tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51423547380669897772024-02-19T19:27:56.583+11:00Iris BlobelIris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.comBlogger824125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-34570120086131523232016-04-24T10:57:00.000+10:002016-04-24T18:35:16.743+10:00I have moved ** My #blog can now be found on my #website www.irisblobel.com<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "tisa"; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28.5px;">*** NEWS *** NEWS ***</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "tisa"; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28.5px;"><span style="color: #351c75;"> As of today I'm retiring my blog as part of the launch of my website</span></span></h2>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "tisa"; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28.5px;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><a href="http://www.irisblobel.com/">IrisBlobel.com</a></span></span></h2>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "tisa"; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28.5px;"> ♥ I look forward to see you there ♥</span><br />
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-84130649158839680162016-04-21T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-21T10:00:15.043+10:00May I introduce: Jacqui Biggar and other Authors "Love on Fire" - Summer Heat @jacqbiggar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Summer Heat-Love on
Fire</span><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">by
Jacqui Biggar and other wonderful authors</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Blurb:</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kpInzD5vEjE/VtgReFMKW_I/AAAAAAAAGcA/MLAgMuHtz3k/s1600/Jacqui%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kpInzD5vEjE/VtgReFMKW_I/AAAAAAAAGcA/MLAgMuHtz3k/s1600/Jacqui%2B1.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">16 All New Contemporary Romances from NY Times, USA Today, and International Bestselling Authors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Guaranteed to make your blood run hot. Passion, steamy
nights, excitement, and suspense. Something to suit every reader's taste. Grab
a cool drink (you'll need it!), find a hammock, and curl up for an
unforgettable escape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Where to buy the book:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d9hxh0tS72k/VtgRfmW32AI/AAAAAAAAGcE/_DuzEe8Icis/s1600/Jacqui%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d9hxh0tS72k/VtgRfmW32AI/AAAAAAAAGcE/_DuzEe8Icis/s1600/Jacqui%2B2.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Amazon/Kindle (US): http://bit.ly/SuHA<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Amazon/Kindle (UK): http://bit.ly/SuHAK<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Nook (US): http://bit.ly/SuHtBN<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Nook (UK): http://bit.ly/SuHBNUK<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Kobo: http://bit.ly/SuHKb<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Apple iBooks: coming soon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I live in paradise along the west coast of Canada with my
family and love reading, writing, and flower gardening. Oh, and I can't
function without coffee! Preferably at the beach with my sweetheart. :)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I write Romantic Suspense with tough, alpha males who know
what they want until they're gob-smacked by heroines who are strong,
contemporary women willing to show them what they really need is love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I've been blessed with a long, happy marriage and enjoy
writing romance novels that end with happy-ever-afters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Newsletter- http://eepurl.com/2MFvX<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://jacqbiggar.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://Facebook.com/jacqbiggar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://Twitter.com/jacqbiggar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://amazon.com/author/jacquiebiggar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">https://www.goodreads.com/JacquieBiggar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">https://www.bookbub.com/authors/jacquie-biggar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Excerpt:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mitch’s lips lowered to hers. All the lights and sounds
became a sparkling kaleidoscope and mixed with the sheer perfection of his
mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh my…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She could
die happy right now, in this moment. That wicked, delicious tongue knew where
every nerve was located and how to parry and thrust until Becky was utterly
lost. She hung on for dear life with her eyes sealed shut to keep the world at
bay, and let him sweep her away</span>Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-31066575246692623462016-04-20T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-24T15:45:30.946+10:00#MFRWHooks for **LITTLE BEGINNINGS** 20/04/2016 #bookpromo #Reading #MFRWAuthor<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJeckRjCQqoOoNvZg1nxwR4e0oJVi_sJmZ5E544FZtpKOXBlLqW7GfeYPXo9aQWkG6xA0duuvKSDW6gJRmMMsLs_uaOLTqZFDbsJMLlRihHw6jmSJ90GZNo6cZFWTZODpUvroKGak1BFe/s1600/book+hook.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJeckRjCQqoOoNvZg1nxwR4e0oJVi_sJmZ5E544FZtpKOXBlLqW7GfeYPXo9aQWkG6xA0duuvKSDW6gJRmMMsLs_uaOLTqZFDbsJMLlRihHw6jmSJ90GZNo6cZFWTZODpUvroKGak1BFe/s640/book+hook.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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hooked by this Snippet </i><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Just
like now as she stood in front of her, quite possibly trying to figure out what
the phone call had been all about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What
on earth happened?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t
give me this attitude, honey. Your super boy didn’t show up that’s what happened.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Olivia’s
eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You
heard me.” Jeri walked past her niece. “Your sex-on-legs lover boy hid like a frightened
turtle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Olivia’s
cackle didn’t go unnoticed, and Jeri turned to her, anger rising.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Honey,
this is not funny,” she said, with as much calm as she could summon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Having
a blind date with a guy who halfway through dinner goes to the toilet without returning
because his pills played havoc with his heart might be funny. Or being asked for
a 10,000 dollar loan on the very first date might also be considered funny.”
Jeri took a deep breath. “But I can’t see the funny side in sitting in a busy
restaurant, not to mention one of the best in town, waiting for your friend’s
neighbour who never turns up. Do the words </span><i><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">trust
me </span></i><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">ring a bell?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A blind
date that doesn't happen might lead to love.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
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<span style="background: white;">After her
divorce, Jeri Belmont moved to Hobart and now runs a successful art gallery.
When her niece sets her up with a neighbour, Jeri expects a blind date like all
the others. But she never expected her date wouldn’t even show up because of
her age. Despite feeling unjustly judged, when she unexpectedly runs into him
again, she finds it hard to ignore Ely’s charm.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="background: white;">Ely
Lennox knows he shouldn’t have skipped the blind date because of the lady’s
age. After all, it had only been a date, not a lifetime commitment. When his
carpentry business takes him right to the woman he bailed out on, his guilt
turns into regret when he finds out she’s everything a man could hope for. How
can he convince Jeri he made a big mistake?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="background: white;">Will she
forgive him? Or is she hiding behind something else?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=267392" type="text/javascript"></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-64028619361101586582016-04-19T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-19T10:00:04.243+10:00#NewRelease by Amanda Mackey "Once an Angel" @AmandaMacey43 <div class="mobile-photo">
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Once an Angel</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>by Amanda Mackey</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-Cjr1eziVPxqfkVaU8gStUvLYPeJKCLs6woPyoVytgB175QaR1YFU8xmFDxP0m_sSKCWXPE_MrAt9A0TYdphPsef-GWrGo4JHm-Fcgve74XebigiF54d5A8ZqgRtuOoNBEQd4XWZYM9s/s1600/Once_an_Angel-754516.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6274721119193107170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-Cjr1eziVPxqfkVaU8gStUvLYPeJKCLs6woPyoVytgB175QaR1YFU8xmFDxP0m_sSKCWXPE_MrAt9A0TYdphPsef-GWrGo4JHm-Fcgve74XebigiF54d5A8ZqgRtuOoNBEQd4XWZYM9s/s320/Once_an_Angel-754516.jpg" /></a><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Angel turned Demon, Nathaniel
has been sent to Earth to tarnish pure souls, then banish them to Hell so
Lucifer may recruit them into his army. What Nate doesn't expect is a chance
meeting with Maya at a coffee shop in Mt. Vernon, Washington. He's drawn to her
innocence and purity. At first he wants to lead her into temptation so she may
join him in Hell but as he gets to know her, he realizes he also wants to
protect her. With a deadline looming and the King of Hades claiming Maya for
himself, Nate fights against his evil nature in a desperate bid to keep her
safe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Maya lives a simple life. Work.
Eat. Sleep. Spending time with her best friend. When charming and stunningly
handsome Nate ends up at the counter of the cafe where she works, she's left
floundering at the intense affect he has on her. After agreeing to spend time
with him, she soon discovers more to the sexy newcomer than meets the eye. Her
world is turned upside down. Some things in fairy tales are real.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Amazon link: <span style="color: #1155cc;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Once-Angel-Hell-wants-Heaven-ebook/dp/B01E1QW5ZG" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/Once-Angel-Hell-wants-Heaven-ebook/dp/B01E1QW5ZG</a></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">About the author:</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Amanda
Mackey was born in New Zealand and moved to Australia when she was 12 years old
with her family, where she has lived ever since. She has loved books since an
early age and is an avid reader. This has helped lay the foundation for her
writing. She's published 7 novels to date with plenty more on the way. An
author with Limitless Publishing, she loves to spend time with family when
she's not writing or reading.
Amanda hopes to make writing her full time career and travel
in the near future</span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzW6vuzOKg2pfWkVXaQpG4vQwAmA2JvVU9V5WKSw4OZ8fnHmZHn9tyP1Uk2h44PHOhWiABGya9SkQMNNjYsHcu5DpbRJx_feuOKzQbcJZIZFCBIRjVnN8hRId2jwS_CFicjJULAR_4fOJ/s1600/Nate+bound+in+Hell-759652.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6274721136121864818" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzW6vuzOKg2pfWkVXaQpG4vQwAmA2JvVU9V5WKSw4OZ8fnHmZHn9tyP1Uk2h44PHOhWiABGya9SkQMNNjYsHcu5DpbRJx_feuOKzQbcJZIZFCBIRjVnN8hRId2jwS_CFicjJULAR_4fOJ/s320/Nate+bound+in+Hell-759652.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">Excerpt: </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She was perfect for
what I had in mind. Timid. Easily led. After all, she was squeezed up against
me on the back of my bike after only having met me just over an hour ago. Silly
girl. I could be leading her to her death for all she knew. All in good time
but first I wanted to have a little fun with the stunning creature squeezing my
ass between her thighs.<br />
It had been way too long since I’d had a woman’s curvaceous figure pressed up
against me and I wasn’t going to let it go to waste. Not today. Today was all
about bending her to my will. Showing her that I could play nice.<br />
When she’d stumbled on the sidewalk, my instinct had been to protect her from
hurting herself. Strange. It wasn’t a need I normally succumbed to. Helping
others. It wasn’t in my nature. The thought of seeing her face planting the
concrete had driven me out of my comfort zone and into un-chartered territory.
A place that held emotions reserved for the weak and more humane creatures. It
wouldn’t serve me well to entertain those crippling sensations.<br />
Letting the throttle out on the bike, we comfortably eased out of town. I loved
the sense of freedom my Harley gave me. Freedom was a relatively new
experience. Since leaving the confines of Hell I’d been given free rein to roam
the Earth to recruit an army for Satan himself. One could get used to life’s
pleasures. Even though I still had a job to do, nothing had been said about not
enjoying myself along the way.<br />
Mia was a perfect distraction. Her body felt sensational, molded to mine while
the meaty throb of danger sat between my legs, fueling my lust as I put the
machine through its paces, enjoying the vibrations and roar from the engine. My
sexual urges were greater than that of any mortal male. Powerful lust driven by
debauchery and greed. A sinful nature. Oh, what I could do to the pristine soul
clinging to me as if her life depended on it. Watching the way her locks had
flowed over the pale column of her neck had me insane with need to have a
taste, for she was a true delicacy that I would indeed savor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-51104803855828817422016-04-18T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-18T10:00:06.947+10:00#MusicMonday: #Martika "Love...Thy Will Be Done"<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/10V_Z0_udjg" width="420"></iframe></div>
Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-14793636501220311892016-04-17T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-17T10:00:34.540+10:00Snippet Sunday - INNOCENT TEARS - 17/04/2016 #romance #reading #bookpromo<div class="WordSection1">
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/groups/snippetsunday" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"></span><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237736792826155906" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1-pfKG-5tUs/VpDkkGrJk4I/AAAAAAAAGBc/us_0M1BFCiU/s320/image002-770969.jpg" /></span></a><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">~~~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">INNOCENT TEARS</span></i></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> has been re-released.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">It has enjoyed another full edit and an awesome new cover.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Here's another little snippet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">THANK YOU<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">~~~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<em><span style="color: #4c1130;">“</span></em><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;">Advice is what we ask for</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;"> when we already </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;">know the </span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; line-height: 22.275px;">answer, but wish we didn't.”</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6TMPj9BS0o54X6s71N8LNWq63_T216chrDfK9tSA18V_FK8bkn5ysPd6nUP4I9cRDuRiQuOsyhX9lkNoppIRLLfE1NprtL8RmaOO4yY3n1Pb8IHfBdU_vqahNbk6CHgaO3Mh-BzTRcV9J/s1600/InnocentTears+Banner+2.jpg"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w3RxT0rIREM/VpDkk1D-xVI/AAAAAAAAGBo/Zug0GyvswZc/s1600/image003-774035.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237736805278336338" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w3RxT0rIREM/VpDkk1D-xVI/AAAAAAAAGBo/Zug0GyvswZc/s320/image003-774035.jpg" /></a></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Flynn
looked up at Teresa. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to discuss anything else.
In fact, he hadn’t discussed anything yet, and as far as he was concerned, he
just received one of the biggest blows in his life. His beautiful Saz was dead,
and he hadn’t been by her side to comfort her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">He
moved his head and looked out the window onto the busy streets of Melbourne. A smile
played at the corner of his mouth as he remembered the first time he had met Sarah.
He had been the new guy at school, and she had offered him the seat next to
her. Of course, it was awkward for him to be the only boy sitting next to a
girl, but after only a few minutes he wasn’t able to take his eyes off her. He
even had a few chuckles watching the frustration grow within her with the struggle
to contain her curly hair. She was constantly pinning back another escaped
strand of hair with a bobby pin, resulting in a big messy hair do at the end of
the day. And as he’d found out over the next months, it was a continuous
battle. One day, he was taking her home on his bike when she had a flat tyre, and
he remembered the light kiss she gave him on his cheek as she thanked him. He
was in love. Even at his fifteen years he couldn’t think of anything or anybody
else but Sarah. She was the one for him. Though still a teenager herself, she
had already radiated a mature calm. She seemed carefree and innocent. A trait
he had always admired in her. Considering the strict upbringing by her mother,
Sarah had always maintained her cheerful nature. And her headstrong nature and
impulsiveness often clashed with Teresa’s authority.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Teresa
interrupted his thoughts. “Flynn!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Flynn slowly stared up
at her.</span><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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♥♦♥ ~ <b>OUT NOW ~ ♥♦♥ </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
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AMAZON US: <span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><a href="http://amzn.to/1y5grj6" style="color: #d58289; text-decoration: none;">http://amzn.to/1y5grj6</a></u></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; line-height: 20.79px; text-align: center;">
AMAZON UK: <a href="http://amzn.to/1ZjirM0" style="color: #d58289; text-decoration: none;">http://amzn.to/1ZjirM0</a></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; line-height: 20.79px; text-align: center;">
AMAZON AU: <span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><a href="http://bit.ly/1ZZ7ZLP" style="color: #d58289; text-decoration: none;">http://bit.ly/1ZZ7ZLP</a></u></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Thanks for all your comments,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;">I do appreciate each single one of them!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And check out <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/SnippetSunday/?fref=ts" title="Sunday Snippets">Snippet Sunday</a> Facebook site for other writers.</div>
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-26502684942122634912016-04-14T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-14T10:00:07.902+10:00May I introduce: Augustine Sam "The Conspiracy of Silence" @austin_sam001<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BqVFMibmxeU/VtUVfOcK3JI/AAAAAAAAGZc/HkOkAXSW0F4/s1600/Blog%2Bheader.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="115" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BqVFMibmxeU/VtUVfOcK3JI/AAAAAAAAGZc/HkOkAXSW0F4/s320/Blog%2Bheader.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The Conspiracy of
Silence</span><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">by
Augustine Sam</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Blurb:</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The conscience of a town steeped in sexism, vanity and
hypocrisy is pricked by the brutal murder of a mysterious woman in an LA park.
But the shock is transformed into a steamy, seductive scandal when the corpse
turns out to be Susan Whitaker, the flamboyant wife of the governor of
California. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SVwnP4v3tP0/VtgJyj6oxbI/AAAAAAAAGbU/O6_1-5j5vbc/s1600/Augustine%2BSam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SVwnP4v3tP0/VtgJyj6oxbI/AAAAAAAAGbU/O6_1-5j5vbc/s320/Augustine%2BSam.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A secret lover/blackmailer theory leads to the indictment of
Hollywood's most influential black celebrity. It is only the beginning, for
Susan Whitaker did not, in fact, exist. Little does anyone realize that this
colossal fraud is a mere curtain raiser to a chilling world of ugly skeletons
dating back to the assassination of a U.S. senator in a Washington hotel sauna,
skeletons connected to riveting sex scandals in high places, skeletons the FBI
and political kingmakers will kill for...</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Where to buy the book:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Amazon: http://goo.gl/osU1VZ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">CreateSpace: https://www.createspace.com/5718139 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Barnes & Noble:
http://goo.gl/N6WXJ4<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">About the Author: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Augustine Sam is a bilingual Italian journalist and an award
winning poet. A member of the U.K. Chartered Institute of Journalists, he was
formerly Special Desk editor at THISDAY newspapers, an authoritative Third
World daily first published in collaboration with the Financial Times of
London. He later became correspondent for central Europe. His poems have been
published in two international anthologies: The Sounds of Silence &
Measures of the Heart. One of his poems, Anguish & Passion, was the winner
of the Editors’ Choice Awards in the North America Open Poetry contest, USA.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Augustine’s debut novel, Take Back the Memory, was awarded a
5-star medal by Readers’ Favorite. And
his collection of poems, Flashes of Emotion, was the 2015 International Book
Award Finalist. Augustine lives and works in Venice.</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Author’s website: http://goo.gl/A5jRnj<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Twitter: http://goo.gl/Yzan2G <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Facebook: http://goo.gl/W7W1Ta<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Google Plus: http://goo.gl/yruj3D<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Goodreads: http://goo.gl/NjAxV9<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Book Trailer: https://goo.gl/wZ4F3g <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Author’s Blog: http://goo.gl/VIRVmM<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Pinterest: https://goo.gl/3qw53R<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Excerpt:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Prologue<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The dim figure continued to lurk in the dusking patch of
tangled shrubbery until he was completely enveloped in darkness. Then he choked
and swore and frothed at the mouth and went down on all fours. After a while,
he clambered out of the shrubbery like a ghost, picked himself up deftly, and
wiped his hand across his brow. He was tall and had an athletic build. His
hands were covered with fleeced gloves, his face partially masked by a hood. He
had a definite presence in spite of the aura of repulsion that swelled around
him like foul breath. For a spell, he stood in death-like silence, in a navy
hooded sweatshirt, a pair of matching pants, and black running shoes. His dark
brown eyes studied his environment like a bloodhound determined to unearth a
misplaced object without losing its sense of smell. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A short distance away, small cylindrical light bulbs cast an
eerie glow over the lush greenery of Glennon Park, capturing its beauty in a
halo of kaleidoscopic brilliance. And then a throng of men in fancy tee shirts
and short pants intermixed with women in jeans and sleeveless tops, whisked
into view. The dim figure, hearing their muffled voices over the sound of the
fountain’s cascading waters, stiffened. Like him, the fountain stood in a
poorly lit area of the park. Surrounded by luxuriant shrubs, it was the place
where randy youths prone to exploiting the semidarkness for romantic mischief
loved to loiter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">On this particular night, there were no lovers necking by the
fountain, but there was something else. A black diamond Cadillac was parked
beside the fountain. The curiously unusual sight caused the dim figure’s hands
to shake with excitement. Cars were not allowed that far into the park, so whatever
fantasies within the limits of human accomplishment the Cadillac’s driver had
conceived, this was the wrong night for it, he mused. This’ll be my last
murder, he decided, the climax of a long, enterprising career as the greatest
hit man of all time. He was a killer so efficient and so elusive that even the
FBI nicknamed him Shadow of Death for his uncanny ability to dissolve into a
penumbra after every hit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He immediately recognized the wonderful head of hair and the
slender, sensual neck as the lone occupant of the Cadillac appeared in
silhouette against the fountain. Suddenly his pulse quickened. He mopped his
brow with a handkerchief and contemplated the lady’s mesmerizing beauty. It
seemed odd to him now to think of her as a victim. He had loved her once; in
fact, he still loved her. And therein lay the quandary—a lethal clash between
his obsession and his survival instinct. The survival instinct, of course, must
win, he mused; for between them now stood the only thing that love could not
subdue—a very dark secret.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Shadow of Death moved with stealth in the semidarkness
toward the Cadillac, his hands slightly shaking with excitement with every step
he took. His only accomplice was his own
shadow, perceptible to no eye but his. It seemed innocuous even to him, like a
specter, only there to see, not to arbitrate. It moved when the assassin moved
and stopped when he did, like a minion with no initiative of its own, an
android programmed to repeat the action of its mentor, silently, as only a
ghost would; and then saddled thereafter with the damning knowledge of the
truth, a truth that would elude the rest of the world—an everlasting witness, a
ghost that would never die.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There was deafening silence inside the Cadillac. All around
it, darkness closed in as slowly and unfalteringly as the approaching evil. The
assassin’s face was impassive, his heartbeat regular, but his muscles were taut
as he strained to open the driver’s door with his gloved hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She did not see him, could not see him, because she was leaning
face downward on the steering wheel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Gripped by a morbid fascination with death, he stared down at
her, the roaring tension inside him silenced by his cold determination.
Everything would depend on this moment, this act, he mulled over, darting a quick
glance at the fountain. He did not want any interruption and there was none. He
reached for her throat silently, swiftly, giving her no chance to react. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There must be no error, he mumbled. His pressure on her
throat was fierce. Time, thoughts, fear, regrets, all ceased to exist as an
eternity seemed to roll by in a matter of seconds. And then relief flooded his
being. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was
over, he almost smiled. It bore the mark of his usual professional
touch—smooth, fast, painless, and very peaceful.</span>Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-1402636508134860062016-04-13T16:00:00.000+10:002016-04-16T18:24:29.024+10:00#MFRWHooks for **LITTLE BEGINNINGS** 13/04/2016 #bookpromo #Reading #MFRWAuthor<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJeckRjCQqoOoNvZg1nxwR4e0oJVi_sJmZ5E544FZtpKOXBlLqW7GfeYPXo9aQWkG6xA0duuvKSDW6gJRmMMsLs_uaOLTqZFDbsJMLlRihHw6jmSJ90GZNo6cZFWTZODpUvroKGak1BFe/s1600/book+hook.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJeckRjCQqoOoNvZg1nxwR4e0oJVi_sJmZ5E544FZtpKOXBlLqW7GfeYPXo9aQWkG6xA0duuvKSDW6gJRmMMsLs_uaOLTqZFDbsJMLlRihHw6jmSJ90GZNo6cZFWTZODpUvroKGak1BFe/s640/book+hook.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></span></b>
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<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><i>I hope you get
hooked by this Snippet </i><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">JERI
CURSED at Olivia’s promise. She unlocked the car and threw her bag onto the passenger
seat before sliding behind the steering wheel. After cranking up the radio, the
music was loud enough for her to ignore the outside noises. She leaned back and
closed her eyes, considered forgetting about finding the ‘right one.’ Living
alone wasn’t all that bad. She liked being alone, yet the thought of being
alone for the rest of her life scared her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Jeri
took a deep breath, turned down the music, and grabbed her phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Without
giving her niece a chance to say a word when the call connected, she said,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sex
on legs in your dreams, honey,” and hung up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She
took the long route back home, enjoying the drive and the night-lights of the city.
By the time she arrived at her home, Olivia stood in front of her door, hands
on hips. Her niece hadn’t changed much, if at all, in all the years she’d known
her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Despite
looking like a little model, Olivia hated her curly blonde hair, which had been
near unmanageable while the hormones raged during her teenage years. A smile tugged
at Jeri’s lips as she remembered when she’d showed her niece how to apply some
makeup to show off her beautiful blue eyes. Olivia had wanted none of it —but she
still looked stunning. Even more so because nothing in the world really
bothered her and that smile on her face was a constant.</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;">Blurb:</span></b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A blind
date that doesn't happen might lead to love.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
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<span style="background: white;">After her
divorce, Jeri Belmont moved to Hobart and now runs a successful art gallery.
When her niece sets her up with a neighbour, Jeri expects a blind date like all
the others. But she never expected her date wouldn’t even show up because of
her age. Despite feeling unjustly judged, when she unexpectedly runs into him
again, she finds it hard to ignore Ely’s charm.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Ely
Lennox knows he shouldn’t have skipped the blind date because of the lady’s
age. After all, it had only been a date, not a lifetime commitment. When his
carpentry business takes him right to the woman he bailed out on, his guilt
turns into regret when he finds out she’s everything a man could hope for. How
can he convince Jeri he made a big mistake?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Will she
forgive him? Or is she hiding behind something else?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Little-Beginnings-Iris-Blobel-ebook/dp/B01D3I7Z0I/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237753054582009218" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UoOctITROaw/VpDzWqb37YI/AAAAAAAAGFA/MZNSg_1fmvE/s320/image004-757663.png" /></a></span></div>
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<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=266576" type="text/javascript"></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-7970700520509909742016-04-12T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-12T10:00:11.973+10:00Tuesday Tales - PHONE ~ ~ #Tuesdaybookblog #Books<div class="WordSection1">
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<i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /><em> </em></span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #20124d; text-decoration: none;"></span></i></a><i><span style="color: #20124d; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EqU-2bQZ3no/VpDu5I7DwcI/AAAAAAAAGDM/xhnspoBOe7s/s1600/image001-715913.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237748149323284930" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EqU-2bQZ3no/VpDu5I7DwcI/AAAAAAAAGDM/xhnspoBOe7s/s320/image001-715913.jpg" /></a></span></i><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<em><span style="color: #20124d;">Welcome to Tuesday ... Welcome to Tuesday Tales ...</span></em><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Time for a new story. This one has no title, yet, and has been on the back burner for a few years now. I think I posted one or two excerpts, but I felt lost in the story at some stage, so hopefully with prompts and some feedback I might finish it.</div>
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<em><span style="color: #351c75;">Today's prompt is: PHONE</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: #351c75;">Enjoy - and feel free to leave a comment. And don't forget to click the link below to go back to the main Tuesday Tale site for more stories by very talented authors.</span></em><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Anyway, now I’m in this massive aeroplane en route to
Germany. In all fairness, flying isn’t all what it’s cracked up to be. We’re
not even half way and my bum’s sore, my head aches, and I’m bored out of my
brains. Even the latest blockbuster on the small screen in front of me can’t
hold my attention, and I’ve seen most of the TV series that often I can talk
along with them. Even the excitement of sitting right next to the window feels
silly now. As far as the eye can see are only sky or clouds. Initially
breathtaking, now more on the boring and <i>I
don’t really wanna know what’s beneath me</i> side of thoughts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Excuse me,” I say quietly to the nice looking lady next to
me. “I’m sorry, but–” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I make a motion saying I need to get something from the overhead
locker and she kindly moves her legs. Unbelievable, that there are people out
there liking this experience. I’ve had enough already!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, I move awkwardly around the lady, who desperately
tries to keep that smile on her face as I step on her feet at least twice, but
in the end, I do get what I was looking for in my bag “up above”. My phone .... And Grandma’s
diary. Time for a bit more snooping.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The nice flight attendant gets me something to drink and a
snack as I try to get the hang of reading the old German again. As I grab the
water, I glance past the lady next to me and see the guy across the aisle
staring towards me. Instinctively, I look around, but no, he’s really looking
at me. A smile tugs at my lips when I see him smiling at me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Where are you heading?” he asks as the flight attendant
moves on.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I lean forward and the nice lady next to me leans back. Her
smile saying everything. Everything as in, <i>Yeah,
he’s cute!</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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“I’m heading to Frankfurt,” I reply.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“So am I,” he says, his smile turning into a grin.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And then we get interrupted by a long line of people coming
past. I patiently wait, as one person after the other moves past, my head
bobbing from side to side desperate not to lose eye contact. But it’s near
impossible. Itching to talk more to the guy, I keep glancing over again and
again, but then I try to settle my nerves by focusing back on the book.</div>
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I had no idea “human traffic” can be so intense on a flight.</div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: red;"> </span><span lang="EN" style="color: black;"><a href="http://clicktotweet.com/1Ce39"><span style="color: red;">Click here to share the main Tuesday Tales blog address</span></a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span> </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: black;"><a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com.au/"><span style="color: black;">Click her to read more Tuesday Tales</span></a></span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></h4>
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<a href="http://www.tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-6VTsFI25gHjxgNYe0sSqRUCMJAY5WcSvQj1jELNPR2tVOQ2Is3NPzh6zifq4vhM4IkIGLN35fstt3ocLNxLFFNzTUWf5WIZnoh6YskSO3pppQnDV94Jo3QDcCl3emZiNBdrP5olZ2HT/s1600/image003-718080.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237748155929353762" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-6VTsFI25gHjxgNYe0sSqRUCMJAY5WcSvQj1jELNPR2tVOQ2Is3NPzh6zifq4vhM4IkIGLN35fstt3ocLNxLFFNzTUWf5WIZnoh6YskSO3pppQnDV94Jo3QDcCl3emZiNBdrP5olZ2HT/s320/image003-718080.jpg" /></a></span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: black;">~~</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: black;"> </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #385723;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Echoes-Past-Fermosa-Bay-Book-ebook/dp/B01BFWMX88/" target="_blank">Out now – and free for KU subscribers</a></span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Echoes-Past-Fermosa-Bay-Book-ebook/dp/B01BFWMX88/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBraz2CCOyH3O-5qS0alWHfbAZIz7e5sRpI1aYOPmxsAge88PhOLLEOzQCjC6SUSYPBOROhFqcCriqktT0Cu4tTQLjw8Twnxt-yk1QCjKveSm4aW4BoIRpPFVKVz71bAw9OnaqleLfh6x/s320/Echoes+of+the+Past+now+available.png" width="320" /></a><span id="goog_528573756"></span><span id="goog_528573757"></span><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/"></a></span></div>
<span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Iris-Blobel/e/B00FNFP3LI" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-20876374611816647702016-04-11T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-11T10:00:06.548+10:00#MusicMonday: #RonanKeating "Iris"<div style="text-align: center;">
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-24885534879714758162016-04-10T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-16T16:54:14.396+10:00Snippet Sunday - INNOCENT TEARS - 10/04/2016 #romance #reading #bookpromo<div class="WordSection1">
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">~~~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">INNOCENT TEARS</span></i></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> has been re-released.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">It has enjoyed another full edit and an awesome new cover.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Here's another little snippet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">THANK YOU<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">~~~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<em><span style="color: #4c1130;">“</span></em><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;">Advice is what we ask for</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;"> when we already </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;">know the </span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; line-height: 22.275px;">answer, but wish we didn't.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Flynn
looked from Teresa to William. Deep lines of worry appeared on William’s face,
and he slowly nodded. Flynn rubbed his face in disbelief. William reached over
and placed his hand comfortingly on Flynn’s shoulder. Flynn’s eyes stung and he
couldn’t quite face them, but quietly asked, “What happened?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Cancer,”
he heard Teresa saying, and for the first time Flynn thought he was able to detect
some emotions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">With
his back hunched, elbows on his knees, and his hands folded in front of his mouth,
he sorted his thoughts – cancer! One tiny word, yet it had a devastating effect
on him. Flynn gave a sudden curse, then leaned back into the chair as he rubbed
his eyes with his fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sorry,
son,” William tried to comfort him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Why
are you telling me now?” he asked without looking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There
was a touch of concern in Teresa’s voice. “There’s something else we need to discuss
with you.”</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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♥♦♥ ~ <b>OUT NOW ~ ♥♦♥ </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
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AMAZON US: <span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><a href="http://amzn.to/1y5grj6" style="color: #d58289; text-decoration: none;">http://amzn.to/1y5grj6</a></u></span></div>
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AMAZON AU: <span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><a href="http://bit.ly/1ZZ7ZLP" style="color: #d58289; text-decoration: none;">http://bit.ly/1ZZ7ZLP</a></u></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Thanks for all your comments,</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">I do appreciate each single one of them!</span></div>
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-37971694818169535692016-04-08T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-08T10:00:04.394+10:00Blog Tour: @CamilleTaylorAu "No Law" (Law #3) <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Title: No Law</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Series: Law Series Book Three</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Author: Camille Taylor</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Genre: Romantic Intrigue</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Release Date: April 5, 2016</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At just twenty-four years old, Carey Madigan was made a widow—by the Russian Mafiya…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Years after her husband’s murder, Carey relocated from Russia back to U.S., where she works as an assistant curator for a prestigious museum. Her past seemingly left behind, she no longer looks over her shoulder or jumps at shadows. That is, until her boss is murdered—by the Russian Mafiya.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Carey’s past comes back to haunt her…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When the police discover the nature of her husband’s untimely demise, Carey becomes the prime suspect. But worse, the Mafiya is again pursuing her, and now that she’s seen their faces, they’re out to silence her for good. Frightened, she turns to an old friend—CIA agent Elena Gates.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Dmitry Ivanov is a tech legend in the hacker underworld…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Russian born and raised, Dmitry uses his skills to help the CIA. Filling in for his sister Elena, he is intrigued when Carey walks through the door. When he sees her reluctance, he realizes he has to win her trust before he can help her. And if anyone has a chance of clearing her name, uncovering the motives behind her boss’ murder, and protecting her from the men determined to end her life, it's him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Together, Dmitry and Carey uncover a trail that leads them to the discovery of a priceless artifact. Now they must fight to keep it—and themselves—out of harm’s way, and convince the authorities Carey is not a cold-blooded killer.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Carey plopped her purse down on Dmitry’s kitchen counter as if she’d always done so and carried her overnight tote into the open living area. She stopped short and took in the wall of computers and expensive equipment.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“Holy crap,” she whispered, moving over to the station. She was no expert, but what she saw looked like state of the art systems.</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What exactly </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">do</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> you do at the CIA?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “I’m almost afraid to know. It looks like a space shuttle in here. I have an overwhelming desire to say, ‘Houston, we have a problem.’” She giggled and shook her head at her silliness. Even to her own ears her voice was a pitch too high, probably just short of hysteria.</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Without warning, Dmitry drew her to him, holding her close. She closed her eyes at the sensation of being enveloped in his arms. Immediately, she began to feel lighter. It was amazing how much better she felt knowing she was no longer in this fight alone. That she had help and maybe she would get out on top, alive, and free of all charges. She breathed in his scent and her stomach fluttered. She could get used to this.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“I’m fine. Really.”</span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“Lean on me, Carey. I can take it.”</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She sighed, melting into his body, her head burrowing against his hard chest. Listening to the steady thump of his heart, she took the comfort he was offering, soaking it up. Goodness, he was solid. All muscle and male perfection. He smelled delicious too.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">How had she ever believed this man to be affiliated with the mob? He was as steady as they came, kind and caring. He’d been nothing but nice to her despite her obvious reservations back in Elena’s office.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“Thank you. I appreciate all your help.”</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Dmitry’s arms tightened around her and he rested his cheek against the top of her head. “What are friends for?”</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“We’ve only known each other for a few hours.”</span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“Sometimes that’s all it takes.”</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Something inside her shifted. “Well, thank you anyway. It’s nice not to be alone.”</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“I know how you feel.”</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Pressed against him, she felt every inch of his body. Her knees buckled as she imagined him naked. Thankfully, Dmitry’s arms around her waist kept her standing. She was much too dependent on him but right at that moment she didn’t care. She allowed herself to enjoy the comfort he provided. His skin, like hers was pale. A hereditary gift. That and lack of sunlight. Something they had in common. They both seemed to hide away from the world. He with his computers, she with her job. Despite that, she felt the defined pectoral beneath her cheek and knew there would be some abs lower. If only she was game enough to run her hand over his abdomen and confirm her suspicions. Her clothes had become cumbersome, her nipples pebbling as desire zinged through her blood stream.</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She pulled back, hoping her flushed face didn’t give her away. She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand. A yawn surprised her and her jaw cracked from the intensity.</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“Sorry.”</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“You’re exhausted. I’m amazed you’re still standing. Come on.” He took her hand and led her down a short hall and stopped outside an open doorway that revealed a basic bedroom, with a queen sized bed covered with a plain black comforter, a four drawer bureau and two side tables, one with a lamp, the other a clock radio. To her, it was heavenly.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“It isn’t much.”</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“It’s fine. Thank you.”</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“The bathroom is across the hall. Don’t fall asleep. If you’re not out in twenty I’m coming in after you,” he warned.</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">An image burst into her mind. Naked skin. Entwined limbs. Soapy suds sliding down an alabaster chest.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She’d never had an instant response to a man before, not even her husband. She trusted Dmitry, felt attracted to him. It was crazy and scary. She’d only known him a few hours but as he’d said earlier, sometimes that’s all it took.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She resisted the urge to invite him into the shower with her, even though it was out of character for her, and Dmitry left. She took a shaky breath as he shut the door behind her. His presence was seriously detrimental to her mental health. She didn’t need this right now.</span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Or did she?</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Only the other night she’d been thinking how nice it would be to have strong arms wrapped around her, providing comfort. She still felt the aftereffects of being so close to Dmitry. Was it simply attraction, a need not to be alone, or could it be the beginning of something more?</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Forgetting about Dmitry for the moment, she looked within herself. Would her heart allow her to fall in love? Lust, yes. But love?</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A cold sensation gripped her heart and squeezed. She wasn’t sure that was possible. She was terrified of letting another get close, and it was one of the reasons she hadn’t dated in all these years. Guilt for the hand she had in her husband’s death was one. That, and she didn’t believe she deserved a second chance at happiness. She might be in lust with Dmitry, but she could never love him. Even if he was so inclined to give it a try, there could be nothing between them.</span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f01de0d7-ca9d-3f54-076c-d8cd25e0ee95"><span style="color: #222222; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She wasn’t about to start something that would end in heartbreak for either of them. Resolved, yet feeling shattered, cold and teary-eyed she crossed the hall to the bathroom. It was better if she didn’t give in to her desire to taste Dmitry and know what it felt like to lay beneath him. That was the safest course and she was always cautious.</span></span></span></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-dnxdYKBkqdIcNrB4VgAQ0EH3VShK5huetFQ83rOMflTPz1EjRk-n8YLgR65usokru7ERoOccHUP4flPYZJhKnI3MQnZNnIvctq_1rxJPW_x45RUddeg19LuqVBkRdVDX5d1XWEPxZVU/s1600/Untitled7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-dnxdYKBkqdIcNrB4VgAQ0EH3VShK5huetFQ83rOMflTPz1EjRk-n8YLgR65usokru7ERoOccHUP4flPYZJhKnI3MQnZNnIvctq_1rxJPW_x45RUddeg19LuqVBkRdVDX5d1XWEPxZVU/s320/Untitled7.jpg" width="231" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Camille Taylor is an Australian author who resides in the Nation’s Capital with her small dog. She was the typical 90’s kid and was raised on Goosebumps, Roald Dahl and Paul Jennings. In her teens she began reading the Queen of Crime, Agatha Christie and in later years found Christine Feehan, Janet Evanovich and Julie Garwood.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She started writing at sixteen and enjoys spending time with her family, doting on her nieces and nephews, writing the many stories floating about her head and working on her genealogy where she can trace her heritage to England, Scotland, Ireland and Russia.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Her other interests include, anything creative—such as scrapbooking and drawing and has travelled across Western Europe, New Zealand and the UAE, after spending a year living in London. She’s also dabbled in tae kwon do.</span></blockquote>
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-81832700038567104112016-04-07T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-07T10:00:02.187+10:00May I introduce: @JJDiBenedetto "Finders Keepers (A Jane Barnaby Adventure)" <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BqVFMibmxeU/VtUVfOcK3JI/AAAAAAAAGZc/HkOkAXSW0F4/s1600/Blog%2Bheader.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="115" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BqVFMibmxeU/VtUVfOcK3JI/AAAAAAAAGZc/HkOkAXSW0F4/s320/Blog%2Bheader.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Finders Keepers (A
Jane Barnaby Adventure)</span><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">by
J.J. DiBenedetto</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Blurb:</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xmQNUkX-7eQ/VtgO1ezC4bI/AAAAAAAAGbo/0Ucd9TtFzIA/s1600/james.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xmQNUkX-7eQ/VtgO1ezC4bI/AAAAAAAAGbo/0Ucd9TtFzIA/s320/james.jpg" width="207" /></a><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It should have been a simple job. All archaeology student
Jane Barnaby had to do was pick up a box her professor needed and deliver it to
him at his dig site, along with his new car. Yes, his office was in
Oxfordshire, and his dig site was in Spain, a trip of 1,400 miles across three
countries and two bodies of water. Still, it should have been simple. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And it was, until Jane discovered she picked up the wrong box
by mistake. Not the one with boring pottery samples, but instead the one with
priceless ancient Egyptian artifacts. The one that a team of international art
thieves is after. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now she’s chasing – and being chased by – the thieves. And
she’s picked up a pair of passengers who claim they can help her outwit them,
get her professor’s pottery back and return the artifacts to their rightful
owner. If only she could figure out which one of them is working with the
thieves and which one she can trust in this high-stakes game of finders
keepers.</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Where to buy the book:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://getBook.at/FindersKeepers</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">About the Author: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">J.J. (James) Dibenedetto's fans would swear he's got a sixth
sense when it comes to seeing into the minds of others and often wonder if his
stories could possibly be fiction. He enjoys suspending disbelief with
suspenseful paranormal tales that are a perfect blend of reality meets fantasy.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">His popular Dream Series continues to delight readers with
each and every exciting installment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Born in Yonkers, New York, he currently resides in Arlington
Virginia with his beautiful wife and a cat he is sure has taken full advantage
of its nine lives. When it comes to the cat, he often wonders, but then again
it might just be his imagination.</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://www.writingdreams.net<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">https://www.facebook.com/DreamSeriesBooks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">https://twitter.com/JJDiBenedetto</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Adrenaline and anger were still flowing freely through Jane,
keeping her from a complete meltdown.
She still had the presence of mind to form coherent questions. “OK, before we call the cops, you’ve got one
chance. Why did you want to break into
my car?” In calmer circumstances, she
might have lost her train of thought, wondering what the French slang for
“policeman” was, since it couldn’t possibly be “cop.” But she kept her focus, watching the thief’s
reaction intently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He looked desperate, afraid, about two steps from either
collapsing to the ground in tears or trying to run for it. Jane didn’t want to bet on which one he might
opt for, but he ended up choosing neither.
Instead, he answered her, in a voice that somehow combined hysteria and
impatience. “I didn’t want to break into
anything! I’m with the Bodleian Library,
you took the wrong box, you were carrying around Egyptian relics that were
supposed to go to the British Museum!
They sent me to bring them back, and what do I find after following you
for hours and hours? A broken window, no
box, and instead of chasing after the people who actually did steal it, you try
to kill me!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She wanted to just punch him again, but Jane fought back the
impulse and considered the man’s words.
The Bodleian Library was a pretty random name to drop, if he was just
lying to save his skin. It seemed very
unlikely that a garden-variety thief would come up with that. And the fact was, someone else had to have
broken the window. She had to accept
that. So if he was telling the truth
about where he was from, and if he was telling the truth that he didn’t break
the window, then, logically, he had to be right that every second she stood
here wanting to knock him unconscious was another second for the actual thief
to get farther away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-56380448234051234272016-04-06T16:00:00.000+10:002016-04-06T16:00:05.925+10:00#MFRWHooks for **LITTLE BEGINNINGS** 06/04/2016 #bookpromo #Reading #MFRWAuthor<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJeckRjCQqoOoNvZg1nxwR4e0oJVi_sJmZ5E544FZtpKOXBlLqW7GfeYPXo9aQWkG6xA0duuvKSDW6gJRmMMsLs_uaOLTqZFDbsJMLlRihHw6jmSJ90GZNo6cZFWTZODpUvroKGak1BFe/s1600/book+hook.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJeckRjCQqoOoNvZg1nxwR4e0oJVi_sJmZ5E544FZtpKOXBlLqW7GfeYPXo9aQWkG6xA0duuvKSDW6gJRmMMsLs_uaOLTqZFDbsJMLlRihHw6jmSJ90GZNo6cZFWTZODpUvroKGak1BFe/s640/book+hook.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></span></b>
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<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><i>I hope you get
hooked by this Snippet </i><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;">Today's hook<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nEzjW4lqtPk/VuiYhSC7leI/AAAAAAAAGgE/vRTVaCCOOzk9fuMvSgpb3yxJRXSwUMuvg/s1600/3D-Little%2BBeginnings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nEzjW4lqtPk/VuiYhSC7leI/AAAAAAAAGgE/vRTVaCCOOzk9fuMvSgpb3yxJRXSwUMuvg/s320/3D-Little%2BBeginnings.jpg" width="239" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Jeri
let out a stifled laugh. “Listen, sweetie. I’m in my late thirties, good
looking for that age, but </span><i><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">sex on
legs</span></i><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You
just wait and see,” Olivia said as she looked at her watch. “Anyway, I’d better
go. I’ll give you a call tonight. Prepare yourself for a nice night out with my
neighbour!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That
had basically been it — she’d been set up on a blind date without actually agreeing
to it. In hindsight, she knew she should’ve called it off, but deep inside, she’d
hoped for a nice evening. She’d been most certain that none of Olivia’s friends
were what she was looking for, but then again, she didn’t even know herself
what she was looking for.</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PVBifS8zYoc/VpDxzdpOYhI/AAAAAAAAGEE/zR5EFT80WYw/s1600/image004-761151.png"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-To7ifXCj5Mk/VpDzWBA28ZI/AAAAAAAAGE0/eo7ESimq2Po/s1600/image003-756088.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237753043462844818" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-To7ifXCj5Mk/VpDzWBA28ZI/AAAAAAAAGE0/eo7ESimq2Po/s320/image003-756088.png" /></a></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;">Blurb:</span></b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A blind
date that doesn't happen might lead to love.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">After her
divorce, Jeri Belmont moved to Hobart and now runs a successful art gallery.
When her niece sets her up with a neighbour, Jeri expects a blind date like all
the others. But she never expected her date wouldn’t even show up because of
her age. Despite feeling unjustly judged, when she unexpectedly runs into him
again, she finds it hard to ignore Ely’s charm.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Ely
Lennox knows he shouldn’t have skipped the blind date because of the lady’s
age. After all, it had only been a date, not a lifetime commitment. When his
carpentry business takes him right to the woman he bailed out on, his guilt
turns into regret when he finds out she’s everything a man could hope for. How
can he convince Jeri he made a big mistake?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Will she
forgive him? Or is she hiding behind something else?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<o:p></o:p>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Little-Beginnings-4-Iris-Blobel-ebook/dp/B01D3I7Z0I/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237753054582009218" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UoOctITROaw/VpDzWqb37YI/AAAAAAAAGFA/MZNSg_1fmvE/s320/image004-757663.png" /></a></span></div>
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<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=266575" type="text/javascript"></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-42492015343980106062016-04-05T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-09T21:03:26.292+10:00Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt ~ ~ #Tuesdaybookblog #Books<div class="WordSection1">
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<i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /><em> </em></span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #20124d; text-decoration: none;"></span></i></a><i><span style="color: #20124d; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EqU-2bQZ3no/VpDu5I7DwcI/AAAAAAAAGDM/xhnspoBOe7s/s1600/image001-715913.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237748149323284930" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EqU-2bQZ3no/VpDu5I7DwcI/AAAAAAAAGDM/xhnspoBOe7s/s320/image001-715913.jpg" /></a></span></i><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<em><span style="color: #20124d;">Welcome to Tuesday ... Welcome to Tuesday Tales ...</span></em><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Time for a new story. This one has no title, yet, and has been on the back burner for a few years now. I think I posted one or two excerpts, but I felt lost in the story at some stage, so hopefully with prompts and some feedback I might finish it.</div>
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<em><span style="color: #351c75;">Today's prompt is a picutre</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #351c75;">Enjoy - and feel free to leave a comment. And don't forget to click the link below to go back to the main Tuesday Tale site for more stories by very talented authors.</span></em><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<em><span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span></em>
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<img height="213" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xtf1/v/t1.0-9/10649858_10207474131510257_3763739180937818290_n.jpg?oh=b560c004cd2142d1bc338976bf1534a6&oe=5774D694&__gda__=1467774128_9759677ced550fdce690f32f4ff05010" width="320" /></div>
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So, Mum died a few weeks back and now I’m stuck on this
massive airplane with Grandma’s diary in my bag. It’s kind of weird snooping in
Grandma’s deepest thoughts and feelings, but in a way it’s fascinating going
back in history. Hey, but not only going back in history, but also to a
different continent. </div>
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Mum was born in Germany, but left in her twenties and came
to Australia. Quite a journey those days, and she’d told me a lot about it.
Kind of scary actually to just leave everything behind. I mean, after all there
was no internet or the chance to quickly call home to say <i>Hey everyone I’ve arrived and settled in this super tiny town of Beauty
Creek. </i>No, those days you had to write the old fashioned letters and wait a
couple of months for a reply. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes, Beauty Creek in Tasmania is the place I was born and
grew up. The name says it all, beautiful scenery along a small creek. We lived in a small house, but it was all we needed. I still remember the little patio entrance at the front and this massive brown door hidden away in the corner. Such a beautiful place. And Mum
always said it very much reminded her of her home in Germany. The forest as well. It was full of deciduous trees with their leaves falling in autumn in herald of the
coming winter. I loved walking along the path with her, gazing at the leaves
above that had changed their colour from green to a burning red or dying
yellow, or down on the ground, crackling under our feet. However, the creepiest
part was, when she tried to make the sound of the wind rustling through the
trees. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I really miss my mum.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: red;"> </span><span lang="EN" style="color: black;"><a href="http://clicktotweet.com/1Ce39"><span style="color: red;">Click here to share the main Tuesday Tales blog address</span></a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span> </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: black;"><a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com.au/"><span style="color: black;">Click her to read more Tuesday Tales</span></a></span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></h4>
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<a href="http://www.tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-6VTsFI25gHjxgNYe0sSqRUCMJAY5WcSvQj1jELNPR2tVOQ2Is3NPzh6zifq4vhM4IkIGLN35fstt3ocLNxLFFNzTUWf5WIZnoh6YskSO3pppQnDV94Jo3QDcCl3emZiNBdrP5olZ2HT/s1600/image003-718080.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237748155929353762" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-6VTsFI25gHjxgNYe0sSqRUCMJAY5WcSvQj1jELNPR2tVOQ2Is3NPzh6zifq4vhM4IkIGLN35fstt3ocLNxLFFNzTUWf5WIZnoh6YskSO3pppQnDV94Jo3QDcCl3emZiNBdrP5olZ2HT/s320/image003-718080.jpg" /></a></span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: black;">~~</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #385723;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Echoes-Past-Fermosa-Bay-Book-ebook/dp/B01BFWMX88/" target="_blank">Out now – and free for KU subscribers</a></span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Echoes-Past-Fermosa-Bay-Book-ebook/dp/B01BFWMX88/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBraz2CCOyH3O-5qS0alWHfbAZIz7e5sRpI1aYOPmxsAge88PhOLLEOzQCjC6SUSYPBOROhFqcCriqktT0Cu4tTQLjw8Twnxt-yk1QCjKveSm4aW4BoIRpPFVKVz71bAw9OnaqleLfh6x/s320/Echoes+of+the+Past+now+available.png" width="320" /></a><span id="goog_528573756"></span><span id="goog_528573757"></span><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/"></a></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Iris-Blobel/e/B00FNFP3LI" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-53720183942734293912016-04-04T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-04T10:00:08.725+10:00#MusicMonday: Soul Asylum "Runaway Train"<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NRtvqT_wMeY" width="420"></iframe></div>
Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-6178734385720440702016-04-03T10:00:00.000+10:002016-04-04T14:29:50.880+10:00Snippet Sunday - INNOCENT TEARS - 03/04/2016 #romance #reading #bookpromo<div class="WordSection1">
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/groups/snippetsunday" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"></span><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237736792826155906" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1-pfKG-5tUs/VpDkkGrJk4I/AAAAAAAAGBc/us_0M1BFCiU/s320/image002-770969.jpg" /></span></a><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">~~~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">INNOCENT TEARS</span></i></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> has been re-released.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">It has enjoyed another full edit and an awesome new cover.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Here's another little snippet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">THANK YOU<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">~~~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<em><span style="color: #4c1130;">“</span></em><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;">Advice is what we ask for</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;"> when we already </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;">know the </span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; line-height: 22.275px;">answer, but wish we didn't.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">Flynn’s eyebrows shot up as he
turned to her. She had his attention. “How is Saz?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">“She died just after last
Christmas,” Teresa said without any obvious emotions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">Flynn stared from Teresa to
William and back, not really focusing on them. A heaviness centred in his
chest, and as he buried his head in his hands a feeling of emptiness spread
through his body. Choking him. Distressed at having lost her the second time,
and this time for good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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♥♦♥ ~ <b>OUT NOW ~ ♥♦♥ </b><br />
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AMAZON US: <span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><a href="http://amzn.to/1y5grj6" style="color: #d58289; text-decoration: none;">http://amzn.to/1y5grj6</a></u></span></div>
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AMAZON UK: <a href="http://amzn.to/1ZjirM0" style="color: #d58289; text-decoration: none;">http://amzn.to/1ZjirM0</a></div>
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AMAZON AU: <span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><a href="http://bit.ly/1ZZ7ZLP" style="color: #d58289; text-decoration: none;">http://bit.ly/1ZZ7ZLP</a></u></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Thanks for all your comments,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;">I do appreciate each single one of them!</span></div>
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And check out <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/SnippetSunday/?fref=ts" title="Sunday Snippets">Snippet Sunday</a> Facebook site for other writers.</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Iris-Blobel/e/B00FNFP3LI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"></span><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Iris-Blobel/e/B00FNFP3LI/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&linkCode=ur2&qid=1394446641&sr=8-1&tag=iriblo-20"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt;">Check out my books on Amazon</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uXf7Et8CQ1k/VVcu2bsW2aI/AAAAAAAAEgs/AGBoI9ok0ck/s1600/image003-784509.gif"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmFAtF4HcfHhYHULo6W687jGGSxDy4_HNpN3_GYR5S6VMZDWvmkhLhjp57VaDHtI5Fn6_kB0qTexUN7P8UMDLeCoOCioasJQRzHOn-weEN-5d5ci7fFdkPAT0By7xR6IwRXUNtaSVLYJcA/s1600/image005-781777.gif"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237736841307069410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmFAtF4HcfHhYHULo6W687jGGSxDy4_HNpN3_GYR5S6VMZDWvmkhLhjp57VaDHtI5Fn6_kB0qTexUN7P8UMDLeCoOCioasJQRzHOn-weEN-5d5ci7fFdkPAT0By7xR6IwRXUNtaSVLYJcA/s320/image005-781777.gif" /></a></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.wattpad.com/user/IrisBlobel"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh43tC9MlPccGTKjO98axDzHJwUM3ptlproUGEn_rXToRPtZQ56h2VGdwbdsHXz1ALEohxX8GU0l1OnLWA-0ImV3GJuysM7Y87-I0H6cMMlR6wdh2pvQc9a1F4XVlLcFdsBPZZNSr4wd3V/s1600/image006-784581.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237736850194016274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh43tC9MlPccGTKjO98axDzHJwUM3ptlproUGEn_rXToRPtZQ56h2VGdwbdsHXz1ALEohxX8GU0l1OnLWA-0ImV3GJuysM7Y87-I0H6cMMlR6wdh2pvQc9a1F4XVlLcFdsBPZZNSr4wd3V/s320/image006-784581.jpg" /></a></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-11257308552022160562016-04-03T09:00:00.000+10:002016-04-03T12:05:40.723+10:00Cover reveal: M.S. Kaye "Once" @mskosciuszko<div class="mobile-photo">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NlqKrEehnNw/VraWK4KNBkI/AAAAAAAAGTM/RNmR1eUl3qA/s1600/cover%2Bart%2B-%2BOnce.v5-768540.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6248346646641182274" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NlqKrEehnNw/VraWK4KNBkI/AAAAAAAAGTM/RNmR1eUl3qA/s320/cover%2Bart%2B-%2BOnce.v5-768540.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 20.0pt;">Cover Reveal</span><i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 20.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 20.0pt;">Once<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif;">by M.S. Kaye<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i>Her first and also her once.</i><i><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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Jonathan and Rebecca's paths cross at exactly the right moment, when each most needs to hear what the other has to say.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But Jonathan is three days from entering the priesthood, and Rebecca leaves him to his peace. But he is unable to find peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Without each other's comfort and strength, they must each struggle to forge a new path, with only memories of the one day that changed everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>But are they able to forget and let go?</i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif;">Will be released 7/2/16 by Inkspell Publishing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt;">Add to your to-read on </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22096558-strong-as-death"><span style="font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt;">.<b><u><o:p></o:p></u></b></span><br />
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_ym18_1_1459647795499_26663">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29630603?source=ebfg_tw" id="yui_3_16_0_ym18_1_1459647795499_26662" rel="nofollow" style="background: transparent; color: #196ad4; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29630603?source=ebfg_tw</a></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym18_1_1459647795499_26668" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: start;">
<span id="yui_3_16_0_ym18_1_1459647795499_26667">Amazon preorder: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Once-Book-1-MS-Kaye-ebook/dp/B01DQ6JVE0" id="yui_3_16_0_ym18_1_1459647795499_26666" rel="nofollow" style="background: transparent; color: #196ad4; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/Once-Book-1-MS-Kaye-ebook/dp/B01DQ6JVE0</a></span></div>
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<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym18_1_1459647795499_26671" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: start;">
<span id="yui_3_16_0_ym18_1_1459647795499_26670">Kobo preorder: <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/once-20" id="yui_3_16_0_ym18_1_1459647795499_26669" rel="nofollow" style="background: transparent; color: #196ad4; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/once-20</a></span></div>
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<b><u>Author Bio</u></b><b><u><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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M. S. Kaye has several published books under her black belt. She writes in genres ranging from contemporary romance, to romantic suspense, to paranormal young adult. As s 4<sup>th</sup> degree black belt and certified instructor of Songahm Taekwondo, she enjoys bringing some of that kick-butt attitude to her stories. A transplant from Ohio, she resides with her husband Corey in Jacksonville, FL, where she does her best not to melt in the sun.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://www.booksbymsk.com/">www.BooksByMSK.com</a><span class="MsoHyperlink"> </span> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/BooksByMSK">Facebook</a> | <a href="http://www.twitter.com/mskosciuszko" target="_blank">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7222522.M_S_Kaye">Goodreads</a> <o:p></o:p></div>
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<u>Also available from M.S. Kaye:<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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<i>Fight Princess</i> (romantic suspense)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Kindling the Past</i> (romantic suspense)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Clouded</i> (paranormal YA)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u>Coming Soon:<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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<i>Once & Again, Once & Forever</i> (Once books 2 and 3)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Strong as Death, Awaken from Death</i> (paranormal YA, Born from Death books 1 and 2)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Endless as the Rain, Overcast, Echo Through the Mist</i> (romantic suspense, Taken books 1-3)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif;">Excerpt from <i>Once</i>:<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">"What's the answer?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">He paused. "A switchblade."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">With my fingertips, I reached out and traced the scar across his cheek. "Did you win?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">He removed my hand and closed his eyes. "Yes."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">I slid his Book back to him. "This says we can find forgiveness."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">His eyes still closed, his jaw clenched. He bowed his head. "It also says 'Thou shalt not kill.'"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">I took his hand in both of mine, petted his rough skin, and then brought it to my lips. He had a talent for guiding invisibly, but I didn't know how to do that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">He watched me again. His eyes were intense, like the black of the night sky, and his forehead was furrowed, as if his emotions were scattered, as if he was shocked at my reaction, as if he had been sure his answer would drive me away. But I knew him. Already, I knew him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">"You're still a good person," I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">His jaw clenched. "I've been trying to believe that."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">"I have faith in you."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">He continued to watch me. His forehead never smoothed, as if he was fighting for strength, but his eyes softened. He slid around the booth, closer to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">I didn't move, not sure what to do, what was right, what he wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">He leaned closer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">I only watched him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">He touched his lips to my cheek, the faintest pressure. I struggled to sit still, to keep my hands in my lap, not to grab hold of him. And then his lips were gone, such brief contact that I couldn't be sure if he had actually kissed my cheek or if I wanted his contact so much that I'd imagined it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">He spoke in my ear. "You must be some kind of final test."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">My heart pounded into my ribs, against the point of the blade. "Are you going to pass?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">His lips brushed against my jaw. "I don't know."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">He trailed to my neck, his mouth softly pressing. My hand curled into his hair, the other on his shoulder, holding, clutching. His mouth found mine, barely touching. His warmth invaded my head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">"God give me strength," he murmured.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">The door slid open, and the compartment filled with laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "constantia" , serif;">He closed his eyes. Then he slid away from me.</span><b><u><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "calibri light" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-23201537204730388062016-04-01T20:00:00.000+11:002016-04-03T13:24:31.978+10:00Special Promotion: BK Rivers "Raining Down Rules" #99cents @WriterRivers<br />
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<a href="http://www.amzn.com/B01B8R1LF6" target="_blank"><img alt="http://www.amzn.com/B01B8R1LF6" border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidP_STLwJse5cVLN00Zei6aiDHTvh8GHBy3Q-5Kuun8lzEwz9hNnZNU94kmBjGkgokTl97pdYzkpEm20ZB847aoVqRghz6Pnjycf-iwHx7e_2aw5hbXkVgfh-_M8tHLqINxXCeYRv7UHWd/s640/RDR-99centsale.png" width="640" /> </a></div>
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Purchase your eBook copy now and have it loaded on your Kindle faster than you can do the dishes! 'Cuz let's face it—reading is just WAY more fun!</div>
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<br /></div>
<h2>
Book Blurb:</h2>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iJhyphenhyphenoA6JpwO2kmc-eDdHQF85EruJuifpJL-mbzw1YpByfBUcWELltUZic57w3gnqmxlNl-dzsiv12ISVqfH6VwwrARYz4CcS_jaZAHHUjUzY0CZJ7Kcs51ceuaqwmJkeFbfHZIDWioPq/s1600/wearyoudown-smlteaser.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iJhyphenhyphenoA6JpwO2kmc-eDdHQF85EruJuifpJL-mbzw1YpByfBUcWELltUZic57w3gnqmxlNl-dzsiv12ISVqfH6VwwrARYz4CcS_jaZAHHUjUzY0CZJ7Kcs51ceuaqwmJkeFbfHZIDWioPq/s320/wearyoudown-smlteaser.png" width="257" /></a></div>
<i><b>Jemma Bowers hasn’t kissed anyone in over a thousand days. She knows—she’s
counted.</b></i><br />
<br />
For twenty-year-old Jemma, rules are not meant to be broken…even if she’s the one who
created them. Friendships have boundaries, relationships mean trouble, and don’t even
get her started on sex. Haunted by the death of her mother and her father’s abandonment,
Jemma finds herself hungry for something meaningful and permanent, but is afraid of
what may happen if she pursues it.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Jordan Capshaw can’t fight his addiction. Not even if it will cost him his career…</b></i><br />
<br />
When Jemma finds Jordan drunk and barefoot in the street, she convinces him to get in
her car. Aside from the fact he’s the lead singer of her favorite band and pretty much the
rock star of her dreams, she quickly realizes his addiction is a monster neither of them
can control.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Who knew choosing between a rock star and a fireman could be so difficult?</b></i><br />
<br />
Emotions run high as Jemma soon finds herself caught between the troubled rock star and
her growing affections for Vic Harper, a swoon-worthy firefighter from her past. But
when her grandmother passes away, leaving her with no other family, Jemma’s world
falls apart.<br />
<br />
To save herself from further heartbreak, she risks it all by breaking her own rules, and
putting her heart on the line.<br />
<br />
<i><b>After all, the heart just might be the biggest rule breaker of them all.</b></i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01B8R1LF6/ref=cm_sw_su_dp" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidds3upG_pDJDoQW4_6vqKq28ociIlStqCiyrfZBB9OnSoRmwE0vIFoznH7WgxhyGi2UPJ66pIdwTzRkrGO_qNylelTmJnuPaMQVis3sbOB867kZH6wQ4suPxHCMDu8gyj15CYL5amBKQ/s1600/90x35-amazonUSbuy-button.png" /></a>
<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Raining-Down-Rules-Book-ebook/dp/B01B8R1LF6" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3I5auY66GsKUxQA3KfVqfWAwe0j79u0B6J0y-lUzx7M_UWM4NjwwUF7K059I37xNbzGSH_y94ph6S71QPVTVjcOV-NHb3d2QCmBOuLY1RZQZZMQ9cJfu8OClr7KqtpUnZQzayOQMVuBg/s1600/90x35-amazonCAbuy-button.png" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Raining-Down-Rules-Book-ebook/dp/B01B8R1LF6" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilszEAAAPraVmYeVLAfB2LlfR0LVZhZthXSKrJXu47M4TJGFkdydK8fiI9fMDT35CwKqP_ua2Tc2-vk3EHnyk_dBwVeejuZ73VQ89HmR6seyk68813_o-xbBhk-sKADslBrsT5S0HJLBk/s1600/90x35-amazonUKbuy-button.png" /></a>
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</div>
<h2>
What the reviewers are saying:</h2>
<br />
<b>5 STARS: Jaime from Once Upon a Twilight</b><br />
<b>"Raining Down Rules is fantastic!</b> I couldn't put it down. It was a fast, easy
and entertaining read. I didn't know what Jemma would do next. The fact
that I didn't know who she would chose had me going crazy! This is a
great love story everyone should read."<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>5 STARS: Vera from Vera is Reading</b><br />
"<b>Loved Raining Down Rules!!!</b> Raining Down Rules is a captivating
book with an incredible story. It is very emotional and has lots of
drama, but also very sexy scenes. I loved that the story was told from
different POVs. B.K. Rivers wrote a fantastic book, with an amazing
story and awesome characters. Raining Down Rules is a fast and easy read
that you'll not be able to put down. can't wait to read Jordan's
story!"<br />
<br />
<b>5 STARS: Danielle S.</b><br />
"<span class="readable" id="reviewTextContainer1534144869"><span id="freeTextContainer11346750986704584097"><b>I
absolutely love love love this book!!</b> I definitely couldn't put it
down! Even the times that I had to put it down I found myself thinking
about the story and how it was going to progress! I absolutely fell in
love with the characters, and am so happy with how it ended, but i am
definitely hoping that the story will continue! It definitely touched on
a lot of my emotions, and i love that with a story."</span></span> <br />
<br />
<b><span class="readable" id="reviewTextContainer1534144869"><span id="freeTextContainer11346750986704584097">5 STARS: Amazon Customer</span></span></b><br />
<span class="readable" id="reviewTextContainer1534144869"><span id="freeTextContainer11346750986704584097"><span class="a-size-base review-text"><b>It's exactly what I was looking for</b>: a nice romance to read in one night.</span> </span></span><br />
<span class="readable" id="reviewTextContainer1534144869"><span id="freeTextContainer11346750986704584097"><br /></span></span>
<span class="readable" id="reviewTextContainer1534144869"><span id="freeTextContainer11346750986704584097"><b>4.5 STARS: Tami, 1-click addict</b></span></span><span class="readable" id="reviewTextContainer1572589846"><span id="freeTextContainer7958804150704845910"><br />"This
was a well thought out and well written contemporary romance from an
author I have never heard of before. I look forward to reading more of
her things in the future."</span></span><br />
<span class="readable" id="reviewTextContainer1572589846"><span id="freeTextContainer7958804150704845910"><br /></span></span>
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<h2 style="text-align: left;">
About the Author</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7YuxNMb7i2i44-DQa1LvlW0CI22eyuci3yTdFTDqn3k23uP0cHCRdTS_TpilcqalJn5NtgxTimZrSloVeY-_lC70h5s43JRk_2Vhwo_-phjHGQCbUXOCS_kPpQunuE_j24DflnHIjyRG/s1600/about-me-pic.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7YuxNMb7i2i44-DQa1LvlW0CI22eyuci3yTdFTDqn3k23uP0cHCRdTS_TpilcqalJn5NtgxTimZrSloVeY-_lC70h5s43JRk_2Vhwo_-phjHGQCbUXOCS_kPpQunuE_j24DflnHIjyRG/s200/about-me-pic.png" width="133" /></a>BK Rivers grew up riding through rolling fields of grain on
horseback, driving hay trucks and catching frogs in a silver creek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She traded country life for the big city when
she married the love of her life, but the heart always returns to the country.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
BK, her husband and three children live in the Phoenix
suburbs on their own mini farm surrounded by crowing roosters and the low
nicker of horses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she’s not
writing, she can be found baking anything sweet, in fact it’s been said her
brownies are so good they save marriages.</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
The inspiration for her novels comes in many forms, but
mostly from her Gotye channel on Pandora.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She writes young adult and new adult novels to the beat of Gotye, Snow
Patrol and many others.</div>
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</div>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-53207019843142748922016-03-31T10:00:00.000+11:002016-03-31T10:00:00.274+11:00May I introduce: Glenn Maynard "Desert Son" @GlennMaynard64<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BqVFMibmxeU/VtUVfOcK3JI/AAAAAAAAGZc/HkOkAXSW0F4/s1600/Blog%2Bheader.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="115" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BqVFMibmxeU/VtUVfOcK3JI/AAAAAAAAGZc/HkOkAXSW0F4/s320/Blog%2Bheader.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Desert Son</span><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">by
Glenn Maynard</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Blurb:</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WArkTuCSFcY/VtgKsP7X1SI/AAAAAAAAGbc/5i44PyldAUc/s1600/Glen%2BMaynard.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WArkTuCSFcY/VtgKsP7X1SI/AAAAAAAAGbc/5i44PyldAUc/s320/Glen%2BMaynard.png" width="220" /></a><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Carter Spence is a 26 year-old accountant out of Boston who
has an out-of-body experience following a car accident that kills his parents.
He views the chaos from above the scene of the accident, then passes through
the tunnel and reunites with relatives who have long been dead. A woman he does
not recognize approaches him and says, "Welcome, son." Her message to
him is that he needs to be aware of his true identity and should follow signs
that will lead him there. She mentions mountains, but Carter is jolted back
into his physical body before she can finish. After burying his parents, Carter
heads west and meets a free-spirit named Brenda, whom he is drawn to on many
levels. She becomes his travelling companion and leads him to Boulder,
Colorado, and to an old white house of an old man named Martin. Diaries,
hypnosis, and past-life regression reveal a bizarre connection between these
three. Carter discovers that the truth to his identity can only be found by
pursuing the answer to whether he is the reincarnation of his biological father
in what is shaping up to be a love affair rekindled beyond the grave."</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Where to buy the book:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://www.amazon.com/Desert-Son-Glenn-Maynard/dp/1612963129<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/desert-son-glenn-maynard/1118627014?ean=9781612963129<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://www.blackrosewriting.com/romance/desert-son<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">About the Author: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Glenn Maynard is the author of the books "Strapped Into
An American Dream" and "Desert Son." He has a Bachelor of Arts
degree in English from the University of Connecticut, and a degree in
Communications. After spending 4 years living in Denver, Colorado, he returned
home to Connecticut and now resides in Wethersfield. Glenn has a 14 year-old
son named Andrew. As a travel correspondent for three newspapers while
exploring the United States, Canada <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">and Mexico during his one-year journey, Glenn published a
total of twenty newspaper articles. His story was captured on the NBC local
news upon his return.</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Website: http://www.glennmaynard.weebly.com/<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Twitter: http://bit.ly/1TL1etJ<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1XQNa20<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Desert Son: http://amzn.to/1XqHOzC<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Excerpt:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ouch…shit!” she screamed out, dropping the cup, and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">watching it splatter onto the floor. The coffee reached
Carter’s<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">feet, and wiped out the pastry boxes that were stacked up on
a<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">shelf against the wall. The little foreign man behind the
counter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">threw his hands up in the air and started blurting out
incoherent<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">words in his own language. He went into a back room and
returned<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">moments later with a mop and bucket, and several small white<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">rags.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Carter grabbed a couple of rags from his hand and started<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">wiping the coffee from the girl’s shoes, and kept repeating
to the<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">girl, “Are you ok?” He finally looked into the girl’s eyes
and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">stopped in his tracks, silenced in the middle of yet another
inquiry<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">as to her condition. Her long, silky black hair hung straight
down<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">to the middle of her back. He noticed by the calm look on her
face<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">that she was more embarrassed than anything else. With the
rag in<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">his hand, Carter grabbed both her hands and began wiping them<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">clean. Her blue eyes were highlighted by multicolor eyeliner,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">which was a wild but pleasing look to Carter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m okay,” she said, thanking Carter for his assistance. Her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">teeth sparkled more so than her eyes, sometimes even
reflecting<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">the sun. She was average looking, but seemingly wilder than
Carter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">had been used to. She existed in this dark gothic-like aura,
which<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">intrigued Carter. Sure, she had a nice smile, but something
about<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">this girl drew Carter in. Something dark and wild exuded from
this<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">brief encounter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I think my hands are dry now,” she said to Carter through a<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">chuckle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh, I’m okay, I mean…I’m sorry,” said Carter, nervous and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">embarrassed that his attraction and affections were out in
the<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">open. They locked eyes for what seemed an eternity. Carter
was no<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">longer embarrassed. He was struck. There was something about<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">this girl that Carter needed at this moment in time. Maybe
she was<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">in his shoes, he thought. Maybe she was searching like he was<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">searching.</span>Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-7678185091727330152016-03-30T10:00:00.000+11:002016-04-03T15:44:48.870+10:00#MFRWHooks for **LITTLE BEGINNINGS** 30/03/2016 #bookpromo #Reading #MFRWAuthor<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJeckRjCQqoOoNvZg1nxwR4e0oJVi_sJmZ5E544FZtpKOXBlLqW7GfeYPXo9aQWkG6xA0duuvKSDW6gJRmMMsLs_uaOLTqZFDbsJMLlRihHw6jmSJ90GZNo6cZFWTZODpUvroKGak1BFe/s1600/book+hook.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJeckRjCQqoOoNvZg1nxwR4e0oJVi_sJmZ5E544FZtpKOXBlLqW7GfeYPXo9aQWkG6xA0duuvKSDW6gJRmMMsLs_uaOLTqZFDbsJMLlRihHw6jmSJ90GZNo6cZFWTZODpUvroKGak1BFe/s640/book+hook.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></span></b>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><i>I hope you get
hooked by this Snippet </i><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;">Today's hook<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nEzjW4lqtPk/VuiYhSC7leI/AAAAAAAAGgE/vRTVaCCOOzk9fuMvSgpb3yxJRXSwUMuvg/s1600/3D-Little%2BBeginnings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nEzjW4lqtPk/VuiYhSC7leI/AAAAAAAAGgE/vRTVaCCOOzk9fuMvSgpb3yxJRXSwUMuvg/s320/3D-Little%2BBeginnings.jpg" width="239" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Olivia
was Georgia’s daughter. Georgia was Jeri’s cousin, but to avoid confusion they
all agreed on Olivia being her niece. Jeri loved Olivia like her own daughter
and had often babysat her when she’d been younger. They’d been to movies,
concerts, and Jeri had even been along to one of her niece’s trips to Melbourne
to visit Olivia’s best friend Mia, who had moved across the Bass Strait.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">As
Jeri walked down the streets to her car, she replayed her conversation with her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">niece
in her mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“How
are your blind dates going?” her niece had asked as she came into Jeri’s gallery
a couple of days ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She’d
shrugged. “I have a winner’s luck getting hooked up with all the duds in town.”
Jeri remembered hesitating, contemplating whether to speak the words in her head.
</span><i><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Was she destined to live alone
after her divorce? </span></i><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She wasn’t looking for the man of her
dreams, just companionship. Someone to go out with once in a while. Someone to
share her day’s highlights or nightmares with.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You
should meet the guy from next door,” Olivia said. “He’s like sex on legs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nEzjW4lqtPk/VuiYhSC7leI/AAAAAAAAGgE/vRTVaCCOOzk9fuMvSgpb3yxJRXSwUMuvg/s1600/3D-Little%2BBeginnings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Honestly.”</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PVBifS8zYoc/VpDxzdpOYhI/AAAAAAAAGEE/zR5EFT80WYw/s1600/image004-761151.png"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-To7ifXCj5Mk/VpDzWBA28ZI/AAAAAAAAGE0/eo7ESimq2Po/s1600/image003-756088.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237753043462844818" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-To7ifXCj5Mk/VpDzWBA28ZI/AAAAAAAAGE0/eo7ESimq2Po/s320/image003-756088.png" /></a></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;">Blurb:</span></b><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #1F4E79; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: lumm=50000; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: accent1; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A blind
date that doesn't happen might lead to love.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">After her
divorce, Jeri Belmont moved to Hobart and now runs a successful art gallery.
When her niece sets her up with a neighbour, Jeri expects a blind date like all
the others. But she never expected her date wouldn’t even show up because of
her age. Despite feeling unjustly judged, when she unexpectedly runs into him
again, she finds it hard to ignore Ely’s charm.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="background: white;">Ely
Lennox knows he shouldn’t have skipped the blind date because of the lady’s
age. After all, it had only been a date, not a lifetime commitment. When his
carpentry business takes him right to the woman he bailed out on, his guilt
turns into regret when he finds out she’s everything a man could hope for. How
can he convince Jeri he made a big mistake?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="background: white;">Will she
forgive him? Or is she hiding behind something else?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Little-Beginnings-Iris-Blobel-ebook/dp/B01D3I7Z0I/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237753054582009218" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UoOctITROaw/VpDzWqb37YI/AAAAAAAAGFA/MZNSg_1fmvE/s320/image004-757663.png" /></a></span></div>
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<!<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=266574" type="text/javascript"></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-16739367399196448942016-03-29T10:00:00.000+11:002016-03-29T10:00:09.029+11:00Tuesday Tales - SWALLOW ~ Where #Authors #Write to a #Prompt ~ #Tuesdaybookblog #Books<div class="WordSection1">
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<i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /><em> </em></span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: #20124d; text-decoration: none;"></span></i></a><i><span style="color: #20124d; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EqU-2bQZ3no/VpDu5I7DwcI/AAAAAAAAGDM/xhnspoBOe7s/s1600/image001-715913.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237748149323284930" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EqU-2bQZ3no/VpDu5I7DwcI/AAAAAAAAGDM/xhnspoBOe7s/s320/image001-715913.jpg" /></a></span></i><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<em><span style="color: #20124d;">Welcome to Tuesday ... Welcome to Tuesday Tales ...</span></em><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Time for a new story. This one has no title, yet, and has been on the back burner for a few years now. I think I posted one or two excerpts, but I felt lost in the story at some stage, so hopefully with prompts and some feedback I might finish it.</div>
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<em><span style="color: #351c75;">Today's prompt is SWALLOW</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: #351c75;">Enjoy - and feel free to leave a comment. And don't forget to click the link below to go back to the main Tuesday Tale site for more stories by very talented authors.</span></em><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Placing the photo back into the diary I over
carefully turned the pages. After all, this little book was almost twice as old as
me. Then the name “Konrad” jumped out at me. Grandpa! I swallowed hard. It had to
be him I thought. I blessed mum’s heart for teaching me the old German alphabet, Fraktur,
which made the reading so much easier. I traced each line with my finger and
within seconds I was completely engulfed in Grandma’s story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I received word from Konrad today. Finally the
postman had a letter for me. I was hardly able to open the envelope my hands
were shaking so much. It was wonderful to hear from him, but he’s doing it
tough. He’s in Greece and it must be a beautiful place. They travelled
through the Austrian Alps to get there. The way he described the mountains, the
snow-capped peaks reflecting the sun, towering over him, it made him feel
humble. The children loved hearing from him and him describing the scenery.
They miss him. And so do I.”</span></i><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Well, at least I think that’s what it says. I’m a
bit rusty on the old German. But I’m sure my uncle Georg might be able to help
me out. Only one more week until I will start my journey to where it all
began.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Anyway, my name is Sadie. Yes, please spare me the
old John Farnham tune, I’ve had it most of my life. Oh, don’t get me wrong,
nothing bad about John Farnham, after all, he’s “The Voice”, right? But the
Sadie comment does get a bit tiring!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So, Mum died a few weeks back and now I’m stuck on
this massive airplane with Grandma’s diary in my bag. It’s kind of weird
snooping in Grandma’s deepest thoughts and feelings, but in a way it’s
fascinating going back in history. Hey, but not only going back in history, but
also to a different continent. Mum was born in Germany, but left in her
twenties and came to Australia. Quite a journey those days, and she’d told me a
lot about it. Kind of scary actually to just leave everything behind. I mean,
after all there was no internet or the chance to quickly call home to say <i>Hey
everyone I’ve arrived and settled in this super tiny town of Beauty Creek. </i>No
those days you had to write the old fashioned letters and wait a couple of
months for a reply.</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: red;"> </span><span lang="EN" style="color: black;"><a href="http://clicktotweet.com/1Ce39"><span style="color: red;">Click here to share the main Tuesday Tales blog address</span></a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span> </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: black;"><a href="http://tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com.au/"><span style="color: black;">Click her to read more Tuesday Tales</span></a></span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></h4>
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<a href="http://www.tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-6VTsFI25gHjxgNYe0sSqRUCMJAY5WcSvQj1jELNPR2tVOQ2Is3NPzh6zifq4vhM4IkIGLN35fstt3ocLNxLFFNzTUWf5WIZnoh6YskSO3pppQnDV94Jo3QDcCl3emZiNBdrP5olZ2HT/s1600/image003-718080.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237748155929353762" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-6VTsFI25gHjxgNYe0sSqRUCMJAY5WcSvQj1jELNPR2tVOQ2Is3NPzh6zifq4vhM4IkIGLN35fstt3ocLNxLFFNzTUWf5WIZnoh6YskSO3pppQnDV94Jo3QDcCl3emZiNBdrP5olZ2HT/s320/image003-718080.jpg" /></a></span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: black;">~~</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #385723;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Echoes-Past-Fermosa-Bay-Book-ebook/dp/B01BFWMX88/" target="_blank">Out now – and free for KU subscribers</a></span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Echoes-Past-Fermosa-Bay-Book-ebook/dp/B01BFWMX88/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBraz2CCOyH3O-5qS0alWHfbAZIz7e5sRpI1aYOPmxsAge88PhOLLEOzQCjC6SUSYPBOROhFqcCriqktT0Cu4tTQLjw8Twnxt-yk1QCjKveSm4aW4BoIRpPFVKVz71bAw9OnaqleLfh6x/s320/Echoes+of+the+Past+now+available.png" width="320" /></a><span id="goog_528573756"></span><span id="goog_528573757"></span><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/"></a></span></div>
<span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Iris-Blobel/e/B00FNFP3LI" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"></span></a><span style="color: blue; text-decoration: none;"></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-29518647350187180082016-03-28T10:00:00.000+11:002016-03-28T10:00:02.512+11:00#MusicMonday: #PhilCollins "You Can't Hurry Love"<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ao9SIKC48vg" width="420"></iframe></div>
Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-57811405898461554722016-03-27T10:00:00.000+11:002016-03-27T10:00:12.404+11:00Snippet Sunday - INNOCENT TEARS - 27/03/2016 #romance #reading #bookpromo<div class="WordSection1">
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: blue;"><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/groups/snippetsunday" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"></span><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6237736792826155906" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1-pfKG-5tUs/VpDkkGrJk4I/AAAAAAAAGBc/us_0M1BFCiU/s320/image002-770969.jpg" /></span></a><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">~~~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">INNOCENT TEARS</span></i></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> has been re-released.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">It has enjoyed another full edit and an awesome new cover.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Here's another little snippet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">THANK YOU<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">~~~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<em><span style="color: #4c1130;">“</span></em><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;">Advice is what we ask for</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;"> when we already </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 0cm;">know the </span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; line-height: 22.275px;">answer, but wish we didn't.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><i>I've moved forward a little ... Flynn McCormack is now sitting in the </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><i>hotel cafe with Teresa and William Gibbs. This is the start of their conversation.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">Flynn had liked her <Sarah> from the first day he had seen her in high school after he had </span><span style="font-family: 'palatino linotype', serif; text-indent: 36pt;">moved to Launceston with his parents. Her brown curly hair, the freckles she had</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">desperately tried to cover with make-up. And her smile! He had never forgotten her</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">“How’re you going, Will?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">“I can’t complain, son,” William smiled. “I retired last year and I’m glad we’re having–”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">“William!” Teresa interrupted in a harsh voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">Flynn’s mouth curved into a bitter smile as he shook his head. Nothing had changed</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">between these two people. “Retired, eh?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">William nodded, but it seemed he knew better than to say anything else. They all</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">watched the waiter as he placed another tray of tea onto the table. William dunked the </span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; text-indent: 36pt;">teabag a few times, then took a sip. “You seem to be doing well, son.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">Flynn choked back a chuckle, and echoed the same sentiment. “Can’t complain.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">“Well,” Teresa interrupted. “We haven’t got all day, and we have to get back to the</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">room soon.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">“Suits me fine.” Flynn replied nonchalantly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">“We need to talk to you about Sarah.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">Flynn’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to her. She had his attention. “How is Saz?”</span><br />
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Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5142354738066989777.post-64185729868847841462016-03-24T10:00:00.000+11:002016-03-24T11:51:03.675+11:00May I introduce: Becky Lower "The Forgotten Debutante"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The Forgotten Debutante</span><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">by
Becky Lower</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Blurb:</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In 1863, fifteen-year-old Saffron Fitzpatrick, along with the
rest of the country, is war-weary. Her entire teenage years have been spent
mourning the dead and following the battles, instead of dancing at her
debutante ball. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ezekial Boone ran away with his older brothers when he was
just thirteen to join the fighting, thinking it would be great fun. When his
four brothers died during the intense fighting in Chancellorsville, he decided
it was time to return home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O0sWZ-y6wgE/VuaS7buUMvI/AAAAAAAAGfY/aarRJCnCv9cwsatKkaRhzAk0RWLfhtgpw/s1600/Becky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O0sWZ-y6wgE/VuaS7buUMvI/AAAAAAAAGfY/aarRJCnCv9cwsatKkaRhzAk0RWLfhtgpw/s320/Becky.jpg" width="208" /></a><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">These two souls come together for a brief moment when Saffron
helps Ezekial on his way from the battlefield to the farm. They share a kiss, a
first for both of them, and a fond memory. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Fate brings them together once more, three years after their
first encounter. They find they have more in common than a wild ride through
the city and begin to build a relationship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Even though the war is over and people are tired of fighting
and death, Saffron and Zeke may not be able to find their happy-ever-after,
especially if an older protective brother and the Army have anything to say
about it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Where to buy the book:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Amazon page: http://amzn.to/1FOy3Sd</span><span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Purchase Link: </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1V0b11r">http://amzn.to/1V0b11r</a><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">About the Author: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Amazon best-selling author Becky Lower has traveled the
country looking for great settings for her novels. She loves to write about two
people finding each other and falling in love, amid the backdrop of a great
setting, be it on a covered wagon headed west or in present day small town
America. Historical and contemporary
romances are her specialty. Becky is a PAN member of RWA and is a member of the
Historic and Contemporary RWA chapters. She has a degree in English and
Journalism from Bowling Green State University, and lives in an eclectic
college town in Ohio with her puppy-mill rescue dog, Mary. She loves to hear
from her readers at beckylowerauthor@gmail.com. Visit her website at
www.beckylowerauthor.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Website: www.beckylowerauthor.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Facebook: http://facebook.com/becky.lower<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Twitter: http://twitter.com@BeckyLower1<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/authorbeckyl/<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Blog: http://beckylowerauthor.blogspot.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6159227.Becky_Lower<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">New York City<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">July 15, 1863<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Releasing a
shallow breath, Saffron Fitzpatrick glided down the stairs on slippered feet,
avoiding the creaky spots with unerring accuracy from years of practice. She
surveyed the hallway and let out the rest of the air from her lungs. All the
servants were still in the basement, preparing the noonday meal. If she
hurried, she could escape the house undetected. She ran to the back door, her
curls bouncing around her head, and let herself out into the yard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Heart pounding, she stood, back up against the door, and
listened. No frantic footsteps from inside the house meant her break to freedom
had gone unnoticed so far. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> After two days of
being housebound due to the draft riots, Saffron had tired of heeding her
father’s warnings to stay indoors. Even though his motives were sound and he
was only trying to protect her from the roaming mobs, she would surely perish
from boredom if she spent one more moment inside. Although her intent to
breathe some fresh air was dashed, because the city was foul with smoke from
the fires being set around town, she still cherished the freedom of being
outdoors. Her skin erupted in goosebumps at her boldness. She cringed back
against the door as the distant shouts came closer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> But she had a
mission: she needed to see Biscuit. She could certainly get from the family
brownstone to the carriage house in their backyard without running into any of
the rioters, couldn’t she? Talking to a horse beat staring at her bedroom
ceiling. Or reading another boring book. Her intent clear, she pushed herself
away from the door and ran to the small building.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> She opened the
door to the carriage house. Diffused lighting came through the windows near the
roofline and the cool air was filled with a familiar, comfortable combination
of hay, horse dung, and leather. Saffron inhaled the scents as she waited for
her eyes to become accustomed to the subdued light. Biscuit nickered a nervous
greeting. She tiptoed across the brick floor toward Biscuit’s stall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> And came to an
abrupt halt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> The apples, which
Saffron kept in a bucket to dole out to the horse, were all gone. As were the
carrots. Someone had been in the carriage house, and possibly still was.
Perhaps one of the marauders had scaled the stone wall surrounding their
backyard, and came in here to set the carriage house on fire. But why would he
have removed all the produce first? Her heart began to beat erratically, and
her hand went to her throat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> She backed toward
the door, hoping if she were quiet, whoever was or had been in the carriage
house would not notice her. She’d go back to the house and sound an alarm.
Then, armed with the servants, she could return and confront whoever was here.
But Biscuit nickered again. If someone was intent on setting fire to the
carriage house, Saffron needed to take her horse into the yard first, then call
for the servants. She picked up a hayfork and made her way forward, her
slippers not making a sound as they moved over the floor. She opened the door
to the stall and found what was upsetting her horse, and the answer to why all
the good treats were gone. A Union soldier was asleep in the hay next to
Biscuit. Lord in merciful heaven! Of all things! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Iris Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07282988971025667976noreply@blogger.com20