UPDATE: The winner of the free download of Bad Moon Rising is…Kim Smith!

* * * * *

This one came out a little over a year ago. Love panther-shifters? Love a sexy Cajun drawl? Enjoy the excerpt!

Comment for a chance to win a free download of Bad Moon Rising!

Bad Moon Rising

On a whim, romance author DiDi Devereaux decides to travel to remote Louisiana bayou country to take possession of a house she inherited from a reclusive relative. But before she reaches her destination, she drives her car into a ditch to avoid a large animal that leaps into her path. Rescue comes in the form of a sexy sheriff, whose gruff demeanor seems to hide a feral attraction. As DiDi settles into her new home she finds herself torn between her attraction to the sheriff and the raw, handsome bad boy whose offer to help her renovate her home is a little too convenient and tempting.

Nothing in Bayou Noir is what it seems. When strange things begin to happen, her natural curiosity leads her into danger…

Get your copy here!

Read an excerpt…

DiDi hit SAVE and shut down her computer. Her newest story was beginning to pull together—or at least, the characters were coming alive. The external plot of her novel hadn’t yet gelled, because she hadn’t discovered what secrets the sheriff and the bad boy hid.

But the characters were now fully fleshed—the two men appealing to her heroine in ways DiDi understood all too well. The question she still struggled with was which man her heroine would ultimately choose. The thought made her smile.

DiDi closed the computer lid. Of course, Sheriff Breaux and Bobby Sonnier were the models for her two heroes. All the while she’d described her heroine’s first meeting with the men, she’d described her own feelings, and how her curiosity and body had both been aroused. Which man did she, DiDi, prefer? Funny, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought a man so disturbingly attractive. But in this remote location, within a single hour, she’d met two.

She stretched her arms above her head and glanced at her watch—two o’clock AM. Since she was a night owl by habit, she didn’t worry. However, the room was warm. The AC chugged along, but didn’t seem to cool very well. Upon returning to the room, she’d changed to cutoffs and a tank top, but the fabric stuck to her skin. Maybe drinking something ice-cold would cool her enough to rest comfortably. She slipped the pass key into her back pocket, tucked a couple of dollar bills into the front one, and let herself out of her room.

Outside, she breathed in the thick, humid air. The night was quiet except for the distant, blended hum of insects and frogs. Maybe it was the cloying heat, but she felt restless and aroused. Her thoughts swirled with the erotic fantasies she’d been spinning into a story.

A woman caught between two men.

On the outside, one wore a white hat, the other dressed like he’d just dragged himself out of bed. But inside, both souls were painted with the same darkness.

The soda machine stood next to the office, so she walked barefoot along the sidewalk, slid her money into the slot, and hit the button for a Coke. The machine shuddered, but nothing dropped into the well at the bottom.

“Damn.” She hit the button again. Nothing. Cursing, she bent and stuck her arm up into the opening, found the bottom of her can lodged at an odd angle, and rattled it until it dropped into her hand.

When she straightened, she held the can away and opened the tab, letting it spray outward.

The can was icy cold, and she drank down several gulps before turning back to her room.

DiDi drew up short. A car had parked in front of her room. A sleek Caprice with the township’s emblem and blue lights on the top. Sheriff Breaux stood with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her.

Had he seen her wrestle with the coke, her butt in the air? Would she ever catch a break with the guy?

DiDi made herself straighten her shoulders and sauntered toward the large man. Did he always wear that expression—so dark and intense, so watchful? She caught the way his narrowed glance scanned her bare legs and feet, and she shivered.

She’d take his frown over a smile from another man any day—the gesture did things to her. Challenged her. Made her tingle in all the right places. “Evenin’, Sheriff,” she drawled, walking closer.

“Miz Devereaux,” he said, nodding.

“DiDi,” she replied, curving her lips. “I thought we were getting friendly.”

His expression didn’t soften. “It’s late. Doesn’t a city girl like you know it’s not safe to be alone outside after dark?”

“Tell me,” she said softly, teasingly as she leaned against her room’s door. “This is a small town. What should I fear? And is the danger sporting four legs or two?”

His features stilled. He stepped closer and looked down his nose.

A move like he was trying to intimidate. She didn’t know why, but his stance aroused her.

“Bayou Noir is a quiet town,” he said, his voice dead even, “but you’re a beautiful woman. More temptation than man or beast might be able to resist.”

DiDi blinked, all bluster gone. Heat soaked the crotch of her panties. He thinks I’m hard to resist? “Looks like I don’t have a thing to fear with you here, Sheriff.”

His lips crimped in irritation, and he shook his head. “Told you before, Mason,” he bit out. “Seein’ as how we’re friendly now.”

Two could play this game of chicken. She stepped close enough she could smell him. “What if I like sheriff? I like a man being in charge.”

His nostrils flared. His eyelids fell. “Careful, chère…”

“Am I really that hard to resist?” DiDi lifted her chin.

He didn’t answer, but his gaze fell to her mouth.

DiDi knew she’d roll her eyes if a character in her book licked her lips at a time like this, but she couldn’t resist the tease. She stroked her bottom lip, wetting it and watching Mason’s eyes narrow further, homing in on the simple little motion.

“You like playin’ with fire?” he muttered, his voice guttural.

“I’m not playin’.”

His eyes were shadowed, a touch sinister and frightening.

She couldn’t have said why, but she wanted to rattle him. Answer his challenge with one of her own. DiDi leaned into Mason, pressing the hand not holding the soda against his chest and rising on her toes. When her mouth approached, she saw his lips part.

But he held still, watching her with that dark, steady gaze.

She placed her lips against his and rubbed, and then did it again when he still didn’t move. Pulling back, she gave him a slight glare. His expression hadn’t changed, but that didn’t defeat her. No way could she be this hot if he wasn’t returning some of the heat.

Plus, he hadn’t warned her away with a word or a gesture, hadn’t moved back either. Not exactly a no.

Angling a hand backwards, she set the soda on the windowsill and reached up to clutch his shoulders, pushed her chest against his, snuggling closer, and kissed him again.

His hands curled gently around her waist.

Her heart sped up, her body melted. She pressed her lips harder.

However, Mason pushed her away…but his fingers didn’t let her go.

Rather than reach for him again, DiDi curved her fingers into her palms. She’d never thrown herself at a man like that, without an ounce of encouragement. Feeling like a fool, she pushed at his hands. “Don’t worry,” she said, unable to hold his steady stare now that she’d humiliated herself. “I promise I won’t attack you again.”

“DiDi.”

“What?” she snapped, lifting her face, hoping to salvage her pride.

“Dammit.” His lips slammed on top of hers. His hands let go of her waist and glided around her back, pulling her against him. And then he was walking her backward, pushing her against her door while he devoured her mouth.

DiDi thought she’d been ready for his kiss. Ready for whatever he’d bring, but under the onslaught, her head swam, her knees weakened. She locked her fingers behind his neck.

Scents intensified—the smell of thick, green forest, the exhaust of his car, his aftershave, the unique smell of his masculine musk.

Sounds—an indistinct hum before—returned, becoming louder. Crickets chirped, frogs croaked. The wind sifted through the trees, rustling leaves and creaking branches. And his heartbeat grew loud enough, insistent enough, her own matched its beat.

And God, the lush, wet thrill of that kiss! His mouth was hard, his tongue sinfully fluid, sliding along hers then tangling and twisting until she had to suck on it to keep him still and savor the sensual connection.

DiDi felt as though she drowned in a perfect moment, falling deeply into lust, her body shivering and bending toward him.

Mason broke the kiss. His gaze raked her face; his jaw tightened. “Better get inside an’ lock that door, chère.”

“And if I don’t want to?” she asked breathlessly, looking deep into his dark eyes.

“Gimme your key.”

Relief made her knees shake. He’s coming inside. She dug into her pocket for the key card and handed it over. He swiped the key and pulled down the latch next to her hip. Then he tossed the key toward the bed behind her and grasped her waist.

DiDi began to reach up to enfold him in her arms—

Scowling, Mason pushed her backward and closed the door in her face.

“Fuck,” she whispered. That had never happened before.

First of all, huge thanks to Delilah for having me again.  I always have a great time here.

I’ve been working for a while now on my goals for the next year (if you’re a writer and haven’t participated in Delilah’s Write 50 Books workshop, you should put it on your list now for next December!), and now am hoping that by the time you all read this, I will have finished fine-tuning them.

Before I could look ahead to what I want to accomplish in the next year, I had to go back to my plans for 2016 and see what I accomplished from last year’s goals list.  2016’s list was doable.  I had built-in time for adjustments to the timeline, because something always crops up to mess with your plans, doesn’t it?  Turns out even that wasn’t enough to make up for the things that cropped up in my world this past year.  Nothing that other people don’t also have to deal with.  Nothing that will change anyone else’s world but my own.  But enough to really throw a wrench into my own aims for the year.  So for the next year’s goals list, I built in a lot more time to handle the things I’ve been handling for more than half of this year, because they’re not going away any time soon.

Kinda makes me want to take it easier on my characters in the book I’m working on now.  But I can’t do that.  Their problems are different from my own, and sometimes life-threatening, so they don’t always get to look as far forward as I do.  Sometimes they only get to look as far as how they’re going to get past the current obstacle or danger they’re facing.  They might want to look farther into their futures, but life (or the villains!) keep throwing monkey wrenches into their plans.  They usually reach a point where they can’t imagine making it past their current problem, let alone imagine a happy ending.

So.  How many of you set goals or make resolutions for yourself for the new year?  Anything you want to share?  Or maybe just your method of setting achievable goals (or at least goals that don’t make you feel like a complete failure if you don’t quite make it)?  Maybe the rest of us can pick up some pointers.  And everyone who answers that by midnight on Dec. 31, 2016 will have their name entered into a drawing for an e-book of Hunting Medusa.

Hunting Medusa

One murderous mission. One killer case of PMS. Who said “the curse” was a myth?

Ever since the original Medusa ticked off Athena, her cursed daughters have been paying for that mistake. To this day, successive Medusas play cat and mouse with the Harvesters.

When Kallan Tassos tracks down the current Medusa, he expects to find a monster. Instead he finds a wary, beautiful woman, shielded by a complicated web of spells that foils his plans for a quick kill and retrieval of her protective amulet.

Andrea Rosakis expects the handsome Harvester to go for the kill. Instead, his attempt to take the amulet imprinted on her skin without harming her takes her completely by surprise. And ends with the two of them in a magical bind—together.

Though their attraction is combustible, her impending PMS (Pre Magical-Curse Syndrome) puts a real damper on any chance of a relationship. But Kallan isn’t the only Harvester tracking Andi, and they must cooperate to stay one step ahead of a ruthless killer before they can have any future, together or apart.

Get your copy here!

About the Author

Elizabeth Andrews has been a book lover since she was old enough to read. She read her copies of Little Women and the Little House series so many times, the books fell apart. As an adult, her book habit continues. She has a room overflowing with her literary collection right now, and still more spreading into other rooms.  Almost as long as she’s been reading great stories, she’s been attempting to write her own.  Thanks to a fifth grade teacher who started the class on creative writing, Elizabeth went from writing creative sentences to short stories and eventually full-length novels. Her father saved her poor, callused fingers from permanent damage when he brought home a used typewriter for her.

Elizabeth found her mother’s stash of romance novels as a teenager, and-though she loves horror-romance became her very favorite genre, making writing romances a natural progression. There are more than just a few manuscripts, however, tucked away in a filing cabinet that will never see the light of day.

Along with her enormous book stash, Elizabeth lives with her husband of more than  twenty years and two young adult sons, though no one else in the house reads nearly as much as she does. When she’s not at work or buried in books or writing, there is a garden outside full of herbs, flowers and vegetables that requires occasional attention.

www.ElizabethAndrewsWrites.com

I love making soup.  Creating the broth from scratch, chopping all the vegetables, adding the meat, and seeing the look on my families faces when they come home and the house is filled with the tempting aroma.

My favorite soup is an old family recipe from Holland called “Groente Soup” or Dutch Vegetable Soup.  It takes a while to make but is well worth the effort.

The approach I used for the books in the Rose Series is much the same to making the soup.  The foundation of any soup is the broth.  For Dutch Vegetable Soup the broth is made by boiling soup bones and stew meat in water then let it simmer for four hours in a crock pot.  When the soup is finished, strain the fat, bones and meat from the liquid.

The foundation for the Rose series is the world of politics.  I know many people are tired of politics.  Our recent national election dominated the news cycle for the last eighteen months.  But politics is important.  The decisions made by the people who hold office affect our daily lives in many ways.  The result of an election has consequences whether it is for the President of the United States or the local water board.  My series takes place in the Idaho State Legislature.

The next step in the soup recipe is to add the meat and vegetables.  I add one cut up a head of cauliflower, five chopped up stalks of celery, five chopped up carrots, two chopped leeks (white parts only), and a pound of hamburger rolled into one inch balls.  I usually make this in a crock pot so I put it on high for two hours.

In the Rose Series, the ingredients are the characters.  In each book I have a new hero and heroine but the other characters continue through all three books.  Each character has his or her goals, roadblocks and baggage.  Some have higher political aspirations, others want power, and some are working for the common good.

To thicken the soup, I switch the crock pot to low and add a package of vermicelli broken into pieces.  To spice up the soup, add two beef bouillon cubes and chopped up fresh parsley to taste.  Cook for another two hours on low.

To thicken the plot of the Rose series, I have added the ghosts from the eighteen hundreds and the race to be the first governor when Idaho achieved statehood.  The spice of the series is the overall arc with supernatural beings trying to influence the outcome of events and the lives of the characters for their own agendas.

The Rose Series concludes this December with the third and final book, The Bloom of a Rose.

I hope you enjoy the soup and the books.

Augustina Van Hoven
Proving Love is Strange
THE KISS OF A ROSE
THE THORN OF A ROSE
THE BLOOM OF A ROSE – Coming in December
www.augustinavanhoven.com
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Augustina-Van-Hoven-Author/336028986575129
Twitter:  @augustinavhoven
Pinterest: Augustina Van Hoven, Author

THE KISS OF A ROSE

A DISTANT PAST

In 1882, Rose Van Buren loved the wrong man and paid for it with her life. Now, more than a century later, the angel Gabriel has granted her another shot at living. In exchange, she must convince a smart, handsome, up-and-coming lawyer to set aside his lofty ambitions.

A FUTURE PRESENT

Stephen Winship is headed straight for the governor’s chair. He has a brilliant career, solid allies, and a seemingly perfect girlfriend. But night after night he finds himself dreaming of a heavenly beauty, a luminous but long-dead girl. Like some altered Ghost of Christmas Past, she shows him her own tragic tale in order to “save him.” And he’s beginning to see Rose is risking her heart as much as baring her soul. Yet falling for her will cost him everything—and open him up to a happiness he never imagined.

Get your copy here!

THE THORN OF A ROSE

We are all chess pieces on a board … in a game played by supernatural forces.

TOWARD A BRIGHTER FUTURE

Newly elected state senator Ashley Halliday is over her failed engagement and ready to help make Idaho a better place to live and work. She has no time for romance … until she and Richard, a handsome state representative, take their friendship to a new level. But then there’s John, an aide to the governor of Idaho. Both hold power … but only one is a good man. The other is on a mission to destroy lives. Will she learn the truth in time to save lives and keep her friends safe from dark influences?

Sports bar owner and state representative Richard Fowler is happy for his best friend Stephen and his bride, Rose. He knows their secret–Rose came back from the dead to save Stephen from his lofty ambitions. Richard himself has no time for any supernatural goings-on or for romance, not with his work to save state education funding. Until he sees the vibrant Senator Halliday through new eyes, that is. But to win Ashley, he must keep her safe from a rival who wants her for darker reasons.

FROM A DARK PAST

A villain has returned from the dead, summoned by a demon, and given another chance to do what he failed at the first time. He’ll gladly take down anyone else who gets in his way. And his new post in the halls of state government? A devilish chance to play corrupt lobbyist, and foil the plans of those with loftier goals.

Get your copy here!

I write about what I love. From one piece to the next it might include vampires, incubi, an underdog, or a Werecat or two but it always includes music. I tend to crush hard on rockers with amazing voices. My music addiction has given me great joy. In fact, music is the backdrop to the best times in my life.  So many road trips taken in the name of a good concert—or a good record show.

Record shows were large exhibits comprised of dozens—sometimes, hundreds—of dealers of all things music and pop culture. You could find just about any vinyl record you were looking for (domestic and imported) plus compact disks, photos, and posters.  If you were REALLY lucky, you’d find videos. Half of the fun was the hunt for that one rare find.

Today, my partner and I go to ComicCons. Once in a while we find a cool poster or picture, but what these conventions have over record shows is the opportunity to meet the celebrities.  Yes, I’m a fangirl but I don’t get all loopy over just any old star. What about Jason Momoa, you ask? Oh, yes. The last time I had my picture taken with him, he invited me to slip my arm around his waist and I nearly fainted. I didn’t though—why waste the moment?

Still, there was something about rummaging through crates to find that album with the poster in it, or the CD from across the pond with different liner notes.

Anyone remember going to record shows? Man, oh man do I miss them.

House of the Rising Son

Living After Midnight, Book 1
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance (LGBT)

Cheyenne is a half-human incubus whose star is on the rise in the Unakite City rock scene. His father, the leader of the supernatural races, would prefer he keep a “low profile”, but screw that. Cheyenne has as much music in his veins as royal incubi blood.

Alexander’s future is all set—finish law school, join the family firm, and marry someone who’d be good for business. Not that he has a say in any of it. He’s barely met the woman his father expects him to marry.

As Cheyenne’s musical career takes off, his carefully constructed life begins to unravel, exacerbated by an ex-lover who can’t let go, a crotchety barkeeper with a dirty mind and a pure heart, a drag queen who moonlights as a nanny, and Alexander—who’s not sure if he’s falling for the incubus or the rocker.

Cheyenne denies who he is, while Alexander hides what he wants. Together, they learn that getting what they truly want means being who they truly are.

~~

Excerpt:

While waiting for their drinks, Alexander studied the deep grooves carved into the table, trying to ignore the friction of Cheyenne’s thigh rubbing against his as the musician tapped a heel to the thump of the DJ’s music. Once the drinks arrived, Alexander downed half the bottle before he realized Cheyenne’s large green eyes were staring at him.

“So where’s your girl, Prudhomme? I mean, Prune Danish. No, wait…”

“Prudish. Shit, Prudence,” Alexander sputtered.

Cheyenne’s eyes sparkled. “No, you got it right the first time. Where is she?”

He shrugged. “Home, I guess.”

Cheyenne cocked his head. “Oh, really?” He put his hand on Alexander’s leg. “What’s up? You can tell me.”

“It’s not working out.” Alexander dragged his teeth over his lower lip. “It’s my fault.” He couldn’t keep his attraction to Cheyenne out of his voice. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Cheyenne put his thumb to his lip and paused. “It’s like the drink.”

Alexander tilted his head, not sure he heard correctly. “The drink?”

“Yeah, that nasty ass bourbon. I bet your father drinks it. Your uncles. All your friends. Everybody, right?”

He didn’t answer, but waited for Cheyenne to continue.

“It was just expected that you’d drink it too. So you did.” His hand moved up Alexander’s thigh. “But now, maybe it’s okay to drink what you like. A different brand, a better vintage. Because you want it. Because it tastes better.” Cheyenne licked his lips. “Because it feels right.”

Alexander cleared his throat and brushed his lap, pushing Cheyenne’s hand away. “I can’t.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.”

“You don’t understand. It’s not that easy. My whole life will change.”

“It already has.”

~~

You can find House of the Rising Son on Amazon and Barnes and  Noble

About the Author

Trevann Rogers writes urban fantasy and LGBT paranormal romances. Her books include HOUSE OF THE RISING SON and its prequel novella, AFTER MIDNIGHT. Trevann’s stories incorporate an unquenchable addiction to music and her love for vampires, Weres, incubi and rock stars. Like these elusive creatures, Trevann learned long ago that sometimes being yourself means Living After Midnight.

You can find Trevann online at:
www.trevannrogers.com
www.facebook.com/trevannr
www.pinterest.com/trevannr
Twitter: @TrevannRogers

I won’t bore you with economical, social and political details. I’ll leave these for another place and another time.

By the way, have you ever thought that the blood of someone famous, whose name inspires, even nowadays, a feeling of admiration or unease or dread may be flowing through your veins? No? I must admit that I haven’t either, ’til I wrote the novel Dracula’s Mistress and, come to think of it, Dracula’s blood may flow through my veins, too, as I am a native of his country.

If you go outside in the street, in the States, and ask at random, ordinary people passing by “Have you heard about Romania? “, you’ll be, most often, met by frowned eyebrows, confused looks or shrugging. Or even answers like: “Well, I don’t know… is it South America… or maybe Africa….”

Ask the same people “Have you heard about Dracula’s country?” A large smile will lighten the face of your interlocutor. “Oh, Dracula. Yes, yes, I heard about it. Somewhere in Europe. Transylvania.  Vampires.”

So, I’m glad to live in a country known to everyone, be it only because it’s linked to a name bearing negative connotations: creatures of the night, fangs, sucking the blood of maidens, crimes and horrors. Dracula is said to have drunk his victims’ blood, terrified his enemies and turned into a bat at will. The border between legend or history and figments of people’s imagination is difficult to perceive in his case.

Strong connections between the British Royal Family and Vlad the Impaler, the 15th century nobleman whose deeds inspired the vampire legend, are exploited now for advertising reasons. Books, movies, restaurants, T-shirts, fan clubs, toys, posters, wine…. So many products with this name Dracula. It’s a powerful brand and a source of inspiration for generations to come.

There are many people in Romania bothered by this analogy, Romania—Dracula’s country. I’m not. I’m proud to be one of his country people. And I chose to think about Dracula as a symbolic personality, a hero, a true leader, who used harsh, yet fair methods to reclaim the country from the corrupt and rich boyars. I wish there lived another man like him in his present-day country!

Anyway, words are never enough to describe the place. Beautiful landscapes with gorgeous mountains and mysterious ancient forests, clear rills coming down grassy slopes to meet the Danube.

Well, not to mention that there are enough elements in the Romanian mythology—ghosts, zombies, vampires—to be a real attraction for visitors. We have our paranormal, haunted places, too. If you want to know more about them, I invite you to visit my blog and the posts under the title: Mysterious Romania.

My best advice to you—come and visit Romania and you’ll see for yourselves how Dracula’s country really looks like. And to prevent getting bored while crossing the ocean, get a copy of  my novels Shadows of the Past or Till Life Do Us Part and read it. Otherwise you don’t know what you are missing! (The novel I mentioned at the beginning of the post, Dracula’s Mistress, will be released by the end of 2016, I hope)

Thank you, Delilah, for hosting me today!

Till Life Do Us Part

 Author: Carmen Stefanescu
Publisher: Solstice Publishing
Genre:  Paranormal Romance
Mystery, Suspense, Reincarnation,

Release date: 9th June 2016

Barbara Heyer can hear voices of dead people. They whisper of their deaths, seek comfort for those left behind, and occasionally even warn her about future events. But when Barbara’s brother, Colin, is accused of murder, it will take more than her gift to prove his innocence.

Becoming smitten with the handsome investigator, Detective Patrick Fischer, is a serious complication given his assignment to her brother’s case. Barbara senses there is something far deeper—and perhaps much older—than the surface attraction between them. Could that be why she’s visited by a mysterious woman named Emma in her dreams? Could past life regression tie all the seemingly unconnected events together?

Barbara and Patrick must overcome heartache to find the truth to save Colin, and perhaps themselves.

Trailer for Till Life Do Us Part: https://youtu.be/UbuntlWISc0

Buy Links:

Short URL for Amazon:    https://goo.gl/H0dqkb
B&N https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/till-life-do-us-part-carmen-stefanescu/1123896837?ean=9781625263858

Short excerpt

“Detective, please, don’t  think I’m raving, but I have to ask. Do you know someone called Mabel?”

The man riveted Barbara with his dark blue eyes for a moment.

Barbara cringed inside. He’ll rebuke me.

The man passed a hand over his face and nodding, he answered, “Yes, I know a Mabel. My… my wife.”

“How long ago did she pass away?”

In a voice that was more than a little surprised he asked, “How on earth did you know she’s dead?”

“She’s here,” Barbara replied in a small voice.

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. The steel in his voice was hard to miss. “What? What are you talking about?” He spun round and looked at the apparently empty space behind him.

Tell him I no longer suffer, Barbara heard Mabel’s voice.

Detective Fisher was still staring blankly around him.

“She wants me to tell you she no longer suffers. She hopes you’ve found in your heart the power to forgive her for committing suicide… for jumping off the bridge.”

The detective looked straight into Barbara’s eyes. The grief she saw in them was almost palpable.

About the Author

Carmen Stefanescu resides in Romania, the native country of the infamous vampire Count Dracula, but where, for about 50 years of communist dictatorship, just speaking about God, faith, reincarnation or paranormal phenomena could have led someone to great trouble – the psychiatric hospital if not to prison.

High school teacher of English and German in her native country, and mother of two daughters, Carmen Stefanescu survived the grim years of oppression, by escaping in a parallel world that of the books.

Several of her poems were successfully published in a collection of Contemporary English Poems, Muse Whispers vol.1 and Muse Whispers vol.2 by Midnight Edition Publication, in 2001 and 2002.

Her first novel, Shadows of the Past, was released in 2012 by Wild Child Publishing, USA.

Carmen joined the volunteer staff at Marketing For Romance Writers Author blog and is the coordinator of #Thursday13 posts.

Other books by Carmen Stefanescu:

Shadows of the Past – paranormal/light romance/light historical/light mystery

You can stalk the author here:
https://shadowspastmystery.blogspot.ro/
https://twitter.com/Carmen_Books
https://www.pinterest.com/carmens007/
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Carmen-Stefanescu-Books/499245716760283
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6624397.Carmen_Stefanescu
https://plus.google.com/117216040843648957646/posts
https://www.amazon.com/Carmen-Stefanescu/e/B00APVDGAA/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30115839-till-life-do-us-part
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16249401-shadows-of-the-past

UPDATE: The winners are Debra, Colleen, and Pat!

* * * * *

Contest

Comment for a chance to win!
Winners will get their choice of a short story.
And if you haven’t read my shorties, check out the full list here!
Here’s just a sampling…

UPDATE: The winner is…flchen1!

* * * * *

Hi!  Before I get started, I want to thank Delilah for being so generous with her blog space.  I always have a good time when I come to visit here, and I appreciate that Delilah lets me.

So it’s my birthday month, and more specifically, my birthday week.  I remember as a kid how much I looked forward to my birthday–it was about halfway through the year from the other big kid present holiday, Christmas.  Each one seemed so far away from the other when I was a kid.  Do you remember, too?  I always thought it would be worse, though, to have my birthday too close to Christmas and then have to wait even longer for gifts.  Funnier, though, when I think about it as an adult, is that gifts when I was a kid were a lot of useful things and a few fun things, plus the dinner of our choice and whatever kind of cake we wanted (my mom was a really great baker).  I had a lot of siblings, so huge wish lists weren’t the norm in our house.  And we were okay with that.

Even when I got older, birthdays were more about the cake than the gifts.  I’m still a huge fan of the birthday cake, actually.  Something decadent and delicious, with icing.  There has to be icing, or there’s no point in the cake, unless it’s cheesecake, and then it still needs something–fruit sauce, or chocolate, or something.

I haven’t written a character yet whose birthday happens during the course of their book, until now.  I’m working on a shifter story, and the heroine has a birthday and Christmas during their story, and neither of those has ever been a big deal in her life up until this point.  Seeing things through her eyes that I’ve taken for granted is kind of eye-opening, and a little sad for her.  The hero does some very romantic things for her, too, which makes the whole thing even better.

But there is still something to be said for a good birthday gift from someone special, whether it sparkles, or maybe it’s just a good dinner at your favorite restaurant.  So I wondered what some of your favorite romantic birthday gifts have been.  From your spouse, or maybe a previous significant other, I want to know.  Everybody who shares in the comments below by noon EST on Sunday, July 31, 2016 will be entered into a giveaway drawing (via RandomResult.com)–I have a box full of books, including a signed copy of Hunting Medusa.  I can’t wait to hear these!

Hunting Medusa

Hunting Medusa

The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1

Ever since the original Medusa ticked off Athena, her cursed daughters have been paying for that mistake. To this day, successive Medusas play cat and mouse with the Harvesters.

When Kallan Tassos tracks down the current Medusa, he expects to find a monster. Instead he finds a wary, beautiful woman, shielded by a complicated web of spells that foils his plans for a quick kill and retrieval of her protective amulet.

Andrea Rosakis expects the handsome Harvester to go for the kill. Instead, his attempt to take the amulet imprinted on her skin without harming her takes her completely by surprise. And ends with the two of them in a magical bind—together.

Though their attraction is combustible, her impending PMS (Pre Magical-Curse Syndrome) puts a real damper on any chance of a relationship. But Kallan isn’t the only Harvester tracking Andi, and they must cooperate to stay one step ahead of a ruthless killer before they can have any future, together or apart.

Get your copy here!

About the Author

Elizabeth Andrews has been a book lover since she was old enough to read. She read her copies of Little Women and the Little House series so many times, the books fell apart. As an adult, her book habit continues. She has a room overflowing with her collection, and still more spreading into other rooms.  Almost as long as she’s been reading great stories, she’s been attempting to write her own.  Thanks to a fifth grade teacher who started the class on creative writing, Elizabeth went from writing creative sentences to short stories and eventually full-length novels. Her father saved her poor, callused fingers from permanent damage when he brought home a used typewriter for her.

Elizabeth found her mother’s stash of romance novels as a teenager, and–though she loves horror–romance became her very favorite genre, making writing romances a natural progression. There are more than just a few manuscripts, however, tucked away in a filing cabinet that will never see the light of day.

Along with her enormous book stash, Elizabeth lives with her husband of more than twenty years and two young adult sons, though no one else in the house reads nearly as much as she does. When she’s not at work or buried in books or writing, there is a garden outside full of herbs, flowers and vegetables that requires occasional attention.