Introducing author Leigh Goff and her YA novel “Disenchanted”

Disenchanted

Please join me in welcoming author Leigh Goff today, with her Young Adult novel, DISENCHANTED, scheduled for release on June 1st, 2015

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A forbidden love. A dark curse. An impossible choice…

About Disenchanted:

Descended from a powerful Wethersfield witch, sixteen-year-old Sophie is struggling to hide her awkwardly emerging magic, but that’s the least of her worries. When a dangerous thief tries to steal her mysterious heirloom necklace, she is rescued by the one person she’s forbidden to fall for, a descendant of the man who condemned her ancestor to hang. He carries a dark secret that could destroy them both unless Sophie learns how to tap into the mysterious power of her diamond bloodcharm. She will have to uncover dark secrets from both of their families’ wicked pasts and risk everything, including her soul to save them from a witch’s true love curse, but it will take much more than that.

Excerpt:

I sat, soaking wet, shaking from the adrenaline. Whoever he was, he rescued me from the would-be thief who bore the symbol of the Leos, a breath-saving nickname I gave Judge Mather’s Law Enforcement Organization. I strained to see, but the rain drops clinging to my long eyelashes blurred my vision. I wiped them away as my heart settled to an even pace.

With his back to me, he watched the thief disappear into the stormy night. He ran his hands through his thick, wavy, wet hair. His broad shoulders relaxed before he turned to offer me assistance. He extended his long arm to help me to my feet. I hesitated for a second, unsure of him, but as he reached for me, our fingers brushed together. A shock of electricity bolted through my hand. I froze as I caught the surprised reaction on his face, telling me he felt it, too. His fingers clasped firmly around mine and, with no effort, he pulled me to my feet. Unsteady, I pressed my hands against his firm muscled chest that showed through the drenched white shirt. A dizzy, swirly sensation swept through my head as if I were on a merry-go-round spinning around at one hundred miles per hour.

He had to be six feet tall.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a smooth British accent. His deep voice vibrated with tension, sending warm chills inside me.

I balanced myself and brushed my wet hair behind my ears, swallowing hard. A British accent that could make a girl melt if the girl didn’t have alarm bells going off in her head. There were no Brits currently living in our small part of Wethersfield, which meant he had to be one of them. My wide eyes flitted around, looking for a clue to make sense of why the statuesque Mather boy with his soaking wet shirt and black tailored pants left the comfort of his father’s manor house to brave the storm.

He stepped closer, breaching the already slim gap between us and forcing my eyes up. The streetlight illuminated his handsome features. His ivory complexion, dappled with raindrops and a shadow of thick stubble, revealed a hint of blush as if it were wintertime and the cold air had plucked at his cheeks.

I followed the perfect straight line of his nose to his brooding, dark eyes full of mystery. His eyes wandered over the details of my face and settled on my own, waiting for me to reply. A warm, wet breeze swirled up from behind him and wrapped his alluring scent around me; clean, floral and woodsy and thoroughly masculine. I inhaled again and again, unable to exhale. With all the plants and flowers I had smelled in my lifetime, he smelled better than any, alone or in combination. I wavered slightly, side to side, feeling dazed. I gulped a mouthful of air, trying not to breathe him in. What was wrong with me? I shook myself out of the stupor.

“Did you know that man?” he asked.

“Did you?” I said in an accusatory tone, but at that moment, I didn’t care about the attacker.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He drew back like I was crazy for suggesting anything.

He was the enemy. Say something, I thought. “What…what are you doing out here anyway?”

He furrowed his eyebrows inward. “Saving you, obviously.”

I threw my hands on my hips, shocked by the irony. A Mather helping a Greensmith? Hell was freezing over somewhere beneath our feet and every kind of farm animal was sprouting wings to fly. “That’s impossible.”

“And why is that?”

“Because…because you’re a Mather,” I said, not meaning to sound disgusted, but I struggled to contain my feelings. Fact was, the Mathers had Greensmith blood on their hands, as well as my coven’s blood. Through Wethersfield’s history, they were known as witch-hunters and with each generation, they changed only to appear more politically correct, but their intentions remained unchanged.

Mirror World Publishing Link:  Disenchanted

Amazon Purchase Link:  Disenchanted

About the Author:

Writing Enchanting Ever-Afters ♥

Leigh Goff photo

Leigh Goff grew up in Maryland where she resides today. Her writing is inspired by an unusual childhood, a vivid imagination, and compelling historical events. After taking several writing courses in college and attending professional writing workshops after she graduated from the University of Maryland, she joined the Maryland Writers’ Association and Romance Writers of America. She is also an approved artist with the Maryland State Arts Council.

Learn more about Leigh Goff on her WEBSITE or at Mirror World Publishing.

Follow the Tour Here: 

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Genre(s): Young Adult, Fantasy, Romance, Occult

Keywords: Young Adult, Fantasy, Fantasy Romance, Witchcraft, Wethersfield, Goodchild, Mather, witch, coven, true love curse, white witch, black witch, Sophie, Alexavier, bloodcharm, star-crossed, clairvoyant, outcast

ISBNs: e-Book ~ 978-0-9947490-0-0  Print Book ~ 978-0-9920490-9-6

Number of Pages:  264

Release Date: June 1, 2015

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Place and Presence in Novels by Derek Thompson

 

 

The distant past

Place and Presence in Novels by Derek Thompson

 

Although I’m an advocate of going with the flow when it comes to writing, I also believe – passionately – that everything within a book should be essential. This extends beyond the characters and plot to the setting. The landscape you choose for your novel (or that chooses you!) is more than mere backdrop; it may also function as a symbolic landscape. In Wuthering Heights, Cathy and Heathcliff had the wild and elemental moors; Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe prowled the sleazy streets of Los Angeles. Landscape, brought to life, is both metaphor and a character in itself.

I pondered all that when Thomas Bladen, the protagonist of my debut thriller, Standpoint, first introduced himself. He told me he was from Yorkshire and I laughed because I’d only ever spent a few days there – a week in York and two stopovers for work in Leeds. It took a little while to place him in the North Yorkshire town of Pickering, not too far from the North York Moors National Park. That decision and the sight of him standing alone on the moors, camera in hand and still as granite, while the ragged winds blew around him, gave me important clues to his identity.

If the natural world gave him solace and solitude, it was the urban locations that would test him and in some ways corrupt him too. In Leeds he encounters love and its consequences; in London he finds anonymity. The contrast is echoed in Thomas’s double-life, working as an intelligence gatherer and moved from department to department, while family and friends know nothing of his private world. A man who compartmentalises his life needs to stay in control, so what would happen if those two worlds collided and he couldn’t fit the pieces back together?

Location is an important factor throughout Standpoint because Thomas behaviour changes depending upon where he is. As the author, that became part of the fascination: who is he really?

Thomas’s world and mine intersect at certain points. I grew up in East London, so placing his flat only three miles away meant I could get a clear sense of locality. Naturally, the London Underground features, as does a building where I used to work. Each element helps me build up a clearer picture in my head that should translate on to the page. Place and presence, whether it’s blatant or subtle, can add colour and texture to a novel, creating imagery and mood that live on in the mind of the reader.

By way of an example, here are the words of a master:

To the red country and part of the gray country of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth. – The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck.

And to round things off, here are the opening lines to Standpoint:

Thomas Bladen focused his binoculars on a block of shipping containers far below the lookout. As a prolonged ferry blast carried across the port like a cry of mourning, he surveyed the slate sky, tracking a gull as it veered across and crapped on a Bentley.

About the book

Standpoint mini

Standpoint, published by Joffe Books, is the first in a series of novels about Thomas Bladen. Follow @DerekWriteLines for updates on the sequel to Standpoint, coming 2015.

Thomas Bladen is a civil service photographer, working in London, but the Surveillance Support Unit also assists other government departments – something he neglected to mention to the few people he allows to get close to him. The SSU is staffed by ex-forces personnel, careerists and Thomas. He has an eye for details that other people miss and a talent for finding trouble – a combination that was never going to bring him an easy life.

During a routine observation he unwittingly exposes a world of corruption and danger that bleeds into his private life. When the cards are stacked against him and the only woman he’s ever loved may end up paying the price for his choices, can one good man hold the line without crossing it?

 

About the author

DTC mini

I’m a diverse writer of fiction, non-fiction and comedy material. Standpoint is the first in a series of contemporary British thrillers that combine action, intrigue and dark humour.

Come visit my blog: http://www.alongthewritelines.blogspot.co.uk

US

http://www.amazon.com/STANDPOINT-gripping-thriller-full-suspense-ebook/dp/B00UVQBVVU/ref=sr_1_25?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1426799134&sr=1-25&keywords=spy+thriller

UK

http://www.amazon.co.uk/STANDPOINT-gripping-thriller-full-suspense-ebook/dp/B00UVQBVVU/ref=sr_1_25?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1426799134&sr=1-25&keywords=spy+thriller

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Welcome guest author Flossie Benton Rogers

Please welcome my guest and fellow Secret Cravings Publishing author, Flossie Benton Rogers, with her new release, Lord of Fire – Wytchfae 5, a Paranormal Fantasy Romance. Be sure to check out Flossie’s Rafflecopter giveaway.

LordofFire_MED

Karen, thank you for featuring Lord of Fire today! Your hospitality is much appreciated. Lord of Fire is a paranormal romance / urban fantasy, with elements of time travel. I thought your readers might like to start out with a picture of an old Florida rock mine similar to the one near the hero’s cabin. Imagine walking around this woodsy area in the dead of night. Those ravines are deep.

RockMine5-2014

Blurb: When The Hawk meets his Wytchfae, the result is spontaneous combustion.

Garnet McAnna chases the demon responsible for attacking and enslaving innocent fae familiars. She never expected to run headlong into a mesmerizing stranger known as The Hawk. Nor did she anticipate the way his masculine power kindles a womanly flame within her.

Exiled from an elite warrior’s brigade, Lord of Fire Gabriel Hawk guards his heart and his solitude. He wants nothing to do with the world of men or the realm of fae. Then a beautiful Wytchfae bursts into his life, stirring desire and sparking need. Garnet is on a dangerous mission, and he can’t let her face the evil alone. What else can he do but fight beside her? When she disappears, he raises hell to find her. Will he be too late? Will darkness conquer this couple or will love burn their souls into one?

First Line Teaser: She’d catch the demon tonight if it killed her.

Memorable Quote: “Garnet McAnna, you’re the hottest woman in thirteen worlds.”

Excerpt:

Lost in her thoughts, Garnet ran up against something hard and springy, and a sharp point pricked the soft flesh of her thumb. She squeezed off the pain with her other hand.

Damned barbed wire.

She had already made it to the fence line and hadn’t even realized it. Sucking in a deep breath, she cleared her mind to concentrate on the task at hand. She had to edge around the boundary to the north side of this large piece of private property to gain access to the portal. Then she’d hunker down in the bushes and wait on the demon Borros.

Moving swiftly again, she cut a wide swath away from the metal fence. Snorting sounds came from within one of the corrals she had noted early this morning when she skirted the property. Horses and a few cattle had grazed within.

Bearing around the corner to head north toward the portal, a splash of incandescent green appeared and then disappeared in front of her. Startled, she blinked and reached into her coat pocket for the revolver. The weapon lay cold and substantial in her hand. She stilled her body to a midnight silence.

The eerie green reappeared and dashed around her body without spotlighting her in any way. It formed a mysterious elongated glow. She clamped down harder on the gun handle to stop her hand from trembling, while shifting positions to keep the phenomenon in front of her.

Her mind tumbled over possibilities. The light couldn’t be swamp gas, as it seemed to proceed purposefully. Its movement created a slight whirring sound. A will ’o the wisp? Somehow she thought not, but what was it?

The presence darted behind her.

Before she could turn, a warm, corporeal hand covered her own and relieved her of the weapon. Whirling around, she came face to face with—a man.

A gasp escaped her lips. With his substantial height, he towered over her. A faint greenish residue of light illuminated him enough so that the fierce scowl on his face caused her heart to thump into overdrive.

She swallowed, fingering the sheath of one of the knives in her pocket. Damn it, next time she’d bring a backup piece. She forced herself to speak, but despite her efforts, her voice rasped. “Give me back my weapon.”

His sonorous growl reminded her of a feral animal. “Not so fast. What the hell are you doing sneaking around my property with a firearm in the middle of the night?”

Video Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTifE-174mE

Buy Links:

Amazon http://amzn.to/1nzt1Bs

Secret Cravings Publishing http://bit.ly/1FKwWBu

Barnes & Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wytchfae-5-flossie-benton-rogers/1120627377?ean=2940046361803

Bookstrand http://www.bookstrand.com/wytchfae-5-lord-of-fire

All Romance https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-wytchfae5lordoffire-1654243-149.html

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Author Bio:

Flossie Benton Rogers is the author of the Wytchfae paranormal romance series. She is Sagittarius with a Libra ascendant and Taurus moon, or a 5th generation Floridian and freedom loving mystic. She pursues her passion for mythology by writing romances with fairies, goddesses, ghosts, angels, demons, and other magical beings. The Wytchfae world brims with dimensions parallel to our own. Some are welcoming, others dangerous and forbidding. Through the darkest night and the fright of unchained chaos, love will always shine.

Connect with Flossie:

Website: http://flossiebentonrogers.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/FlossieBentonRogersAuthor

Twitter: http://twitter.com/FrostFyre

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/Wytchfae

LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/in/flossiebentonrogers

Goodreads author page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6553203.Flossie_Benton_Rogers

Amazon author page: http://amazon.com/author/flossiebentonrogers

Thanks so much for stopping by!

Flossie Benton Rogers is hosting a giveaway at Rafflecopter!

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The Next Phase of Life

TheSecretLifeofRichardMcCoy_LRG

I find myself in a new phase of life, so to speak. At the graceless age of fifty-two, changes come slowly and sporadically, but once they pass, it’s forever. For women, this pertains to perimenopause (and actual menopause), the empty nest syndrome, and marital issues that might arise when one or both partners retire from a lifelong career.

I’m dealing with perimenopause, and though I don’t dislike the transition, I’m none too thrilled about it either. I can handle the occasional hot flash (a change in my overall diet largely put an end to this inconvenient symptom), and I’d really like to see the end of the nasty monthly periods. And though I do enjoy the alone time with my husband, I think once our nest is empty of our youngest daughter (21), I’m going to miss her very much. She’s funny and insightful, and her little dog is a joy to have around.

A woman’s biological change sometimes transitions with a partner’s retirement. Suddenly, she’s thrust into the constant company of a person she’d learned to essentially live without for eight to twelve hours at a stretch. Again, I’m fortunate—my husband and I happen to like each other, and we work, play, and sleep together. He’s a considerate hottie, and getting “it” two or three times a day is not a problem for me. Like I said, he’s attentive and quite fetching, and looks damn good in black short-sleeved T-shirts… Ahem.

I wrote The Secret Life of Richard McCoy with aging only partially on my mind. I think the genesis of the character, Sally McCoy, came with my own awareness of my shift in life. Like me, Sally reached a point in the aging process where she’d gained the maturity to examine her life, and accept whatever regrets she’d accumulated.

Sally’s double-whammy is the knowledge that her late husband Richard McCoy, had layers of strange and compelling secrets, all the while discovering she still has the capacity to forgive, and fall in love again. Uncovering the mystery of how Richard’s life transacted independent of their marital relationship returns Sally to a former self she’d abandoned when she married him almost thirty years ago. For Sally, finding love with Victor Callahan, a man whose life carried a similar and potentially destructive bitterness toward Richard McCoy, is undeniably watershed.

* * * *

An author of Fiction Noir, and Erotic Romance, Karen Kennedy Samoranos co-manages a music education business in the Bay Area with her husband, Clifford, focusing on jazz theory and live stage performance for children ages 5 through 18. She has four adult children, and four young grandchildren. In her off hours, she hikes, is an avid fisherman, and motorcyclist (both dirt and street), and an advocate for regular exercise, the modest consumption of red wine, and adherence to whole foods.

Buy Links for The Secret Life of Richard McCoy:

Secret Cravings Publishing

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

All Romance e-Books

iTunes

You can find me at:

Amazon Author Page

Web Site

Facebook

Twitter

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Richard W. McCoy Makes the Hall of Shame

TheSecretLifeofRichardMcCoy_LRG

Imagine being married to a man for nearly thirty years. You have a shared history, including three children, now adults. You’ve endured health issues that didn’t stop him from acting as your constant lover…well, maybe during a certain period of time, when a reproductive affliction meant you couldn’t have sex. Once corrected, your sex life is back to normal, active and strong, your husband randy as ever, with eyes only for you. There are never any red flags to suggest otherwise.

You’d been to hell and back, your body, once nearly smashed to bits in a violent and near-fatal accident, was surgically pieced back together, and yet, he still loves you. Now you’re at the precipice of age fifty, and he’s as eager to bed you today as when you were young and first in love. Your entire life has been dedicated to loving this man, all your trust and total commitment, while he served as a gate against the world that that terrifies you with its seething danger.

But then, he dies, quite unexpectedly. So, you catch a flight to where your man passed away, view his body in the morgue, and numbly make arrangements for cremation. Picturing the ultimate romantic gesture of sleeping with the urn containing his ashes at your bedside, forever…except, that forever is negated in less than one week, when you discover your husband had been living a very well concealed double life.

A quite unbelievable premise, you might ask? However, this occurred to the women in the life of former Stanford pediatrician Dr. Norman J. Lewiston. In Dr. Lewiston’s case, he seemed more of a womanizing bumbler, too lazy to obtain a divorce, than a crafty premeditated and calculating husband, as portrayed in my Erotic Romance, The Secret Life of Richard McCoy (Secret Cravings Publishing, July 2014).

This novel enters into Richard W. McCoy’s antics post-mortem, describing a man driven to succeed at the cost of others, the general definition of the true sociopath. Lacking compassion, empathy, with his only ambition hedonistic adventure, Richard played people in a game of chess that included lovers, illegitimate children, and crime.

Sally McCoy, newly widowed, is initially ill equipped to delve into her late husband’s many and complex secrets, yet she unravels a mystery that nearly costs her own life. More importantly, as she returns to her former self, she finds love with a most unexpected ally, Victor Callahan, a man whose presence in her life ironically served to allow Richard to betray Sally. But she’s no longer the victim—with the reins of life firmly in both hands—and her heart.

* * * *

Please visit the links below for further information on this book, and other novels by author Karen Kennedy Samoranos.

Author Web Site

Author Amazon Page

Author Facebook Page

Author Twitter

The Secret Life of Richard McCoy” can be found at:

Secret Cravings Publishing

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

All Romance e-Books

iTunes

 

The Secret Life of Richard McCoy is coming to paperback print in January 2015

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RIP to Air Tanker Pilot Geoffrey “Craig” Hunt

The family of pilot Geoffrey “Craig” Hunt is grieving for their loss following the shocking Grumman S-2T fire retardant air tanker accident. The horrific event occurred while Hunt was  flying over the Dog Rock Fire near Yosemite’s Arch Rock on October 7th. Witnesses state the aircraft inexplicably started rolling, hit the mountainside and exploded. According to the San Jose Mercury News, Hunt was contracted through DynCorp International for his thirteen years of expertise in flying air tankers. Citizens whose properties have been salvaged from wildfire through the valiant efforts of pilots like Hunt are surely sending out their prayers to his survivors.

Anyone who lives in the western United States or follows news reports is well aware of a continuing drought that has severely affected the western Pacific region, specifically the state of California. Numerous dry lightning strikes over the summer wreaked havoc in small communities across rural areas, sparking intense wildfires fueled by extreme conditions and dry vegetation.

To say that Cal Fire, the state wildfire suppression agency, has their hands full is an understatement. As more Californians move into rural and mountainous areas, they take with them valued possessions that a single wildfire can wipe out in minutes. Cal Fire has performed their due diligence in not only fighting these fires (joined by other agencies at the federal and local levels), but they also champion fire prevention through inspection to ensure residents maintain the 100 foot barrier around dwellings. Often keeping these clearances could spell the difference between a fire sweeping through with minimal damage, or total destruction.

As property owners in a rural part of the state, we have seen Cal Fire on the move, watching for lightning-induced fires, inspecting housing subdivisions, and assisting above and beyond their parameters of official duties.

For example, over the Labor Day weekend at Eagle Lake, located in Lassen County, California, an accident occurred on County Road A1. The owner of an elderly wooden powerboat experienced failure of the tie-down strap upon making a turn. As a consequence, the boat leapt off the trailer, and was totaled.

The owner—a local from Susanville—was graciously assisted by occupants of a passing Cal Fire crew based in Chester, California. The firefighters volunteered to load the shattered boat back onto the trailer, and helped the owner jury-rig a tie-down system that would ensure safety while on the road.

CalFireToRescue2

As a parallel verse to all this lauding of Cal Fire, I will mention the Fire Fee that the State of California implemented several years ago. Owners of improved properties in designated rural fire zones are assessed a fee of $150 per parcel (unimproved rural lots are exempt from this fee). An allowance of $35 is subtracted from the total fee if the rural property exists within the authority of a fire district.

The tax-deductible fee on our rural property runs $115 per year. Such a fee could pose a strain for some rural residential property owners on fixed incomes, such as SDI or SSI. Certainly purchasing wild-land fire insurance is exponentially more expensive than the fire fee (our policy costs $1,200 per year).

The greatest issue in rural counties is an attitude I can only describe as paradoxical. In essence, there’s a majority of individuals who despise paying taxes, and yet, expect to receive government assistance for “free.” This is what’s known as entitlement. The uproar against the Fire Fee is a classic example of folks who expect something for nothing.

So, it was to my great distress when I happened across a sign posted high in a tree on private property owned by Sierra Pacific Industries. The sign read, “CALFIRE EMPIRE WANTS YOUR PAYCHECK”

AreYouKiddingMe2

Briefly, SPI is a forest products company, and great stewards of their lands. How many of us live in a house, where absolutely none of the material generated to build it comes from trees? How many of us own physical books, or read a physical newspaper, or for God’s sake, wipe our butts on toilet paper? Harvesting trees is one of the unavoidable aspects of human industry. And SPI is one cog in a very enormous wheel of forest management, harvest and renewal.

As a writer I respect the free speech of others. I do know that the First Amendment is limited when speech incites violence, riots and other acts civil disobedience. In other words, I can say, something to the effect that “I think ice cream is bad for the human body.” However, I am not within my First Amendment rights when I try to stir up the masses to go the next step of actually destroying cartons of ice cream. Only then is my speech severely limited (one historical leader of American Indian Movement, John Trudell, was an excellent purveyor of free speech, without actually violating the tenets of the First Amendment).

I admit that after photographing the tree and the sign—including SPI’s own posting against trespassers—I ruminated for almost thirty days. And then, I shot off an email to SPI:

From: karen kennedy samoranos

To: sierra@spi-ind.com

Subject: Signage on SPI property

Date: Sep 26, 2014 2:44 PM

Attachments: SierraPacificIndustriesA1

AreYouKiddingMe1

Hi,

Just thought you might be interested in a sign nailed high in a lodgepole pine on Sierra Pacific Industries’ property near Susanville, CA. The area in question in the Piute Creek drainage, northeast of county road A1, at the foot of Roop Mountain, between the USFS offices, and the Lake Forest Estates subdivision. Both signs are readily visible on the right side of A1 as traffic heads toward Eagle Lake.

This particular sign is posted just above an SPI sign warning of no trespass (see first photo). The actual sign in question is nailed to a tree (see second photo). Close-up (photo number three) reveals an interesting political view of Cal Fire.

I would hope that SPI is not responsible for this sign, as the irony is self-explanatory.

Please note that the sign was posted as of September 2, 2014. I cannot confirm if the sign is still present on SPI property. I find the sign distressing evidence of a rather loosely bolted mentality in tinder-dry fire country. If this is how SPI wishes to be aligned, that’s a First Amendment prerogative. After all, as a writer, I do respect free speech.

Best,

Karen K Samoranos

 

SPI’s response was received shortly after my email:

From: mark lathrop spi

To: “‘karenksam@earthlink.net'” <karenksam@earthlink.net>

Subject: RE: Signage on SPI property

Date: Sep 26, 2014 3:38 PM

Karen,

Thanks for bringing this to our attention.  I can assure you the CDF sign is not something from SPI.  We will have someone remove it.

Mark

Mark Lathrop

Community Relations Manager

Sierra Pacific Industries

In conclusion, California’s tax base, mandated Fire Fee, and the services generously rendered by agencies such as Cal Fire should never be taken for granted. But when it comes to the valiant efforts of pilots like Hunt, or the young men from the Chester station who assisted with a junk-heap wooden boat with painted-over dry rot, signs like the one on SPI land tend to be unreasonably cruel. The militant attitudes of a few nutcases sometimes can pervade the common sense of the majority.

I am adamant about free speech, but I question the motives of the handful who wish to stir up anger against those who serve and protect not only our financial interests and lives, but our beloved pets and precious wedding photos and the very sanctuaries in which we live.

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Author Facebook Page

Author Web Site

Buy Link–Musa Publishing

Buy Link–Secret Cravings Publishing

 

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Featuring author M.S. Spencer’s “Whirlwind Romance”

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What do pirates, princes, Puritans, and propaganda have in common? Lacey Delahaye, forager and jelly maker, finds out in this romantic suspense set in the western Caribbean.

Whirlwind Romance

Secret Cravings Publishing, 9/2/2014

89,000 words; M/F; 3 flames; Adventure/Romance
I didn’t mean to write this story. I meant to write a nice romantic interlude set on Longboat Key, a lovely barrier island on the Gulf Coast of Florida. Even before I’d reached Chapter Two, however, things had taken a geographical turn and veered off into the western Caribbean. Even now I’m not sure how it happened, but everything started to go awry when Lacey Delahaye, my heroine, finds a bedraggled castaway in her mangrove swamp. Fine. Not a problem. He’s handsome, injured, and clearly has a secret. Could he be a lost tourist? A real estate agent caught up in a Florida land scam? An environmentalist who’s discovered that whales have become man-eaters? No, sir. With his exotic, dark looks (flashing black eyes, shimmering ebony hair, etc.), he hardly seemed the real estate agent type. And he has an accent. Therefore he comes from elsewhere. He eventually confesses to Lacey that…well, I certainly won’t divulge his secret. I will say that he and Lacey find themselves in a remote, tiny, tropical paradise, which would be very romantic, except for the vicious serpent lurking there.

Blurb:

In the aftermath of a hurricane, Lacey Delahaye finds herself marooned on the Gulf coast of Florida with a mysterious man. They are immediately drawn to each other, but before Armand can confess his identity, they are kidnapped and taken far from civilization to a tiny, remarkable island in the western Caribbean. With the help of her son Crispin, a small, but proud young boy named Inigo, and a cadre of extraordinary characters, Lacey and Armand must confront pirates, power-mad ideologues, and palace intrigue if they are to restore the once idyllic tropical paradise to its former serenity and find lasting happiness.

*****

Excerpt (R): Makeup Sex

A light tapping woke her. She lifted her head as the mantel clock chimed once. One a.m. “Who is it?”

“It’s me. Armand. Can I come in?”

No! “What do you want?”

“We have to talk.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course.”

“I mean, you’ve locked me in. I’m hardly in a position to refuse.”

The doorknob rattled. “Damn it, you’re right—those two blockheads must have ordered it. Hang on.” She listened to some scratching and bumping and the door yielded. Armand stumbled in.” He held up a small pin with a grin. “Once again the superiority of my education is affirmed.”

“That’s nice. Look, I need some sleep. I’m getting out of your hair tomorrow morning, so you don’t need to threaten me. I apologize for being such a fool.”

He took a step toward her, and she drew her knees up to her chin. “May I sit down?”

“Be my guest.”

He gazed at her a minute. “It’s…it’s good to see you.”

She was too busy clenching her jaw to say anything.

He tried again. “I missed you.”

“Huh.”

“I…uh…look, Lacey, you have no right to take that attitude. After all, you were the one who left me.” He stood and paced.

“I—”

He swung on her, his face pinched, his voice brittle. “Why did you do that? Why did you go?”

“I had to, Armand. I was in the way. You had a family crisis—a national crisis—on your hands. My presence just made things worse.”

“No…no. That’s not true. I wanted…needed you. Lacey—” He bent toward her, his beseeching eyes filled with shade upon shade of black and mahogany and gold.

They reminded her of Maitea’s eyes. “Really?” She tossed her head. “I see you wasted no time getting engaged.”

He lifted his chin. “What else could I do? I’d lost the only woman I’ve ever loved. All I have left is my honor. And honor dictates that the second son of the grand duke marry his second cousin.”

Lacey remembered that awful night in the castle, with Edrigu and Crispin and Inigo, and…Armand—the night when all her options were so cruelly eliminated, leaving her with the one, the inevitable choice. “You didn’t lose me, Armand. You let me go.”

His stricken face shot shards of pain, piercing her heart. Defenses crumbling, she held out her arms. He fell into them.

A long kiss, followed by a rambling conversation in which the words “love” and “forever,” figured prominently, went on for a few minutes. Armand’s hands roamed over Lacey like a blind man memorizing her body, finally reaching the hem of her nightgown. He lifted it up and over her head, pausing to kiss each nipple. She unbuttoned his shirt, planting kisses on his chest. He wiggled out of his jeans and returned to her.

She pressed closer, squashing her breasts against him, wrapping her thighs around his hips. They held still, savoring the moment, savoring the knowledge of what was to come. He inched down her stomach, pausing to lick her belly button, then on to her waiting pussy. His tongue explored the soft flesh, flicking at the lips. “Hurry, hurry,” she panted. Instead, he lingered on her inner thighs, trailing his lips down the bare flesh. She writhed on the bed, aching for her climax, begging him to unleash the passion building in her.

At last, he came to her toes. He peered up at her, and she caught a mischievous gleam in his eye. Lacey, who a minute before had been consumed by impatience, wanting her orgasm, wanting to come with him immediately if not sooner, settled down to watch. He took each toe gently between his lips and kissed the tips, then ran a finger along her instep. One hand cupped her heel while the other gently stroked the back of her calf. The kneading calmed her. This must be the way a cat feels when she’s petted—all warm and cozy and loved. Her restlessness muzzled, she lay quietly, rejoicing in his caresses.

Armand whispered, “Lacey, I’ve waited for this moment for six weeks. Every night I’d fall asleep thinking of you and every dawn I dreamed you were lying here next to me. I’d wake happy, until the real world crashed in. And here you are, as beautiful and desirable as you were the moment I first set eyes on you.”

“Come to me, Armand.”

The world stood by as two lovers met and enfolded. A roll of thunder and crash of lightning from beyond the window echoed the thrumming of flesh on flesh. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His scent filled her nostrils and she let go.

Fingers intertwined, lips touching, they rested. The storm faded into the night.

As dawn peeked in through the open window, a knowing smile on her cream-colored face, Lacey pulled Armand close and reminded him again of what he’d missed. Almost sated, they slept again.

 

*****

Buy Links:

Secret Cravings:

http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=934

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Whirlwind-Romance-M-S-Spencer-ebook/dp/B00N105I4E/

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-whirlwindromance-1605591-153.html

Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/whirlwind-romance

 

About the Author

Although she has lived or traveled in every continent except Antarctica and Australia (bucket list), M. S. Spencer has spent the last thirty years mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Ms. Spencer has published nine romance novels. The first two, Lost in His Arms and Lost and Found, were published by Red Rose Publishing. The other six—Losers Keepers, Triptych, Artful Dodging: The Torpedo Factory Murders, Mai Tais and Mayhem: Murder at Mote Marine (a Sarasota Romance, Lapses of Memory, and the Mason’s Mark —were published by Secret Cravings. Whirlwind Romance, her ninth, was released September 2014.

Contacts:

Blog: http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com OR

http://bit.ly/1aBzraT

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/msspencertalespinner

Twitter: www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor
GoodReads:http://www.goodreads.com/msspencer
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/

 

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