Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Spotlight: 90 Cats and No Litter Box in Sight by Molly Zenk

They're perfect for each other…even if she doesn't know it yet.

 Glynis Kirby's love life stinks. Her boyfriend dumped her for another guy. Her next-door-neighbor held her hostage on prom night. And now she's been trapped in a Porta-Potty by a monkey with a switchblade. And she's not even going to talk about her date with the poly sci major with the Pocket Ouiji Board. Maybe she really is desperate enough to take everyone's advice--including her mother's (ugh!)--and date the dashing Daniel Bond.

Corin Lancashire runs the popular blog site mydreamgirl.com where he chronicles his less than stellar attempts to get noticed by his dream girl, Glynis Kirby. After taking the "all girls think stripteases are hot" advice from a reader, and discovering that "all girls but Glynis think stripteases are hot," Corin disables the comments feature on his blog and takes matters into his own hands to build a friendship-crawling-toward-relationship with his dream girl. But competing with the charming, suave, and well-dressed Daniel is a hazard Corin didn't anticipate, and neither is the information he digs up on Daniel that could threaten Glynis's life…



            Corin grabs my arm and spins me around to face him before I'm safe in the halls of the Math Department. Not many guys will follow you in there. It's like a Geek Den where everyone is too wrapped up in their research and books and whiteboards to think to ask a girl out on a date and I'm pretty sure that's what Corin was planning to do before the stripping and the singing.
             “Who put you up to this?” I demand. “Who? Was it Kathy? My mom? Who put you up to this?”

             “No one,” Corin protests. “No one put me up to anything. I just... I just needed a way to get your attention. I could tell you were about to leave so I... I'm not like this normally, I swear,” he adds. “It's just, well, uh... It's just that I thought of so many things to say to you and when the time came to actually say them, I blanked out and did the first thing I could think of. You don't need to Baker Act me or anything. I'm really just a shy guy.”

             “Shy guys don't strip in public.”

             “They do when they take really bad advice from people on the Internet.” Corin runs a hand through his Doctor McDreamy hair before raising his pale eyebrows and giving me McDreamy eyes to go along with his McDreamy hair. “You're probably not going to believe this, Glynis, but I'm not a freak or a stalker. I'm completely harmless. Really.”
            “You have yet to convince me of that, Crazy Bus Boy.”
            “Does that mean I get another shot?” He perks up at the thought. “You can call me whatever nick-names you want—good or bad—just give me another shot. I'll be boringly normal from here on out. I promise.”
            I take an unconscious step closer to Corin as he's talking because, the strangest thing happens as I'm looking up at his bright, hopeful face and coaxing smile. I feel safe. For the first time in almost a year, I feel safe.
            “Get off the bus tomorrow at my stop and you'll have that shot.”
            What's the harm in giving the guy a little crumb of hope? Maybe if he has hope, so will I.

Buy Links:  Amazon     B&N     Kobo     All Romance eBooks


About the Author:
MOLLY ZENK was born in Minnesota, grew up in Florida, lived briefly in Tennessee, before finally settling in Colorado.   She graduated from Flagler College in St. Augustine, FL with degrees in Secondary Education, English, and Creative Writing.  She spent six years using those degrees teaching High School English, Poetry, and Creative Writing before going on “hiatus” to focus on being a stay-at-home/work-at-home Mom.   Molly is the author of two  historical fiction novels – Chasing Byron (Highland Press, 2008) and Unheard Melodies: Confessions Of A Poetic Muse (Wings Press, 2008) about Lord Byron and John Keats.  Chasing Byron is used in classrooms to make the Romantic Poets accessible to at risk kids and reluctant readers. Unheard Melodies was nominated for Best Book Of 2008 by Long And Short Reviews.  90 Cats... is Molly's third novel and the first in a four book series.  Molly is married to a Mathematician/Software Engineer who complains about there not being enough “math” or info about him in her author bio.  They live in Arvada, CO with their young children, one dog, and one cat.             

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Friday, October 26, 2012

Giveaway: Matt Archer: Monster Hunter by Kendra C. Highley

Matt Archer: Monster Hunter (Matt Archer #1)
Release Date: 08/18/12
299 pages
Summary from Goodreads:
Fourteen-year-old Matt Archer spends his days studying Algebra, hanging out with his best friend and crushing on the Goddess of Greenhill High, Ella Mitchell. To be honest, he thinks his life is pretty lame until he discovers something terrifying on a weekend camping trip at the local state park.

Monsters are real. And living in his backyard.

But that's not the half of it. After Matt is forced to kill a strange creature to save his uncle, he finds out that the weird knife he took from his uncle's bag has a secret, one that will change Matt's life. The knife was designed with one purpose: to hunt monsters. And it's chosen Matt as its wielder.

Now Matt's part of a world he didn't know existed, working with a covert military unit dedicated to eliminating walking nightmares. Faced with a prophecy about a looming dark war, Matt soon realizes his upcoming Algebra test is the least of his worries.

His new double life leaves Matt wondering which is tougher: hunting monsters or asking Ella Mitchell for a date?

Sunday passed in a blur of glum faces and soggy rain. After brunch, Brent headed to his girlfriend’s and probably spent the afternoon making out, which meant he was the only one of us with a shot at a smile. Mamie hid behind a book, re-reading A Wrinkle in Time for the umpteenth time in the recliner by the living room window. While she was occupied with something other than watching me, I headed to my room.
I felt compelled to take a look at the knife without Mike hovering behind me, wearing his troubled frown. He doubted I’d need to use it until I’d been through some training, but we both felt it should be closer to its wielder.
I’d hidden it in the pocket of an old backpack stowed in the depths of my closet. When I retrieved it and laid it on my bed it hummed, almost happily, when I touched it. The white bone handle was a little smaller than a carving knife’s, and worn smooth, without markings of any kind. The brown leather sheath had been stitched with thick twine and fit the knife snugly, allowing a wielder to draw the knife fast without the fear of the blade falling out on its own. The blade itself wasn’t shiny—the metal had a bronze tint to it—and it measured nine inches from where it joined the handle to its razor-sharp tip. Clearly the knife had been designed with one purpose, as a weapon. And a badass weapon at that.
A little shudder ran down my spine. If I was going to wield this blade, I had work to do.
Mike had given me a list of exercises to start on, and I needed Brent’s weight set, so I sneaked across the hall. His weights were on a stand in the corner of his room, but how he used them was beyond me. There wasn’t a single spot on the floor, except for a trail from the door to the bed, that didn’t have clothes, cleats or other junk dumped on it. I picked my way through the mine field and grabbed a pair of twenty-pound dumbbells, thinking I’d just take them to my room since I kept my floor somewhat clean.
Mistake. My arms dropped to the ground and my knuckles dragged like a gorilla’s. Maybe the twenty pounders were too much for the first day.
I exchanged the twenties for the ten-pound weights. I could carry the tens without drooping, so I shuffled back to my room. Even with my last growth spurt, I was only five-four and a hundred and seven pounds; twenty pounds was nearly a fifth of my weight. I felt proud of myself until I noticed the dumbbells had dust on them. Brent hadn’t used these little ones for a long time.
DNA was a weird thing–all of us had the same smallish nose as Mom, and dark “Archer blue” eyes from our deadbeat dad. But our builds were completely different. Mamie was thin, like Mom, and a little taller than her friends. I was on the small side, hitting below the fiftieth percentile on the stupid growth charts they use at the doctor’s office. Brent was the hulk of the family, a good ten inches taller than me and double my weight, all of it muscle and bone. For the nineteenth time, I wondered why the knife picked me.
Thirty minutes of weight training was harder than it sounded, and it had sounded pretty hard in the first place. I worked out my biceps, my triceps, my delts and a whole bunch of other muscles I didn’t realize I had. When I was done, my legs and arms felt like gummy worms. Exhausted, I curled up on my bed huffing and puffing.
“Hey! Who’s been in my room?” Brent yelled.
I bolted upright and regretted it when my head spun. The weights were by my closet door, six feet from my bed, but I didn’t think I could crawl across the room to hide them.
Brent flung my bedroom door open without knocking. “I know you were in there. What did you take this time?”
“Just your weights.” I pointed at the dumbbells, too tired to lie. “Uncle Mike said I needed to do some weight training, you know, put on some muscle.”
Brent paused in his attack, looking surprised. “Really?” He smirked. “I guess wimps have to start somewhere. Besides, a little muscle wouldn’t kill you.”
He turned to leave and bumped right into Mamie. “Hey, Latin Club Princess, you’re liable to get run over if you don’t watch traffic.”
“Being an all-state strong, uh, safely doesn’t mean you can tackle people at home,” Mamie said, crossing her arms. “Have some manners, you Neanderthal.”
I’m not sure Brent understood what “Neanderthal” meant but he could tell she was insulting him.“It’s strong safety, genius.”
They glared at each other. Finally, Brent snorted and went to his room, slamming the door like usual.
“Ugh, he’s loud,” Mamie said. “Why did Uncle Mike tell you to do some weight training?”
Crap, Sherlock had a clue. “He wants me to build up some muscle for the rappelling trip.”
Her forehead wrinkled, making her glasses slip down her nose. “Is that why you’ve been eating so much? I know you hate meatloaf; I could tell you were lying last night. And you ate about forty pancakes at brunch today. Are you trying to gain weight?”
“Um, yeah,” I said. Not original, but that’s all I could think of.
“Matt, a week’s not enough time to gain much muscle.” Mamie got her mother-hen voice on. “Is someone bullying you at school? If they are, I’ll ask Mom to talk to Mrs. Stevens.” That was her solution for everything. You have a problem? Tell an adult.
“No—school’s fine.” I said. “Uncle Mike told me it’s a good idea, that’s all.”
“I promised Mom I’d keep an eye on you. Remember that.” She gave me another long stare, then marched off to her room. She didn’t slam the door.
The next morning, I rolled out of bed, sore all over. That must’ve been why Mike said to stretch after working out. A hot shower helped some. After I threw on a semi-clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I stumbled down to breakfast ready to get this week over with so I could go to Colorado with Mike. Mamie sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper, still in her robe. She was always up as early as Mom. I didn’t know another girl who got up early to read the news, from an honest-to-God newspaper, no less. Mamie was sick that way.
“Mom, listen to this.”Mamie pushed her glasses higher up on her nose. “‘The remains of newlyweds John and Marcia Carroll were discovered by Park Rangers on Sunday. While authorities aren’t providing many details, an unnamed source says they believe it to be a bear attack due to the nature of the injuries the couple sustained.’” Mamie turned to me. “Matt, the attack happened in the same park where you and Mike were camping. Good thing you came home early!”
Mom took the paper from Mamie. “Oh my gosh. I’ll need to tell Mike. I don’t want you camping near any crazy grizzlies.”
Up to this point, I’d been shoveling eggs into my mouth and drinking my milk as fast as I could. When Mom and Mamie both looked at me, freaked out, I had a hard time gulping down my last bite.
I had a hunch it wasn’t animals, which meant the creature I stabbed wasn’t the only one roaming the woods. Just knowing something was out there killing hikers made me realize how important it was that I did everything Mike told me for the next few months.
And that included not letting Mom or Mamie know there were monsters in Montana.
Barnes & Noble:
About the Author:
Kendra C. Highley lives in north Texas with her husband and two children. She also serves as staff to two self-important and high-powered cats. This, according to the cats, is her most important job. She believes chocolate is a basic human right, running a 10k is harder than it sounds, and that everyone should learn to drive a stick-shift. She loves monsters, vacations, baking and listening to bad electronica.
Twitter: @KendraHighley
~Giveaway Details~
Grand prize is a Nook Simple Touch and a $25 B&N card plus a paperback copy of Matt Archer: Monster Hunter. (US only). (3) 1st place winners get a $10 Amazon Card plus a paperback copy of Matt Archer: Monster Hunter. (Open Internationally).

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Spotlight: Fearless by Christine Rains

Abby White was seven years old when she killed the monster under her bed. Now she slays creatures spawned by the fertile imaginations of children, and the number of these nightmares are on the rise. Neither she nor her guide - a stuffed hippo named Tawa - know why.

When she rescues Demetrius from an iron prison, he pledges his life to protect hers until he can return the favor. She doesn't want the help. And how can she concentrate on her job when the gorgeous wild fae throws himself in front of her during every fight? No matter how tempting, she can't take the time to lose herself to him.

To save the children and all she loves, Abby must be truly Fearless.



Abby took shallow breaths, unwilling to press her body any more to Demetrius’ than it already was. They were squashed into a corner by a deck and a garage. She mashed Tawa against the wall, and the hippo complained in some ancient language. Sounded a little like Greek but not quite.

The man on the deck told his dog to hurry up and finish his business. The dog, of course, took his time.

Abby could hear Demetrius’ heart. It annoyed her it was much calmer than hers. Her stomach quivered and her hands clenched. No matter how she was breathing, she could smell that masculine woodsy scent that she had come to know as his. Even though he had been using her soap in the shower, he still smelled like he had just come out of the forest. He was as hard and solid as a great oak too. Yet cut in the most appealing of ways.

She glanced to see him looking at her. A smirk quirked his lips and he leaned against her more. Abby wanted to look away, but her head refused to move. Those lips of his were a crime. Too full and sensual to be a man’s, but so fitting for the fae. What would it feel like to have him kiss her? Would he be tender? Or would he be as wild as he was when fighting?

The dog finally did his thing and trotted back to the house. The man muttered and shuffled inside, shutting the glass doors and locking them. The outside lights turned off.

Abby and Demetrius stood where they were for another minute. Their gazes locked. Goose bumps freckled her arms as he bent his head. He was going to kiss her. Oh, how she wanted to taste that fire.

My face is squished. Tawa grumbled. This is only the first house of the night. Let’s get moving.

Tawa’s sharp voice was enough to knock some sense back into Abby’s head. She pushed her way from their hiding spot and took a deep breath of cool night air. She needed to focus on the matter at hand and not the gorgeous man her hands wanted to be exploring at the moment.


Buy Links:  Amazon   Smashwords    B&N      Kobo  

About the Author:

 Christine Rains is a writer, blogger, and geek mom. When she's not writing or reading, she's going on adventures with her son or watching cheesy movies on the SyFy channel. She has four degrees which help nothing with motherhood but make her a great Jeopardy player. Christine has one novella and sixteen short stories published with three forthcoming. She's a member of RWA and S.C.I.F.I. 


Website    Blog    Twitter    Facebook

Monday, October 15, 2012

OXFORD WHISPERS by Marion Croslydon

I'm so happy to have author Marion Croslydon here with me today! Lert's get to know her a little better.
Marion, tell us about yourself.
I’ve been living in London for almost twelve years, but before that, I travelled a lot. I was born in West Africa, grew up in the south of France, studied in Paris, Cape Town, and Oxford… I worked in Finance for a long time, but something was missing in my life. I had always wanted to create stories and write them. When I had my baby girl, I stopped procrastinating and took a leap of faith.
Since my time at Oxford, I had wanted to write a story set there. When I sat down in front of my computer to write the first words, the characters in my head shouted to me: “At last.”
It was one of the most beautiful moments in my life.
Do you prefer... Milk chocolate or Dark?
Milk chocolate because dark gives me a migraine.
Coke or Pepsi?
I’d say Coke. There’s only one thing I feel strongly about and it’s the full-fat element in it. I don’t drink a lot of soda, but when I do, it has to be the full-sugar, full-caffeine original.
Almond Joy or Mounds?
Almond Joy
Romance or a Thriller?
Can I answer Romantic Suspense?
If not, it will have to be romance, of course.
Mystery or Horror?
Mystery. Agatha Christie was my first love…
Did you always want to be an author?
Yes, for as long as I can remember I wanted to be a romance writer. I’ve never wanted to write literary masterpieces but stories that would make the readers dream a bit bigger and their hearts to beat a little faster.
What authors had an impact on you growing up and as an adult?
The analytical genius of Agatha Christie definitely influenced me (not that I’m a genius in any way). I loved the claustrophobic world she created, how she always shown how much the past influences the present, and how love (happy or tragic) is at the roots of everything in life, even murder.
I discovered romance when I picked my first book by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss. It’s funny because I tried and re-read it a few months ago, and, I have to admit, it felt a bit dated… But at the time, I absolutely LOVED it.  
Did anyone in your life influence you or encouraged you to be a writer? (teacher, family member, friend)
My father… He’s a very serious doctor and has spent his career saving lives, particularly during his time in Africa (where I was born). He had to deal and witnessed very dangerous situations and faced death more than once, his own and the people he was taking care of.
Still, he shared with me his love for Alexandre Dumas and I grew up re-enacting with him The Three Muskateers. I even named my first dog, Athos, one of D’Artagnan’s partner-in-crimes. My dad loves a powerful love story either in books or in movies. He loved epic and we fought each other to be the first one to read John Jakes’ North and South.
What is your writing atmosphere like?
Very stuffy… I write in a small room, with the shutters closed… I have a candle burning, one of those Yankee Candles with delicious/sickening flavors like Vanilla Cupcake or Strawberry Cheesecake. My husband thinks they stink, but I obviously strongly disagree since I consume one every week.
What is your favorite aspect or writing? Your Least Favorite?
My least favorite, it’s easy: the first draft. I try and get it out of the way in three months. There’s nothing more difficult to fix than a blank page (I think those were the words of Nora Roberts). Once it’s done, I start the self-editing process, then involve my editor, beta readers and critique partners.
Writing is a lonely job. I love cooperating with others and receiving feedbacks, even bad ones (slightly masochistic, I know). I write to share my stories, so hearing from others about what they liked or disliked, is really what it is all about.
Your current book your promoting is:
Oxford Whispers is the story of Madison LeBon, an American student at Oxford University, with psychic powers she prefers to ignore. But when the tragic lovers in a painting begin to haunt her, she must learn to accept her gift. Otherwise, life will imitate art and Madison's own first love will be doomed.
It’s the first book in The Oxford Trilogy. I’m currently writing the second book, tentatively titled Oxford Shadows, before it goes out to my editor/beta readers/critique partners. It should be out next spring.
How did you come up with the story line?
I’ve drawn inspiration from my own time at Oxford and my passion as a romantic teenager for a Pre-Raphaelite painting by William Shakespeare Burton, The Wounded Cavalier. It is set during the English Civil War.
Also, there’s a strong Voodoo component through Madison—who is kind of an “Ivy-League Sookie Stackhouse”—because I was born in West Africa where Voodoo originates, and spent a lot of time in New Orleans and Louisiana.
How do you choose your characters names?
I don’t do it on purpose but I tend to use names of people I know. In no way, the characters are like their namesakes though. But there’re just names I’m familiar with. My hero’s name is Rupert, which happens to be the name of… my brother-in-law. I hope he won’t mind too much…
Two star-crossed lovers in the English Civil War
A painting with haunting powers
A murderous ghost back for revenge
  Madison LeBon is dead set against the dead. She has vowed to ignore her Voodoo-stamped heritage and the psychic gift passed down through her Louisiana family. The world of the living is where she wants to belong.
But her resolution shatters when the ill-fated lovers in a painting—the subject of her first history class at Oxford—begin to haunt her. The lovers warn her against their own nemesis, a Puritan from the English Civil War.
In misty present-day Oxford, Madison embarks on a quest to unravel the secrets of the past and understand her personal bond with the painting. To protect herself, she must learn to accept her gift before life imitates art, in all its tragedy.
College becomes more complicated when she falls hard for Rupert Vance, a troubled aristocrat and descendant of one of the characters in the painting.
With the spirit of a murderer in hot pursuit, Madison comes to realize that her own first love may be doomed…
Based on a real Pre-Raphaelite painting, Oxford Whispers is full of romance, drama and suspense.
Fall in love for the first time… Again 

Watch the Tralier:

I am a true citizen of the world. I was born in West Africa, grew up in the South of France, and studied in Vienna, Paris, Berlin, Cape Town, and Oxford before finally settling down in London. This wide variety of cities has provided lots of inspiration for my writing. Talk about culture exposure!
In addition to being an author, I work as an entrepreneur, wife and mother-of-one but spend a good deal of time with books, DVDs and listening to my mp3 player; all for the sake of inspiration, of course. My debut series, The Oxford Trilogy, has been a blast to write because I can indulge in my favorite types of music: Country and English rock.
My main goal as a writer is to make readers dream bigger and cause their hearts to beat a little faster. Since my writing is all about sharing dreams and stories, I love connecting with fellow readers and authors.
LINKS      Site :www.marioncroslydon.com       Twitter:  www.twitter.com/mcroslydon

 Marion will be giving away a $20 New Adult Reading pack --i.e. selected NA titles on Amazon to one commenter on the tour.
To eneter just leave a comment on this post with your email adress!
For more chances to win follow her tour.  The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2012/07/virtual-book-tour-oxford-whispers-by.html.