Official Blog for the Animated Insights of Shannon Muir: Animation Pro and Author

An animation professional known for her desire to give forward to pros and fans alike, Shannon has expanded her reach to writing prose, and showcasing those authors as well. Read interviews and guest posts from INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS, plus Shannon's own content.

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INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS FLASHBACK: BLOG TOUR – All the Wounds in Shadow

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Bewitching Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

 

allthewoundsinshadowcover

All the Wounds in Shadow

The Healing Edge

Book Two

Anise Eden

 

Genre: Paranormal Romance/Romantic Suspense

 

Publisher: Diversion Publishing

 

Date of Publication: August 23, 2016

 

ISBN:  978-1682302873

ASIN: B01G5Y6GO8

 

Number of pages: 240

Word Count: 81,645

 

Book Description:

 

For fans of Karen Robards and Shiloh Walker, Anise Eden brings us the mesmerizing sequel to her paranormal romantic suspense novel All the Broken Places.

 

Cate’s enemies aren’t just surrounding her―they’re inside her head.

 

Therapist Cate Duncan has just accepted a job with the MacGregor Group, a unique collective of alternative healers. She’s excited by the prospect of honing her empathic healing techniques among others like herself―aura readers, telepaths, crystal healers, and more. The fact that Cate just started dating Ben, her magnetic new boss, is an added bonus.

 

Before Cate can settle into her new routine, the poisoning of a prominent neuroscientist draws the entire MacGregor Group into both a federal investigation and an even more insidious threat. Protected by Ben’s former Marine Corps unit, Cate and her colleagues must use their alternative healing methods to solve the crime as their patient clings to life. The responsibility of discovering crucial information falls to Cate and her parapsychological powers.

 

But for Cate, unraveling the mystery means reopening wounds that had just begun to heal―and in the environment of the Marine Corps unit, differences between Cate and Ben become clearer, straining their budding romance. When a new crisis looms, Cate must trust in her colleagues’ gifts and the strength of Ben’s love, finding the courage to confront her deepest and most terrifying demons―or her own life will be at risk.

 

Amazon US Paperback     Kindle     Amazon UK Paperback

 

BN Paperback     Nook     Kobo     iTunes

 

Google Play     IndieBound     Ganxy

 

 

About the Author:

 

Author Anise Eden writes The Healing Edge paranormal romantic suspense series for Diversion Books. She spends most of her time tucked away in her writing nook imagining things that aren’t there. On those rare occasions when she emerges from seclusion, Anise may be spotted in coffee shops, staring at her laptop screen and silently moving her lips as she reviews bits of dialogue. Although Anise claims that she’s the one in charge, the characters in her head do sometimes make her laugh out loud at inappropriate moments.

 

Visit her online at http://aniseeden.com

 

http://twitter.com/aniseeden

 

http://facebook.com/authoraniseeden

 

http://goodreads.com/aniseeden

 

Excerpt

In my dream, only the crabs’ lives were in jeopardy. Mom and I chose a spot on the pier that was shaded by a nearby oak, hoping for some relief from the humid heat. The buzzing and clicking of crickets and cicadas swelled as the summer afternoon ripened.

“Hold it perfectly still, Catie,” Mom whispered. “We want them to think it’s just a strange-looking plant.”

“I’m trying.” But after an hour, my arm ached from holding the crab net steady. “Maybe the bait isn’t rotten enough to attract them.”

Mom jiggled the string with the chicken neck tied to the end, making it dance just beneath the water’s surface. “Should I pull it out so you can check it?”

“Ew, gross!” I grimaced. “No thanks. I believe you.”

Suddenly, her whole body tensed. “Look, there’s one!”

The water was green and nearly opaque with algae. Staring down, I could just make out the ghostly limbs of a blue crab swimming up toward the bait.

“Wait until he’s really absorbed in what he’s doing and then scoop him up,” she murmured. “Not too quickly, though. You don’t want to scare him.”

“Right.” Once the crab started attacking the chicken neck, I slid the net beneath him and slowly lifted it to the surface.

“You got him!” Mom jumped to her feet. “Pull him out, and let’s have a look!”

“He feels really heavy!” We exchanged smiles of victory as I raised the dripping net up to eye level.

“Oh, no,” Mom said. “It’s beautiful, a great catch. But we have to throw it back.”

“Don’t say that!” I moaned. “Why?”

“It’s a female. It’s poisonous.”

I examined the crab. She was right: it had a full, rounded apron. With a sigh, I tossed the crab back into the water. “Females aren’t poisonous, Mom, just illegal to catch. You know that.”

“Whatever you say.” Mom walked over to the edge of the pier and turned around to face me. “I have to go now. Don’t follow me.” Before I could even grasp what she was doing, she had folded her arms across her chest, closed her eyes, and tilted her stiffened body backwards into the water.

“Mom!” I leapt forward, reaching the edge of the pier just as she hit the surface with a sharp splash. Remembering my lifeguard training, I got down on my belly, lay on the wooden planks, and thrust my arm into the water. But she was already out of reach.

I grabbed the crab net and plunged the handle down towards her, but she kept her arms folded, eyes closed. “Mom, grab the handle!” I cried out, but she kept sinking. Within seconds she was nothing more than a whitish blur.

“Don’t worry! I’m coming!” Screw lifeguard training, I thought as I kicked off my shoes and prepared to go in after her. But just as I was about to dive, something dragged me backwards by the waist.

I looked down to find a man’s arm wrapped around me—a man’s arm in a blue suit jacket. A familiar voice said, “Oh no you don’t.”

“Ben, let go of me!” I struggled to free myself from his hold. Then I realized that I was yelling out loud, awake and in bed, thrashing about and wrestling with the python of sheets tangled around me. My cell phone beeped and vibrated along the surface of the bedside table as the alarm went off. Meanwhile, my heart pounded in my throat. In my mind’s eye, all I could see was my mother sinking further and further into the river.

Goddammit, I thought, vigorously rubbing the tears from my eyes. Would my dreams ever stop transforming into nightmares—reminders that I had failed to see that my mother was in crisis, that I had failed to save her?

I strained to hear Ben bounding up the stairs to see what the yelling was about, but there was only silence. Had I only cried out in my dream? “Ben?” I called, loudly enough for him to hear me if he was awake. Still no response.

So he was still asleep. That was odd. Ben told me he’d never lost the early-riser habit he had developed in the Marine Corps. I turned off my cell phone alarm, put on my robe and slippers, and padded down the stairs. But he wasn’t on the sofa, where I’d left him the night before. In fact, he was nowhere.

I scanned the first floor of my tiny row house and found a note he’d left on the coffee table. “Had to go in early. See you at work. Bring a bag packed for a few days.”

Well, that’s cryptic, I thought as a bud of irritation formed. I flopped down on the couch and breathed slowly, trying to bring my heart rate back down to normal after the dream I’d had. “Bring a bag packed for a few days.” But packed for what? Given how focused he was on my training, I somehow doubted that Ben was planning a romantic getaway.

I tried Ben’s cell. No answer. I tried Pete’s cell. Again, no answer. Whatever was happening at the office, it must have been keeping them both occupied.

At least I had another way to find out what was going on with Ben. I sat cross-legged on the couch. With my hands resting on my knees, I closed my eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. Then I pictured the filament of light that connected my heart to Ben’s, and focused my mind.

In an instant, the psychic portal between us opened. As my consciousness reached out and touched his, I fell back against the couch, struck by the intensity of his emotions. He was worried about something or someone, and there was a definite sense of urgency. Still, there was no actual fear. That told me that while some kind of crisis was going on, at least Ben was safe.

Then his feelings for me crashed through the portal, flooding me. Whatever else he was dealing with, I was on his mind. Once again I was overwhelmed by the strength of his feelings. Although I knew the portal only flowed one way, I tried to send my own feelings back in his direction. I pulled my consciousness back into my body and opened my eyes.

My gaze immediately settled upon my right hand, and the exquisite ring Ben had given me the day before. The gold band was carved to look like two birds in flight, holding a luminous round piece of Scottish agate with their beaks and the tips of their wings. He’d wanted to give me something concrete to remind me of how he felt about me when he wasn’t there, to reassure me when I had worries or doubts. A soft warmth bloomed in my chest as I twirled the ring slowly around my finger, admiring its craftsmanship. We’d agreed that I would decide when to tell people that the ring was from him—and that we were dating. In the meantime, we were keeping both things a secret. I wasn’t quite ready to go public with our new relationship, and Ben didn’t want me to feel any pressure.

As I went upstairs and laid my suitcase open on the bed, I thought about my disturbing dream. My mother’s fall into the water was obviously a reference to her suicide three months before. But the poisonous female crab? And Ben stopping me from saving someone’s life? I knew he didn’t like it when I put myself in danger, but he’d never just let someone drown.

Then again, maybe there’s nothing to decipher, I told myself. Sometimes a dream is just a dream. I tried to content myself with that thought as I showered, dressed, and packed in a hurry. I was anxious to get to the office and find out where we were going—and what crisis had made Ben leave that morning without so much as giving me a kiss good-bye.

 

Playlist:

 

“One And Only” – Adele
“Dindi” – Joseh Garcia
“I’ll Be Seeing You” – Billie Holiday
“Fight Song” – Rachel Platten
“My Baby Just Cares for Me” – Nina Simone
“I’m Kissing You” – Des’ree
“Sabotage” – Beastie Boys
“It Had to Be You” – Frank Sinatra

Link to playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/1246305249/playlist/2ZVEmIvSlxuSNZo39pRIdm

Spotify embed code for playlist

 

Tour giveaway

 

10 ebooks in either Kindle or Nook copies will be gifted through Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

 

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INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS FLASHBACK: BLOG TOUR – Sacred Legacy

 

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Bewitching Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

SACREDLEGACYCOVEER

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

 

Sacred Legacy

The Branded Trilogy

Book 3

Kat Flannery

 

Genre: Historical western paranormal romance

 

Publisher: Imajin Books

 

Date of Publication: July 31, 2016

 

Number of pages: 175

Word Count: 72,000

 

Cover Artist: Ryan Thomas Doan

 

Book Description:

 

Tsura is a Chuvani, and with that comes great power…

 

Desperate to escape the memories that haunt her, Tsura Harris returns to Jamestown, the very place her mother forbade her to go. A gifted Chuvani, Tsura has sworn off all magick, thus making her vulnerable to the Renoldi clan, who wish to kill her and take the pendant that is the key to her power.

 

Red Wolf is hell-bent on living his life on the sea, until he runs into Tsura on the docks. His pride wounded from her rejection years before, he hoped to never see her again. But when the evil Corsair, Romulus Black, demands to know where she is, Red Wolf must protect her, as is his duty.

 

But is duty and honor his only reason, or does Red Wolf still carry a flame of love in his heart? And will Tsura finally discover her destiny?

 

Amazon     Amazon.co.uk     Amazon.ca

 

INTERVIEW WITH THE AUTHOR

What initially got you interested in writing?

I’ve always loved to write. It has been a part of me since I was a little girl. I grew up listening to music. It was always played in the house, at my grandparents, aunts and uncles. I remember at an early age listening to the words and understanding the sorrow, sadness, or happiness within them. These were small stories played out in song. I knew then that I wanted to tell stories that touched people’s lives.

How did you decide to make the move into being a published author?

I always knew that was what I wanted to do. I worked very hard, took rejection after rejection, and still sent out manuscripts. The criticism an author takes is a part of the job, and I grew better because of it. I wouldn’t change a thing.

What do you want readers to take away from reading your works?

I want readers to feel while reading my books. I want them to be placed within my characters lives and to experience the story with them. I’d love for them to feel contentment, and happiness when finishing one of my novels.

What do you find most rewarding about writing?

My readers. I cannot express enough how much a kind review means, or when I get emailed about how much they loved my book. Those are the very reason I write. It always places a smile upon my face. I adore my readers.

What do you find most challenging about writing?

When I have nothing and by this I mean when I am stuck halfway through the story and have to stop to figure it all out. This is so frustrating especially when I’m so invested in my characters and just want to tell their story.

What advice would you give to people want to enter the field?

Learn the craft. Research, talk to other authors know what you are doing and how to conduct yourself. Learn about the publishing industry and how publishers work. Have a thick skin. Authors take scrutiny all of the time. There are bad reviews, not everyone is going to like your book. Rejections they’re a part of the job as well.

What ways can readers connect with you?

Visit Kat at: www.katflannerybooks.com

Find her on Facebook: Kat Flannery, author

Follow her on Twitter: @KatFlannery1

 

 EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK

CHAPTER ONE SACRED LEGACY

 

Jamestown, Virginia, July 1740

 

Tsura Harris lifted the hem of her green skirt and stepped up onto the wooden plank. She clutched her reticule in her right hand and reached for the rope with her left. The planked bridge swayed as the boat rocked against the seas. She stared at the water below. White-capped waves crashed along the ship’s hull, rocking the boat. She inhaled, forced her chin up, and took another step. She walked the short distance to the boardwalk, releasing the breath she’d held when her boot touched land. She planted both feet upon the wooden dock and set her shoulders, but the reminder of why she was here intensified the weight upon her chest. Despair was her shadow, and it was with her today.

“Sister!”

Her brother’s deep, masculine shout came from above.

She shaded her eyes from the hot afternoon sun and peered up at him. His stature always shocked her. Micah Walker was six foot with broad shoulders and strong arms, a spitting image of their father, Kade. His white shirt gaped open to show the tanned skin beneath, a sign of too many days out on the water. Long blond hair waved in the breeze. Her handsome brother had his pick of the ladies, but still hadn’t settled down. It was a shame. She knew he wanted children and a wife of his own, but his heart belonged to the sea and time would lend him those favors only when he was ready.

“You must wait,” he called and raced past his men carrying crates of goods onto the wharf.

She placed her bag onto the wooden walk and clasped her gloved hands together.

He reached her, his cheeks glowing and dark eyes lit with mischief. Before she could discourage him, he picked her up and swung her around. Her boots kicked the bag, knocking it over, as his strong arms held her tight.

Micah had always been affectionate. He never shied away from holding her hand, kissing her cheek, or teasing her like a brother would. He’d come to her side when she needed him the most. When her life had fallen apart, and she couldn’t see past her own misery to pick herself up. He had carried her, and she loved him for it.

“You cannot go off without wishing me well.” He smiled down at her.

“If you would simply release me, I’d be able to make it so,” she retorted. He was the only one, aside from her mother and father, who she allowed to touch her.

“Very well, nit.” He set her in front of him. The nickname he used for her was one of endearment and came from her pestering him as a child.

“Thank you.” She smoothed her skirt before bringing her eyes to meet his.

“You do not need to do this.”

She glanced away unable to stare at him any longer.

“Come sail with me.”

She shook her head. The urge to leave caused her legs to shake. She couldn’t be around him any longer. His cheerful disposition haunted her and made her think of things she’d rather forget.

“I know you don’t want to speak of this, but—”

“No, Micah.”

“Tsura, you need to forgive—”

“Forgiveness is not within my heart.”

“It surely is.”

She shook her head, careful not to release the many pins holding her thick corkscrew curls in a loose chignon.

“It is in all of us.”

She glared at her brother.

“Do not speak to me of forgiveness, brother. My heart is cold to it.”

His dark eyes watered, and she knew her words had hurt him, but she didn’t care. It was better this way—it was easier.

“Will you not reconsider?”

“No.”

“Please stay. I will protect you.”

Protection was not what she needed. She could care less if she died. It’d be a relief from the constant pain she felt each day.

“I should’ve taken you to mother and father.”

“Do not speak to them of my presence here.”

“They will understand.”

“Not one word.”

Micah sighed. “As you wish.”

“I must go.” Anger pressed on her spine, and she straightened.

His shoulders dropped.

“Be safe. Trust no one.”

She nodded.

“I port back in Jamestown one month to this day. You will be here.”

It was not a question, and she didn’t know if a month would be enough. Would the time between then and now ever fade from her soul? Would she be ready to return? She didn’t know if she could go back and so she didn’t answer.

“Hiram knows of you coming?”

“He does.”

“Very well.” He straightened and smiled. “Know that I love you.”

She fought the tears. If Micah saw one ounce of sadness within her, he’d throw her back aboard the Jade and take her with him.

“As I you.” She refused to say the words.

He picked up her bag and handed it to her.

“Thank you. Now go. You have work to do and whores to see.” She smirked.

“Ah, that I do.” He pulled her into a final embrace. “You will find your way. I am sure of it.” He held her away from him, and his eyes searched hers. “Remember who you are.”

She pressed on his chest and stepped out of his embrace. She couldn’t help the furrow of her brow or the set of her chin. The reminders of the life she led were never to be forgotten, and because of that she’d be forever lost.

Micah sensed the change in her and left it alone. He bowed, and with a final kiss to her forehead he walked away.

She turned, unable to watch him go, raised to believe it was a sign of weakness, of regret to watch one leave your life. This was meant to be. The world around her had tilted, and even though she wanted nothing more than to go back in time to the lavish house on the hill where she’d felt content, where laughter was but an expression upon her lips, she could not. What had been was no more, and she’d do right to remember it. One year had passed, but the ache inside her soul still remained.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

KatFlanneryandMaddy
Kat Flannery’s love of history shows in her novels. She is an avid reader of historical, suspense, paranormal, and romance. She has her Certificate in Freelance and Business Writing. A member of many writing groups, Kat enjoys promoting other authors on her blog. She’s been published in numerous periodicals throughout her career.

Her debut novel CHASING CLOVERS has been an Amazon Top 100 Paid bestseller. LAKOTA HONOR and BLOOD CURSE (Branded Trilogy) are Kat’s two award-winning novels and HAZARDOUS UNIONS is Kat’s first novella. Kat is currently hard at work on her next book.

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Paris Runaway Cover

INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS FLASHBACK: BLOG TOUR – Paris Runaway

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Pump Up Your Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

 

We’re happy to be hosting Paulita Kincer on her PARIS RUNAWAY Virtual Book Tour today!

 

Title:
Paris Runaway
Author: Paulita Kincer
Publisher: Oblique Press
Pages: 256
Genre: Women’s Fiction
When
divorced mom Sadie Ford realizes her 17-year-old daughter Scarlett has run away
to Paris all she can imagine are terrorist bombings and sex slaves. After
learning her daughter chased a French exchange student home, Sadie hops on the
next plane in pursuit. She joins forces with the boy’s father, Auguste, and the
two attempt to find the missing teens. The chase takes Sadie and Auguste to the
seedier side of Marseille, where their own connection is ignited. Since the
divorce, Sadie has devoted herself to raising kids and putting her dreams on
hold, but when her daughter needs her most, Sadie finds that concrete barrier
to life beginning to crack. In her journey, she learns the difference between
watching the hours pass and living.

For More
Information

Interview with the Author:

What initially got you interested in writing?

I can’t keep myself from writing. Since I was a little girl, I have spent hours writing down my imaginings, creating characters and scenarios that I would love to happen. I’m just in love with words too and if I manage to describe a scene perfectly, I’m thrilled. When I was in 5th grade, the teacher went around the room asking us each to say what we wanted to be when we grew up. I hung my head, almost in shame, and said, “A writer.” I don’t know why it embarrassed me that I wanted to be a writer. Maybe I knew at a young age that the odds of making a living as a writer are slim. Luckily, I have some day jobs that allow me time to write.

How did you decide to make the move into being a published author?

I had written three novels, and each time I diligently sent them off to agents. Authors search for agents who then sell their novels to publishers, so agents are the gatekeepers.

I received a lot of requests from agents for my novels, but none of them had offered to represent me. Finally, I received a rejection from a New York agent for my novel Trail Mix, which is about two women whose children are growing up and moving on. The women are trying to figure out what their lives should be once their primary role of mother is gone. So they decide to hike the Appalachian Trail to discover who they are. The New York agent and her assistant replied that they enjoyed my writing, but they thought it was sad that the women didn’t know what to do with their lives after their children moved on.

That statement made me blow my top. I was surrounded by women going through that exact scenario. I realized that the New York agents might not be able to relate to the audience I sought to reach. That’s when I published my first novel. Paris Runaway is my fourth novel.

What do you want readers to take away from reading your works?

I want readers to escape for a little while, to disappear with the characters, wherever they are traveling, which is usually France in my novels. But there are deeper meanings. In Paris Runaway, the message is a clear warning to mothers who put their lives on hold while raising children. This is it – the only life we get, so we’d better get the most of it, while still taking care of our children.

What do you find most rewarding about writing?

Finishing a story is very rewarding. Looking at all those words, all those chapters, and knowing that I created a story that readers can dive into. I love the idea that my words can work like a transporter from Star Trek and take the reader from their home or their job to a whole new world.

What do you find most challenging about writing?

The most challenging part of writing is the part where I sit down and write, rather than simply talking about the story or brainstorming with writing friends.

What advice would you give to people want to enter the field?

If you have a book in you, the only way to prove it is to write it. Everyone has reasons not to write – life is busy with kids and jobs and relationships – but if you want to be an author, you have to write.

What ways can readers connect with you?

The best way to connect with me is to read my novels. I think that gives readers some real insight into my psyche. I also write a blog and post several times each week – about France, about raising kids, about books I enjoy. The blog is at paulita-ponderings.blogspot.com. I have an author page on Facebook at PaulitaKincerWriter. And, of course, I’m on Twitter too @paulitakincer.

 

Book Excerpt:

I knocked
on one apartment door that had a wreath hanging on it. It could still be his
door, I justified. Maybe Monsieur Rollande liked to decorate. Avoiding the
wreath, I rapped my knuckles against the worn wood. Maybe Monsieur Rollande
remarried and his new wife chose the wreath of dark-green leaves topped by lily
of the valley with its tiny white, bell-shaped flowers. When I got no response,
I walked to the door opposite. No wreath and no sounds from within. I knocked
three sharp thumps and waited, but heard no squeaking of the floor as someone
moved toward the door. I sighed. No one home again.
There
are worse places to wait,
I thought as I heard a louder crack of thunder from outside. The sky had
been threatening rain all morning, and apparently the clouds now delivered on
their threat. I imagined myself standing outside the gate without buttons to
push as the rain soaked me through the t-shirt, jeans and thin cardigan.
I assessed
the landing where I could be waiting for most of the day. A thick wool rug
covered the floor and a small table fit flush against the wall with a flat
back. The other half curled out in a semi-circle. On the table sat a round
fishbowl with aqua-colored rocks in the bottom. A goldfish swished back and
forth in the dim light. How strange, I thought, as I became entranced
watching the fish make his circles, pausing to open and close his mouth in my
direction a few seconds before swimming around again.
I sank to
the floor with my back against the wall, like the little table. I would be able
to hear or see either door if it should open. I might as well rest my tired
feet. I debated undoing those ankle straps. But I decided to simply rub at the
sore spots while leaving the sandals buckled. Who knew when I’d have to make a
dash to catch someone?
I sat
where I could gaze at the fish, and his endless rounds made me feel calm. I
could feel my breath becoming slower and deeper. I knew I’d find Scarlett
today; I just needed to be patient. Slow and steady, I told myself as I became
more mesmerized with the striking orange fish.
Suddenly
the fish ducked inside one of his faux coral hiding spots. I hadn’t moved or
startled him. I glanced around, moving only my eyes, and I saw the reason for
the fish’s abrupt disappearance.  A
handsome black-and-white cat crawled stealthily up the stairs. His front paws
perched on the top step, and his nose and eyes just peeked between the paws.
The rest of his body must be poised on the stairs below, ready to pounce on the
table and snatch up the fish.
The cat
moved only his eyes too, but they found me, and he froze. I was going to ruin
his attempt at breakfast. I smiled. I missed my own cat Puck. His warmth on my
lap, the way his purring could put me into a trance of well-being. This cat on
the stairs seemed to have accepted the fact that an actual person sat in the
stairwell. His eyes locked with mine, and I saw his body relax. He would not
need to pounce after all. He turned to look at the fish bowl, but the wise
goldfish remained hidden.
“It’s
okay,” I said. I held out my hand, palm up, toward the cat. “Here, kitty. Come
see me.” I didn’t have anything to offer him, but if he smelled my hand, he
might let me pet him, rub my hand over his soft fur, gain some sort of relief
from contact with another living creature.
“Come on,
boy,” I said, making an assumption about his gender. It didn’t matter because
the cat probably didn’t understand English anyway. My voice was soft and
soothing as I tried to coax him. Suddenly, a desire overwhelmed me to hold a
cat on my lap, stroke his soft back, and feel his purr kick in and vibrate
against me. Even a cat that didn’t understand English must sense distress and
want to comfort a human. To feel some sort of release from the past two days
would be such a respite.
“It’s
okay; you’re safe,” I said. “Come on.” I had moved from sitting on the floor to
perching on my knees as I held my hand closer to the cat. Suddenly, the cat
streaked past me. I expected it to stop abruptly at the closed door of the
apartment, but it continued to zoom through the legs of a man and down the
hallway beyond. The door stood open now when it had definitely been closed the
whole time I waited.
I looked
up from the floor, drinking in the man whose brown leather Lacoste shoes stood
before me. The little alligator near the heel marked them as Lacoste, and I
couldn’t decide if I would adore or detest the pomposity of the shoes.
Brown
jeans encased the man’s long legs, and he wore a white broadcloth shirt
unbuttoned at the top. A loose cotton scarf with blue and gold draped loosely
around his neck.
“Are you
trying to seduce my cat?” The timbre of his deep voice, still thick with sleep,
mixed with the French accent on the English words sent a quiver through me. His
words sounded like a promise and a warning.
“Seduce?”
My voice rose at the end of the word and came out like an irritating crow’s
caw, in comparison to his smooth accent.
I jumped
to my feet, feeling the blush rise from the v of my t-shirt up my neck to my
face. “Bonjour,” I mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes. I couldn’t believe he’d
seen me talking to the cat – so naked and vulnerable. This man observed me
being, well, me.
I
remembered why I sat on his doorstep as I turned toward him. “I’m looking for
Monsieur Rollande.”
“That is
me,” he said, in his slight French accent. A little thrill and relief suddenly
washed over me.
“Oh,
Monsieur Rollande, I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m looking for your son, Luc. I
think my daughter Scarlett is with him, at least, I hope she is. She ran away
from home. In Florida … in the United States. She said she was going to stay
with her dad, but then he called, and he hadn’t seen her, and she had these
strange charges on her credit card, and we found out she had flown to Paris to
follow Luc, and I hadn’t even ever met Luc, so I had no idea. I just got on a
plane and came right here, but I couldn’t find anyone at your wife’s apartment,
I mean, your ex-wife, I guess, and I’ve been so afraid.”
Monsieur
Rollande reached a hand forward and put it on my arm to stop my ramble. His
firm hand against my bicep steadied me, like the vibrating cat purr I had
imagined. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t collapse. 
“Come
inside,” he said. And if the situation were reversed, I didn’t know if I would
have invited this crazy lady in, the one talking to cats and watching goldfish
and then chattering a mile a minute about sons and flights and runaway
daughters.
But he led
me into his apartment. We stood just inside the entrance in a hallway that had
doors to the left and right.
“It will
be okay,” he said. And his words buoyed me, making me think that maybe it all would
be
fine, as if I had shifted part of my worry about Scarlett somewhere
else. And then, before I could blink them away, tears started to drip from my
eyes faster than I could keep up with them.
“I’m so
sorry,” I said mopping at my face. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I’ve just been
so worried, and I haven’t had anyone to help me find her.” I took a deep, shuddering
breath and resolved to both stop talking and stop crying.
“Come.
Here is the toilet. Go refresh yourself, then we will talk.”
And his
description was literal. The long narrow room held a toilet and a sink along
with a mirror on the wall. No windows. No decorative pictures. No ornamental
doilies on the toilet tank. I blew my nose into some toilet paper and dabbed at
the tracks of tears along my face.
I inhaled
deeply to get control. “I am getting closer to finding Scarlett,” I told myself
in the mirror. 
 

 

About the Author
Paulita Kincer has an M.A. in journalism from American University. She has
traveled to France 11 times, and still finds more to lure her back.
She currently teaches college English and lives in Columbus, Ohio, with her
three children, two cats and one husband.
Her latest book is the women’s fiction, Paris
Runaway
.
For More Information

 

http://www.pumpupyourbook.com

 

Status of Upcoming Projects – August 2016

Stay tuned to this webpage for more information about upcoming releases from PRO SE PRESS as information becomes available from the publisher. Actual release dates depend on the publisher’s schedule, but there are several short stories in the queue waiting to become part of anthologies.

In the meantime, I’m also writing new material and hope to share news on those projects as well.

INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS FLASHBACK: BLOG TOUR – Enchanted Guardian

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Bewitching Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

enchanted_851x315

 

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Enchanted Guardian

Camelot Reborn Series

Book Two

Sharon Ashwood

ENCHANTEDGUARDIANBOOK

Genre: Paranormal Romance

 

Publisher: Harlequin Nocturne

 

Date of Publication: August 1 2016

 

ISBN: 978-0373009763

ASIN: B01CNMT0DK

 

Number of pages: 300

Word Count: 85000

 

Book Description:

 

Enchanted Guardian- A love of legendary proportion

 

In another time, in a place once known as Camelot, they had been lovers. Torn apart by betrayal and lies, Lancelot Du Lac and Nimueh, the Lady of the Lake, had each suffered greatly.

 

But the magic of the fae had reawakened a man once trapped in stone, and Lancelot was determined to find his long lost love. Only, Nim was desperate to hide her fae soul, as she was marked for death by their mutual enemy.

 

Though centuries apart had not diminished their passion, they would once again face a dangerous test to prove each was the other’s destiny.

 

Book Trailer https://youtu.be/btP6qzxOmpk

 

Amazon      BN     Harlequin      Kobo    iBooks     The Book Depository 

Excerpt:

Lancelot caught her arm, pulling her up short. Nim scowled down at the long, strong fingers. Fine scars ran along his tanned knuckles, evidence of a life around blades. Heaviness filled her, a primitive reaction to the strong, aggressive male taking control of her in the most basic way. Once it might have grown into anger or lust, but now it confused her.

“Take your hand off me,” she said, letting her voice fill with frost.

“No.” He pulled her closer, turning her to face him. “You will answer my questions.”

Nim jerked her arm free. They were so close, she could feel his warm breath against her skin. “About what?”

His nostrils flared as if scenting her. Still, Nim studied his tense jaw and the blood flushing his high cheekbones. The heat of his emotions made her feel utterly hollow. His hand closed around her wrist again, almost crushing her bones.

“There are too many people here,” he growled.

“There are enough people here for safety. Perhaps I don’t want to answer you.”

His eyes held hers a moment, dark fire against the ice of her spirit. That seemed to decide him, for he pulled her close and took a better grip on her arm. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

He didn’t reply, but steered her toward the door, moving so fast she skittered on her heels. She took the opportunity to pull against him, but this time he held her fast. “Don’t.”

The threat was real. Her fighting skills were nothing compared to a knight’s. Lancelot could crush or even kill her with a single blow. Still, that didn’t make her helpless, and she would not let him forget that fact. Rising up on her toes, she put her mouth a mere whisper from his ear. “You forget what I can do. My magic is nothing less than what it was when I was the first among the fae noblewomen. I can defend myself against your brute strength.”

Just not against what he’d done to her heart. She closed her eyes a moment, feeling his breath against her cheek and remembering the past for a long moment before she denied herself that luxury. “Let me go,” she repeated.

In response, he pulled her to the side of the building, refusing to stop until he was deep into the shadows. The ground was little more than cracked concrete there, tufts of grass straggling between the stones. He pushed her against the siding, her back pressed to the rough wood. “Not until I’ve had my say.”

He had both of her arms now, prisoning Nim with the hard, muscled wall of his chest. Anyone walking by might glimpse two lovers in a private tête-à-tête, but Nim drew back as far as she could, something close to anger rising to strike. No one handled her this way, especially not him.

“Then talk,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Aren’t you even surprised to see me?” he demanded.

“Why should I be?” She needed to squash any personal connection between them. Even if she was whole and their people were not at war, he had betrayed her.

He put a hand against her cheek, his fingers rough. She jerked her chin away, burning where his touch had grazed her.

But he was relentless. “I’m told you were caught by Merlin’s spell along with the rest. I know what the fae have become.”

Soulless. As good as dead inside. Lancelot didn’t say the words, but she heard them all the same. “It’s true,” she replied. “It’s all true.”

His expression was stricken as if hearing it from her lips was poison. Good, she thought. Better to be honest. Better that he believe her to be the monster she was.

“Maybe that’s true for some. I don’t believe that about you. You still have too much fire.”

With that, he claimed her mouth in an angry kiss. Nim caught her breath, stifling a cry of true surprise. The Lancelot she’d known had been gentle and eager to please. Nothing like this. And yet the clean taste of him was everything she remembered.

His mouth slanted, breaking past the barrier of her lips to plunder her mouth. The hunger in him was bruising, going far beyond the physical to pull at something deep in her belly. Desire, perhaps, or heartbreak. She wasn’t sure any longer, but she couldn’t stop herself from nipping at his lip, yearning to feel what she had lost. A sigh caught in her throat before she swallowed it down. Surely she was operating on reflex, the memory of kisses. Not desire she might feel now. The warmth and weight of him spoke to something older than true emotion. Even a reptile could feel comfort in the sun. Even she…

Still, that little encouragement was all the permission he needed to slide his hand up her hip to her waist and she could feel the pressure of his fingers. Lancelot was as strong as any fae male, strong enough certainly to overpower her. That had thrilled her once, a guilty admission she’d never dared to make. She’d been so wise, so scholarly, so magical, but an earthy male had found the liquid center of heat buried under all that logic and light. They had always sparked like that, flint against steel.

But then his hand found her breast and every muscle in her stiffened. This was too much. Memory was one thing, but she wasn’t the same now and she refused to have a physical encounter that was nothing more than a ghost of what it should be.

Nim pushed him away. “I don’t want this.”

Something in her look finally made him stop, but his eyes glittered with arousal. “Are you certain about that?”

INTERVIEW WITH THE AUTHOR

 

  • What initially got you interested in writing?

I remember writing stories pretty much as soon as I could hold a crayon. My parents were huge readers and I grew up surrounded by bookshelves. Since children believe they can do everything, I started writing and never stopped.

  • How did you decide to make the move into being a published author?

I joined a local chapter of the Romance Writers of America. It’s really a terrific organization for educating writers on the practical steps of getting your book into the wild, whether that’s via traditional or independent publishing.

  • What do you want readers to take away from reading your works?

First and foremost, entertainment!  I want to create worlds that readers return to over and over again. My characters do tackle issues of belonging and forgiveness, but my stories are hopeful. There’s not always an easy answer tied up in a bow, but there will be a positive ending that will leave readers satisfied and happy for the characters.

  • What do you find most rewarding about writing?

The act of writing. There is nothing better than losing myself in the realms of imagination. Wait – there is one thing better. Finding readers to share the experience! I adore hearing from people who have enjoyed my books, because that’s why I sit for hours typing and drinking cold coffee.  Storytelling is no fun without an audience.

  • What do you find most challenging about writing?

The business side of being an author can be hard. We pretty much have to build our own audiences, so a lot of time gets spent doing marketing and promotion instead of what we do best—telling fabulous tales.

  • What advice would you give to people who want to enter the field?

Take your time and write the best books you can. Write, write, read, read, and write some more. That’s how you develop skill. The first couple of manuscripts are practice pieces, however much you might

adore them. Make your mistakes, enjoy the process, and learn who you are as an artist. That’s when you can really dig deep and produce something brilliant—and that’s how you start a career.

What ways can readers connect with you?

 

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/sharonashwood/

 

Newsletter:   http://www.sharonashwood.com/newsletter/

 

Blog: http://www.sharonashwood.com/daily-strange/

 

Website:  http://www.sharonashwood.com

 

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/SharonAshwood

 

Facebook Fanpage:  https://www.facebook.com/authorsharonashwood

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ASHWOODAUTHOR

Sharon Ashwood is a novelist, desk jockey and enthusiast for the weird and spooky. She has an English literature degree but works as a finance geek. Interests include growing her to-be-read pile and playing with the toy graveyard on her desk. As a vegetarian, she freely admits the whole vampire/werewolf lifestyle would never work out, so she writes her adventures instead.

 

Sharon is the winner of the RITA® Award for Paranormal Romance. She lives in the Pacific Northwest and is owned by the Demon Lord of Kitty Badness.

 

TOUR GIVEAWAY

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(winner’s choice of paperback or ebook)

 

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