April Fools for Love & Giveaway: Oh the "Byrony:" The Making of Lily Stargazer

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Oh the "Byrony" 

The making of Lily Stargazer

Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. That is how Lady Caroline Lamb described the historical George Gordon, Lord Byron. When I decided to write a steampunk series, I knew that I wanted Lord Byron to be a central figure in my work. Byron was a rock star of his age. And honestly, if I can be all fan girl for a minute, he is pretty darned cute. When I set about creating my steampunk world, I didn't want Queen Victoria or Tesla to be the sun in my solar system, I wanted Byron.

Given I can barely understand the man I've married, I knew I could not write from a man’s consciousness. Byron could not be my protagonist. Instead, I decided I would write from the perspective of one of Byron’s lovers. Lord Byron was infamous for his sexual appetites. In fact, he went into self-imposed exile to flee possible persecution and damage to his reputation for his bisexuality. I imagined that being in love with Byron would be a lot like being in love with any man you can’t quite tie down . . . thrilling and unfulfilling all at once. What kind of woman would be with Byron?

In walked the concept for Lily Stargazer. I wanted Lily to be a less than perfect character. I wanted her to have anti-hero qualities: questionable morality, cynicism, a self-destructive byronic energy, a rebellious nature, and questionable sexual appetites. In other words, I wanted her to be a Byronic heroine!  The term Byronic hero, as we know, is inspired by the attitude cultivated from the historical Lord Byron himself. Oh, the “Byrony.”

Link to Wiki on Byronic Heroes: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Byronic_hero

Lord Byron Biographies:

The irony for me was that I didn't even really think about the fact that she was Byronic. I just wanted to write a character that was true to the dark, crappy sides of life. There is a tremendous body of literature on the indenturing of children during the Industrial Revolution in England. Children suffered in horrible working conditions that are akin to slavery. I wanted to write about a woman who suffered at the hands of others and did not bounce back.

Despite her terrible past, as revealed in the novel through flashbacks, I envisioned Lily Stargazer as a woman who accidentally found herself in a profession that was typically male dominated: as an airship pilot. And I wanted Lily to be good at what she did, really good. In fact, I wanted to punk the norms of 1823 (and today, really) and make Lily the best at a male-dominated sport. Take that, male sports. Lily Stargazer, an airship racer with a famous lover and an opium addiction, was born.

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Monday, March 30, 2015

Some characters are just fools.

In The Harvesting, I have a character named Jeff. Jeff is an amalgam of every jerk I've ever met. Always cock-sure, always coming up with bad ideas, he's the kind of guy who rushes out the front door even though everyone is screaming at him not to. In fact, he's the kind of guy who blares rock music so loud that it attracts a horde of zombies. Fools, however, are fun to write. Its fun to play with these kinds of characters. How many fools have you met in your life that you would have loved to see get what they deserved?

In my new novella, Ink, I have a new fool in the form of Manx, King of the Gulf Mers. Manx believes he is entitled to everything he wants when he wants it just because he is King. He is the kind of fool that is blinded by his arrogance. Manx doesn't realize that not everyone is impressed by titles and good looks. Ink, who isn't even looking for love, deserves someone far deeper. Will she find her match? What do you think? I look forward to sharing my new fool with you. You'll find him in Ink, which releases in June.


1) Any ebook from my collection: Visit My Amazon Author Page
2) the 7 year Mermaid Pen! (writes for 7 years, or so they claim!)

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The Winter Garden; Book Two of the Ingenious Mechanical Devices by Kara Jorgensen & Giveaway!

I'm pleased to welcome Kara Jorgensen back to my blog to celebrate her latest steampunk release, The Winter Garden. She has a marvelous excerpt for us below. Check it out!

The Winter Garden; Book Two of the Ingenious Mechanical Devices 

by Kara Jorgensen


Can death be conquered?

When Immanuel Winter set off to the banks of the Thames, he never thought his life would be changed forever. Emmeline Jardine, a young Spiritualist medium, drowns, but the potion given to Immanuel by his mother brings her back from the dead and irrevocably intertwines their souls.
But Emmeline and Immanuel aren’t the only ones aware of his ancestors’ legacy. Understanding the potential of such an elixir, the ruthlessly ambitious Alastair Rose knows securing the mysteries of death will get him everything he desires: power, a title, but more importantly, dominion over the dead and the living.

Unaware of what the dashing madman is capable of, Emmeline follows him deeper into a world of corrupt mediums, unscrupulous scientists, and murder. All that stands between Lord Rose and his prize is the boy who refuses to die, but both men know the key to stopping him lies within the girl who shares Immanuel’s soul.


When Immanuel Winter begrudgingly set off from the dormitories all the way to the bank of the Thames to sketch and label the native flora for his botany class, he never thought the day would have ended in anything more exciting than sunburn. As the blonde man sat tucked under an oak tree with his sketchbook resting on his narrow thighs and the August sun scorching the side of his face, he listened to the voices on the other side of the copse. On the way to his spot near the river, he had passed a large picnic of well-dressed families and their servants. At first he thought the merry group may have been the professors and their wives, but then he noticed the banner welcoming the guests to the 1891 Annual Oxford Spiritualist Society Picnic. The young man’s stomach growled at the thought of it. Oh, how he wished the professors were the ones having a feast. With a sigh, he once again applied himself to sketching a stalk of water mint that peeked from the water’s edge. He smiled as he inspected his handiwork. His mother was fond of flowers, and he hoped in a few months when the term was over to send her a great folio of English botanical prints to go along with her collection of German ones.
“I like your necklace.”
Immanuel looked up to find a young woman staring down at him. Her strigine brown eyes and soft porcelain cheeks gave her an inquisitive expression that made her appear more like a child than the young woman she was. As she tucked a curl behind her ear, he followed the girl’s coffee hair across her cheek and down to her shoulder where it drizzled onto her white gown. His hand instinctively reached for the chain hanging around his neck. He had always considered the pendant quite ugly, but his mother insisted he wear it to England to keep him safe. It was a vial no bigger than his finger wrapped in curled gold vines and tarnished silver leaves. Etched into the stopper were the words “Miscē cum Cruor.” His mother said to use it if he was ever injured, but from the murk of the liquid within and the vial’s ugly exterior, he always joked that it was probably filled with poison.
“Thank you,” he replied, his German accent gone after over three years on English soil.
Her gaze traveled over him, scrutinizing his face and taking in his deep-set blue eyes, angular cheekbones, and sandy hair before migrating to his sketches. “Are you an artist?”
“No, I’m studying to become a scientist.”
She plucked the sprig of blue and yellow flowers from her hair and held it out to him. “What are these are called?”
Myosotis scorpiodes, true forget-me-not,” Immanuel replied as he flipped to the page where he drew them earlier and held it up for her to see.
“I like forget-me-not better.” As she went to put the flower back in her hair, it was as if she noticed the fabric parcel in her hand for the first time. “My mother sent this for you. She thought you looked hungry.”
He gratefully took the bag of food she dropped into his lap, unable to suppress his shock at the unwarranted act of kindness. “Thank you. Please, miss, tell your mother thank you for me.”
With a nod and a smile, she turned and strolled back to the picnic, running her hands over the trees and grasses as she went. Immanuel untied the linen bundle to reveal a roast beef and a Welsh rarebit sandwich along with a turnover pastry. He ravenously dug into the spread, savoring the rare meat as it bled down his lips with each bite.
The hair on the back of his head prickled. Looking around the trunk of a tree, he spotted a middle-aged version of the young woman watching him from the picnic nearly a quarter of a mile away. She sat perfectly still beneath her parasol in the midst of the prattle and bustle of the other guests, a statuesque queen in white lace and silk. He mouthed, Thank you, and held up the remnant of his meal as she gave him a stately nod. Once the remaining sandwich and pastry had been devoured and the evidence licked from his fingers, he went back to his book and weeds.


 Immanuel stretched, cracking his neck and long fingers, before readjusting the wool coat canopy he created using the reeds and bushes he was sitting between and his jacket. He looked toward the river as a familiar voice sweetly sang and hummed. The owl-eyed woman’s ivory parasol bobbed as she stooped to add wildflowers and pretty weeds to her bouquet before plopping down onto the lawn. As she sat near the bank only a few yards away and picked stray blades of grass and bugs from her hoard, Immanuel lightly sketched her form. For a few moments, his eyes and hand worked in unison, tracing the curves of her hair where they melded with her cheek and back. With his pencil, he darkened in her hair but frowned when the arabesques muddied into a grey graphite clump. Immanuel glanced up from the paper to study the pattern of the lace on her dress when his eyes met only an empty patch of grass and a pile of flowers. His eyes roved from the thickets on both sides of his den to the group of picnickers, but the woman with the curious expression was nowhere to be found. With a sigh, he slowly began packing up his supplies to head back to Oxford before dinner. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught something moving. A parasol floated lazily down the river, twirling as it became entangled in the plants at the water’s edge. He abandoned his tools and grasped the ivory handle, but as he brought the umbrella out of the water, the unmistakable flutter of white fabric and dark tresses wafted near the other bank.
Ach mein Gott!” he gasped as he searched for anyone nearby who could help her. The words in English suddenly escaped him as his eyes locked onto the young woman’s lifeless form.
Taking a step back, he ran off the edge of the bank and plunged into the brisk water of the Thames. Puffs of silt erupted around him, obscuring his vision, but as the dirt settled, he saw her suspended above him just below the water’s edge. Swimming closer, he found the young woman’s eyes shut and her face a deathly pallor. Tendrils of inky hair and the lace of her gown drifted with the current while her arm still hung above her as if she had reached for the surface before succumbing to the River Isis. Immanuel wrapped his arms around her, but her body refused to budge. With a sharp tug, her foot broke from the roots and reeds, sending out bits of debris and mud. Immanuel’s chest tightened and the urge to open his mouth grew almost too strong to ignore as he kicked toward the surface but was hampered by the weight of her waterlogged petticoat. Closing his eyes, he fiercely writhed toward the warmer waters in one last effort to save them. His lips broke open in a gasp, drawing in not only the Thames’s earthen waters but the thick summer air. Holding head above the surface, he let the tide carry them down to the bank.
Immanuel laid her against the bed of wild flowers before hauling himself onto the grass and dragging her onto the bank. Leaning close, he patted her cold cheek, which had blanched to the color of her dress. Her lax, blue lips refused to move or draw a breath, yet behind her ear remained the sprig of forget-me-nots. He touched her face and shook her shoulder begging her to return to consciousness, but her body and face remained still. His heart raced as he touched her neck, feeling his own frantic pulse against her artery. No beats of blood fought against his fingers. Finally Immanuel put his head to her breast, but the familiar tug and pull of life were gone.
Hilfe! Please!” he cried desperately toward the faceless picnickers as he picked up her listless form, but with the dense between them and the chatter, they couldn’t hear him. Tears burned the backs of his eyes as he helplessly held her against his chest, wishing someone would hear his pleas. The right words escaped in a stifled shout, “Someone please help!”
The woman’s head lolled over his arm, and as it rolled, her hair wrapped around the chain of his pendant and nearly pulled it from his neck. The necklace. Carefully laying her down again, he uncorked the vial but hesitated. Could he trust his ancestors or was the potion was merely a family hoax? Immanuel looked from the murk to her lifeless features. It couldn’t hurt her now even if it was poison. Then again, if his mother said it could save him, then he had to trust that it would.
He reread the words incised into the top, cruor. He needed blood. The scientist quickly checked her body but found it to be pristine. Rushing over to his art supplies, his wet shoes slid out from under him and sent him to his knees. Immanuel scrambled to his bag for a pen. The moment it was in his hand, he dug the nib as hard as he could into the skin of his palm. With a final twist, the blood hesitantly dripped from the shallow wound. He removed the top, his eyes stinging with the astringent odor of the brew, before letting his blood trickle into the milky liquid. The fluid bubbled as the red droplets spread and with their invasion came the sweet smell of honey. Immanuel carefully supported her head as he poured the fizzling potion between her lax lips. Voices were coming through the trees as he called out again for help, waiting and hoping what his mother told him was true.
Then, he felt it. His pounding heart seized. The chambers froze one after another until his heart, for the first time since the womb, stood waiting for the spark of life. With a final exhalation, all the air seeped from his lungs. Had he forfeited his own life to save hers? Immanuel hung precariously on the verge of darkness as every muscle in his body froze. When the sound of voices ceased, his fleeting thoughts turned to death. At twenty-one, he never thought he would recognize death with such clarity. A shudder passed over him as thousands of minute fibers prickled through his body and skin like a spider web. The moment the last thread escaped, his heart jolted back to life and his lungs inflated. He doubled over, catching his breath, and watched the girl’s big eyes flew open in pained confusion. Water gurgled up from her throat as Immanuel patted her back to sooth her ragged coughing sobs. His body shook with spent adrenaline, leaving only empty fear. The scientist stared at the empty vial and then at the woman. There was no plausible explanation for what happened, but at least they were both alive.
“Emmeline! Emmeline!” her mother cried as she clasped her sunhat to her head and sprinted toward the young man cradling her daughter. Only when she drew near did she see the pink of their flesh shining through where the river had reduced their clothing to muddy veils. “What happened?”
“Mama,” the young woman called from Immanuel’s lap as she tried to stand but fell when her shaking legs gave out. Tears mixed with silt streamed down her cheeks. “I fell in.”
As the other Spiritualists reached the river, Immanuel gathered her up as best he could with his quivering arms and handed her to the blonde man standing beside her mother. The gentleman’s honey eyes narrowed as he searched Immanuel’s features before coming to rest on the empty vial at his feet. Emmeline’s mother embraced her weeping child, coaxing her into quiet with consolatory promises of her safety. She closed her eyes as she pressed Emmeline’s damp face to her breast and held her against her heart, feeling the weight of what could have been. Finally, she let her go, and the gentleman carried her daughter back toward the tables on the other side of the trees.
“You saved her?” the woman asked as she worked a handkerchief in her grasp but never brought it to her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Staring into his eyes, she rested her hand on his damp shoulder. She studied his face to ensure she would always remember the boy who rescued her only child when she could not. “Thank you.”

About the Author:

Kara Jorgensen is an author and professional student from New Jersey who will probably die slumped over a Victorian novel. An anachronistic oddball from birth, she has always had an obsession with the Victorian era, especially the 1890s. Midway through a dissection in a college anatomy class, Kara realized her true passion was writing and decided to marry her love of literature and science through science fiction or, more specifically, steampunk. When she is not writing, she is watching period dramas, going to museums, or babying her beloved dogs.  Currently, she has two steampunk novels out: The Earl of Brass and The Winter Garden, but her work has also been featured in Selfish and Literary Orphans.

Connect with the author online:

Twitter @authorkaraj

Awards: The first book in the Ingenious Mechanical Devices series, The Earl of Brass, was designated as IndieReader Approved by the IndieReader.

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Book Blitz & Giveaway: Bittersweet by Michele Barrow-Belisle

Monday, March 23, 2015

Bittersweet (Faerie Song Trilogy, #2)
Release Date: 03/24/15

Summary from Goodreads:
To save the Faery world and her mother’s life, Lorelei sacrificed everything, and the dangerous bargain she made in Nevermore had lasting repercussions. Now safely back in her own world, Lorelei seems the same to her highschool friends and her supernatural boyfriend. Yet love across dimensions is complicated, especially when an invisible Veil between the two worlds—the only bridge that links the pair, is sealing, threatening to separate Lorelei and Adrius forever.

Determined to find a solution, Lorelei resorts to using her new found powers. But when her friends succumb to the same mysterious illness that nearly took her mother’s life, Lorelei can’t help but wonder if her own dark magic is responsible. Still, the nightmares from Nevermore continue their icy hold. Someone from Adrius’s past arrives, determined to destroy Lorelei’s world starting with those closest to her, and Lorelei is forced to choose between her family and friends and a love that was ill-fated from the start. 

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Book One:
(cover linked to Goodreads)

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About the Author
Michele Barrow-Belisle is chocoholic author and artist living in southern Ontario, Canada with her super-sweet husband, brilliant son and a ridiculously affectionate cat. Often told by teachers to stop dreaming and get her head out of the clouds, Michele still spends much of her time lost in make-believe worlds, populated with fascinating and occasionally terrifying characters. Her passion for fantasy extends beyond her writing into her clay figure sculpt-ing, creating miniaturized replicas of the paranormal beings she writes about. Michele is as passionate about reading as she is about writing. When she’s not reading or writing, she can be found sculpting tiny fairy desserts in polymer clay. She also loves mocha lattes and watching fireflies at twilight. Did we mention she loves chocolate?

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Lucky Leprechaun Giveaway Hop & FREE Book!

Monday, March 16, 2015

Do you believe in luck? One of my favorite sayings is "the harder I work, the luckier I get." I am a firm believer that hard work goes a long way. But working smarter, not harder, is also important. But how about luck? It does seem that some people are far luckier than others. Why? Karma? Chaos theory? How about you, are you a lucky person?

Today is your lucky day! For this giveaway hop, I have a signed copy of my steampunk romantic adventure novel, Chasing the Star Garden! Want to find out more about this award-winning and best-selling steampunk series? CLICK HERE

One other great thing. In order to be entered to win, you just need to sign up for my newsletter (current recipients eligible as well) and by doing so, you'll automatically get a FREE BOOK!

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Blog Tour: Claiming Addison by Zoey Derrick

Friday, March 13, 2015

Title: Claiming Addison
Author: Zoey Derrick
Series: 69 Bottles (Book 1)
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Erotic, LGTB, M/M/F, M/F/M, M/F, F/M , M/M
Publisher: Self Published
Release Date:  Feb 17 2015
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print


Talon Carver, lead singer of 69 Bottles, has no problem with women--as long as they’re gone by morning. When Addison shakes up his world, it’s a huge problem—compounded by the fact that Addison’s not the only one he wants.
Kyle Black, manager of 69 Bottles, has a secret. He and Addison are closer than she thinks, but telling her could keep her away. When Talon sets his sights on Addison, Kyle uses his secret to push her into Talon’s arms, only to discover she isn’t the only one he needs.
Two men. One dilemma.
Talon is wild, reckless and loves control.
Kyle is calm, collected and loves passion.
The perfect balance…or Addison’s ultimate undoing?
Talon and Kyle push their boundaries and Addison’s, but can they throw their reservations to the wind and claim her together?
Two men.  One woman. A rock band. A tour bus.  One Wild Ride…

****Content Warning****
Sexy, naked, bisexual rock stars…and a lot more…
This book contains, but is not limited to the following sexual content – reader discretion is advised - hot sex between two men and one woman. M/M/F, M/F/M, M/F, F/M and M/M sexual content. There are no boundaries when these three crash together, as long as you’re over 18 years of age.

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Best Selling Author Zoey Derrick comes from Glendale, Arizona. She was once a mortgage underwriter by day and is now a paranormal, romance and erotica novelist full-time. She writes stories as hot as the desert sun itself. It is this passion that drips off of her work, bringing excitement to anyone who enjoys a good and sensual love story.
Not only does she aim to take her readers on an erotic dance that lasts the night, it allows her to empty her mind of stories we all wish were true. Her stories are hopeful yet true to life, skillfully avoiding melodrama and the unrealistic, bringing her gripping Erotica only closer to the heart of those that dare dipping into it.
The intimacy of her fantasies that she shares with her readers is thrilling and encouraging, climactic yet full of suspense. She is a loving mistress, up for anything, of which any reader is doomed to return to again and again.

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Excerpt #1:

“What’s going on in here?”
Shit, it’s Talon. “Nothing.” I sober quickly but Kyle has no intention.
“Addison’s a fan.” Oh my god, traitor. I go beet red.
“You weren’t supposed to fucking say anything,” I bark at him.
Talon just stares and laughs, “I would’ve never guessed, at least not with the way you were busting everyone’s balls earlier. Most fans don’t do that.”
I laugh. “No, they don’t, but while I am a huge fan of your music, I didn’t find out until Tuesday that you’re a Bold client, let alone the fact that I’ve never looked at any pictures or really read anything about you guys before coming on board today.” He’s shocked at my revelation. “I never really have time for personal investigations of rock stars and once I found out about coming on board, I didn’t have enough time to get through the packet of information. Besides, I don’t like tainted opinions of clients, I’d rather form my own.”
Talon smiles and his cheeks turn slightly pink. “So, you’re a fan?”
I look him square in the eye. “Huge.”
“You want an autograph?”
“Oh my god.” I bust out laughing. “Is that how you pick up the chicks?”
“Hey it works, Red, trust me.”
I laugh a little more. “I don’t doubt it. But no, I don’t want an autograph, I’m sure by the time this tour’s over I will run away screaming.”

“God, I hope not,” he says with that sweet sultry voice of his and I want to melt into a pool on my bed. My nipples tighten and once again my pussy moistens with wanton need, a desperate need for Talon Carver.
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New Release: Heart of the Kraken by A. W. Exley

Thursday, March 12, 2015


Legend says if you consume the heart of a mermaid, you will know all of a man's secrets

Ailin doesn't care if the legend is true or not - she's stuck in a crate on her way to feature as the main course at a lavish banquet. Her heart to be served while still beating for a cruel noble while the rest of her is sliced into sashimi. Unless she can escape.

Across the ocean, Fenton longs for a different release. Sold as a child by men who labelled him a mistake, a failed experiment. Except he has one valuable skill, he can summon the dreaded kraken. Bought by a pirate, he has only known life at sea, wielded as a tool by the captain.

Two lives collide when the pirates capture the vessel holding Ailin. The kraken holds the key to Ailin's freedom but in summoning the beast one last time, Fenton must choose between losing his life or his heart...


The Razor's Edge drifted with the ebb and flow of the Sanguine Ocean. The light wind crafted small peaks that slapped against the hull with a regular beat. Seagulls circled and dove into the slow wake, looking for scraps thrown from the galley. Not a single cloud obscured the pure blue sky and the harsh sun beat down without any filter. The crew sought what little shade the sides of the vessel offered. There was never any down time on a pirate ship, life revolved around maintenance and a myriad of tasks, occasionally interpreted by the jostle of action. Today several crew sat to one side of the deck to perform quiet, mundane duties. Some men mended nets, a few polished the brass fittings until they shone and the mechanic undertook routine maintenance. While the vessel appeared to be lazing in the sun, she was really a predator scanning the horizon. Like a tiger waiting in the jungle for the rustle of vegetation to give away its prey, the crew waited for any sign of another ship.

So they could creep up unseen and unheard on their target the Razor's Edge ran by sail. Their engine slumbered, even the fires were dampened so as not to emit a tell tail puff of smoke. Steam powered merchant vessels plied the oceans, their holds laden with cargos from other lands and provinces. The trick was to find one to plunder before a Regulator airship dropped from above like a vulture. Regulators were lawmen who patrolled sea and land, but they were often little better than sanctioned pirates, stealing in the name of taxes and fines.

Fenton sat at the peripheral edge of the group of sailors. The others swapped crude jokes but he didn't join in, preferring to let the conversation wash over him. With long fingers, he ran a whetstone over his sword, honing the edge to razor sharp. These quiet moments gave him time to contemplate his life. With each day that passed, he loathed his path in life a fraction more. He preferred the chaos of battle with no time to think, only to react. Kill or be killed and each time he wondered why he bothered to raise his sword.

Dying should be easy but he couldn't do it. Was it ego? A tiny desire for his life to have meaning before he threw it away? Once he slipped from the earth, there was no one to mourn him or comment on his passing. Or could he face eternal sleep if he had something worth dying for?

He had no name other than Fenton and didn't know if it was his Christian name or surname. The day the captain purchased him as a lad, he gave him those two syllables and never any more. He had no memory of his life before, only of the captain checking his teeth, looking behind his ears and muttering, I'll take him. Ever since, he lived his life on board and rarely ventured onto land. Fate and his nature separated him from other men and the life on shore that filled their dreams. His dreams were cold and empty, like his soul.

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Books and writing have always been an enormous part of Anita's life. She survived school by hiding out in the library, with several thousand fictional characters for company. At university, she overcame the boredom of studying accountancy by squeezing in Egyptology papers and learning to read hieroglyphics.

Today, Anita writes fantasy historical novels with a steampunk twist. She lives in rural New Zealand surrounded by an assortment of weird and wonderful horses, cats, a mad boxer and chickens who think they are mini Velociraptors.

Connect Online:

Twitter: @AWExley

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Legally Undead by Margo Bond Collins! Just 99 cents this week!

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Legally Undead quote sale
A reluctant vampire hunter, stalking New York City as only a scorned bride can.
Elle Dupree has her life all figured out: first a wedding, then her Ph.D., then swank faculty parties where she’ll serve wine and cheese and introduce people to her husband the lawyer.

But those plans disintegrate when she walks in on a vampire draining the blood from her fiancé Greg. Horrified, she screams and runs--not away from the vampire, but toward it, brandishing a wooden letter opener.

As she slams the improvised stake into the vampire’s heart, a team of black-clad men bursts into the apartment. Turning around to face them, Elle discovers that Greg’s body is gone—and her perfect life falls apart.  

Legally Undead, by Margo Bond Collins, World Weaver Press
A Top-10 Preditors and Editors Readers' Poll Best Science Fiction and Fantasy Novel
Legally Undead - #10 Science Fiction and Fantasy

The worst thing about vampires is that they're dead. That whole wanting to suck your blood business runs a close second, but for sheer creepiness, it's the dead bit that gets me every time. They're up and walking around and talking and sucking blood, but they're dead. And then there's the whole terminology problem--how can you kill something that's already dead? It's just wrong.
I was twenty-four the first time I . . . destroyed? dispatched? . . . a vampire. That's when I found out that all the books and movies are wrong. When you stick a wooden stake into their hearts, vampires don't disintegrate into dust. They don't explode. They don't spew blood everywhere. They just look surprised, groan, and collapse into a pile of corpse. But at least they lie still then, like corpses are supposed to.
Since that first kill (I might as well use the word--there really isn’t a better one), I've discovered that only if you're lucky do vampires look surprised before they groan and fall down. If you're unlucky and miss the heart, they look angry. And then they fight.
There are the other usual ways to kill vampires, of course, but these other ways can get a bit complicated. Vampires are notoriously difficult to trick into sunlight. They have an uncanny ability to sense when there's any sunlight within miles of them, and they're awfully good at hiding from it. Holy water doesn't kill them; it just distracts them for a while, and then they get that angry look again. And it takes a pretty big blade to cut off someone's head--even an already dead someone--and carrying a great big knife around New York City, even the Bronx, is a sure way to get arrested. Nope, pointy sticks are the best way to go, all the way around.
My own pointy stick is actually more of a little knife with wood inlay on the blade--the metal makes it slide in easier. I had the knife specially made by an old Italian guy in just about the only ratty part of Westchester, north of the city. I tried to order one off the internet, but it turns out that while it’s easy to find wood-inlay handles, the blades themselves tend to be metal. Fat lot those people know.
But I wasn’t thinking any of this when I pulled the knife out of the body on the ground. I was thinking something more along the lines of “Oh, bloody hell. Not again.”



99-cent Sale Links

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Legally-Undead-Vampirarchy-Margo-Collins-ebook/dp/B00KKV44BK/

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/legally-undead-margo-bond-collins/1119607989?ean=2940149615803

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/legally-undead

Universal Kindle Link: http://bookShow.me/B00KKV44BK


About the Author


Margo Bond Collins is the author of urban fantasy, contemporary romance, and paranormal mysteries. She has published a number of novels, including Sanguinary, Taming the Country Star, Legally Undead, Waking Up Dead, and Fairy, Texas. She lives in Texas with her husband, their daughter, and several spoiled pets. Although writing fiction is her first love, she also teaches college-level English courses online. She enjoys reading romance and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about heroes, monsters, cowboys, and villains, and the strong women who love them—and sometimes fight them.


Connect with Margo

Newsletter: https://confirmsubscription.com/h/d/03A21E5E161401F0
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/margocollins
Email: MargoBondCollins@gmail.com
Website: http://www.MargoBondCollins.net
Blog: http://www.MargoBondCollins.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MargoBondCollin @MargoBondCollin
Google+: https://plus.google.com/116484555448104519902
Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/vampirarchy
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/MargoBondCollins
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/mbondcollins/
Tsu: http://www.tsu.co/MargoBondCollins

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FREE Book Weekend! Catch Chasing the Star Garden

Saturday, March 7, 2015

For those who haven't started my Airship Racing Chronicles yet, this is the weekend! Grab Chasing the Star Garden for FREE. Also be sure to follow the link at the top of this page to get a FREE copy of Midway!

I am currently working on the third book in this series, Chasing the Fog, that has Lily running another World Grand Prix--this time, an around-the-world race. A number of readers who've read Book II, Chasing the Green Fairy, have asked if Robin will be back. I hope you'll be glad to know that we will be seeing this charming new friend again which, of course, raises some complications. Lily also has an adventure in store. Someone is looking for lost technology and sees Lily as the key to all his problems.

Other projects? I've plotted out a little adventure with Phineas Shaw for you. I plan to get to that this summer. I have some other AMAZING projects in this series planned, but I'll be holding back that surprise until later :)

To learn more about the series, please click here: The Airship Racing Chronicles

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