Although it has been decades since I left India, cricket still has a place in my heart. So baseball was a natural transition. I did court football once (the one they play in Europe) but I love baseball. Hence, my hero, Rafael Henley, is a ball player. He had to be a pitcher because the body mechanics involved fascinates me. Karma Deepika Huntington is an independent woman and my books all feature strong female characters.

Invariably, a lot of food is featured in my books. People are always getting together and making a meal. It is such a basic need and necessity. Rafael Henley has everything he has ever wanted. Except for that one thing. He thought he had it but lost it. Karma is not his type at all, fiercely independent and self-sufficient. Opposites do attract, they just have to have the right environment to blossom. My protagonists wear many hats. Just to name a few, Rafael is a father, a baseball pitcher, a chef and an avid reader; Karma is a sports writer, a foodie who likes to make pizza from scratch, a loving daughter and a writer.

I’d just finished another book set in Bollywood and New York and wanted a change, so I set Karma’s Slow Burn in an undefined city on the shores of a lake. There is a river, the St. Lawrence, which is less conspicuous. I see Lake Ontario every day and every day I’m struck by how big it is. How it seems to reflect my moods. Like today, on this mild autumn Halloween day, the sun has decorated it with golden sprinkles, lifting my almost blue mood to a bright red.

Karma’s Slow Burn

Karma’s Slow Burn, promo price of $1.99 on pre-order
until date of release on 1 Feb 2020.
Buy Links:
www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07ZJSZD5X
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/957769

Sportswriter Karma Huntington is going to hit Rafael Henley, star pitcher for the Sliders, hard to avenge her husband’s death. Rafael cannot ignore the chemistry between them and decides a one-night stand is in order. Karma agrees. Just to get that itch off. But once they get into each other’s pants, things get complicated. Revenge and guilt take a back seat with sizzling chemistry in control. Rafael likes willowy blondes and women who don’t look to him as their protector. Yet here is, lusting after the complete opposite: petite, raven-haired, Karma with a rose tat running up her neck. Can Rafael overcome the dark secret he hides and give in to what his heart wants? Will Karma finally admit she needs Rafael?

Excerpt Karma’s Slow Burn

When she finished the article, Karma called an Uber, packed her stuff and left the bar to wait for her ride. It was a dark evening, thick and heavy clouds hanging from the sky. Karma could sense a thunderstorm coming. The air was moist, filled with an earthy fragrance. She took a deep sniff. She half-turned when she heard gravel crunching behind her. A hairy arm snaked around her shoulders. Fumes of alcohol hit her nose. Coarse hair rubbed against her cheeks. He was huge. Her back rubbed against his soft belly. God! She hadn’t thought of him at all! Was this the way her beautiful evening was going to end? No fucking way!

Karma let her bag slide from her shoulder and her body went slack. With her head hung forward, she bent her elbows and jackknifed them into the softest part of his belly with all her might. It got a grunt from him and loosened his arm around her shoulder. She flipped around to face him, lifted her knee and jabbed it into his groin while slamming her ringed fingers on his nose.

With a groan, he dropped like a stone even as her legs gave way under her and she flopped to the ground, sharp pricks from the gravel biting into the heel of her palms. She didn’t feel the stones tear through the skin or the burning pain in her knuckles.

“I see you don’t need my help.” From far away, Rafael Henley’s voice drifted toward her in the night.
In the glow of the streetlamp, she saw him pick up her bag and walk toward her, the sound of his soles soft on the gravel. He set her bag on the ground beside her.

“You okay, Karma?” The concern in his voice brought tears to her eyes.

Dammit!

Words refused to pass her lips. He came closer and bent down to her level. He took one of her hands in his. She winced and he frowned. Reaching forward, he put his arms came around her and lifted her to her feet. She stumbled against him then stilled as he brought her to his chest.

“You’re safe now, Karma. You made sure of that.”

She leaned her head on his chest, her hair screening her face and her hands trembling. Her blood pounded so hard in her ears and chest, she swayed on unsteady legs. His arms tightened around her. She wanted to say something but her lips were still locked. All she could do was fold her body into the comfort of his embrace and breathe in his clean smell, trying to erase all memory of the stink of the other man.

He was a solid wall against her wobbly legs. Her shaking body had him bend down and hook an arm around her knees. Not a word of protest crossed her lips. He carried her to his SUV and opened the door. He settled her in the seat, buckling her in.

“Wait, no. Have an Uber.” She managed to croak the words out.

“What kind of car?”

“White Camry.”

“I see him coming around the corner. I’ll let him know you don’t need the ride. I’ll take you home.”

Karma did not utter a peep of protest. For once, she let someone decide for her. When he got in the driver’s seat, he paused.

“Let me see your hands.” He switched the interior lights on. She refused to comply. He leaned over, grabbed them and turned them over. She sucked in a breath. “A few scratches and some bruising on the knuckles. Rewards of a warrior.” He nudged her chin up with a finger and looked into her eyes. She slapped his finger away. “And we’re back.”

She hated to show him her vulnerable side. She did not need a knight in shining armor. But she had needed his embrace. And that was it. Nothing more.

Fireflies in the Night

Literary Fiction, winner of the 2017 Next Generation Indie Book Award; Best Books of 2016 by Kirkus Reviews; Starred Kirkus Review; Finalist Foreword Reviews Indie Fiction Award. A historical, coming-of-age novel.

Buy Link:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01HZS28CW

About the Author

Nalini Warriar dreamed of being a writer then forgot the dream for a bit as she went on to garner a Ph.D in Molecular Biology. While in her lab, the dream came back and hit her on the head and she’s never looked back writing through her years as a scientist. After more than a decade in cancer research, Nalini returned to the creative part of her soul and now devotes her time to dreaming up the perfect alpha male and feisty woman to appear in her books. Her novel, Fireflies in the Night, was a Foreword Reviews Fab Award finalist and won the Next Generation Indie Book Award in 2017. Kirkus Reviews awarded Fireflies in the Night a starred review and named it Best Books of 2016. Karma’s Slow Burn, a contemporary romance will be released in February 2020. She’s working on her next romance, a Crenshaw Brothers book, to be released in 2020. She lives in Ontario, Canada.

Author Links:
www.facebook.com/authornaliniwarriar
www.amazon.com/author/naliniwarriar
Twitter: @nwarriar

Do you love Halloween? I do, I do, I do. In the UK, where I live, a lot of people complain about it. “What is this American invention that has crossed the Atlantic and is spreading its commercialized tentacles everywhere, etc.” What those good folk don’t realize is that it’s all our fault. Yes, we British actually invented Halloween. Possibly in cooperation with the Irish.

It started with the pagans (doesn’t it always?). In Ireland, and possibly in parts of Britain, too, Halloween was called Samhain. In my mother’s homeland, Wales, it was Nos Calan Gaf, Winter’s Eve. And the Saxons called it Blood Monat, the month of blood. It was a festival that marked the arrival of winter. A time of magic and danger, when the barrier between this world and the Otherworld became so thin that gods and monsters could cross into our universe and walk among humans. On that night, people who had been enchanted and turned into animals could regain their human form, until dawn.

Later, the Catholic Church adopted the feast and made it into a festival of the dead. 1 November was the day of All Hallows, All Souls. So the day before became All Hallows’ Eve — Halloween. Still a time of danger and magic. Poor people went round to the houses of rich people and offered to pray for their souls in return for food. Rich people would bake special cakes to give out, called “soul cakes”. The practice was called “souling”. Irish immigrants took it to the US where it became trick o’treating.

So the monsters are still with us, though usually in the form of little kids wandering the streets in costume. Normal rules are still suspended — it’s the only night in the year when we positively encourage our children to accept sweets from strangers.

It’s also a perfect time to read ghost stories and paranormal tales. I would like to suggest two of them, which have been inspired by Halloween and the old Celtic myths that accompanied it.

MYSTIC DESIRE is a collection of brand new paranormal romance stories by talented BVS authors. Buy link: https://books2read.com/u/4j1AD2
It includes stories about hot warlocks, Native American dream catchers, mystical jewelry, lustful vampires, a grumpy leprechaun, a ghostly terrier, a zombie apocalypse and things that go bump and ooh! in the night. There is something for everyone in this anthology!

MUSIC FOR A MERMAN, on pre-order at the special promo price of $0.99 until the release date of 1 November, is Book 2 in the Sea of Love series, a fantasy romance trilogy inspired by Welsh folk tales. Buy link: https://books2read.com/u/mdG7Bw

Rob Regor knew that humans were trouble. All the shape shifting mermen of the Morvann Islands knew it. And human women were double trouble… especially when they were lying on the road in front of a digger.

Can Rob, merman and rookie cop, fight his attraction to the sexy eco-warrior Charlie? Can Charlie open up her heart to Rob, when a secret buried in her past surfaces and changes her completely?

Read below an extract from The Sweetest Magic of All, my story in the Mystic Desire anthology…

Saffy knelt on the grass and opened the book of spells. Book was a strong word for the worn diary in which Auntie May had recorded her enchantments, but all witches had books of spells. So she’d call it a book, just as she called herself a witch.

Though she was only an apprentice. A chill crept over her skin, as if a shadow had blotted out the summer sun. She stared hard at the spidery handwriting, but all she could see was the thin body of her aunt, almost swallowed up by the tubes and machines that were keeping her alive. Only one thing could help her now, the magical amulet that she’d once worn around her neck. The amulet had vanished a week ago, on the day she’d had a stroke, and they’d rushed her to the hospital in Swansea. No one had been able to find it since.

Cold enveloped Saffy and seeped into her limbs. The amulet was her aunt’s last hope. She had to find it. Now.

She took a deep breath. The familiar smells of the seaside meadow streamed into her nose, pushing back the icy fear that dug its claws into her flesh. Salt on the wind. Wildflowers. Good, rich earth, softened by the morning dew. “I can do this,” she said.

She placed the book on the grass and waved her hands above it, the way her aunt had shown her. Auntie May had made magic look so easy. Saffy had never managed to cast a spell on her own, but today she had to try, and succeed. She kept breathing, in and out, to keep herself calm. The spell to find lost objects was supposed to be easy. And this meadow was a special place, where the ancient magic of the world flowed fast and strong. Surely the spell would succeed here.

Saffy laid her hands in the grass, on either side of the yellowed pages. A ladybird landed on her index finger and walked down onto the book, as if to encourage her. She concentrated. All her life seemed to pour into the breath she was taking… into her tongue as it formed the words.

“Bound and binding
Binding, bound
See the sight
Hear the sound
What was lost
Now is found.”

She closed her eyes and waited for the vision that would show her where the lost amulet was. All she saw was the red light of the sun, shining through her lids. She opened her eyes. There was only the meadow, frothy with oxeye daisies, and the turquoise dome of the sky. A perfect midsummer day, mocking her and her pathetic attempts at magic. Bitter dismay surged, burning her throat and the back of her eyes. She let out a strangled cry. “Fuck and triple fuck!”

“What have you lost?”

The male voice, behind her, made her jump. She turned. A man, wrapped in a black coat, was staring at her, just a few feet away. A warm tide of embarrassment rose from her neck to her cheeks. He must have heard her say the spell. He’d think she was nuts.

Like most things, the holidays have changed quite a bit from when I was a kid. Back in the late 60’s and early 70’s, people’s idea of decorating for Halloween involved sticking cardboard cut-outs of witches, pumpkins, skeletons and ghosts on the windows and doors. That was pretty much it. Many people didn’t decorate at all. It just wasn’t a thing back then. Now, people transform their entire lawns and homes with elaborate and spooky scenes.

The costumes have also changed dramatically. Now, there are pop-up stores that cater to all things Halloween, including intricate costumes, accessories, and makeup. The only people I knew who had actual costumes when I was growing up were the kids next door—their mother sewed them. The rest of us made do with plastic masks secured with elastic strings that frequently burst and had to be stapled back on. Those masks were hot and uncomfortable, but we loved them. Usually, a cheap reflective poncho was included, which your mother would make you wear over your jacket. I had a princess mask that I wore several years in a row. I loved it. And if you had siblings, you often swapped masks from year to year. You didn’t get a new costume every year.

Trick or treating was carried out using a plastic pumpkin. No need for larger tote bags or the ever popular pillowcase. There were no chips or mini bars given out when I was a kid. It was all candy—suckers, bubblegum (individual, not full packs), hard candy, caramels, bags of homemade popcorn, chicklets (gum, two pieces in a mini box), rockets (they’re a Canadian thing and my personal favorites), and molasses candy, which most people I know hated, myself included. I’d even get an apple from the next door neighbors. They were not popular with us kids.

One thing that hasn’t changed? Kids still love to get dressed up and run from house to house, collecting a stash of candy to be dumped out later at home and sorted through with glee.

For the adults, there are theme parties and scary movies. If you prefer to stay home on Halloween night, help yourself to any remaining treats after the kids have all gone and curl up with a good book. And if vampires are your thing, you might want to check out the Dalakis Passion vampire Series.

DALAKIS PASSION VAMPIRE SERIES

The Dalakis brothers are unlike most men. They are vampires. Each one has searched through the long years for that one woman who can complete him. As the centuries pass, hope dwindles but doesn’t die. Finally the time comes for each brother to claim his woman. But danger is everywhere and there are enemies who wish to destroy them. Protecting a modern woman isn’t easy, but there is nothing these brothers won’t do to keep their chosen one safe.

Dalakis men love forever—deep, dark and eternal. The search for love is their curse, but it is also their salvation.

Series links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B076H9RHR5/
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/28181
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/dalakis+passion

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit me at:
Website: https://www.njwalters.com
Blog: https://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
Newsletter Sign Up: https://eepurl.com/gdblg5
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/njwaltersauthor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/NJWalters
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/njwalters
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-j-walters

I love to read about werewolves. I could name all my favorite authors who have created rich worlds full of werewolves, but that would take too much time. They all write fantastic sagas about pack rules and the relationships between the fierce and furry. Consequently, whenever I considered writing about werewolves, I’d lose my nerve. I wrote cat shifters and science fiction, demons and elves, but I always lost my nerve when I considered penning the tale of a werewolf.

Then I finally decided to take the plunge. It wasn’t easy. (It never is!) First, I had to figure out the mechanics of a werewolf universe. How did the characters shift from human to wolf form? Would it be a bone-splitting painful wrench or just a beautiful shimmer of magic? Were new werewolves made or born as shifters, or both. If they were made, how did that happen? The always popular bite? Or something else? And of course, why would my world be different from those of the afore-mentioned great authors?

One big difference came to mind right at the start. The Northern Rocky pack in situated where I currently live, making it easy for me to describe background features. I have never read of another author creating a werewolf pack with its headquarters up here in the Rockies, so I wasn’t infringing on an existing series. You know how territorial a wolf pack can be!

Since I lived a good part of my life in Northern Ontario, I am well acquainted with how wolves look and sound. Packs of wolves carve out their territory there and hold it against invading newcomers. The sight of a dark shadow loping across a snowy field, or the sound of an eerie howl echoing in the chill of a fall morning is commonplace. A rock cave in the bush across from our home hosted a new litter of wolf cubs each year, and if we were very quiet and very lucky, we could perch on a hill above them and watch the young ones through binoculars as they tumbled and played in the spring sunshine. So describing wolf behavior wasn’t a problem for me.

There are distinctive differences between wolves and dogs. The way they walk, how they hold their heads, even their reactions to people and other animals differ greatly from our domestic friends. I hope I’ve been able to convey some of those in the descriptive passages of the two stories in this duet.

This first book consists of two stories which is a great way to meet the wolves of the Northern Rockies Pack. I hope you enjoy Seducing Destiny and Dark Kisses. The next book in the series will be released in January of 2020, and I will provide some tidbits between now and then. In the meantime, here’s a sneak peek!

Seducing Destiny

Jack, the alpha of the North Rockies pack, knows Destiny needs some time to come to grips with her werewolf heritage before he springs the whole mated for life thing on her.

Destiny has no intention of buying into the whole pack mentality, howl at the full moon thing. Sure, she practically drools at the sight of red meat, but that’s no reason to give up her comfortable life. Besides, she already has a boyfriend, a slick up-and-coming lawyer.

But when a band of rogue werewolves move into the area, Jack can’t afford to have his attention divided. He needs to convince Destiny that she belongs both in his pack and in his bed so he can concentrate on the new threat.

EXCERPT

Destiny stared in dismay at the box in the middle of her kitchen table. Her stomach lurched, a ball of anxiety settling in the very middle of it. Small by most standards, gold gilt covered the entire box, giving it an exotic look. An artfully tied crimson bow surrounded by curls of white lace sat cheerfully atop it, adding to the air of decadent luxury.

She knew who’d put it there, and she knew why. Jack. The Alpha of the Northern Rockies werewolf pack. The man who made her knees feel weak whenever she glimpsed him walking down the main street, or lounging at a local coffee shop. The man who’d made it plain that he intended to be her mate.

The absolute last man on the face of the planet that she intended to get serious about.

She had a boyfriend, one carefully picked with the future in mind. A trial attorney she’d met when she attended a convention in Calgary, Quentin Karnes had everything she wanted in a mate. On the fast track to a partnership in his prestigious law firm, he was cultured, rich, and moved in the highest social circles. Their children would grow up attending private schools, vacationing at the most prestigious resorts, dressing in the latest fashions. They’d want for nothing.

She’d worked hard to carve out a niche for herself in Riverton. Her accounting office catered to farmers and small businessmen, and she’d slowly managed to gain a reputation of being the person you wanted on your side when the government called to audit your tax returns.

She steeled herself and reached for the box. It wasn’t much bigger than a deck of cards, and she held it in her hand, somehow hoping that wishing would make it go away. When she’d moved here two years ago, she’d made it clear to Jack and every other member of the pack that she didn’t intend to join their little social group. She preferred to run alone. She hadn’t grown up in a pack, and if she could, she’d ignore her inner wolf entirely. So what if the sight of a full moon awakened an overpowering urge for a steak with the blood oozing out the sides? A girl needed to curb her baser instincts and make plans for the future.

No point in putting this off. Her sensitive nose could smell Jack all over the damn thing. She caught the trailing lace between a thumb and forefinger and gently undid the bow, dropping the cheerful piece of ribbon on the table. Taking a deep breath, she plucked the lid off.

Her breath caught in her throat. An exquisitely detailed chocolate wolf nestled in a cushion of crushed white velvet. Every detail from the tip of its muzzle to the dominant curve of its tail was perfect. Jack had reproduced himself exactly. She knew if she turned the little wolf over, she’d find a jagged scar running along its left flank.

“I suppose I could always bite your head off.” Destiny felt a wry smile tug the sides of her mouth. Although she didn’t like the idea, being the Alpha meant Jack had complete authority over all the werewolves in the Northern Rockies. Even those that didn’t want to accept him. The fact he’d chosen not to force her to take him for her mate didn’t mean he’d agreed to let her leave the pack. He’d said he’d give her some time to settle in. She’d hoped he’d forgotten about her and settled down with some other female. One who liked her inner beast.

She sighed and looked at the dark chocolate confection. The full moon was less than a week away. She’d been ignoring her darker side for a long time now, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid going into heat this month. What were the chances Jack’s timing was coincidental?

She jumped, startled by the sound of a loud knock on her front door. Quentin must have gotten out of court early. She hadn’t expected him to show up for at least another four hours. She quickly put the lid back on the box. Sweeping the ribbon up off the table, she stuffed the box and ribbon into a drawer and slammed it shut.

“Come on in, the door’s open.” She hoped Quentin couldn’t hear the guilt in her voice. Not that she had anything to feel guilty about. Damn Jack and his fancy little chocolate creatures! She smoothed her hands down her skirt and tried to look calm.

“I know, I was just being polite.” Jack strode into the room, a crooked smile on his rugged face. “You’re not usually this happy to see me.”

Destiny’s heart did a little flip-flop. Taller than her five-foot eleven, Jack’s dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a strip of leather, and his sapphire blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Thickly roped muscles stretched the tight shirt and rippled with every step he took. He looked every bit as yummy as the chocolate creations he sold in his trendy boutique.

“I thought you were my boyfriend.” She looked pointedly behind him as if she expected Quentin to materialize any second. “I’m expecting him to drop in after court today.”

Jack ignored her reference to Quentin and gave her a toothy grin. “I intend to be a lot more than a friend, and it’s been a long time since anyone referred to me as a boy.” He advanced, his eyes sparkling. “Glad to hear you finally think of me that way, though, because unless my nose is deceiving me, you’re going to be begging for my attention shortly.”

Destiny felt a surge of color flood her cheeks and she turned away so he couldn’t see her face. It mortified her to know he could smell her eagerness. “You wish.” Now that was lame!

He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him, his touch surprisingly gentle for such a large man. “No, I know. The full moon is on Saturday. You haven’t slept with that wimpy boyfriend of yours, and you’re not going to if you want him to live to see Monday. A human male can’t begin to satisfy your needs. I wouldn’t have to lift a paw; you’d tear him apart yourself. Your frustration level is about to escalate to hellish proportions.” A devilishly wicked smile curved the corner of his mouth. “Fortunately, I can help you deal with that.”

Buy Links:
Amazon.com https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07Z4W4Z67/
Amazon.ca https://www.amazon.ca/Seducing-Destiny-Kisses-Northern-Rockies-ebook/dp/B07Z4W4Z67/
Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seducing-destiny-dark-kisses-duet-anne-kane/1134087712
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/seducing-destiny-dark-kisses-duet
iTunes https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1483531619

UPDATE: The winner is…Tamara Kasyan!
*~*~*

Check out my newest release, Blind Trust, part of Elle James Brotherhood Protectors World.

Blind Trust is the third book in my world within Elle’s world, with books set at the Triple C, or Three C’s ranch. These books are near and dear to my heart because I take on the subject of domestic abusive, moving each heroine from victim, to survivor, to thriver, giving the heroine a Brotherhood Protector and a happy ever after.

There’s always a bit of danger in the middle. (Which you will find in almost all of my stories. Suspense, danger, and a fight scene. This is true no matter what romance genre I’m writing in.)

Now about the Triple C’s ranch, how was it born?

If I could wave a magic wand and create a world where domestic abuse did not exist, I would do it in a heartbeat. Since I don’t have a magic wand, I created the Triple C, or Three C’s as it is affectionately known. On this ranch in Montana, in Brotherhood Protectors country, women who have been attacked or abused come to learn self-defense, horseback riding, gun safety and shooting, swimming, and other skills to become stronger, and more empowered.

If you’ve been following along, reading the other books, you may have guessed from the cover that Blind Trust is the story of Cecelia, the receptionist at the Triple C. It took me a little longer to write this one than I had planned, as I learned it wasn’t quite so easy writing from a blind heroine’s point of view. I had to back up a bit, do more research and then rewrite many scenes.

The books, in order, are:
Defensive Instructor
Marine Protector
Blind Trust

They do not have to be read in order, though they are all connected, and there will be more stories to come, set at the Triple C. In fact, I am working on a Christmas story this week that is set at the ranch. I haven’t picked a title yet, but it will come to me before the first draft is done.

Leave a comment for a chance to win a signed copy of either Defensive Instructor or Marine Protector.
Have you read any of the books set at the Triple C Ranch yet?

Blind Trust

Blinded by a bad date, Cecelia lives and works on a ranch that helps victims of domestic abuse. All she wants is to stay on the ranch, a place where she can find her way around in her perpetual darkness. She has no intention of dating again, especially not Marine Force Recon veteran, Brian “Barbie” Ken, even if his voice is so sexy it makes her knees weak.

Assigned to protect the patrons and workers at the ranch, Brian is fascinated by everything about Cecelia and has made it his life’s mission to take her out on a date. She might be the biggest challenge of his life. Convincing her to leave the ranch will take more than smooth talking after an ill-fated date robbed her of her eyesight. It will take Blind Trust on her part to go out again.

When her cousin ends up in the hospital in San Diego, Cecelia is desperate to visit. Brian offers to drive her. Cecelia agrees to go, taking a leap of faith to leave her familiar surroundings. When a sex trafficker kidnaps Cecelia from the hospital, Brian crosses the border into Mexico to rescue her and bring her home.

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07YN8D1J5/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0

About Debra

Author Debra Parmley believes, “Every day we are alive is a beautiful day,” and she likes to give her readers and her story people a story with a happy ending.

A hybrid, multi-genre author, Debra’s first romance, A Desperate Journey, a gritty western historical romance, was published in 2008 in eBook and 2009 in print after being selected as one of ten novels to compete in the American Title II contest put on by Dorchester Publishing and Romantic Times Book Lovers magazine. Debra has written three western historical romances.

An Air Force veteran’s wife, Debra enjoys writing Amazon best-selling military romantic suspense. She married her high sweetheart and after living in five states, has lived for the last 20 years near Memphis, TN.

Founder of Shimmy Mob Memphis, a chapter of Shimmy Mob international, which raises funds for local domestic abuse shelters around the world, Debra is a retired belly dancer. Several of her books feature belly dancer heroines.

Debra enjoys writing historical romance and writes a 1920’s flappers romance series, each book about a different flapper. She also writes contemporary and holiday romance, a dystopian romance trilogy; paranormal romance, fairy tale romance and poetry.

She is a professional speaker and a world traveler who often brings home folk tales and music from countries she has visited.

Her five favorite things are shooting primitive archery with her Mongolian horse bow, shooting long guns, shooting pool, walking on the beach, and hearing from her readers. Each card and letter is a joyful treasure, like finding that perfect shell on the beach.

Places to find Debra and her books:
Website: www.debraparmley.com

FB personal page: https://www.facebook.com/debra.parmley.7
FB fan group Debra’s Beautiful Day Dreamers: https://www.facebook.com/groups/debraparmley/
FB fan page: https://www.facebook.com/authordebraparmley/

To Catch an Elf:
Debra Parmley’s Creepy Shelf Elf Group: Every Dec. I host a 12 days of creepy elf party and have SO much fun doing it! To be notified when the party starts, join this group, which is mostly quiet the rest of the year. https://www.facebook.com/groups/793115644206381/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/debraparmley/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DebraParmley
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/debraparmley/
Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/ebook-deals/latest
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Debra-Parmley/e/B002BM9H4A%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/debraparmley

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YouTube: Debra’s Beautiful Day YouTube Channel (for contests, first chapter reads, and more):
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I am giving away a bag of goodies and some books from Heather Graham’s Writers for New Orleans in conjunction with celebrating the release of Blind Trust! Drawing is tomorrow night so be sure to get your entry in by leaving your comments over there!

I love it when interests come together.

Three of my loves (opera, learning about African-American women, and writing) came together as I wrestled with how to adapt Richard Wagner’s Die Valkyrie, the second opera of his Ring Cycle, to a Reconstruction/Gilded Age New York setting with African-American characters.

In Act III of Wagner’s opera, the Valkyrie are nine sisters who bring dead heroes from the battlefield to defend Valhalla — the hall of the Gods — for Wotan who is their father and the king of the gods. Fixed in my mind were images from productions showing the sisters all the same age. Check out this youtube video of the Royal Danish Opera’s production to see what I mean: https://youtu.be/FPcrqkViZKw. My Valkyrie are not immortals who never aged. Unless I made them nonuplets, I had to figure a way around the birth order problem.

Then it hit me. My Valkyrie didn’t have to be blood-related sisters. They could be sisters of a sorority. Women’s literary societies of the nineteenth century were places where women escaped the limitations placed on them by society. They could exercise their intellect and share their opinions freely without fear of ridicule or contempt. My Valkyries’ common bond wasn’t to be in service to a man’s goals as depicted in Die Valkyrie, but the pursuit of their own self-actualization as warrior women — artistic warrior women. This is where love number two came into play.

In a previous post on this blog, I shared how disappointed I was that in a box of thirty-six famous African Americans, only six were women. With my idea of creating a sorority, I decided I could base my Valkyrie on the women of the Harlem Renaissance.

I knew already of Zora Neale Hurston, Nella Larsen, Jessie Redmon Fauset and Dorothy West. I went in search of five more and came across this fantastic list of twenty-seven fabulous women (of whom I’d only known about thirteen): https://www.thoughtco.com/women-of-the-harlem-renaissance-3529259.

Now before you object, I know that the Harlem Renaissance took place in the 1920s and early 30’s. Originally, I had thought of basing my Valkyrie on African-American women who participated and battled white racism in the suffrage movement in the 1890’s, but once I latched onto the creative energy generated by the Harlem Renaissance women, everything clicked. So much so I’m having a hard time keeping my story to its original time period.

Anyway, this list gave me twenty-seven heroines from which to draw my nine Valkyrie. Should I base Brunhilda, the defiant Valkyrie who dominates Acts II and III of this opera on Zora Neale Hurston or Josephine Baker, both defiant trailblazing rule breakers? I’m leaning toward the remarkable Jessie Redmon Fauset. Langston Hughes called her “the midwife of the Harlem Renaissance” because as literary editor of the NAACP’s The Crisis magazine from 1919 to 1926 she helped birth the writing careers of many writers and poets of the Harlem Renaissance. Which of the remaining women should I use to round out my sisterhood of warrior women? What new women might I find to use instead? As my research continues, the possibilities stretch before me endlessly. I’m having so much fun learning about these women I have to fight to stay out of the research abyss and move into love number three: writing.

The images and herstories of these women continue to fuel my imagination. I’ve already outlined one of their gatherings. They’re enjoying their exploits, sharing how they’re mentoring women as protégés and men to be true allies. I’m looking forward to writing the confrontation between Brunhilde and Wotan. If you’d like a summary of Wagner’s story, check out this link: https://www.britannica.com/topic/Der-Ring-des-Nibelungen/Story-summary-of-Die-Walkure.

My adaptation of Wagner’s Die Valkyrie is a story of women’s empowerment and agency. With the artistic warrior women of the Harlem Renaissance as my guides, I’m hoping my version of the story will be a source of empowerment and agency for all its readers.

Better To Marry Than To Burn

Freed Man seeking woman to partner in marriage for at least two years in the black township of Douglass, Texas. Must be willing and able to help establish a legacy. Marital relations as necessary. Love neither required nor sought.

Caesar King’s ad for a mail-order bride is an answer to Queen Esther Payne’s prayer. Her family expects her to adhere to society’s traditional conventions of submissive wife and mother, but Queen refuses. She is not the weaker sex and will not allow herself to be used, abused or turned into a baby-making machine under the sanctity of matrimony. Grateful that love is neither required nor sought, she accepts the ex-slave’s offer and heads West for marriage on her terms. Her education and breeding will see to that. However, once she meets Caesar, his unexpected allure and intriguing wit makes it hard to keep love at bay. How can she hope to remain her own woman when victory may be synonymous with surrender?

Excerpt:

She pulled the wagon to a stop. “Care to take over?”

She held the reins before him. He nodded. She handed over the reins, crossed her arms and stared at him. “Tell me more about Emma.”

He shrugged. That kind of detail hadn’t been part of the bargain, but…

“Not much to tell. She used to teach us slaves in secret, then openly when Union forces secured our town. I was her star pupil. We married and came West for a fresh start. She died giving birth to twin boys soon after we arrived. They followed her within a few hours.”

A soft light shone at him from her eyes. “Sorry for your loss.”

“None needed. Good comes from bad. Death, not slavery, took my boys from me. They never had to live as someone’s property.” He sat a little straighter. “Our children will never have to worry about that.”

“Our children?” She swiveled in her seat. “You made no mention of wanting children, just marital relations as necessary. I understood that to mean intercourse.”

“I wrote I wanted to leave a legacy.”

“A legacy. Not a dynasty.”

“Legacy. Dynasty. Is there really so sharp a distinction?”

“To my mind there is. I understood you meant to affect future generations—endow schools, found churches, create civic associations. I didn’t realize that meant children. I agreed to having sex, not having children.”

“Of course I want children.” His brows grew heavy as he frowned. “Doesn’t having sex lead to having children?”

“Not with the right precautions.”

His frown deepened. “Precautions?”

“There are many ways to prevent your seed from taking root, Mr. King.”

“I want children, Mrs. King.”

Her lips twisted and her brow furrowed, but she kept her silence.

“All right,” she said. “You can have children with any woman you like. I won’t stop you. I free you from any claim to fidelity.”

“Legacy—or dynasty if you will—means legitimacy. No bastard will carry my name, not when I have a wife to bear me children.”

“I see.”

Her tone signaled she didn’t.

Buylinks:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KTaGPH
Wild Rose Press: https://www.thewildrosepress.com/books/better-to-marry-than-to-burn

Find out more about Michal here:
Website: https://michalscott.webs.com/
Twitter: @mscottauthor1

People often ask where writers come up with ideas. I usually can’t pinpoint what exactly will spur story ideas, but here’s an example. The other evening, I was mowing the lawn. I got started late, and it’s getting darker earlier every night. My backyard backs up against a wooded area, and the sun had gone down. It was getting darker with every pass, but I wanted to finish. I was walking along, eyeing the forest when I heard a noise. Something was moving fast. I snapped my head around just in time to see a deer go tearing by, between me and the house. I mean, this thing was moving. Deer are usually very graceful, even at high speed. This one was not. He was so close to the ground, he looked like a torpedo, and he was getting ahead of how fast his legs could go. He stumbled, kind of bounced off a rise in the terrain, and shot across the neighbor’s yard back into the woods. Holy crap, did he startle me.

That’s when the questions started. Where did he come from? The forest, for sure. What would have happened if he’d run into me? It would not have been a pretty sight. Deer are not small animals. I was mowing with a large, very noisy piece of equipment. What compelled him to run across the open grass, instead of staying in the tree-line? Deer tend to move in herds. Where were his buddies? Were they out there lurking, too? What else was in there? Had something scarier than a human with a lawnmower made him run for his life? What was scarier to a deer than a lawnmower? Those thoughts all tumbled in my head. The dusk… The crickets chirping nearly as loudly as the lawnmower… The complete disappearance of the deer… Yeah, I didn’t make it for another pass. I quickly ended my mowing task for the night.

I finished the rest of the yard the next day, much earlier in the evening. Would you believe that deer came back? Or maybe it wasn’t him, because this animal was as bold as can be. He moseyed out from the trees, looked at me with my monster mower, shrugged, and started having dinner. He was out in the open, nibbling on grass and leaves the entire time it took me to finish my mowing job. Yes, the questions started again. If he’s so calm around me tonight, was there some kind of predator out there the night before? Why’s he so calm now? Can deer have multiple personalities? What if deer stopped being so timid? What if the deer rose up? Questions, questions, questions… That is how writers come up with ideas.

As you can probably guess from the direction of my thoughts, I tend to write a lot of paranormal romance. My latest is Haunted Hearts, a ghost story. I don’t remember what spurred this story idea, but it was probably a squeaking floorboard or my love of Ghost Hunters or a gust of wind. Anything can generate an idea, but I’m saving that deer. That’s definitely a shifter story.

Haunted Hearts

Does a ghost from the past want the man of her future?

Callie is thrilled when she inherits a house in the small town of Shadow Valley. The house is old and creaky, but she’s not afraid of hard work. Unfortunately, no matter how many repairs she makes, the strange noises won’t go away. Cold spots appear. Lights flicker. Footsteps sound down the hallway. Her nerves are soon so frayed that she resorts to calling the one person in town she hasn’t been able to get along with, bullheaded police chief Carter Landry.

Carter doesn’t have time to investigate things that go bump in the night—although, with Callie, the idea is tempting. He’s busy working with the governor’s task force on a major case and dealing with a rash of petty Halloween crimes. He knows that Callie’s house isn’t haunted… no matter what town legend says.

Still, when her distress call comes in, Carter is quick to respond. He may not believe in ghosts, but someone is intentionally scaring the sassy blonde. And he doesn’t like it. As he investigates, the friction between the two of them ignites into passion… and the strange occurrences in the house subside. But could Carter’s presence be the reason? Callie fears that her sexy cop may be the one the ghost has wanted all along.

Buy links:
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Haunted-Hearts-ghost-Kimberly-Dean-ebook/dp/B07FDDRFMS
Audible — https://www.audible.com/pd/B07JJHTSC3/?source_code=AUDFPWS0223189MWT-BK-ACX0-130964&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_130964_rh_us
Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/haunted-hearts-kimberly-dean/1129068549?ean=2940155661061
Google Play – https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Kimberly_Dean_Haunted_Hearts?id=V95jDwAAQBAJ
iBook – https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/haunted-hearts/id1410571296?mt=11
Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/haunted-hearts-16

Website – https://kimberlydean.com