Friday, 28 March 2014

Blind Beauty - Elizabeth VaLey


Ever since I first saw this cover I totally fell in love with it, and I fell in love with the characters too, so it's with a great deal of pleasure I have Elizabeth VaLey with me on my blog today. Without further ado I'll hand you over to a skillful writer to talk about her lovely book

Thank you for having me!

Many things inspired the creation of Blind Beauty, (my love of fairy tales, The Golden Cock, reviewers…) but as it happens, music also played an important role.
Crazy as it might sound to some, I write with music. Words flow easier and scenes become brighter if I have a tune to go with. When it came to writing Blind Beauty, I found that I needed something folksier and in a way magical. After all, most of the story takes places in Belmont Forest and there are strange things going on… (Aka a little nudge from a certain magic user).

James barely looked his way as they continued to trudge through the forest. Light was quickly failing, the oncoming night creeping on them. The temperature dropped and the moon rose, the soft white light bathing everything and creating a land of ice and shadows before their eyes.

I found my musical inspiration in German pagan folk band, Faun. Their album Von Den Elben created the perfect mood to create a world full of love, magic and adventure.

Sunshine illuminated her features and a soft wind blew her dark locks across her face. Her little nose was wrinkled and her mouth set in a thin line of concentrated determination as she saw things behind her lids that only she could glimpse.

One of the songs that inspired the beginning of the story was Faun’s cover of Schrei es in die Winde, a song originally from Eluviette (another great group, whose music was also a source of inspiration) and whose melody, for me, (since I don’t speak German), expresses hope. *Smile*

He was alone. Alone, in the middle of nowhere, and he was glad. Raising his hand in silent farewell to everything he left behind, he veered his horse and continued down the path away from everyone. Here, amidst nature, there was no one to mock him for his looks. No one to gaze at him with disgust or feigned interest.

His lips twitched and he smiled wildly. Kicking his horse’s flanks, he set at a gallop. He would never return.

I invite you to read Blind Beauty and listen to the music that brought James and Richard’s story a little more alive.


James Macintosh is hours away from his new home. He is ready to start a secluded life away from all the rumors, insults and disgusted faces concerning his appearance. However, a meeting with a mysterious woman and her child, mingled with a sudden harsh snowstorm will set him down a very different path than the one he had originally envisioned.

Richard Randywine is an accidental fugitive living with a band of rowdy thieves. A good man at heart, he has gotten used to hiding his emotions behind his strapping muscles and brute strength.  Yet, when the thieves ambush an unsuspecting rider, Richard is forced to drop his mask and step forward.

Will both men be able to see what lies before them or will they be blind to the possibility of happiness?

Available at:
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Author Bio:

Defined as weird since she was about eight, Elyzabeth honors the title by making up songs about her chores, doodling stars and flowers on any blank sheet of paper and talking to her dog whenever he feigns interest.

Losing the battle to the voices in her head is her favorite pastime after annoying her younger sister with her singing. Writing stories full of passion and emotion where love conquers all is her happy pill and she'll forgo sleep to make her readers live the dream.

Stalk me at:


Pinterest (Blind Beauty has its own board! Check it out here)


He climbed atop his horse, as told. His back molded to Richard’s, his body betraying him as it molded into the other man’s embrace. Richard pulled him hard against him, his body enveloping him in an almost suffocating hug.

“Go,” he whispered huskily into his ear, his breath fanning it. James pressed his thighs against Faith’s flanks, hoping the animal would understand, considering the strange position she was in. She did, for she set off at a trot in the direction Richard indicated. They galloped in silence, trees whirring past them, snow flying when they swept past. James eyes widened and he barely controlled the urge to order Faith to stop as he realized their impasse.

“Richard, the hoof prints, the snow.” James pointed at the visible trail. “They’ll track us down as easily as the king’s hounds trace a fox.”

Richard’s breath was warm in his ear. His hair tickled his temple and James had to suppress a shiver.
“I know.” Richard chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have a plan, besides wishing that they’ll wake up during the night and we’ll be miles away by then or that it snows heavily again.”

James wished he didn’t have to worry, but he couldn’t relax. The problem wasn’t so much the thieves that could pursue them at any moment, but the man behind him. He was too close, too comforting, and all too desirable. James shifted in his seat again, trying to find a comfortable position. One in which he wasn’t pressed up tightly against Richard’s groin. One in which he didn’t imagine he felt the length of his cock hard against him. Because, he was convinced it was his imagination. Otherwise, how could a man like Richard be interested in him? It didn’t make any sense. In his experience, men like Richard were ladies’ men. They seduced, fucked and discarded women. He wasn’t a woman and he’d been rejected too many times in his life. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need more pain. Richard’s fingers brushed against his side, the fingers digging into his flesh and distracting him as arousal flared in every centimeter of his flesh.

“What got you into thievery?” he asked, attempting to forget how close their bodies were.

Richard grunted in reply and he fell silent once more, fishing his mind for a topic of conversation. It came up blank. He thought about asking Richard to stop. Faith was probably tiring though she didn’t show it and surely, they were safe by now. He should ask. James knew he should, but he couldn’t. He was losing his mind, falling prey to the liquid fire that was consuming him inside and outside. He wasn’t sure if the man was hard, but he was. His cock was stiff and throbbing, the idea of taking or being taken by Richard flashing through his mind every time Faith bounced.

What would it feel like?

Flesh both silky and hard as steel brushing against him, an intimate caress, deep and longing. They’d become one man, writhing, gasping, and moaning. James’ breath hitched, the tightness in his breeches becoming uncomfortable. He clenched his teeth together and grasped the reins so tightly the material cut into his hands. He scrambled to regain his bearings, to remember whom he was with and what had occurred in the last 48 hours. He couldn’t trust Richard, but neither could he trust his treacherous body. He was not a beautiful man. Surely the thief didn’t want him. The thief. That’s right, Richard was a thief. He had no morals, no scruples, no—James groaned as Faith skipped over a fallen log, throwing Richard’s body against him, the erection he was sure he was imagining grinding against his bottom.

Thursday, 27 March 2014

Covert Delivery - Draven St James

Another well organized presentation, brought to you by 


I’m a born and raised Oregonian. I’ve traveled extensively in search of mischief and mayhem to fill my books.  My ventures have been quite successful in inspiring a wealth of stories both sexy and humorous.  It gives me a great excuse to do some crazy stuff in the name of research. Of course at the end of the day, coffee within reach, laptop at the ready is where I find my peace.

I can be contacted at Facebook Twitter and Pinterest

Aspen Starr is in a bind and not in a good way. His father is trying to use him to sweeten a business deal and being a bought boy toy holds no appeal. Just when he thinks he has no options left Sundae’s Custom Easter Baskets knocks at his door. Soon he finds himself blindly following a trail right into the path of a sexy new boss and a whole new mess of carnal complications.

Garren Thomas has rules and one of those is to never get involved with an employee. Easy to say, harder to enforce when Aspen is hired on. With each passing day Garren's control slips until all he wants to do is spend his days with Aspen in his bed. When faced with giving in to his desires, Garren sees his simple life being torn apart. Can he get Aspen out of his system without losing his heart? Aspen isn't much better off. He is drawn to Garren, but he can't help the fear that the secrets from his past will destroy it all. As Aspen begins to lose himself within the confusion of sex and love one question plagues him: who sent the basket?


Garren pushed away from the wall and into the light of the lobby. “Looks like I missed out on a lot.”

Aspen ducked his head and went to his desk to dig around in a drawer. The first time Taylor had sent him shopping for office supplies, Aspen had bought random sheets of kids’ stickers. On the rare occasion Taylor performed child evaluations, a little bribery to bring out good behavior never hurt. 
Aspen came away with two sheets of fairy stickers.

“Not too much. We’re working on crowns and a new kingdom.” Aspen swerved around Garren, his eyes twinkling. “Do you want a crown?”

Garren narrowed his eyes on Aspen. He put his hands on Aspen’s shoulders to stop him and leaned in to whisper, “That was low. There’s no way I can refuse those pixies. I’m going to end up with a glittery, construction-paper crown glued to my head, aren’t I?"

Aspen looked over his shoulder. “Don’t worry there won’t be glitter on yours. I’ll be the queen,” he murmured with a grin. “So you’ll need to fill the role as king.”

Garren shook his head. “You’re trouble.”

Aspen shimmied to dislodge Garren’s hands. “You just figured that out?”

With a resigned sigh Garren followed him.

“Girls, I found someone else who needs a crown,” Aspen declared, gesturing at Garren.

The tykes jumped up and down. Garren fought the urge to reach out and hug Aspen for giving them this moment of levity even at Garren’s expense.

Aspen held out the stickers, and the enthusiasm magnified until the girls were dancing around the room. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” the girls chanted in a singsong fashion.

A softly murmured, “Oh my,” came from behind Garren.

Garren turned to yet again see the shimmer of tears in Mrs. Burgett’s eyes, but a smile accompanied the moisture.

Aspen grinned back at her. “I hope you don’t mind. The girls have been fantastic. We’ve managed to make crowns and bracelets.”

“Even for you, Mommy,” one of the twins piped up and ran over to Mrs. Burgett to carefully hand her the items as though they were made of glass.

Mrs. Baker cradled them. “Thank you, Maryann.”

“Becca and Mr. Aspen helped,” Maryann replied.

“And we ate apples and cheese crackers,” Becca added.

Garren looked briefly at Aspen. He’d seen Aspen eating the same things earlier in the week.

“That was very nice of Mr. Aspen,” Mrs. Burgett said with a hitch in her voice. “But we have to go now, girls.”

“Oh,” the girls replied with exaggerated pouts on both their faces.

“Say thank-you to Mr. Aspen,” Mrs. Burgett directed.

Both girls ran over to Aspen and threw their arms around his waist. “Sorry we didn’t get a chance to make your crown,” Becca said.

“That’s fine, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to make a matching one when you leave,” Aspen assured her.

“You need to make two,” Maryann interjected. “One for the big king behind you. That way we’ll know you’re helping rule the kingdom even if we can’t see you.”

Garren wanted to pick the girl up and hug her. Tell her that everything would work itself out and she’d never be hurt again. While it was a possibility if Mrs. Burgett went through with the charges, he wouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

“Thank you, Mr. Aspen,” Mrs. Burgett said. “You don’t know how much I appreciate you taking care of my girls.”

“You’re welcome,” Aspen responded.

Maryann and Becca skipped over to their mom, and grabbed hold of her hands as they exited the office.
Garren stared after their retreating backs. He grimaced at the tattered clothes and worn shoes. His jaw clenched, and he pivoted and stalked back to his office. The lump in his throat threatened to shatter his control of his emotions. He made it through the door, placed his hands on his desk, and breathed deeply. Mrs. Burgett reminded him of his mother.

Aspen lightly touched his back, and Garren jerked around to gaze at him.

“I know you’ll do all you can,” Aspen confided.

“And you?” Garren cracked and cupped Aspen’s face with one hand. “You gave those little girls your lunch and made them laugh. You took away their stress and let them be kids.”

Aspen glanced away. “I did what anyone else would do. They deserve to have as much joy as every other child.”

“You’re wrong. Not everyone would do what you did. I think most would have set them in the lobby and spent the time telling them to be quiet.” Garren had seen that reality time and time again.

Aspen shrugged.

Garren caved and leaned in until his lips were mere inches from Aspen’s. “You are so beautiful.”

Aspen didn’t back away. His breath came faster, and his eyes flashed with that same glow Garren had seen in the past.

“Garren,” Aspen whispered with a thread of uncertainty.

Garren brushed his thumb over Asper's full lower lip, and desire zinged through his body when Aspen's tongue peeked out to trace the path. Garren's brain screamed what a huge mistake kissing Aspen would be, but at that point he wasn't being ruled by his head.

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Wednesday, 26 March 2014

Wednesday Briefs - Cyan - Chapter 2

Wow, are these Wednesdays coming round fast these days. So, here is the next part of my story about a very special young man

Just a quick pronunciation check. I've been asked if Cyan is pronounced with a hard or soft 'C'. It's a soft 'C' ie it's pronounced Si-ann

“Would you like a coffee?” Robin asked, as Cyan sat down.

“No thank you. Coffee isn’t good for me. I get hyper.”

“What about tea then? Hot chocolate? Or a cold drink? Coke?”

Cyan stared at him wide eyed, and Gillian’s glare intensified, but Robin didn’t care. He was already on his feet and it was suddenly very important he bought something for Cyan.

“Okay,” Cyan said, nodding. “I like hot chocolate. With cream?”

“I don’t know if they have cream, but I’ll ask.”

Cyan beamed and something about it gave Robin a fuzzy feeling inside.

When Robin got back everyone was deep in conversation. He set the mug of hot chocolate – with extra cream – on the table in front of Cyan. Cyan beamed at him and picked up the wallet he’d placed ready on the table.

“Oh no, I don’t want you to pay. It’s my treat, to say thank you.”

“Thank me for what?”

Cyan stared at Robin with confusion in his big green eyes. Robin licked his lips. “For stopping us from making a big mistake.”

“We’d have found out for ourselves as soon as we started researching,” Gilly said, her displeasure evident.

“That’s beside the point,” Robin said. Cyan hovered uncertainly for a moment, before nodding and moving his hand away from the wallet.

“Hey, Rob, guess what?” Alex said. “Cyan’s going to our school. He's starting Monday.”

Robin didn’t know why that pleased him so much, but the knowledge he’d not only be seeing Cyan again, but would be seeing him every day, woke a little flutter inside him that was very like what he used to feel  whenever Gilly entered a room. Lately, the flutter has turned to a flip, and not a good one. She was just so…controlling, and always seemed to have something to complain about.

It was impossible, of course.  The flutter couldn’t be anything like that, because Robin wasn’t, never had been and never would be interested in men in that way. It was just that Cyan was so—watching him over his hot chocolate. “What?”

“People were talking to you,” Cyan said, “but you weren’t listening.  You were looking at me. Lots of people do that. I don’t know why.” And he didn’t. That was the thing. He was totally, absolutely, and undeniable gorgeous, but he was totally oblivious. That was one of the things that fascinated Robin so much.

“I’m sorry. I just… Do you realize you have beautiful eyes?” Robin snapped his mouth shut, horrified by what he’d just said.

“Do I?” The eyes in question widened and Cyan seemed confused. Then he shrugged. “I guess I do. My mother tells me all the time but you can’t believe mothers, they have to say nice things.”

“You really do have lovely eyes,” Aivah said, stroking his arm.

Cyan jerked away so fast he spilled his hot chocolate. “Please don’t,” he said. “I don’t like being touched.”



“You don’t like anyone touching you? Anywhere?”

“No, I don’t.”

“How does that work? I mean, surely you like being touched by your girlfriend. You know. When you kiss and stuff,” Aivah said, wide eyed. She had an absolutely one track mind, and was a shameless flirt. It was obvious Cyan wasn’t sure how to deal with her.

“I don’t have a girlfriend. I’ve never had a girlfriend. I don’t even like girls. I mean…like that.” Cyan seemed to be very uncomfortable with the subject and squirmed in his seat.

“You don’t? Are you gay?”

“I don’t know.” Cyan said, looking even more uncomfortable. “Well…maybe I am, but I’m not supposed to talk about it. It gets me into trouble.”

“Who says you can’t talk about it?”

“People. Can we talk about something else?”

“So you are gay?”Gilly asked. Robin groaned. Gilly had a malicious tone in her voice. It seemed she’d made up her mind she didn’t like Cyan, and when Gilly didn’t like you, she made it known in all kinds of nasty little ways.

“Leave it, Gilly,” Robin said, and she glared at him.

“Don’t worry, Cyan,” Aivah was saying. “You’re safe with us. We don’t have anything against gays. You 
can be gay with us if you like.”

“I don’t know if I am. I’ve never had a boyfriend either. Maybe I won’t ever so there’s no point getting into trouble over it.”

“But you have to know. Even if you’ve never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend you have to know.
“I don’t,” Cyan said firmly. He put his mug down and stood up. “I think I’d better go now.”

“Oh, please, don’t,” Aivah said. “We need you so much. You know such a lot about history, and it’s lovely to hear you talk. Your voice is as pretty as you are.”

“I’m…pretty?” Robin had thought it wasn’t possible for Cyan’s eyes to get any wider. He was wrong.

“Oh come on,” Gilly said, her hostility evident. “Quit the false modesty already. You must know you’re good looking. No one could look like you and not know how gorgeous you are.”

Cyan squirmed, clearly more embarrassed than ever. “Don’t say things like that. I don’t like it.”

“Right. No one dislikes being told they look good.”

“I do. It’s not true and I don’t like it.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you you’re beautiful before?”

“Well…maybe, but they didn’t mean it, and I don’t like it. Please stop.”


“I-I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

Although everyone protested, for their different reasons, Cyan picked up his bag of peaches and hurried away, carefully avoiding touching anyone.

Now go check out the rest of the flashers at our very own site Wednesday Briefs There's a wonderful selection this week

Monday, 24 March 2014

Run for the Roses - by Elizabeth Noble - Cover Reveal

A Presentation brought to you by Pride Promotions




Elizabeth Noble started telling stories before she actually knew how to write, and her family was very happy when she learned to put words on a page. Those words turned into fan fiction that turned into a genuine love of M/M romance fiction. Being able to share her works with Dreamspinner is really a dream come true. She has a real love for all things sci-fi, futuristic, and supernatural and a bit of an unnatural interest in a super-volcano in Wyoming.

Elizabeth has three grown children and is now happily owned by an adorable mixed breed canine princess named Rosie, and two cats, Murphy and Yeti. She lives in her native northeast Ohio, the perfect place for gardening, winter and summer sports (go Tribe!). When she's not writing she's working as a veterinary nurse, so don't be surprised to see her men with a pet or three who are a very big part of their lives.


Wanting to end his pattern of choosing controlling and abusive men, Vladimir ‘Val’ Mihalic figures it’s better to live alone than live in fear. Just when things are settling down—his biggest trouble recently is a Kentucky Derby hopeful that won’t load into a starting gate—his best friend Janelle’s violent ex-boyfriend kidnaps her. After she’s seriously injured in a car wreck, Wyatt Harig, Janelle’s estranged father, comes around to tend to his daughter. Despite Val’s determination to avoid relationships, Wyatt interests him in ways that make his resolve waver. As complications and repercussions pile on in the aftermath of Janelle’s kidnapping—including a gambling charge and a murder—Wyatt and Val must work together to seek answers. And the closer they get to each other, the more Val wants them to stay that way.

Find Elizabeth at

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Wednesday, 19 March 2014

Wednesday Briefs - Cyan Ch 1

I've had a break, but I'm back, with a brand new story, about a very sweet and special boy, Cyan. It's a story of prejudice and ignorance, but also of love and acceptance.

The prompt I chose was 'that's my favourite part'

Hope you enjoy

The first time Robin saw the boy, was in the produce section at the local supermarket. He noticed him for two reasons.

First, he was picking peaches with an intensity Robin had never seen before. He’d pick up a peach and examine it closely, turning it over and over in his long, slender fingers. Sometimes he stroked the furred skin gently, other times he examined the dimple. Once the fruit had been tested to his satisfaction, he would either place it carefully in the bag, or replace it, equally carefully back on the display. There was just something about the intensity that caught Robin’s attention and made it difficult to look away.

Of course it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eye, which was the second reason Robin noticed him. Tall and slender with long blonde hair, caught in a band at the nape of his neck, he could easily have been a model. Robin was disappointed that he didn’t get to see the colour of his eyes because he never looked up from his task before Gillian, Robin’s girlfriend, pulled him away.

“I’m gasping for a coffee. Let’s go to the café and you can buy me one.”

“What about all this ‘women’s rights’ thing, where you’re supposed to pay for yourself?”

“Stuff and nonsense. I like being taken care of.”

Robin mumbled general comments about her being high maintenance, and followed her meekly up the elevator.

The second time Robin saw the boy was about half an hour after later He and Gillian had been joined by two other friends and they were all sitting on padded chairs, drinking coffee and talking about the projects they were working on for school.

Robin happened to glance up and there he was, waiting in the queue. Trying to look as if he wasn’t watching, he followed the boy through checkout and to a table nearby. He continued to watch with fascination as the boy carefully separated out the different elements of his meal – lasagne, chips and peas – and added different condiments to each section. Once the sachets were empty he lined them up on his tray in neat lines according to size.  When he finished, he collected them all up, put them into the paper cup that had held his drink and lined it up with the empty plate and cutlery.

“Are you paying attention?”

“Sorry? What?”

“You’re away with the fairies again,” Gillian grumbled.

“I was thinking of something.”

“I bet it wasn’t about history.”


“Try to concentrate for five minutes or we’re never going to finish this assignment.”

“We haven’t really started yet, Gilly,” one for their friends, an elfin creature called Aivah, piped up. She had a crush on Robin, and Gilly hated her for it. She only tolerated her because she had a crush on Aivah’s best friend Alex. Robin didn’t like to tell her, he was pretty sure Alex was gay.

“And we’re never going to unless we keep to the subject.”

“What is the subject?”

“Honestly , Aivah, I don’t know how you got through the AS exams.”

Aivah grinned. “Good luck and great friends.” She winked at Alex who hugged her.

“My pleasure darling. You’re a very cute study partner.”

“It’s the treats I get afterwards that’s my favourite part,” she purred

“Alright, alright. Can we please get down to work?”

“What’s the subject?” Aivah repeated.

“It’s American history – the founding of America. I know for a fact that two groups are doing something with the pilgrims, and the other is doing the declaration of independence. I thought we’d do Columbus.”


“Christopher Columbus, idiot. He was the person who discovered America.”

“No he wasn’t. That’s wrong.”

They all looked up at the strange voice that cut into their conversation with absolute certainty.

“Sorry?” Gillian said, sounding affronted at the interruption.

Robin was rendered speechless. It was him. The boy. The one. For the first time, Robin could see he had bright green eyes, shot through with amber. They seemed to glow with an inner fire in the bright, artificial light.

“Christopher Columbus didn’t discover America. I’m assuming you mean what is now called the United States of America.”

“Oh right, Mr know-it-all, who did then?”

“That’s not my name. My name is Cyan.”

Gillian rolled her eyes. “Alright Cyan please do tell us who discovered America.”

“That’s not entirely clear cut. Originally, it’s thought it was immigrants from Asia, and that seems likely. There’s some controversy about the first European who landed there. Some people think it was Leif Eriksson, who was from Denmark, but he didn’t get any further than Newfoundland off the coast of Canada.

“Personally, I think the most likely candidate is the Spanish nobleman Juan Ponce de Leon, who landed on the East Coast in a place he named La Florida. He claimed the land for Spain.

“Actually it’s wasn’t even really him, because one of his seamen, Juan Valdez  who jumped out first to pull the boat up onto the sand to Ponce de Leon didn’t get his feet wet.”

Cyan paused and smiled at them, looking satisfied. “I could tell you more if you wanted. The Spanish involvement in North and South America is very interesting, although I find South America more so because I have a personal fascination with South American civilizations such as the Mayas, Incas and Aztecs.”

“No thank you,” Gillian said quickly. “I think you’ve said quite enough seeing as you broke into a private conversation.

Cyan shrugged. “That’s okay. I just don’t like people getting things wrong.”

He turned to walk away and something inside Robin, that really didn’t want him to do that, prompted him to say. “Wait.” Cyan turned and looked at him, expectantly. “Why don’t you join us? You obviously know more about this than we do, and we can’t afford to pass by any help we can get.”

Gillian’s glare could have cut glass, but Robin ignored her having eyes only for Cyan.

And now it's time to go read the rest of our wonderful flashers at

Monday, 17 March 2014

Pressure Points - by Silvia Violet


Pisgah Mountain Wolves: Book Two

It’s hard enough being an inn manager, serving at everyone’s beck and call, making sure all the guests are happy and the employees are paid on time. Add to that being a werewolf, a recovering alcoholic, and a pack leader. Add to that a brother who is trying to tear the pack apart and a dark past he can’t escape. Needless to say, Carl is under a lot of stress. Not helping: Justin, the inn’s human massage therapist—who Carl is trying not to fall for—has offered Carl a massage to “lower his stress levels.” As his boss, Carl can’t tell Justin his hands might lower stress levels, but they would raise something else.

Despite Carl trying to put him off, Justin won’t give in. Carl’s friends won’t leave him alone, and the divisions in the pack are near exploding. And it’s tourist season. The last thing Carl needs are wolf wars in the lobby. Like it or not, Carl is going to have to rely on Justin and the wolves who love him to teach him how to let go and get through everything without falling apart.

Author Bio:

Silvia Violet writes erotic romance in a variety of genres including paranormal, contemporary, sci fi, and historical. She can be found haunting coffee shops looking for the darkest, strongest cup of coffee she can find. Once equipped with the needed fuel, she can happily sit for hours pounding away at her laptop. Silvia typically leaves home disguised as a suburban stay-at-home-mom, and other coffee shop patrons tend to ask her hilarious questions like "Do you write children's books?" She loves watching the looks on their faces when they learn what she's actually up to. When not writing, Silvia enjoys baking sinfully delicious treats, exploring new styles of cooking, and reading to her incorrigible offspring.

Visit Silvia at:


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Saturday, 15 March 2014

Interview With A Vampire

Today, my good friend Billy Kravitz is visiting with his friend Thomas, who is one of the Night People. I'm slightly nervous about having a vampire visit but let's see what happens.

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland

A VAMPIRINO SPEAKS - The mutilated corpse of a fifty five pound feline was found on a hard, dirt lot in a rough, Philadelphia neighborhood. Its hide, surgically removed. The paws and feet were missing. Veterinarians think the creature was an exceptionally large bobcat, or ocelot killed to satisfy an evil rite. Sometimes goat heads are left by streams. Philadelphia after dark, a land of ersatz magicians. If they only knew.....

I am of the night-folk. And I do know.  Some call me Tomas de Macabea, others Jonathon ben Macabi. Both appellations are true. For I am born of Al Andalus, the golden land of Southern Spain. I speak Arabic, Hebrew, Old Castilian and Old Vahmperigo, a Latin derivative known by.... Well, let's just say the first syllable of that linguistic designation says it all..... A 'vampire'... I am a vampire. Though many hate that name, preferring 'night-folk,' or 'life-eater,' or anything but that vile label given us by The Inquisition.

Before that shameful time of hate-filled superstition humanity saw us differently. We were 'the good death'...'the sweet kiss,' ... ' brother night,'... 'the silver lady.'  Few suffered. Indeed the culling of a life was spiritual in nature. Acolytes of The Angel of Death we were... members of the demi-angelic host. We took vows. And let me tell you one thing. Faith does not die. Nor is it transformed into satanic contortions. Those burdened still believe. Jews remain Jews. Christians remain Christians. Muslims remain Muslims. I suppose devotees of non-Abrahamic communions are the same. That's how it is.

Please excuse the ecclesiastic digression. This is the first time in my approximately one thousand year journey that I've addressed anyone beyond our little household. How did 'it' happen to me? (sigh) Alright, I'll tell you. I was eighteen and on my way to study Biblical commentary at the academy of a renowned Provencal (southern France) vintner.  Aristocratic houses customarily give one son to The Rabbinate and in our house that was me. So we set out from the manor-villa  at Cordoba. If you want an image, picture a lesser castle, or a fortified great house built in Moorish fashion. Retainers and servants went too, not many, perhaps six men-at-arms, two valets, maybe a mule handler, my personal bodyguard, Johannon. I don't know. That's all I remember.

But one night a few weeks out, soon after crossing into French speaking lands, we stopped for Eventide (sundown services in the Jewish denomination known as Rite of Spain, or Sephardic).Johannon, who'd been this way before with my father, knew of a Meeting House (synagogue) following our prayer order, so we went. A nice little stout, stone prayer house built in the manner of The Blessed Dura Europa in the Levant. The congregants were surprised by so many Iberian 'hidalgo' in their midst. Some paid more attention to us than the cantorials and the rabbi, a rather saintly looking old soul in a black velvet cassock and matching prayer cap did his best to reach us all. I know some of the daughters up in the ladies' gallery watched me, for I was quite the figure, even then in my black leather riding clothes and long, loose curls.. When I caught them, they smiled and looked away.

But midway through the recitation of The Tenents of The Faith, we heard hoof beats. Crusader fever was building and hoards of 'righteous defenders' thundered into the town. The sexton peeked through a window high up along the left gallery. He gestured toward the rabbi, who signaled all to stop. In a heartbeat the sanctuary went silent. But we heard them. We heard the rough voices in the square, as they set up their camp. They sang songs, hymns and other things too. Someone yelled - 'Death to the infidels!' And a hundred voices took up the chant. Then quiet, just quiet. But the sexton made a sign, a bird beak with his thumb and fingers to indicate talking. Some congregants with family to the north heard stories, though few thought it'd happen here. But it did.

Three heartbeats hence we heard POUNDING, as they sealed the doors. Parents hugged their children. A few cried. Some screamed prayers. Two men tried to escape through an upper window on the right wall, but were immediately shot, as those outside cheered the archers on. And then we smelled the smoke. Thick grey tendrils slithered 'neath the doors. Lurid, orange lights filled the small, high windows.The walls themselves grew warm. But the archers never stopped and soon the roof was burning too. The women and girls ran down. Families reunited. Everyone rushed toward the middle of the room, the better to avoid the heat and smoke and flame. Soon the air was gone and the fortunate few began to die, as those still living stared dumbstruck at a roof bright as the sun.

I saw people still as statues as their hair began to burn. Little children martyred too. Older children...widows... What difference does it make? Outside, they sang songs. The smoke was dense and sticky. Soon I could barely see at all. My lungs were scratched and raw. And the last thing I heard was the prayer for the dead, voiced by the dying, accompanied by shrieks and screams. But the steadfast Johannon saved me. He saw a table, a big, strong, stout, stone table toward the back,used for memorial candles and votives. The stone apron along the front came down low, though there was perhaps ten of your inches between the bottom edge and the floor. He wedged be through, plus a woman and her little boy. Soon after, the roof fell in. The space under the table became like an oven. Then I passed out.

A few hours later I awoke to the rush of cool air. A being possessed of vast strength grabbed the table and tossed it aside. Silvery moonlight washed down through the ruined roof, discreetly illuminating burnt bodies amidst the desolation. The sickening stench of charred human flesh and congealed smoke was everywhere. Then this being, this 'golem' reached down and picked me up. I said - Am I dead?..... He whispered - No, you are the only one..... For Johannon was gone and the women and her little boy wedged in beside me were too.

He bore me off through what was once a small, side door, gliding through the darkness, snaking through the alleys, on his way to a raw, subterranean refuge. When we got there, he bit his lip and dribbled tiny drops of blood into my parched mouth so that I might recover.

I was found by a vampire, yet for the first nights he left me unmolested. But then I saw the pit.... and the two ragged girls sobbing at the bottom, as he quietly explained what I must do...

Let me rest now. I want my music. Perhaps The Barccarole from TALES OF HOFFMAN. If you would like to join me, click on and scroll down a few episodes, or click on OLDER POST at the bottom of each page. You'll see it. It's not far. All 800,000 words can be accessed via Billy Kravitz Vampire Wonderland ... (laughs) Living with these mortals has made me quite the huckster..... Imagine that.....

Let me thank The Lady of The Nephylim for facilitating this introduction...

Tuesday, 11 March 2014

Kemberlee Shortland - Cover Reveal

I'm very excited to be part of the cover reveal for Kemberlee Shortland's 'Shape of My Heart'. The other two books in the series have been re released with brand new covers too. I think they're all beautiful, but you have to see for yourself.


Irish Pride series, book three
Kemberlee Shortland


Gráinne has moved back to Dublin to get her life straightened out. She dreams of college and a better life. She’s working for her brother, Kieran, in his newly reopened pub, The Blues Tavern, but the money isn’t enough to support herself and pay tuition. Moonlighting at The Klub! as an exotic dancer seems to be her answer fast money.

John ‘JD’ Desmond is a detective working undercover in the Blues Tavern. The Klub!, owned by Jimmy Malloy, is being used as a drug front, headed by the notorious Taylor Wade. JD had intended to get Gráinne to snitch for him, but when he falls in love with her, things get complicated.

When Gráinne witnesses Jimmy’s murder, she and JD are forced to go on the run until Wade can be apprehended. Wade lives up to his nickname, The Hunter, and JD and Gráinne quickly find themselves at the end of a gun and running for their lives.


Over the next couple hours JD tread lightly around Gráinne and peace settled between them. He hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to her again with the evening prep, but as he looked at his watch he knew her shift ended soon.

He’d tried almost every tactic he could think of to get her to reveal more about herself and he was getting anxious at her continued aloofness. He didn’t want to have to resort to seducing her. While the idea of getting her into bed was appealing, he just preferred to do it under other circumstances. He fancied her like hell, but he couldn’t let his libido get in the way of his job. She was his best hope at getting the information he desperately needed. So he’d have to resort to another tactic if he was going to get her to talk. Blackmail was one he was loath to use, but at this stage in the game, he had little choice.

There was a lull in the pub now that the afternoon crowds were gone and the evening prep had been done. If he was going to confront her, he had to do it now.

Gráinne stood at the end of the bar flipping through a magazine. The twinkling Christmas lights over the back bar shone on her dark hair. As she moved, the highlights reflected like electric current through the strands curling around her face. His heart thumped a little harder looking at her.

He reminded himself he wasn’t here to bartend. He was here to gather information. His future depended on it. He couldn’t afford another wasted day so it was now or never.

His pounding heart made it suddenly hard to breathe. He hated having to do this to her.

“Gráinne, can we talk?”

“Talk?” She put her magazine aside. “About what?”

“I think you know.” He locked gazes with her. He could tell she was nervous by the way she started fidgeting.

Then she turned away, refusing to look at him for longer than a millisecond. “My love life is none of your concern,” she told him, reminding him unnecessarily of their previous discussion.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then I don’t know what you mean.” She spun on her heel, intent on leaving the bar area.

He grasped her arm. To his surprise, she didn’t struggle. But something odd happened as he loosened his grasp. He felt something powerful pass between them. His fingers tingled as he touched her. It radiated up his arm and shot through his body.

For the second time today, he felt himself stiffen, and wished that circumstances were different, that she was naked beneath him and gazing up at him with eyes he knew would undo him.

She glanced over her shoulder, but not directly at him. “Let me go.” Her barely audible words shook him back to the moment. It wasn’t a command, but he couldn’t help noticing her words were tinged with pleading.

“Will you stay to talk with me? I think this is important.” His own voice was softer now. When she relaxed he reluctantly released his hold. She kept her gaze averted, her arms folded protectively in front of her, refusing to look at him. He knew she was waiting for something, anything, to draw her away.

Reaching under the bar, he extracted the black plastic sack he’d brought in with him today. He knew the item inside would shatter any peace he hoped to make with her.

He looked at the sack for a moment, thinking about what could never be between them. There was a job to be done and it didn’t include getting emotionally involved. He hoped the more he reminded himself of this fact he’d eventually come to believe it.

Sighing, he extracted a black velvet bra and held it up for her inspection. She only cast it a side-glance.

“I take it you know where I got this.”

“Anne Summers?”


“Well then, I have no idea.”

He saw her swallow hard then move over to the taps to pour herself a cola. She swallowed deeply from the glass.

“I think you do. Let’s not . . . dance . . . around the subject, Gráinne. We both know where I got this, and I’d lay odds at Paddy Powers your brother doesn’t know what you’ve been up to.”

His heart ached as he forced himself to goad her.

The look she shot him would have incinerated the average man, but he wasn’t average. He was a man with a mission, and Gráinne was the only one who could help him.

“By that look, I’d say I’ve hit the nail on the head.”

“So, what of it.”

“Why haven’t you told Kieran?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“I somehow doubt he’d understand why I’m . . . moonlighting.”

JD chuckled lightly. “Moonlighting? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“Just stop. What do you want from me? Not that it’s any of your business what I do on my own time.”

“I need your help.”

A single brow arched over her eye. “With what? Wait, let me guess,” she seethed, throwing her hands on her hips. “You want a private show. Or you want me to entertain some friends. And you’re going to use this,” she fingered the bra he still held in his hand, “as a bribe to get me to do it for free.”

“Not quite. While I wouldn’t mind a private show, it’s not entertainment I’m looking for.”

“What’s this?” Kieran suddenly appeared behind the bar, startling them both. JD saw Gráinne’s face go pale, and thought she would faint then and there.


Just in case you've missed the previous two books in the series, here they are for your delectation.



Irish Pride series, book one
Kemberlee Shortland


Artist Representative, Eilis Kennedy, gave up a singing career so that other women could have a fair chance at having their music heard. Having suffered rejection from callous men in the industry, she thought she would get away from ‘casting couch’ mentality. But when she finds herself in the office of Fergus Manley, all bets are off. Disgusted by his continual come-ons and lewd invitations, Eilis is looking for ‘the one’ who will take her career to the next level, getting out from under Fergus’s controlling thumb.

Aspiring blues guitarist, Kieran Vaughan, is looking for his big break. But after suffering near bankruptcy at the hands of an unscrupulous business partner, Kieran is left picking up the pieces. He’s unsure if the debts will ever be paid or if he’ll ever have a chance to do something with his music. At his whit’s end, he’s about ready to throw in the towel and find a full-time job with real hours.

When Eilis discovers Kieran playing in a seedy pub in Dublin’s Northside, she knows he’s the one rare talent she’s been searching for. With her know-how and his talent, Eilis will finally get everything she’s been waiting for. Neither of them count on the powerful attraction from first meeting. Eilis is so rocked by Keiran’s forthright words that it sends her running. Kieran risks being arrested as he chases Eilis across Ireland.

Seeing what’s happening between Eilis and Kieran, anger wells inside Fergus and he steps up his pursuit of Eilis. Refusing to let Kieran get in his way, Fergus vows to add Eilis’s notch to his bedpost, whatever it takes.

Will Kieran be able to protect her?


Dublin's Northside looked far different by day than it did at night. Last night’s storm had been one of the season’s worst. Huge puddles hampered traffic, and trash had collected in the corners of doorways and blocked the gutters. The lingering breeze was still crisp and signaled the imminent winter. Wisps of dark clouds streaked the pale blue sky but remained reminiscent of last night’s tempest.

As the taxi drove through Dublin’s inner city, a blur of tacky euro shops, shoddy newsagents and off-licenses, all with shop fronts that had seen better days, flashed by.

Finglas wasn’t noted as one of Dublin’s prime locations. This was a large blue collar suburb in a rapidly expanding city. Lack in a pride of ownership was evident, as residents struggled to make ends meet, which gave the area a rough underbelly. The Little Man Pub was a perfect example of both.

Eilis wrapped her arms around her middle, instinctively protective. Was this the compromise she must face to get where she wanted?

When the taxi slowed at a junction, she pressed herself back in her seat. A group of out-of-work young men sipping something from a paper bag spun their heads and looked at her.

Just this once, just this once, she chanted to herself.

Just this one trip to find Kieran Vaughan and that would be it. She’d never have to come back to this place ever again. She could stay safely tucked away in her D2 house for the rest of her days. She’d worked hard for that house. She deserved it. She deserved it all the more now by putting herself through this.

Long ago, Eilis had vowed never to set foot in the Northside again. But if it took this one last visit to get what she needed, it would be worth it.

The taxi pulled around the corner and the now familiar entrance to The Little Man Pub came into view. Nicotine-stained curtains were pulled across windows, reflecting the unkempt street. The façade’s red and black paint was weather-faded to pink and gray. The ‘M’ on the sign hung askew and swung in the breeze, and the ‘P’ was missing altogether. Had she not been here last night she would have thought the place was shut.

She pulled some money from her purse to hand to the driver. “I’ll wait fer ye, luv,” he said, waving her money away. “Taxis can be hard to come by ‘round here.”

Eilis was suitably taken aback. “Thank you. I won’t be a moment.”

She swallowed hard, got out of the taxi then entered the pub.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark room. The few men sitting around the bar turned their gazes in her direction. Understandably. A well-groomed businesswoman in the pub was surely a novelty. These men were long since retired, or long since employed. Their stubbled faces meant they hadn’t shaved in several days, or possibly weeks. The dim light hid the worst of their unkempt appearances, but nothing could disguise their unwashed clothes. A pong in the room wafted into her nostrils, causing her stomach to lurch again.

Shoulders back, she strode to the bar.

The same man from last night stood behind the counter. He was short and pudgy with missing front teeth. His disheveled appearance made him look like one of his patrons. Had he not been behind the counter she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.

His striped brown and white shirt had frayed cuffs and was open to mid-chest, showing a sweat-stained t-shirt underneath. His brown trousers had seen much better days and were held together not with a button or belt, but with a bit of twine looping between his belt loops, his round belly spilling over. The only thing holding up the trousers was his equally round bum. It seemed to push the waistband up in the back as his belly pushed it down in the front. The sight would have been funny if her stomach hadn’t been flip-flopping.

Her voice cracked when she first spoke, but it picked up strength in her determination to make something of this horrid trek. “A-are you the proprietor?”

A broad gap-toothed grin creased the man’s face and, loud enough for his patrons to hear, he said, “I’ll be who ever ye want me to be, luv.”

His friends burst into laughter. Eilis felt the flush rise in her cheeks. Not because she was embarrassed, but from frustration. She just wanted to get this meeting over with and she wasn’t in the mood to spar.

She stood her ground. “I’m looking for the man who played guitar here last night. Kieran Vaughan. We have business. Will you please tell me where I can find him?” She looked the man in the eye, much as she could, considering she stood a good half-foot taller than him, even without her heels.

“No, miss, I doubt you have any business with himself. ‘Speshly a fine lass such as yerself. Now, if ye were to come home with a real man like meself, well . . .” He left the rest unsaid, the insinuation hanging in the air.

Her gaze never wavered as she stared the little man in the eye.

“Sir,” she smiled sweetly, honey dripping from her words. She leaned over the bar just enough to give him a glimpse of the swell of her breast through the opening of her blouse. “I doubt you have anything I would be interested in. Besides, you don’t really want me to find out why this place is called The Little Man, do you?”

This earned the publican long oohs and sniggers from the patrons, who were now on the edges of their seats waiting to hear the disagreeable little man's response.

Obviously taken aback by such a brazen retort, the man stood gaping and red-faced at her for a moment before he got his wits about him. He winked at the men around the bar. “Oy does like me birds feisty!” That only encouraged more laughter.

Eilis could have enjoyed the banter if only the man wasn’t so repulsive. All she wanted to do was meet Kieran Vaughan and get out of Finglas as quickly as possible.

When the laughing stopped, Eilis’s gaze never wavered as she said, “Well?”

“Well what, loov?” he asked, wiping the tears from his eyes with a dirty bar towel.

“Are you going to tell me where to find Kieran Vaughan?” He was trying her patience, but she did her best to keep the frustration out of her voice.

Then she sensed someone step up behind her and straightened instantly. Somehow she knew it was Kieran. The feral scent of him permeated her senses and quickened her pulse. Butterflies replaced the strange ache in her stomach that had been there just moments before.

She slowly turned and looked up at the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life. She found herself instantly speechless.

She'd seen him on stage the night before and knew he was handsome. But this close up . . . Never before had she seen such blue eyes. As she gazed into them, they changed from the light steel blue to the color of storm clouds heavily ringed with gunmetal. That he had dark brows and thick lashes only made his gaze seem more intense.

“Ye’ve found him, loov,” said the little man, taunting her. “Now what are ye goin’ ta do with him?”

The hammering of her heart and the pulsing blood in her temples blocked out the noise in the room as she looked into Kieran Vaughan’s eyes. To her dismay, her knees actually quivered.

Something in the pit of her belly ached. No, something else. It was like warm melting honey running through her marrow. In that moment she longed to touch him, to brush the unruly wave of his dark hair away from his face, to feel his lips against the pads of her fingers, to . . .

When he spoke she almost didn’t hear him.

“Like the man said, now that you’ve found me, what are you going to do with me?” His eyes sparkled with unabashed mischief.

“Anything you want me to.”



Irish Pride series, book two
Kemberlee Shortland


Mick and Kate thought they were falling in love. Kate hadn't been just the girl next door. She'd been Mick's life, and he hers. When an unforeseen force draws them apart they're left with wounds that refuse to heal. Now, ten years on, Mick's father's will should have been straightforward, except his addendum was like ice water in Mick's face.

It's essential that Mick and Kate work together to save his family's farm. Mick doesn't count on his new manager being accused of murder, and Kate doesn't expect a dangerously seductive woman from Dublin to claim Mick is the father of her child.

Kate thought she was falling in love with Mick all over again; however this newest revelation is too much for her. She is determined to finally say goodbye to her childhood sweetheart forever, but Mick has other plans for Kate's future. And none of them involve goodbye.


“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Mick.” She opened one eye to look at him.

He stood just inside the solicitor’s office door. He’d expected Kate at the funeral service yesterday, but he couldn’t see any reason for her to be here today.

He scowled in her direction, then strode to reception. The clerk behind the desk turned a harried glance his way, continuing to sort folders beside her computer. “Can I help you?” she asked, not bothering to stop what she was doing.

“Michael Spillane to see Tighe Lynch,” he grumbled.

Finally looking up, the clerk said, “He’s expecting you. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

As the clerk reached for the intercom, he turned back to Kate. If this hadn’t been his father’s solicitor’s office and if today hadn’t been the reading of his father’s will, he would have appreciated the sight of her in her smart dark blue suit, white blouse with the Irish lace trim, and matching blue pumps. She sat calmly, her head against the wall behind her, eyes closed. She bent her shapely legs under her and crossed them at the ankle, her hands folded in her lap.

Her emerald eyes hid beneath lids edged with thick dark lashes. He knew the exact shade of them since he’d looked into them so often in the past. They were eyes no man could forget.

Her normally unruly black hair was pulled back in a twist and away from her heart shaped face.

When they were kids he used to love it when she left her hair down. The tight curls of it bounced over her shoulders like springs when she ran. He’d seen her like that once last year when he’d been home for a couple days during Christmas.

They’d been invited to join the Conneelys, but he’d convinced his father not to go. He couldn’t bear being in the same room with her for so long, but she’d delivered food and he’d suffered anyway.

He recalled how he’d stiffened just watching her walk across the farmyard. As he did now. He mentally shook himself. This wasn’t the time or place to get an erection. The business at hand was the will and what she was doing here now. Not the fact that just looking at her could make him stiff.

Clearing his throat, he repeated, “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

Her eyes fluttered open. The look she gave him made his heart skip a beat. His groin tightened again watching her tongue smooth its way over her lips. She had no idea just how erotic that simple act was. She was about to speak when a door opened behind him. Both of them spun to face Tighe Lynch.

“Mickleen,” Tighe exclaimed, using the common endearment and thrusting his hand into his. “Welcome home, lad. I just wish it were under different circumstances. I can’t tell you how much Donal will be missed.”

Mick could only tip his head at the man’s kindness. Words were still too hard to come by.

Tighe grasped Kate by her shoulders as she stood to greet him and kissed her on both cheeks. “Kate. Lovely as ever. Won’t you both step into my office?”

Not one to stand on ceremony, Mick strode through the door ahead of Kate and Tighe and went right into the solicitor’s office. He knew where it was. Was it really only a little more than two years ago he’d been here to discuss his mother’s will?

His scowl deepened when Kate walked through the office door ahead of Tighe. He got the perfect look at her shapely bum as she was forced to step between him and the desk to the seat beside him. He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs and pulling his coat around him to hide his erection. He kept his mind on wondering why she was at the reading of his father’s will to keep his libido under control.

Surely, she’d earned a regular wage for the time she spent cleaning his father’s house and cooking his meals. She was hired help and would have been paid accordingly. So there should be no reason why she should be here today. Unless there was something the solicitor knew and wasn’t telling them. Yet.

“I thought this was just a formality, Tighe. Why is she here?” He couldn’t even use her name. Just the feel of it in his mouth would leave him tongue-tied.

Tighe stopped him with an upheld hand. “If you’ll both bear with me, I will explain.” The solicitor turned to a folder on his desk and opened it, extracting two documents. Holding one before him, he said, “This is your father’s will, Michael. It’s all very straight forward. In it, the farm, the stock, the land—almost everything is left to you.”


“We’ll get to that, lad,” Tighe said.

Tighe looked at Kate and held up the second document.

“This is the addendum to the will.”

“Addendum?” she asked.

“An addendum means that instead of making up a whole new will, Dad just changed it.” Mick, not looking at her, directed his statement to the solicitor and waited for the shoe to drop.

Leave it to his father to make this more difficult on him than it already was. Wasn’t it bad enough he couldn’t get rid of the tremendous feeling of guilt for not spending more time with him? He never wanted to believe—or admit—his father was that sick. Sure, Kate called him regularly with updates. He heard everything she’d said, but why the hell hadn’t he listened to her!

“Changed the will?” she asked. “Is that right, Mr. Lynch?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Tighe replied. “It means he added something into the original will.”

“When was this?” Mick asked.

“If you’ll allow me, I’ll read what Donal has bequeathed. If you have any questions we can go from there. Right?”

Both Mick and Kate nodded agreement. Tighe read the will as it stood and then the addendum. Mick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That bastard!” he muttered. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the wide glares both Kate and Tighe gave him at the curse.

“Mr. Lynch.” Kate’s voice came on a whisper. “What does this mean? I don’t understand it.” Her eyes were big as she clutched the arms of her chair now, knuckles as white as her face. Gone was the cool Kate he’d seen in the waiting room. In a matter of minutes she’d gone from radiant to ashen. He was sure he wasn’t looking too good right about now either.

“Yes, can you explain it in plain English?” he asked. Why do will readings always have to be so damn dramatic?

“In plain English, your father left everything to you, Michael. However, the addendum states if you try to sell the farm, I have instructions to give everything to Kate.”


Kemberlee is a native Northern Californian who was raised in a community known as Steinbeck Country, home to author John Steinbeck, as well as Jack London, Robert Louis Stevenson, and others. With so much literary influence around her, it's not hard to see why Kemberlee fell in love with the printed word.

Sarah's Secret, Kemberlee's first novel, was the result of years of short story writing. It was completed, though unpublished, in 1989, and several other novels following as she learned the craft of writing and developing her voice.

Kemberlee began her professional writing career as a reviewer in 1995, publishing reviews with Compuserve Romance Reviews then What I'm Reading. She was a co-founder and charter member of RIO (Reviewers International Organization), chaired the RIO Award of Excellence awards, headed up the RIO newsletter and served two terms as RIO President. And she's published travel articles since 1998.

It was in 1997 while employed by Clint Eastwood that Kemberlee couldn't pass up the opportunity to spend six month in Ireland. While in Ireland, she met a man who eventually became her husband. Upon permanently relocating to Ireland, Kemberlee established an Irish travel consultancy and built a reputation as one of Ireland's foremost Irish travel experts.

Living in Ireland has allowed Kemberlee to study the country's torrid past and unique culture first hand, and has even picked up a cúpla focal . . . a few Irish words.

Because of her knowledge of Ireland, Kemberlee has had the privilege of working as researcher and editor with some of the romance industry's top authors who have set their stories in Ireland.

In 2005, Kemberlee was invited to submit her short stories to Highland Press for the No Law Against Love charity anthology which was released in 2006. Those stories included Tutti-Frutti Blues (2006 RIO Award of Excellence Honorary Mention) and Dude Looks Like A Lady, both set in Kemberlee's hometown of Carmel-by-the-Sea, California.

Following on the heels of NLAL, Kemberlee's love of Ireland has inspired a number of Irish set stories, including the short stories Moondance (2006 PEARL nominee) and The Power of Love.

In 2009, Kemberlee was invited again by Highland Press to, this time to submit a novel-length book. A Piece of My Heart was published in 2010, earning her the Coffee Time Romance Award. Constant Craving is the short story sequel to A Piece of My Heart, published with Tirgearr Publishing August 2010. Both of these stories are part of the Irish Pride series, all of which are set in Ireland. Rhythm of My Heart and Shape of My Heart complete the Irish Pride series.

Kemberlee's current work in progress is The Diary.