Monthly Archives: December 2015
Sparkling days, crackling fires, long steamy nights…Christmas is all about making memories. In three delicious tales of seduction and romance, New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster brings you all the pleasures of the season—and then some…
(1) White Knight Christmas
Officer Parker Ross hates Christmas, while Lily Donaldson lives for it. But he’s willing to be converted, especially when Lily is the one doing the persuading.
yet to miss my quota.
Contrary to what some people envision about a romance writer’s life, it’s not all glitz and glam. Well not for the majority of us. With that bubble sadly busted, when you’re not writing, how to do you spend your time?
I know many writers, such as myself, keep their pastime/career a secret. Do those close to you know you write? If so, what are their thoughts?
(Glenn) Everybody knows I write. There are no secrets there. Books sell through word of mouth, so I’m not going to be quiet about that, and being an author is what I’m most proud about in my life.
Will you share with us your all time favorite authors? If you’re like me, it’s a long list so give us your top ten.
If you could choose one book to go to the big screen, yours or otherwise, which book would you choose and whom would you love see casted in the parts?
Would you care to tell us what you’re working on now? That is if it’s not top-secret information. If so, just whisper it in my ear. I swear it’ll go no further.
Would you please share how your present and future fans can contact you?
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.
Carter’s mood elevated, but temperature played no role. For a split-second, he thought perhaps his mood had a calming effect on his body, but only because his 175 pounds felt fluffy, like he’d been influenced by helium. Just to contradict this sensation, he remained still. He felt silly even testing. This feeling had only captivated him while running around the bases at the baseball fields near his home, or even when he was a tad tipsy at the bar, but this still overpowered those other times.
Carter questioned reality. As a recent college graduate, he’d dabbled in binge drinking, even though not nearly as frequent as his “crowd” did. In fact, every so often, Carter would be the one strong enough to volunteer himself as designated driver. Carter was able to glance beyond the average college student in an attempt to supersede peer pressure, and assume responsibility for his actions. He always was the responsible type.
As Carter found himself suspended in a position enabling him to oversee earth, he knew this transcended a typical mood swing. He unquestioningly went along with whatever life threw at him, even in this extreme case, surprising even himself.
Surveying the earth below, feeling not an ounce of care in the world, Carter continued wafting like a loose sheet of paper in the wind, drifting inch by inch, contentedly, as he began keying in on an object. He seemed more preoccupied with this new attraction than with his sudden participation with the solar system. It would have been cataclysmic had both his feet mixed with the earth’s dirt, but that wasn’t the case.
As much a presence that this altered state should have been, Carter began battling a continual attraction to the object. This diversion was enough to cloud the reality and incomprehensibility of the situation. He finally stopped moving, involuntarily; no further elevation. He awaited the presence of normalcy, but this delay only lengthened his journey.
He sensed that he had no encasing. He felt that he was just a feeling, or that his existence was just a thought. He couldn’t see his body, but never really cared to check, either. He just had a gut feeling that his thoughts were in a mind of their own. He felt like a breadless sandwich. However, he did not care one way or another.
Carter astonished himself when his focus zoomed in like human binoculars. This felt so empowering, so controlling, so consuming, and he felt that the sky was the limit. For a 26-year-old guy who had felt so powerless in the city of Boston, this certainly boosted his confidence, but he only wished he could have this focus and earth simultaneously.
He began reflecting on the bullying that he’d received as a child on his school playgrounds. He wished he could find those punks now, even though he since had learned to defend himself fairly well. Nobody much messed with Carter once he hit the 10th grade and began pumping weights vigorously. Nobody was going to offend him, and in the city it was sink or swim. He had taken it upon himself to get in a position where he could defend himself. He looked at it as survival of the fittest.
He did not get revenge by beating the hell out of those bullies who had previously roughed him up. No, that was not Carter’s style. Rather, his presence became his revenge. And with this new image came a certain macho sex appeal that ushered in his debut in dating. He discovered that the two scenarios were intertwined, and that did not pose a problem for Carter Spence.
Carter did love women, but he could not be in love with them. He believed that he had just never found the right girl, but deep down wondered if he even had the ability to love. This disturbed him greatly, making him, for the most part, uncomfortable around women. He had convinced himself that he was just very picky when it came to women.
During his peak conditioning, the one-time bullies would look up at Carter in the high school hallways, acknowledge his presence with a nod, and then humbly mumble, “What’s up, Carter?” Although Carter considered this sufficient sweet revenge, the thought of toying with these bullies from above did tickle his imagination.
Carter eventually determined that the object on the ground resembled a body, but it wasn’t moving. Then his focus zoomed in some more, and quickly the body took on an eerie familiarity to him. The scene below grew chaotic. Cars jerked to the highway side. Doors swung open, remaining that way while people flocked to this object, which was a body lying face down in an embankment. Carter watched this scene unfold before him as if he was watching a movie on television.
The first man to arrive shouted in panic to an unresponsive body. He carefully turned the body on its back, eased down by the second and third man to arrive. Carter continued to zoom in on the victim because he felt as if he knew this man. He recognized the strong face attached to the muscular frame. He recognized the worn denim jeans with the oddly-shaped tear just above the knee, and even the tan polo shirt, which by now had absorbed blood. The shoes that had detached from the man’s feet were familiar, as were the blue Gold Toe socks on his feet. His eyes moved back up the body to the face, and saw that it was his body.
Carter felt indifferent while observing his poor, lifeless body. I look so pale, he thought, aside from the streaking blood on his face. Carter couldn’t believe it was really him. He would have been hard pressed to select that body out of a lineup if asked to identify him. However, he barely was able to recognize his own facial features below. Just how observant and aware of his own self was he, Carter pondered. It seemed interesting to Carter, more than anything else, to see himself from another vantage point, yet treat the situation so matter-of-factly.
Between the lanky frame and the short, light brown hair, he thought that it had to be him. But why, he wondered, confident that there would be no dream to awake from, or no Allen Funt to emerge out of nowhere to tell him about a camera. Besides, if this was a dream, he wouldn’t be wondering if it was a dream. He didn’t think he’d be wondering if it was a dream, but what he wouldn’t give to test this theory of his.
Carter zoomed to within about a telephone pole’s length away, even though he felt like a satellite in space. He noticed the traffic really starting to jam. Cars could no longer pass by. One woman screamed hysterically after discovering an upended automobile streaming fuel onto the ground. She placed both hands on her head and let out a series of chilling wails. Carter watched emotionlessly.
Some good Samaritans flocked to the car to help, while others ran from the danger. Most drivers rubbernecked their way past. Carter shifted his attention to directly above the car, where a solid oak shook off contact. A penetrating scar splintered the tree, which was evidence of a speedy impact. Carter faced all four wheels, witnessing the last tire as it finally slowed to a stop. This all happened so suddenly that this new scene before him appeared almost before the previous scene had ended. A dirty, scraped arm flopped outside of the car, limply touching the ground, and a thin tornado of smoke rose through Carter.
Carter could see that tire marks had blackened the highway, and then dirt marks continued off the side of the road to where the car rested. He did remember getting into his parents car, but he could barely make a positive identification of that car. It had rolled and wrapped itself around the tree at the roof. The smell of gasoline enveloped the air and the potential danger was incalculable. However, good people still stopped.
Gas dripped at a steady rate from the gas tank vicinity. Streams of smoke billowed from under the hood. Carter hoped the smoke and the drips didn’t merge, but when there’s smoke, there’s fire, and within minutes the car flickered flames. Carter felt helpless to try to save those inside. He wondered if it even mattered as he saw that the car’s front bumper meshed with the dashboard and the roof the car rested on met up with the bottom of the windows, which were smashed all around.
He knew those inside hadn’t a chance, and then Carter positively identified the car as his parent’s car, so it was his parents who were trapped inside. My God, Carter thought. This isn’t happening. They could die. This thought flashed through him, but he was emotionless.
Emergency vehicles nudged a path to the wreckage, and a few heartless people took advantage of this path to better their positioning. This was the city life, and nothing was going to spoil the day of some people. Cars edged closer to neighboring cars on the left, while cars in the far right lane eased off the road, some entirely. Sirens blared, while red and blue lights flashed through the light of day. Carter took notice of numerous police cars, ambulances and fire trucks.
Carter knew his parents had expired, but what about his body? Where was he now? Was he dead? Paramedics swarmed his physical body below, and he wondered if he would ever be reunited with it. He wanted badly to be able to help himself, but he could only watch, unsure if it was his unwillingness or inability to intervene. He felt like an actor watching his own movie, but he certainly possessed more peacefulness above than what was being transmitted at the chaotic scene below.
Firefighters in yellow coats squelched the flames with foam, but the people who had jumped from their cars to throw mud at the flames controlled the spreading. These people will be the ones dubbed heroes, but will refuse the tag on the local newscast. Carter could envision this before it even happened. He wasn’t being disrespectful to those trying to help his parents, but he felt his folks stood no chance by the looks of things. Maybe the car wouldn’t burn to a crisp, but if they did survive the impact, any fire would be enough to finish the job.
Carter believed his ejection from the car came prior to impact because of his distance from the vehicle, and then it occurred to him how he had gotten into the situation he found himself in. His thoughts moved away from the chaos momentarily, zooming out of that scene and into another.
Richard Hill, the Earl of Windermere, might desperately require a wife and heir, but thoughts of duty fly from his mind when he rescues Esme, Lady Heathcote, from the embarrassment of a failed affair. They usually never agree about anything. He’s never even kissed the vexing widow. But when the opportunity arises to whisk her away for a no-strings-attached rendezvous, Richard can’t imagine a better way to spend a moonlit evening.
Esme has never lacked for admirers, but having Lord Windermere’s company goes a long way to ease the pain of losing her suddenly betrothed lover. And when Windermere suggests an affair, Esme is intrigued by the blazing-hot connection even while knowing their relationship has no future beyond his house party.
But as with any temptation, it’s a bargain they’ll soon regret.
Read an Excerpt
The hallway beyond the drawing room was filled to bursting with chattering guests and she moved smoothly through them, nodding and speaking occasionally to some. While she admired the elegance and comforts to be found in Lord Windermere’s home, she kept her eye out for Meriwether. She turned into the library, but the room was startlingly empty.
“Looking for me?” Windermere asked as he came to stand near. His gaze raked her from head to toe in the most gauche way.
Arrogant and presumptuous. “Hardly. You should pay more attention to your guests and the health of your servants.”
Instead of taking the hint that she wasn’t in the mood to talk, he caught her hand and raised it to his lips. His blue eyes danced with amusement. “I do love when you’re friendly. How have you been, Esme?”
She scowled at him and withdrew her hand to her side. “I’ve not given you leave to use my first name and I am not of a mood to spar with you. Go back to your other guests for amusement and send your butler to his bed. Anyone can see he’s on the verge of collapse tonight.”
“I already banished Oswin to rest.” He laughed suddenly. “Young Pip has assumed his duties until Collins comes up.”
“Just as well,” she replied, thankful for such sensible decisions at last.
“Only you would ever dare tell me what to do in my own home. I wanted to thank you for coming,” Windermere murmured. “But to convince everyone we’re not at odds, you will have to talk to me occasionally with a little less acid in your tone.”
“We’ve spoken as much as needed to quell any gossip.” She smiled at him. “Or was it your wish to have me chivvy you out of your mopes too.”
“I will say again you were right.” Windermere sighed and raked a hand through his dark, wavy hair. “You’re enjoying rubbing my nose in that business with Lady Bartlett, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps.” She smothered a laugh. He hadn’t wanted to believe he was being used until it was almost too late to extract himself from the connection. “You were so indignant that day, and after venting your pique at me, you charged down the street—on foot of all things, my man and your horse trailing after. I laughed for at least a whole day afterward. But I am sorry you were let down.”
He inhaled sharply, his jaw clenching before he relaxed and shook his head. “No, you’re not. You’re positively gloating that you were proved right about her.”
Bestselling historical author Heather Boyd believes every character she creates deserves their own happily-ever-after, no matter how much trouble she puts them through. With that goal in mind, she writes sizzling regency romance stories that skirt the boundaries of propriety to keep readers enthralled until the wee hours of the morning. Heather has published over twenty novels and shorter works. Catch her latest news www.heather-boyd.com. She lives north of Sydney, Australia, and does her best to wrangle her testosterone-fuelled family (including cat Morpheus) into submission.
The only thing Rachel Hingis hated more than swimming was having to play well with others. Edgar Fern, nerd extraordinaire, couldn’t find anyone to play with. Life would have been just fine if they never crossed paths.
Instead, they collided.
The victims of an accidental experiment deep in the corn fields of Iowa, they and four others -Alex, Celeste, Laura and Susan – were changed, and not necessarily for the better. As a mysterious group (insert sinister title here) starts to pick off Red Bug’s students, they have a choice to make: become victims, or become heroes.
The bumpy road to being a masked avenger is fraught with conflict, mystery, explosions– and Freezees.