Fantasy and Paranormal Sensual Romance by Julie A.D'Arcy.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Guest:- Jaydyn Chelcee
I would proudly like to announce that today I have on my blog the multi-published, popular author Jaydyn Chelcee. I will be hosting Jaydyn for the next 3 days, so I hope you will settle in and enjoy your time here. *************************************************************************************************
Good Morning Readers,
First let me say, Thank You, to Julie for having me as her guest today. It’s always a pleasure to blog at her site.
I hope you’ll enjoy the excerpt from my upcoming novel, WILD, book five and the conclusion of the Montana Men Series. This novel is unavailable until late 2012. I hope to have the first four books in the series back on the market in early 2012 and released by Secret Cravings publishing. They’ll be longer, stronger, extended versions. Be sure to watch for them!http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/
Please leave a comment for a
chance to win a free E-copy of Playing for Keeps, book four in the
Montana Men series. I’ll drop your name in the cowboy hat and announce
the winner tomorrow.
Until
then,
Happy Reading!
Jaydyn Chelcee
BLURB
A wild gamble…uneven odds…an assassin’s bullet…
She’d do anything―The only witness to the first lady’s assassination, Jayla Ross is the next target. She flees to Montana to the one man she knows can keep her safe, and save the life of her unborn child―except, she’s the last person he’d ever agree to help…
He’d risk everything―Wild Remington spent five years in prison because of Ross’s lies, and now, with a bullet hole in her shoulder, she’s asking him for help―right in time to be trapped in the wilds of Montana in the middle of a blizzard…
Jayla and Wild―two people who have nothing left to lose and perhaps everything to gain…
EXCERPT
Sliding off the horse, he approached her from the driver’s side. “Hey, in there, you okay, lady?” he shouted. “Are you hurt?”
Crack!
His hat sailed through the air landing a few feet away. The mare reared and whinnied, frightened by the sudden gunshot. The reins slid from his gloved hands. The mare bolted like she’d been stung by a bee. Wild dropped to the ground, belly-crawling until he reached cover behind a large rock. “Sonofabitch, if she didn’t want help, then why did she yell for it?”
Leaning against the boulder, he looked around quickly to make sure the mare hadn’t left the country in terror. Nope. She’d stopped a few feet away. The horse was well trained, better trained than the loco female with the loaded gun poked out the driver’s side window taking potshots at him.
He peeped around the corner of the boulder. Hell, he’d had reporters charge him like a herd of stampeding cattle, but he’d never had one try to gun him down before. “Damn, fool woman!” he muttered.
She waved the pistol around above the top of the driver’s door like it was some kind of flag. “I’ve got a gun,” she yelled.
“No shit,” Wild mumbled, and ducked back down. He snatched his cowboy hat off the ground, cursing―his favorite, the cream-colored straw one with the black and white beaded band and bits of ostrich feathers on the back. He eyed it with disgust. The demon woman had put a bullet hole through the crown. What a pissy-ass day this had turned out to be.
He jammed the hat back in place, his jaw tightening with anger. He might want to kill himself, but be damned if someone else was doing the job for him. “Are you crazy, lady?” he shouted. “Don’t shoot! I’m here to help you.”
“Wild? Is that you?”
Puzzled, he rose slowly to his feet, his arms up in surrender. “Well, now, that all depends,” he drawled. “Who the hell are you gunning for?” He didn’t recognize the voice or the car. Wild side-stepped, edging around so he could approach the car from the rear and stay out of her range, or at least make it difficult for her to line him up in her sights. He walked closer, close enough to eye the plates. U.S. Government. D.C.
Nope, he figured he was seeing wrong. He hadn’t done anything lately to warrant the U.S. government to come gunning for him. No one in D.C. he knew wanted to talk to him bad enough to drive across the country during a pending blizzard either, his other brother, Duel, maybe, but him–the ex-con? Uh-uh. No one cared enough to spend a bullet on him. Whoever she was, she was a long way from home, and a tad bit cracked to boot.
Jaydyn Chelcee has spent most of her life in Oklahoma, but at the same time, she’s traveled extensively, at least in the western half of the United States. One of her favorite settings in her contemporary western romances is Montana. She’s the author of the best selling Montana Men Series, In the Arms of Danger, No Holds Barred, Too Close to the Fire, and Playing For Keeps.
A member of the Oklahoma Writer’s Federation, Inc., her paranormal romances, the Winslow Witches of Salem Series, written under Tabitha Shay have been nominated for several awards, including the prestigious P.E.A.R.L. Award for Witch’s Moon nominated for Best All Around Paranormal in 2008 and Witch’s Fire, Runner-up for Best Paranormal Book of 2010 at LRC.
Coming soon from Moongypsy Press: WILD, book five of the Montana Men Series.
Coming in Jan. 12, and Feb. 15, from Secret Cravings Publishing: Re-release of Witch’s Brew, and Witch’s Heart, books one and two of the Winslow Witches of Salem Series.
All current releases available at Amazon.com and:-
I
really enjoyed this book! I started
it and couldn't put it down. I haven't read this genre before, so it
was a new adventure for me. I will definitely buy more of Jewel's books
;)
I would like to announce that my Tarlis novel-fantasy romance, magic, adventure, action, sexy elves, and warriors, The Dragon and the Rose is under consideration by my new publisher, Secret Craving Publishing!
Sunday, November 13, 2011
I would just like to announce that Secret Cravings Publishing,(no it is not all Erotic Romance, in fact most is Genre Romance.) Will be publishing my Paranormal Ghost Historical, March 2012, in paperback, and all electronic formats!
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Janet Elizabeth Jones
Please Welcome my guest Blogger for today, my good friend, multi-published, talented author Janet Elizabeth Jones. Author with Harlequin. Janet will talking on time management, and giving away a signed copy of her paperback novel Incubus, if you leave a comment in the comment box below. And contact Janet through one of her many websites.
Thank you,
Julie, for having me over today :D
I'm here to
confess something. It's my dreadful secret: I am clock and calendar challenged.
Time-challenged. I'm sure I'm short of time. Isn't everyone? But worse than
that, I tend not to notice whether I'm short of time or not, because to me,
time feels like a sprawling, never-ending "now" to me.
It's often
called absentmindedness, but I think this might be a misnomer. It seems to me
that if time is relative, then the observance of it--or lack of observance--is
too. The word "absentminded" suggests that a time-challenged person's
mind is somewhere besides "here". As in, "WHERE is your
mind?!" I think it's more precise to say the time-challenged person's mind
is always here--the here and now, the present moment--so much so, in fact, that
their mind cannot be elsewhere, least of all the future.
Time managements
skills, the ability to prioritize--these concepts are not strangers to me, but
I can't exactly call them happy guests in the oasis of work, coffee and chocolate
that I call "my day". (There's a bit more work than coffee, and more
coffee than chocolate.) I have been told it's a matter of focusing too
intensely, rather than what one might suspect, that I'm waffling around with my
head in the clouds. (Which sounds lovely to me, by the way. Doesn't it sound
nice to you? Just to blow around in the sky all day with nothing to worry about
but dodging 747s.)
It seems to be
something all time-challenged people share, this extreme focus that eclipses
everything but what their thoughts are nibbling on. I like to think it implies
a higher level of thinking skills, and when added to my shy, geeky nature (I
have the language barrier to prove it), that it makes me look really smart. But
the truth is, if you ask me what time it is, I'll look at my watch and tell
you, but it will mean absolutely nothing to me other than a description of what
Mickey Mouse's big hand and little hand are pointing at.
To be kind to
time-challenged folk everywhere, we could consider an underlying force at work
here: the acknowledgment that time is an artificial contrivance, sometimes a
convenience and at other times a curse. And to thank you for reading this far,
I'll resist the urge to spew about the uncertain future of humankind in the pressure-cooker
society we live in where "The Best Never Rest" (makes a fitting
epitaph) and "Time is Money" (then why aren't we all millionaires?)
and "Spend your Time Wisely" (one person's wisdom is another person's
root canal) and "Save Time" (but where do I put it once I do?) and
"Kill Some Time" (for those of us with pacifist leanings, this is not
a happy thought). I'm sure you can think of many more adages we're fond of
using when we want to justify our existence in precise sixty-second segments.
So, to hit the
topic on the head (finally)--where does this leave the writer who is
time-challenged? Reading
is a leisure activity, you lucky readers; writing is a solitary, addictive,
sweat-your-guts out adventure that's all about time and timing. Plot is a linear
phenomenon that begins, proceeds through events whose graph would resemble a
Mohawk hairstyle, and comes to an end, after which one imagines the rest of the
"happily ever after" that follows. It is all about time.
This really
comes home to a writer when it's time to do book promotion--which is why I'm
blogging about it today. It's all about "platform". We need to crow,
strategize, tweet, poke, bounce, bomb, dig, follow, swallow, share, bare and
all the other cyber-duties of social networking. So, here I am, thanks to Julie,
to tell you about my Harlequin Nocturne entitled Incubus, a story about two people who measure time in heartbeats.
(And you thought you'd get through this philosophical diatribe without a plug
for my book? Muahaahaahaa.)
Meical, a vampire-turned-incubus,
wants to enjoy a single sunrise before he dies; Caroline, a psychologist and
empath, wants one more day in her momentary haven in the Poconos before facing
the man who is hunting her.
How much time
does it take for you to realize the chance of a lifetime is standing right in
front of you? The chance of a lifetime, in the nick of time, when you're
standing at death's door. In that moment of realization, it becomes clear to
you that the only one who can save you is this person you met only hours ago, a
person you're sure you've known for a lifetime or more. This person, this one
fragile heart out of millions, has somehow done the impossible, the thing you
never believed could ever be: this person loves you. You. The secret you. The
sleepless, hunted you. The ragged, shadowy, angry, frightened you. All of you
and only you.
And you have
sixty seconds to reach for each other before you lose it all.
If you'd like to
read Incubus, check out the buy-me
links below, or email me and I'll send you a free autographed paperback. (I
swear on my Mickey Mouse watch that I won't be evil and share your snail mail
address with anyone, or enroll you in a year's supply of spam sandwiches, or do
anything with it except send it straight into the shredder.)
How do you overcome the mistrust of an empath running for
her life?
One night at a time.
Blurb:
Having
struck a deadly bargain with the ancient vampire known as the Alchemist, Meical
Grabian submits to the Alchemist's experimentation and allows himself to be
transformed from vampire to incubus. In return, Meical gains the one thing he
has longed for in his dark existence: the chance to feel the sun on his face.
As an incubus, he will be impervious to sunlight--the downside is that he won't
survive the transformation for more than a few hours, unless he gets a quick
dose of human passion to sustain him.
When the
Alchemist provides him with his first prey, it all seems simple. Right on cue,
psychologist Caroline Bengal rescues Meical from a snowy field in the Poconos
and takes him into the warmth of her cabin. But in spite of his desperation and
mercenary hunger, Meical finds himself beguiled by her inner beauty and
empathic abilities and drawn to Caroline as he has never felt drawn to a human
before. When he finds out another kind of monster is stalking her, one just as
cunning and dangerous as any vampire, he realizes he wants to protect her for
as long as he has left to live, even if it means hiding his true nature from
her by creating the world of her dreams--a world where he can heal and
strengthen her with his love.
Excerpt:
She went to
the wardrobe. It was empty. "I seemed not to have dreamed up any clothing
for myself. That's not fair. You're wearing clothes."
"I
like what you're wearing."
She turned
slowly from the wardrobe and leveled her gaze on him. "I don't usually
dream for two, okay? I don't know why I'm...dreaming like this..."
He looked
down at himself as though he hadn't heard her. "You seem to have cast me
in the role of a--"
"Rogue,"
she gulped.
He smiled.
"That's a quaint word for it."
Great. That
was all she needed. Meical the Gothic Villain-Hero. What was she doing to
herself?
"Well,
let's see how far my imagination has gotten carried away this time."
With a sigh
of exasperation, Caroline marched to the door of the chamber. It opened of its
own accord before she reached for the latch. That had never happened in her
dreams before.
Beyond was
a larger room, with a fireplace that took up one whole wall and a fire that
burned so high and bright that it could have been consuming a small hut.
She had
never dreamed about this large chamber before. Maybe if she kept pushing the
confines of her imagination, she'd wake herself up. Lucid dreams were like
that. Once you were aware that you were dreaming, you could change the dream.
She took
one or two tentative steps into the big room. Looking over her shoulder, she
found Meical following close behind, with his hands behind his back and a smile
on his face.
There.
There was that knowing look in his eyes again.
The big
chamber was warm and bright and beautiful, with more tapestries and rugs and
bits of armor on the walls. The swords gleamed in the firelight.
"Sweet,"
she murmured.
"Lots
of toys."
She
followed his gaze to the swords. "You like those, huh?"
"Apparently
you do, too, or they wouldn't be here." He looked down at her and smiled.
"A girl after my own heart."
He pushed
past her to stride across the room, took a rapier off the wall, and tested its
weight in his hand. "Lovely."
He was so
beautiful. Caroline's face flushed hot again. She wished he really was here,
rather than being a tease from her subconscious. She chuckled, and he glanced
her way.
"Do I
look that ridiculous?" he asked, grinning.
She shook
her head. "No, you look phenomenal. Like you belong here."
He quirked
a brow at her. "REALLY? I look like I belong in your dreams?"
"Uhmmm...here
in this..." She waved a hand around at the room. "...this kind
of...whatever."
"Ah.
Well, whatever you've cut me out to be while I'm here, Caroline, I like
it."
He sliced
the air with the sword a couple of times, and then settled into what looked
like some kind of drill or exercise, a series of movements that seemed way too
authentic for anything she could come up with in a dream. She must have stored
a lot more info from her reading than she realized, because he looked like he
knew what he was doing.
Caroline
leaned against the wall and watched him. When was the last time Meical Grabian
had had any fun? She had an impish urge to indulge his enjoyment of this place.
Why shouldn't she?
An idea
formed in her mind. It was pure nonsense, but who cared? It wasn't like any of
this was real.
Caroline
turned and eyed the row of swords above her head. She reached for one that
looked like Meical's. The instant her hand closed over the hilt, it felt right
and real and familiar to her.
"Cool,"
she murmured. "I can do this. Amazing."
She eyed
her golden-haired opponent, who was making a show of himself on the other side
of the room, hitched up the folds of her voluminous nightie and approached him.
"If
you want to play, Meical, let's do it right."
She amazed
herself by giving him a perfect salute. She raised her blade to her nose and
snapped it down with a flick that made a satisfying whooshing sound.
Meical's
eyes widened for a second, and then he emitted a low, dastardly, thrilling
laugh. "You're on. What shall we play for?"
Caroline
followed him into the center of the room where they had more room. "Just
to win, I guess."
He shook
his head. "Come on, we have to have a bet."
She watched
him shove his hand in the pocket of his breeches, wiggle his fingers around,
and dig out a leather lace. He looked at it and smiled. "Accommodating of
you."
"Yes,
well, the human mind is a remarkable thing. What's it for?"
He winked
at her, set his sword aside on a nearby table, and used the tether to tie his
hair back in a ponytail. Plucking up his weapon, he started toward her with a
gleam in his eye.
Caroline
lifted a hand to hold him off. "Wait. How will we know who wins?"
He laughed
again, with relish convincing enough to give her a chill. "I suspect we'll
know when the moment comes."
"Whoa.
I don't want to hurt you."
Meical
turned his head aside and coughed loudly. When he looked at her again, his eyes
were twinkling with laughter. "I don't think that's possible, is it? I
mean, if all this is merely a dream, what's the worst thing that can happen? If
you feel pain, won't you just wake up?"
It was
funny that Meical thought the worst thing that could happen was that she would
wake up.
But of
course, that was just her putting words in his mouth. All of this was her
doing, all of it her, talking to...herself? To her fears? It was all symbolic
of larger issues, and she was actually about to battle something inside her on
a psychological level, and whatever it represented, she had put it in the guise
of Meical and turned the whole thing into some kind of enticing competition
between the two of them.
Why swords?
Well, she
could have a field day with that one, but Meical was getting impatient, as if
he didn't have time to waste while she sorted out her psychological
wherewithal.
"All
right," she said, "if I win, I want..."
It came to
her as though someone whispered it in her ear. What she wanted was Meical. In
her life. For real.
These
dreams were just her unconscious mind's attempt to invent a safe place for her
to admit this to herself. They gave her a buffer zone where she could feel it
was okay to really, really want this man, regardless of what she'd been through
and what she might face in the future.
Not that it
could happen.
"Do
you know what you want, Caroline?" he asked her.
He was as
serious as death, suddenly. His gaze probed hers until she had to look at the
floor, his booted feet, his exquisite legs.
"Yes,
I know. But..."
"It's
only a dream," he murmured. "It's all right to want anything here.
Isn't it?"
Caroline
raised her blade and struck an en garde position. "Maybe I'll keep it a
secret until I win."
He gave a
half-bow and then assumed a deadly pose of his own, as if he'd run her through
if she gave him half a chance.
Thrilling.
"You
haven't said what you want, if you win," she said. "Not that you
will, because that would mean you were in charge of this dream, and since
that's impossible--"
"You,
Caroline. I want you."
Good grief,
he was terrifying. Her voice came out in a squeak. "That's kind of
redundant, don't you think? You had me in the last dream."
He smiled
like a satyr. "No, dearheart, you had me."
Thank you for joining me here today Janet!
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
I would just like to announce that I have the new cover to my latest release, Beyond the Green Door.
