Friday, February 27, 2015

Revealed by Caitlyn O'Leary --- Blog Tour

Tortured beyond Endurance…
Kelly Wachowski has no memory of her life before she was five. Despite being one of the ‘found’ children and her uncanny ability to assimilate languages, she’s managed to live a normal life for twenty years until the day she was kidnapped. Tortured beyond endurance she prayed for death while she dreamed of a boy long forgotten—Noah.
A Hero with a Secret…
Samson Noah Kukailimoku is another ‘found’ child. His existence was kept secret by the Polynesian family who adopted him. Now he’s a highly decorated naval officer, and part of an elite unit whose mission is to rescue children like Kelly. The closer he gets to finding her the more he connects to her and shares the pain of her torture and the dreams of their shared past.
A Love That Is More than a Dream…
After her rescue, Kelly is convinced she’s losing her mind as she experiences Noah’s life in a waking dream. Knowing she’s in danger, Noah must save Kelly from herself and those tracking her, moving Heaven and Earth to protect her. Linked by their past, danger and deception follow them everywhere. Together they discover a love and passion surpassing all of their dreams, but before they can have a future together they have to solve the mystery of their past.
Order Revealed for only $.99 cents for Release Week Only!!!  Price goes up to $2.99 on Februrary 24th.

Author Bio
I was born in Seattle Washington, but soon moved to a small town North of there, which is where I grew up. I’m the oldest of five children, so it was a lively household, and reading became my way to block out the noise. I am an avid reader. I love every genre, but romance and happily ever afters have always been my favorite books. I remember in middle school my biology teacher taking a Rosemary Rogers book away from me; I didn’t understand why—she was certainly teaching me aspects of biology!
As I grew up, I would write stories to entertain myself and my younger siblings. I often wrote their book reports for them. My brothers were only one year apart in age. I wrote a report for the oldest his senior year, he turned it in and got a B+. The next year John turned in the same report to the same teacher and got an A-, the year after that the youngest turned it in to the same teacher and got an A. The teacher liked it better each time he read it!
I’ve worked in corporate America for most of my life, where a lot of creative writing takes place (and if you don’t believe me, you really don’t know corporate America). I blogged to all my employees when I spent six weeks in India—they considered me quite the smartass. My corporate life has allowed me to live in Washington, Texas, Belgium and California.
I have been with the same man for seventeen years. He was born and raised in Texas, and twelve years ago I whisked him, kicking and screaming, to Southern California. Luckily he loves me and wants to be where I am, but he’s still a Texan at heart (although he doesn’t miss Texas summers). I’m a very lucky woman who enjoys swimming, traveling, babysitting her nieces and nephews and doing lots of “research” with her husband for upcoming books.
After being such a fan of romance all my life, I was reading Sophie Oak’s Bliss and Siren in the City series last year, and they weren’t coming out fast enough. I started thinking about a place up in the Northwest, and characters started spinning in my head. Then came Chance. Once he was there, he demanded to be put down on paper. I don’t really write the stories. For real, the stories just come out of my fingers onto the computer screen. Half the time I’m surprised by what ends up being typed!
Chapter One
 “Tell me where you came from.”
It always started this way.  First the question, then the excruciating pain as the electric paddles were held against her temples.  The smell of her burning flesh.  Then they would take the rubber bit from her mouth and ask another question.  Another question she couldn’t answer.
“How many of you are there?”
She prayed to all the saints her mother taught her that this time she would pass out.  It was the only thing to ever stop the questions.  Stop the pain.
“I don’t know!” she wailed, as the bit was shoved into her mouth. She squeezed her eyes so tight she saw stars before the shocking red flames took over her very being.
“Where did you come from?  Where are the rest of you now?”  They yanked the bit from her mouth, making her lip bleed.
“Just tell me what you want me to say…” her voice didn’t sound like her own.  For hours or months, she wasn’t sure how long she begged them to tell her what they wanted her to answer.  The paddles were again placed on her temples.  Fire exploded behind her eyes and her teeth actually tore into the rubber bit.
She wasn’t strapped down.  She stretched and it felt wonderful, until the pins and needles started.  Where was she?  She wanted to see if they noticed they forgot to buckle the straps. She tried to look around.  She couldn’t.  She was blind.  They’d blinded her, the shock therapy had blinded her.  Oh God.  She trembled in horror for long moments before realizing it was her eyelids, they were swollen shut.  She tried to touch them to make sure it was the only thing wrong but pain seared her arm.
Moving slowly to restore some circulation to her limbs, she realized she was lying on something soft.  Rolling just a little so she wasn’t lying on her arm, she fell on to a hard cement floor.  It hurt, it was cold, but at least she could move.  Trying to stand up, she used the cot as leverage, but her legs wouldn’t support her.
She crawled and bumped her head against a wall.  Using it as a guide she followed it around the small room with cement walls, basically a cell.  Mostly empty except for the cot and the toilet, there was a tray with something that felt and smelled like bread and cheese.  She wolfed down some of the food, but there wasn’t anything to drink.  Crawling over to the toilet she flushed it, then greedily drank handfuls of water.
“Good to see you’re back with us Kelly.”  She hadn’t heard any door open or anything else to indicate she wasn’t alone.
“Who are you?  What do you want from me?”  Cringing at the desperate edge in her voice, she clamped her lips tight.  God, how she wanted to beg for water that didn’t come from a toilet, for food, or a blanket, or to go home.
“Who are we?  You don’t get to ask the questions, we do.  We want to know who all of you are.  We know about you and the four others.  You all showed up twenty years ago.  Why did you come here?  Where did you come from?”  The woman’s voice was calm and soothing.  It was like they were having a polite conversation, but Kelly knew the horror awaiting her at the woman’s command.
“I told you, I don’t remember anything before waking up in Dad’s police car.”  Kelly’s voice was raspy from all the screams, but at least it was even.
“But Kelly, Mike Wachowski isn’t really your father now is he?”  Again the woman’s speech was calm and soothing.  “You appeared out of thin air twenty years ago and were adopted into his family, isn’t that right?”
It wasn’t a question, and Kelly didn’t reply, but suddenly realized what was coming next.  She’d forgotten.  This wasn’t the first time she’d woken up in this room and drank from the toilet bowl.  Doubted it was even the tenth time.  It had to be the shock treatments.  They were messing with her memory.  She didn’t remember when she’d been kidnapped, but it had to have been well over a month, oh God, could it have been a year?
She sat there, turning her head away from the direction of the voice.  She waited, and then heard more people entering the cell, knowing what came next.  Holding up her arms she didn’t have long to wait, they were there, grabbing and dragging her out.
“Shove the bit in again.  I don’t want her biting through her tongue.  Hopefully this new dosage will break down the damn barrier.”
Whatever chemicals they gave her burned as they made their way into her system.  She moaned around the rubber bit and struggled with the restraints as the paddles were placed against her temples.  Maybe they’d finally kill her and her suffering would end.
First black, then white, and then the red of fire and pain.  Coursing through her like molten fire, through every molecule, forcing her to lose control of her bodily functions.
The colors burst in front of her, yellows, purples, pinks and blues.  Ripping the head off one wildflower she pushed it against her nose and inhaled the fragrance, and then threw back her head and laughed.  The sun was up and warm against her bare shoulders.  Charging forward, she giggled as the flowers brushed legs, the soft grass squishy between her toes.  She soared over the log in her path, and then she saw him. 
Noah was her best friend.  She knew he wanted to be alone, but he needed her.  Tiptoeing behind him, she jumped up to surprise him as he turned around.  He gave her a dark look but she smiled at him and flung her arms wide, watching as his face suffused with laughter.  He scooped her up and twirled her around.  He was nine and she was five, but their age difference didn’t matter, they were best friends.  Grabbing his silky black hair as he twirled her, she hugged his neck, and Kali was content.  Nothing was better in her world than loving Noah, he belonged to her.
“Don’t be sad anymore, Noah.”
“I’m not sad, Kali.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m leaving with the others.”  She’d known.  But she didn’t want him to leave.  “Kalani, you need to understand, let me show you.”  He touched their foreheads together.
“No, I don’t want to see.”
“Open up Kali, you need to see.  Let me show you.” 
Kali relaxed and let him share the other universe needing their help.  He revealed everything.  So many things didn’t make sense, but the pain and suffering was easy to comprehend, and more, she could see what it was Noah and the others were supposed to do.  It was simple, they were to be themselves and just help a little.
He was right, he had to go, it was important.  Kali started to cry.  She knew it meant she would have to leave everything she loved, her Nana, the meadow, and everything else, because there was no way Noah was leaving without her.

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Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Mechanized Masterpieces 2------Payoff for Air Pirate Pete by D. Lee Jortner's

Payoff for Air Pirate Pete: A pair of train-robbing outlaws bite off more than they can chew when they kidnap the son of a railroad bigwig.  

This short story was not what I was expecting. The author wrote a good short story.  Pete who got kidnapped got an adventure out of it.     I give this book 4 stars.

Playing with imaginary friends and writing and directing plays in the neighbor's garage filled
D. Lee Jortner's childhood. Today she lets her imagination flow onto her keyboard as she writes mystery, fantasy and steampunk stories and novels. "Payoff for Air-Pirate Pete" is her first short story for Xchyler Publishing. She also enjoys her marketing role with the company and teaching English composition at Ivy Tech Community College in Valparaiso, Indiana. When not writing or working, Jortner is usually busy with her husband, children or grandchildren.

1. Please share how you came up with the concept for your story? 
I always loved O.Henry.  I remember my Dad reading me his stories when I was a child. My favorite was The Ransom of Red chief. 

2. Please name some of your other published works?
My one short work available on Amazon is Chimmeken Crossing the Delaware, An American Historical Fantasy

3. What is your preferred writing genre?
Genre doesn't matter to me, but it has to ring true.

4. And preferred reading genre?
I love historical fiction, of all types.

5. Do you have any particular writing habits?
I stay up very very late writing when my muse hits me, then try to sleep, and look at it in the morning.  Often it is so full of error, I can't stand myself, but I usually find some nuggets I can use. 

6. Do you have a playlist that you created while writing your story?
Total quiet.  And if I put on music, I could not tell you what is was, I am in the zone and I hear nor see anything else.

7. Panster or plotter?
Panster for sure.

8. Advice for writers?
Get lots of eyes to look at your work, and then keep the parts you love, in spite of the advice.

10. What's up next for you?
I want to take Effie and Clayton on another adventure.

Author Favorite Things: 
- Quote: "Never supress a generous thought" Camilla Kimball
- Movie: Stand by Me
- Candy bar: Almond Joy
- Junk food: Not a fan.. Give me a nice fresh fruit smoothie any day.
- Place you visited: Banff Alberta Canada
- Restaurant:  The White House 
- Island: Dominican Republic

Who would you cast for your main characters and why? 

Cayton: Johnny Depp  (or a younger version?)

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Tuesday, February 24, 2015

I Loved A Rogue (The Prince Catchers) by Katharine Ashe

In the third in Katharine Ashe's Prince Catchers series, the eldest of three very different sisters must fulfill a prophecy to discover their birthright. But if Eleanor is destined to marry a prince, why can't she resist the scoundrel who seduced her?
She can pour tea, manage a household, and sew a modest gown. In short, Eleanor Caulfield is the perfect vicar's daughter. Yet there was a time when she'd risked everything for a black-eyed gypsy who left her brokenhearted. Now he stands before her—dark, virile, and ready to escort her on a journey to find the truth about her heritage.
Leaving eleven years ago should have given Taliesin freedom. Instead he's returned to Eleanor, determined to have her all to himself, tempting her with kisses and promising her a passion she's so long denied herself. But if he was infatuated before, he's utterly unprepared for what will happen when Eleanor decides to abandon convention—and truly live . . .
Eleanor held the porcelain cup to her lips and inhaled until she felt it in her toes.
Mrs. Hodges plunked her hands on her hips. “Well, aren’t you going to drink it?”
“I am reveling.” Her lips could nearly taste it. Nearly. Temptation. The waiting teased. Deliciously.
“You’re an odd duck, aren’t you, miss?”
“Not usually.” She tilted the cup upward. “Usually I am entirely predictable. Reserved. Modest.” Her words were muffled by the rich liquid so close, heating her flesh. Heady sensation. “Usually I am very”—she let the chocolate wash against her lips—“very”—and a ripple of pleasure went through her—“good.” It stole around her tongue. Decadent. Sinful.
She sighed.
Taliesin appeared in the kitchen door.
She choked.
“Well now, sir,” Mrs. Hodges said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Miss was just teaching me here how to make chocolate like they do at all the big houses.”
He leaned a shoulder into the doorpost and crossed his arms. His shadowy eyes scanned her from toe tips to brow, finally coming to rest on her lips. “Was she?”
A thick droplet of chocolate clung to her bottom lip. Eleanor felt it there like a beacon. She should wipe it with her kerchief.
The tip of her tongue stole between her lips and licked up the droplet. Another shiver wiggled through her.
What was she doing?
“Now then, miss,” Mrs. Hodges said, “you’d best go and leave the kitchen to me, and I’ll fix up a nice dinner for you.”
Clutching the cup in both palms, Eleanor went to the door. Taliesin stepped back but with so little space she had to shift sideways to move past him. She darted a glance upward.
Immobility. His. Hers. She could see every line, every whisker that had not been on his face eleven years ago. Not the same boy she’d known. A man now. Her pulse fluttered. Then it fluttered harder as his scent mingled with the flavor of chocolate upon her tongue. Horse. Leather. Him. The same. It tangled in her nose, in her head, a memory barreling through her, while he watched her eyes from inches away.
She slipped past him.
The taproom was empty now. Mr. Treadwell was probably in the stable seeing to his Arthurian characters and Betsy must be in their room seeing to mundane tasks Eleanor was accustomed to seeing to herself.
“Chocolate?” the incubus behind her said. “Missing the luxuries of the ducal mansion so soon, are you?”
She swung around to him and the chocolate sloshed in the cup. “Is that what you think? That I have grown spoiled by my sisters’ good fortune?”
“No.” His black eyes hooded.
“No? Is that all you can say?” Her tongue, it seemed, was an unbridled thing. Too much prison. Too much feeling to swallow again and again. “We’ve not seen each other in eleven years, and now for four days you have said nothing to me.”
Again he leaned his shoulder against the doorpost in an attitude of sublime nonchalance. “You made it clear you did not wish my escort. I am respecting that.”
She didn’t believe it. He had never respected her. He had teased her endlessly. “You could at least speak to me.”
“What would you have me say?”
“Anything. How do you go along these days, Eleanor? How is the parish? Is it still the same as eleven years ago when I departed so precipitously, without warning, without word?”
His face grew still, planes of dark beauty like hewn marble. “Ah,” he said in a low voice. “You wish for empty pleasantries. Or perhaps an apology? I regret that neither is in my lexicon.”
“I don’t wish for pleasantries or apologies. I don’t care why you left as you did. But you hurt Papa. Do you even know how deeply you hurt him?”
His lips were an unbreakable line.
“He wouldn’t even speak of you.” Locked behind bars for years, Eleanor’s words now tumbled forth. “He said nothing except when Ravenna mentioned you. She did not understand why you left either, but she accepted it in her way. She always thought you would return. But Papa didn’t. And it wounded him.”
“I wrote to him,” he said after a moment.
“Rarely. So few letters that the pages grew thin from folding and unfolding. He never said a word about them or read a line to us, but do you know where he kept them? In his Bible, tucked in Luke, chapter fifteen. The story of the prodigal son.”
His eyes had become hard obsidian. But he remained silent.
Her hands clenched around the cup. “Why won’t you speak?” she exclaimed.
“Seems like you’re speaking enough for the both of us.” His perfect lips barely moved.
“Can’t you even be civil? Or did you leave those lessons behind too when you left St. Petroc?”
“Listen to you. As righteous as you always were.”
She threw the chocolate at him.
She didn’t know quite how it happened. One moment strange, frantic panic coursed through her, straight from her heels to her throat. The next moment a demon possessed her, seizing her arm and forcing it to jut forward and disgorge the contents of her cup at him. Chocolate spattered everywhere—on the wall, the doorpost, and on the dark, handsome man from her past for whom she had wept months of tears.
“What in the—” But he didn’t finish. Instead he came at her. Her foot dropped back but he grabbed her wrist and jerked her hand with the cup up between them. “What do you think you’re doing?” Chocolate dripped down her wrist and along his cheeks and lips. He stared down at her in astonishment.
“Wasting my chocolate.” She tugged. His grip tightened. Arm to arm, he held her close, and he did not look into her eyes. He looked at her lips. The shadows in his eyes were deeper, but now limned with fever brightness, so bright that she could see the flecks of brown there that she had discovered as a girl.
“How do you go along these days, Eleanor?” His voice was rough.
“How is the parish?” His gaze never left her lips, his fingers strong around her wrist. “Is it still the same as eleven years ago when I departed?”
“Precipitously,” she whispered. “Without warning. Without word.” The syllables trailed into the silence of her raucous heartbeat.
“Precipitously. Without warning.”
Through his hand she felt him. Her skin, her bones, her blood felt him.
“You are poking fun at me,” she said. “Don’t.”
“What will it be, Eleanor? You demanded my attention. You have it now. Do you want it or not?”
She wanted to taste the chocolate on his lips. She wanted to remember the danger and delirium she’d felt the last time she had been entirely alive. …
Author Bio

Katharine Ashe is the award-winning author of historical romances that reviewers call “intensely lush” and “sensationally intelligent,” including How to Be a Proper Lady, an Amazon Editors’ Choice for the 10 Best Romances of the Year, and How to Marry a Highlander, a 2014 RITA® Award finalist. She lives in the wonderfully warm southeast with her beloved husband, son, dog and a garden she likes to call romantic rather than unkempt. A professor of History, she writes romance because she thinks modern readers deserve grand adventures and breathtaking sensuality too. Please write to her at PO Box 51702, Durham, NC 27717-1702 or visit

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Fear of Striking Out by Lyssa Layne

TITLE: Fear of Striking Out
AUTHOR: Lyssa Layne
GENRE: Contemporary Romance
PUBLICATION DATE: February 19, 2015
LENGTH: 54,000+

Shortstop Tate James has been traded from the all-American town of Milwaukee to the trendy City of Angels. 

Pink hair, manscaping, dogs in purses... not his thing. This ball player is less than excited about his new hometown. That is until he crosses paths with beautiful Mia Tomko. She lets him know that not all L.A. women are just after fame and fortune.

As Tate and Mia find that their interest in each other isn't the only thing they have in common, neither are prepared for what their future holds. 

When someone from both of their pasts arrives, will it tear them apart or make them closer?

Book Links


Waves crash in the darkness of the night. The moon peeks behind a few clouds as I lean against Mia’s deck sipping whiskey. Once again, the thought of moving to L.A. doesn’t seem so bad, especially when I feel her hand slide over my back pockets. Her breath is warm on my ear as both hands run over my backside. I feel her smile against my cheek. She lightly kisses it and whispers while she gives me a squeeze, “I can’t wait to see you in baseball pants this season.”

Laughing, I turn around to face her and pull her body against mine. She moves her arms around my neck and we exchange a powerful kiss. My whole body shakes inside and I don’t ever want to stop kissing her. What is this woman doing to me? I’m not the kind of man that wants to settle down. Back in Milwaukee, I had a few lady friends that I would get together with from time to time, but I’ve never seen a woman the way I see Mia Tomko. She breaks the kiss, but I don’t let go.

“Good, you started the fire,” she says nodding toward the fire pit. “I brought out the fixings for s’mores; hope you like them.”

Chuckling, I nod my head as I let go of her and she walks over to the table. “They’re actually my favorite.”

I watch her open the box of graham crackers. Damn, even in torn-up jeans and a baggy Stanford sweatshirt she looks good. Reaching for another bag to busy myself, I stop and look at Mia. “Reese’s?”

She nods with a grin. “Trust me, it’s way better than a Hershey bar. It’s pure ecstasy.”

Leaning forward, I kiss her neck, making her giggle. “Nah, I think this is pure ecstasy.”

Walking to the fire pit with roasters in hand, I stand behind her so I can nibble on her neck as we toast the ‘mallows. She tilts her head, giving me full access to her soft skin. A few turns of the roaster and she holds the s’more in front of my mouth. My teeth clamp down over the treat as I lock eyes with her. “Mmm… ” I moan. She’s right, the Reese’s are delicious.

Grinning, she pulls the s’more back and takes a bite herself. Chocolate smears on her lip. I lean forward and run my tongue over it then close my mouth and suck her lip to get every last bit off. As she slips her tongue over mine, I can feel myself start to get hard and I moan into her mouth. Mumbling with my lips still against hers, I utter, “You’re right… ecstasy.”

Additional Books
If you love Fear of Striking Out then you don't want to miss Tate & Mia's friends story in The Right Pitch.

About the Author

Lyssa Layne is first, and foremost, the proud momma to her precious daughter, AR. In addition to working full-time and being a mommy to AR, she is also an avid St. Louis Cardinals fan, a runner, blogger, and an infertility survivor. 

Having watched one too many medical dramas and being inspired by author Rachelle Ayala, who introduced her to the world of indie writing, Lyssa decided to try her hand at writing a romance story. Her attempt turned into the Burning Lovesick series. You can find Lyssa's own interests throughout her stories although all stories are fictional.

Author Links

Facebook Party

You won't want to miss the Fear of Striking Out Release Day Party on Facebook tonight from 7-10PM CT. There will be giveaways, games, and tons of fun! Hosts include: Beth Jones, Traci Hayden, William Scott, Linda Armstrong, Toshia Slade, and of course, Lyssa Layne! See you there!


Be sure to enter this Rafflecopter for a chance to win an ebook from Lyssa Layne, jewelry from Baseball Wishes, and a free cover from E.J. KellanRafflecopter will be open until 2/22/15.