Forever There For You by Chioma Nnani

Title: Forever There For You

Author: Chioma Nnani

Genre: Romance

When NADINE is confronted with the reality of her failing marriage, her first instinct is to work it out. She has had it drummed into her that marriage is ‘for better, for worse’. Walking out is just not an option – her faith would condemn her and her culture would make her a pariah.

The combination of Nadine’s background, education, social standing, friendships, faith, experiences and past relationships is meant to equip her to become a success. Failure is alien to her and love means forgiving at all cost.

As she tries to survive and make the most of the curves that life has thrown her, she discovers that ’success’ is a subjective term, and ‘happily ever after’ is something that you have to discover and define for yourself …

Author Bio

Chioma Nnani is an award-winning author, who also contributes to business, lifestyle and literary publications. One of Africa’s most fearless storytellers, she is a 2016 CREATIVE AFRICAN Awards finalist in the category of “Best Fiction Writer”, and a DIVAS OF COLOUR 2016 finalist. Chioma has also been nominated twice for a UK BEFFTA (Black Entertainment Film Fashion Television and Arts) Award in the “Best Author” category. A talented ghost-writer who is known for “being able to get into your head and under your skin, before writing down exactly how you’re feeling”, Chioma has been named “One of 100 Most Influential Creatives in 2016” by London-based C.Hub Magazine.

She holds a Law (LLB) from the University of Kent and a Postgraduate Certificate in Food Law (De Montfort University, Leicester). She is the founder of THE FEARLESS STORYTELLER HOUSE EMPORIUM LTD (a premium storytelling outfit based in the Federal Capital Territory of Nigeria, where she lives), typically contributes to lifestyle and literary publications, and runs the “Memo From A Fearless Storyteller” blogazine at www.fearlessstoryteller.com for which she won the 2016 BEFFTA (Black Entertainment Film Fashion Television and Arts) Award.

Links

Amazon (Kindle): United StatesUnited KingdomGermanyFranceSpainItalyNetherlandsJapanBrazilCanadaMexicoAustralia and India. It is also available on SmashwordsKobo, Apple, Barnes & Noble (Nook)Okadabooks, and major online stores. Okadabooks is mainly for buyers in Africa.

As a paperback, Forever There For You is available from Amazon in the  United StatesUnited KingdomGermanyBrazilCanada, and India.

Posted in All Posts | Leave a comment

When a Rogue Loves a Woman by Samantha Holt

When a Rogue Loves a Woman

by Samantha Holt
Rogues of Redmere
Publication Date: February 6, 2017
Genres: Adult, Historical, Romance

Notorious rogue, Lord Nathaniel Kingsley always tended to leap without thinking. Becoming a smuggler, adopting a sheep, getting engaged to Miss Patience Grey…

Patience has no need for a fiancé, or a husband. For once in her life, she wants to prove she’s just as good as a man and she does not need Nathaniel Kingsley getting in her way. With her brother injured, it is up to her to continue her family’s work…and that means tracking down a French spy and ensuring said spy will turn.

Unfortunately, no one believes she can do it alone. Which is where Nathaniel comes in.

Nate is happy to be of service. Why pass up the opportunity to repay an old friend, especially with a little intrigue along the way? Find the spy, play escort to Patience, return home to continue smuggling. Easy.

Or at least it would be if the stubborn Patience would let him do his job. The breeches-wearing woman is determined to do it all alone and, he has to admit, there’s something quite distracting about a woman in men’s clothes.

Can he keep his attention from her long enough to complete their mission and persuade Patience to let him do his job and protect her? A job he’s beginning to find he’s enjoying a lot more than he thought he would…

When a Rogue Loves a Woman Excerpt

“I hasten to add,” Patience said, far too matter-of-factly for a woman who was practically naked, “that this is not the first time you have seen me in a man’s shirt.”

“Nor will it be the last, I’m sure,” Nate drawled. “But I have never seen you in only a man’s shirt.”

And what a sight to behold it was.

He’d been aware that Patience had some redeeming qualities. Two to be precise. The way the cotton carefully caressed her breasts and drew his attention had him wondering if he’d been spending too much time with the breast-obsessed Drake. He was normally an arse man.

Not when it came to Patience it seemed. But it was not only her breasts that drew his attention. Her legs were surprisingly long for a short woman. Though not slender, they were strong and capable-looking. Just the sort of legs perfect for when the woman was on t—

“Stop staring,” she hissed.

“You’re staring too.”

He had only just noticed. After all, he’d been far too busy leering at the unexpected delights that had been hiding under those baggy masculine clothes. Why did she hide herself? No doubt she considered herself free, unconstrained by womanly garments, but he suspected it was more to do with disguising herself than anything, whether she was aware of that or not.

But she was staring, and she certainly was not hiding it. Her gaze ran over him like a that of a ravenous wolf. She should have licked her lips to finish off the picture. As it was, her top teeth came down to bite upon her plump bottom lip. He near groaned.

“I am not staring,” she said, her voice a raspy whisper.

She was. Still. Nate lifted his chin a tad and straightened his shoulders. He was no stranger to female admiration but, he had to confess, Patience admiring him did more for his pride than one hundred looks from society ladies. Given that she loathed the very air he breathed, it was quite an achievement.

Nate took a step closer. A little experiment just to see. She did not move, instead seeming to sway slightly into him.

“You stubbed your toe?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Oh, she was far too much fun to toy with in every way. And, of course, that was what it was. A game. What else could life be for a second son? No responsibilities, no heirs to bear, no future set forth for him. Had he been able to join the military perhaps it would have been different but he would not dwell on that fact. He would only play so far, of course. They had a mission to do and while he enjoyed teasing her, he did not touch virgins. Unless they begged and there was little chance of recourse, naturally. But he doubted Patience would ever beg.

“Pardon?” she asked, her gaze remaining latched upon his chest.

“You stubbed your toe?”

She nodded, her teeth still digging into that lip delightfully and making him want to pull it between his own teeth and suck at it until it was even more plump and red.

Nate put his hands to her waist and heard that satisfying inhalation of surprise. She stiffened but he had little troubles lifting the small woman onto the table.

“Which foot?”

She peered at him as if he was speaking in a foreign language.

Parlez vous Anglais? Which foot?”

“The left.”

He took her foot in his hand and eyed the toe in the candlelight.

“What are you—”

Apparently, the fight had returned. She tried to wriggle her foot away from him but he kept it gripped tight around her ankle.

“Nathaniel, put me down.”

Alas, the effect of his bare chest had not lasted as long as he had hoped. Had she continued to be so malleable it would have been easy to have this mission completed swiftly. He would have to try harder next time. He smirked at the idea of walking around entirely naked simply to ensure he did not get entirely dominated by this woman.

About Samantha Holt

Samantha HoltSamantha lives in a small village in England with her gorgeous twin girls. She enjoys writing historical romance involving chivalrous knights, hot highlanders and cravatted men, but sometimes gets lured away by bad boy bikers, soldiers and other heroic modern men.

Website | Facebook | Newsletter

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted in All Posts | Leave a comment

13 Ways to Midnight by Rue Volley

Title: 13 Ways to Midnight
Author: Rue Volley
Genre: YA Paranormal Fantasy
Blurb:
You’ll never miss the sunlight until it’s gone.
Sixteen-year-old Echo Navarri, daughter of world-famous archaeologists, Alice and Peter Navarri, had spent her life traveling from one expedition to the next as her parent’s unearthed lost civilizations.
On their thirteenth dig, Midnight, Echo’s twin sister, disappears without a trace. This prompts a year-long search that leaves the family nearly broken.
In an attempt to find some closure, they reluctantly host a mock funeral for Midnight without ever recovering her remains.
Nearing the one year anniversary of Midnight’s assumed death, Echo is sent to live with her eccentric Aunt Luna who is the caretaker of the centuries old Navarri Estate in Port Royal, Maine.
Echo attempts to settle into her new life in Port Royal, but soon finds that she’s destined for adventure as the mystery of her family’s history, the sunless town, and it’s oddly intriguing people teeter on the supernatural.
Rue Volley was born in Lima, Ohio in 1970 to a father of Irish descent and a mother of Blackfoot Indian heritage.
She loves the art of storytelling and spends all of her time building supernatural worlds in the library that her husband so graciously built for her.
She is accredited with two award-winning screenplays for film, Hellhound (original script, 2014) and Awakening (contributing screenwriter, 2015). IMDb: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm7043310/
Rue is represented by Gladys Gonzales Atwell, Publicist, and Sarah Davis Brandon, Publisher. Business inquiries: ruevolley@gmail.com
Author Links:
Buy Links:
Posted in All Posts | Tagged , | Leave a comment

My Best Friend – My Better Half #MFRWauthor

Welcome to week 5 of the Marketing for Romance Authors 52-week challenge.  Each week, a lovely group of romance authors blog on a common theme.  Click here to learn more and join us. You can read all of my Challenge Posts for 2017 here.

This week’s topic is: Meet My Best Friend.

So for this post, I was originally going to put my dog, because my dog is my BFF and I didn’t want to embarrass my human best friend. But there is a prompt later in the year about “meet my pet,” so hopefully the woman I am about to introduce you to won’t be too embarrassed by this post.

My best friend is named Cherith, and I am very lucky to have her in my life. Sure, I have a husband, a dog, and kids, but having a best girl friend is a necessity in life. Cherith is someone I can tell anything to and she totally gets me. We also love a good alcohol-based lunch 😉

She is also my other half in many ways. I am not artistic at all, even though I really have an appreciation for art. But Cherith is a commercial artist. And she has graciously done all my covers for my books. I’m good with words, she is good with images. We complement each other rather well.

Cherith is also a freelance cover artist and is taking on new clients. Check out her website and contact her if you need a cover for your next work.

What about you? Who is your best friend? Let me know in the comments.

Posted in #MFRWauthor 52-Week Blog Challenge 2017 | Tagged , | Leave a comment

THE 100 Box Set (Books 1-4) by Kass Morgan

I am so excited that THE 100 returns to TV tonight! And to help celebrate the show’s return Little Brown Books For Young Readers and Rockstar Book Tours are giving away 5 Boxed Sets of the Complete series! So if you’d like a chance to win, enter in the Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post.

 

 
About The Book:
 
Title: THE 100 Box Set (Books 1-4)
Author: Kass Morgan
Pub. Date: January 3, 2016
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Pages: 1360
Formats: Paperback
Find it: AmazonGoodreads
All four thrilling novels in The 100 series, now available in a paperback
boxed set! 
Ever since nuclear war destroyed our planet, humanity has been living on
city-like spaceships hovering above the toxic surface. As far as anyone knows,
no one has stepped foot on Earth in centuries–that is, until one hundred
juvenile delinquents are sentenced to return and recolonize the hostile land.
The future of the human race rests in their hands, but nothing can prepare the
100 for what they find on this strange and savage planet. 
 
Read the series that inspired the hit TV show. The 100, Day 21,
Homecoming, and Rebellion are gathered together for the first time in this
striking box set, perfect for fans and series newcomers alike.

About Kass Morgan

Kass Morgan studied literature at Brown and Oxford, and now resides in Brooklyn, where she lives in constant fear of her Ikea bookcase collapsing and burying her under a mound of science fiction and Victorian novels. Kass is currently working on the
sequel to The 100, which she’ll finish as soon as she finds a coffee shop that
allows laptops on the weekend.
 
Giveaway Details: 5 winners will receive the complete boxed set of THE 100 Series, US Only. Ends on February 8th at Midnight EST!
Posted in All Posts | Leave a comment

Flightless By L. Duarte

Title: Flightless
By: L. Duarte
Publication Date: January 23, 2017
Publisher: LD Publishing LLC
Genre: Romance
Cover Designer: Okay Creations
#flightlesstour
Everyone has a story.Mine went like this: Once upon a time, I met a boy. He was the most handsome fella in the land. I fell in love. Together, we had cosmic chemistry. I believed I would live a life of unending bliss. Until he broke my heart. Shattered it to pieces. And I lived unhappily ever after instead. The end.

Or so I thought.

Life found a way to reunite us. But to change that unhappy ending, I had to learn how to forgive. And my heart seemed unable to do so.

This is a love story. But it is also, much more. It’s the story of how I coped with my shortcomings, my fears and rewrote my destiny. Everyone has a story. This is mine.

AMAZON UK – https://goo.gl/usJ3w4
AMAZON CA – https://goo.gl/VPrQMu
AMAZON AU – https://goo.gl/ItxgHI
Check out these other amazing books from L. Duarte

 AMAZON –  http://amzn.to/2jKjjiu
 AMAZON  – http://amzn.to/2jLA6ly
Chapter One
I stepped back. Not literally, just figuratively. I did that with every concert. I allowed my mind’s eyes to hover over me and my fans while I analyzed and dissected the unique relationship between us.
As I watched the multitude of people—a beautiful kaleidoscope of different races and social statuses—my heart, in utter bliss, roared.
The audience held their hands upwards as if in an offering or a request. I never knew which. In perfect synchrony, their arms rolled in waves like the swaying of a stormy sea. Their voices cried out my name, and the smell of their sweat and the heat of their mingled bodies emanated from them, unfurling to me like the sweet perfume of incense.
I held the mic near my motionless lips and stared at them. At that moment, I became one with thousands. At that moment, I took back from the crowd all the energy I had fed them. And their vibe made me high and drunk. It was my personal Nirvana. The kind of rapture that can only be attained through uttermost intimacy. A oneness I had only felt with one other person. A person who had severed that connection and shattered my heart into a million shards of pain.
I worshiped them as they adored me. The exchange of atomic energy contained nuclear power. I was drained from giving. They were wasted from receiving. But we were both impossibly happy and satisfied.
My motionless lips finally moved, uttering the final words for the night. The parting words. “Good night, Sydney!” I waved a hand back at them. “You looked beautiful tonight. All forty thousand of you.”
I bowed. They deserved my reverence. People had spent their time camped outside the venue waiting for a closer glance at me. They had spent their precious earned money to see my performance. They were worthy of my respect and gratitude.
Another wave of a hand. A kiss. Another bow. And I was out. Another show was done. Eight more to go.
I jogged backstage and gave the mic to Jeremy, my makeup artist, in exchange for a bottled water. He opened a portable case containing all the potions that would quickly improve my appearance for the meet and greet. 
Before I took a swig from the bottle, Clara, my assistant, brusquely interrupted my post-concert ritual. She snatched the bottle from my hand and returned it to a confused Jeremy. “Gray. With me,” she demanded, grabbing my elbow and urging me toward my changing room.
I glanced back at the stunned face of Jeremy. It was time for meet and greet with the VIP’s. I needed to freshen up. My makeup had all but melted under the stage lights.
Once inside the privacy of the room, I demanded, “What’s going on?”
She raised a finger and said, “Wait.”
I opened my mouth to protest. Instead, I swallowed the words. Clara was usually a chatterbox; her clipped words quickly clued me in that something was seriously wrong.
As I waited, Clara dialed a number on her phone. Her silence became as unnerving as the red glare of an alarm light.
“Betty, I have Gray,” Clara said. Wordlessly, she shoved the device in my hand. The door closed with a thud after she exited in a flurry of silent drama. 
“Mama?” I asked holding the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Puppy,” Mama said in a soft, almost regretful tone.
“What’s going on?” I asked. Silence filled the other end of the line, only increasing my concern. Mama knew I had just left the stage. She followed my tour from home. Minute by minute. It was unusual for her to call me so soon following a show.
“How was, um, the, um, concert?” she asked.
“Mama, did you call me to ask how the show went?” I furrowed my brows and every hair on my body stood at attention. Mama knew my routine during a tour. After a performance, I had a brief meet with fans and then I would go on hours of silence to rest my vocal cords. Although she knew she could call me at any time, she never called until at least ten hours following a show.
“Mama?” I prodded after a long silence.
“I have cancer,” she said bluntly.
The phone connection was perfect. No static. But Mama’s words hummed in my ear with a tunnel-like quality. Distorted, altered, garbled. My mind, however, had remained sharp and alert. Without much thought and after a brief pause, I uttered the words, “I’m coming home.” I hadn’t said those words in over a decade. Somehow, they didn’t taste as foreign as I had imagined they would.

  ***

“Gray,” I said. The word hovered on my tongue, saturating my taste buds with an acrid taste. “Gray,” I repeated, letting it roll off my tongue. I did that a lot. It was my name.
Often, I mused about my name. It hadn’t been given to me because it was fashionable. Nevertheless, it had a history. My history.
When I was little, I liked to fancy its origin. The sky, I would think, was painted gray the day I was born. I loved the theory. The unattainability of the infinite mass of gray made it a great namesake. Whenever gray clouds hovered in the sky, I would lay on my back and stare at them, dreaming that when I grew up, I would build an enormous ladder, climb it, and touch the gray painted dome. It was all, of course, a foolish child’s dream, born out of vain imagination. I wasn’t born during the day, nor was the sky gray. And it was most definitely not the inspiration behind the choosing of my name.
I was born in a graveyard. Serene Hills Cemetery, it was called, though its surface was flat. It was a fall night, October 20th, approximately 11 pm.
They found me covered in vernix. I used the term ‘they’ loosely. A dog found me. A female German Shepherd mix that went by the name of Sunshine. Her fur was golden. Shiny like sun rays. I had a newspaper cut-out of her. It’s black and white, but it described her that way. In the shot, she looked straight at the camera, two vivid round eyes dotting a long and alert face. She had the knowing stare of someone who was aware she had done a good deed.
Obviously, I don’t recall the details surrounding my birth. I was an infant. But I had Mama tell me the story so many times, which after a while, the images ingrained in my brain like the roots of a tree embedded in the fertile soil. They became so real in my imagination that it felt as if they were my recollections.
I was a born a preemie. Weak, small, and blotchy-faced. I was skin and bones with a mop of black spiky hair, and a bad case of a cold.   
A miracle, they called me. But I knew I was no wonder. I happened to have the perfect concoction of healthy lungs and a loud cry. These, and the sharp canine sense of hearing and smelling had saved me. I didn’t believe in miracles. Not anymore.
When they found me, decay from the trees covered the ground on a fascinating palette of colors—an array of red, yellow, purple, brown, orange, golden, bronze.
I used to question why the leaves change colors and fall off the branches. According to a scientific explanation, leaves are a weak and feeble part of a plant. So, before the weather gets severely cold, the trees should toughen up to protect themselves. Or simply dispose of the leaves, the weak part.
Personally, I believe they turn colors before falling as revenge. A personal vendetta. And for that I applaud them. They turn their death into a poetic and alluring sight. That line of thought made me believe death was beautiful. It fascinated me. It’s more interesting than birth, although similar.
I had been abandoned under a pile of dead foliage. According to the police investigation, it appeared my birth mother had buried me under the leaves. Hid me. Like a criminal attempting to cover its tracks. Supposedly, I spent the night under a cocoon of leaves. The tree’s decay was soaked with blood and amniotic fluid.
According to Sunshine’s owner, they were walking on the sidewalk by the cemetery when she heard a whizzing sound. Sunshine’s owner discarded the noise as being the cry of squirrels.
Sunshine didn’t. At odds with her sweet nature, she became agitated and broke loose. She squeezed through a small gap in the fence and disappeared between the gravestones, leaving her owner in a frenzy.
Less than a minute later, Sunshine returned. Her mouth muzzled around my small waist, my umbilical cord dragging, rattling the decayed leaves.
I found my story fascinating, unique. Or so I told myself whenever I got teased at school.
The hospital staff called me the Graveyard Miracle. Soon after, Gray for short. It stuck.
I spent three months in the hospital. That’s where Mama worked. The graveyard shift. She fed me. She bathed me. She caressed my skin. “My heart had not a chance. It fell madly in love with you,” she said, whenever she told me my story. Her pale hand, dotted with freckles, caressing my black, straight hair.
 When I became her child officially, she quit the night job. “I had brought home my very own Graveyard Miracle.”
She found a day job at a pediatric clinic, occasionally helping at the hospital for extra income. She continued working at the clinic throughout my childhood, adolescence, and after I left home. She remained there until cancer said, “No more.” Until cancer said, “I want your time. From now on, you are going to dedicate every waking hour to me. I’m egocentric. I want it all. I want your flesh and the total sum of your soul.”
That’s why I was there, sitting in the back of a limousine Clara had rented to pick me up from JFK airport and take me home.
“When should I schedule your flight to LA?” she had asked. “Only a one-way ticket for now,” I responded.
32 Lorelai Lane, my childhood home. It was a small Victorian-style house, built in 1929. The colorful foliage of a maple tree and an oak tree framed the dwelling as if it was extracted from the pages of a fairy tale book. When I was little, I used to fancy my house was lovely. The most enchanting place in all realms. Staring at the house, I discovered that I still thought that. It was the most magical place in the world because it was the place that humans refer to it as ‘home’. And home is a thing of fairy tales. Rare and pure.
The car door was wide open, awaiting me. I climbed out. The driver stood straight as a pole. His hands perfectly folded in front of him, his face impassive. I wondered how long he had stood there, waiting for me, questioning my sanity. The luggage was lined up at the front porch. His face remained expressionless when I pulled a generous tip from my purse and handed it to him. “Thank you,” I murmured.
He drove off, the sound of the engine trailing off into the quiet street. It was late at night. The crisp air smelled of burnt wood and autumn, reminiscent of bonfires and fireplaces.
I crossed the stone path leading to the front steps.
The hinges of the front door squeaked, and Mama slowly appeared as light spilled out from inside the house. She leaned against the doorframe, cocked her head, her eyes fixed on me. She knew me so well. She knew I needed the time.
I peered up, carefully examining Mama’s face. It had been only two months since I had last seen her, but she appeared decades older. Even under the porch’s pale yellowed light, I could detect the lines circling her mouth. Small bags sagged under her eyes, and her plump skin appeared loose, dripping like melting wax. Her hair showed inches of gray and her usual square and proud shoulders were smaller, fragile. But what got my attention the most were her eyes. Their vivid green had turned opaque.
The grief and sorrow in her stare set my feet in motion, and I climbed the steps.
When mama stepped forward, the old wooden floor groaned and creaked under her feet. She came to a halt at the top of the stairs. Her lips curved into a small smile, and her arms spread open in an inviting hug.
As I stepped forward, my legs felt wobbly with the weight of so many years of absence.

 

I have found that there is only one thing better than reading, and that is writing. I am always torn between the two. I am also frequently torn between chocolate and coffee. However, I emphatically do not like the month of February, lies, and flies. For me, bravery is defined by the courage to do what we fear the most. I live in Connecticut with my husband and two children. Drop a few lines. I would love to hear from you.

Social Media Links
L. Duarte is offering a $50.00 Amazon Gift Card to one lucky winner!

 

 

Posted in All Posts | Leave a comment

Court of Vampires by Megan Linski

Court of Vampires
Megan Linski
(The Shifter Prophecy #1)
Publication date: January 31st 2017
Genres: Mythology, Paranormal, Romance, Young Adult

Vampires and werewolves shouldn’t fall in love.

Lysandra was born for one reason; to kill shifters. Princess of vampires, the heir to Vlad Dracula’s throne and the last descendant of Princess Anastasia, Lysandra lives in a castle of witches and human slaves,engaged to a dark vampire prince and prophesied as the one who will end the war between vampires and werewolves forever.

Everything changes when Lysandra finds a dying werewolf. She takes him into her care and quickly falls in love, unable to explain the magical connection between them. If she’s discovered, she will be put to death. But how can she stop the war when her worst enemy is her true love?

A heart-stopping love story filled with shocking twists, Court of Vampires is a thrilling young adult fantasy that readers will devour over and over again. The legend of what really happened to the Romanov family is retold in Megan Linski’s newest haunting paranormal romance.

Goodreads / Amazon

 

Author Bio:

Megan Linski is the owner of Gryfyn Publishing and has had a passion for writing ever since she was a little girl. Her specializations are romance, fantasy, and contemporary fiction for teens and adults. When not writing, she enjoys ice skating, horse riding, and being outdoors. She is a passionate advocate for mental health awareness and suicide prevention, and is an active fighter against common variable immune deficiency disorder.

In December 2016, Megan signed a deal with Amazon’s Kindle Press for her Kindle Scout Winner, Court of Vampires, due to be published 2017. You can find Megan at www.meganlinski.com, and receive a FREE book, The Witch’s Curse, by signing up for her VIP List there.

Megan Linski also writes under the pen name of Natalie Erin for the Creatures of the Lands Series, co-authored with Krisen Lison.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

 

GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

XBTBanner1

Posted in All Posts | Leave a comment

THE TIGRESS AND THE YOGI by Shelley Schanfield

Hot off the presses! THE TIGRESS AND THE YOGI by Shelley Schanfield is
available now! Sign up to win a paperback copy of her book or one of 5 ebooks!

Title:
THE TIGRESS AND THE YOGI
Author: Shelley Schanfield
Publisher: Lake House
Books
Pages: 382
Genre: Historical Fantasy
A talking tigress.
A wandering yogi.
A young woman’s harrowing journey through an ancient land where chaos threatens gods and mortals alike.
A tigress speaks to the outcaste girl Mala, and as she flees in terror, she encounters an old yogi. She offers him hospitality. As an untouchable, her very shadow may sully the holy man, but he accepts, repaying her kindness with stories that awaken her hunger for forbidden spiritual knowledge. Soon after he leaves, she is orphaned and enslaved, but the warrior goddess Durga appears in a vision and offers her hope. 
Thus begins her quest for liberation, on which she meets gods and goddesses, high-born Brahmins and lowly keepers of the cremation grounds, outlaws and kings, and young Prince Siddhartha Gautama, who is prophesied to become the Buddha. She finds happiness for a brief time, but when she loses everything, her quest goes terribly wrong. She becomes an outlaw warrior, worshipping the dark goddess, Kali. She masters occult powers but descends into madness, misusing the supernatural gifts the goddess bestows, and when she again encounters the old yogi, she must decide whether to continue on the path of bloody vengeance or
seek transcendence through the power of yoga.
The Tigress and the Yogi is an historical fantasy that brings to life the vivid mythical world of ancient India and transports the reader to the Buddha’s time in a story filled with love and fear, anger and desire. This visionary novel creates a memorable portrait of a powerful woman, her extraordinary daughter, and the men they challenge and inspire. It examines the yearning for spiritual transformation and inner peace, and the ways in which the pursuit of wisdom and compassion can go terribly wrong.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Book Excerpt:

Fragrant trees shaded the
grove, though open patches among the leaves admitted some dappled sunlight.
After the thick, dense forest, this place was like a spacious and cool green
temple. There was a tall, slender stone pillar set in a circle of stones in the
very center. The snake-loving Nagas, the most fearsome of the hidden forest
tribes, must have sacrificed here once. Nagas had not been seen near the
village in years, but everyone still feared them. Sometimes when a village man
disappeared, people whispered that the dark ones had sacrificed him to their
Great Mother, She who was ancient as the earth.
Mala shrugged off a whisper of
unease. It was so peaceful and beautiful, there could be no danger. She crawled
to a tree trunk and curled up against it to rest awhile. The birds and insects
remained silent. Her own breathing was loud in her ears. It felt good just to
rest her hand on her belly as it rose and fell. Soon she was aware of nothing
else.
Her back against the tree and
her head nodding, Mala slipped into a strange new place of lights and sounds. The
tree’s roots cradled her and the earth’s coolness was like a soothing caress.
Light fell from the leaves above like drops of water. Then she gasped.
On a tigress’s back, a many-armed,
beautiful goddess appeared in radiant splendor, waving hands carrying weapons.
One hand the goddess held before her breasts in a strange gesture, thumb and
forefinger touching. The other she held out toward Mala, and from its upward-facing
palm shot a beam of light. Mala prostrated before the vision.
Om, Divine One,” Mala said. Om!”
The bejeweled goddess
dismounted from the tigress and with her two free hands lifted her ruby and
diamond garland from around her neck, smiling as she did so.
I am Durga, Mala. Durga held out the garland. One day this will be yours. As Mala reached for the sparkling
necklace, the red jewels began to drip blood. Mala cried out.
She woke. The vision flitted at
the edges of consciousness like a wild animal hiding in the forest’s shadows.
Dusk was approaching. In the distance, there was something or someone: a horse
whinnied, human voices called and laughed. Or did she imagine it? Was Durga
only a dream?
No. The warrior goddess was
real. Warriors had strength and courage. It was a sign. Mala must be strong and
courageous, too. But what did the jewels dripping blood mean?
That when a warrior fights for
justice, blood is shed.
About the Author
Shelley Schanfield’s passion for
Buddhism and yoga arose sixteen years ago, when she and her son earned black
belts in Tae Kwon Do. The links between the martial arts and Buddhist techniques
to calm and focus the mind fascinated her. By profession a librarian, Shelley
plunged into research about the time, place, and spiritual traditions that 2500
years ago produced Prince Siddhartha, who became the Buddha. Yoga, in some
form, has a role in all of these traditions. Its transformational teachings
soon prompted Shelley to hang up her black belt and begin a yoga practice that
she follows to this day.
 
Because she loves historical
fiction, Shelley looked for a good novel about the Buddha. When she didn’t find
one that satisfied her, she decided to write her own novels based on the
spiritual struggles of women in the Buddha’s time. She published the first book
in the Sadhana Trilogy, The Tigress and the Yogi, in 2016 and will
publish the second, The Mountain Goddess in early 2017.

WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK

Giveaway Details:

Shelley is giving away one
autographed copy of The Tigress and the Yogi PLUS 5 ebooks!

Terms & Conditions:
  • By entering the giveaway, you
    are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
  • Six winners will be chosen
    via Rafflecopter.
  • This giveaway ends midnight January 27.
  • Winner will be contacted via
    email on February 1.
  • Winner has 48 hours to reply.
Good luck everyone!

ENTER TO WIN!

Posted in All Posts | Leave a comment

Teh Wrost Spellr #MFRWauthor

Welcome to week 4 of the Marketing for Romance Authors 52 week challenge.  Each week, a lovely group of romance authors blog on a common theme.  Click here to learn more and join us. You can read all of my Challenge Posts for 2017 here.

This week’s topic is Sorry Editor: My Common Writing Mistakes.

I am the first to admit that I am the worst speller. I have a master’s degree in English, but I call myself the English major who can’t spell. I make my living as a writer and editor, though, so people are always asking me how to spell things. Spelling has always been a problem for me. I always sucked at school spelling bees.

However, I have found lots of tools to help me with this issue. First of all, I use Chrome as my Internet browser. Chrome has a built-in spelling and grammar check. When typing online, it is a real life saver.

The other tool I can’t live without is Grammarly. It is a magical tool that is like a souped-up version of the spelling/grammar check in Word. I use it every day. I think everyone who makes a living writing or editing should subscribe to Grammarly. They also have a free extension for Chrome, which makes Chrome’s grammar/spelling check that much more powerful.

Of course, I still make mistakes. But that is just a reminder to me that everyone makes mistakes and not be too hard on others.

So what about you? What are your biggest writing mistakes? Let me know in the comments.

Posted in #MFRWauthor 52-Week Blog Challenge 2017 | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

It Started with a Kiss By Melanie Moreland

  Title: It Started with a Kiss
By: Melanie Moreland
Publication Date: January 23, 2017
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Cover Designer: Monark Designs
#itstartedwithakissblitz

It started with a kiss.
Then it became so much more.
Love at first sight.
Avery Connor doesn’t believe in it.
But what about love at first kiss?
A favor for a friend. Kiss a stranger and walk away.
But what if that favor, and that stranger, prove to be the turning point of her life?
What if that kiss leads to something more?
Dr. Daniel Stewart is certain it will.
He is determined to make her see him. To feel what he feels.
To have the effects of that kiss last forever.

A story about taking a chance, opening your heart to the moment, and falling in love.

AMAZON UK – https://goo.gl/bDybLH
AMAZON CA – https://goo.gl/kn9e62

New York Times/USA Today bestselling author Melanie Moreland, lives a happy and content life in a quiet area of Ontario with her beloved husband of twenty-seven-plus years and their rescue cat Amber. Nothing means more to her than her friends and family, and she cherishes every moment spent with them.

While seriously addicted to coffee, and highly challenged with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking, and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties, and also enjoys travelling, here and abroad, but finds coming home is always the best part of any trip.

Melanie delights in a good romance story with some bumps along the way, but is a true believer in happily ever after. When her head isn’t buried in a book, it is bent over a keyboard, furiously typing away as her characters dictate their creative storylines to her, often with a large glass of wine keeping her company.

Social Media Links

Posted in All Posts | Leave a comment