Kiss Me in Paris by Kimberly Kinrade & Dmytry Karpov

Travel to the most romantic city in the world and fall in love with Winter and Cade!

If reviewers can be believed—and OF COURSE they can be—then Kiss Me in Paris is an epic tale of love, romance, family, friendship and forgiveness. For those of you who might think this book is just another insipid romance, not so my friend.

Not so.

You will pee your pants laughing and cry your eyes out weeping. You will become so angry you might need to punch something, and you will sigh in pure happiness. One reviewer even left part of her soul IN THE WORDS OF OUR BOOK.

Yes, this is the power of Kiss Me in Paris. It’s SOUL STEALING, and we are not going to apologize for that.

You see, we are the authors, and we are married, living our own epic romance. So epic we even had a fan-following during the early days of our courtship. So we know love.

And we know you will love Kiss Me in Paris—a book that has garnered only FIVE STAR REVIEWS on Amazon as of the writing of this, and, we hope, forever and always!

This week is our wedding anniversary, and Kiss Me in Paris is our first book baby, so we’re celebrating by offering this EPIC SAGA for only $2.99. That’s $2 off launch price and less than the cost of a cup of coffee.

And it’s fat free, gluten free, calorie free and won’t stain your teeth.

It will also take you longer to read than a cup of coffee takes you drink, and it will give you an entire adventure in Paris. Unless you’re drinking your coffee right there in the city of love, no coffee is going to do that for you.

If you are drinking your coffee in Paris right now, then firstly, we’re jealous (send us a postcard, mmkay?), and secondly, still read this book, because PARIS. And LOVE. And EPICNESS.

Here’s the part where we tell you about the book, but it’s really not enough to do it justice. So let us first say that there is just so much in Kiss Me in Paris. Layered themes and a sexy cowboy studying to be an architect, and a girl who’s a dreamer with a dark past, and gargoyles and Notre Dame and mazes designed by futuristic architects (because that’s an actual thing, and Cade will tell you what that means), and heartbreak and love and happy endings and evil and just SO MUCH.

But here’s the ‘official’ blurb about Kiss Me in Paris.

Kiss Me In Paris

When the city of love brings two lost souls together, only their darkest secrets can tear them apart.

Winter Deveaux tried love once. It didn’t end well. Unable to open herself up to another heartbreak, she hides in her romance novels as she struggles to break out as a real author. She thinks Paris holds the answer to a new start, but when her nightmare follows her across the world, she’s forced to face the darkness living like cancer inside her soul. If she doesn’t, she might miss her chance to become the kind of writer she’s always wanted to be. But more than that, she’ll miss out on the greatest love she’s ever known.

Cade Savage is heir to the largest ranching family in Texas. Part cowboy, part architect, Cade has his feet forever in two worlds. When he receives an acceptance letter from the school of his dreams, he must decide between family and destiny. But ghosts from his past still haunt him, and circumstances beyond his control may decide his fate.

When Winter and Cade meet, everything they believe about life, love and what it means to be happy is put to the test.

Will the magic of Paris pull these two lost souls together? Or will their darkest secrets tear them apart?

Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance

Full length novel: 87, 000 words

Kiss Me in Paris is a standalone novel in the Kiss Me Series. Travel the world with the Deveaux sisters as they find love, and trouble, in all the right places.

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Reviews are in for Kiss Me in Paris

5 stars “I experienced every emotion as each character felt it. Every tear, every laugh, all of the fear, anxiety, and stress, I experienced every last bit of it. And even though this is a romance, there are tears. I cried more times reading Kiss Me in Paris than I did watching Nicholas Sparks’ The Last Song. Kiss Me in Paris left me hollow when I finally finished it. I feel as if a piece of me was left in the words as I read <this is where the book STEALS SOULS>. And for once, I have a book to call my favorite.” ~Merumei on Amazon

5 stars “A timeless and beautiful love story that will sweep you off your feet, but it’s also much more than that. <We’re not making this part up. These are real reviews.>” ~Amy Conley, Amazon

5 stars “Beautifully drawn characters and stunning pallets that bring you in to Paris itself. <Where else are you going to get a trip to Paris for $2.99. WHERE?>” ~Stormy, Amazon

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Some favorite quotes from Kiss Me in Paris

• “One star breaks off from the others, shooting across the sky, a bright light trailing behind it, and I finally understand why people wish on dying stars. Because something always has to die for life to give birth to a new dream. ”

• “Paris is pregnant with layers of history, colored with the ink of artists who dared to dream of a world only they could see.”

• “It’s like I’m giving birth from my mouth.” <You’ll understand this when you get to chapter 5. Then you’ll pee your pants laughing.>

• “It’s the nature of being human that, in our own blindness, we lash out and blind others.”

• “I think of Winter, of her smile, her eyes, her arms wrapped around me, and I know where home is. It’s wherever she is, and right now she is too far away. My heart has escaped my body and is walking Paris without me.”

• “She opened herself to him, and, in that moment, she opened herself to the world. Let it hurt her. Let it burn her veins, boil her blood and scorch her heart. For where there could be pain, there could be pleasure and love. She would be cold no longer. She would melt the hearts of others, and in turn, they would melt hers. She would feel the full spectrum of emotions and cry. She would be human. And she would be happy.”

And this is just a SAMPLE. It’s like hearing an inside joke if you weren’t at the party. So go to the party, and by this stretched metaphor we mean READ THE BOOK. Then you can laugh and *le sigh* and cry and be a part of the cool crowd.

Also, we have a blog post over at http://KimberlyKinrade.com where we write about our first kiss. And we had our first kiss within 5 minutes of being face to face for the first time. Intrigued? Check it out here and enter more giveaways! >> http://bit.ly/19MRTuJ

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Pick up your copy of Kiss Me in Paris on Amazon, B&N, and wherever ebooks are sold (Except iBooks, sadly, because they are taking FOREVER to publish books. So if you have an iPad, iPhone or iAnything, get an Amazon app for free and you’re set). Look for the paperback and hardback coming soon.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1adeUti

B&N: http://amzn.to/1adeUti

Add it on Goodreads at: http://bit.ly/XPBKCZ

About Kimberly Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov

Dmytry and Kimberly are the husband and wife writing team behind the KISS ME Series, Eye of Newt, Sunrise and Nightfall, Wanderlust, and The Fallen Series.

Kimberly is the award-winning, bestselling author of the New Adult paranormal romance series The Seduced Saga, the YA paranormal thriller/romance The Forbidden Trilogy, and children’s fantasy series The Three Lost Kids.

Dmytry writes fantasy—be it urban, dark or epic—is a musical composer, pianist, and designs books covers (exclusively for his wife’s and their co-authored books).

They live with three little girls who think they’re ninja princesses with super powers and who are also showing a propensity for telling tall tales and using the written word to weave stories of wonder and magic.

Become a member of the Street Team for Kimberly and Dmytry: https://www.facebook.com/groups/455495037808558/

Connect with Kimberly online:

Website: http://KimberlyKinrade.com
Twitter: @KimberlyKinrade
Facebook: /KimberlyKinrade
Amazon: http://Amazon.com/author/kimberlykinrade
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4687115.Kimberly_Kinrade

Connect with Dmytry online:

Website: http://www.DmytryKarpov.com/
Twitter: @DmytryKarpov
Facebook: /DmtryKarpov
Google+: https://plus.google.com/112569905190522142646/posts

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Dmytry-Karpov/e/B00ACVO788/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1368367423&sr=1-2-ent

Goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5217069.Dmytry_Karpov

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Orangeberry Book of the Day – Deleting God by Nicholas L. Maze

Chapter One

For most people, Church is the normal Sunday morning routine. There are, of course services, on other days, and the routine worship day may vary according to religion or denomination, but Sunday is the most recognized day. In most cities on a Sunday morning, if you turn on your local radio station, you will hear Christian music and the morning inspirational message. Christianity and Sunday has become one in the same. They have become a tradition.

Not only has Sunday become a tradition in Christianity, but attending Church has as well. Although making Church attendance a regular routine is important, it is the traditions that alter the overall purpose of Church. Every generation has a tendency to neglect the values of their previous generation. They never had to struggle, fight, or work hard for those values, so they approach them with a nonchalant mindset. In reality, this is how traditions are formed. Traditions are developed based on history. For example, “Since my ancestors fought for this/that, I will continue to stand for it.” Rarely do people take the time to learn, study, and understand the purpose of

their ancestors’ values. As the generations to follow come about, values continue to depreciate. As a result, the original purpose and values have been stripped away and all you have is tradition. No substance, no purpose, no values, just tradition.

In Matthew, the 15th chapter, we find an interesting view of tradition. In this chapter, Jesus is approached and criticized by the Pharisees because His disciples are not following the status quo. Jesus replies and says that GOD’s commandment has been made of none effect because of the man-made Pharisaical traditions. This is a powerful display of how focusing on tradition can easily destroy our purpose with GOD:

“15 Then came to Jesus scribes and Pharisees, which were of Jerusalem, saying ,2 Why do thy disciples transgress the tradition of the elders? for they wash not their hands when they eat bread. 3 But he answered and said unto them, Why do ye also transgress the commandment of God by your tradition? 4 For God commanded, saying, Honour thy father and mother: and, He that curseth father or mother, let him die

the death. 5 But ye say, Whosoever shall say to his father or his mother, It is a gift, by whatsoever thou mightest be profited by me; 6 And honour not his father or his mother, he shall be free. Thus have ye made the commandment of God of none effect by your tradition.

Modern Christianity is fueled by tradition. Nowadays, we focus more on the entertainment of Christianity and less on the fundamentals that build a firm foundation. You will find more people dressing up to attend what has turned into an event, than you will find people taking notes to gain an understanding of GOD’s Word. We run to Spiritual Leaders that are the best dressed, have the most charisma, money, and can produce a good laugh. Some people arrive at Church expecting humor and an enjoyable show. It is becoming so extreme that people are bringing food and beverages into the sanctuary as if they are attending a movie theatre.

This type of behavior from the members of the Church is also altering the leaders of the Church. In order to draw in the most followers and remain loved by their members, leaders are providing a circus atmosphere to keep their members entertained and excited. They’ve allowed members to use the front of the sanctuary as a dance floor. They’ve brought back the traditional “hound dog” preaching. They have allowed dining and the distraction of others to take place in what was once considered a Holy sanctuary. These alterations and traditions are making GOD’s commandment of none effect. The spiritual battle of winning souls is being lost because nowadays most people come to Church to be entertained and to maintain the tradition.

History

The early Church originated in Roman Judea, in the first century A.D. It was founded on the teachings of Jesus Christ. It began with Jesus’ Apostles,

whom Jesus commanded to spread His teachings to the entire world. Originally, Jewish Christians met in synagogues and in one another’s homes, which were known as house churches. Although most say

the reason for the house churches was the small size of the congregation, some believe the small churches were a deliberate apostolic pattern in the first century and intended by Christ. Eventually, Christianity became more accepted by governments as it began to grow. Afterwards, rooms and entire buildings were set aside for the explicit purpose of Christian worship.

Prior to being legalized, the Christian Church was a widely persecuted religion. It was condemned by the Jewish authorities as a heresy. Christianity teachings were fundamentally foreign to the polytheistic traditions of the ancient world. Imagine having someone approach you about an individual that will kill you for wrong and save you for good. Or better yet, the request that you give 10% of your wealth to this individual. These teachings were perceived as being heresy. Although theses types of conflict took place in the first century, it is still happening today.

The world is filled with lost souls and what they are hearing as it relates to Christ equates to a foreign language. One of the reasons the language is foreign is the fact that just as in the first century,

many people in the world have no true understanding of GOD and HIS Word. They may see a Church filled with people and hear various people talk about HIM, yet they are still misguided as to who HE really is and the true power of HIS Word. When the people that spread GOD’s Word approach people in the street to teach about HIS goodness, many are viewing it as heresy. To make matters worse, they are hearing the teachings from Christians that also have no understanding of GOD’s Word. Many Christians attend Church faithfully and never make an effort to learn about GOD and/or study HIS Word. They only memorize various sermons and try to win people with an overview and not the true understanding of HIS Word. Modern day Christians are working with bits and pieces of their religion which makes their words seem even more foreign. With limited knowledge, modern day Christians try to convince others to be a part of their religion.

Modern

Today, most Christians don’t realize the important role they play in their religion. They understand that the Pastor or Spiritual Leader will ask for money, and that they have to dress up on Sunday. They have limited understanding of the Bible, and thus are limited in their spiritual power. It has become rare to find a Christian roaming the streets witnessing to individuals, trying to convince them to give their lives to Christ. Nowadays, Christians sell food and give away free items to attract people. Their spiritual strength is based within a building. Whatever happens within the building structure is considered good enough. The thought pattern is: “If I shouted, shed a tear, or sing a song, I know I have made GOD happy. I have done my part”. This is the very reason we see the same vehicles outside in the parking lot on a weekly basis.

Just bringing a loved one to your Church as a visitor is not the solution. A soul cannot be saved, if there is no understanding of why it should be saved. Yelling at an individual and telling them they’re wrong is useless. This type of behavior has been tried on children. When you yell at a child and send them to their room for punishment,

nothing is learned. The only thing they learn is not to get caught next time. So, if it doesn’t work on children, how can we expect this method to work on adults? GOD anointed spiritual leaders to educate you so that you would be armed with the same power as Christ. We’ve allowed modern day Christianity to have no effect. We, being the weapons of GOD, go out into the world with no ammunition. Our ammunition being the knowledge of GOD.

We can start through Church attendance, hearing GOD’s Word through an anointed leader. The leader’s enlightenment on GOD’s Word provides better understanding to those in attendance. Just like a student in school, it is impossible to remember everything being taught, so it is a good idea to take notes that you can review later. By going back over your notes, you refresh your mind on the teachings and generate a better understanding of what you have been taught through the sermon or teachings; at the same time, study the Word for yourself at home, at your job, etc., constantly feeding your brain and preparing yourself for a spiritual battle. The souls that we

desire to win are constantly being fed by the influences of this world regularly, so we also must be prepared. When a lost soul questions our faith and beliefs, we will have an answer and be able to display GOD’s power and how HE has restored our lives. We should not have to say, “See my Pastor” or “I’ll get back with you on that.” It should be studied and stored within us. There should be such an anointing that you have the answers before they can ask the questions. This is

why we go to Church. Not to show off a new outfit,

not to discuss dinner, not to gossip, not to get free candy, not to sleep, but to worship and learn GOD’s Word. We go to unite with other thirsty Christians and become equipped with GOD’s anointing.

Even with a desire to learn and grow in GOD’s Word, there are still situations and surroundings that place a barrier between reaching those goals. Sometimes it can be an individual or sometimes it can even be the Church itself. Some are manageable and some are simply impossible to change. Some situations have become so routine that they are expected in a Church setting.

Whatever the case, these issues can weaken the growth of a Church. It is the various issues that will be mentioned in the following chapters that led to the creation of Deleting GOD. Like so many others, I have had my share of negative experiences within a Church setting. There were some experiences that upset me (and I’m sure others) so much that led me to turn away from the Church for a while. After having my own share of personal experiences, I felt this was a subject that had to be spoken on. As previously stated, future generations have not struggled like past generations in standing for their religious beliefs. All they have is what they have experienced, and if that experience is dressing up for two hours and buying a dinner from the kitchen, then GOD is not pleased.

Deleting GOD is an open window to the often times overlooked issues that exist within a Church. Problems cannot be resolved if we never know they exist, so it is important that we bring the issues to light and pray for change. I, myself am not a perfect individual and I feel that this journey has strengthened me, while helping others. Having served as an usher for a number of years has

allowed me to experience various Church services from a different point of view. During service, an usher is not only focused on the Spiritual Leader, He/She must be focused on the congregation as well. An usher is an armor bearer whose job is to make sure that the service runs smoothly. With such an important role, an usher’s eye is trained to observe situations that the average Church attendee may not see. If an individual holds that position on a regular basis, he/she will easily notice repetitive behavior during service. Although these situations may seem minor to some, they easily hinder individuals from learning and understanding GOD’s Word. They easily become a distraction that takes our focus off of what is being taught, and in turn forces us to come short in learning the Word of GOD.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Religion / Spirituality

Rating – PG

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Nicholas Maze on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.nicholasmaze.com/

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Orangeberry Book of the Day – London Underground by Chris Angus

1.

London — May 1528

The Reign of King Henry VIII

The French Ambassador to the English court, Du Bellai, contemplated his young aide. The lad was barely seventeen, but he would grow older before this day was out…if any of them lived so long.

“Tell me again,” Du Bellai demanded. “And stop babbling. Speak clearly.”

The boy took a deep breath, then looked around with frightened eyes, as if that simple act might condemn him.

“One of the filles de chambre of Mlle Boleyn was taken ill. She was laid low very quickly. Mlle Boleyn called for her physician, who examined the girl and then spoke quickly to my lady. They both immediately left the chamber. I overheard the physician say he feared it was the Sweat.”

Du Bellai felt a cold hand squeeze his heart. It had been a dozen years since the last outbreak of the dreaded disease. Some called it the “Affliction of the Henrys,” for it first appeared at the start of the reign of Henry VII in 1485. It had caused great mortality and become known by its special symptom as the “sweating sickness.” Distinct from the plague, it was noted for its even more rapid and fatal course.

He had read the treatise, written in Latin, by Thomas Forestier concerning the 1485 epidemic, which included the description: “…the exterior is calm in this fever, the interior excited…the heat in the pestilent fever many times does not appear excessive to the doctor, nor the heat of the sweat itself particularly high…But it is on account of the ill-natured, fetid, corrupt, putrid, and loathsome vapors close to the region of the heart and of the lungs whereby the panting of the breath magnifies and increases and restricts itself…”

The young aide shook with fear, desperate to get away from this awful place. “The king and Mlle Boleyn have fled the city. All of my lady’s attendants have disappeared as well. The afflicted woman is dead. There is no one to remove her body.”

“You and I will remove the body,” said the ambassador.

The boy was horrified. “It will be a death sentence. I cannot.”

“Listen to me. You have already been exposed. Either you will get the sickness or you will not. But the body must be removed and burned at once.”

He grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him back into Mlle Boleyn’s deserted apartments, pausing long enough to prepare face masks and to place garlic around both of their necks. When they reached the bedroom, the body of the young lady in waiting lay contorted on drenched bedding. Her face was white, characteristic of the terrible illness, and there were no outbreaks on her fair skin.

“Tear down those drapes,” he ordered the aide, who moved forward as if in a dream.

Together, they wrapped the body in the drapes, trying not to touch any bare skin that showed. They carried it and the remaining bedding out into the nearest courtyard, where they dumped it unceremoniously. They piled what wood they could find on top of it, saturated everything with lamp oil and set it ablaze.

As Du Bellai stood back, so as not to breathe in the vapors and smoke, his young aide scampered away, leaving him alone. It no longer mattered, and the ambassador could hardly blame him. He wanted to run as well, but believed it would do no good. He had read the history of the first outbreaks. It was thought that the Sweat might have been brought to England at the end of the Wars of the Roses by the French mercenaries Henry VII used to gain the English throne. Those mercenaries had seemed immune to the disease. He wondered if, by some miracle, his nationality might also save him.

As the woman’s body was consumed, he considered whether he ought to set fire to the entire palace…

2.

London was in chaos. Tens of thousands lay dead from the outbreak of the Sweat. Anyone in the city who could afford to do so fled to the outlying towns, spreading the scourge even farther in the process. The first to flee—like rats leaving a sinking ship—were the royal family and its retainers. The common people were well aware that they had been abandoned to their fates. There was nothing new about this and they were resigned to it.

Those who had homes remained inside, appearing as necessary at their doors to thrust their dead into the streets, where they were picked up in carts by the lowliest workers in the city. Those who lived in the streets—and there were thousands of them—got drunk and roamed the cobbled byways in search of carnal pleasures to help while away their final hours. Despair was absolute. There was no treatment, no safe haven, no one to turn to for succor. The bodies piled ever higher.

A dozen miles outside the city, King Henry VIII sat in his tent in a farmer’s field next to a peaceful stream. Servants bustled about the clearing, raising more tents, building an enclosure for animals and posting guards to keep any of the sick or just plain curious, away. Henry’s wife Catherine had been out of the city when the great affliction broke out. Though he was king, his lot was cast with those who cared for him. He could not exist without the retainers he was so used to having around him. If any of them were already infected, then he would be too.

This included Anne Boleyn. It was a risk to be with her, for it was her chambermaid who had become ill. But Henry was infatuated by Anne. Nothing could keep them apart.

With uncommon foresight for one so young, Anne kept that fervor alive by refusing to submit to Henry until he divorced Catherine and agreed to marry her.

Now she sat beside him, stroking his forehead. “Do not fear, my Lord. The Sweat would not dare infect the King of England.”

“We know you are right, Anne. Still, we will stay here in the country until we hear that the danger is past.” He put his arms around her. “There is something else we have ordered.”

“My Lord?”

“It is a secret we wish to tell you—to show our love. Before the scourge fell upon us, we ordered a part of our treasures to be hidden. We have long believed this to be a worthy idea in the event of some terrible catastrophe as has recently visited our people. The city will soon be in riot, and there is no one to protect the king’s treasury.”

“Surely the people will be too sick to take advantage of such a situation—and they will fear your retribution.”

“That they should!” Henry’s fist pounded the arm of his chair. “But the safety of the royal fortune has long worried us. There are those in the court, foreigners and Frenchmen who would not hesitate to steal from us.”

She sighed. “I fear it may be true. But what can be done?”

He looked at her slyly. “We are not king for nothing, my lovely Anne. Only in recent weeks did our navy take possession of one of the richest Spanish galleons ever captured at sea. We have had this treasure hidden, along with other valuables from our personal collection. If the treasury is looted, there will be enough left to replenish our fortune.”

“What of the men who undertook this task for the king? In the chaos of the sickness, will they not seek to enrich themselves?”

“The men involved have been dealt with. And there is this to tell you, Anne. We intend to leave this treasure well and truly buried even after the pestilence passes, as a security for the realm.”

He pulled her close and whispered the location of the treasure. Her eyes gleamed at the confidence. She was privy to the most important secret of the realm. Placing her hands on Henry’s florid cheeks, she stared into his eyes. “You are a great king, Henry, and one day I will be your wife and have fine sons for you. Your people are fortunate to have a leader who looks to their future welfare.” She kissed him. “Pray, tell me, what does the future hold for me?”

“You have a beautiful head on your shoulders, Anne. It will have a roll all its own in the future of our country.”

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Genre – Thriller

Rating – PG

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Connect with Chris Angus on Facebook

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Tracy Sweeney – Hi, My Name is Tracy and I Read (A Lot of) Fan Fiction

Hi, My Name is Tracy and I Read (A Lot of) Fan Fiction

by Tracy Sweeney

Many years ago, before I had an adorable nephew who loves Jake and the Neverland Pirates and a gorgeous baby niece who I am going to just ruin, my sister and brother-in-law went to Mexico for a romantic getaway.   As soon as my sister landed back in the country, I got a frantic phone call from her.  No, she hadn’t lost her luggage and she didn’t need probiotics.  (Well, maybe she did.  That wasn’t why she called.)  She needed me to read a book.  About vampires.  Um, ok?  I hesitantly agreed to read it after I finished the rest of my grown-up-big-girl book for book club.  I wasn’t a big fan of young adult books so I was in no rush.

That was sadly the very last selection I read for my book club because once I picked up the story about vampires, everything changed and my life took a very, very strange turn.  It’s a turn that led me here, so it can’t be all that bad because you guys seem fun.

A lot of women share my story.  We tore through the first Twilight book, ran out immediately to get the second, almost died plowing through the third and for me, were lucky enough to finish the week the fourth installment was released.  I found myself reading all the time.  It was all-consuming.  And honestly, I needed my life back.  I decided that I would just power through the series until I was done and then some sense of order could be restored to my universe.  I couldn’t wait.

But finally, when I was done, I felt…empty.  Like, what now?  Was I really supposed to read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo after that?  I mean, I was fairly certain there were no sparkle vampires in Dragon Tattoo.  So instead, I took to Google.  I found fansites—places where I read about the filming of the movie, places where readers discussed whether they were Team this or Team that, places where they discussed Rob Pattinson’s hair.  (Yes, that’s very newsworthy, ok.)  But even Rob’s hair didn’t really fill that void.  Until I found something else—a place for other stories.

I had never heard of fan fiction prior to stumbling upon the Twilight fandom.  I didn’t even initially understand the concept.  There was an entire online community dedicated to writing stories using the names of the book characters but in most of the cases, they weren’t vampires or werewolves.  They were human.  And there were no Rated-PG-Fade-to-Black scenes like the Isle Esme fiasco in Breaking Dawn.  These versions of Edward weren’t as, well…gentlemanly.

I read voraciously—secretly on my phone twenty-four hours a day.  I slept with my BlackBerry under my pillow.  It was my dirty little secret.  It made the long hours at home alone with a three-year-old and a newborn baby that much easier.  I was tired and lonely and it was honestly my salvation because I’d swoon and blush and sigh and not feel like a mommy machine for just a little while.

I was astounded by the degree of talent that I discovered in these communities—women (and a few men) who wrote under pennames and crafted beautifully written (and often, awesomely racy) stories.   I was inspired by these writers (and not just by the racy parts).  The plots were solid and the stories were captivating—some utterly gut-wrenching.   It was these women (and a few men) who got me to finally put the ideas in my head onto the page.  For this, I’ll always be grateful.  Because it doesn’t matter what or who you’re writing about.  Your little story, as silly as it may be in your head, might be the inspiration for someone you’ll never meet.  Someone like me.  So it doesn’t matter where you’re writing.  Just write.

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Genre – Chick Lit

Rating – PG13

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Tracy Sweeney on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.tracysweeney.net/

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Contact by AFN Clarke

 

This new expanded edition of AFN Clarke’s bestselling and controversial book CONTACT is a raw, visceral, “no-holds-barred” account of combat from one of the men we paid to kill. When first published it caused a furor for its devastating honesty and chilling revelations.

Clarke vividly recounts his experiences of two tours in Northern Ireland (in Belfast and Crossmaglen) as a Platoon Commander with Britain’s elite Parachute Regiment during the blood soaked 1970′s. Soldiers from Iraq and Afghanistan comment on how relevant the book still is today, as the dangers, political agendas and religious roots underlying the conflict are eerily and heartbreakingly similar to their own more recent experiences.

Clarke takes us to heart of the action.  We feel what it’s like to live each day with senses on high alert, waiting to be ripped apart by the accuracy of a sniper or a well-hidden bomb.  We enter the private world of soldiers ordered to hold the lines in an ancient quarrel they have little affinity for, but whose consequences are deadly.  We experience their emotions, fear, courage, humor, bravado and the anguish of death.

This expanded edition continues from where the print version ended, revealing the untold nightmare Clarke lived through having nearly died, with half his insides missing, suffering from PTSD and being expected to return to a “normal life”.  A story of the scars of war that affect generations.  Of heartache, courage and hope for peace.

“I am an ex soldier who served in Northern Ireland during the Troubles and this is an excellent account of what it was like. I only wish we had an officer like Captain Clarke.” pm, 5 Stars Amazon UK“.. its honesty and passion cannot be denied .. Mr. Clarke has sent out a powerful and disturbing early warning signal.” Maurice Leitch, Daily Telegraph.

“..a major contribution to our understanding of war and how people act .. Contact is the work of a brave writer.” Kevin Toolis, Irish News.

“As a civilian it’s hard to imagine what’s it’s really like to be a soldier in combat but this book opened my eyes. I highly recommend it …” KTHuffy, 4 Stars Amazon USA.

CONTACT was reviewed by soldiers who served with Captain Clarke as verification of his recollections.  It was first published in the UK in 1983 by Martin Secker & Warburg, was serialized for 5 days in The Mirror and became an instant best seller. In 1984 it was published in paperback by PAN Books, by Schocken Books New York and made into an award-winning BBC TV film.  And in 2012 came the expanded ebook edition, which all these years later is still selling strong.  Readers outside the UK are invited to visit Amazon.co.uk for soldier’s reviews and comments.

AFN Clarke is a full-time author and writes fiction of various genre – fast-paced thrillers (An Unquiet American), poignant human drama (Dry Tortugas), humorous satire (The Book of Baker Series - Dreams from the Death Age; Armageddon; Genesis Revisited), psychological horror (Collisions); and the Thomas Gunn suspense series (The Orange Moon Affair) with more coming soon. Visit the Amazon Kindle Store or afnclarke.com for further information.

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Genre – Autobiography / Biography & Memoir

Rating – 18+

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Orangeberry Book of the Day – Magicstorm (Heart of a Vampire) by Amber Kallyn

Chapter One

Brandon Wulfgar sat stiffly on the icy metal chair. He took a hefty gulp of his drink--a mix of blood and whiskey--never glancing away from his twin brother. Eric lay in the bed, facing the stone wall of the dungeon room. He mumbled in his dreams, the quiet mutterings occasionally punctuated by short, guttural screams. Was he reliving the painful past they’d shared, or that of Eric’s own more recent tortures?

The room stank of cold sweat, permeated by fear and agony.

Brandon’s hands clenched and the mug cracked. It crashed to the floor, shattering.

He stared at the white shards of ceramic covered in crimson. The sight mirrored how he felt, unable to help his brother pick up the pieces and leave the darkness he’d descended into.

With a sigh, he stood and headed for the hall. His king’s new wife was going to be pissed he’d broken yet another cup. He snorted, the sound lacking any amusement. Dalia would just have to deal with it.

He opened the door, then stopped short.

Dalia stood in the hall, arms crossed, tapping her foot. Her short pink-streaked blonde hair settled around her pointed chin and her green eyes flared, vampire-red circling the irises. “Again?” she demanded.

It didn’t matter he dwarfed her with his six-foot-four height, nor that he was ten times stronger. All she had to do was shoot that look of hers and even the strongest of the vampire warriors living in the castle crumbled as if facing a disappointed mother.

Brandon merely shrugged. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Yeah, right.” Her gaze softened as she looked past him to Eric. “No change?”

“None.”

She straightened, rubbing her hands together. “Jordan wants to talk to you. I’ll sit with your brother. And I’ll clean up the poor cup. Again.” Shooting him an ironic look, she added, “We’re almost out of dishes.”

It wasn’t true, but she had a point. He’d gone through an awful lot of mugs lately. But it wasn’t on purpose.

As the older twin, albeit only by five minutes, he’d been raised to protect his brother. To fight the world, side-by-side. Yet he was failing miserably, unable to draw Eric from the cocoon of sleep where he’d escaped.

Dalia entered the dungeon room, and leaving the thick metal door open a bit, sat in the chair Brandon had vacated. She leaned back, hands folded in her lap and started humming. Her voice was soft and airy, a sound guaranteed to get soul-deep inside anyone listening and make them feel better.

As an Omega, she could calm people’s ragged emotions. More recently, with her magic growing, she no longer needed to look into their eyes to gain that connection. Her voice could suck anyone in when she tried.

Brandon’s shoulders tightened when her voice brought no reaction from Eric. It took most of his will to leave, but he forced himself to walk down the icy hallway, and upstairs to his king’s chamber.

Inside, Jordan reclined in a chair, facing the fireplace. The man held a glass of amber-colored liquid. A second full glass sat on the table beside him.

“Sit for a while,” Jordan stated, his Scottish brogue thicker than normal.

Brandon twitched at the tension in Jordan’s voice, and crossed the room to the waiting chair on the other side of the table.

“Any change with Eric?” Jordan lifted his drink and sipped, trying to act casual as he ran a hand through his short blond hair.

Taking his own glass, Brandon gulped it down. The smooth whiskey burned his throat, then settled warmly in his gut. “No.”

Jordan sighed, shifting to face Brandon fully.

Trepidation filled him. The man was normally direct.

“The ‘cult killings’ have started once more in the city,” Jordan said, his gaze dark with anger and confusion.

“But Connor killed the demon behind them just a few weeks ago,” Brandon protested.

“Aye. Yet, here we are.”

Brandon set his empty glass back on the table before he broke that one too. “So is Connor returning?”

“He’s busy with something else.”

“What? His refound family?”

“Nay. Something for the Magic Council.”

Considering the man was a Judge for the council, it shouldn’t be surprising. “So they’re not sending him back?”

“Not now.”

A sinking suspicion crawled into his gut. “Then who are you sending to investigate?”

Jordan just stared at him.

Jumping to his feet, Brandon paced to the fireplace. “I can’t go. Eric needs me--”

Jordan’s voice broke through his agitation. “Needs you? He hasn’t said two words in the last month. He doesn’t respond to anything we try.” He stood, arms behind his back, as Brandon paced. “Someone has to take care of the problem. If it’s another demon, you’re the only one I can send.”

Anger turned his stomach, bile burned up his chest. “I can’t leave my brother.”

Jordan’s voice cracked like steel. “You’ll tell me no?”

Stopping short, Brandon slowly swung around and met his king’s blazing red gaze. He’d never told Jordan “no,” since the man had rescued both him and Eric from living agony. But to leave his brother...

The tension in his shoulders ached. His chest tightened and he gave his king the only answer he could. “When do I leave?”

***

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Genre – Paranormal / Vampire Romance

Rating – PG

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Orangeberry Book of the Day - Tolomay’s World & The Pool of Light by ME Lorde

ChapTer One

“Peace of life,” said the chideman as he poured the blue water from the glass urn into the pool.  It was surreal.

“Peace of life.” My response was automatic.

My heart pounded.  For thirteen years I’d trained for this.  Still I was not ready.  The machine’s copper pipes gave off a warm smell that drifted to my nostrils as if precious biscuits were baking in the eating room.  The calming scent only made it worse.  I was leaving.

On display before every citizen in the community, my bare feet stepped the few inches further to the edge of the pool.  Fear haunted my mind.  Shivering from head to toe caused my short golden dress to tickle at the tops of my thighs.  I brushed away the itch.  Goose bumps peppered my arms and legs.  I was freezing.  For a moment, the massive musics and sounds on the stage overwhelmed me.  I was small in comparison to everything here, all present and to this wondrous event.  Through dazed thoughts, my focus returned and I remembered to count to three before placing my foot in the shallow liquid.

With eyes watering, my every heartbeat echoed in my ears.  Never again would my father’s eyes look upon me.  Never again would I feel his warm embrace.  I would so miss his gentle, loving voice.  How would I bear it?  I fought my great desire to turn and dart to him, or steal a look as he sat in his chair upon the stage.  Instead, I kept my step. 

There would not be another last goodbye.  We already said it, and he wanted just the one.  It would be my greatest honor to him to leave with the dignity, respect, and position he bestowed upon me, to act older than my meager thirteen years.  I had to be brave and pave the way for the others, as he had instructed.

The tears nearly choked me as I quietly sniffed them back.  I could scarcely see, but chose not to rub the wet away.  Everyone would notice.  More would only follow and my eyes would be closed soon enough.  The time had arrived.  This was no longer wholly my choice.  I was being led by my duty and so had to control my emotions for these last few seconds.

The immaculate stage held static, causing the miniscule hairs on my head to stand on end.  They reached toward the beautiful colored glass of the cathedral roof in the pod community’s grandest room, as if they too wanted to stay.  The urge to run, to escape, consumed me, yet I betrayed my heart, followed my learned directions, and kept my course.

No matter the logic and knowledge in my head, nothing had prepared me for this feeling of claws tearing me apart from the inside out.  I fought off the nausea.  I could not be ill, not in front of the community while representing my father.

The crystal and copper Pool of Light lay before the five of us, with solar panels running from floor to ceiling as the toner’s chorus continued to sing behind us.  The brilliant round majesty beneath my feet, only half a foot deep, held the key to our futures and to what would become the whole of humanity.  We were taking these steps for everyone.  Once we left, we could never return home.

Tarron had ordered that we space ourselves just two paces separated, one behind the next.  The four older candidates followed behind me, the taste of anticipation mingling with the hum of energy that filled the great room.  My mind whirled.

‘Keep walking forward… do not turn around’, father’s words echoed in my head.

I was horrified.  Chills took residence up and down my spine, causing me to shake further.  How would my days unfold without him by my side?  How could I leave him alone?  My heart was dying.

‘The coming light can blind, if you lose protection of your eyelids,’ he had warned.

Think only of your training and the swim, I reprimanded myself against my inert weakness. Focus.  You are leading the others.

I squeezed my eyes closed.

“Your eyes… don’t forget,” I choked out the words, reminding the four following me to keep their’s closed as well.

The desire to see where my feet landed was nearly more than I could endure as I took my next step.  Blindly, trembling as I’d never thought possible, I walked on until a humming of energy engulfed me.  Then a wall of water, warm and flowing, caressed my face and arms and legs until I was drenched in it.  It unnerved me.  I imagined my skin would feel this way if covered with a million tiny insects. That vision sent more shivers.  I rubbed away the feeling.  Fear controlled me.  I was holding my breath.

‘Do not forget to breathe, Tolomay’, I remembered father’s training. ‘Or you may lose consciousness.’

Barely able to manage my thoughts, I took back my air and continued forward.

A light penetrated the liquid as if they were one and the same.  Much too bright, even with closed eyes, it rained down upon my body as if it were the sun and had no limits.  The burning lasted only a moment and rid me of my chills.  Then I was struck hard in the back by a force that seemed more as power than matter.  It propelled me through the air so fast I almost opened my eyes, but instead fell into a somersault, ending in a stand as I had been trained. 

The grasses felt soft beneath my bare feet.  The air smelled completely different... fresh and clean.  Was it safe to look?  Sure that the diminished music meant safety, I slowly peeked to see what tickled my toes.  My feet rested on an unbelievable world of vegetation.  I turned my eyes upward.  Plant life flourished about me.  An insect landed on a bloom and dipped its head inside until completely hidden in the bright yellow flower.

With every cell overwhelmed, my delight leapt.  Miraculous science!  Holy green gravity, it was unbelievable.  We did it!  I accomplished what I trained my entire life to do!

Magnificent and abundant life surrounded me as far as I could see.  The sky was a magical light blue like the ancient’s paintings and pictures; the clouds were bright whites and grays.  It had all been true, or was I dreaming?

As hard as it was for my mind to accept my surroundings, I could no longer hold my tears.  Crying like a joyous newborn, I breathed in the pure nature of the heaven of the clean world.  Its power bore into my soul.  The energy of a long sturdy tree line reached toward me in the wind, welcoming my spirit to share in this wondrous space.  I looked to the trees highest branches.  They were much taller than I imagined.

This was real. Father’s machine worked!  We were here!

The much too-loud screech of the hole and noise of the water pouring into this world drowned out the distant sound of the toner’s chorus.  My heart shook with uncontrolled excitement.

“We made it!” I shouted over the machines deafening pitch, then turned to view the light point from which I had come.

‘But… where were the others?’

The water fell from midair, waiting for them.  As if in warning the sound turned to something altogether different.  First came the silence, and then an angry hiss.  Elation left me as the air around the running water shifted to a dingy gray.  Impending doom gripped my chest as Candra’s face peered through the wall of water.  She smiled in disbelief at the world she saw.  Why had the pool not spit her out?  Why did it hold her to itself?  Dread filled my belly even before I heard her shrill scream.

With half her body through, she hovered just ten feet away, her arms stretched toward me.  The look of astonishment fled from her face as she let out a sound more horrific than I’d ever heard.  Terrified, my mind blanked, body froze.  We had no training of this otherworldly power.  A moment later, Teresa was at her side, next Florentina, and finally Marva.  They did not clear the entryway either and instead, floated helplessly as the glorious and glowing blue water turned a dirty brown. 

The scent of a burned out candle permeated the air.  Candra’s skin was pulling light from the water into itself.  Every blood vessel seeped its treasure from her skin.  The others bled too.  Nearly instantly, they were painted in crimson.  No longer lit, the water turned as dark as an endless hole and the black backdrop taunted us.  Panicked, I barked the order.

“HURRY! MOVE! MOVE!” I screamed, but none of us obeyed.

Unable to aide them the slightest bit, I stood shocked at their suffering when a brilliant flash of light struck the portal.  Their shrieks filled me with horror as I watched them writhe frantically in the midair, black watery grave.  Like the dark liquid that hung motionless, the moment was frozen in time.  Candra stopped screaming.  She was gone.

No! No! No!

Mere seconds dragged like eternity as Teresa’s voice took on a high pitched squeal.  Her eyes nearly bulged from her head.  I viewed my team members disappear, sucked into nothingness as the Pool of Light made a sizzling sound.  Then it slammed shut with a thunderous clap.  The water disappeared and I stared at the now empty space in the beautiful green world, my face awash in tears.

What just happened?  Nothing could be real.  I lost them all, lost all who I’d known, those in my charge.  Finally, my feet led me running toward the closed light point.  I grasped frantically at the air before me.

“Come back!  Come back!” The words choked.  “Father, take me back!  I want to come home!” I sobbed. “Bring me home!  I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

I gave way to gravity and fell as a lost spirit to the trembling Earth. 

With my cheek against the cool earth, tears dried in the warm breeze.  The feeling haunted me.  Why had I not reached out to my team when they were in unfathomable pain?  I was the curer, the healer, yet stood idly by and watched them each die.  I’d failed my life’s purpose, to lead and keep safe and healthy all citizens in the new community.  Guilt annihilated my soul.   

“I’m so sorry,” I bawled as if they could hear a single word of it.

Crumpled into a ball, I wailed to the enormous trees, now wholly and utterly alone in this strange green world.

Why had I lived?

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Genre – Fantasy / Romance

Rating – NC17

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Blog http://michaelordeauthor.blogspot.com/

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