Monday's Montage Mantlepiece: Secrets of Neverwood

Summary:
Three foster brothers are called home to Neverwood, the stately Pacific Northwest mansion of their youth. They have nothing in common but a promise to Audrey, the woman they all called mother—that upon her death, they would restore the house and preserve it as a home for troubled boys.

But going home is never easy.

Cal struggles to recover from past heartbreak, while Danny fears his mistakes are too big to overcome. Devon believes he may never break down the barriers that separate him from honest emotion.

On the path to brotherhood, they discover the old mansion holds more than dusty furniture and secret passageways. Audrey’s spirit still walks its halls, intent on guiding “her boys” toward true love, and an old mystery stirs up a new danger—one that could cost the men far more than just the house.

Stories Included:
One Door Closes by GB Lindsey
The Growing Season by Diana Copland
The Lost Year by Libby Drew

One Door Closes by GB Lindsey
Years ago, Calvin Ware found a refuge in Neverwood, a home for wayward boys. Now, following the death of his foster mother Audrey, he’s returned to fulfill her request to restore the decrepit Victorian mansion to its former purpose.

Under the threat of repossession, Cal clashes with his foster brothers over restoration plans while fending off the unscrupulous developer who is breathing down his neck. Audrey’s well-meaning presence in his dreams does more harm than good as he struggles to cope with it all. What’s more, the contractor he hires to get the building up to code turns out to be Will Cabot, his high school flame.

As they begin working together, Cal finds he still has feelings for his first love. But his mistakes of years ago threaten their future, just as they ruined their past, and Cal knows he can’t withstand the heartbreak a second time.

The Growing Season by Diana Copland
The four years since Danny Redmond left Neverwood have been heartbreaking, and past mistakes continue to haunt him, even after he returns home.Together with two foster brothers he barely knows, they plan to turn the house into a welcoming place for runaways once again—the dying wish of their foster mother, Audrey.

Danny has nothing to contribute to the restoration of the decrepit mansion, save for a gift for growing things. His efforts to bring Audrey’s beloved gardens back to their former glory are complicated by handsome landscaper Sam Ignatius…and the feelings developing between them, despite their fiery differences of opinion. But one voice gives him hope, the only one he’s always trusted—Audrey’s.

Danny comes to care deeply for Sam, but things look bleak when Sam’s city councilman father threatens to have Neverwood torn down. Danny isn't surprised. Why would he expect the future to be different from his past? All his relationships end in disaster...

The Lost Year by Libby Drew
Devon McCade is no stranger to adversity. As a photojournalist, he’s seen all manner of human struggle. And as a kid, it’s what brought him to Neverwood, to his foster mother Audrey. It’s what he’s facing now, as he and his foster brothers work to restore the once-stately mansion amidst surprising signs from Audrey herself.

But when another anguished soul arrives at Neverwood, Devon can’t hide behind his camera. Nicholas Hardy is certain he saw his runaway son, Robbie, in a photo Devon took of homeless children. Devon knows all too well that a young teenager on the streets doesn’t have many options—and Robbie has been missing for a full year.

Searching for Robbie with Nicholas stirs memories and passions Devon had thought long lost, yet knowing that Nicholas will leave as soon as Robbie is found keeps him from opening himself up to something permanent. Devon must learn to fight for what he wants to keep—his love, and his home.

Author Bios:

GB Lindsey

G. B. Lindsey was born and raised in California, where she earned her undergraduate degree in Literature and Creative Writing from UC Santa Cruz. Her first love has always been writing: as a child, she cultivated such diverse goals as becoming "a cowgirl... and a writer" or "a paleontologist... and a writer." 

Aside from her salacious and ongoing affair with the horror genre, she loves to write sci-fi, romance, historical fiction, and short stories. Other hobbies include playing the piano, reading voraciously, the occasional period drama movie night, and devouring scary film after scary film. She recently moved back home from Newcastle upon Tyne, where she earned her Master of Arts in Creative Writing, and now lives in Sacramento.

Diana Copland

Diana Copland began writing in the seventh grade, when she shamelessly combined elements of Jane Eyre and Dark Shadows to produce an overwrought gothic tale that earned her an A- in creative writing, thanks entirely to the generosity of her teacher. She wrote for pure enjoyment for the next three decades before discovering LiveJournal and a wonderful group of supportive fanfiction writers, who after gifting her with a "Best New Author" Award encouraged her to try her hand at original gay fiction.

Born and raised in southern California, Diana moved to the Pacific Northwest after losing a beloved spouse to AIDS in 1995. She lives in eastern Washington near her two wonderful adult children and her surprisingly supportive parents.

Libby Drew

Libby glimpsed her true calling when her first story, an A.A. Milne /Shakespeare crossover, won the grand prize in her elementary school's fiction contest. Her parents explained that writers were quirky, poor, and often talked to themselves in supermarket checkout lines. They implored her to be practical, a request she took to heart for twenty years, earning two degrees, a white-collar job, and an ulcer, before realizing that practical was absolutely no fun. 

Today she lives with her husband and four children in an old, impractical house and writes stories about redemption, the supernatural, and love at first sight, all of which do exist. She happens to know from experience.

Libby’s STATE OF MIND received rave reviews for being fast, clever, and relentless and was nominated for a Bookie Award for Best M/M Novel of 2011. 40 SOULS TO KEEP, Libby’s third novel, has been described as intense and heart-poundingly good and was praised by Publishers Weekly for maintaining a high level of suspense. 

An avid supporter of gay rights, Libby donates her time to the Trevor Project and organizations that work to support marriage equality.

GB Lindsey

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Risky Dance Series by Monika Summerville

Series: Risky Dance

Author: Monika Summerville

Genre: Adult Romance, Mild BDSM

Publisher: Siren Bookstrand

Cover Design: Christine Kirchoff

A Risky Dance #1
Summary:
Riley Frost is an attorney. He played in the BDSM community as a Dom and liked to be in control. He'd never found a woman with a sense of adventure and passion, until one night when he walked into a bar and...

Sophie Pantagen is the vice-president of her father's company, Pantagen Industries. For the past ten years she's spent a couple evenings a month having one-offs with men whose names she never new. That was until one night in a bar when Riley and Sophie find each other at a time when both are looking for something. They're not sure what it is they want, but think they may have found it.

Sophie's father is a cut-throat business man and when he thinks Sophie tells company secrets he comes after her with vengeance. Pantagen Industries begins to fall apart. Sophie is fired from her position and threatened by her father with an Edgar Allen Poe nightmare result.

A Lost Dance #2
Summary:

Turner Black works for a group in Seattle that helps find people who were separated from loved ones for one reason or another. He’s hired to find the half-sister of a man, Stewart Tarver. Their shared father has passed away and left the half-sister part of a large inheritance.

Turner finds Rae Smith. She works as a stripper at a dance club in Tracy, California. She always wanted to be a ballet dancer, but the death of her mother took that dream away and Rae started to strip when she turned eighteen years of age. From one club to another, she is happy to just survive.

Turner and Rae are drawn to each other and, although the sex is great, she isn’t big on commitments and doesn’t want to deal with the inheritance game. And someone tries to kill her and then kidnaps her for sale to a slave trader in Hong Kong. Will she be able to trust Turner?

A Flame Dance #3
Summary:
Jarrah Hejazi is an ex-Marine, who defended his country and now owns a security company. He’s worked, but forgot to live. On a visit with friends at Safe Haven, he meets Grace McKay and a boy named Jonah. Haven is a place where street kids get help and feel safe. Little does Hejazi know that within a couple of months his life will change one-hundred percent.

Grace McKay, an ex-marine, works at Haven. She’d heard the owners talk about their friend Hejazi and when they meet, there’s more she wants to know.

Hejazi and Grace surrender to their attraction and work to find the brother of Jonah. The brother was taken by Feathertop, who gives street kids a safe place to live and then trains them to pick pockets, rob cars and homes.


Dealing with a team member off the grid, and being chased by people who want them dead, Hejazi and Grace have to figure a way to keep it together.




Midnight Weary #4 (Coming April 5, 2017)
Summary:

Ian Deatherage’s past is a shadow. He’s doesn’t make friends traveling from place to place on his motorcycle. When it breaks down he has twenty dollars in his pocket, he’ll have to find a job to pay for the repairs.

Kris Marcus is the owner of The Scamp. She offers Ian a bouncer job. Ian works for a week and the relationship between he and Kris builds and boils over into a night of hot passion. His words to her - I don’t do gentle - turns out fine. She isn’t used to soft touches.

Ian and Kris dance around each other and find a hot attraction. She figures once his motorcycle is fixed he’ll leave area and wants to protect herself. He doesn’t know committed relationships and isn’t sure what to do.

After several weeks of burning sex, Ian convinces Kris that he doesn’t want to leave. Will she let him stay or watch him go?

A Risky Dance #1

Riley Frost walked through the front door at Fellow’s Bar and Grill and, Ben, the bartender, waved. He nodded and sat down on a barstool at the end. The room wasn’t overly crowed and there were enough women in the place that he thought he’d come out on top. He hoped to find a nice curvy woman to curl up with for the night. The noise and laughter helped bring his tension down a notch. 

Ben walked to his end and set a glass of Loch Lomand single-malt-whiskey in front of him. It was Riley’s favorite and the bar kept it stocked for him.

“My headache thanks you, Ben.” He accepted the glass.

“Steven should be back from a break shortly, Mr. Frost. Care for a game of chess?” the bartender asked. “It would give me a chance to win back some of my losses from last month.”

“Perhaps. I’m a little on the prowl tonight. Is it too late to get a pulled pork sandwich or something?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Riley nodded, picked up his glass and a newspaper off the end of the bar, and walked over to an empty table. 

Ben came out from behind the bar. “We can do the sandwich. Chef wants to know if you want coleslaw, chips, or fries?”

“Chips are fine. There’s no need to heat up the fryer.”

“Good.” Ben smiled and went back to the kitchen.

Riley read through the headlines on the front page of the paper and then heard the front door open. A woman about five-foot-ten walked in and went straight to the bar. He did a double take and found it hard to take his eyes off of her.

She wore an emerald green, mini-tank dress that had lace in all the right places. It hugged her hips tightly and when she turned to the bar, he saw it had no back. The sides were cut low under her arms and the curve of her breasts showed just enough. Her long, brown hair would slide side to side when she moved and he thought he saw a scar on the middle of her back. Her legs alone caused Riley’s cock to stir and he thought he may have found his catch for the night.

An older man with dark-graying hair walked up to her. Riley almost started to crack up laughing. The guy wore his hair in a fluffy 80s style cut and had a walrus mustache. The woman smiled and spoke with him. The man put his hand on her arm and she peeled it off and shook her head.

“Woo...turn down, dude. Things are looking very good,” Riley said to himself, and took a sip of his whiskey.

Ben brought his sandwich over and set the plate down on the table. Riley stopped him from leaving.

“The woman at the bar, dead center, with the green dress and brown hair, what can you tell me?”

The bartender looked over his shoulder and nodded. “She is gorgeous, but I think she may be a professional.”

“Really?” Riley felt a bit surprised. She looked too classy to be a hooker. 

“I don’t know it for a fact, but she comes in here every other week or so and never leaves alone.”

“Good, her drink’s on me, Ben.” He’d never seen her before and he spent a lot of time at Fellow’s.

“I’ll see to it. She’s a single-malt woman. May I give her some of the Lomand?”

“Very good idea.” Riley nodded and started to eat his food.

He saw Ben walk behind the bar and prepare the drink. The woman still spoke to the 80s throw back. The bartender put the drink in front of her and pointed toward Riley. She looked over her shoulder just as he slid a potato chip into his mouth. Her eyebrow arched and she turned back to Ben and pushed the glass back at him. They exchanged a few words and the woman picked up the drink and walked toward Riley.

She set the glass down and leaned over with her hand on the table. Riley had a perfect view of the tops of her breasts and he almost lost his breath.

“I don’t accept drinks from strangers, but thank you.” She straightened up.

“Why don’t you have a seat? I’m Riley Frost, now we’re not strangers anymore.”

She stared at him for a moment with Caramel colored eyes and then turned back to the bar. He admired her rear and his cock became hard as a rock, it wanted her so much. She is mine, he thought. 

As she slid onto a stool, she motioned for Ben to bring another drink.

The other man sat next to her and continued to make his moves. He tried to put his hand on her thigh and she moved it.

Riley stood, finished his drink, and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He took a bill out and picked up the full glass of whiskey she’d left on his table. On her left side, he moved between her and Mr. Walrus Mustache, to crowd the guy away from her. Riley put the cold glass against her bare back.

She sat up, leaned into his hand, and looked at him over her shoulder. Riley didn’t look back, but flagged Ben. He handed the bartender a one-hundred dollar bill and then leaned toward the woman.

He moved his lips to a millimeter from hers and whispered, “The Loch Lomand is a thousand times better than that swill you’ve got. Have a lovely evening.” He brushed his lips over hers and let his hand slide over her breast as he set the drink in front of her. Her nipple felt hard as a bullet. He smiled and started toward the door.

Oh yeah, I give her less than five minutes. She’s mine, he thought. He went out the door, turned left and stood at the corner of the building.

A Lucky Dance #2

Turner found her performance one of the best he’d seen and this trip turned out to be worth it. She definitely could be the Rae he’d searched for. He could see the little girl who held the stuffed rabbit from the old picture. 

He showed his investigators badge to the bartender and explained that he needed to speak to her. The owner came out and asked him why. All Turner told the man was that her brother looked for her due to a death in the family.

After about a half hour, she came out from behind the stage. Her hair was tied up in a Scrunchy and she wore tight jeans with a pale blue cable knit sweater. Instead of the three inch spiked heels she had on a pair of flat tennis-shoes. 

She walked up to the bar alone and sat on a stool two down from him. “Jake told me why you’re here. I think you may have me confused with someone else. I don’t have a brother.”

“My name is Turner Black and I’ve been hired by your half-brother, Stewart Tarver, to find you, Miss Sibley.” He looked at her as she leaned over the counter and snagged a bottle of vodka and a shot glass. She really was gorgeous and he admired her ass as she moved back down to the stool. Her eyes were a light carmel color and she had a little sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

“The name is Smith, not whatever you just said.” She took a sip from the shot glass.

Turner took the old picture out of his pocket. She looked at it. He watched her and saw her eyes squint. It was a dead giveaway and he’d learned how to read people over the years.

When she sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, he knew she remembered that photo.

“According to your half-brother, this picture was one of the few times you met him and your father.” He knew by the look in her eyes it was familiar.

She pushed it back at him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Black. It’s not ringing any bells.”

This goddamn woman is stubborn, Turner thought. 

*****

When Rae looked at the picture she saw a little girl with a stuffed rabbit in one hand and an older boy stood next to her and held her other hand. That stupid rabbit was the only thing she had left of her mother and would never give it away.

“I think it does ring bells, Miss Sibley.”

“Smith, as I said. I’m Rae Smith.”

“Your father passed away about a year ago and your half-brother’s looked for you since.”

“Mr. Black, I never met my father or any brother. I’m an only child. My mother died when I was twelve. I’ve been on my own ever since. She never said anything to me about a brother.” She swallowed the vodka and put the lid back onto the bottle.

“Miss Smith, I know your history.”

“You know nothing about me.” She slid off the stool and started back to the dressing room. Grabbing her jacket and bag, she walked out the back door of the building, rounded a corner and there stood Mr. Black by a dark grey Toyota Prius. Good gas mileage, she thought, arched her eyebrow and started to walk past him.

“Miss Smith, could I give you a ride home?”

“No thanks,” she said and kept moving down the sidewalk.

The engine started in the car and she realized he followed her. When she got to the corner, she stopped and looked at him.

“So, you’re a stalker and all that other story was bullshit?” She bent at the waist and looked at him through the window.

“No, I’m not a stalker. Can I buy you some coffee? There is more to explain.”

She started across the street and as he motored through, she turned left and headed another direction. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, but if she cut through the alley, she could go in the back way. He wouldn’t be able to follow her.

She saw a light flash in the corner of her eye and looked over her shoulder. Her pace picked up and the alley turned about one-hundred feet away.

“Look, what do you have to lose? You’d be able to finally open that dance school you always wanted,” he shouted from the car window.

Rae stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him. There wasn’t any way possible he could know what she wanted.

A Flame Dance #3

“How did you fair, Jarrah?” Rae asked.

“The kid beat me twenty out of thirty games.” He looked over his shoulder. “I have some information.”

Grace followed them out of the room and down a hallway toward the offices. He stopped and lowered his voice. “His name is Jonah Sullivan and he’s eleven years old. He has a brother named Jacob who’s fourteen. They were dumped at a park and ride in Reno by their mother and after they lived on the street for a few days met some guy named Feathertop who brought them to Sacramento.”

“Unbelievable, the kids been with us for six weeks and all we knew was his nickname.” Rae shook her head.

“This guy Feathertop gives them the nicknames and insists they use them always.”

“I’ve heard of that guy. He’s sort of like Fagin in Oliver Twist. He promises them food, safety and in exchange they’re taught to pick pockets, steel purses and I’ve even heard they’ve robbed some houses,” Grace said.

“I was over in Sacramento this morning and think I may have seen his crew. We were protecting the singer Veronda and I don’t know how many worked the crowd, but they were good.”

“Let me see what I can find out about Jonah Sullivan.” Rae looked toward her office.

“It’s sad. I mean, to be dumped by your mom and then his brother brought him here and told him to wait until he came back. Poor kid.” Hejazi shook his head. 

Grace now found she admired this man’s heart. He felt for Kit.

“Turner will be here to pick me up around five-thirty, oh and Grace will be joining us.” Rae grinned.

She wanted to crawl into the carpet and hide. When she looked at Hejazi, he smiled.

“Great, I won’t be a third wheel,” he said.

Grace stared at his dark eyes and realized she couldn’t determine what color they were. They were either black or dark brown, but they mesmerized her and when she became aware that he stared back, she blushed.

“Rae, could I ride with you and Mr. Black?” she asked.

“You could ride with me. I don’t know my way around here and you can direct me,” Hejazi said before Rae could answer.

Grace smiled. “Sounds good.”

“I should go find a place to stay the night. How about I meet you out front at five o’clock?”

“That’s fine.”

*****

Hejazi found a Holiday Inn and booked the room for the next five days. He wanted to spend some more time with that kid, Jonah, and see if he could find out more about Feathertop. He also wanted to get to know Grace McKay.

With his connections to the military and feds he could easily find out about her, but decided he’d rather get the low down direct from the source.

It was over fifteen years since he’d been with his last girlfriend. On his first tour of duty, when he’d gone home to Chicago for two weeks leave, his girl, Marissa, acted strange when they met back up. After a couple of days, she’d told him that she’d fallen in love with an insurance salesman. The news kicked him in the balls and he’d decided to put his time and energy into the Marine Corps’ and starting his security group. He never wanted to feel his heart tear in half again.

Fifteen years passed with a blink of an eye and this coming October he’d turn forty years old. He’d gotten to a point where he could monitor the business from wherever he decided to live. The men in his group could handle the job professionally and didn’t need him to be present all the time.

Grace McKay was a beautiful woman and ex-military which gave them something in common. Her height caught his attention, too. His six-foot-five build made it difficult to date smaller women, not that he dated. The fleeting thought that he wouldn’t have to bend at the waist to kiss Grace made him smile while he shaved. Their bodies might even fit together nice and snug, too.

He looked at himself in the mirror. “You’re putting your cart way before your horse, asshole. She’s probably married,” he said to his reflection. “Or she’s involved with someone and you won’t have a chance. You have work to do in a month and don’t need the aggravation.”

Midnight Weary #4

One of her hands moved to his shoulder and her nails dug into his skin. She felt him jerk under her and he swatted her hand away.

“You keep that up and I’ll have to put you over my knee,” he said and then bit the tender skin on her breast and flicked the nipple. “You want to ride me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

The thumb on his hand kept alternating the pace and Kris realized the power shifted. Ian now held all the cards and she didn’t mind one bit. He could do this to her all day long.

When his hand moved away from her crotch, her eyes popped open. “What…don’t stop.”

He palmed her breast. “I want your mouth again. Come here.” His mouth covered hers and they both started to breathe hard. She didn’t think she’d be able to catch her breath right for the rest of the day. His lips, tongue and teeth devoured hers and she thought it could be the best kiss she’d ever experienced.

Author Bio:

Monika Summerville is an avid reader, loves good tense movies, and works hard on her writing. She lives in Western Washington State with her four cats, Agamemnon, Tazmania, Jasper and Jericho. 

She has written A Risky Dance and A Lost Dance for Siren BookStrand. The third book - A Flame Dance - will be out spring 2016.

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A Risky Dance #1

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A Lucky Dance #2

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Midnight Weary #4 (Pre-Order -April 5, 2017)

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Sunday's Safe Word Shelf: Broken Pieces by Riley Hart

Broken Pieces #1
Summary:
Can three broken pieces make a whole?

Josiah Evans is the orphan who lost both his parents. He’s sweet, shy, and all heart. He wants nothing more than to be loved.

Mateo Sanchez is the son of a gang leader. He’s seen it all, and never hesitates to do what needs to be done, no matter what it is.

Tristan Croft is the wealthy attorney who clawed his way up from the bottom to rule his own world. He’ll never depend on anyone but himself again.

Three men who couldn’t be more different…and yet, as their lives intersect they find an uncommon balance that calms the storms inside each of them, and ignites fires hotter than they ever thought imaginable.

Told in three parts and spanning over ten years, BROKEN PIECES is a journey of healing for three fragmented souls, finding love in the unlikeliest of places—with each other.

Full Circle #2
Summary:
Nothing in life is ever easy, and no one is more painfully aware of that than Josiah Evans, Mateo Sanchez, and Tristan Croft. They know what they want—each other—but with three people as broken as they are, all those pieces aren't so easily mended.

Josiah is their glue. All he wants is to give his men what they need.

Mateo wants to absolve himself of his sins. To be worthy of love and to protect it.

Tristan must let go of his past, must learn how to need, and what it really means to take care of someone.

To keep the balance intact, they all have their roles to play. But what happens if the balance shifts? What happens when someone doesn’t play the right part? If one of them falters, they all feel the strain.

The only way to complete their full circle is for all their pieces, despite the curves and rough edges, to fit together perfectly. To do that, Josiah, Mateo, and Tristan must learn to get over the pasts that have defined who they are. And when an old enemy returns and threatens the foundation of their new life, decisions will be made, and boundaries will be tested that could change their lives forever.

Losing Control #3
Summary:
On the surface, Ben seems to have it all: money, influence, good looks. He smiles and jokes in all the right places, but it’s all a façade. Inside he’s a wreck, and it’s only getting worse. With his Congressman father using Ben’s recent kidnapping for his own political agenda, and Ben still struggling to get over the only guy he’s ever loved, he feels like he’s losing his grip on reality and he’s quickly spiraling out of control.

Then he meets Dante, an enigma of a man with as much self-hatred as Ben has. In Dante, Ben finds what he didn’t know he needed: Dante’s control, his power, is the only thing that clears the fog in Ben’s brain. For the first time in his life, Ben has a lover who just might need Ben as much as Ben needs him. When they’re together, the demons from their pasts don’t lurk so heavily on their shoulders.

But Dante can’t fix him. Not when a memory from Ben’s past is haunting him in ways he doesn’t understand, waiting for him to put together the missing pieces in his head…and what he discovers just might have the power to break him for good.

Warning: light BDSM themes and mentions of abuse.

Author Bio:

Riley Hart is the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s a hopeless romantic, a lover of sexy stories, passionate men, and writing about all the trouble they can get into together.

She loves reading, flawed characters, and hanging out with her husband and children, who she adores. She and her family live in Southern California, soaking up the sunshine, while also missing seasons. Not a day goes by that she isn’t thankful she gets to wake up and do what she loves.

Life is good. Riley also writes young adult and new adult under the name Nyrae Dawn.

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Saturday's Series Spotlight: The Kronicles of Korthlundia by Jamie Marchant

Series: The Kronicles of Korthlundia #1-3

Author: Jamie Marchant

Genre: Epic Fantasy

The Goddess's Choice #1
Summary:
The crown princess Samantha fears she’s mad; no one but she sees colors glowing around people. The peasant Robrek Angusstamm believes he’s a demon; animals speak to him, and his healing powers far outstrip those of his village’s priests. Despite their fears, their combined powers make them the goddess’s choice to rule the kingdom of Korthlundia. Samantha’s ability enables her to discern a person’s character through their multi-colored aura, and Robrek’s makes him the strongest healer the kingdom has seen in centuries. But their gifts also endanger their lives. Royals scheme to usurp the throne by marrying or killing Samantha, and priests plot to burn Robrek at the stake. Robrek escapes the priests only to be captured by Samantha’s arch-enemy, Duke Argblutal; Argblutal intends to force the princess to marry him by exploiting Robrek’s powers. To save their own lives and stop the realm from sinking into civil war, Robrek and Samantha must consolidate their powers and unite the people behind them.







The Soul Stone #2
Summary:
The Crown Princess Samantha and Sir Robrek struggle to solidify their rule in the aftermath of the king’s murder and Duke Argblutal’s attempt to usurp the throne. They are thwarted at every turn by those who seek power for themselves and desire to prevent their marriage. Just when they think their problems are solved, a deadly curse begins to spread throughout Korthlundia and Samantha becomes pregnant. Samantha must fight off priests, enemies, and her closest advisors while Robrek discovers the reason the goddess chose him as king, to defeat the Soul Stone, a stone capable of sucking the soul out of its victims, which threatens to obliterate all life in the joined kingdoms. Their archenemy, the Bard Alvabane, awakens the Soul Stone and plans to use its power to reclaim Korthlundia for her people (a people driven out over a thousand years ago by the hero Armunn). Armunn had to sacrifice his life and soul to contain the Soul Stone. Will Robrek have to do the same? Will the young couple have only a few short months to love each other?





The Ghost in Exile #3
Summary:

The Ghost is going to hell. Not even the goddess can forgive his sins: assassin, oath-breaker, traitor (an affair with the queen earned him that title). No one can ever learn the princess is his daughter. To keep this secret, he flees to the land that turned him from a simple stable groom into an infamous killer.

His mission now? To find evildoers and take them to hell with him. But when an impulsive act of heroism saddles him with a damsel who refuses to be distressed, her resilience forces him to questions why he really ran from his daughter.

The Goddess's Choice #1

The Princess Samantha sat at her dressing table and glowered at her reflection as her maids dressed her hair. She detested balls and loathed the hundreds of suitors who flocked around her, spouting empty flattery: “I have never seen a lovelier flower, Your Highness!” or “Your eyes rival the brilliance of the stars, Your Highness!” If I hear that one again, I’ll vomit. It wouldn’t be quite so bad if even one of them meant it. Sometimes she wished . . . . She pushed the thought away. She was the heir to the throne. She couldn’t expect romance.

“Let us be painting your face tonight, Your Highness!” Ardra begged, in her north Korthian accent. Samantha’s maid was as small and slight as the princess herself and had hair so blonde it was almost white.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Malvina chimed in. “Lady Shela’s maids said just yesterday we couldn’t possibly know our business ’cause you never wear paint.” Malvina, more of a typical Korthlundian woman, was tall and broad and not nearly as pretty as Ardra.

“Lady Shela,” Samantha snorted in disgust. Shela wore so much paint she resembled some ghastly sea creature. Samantha knew she wasn’t pretty, but she was fond of the freckles that speckled her nose and thought the emerald green brilliance of her gown set off her white skin and auburn hair beautifully. Besides being appallingly uncomfortable, paint would absolutely spoil the effect. The princess gestured toward the huge portrait that covered one wall of her bedchamber. “Do you think Danu wore paint?”

Malvina shrugged. “The Princess Danu was said to be a powerful sorceress, Your Highness. She probably didn’t need to wear paint to attract men.”

Samantha laughed bitterly, as she thought of the army of men waiting below. “I wish not wearing paint was all it took to scare them off. They say Danu never married, and see how happy she is.” 

Samantha yearned for Danu’s freedom. The long-dead princess was laughing as she galloped across the fields. Danu’s auburn hair flew out behind her in the wind. The stars on the forehead and chest of her horse shone against its gorgeous coat. Samantha loved this painting, which was just as well because it was bolted to the wall and couldn’t be removed without tearing her chambers apart. She’d decorated the rest of her bedroom to match. Tapestries of horses covered the walls. Her dressing table, armoire, and large four-poster bed had horses carved into the woodwork. A quilt, embroidered with horses and stars, was spread over the bed. The mantle over her fireplace sported figurines of horses in gold, silver, jade, crystal, and precious stones. Every new ambassador added to her collection.

“Your Highness, you’ll be having to marry one of them eventually,” Ardra persisted. “The king won’t be letting you hold out forever. You are seventeen, after all. Your mother was only thirteen when she married the king.”

“You needn’t remind me, Ardra.” Samantha picked up her silver-backed brush from the dressing table. The gift from the Neaserian ambassador was inlaid with an amber Horsetad; diamonds marked the stars at its forehead and chest. She fingered it lovingly. “Do you think it’s true Danu rode a Horsetad?”

“So the bards sing of her,” Ardra said.

Malvina made an impatient noise in her throat. “And they also sing her kiss turned suitors into toads! You don’t really believe such nonsense, do you, Your Highness? Nobody can tame a Horsetad.”

“No, I suppose not,” the princess sighed wistfully, then smiled at the toads that hopped around the feet of Danu’s horse. How I wish my kiss could do that!

The Soul Stone #2

At bedtime, Alvabane sat at her dressing table brushing her long hair. It had once been a bright, rich red, but it had dulled with age and was now mostly grey with only a few strands of color to remind her of what once had been. It seemed a metaphor for her life—small flashes of color to remind her of her once bright purpose.

One of those flashes, Erick, set her nightly goblet of fortified wine next to her hand. She needed the strong alcohol to dull the pain of her joints so she could sleep. Erick had served her for ten years. When her former servant had died, he’d been sent by her people, despite the fact that she’d only been a disappointment to them.

She turned to thank him, but the words died on her lips as she saw the reproach in his eyes. Alvabane turned back to her mirror. Tonight was the night of the new moon. She should have been preparing to perform the rites of the dark gods, not preparing for bed. “They have forgotten us,” Alvabane said. “The Soul Stone does not live.”

In the mirror, she saw Erick’s eyes narrow. He was not yet twenty and still had the optimism of youth. He still believed the Stone would come to life again when the gods willed it. He believed it would again be the weapon it had once been. Created in the far past by magic which had since been lost, it had been used by her people to protect themselves from the barbarians that now ran free over Korth and Lundia.

“I will perform the rites next month,” she promised, but so had she promised last month and the month before that. The stairs to the bottom of the East Tower were agony to her knees. Erick made a mewing sound, reminding her what he’d sacrificed to serve her and the dark gods. She herself had cut his tongue from his mouth when he came to her as a ten-year-old child. He had surrendered it stoically. Only the Bards were allowed to sing the rites of the gods. All others who heard them had to be rendered mute so they couldn’t repeat music not meant for their tongues.

“Do you think you have sacrificed more than I?” She turned to face him. “I submitted to the brutish duke’s bed for years. I gave birth to a child of rape. All so I could remain near the Stone. I performed the rites faithfully every new moon for decades. And for what, I ask you? The power of the Stone remains trapped behind the shield the demon Armunn created from his own soul. That shield can’t be destroyed. I have dedicated my life to trying, but it is impossible. The Soul Stone won’t live again!”

Erick mewed again and looked toward the tapestry on the wall. It showed the map of the desert of Sehra, to the south of Korthlundia, where her people had lived in exile since Armunn and his hordes had trapped the Stone and then driven them from their homeland. Blinking back tears of despair, she turned from him. “Do you think I have forgotten? Every generation fewer of our children are born. Only by returning to the land of our birthright can we be strong again.”

She got up and went to the tapestry, touching it lovingly. “Do you not understand? The dark gods have found me unworthy to be their messenger. I once thought I was the child of the prophecy, the one who would drive the descendants of Armunn’s hordes back across the mountains into Korth and reclaim the land they call Lundia as our own. But I was wrong. I’m an unprofitable servant, an unfit vessel.”

The Ghost in Exile #3

The Ghost knelt at Ares’s feet, where the stench of blood was nearly overpowering. The altar was stained with it, and the bowl at the god’s feet was full from a fresh sacrifice. The power present in this place was undeniable—dark and forbidding, far from the peace and serenity in Sulis’s temples. But he was no longer worthy of Sulis’s blessing. The Ghost drew his dagger, held his left forearm over the sacrificial bowl, and sliced a new cut alongside his numerous scars. As he bled into the bowl, he felt the magic of the place coalesce around him. His blood sizzled as it hit the bowl, and the wound on his arm healed instantly, signaling that The Ghost truly belonged to the Saloynan god.

A door opened behind him, he stood and faced the high priest. Zotico was completely bald and looked no older than he had when The Ghost had first met him ten long years ago. He had small, beady eyes and a typical Saloynan narrow nose. “Pandaros! How wonderful!” the priest beamed, calling The Ghost a name he’d decided he must take up again. He could no longer be either “Ahearn” and “Darhour”; they were both dead. “Rumors said you were no longer among the living. Come in, come in.” Zotico gestured toward the doorway. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”

Zotico’s enthusiasm seemed excessive even for him. Warily, The Ghost followed Zotico down the corridor to the high priest’s office. It was large, the walls covered with instruments of war—swords, shields, battle axes, and plaques ornamented with what looked suspiciously like human ears. The ears were new. Zotico caught The Ghost looking at them and swept his hand over a plaque that contained five ears nailed side by side. “Do you like the new decor? Sacrifices, all of them. I had them moved from our private sanctuary so I could better remember the devotion demanded by the god I serve.”

Zotico may not appear to age, but his ghoulishness grew with each passing year. The Ghost carefully schooled his features to avoid betraying any sign of revulsion.

In the center of the office was a large desk with one chair behind it and two large, comfortable chairs facing it. Zotico gestured The Ghost into one of the facing chairs. The Ghost sat, and the high priest offered him a glass of oenomel, a sweet mixture of honey and wine. Zotico poured himself a glass from the same pitcher and sat behind the desk. “Pandaros, my friend. Why have you neglected your obligations to Ares?”

The Ghost waited for Zotico to take a sip of his drink, then took one of his own. It was cloying in its sweetness. “I’ve been distracted.” 

Zotico smiled sadly. “A true tragedy. There’s no one better with a blade.” The priest mimed drawing a knife across his own throat. “I’ve had acolytes scouring the city more than once looking for you, but I gave up years ago when not the slightest sign of your whereabouts could be found. Tell me, my son, where have you been?”

“Away.” The Ghost had no intention of ever letting Zotico learn anything about Samantha, who was both his daughter and his queen. Because of his careful disguise, Zotico believed The Ghost was a Saloynan.

Zotico laughed. “Long have I wished for the power of Delphi to penetrate your secrets. Is there a person in the world who knows even half of them?” Zotico looked expectantly at him, but The Ghost didn’t answer. “I see my curiosity shall have to be contained. Ares is a harsh master and not attentive to trifles. Still, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you have now returned to his fold. His temple has truly felt your absence.”

The Ghost grunted, “Do you have a job for me?”

Zotico’s eyes gleamed. “Do I ever! I’d nearly despaired of finding a capable assassin, but your fortunate arrival proves that Ares will never fail those who serve his name.”

“Who do you want dead?”

“I think it would be best explained by the one in need of Ares’s assistance, but I assure you it is your sort of kill. May I tell the client you’ll meet?”

The Ghost nodded.

Zotico’s entire body relaxed. “Good, good. The client would prefer not to be seen here. I’ve an arrangement with the high priestess of Aphrodite. The two gods were lovers, after all. Enter the goddess’s temple tomorrow morning and choose the acolyte wearing the pendant of a vulture.” Zotico smiled broadly. “Pandaros, my friend, it is a great day for you to have returned.”

“You are not my friend.” The Ghost left with Zotico’s laughter ringing in his ears.

The Goddess's Choice #1

The Soul Stone #2

Author Bio:

Jamie began writing stories about the man from Mars when she was six, and she never remembers wanting to be anything other than a writer. Everyone told her she needed a back up plan, so she pursued a Ph.D. in American literature, which she received in 1998. She started teaching writing and literature at Auburn University. One day in the midst of writing a piece of literary criticism, she realized she’d put her true passion on the backburner and neglected her muse. The literary article went in the trash, and she began the book that was to become The Goddess’s Choice, which was published in April 2012. Her other novels include The Soul Stone and The Ghost in Exile. In addition, she has published a novella, Demons in the Big Easy, and a collection of short stories, Blood Cursed and Other Tales of the Fantastic. Her short fiction has also appeared in the anthologies--Urban Fantasy and Of Dragons & Magic: Tales of the Lost Worlds—and in Bards & Sages, The World of Myth, A Writer’s Haven, and Short-story.me. She claims she writes about the fantastic . . . and the tortured soul. Her poor characters have hard lives. She lives in Auburn, Alabama, with her husband and four cats, which (or so she’s been told) officially makes her a cat lady. She still teaches writing and literature at Auburn University. She is the mother of a grown son.

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