Wings & Things with Guest Blogger: Dina Rae

 Welcome back author Dina Rae 

to the Book Boost!

She's here to discuss ancient religions and here's what she had to say...

In my recent novel, Halo of the Damned, I used research about the ancient Yezidi religion (spellings vary).  The Yezidis originated from northern Iraq.  The religion spread throughout the Kurdish community, eventually making its way into Europe.

Yezidis worship angels, especially Malak Tawas (spellings vary).  The peacock symbolizes this angel who many believe to be Satan.  Malak’s story in the Koran matches the same stories in the Bible and Old Testament about a rebellious angel who wages war with a third of all of God’s angels against God and the remainder of angels in Heaven.  Once defeated, God sends all of them to Hell.

Yezidis believe God created Malak first, before all other angels, in His image, therefore he is also God.  They also believe the world was first created as a pearl.  Their holy books are Black Book and Book of Revelation.  Their afterlife ideas are vague, but lean towards reincarnation.  I found the religion fascinating and used it as part of the plot.

A Note from the Book Boost:  Thanks for joining us today, Dina.  I'm doing an angel book right now and really enjoying it.  Your research sounds fascinating!  Please tell us more about your book.

Blurb:

A chain of advertising agencies, a new breed of humans, and a fallen angel to worship…

Andel Talistokov is known for his slick advertising agencies across the globe. He is a fallen angel that uses advertising as a weapon for Satan's work. His growing power emboldens him to break several of Hell’s Commandments. Furious with his arrogance, Satan commands him to return to Hell after finding his own replacement.

Yezidism, an ancient angel worshiping religion, quietly expands throughout the West. Armaros appears as a guest of honor during their ceremonies. He mates with young women to produce nephilim, a mixed race of humans and angels. They are alone and unprepared for their supernatural power.

Joanna Easterhouse, a recovering drug addict, steps out of prison shortly after her mother's fatal accident. She and her sister, Kim, unravel their mother's secretive past. Intrigued, they learn their bloodline is part of a celestial legacy. Both worlds collide. Halo of the Damned is a horrifying tale that weaves research together with suspenseful twists and turns.


Excerpt:

As Andel waited for his servant and slave, Marcus, to come and clean up his sinister mess, he noticed blood all over his Armani suit. He licked the sides of his face, still savoring the taste. The Turkish rug that lay under his daughter’s corpse was also ruined.

Unlike the suit, the rug was irreplaceable. He remembered when an Iman had given it to him hundreds of years ago. It was priceless, and now he had to part with it.

He looked at the decapitated, beautiful head one last time and remembered what a true bitch she turned out to be. 

His intercom buzzed. “Come into my office,” he hissed, as he remotely let Marcus inside.

“You called, Master?” he obediently asked, as he stepped into his office, looking at the floor. He zeroed in on the remnants of the cadaver. Pieces of flesh, bone, and organs were chewed up and stringy. This was not the first time he had cleaned up Andel’s mess.

“May I ask what she did that brought your wrath upon her?”

“I’m downsizing,” Andel smirked.  

Want More Dina?

Visit her on the web here:  www.dinarae.co

Follow her blog here:  www.dinaraeswritestuff.blogspot.com

Pick up a copy of her book today!  Click here.

Paranormal Prowess with Guest Blogger: Linda Hays-Gibbs

Win a copy of My Angel, My Light As Darkness Falls and welcome author Linda Hays-Gibbs to the Book Boost!

She's here to discuss the battle between vampires and werewolves when it comes to romance and here's what she had to say...

Vampires are something we think of as sexual creatures.  Who doesn’t like their neck sucked on, just a little bit.  It seems that is much more erotic and enticing than having to wade through all that hair that can be on a dog, or a werewolf. Oh, I am not knocking a werewolf all that much just wondering how you can get excited about someone that can eat you whole, literally.

Vampires suck a little blood, maybe a little too much sometimes but if you are a beautiful lady you have the chance of becoming his all time favorite. Of course, you could get a little sick of him after the first three or four hundred years.  I know I think a little variety is essential, but if he were devastatingly handsome, maybe the attachment would last longer.

You have the problem of him being cold though, as opposed to a nice warm hairy wolf to keep your bed warm, but think girls when you have to look at him.

Is he changing to his hairy form or is he a handsome toothy sort?  Even wolves have some toothy problems with which to contend.  There are few loves that don’t have problems but my vote is for the tall toothy guy with the cold hands.

I get a little giggly just thinking about cold hands and long teeth.  You really have to be there, I guess.  Most girls want someone to stay in their beds to keep them warm but few get them to stay at all.   Werewolves hunt all night long.

A vampire has his hunt over with in a matter of minutes and comes right back to his ladylove, at least from what I’ve been told.  I could not possible be more inclined to a vampire.

Just think of the stories of vampires as opposed to werewolves.  Vampires always have a love, some woman they want or maybe even two or three but he is a very sexual fellow.  Now, think about werewolves, they are supposed to mate for life as wolves but are any of the stories about his ladylove?  No, they are all about him.

You also get the picture that making love to a vampire is the best sex ever.  Of course, I only have been told but it is supposed to be super duper.  I really think there is no comparison as writers we have to take the road of the vampire.  He is erotic, sexual, mysterious, and charming. He has super strength and he can shape shift, if necessary into bats and smoke, etc...

He has a way to hypnotize women with his gaze.  Vampires can do without humans and go to the local blood bank or use animals in the forest.  They have metamorphic creature skills that we can give all kinds of endearing traits or make more horrific tales.  Sometimes, he is a count or we can make him an angel, or an advertising agent as in Halo of the Damned by Dina Rae, or a victim of another vampire that inspires our motherly instincts.  Well, maybe not our motherly instincts but we definitely want to smother him with kisses if he will just bite our necks and make passionate love to us.  Isn’t that true?

In my book, My Angel, My Light As Darkness Falls I have him lost and alone but clinging to his lady.  Pru’s love is the only thing that matters to him all through my story.  He is smitten and can’t help himself.  That is a vampire’s fate.

In other words, there is no contest when it is between vampires and werewolves because vampires are the kinkiest and the most erotic creatures not alive.  I cannot begin to extol all the properties, or tendencies they possess, or the multiple qualities yet to be extolled on these creatures for our dreams, or for our nightmares, but definitely in our books.

A Note from the Book Boost:  Thanks for joining us today.  Interesting comparisons, Linda.  I can definitely tell which creature you crave!  I'm torn between the two.  I guess it depends on the character.  I do love vampires but the Alcide character on True Blood is yummy goodness--wolf or not!  Please tell us more about your latest.  

Blurb:

At the mercy of the darkness which terrifies her, Pru is alone except for 40,000 dead bodies. She starts screaming with no hope as the black starts to consume her. Suddenly warm strong arms embrace her and she is sheltered from the horror all around. She sleeps until the arms leave her once again alone in the dark and her screaming starts again.

Luckily the dawn is coming and she has not lost her mind entirely before the first burst of light softens the dark. Then the horrors must leave as the day chases them away.


Excerpt:

He started down the stairs and heard a moan coming from Pru’s room.  He could not help himself; he was inside her room in a second.  She was having a fitful dream and he felt some presence in her room.  He looked around for this cursed man she wanted but did not see him, but there was something…what was it…then he saw it a darkness hovering over her.

"In God’s name what are you? I adjure you in the name of all that is holy; stop what you are doing!  You cannot have Pru!  If you must have something or someone, take me!”

Want More Linda?

Visit her on the web here:  www.lindahaysgibbs.pbworks.com

Follow her blog here:  www.lindahaysgibbs.blogspot.com

Pick up your copy today!  Click here.

 


Contest Time:

Leave a question or comment for Linda and be entered to win a copy of My Angel, My Light As Darkness Falls.



**Winners for Book Boost prizes are drawn the first week of the following month and posted in the Recent Winners box in the right hand side of the blog. Check back to see if you are a winner and to claim your prize! Please leave your contact information in your blog post!**

Fiction Therapy with Guest Blogger: Tony Thorne

Welcome author Tony Thorne 

to the Book Boost today!

He's here to chat about writing fiction as a means of therapy and here's what he had to say...

     
Fiction writing to many non-professional enthusiasts is a hobby, and mostly unpaid labor. That thought brings me to the art of writing Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror fiction.  To genre editors nowadays, it must seem there are more writers around than readers. Perhaps the art is becoming a form of therapy that doesn't pay, and is mostly indulged in by amateurs.

Perhaps it's a way to express and analyze one's feelings about the world, and where it's heading, and one’s place in it. In some countries they beat their wives--or anyone handy. That's a cheaper therapy but frowned upon in more enlightened societies. Years ago, to become your own psychiatrist, all you needed was pencil and paper; but nowadays, your laptop is more convenient. Anywhere can become a couch and writing is more socially acceptable than talking to yourself.

I  had some initial success as a budding Science Fiction writer but then spent thirty five years as a design engineer and business executive.  I spent those years developing  product lines, setting up outlets, crumpling the competition, getting the best out of my staff, listening to their problems, and solving them, even my own when I could. The nearer I got to the top of the tree, the more I longed to throw away my collection of emotion-screening masks, insult all the customers, turn my order book in for an axe and hack away at the plastic feet of all the false idols I seemed to be worshiping.

I resented the rat-race, the never-ending battle just to stay level, let alone to advance, and I was filled with remorse at the neglect of my home-life and family. My conscience began to refuse to believe my contrived excuses and justification for what I was doing.

Then one day I threw it all in and went to work for myself.  Not as a writer of fiction but as a computer programmer, specializing in developing software to generate business programs.  With no more international traveling I had more time to start writing fiction again. The day came when my first acceptance arrived. I knew I was progressing when, on re-reading the item, I found I was dissatisfied with it. The magazine printed it in its last ever issue, but it did pay me.

More of the smaller magazines and genre websites began to take my work. I’ve published several collections, appeared in many anthologies, won a few competitions, and my first novel will be published by Eternal Press later this year.

To conclude this concept of therapy, I believe I have discovered there can be contentment in researching the limits of one's abilities, without reaching them. Perhaps the trick is to get almost as far as you believe you can, and stop just before that.

A Note from the Book Boost:  Thanks for joining us today, Tony.  How wonderful that you finally pursued your writing dreams.  Please tell us more about your latest.

Blurb:

A collection of speculative tales to chill and entertain readers of all ages. Consider the cell phone... Do you carry yours everywhere you go? Might you even take it to the grave with you, to be able to warn your wife...? How about the hazards of radiation therapy? How might a hacker go about eliminating a rival..? Would you care to undertake an unusual surgical operation for free, to solve your weight problem..? What might a couple of medical con-men do with a time machine, if they had one... or not.  None of these tales could really happen.. could they..?
 

Excerpt:

I took a deep breath and gingerly picked up the little figure. It was heavy and slightly warm. Then I noticed something strange about its tattooed face. Its grinning lips seemed to be sewn together. The stitches looked real, made from what looked like a shiny green metallic thread, embedded in the material from which the idol was molded. Something about their sinister appearance made me shudder. I hastily put the idol back down on my desk again.

After that I wrote a few letters, glancing at the idol occasionally to see if it had again changed shape. It hadn't and it didn't so, eventually when I'd finished writing, I decided to leave it on my desk and turn in for the night. My bedroom adjoins the living room and I left the door open as usual.

Some time later, it must have been well after midnight, something disturbed me. Raising myself up slightly I could see through the door into the other room. A half moon was shining through the main window in the living room and I could clearly see my desk, which looked the same as usual. Then I realized that the idol was not where I was sure I’d definitely left it. It was certainly not now on the desk. I sat upright with a start and looked around the bedroom. Everything looked normal, until I glanced sideways and saw what I'd dreaded to see. There it was, propped close against my pillow, leaning forward slightly and grinning directly at me, with its arms folded. It didn't move, but I certainly did.

I leapt out of bed on the other side and switched on the twin bedside lamps. The eyes of the idol began to glow and for several long moments we just stared at each other. Then I moistened my lips nervously and croaked. "What do you want with me?" 

The idol seemed to grin even wider. Then, to my horror, it slowly unfolded its right arm and raised it to point directly at me. Totally unnerved, I collapsed into my bedside chair with my heart pounding. I stayed there for quite some time, my eyes fixed on the idol, which still had its arm raised, pointing towards me.

Want More Tony?

Visit him on the web here:  www.tonythorne.com

Pick up a copy of his book today!  Click here.

A Foray into Cliches with Guest Blogger: Linda Armstrong Miller

Meet Christian fiction author 

Linda Armstrong-Miller 

today at the Book Boost!

She's here to chat about clichés and here's what she had to say...

Sam used to call her when he was on a stakeout to tell her how much he loved and missed her. Before hanging up, she would tell him she was settling in for a long winter’s nap. During Sam’s last stakeout, Sally was pregnant; hearing her use that phrase helped to put him at ease.

What codes do you and your loved ones use to make sure all is well when you can’t exactly talk? I bet it’s a cliché.

OR

After his shower, he placed a Band-Aid on his elbow then settled on his bed for “a long winter’s nap.” Sam smiled. Sally loved Christmas. So much so, she would use that line from time to time as a sign that all was well with her.

Does your significant other have a saying that he or she can whisper in your ear or say out loud even that only you know what is being said? Is it a cliché?

OR

It meant her odds of getting out of there had increased, even if only a little. Now that Lisa’s hands were free, she knew she needed to find a way to activate her tracer without bringing everyone in the building down on her. It was an easy enough task. But to turn it on, she had to give up playing possum.

Whether you are a kid or an adult, I know you, at some time, have played possum.

OR

“No.” She tried to frown and shake her head. Acting wasn’t one of her strong suits. Playing dumb was something she had even less experience with, but it seemed she was convincing them. “Somfhin for pain?”

When you are being questioned about something that went wrong at work or if your parents are asking you how the cake got cut before dinner do you play dumb and ask “what are you talking about. Or was I even there or something to that effect? That’s called playing dumb and we have all done it.

All of those examples are clichés and they can all be found in Betrayal and Forgiveness. I use clichés in all my writings but I don’t go around talking in clichés. I find that there is a time when speaking in code is sexy or can be used to make a person have peace of mind or shock them into motion; the list goes on. The paragraphs above are just a few reasons and examples of how I use clichés.

We all can remember a clichés that made the news that faithful day of 9/11. “Let’s roll.” Those are the last words that wife will ever hear her husband say but those words gave her strength. Those powerful words told her that he was not going to go down without a fight. Those words can make her smile or maybe they make her cry; whatever emotion they invoke reminds her of her husband’s minutes on earth. That cliché served its purpose from him to her.

That’s the role of clichés. I don’t think we should avoid clichés for fear people will think we don’t have much to say. I don’t believe that is true. I think proper use of a good clichés can take your story far.

A Note from the Book Boost:  This is an interesting topic, Linda.  Most publishers and editors hate cliches and they are typically not permitted in most fiction.  But, I really like them.  Wish they weren't so looked down upon in writing as a general rule.  I'm from the south and we do talk in cliches around here...guess it is just a matter of personality.  Thanks for joining us.  Please tell us more about your latest.

Blurb:

In the Bible, the Lord asked that we not make promises unless we are sure that we can keep them.

Lisa made a promise and has done everything in her power to keep that promise. a lesson her father needed to learn. Before he was able to practice keeping his promise, he lost the love of his daughter, his best friend, and he was about to lose the love of his son.

Time was running out for all of them, but they didn't know it.

Want More Linda?

Visit her on the web here:

http://lindaarmstrongmiller-ivil.tripod.com/

Pick up a copy of her latest.  Click here.

Time for a Sequel, ye say? With Guest Blogger: Marilyn Morris

Welcome author Marilyn Morris 

to the Book Boost today!

She's here to chat about sequels and here's what she had to say...

I should know better by now.  As I finished typing The End on my historical romance novel, The Unexplored Heart, I heard a loud “AHEM!”  I looked around, wondering who had spoken to me. 

The voice took form as she continued, “You just think you’re finished.”  It was Esther Wooster, researcher extraordinary and wife of archaeologist Charles Wooster, gliding toward my desk.  She gave me a steely gaze over the rims of her spectacles before settling with a gentle “plop” into my easy chair.  (Esther is a rather corpulent lady.)

“I want a book for myself.” She continued.  “About myself.  You must write a sequel, where I embark on yet another quest. I am feeling somewhat restless and unfulfilled after having discovered Camelot.”

“Oh, of course,” I said.  My mind was racing.  How to do this sequel? What role should the other characters play, with Esther assuming the lead?  But I found myself outlining in a few sentences, After Camelot:  Esther’s Quest.

Esther picked up her large portfolio filled with research, and wearing a serene smile of satisfaction, she disappeared. 

Not all my sequels reach that pinnacle of drama.  In fact, I really had no idea of writing a trilogy featuring that mystical, magical black cat, Sabbath.  But when I reached the end of Sabbath’s Gift, questions remained, loose ends begged for attention.  So I began writing Sabbath’s House, where my characters moved from the farmhouse where bodies were buried in the cellar to a – what else? – haunted house.  And when I typed “The End” of Sabbath’s House, I knew I had to write at least one more novel, and thus, Sabbath’s Village is now in outline form. 

The Women of Camp Sobingo is my WWII era novel featuring four women who meet aboard a ship bound for Korea to join their army officer husbands with the Occupation.  They form a bond that strengthens them for the secrets and sorrows that are at last revealed in a reunion some twenty-five years later.  The character of Trudy Cavanaugh seemed a natural for a “what happens next?” sequel. 
The title of this novel will be That Cavanaugh Woman, and follows this unlikely heiress to a publishing company established by her powerful father-in-law. 

So, you can see some serendipity here, can’t you?  Not actually planned sequels suddenly present themselves, in the form of a demanding Esther Wooster; the magical black cat, Sabbath solving yet another mystery; and the courage of one of The Women of Camp Sobingo taking over a vast publishing empire.

Just another reason I love my “job” as novelist. 


A Note from the Book Boost:  I'm writing my first true sequel right now, Marilyn and finding it both fun and frightening at the same time.  Wish me luck on that!  Your books sound terrific and I enjoyed hearing about them.  Please tell us more about your latest.


Blurb:

Impoverished but proud Vanessa Danforth is forced from her mother’s home by her new stepfather’s treachery in 1860s England.  After graduating from stenographer’s school, she accepts a position at the estate of famed world explorer, Harrison Courtland.  Made a widower by his wife’s tragic death in the Himalayas, Courtland has retreated into his work while Vanni forges friendships with the his daughter Katrin and the handsome physician from the neighboring estate.

As Vanni encourages Courtland to unearth the ancient ruins at the edge of his property she discovers not only a stunning secret and a hidden treasure, but also her own heart’s desire.

 
Excerpt (edited for length):  

She was just about ready to settle into reading the main text when Clarice bustled into the room.

“So would you look at you, now? Reading a rag like that, when ye should be intent on findin’out about yer stepfather’s will,” she began.

Vanessa laughed aloud at the sound of her maid’s voice repeating the very words she had just imagined.  Clarice ignored her laugh, hands on hips, shaking her capped head.  “And what’s so funny, Miss Vanni?” She used her old nickname, which made Vanessa instantly nostalgic for the days when she would sit on her mother’s lap, listening to her musical voice calling her “Vanni.” Her heart wrenched at the old name.  Nonetheless, she answered, “Oh, Clarice, you’re such a fussy-budget.  I just this minute seated myself, as old Mr. Fisher is late and a girl has to have something to do whilst she’s waiting, now, doesn’t she?” She pursed her lips, making a small frown on her brow, but her blue eyes danced with merriment.

“Enough with yer nonsense, child,” Clarice continued.  “Adventures? For a slight girl like ye? And a well-brought up young lady, too. Unseemly nonsense.  Now get along with ye; I came to fetch you into the study.  Mr. Fisher himself is here, now; that’s what I meant to tell you.  Go along with you, now.” She made shooing motions with her large, rough hands.

Vanni rose from her chair, smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her dress and then her hands fiddled with her curls.  “Thank you, Clarice,” she said in mock solemnity.  Then she strode with all the dignity and courage she could muster out of the room and down the hall to the study.

Pausing before she opened the door, she once more smoothed her skirt and touched her long brown hair carefully arranged in ringlets around her small, pale face.  Taking a deep breath, she slid open the massive door and entered the gloomy study.

She had always hated this room, now more than ever, since it was dimly lit. She hated it especially since Mr. Firestone had come to live in her mother’s house.  Rooms that had been light and airy and cheerful, like her mother’s disposition, had then taken on somber tones, like Mr. Firestone himself.  Vanni had always been reluctant to enter this room when her stepfather was alive, and now that the man was dead, it took on an even more forbidding tone.

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the interior and she perceived the shadowy form of her solicitor, Aimsley  Fisher, who now rose from his chair behind the rosewood desk.

“Miss Vanessa,” he intoned solemnly. Aimsley Fisher stood and waved his thin, elegant hand at the wingback chair across from the desk.  His mustache twitched slightly, whether from a nervous habit or an attempt to subdue a small smile, Vanni couldn’t imagine which.

“Mr. Fisher,” she replied, attempting to be just as solemn. “How good of you to come.”

“I will try to make this as brief as possible.” He indicated that she should be seated, and she chose a tapestry-covered armchair opposite the massive desk.

“I assume you know the reason I’m here.” 

She nodded. “It’s about Mr. Firestone’s will, I should imagine.”

“Miss Vanessa, in all those years he was your father, you never called your stepfather anything but Mr. Firestone."

“He hardly was anything more than that to me, Mr. Fisher.  I could scarcely bear to think of him even as my mother’s husband.  I thought he treated her badly,” she added.

“Uhhhhm, how unfortunate,” Mr. Fisher said absently.

“I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss my late step-father’s shortcomings,” Vanni prodded.  “And I’m just as certain you have no time to spare with your busy practice of the law.”

“Quite so, Miss Danforth.” He cleared his throat and shuffled a few papers on the desk, finally setting on one that he now held in his hand.

“I am informing you of the provisions contained in the late Mr. Firestone’s will, rather than conducting a full reading that would not pertain to you, if you find that agreeable.”

“Agreed, Mr. Fisher.”

“I’m afraid what he has said pertaining to your lot of his estate will not be to your liking.” His eyes peered at her over his spectacles.

Vanni noticed the dancing fire reflecting in the spectacles. Something evil is coming out of this. Her breathing came in pants as her heart rate accelerated.

“Go on,” she said almost in a whisper. 

Want More Marilyn?

 

Visit her on the web here:  

http://www.vanillaheartbooksandauthors.com/Marilyn_Morris.html

Pick up a copy of her book today!  Click here.

  

Waiting for Summer...to End with Guest Blogger: Margie Church

Win a copy of Executive Decision and 

meet author Margie Church 

today at the Book Boost!

She's here to chat about those long, summer days and here's what she had to say...


I don't live in the Land of the Midnight Sun, but the summer days are long in Minnesota. At this time of year, we see the first stain of sunrise at 4:30 a.m. and the cobalt blue of sunset around 9:30 p.m. That's a lot of sunshine, especially when you have kids. Because kids are like solar-powered windup toys in the summer. The longer it's light, the longer they keep going. And did I mention the birds start chirping like kids on a playground about 15 minutes prior? Um yeah.

Before kids, things were a lot different, of course. We could sit out on the deck and drink beer and swat mosquitoes until the mosquitoes got inebriated with each bite they took and we didn't care. Or we'd fish until it got so dark we could hardly find our way up the path to our tent. We'd be out doing oodles of yard work and gardening and not mind the extra hours of sunlight at all. Because we could quit when we wanted to quit, and we slept like vampires on the weekends.

But our kids never slept in and they never stop going – even now as teenagers. And neither did the neighbor kids.

When our oldest was five, we got a trampoline. Word to the wise, never get a trampoline. The safety issues aside, it's a kid-magnet. Our yard became the summer vacation destination for every kid in the neighborhood. They walked, biked, scootered, and sometimes got dropped off by their parents on their way home from work. No kidding. I finally had to send letters home with the kids asking parents to enforce safety rules, and respect our family time.

I'll never forget seeing a couple of the kids sitting at the edge of the driveway while we ate dinner – that was their idea of going home for dinner – so they wouldn't miss a bounce. I had to shut the shades so our kids would eat dinner. The kids complained about having to drink water and not be served snacks while they were playing so hard on our trampoline. Humm. I was running a daycare without getting paid for it. And that's when I started to hate long summer days.

If I could have found a way to silence the trampoline springs, I would have. The neighbor's kids had super-power hearing. One squeak and over they ran. Sometimes I sent them packing without even one little bounce. Payback for making me sit out there in the blistering sun making sure they didn't do something foolish and break their necks. And for listening to them whine about the Kool-Aid or lack thereof. I hoped their parents, who never came over to see where their little darlings were, enjoyed the whining for awhile. Even when the note said please come over and say hello.

After those years, I began to look at Summer Solstice a lot differently. The long, dark December nights are coming. The house lights will be turned on at 4 p.m. and it's not light until 8 a.m. Things quiet down, slow down. It means this workaholic actually relaxes more in the winter and goes out more. For this northern gal, there's nothing more beautiful than a walk on a winter's night. When the snow is falling and Christmas lights glitter on each flake. The only sound I hear is the crunch of my boots on the snow. All the trampolines and long daylight days of summer are put away. That's tranquility.

My newest book, Executive Decision, is a far cry from kiddos and trampolines. It's about two gay men who work together in the chemicals industry.

A Note from the Book Boost:  Margie,  I feel your pain.  Hubby bought the kids a trampoline for Christmas and the kids love it.  It makes me a nervous wreck.  The pediatrician said that it is an Orthopedic Surgeon's paycheck!  Oy!  Thanks for the memories and please tell us more about your latest!

Blurb: 

The prospect of getting caught while having sex is a powerful aphrodisiac for Logan Carlyle. He's viewed as the leader on the sales force, but in bed, he's a submissive all the way.

Hunter James is just as adventurous as Logan. He's lower in the sales ranks, but he's the top when it comes to his relationship with Logan.

When Logan's thrill-seeking desires create chaos with their careers and severs their relationship, Madame Evangeline's expertise is required.
      


Excerpt:


Logan frowned, wondering whether there was some kind of Las Vegas-style scam hidden in the offer. He pitched the card in the bathroom trash, dismissing the idea.

Wearing only a pair of briefs, he turned back the bed covers. A good night’s rest would do wonders. Tomorrow could be a beast if integrating his company’s resins didn’t go smoothly in the new manufacturing plant. He flipped through television channels until he found the news. While a series of commercials aired, he tapped the keyboard to awaken the laptop.

While reading the mundane emails from work, his thoughts drifted to the business card he’d thrown away. Was it an escort service? He’d never tried one.

Should I?

Curious, Logan retrieved the card from the wastebasket and typed in the website address. Scanning the pages, clearly 1Night Stand was not an escort service by any stretch of the imagination. He breathed a sigh of relief. Much of what he read interested him. With his finger poised over the request information link, he vacillated between feeling downright dumb and really wanting someone in his life again.

What could it hurt? He clicked.

Want More Margie?

Visit her on the web here:  http://www.site.romancewithsass.com/

Follow her blog here: http://blog.RomanceWithSASS.com

Pick up a copy of her book today!  Click here.

Contest Time:

Share a summer from hell moment with Margie and be entered to win a copy of Executive Decision.  Or winner may choose any book from her back list.

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Superstitious Writings with Guest Blogger: Gail Koger

Win an ARC of I Hear Voices & 

a glass pendant and welcome author 

Gail Koger to the Book Boost!

She's here to chat about superstitions and here's what she had to say...

It was Friday the 13th but I wasn’t worried. I mean, everyone knows it’s a bunch of superstitious nonsense.  C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? Fate, that sadistic bitch, laughed hysterically.

Still believing this was just another ordinary day I pulled into a 7-11 convenience market parking lot for a badly needed caffeine fix. There’s nothing scary about a 7-11, right? Did I mention this particular 7-11 was in a seedy part of town? One look at the graffiti decorating the walls and sidewalks should have discouraged me. But, oh no, I needed my fix.

The second I stepped out of my car, a scrawny dude wearing a long black trench coat and carrying a really big stick sprinted towards me. OMG! I’m gonna die. My heart pounding, I scurried inside and smiled at the nice armed security guard. This was my second clue that I hadn’t stopped at a “normal” store.

I headed for the coolers and realized the scrawny dude had followed me. Practically glued to my back side, he gushed, “I just love your fingernail polish.”

Say what?  I gave him a polite smile and power walked to the cash register. Unfortunately, he was still glued to my backside.  “Seriously dude, you’re invading my space.”

His response? “Where did you get that fabulous polish?” 

Was this some kind of cosmic joke? “Uh, at JC Penney’s. Why?”

He giggled insanely. “Oh, I just have to get me some.”

“Okay, bye-bye.” I ran out to my car and locked the doors. Whoa! Talk about freaky weird.

A block down the street my tire warning light suddenly popped on. Thump. Thump. Thump. I pulled into the only remaining full service gas station left in area and yep. It’s flat and is that a spoon sticking out of my tire? The attendant nods.  “Yes ma’am. That’s a spoon.” What are the odds of that happening?

Should I risk a trip to the supermarket?  I was out of chocolate and nothing stood between me and my chocolate. Not even a few freaky coincidences.

I walked confidently into the store, got my shopping cart and strolled down the aisles. I checked my shopping list and reached for a quart of low fat milk. There was an ominous snapping noise as the front clasp on my bra broke and out popped the girls. Did I mention I’m well endowed? Too well endowed to ever go braless, plus my girls were starting to migrate south.  Not a pretty sight.

Okay, the stock boy ogling my chest didn’t seem to be traumatized in the least. In fact he was downright enjoying the show. I shoved the cart at him, clamped my purse over the girls and fled the store.  I might not be a superstitious coward but I knew when to wave the white flag. Fate had won.

Unfortunately all these wonderful things actually happened to me. I've added some of my more interesting moments into my stories. Which is why I write paranormal romances and science fiction romance. My life can be out there.

A Note from the Book Boost:  What a riot!  Makes you not want to leave the house sometimes.  But I'll bet these make for fabulous scenes in your books.  Thanks for sharing, Gail.  Wonder if that fella ever got him some polish, eh?  Please tell us more about your latest.

Blurb:

After being laid off from her psychic gig, Zelda Dragos decides finding Montezuma’s lost treasure has to be easier than prying a check out of the state’s unemployment office. The fly in the ointment is the tenacious Derek Sloan, an Indiana Jones type, who wants the gold for himself.

The first clue in the treasure hunt is an Aztec amulet on display at the Phoenix Art Museum. All Zelda needs to do is “borrow” it for a bit. Unfortunately, Derek has the identical plan. With the help of a holographic diversion featuring the Rock as Montezuma, Zelda zaps him with a stun gun and walks off with the Amulet.

Zelda uses all of her tricks to discourage Derek’s relentless pursuit; a smoke bomb, mace, a hive of angry bees and getting him arrested. Out of options, Zelda finds herself stuck with a partner who thinks she needs a keeper and he’s just the man for the job.

To find the treasure all they have to deal with is an angry Apache Thunder God, Asmoday, the demon king of the Ninth Hell, eight thousand vengeful Aztec spirits and a mummified Aztec warrior. Adding to the mess is Zelda’s evil Aunt Sophie and Uncle Dante who wants the treasure for themselves. Dante’s lethal goons are hot on their trail. Derek and Zelda soon discover love blooms in the weirdest places.

Excerpt (edited for length):

I hear voices and see dead people. No, I’m not nuts. I’m psychic. It’s a family thing. I worked for a psychic hotline called Picas Moon. My specialty was Tarot Card readings. For only $3.99 a minute, you got to chat with me, a real live, genuine, authentic, certified psychic. I even had a nice little certificate hanging on the wall of my cubicle that stated that fact. Want to know the future, need to connect with the spirit world or find the love of your life? Give me your Visa or Master Card numbers and I was yours for as long as you needed me or until your money ran out. It was a nice gig.

Until Madam Celeste called me into her office on Christmas Eve and instead of getting that nice bonus check I was expecting, I was laid off. Me? I was the only genuine psychic she had. The rest were delusional quacks, flat out liars and phony, no talent hacks. Okay, the delusional quacks were Madam Celeste’s daughters, and of course, they kept their jobs. Family is family no matter how incredibly awful their advice was. I foresaw a lawsuit in their immediate future.

Since I’m an authentic psychic I should have seen it coming, right? It doesn’t work that way. I can’t predict my future. My life is basically a crap shoot just like everyone else’s and sometimes you roll snake eyes.

On Christmas morning, I got hit with more bad news. My Aunt Sophie, another authentic psychic, had tracked me down and offered me my old job back. The one where I did séances that scammed grieving relatives out of their hard earned money. I hated every minute of it.

The only reason I stayed as long as I did was to protect my grandmother from Uncle Dante, the devil incarnate, who locked her in the basement and threatened to kill her if I didn’t do the séances. But it was Aunt Sophie, his older sister that scared the piss out of me. She dabbled in the black arts and was known to have summoned a demon or two. When Granny Annabel died, I made my escape and never looked back.

What was Aunt Sophie’s ultimatum? If I wasn’t back at the family compound in Seattle by New Year’s Day, she would turn my life into a living hell. She could and she did. My family members are not the nicest people in the world. In fact, most of them are scam artists, thieves or worse.

After Aunt Sophie put the word out, finding another psychic gig was nigh-on impossible. Because of the sucky economy, I couldn’t even get a job at a local burger joint. Trying to get the State of Arizona to fork over unemployment benefits was even harder. The minute I mentioned I was a psychic it was over.

Out of desperation to prove to the clerk that I really was a genuine psychic I blurted out, “Your boyfriend, Mark, is cheating on you with your best friend, Martha.” The poor thing burst into tears and fled her window. The nice security guard escorted me to a tiny waiting room and promised a supervisor would speak to me shortly. Was that shorthand for the police were coming? I hoped not.

Want More Gail?

Visit her on the web here:  www.gailkoger.com

Pick up a copy of her book today!  Click here.

Contest Time:

Answer the three questions below correctly and you are entered to win an advance copy of I Hear Voices, second place winner will receive a fired glass pendant.  Send your answers to: gkoger58@q.com
 

• What tricks does Zelda use to discourage Derek? (Hint:  Click here.)
•  Who is Freddy Crystal? (Hint:  Click here.)
• What did Granny Annabel warn Zelda about?  (Hint:  Click here.)