The Demon Summer continues with special savings.

Our Demon Summer continues today, with special week long savings on The Forsaken Templar – Demons Rising: Book 2:

Get your copy today for just 99¢ at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dE27hIPHLEc

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The Forsaken Templar – By S. C. Mitchell

Templar Knight Geoffrey le Court has been stuck in purgatory for the past seven hundred and thirty years. He’s been forsaken and forgotten. But the sorcerer, Nathan Gray, has the power to release Geoffrey, and a plan to help him complete the quest that got the Templar stuck in purgatory in the first place. Nathan also knows the perfect person to help Geoffrey with his quest to destroy the Demon Gate.

Librarian Kelly Grant is a powerful Arcanist sorceress. Kelly has vital information Geoffrey needs to complete his quest and liberate his soul. There’s only one slight problem. The Arcanists and the Templars hate each other. They have been at war for thousands of years. There is no way Kelly would ever work with a Templar.

At the center of their war is the Demon Gate. Created in Atlantis at the dawn of recorded time, this portal to another dimension is at the heart of humanity’s worst problems. Only by working together can Geoffrey and Kelly hope to destroy the Demon Gate. But can they put aside their differences in time to stop a flood of demons poised to invade our world?

The Forsaken Templar is the second book in the Demons Rising saga. It’s a love story between two special people who live in a very dangerous world.

Thursday Threads

This week we feature Cold Ambition by Rachel Sharpe

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Title: “Cold Ambition” (Jordan James, PI series)
Genre: Mystery/Suspense
Heat Level: Sweet
Buy Link: http://www.amzn.com/B00L2OLQPG/

 

Blurb:

“It was my life-long dream to become a private eye. Little did I know that with my very first case, that dream would become a life-threatening nightmare…”

 

When Jordan James decided to embark on a career as a private investigator, she never could have imagined that a chance encounter would lead to her staring down the barrel of a gun on the roof’s edge of a high-rise building. As she begins to investigate her first case, the puzzling murder of a prominent businessman that has left Boston’s finest mystified for more than two decades, she finds herself suddenly immersed in a treacherous underworld brimming with betrayal, raw greed, and political subterfuge of international proportions. In the midst of this, she discovers she is falling for her mysterious client despite the hints of his dark past. Can this feisty Southern girl with a penchant for trouble solve this baffling case or is she doomed to become another tragic chapter in an international conspiracy?

 

Excerpt:

We sat there in silence and heard Ace stumble towards the door and fumble with the lock.

 
“Yeah?”

 
“Is Jordan James here?” a muffled voice inquired. I strained to hear, but the distance between the rooms and the closed door made it nearly impossible.

 
“Who?” Ace laughed. Suddenly, there was a strange sound. It sounded like a firecracker had gone off. This sound was followed by a loud thud which echoed through the apartment. In an instant, Rick and I were on our feet. Rick turned off the light and grabbed the tape from the VCR. I searched the room vainly for a place to hide. Outside the room, I heard shoes echoing on the floor and the sound of doors being opened. Before I had another moment to think, Rick grabbed me and practically carried me to the far corner of the room by the soundboard. Next to the soundboard was a thin wall covered in soundproof foam. Three of the walls had this soundproof foam but the wall contiguous with the door did not. It appeared Ace was still installing it. He pulled it back to reveal a small closet- sized room.

 
He brought me inside and replaced the wall, closing us in. We huddled together in the corner. Looking around I realized that this was the room in which Ace occasionally recorded. Suddenly, faintly, I heard the door to the media room open. I heard footsteps making their way around the room. After what seemed like an eternity, the intruder spoke.

 
“She’s not here,” the muffled voice stated. “Yes, she came into the building with Michaels’ kid. No, they can’t be far. Don’t worry. We know where their car is parked. If not before, we’ll get them when they go back for it.”

 

 

Links:

www.rachelsharpe.com

www.facebook.com/authorrachelsharpe

www.twitter.com/RachelCSharpe

 

Romance Weekly – #LOVECHATWRITE

Do you like to read romance novels? Wouldn’t you like to know more about your favorite authors? Well you came to the right place! Join the writers of Romance Weekly as we go behind the scenes of our books and tell all….. About our writing of course! Every week we’ll answer questions and after you’ve enjoyed the blog on this site we’ll direct you to another. So come back often for a thrilling ride!

AmyJarecki_BeautyandtheBarbarian200

If you found me via Amy Jarecki’s wonderful blog, or you’re just starting your Romance Weekly journey here, welcome. Some probing questions and fun answers lie ahead as you make the rounds.

Collette Cameron cover  Collette Cameron is the author of this week’s questions:

1. How do you respond to someone calling your writing smut or demeaning your work in some other way?

My initial response if visceral, and the compulsion is to jump in and defend my work, and romance in general. But I can usually hold back and let logic take over. This is most likely someone who doesn’t read my work, and probably doesn’t read romance at all. So, while they are entitled to their opinion, it really doesn’t matter to me. Though there are times I feel some ‘education’ would benefit the speaker, so i do dive in.

2. When critiquing or beta reading, do you ever find the voice of the other author creeping into your writing?

No matter what I’m reading, be it beta or published story, I tend to tear the prose apart to see what’s working and what isn’t. I’m at a point where I’m still open to adding a new technique, idea or turn of phrase to my writing, if it will make my stories stronger. I don’t know if the voice leaks in, but I do know a well written piece tends to inspire me want to emulate it. So, when I’m deep into my storytelling, I usually don’t read very much, to keep my own voice consistent.

3. What’s one quirky thing you do or must have around you while writing?

I don’t know if it’s quirky, but I always have a glass of ice water handy. A few years ago I had a kidney stone. They say that passing a kidney stone is the closest thing a man can experience to childbirth. Holy $hit! You mothers have my complete sympathy. Anyway, the doctor told me to drink lots of water if I wanted to avoid getting another one, so I do.

 
I hear you out there. Yes, I have spies all over the interwebs. You’re wondering what the other authors of Romance Weekly answered. Start (or continue) the tour by visiting the wonderful Carolyn Spear at http://www.carolynspearromance.com/blog

Guarding his heart

 

Thursday Threads

After a week on hold, Thursday Threads is back, this week featuring Meggan Connors amazing historical romance, Highland Deception:

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Title: Highland Deception
Heat Rating: Sensual
Genre: Historical Romance
Buy Links:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00J3D2JS6/

 
Blurb:

When Kenneth Mackay, long-banished rogue and thief, returns to the Mackay holding at the request of his brother, he has no idea what he might find. He certainly doesn’t expect to be confronted with his twin’s imminent death, or with the plan his brother has concocted.

 
Ten years before, Malcolm made a tragic mistake, and, to preserve the family name—and his own skin—he allowed Kenneth to take the fall. Now that he is dying without an heir, Malcolm plans to atone for his mistake: by giving Kenneth his life back. All Kenneth has to do is assume his brother’s identity. But complicating matters is the unexpected return of Lady Isobel Mackay, the daughter of an English marquess and the wife Malcolm didn’t want.

 
Isobel barely knows the husband who abandoned her even before their marriage, and she’d long since given up hope on having a real marriage with him. Yet when she returns to the Mackay holding far earlier than expected, she finds her husband a changed man. Despite the hurt between them, Isobel’s heart responds to this man who cares for his entire clan as if there were family. Who, for the first time, cares about her as if she is, too.

 
Falling in love with her husband had never been part of Isobel’s plan. But when their future is suddenly in peril, Isobel must find a way to save him—from himself and from the deception threatening to tear them apart.

 

 

Excerpt:

 
She ignored Grant’s angry protests behind her and ran for her husband’s bedchamber. Slamming open the door, she stumbled inside.

 
Malcolm lay in the great bed. Alone.

 
Alone. She tried not to speculate about what meant.

 
His breathing was shallow, as if he’d been running. As the door bounced back and closed, his sky-bright eyes shot up and met hers.

 
No, not sky-bright. Darker, the color of the forget-me-nots that bloomed in the gardens in spring. The color of the night sky as it lightened with the first rays of dawn.

 
“Milord.” She gasped for breath.

 
Malcolm had never looked at her like he did now. This time, when he studied her, it was as if he didn’t dislike what he saw.

 
Being honest with herself, Malcolm had never disliked her. After all, the term dislike implied a depth of feeling he almost certainly lacked.

 
“Wife.”

 
Isobel flinched.

 
Grant was suddenly at her back. “Sir, I apologize. She’s faster than you’d think.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, as if to steer her from the room.

 
She shook him off.

 
“Indeed.” Malcolm smiled, and a charming dent in his cheek appeared.

 
How had she not noticed that before?

 
“We will leave at once.” Grant took her by the arm.

 
She wrenched out of his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until I have my audience.” She glanced around the room and saw no sign of Malcolm’s mistress.

 
“Lady Mackay,” Grant began.

 
Malcolm held up his hand. “‘Tis fine, Grant. I can always make time for my lady wife.”

 
Isobel barked a hollow laugh, alleviating the ache, just a little.

 
“Are you certain?” Grant’s eyes shifted from Isobel to Malcolm and back again. A wrinkle formed between his brows, and the muscle in his cheek worked as he ground his teeth together.

 
He’d only ever done that when he was agitated or anxious.

 
But there was no reason for that, as Malcolm had never truly cared enough to keep secrets from her in an attempt to spare her feelings. Nor had he ever forced others to do the same.

 
Malcolm’s eyes met Grant’s, and something passed between the two men. Her husband gave Grant a clipped nod. “If you’ll excuse us, Grant.”

 
Grant released his breath slowly. His eyes narrowed first at Malcolm, then at Isobel. Scowling, he bowed his head. “Mackay,” he said stiffly. He turned to Isobel. “Lady Mackay.”

 
Isobel watched him go then waited until the door had closed behind him. “So, where is she?”

 
Malcolm arched a dark brow. “Where is who?”

 
“You know. Her.”

 
He lifted a single shoulder, as if she didn’t have a right to know. “I doona ken.”

 
The silence that fell between them was deafening, damning.

 
Finally he said, “Your arrival was unexpected.”

 
She breathed a mirthless laugh. “I have no doubt.” She expected him to look ashamed, but his expression didn’t hold even the slightest hint of remorse. She swallowed against the betrayal rising in the back of her throat and tried again.

 

“Why are you abed?”

 
“I’ve been ailing. Naught to fash yourself over.”

 
She approached his great bed tentatively. “Ailing how? Has your cough worsened?”

 
He glanced down at his coverlet and then brought his gaze back to her face. “For a time, aye. I believe I’m on the mend now.”

 
Isobel pressed her hand to his forehead, then his cheek. His skin felt cool beneath her palm, if a little damp.

 
His breath hitched, then he cleared his throat. “Satisfied? As you can see, I am on the mend.”

 
“Perhaps,” she whispered. She ran her hand around to the back of his neck, then descended to his back.

 
He wore a thin linen shirt, unsuitable for the cool nights of the Highlands in late fall. She placed her hands between his shoulder blades. He was thinner than she remembered, but there was no mistaking Malcolm’s unique strength.

 
“Breathe,” she said, and then reminded herself to do the same.

 
Malcolm.

 
“I hardly think—”

 
“If you want me to leave you be, you will appease my curiosity. Breathe.”

 
Malcolm tilted his head up and studied her.

 
She fought the desire to look at him for as long as she could before meeting his gaze. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.

 
Curiosity.

 
“Breathe, milord.” Heat spread up her neck to her face, and, to keep her free hand from shaking, she clenched a fist. The warmth of his body seeped through his nightshirt, scalding her hand not with fever but with something else.

 
The corners of his lips tilted upward before he smoothed his features. He paused for a moment too long, then held her gaze as he took an extended, deliberate breath.

 
She shoved the raging emotions aside and forced herself to view him as a person who needed her help.

 
She felt no hint of the cough that had been nagging him before she’d left.

 
Swallowing hard, she slid her hand between the linen and his skin, against his chest.

 
His heart rate kicked up.

 
“Breathe.” She struggled to force the word out.

 
I feel nothing. Nothing. He needs my help.

 
She closed her eyes and listened to his breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath her hands, the steady beating of his heart. His skin scorched hers.

 
Her mouth dried, her tongue thick and heavy. She removed her hand. “You seem to have mended nicely.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strangled.

 
His gaze searched her face. “Aye.”

 
Isobel cradled her hand against her chest and stepped back from the bed, nearly tripping over her own feet. “I will leave you now, sir.”

 
Malcolm gave her a clipped nod. “Very well, my lady wife.”

 
“I—I will be in my chambers should you require me.”

 
He didn’t laugh, as he normally would have. “Then I shall find you there if I do. Or I will send for you.”

 
She backed up a few paces, bumped into a trunk, and immediately turned her attention to her skirt, trying to smooth wrinkles undoubtedly permanent from long days of travel. It was better than looking at Malcolm.

 
“By your leave.” Her eyes locked on the floor as she dipped into a hasty curtsy and fled.

 
The moment the door closed behind her, she put her back against the cold, stone wall, cradling the hand that had touched him as if she had injured it.

 
She’d touched his skin, felt the heat of his body, and the responding heat of hers.

 
He hadn’t forced her hands away. He hadn’t mocked her.

 
Instead, for the first time since their marriage, he’d called her wife.

Romance Weekly – #LOVECHATWRITE

Do you like to read romance novels? Wouldn’t you like to know more about your favorite authors? Well you came to the right place! Join the writers of Romance Weekly as we go behind the scenes of our books and tell all….. About our writing of course! Every week we’ll answer questions and after you’ve enjoyed the blog on this site we’ll direct you to another. So come back often for a thrilling ride!

If you found me via Elizabeth Janette’s wonderful blog, Redemption of Liars

or you’re just starting your Romance Weekly journey here, welcome. Some probing questions and fun answers lie ahead as you make the rounds.

Queen of hearts Jami Denise is the author of this week’s questions:

 
1. When writing your novel, do you know how it’s going to end before you write, or do you write from start to finish?

 
When I start a new story, I usually start with two characters and a scene in mind where they interact. It’s usually the opening scene, but not always. The first scene in Son of Thunder I envisioned was Jord and Meghan on the motorcycle, riding up the rainbow bridge to Asgaard. Everything flowed from there.

 
I let the characters lead me around for a while, with no real ending in sight. Eventually they find a direction and head toward it, and the ending becomes clear.

 

 
2. How do the people you know impact your writing? Are you influenced by friends and family for your characters?

 
I’m pretty sure bits and pieces of real life friends and acquaintances slip into my characters, but there are very few instances where I can point to a character and say “That is 100% so-and-so.” I do occasionally slip family members into my stories, just cause I love ‘em.

 

 
3. Describe the hero in your current WIP in three words.

 
Tough, caring, and brave.

 

 
I hear you out there. Yes, I have spies all over the interwebs. You’re wondering what the other authors of Romance Weekly answered. Start (or continue) the tour by visiting the wonderful Sarah Hegger  at http://sarahhegger.wordpress.com/

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Hanging with the heavy hitters. #wisrwa14

I just returned from an incredible weekend at the WisRWA Write Touch conference (#wisrwa14). It was an inspiring meet-up with romance authors from all over the country (a couple flew in all the way from California). The conference also included some industry heavy hitters.

Panel

Here’s an agent-editor panel that included Liz Pelletier (Entangled Publishing), Adam Wilson (Gallery Books), Michelle Grajkowski (3 Seas Literary Agency), my editor Cheryl Yeko (Soul Mate Publishing), Eric Ruben (The Ruben Agency), Leah Hultenschmidt (Grand Central Books), and Rebecca Scherer (The Jane Rotrosen Agency).

 

Authors included:
Lorelie BrownJade LeeGina MaxwellCheryl YekoCarrie LoftyAmy

We also had some great workshops:

Workshop 1Workshop 2

 

And there was plenty of fun.

 

Me & Gina L Maxwell

Here Gina Maxwell and I find out we have something in common.

The highlight of the weekend for me was having Son of Thunder receive 2nd place in the FUTURISTIC/FANTASY/PARANORMAL/TIME TRAVEL category of the 2014 WisRWA Write Touch Readers’ Choice Award Contest.

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It finished just behind A Soul For Vengeance by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Christa McHugh. My congratulations to her.
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Now I have to come down out of the clouds and get back into my writing.