Posted in Midweek Tease

Midweek Tease: More From the Revised Fire Angel.

MWTease15Happy middle of the week. The cool-cold weather we’ve been having this week is supposed to turn hot, and I can’t wait. There’s something wrong with heating in late June.

Welcome to the Midweek Tease, made possible each week by Angelica Dawson. These past few weeks, I’ve been sharing snippets from my romantic thrillers, and this week, I continue with the opening chapter of Fire Angel, Book Two of the Vengeance Is mine Series.


Fire AngelEverything happens for a reason.
Criminal profiler Jake McKenzie returned from Afghanistan minus a leg, determined never to let anyone get close enough to hurt him again. When his old friend asks him to help with a serial arsonist case, he jumps at the chance to prove his worth, but as the bodies pile up, he realizes he needs help. He convinces the chief to bring in a fire investigator, stunned to discover that the woman is none other than the girl who vanished from his life twenty years ago.
Alexis Michaels fled Paradise and an abusive uncle only to almost die in a fire that left her scarred not only on the outside, but on the inside, leaving her with psychic abilities. With that gift, she’s climbed to the top of her profession. Her abilities may be the only thing that can find and stop the Fire Angel, a pyromaniac turned revenge arsonist serial killer who’s slowly turning a peaceful town into Hell on Earth. The problem is, to do the job, she has to return to the one place where she swore she would never set foot again.
Faced with confusing emotions and a killer who’s made it clear he wants her to stay out of his business, Alexis must deal with the past before she can move on. But things may get too hot even for her as the Fire Angel moves toward the final act in his revenge drama.

This Week’s Tease:

The young man snorted and patted his large beer belly. “No, but I can always make time for what’s important. But I can only have one.”

He chortled. “One’s all it’ll take,” he muttered, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Entering the cabin, he cracked open two bottles of beer, emptied the small vial into one of them, and handed it to the dealer.

“To your health,” he toasted, clanking his bottle against Bandit’s.

“Millhouse Organic. I’ve never tried that,” the dealer said, guzzling half the bottle in one gulp. “Not bad. You must be richer than I thought. Should’ve charged you more.” He tossed the paper bag he’d carried in on the table. “Here’s your stuff. Where’s my money?” He raised the bottle to his lips once more.

“Right over here.”

Before he could take a step, Bandit dropped like a stone.

Stepping over to the fallen man, he kicked him in the ribs as hard as he could.

“That’s for killing my dog,” he said.

Striking the match on the cover, he lit the small angel-shaped candle—there were only six left in the box his wife had purchased for the birthday party that never happened—settled it onto the Styrofoam plate in the center of the tinder he’d placed in the old fireplace, the sulfur filling his nostrils, and dropped the rest of the book of matches on the pile of sticks on the floor in front of it. Like the image on that poster his mother had kept in her room, he was the avenging archangel, his sword aflame, ridding this world of unnecessary vermin.

The candle burned quickly and soon the paper under it caught and then the tinder. The rest of the matches in the book ignited as one. Glancing over his shoulder, he saluted the body on the bed, and moved over to the safe spot he’d created near the door. He wanted to watch the action as long as he could.

“Don’t worry, asshole, you won’t find it cold in here tonight.” He laughed at his own joke. “And your boss won’t lay a hand on you either.”

Wrapping him in the turpentine-soaked blanket and pulling him up onto the bed had been a chore. Would anyone even see the poetic justice of it? A drug dealer, wrapped in a drug-soaked cloth, set alight?

The crackling of the growing blaze filled his ears as the infant fire moved through its tinder. As the flames and smoke increased, it didn’t take long before he heard the sizzle, crackle, and pop from the blaze—music to his ears. The only thing better was the whoosh as the conflagration grabbed the accelerant and lit him up like a torch. It wouldn’t take long before he would be able to hear the boiling of the sap inside the pine logs he’d brought in to help the blaze, but he would have to be outside by then.

It wasn’t only the killing and the sound of the fire that appealed to him. He enjoyed the various scents and aromas from the caustic ones created by the chemicals released as it burned man-made items, to the unmistakable, unforgettable perfume of burning hair and flesh, and finally to the familiar, friendly, nostalgic aroma of apple wood or pine. Each was an aphrodisiac in its own right, but it was the second odor that had him almost creaming his jeans—so much better than animal fur. Man, that bastard’s hair had been long, and he was close enough to get a good whiff of the pungent perfume before it was just a memory.

“Made you nice and comfortable for your trip to hell,” he muttered. “No one’s going to miss your sorry ass. Time for me to go.”

Carrying the beer bottles—he’d poured out what was left of Bandit’s on the floor—he exited the building and walked around it to make sure everything was good. Tonight, he would be the only witness, but soon others could enjoy his handiwork, too.

He pulled a joint out of the paper bag, flicked his Bic to set it alight, and took a deep satisfying pull. He was going to miss this shit when it ran out, but who knew how long that would take? There were several packages of the stuff in the back of Bandit’s vehicle, all of it his for the taking now. There would be some antsy customers and furious suppliers out there, but they weren’t his problem. Let them search for the elusive Mack Holden. They wouldn’t locate him—after all, he didn’t exist anymore—had barely existed back then, but he’d finally come in useful. Finding more of the date rape drug in the stash had been an unexpected bonus. He’d been afraid he would have to drive to Ottawa to score more, and finding a source had been a pain in the ass the last time he’d done it.

Leaning against the hood of the van, left hand tucked into his pants’ pocket, he let the joint dangle from his right as he watched the cabin burn.

The fire raged, and it was hungry. The more it ate, the more it wanted. Too bad Bandit hadn’t felt the bite of the flames as they devoured him. Maybe next time, he would use less of the drug and see what happened.

The roof collapsed as the blaze consumed the shack and its unholy contents. He smiled before taking another deep drag, holding the drug in his lungs as long as possible before exhaling. The blaze mesmerized him with the constant shifting of its multifaceted flames. He appreciated that color and temperature were codependent and knew just how hot things had to get to suit his purposes.

Fire fascinated him. He’d been burned a time or two, but wasn’t that the way with pets? Didn’t they always bite until they were firmly under control? Over the years, after that initial blaze, he’d learned to release its energy in a variety of ways—slowly like a serpent slithering and coiling itself around a branch, waiting for its unsuspecting victim to come within range before crushing the life from it, or quickly, striking like a cobra and claiming its prey swiftly and smoothly. Each method brought its own level of satisfaction. His creation, the essence of what he’d become, of what they’d forced him to become, molded in the image he chose—no rules, no overseers, nothing to hinder him in any way.

Fire was his mistress, a beautiful dancer writhing and gyrating just for him. Every single day, he went through the motions at work waiting until he could be alone with his one true love. She had a mind and personality of her own. Depending on her mood, she could be kind and helpful. At other times, she offered companionship and security, but when unleashed like tonight, she sterilized and destroyed at his command.

He dropped the end of the joint on the ground and reached up to rub the muscles at the back of his neck no longer as tense as they’d been earlier. While he’d like another, he would wait until he got home. He still had work to do. He had to get rid of the vehicle before any one saw it. The bog was the perfect place.

He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and took out another cancer stick as his mother had called them. What the hell did she know? She’d bitched his father into an early grave and blamed him for it, just as she’d blamed Mack’s accident on him, before she’d complained herself into a grave of her own. Too bad he hadn’t been able to build a pyre like this for her. Instead, after a little slicing and dicing, he’d placed her in a trash bag in the ground, under her precious petunias, flowers he made sure he “watered” regularly. Knowing the insects would ravage her was satisfaction enough. She’d always been Polly Perfect, complaining about this and that, threatening to tell people about what she called his illness. Let her go ahead. The worms and beetles wouldn’t listen to her either.

Want to read more?

In Plain Sight, Book Three of the Vengeance Is Mine Series will be available next week!

Now check out the rest of this week’s teasers.

#MidWeekTease June 27, 2018

Posted in Tuesday Tales

Tuesday Tales: From the Word NAKED

New TT imageWelcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the place where books are born and raised. Each week, we add a scene to our on-going works-in-progress based on a word or picture prompt. This week, our word is NAKED.

I’m continuing with my historical romance, The Price of Courage, Book Two of the Canadiana Series. Today, we leave the ladies to their dinner preparations and see what Guy’s up to as he delivers his invitations.

Guy sat across the table from Remi Lalonde, the seigneur whose lands abutted his own, sipping a glass of warm caribou. Between the heat from the fireplace and the wine and cognac mixture, nothing—other  than his wife’s arms—could’ve warmed him so well. Was he getting soft in his old age?

“Old Man Winter is flexing his muscles today,” Remi said, shifting in his chair, his previously injured leg propped up on a stool. “The sisters did their best with my leg, but on days like this, it’s as if the cold attacks the very marrow of my bones. I’m considering selling my estate to Etienne Marois, my brother-in-law who’s been managing it for me ever since the injury limited my movements. A man who can barely sit a horse can’t do much when it comes to clearing land and building houses.”

“What would you do? Return to France?” Guy asked, his eyes narrowed. He’d assumed Remi was on his side, but perhaps he was wrong.

The man shook his head. “There’s nothing there for me and it’s almost as cold there in winter as here, not to mention the damp springs and autumns. No. I’m considering moving to Martinique where the winter never comes and the pain would be so much less.”

The naked longing on his face reminded Guy of his own aches and pains. He’d wintered on the island just last year while recovering. Then, he’d gone to France and fate had taken over. How quickly life can change, but he wouldn’t trade his new life for anything. He had the woman he’d always loved and a child on the way. What more could any man want?

“I’ve been there,” he said, sipping his drink once more. I recuperated from my own injuries in Saint Pierre. It’s a magnificent place, warmer than Marseilles, and its beauty far outweighs its dangers. There’s plenty of land to be had, and sugarcane grows well. You could maintain your status easily.”

“Dangers?” Remi asked frowning.

“You mean in addition to the hurricanes and tropical storms that can destroy everything in a matter of hours? I’ve never seen one, but the governor was telling me about waves so high, they completely overran a small island, leaving the soil barren because of the heavy salt content.”

“Mon Dieu! Why would anyone choose to live there?”

That’s it for this week! Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales


Posted in Midweek Tease

Midweek Tease: Opening Scene from Fire Angel, Book Two of the Vengeance Is Mine Series.

MWTease15Good morning. Welcome to the Midweek tease, made possible by Angelica Dawson. Each week, a group of talented authors share their work with you. I’m honored to be considered good enough to be part of this amazing group. The group is eclectic and there’s something for everyone.

This week, I’m sharing the revised Fire Angel, Book Two of the Vengeance is Mine Series, now, quite clearly a psychological thriller with a touch of romance. Today, I’m inviting you into the sick mind of the man behind the crime. When I had the opportunity to redo this novel, I knew I wanted to take my readers inside the mind of the killer. Enjoy–if you can!

Fire Angel“Vengeance is mine, says the Lord. Well, not tonight, Buddy,” he said, knowing no one could hear him, but loving the sound of his words. “It’s my turn to mete out justice.”

Never had he felt so strong, so powerful, so alive. He’d been trapped inside a chrysalis, waiting to become what he’d always been meant to be. Each of his senses was more attuned than it had ever been. He could hear the wings of the owl flapping as he chased his prey, see the chipmunk scurrying to get out of the clearing before the predator found it, even smell the tiny animal’s fear. His taste buds feasted on the heady, grass-like flavor of the joint, the smoke filling his lungs. Rubbing his chin, the tips of his fingers recognized the sandpaper grit on his cheeks from the five o’clock shadow there.

It had taken months to plot his revenge and weeks to decide on his methodology. He’d tested it when he had to, but for the most part, he’d hidden his true nature behind the façade society had given him. Now it was time to reveal himself.

He’d chosen his victims carefully. Each and every one of them had offended him in some way, and they would pay and pay dearly, none more so than the man who’d hit his dog and had driven off. He’d recognized the car. The son of a bitch hadn’t bothered to get the bumper fixed.

That night, with the merciless rain bearing down on him, he’d fallen to his knees and wept, until the sky had cleared, and the light of the full moon had turned him into living silver. He’d picked up the broken body of the only one left who’d loved him and under that silvered glow, he’d evolved, drawing strength from heaven itself. Vengeance was his for the taking, and take it he would. But he needed to do it right. Each and every death had to be planned and executed carefully.

No one had used this shack since old man Simmons had died in a supposed hunting accident four months ago. It appeared he’d shot himself when he tripped near a trapped raccoon. Who’d stunk the most? The dead man or the animal beside him? The scavengers must’ve had a field day. There was a lot of money to be made trapping animals and selling the pelts. That old man had no business criticizing others with his “holier than thou attitude” about humane methods and snapping traps before the animals could step in them. If he wanted to listen to a damn lecture, he would go back to school. It was amazing no one had killed the old bastard months earlier and saved him the trouble.

The place belonged to Simmons’s grandson now, and the man had put it up for sale last month forcing his hand, but the time was right. Everything was ready inside. He’d dropped off the supplies earlier, driven home, and then hiked back late this afternoon to set things in motion.

“Perfect night to die,” he mumbled, waiting for his prey to arrive.

Tonight, the blue moon, the second full moon in a month, the source of his power and energy, had risen right on time, refueling him. The sky was still clear and not a single leaf trembled, but dark clouds crowded the horizon. It would be at least a couple of hours before the rain came.

The sound of an engine in the distance told him the play was about to start. Tossing the butt next to the large rock where he’d been sitting, he ground the remnant into the earth with the heel of his boot and waited, watching the vehicle approach. The van stopped, and the driver got out.

“You must be Mack,” he said. “Nice to finally meet you. Why did you pick this place for a delivery? I damn near didn’t find it, and my boss would’ve been pissed. He’s got a thing about extending credit—prefers to be paid up front, you know?” He got out of the van.

“Bandit, relax. I’m good for it. This won’t take long. I told you. It’s nice and private. We don’t want anyone stumbling in on our deal.” He indicated the right bumper. “Have a run in with something?” he asked.

The young punk chuckled, sealing his fate.

“Hit something over on River Road last year. Could’ve been a dog or a cat. Stupid thing was sitting there just asking for it.” He shook his head. “Been meaning to have it fixed. It’s drivable, so I guess it doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “Speaking of money, you got mine? I’m on the clock here. I’ve got half a dozen deliveries to make tonight, and if I’m not back with the cash by ten, my ass is grass and my boss is the lawnmower. Get it?”

He chuckled. “Oh yes. I know exactly what you mean, pun and all. Come on inside. The place isn’t much, but I’ve got your money in there. Got time for a beer?”

The young man snorted and patted his large beer belly. “No, but I can always make time for what’s important. But I can only have one.”

He chortled. “One’s all it’ll take,” he muttered, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Fire Angel is available for only 99 cents USD from Amazon, or read free on KU.


Don’t forget to check out the rest of this week’s teasers. 

#MidWeekTease June 20, 2018

Posted in Uncategorized

Sunday Special: Happy Father’s Day

light sunset people water
Photo by Negative Space on

Wow! Talk about time flying by. It must be moving at WARP speed these days since we’re half way through June–almost halfway

through 2018.

Today is Father’s Day here. It doesn’t take much to be a father– a shot in the dark as they used to say–but it takes a very special man to be a dad, and that’s the kind of men we honor today.

On this day, we honor the men in our lives who have made a significant difference, men like my father, my husband, and all the others who put themselves out there to support their families in every way possible. They work to put food on the table and supply the day to day necessities, the things we all take for granted until we have to provide them ourselves.

action athletes ball barbed wires
Photo by Pixabay on

So here’s to the guy who changes diapers, the one who helps clean the house and do laundry, the one who does outside maintenance, and still has time to tie shoes or take the kids to the park. Here’s to the one who taught you to throw a ball, swim, or skate, the one who coaches soccer, T-ball, softball, baseball, hockey, and more. The one who umps or refs, long after his own kids aren’t playing anymore. Here’s to the guy who loves and will protect his little princesses with everything in him, and will stand by his sons through thick and thin.

woman holding her child walking near windmills
Photo by Josh Willink on

Here’s to the read dads out there, and the women who take on both roles, because sometimes a mom has to be a dad, too.

Happy Father’s Day!



Posted in Uncategorized

Friday’s Featured Author: Samantha Anne and her re-released novel, KIRBY

books in black wooden book shelf
Photo by Pixabay on

Join me in welcoming, Samantha Anne, a former Crimson Romance author like myself who’s elected to re-release her novel, Kirby.

Thanks for joining me today, Samantha. I know why I’ve decided to re-release my Crimson novels, but why did you choose to re-release Kirby?

I really wanted to give Kirby new life after my original publisher, Crimson Romance,
shut its doors earlier this year. It’s a really fun read that I’m happy to say has made quite
a few people giggle and happy-sigh! I decided to re-launch it on my own because there is
also so much more I can do with it now that I have the rights to myself.
I can certainly agree with that. What do you hope to do with Kirby now that the book is all yours again?

I’m working on adapting the story into a screenplay, because a lot of readers have said
that they can see it on screen (I admit, I can too!). I also want to ultimately release an
audiobook version, and – well, there’s one more surprise that I’m working on (at the
persistent request of readers who have already devoured Kirby), but you’ll have to wait
until the book comes out!

Everyone loves a surprise.  Any fun facts about Kirby that you would like to share?

• Kirby started out as a defunct screenplay that sat in the bottom of a blue bin in my
closet for close to five years. 2012’s So You Think You Can Write contest came
around, and I decided immediately that I wanted to participate. What ended up
happening was that Kirby was written from start to finish in 12 days!
• The man who inspired the hero (assuming he hasn’t tossed it, of course!) has not only
a copy of the original edition, but also has an early treatment that I wrote for the
screenplay. The latter was not my best work, so I’m fairly certain that made it into the
trash. But see below to find out who exactly inspired the book’s hero, Joe “AJ”

Interesting. It’s always nice to have someone to inspire a character.  Who inspired your  two main characters?
• Rachel was always meant to be an amalgam of myself (well, who I wanted to be) and
Anne Hathaway, though lately I’ve “dream casted” actress Jessica Stroup if it should
ever make it to screen.
• Joe “AJ” Pavon, forever known as Hottie McCoffeehouse in the pages of Kirby, was
100% inspired by Joe Manganiello. The teasing smile he gave me when I told him (I
fangirl-traveled to see him perform in a play in Connecticut) reinforced how happy I
am that I did. 😉

Meeting our heroes in real-life is certainly a thrill. How do you get inspired to write?

Sometimes, music does it. Other times, people-watching is a sure fire way to get me
going. Then of course there are times where inspiration pops up out of nowhere! Those
days are why I have a notebook on me at all times.
I find places can be great sources of inspiration.  What’s the best thing about being a writer?
The best thing for me is being able to clean my brain out on a daily basis. Sometimes, just
having the ability to write my thoughts out is a huge blessing. When someone reads it and either relates or enjoys it, well – that’s just ten times more awesome.
On that we can agree. Talking about your book with someone who read and enjoyed it is definitely the ultimate thrill.  What’s your advice for aspiring writers?
I tell everyone the same thing that was told to me: Write. Seek inspiration. Then write

Any final words?

Thanks so much for supporting the re-release of my first Contemporary
Romance and 2014 Rone Award Nominee, Kirby!

Kirby, is up for pre-sale. 


Kirby Front Cover 2018“What she wanted to find was her heart’s desire. What she found was her sassiest self – and Hottie McCoffeehouse.”
Rachel Sirianni is a twenty-seven-year-old native New Yorker with dreams of becoming an editor for Equinox Publishing, one of the top imprints in the city. And it seems she’s finally gotten her foot in the door, until one wild morning turns her fast track into an uphill climb.
Unable to pay her bills, she takes an unlikely second job to make ends meet and finds herself struggling to maintain two lives – her own, and that of her alter ego. Kirby is a sassy, imaginative, and extroverted fireball whom Rachel had no idea was lying dormant inside of her.
Enter Joe, a larger-than-life, brutally hot writer with a heart of gold. Rachel can’t seem to control herself around him, despite the fact that she’s sworn off men until she can get her career back on track. Their backgrounds and interests very nearly run parallel, and the Universe seems to keep pulling the pair together – in every aspect of Rachel’s life.
What happens when two worlds collide, particularly where it concerns Joe? The ride of her life may just lead to love – or it could lead back to the drawing board.

The Amazon Pre-Sale begins today June 15th! Click here to order:


“I’m screwed.” Rachel sat across a small round table from her best friend Camille, as they both sipped from two abundantly filled glasses of riesling. Camille raised an eyebrow and gave her a smirk. “You make it sound like a bad thing.” Rachel pursed her lips and fought a smile. “Cami, I’m serious! I’m only making a dollar more an hour than I was at StarChefs.” “I thought we were here to celebrate,” Camille teased, “You’re in the company you’ve wanted to work for since freshman year. So you’ve got to start back at the beginning. Suck it up and wow them, now! And if that doesn’t work, just sleep your way to the top.” Rachel snickered and tilted her head to one side. “Cami, please.” Camille gave Rachel a wink and turned to hail their waiter. “Don’t you worry Rach, we’ll make this week disappear and you can start fresh on Monday.” Rachel smiled at her best friend. Camille had just turned thirty, and somehow seemed more worldly than most women ten years her senior. The fact that she was a fashion photographer might have had something to do with it. She’d been to many different countries, and had met some of the world’s most interesting people. The way Cami told it, the most interesting were usually found in back alley bars, local watering holes, and hole-in-the-wall pubs. She’d seen it all, done it all, and captured it all. Buying Cami a glass of wine would get you hours of some of the best stories ever told — and Rachel got to hear them all for free. A waiter approached and filled their glasses once more. Camille held her glass up to toast Rachel. “To the finest junior editor the publishing world has ever seen,” she announced with a smile, tossing her thick ash blond locks behind her shoulder. Rachel blushed. “The finest almost junior editor.” “Semantics,” Camille replied with a sly smile, “Your future is set, and I say that it’s so. Now clink my glass and drink already!” Rachel laughed and saluted her buddy, taking a long, satisfying sip. Camille studied her closely, and allowed herself a serious moment. “Honey, listen,” she said, placing a comforting hand on Rachel’s forearm, “This may be a setback, but it’s a minor one. I know how talented you are, and I know how much you love books and the business. You will get the position you were hired for; I know it. You’re already a star, now you’ve just got to prove it.” Rachel smiled. “Thanks, Cam. And thanks for dinner! I’m not going to need to eat until Monday! Then again, I can’t really afford to.”
“Now, now, enough of the pity party,” Camille chided, “You know if you need money I
can lend it to you. It comes with an open-ended payback policy, and zero interest.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to have to find another job again.”
Rachel breathed a heavy sigh at the mention of a second job; she was so tired of it! Losing sleep
to barely get by wasn’t her idea of living life. She’d expected to have that under control by now.
But, it was the price one often paid to live their dream.
“It’s only six months,” Camille insisted, “You can make it. You’ll be fine by the end of
the year.”
Rachel leaned back, stretching her arms. “God, I hope so. I’m pretty much over the four
hours of sleep routine.”
Cami took a long sip from her wine glass. “You can get through it. What you can’t do,
however, is be late again.”
Rachel nodded, giving a yawn. “Let’s call it a night. Or at least let’s get a bottle to go and
watch some movies at my place.”
“Is the roommate home?”
“Nope, she just left on an improv tour.”
Camille stood. “Throw in a couple of Diane Keaton movies and I’m there.”
Rachel grinned. “Annie Hall?”
“Annie Hall.”

SM_picAbout the Author:

Samantha Anne is the author of Kirby and Company Ink (nominated for a 2014 Rone Award and a 2016 Rone Award Finalist, respectively) and has been writing Contemporary Romance since 2013. She grew up writing fan fiction for her friends (dubbed ‘Daydreams’) and their first book boyfriends, as a result, included the likes of Joey McIntyre, Kevin Richardson, and JC Chasez.
Her writing style was built on a healthy diet of Anne Rice, Nora Ephron, Amy Heckerling, GarryMarshall twisted with the comedic stylings of Mel Brooks and National Lampoon set to the tune of The Ramones, David Bowie, Bon Jovi, and Joan Jett, and it often shows in her work.
When she’s not writing about flawed heroines and their charming love interests, Samantha loves playing bass, baking, feeding her friends, podcasting, singing and drowning in Disney movies and 80’s/90’s pop culture. Learn more about her at

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Posted in Special days

Thursday Treat: Small Town Book Fair

Over the last couple of months, it’s been my honor and privilege to be part of international books fairs and this month that continues with the Small Town Book Fair.

Banner Small Town Book Fair

Romance novels to fall in love with!

There’s nothing like escaping to a story set in a small town – somewhere in this beautiful world. Today we have a collection of Small Town Romances written by very talented authors.

We have stories from across the world, from New Zealand and Australia, to the States and Canada – I’m sure you’ll find some European stories in there as well. Books are free or priced between $0.99-$2.99 for the duration of the promotion.

All of the books available can be found here.

On His WatchI’m very pleased to offer my romantic thriller, On His Watch, Book One of the Vengeance Is Mine Series  for this book fair.  I have no doubt you’ll find excellent stories ideal for summer reading. So jump on board and pick up a book or two. The prices are perfect!

Blurb from On His Watch

You can’t outrun the past.
On leave from the FBI, Special Agent Jason Spark is enjoying some welcome peace and quiet when he’s called on to help the local sheriff’s department check out a 911 call. Expecting a prank or misdial, he unwittingly steps into a horrifying bloodbath straight out of a Hollywood slasher movie, complete with clues scrawled on the wall.
Nikki Hart’s husband and son are killed, but she survives, badly beaten and barely clinging to life in a coma. When she awakens, she doesn’t know her name, recognize her face, or remember anything about herself and her past. Terrified, and unsure of whom to trust, she clings to the memory of the angel who comforted her in her darkest moments.
The investigation turns up a prime suspect: The Butcher, an elusive hired assassin for the Sicilian mob. As the news of Nikki’s recovery spreads, putting her in this ruthless killer’s sights again, Jason will do whatever it takes to protect the woman he’s learning to love.
Nikki’s beginning to believe Jason might be the angel who protected her in her dreams. But when she learns about the secret role he played in the worst day of her life, can she ever forgive him?


Posted in Midweek Tease

Midweek Tease: The Scope of the Crime from On His Watch

MWTease15Welcome to this week’s midweek tease. This is the last post from On His Watch, Book One of the Vengeance Is Mine Series and picks up where last week ended, finishing the opening chapter of the book.

Midweek Tease is made possible through the efforts of Angelica Dawson and the authors who share a peek at their work with you. We are a diverse group.

This week’s content contains graphic descriptions.

Thoughts of the child in her belly, the child who’d never nuzzle at her breast, filled her with sadness. Danny would never hit a grand slam. Mandy would never attend the sleepover. Tears of hopelessness trickled down her cheeks, and her eyes closed. The sound of the door opening roused her, and she forced her eyelids open once more.

On His Watch“Good job.” Another man closed the door to the garage and stepped farther into the kitchen. “Our employer is pleased.” He nodded his head at something on the wall behind her. “It’s what we were told to print. We probably should have written it at the clinic, too, but it’s too late to go back. Everything we need is in the safe in the den. The good doctor was most accommodating when we promised to spare his wife and children.” He laughed. “The man was a fool.”

He spoke with an accent Nikki couldn’t place, and when he walked toward her, she closed her eyes, hoping he’d think her dead and leave her alone. A bone-chilling cold had invaded her body, increasing her agony, and it was almost impossible to keep from trembling. She prayed it would be over soon.

The unmistakable crunch of someone taking a bite out of one of the apples she kept in a bowl on the counter echoed in the room. Unexpectedly, a boot caught her in the ribs, and flipped her over onto her back. Instinctively, she gripped the phone tighter. She swallowed a groan, kept her eyes closed, and held onto consciousness by the thinnest of threads. It was difficult to concentrate on what the men were saying.

“Boss, there’s no one upstairs. The little girl’s room is empty, the bed made. She’s not here. I tossed the master bedroom while I was up there, picked up some jewelry and a little money. For a rich man, he didn’t live very high off the hog. Are you sure we got the right guy?”

Joy filled her, and she fought not to react to the news. They hadn’t found Mandy. Her beautiful little girl would survive.

The man Leroy had called “Boss” cursed. “Of course we have the right man, you moron. We were told to kill everyone in the house. Since she’s not here … The safe is in the den behind the family portrait. Rather fitting, don’t you think? Go and get what we came for.”

Fading footsteps indicated the two men had left. Thinking herself alone, Nikki released the breath she’d been holding and moaned softly. Sudden pain in her hand forced her eyes open, and she yelped. The man’s boot crushed the fingers of her left hand beneath it.

“Not dead yet, I see. Too bad. This might hurt a bit, sweetheart, but orders are orders.”

The pain in her hand eased slightly as he moved his foot and knelt down beside her. His lips twisted into a cruel smile. Nikki looked directly into the man’s eyes—gray eyes, cold and dead like a shark’s. He lifted what she was sure was a broken hand and tried to remove her diamond ring from her swollen finger. Excruciating pain filled her, and she saw black.

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying on her right side, staring at a finger on the floor inches from her face. Its manicured nail seemed strangely familiar. Numbness warred with cold and pain. Why was she still conscious, why wasn’t she dead—dead like her husband, her son, and her unborn baby? The man still knelt beside her.

“Still not dead? I admire a woman with stamina. The owner of this pretty little bauble wants it back. I’ll admit the bastard had taste. You’re certainly worth dying for. How about a last kiss, pretty one? A little blood doesn’t bother me.”

He bent forward and took her mouth in a cruel, punishing kiss, biting her lip, forcing his tongue inside, and her stomach roiled, filling her mouth with bile.

“Son of a bitch!” he cried, pulling away from her and spitting the offending liquid onto her face where it mixed with Danny’s blood and her tears. “You’ll pay for that!”

With her right hand trapped under the weight of her body, she instinctively rolled herself into the fetal position, but the heavy boots found their targets—her abdomen, her chest, and her face. Agony filled her and one powerful blow flipped her onto her left side. As she spiraled down a deep hole, the world went black.

Will Nikki survive? of course she will. There’s no story without her, but who will find those who assaulted her and figure out why it was done?

On His Watch is available for Amazon for only 99 cents or is free to read with KU.

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#MidWeekTease June 13, 2018