's murder has nearly consumed her. So when her work as a psychologist wins her an appearance on the evening news, Ellen seizes the moment. Staring straight into the camera, she challenges the killer to come out of hiding: "Why don't you come after me? I'll be waiting for you."
Phone calls flood the station, but all leads go nowhere. The police investigation seems doomed to failure. Then it happens: a note, written in red ink, slipped under the windshield wipers of her car, 'YOU'RE IT.' Ellen has stirred the monster in his lair … and the hunter has become the hunted!



Defective (Blurb):
Therapist Melanie Snow is driving to her office when her Honda is struck by a dark-colored van and sent spinning into a ditch, where it catches fire. The driver never stops. A passerby pulls Melanie from the car just seconds before it explodes.
Waking from the coma nine days later, she is devastated to find she is blind.
As Melanie struggles to cope with her new reality, life as a blind woman, her fragile state of mind is further threatened by a madman who is stalking and strangling disabled women. The first two victims were mentally challenged and Detective Matt O’Leary, who carries a torch for Melanie, (even though Melanie is engaged to someone else) tells himself she is not the killer’s targeted prey. But then a woman who lost a leg to cancer is murdered, and another physically disabled woman is stalked. Even with a whole town in terror, Melanie refuses to live her life in fear and reopens her practice in the basement of her home. She has a living to earn.
And Detective Matt O’Leary must find a way to keep Melanie safe until the monster is caught. But how? Her door is now open to the public and the killer can just walk through anytime he chooses.
And he does.



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Excerpt from DEFECTIVE:
It was mid-afternoon, overcast, and The East End Mall in Kingsdale was crowded with shoppers. The Eraser, as he liked to think of himself, sat at one of the molded plastic tables by himself, nursing a Pepsi and eating fries from a small cardboard plate, and people watching. It was one of his favorite things to do, especially in nice weather when the girls wore shorts or tight jeans, some with their tanned midriffs bare, skimpy tops that showed off their boobs and skinny jeans that accentuated their tight little butts. Why not? He was a normal guy, he told himself. He avoided looking at the ones with flab hanging over their waistbands. He had girlfriend once or twice, but it didn't last. The last one said he was weird and just stopped returning his calls. Well, to hell with her.
His eye strayed momentarily to the big screen monitor advertising Nike sneakers. Then it changed to a rent-a-car commercial and on to something else, but he'd already looked away. Idly dipping a French fry in the small pool of ketchup on his plate, he popped it in his mouth and went back to girl-watching. They did little for him today. His hand moved to cover the scratch that the retard left on his cheek, though it was fading now. That Polysporin ointment was good stuff.
Music played over the sound system, competing with the jabbering of shoppers, nothing he recognized. Probably supposed to keep people shopping, buying junk they didn't need. His gaze narrowed ever so slightly as a young girl with a silver ring in her lower lip and wearing black eyeliner got up from a table not far from him and limped heavily to the waste bin and dumped in the remainder of her meal, a half-eaten hamburger, fries. She sat the tray on top of the stack. Behind her, someone called out, "Hey, Lana," and the girl turned in his direction and took a step forward so he could see her full-length; she looked past his shoulder and waved. He felt his heartbeat rev up, his throat go dry.
She had short dark hair, and was wearing a khaki skirt and cream-colored blouse. Her dimpled smile, the gleam of white, even teeth barely registered on him. He didn't even glance behind him at the woman who had called out to her. He had no interest. As he had no genuine interest in the woman who returned the wave, really.
No. It was her foot in its big brown shoe that drew and held his attention. Not brown exactly, but like tea when you put milk in it. Taupe. Yes, that was what his mother called that color. It was all he could see when he looked at her: that big clunking shoe. So ugly it offended him, as deformities of any kind offended him. Even horrified him. A chill had crept down his back. He had to work extra hard to keep the disgust and pity from his face. She was a mistake. A blight, a tragic spawn. She must be erased. Like when you're a kid and you draw a picture of something and it doesn't come out right. You just erase it. Or rip out the page, and start again.
He was the eraser of mistakes. The good Lord had chosen him to do this work. Not that he was blaming God. No, there was no blame to be handed out here. Some small voice told him his reasoning was flawed, that that wasn't why they had to die. But he wasn't listening. As people were born of sin, women carried the faulty limbs, twisted features and minds within them. Carriers. As his mother had been a carrier, her womb spewing forth a defective, barely human—thing. Not the defective's fault either. But since the flaw couldn't be repaired, the whole issue had to be erased. The burden lifted. The Eraser held that kind of power; he could end suffering, change lives for the better. He remembered well the very moment he had changed his own life but no time for that now. She was heading for the exit doors. He rose casually from his chair, tossing the remainder of his own fries and drink into the trash, dropped his tray on top of hers, and followed. He was really following the 'shoe'. His eyes were riveted on the shoe. It filled his vision, his consciousness. That big, ugly shoe that rose and fell, rose and fell, her left hip dipping in sync, the shoe dragging it downward, seeming an entity in itself. When she stepped through the automatic doors into the grey, drizzly day, he was right behind her. Close enough to touch her. He buried his hands deep in his pockets to stifle the urge.
The bus pulled up with a hiss of air brakes and a belch of exhaust, and she hitched herself up onto the step. He followed, paid his fare. His bike was chained and locked in the parking lot; it would be fine. She took a side seat near the driver, and he sat himself two seats behind her and pretended to look out the window.
In the grayness of the day, his reflection in the glass was faint, but almost at once he could see his reflection begin to morph into that of another, as she had once been. A raindrop ran down the window and caught one corner of her mouth like the drool he remembered, couldn't forget, and he could not tear his eyes away. The small voice in his head spoke to him, sending the familiar chill through him, as if his heart had just received an infusion of ice water. The voice could form words now, where once it was capable only of mindless gibberish. "You know it's me in there, don't you. I'm watching you. I've come back. I'll always come back. I'll never leave you."
"No! No!"
Fearing he had cried out, he jerked his head around in sudden panic, but no one on the bus was looking at him. One man was reading a newspaper. A woman was talking and smiling at her little boy. Relief swept through him, but he was trembling just the same. A Chinese man seated across from him turned the page in his paperback, paying him no mind.
The girl had put earphones in her ears and her lips were moving to a song only she could hear. Her legs were crossed, the shoe swinging in time, mocking him.

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Author biography & links:
In addition to her critically acclaimed novels, Joan Hall Hovey's articles and short stories have appeared in such diverse publications as The Toronto Star, Atlantic Advocate, Seek, Home Life Magazine, Mystery Scene, The New Brunswick Reader, Fredericton Gleaner, New Freeman and Kings County Record. Her short story Dark Reunion was selected for the anthology investigating Women, Published by Simon & Pierre.
Ms. Hovey has held workshops and given talks at various schools and libraries in her area, including New Brunswick Community College, and taught a course in creative writing at the University of New Brunswick. For a number of years, she has been a tutor with Winghill School, a distance education school in Ottawa for aspiring writers.
She is a member of the Writer's Federation of New Brunswick, past regional Vice-President of Crime Writers of Canada, Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.

www.joanhallhovey.com

Defective on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Defective-A-Novella-ebook/dp/B00CO81XAW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1367880554&sr=1-1&keywords=Defective

Nowhere to Hide on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Nowhere-to-Hide-ebook/dp/B0045Y2F4G/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1335885750&sr=1-1

Praise for Joan Hall Hovey’s Books

“…suspense that puts her right up there with the likes of Sandford and Patterson..." Ingrid Taylor for Small Press Review

"...Alfred Hitchcock and Stephen King come to mind, but JOAN HALL HOVEY is in a Class by herself!…" J.D. Michael Phelps, Author of My Fugitive, David Janssen

"…CANADIAN MISTRESS OF SUSPENSE…The author has a remarkable ability to turn up the heat on the suspense… great characterizations and dialogue…" James Anderson, author of Deadline
"...a gripping style that wrings emotions from everyday settings. Oh and by the way ...is your door locked?" Linda Hersey - Fredericton Gleaner

"...will keep readers holding their breath until the very end..." inthelibraryreview, Melissa Parcel

"This one is a chiller - you won't be able to put it down - guaranteed!"- Rendezvous Magazine

"If you are looking for the suspense thriller of the year-look no further…you will find it in Nowhere To Hide..." Jewel Dartt Midnight Scribe Reviews

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