@Eyes_on_Books #CoverReveal: “The Breaking of Bonds” by @alina_popescu #Romance #Excerpt #Amazon



A human sacrifice throws vampires of two worlds, trueborn and baseborn, into an escalating conflict. One side pushes for revenge, the other for freedom. The trueborns stubbornly hunt for Anthony and Louis, pushed by Hesrah’s desire to avenge her human best friend, Alexa. The baseborns are divided between rallying with those challenging the rule of Ankhsis and obeying the trueborns.

What emerges from the portal between Earth and Ankhsis in the middle of the turmoil rocking both worlds is more dead than alive. Neither human, nor baseborn, and certainly not trueborn. This new being will either damn them all or be their race’s most powerful weapon. Will they trust it not to destroy them, or will Ankhsis decide putting it down is the only solution?

In the end, who is guilty? Who will pay? Will anyone survive its wrath?


Pre-order Links

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Hesrah was growing impatient; she wanted to return to the portal, so she decided she needed to push them to finally share their information with her.

“What is it that you have discovered that needed my immediate attention?”

Anhubis took out an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and threw it on the table. She reached out to it and found a few photos in it. Louis, strapped down to a chair, all bloody and beaten. Good for him!

“What is this?” she asked, looking at Anhubis from under knitted eyebrows.

“One of our baseborn friends – we still have a few of those – followed Anthony after the events in Juliana Park. He managed to send these over before being caught.”

“Do you know where he was?”

“Yes, but they are long gone.”

“Why would Anthony do this to his partner in crime?” she asked, tilting her head.

“God knows,” Anukh stepped in. “Maybe they were never partners. Maybe he found out who Louis really was.”

“Can you find them again? Or do I have to bring an Inner Sanctum squad over here?”

“Don’t you dare!” Anhubis said in a thundering voice, pointing a threatening finger at her. “The Inner Sanctum will not meddle on Earth. I will find them again.”

“Make sure you let me know the moment you do,” Hesrah said, her eyes boring into him.

“Won’t you be too busy guarding the portals, waiting for your precious human friend?”

His mocking smirk, more so than his sarcastic words, got to her and in a blink of an eye her fist raced through the air, connecting to his face. As he fell to the ground, she lunged and got on top of him, her fangs piercing the skin of his neck. Her nostrils flared at the spicy cologne he was wearing and she managed to squeeze a few drops of his blood before Anhubis threw her off of him. The fight would have surely escalated if Anukh wouldn’t have stepped in to stop them.

“Are you both crazy?” he hissed, a deep frown line marring his forehead. “Anhubis, you are the head of the High Council. Surely you can tell how ill-advised being inconsiderate towards humans is. And you, Hesrah! You are a part of the Inner Sanctum and your mother’s daughter. You should both be ashamed.”

When they moved away from each other, Anukh, with a half sad, half disgusted smile, said a hurried good-bye and left the room.

“If you ever talk about her like that, I will kill you with my bare hands,” Hesrah said through clenched teeth. To her, that was not a threat, it was a promise, and she suspected Anhubis knew it, as he nodded quickly and took a step back.

The Edge of Hope (Bad Blood I) by Alina Popescu

Everyone she loved betrayed her. She felt lost and broken. Getting away from the pain and embracing a new path, Alexa decided to leave her old life behind and chase a long forgotten dream in Malta. There she met a gorgeous man, bearing the scent of fresh love. He led her to a new city to explore, Amsterdam. Is the tall, dark, and delicious man a dream come true or just a risky gamble?

Alexa chose hope and new beginnings over fear and warning signs only to be brutally dragged into a world she never really thought existed. Vampires, their feuds, and her future held tightly in their hands.

Trapped in a mysterious world, Alexa gives love chance after chance. Following her quest of self-discovery in a blood bound world, will she survive the journey?


Take advantage of the sale for book 1 – 99c on Amazon.

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About the author

Writer, traveler, and coffee addict, Alina Popescu has been in love with books all her life. She started writing when she was ten and even won awards in local competitions. She has always been drawn to sci-fi, fantasy, and the supernatural realm, which explains her deep love for vampires and is also to blame for this trilogy.

Social Links

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@MoBPromos #BookBlast: “Tin” by K.S. Thomas @friedgatortail #newrelease #Amazon


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HAHBAT Giveaway Winner!

Thank you to all who participated in the Hop Against Homophobia, Biphobic and Transphobia!

I have replied to the lucky commentator.

Just to make sure, I’m posting it here too.

The Winner Is…

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#AuthorEtiquette: The Do’s and Don’ts of #Book #Review Query Letters #Spotlight #Excerpt

Today on Moonbeams over Atlanta we are going to talk about Author Etiquette in regards to asking reviewers to review their stories. Featured is the 6th Edition Book Reviewer Yellow Pages, released in early May, as a great resource for authors regarding their book’s review, and I’m proud to be included in this book for the second year.
I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I signed up last year, but I’m glad I did. Not only do authors get much-needed publicity, but blog hosts, reviewers, and others in the book world get face time as well. As a reviewer and blog host, I get a lot of email. Some reviewer blogs are actually teams of reviewers (I’m a reviewer at Rainbow Gold Reviews myself) and have multiple people who manage the reviewing and the blog. Then there are the independents, like myself, that manage their own reviewing and blog.
This year the Yellow Pages has a 10-point section on the RIGHT way to approach book reviewers (pg 17) that I’m posting with permission from publisher. If you don’t know how to approach a reviewer, check it out!  At the end of this post is Forward by a well-known author, David Wogahn, that gives insight to the history of Yellow Pages and experience with his own publishing. Most of all, go get this valuable research resource and it will save you time and money.
6th Annual 2015 Book Reviewers Yellow Pages
Kindle link | PDF link | Paperback (ISBN:978-1937361235)


Author Etiquette

1. Authors and publishers must realize that a book reviewer is doing them a favor. Book reviews are some of the best publicity in the world, and reviewers perform a valuable service. If you don’t agree, go spend a few thousand dollars on print advertising and see what I mean. Above all else, respect the reviewer’s time and opinion.

2. Know your genre! And don’t be upset if the reviewer doesn’t accept your genre. We all have our likes and dislikes. For example, please don’t try to submit a BDSM book to a “clean romance” reviewer. Everyone is allowed to enjoy what they want. Just move on to the next reviewer. Use our genre index to easily find the reviewers who will accept your book.

3. Even if you get a negative review, you should accept it as valuable feedback. Not everyone is going to like your book. It is never appropriate to berate or attack a reviewer over a negative review. Google the negative publicity that author Alice Hoffman received when she decided to attack a Boston Globe critic by calling her a “moron” following a tepid review of her novel The Story Sisters. Do not stalk or harass a reviewer that gives you a bad review. It’s petty, and it may come back to haunt you.

4. If your book is unedited or full of typos, then you shouldn’t be contacting reviewers in the first place. Nobody wants to read an unedited manuscript.

5. Don’t expect a reviewer to pay for a review copy. They are giving you FREE publicity, and the least you can do is pay for the review copy and the postage.

6. If you would like the reviewer to host a giveaway or a contest, that’s fine, but the reviewer should NOT have to pay for postage or the giveaway copies. Once again, this is a book promotion tool, and the reviewer is doing you a favor. You can either reimburse the reviewer for the postage costs (via PayPal or some other method), or you can send the “contest winners” their copies yourself. And don’t be a flake—if you ask a reviewer to host a contest, make sure you have copies to give away. If the reviewer prefers to mail out the copies herself, then that is fine. Either way, give the reviewer the option and let her decide.

7. Don’t bug a reviewer endlessly about your review once you have sent the book. Reviewers are busy, and many of them get dozens of review requests every week. If they give you an estimate such as “five to six weeks,” then it is appropriate to ask politely after that time period has passed.

8. Many reviewers will request a synopsis of the book to see if they like the subject matter. Be prepared to provide this, and make sure the synopsis is free of typos or other grammatical errors. When I get an e‐mail from an author that is full of errors, I usually just delete it. Do need help crafting a review request? Check out our new review request letters section (next).

9. Always visit the reviewer’s website and read the submission guidelines before you submit your review request. All reviewers are different. Some want a chapter. Some want a few sentences. Some just want a link so they can review the description themselves. Tailor your review request to each reviewer, and you’ll have much better luck getting some free publicity. 10. A quick thank you note to the reviewer is a nice touch, whether the review is positive or not. Also, once a positive review is posted, make sure you visit the blog and leave a comment. Reviewers like followers, so mention that you’ve followed their blog. They also really enjoy hearing an author’s response. It shows professionalism and class.

Foreword by David Wogahn

Book Reviewer Yellow Pages

I wrote my first eBook in 1991. In those days, like today, it wasn’t hard to do if you had something to say and a computer to produce it. But what was hard, was marketing those early eBooks. Even if you advertised the book on a service like CompuServe, Prodigy or AOL, how would you ever find people willing to tell other people about your book? I “discovered” the Book Reviewer Yellow Pages more than five years ago; April 29, 2011 to be exact (then called The Indie Book Review Yellow Pages). Newspapers and magazines were still employing book reviewers and “book bloggers” were considered an anomaly, given the same respect that big publishers were giving the new-fangled eBook formats like Kindle. Fast forward to today and those same reviewers—if they are still writing reviews—most likely have started a blog (and in fact might even be in this book). An indie author trying to get reviewed by a traditional media outlet is an exercise in futility. It’s also fair to say that eBooks have made the big publishers huge profits and now form a permanent part of their publishing operations. Book blogging today has grown into a serious business. It is a necessary marketing tool to promote books and Christy Pinheiro-Silva’s Book Reviewer Yellow Pages—now in its sixth edition—is the definitive guide to this informal network of book reviewers. Collectively they rival the promotional power of the large circulation newspapers and magazines. Individually they can help niche books break-out to a wider audience. And that’s what book marketing is all about: helping thousands of small products in scores of categories seek and find their own passionate audience. How I met Christy is a testament to modern book marketing, itself a lesson for new publishers. As a long-time reader of the pioneering eBook news website Teleread.com, I came across an article saying that her second edition was available for free. Free is still a popular way to connect with readers but in 2011 it was the fastest, sure-fire way to get your name and book noticed. Everyone had Kindles to fill-up and as a book marketer and author, who couldn’t use a free directory? By the time the fourth edition was published in 2013 it had grown to a 778 page tome. Seeing an opportunity for constructive feedback, I took to Amazon reviews to voice my ideas about what makes this guide book so important for my clients, and where I thought it could be improved. I’m happy to say that Christy read that review, contacted me, and took many of those suggestions to heart. Here are the two things you should know about the Book Reviewer Yellow Pages:

  1. It defines a standard of etiquette. Christy’s 10 rules for author etiquette should be required reading for every author, regardless of whether or not book bloggers are part of your marketing mix. I confess it is so solid that I based a section of my own book, Successful eBook Publishing (Sellbox, 2012) on her advice. The blogosphere would be a better place if every author took her admonitions to heart in all their book promotion interactions.
  2. It codifies the essential facts about a book blogger, so you don’t have to. Shouldn’t we be able to just “Google” book bloggers and fire off emails to reviewers? Nope. In reality it isn’t that easy. Trying to find the pertinent information so you can approach the reviewer who is right for your book (see point 1) is going to take you hours! There are no standard website designs for review websites, and you will need to visit each one (again, see point 1). Here is where the Book Reviewer Yellow Pages Your small investment will pay big dividends in saving time in finding the relevant reviewers, and their contact information.

But one thing still remains the same, as it did for me in 1991. You simply must get people talking about your book if you are ever going to be a successful author. A book no one talks about is even worse than a book that doesn’t make money. And that’s where this wonderful community of book bloggers comes into play. Let the Book Reviewer Yellow Pages be your Michelin Guide to the Wild West World of book review bloggers. David Wogahn President, Sellbox.com http://www.sellbox.com Publisher, PartnerPress.org Author, Successful eBook Publishing (978-0615710730)

@MyFamHrtBookRvw #BookTour “Liberty” by @KimHeadlee #Historical #Romance #Contest $0.99



TITLE – Liberty, second edition
AUTHOR – Kim Iverson Headlee
GENRE – Historical Romance (ancient Rome)
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 462 pages/118K words
PUBLISHER – Pendragon Cove Press
COVER ARTIST – Natasha Brown
BOOK INFOhttp://kimiversonheadlee.blogspot.com/p/liberty.html


They hailed her “Liberty,” but she was free only to obey—or die.

Betrayed by her father and sold as payment of a Roman tax debt to fight in Londinium’s arena, gladiatrix-slave Rhyddes feels like a wild beast in a gilded cage. Celtic warrior blood flows in her veins, but Roman masters own her body. She clings to her vow that no man shall claim her soul, though Marcus Calpurnius Aquila, son of the Roman governor, makes her yearn for a love she believes impossible.

Groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps and trapped in a politically advantageous betrothal, Aquila prefers the purity of combat on the amphitheater sands to the sinister intrigues of imperial politics, and the raw power and athletic grace of the flame-haired Libertas to the adoring deference of Rome’s noblewomen.

When a plot to overthrow Caesar ensnares them as pawns in the dark design, Aquila must choose between the Celtic slave who has won his heart and the empire to which they both owe allegiance. Knowing the opposite of obedience is death, the only liberty offered to any slave, Rhyddes must embrace her arena name—and the love of a man willing to sacrifice everything to forge a future with her.


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Liberty - Book CoverEXCERPT

FINGERS CRAMPING AND shoulders aching from having wielded the pitchfork all day, Rhyddes ferch Rudd tossed another load of hay onto the wagon. Sweat trickled down her back, making the lash marks sting. Marks inflicted by her father, Rudd, the day before because eighteen summers of anguish had goaded her into speaking her mind.

Physical pain couldn’t compare with the ache wringing her heart.

She slid a glance toward the author of her mood. He stood a few paces away, leaning upon his pitchfork’s handle in the loaded wagon’s shade to escape the July heat as he conversed with her oldest brother, Eoghan. She couldn’t discern their words, but their camaraderie spoke volumes her envy didn’t want to hear.

Her father’s gaze met hers, and he lowered his eyebrows. “Back to work, Rhyddes!” On Rudd’s lips, her name sounded like an insult.

In a sense, it was.

Her name in the Celtic tongue meant “freedom,” but the horse hitched to the hay wagon enjoyed more freedom than she did. Her tribe, the Votadini, had been conquered by the thieving Romans, who demanded provisions for their troops, fodder for their mounts, women for their beds, and coin to fill the purses of every Roman who wasn’t a soldier.

If those conditions weren’t bad enough, for all the kindness her father had demonstrated during her first two decades, Rhyddes may as well have been born a slave.

She scooped up more hay. Resentment-fired anger sent wisps flying everywhere, much of it sailing over the wagon rather than landing upon it.

“Hey, mind what you’re doing!”

Owen, her closest brother in age and in spirit, emerged from the wagon’s far side, hay prickling his hair and tunic like a porcupine. Rhyddes couldn’t suppress her laugh. “’Tis an improvement. Just wait till the village lasses see you.”

“Village lasses, hah!” Sporting a wicked grin, Owen snatched up a golden fistful, flung it at her, and dived for her legs.

They landed in the fragrant hay and began vying for the upper hand, cackling like a pair of witless hens. When Owen thought he’d prevailed, Rhyddes twisted and rolled from underneath him. Her fresh welts stung, but she refused to let that deter her. He lost his balance and fell backward. She pounced, planting a knee on his chest and pinning his wrists to the ground over his head.

Victory’s sweetness lasted but a moment. Fingers dug into her shoulders, and she felt herself hauled to her feet and spun around. Owen’s face contorted to chagrin as he scrambled up.

“Didn’t get enough of the lash yestermorn, eh, girl?” Rudd, his broad hands clamped around her upper arms, gave her a teeth-rattling shake.

When she didn’t respond, he released her and rounded on Owen. “As for you—”

“Da, please, no!” Rhyddes stopped herself. Well she knew the futility of pleading with Rudd. Still, for Owen’s sake, she had to try. Her father’s scowl dared her to continue. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “’Twas not Owen’s fault. I—” Sweat freshened the sting on her back, and she winced. “The fault is naught but mine.”

“Aye, that I can well believe.” Rudd grasped each sibling by an arm and strode across the hayfield toward the family’s lodge. “Owen can watch you take his lashes as well as yours. We’ll see if that won’t mend his ways.” The thin linen of her ankle-length tunic failed to shield her from his fingers, which had to be leaving bruises. Rhyddes gritted her teeth. Rudd seemed disappointed. “I doubt anything in this world or the next will make you mend yours.”

“You don’t want me to change. You’d lose your excuse to beat me.” Sheer impertinence, she knew, but she no longer cared.

“I need no excuses, girl.”

The back of his hand collided with her cheek. Pain splintered into a thousand needles across her face. She reeled and dropped to her hands and knees, her hair obscuring her vision in a copper cascade. Hay pricked her palms. Owen would have helped her rise, but their father restrained him. Owen blistered the ground with his glare, not daring to direct it at Rudd for fear of earning the same punishment.

Not that Rhyddes could blame him.

Rudd yanked her up, cocked a fist… and froze. “Raiders!”

Rhyddes whirled about. Picts were charging from the north to converge upon their settlement, the battle cries growing louder under the merciless afternoon sun. One of the storage buildings had already been set ablaze, its roof thatch marring the sky with thick black smoke.

Rudd shed his shock and sprinted for the living compound, calling his children by name to help him defend their home: Eoghan, Ian, Bloeddwyn, Arden, Dinas, Gwydion, Owen.

Every child except Rhyddes.

She ran to the wagon, unhitched the horse, found her pitchfork, scrambled onto the animal’s back, and kicked him into a jolting canter. The stench of smoke strengthened with each stride. Her mount pinned back his ears and wrestled her for control of the bit, but she bent the frightened horse to her will. She understood how he felt.

As they loped past the cow byre, a Pict leaped at them, knocking Rhyddes from the horse’s back. The ground jarred the pitchfork from her grasp. The horse galloped toward the pastures as Rhyddes fumbled for her dagger. Although her brothers had taught her how to wield it in a fight, until now she’d used it only to ease dying animals from this world.

But the accursed blade wouldn’t come free of the hilt.

Sword aloft, the Pict closed on her.

Time distorted, assaulting Rhyddes with her attacker’s every detail: lime-spiked hair, weird blue symbols smothering the face and arms, long sharp sword, ebony leather boots and leggings, breastplate tooled to fit female curves . . .


The warrior-woman’s sword began its descent.

From the corner of her eye Rhyddes saw her pitchfork. Grunting, she rolled toward it, praying to avoid her attacker’s blow.

Her left arm stung where the sword grazed it, but she snagged her pitchfork and scrambled to her feet. Unexpected eagerness flooded her veins.

As the Pict freed her weapon from where it had embedded in the ground, Rhyddes aimed the pitchfork and lunged. The tines hooked the warrior-woman’s sword, and Rhyddes twisted with all her strength. The Pict yelped as the sword ripped from her hand to go flying over the sty’s fence. Squealing in alarm, the sow lumbered for cover, trying to wedge her bulk under the trough.

With a savage scream, the warrior-woman whipped out a dagger and charged. Rhyddes reversed the pitchfork and jammed its butt into the Pict’s gut, under the breastplate’s bottom edge, robbing her of breath. She reversed it again and caught the raider under the chin with the pitchfork’s tines. As the woman staggered backward, flailing her arms and flashing the red punctures that marred her white neck, Rhyddes struck hard and knocked her down.

The warrior-woman looked heavier by at least two stone, but Rhyddes pinned her chest with her knee. She dropped the pitchfork and grasped her dagger, yanking it free. Grabbing a fistful of limed hair, she wrestled the woman’s head to one side to expose her neck.

The Pict bucked and twisted, trying to break Rhyddes’s grip. ’Twas not much different than wrestling a fever-mad calf.

Rhyddes’s deft slice ended the threat.

Blood spurted from the woman’s neck in sickening pulses.

Rhyddes stood, panting, her stomach churning with the magnitude of what she’d done. ’Twas no suffering animal she’d killed—and it could have been her lying there, pumping her lifeblood into the mud.

Bile seared her throat, making her gag. Pain lanced her stomach. Bent double, she retched out the remains of her morning meal, spattering the corpse.

After spitting out the last bitter mouthful and wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she drew a deep breath and straightened. As she turned a slow circle, her senses taking in the sights and sounds and stench of the devastation surrounding her, she wished she had not prevailed.

The news grew worse as she sprinted toward the lodge.

Of her seven brothers, the Picts had left Ian and Gwydion dead, her father and Owen wounded, the lodge and three outbuildings torched. She ran a fingertip over the crusted blood of her scratch, and she couldn’t suppress a surge of guilt.

Mayhap, she thought through the blinding tears as she ran to help what was left of her family, ’twould have been better had she died in the Pict’s stead.

The surviving raiders were galloping toward the tree line with half the cattle. The remaining stock lay stiffening in the fields, already attracting carrion birds.

Three days later, the disaster attracted scavengers of an altogether different sort.





I am Rhyddes ferch Rudd, which in your tongue means Freedom daughter of Red. The blood of ancient Celtic warriors flows in my veins, though I am a farmer’s daughter by the circumstance of my birth. My life spans much of the reign of the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius, one of a very few men ever to claim that title who did not abuse his power for personal gain—but I care not who rules and who dies in this gods-cursed empire.

More than anything—even more than my freedom—I yearn to be my lover Aquila’s equal. As a foreign slave in an empire where citizenship stands paramount, where an arena fighter such as I can only be considered the equal of other gladiators, actors, undertakers, and whores, this goal seems impossibly remote. Although Aquila is the son of a powerful Roman, he has declared that he would renounce his aristocratic status, wealth, and power for me, but I cannot in good conscience allow him to destroy himself on my account.

And yet the gods have granted the impossible to other mortals. I pray that I am worthy to receive such a boon from them, for surely divine assistance is the only way for Aquila and I to bridge the vast social chasm that separates us from enjoying a future together.


Mornings Journey - Author Photo AUTHOR BIO

Kim Headlee lives on a farm in southwestern Virginia with her family, cats, goats, and assorted wildlife. People & creatures come and go, but the cave and the 250-year-old house ruins—the latter having been occupied as recently as the mid-20th century—seem to be sticking around for a while yet.

Kim is a Seattle native (when she used to live in the Metro DC area, she loved telling people she was from “the other Washington”) and a direct descendent of twentieth-century Russian nobility. Her grandmother was a childhood friend of the doomed Grand Duchess Anastasia, and the romantic yet tragic story of how Lydia escaped Communist Russia with the aid of her American husband will most certainly one day fuel one of Kim’s novels. Another novel in the queue will involve her husband’s ancestor, the seventh-century proto-Viking king of the Swedish colony in Russia.

For the time being, however, Kim has plenty of work to do in creating her projected 8-book Arthurian series, The Dragon’s Dove Chronicles, and other novels under her new imprint, Pendragon Cove Press.


 YouTube video interview: http://youtu.be/DV5iKrEIROk




– 5 e-copies of Liberty
– 10 note cards
– 1 autographed print copy of Liberty

a Rafflecopter giveaway


Tour Organized & Hosted By

#HAHABT: Hop Against Homophobia, Biphobic and Transphobia Blog Hop (May 17 – 24, 2015)

Welcome to Moonbeams over Atlanta as we kick off the 2015 Hop Against Homophobia, Biphobic and Transphobia Blog Hop.

My name is Eloreen Moon and this is my message of HAHABT awareness for you.

Today is

International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia

May 17, 2015

Why do I to host the Hop Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia (HAHABT)?

Because I am a female bisexual person, and in some aspects of my life, a bi-gender person as well. Hermaphrodites are biologically dual-gendered, and Intersex people are those that generally have a range of non-distinct genital or reproductive organs to definitively call them male or female. But, what if you are mentally indistinct on your gender?

Bi-gender? Is that even a word?

I don’t know. I just thought of it now while making this post. I just might see if that is even a “real” thing, probably later date when curiosity overcomes the other priorities in my life. It is still a word, or label. But we are in an age of infomation and communication primarily through words.

I am cis-female. I like men. I like women. Some people I like sexually, some I just like to hang out with them. No sexual attraction involved. I like me, but I do think about what it would be like if I was male. Yet, I have no desire to be male. In some respects, I have actions and thoughts that are typically attributed to males. Shades of the same spectrum, I guess. And it makes you  wonder that, like Autism, gender identity might not also have a “spectrum,” but nobody talks about it because who would think their personal preference would manefest physically?

Yet, there are others those that fear for their lives, or their children’s lives, if others would to know their acceptance of their own sexuality or gender–even both–especally today when awareness is more global and travels the speed of social media. They fear reprocussions in their job, in their local communties, and in their kid’s schools if “society” should found out that their personal normal does not match society expects. There are those that are more that are tolerant. But, you still fear when you feel you are not part of society, regardles of gender, religion, who you love, and how you love.

So, I continue to offer my blog to dedicate to change of society norms by participating in the HAHABT blog hop for awareness:  One blog post at a time.
Because you never know when one person reaching out would make a difference.


I am giving away a $5 Gift Certificate to an e-Retailer of the winner’s choice to buy that must-have LGBT title on your “to be read” list.  🙂

To enter, comment on this post your story of overcoming your own fear of what would happen if people knew you were Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, or anything in between or different from society. Because we, as people, do not fit in a single box. Differences are beautiful. Inspire us with your courage, perseverance, and understanding. It doesn’t have to be about you personally. If you don’t want to share right now, that is a valid story too.  Awareness is vital, one blog at a time. It only takes one person to change the world: Even if that world is your local neighborhood, or a blog post on the internet. 🙂

Contest will end at 11:59 pm EDT 5/24/2015 and a randomly chosen commentator (random.org) will win within the next day or two.
I will be contacting the winner via email and posting the name as well.

Here is the link to the main hop page.

@VivianaIzzo #BlogTour: “Knight of Ocean Avenue” by @taralain #LGBT #KnightOfOceanAve #Giveaway

Knight Of Ocean Avenue
By Tara Lain


How can you be twenty-five and not know you’re gay? Billy Ballew runs from that question. A high school dropout, barely able to read until he taught himself, Billy’s life is driven by his need to help support his parents as a construction worker, put his sisters through college, coach his Little League team, and not think about being a three-time loser in the engagement department. Being terrified of taking tests keeps Billy from getting the contractor’s license he so desires, and fear of his mother’s judgement blinds Billy to what could make him truly happy.

Then, in preparation for his sister’s big wedding, Billy meets Shaz—Chase Phillips—a rising star, celebrity stylist who defines the word gay. To Shaz, Billy embodies everything he’s ever wanted—stalwart, honest, brave—but even if Billy turns out to be gay, he could never endure the censure he’d get for being with a queen like Shaz. How can two men with so little in common find a way to be together? Can the Stylist of the Year end up with the Knight of Ocean Avenue?


Available for purchase at


Paperback from Dreamspinner 
Glory” played in his ear. Damn. Quit.He reached out and pawed at the edge
of the coffee table until he finally felt the phone. His fingers found the mute
button and he clicked it. Peace. He tried to roll over. Heavy.
Claws dug into his
chest as the weight lifted, then disappeared. “Go back to sleep.” He rolled
over until his face and body were pressed against the back of the couch. Ouch.
His dick hurt. Sleep. Ouch.
Well, damn. Slowly
he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He glanced to the side.
Clancy and Yerby gazed at him like they could command him with will force alone
to open the tuna. “Hang in there, guys.”
Oh man. Not hung
over. He’d had half a beer. But here he lay fully clothed on his couch, aching
in his bones and feeling like someone had kicked him in the nuts. That would be
him. He’d done it to himself.
He swung his legs
over the side, sat up on the edge of the couch, and dropped his head. Four eyes
stared up at him. “Go open it yourself.”
Three times. He’d
wanked himself into oblivion three times while rewinding that frigging porno.
Was there one line he didn’t engrave in his brain? Every “unh, unh, unh. Fuck
me harder” was emblazoned in his memory. Jesus, Ballew. Yeah, Jesus was the
operative word. But if he was going to hell for jerking off, he’d be taking
every male in the world with him.
Of course, he didn’t
just masturbate; he wanked to gay porn. What the hell is that about? Truth?
He’d been kicked in the teeth so many times by so many women, the idea of
fucking a nice uncomplicated man kind of did it for him. Well, not seriously,
but the theory was attractive. And no, he would not be sharing this revelation
with the guys on the job site.
The bang on his door
about sent him into outer space. Who the hell? Nobody came here. He didn’t
share his address much. No poker with the boys or make-out sessions with the
girls. His place. His. Who was it?
The knocking came
He jumped up.
“Yeah?” The cats looked up at his loud voice.
“Billy, it’s Jim.”
The voice came through the door.
Jim. Billy looked
around, grabbed the laptop, closed it tight, and slid it onto the end table.
Lube. Shit. He shoved the open tube into the drawer, then staggered over to the
front door. How much did he smell like sex? Damn, his sweats were halfway to
his knees. He dragged them back up, then opened the door.
“Hi. Sorry,
overslept.” He ran a hand through his hair.
Jim Carney was a
little older than him and a good guy, if a bit of a hound dog. He grinned.
“Sorry. My truck broke down. I was kind of close to here and remembered your
address. Thought I’d see if I could get a ride.”
“Uh, sure.” He
glanced over his shoulder. It felt strange having somebody here. “Come on in. I
need to feed my cats and take a quick shower, if you want to wait.”
“Sure. Too far to
walk and all uphill.” He stepped in. “You have cats?”
Billy looked at Jim.
The guy had a tough face with a broken nose that some women liked. “Yeah, I got
two. You like cats?”
“No. Just think it’s
kind of funny that you do.” He smacked Billy’s shoulder. “You crazy cat lady,
Well, hell. “Make
yourself at home.” Kind of. He walked into the kitchen, the boys behind him,
and scooped out some cat food into both dishes. “Here ya go, guys.” He raised
his voice. “Don’t let feline haters make you feel bad.”
Jim laughed from the
living room. “This is quite a place you have. Jesus, man, what are you, some
closet decorator?”
Billy frowned and
walked into the living room. “No, I just like having a nice place of my own.”
“But you’re so
damned neat.” He was holding a glass globe Billy had found in a yard sale.
“So?” He took the
globe and put it back on the shelf.
“Nothing. No wonder
women like you so much.”
“I’m taking a quick
shower.” He started for the bedroom, stopped and grabbed the laptop, then went
into his room—small with a big bed.
He glanced at his
watch, still ticking on his wrist. Double shit. If he didn’t hurry, they’d both
be late for work. Saturday shifts were good for making extra cash, but not if
he didn’t get there.
He stepped under the
water. Too cold. Shaved so fast he nicked himself and finally got some clothes
on and hurried back into the living room. Jim sat on the couch holding a book,
the two cats staring at him from across the room. He stared back. Billy laughed.
“Have they got you cornered?”
“Shit, man, those
two are scary. What are they, ninja attack cats?”
Billy sat and pulled
on his work boots. He nodded at the book. “What you got?”
Jim held out the
book. “This is heavy shit, my man.” The copy of Jane Eyre kind of weighed down
his hand.
Billy tried to keep
his brows from scrunching together. “I just like to read. I didn’t get to go to
school too long, so I read, okay?” He didn’t say he read because it was like a
fucking gift to finally be able to do it.
Jim set down the
book and stood up. “You really are different, you know?”
“Thanks a shitload.”
“I don’t mean it
bad. You’re just—not like most of the guys.”


Man, was he tired of
hearing that.


About the Author

Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 23. Her best­selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft.
She lives with her soul­mate husband and her soul­mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!
You can find Tara at

$25 Gift Card – Open International

Presented By

5 Star Review of “Starting With the Unexpected” by @defiantandi @dreamspinners #LGBT #Romance

Moonbeams over Atlanta welcomes a new author, Andi Van and the first review of 2015 (I’m behind!) here with  Starting With the Unexpected which releases on May 15, 2015.  Andi contacted me and provided a reader copy for the purpose of the review. I’m so glad to took it on…


The Review:

5 Stars


Andi is a new author in the M/M Romance category to me, but I was intrigued by the blurb (below) and knew I needed to read it. Well, time is a precious commodity right now and has been for several months, but I like music themed stories and a radio personality for a character was different enough that I wanted to read it.

And read I did. I actually couldn’t put it down. I had to read all 200 pages in one sitting. Not unusual normally, but since I’ve had to spread myself thin with that thing called work and family commitments, reading has been a lowly fourth, if not last. It’s a light, uplifting, humorous, and slightly quirky story of Zach Blaise, the local radio personality, and Marcus Edwards, the waiter. “Ollie” and “Marian” interact via the rage-text Marcus sends, and in person, until Marcus breaks down and tells Zach the truth.  From there, you see a glimpse in their lives, very much down to earth with quirky humor. You can’t forget the best friend of Zach, Jordan, dying of laughter a every turn and telling him to “go for it.” I was pleasantly surprise that it was not too intense, as a case of mistaken identity, and gender, could be. The writing style appealed to me, and led you smoothly to a great happy ending. So, a big thank you to Andi, and I will be looking for more of your books.

With this, I give Starting With the Unexpected 5 stars.

Eloreen Moon

Starting With the Unexpected
Andi Van

Zachary Blaise is having a weird week—even by his standards. Though he’s gay, the radio personality has been dumped via text by a girl named Marian—and he’s never even met her. On top of that, he’s developed a massive crush on Marcus, the new waiter at his favorite diner. His best friend thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

Marcus’s week hasn’t been his best either. He’s been betrayed by those closest to him, and although he isn’t the guilty party, Marcus is the one getting harassed.

Impossibly, things are about to get even weirder. Marian has secrets, and those secrets are going to make some serious ripples in Zach’s life. When he discovers that the girl called Marian is actually the man named Marcus, Zach stumbles down a rabbit hole of abusive ex-boyfriends, psychotic relatives, and revelations from his own past. If he can survive the chaos, the journey might prove worth the effort.

Title: Starting With the Unexpected (Book 1 of Beginnings and Endings)
Author: Andi Van
Genre: MM Romance (contemporary)
Length: Approx 60,000 (novel)
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: May 15, 2015

978-1-63216-926-6 Paperback
978-1-63216-927-3 eBook
Pages: 200
Retail Price: $14.99 Paperback/$6.99 eBook


The shit you had here is in boxes next to the dumpster.
If you don’t fucking get it, the garbage men will.
Hope my skanky whore of a sister was worth it, jackass.
Fuck off and die.
I sat there staring at my phone as the text messages flashed up in rapid-fire style, and it’s
safe to say I was feeling somewhat perplexed. I wasn’t dating anyone, let alone anyone at
the number I didn’t recognize, and I certainly wouldn’t have been sleeping with
someone’s sister. Ew.
When the shock wore off, I thought about it for a moment, shrugged, and started a reply.
If nothing else, the poor girl needed to know her ex had no idea his things had been left
by the dumpster. She was far more polite than I would have been in the same
circumstances—I would have left his things in the dumpster and made him crawl in after
Pretty sure you’ve got a wrong number, hon. The last thing I want to do is sleep with
someone’s sister.
Wanted to let you know, so your ex doesn’t give you grief about his shit.
Either that or I’m being dumped by someone I had no idea I was in a relationship with.
I can’t decide whether that would make me awesome or pathetic, to be honest.
I hope the cheating bastard and your skanky whore sister give each other crabs.
“I suppose this means I’ve done my good deed for the day,” I mumbled to myself as I
tucked my phone back in my pocket. It was kind of a weird good deed, but a good deed
“What’s that?” my housemate and best friend Jordan Walker asked as he joined me in the
living room.
“I just got dumped,” I told him. “By a girl. Apparently I cheated on her with her sister.”
Jordan gave me that indescribable look he always gave me when I said something that
completely confused him. It was hilarious, really. It was also part of his charm, much like
his ability to belch the entire alphabet in one go. “What the fuck?”
Starting With the Unexpected (Andi Van) ‐‐ Excerpt
I tossed my phone to him so he could read the messages for himself. “Wrong number
texts,” I told him. “I feel kind of bad for her, to be completely honest.”
Jordan scanned through the messages, shaking his head as he did. “She handled it better
than I would have. I would have torched his shit in a massive bonfire. I mean, think about
it, it’s perfect timing. A bonfire to start off the new year would be awesome.”
“That’s just because you had so much fun doing it when Tyler dumped me,” I told him
with a grin. Tyler had dumped me nearly six years before, in a painfully public way that
I’d prefer to forget but had never really been able to. That night, while I was sobbing on
Jordan’s shoulder, Tyler was fucking someone Jordan and I had been good friends with.
Obviously we weren’t friends with him anymore. When Jordan and I got home from that
ill-fated weekend, we’d bundled up the few things that Tyler had left in the apartment
Jordan and I shared at the time and had taken them to the beach as bonfire fodder.
Granted, it hadn’t been the middle of winter when we did it, but it was still quite
“Well, her number’s local,” Jeff said as he tapped my phone against his chin. “If she
really does live nearby, we could offer to burn the shit for her.”
“You’re just hoping she’s cute and looking for a rebound,” I shot back and got a grin in
response. I sighed and grabbed my phone from him. “Fine, I’ll at least tell her you said
she ought to burn the stuff. Maybe it’ll make her smile.” Like I said, I felt bad for her. I’d
been in that sort of situation, and the only thing that had kept me sane was Jordan’s weird
sense of humor. “Don’t think this means that I’m going to try and get her to hook up with
you, though. The poor girl’s obviously devastated.”
My roommate says you should just torch your ex’s shit in a massive bonfire, by the way.
He offered to do it for you, but I think he’s just hoping you’re cute and on the rebound.
Or possibly he just wants an excuse to roast marshmallows. I can never tell with him.
“Happy now?” I called after Jordan, who’d headed into the kitchen.
“I’d be happier if I didn’t have to go to work,” he answered. “You still feel like helping
tomorrow night?”
“Sure. You still buying breakfast afterward?”
“Yeah. Looks like I’m also buying pizza right now,” Jordan said as he came back out of
the kitchen, frowning. “Nothing in the fridge. Want to split an order?”
“No olives on my half,” I reminded him, like I did every time we ordered pizza. Maybe I
thought he’d forget between orders or something, despite the fact that we’d basically
Starting With the Unexpected (Andi Van) ‐‐ Excerpt
grown up together. “I’ll pay for the pizza. I’ll even go grocery shopping tonight if you
Jordan came back into the living room, dropped onto the couch next to me, and rested his
head on my shoulder. When I glanced down at him, he fluttered his eyelashes at me.
“Best housemate ever. Doesn’t steal my girlfriends, keeps me company at work, and does
the grocery shopping. If I were at all interested in men, I’d marry you.”
“Uh, no,” I said, smothering a grin. “Because that would mean I’d have to have sex with
you. Just…. No. Ew.” I already teased him about how he was my mom’s favorite son. It
would’ve been like having sex with a sibling or something.
“Yeah, okay, that’d be a bit too much like incest,” Jordan agreed.
“Right. So order us some pizza like a good boy and quit grossing me out.”
Before he could say something smart back to me, my phone started to chime. Jordan
practically pounced me to get at it, and I ended up with a lap full of roommate. “Is it
“Good lord,” I sighed, pushing him off me. “Seriously, she just got dumped. Don’t be
such a dog.” I held my phone out of his reach and glared at him. “Pizza. Go. Now.”
“You’re no fun anymore,” Jordan grumbled, heading back to the kitchen where he would
likely dig through the latest specials from our favorite pizza place. When I was sure he
was occupied, I read the messages.
I’d say awesome and not pathetic.
You guys have made me smile for the first time in over 24 hours. Thank you.
So sorry you got blindsided by my rage texts. Thanks for letting me know and for having
a sense of humor.
Tell your roomie I’m flattered but not looking. Roasted marshmallows sound good
We’d made someone with a broken heart smile. Mission accomplished.
By the time Jordan and I had polished off our pizza, written down a shopping list,
watched an extremely bad and unintentionally hilarious movie involving sharks, and said
good night when Jordan left for work, the heartbroken girl was forgotten.
Little did I know that she wouldn’t stay forgotten for long. Those wrong number texts
were about to make some big ripples in my life.

DESPITE THE popular trend to automate radio stations, the tiny one I worked for
couldn’t manage that. Some days I was amazed we were on the air at all. Because we
were so small and underequipped, the morning show had to be recorded live during drive
time, which meant my workday started around three in the morning. This also meant that,
during one broadcast when my cohost was feeling particularly evil, there had been no
way for me to stop our entire audience from hearing her play a recording of me singing
“Material Girl” at the top of my lungs after a night that involved far too much alcohol.
Obviously there was a downside to recording live.
On the plus side, she’d refrained from sharing my rendition of Captain and Tennille’s
“Love Will Keep Us Together” from the same evening, so that was something.
The odd hours made Sunday nights particularly difficult for me, though it helped that
Jordan basically had the same schedule I did. Unfortunately he also had the same
propensity to stay up far too late on my days off, despite the fact that he worked seven
days a week.
When I stumbled into the station carrying two cups of liquid caffeine, my evil bitch
cohost—who I adored, incidentally—was waiting for me.
“You look like shit,” Kat said gleefully as she took the caramel-mocha-whatever she
always made me get her.
“I love you too,” I growled. “Got anything interesting to talk about this morning?”
Research into local news, current events, and interesting bits we thought the listeners
would enjoy took up a good portion of our working hours. As much as I would have liked
to have been able to tell people we made everything up on the fly, it just wasn’t true. We
spent a lot of time throwing ideas back and forth, writing out notes, and scripting funny
bits that we thought we really ought to have scripted. I was just grateful we no longer had
to run the content of the show by our boss.
“A couple of things,” Kat answered. “How was your weekend?”
I started to answer her with my usual “fine” when the brokenhearted girl from the other
night popped into my head. I took a sip of my chai latte to give myself a few moments to
figure out how I wanted to word my answer. “I have a funny but kind of sad story about
my weekend that we might be able to work into the show, but it might cause a bit of a
stir,” I admitted. Discussing the need to burn your ex’s things could potentially be
hilarious, but could also be polarizing if people who’d had their things burned were still
upset about it. But then, really, everything was polarizing. We’d gotten hate mail over an
episode where we joked about rubber duckies, for God’s sake.
“Would the stir be from the boss or from the public?” Kat asked, arching an elegant
eyebrow as she peered over her coffee cup.
“Public,” I told her. “See, it started with these random texts….”
And so, when five o’clock hit and we welcomed everyone to “Kat and Zach in the
Morning,” Kat started off the show by asking me how my weekend had been.
“Well,” I said slowly, “I got a very interesting set of texts from the wrong number. That
leads me into our first question of the morning. If you discovered your lover sleeping
with your sibling, would you feel justified in having a nice little bonfire with the crap
they’d left at your place? We have a poll up on our website, and at the end of the show,
we’ll let you know the results.”
“I’ll admit that cheating is a pretty messed-up thing,” Kat said. “But what if it was an
I snorted. “What, like they were both accidentally naked and she tripped and accidentally
impaled herself on his—”
Kat grabbed the bike horn we used to censor each other and cut my words off with a loud
honk. “Point made. Never mind.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I wasn’t about to check it while we were on air.
“Not that I’d know what’s impossible between a man and a woman, of course, but it
seems pretty unlikely to me.”
That was one of the fantastic things about working for the station I worked for. I went
into my interview fresh out of college and announced to them that I was very gay and
very out. My boss had seen that as a draw, and our tiny station had gained a devoted
following of listeners from the LGBT community thanks to the gamble he’d taken in
putting me on the air after telling me to just be myself. The previous year, Kat and I had
even been asked to join the Pride Parade, and we’d already been invited back for the next
year’s events. It was another reason we got hate mail, but our supporters far outnumbered
our adversaries. We were too small a station to cause a huge stir.
The topic shifted, and we followed our notes until the first commercial break, at which
point I pulled out my phone to check my messages.
Oh my fucking God, I rage-texted Zach Blaise??
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. And then I sighed and hoped I wouldn’t have to change my
number. I’d been on the wrong end of “oh my God, you’re a local celebrity” before,
despite the fact that I wasn’t really that well-known, and I didn’t care to deal with it again.
You did. Now that you know my name, can I get yours?
It took a little longer than usual before I got a response, and for a moment I wondered if I
was going to get an answer at all.
When my friends want to piss me off, they call me Marian.
If it pisses you off, why give me that name? I asked. It seemed weird to give someone a
name you didn’t really want to go by.
Like I’m going to give someone I don’t know my real name, even if you are Zach Blaise.
Smart, I told her. In that case, when my friends want to piss me off, they call me Ollie.
Can I call you Mari?
Only if you pronounce it MAHR-ee, and not like Mary. Why Ollie?
Middle name’s Oliver. Commercial break’s almost up. Enjoy the show.
I grinned as I put my phone away. Mari had spirit, and I could see us being friends. Who
couldn’t use more friends? Maybe I’d end up setting her up with Jordan after all, once
she was over her ex. She was definitely our kind of people.
The commercial break came to an end, and I put it out of my head and focused on the
next segment of the show.

Book Links:

Goodreads | Dreamspinner | DSP Paperback | Amazon | ARe | B&N | Google Play

Author Bio:

Andi Van lives near San Diego with a small fluffy thing named Koi, a baseball bat that’s forever being used for things other than baseball, and a fondness for rum and caffeine (though not necessarily together).

Andi is fluent in three languages (English, sarcasm, and profanity), and takes pride in a highly developed—if somewhat bizarre—sense of humor.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Tumblr

Praise for ANDI VAN

“I loved Zachary and Marcus and I loved Zachary’s parents and Jordan. It was a nice read and definitely a book I would re-read again if I was in the mood for something sweet.”

—On Top Down Under Reviews, on “Starting With the Unexpected”

“As it is, I find this story a lovely addition for all the fans of paranormal romance.”

—MM Good Book Reviews, on “A Swift Herd for Solstice”

Other titles by this author:


@SensuousPromos #BookTour ‘Fallen Angel Part 1’ by Alisa Anderson & Cameron Skye #FamilyAboveEverything #Mafia #Romance

Just say Fiddle-dee-dee and move on – Jess and Scarlett O’Hara
To me Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind is one of the most fascinating female characters to ever have been pinned. She is a bitch-with-a-capital-B. She recognizes her flaws and never agonizes over them. She is not particularly bothered by the lies she tells or the wrong behavior she engages in. There is always a reason behind her ever reaction.
By definition, Scarlett is a mega bitch. But, what I feel is often missed where her character was  concerned is she’s also a survivor. In fact, Margaret Mitchell was asked to basically define the theme of Gone with the Wind and she said it was simply about “survival.”  
In comparing Jess and Scarlett, I also have to define the theme of Fallen Angel: A Mafia Romance as “survival” as well.
My survival.
Jess, like Scarlett, doesn’t conform to society’s norms and pretty much does what the hell she wants with no apologies. She was not afraid to express herself, often letting her mouth get her into trouble.
Yes, there are many flaws to both characters but I’d like to focus on the fact when both were faced with obstacles they became determined to overcome their circumstances no mater what.
Be it through bad relationships, abuse, rape, starvation, both woman found a way to survive. I appreciate they, no matter what, felt tomorrow’s another day. They didn’t dwell on the past or their mistakes.
Each saw tomorrow as a fresh start. One with promise. Each woman (Scarlett, Jess, I) just said Fiddle-dee-dee and survived.
Fallen Angel: A Mafia Romance
 (Roman Crime Family)
Alisa Anderson & Cameron Skye
“Fallen Angel is a dark, tasty appetizer with echoes of “The Sopranos.” It’s like picking up a Lindt truffle on your way out of the store. There’s just enough to wake up your taste buds, or in this case, other parts due South.” – Margo’s Red Light District
“Gritty,sexy and with a strong but vulnerable female lead. Fallen Angel is a surprisingly good read.” – Ingrid Hall
“Is Jess going to get sucked into a world with Nick that will destroy her or will she bring Nick to the other side and they find happy ever after? I will be grabbing the next book soon. I need to know more about this story and what the future holds.” – TBird, Crystals Many Reviews
“Fallen Angel is a quick and sexy read. I hope to get the chance to read the next installment. I want to know more about Nick and the dangerous games he’s playing. – Angela, Crystals Many Reviews.”
Based on events from author, Cameron Skye’s life. Where does fiction meet reality? You decide.
Fallen Angel is a mafia romance serial novel released every 4 to 6 weeks, at approximately 8000 to 11000 words each. Due to sexual content, implied and actual scenes of abuse, violence, organized crime, language and frequent illegal drug use, we recommend this to mature audiences, ages 18 and over, who are comfortable with this subject matter. 



Join the Family



Authors Bios: 

Alisa Anderson
well…alisa did stuff and is still doing stuff. only now she has two boys crazy enuff to want her as their mommy. hey, at least she tried to warn them, so her job is done. she doesn’t like to capitalize, partially because she likes how lower case letters look visually, but mostly out of laziness. please don’t judge. it could be you. and she would say, hey. you’re alright, buddy. you’re ok in my book. now c’mere for a hug. the hug might be pushing it. air kiss? you are strangers, after all, with only a mutual love of poor grammar.
she lives for a world full of controllable anatomically correct, android men programmed to meet her specific feminine needs (wink, wink, nudge, nudge with a big waggle of the eyebrows). who look like the rock. and ian somerhalder. and idris elba. and that’s it she promises. variety. gotta have variety, right?
but alas…apparently that exists only in johanna lindsey’s genius mind. so until then, she enjoys her incredibly warped sense of humor. she reads tons of erotica and romantic, drippy goo that makes her heart go pitter patter. then she thought, hey. what, she said to herself. (softly, of course, so no one finds out she is indeed, 2 nuts short of a fruitcake) maybe you should write this stuff too. maybe someone will like it and maybe buy it. so she said, huh, you think? then she said, well…yeah, i wouldn’t have suggested it…(inserts sarcastic tone) and then she was like lose the attitude, ok? then she was all, would you just shut up and write, already? sheesh! and she did. 🙂
Cameron Skye
When Cameron is not in the lab working toward a Ph.D., in Neuropsychopharmacology, which in laymen’s terms is basically finding the effects drugs have on mood and behavior, she is writing stories, crating vivid, intense characters you will never forget.
She believes while life can take you down every path but the right one, eventually everyone will find their happily ever after.



@MyFamHrtBookRvw #BookTour “Highlander Redeemed” by @LaurinWittig #Historical #MedievalRomance #Contest



TITLE – Highlander Redeemed
SERIES – Guardians of the Targe
AUTHOR – Laurin Wittig
GENRE – Historical Romance (medieval)
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 272/86,500
PUBLISHER – Montlake Romance
COVER ARTIST – Regina Wamba


Scotia MacAlpin may be only eighteen years old, but she’s no stranger to trouble. Her latest incident—which resulted in a death and forced her clan into battle—has made her an outcast among her exiled people. Scotia is tired of being ignored and trapped in the shadow of her sister, a gifted Guardian of the Targe; and she’s become hell-bent on destroying the army out to capture the ancient Highland relic for their English king.

Duncan of Dunlairig has looked out for Scotia since she started to walk. She was as restless and reckless then as she is now—only the stakes have become higher and more perilous. While the rest of Clan MacAlpin ostracizes her, he secretly helps Scotia become the warrior she yearns to be. But the real test of her skills may come when Duncan needs her help—and her long-forgotten heart—in this thrilling and romantic Guardians of the Targe tale.

Highlander Redeemed - Cover











Duncan braced himself for the verbal battle to come, but before he could make himself known, Scotia began to move, hesitantly and without her usual grace, but so focused on her task he could almost taste her determination. She watched her feet, letting her weapons go slack in her hands. Even so, he quickly recognized the exercise Malcolm had been teaching the lads a few days ago. She shook her head, then started the series of moves again, talking to herself just under her breath. She repeated the process over and over until, all of a sudden, she flew through the short exercise as if it were a dance she had known her entire life, thrusting, parrying, spinning, attacking the dirt clad roots of a toppled tree. The sharp sound of wood on wood reverberated through the forest like a woodpecker hammering on a hollow log.

His breath caught in his chest. She was magnificent. Beautiful. Strong.

She fought as if demons threatened her life.

And Duncan could not take his eyes off her. She was everything he would expect her to be if he did not know her so well.


Highlander Redeemed - Author PhotoLaurin Wittig was indoctrinated into her Scottish heritage at birth when her parents chose her oddly spelled name from a plethora of Scottish family names. At ten, Laurin attended her first MacGregor clan gathering with her grandparents, and her first ceilidh (kay-lee), a Scottish party, where she danced to the bagpipes with the hereditary chieftain of the clan. At eleven, she visited Scotland for the first time and it has inhabited her imagination ever since. She writes bestselling and award-winning Scottish medieval romances and lives in southeastern Virginia. For more information about all of Laurin’s books, visit LaurinWittig.com




2 Copies of Highlander Betrayed
3 Guardians of the Targe tote bags

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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