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Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance, Book #3) by Jianne Carlo – Excerpt #4/Giveaway
GIVEAWAY INFO: Prize is an eBook copy of Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance, Book 3) from Jianne Carlo. Contest is tour-wide and ends May 29. Must be 18 years of age or older to enter. Rafflecopter and tour schedule link are at the bottom of the post. Good luck!
Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance #3)
by Jianne Carlo
Erotic Historical Romantic Suspense
Categories: Mystery/Thriller
Publisher: Etopia Press
Release Date: May 3, 2013
Heat Level: Sizzling
Word Count: 73,000
Available at:
Description:
Can a Viking forgive the woman who cheated him of his vengeance?
All Dráddor has to do is kill the Earl of Caithness, wed the man’s daughter, and vengeance would be his and the oath to his father would be fulfilled. But when he arrives at Caithness, the earl is already dead, poisoned by own wife. And when he finds the earl’s daughter, the Lady Xára, he find she’s unable to speak. Unwilling to be thwarted, Dráddor marries her anyway to claim the earl’s lands and title, knowing King Kenneth could not fault him for later casting her aside.
Desperate to protect her family, Xára willingly weds the Viking. She must win Dráddor to her side before he discovers the secret that will destroy all. But the Saracen warrior, Niketas, has other plans. He needs the blood of two virgin half-immortals to win eternal life and the powers of the gods. Until the god Heimdallr, Xára’s true sire, makes it clear he has other plans for his beloved daughter…
Vengeance Hammer, Vengeance Warriors Book 4: Excerpt:
Resting his chin on the top of her head, Draddor massaged first one foot then the other. When the tension seeped from Xára’s shoulders and she snuggled closer, he said, “’Tis not long before dawn and there is much to be done on the morrow. Sleep.”
She pushed away from him. With one finger she wrote on his chest, I cannot sleep. I worry of Jennie.
He knew she wanted to sit by her mother’s side. “I cannot have any question the validity of our marriage. We must stay here together until the cocks crow.”
When she tried to slide off his lap, he held her fast, not willing to release her yet. Remembering her slick folds, he decided to move ahead with his plans for binding her to him. She had responded well to his caresses earlier, and forgotten their audience until he’d ruptured her maidenhead. Mayhap a taste of the pleasure to be had in bedsport with him would distract her from worrying about Lady Jennie.
He nuzzled her neck. Loki’s balls be tied. She smelled of all a woman should, spicy with a hint of some floral sweetness, and a secret musk that had his half-hard cock erect in an instant.
She wriggled her shoulders but sank into him and tilted her head to one side. The action was slight, nigh imperceptible, and had he not been attuned to her every nuance, he would not have noticed. A siren’s invitation he could not refuse.
He sipped the downy, fuzzy hairs at her nape and slipped his hand underneath the covers to the soft curve of her belly. When the tips of two fingers grazed at the rim of her navel, it took all the warrior discipline beaten into him to resist the call of her puss.
Cupping her cheek, he turned her face to him and caught her mouth with his.
To his delight, she opened for him, parted her lips, and squeezed his forearm when he tasted her deeply.
He could not resist the flavor of her, honey, nay, mead and fruit and a hint of smoky allure, the complex tang too intoxicating to do naught but drink more, linger more.
She squirmed, the delicious roundness of her arse moving from side to side over his engorged pecker. Temptation reared and his sac drew up. His mind filled with images of spreading her legs wide and hammering into her until he found release.
“Virgin,” he muttered, having enough reason left to speak in Norse, leaned his forehead on hers, and choked back a groan. It had taken all his control to withdraw from her tight sheath without finding his pleasure earlier. Indeed he would not have been capable of resisting pounding into her puss had she not stiffened and scoured her nails on his back when he took her innocence.
He was a Viking, a warrior, a man of honor, and, by Freya, he would wait until Xára signaled her readiness before taking her again. Yet, he could not wile away this chance to teach his bride the sheer ecstasy to be found ’tween a man and a woman.
All at once, he grinned. Aye, he could not breach her tender sheath until she healed, but there was more than one way to pleasure a new wife.
About the Author:
Award winning author, Jianne Carlo’s motto is simple: Alpha Me Please.
While strong heroines, exotic locations, and cultural differences are her forte, she goes weak in the knees for warriors and alphas. Send her a man with an attitude and she’ll find the right woman to tame him.
Jianne loves hot and spicy food, stomach-plunging park rides, and is kept on her toes by her Viking husband of thirty-five years, and three, handsome grown sons. There’s nothing she likes more than hearing from readers.
Connect with Jianne Carlo
Email | Website | Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads | Pinterest | YouTube | Manic Readers | The Romance Studio | The Romance Reviews
Blood Purple by Ashley Nemer – Guest Blog
Harlie’s Review of Blood Purple
If you haven’t checked out the review of Blood Purple, the link is above. Great book and it was different from the usual vampire books. Great start to a series.
In a world we think we know, live other races entirely hidden from the mortal perspective. Creatures of legend, of fable and myth, their very history and nature have allowed them to walk side by side with humans since time immemorial. They are warriors, they are hunters, and they are Algula Vampire. And in their own midst, a battle is brewing for supremacy, for dominance, that can and will affect all around them. Old hatred never dies and vengeance is a fiery sword that cuts a bloody swath.
Guest Post:
Writing…that hobby that will forever provide you enjoying. To me it’s the best thing that I could do to pass the time on a lazy Sunday, dreary Monday or a happy Friday. It doesn’t matter what day of the week it is or what is going on in the outside world there is always something for me to write. It is the hobby that will keep on giving.
How many of you keep your stress and frustrations pent up? How many have no outlet for the feelings inside and you keep them that way until you explode? Honestly I think that’s all of us, we all have things that stay hidden and we don’t know how to push them out and to the surface. It took me a long time to realize how valuable writing is to me. Well, not just writing, creativity as a whole. It comes together and with every facet of our being.
Writing…that hobby that will forever give you fulfillment. There are so many ways you can pick up a pen and bring joy to someone. It’s as easy as sending a letter to a long lost friend or relative. Jotting down a poem in the middle of the day when you’re feeling overwhelmed with some thoughts. Sitting down at your comfy desk and plugging out a blog or short story. You never know where writing will lead you.
One thing I love about writing is I can go anywhere and be anything I want. I don’t have to get dressed up and look fancy; I don’t have to fix my hair, hell I don’t even have to wear socks! Writing gives you that option to be as free as you allow yourself. I honestly believe that it’s this freedom that stirs creativity.
When I sit at my laptop I always write with my eyes closed. I visualize where I am, am I on an island in the Caribbean? Am I sailing the seas of the Atlantic? Could I be on a plane across the world going to see a friend? Yes, yes yes yes! All of the above. That’s the ability you gain when you write.
One thing just occurred to me while my eyes were shut and I was daydreaming about my plane ride to Ireland…the audience here is probably made up of mostly readers. Ahh readers…the key to any author’s success. Without the reader we are nothing. When I spoke about writing and the endless fulfillment it provides, it’s in part because of all of you readers. The lengths you will go to in showing an author you love their works is amazing. The support, loyalty and encouragement from the readers are a driving force in a lot of what is transferred onto the page.
Personally, I know without a few key words of encouragement from a few fans my author days would have been numbered. So let me leave you with this thought for the day, writer or reader, take ten minutes out of your day and jot down a story, poem or thought. Take a collection of the year and at the end see what you have. Maybe it’s a book of poetry, maybe it’s a book of inspirational phrases. Maybe it’s just a few short stories. But read through the years’ worth of work and see what you have – it might be the next great American novel.
Excerpt:
Hamza walks into the room with his guard looking at Nikole’s still body lying on the table. “Is she dead?” he questions.
“No sir, she passed out while we were in the middle of the procedure. We were doing like you instructed and burning her body with the needles when she went unconscious. We thought it best to come get you right away.”
Hamza looks over her body, placing his fingers to her neck and feeling only a small hint of life. His lips curve up in excitement as he anticipates what is yet to come. “Good, leave us alone.” He starts to walk around the table staring at her naked and bloodied body.
The room emptied out while Hamza continued to circle the table. He tried to decide what to do with this dead weight prisoner. Leaning over her body, he backhanded her jaw, the cracking of her bones deafening in the silence of the room. He heard her moan in agony while she slowly came to consciousness.
“Nikole, I think it would be best if you just gave me what I asked of you. As soon as you tell me what we want to know this pain will all stop.” Taking his knife from the sheath on his belt, he placed the cold blade to her cheek. “I will cut your pretty little face apart. Don’t think I won’t.” Taking the tip of the blade he breaks the skin at the top of her left cheek and slowly cut lines into her face. Droplets of blood ran down her cheek staining her flesh as he slashed her face. Nikole’s voice is gone from all the screaming she has done and all she can do is heave a cry. Her eyes are still forced open, not even tears can form since she can’t blink. “Come on little Princess, just tell me where Zayn is so I can kill him. I promise this will all stop.”
About the Author:
Ashley is married and lives in Houston with her husband Tony. They have two dogs named Toto and Doogie. They have been together for almost 8 years and he brings her more joy than she could ever imagine as a child. She loves to read and has been hooked on the romance genre ever since her lifelong best friend Laura gave her “Ashes to Ashes’ by Tami Hoag to read when they were younger.
Ashley finds her strength through her family, especially her parents. They always support her in life and they push her to strive for greatness. There once was a motto that Ashley heard in her youth through her Taekwondo life ‘Reach for the Stars’ and that is what Ashley has always done. It was through her upbringing that the values Ashley has and display’s came from. With her Parents always cheering her on in life she was able to grow up having faith in herself and her ability to conquer the world.
Gone Country (Book #14, Rough Riders) by Lorelei James/Silent Mercy by Lori Armstrong Blog Tour/Excerpt/Giveaway/Blurb
GONE COUNTRY – Rough Riders book 14
She’s a little bit country, and he’s…not.
Arizona businessman and long-lost McKay love child Gavin Daniels has been awarded sole custody of his teenage daughter Sierra for one year. In order to steer Sierra back on track after a brush with the law, he pulls up stakes and heads to Wyoming, looking for support from his ranching family…even if he isn’t sure where they fit in the McKay dynamic. He’s prepared for every contingency with the move: the less-than-enthusiastic response from his daughter, learning to run his corporation remotely, but he’s thrown for a loop when his new housemate, Rielle, is a whole lot sexier, funnier and sassier than he remembered.
Rielle Wetzler has finally overcome the stigma of having hippie parents and being a young single mother. In the two years since she sold her ailing B&B to Gavin Daniels, she’s become financially stable running the homespun businesses she loves. But now Gavin is in Sundance to claim the house that’s rightfully his. Although Rielle knew this day would come, she isn’t prepared to leave the home she built for herself and her now-grown daughter. And to further complicate matters, her long-dormant libido is definitely not ready to live with this newly buff Gavin—who isn’t a cowboy, but has the take-charge attitude to prove he’s all McKay.
Sharing a roof, their troubles and their triumphs is too much temptation, and before long, Gavin and Rielle are sharing a bed. But sharing their hearts and lives forever? That’s a whole ’nother ball of wax.
Warning: Contains a feisty, independent heroine who doesn’t need a man to take care of her needs outside the bedroom and a sweet, sexy and bossy hero who’s up to the challenge of proving her wrong
Excerpt:
Sierra could not believe her dad was making her ride the bus home from school.
The school bus.
Who gets stuck riding the bus? Especially in high school?
Losers, probably.
Great way to start her school year.
Hoisting her backpack higher, she walked to the semi-circle where the buses were belching diesel. She started with the last one, searching for number one eleven. Some kid hung out the window of one thirteen and yelled out, “I love you, Sierra!”
She ignored the jerk, who was no doubt being sarcastic since she was the new girl, and kept her head down.
At least she hadn’t been a total pariah, but being fresh meat in the small high school had made her a novelty. She’d met so many people she couldn’t keep them all straight. But she knew the novelty would wear off, probably within a week.
A shadow fell in step with her and she glanced over at the freckled redheaded cowgirl.
Marin Godfrey had taken it upon herself to befriend Sierra first thing in homeroom yesterday. They had two classes together and lunch, so Sierra hadn’t had to sit by herself.
“Hey, Arizona. You took off fast after the last bell rang.”
“I didn’t want to miss my bus since I didn’t ride it yesterday.”
“Your bus is always in the middle. I’m jealous. All the good people ride on your bus. That’s the one everyone wants to be on.”
Sierra wondered what good people meant.
Marin smiled. “You’ll see. Perverts ride on my bus. Always trying to cop a feel. And the grade school boys are the worst.”
“So the school secretary wasn’t bullshitting my dad? Everyone in high school really rides the bus home every day?”
“Not everyone, not every day. Like the jocks have practice after school. But everyone else? Pretty much.”
Bizarre. Didn’t any of these people have cars? In Arizona everyone she knew had a car and no one rode the bus. She didn’t think her school district even had buses. “What if there’s a drama club meeting or something?”
“If there’s an activity or a club meeting, it’s held after supper, not after school, if it can be helped.”
“Why?”
“The school is big on parental involvement and that means scheduling stuff when adults are done with work. Most the kids who ride the bus have chores to do after school anyway.”
Chores. Such a foreign concept to her. After school let out in Arizona, she’d flopped on her bed and napped or watched TV until her dad got home from work.
“That’s why there’s no morning bus service,” Marin continued. “Gotta get them early chores done. So what’re you doing when you get home?”
“I’m sure my dad will grill me on how my second day of school went. If I made new friends. What I had for lunch. If I have homework.”
“That’s better than cleaning the chicken coop.” Marin pointed to the open door. “This one is yours. You’ve got my number. Call me later if you want.” She raced off.
Sierra reached the top step on the bus and the driver stopped her. “You’re Sierra?”
“How did you know?”
The older lady laughed. “Darlin’, I know every kid on this bus and have for years, most their parents too. So it’s nice to see a new face.”
“Oh. Which stop am I supposed to get off at?”
“Third to last stop.” Then the driver’s eyes were on the mirror, watching someone behind her. “Jimmy Dale, don’t you be messing with Liesl on the ride home, you hear me? Or I’ll make you sit up front.”
“Yes, Mrs. Craftsman.”
Sierra walked down the aisle. Little kids sat up front. A guy wearing a gray hoodie had claimed the last seat on the right. His athletic shoes hung off the end of the seat and he radiated a “back off” vibe. She chose a spot four seats up on the left.
Two girls from her history and math classes nodded at her they passed by, sliding into the seat opposite the hoodie wearer. A junior high couple sat two seats ahead and immediately started making out. Four guys she recognized from the lunchroom pushed and shoved each other, tossing out, “Hey, baby, we love you,” all the way to the back of the bus.
At least the spot next to her had stayed empty.
When the bus pulled out, she slipped in her earbuds and cranked her iPod, the universal leave-me-alone sign, focusing her attention out the window.
Maybe that wasn’t an obvious signal in Wyoming; she felt a tap on her shoulder.
She ignored it.
Less than thirty seconds later, a more insistent tap was followed by a loud, “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you.”
Sierra met the blue eyes of the dark-haired boy, about twelve, draped over the edge of the seat in front of her. He motioned for her to take out her earbuds. “What? Am I in your seat or something?”
“Nope. Man, you’re hot. Like really hot.”
Awesome that the elementary set thought she was dateable. But if this kid tried to cop a feel like Marin had warned, she’d deck him.
“Bet you can’t guess who I am?”
Her mind supplied a pain in the butt, but she said, “I have no idea.”
“Guess.”
She shook her head.
“Come on,” he cajoled. “Just one time.”
“Look, kid, I—”
“One guess,” he repeated stubbornly.
“Leave her alone, Ky,” came from the back of the bus.
Who had warned this kid off? She slowly turned.
The hoodie guy had removed his hood and was staring straight at her.
Oh hello, gorgeous. The guy was hot…beyond words actually, with long brown hair that nearly brushed his wide shoulders and dark scruff on his cheeks. He certainly didn’t look like he belonged in high school.
“Shut it, Boone. I wasn’t talkin’ to you,” the kid in front of her retorted.
Boone? Now that was a western name.
December 4
12/4 - Under The Covers Book Reviews
12/4 - Sunset Reader Reviews
12/4 - Read Your Writes Book Reviews
12/4 - Be Nice or Leave Thanks
12/4- Mrs Condit and Friends Read Books
12/4 - Lorelei James
December 5
12/5 - Herding Cats & Burning Soup
12/5 - Bookswagger
12/5 - Blackraven’s Erotic Cafe
12/5 - For The Love of Reading
December 6
12/6 - Queen of the Night Reviews
12/6 - Seductive Musings
12/6 - Melinda Doizer Contemporary Romance Author
12/6 - Reading, Eating & Dreaming
December 7
12/7 - Harlie’s Books
12/7 - Book Sniffers Anonymous
12/7 - My Secret Romance
12/7 - Lori’s Book Blog
December 8
12/8 - Talk Supe
12/8 - Readers Confession
12/8 - Melissa Kendall Author
December 9
12/9 - Harlie Williams
12/9 - Tory Richards
12/9 - Simply Ali
December 10
12/10 - Fictional Candy
12/10 - Sultry Storyteller
12/10 - My Keeper Shelf
12/10 - Romancing the Book
December 11
12/11 - Guilty Pleasures
12/11 - Passionate Encounters
12/11 - The Muse Unleashed
12/11 - Lori Armstrong
Writing the Query Letter——UGH!
This is me at the moment. Ugh! Okay, I’m not blond but I do have green eyes. 
Trying to write a query letter. Okay, okay…why a query letter? Well, I have two stories that the synopsis done and one story has the first three chapters done. I’m looking to query submissions on both of them to two different publishers and a query letter is required. Shocked, you are? You really shouldn’t be. I’ve written on two different stories for the past months and both of them are as different as night and day. One is a sweet (heat level) Romantic Suspense and the other is a sensual contemporary set in a small town. Kim, Tony, Forrest and Donna are really screaming at me now and the time is right. I need to get their stories finished so that I can get them out there.
As a newbie writer, a query letter seemed a little old-fashioned to me but as I read more and more about the different publishers and there requirements, they are requiring not only the synopsis but the letter, too. Crap, where to start? Writing the synopsis was hard enough and now a letter, too? Well luckily I remembered and bookmarked a blog that a YA author has that is wonderful. Here is the link: Elana Johnson, Blog
She has even offering her book on how to write a query letter for free. I downloaded it and it has been fabulous. She even has worksheets for the learning impaired like me. I’m a visual person, so the worksheets have been great to work with and get my thoughts on the paper. It’s not pretty on the worksheets but at least now I can work with what I have.
She goes into great detail about the four parts of the first query letter: The Hook, The Set Up, The Conflict and The Consequence. I’m sure most of you know about the four parts of a query letter but this newbie did not have a clue. The book that I sold, sold on a pitch so I skipped the synopsis and query letter part of the process. I’ve spent the better part of today, Black Friday, working on this. I’ve been flat on my back for most of the holiday so far…back went out Wednesday, so its been hard to work on the computer. I’ve barely been able to sit at the computer but with the worksheets printed out, I’ve written up one query letter and working on the second one. Don’t even want to read now. Just want to write.
Wish me luck and if/when I hear back from my query letters, I will let you know the status.
Harlie
Special thanks to Mart Ramirez for leading me to Elana’s blog. *Big Kiss* Mart’s link is Martha Rameriz, Writer Martha has got links and more links than you can imagine for the newbie and established writer. You really should check it out.
Smoking Ruin by D.R. Martin – Author/Book Spotlight/Guest Post/Giveaway
Blurb:
Minneapolis PI Marta Hjelm failed to prevent a preventable murder. Her guilt has brought her right to the edge of burnout and dropout. But a prize specimen from her ancient past—her cheating ex-husband—appears out of nowhere with a gig too good to turn down. One last job, Marta figures, can’t hurt.
But hurt it does, as Marta tries to make sense of a terrorist plot at a major ad agency. In the dead of a long, bitter Minnesota winter, Marta struggles to survive attempts on her life. To understand her conflicted feelings toward an ex who wants her back, and toward the man who healed her when everything was dark. To make peace with the ghost of a victim she should have saved. And to crack open multiple conspiracies that lead to murder and smoking ruin.
Excerpt:
Snuggled tight in the heated basement garage, the ad agency’s Lexus started like a charm. I touched the button on the remote door control, and drove up and out into the brutal January night. I turned right, through the back parking lot, and right again, around the end of the building, into the front parking lot, past my frozen Mercury Marquis.
A minute later I was curving north and east at a good clip, toward Wayzata, feeling like a rally driver. The sky was a deep azure, clear as glass and full of the stars you don’t often see in the city.
It was the first time that day I’d felt relatively on top of the situation. Sure, plenty of things were screwed up.
My boyfriend Rick needed calming down and getting home, where he belonged. I’d had to go to work for people I didn’t like, for a cause that gave pause. And my reaction to seeing my ex Terry again made me a little queasy. What’s up with that? I asked myself. But clear them all up—and I had no doubt that I would—and things looked a lot better.
I tooled over a narrow bridge, went left, then right, the lake only a dozen feet away. The headlights caught the glitter of ice on the road. I lightly tapped the brakes, but didn’t feel them catch. No anti-lock kicking in. Doing something wrong, I thought, as my heart accelerated and my gloved hands squeezed the wheel harder.
I feathered the brakes again—a reflexive, fluttery tapping of my right foot, from teen driving days—as I came onto the ice. I was going way too fast. Again, nothing happened. The Lexus kept rolling.
Turning the wheel left, I could feel my heart coming up into my mouth.
The tires refused to find a purchase on the ice and the car began to yaw sideways.
I kept feathering the brakes, then pressed hard. The pedal went to the floor with a forbidding “thunk.”
The road curved left again, but the Lexus kept going straight.
A puny steel-cable guard rail came up fast as a shot and the front of the Lexus sheared through it with a percussive roar.
I was briefly airborne over eight feet of steep shoreline, starting to scream, when the car nosed down.
The frozen lake rushed toward me, brilliant in the headlights, like a wall of dirty, corrugated granite.
Writing from the other side of the gender divide
We’ve all done it—looked at a person of the opposite sex and wondered what in the world makes him/her act the way he/she does.
I had the chance to delve deeper into that mystery when I created Smoking Ruin. The book is written in first-person, from the point of view of a female PI.
My protagonist, Minneapolis PI Marta Hjelm (pronounced “Helm”), is facing a perfect little storm of trouble and danger. She wants to quit PI work and join her boyfriend Rick in his photography business. But he’s not so sure that’s a good idea. A last big job comes her way courtesy of her bad-boy ex-husband—who clearly wants her back. And once she delves deeply into the case—with her primary client murdered in a horrible way—the unknown killer comes after her.
The mystery part of this equation is fairly straightforward, in the manner of detective stories everywhere. But how does a male author like me go about getting into the head of this woman who’s facing terrific personal and professional challenges? Well, most authors put a bit of themselves in each of their characters. And in many respects Marta is me—with a whole lot more guts and gumption. She’s kind of tired and cynical. She’s a snarky observer of social foibles and is often baffled at the illogicalities of the world. She’s nearly middle-aged and out of shape and feeling not very attractive. She’s dogged and loyal—a work horse, not a show horse.
When I was writing Smoking Ruin, I was fortunate to have a technical advisor on the female point-of-view—my wife. But once I wrinkled out those inauthentic moments in the story (“Sorry, hon, a woman would never think that.”), the women who have read the book have uniformly liked, even loved, Marta. With an early version of the book I toyed with the idea of turning Marta into Martin—thinking a male PI might sell better. A female friend who had read the manuscript was appalled. “Don’t you dare!” she snapped at me. “Marta’s not a man!”
I think any good writer should be able to bring off first-person in the opposite gender. Simply create a real human being with the personality and history and character that’s required for the story you intend to tell. That human being can be based on you or someone else you know or a totally fictional creation. Then start tweaking the gender details. If you’re a woman, ask your husband, boyfriend or male friends for technical advice; if you’re a man, ask the women you know.
What’s really important is that you know your character, like your character, and believe in your character. I know I’m awfully fond of Marta Hjelm and I hope readers who pick up a copy of Smoking Ruin will be, too.
Other books by D. R. Martin
Johnny Graphic and the Etheric Bomb, a kids’ ghost adventure; website at johnnygraphicadventures.com
The Karma of King Harald, a canine cozy written under the pen name Richard Audry, to be published in early December; website at richardaudry.com
D. R.’s Goodreads author page is at http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5874298.D_R_Martin
You can contact D.R. at richardaudry120@gmail.com.
Debut Novel – Hard Core by Jennifer Lowery Giveaway/Guest Post/Excerpt
Hi Harlie and all you fabulous readers out there *waves* Thank you so much for having me today! My debut book, Hard Core, released this week so I’m very excited to be here! Thank you so much for sharing it with me!!
In honor of my release I am offering a copy of my debut romantic suspense, Hard Core, in either ebook format or signed print copy to one lucky commenter so please leave me a comment with your EMAIL and gift choice to be entered to win!!
Writing is a solitary career. As writers we lock ourselves away in an office for hours upon hours and escape into foreign lands with people we are learning to know. It’s a wonderful job and I love it, but sometimes it gets lonely being alone all the time with no one to talk to but fictional characters. Which is why I have certain things that motivate me!
The first thing on the list is my characters! Without them I’d have no story, no reason to write, nothing to write about. I love going on their adventure and meeting them, discovering their journey to happy ever after with them.
Second would have to be the setting. I love to research new settings! Dream of these exotic places my characters will travel and hope to someday travel there myself
Third would be chocolate! LOL. Yep, gotta have chocolate. It’s a great motivator! I always have a special bowl of chocolates in my office.
Oh, and can’t forget music. I often listen to music when I write and have playlists for each book. The playlist depends on the story. I mostly listen to rock (Octane is my favorite station). But I do have some classic rock and pop. Like I said, depends on the story.
How about you? Do you have anything that motivates you when you write? Or even when you read? A special candle or chair or music? I’d love to hear from you!
Thanks so much for having me today, Harlie!! I just want to send out a big THANK YOU to all my readers out there! Without you I wouldn’t be here. My wish is to one day meet each and every one of you so I can personally thank you for your generosity and support!
All my best,
Jennifer
Hard Core/Romantic Suspense
Blurb:
Tag: He takes lives. She saves them.
A supposedly hassle-free job for mercenary Cristian Slade becomes a mission of mercy when he saves a life instead of taking one. Slade’s new mission might be his most dangerous yet, because the danger is to his heart.
Tragedy has sent esteemed surgeon Alana O’Grady to a remote a remote Nicaraguan island where she immerses herself in the lives of a native American tribe, using her talents for goodwill instead of wealth and prestige. But life turns upside down when her work requires she protect a rugged mercenary who commands her attention when she’s awake and dominates her dreams while she sleeps.
Doctoring Cristian puts her entire tribe in danger from the man who’s hunting him. Is it her professional oath or her unprofessional attraction to him keeping her from sending him away to heal on his own? Alana’s fire warms Cristian’s heart, but he’s a hardened assassin and has no business falling for someone like her. Can they fight hard enough to keep what they might have together?
Content Warning: Sexual content.
Excerpt:
Prepared to start an IV, she picked up a needle. She had it in position when his other arm shot out and he clamped her wrist in a bone-crushing grip. Startled, she met his panicked gaze.
“I said no needles.”
Her heart banged against her ribcage as she let the needle slip out of her hand. It hit the floor with a small ting. Alana opened her hands in surrender, her patient’s fingers digging into her flesh. For a man half-dead, he had amazing strength.
“Okay,” she said to placate him. “Relax, I don’t have it anymore. It’s your choice, but I recommend you let me start an IV for meds.”
“No. Just fix me.”
Alana pinned him with a no nonsense stare. “I’m not impressed with Superman heroics.”
Face pale and drawn, he said gruffly, “I’m not Superman. Learned not to trust people with needles.”
Her fingers were going numb. “If I remove the bullet without pain medication or anesthetic, you’re going to be sorry.”
He studied her. “You’re really a doctor?”
Alana bristled. “Technically, yes.”
“Technically?”
She didn’t have time to explain herself with the amount of blood seeping from his gunshot wound. “I went to med school. You can let go of my arm now. I won’t use any needles.”
He looked down and immediately released his grip. She rubbed her wrist to soothe away the ache. “Can I get to work now, or do you want to question me more about my credentials while you bleed to death? I don’t have a blood bank, so you’re screwed if you lose too much.”
Her blunt statement received a curt nod. She normally didn’t talk to her patients like that. Her patients didn’t normally countermand her either.
“Do it,” he said.
“Without anesthetics?”
“I don’t need them. Just get it over with.”
Stubborn, stupid, or both? Insane, yes, but there wasn’t time to argue with him.
“Okay. The offer stands if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
She doubted that, but didn’t comment. Instead, wiped her forehead with her forearm, and picked up gauze pads to clean the wound.
“Here goes,” she warned and dabbed his skin.
Her patient didn’t move or even wince as she cleaned the angry wound. Either he had a will of steel or he’d passed out again. Hopefully, the latter. Sweat rolled down her back as she finished cleansing the area around the bullet entry. Red flesh puckered with the first signs of infection. In this environment infection was guaranteed.
With a steady hand that would have made her father proud, she picked up her instruments and took a deep breath.
“You still with me?”
He murmured a response, turning his head slightly so he could see her. The stark beauty of his profile, despite the bruises, struck her again. The lines of his face were chiseled, unforgiving. The kind of man she’d glance at twice if she passed him on the street.
A man associated with a criminal.
“Still here, Doc. What are you waiting for?” Husky with pain, his deep voice brought her out of her thoughts.
She gave herself a mental shake. “Want something to bite down on?”
A small, wry smile touched his lips and his lids closed. “You won’t hear a peep out of me. Just fix me, Doc.”
“I can hit you so you’ll sleep through it,” she muttered.
That drew a low chuckle from him. She didn’t expect him to have a sense of humor. He seemed too…hard. His chuckle turned into a grunt of pain. “You probably hit like a girl.”
Alana grinned. “Yes, I do. Rest assured it won’t feel like it.”
“Appreciate the offer, but, no.” His words slurred together, his muscles tense as he fought his body’s demands.
“You got a name, Superman?”
His head rolled to the side, his chest rose and fell slowly. She thought he was out but he murmured, “Cristian.”
“Nice to meet you, Cristian.”
Then she dug into the wound for the bullet.
Author Bio:
Jennifer Lowery grew up reading romance novels in the back of her math book and on the bus to school, and never wanted to be anything but a writer. Her summers were spent sitting at the kitchen table with her sisters spinning tales of romance and intrigue and always with a tall glass of ice tea at their side.
Today, Jennifer is living that dream and she couldn’t be happier to share her passion with her readers. She loves everything there is about romance. Her stories feature alpha heroes who meet their match with strong, independent heroines. She believes that happily ever after is only the beginning of her stories. And the road to that happy ending is paved with action, adventure, and romance. As her characters find out when they face danger, overcome fears, and are forced to look deep within themselves to discover love.
Jennifer lives in Michigan with her husband and three children. When she isn’t writing she enjoys reading and spending time with her family.
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