Tuesday, January 14, 2020
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. David C. Dawson will be awarding $10 Boroughs Bucks to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Can love last a lifetime? Billy Walsh and Daniel Richards never intended to be matchmakers. After all, they're only at the start of their own love story. When Billy uncovers a failed love affair, he learns it lasted more than fifty years until it fell apart. He and Daniel see their own fledgling relationship through the lens of the now estranged couple, and they vow to reunite the elderly lovers. But as they set about their task, the pressure of modern life threatens to tear them apart.
Read an Excerpt
Billy was nearly an hour late when he finally rushed down Fulham Road and into the entrance of the Royal Marsden hospital where he ran into a black haired, brown-eyed vision of masculinity. Literally ran into. Publicly crashed into a stunning man wearing a white fitted t-shirt, a linen suit, tan loafers, and stood tall like a catwalk model. Too late Billy skidded to a halt, and into the arms of the handsome stranger.
“I’m so sorry,” Billy blurted out.
The vision of masculinity reached forward and grabbed his shoulders to stop him from falling.
“No problem.” The man looked directly at Billy and held on to his shoulders for a moment or so longer than was probably necessary.
Billy wanted to crawl away and hide in a corner. He had never considered himself a cool guy. The roles he played in soap operas as a sensitive-looking young man with an apologetic, hesitant manner were in truth no more than an extension of his own personality. He was uncomfortable in large social gatherings, and preferred his own company.
But this man with wavy black hair, deep brown eyes, and strong arms was someone he would dearly like to spend more time with. Billy struggled to find a witty phrase, a bright piece of banter to rescue the moment.
Sure? Billy shook his head at the crassness of his response. The man smiled, dropped his arms, and strode off.
About the Author: David C Dawson writes contemporary thrillers featuring gay men in love. He’s an award winning author, journalist and documentary maker. His debut novel won Bronze for Best Mystery and Suspense in the FAPA awards, and he has published two books since.
David lives in London with his boyfriend and two cats. In his spare time, he tours Europe and sings with the London Gay Men’s Chorus.
Boroughs Press: http://boroughspublishinggroup.com/books/heroes-love
David C. Dawson will be awarding $10 Boroughs Bucks to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Thursday, January 2, 2020
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. David will be awarding a dragon pendant similar to the one worn by Christine Drachen in Dragon Mist (US only) to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Not all human males are genetically compatible with dragon shifters, and suitable matches are rare in old Charleston. Christine, though, has identified James to be an appropriate match. Even humans who acknowledge the possibility of dragons cannot believe that one can be both a dragon and a human, shifting between the two. As a result, Christine must attract James without fully revealing her true, shifting nature until he has committed to mate.
James gradually discovers what Christine is. She shows him the gold dragon she always wears around her neck. He notices the prints, statues, and tapestries of dragons that decorate her family’s home. Strange noises emanate from behind the Drachens’ house during a party, and James believes he actually sees a dragon, one wearing a necklace like Christine’s. Christine’s last name, Drachen, means “dragon,” and, while she jokes her entire family is composed of the creatures, James begins to suspect there is more to what she says than a simple attempt at humor.
Finally, though, he sees her shift.
To protect their species from persecution, dragon-shifters silence any human who sees one of them shift, and the most practical method is generally death. The rule is absolute. But Christine has fallen in love with James. How can she protect her family without killing the boy she loves?
Dragon Mist is a story of boy-meets-girl, with a few non-human characters, high stakes, a bit of magic, a little humor, and an abundance of romance.
Read an Excerpt
As Bing struggles for release, I inspect him like an insect under a microscope. Then I growl and I bare my teeth.
“Help me. Help me. Oh God, help me.”
I had never noticed Bing to be particularly religious, but his prayer sounds more sincere than most of those I’d heard intoned in church.
Truly, nothing other than God can save him now because, at this point, my human self has lost control.
Five claws project from each of my hands, two sets of five blades, each as sharp as a diamond saw, able to cut through any substance. I raise my right hand and pause as my eyes make a final pass down his body. Bing’s shriek surely frightens ghosts in the nearby cemetery.
God elects not to intervene, and my right hand sweeps across Bing’s legs, both the right and left splintering as my claw passes through each in turn. My hand falls like a guillotine, twice, and his arms snap off. Finally, not certain he is dead, and not wanting him to linger, I strike the side of his neck, each claw passing through in turn. His body falls to the ground, covering his other parts, and I drop his head on top.
I feel as if I am still standing far out in the Bay, watching as someone else cuts Bing into pieces. His limbs fall to earth, blood covers them and pools on the ground.
I feel as if I’m viewing a horror movie, the type of motion picture that draws teenagers by the score. They stream into the theater and watch monsters, human or otherwise, murder and mayhem, blood and gore. The girls scream and hide their eyes, burying their heads in their boyfriends’ arms, but they peek so they miss none of the action, comforted by the knowledge it is all make-believe.
But Bing’s death is not make-believe, and I find myself a foot away, gazing down at him, my hand covered in his blood.
My head swivels as I check for witnesses. As Bing had died, screams had ricocheted across the park. But no one has appeared. They must lie behind trees and crouch behind shrubs.
What kind of people are these? No one ventured out when I screamed for help. No one rushed to save Bing when he cried in terror. I ought to scour the area and dispatch all of them.
I search, but I find no one…
A single man stands at the payphone under the streetlight at the edge of the park. I take a step in his direction and his squeal breaks the silence. He gestures wildly, pointing toward me, as if the person to whom he speaks can follow his visual directions. He no doubt has called the police, and I must weigh the danger of having my presence reported and the attack described by a group of acid-heads against the time it will take for a search-and-destroy mission and the possibility I will be seen by a surviving, credible witness.
My eyes narrow, I’ll take them all, starting with the one I see. I can cover the distance in five seconds, I think as I take two quick steps.
Then, human rationality reasserts itself.
I need to protect myself, and I opt to allow the witnesses to live, confident their reports will be written off as drug-induced hallucinations.
About the Author:
Find more of my work on my website! http://www.burnettsbooks.com/books-by-david.php
Sign up for my newsletter. https://www.subscribepage.com/j4c1o6
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/David-Burnett//e/B0092SDNXM
Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6579272.David_Burnett
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Tuesday, December 31, 2019
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jenna Jaxon will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Victory is sweet—but England’s triumph was Georgie’s rout. Now that she’s widowed, the loathsome marriage her father first arranged has simply been renegotiated. With neither money nor rights, and nowhere to flee, all she can do is cherish her last weeks of freedom. . . . Until a band of ruffians overtake her carriage and kidnap her. When she escapes in seaside Brighton and encounters her brother’s rather wild friend, Lord St. Just—whom she suspects aspires to be a pirate—she’s prepared to entertain more of his adventurous suggestions than usual . . .
St. Just knows his mind and his duty, and he loves a challenge. Helping a fair lady make her farewells to hoodlums suits his talents well. Within the hour he has Georgie, her lady’s maid—and her little dog too—sailing for his castle in Cornwall. Meanwhile, the lady’s entire family, her kidnappers, and her scheming intended are in pursuit. But as he and the indomitable Georgie grow closer, he begins to suspect that together they will prove a match for them all . . .
Read an Excerpt
“What is all this fuss about, Lulu? You can’t need to go out again so soon.” Peering over the dog’s head, Georgie looked at her father’s outrider cantering beside the carriage.
“Goodness.” The maid stretched and stifled a yawn. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“That’s quite all right.” Georgie’s attention was fixed on the rider. “Look at the man riding alongside us, Clara.”
The maid glanced out the window and shrugged. “What about him?”
“He’s not one of my father’s outriders.” Frowning as she pressed her face against the cold window pane, Georgie moved her head this way and that, seeking a better look.
“He’s not?” Clara slid over to gaze out the window as well. “Then who is he?”
“He’s the man I told you about, the one with the flattened nose who was watching me in the inn yard.” Georgie bounced over to the other side of the carriage, panic rising at the sight of another unfamiliar outrider. “This one too. Folger!” She leaped to her feet and banged on the trap. “Folger! Who are these men? What is going on?”
The chilling silence that ensued was punctuated by the high crack of a whip. The carriage shot forward, throwing Georgie back into her seat, where she narrowly missed Lulu, who was barking wildly.
“What’s happening, my lady?” Eyes wide and wild, Clara clutched her arm.
Georgie’s composure slipped, and dread threatened to engulf her, but she took a deep breath to steady herself and announced, “I am very much afraid we are being kidnapped.”
About the Author:
She has equated her writing to an addiction to chocolate because once she starts she just can't stop.
Jenna Jaxon will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Monday, December 30, 2019
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Read an Excerpt
Sakota bolted up in bed in the middle of the night.
Her dreams of blood and fear were monopolized with pointed teeth, cartilaginous faces, long, double-jointed arms and legs, and cruel, black alien eyes. The Oreck. They haunted her, perpetual alien God-ghosts with their eerie, electromagnetic glow beneath papery, gray skin.
Beside her, Astraeus slept, his arm flopped over the groove in the bed where she’d lain as he held her. He stirred, frowning. Was he having a nightmare too? She reached her hand out and searched with her emotions, as she’d learned to do.
He tossed, fitful, in the clutches of a nightmare to do with Upsilon’s destruction. She couldn’t remember what her nightmare had been about, but it had ended violently. Peace, she sent silently. Tranquility . Calm . Rest .
Astraeus sighed in his sleep, relaxed, and rolled over. She feathered hair out of his face. His existence had blown her away, and it still did. Astraeus’s genetic code far outstripped her own. He had defense mechanisms in place to protect him from climate extremities that she could never even dream of having. But more so, for the first time in her life, she’d fallen in love. It went against her pragmatic nature, but his comforting presence anchored her amid the wreckage.
She scrubbed her face with her hand in the darkness and swung her legs over the side of the levitating bed, careful of the bed’s height when she stood.
Humans were either a lot shorter than most of the visiting interplanetary delegates, or for some strange reason, they liked their beds high.
Her limbs ached, fatigue from the action of the last several days. She suspected healing from microgravity had something to do with it too, but she’d been through the wringer. The way she walked, the weight of her lips when she spoke, her arm and leg muscles seemed heavier and more visceral, like someone had injected them with a heavy drug. Ridiculous, of course. She was in the best shape of her life.
In the center of the room, she stretched and did some yoga until the tightness lessened. She rotated her neck. In a day or two, the slight dizziness and disoriented inertia would subside. As a physician, she knew the symptoms. She’d be fine. But telling a patient about them versus experiencing them were two different things.
She padded barefoot out onto the balcony, drew a silver cup from the shelves, and dipped it into the fountain. Distant light illuminated the Chuleron buildings along the skyline in the distance. She brought the brim of the cup to her lips and drank. Cool and refreshing, much cleaner than the sterilized water she’d had back on Earth. Tastier too. Earth water had to be purified at least five times before it could be considered healthy enough for consumption. Bacterial pathogens ran rampant in food and the polluted streams and springs back home, so sterilizing was essential. The delightful coolness soothed her throat.
She twisted her hair and pulled it over her right shoulder, taking in the strange, tantalizing city. Did her suspicions about this place come from her subconscious, because of the death and violence she’d experienced? Or was Hisoka right and something seemed off?
About the Author:
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/retaliation-haley-cavanagh/1135488266
The author will award a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
The author is also running a separate giveaway to celebrate the release of the book Enter here for a chance to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card and Autographed Paperback/Swag Bundle (ends January 15):
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Tuesday, December 17, 2019
A Sickness in the Soul: An Ashmole Foxe Georgian Mystery
by William Savage
GENRE: Historical Mystery
“Many people wear masks. Some to hide their feelings; some to conceal their identity; and some to hide that most hideous plague of mankind: a sickness in the soul.”
Ashmole Foxe, Norwich bookseller, man-about-town and solver of mysteries will encounter all of these in this tangled drama of hatred, obsession and redemption.
This is a story set in the England of the 1760s, a time of rigid class distinctions, where the rich idle their days away in magnificent mansions, while hungry children beg, steal and prostitute themselves on the streets. An era on the cusp of revolution in America and France; a land where outward wealth and display hide simmering political and social tensions; a country which had faced intermittent war for the past fifty years and would need to survive a series of world-wide conflicts in the fifty years ahead.
Faced with no less than three murders, occurring from the aristocracy to the seeming senseless professional assassination of a homeless vagrant, Ashmole Foxe must call on all his skill and intelligence to uncover the sickness which appears to be infecting his city’s very soul.
Can Foxe uncover the truth which lies behind a series of baffling deaths, from an aristocrat attending a ball to a vagrant murdered where he slept in a filthy back-alley?
All might have continued on its stable course had not a day arrived when a stranger came to the house. Earlier that morning, Dr Danson informed Archibald Gunton, the butler, to his considerable surprise, that he was expecting a visitor. When he arrived, the butler was told, he must be admitted immediately and without question. He would await the man in his library.
The man came and spent barely twenty minutes with Dr Danson. No one saw or heard him leave. It was not until the butler entered the library about an hour later that he found the reason. His master lay slumped back in his chair, his mouth and eyes wide open. On his face, there was an expression that the butler later described to his mistress as being ‘as if he had looked into hell itself’. At his feet were his wig and a small dagger; the one which he usually kept on his desk. There was blood on the left side of his chest. It was obvious at once that the Reverend Dr Jonathon Danson, scholar of the occult and seeker after hidden knowledge, was dead.
As the news spread in the neighbourhood, two schools of opinion formed. The majority, considering Dr Danson’s circumstances, announced that it was plainly a domestic crime. An elderly rich husband takes a pretty, young wife, who was penniless before he married her. ‘Murder!’ they whispered amongst themselves. ‘Stands to reason, don’t it?’ A sizeable number reached a different conclusion; one based on rumours of the man’s strange interests. ‘Witchcraft!’ they muttered, or ‘devilry!’ Either way, that group were certain the powers of evil had come to claim one of their own.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
I started to write fiction as a way of keeping my mind active in retirement. Throughout my life, I have read and enjoyed hundreds of detective stories and mystery novels. One of my other loves is history, so it seemed natural to put the two together. Thus began two series of murder mystery books set in Norfolk, England.
All my books are set between 1760 and around 1800, a period of turmoil in Britain, with constant wars, revolutions in America and France and finally the titanic, 22-year struggle with Napoleon.
The Ashmole Foxe series takes place at the start of this time and is located in Norwich. Mr Foxe is a dandy, a bookseller and, unknown to most around him, the mayor’s immediate choice to deal with anything likely to upset the peace or economic security of the city.
The series featuring Dr Adam Bascom, a young gentleman physician caught up in the beginning of the Napoleonic wars, takes place in a variety of locations near the North Norfolk coast. Adam builds a successful medical practice, but his insatiable curiosity and knack for unravelling intrigue constantly involve him in mysteries large and small.
I have spent a good deal of my life travelling in Britain and overseas. Now I am more than content to write stories and run a blog devoted to the world of Georgian England, which you can find at http://www.penandpension.com. You can also follow me on Twitter as @penandpension.
The Ashmole Foxe Mysteries
The Ashmole Foxe Mysteries http://bit.ly/2Abn1Ks
The Fabric of Murder http://relinks.me/B00W3SDJW8
Dark Threads of Vengeance http://relinks.me/B01FPQ2Q1Y
This Parody of Death http://relinks.me/B06XDNY81B
Bad Blood Will Out http://relinks.me/B079RCVQ4X
Black as She’s Painted http://relinks.me/B07H1SZN37
A Sickness in the Soul https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WF3Y4VJ
The Dr Adam Bascom Mysteries
The Dr Adam Bascom Mysteries http://bit.ly/2k43dSQ
An Unlamented Death http://relinks.me/B00RXGWIY0
The Code for Killing http://relinks.me/B01A2BY1LU
A Shortcut to Murder http://relinks.me/B01M1R78L3
A Tincture of Secrets and Lies http://relinks.me/B075LM2TZP
Death of a Good Samaritan https://relinks.me/B07NLCGK2Y
Pen and Pension: http://bit.ly/1Kb1Q4k
Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00RZBGQ0K
One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
A daughter’s life on hold.
An ending and a new beginning ...
Cassandra McDowall’s mother has been forgetful for a while, but she never anticipated rapid-onset Alzheimer’s to come out of nowhere and shake their world to its very core.
As Cassie puts her already-lackluster life on hold, her mom’s indomitable will and spirit of adventure prove to be a handful.
And as her mother fades, the two embark on one last adventure—a journey that reveals secrets on the brink of being lost, the joy of foreign sunsets, and love where she hadn’t thought it possible.
Read an Excerpt
I remember the moment it happened. I had barely pulled away from the curb, done a quick shoulder check, and that’s when life broadsided me.
I was thirty-nine, coincidentally exactly forty weeks from my fortieth birthday. I’ve lived forever since that moment, or so it seemed. Even though it was really only a year and change out of my life, that day that began it all.
It was a day like any other except ... I swear the ring on my phone was louder than normal. And Mother’s voice was strident and demanding.
“Cassie, you best get over here now. I’ve lost my best pen and they’ve taken my Christmas cards away.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but the panic in her voice was real and like nothing I had heard before.
“Cassandra McDowall?” The disembodied voice was no longer my mother’s, but instead one that was male and full of authority.
“Yes.” Somehow my fingers were already knotting in trepidation of what he might want.
“This is Tod Rushinski, staff sergeant with the Regina City Police.”
My palms began to sweat.
“Your mother is Jessica Jane McDowell?”
“Yes.” Fortunately it was the only word required for it was the only word I could choke out. The police never phoned for a good reason.
About the Author:
Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Tears-we-Never-Cried-ebook/dp/B081HWTVF3/ref=sr_1_6
The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner via a Rafflecopter giveaway
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