Fragrance of Violets by Paula Martin

My new contemporary romance, 'Fragrance of Violets’, is released today by Whiskey Creek Press as both e-book and paperback  http://bit.ly/AnU6qV  It will also be on Amazon and Fictionwise shortly.

The title comes from a quote by Mark Twain: Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.

The story, set mainly in England’s beautiful Lake District, is about two people who need to forgive each other and also deal with other issues in their lives.

Abbey Seton distrusts men, especially Jack Tremayne who destroyed their friendship when they were teenagers. Ten years later, they meet again. Can they put the past behind them?

Abbey has to forgive not only Jack, but also her father who deserted his family when she was young. Jack holds himself responsible for his fiancée’s death. He’s also hiding another secret which threatens the fragile resumption of his relationship with Abbey.

Will Abbey ever forgive him when she finds out the truth?

You can read the first chapter on the Whiskey Creek Press website, but here's an excerpt which hopefully will tempt you!

Abbey swung her car into the car park and pulled up beside the shop. After she’d unlocked the side door and switched on the light, she returned to the car and opened the boot.

She’d just lifted out the first box when a voice startled her.

“Want some help with that?”

She spun round in the direction of the voice. It was dark but she didn’t need to see him. Her mouth went dry and her hands tightened on the box.

“No, thanks, I can manage.”

Jack Tremayne stepped into the dim light cast by one of the car park lamps. As her eyes adjusted, Abbey caught her breath. His dark sweatshirt stretched across wide shoulders and broad chest, and mid-blue jeans encased his slim hips and long legs. No longer a teenage boy, but a man whose compelling figure exuded confident masculinity. Something deep inside her turned a double somersault.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Resentment at her involuntary reaction to him lent an extra sharp tone to her voice.

“Welcome to Rusthwaite,” he said with amused irony.

“You aren’t welcome here,” she retorted. “Not by me, not by anyone.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’m back, and I intend to stay.”

Shock ran through her like a cold shower. “You’re staying?”

“Why not? It’s my home.”

“The home you betrayed,” she said bitterly.

“That was eight years ago. People forget.”

As he took a few steps towards her car, the light spilling from the shop doorway illuminated his face. His blond hair seemed to have darkened to the colour of light sand and was brushed back instead of the tousled look she remembered. But several stray strands escaped over his broad forehead, and her glance took in his handsome features – the blue eyes, the high cheekbones, the well-defined jaw, the perfectly shaped mouth and the cleft above his chin.

A quiver rippled through her but she ignored it. “No, Jack,” she said, as calmly as she could. “This village hasn’t forgotten. People here won’t ever forgive you.”

“What about you?” His eyes challenged her, forced her to remember the night everything had gone wrong between them.

She returned his look with a defiant glare and tried to distance herself from the unwanted sensations inside her that threatened to destroy her composure. “I don’t think you and I have anything further to say to each other. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to unload this shop stock.”

“Are you sure I can’t help?”

“Absolutely sure.”

“Okay,” he said briefly as she turned away and took the box into the shop.

When she returned to the car, he’d gone. She stared through the darkness towards the main road, but he’d obviously walked quickly. There was no-one there.

She made herself concentrate on carrying the boxes into the storeroom and stacking them tidily, ready to be unpacked the next morning. But as she put down the last box, she realised she was shaking.

Meeting Jack Tremayne again had catapulted all her feelings into total disarray.

Guest blog: Bekki Lynn - 'Last Glass of Wine'

She reached up to fuss, and the stretch tightened her slacks, pronouncing the path to the place he wanted to thrust his hard cock into. She came down a step, and his eyes met hers in the mirror. For a few seconds she didn’t move and he didn’t speak. He realized it was the first time they’d seen one another since he’d followed her home. His eyebrows rose. He wondered if she was still pissed at him.

Lana stepped down onto the floor and came toward him. “Thank you.” She took the box from him and opened it.

He remained near the door, not trusting himself to be near her. It would be so easy to pull the door shut and ravish her. But he couldn’t. He’d be gone in ten days and didn’t want to deal with the attitude she’d give him.

“Is there anything else you need?” The lid on the box stopped in mid-removal as her eyes closed. “Lana.”
She set the lid aside and stared down at the carnations as she spoke to him. “I need the box of mini vases from the office.”

“What about the buffet table? Do you want it set up now or when you come back?”

“It can wait until I return. I want time to shower and change into a cocktail outfit.”

The look of regret on her face said she didn’t meant to give him the image of her naked, wet and hot, but he didn’t need help. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Tell me what you need done, and I’ll see it’s done. It’ll give you plenty of time to…a… get ready.”

“No, this is something I need to do myself.” She faced him with a red carnation in her hand. He’d always wondered what she’d look like in red. It was beautiful against her fair skin.

“I’ve known the Switzers all my life and have been doing their reunions since I turned twenty-one.”

Her voice softened, as it always did when she felt comfortable with a topic. To him, it only drew him closer. She lifted her face when he stopped in front of her.

“They’re very appreciative of the extra time I put in and tip over and above—”

“Lana, you’re rambling,” he whispered. Her eyes moved over his, and he balled his hands up. “There are reasons we can’t fool around.”

“Yes. I have work to do, and you need to get the vases for me.”

Before he consciously thought of the movement, he reached out and ran his finger along her jaw line and over her lips. “No. Yes, I’ll get them, but I don’t want you to get hurt—and you will.”

“I would have thought with two days off, you would have completely forgotten…what I’d said…did.” She turned away from him and laid the flower down on the table.

Forgotten how she felt in his arms—not hardly. “I’ll be back with the vases.”

“Thanks.”

It’d only taken a few minutes to walk back to get the box. When he returned to the banquet room, her ass stuck in the air as she bent to retrieve some greenery from the floor. “Damn it, Lana!”

Last Glass of Wine
ISBN 1-60601-050-9

Purchase Bekki's books at:
Smashwords, Kobo, Amazon, Lulu, Diesel, Sony, Barnes and Noble.

http://bekkilynn.net/
http://bekkilynnsplanet.blogspot.com/

Enjoy Contemporary Fiction? Looking for some Christmas Reading?

The covers featured here are from the authors on the Contemporary Fiction Network Blog.

Happy Christmas! Happy Reading!

From the authors of the Contemporary Fiction Network.

If you enjoy reading contemporary fiction and you are looking for some Christmas reading, take a look in the comments section of this blog post.

Contemporary authors - please feel free to post in the comments section of this blog post. Please add the following - title, author and brief blurb of any historical fiction, plus a single buy link, such as your web page. If any of your titles are under offers, please say so.

                                                       

Jenny Twist: Spellbound 2011

Spellbound 2011

Contributing to anthologies is both exciting and nerve-racking, since you have absolutely no idea who the other authors will be until the finished product appears. To my great relief, I have enjoyed the other stories in the anthologies to which I have contributed so far and found the other authors to be highly entertaining and full of enthusiasm for promoting the books.

The Spellbound lot are great fun and I have made some real friends amongst them.

The quality of writing is exceptionally high and one of the stories, Room 1309.5 by John Mecom, received honorable mention in the Fifth Annual Writer's Digest Popular Fiction Awards.

I must say I feel really proud to be in such company.

In my opinion, there isn't a single dud in the whole anthology.

I hope you agree.

Here is the blurb:

Spellbound at Midnight by Isabelle Kane & Audrey Tremaine
In the sultry Big Easy, Viole Godin is hired to restore Magnolia Place, an antebellum mansion which is crumbling under a mysterious curse. Marie Verret and her dangerously attractive grandson, Lucien, believe Viole is the key to ending the curse one magical Halloween night.

Room 1309.5 by John M. Mecom
Inspired by the works of Poe and Stephen King, Room 1309.5 is a story of revenge and despair. It is the author's first story to be published and received honorable mention in the Fifth Annual Writer's Digest Popular Fiction Awards.

Mansion of Nightmares by Walt Trizna
A mysterious mansion, long abandoned, harbors a past that claims those who enter. Then one day, by a stroke of luck, an intruder survives and uncovers its secret.

Ghost Taxi by Joanna Foreman
A man drowns heading for freedom in America, but his ghost is trapped. Washed up on the beach, the ghost is an illegal alien, not allowed to cross the street into Miami. A homeless man and a vacationing tourist search for his wife so the ghost can possess her.

Uncle Vernon by Jenny Twist
There's something very peculiar about Uncle Vernon. Nobody knows what he does in the cellar. But he's quite harmless, really. Isn't he?

Half Seen, Half Hidden by John Steiner
Nine dead. One missing. No suspects and no leads. What happened in the cabin outside Wilson Wyoming? Where and who is Mason Oliver? Deep within ourselves rests a greater mystery. Half Seen, Half Hidden traces the last three days of Mason Oliver and nine hitchhikers. Offering them shelter, Mason takes them to a secluded cabin. There they all sense the others aren't quite the strangers they seemed, and that they hold something extraordinary in common.

Telltale Signs by Tori L Ridgewood
Don't stay in the Dark Lake Museum after sunset! But Kate Elliot has a deadline to meet. Working overtime, she realizes she's not alone in the creepy old mansion...

The Origin of Fear by Tara Fox Hall
Four college friends mount an expedition to Latham's Landing-an abandoned island estate infamous for mysterious deaths-to gather pictures and inspiration for a thesis on the origin of fear.

And here is an excerpt from my own contribution.

Excerpt from Uncle Vernon – Jenny Twist

She reached the ground floor without further incident and was just reaching for the handle on the back door, when she realised there was someone in the kitchen. She could hear singing – Janice, singing along with the radio. Damn! She didn’t think she could let herself out the back way without being seen from the kitchen window. She was still trying to work out a way round this when suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and she gave a small shriek of surprise and turned round.

Standing in the passage was an enormously tall, incredibly thin man. His face was so pale it was almost translucent. His hair was completely white and swept back from his forehead in a perfect Dracula’s widow’s peak He was dressed entirely in black, the collar of his coat turned up like Dracula’s cloak. And his eyes were staring and colourless in the dim light of the passage.

She screamed a full-blooded, heroine in a horror film scream. And the man put up his hands as if to fend her off. Long, thin, incredibly white hands with long, thin fingers.

She screamed again and was just taking a breath to scream a third time, when the kitchen door opened and Janice said, “It’s all right. It’s only Uncle Vernon.”

Alison flung herself, sobbing, into Janice’s arms and looked back into the passage way. The man had disappeared! How? There was nowhere for him to go. At that moment Gary came clattering down the stairs.

“What the fuck?”...

“Gary!” Janice said. “Watch your language! It’s only Uncle Vernon.”

http://www.melange-books.com/authors/anthologies/Spellbound2011.html

For more excerpts and other stuff, go to my website.

https://sites.google.com/site/jennytwistauthor/

Thank you so much for sharing my visit and thank you, Contemporary Fiction, for giving me the opportunity. I really appreciate it.

Jenny Twist

Guest post. Lysandra Press, a new romance and women's fiction publisher

I’m excited but nervous about the launch of our new website http://www.lysandrapress.com/ today but after a year in development working closely with our authors, I am feeling pretty confident that we have a smashing website and some excellent titles – hopefully something for everyone. - Ruth Little

Here is a taste of what’s on offer:

Fiona Dalrymple is shocked to learn on the death of her grandmother that Doreen Dalrymple was not her grandmother at all. Her real grandmother, her grandfather's first wife, Ellie Marsden is still alive and when Fiona meets up with her, Ellie has a further shock for Fiona. She also has a brother. What is more Tim has disappeared and Fiona is charged with the task of finding him.

Pippa Cavendish is blonde and beautiful and no one's idea of a conventional nanny, but Lilly Fontaine loves her. Marc Fontaine her father suspects Pippa is not all she appears to be and he is right. Pippa is harbouring a secret, one she is determined to keep hidden at all costs.

Behind manicured lawns and bourgeoning gardens, the apartment building is much like any other in the community. The contrast of its aging structure and decorative foyer reflect the charm of Springfield Place – its elegant lobby prominent; its deteriorating corners hidden from view. Home to an intriguing array of characters who pass in elevators and along pathways, its residents – secrets intact – exchange vague greetings, then continue on their journeys. Some find the casual acknowledgement enough. For others, chance encounters and their pleasantries offer salvation.

Stop for a moment at Springfield Place. Share a glimpse within its walls.

Widow of a professional yachtsman, Cassie Lewis is busy running the family boatyard in Devon. When catastrophe strikes, Cassie has to accept she can’t change the inevitable.

‘If you refuse and leave, you will have thrown away your son’s inheritance.’ With those words Nicola is blackmailed by Henri her ex-father-in-law, into moving to France with Oliver her young son.

Wildlife expert Susannah Stevens has landed the perfect job at a hotel on the coast of Kenya. But the last person she expects to be working for is Greg Fairchild, the man who deceived her years ago and who believes she’s just a gold-digger. With the future of the hotel at stake, they agree to work together. But can they put past feelings behind them?

Young widow Val Baker restores musical instruments, but fears her relationship with her Greek-Italian family on Corfu is broken beyond repair. Returning to the island to work on a rare piano belonging to her Greek friend Alexia, she finds her dreams haunted by memories of Hilary; a young English girl raped and murdered ten years before. Val determines to uncover the truth about the case, and set to rest her own doubts about the involvement of her father, Yiannis, and half-brother, Markos, both policemen who were involved in the original investigation. Joined by her friend Harry, Val begins to unravel the threads. When two strange tokens arrive, one for Alexia's daughter Chloe and one for Val, it becomes clear that Hilary's unknown killer is on Val's trail. Her search for the truth becomes a race for life.


I hope to keep you posted on twitter of our progress. In the meantime, if you are a new author, or an established writer who would like any of your printed books to reach a wider audience through epublishing, we would love to hear from you - submissions@lysandrapress.com .

Being Detained at Her Majesty's Pleasure...

Being a Brit, I tend to base my stories in England. This time, With Silver Lining released today by SirenBookStrand, in the spirit of international relations, I've added a hunky American investigative journalist as hero!

Lauren Miller, jailed for embezzlement, survives her sentence by plotting revenge against the man who put her there. Once released, she’s content to bide her time—until a contact is murdered and she becomes the prime suspect.

Nate Black, an American journalist, offers to help Lauren clear her name by trapping the mastermind behind her crimes in a daring sting operation. Thrown together, Lauren and Nate are drawn toward one another and make passionate love. But still, a vital question remains unanswered, driving a wedge between them.

What happened to the money she stole…

Here’s how Lauren reacts to her first sight of Nate.

As she approached the shack, she saw a strange man sitting on her doorstep, reading a book like he had every right in the world to be there. She slowed her pace, her heart hammering in her ears, and did a quick mental revision of the rules. Which one had she infringed this time? Being incarcerated at Her Majesty’s pleasure did that to a person.

Then the anger kicked in. She was free to do as she bloody well pleased, and having strangers foisted upon her did not please her one little bit.

“Who the hell are you,” she demanded belligerently, “and what are you doing on my property?”

The man stood up. He was tall, probably over six foot and well put together with thick brown hair falling across his face, a half-day’s growth of stubble on his chin and intelligent grey eyes. The sort of man a woman would look at twice. Well, any woman except Lauren, perhaps.

“Hi there,” he said, speaking in a soft American drawl. “You must be Lauren.”

Lauren froze. How had an American fetched up in her isolated spot in the forest, and more to the point, how did he know who she was? 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but my name’s Louise,” she said shortly, playing for time whilst she tried to decide what to do.

“Hi, I’m Nate Black.” He took a step toward her and held out his hand, but she ignored it.

“Don’t come any closer.” She could hear the panic in her own voice. He obviously could, too, because he backed off, palms spread outward in a non-hostile gesture. “Right now, just get out of here before I set my dog on you.” Kermit obligingly growled but didn’t move from Lauren’s side.

“Hey, I don’t wanna bother you. I just hoped that we could have a chat. I tried to come and see you inside, but you wouldn’t send me a V.O.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But Lauren could see that she wasn’t fooling him. This guy knew who she was, and she instinctively trusted him. But then she’d instinctively trusted a man before, and look where that had landed her. When it came to men, her instincts weren’t worth diddly-squat. She needed to shut herself away in the shack until this particular one got fed up with being blanked and legged it. Unfortunately, it didn’t look as though it was going to happen any time soon since he was still blocking her path to the door. “Just leave me alone, okay,” she said, trying to sidestep him.

“Look, I’m an investigative journalist, writing a book about miscarriages of justice, and I’d like to talk to you about what happened to you.”

It was pointless continuing to deny her identity, but that didn’t mean she had to talk to him. “There was no miscarriage of justice in my case. I was guilty. I’ve served my time,” she said, thinking that sounded like a line from a bad movie and, against all the odds, feeling a wild giggle building inside her. “I just want to be left alone.”

“I think there was more to it than that.” He smiled at her, and for the first time, Lauren actually considered talking to him. There was just something about him. Something in his expression that made her think he might understand what she’d been through. But no! She had nothing to say to him and made a fresh attempt to reach her door. Once again he blocked her path. “Part of my book will concentrate on women who commit crimes that are out of character, and the forces in their lives that compelled them to do it.”

Lauren stared at him. “Got your insurance up to date, have you?”

He blinked. “Sorry, I’m not with you.”

“Unsubstantiated written allegations are known as libel in the legal world, in case you didn’t know it, and people tend to get sued for that sort of thing.”

“They told me you were smart.”

“Don’t patronise me.”

“Hey, that’s not what I’m doing.” He smiled in an infuriatingly lazy manner that she found strangely disquieting. “And I don’t intend to publish anything that’s libellous. The book’s been commissioned by one of the big American publishing houses, and their legal team will make sure I don’t get carried away and cross that particular line. But, about your situation, you can’t substantiate your allegations about Williams on your own, but perhaps together we could—”  

“How did you know I made any allegations about him?” she asked, her suspicions on high alert. “It was never made public.”

“I’m an investigative journalist,” he said, flashing a set of perfect white teeth, his air of total confidence almost, but not quite, compelling, “and I have sources you can only dream about.”  

“This might upset your delicate male ego, but I really don’t give a damn.”

“You can’t fight powerful institutions on your own, Lauren,” he said. “But with the might of the press behind you, anything’s possible.”

“Just go away,” she said wearily, aware that she’d already said more than she’d intended to.

“Come on, Lauren, what have you got to lose by just chatting to me? I promise I won’t use anything you say without your prior knowledge and consent.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “And when a man gives me his word, that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“He really hurt you, didn’t he?”

The compassion in Nate’s eyes almost floored her. She could cope with just about anything life threw at her, expect sympathy.

“Just leave me alone.”

“If it’s any consolation, I know what you’re going through. My mom was thrown in jail back in the States for something she didn’t do. That’s why I gave up my column on the Sunday Inquirer to go and help her out.”

Lauren nodded without realizing she was doing so. She thought he looked vaguely familiar, and now she understood why. He’d written a popular column in the Inquirer for some years, doing exposés on the rich and famous, his picture accompanying his byline. “Did you get her off?” she asked, regretting showing any interest as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Yeah, eventually. The police thought she was an easy target so didn’t bother to look any further.” He paused to cock one eyebrow. “Sound familiar, does it?”

“Just go away and don’t come back. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

Pop across to my website at http://www.wendysoliman.com where you can read the entire first chapter of Silver Lining.

Silver Lining by Wendy Soliman Available now from SirenBookStrand discounted until November 29^th to $4.49

Wendy

Veterinarian by Day...Author Every Chance I Get!

It's true. I really am a veterinarian. I graduated from Michigan State University in 1993 and have been with the same group of veterinary hospitals ever since.  Of course I started out in my home state of Michigan and somehow ended up in usually sunny California.  How I got here is another story.  Today I thought I would give you a little bit more insight in the writer/dreamer Tammy.

As far back as I can remember, I have been writing.  At first it was just in my diary. Then as I got older I kept a journal and still do, but it's not always what I grab when the bug strikes.  I have little notebooks just about every where now, just like I had when I was younger.  My mother loves to remind me that I had an overactive imagination as a child, talking to all sorts of imaginary friends when I played in my room.  Little did she know, that was the beginning of my characters speaking to me.  I came up with elaborate tales to entertain myself then, and still do.  Now I get to share them with anyone who will take the time to listen.

When I look back through the many works in progress and the notebooks filled with ideas, I can pretty much say that I write contemporary fiction across several genres, but right now I am concentrating on erotic romance.  I have a few suspense and espionage stories rolling around in my storage bins, some more mainstream romances nearly completed, tons of poetry, and some sci-fi/fantasy/paranormal thrown in for good measure.  I hope to bring all of these out to revisit and hell, maybe submit them to a publisher or two for consideration.  Why not?  I've already crossed the first hurdle.  I can already call myself a published author!  Whoohoo!

I like the freedom writing gives to me.  I can invent whole new worlds, people, animals, and languages.  I can work through emotional baggage and come to conclusions that can surprise me still to this day.  People think that is funny.  As authors, we write the story and know what's going to happen, right?  Not hardly. Until that scene or chapter is done,  I don't always know what will happen.  Sometimes what I plotted out ends up not flowing well and I scrap it.  Don't you wish you could do that in real life?

Writing my poetry has helped me work through and express a lot of emotions running through me at any given time.  So much has happened in my life over the last few years and it's make for great material for my current Now and Forever series with Siren Bookstrand.

                                                         For The Love of Quinn on Siren

My personal tastes in reading materials is all over the place. I love to read just about anything by Stephen King.  That kind of horror writing is very enticing to me.  I get lost in the story and get scared at all the right points, and a few others that take me by surprise.  I think I like that adrenaline rush that hits me with those books.  My favorite was his Dark Towers series.  I enjoyed how he tied in several of his other titles in those story lines and even brought himself into the story.  Currently I am reading the third book in George R. R. Martin's series A Song of Ice and Fire.  Game of Thrones is the first in this series and so far, Mr. Martin has me turning the pages as fast as I can to find out what happens to everyone.

Nora Roberts is another favorite author of mine.  Her MacGregor Family Chronicles had me begging for more and gave me the inspiration to make Now and Forever a series that keeps most of the original characters so the reader can follow them all and watch them fall in love and find their happily ever afters.  Michael Shaarer and later his son Jeffrey grabbed my attention when their works depicting the battles during the Civil War.  Killer Angels was made into a fantastic movie called Gettysburg.  Watching that movie was like reading the book all over again.  John Jakes was my first introduction into these type of "historical fiction" books.  The entire American series starting with The Bastard followed an entire family through the generations and I learned a lot of my country's history reading those.  They were wonderful!  I may just have to reread those again.

My very first published novel, For the Love of Quinn, is available through Siren Bookstrand, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Mobipocket.com.  The print version will be released in January and I can hardly wait.  I love my Kindle, but there is something about holding that actual printed book in my hands that has my stomach all fluttery. Writing this book has been a labor of love and gut wrenching at the same time.  The heroine, Quinn, is a large part of me.  Well, she's at least a fantasy me.  Through her story, I was able to exorcise some demons and get through some very rough patches in my life.  Writing this series has been so cathartic.  I have learned a lot about myself and have finally found my happily ever after.

At this very moment, I am working on the second and third books in this series.  Book two is called My Love, My Friend and book three is called Burning Heart.  Readers will be introduced to more of Quinn's extended family and exactly who ends up with who just may surprise some people!
I"m also working on a menage fantasy series under another pen name, Lia Michaels.  The idea for this series came after I wrote the poem The Vixen, The Witch and The Daemon. Several characters came to life in my head after that poem was written.  Now to get them all on paper!

When I am not writing or saving the lives of my furry patients, I enjoy a lot of different crafts including knitting and crochet.  I would be content to spend an entire day in my kitchen cooking and baking when the mood strikes and around the holidays, it strikes often.  Of course my staff at the veterinary hospital gets to benefit from all of the leftovers, but not one of them is complaining!

Stop by and see me sometime!
Behind Closed Doors (main webpage/blog with the extra steamy stuff and my poetry)
Not Enough Time in the Day (adult blog with less steam, but all the passion)
Facebook Author Fan Page