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Love reading & reviewing? Like finding new authors?
Wanna join a review team/street team?
We have 35 authors of varying genres who would love to find new readers! Why join a team? (Or lots of teams?) There are so many perks…like FREE books, advanced notice of sales, giveaways, and new releases. Let’s not forget the swag and signed books so many authors give to their team as a reward for the support.
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I’m so excited to be a part of Forbidden’s book launch celebration.
Better Wear Your Flak Jacket!
FORBIDDEN eBOOK IS FREE! THAT’S RIGHT… FREE!
Year 2047, City of Samarra, capital of the Republic of Islamic Provinces & Territories
Fifteen American travelers have vanished. Surrendering to Mayor Aamir’s demands, Captain Sharif becomes the reluctant keeper of his city’s bloody secret – and the witness, Eliza MacKay. The devout Muslim is horrified to discover that if he exposes the cover-up, his family will suffer dire consequences.
The CIA has the lying Sharif in their cross hairs. Sharif’s only hope is to prove his country’s government is free of guilt. Secretly, he hunts forensic evidence. Cryptic messages, backstabbing informants, and corruption threaten Sharif’s resolve to see justice served. When he discovers the shocking truth, he and MacKay become the targets of a ruthless killer.
Sharif is tortured by his attraction to the impetuous Eliza MacKay. In spite of her struggle with PTSD, he’s drawn to her vivacious personality. Islam forbids the intimacy he craves. In desperation to save Eliza, Sharif plots an act most forbidden and fatal.
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Below is one of my favorite romance scenes from F. Stone’s book, Forbidden.
Buzz adjusted his speed and configured the Phoenix to climb. The mountain loomed another one hundred fifty miles in the distance. Snow in the higher elevations glistened in the sun among the jagged peaks.
“Better have a seat, Sharif. Going to get rough. Buckle up your friend, too.” Buzz turned to check on Miss MacKay. “Shit, what is she doing?”
She stood at the tail section in the aisle, wobbling with the aircraft’s movement on the wind currents. Her bare back faced the men. She appeared to be looking for something in her backpack.
Sharif lunged to stand behind her back, blocking the pilot’s view of the semi-naked woman.
“What are you doing?” he growled. “This is not permitted.”
“I spilled hot coffee on my shirt. It burned like crazy. Just give me two minutes to change into a clean shirt.” Eliza shrugged him off. “Turn around.”
“You’re indecent.” Sharif knew he should tear his eyes away, and turn around. The shape of her back, the soft shoulders, and her curves reminded him of the undulating terrain of the Sahara. The waistband of her pants rested low on her hips. Fighting his body’s traitorous desires, Sharif growled, “Get into the bathroom.”
“Too damn small.” Eliza snatched a black lace camisole from her backpack and held it against her chest. “Go back to Buzz. I’ll be properly dressed in two minutes.” The plane lurched to the right. Eliza lost her balance and placed her feet farther apart.
Sharif grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back snug against his chest. He whispered into her ear. “Eliza, when are you going to stop tormenting me?” He half-hoped she didn’t hear his confession above the roar of the twin engines.
“Do you want me to shut off who I am?”
He felt her body tense as if preparing to fight him off, then melt into his wall of muscle and bone.
The intimacy threw him into panic. In the span of one breath, he felt the old inclination to shun the pleasure, even to feel repulsed by the bliss. Allah forbids. But his drive to be honorable refused to allow the lie. He could no longer deny that Eliza, the impetuous and insane woman who had the audacity to expose his humanity, had become very dear to him.
“No, never,” he said, placing a brief kiss on the corner of her mouth. Though he met her just seven weeks ago, he knew her as if they had spent a lifetime together. He knew the cadence of her voice, the swing of her stride, and the nuances of her moods. He marveled at the light that shimmered in her hair and lived in her eyes. He knew the capricious scent of her body, and could spy on her thoughts through the tilt of her head and curve of her mouth. He found it mystifying at the depth to which he understood this woman, like no other. Wanted her, like no other.
The warmth of her body spread like a warm breeze into his. Numbed by isolation and practiced sacrifice, fragments of his passion flared out of control. Hashim Sharif moaned. He couldn’t tell where his body ended and hers began. The dim light of the aircraft cabin sighed over her shoulders. If not for the lace camisole concealing her most alluring charms, his lust would have ruled his actions.
Over the years, the words “I love you” had become mute, lost under the weight of perceived duty and disconnection with his emotions. He was Captain Sharif, the noble Muslim warrior. He was not Hashim Sharif, the good man, worthy of Eliza MacKay.
Soft and warm, her hands covered his. Sharif shivered with need – to declare to man and Allah, Eliza was his. A violent shake of the aircraft shattered his lustful intentions. Sharif straightened, and wrestled his inner cop back into control. Love was for people not running for their lives.
She buttoned up a fresh shirt, turned to face him and flipped up her hair under the police cap. “There, no harm done.”
He lifted his cap and slapped it back down. “Around my family, we’ll have to maintain physical distance. No unnecessary conversation.”
“You’re the boss.” She smiled and patted his chest. “Anything you want, it shall be done.”
For the next hour Sharif and Eliza rested, fitfully sleeping, half relieved to be away from the terror in Samarra, and yet anxious about finding a resolution to the Sharif family’s safety. Sharif bolted upright in his seat when Buzz shook him awake.
WOW! I don’t know about you all, but I’m fanning myself! More about the multi-talented F. Stone!–Nancee
Author Feather Stone / F. Stone / Judy Weir
On our cattle ranch, when an animal was in distress or injured, I was put in charge of nursing it back to health. Never mind that I was just a kid and hated the sight of blood, but I had to muster up the courage to apply home remedies. My survival rate was pretty good. It seemed like a foregone conclusion that I would progress to nursing – humans. After one year into nurses training, I bolted. Bed pans and chronic diseases pushed me in different direction; a career of dealing with drug addicts, murder, suicide, fatalities, and biker gangs. In 1983 I graduated with honors as a paramedic and worked in the City of Edmonton’s Emergency Services.
For the next twenty years, I came face to face with scenes most people would rather not think about. I loved it. Having experienced life in the most deadly and gut wrenching events, and work alongside the police service, I gained the fodder for creating intense novels.
My first novel, The Guardian’s Wildchild, was published by Omnific Publishing in 2011. The setting is on a naval ship, under the command of a surely man who is under suspicion of treason. When a battered woman is brought to his ship for execution, he has no idea that she is about to turn his disciplined life into chaos – and that she is no ordinary woman. The Guardian’s Wildchild has a rating of 4.1 at Amazon.
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Fallen Billow should be in college like most of her friends, but instead she’s raising her brother and working as a housekeeper at a vintage local hotel. It’s back-breaking work, but not nearly as challenging as fending off unwanted advances from the hotel’s owner.
Thomas McHugh is fighting for our country, across the globe and decades before Fallen Billow was even born. So there’s no way they’re soul mates. There’s no way he can be desperate to see her, hold her, kiss her. Except there is.
Is it a dream when he inks his name on her skin? Is it a delusion when she puts her hands on his face and says she loves him? Nothing has ever felt more real.
Fate has etched paths for Thomas and Fallen that even time cannot touch. A Purple Heart proclaims Thomas’ valor and bravery. And his death. But Fallen dares to dream of the impossible. She wants Thomas to stay. Just stay.
A tribute to all who have served our country, this novel honors the impossible beauty of love and the endless power of hope. Come open your heart and celebrate the many facets of bravery with Fallen and Thomas.
Debra Anastasia has created a
website for Thomas McHugh – the veteran the book is in honor of. (It is recommended readers look at this website after reading the book)
“I don’t want to be adorable. I want to be impossible.”
“How do you mean?” He kissed her forehead.
“I want to be impossible for you to forget, impossible for you to keep your hands off of.” She leaned up for a kiss.
“You’re my impossible then. Have no fear.” He tenderly reminded her he was her impossible, too, with his lips.
She put her hand against his stomach and snuggled in. “This is my spot. Right here. With you—it’s home.”
He swallowed before talking to the ceiling. “My heart was like a fist. Where I am? It’s not a place you plan to survive. I’ve been there for years, and it’s not about skill; it’s not even about luck. You get strapped into a machine, and fate’s driving. You can’t get out even if you want to. So you submit to it. You harden your soul. You get ready to die.”
He shifted, rolling on top of her. She sighed in contentment. Being beneath him made her feel safe and secure.
He kissed her lips, then the tip of her nose, before continuing. “But with you, it’s like my heart’s opening up, and I’m terrified to feel, after all this time. Yet I don’t have a choice. No matter where I am, I draw your face whenever I get a scrap of paper.”
He laughed a little. “We found a puppy, and I named it Fallen, just so I could say your name over and over. The guys think I’m crazy—such a strange name for a dog. But I don’t care. I’m gasping for you every moment I’m awake. And I’m making choices to keep me alive through the week.”
His eyes searched hers. “What if I’m not as tough as I was in the beginning? God, I hope no one is affected by my distraction with this. But in the end there’s you. Only you. Do what you have to to get back to me when you’re awake. You have to. I need you more than air, more than life right now. The softness of you, the tenderness in your eyes when you see me. I’m trying to force fate to throw me in your direction. To hurl me at you somehow. I don’t know if it will work. But I’m praying for it.”
Debra has now published the Seraphim Series, the Poughkeepsie Brotherhood Series, the Gynazule Series, The Revenger and Booty Camp Dating Service. Her novella, Late Night with Andres is special because 100% of the proceeds go to breast cancer research. (So go get it right now, please!) For All The Evers is her latest romantic suspense.
You can find her at DebraAnastasia.com and on Twitter @Debra_Anastasia. But be prepared…
Welcome to #ComedyBookWeek, an annual, online celebration of humor in writing. Today I’m hosting one of my favorite authors, Nicki Elson, and her twisted fairy tale, HANS & GRETA. Yesterday at Feather Stone’s Romance Under Fire blog, Nicki took you by the hand and lead you into the forest with Hans and Liesel (bet ya thought I was gonna say Greta, huh?). Today she pulls you further in—if you dare…
Excerpt from HANS & GRETA by Nicki Elson
“Liesel! Darling!” Hans called into the trees a full hour later. He’d lagged too far behind and had caught nary a sign of her.
“It actually sounds as if you care.” Her sardonic voice had come from above.
Snapping his gaze skyward, he peered through the murky night and saw her perched on a high branch. “How in the hell did you get all the way up there?”
“I’m not sure, actually. Adrenalin, I guess.” She scanned the ground.
“You have no idea how to get down, do you?”
“It’s not that far. If you just stand right there.” She pointed directly below the tree.
“And catch you? I appreciate your confidence in my brute strength, but no matter how narrow your waistline, you’re not exactly a tiny little kitty ca—” His sentence was cut short by his own scream when the spiky tip of her high heel caught him in the forehead.
“What’s wrong, sweetums?” Liesel cooed with false innocence. “I was only trying to make myself lighter. Ready for the other one?”
He scowled at the threat but recollected himself. “For your own safety, I suppose you better drop it—gently—to the ground. Then you can use your feet for traction on the trunk. I’ll stand just underneath in case you slip.”
“My hero,” she drawled. Swinging her legs over the branch and around the trunk, she slowly inched her way down.
Hans stood dutifully below, holding his arms at the ready. When she was still several feet from the ground, a loud crack of snapping wood echoed through the forest, and she dropped onto him. The force knocked him off balance and they toppled to the ground in an awkward heap, his back slamming into the unyielding forest floor.
Liesel erupted with hysterical laughter while he held still, attempting to assess the impact of the fall on his spine. She spun around on top of him and kissed the tip of his nose. “That’s what you get for being such a wretched tease.” Sitting with her rump firmly planted on his chest, she opened her mouth wide in a yawn. “Enough fun for the night. Take me home.”
Determining that a few bruises were the extent of the damage, Hans slid his hands under his girlfriend and gently scootched her bottom to the forest floor. “About that,” he said, rising to stand and peering into the black night. “You took me on so many twists and turns, I have no idea where we are, and without the sun, I have no way to determine direction.”
“What are you saying?” Liesel asked. Any hint of mirth had drained from her voice. “Tell me you’re not suggesting we sleep here!”
“Do you have any other ideas?”
“How about we head back the way we came?” Picking up her shoes, she stepped off in a direction Hans was pretty sure was incorrect, but since he really had no idea, he followed her lead. Walking all night would at least be better than fighting off her advances until dawn.
Walk all night they did, with Liesel bitching through much of it while Hans bit his tongue. As the night drew on, she quieted, exhausted, and agreed to take a break. Hans sat with his back against a thick tree trunk and guided her to curl into his chest with his arms wrapped around her for a blanket. She fell asleep immediately and he soon followed. When they awoke, pale pink light showed through the branches. Hans noticed that the forest was much brighter just ahead, so he helped Liesel to her feet and grasped her hand, leading her to an illuminated clearing.
“How utterly charming,” she murmured in a voice that sounded like it was still dreaming.
Hans couldn’t disagree. Before them lay a hilly expanse carpeted with bright green grass. Butterflies dipped and scurried among the patches of blooms randomly scattered about, and even the fat bumblebees looked friendly. A small chicken coop stood aside a flourishing garden in one corner of the yard, and a darling cottage was plopped in the center of the meadow. Everything about the house was delightful, from its thatched roof to the cobblestone path leading up to it.
Liesel ambled forward. “I’d swear it’s made of gingerbread.”
HANS & GRETA is available at Amazon
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Learn more about Nicki’s books at nickielson.com
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