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January In Atlantis

1/29/2018

January in Atlantis
Alyssa Day
Publication date: January 16th 2018
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

When Poseidon’s elite warriors gear up to train a new generation of fighters, they have no idea that Atlantean Queen Riley has secretly taken on a new role: Matchmaker. By the end of the year, she plans to find soul mates for all twelve of Atlantis’s fiercest warriors . . .

. . . whether they like it or not.

Twelve all-new adventures in the hotly anticipated world of Poseidon’s Warriors, coming once a month from New York Times bestselling author Alyssa Day. These books are sexy, romantic, and wickedly addictive —welcome to 2018! And welcome to:

A Year in Atlantis

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Author Bio:

Alyssa Day is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than forty novels filled with kissing, laughter, mystery and magic. Alyssa’s paranormal series include the Poseidon’s Warriors and Cardinal Witches paranormal romances and the Tiger’s Eye Mysteries paranormal mysteries. Her many awards include Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award for outstanding romance fiction, and the RT Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Paranormal Romance novel of 2012. Her books have been translated into a zillion languages, but she’s still holding out for Klingon.

You can hang out with her on Facebook and Twitter where she talks about her rescue dogs and her future pug ranch, and her blog, where she talks openly about her struggles with depression and hosts Mental Health Check In Fridays (www.alyssaday.com/blog).

She currently lives somewhere near an ocean with her Navy Guy husband, two kids, and any number of rescue dogs.

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Breaking Down My Walls

1/26/2018

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Contemporary Romance

Date Published: November 30, 2017

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After the torment of her childhood, Taya believes in love for everyone … except herself. Some things can’t be untaught.

Beautiful and tough, yet the most private woman anyone has ever met, Taya knows everyone has a past, yet she doesn’t share hers. Her past must remain behind her for her sanity and so the only man she has ever loved will move on with someone who hasn’t been destroyed by those who were supposed to protect her.

Then a threat has her past storming back in and taking over.

After looking into the big, baby blue eyes of the deranged little orphan who was dragged, kicking and screaming, into his home, Levi is determined to be the boy who will teach Taya that not every offered hand will betray her.

Playful and gorgeous, Levi’s first passion is the girl who consumes his heart. His second is serving his country, following in his father’s footsteps. When Levi is deployed overseas, he encourages Taya to spread her wings and pursue her dreams, hoping she will come back to her roots and the man who is waiting for her.

Levi is mistaken.

Taya can’t change who she is and has built a life for herself far away from the only man she will ever love.

Can Levi convince Taya their relationship is worth the fight? Can he force her to overcome her fears and let him in completely? Can Levi prove his love is the freedom she has been searching for?

Levi allowed Taya to control their relationship in the past, but now things have changed. He is taking control back, with or without her consent.

About the Author

Anne Marie Citro grew born and raised in the greater Toronto area of Ontario, Canada. She grew up in a large, loving family. Anne Marie is married to a very patient man. He is the love of her life. They have four very cool sons, and the girls they brought into their family that have become daughters of her heart. She has been blessed enough to finally have a beautiful granddaughter after four sons. She has her own personal gaggle of girlfriends, who enrich her life on a daily basis and make her laugh. Caesar Friday is her favourite day of the week. Caesars with the girls and date night with her hubby. She works with special-needs teenagers, that have taught her how to appreciate life and see it through gentler eyes. Anne Marie was encouraged by her husband to follow her lifelong dream to write. She loves the characters that take over imagination and haunts her dreams. She loves the arts and she has tried her hand at painting, wood sculpting, chainsaw carving, wood burning, metal and wire sculptures. Yes, her husband is a very patient man! Anne Marie is an avid reader and enjoys about three books per week. But nothing makes her happier then riding on the back of her husband's Harley and throwing her arms out and feeling the wind race by. Anne Marie and her husband take a few weeks every year to travel to spectacular destination around the world. Anne Marie is excited and can't wait to see what the next chapter holds for her life.

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Logan

1/26/2018

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Title: Logan

Series: Bully Series, book 3

Author: Morgan Campbell

Genre: Romantic Suspense, LGBT

Release date: January 26, 2018

Blurb:

We were perfect until him.

They call him The Judge.

He determines our fate.

He decides if we live or die

He chooses our happiness.

Until we fight back.

Logan

For the last decade, I had the perfect man, the perfect job, and the perfect life. All that changed in one night when he came. I promised to protect them, and I failed. I should be focused on finding him, ruining his life like he did mine. But Cameron came barreling into my life in a way that he’s never done before and until I catch the monster that turned me into a heartless bastard, I can’t get my second chance at anything. Especially with Cameron.

Cameron

All they wanted to do was make me forget the worst day of my life. Instead, it turned out to be even worse than I could have imagined. And while I’m mourning the loss of two people I hold dear, I still can’t get him out of my head, my heart, my soul. He’s the reason I breathe, the reason my blood flows crimson, the reason for living. And he’s the reason I’m fighting. Until we catch the man hell-bent on causing our demise, we can’t give us a chance. And all I want is to love him.

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Excerpt:

“Logan, I’ve got a headache. Can you please give me two minutes?”

I fold my arms across my chest and look down. “You know, lately everyone keeps telling me I should just admit to these games my head keeps playing with my body. Lindsay, Levi, Grayson and Finn, everyone. It’s fucking with me, Cameron. Because I still have this war going on in my heart. But then I see you and it’s like, ‘Oh, right. It’s Cameron.’ And the more I tell myself that something with you would be so wrong, I have this other side telling me that it would be perfectly right. And I’ve got to tell you, Cam, that side is winning. I promised myself that I would wait until all this is over until I even tried to make a move for you, but do you know how fucking hard that is?”

I stand at the foot of the bed, staring at Cam as I spill out my confession. I’m not good with these girly, feely things. I don’t do share time and feeling open like I do now, it’s not something I’m comfortable with. He lets out a sigh and rolls onto his left side, away from me. If anything, I didn’t expect to feel this hurtful pang in my chest.

“You lying down with me or what?”

I shed my shoes and crawl onto the bed, leaving a good foot of space between us as I lie on my side and face the back of his head.

“For shit’s sake, Logan!” He scoots toward me until he perfectly aligns his body – every bend and crook – into my own. I feel my breathing speeding up, even more, when I hear the sexiest growl come from him. I try to shuffle back because he’s about to feel exactly what that growl does to me. And sober, I’m not sure how ready I am for that.

“You know, anyone tell you that you really suck at this flirting thing?” He reaches back and grabs my hand and moves around until my arm is flung around his chest, his back hugging my chest, my legs are parallel to his, and my now hard dick rests very uncomfortably behind my jeans and against his ass.

I’m dazed, utterly dazed that even this is happening. My chest rises and falls a bit quicker than moments ago, and my hand, firmly flush against his chest, aches to rub the hard muscle below it. I try to convince myself that what we’re doing right now is enough, but when he presses his hand into mine, linking our fingers, I can’t help but slowly caress him and give in to just a little bit more.

I let him make the first moves. Our first exchanges not driven by alcohol, but from lust. I need him to show me he wants it, not just tell me. He knows I want him, but he doesn’t know that in this very second, I crave him. Like a new addiction I can’t get my fix of quickly enough.

I trace small circles with my fingertips across his chest until he takes over. Suddenly, I’m under his shirt, and it’s my hand on his bare chest. I try to muffle the throaty sound that forces its way past my lips, but it comes out and I swear his ass jerks into my dick. Still, he doesn’t turn around. As my hand learns every groove and dip of Cameron’s chest, my head gently falls to his back. I silently thank the Gods for any contact I’m allowed with him, a contact I need more than my next breath.

He starts to push my hand down his chest until I’m splayed over his abs. I lightly fan my fingers over each rippled muscle. I don’t even realize that his hand leaves mine until I feel it grab my ass, pulling me closer, and making me hiss the second my restrained dick grinds into him.

“Oh, shit,” I groan, my voice muffled against his back.

Cameron’s other hand pushes mine lower until I give in and cup the bulge between his thighs. But then he swats my hand away, and I yelp in protest. He twists his body around so that we’re face to face. The look on his face drives me crazy at how aroused he is. Almost a forbidden lust that if I look too long, I’ll curse us both. He reaches for my belt and work it open before unbuttoning the snap of my jeans. At the same time, I get his open, but I leave it at that. This is his game, his rules, and I’m a willing player.

“Take it out for me, Logan.” He nods to my dick. God, even something as simple as those six little words makes my heart race faster and my hands tremble. I do as he says and I’m rewarded with the firmest, warmest hand snaking around me. He slowly slides up and down while I close my eyes and enjoy the ride.

Cameron’s thumb gently circles the head of my dick, massaging in the precome. I feel so damn high as I fuck Cam’s hand, basking in the feel of his rough hands making me lose my goddamn mind.

“Hold on a second.” I open my eyes when his hand goes away but its only for a moment and his own dick is in his hands as well.

I push an arm under his head like a pillow and wrap my fingers around his neck; the other holds onto his shoulder as I anchor myself to him. I bite back a cry as his hand comes around both of us, pumping us simultaneously. My eyes start to close again but Cam calls my name.

“Look into my eyes, Logan. Don’t look away.” I quickly nod, holding on to Cam tighter as I bring his scruffy face closer to mine.

Our lips float over each other. I need to feel more of me on him but something about that closeness, the illicit kiss that seals our fate of this encounter – this tryst – this…whatever, feels like it would ruin this very moment we’ve worked for. I like the feeling of hovering over the edge. Taking me to the brink just to pull me back.

Or breathing speeds up the more his fuckable hand encircles us, but we never break eye contact. We don’t kiss, only sharing our labored breath until I feel my jaw clench shut. My hand joins his and I breathe through my release, grunting out behind a closed mouth as I spill over both of us. In a matter of seconds, Cameron’s eyes fight to stay open as his orgasm shatters over us.

My hands come up and I frame his face despite the mess I’ve just made. His find mine and we keep our eyes locked on to each other as we fight to catch our breath. No words spoken, nothing other than a simple breath penetrates the air around us. I can’t bring myself to kiss him or look away from the man. That is until our foreheads come together and our lips curve into a private smile.

Even as we finally begin to feel an ounce of normalcy, we don’t move from the bed. We stay so close together, so wrapped up in each other that despite the numbness settling in my arm, I’m content.

So, fucking happy that I ignore the familiar feeling I felt that first night we were together, the one where my brain awakens and tells me that what we’re doing is wrong.

The Bully Series

Grayson

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Finn

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The Starlight Falls Series

Burning Bright

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I’ll Follow You

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Author Bio:

Morgan lives in the south of Texas with her family. When she’s not writing, she can usually be found with her nose stuck in a book, cooking, baking, crocheting, and causing a general ruckus with her friends and family! Filled with an overactive imagination at a young age, she began writing her thoughts down in a journal, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Stalker Links:

Newsletter : Facebook : Morgan’s Mobsters, Facebook group : Amazon : Goodreads : Twitter : Instagram : Book+Main : Email

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Dead Air

1/26/2018

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A Glenn Beckert Mystery

Mystery, Suspense, Thriller

Date Published: October 2017

Publisher: Mill City Press

Dead Air signals trouble at the radio station. Glenn Beckert discovers his high school best friend is shot in the head while on the air. Beck, the owner of Blue Water Security, is employed to provide security for the station.

He becomes willingly embroiled in the investigation by the not-so-innocent widow. The list of potential suspects is long, gleaned from the numerous extramarital affairs of the victim and widow. The pending sale of the radio station has created friction between his now dead friend, Richie Zito and the major stockholders. Motives for murder becomes increasingly murky after the search reveals an encrypted file on Zito’s laptop.

Beck enlists the help of an old flame, Irene Schade, to break the code, revealing a money laundering network leading to the financial and political powers of his beloved city of Pittsburgh. Their collaboration ignites the flames of passion each had considered extinguished.

A former college teammate, police Lieutenant Paglironi delivers a message to back off. Arrogantly, he ignores his friend’s advice. The threats from less friendly sources are more ominous, forcing Beck to move in an unfamiliar world. A startling revelation from his client forces Beck to deal with his inner conviction of right and wrong, challenging the gray areas of his ethical principles. Betraying his client’s confidence could expose the killer. The alternative is to confront the suspect and take matters into his own hands. Either way his life is in jeopardy.

About the Author

Cliff Protzman was born and raised in Pittsburgh, PA. Cliff's family relocated to Northeast Ohio when he was in high school. Immediately after graduation he returned to his hometown to attend the University of Pittsburgh. Cliff planned to major in journalism and write the great American novel. Instead, he switched to Business Administration and began a 30-year career in accounting and finance.

Cliff rekindled his passion for writing acquired as a reporter for his school newspaper. He published his first novel, DEAD AIR: a Glenn Beckert Mystery in September 2017. Cliff also writes short stories. He was a winner in the Unfinished Chapters anthology in 2015

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The Immortality Trigger

1/26/2018

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~ The Immortality Trigger by Douglas Misquita ~

a Luc Fortesque adventure thriller

1945

Allied paratroopers raid a secret Nazi research facility. The operation is reported as a success. But, the lone survivor, Benjamin Ezra, knows otherwise.

2014

A drug lord, El Fantasma threatens to plunge Colombia into an era of bloody drug wars. DEA Country AttachÃ©, Zachary Mason is in charge of a covert operation to remove El Fantasma, with the help of a vigilante, El Angel, and a retired undercover agent, Raymond Garrett.

In Naples, INTERPOL agent, Sabina Wytchoff, is investigating the death of her parents, when the Wytchoff familyâ€™s association with an ancient cabal comes under investigation.

After the events of The Apocalypse Trigger, Luc Fortesque, is scouring the world for the man who tested experimental drugs on him.

Wei Ling works for a shadow Transhumanist faction within Chinaâ€™s State Council, developing drugs that will enhance human longevity.

Their paths will convergeâ€¦ violentlyâ€¦ and conclude the mission that began in 1945.

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Literary Titan Silver Award Winner

The Immortality Trigger is also available at all leading eBook retailers

Reviews for The Immortality Trigger:

"...with a storyteller of Misquitaâ€™s caliber, you just may need Dramamine before the first chapter is done." - Bestthrillers.com

"For fans of the fast-paced and modern tale with global reach that dabbles in history, this is a perfect storm." - Lydia Peever

"The Immortality Trigger cemented in my mind why Douglas Misquita is my favourite Indian thriller author." - Newton Lewis

Other books in the series:

Book #1 in the Luc Fortesque series * Available as a free eBook short download

Douglas Misquita is an action-adventure thriller writer from Mumbai, India. He hammered out his first novel on the keyboard of a laptop with half-a-working-screen, and has been churning out literary entertainment to the tune of a book-a-year. His books have been praised for their pace, locales, intertwined plots, research and visuals - itâ€™s almost like watching a movieâ€¦ only, this one unfolds across the pages of a book!

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Don't Rush Me

1/25/2018

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Don’t Rush Me
Jackie May
Publication date: January 25th 2018
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

Most humans have no idea that a dark and deadly underworld, filled with magic and monsters, exists. They wander through life blissfully ignorant of the supernatural world around them. Nora Jacobs is different. Nora knows exactly what kinds of hellish creatures haunt the streets of Detroit.

Thanks to a unique set of psychic abilities, Nora has managed to steer clear of the underworld most of her life. But all that changes the night the most powerful vampire in the city discovers her gifts and decides to use her as a tool to find one of his missing clan members.

As if that’s not bad enough, Nora believes she’s cursed. All her life, people, especially men, have been drawn to her—some to the point of obsession and violence. Underworlders, it seems, are not immune to this curse, and now she’s caught the attention of some of the most dangerous monsters in the city.

Neck deep in an investigation only she can solve, Nora quickly makes as many new allies as she does enemies. Her biggest problem is staying alive long enough to decide which is which.

**This series is a slow burn reverse harem.

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EXCERPT:

“Stay out of this, Gorgeous,” Henry snaps suddenly. Parker helps him sit up and Terrance growls again, but it’s not quite as menacing as before. He must be calming down a little.

“Nora is my responsibility. I’ll take her to my own healer—” Henry’s cut o by another vicious snarl, and I’m scooped up into Terrance’s arms so fast I lose my breath. “Yeah…” Gorgeous says to Henry. “Doesn’t look to me like that’s happening.” If his smugness wasn’t directed at Henry, I might and his arrogance annoying. Instead, the guy is my hero. “She’s still mine. I’ve claimed her for a mate.” Gorgeous chews on this new bit of information. He holds up the blood-soaked stake to examine it in the

light and then points the tip at Henry. “Seems to me she’s not too interested in becoming your mate.” “Not at all,” I clarify cheerfully. “He’s holding me against my will.” Henry glares at me, then scowls so hard at Gorgeous his eyes start to turn red again. Whether he doesn’t like
what Gorgeous said or he simply doesn’t like the man himself, I can’t tell. But it’s clear Mr. Gorgeous loves to irk Henry.

“She’s human,” Henry says indignantly. “Claiming her is my right. I don’t care if she triggered Terrance’s protective instincts. He can’t just take what is mine.”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to argue with him while he’s in that state, so why don’t we all head down to the Agency, get the pretty human all healed up, and sort this mess out with the director?”

“What agency?” I ask. “Director of what? Who are you? And…is your name seriously Gorgeous?” Gorgeous grins at me like I’ve just made his entire day. “Can you think of a more appropriate name?” I snort again and then wince. e guy needs to stop making me laugh. “Conceited much?” “And proud of it.” He pulls a leather ID wallet from his pocket and tosses it to me. I’m still cradled like a baby in Terrance’s arms, but I manage to catch the ID. “Nick Gorgeous, at your service. I work for the Federal Underworld Agency. e F U Agency for short.” I roll my eyes at his stupid acronym—though it’s admittedly more entertaining than S.H.I.E.L.D.—and focus on the more important fact. is guy’s a cop. An underworld cop. Like an FBI agent or something. I didn’t even know that existed.

And, I’ll be damned, his name really is Nick Gorgeous.

Author Bio:

Jackie May is a pseudonym for a husband and wife writing team. Josh and Kelly live in Phoenix, Arizona with their four children and their cat, Mr. Darcy. Jackie May is their only daughter. (And she keeps asking for her cut of the profits since we’re using her name.)

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The Parlour All Access

1/25/2018

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The Parlour: All Access Anthology to benefit

Truckers Against Trafficking

Releasing: February 28, 2018

Authors: Cheri Marie,‎ Carissa Laryea,‎ Kelsey Jensen,‎

Ava Danielle,‎ Jillian Elizabeth,‎ Jaime Russell,‎ Angie Brocker,‎

Barb Shuler,‎ Robin Laine,‎ Alexis R. Craig,‎ Chasity Gaines,‎

Jezebelle James,‎ Lindsey Taylor

Cover Design by: Jenn Ann - Book Nerd Designs

Photography: JW Photography

Models: Models: Kyle English & Julie E Mick Schalm

Behind the 'Members Only' door of The Parlour you've been granted an all access pass to the ultimate pleasures of ecstasy.

Ready. Set. Play.

Your partner will be ready to play by your rules, indulge you in your wildest dreams and get

lost in the ultimate balance of lust and control. Nothing is out of bounds as everyone is here

for the same thing - to forget their troubles and get lost in the pleasures of the flesh.

Add to your Goodreads TBR

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**This book is NOT available on KU**

**ALL ebook sales will go to Truckers Against Trafficking**

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Saving Madeline

1/25/2018

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Women’s Fiction

Date Published: May 2017

On Sale for $1.99 for a Limited Time!!

SAVING MADELINE is unusual, heart-wrenching and humorous. In the beginning, Roxy, a spunky, young actor arrives in Hollywood to follow her dream and escape from her mean-spirited family. When she finds herself coexisting in a cramped Los Angeles apartment with a wounded warrior and her German shepherd, tensions run high. And then her mother moves in—so much for escaping.

Along comes the well-connected acting coach, James Jonathan Jarvis, and Roxy’s big break in showbiz: a part in a reality TV show with a wilderness survival theme. But a week before rehearsals begin, her mother disappears. Roxy’s search leads her close to Montana where she and Madeline become trapped in a real life-and-death situation.

Though bombarded with daily challenges, the women laugh at their frequent calamities, and Roxy’s Hollywood misadventures buffer the troubling glimpses into the world of a woman whose memory is fading.

Excerpt

A short excerpt from the section

Guests Come Knocking

In Saving Madeline

Then Roxy contemplated doing something she’d sworn she would never, ever do. Don’t do it. Do Not Do This! Her palms sweated, her stomached rolled, then taking a deep breath, she did it. She opened the Help Wanted section of a regular newspaper and searched for an ordinary, though flexible, part-time job—just like normal, non-showbiz people did. To her surprise, she spotted two possibilities right away. One involved helping first-year college students revise and edit their failing work from the required course, Writing 101. Piece of cake. She could do that in her sleep. The other required someone capable of assisting a high school aged male with his guitar playing and songwriting.

“Ah, ha!” she declared. Now that was a tasty piece of cake. She wanted that job. Without any hesitation, Roxy made the call, which resulted in an on-the-spot phone interview with a pleasant, friendly woman.

“There is just one more question I must ask,” the woman said after they’d spoken a while. “And I’d like to offer my apology in advance for asking it.”

Roxy waited, curious.

“My son has a thing for starlets, and starlets seem to have a thing for him. Do you consider yourself a starlet?”

Not certain of the meaning or motive of her question, Roxy replied, “What’s a starlet?”

Genuine, hearty laughter traveled across the phone line, followed by, “Perfect. You’re perfect. When can you start?”

* * *

“Hi. You must be Liam,” she said. “Come on in. Can I get you something to drink before we get started?”

“Thanks, man. A beer would be great.”

He was a good-looking young man with short dark hair and eyes to match. She figured he was kidding about the beer because he definitely wasn’t old enough to drink. He was still in high school. So she smiled and played along.

“One beer coming up—right after I check your ID.”

He shot her a look of annoyance. “Are you messing with me?”

“No, but I thought you were joking. You weren’t?”

“Hell, no. Come on. Everybody drinks beer.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Not a problem. Wine, whiskey—I’m not picky.”

The content of this first conversation with her arrogant new student was unbelievable. Was this typical behavior for an L.A. teen, or was she just being a mid-western geek?

She brought him a can of soda and asked him to play something. He didn’t react. She nudged, needing to make this small job a continuing reality. “How long have you been playing guitar?”

He shrugged, reluctant to answer her simple question, so she asked again.

He sipped his soda, looking both bored and annoyed. It was as if he didn’t want to be there, but then with a tilt of his head and one eyebrow slightly raised, he tossed out an answer. “Since I was a kid.”

In her estimation, he still was a kid, albeit an alcohol drinking kid. When he finally freed the Martin guitar from its case and played a few bars, Roxy was blown away. As badly as she needed the cash, she let him know that she wasn’t the right person to advance his guitar playing ability. Between the two of them, he was by far the better musician. His musical talent was amazing.

“That’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m more interested in breaking into show business than I am in upping my guitar skills.”

For now, Roxy kept her thoughts to herself. She could relate to his dream, but she wasn’t the person to help him with that, either. She had no connections, no ‘ins’ when it came to breaking the showbiz code.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “So you’re here expecting me to help you break into show business via your songwriting ability?”

“Not exactly.” He gave her a lopsided smile. She gave him a confused frown. “I’m here because my parents are trying to keep me out of trouble. They’ve lined up a bunch of activities to keep me busy. You’re just one of them.” An amused expression flashed across his face. “Hey, since I am here, what do you think of this?” He played a new riff on his guitar. “Are you any good with lyrics? Help me come up with some words to go with that.”

His unique musical style intrigued Roxy. She dug out a notebook and pencil and settled on the floor in front of him. The words and music came together with surprising ease. Or so it seemed. They both agreed they were on to something great and had the beginnings of a real song.

With their first session over, Roxy asked, “Same time next week?”

Placing a few folded bills into her palm, he shrugged. “Sure.”

After her student had managed to shove the ill-fitting door closed, she stood in her living room with her ears ringing from the sudden silence. After spending time creating and playing music with Liam, the apartment felt empty, lonely. She didn’t like that feeling, but she did like the fact that she held $30 cash in her hand. Cash she had earned.

Expecting to see a twenty and a ten, she sat and stared at the money. The two faces staring back at her belonged to neither Alexander Hamilton nor Andrew Jackson. She stood face-to-face with Ulysses S. Grant times two. One hundred dollars. Was this a mistake? Should she be elated or concerned? Until Roxy learned the truth, she’d consider the extra $70 to be a gift, a bonus for a job well done.

# # #

About the Author

Cricket Rohman grew up in Estes Park, Colorado and spent her formative years among deer, coyotes and beautiful blue columbine. Today she is a full-time author writing women’s fiction and mysteries about the cowboys, lovers, teachers, dogs, the great outdoors—even Alzheimer’s. And, so far, there is a dog in every one of her novels.

Book 1 FOREVER ISLAND and Book 2 WINTER’S BLUSH of The Fantasy Maker series, romance novellas, were released November 2017.

The romantic western, COLORADO TAKEDOWN, is scheduled for release early summer of 2018.

Prior to writing, Cricket's career path included the following adventures: actor, singer, audio/video producer, classroom teacher, school principal, and U of A assistant professor.

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A River of Silence

1/24/2018

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Mystery

Date Published: January 24, 2018

Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing

When Detective Winston Radhauser is awakened by a call from dispatch at 12:45a.m., it can mean only one thing—something terrible awaits him. He races to the Pine Street address. In the kitchen, Caleb Bryce, nearly deaf from a childhood accident, is frantically giving CPR to 19-month-old Skyler Sterling. Less than an hour later, Skyler is dead.

The ME calls it a murder and the entire town of Ashland, Oregon is outraged. Someone must be held accountable. The police captain is under a lot of pressure and anxious to make an arrest. Despite Radhauser’s doubts about Bryce’s guilt, he is arrested and charged with first degree murder. Neither Radhauser nor Bryce’s young public defender believe he is guilty. Winston Radhauser will fight for justice, even if it means losing his job.

Excerpt

Prologue

1988

In only eleven minutes, Detective Winston Radhauser’s world would flip on its axis and a permanent line would be drawn—forever dividing his life into before and after. He drove toward the Pima County Sheriff’s office in Catalina, a small town in the Sonoran Desert just twelve miles north of Tucson. Through the CD speakers, Alabama sang You’ve Got the Touch. He hummed along.

He was working a domestic violence case with Officer Alison Finney, his partner for nearly seven years. They’d made the arrest—their collar was sleeping off a binge in the back of the squad car. It was just after 10 p.m. As always, Finney wore spider earrings—tonight’s selection was a pair of black widows he hadn’t seen before.

“You know, Finn, you’d have better luck with men if you wore sunflowers in your earlobes.”

She laughed. “Any guy intimidated by a couple 14-carat web spinners isn’t man enough for me.”

He never missed an opportunity to tease her. “Good thing you like being single.”

The radio released some static.

Radhauser turned off the CD.

Dispatch announced an automobile accident on Interstate 10 near the Orange Grove Road exit. Radhauser and Finney were too far east to respond.

Her mobile phone rang. She answered, listened for a few seconds. “Copy that. I’ll get him there.” Finney hung up, then placed the phone back into the charger mounted beneath the dashboard.

“Copy what?” he said. “Get who where?”

She eyed him. “Pull over. I need to drive now.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What the hell for?”

Finney turned on the flashing lights. “Trust me and do what I ask.”

The unusual snap in her voice raised a bubble of anxiety in his chest. He pulled over and parked the patrol car on the shoulder of Sunrise Road.

She slipped out of the passenger seat and stood by the door waiting for him.

He jogged around the back of the cruiser.

Finney pushed him into the passenger seat. As if he were a child, she ordered him to fasten his seatbelt, then closed the car door and headed around the vehicle to get behind the wheel.

“Are you planning to tell me what’s going on?” he asked once she’d settled into the driver’s seat.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her unblinking eyes never wavered from his. “Your wife and son have been taken by ambulance to Tucson Medical Center.”

The bubble of anxiety inside him burst. “What happened? Are they all right?”

Finney turned on the siren, flipped a U-turn, then raced toward the hospital on the corner of Craycroft and Grant. “I don’t know any details.”

TMC was a designated Trauma 1 Center and most serious accident victims were taken there. That realization both comforted and terrified him. “Didn’t they say the accident happened near the Orange Grove exit?”

“I know what you’re thinking. It must be bad or they’d be taken to the closest hospital and that would be Northwest.” She stared at him with the look of a woman who knew him almost as well as Laura did. “Don’t imagine the worst. They may not have been in a car accident. Didn’t you tell me Lucas had an equestrian meet?”

Laura had driven their son to a competition in south Tucson. Maybe Lucas got thrown. He imagined the horse rearing, his son’s lanky body sliding off the saddle and landing with a thump on the arena floor. Thank God for sawdust. Laura must have ridden in the ambulance with him.

But Orange Grove was the exit Laura would have taken on her drive home. The meet ended at 9:00 p.m. Lucas always stayed to unsaddle the horse, wipe the gelding down, and help Coach Thomas load him into his trailer. About a half hour job. That would put his family near the Orange Grove exit around ten.

The moon slipped behind a cloud and the sudden darkness seemed alive and a little menacing as it pressed against the car windows.

Less than ten minutes later, Finney pulled into the ER entrance and parked in the lot. “I’m coming with you,” she said.

He shot her a you-know-better look, then glanced toward the back seat where their collar was snoring against the door, his mouth open and saliva dribbling down his chin. It was against policy to leave an unguarded suspect in the car.

“I don’t give a damn about policy,” she said.

“What if he wakes up, hitches a ride home and takes out his wife and kids? Put him in the drunk tank. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He ran across the parking lot. The ER doors opened automatically and he didn’t stop running until he reached the desk. “I’m Winston Radhauser. My wife and son were brought in by ambulance.”

The young nurse’s face paled and her gaze moved from his eyes to somewhere over his head.

With the change in her expression, his hope dropped into his shoes. He looked behind her down a short corridor where a set of swinging doors blocked any further view. “Where are they?”

It was one of those moments he would remember for a lifetime, where everything happened in slow motion.

She told him to wait while she found a doctor to talk to him, and nodded toward one of the vinyl chairs that lined the waiting room walls.

He sat. Tried to give himself an attitude adjustment. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Laura or Lucas could be in surgery and the nurse, obviously just out of nursing school, didn’t know how to tell him.

He stood.

Paced.

Sat again. The hospital might have a policy where only a physician could relate a patient’s condition to his family.

His heart worked overtime, pumping and pounding.

When he looked up, a young woman in a lab coat with a stethoscope around her neck stood in front of him. She had pale skin and was thin as a sapling, her light brown hair tied back with a yellow rubber band. Her eyes echoed the color of a Tucson sky with storm clouds brewing. “Are you Mr. Radhauser?”

He nodded.

“Please come with me.”

He expected to be taken to his wife and son, but instead she led him into a small room about eight feet square. It had a round table with a clear glass vase of red tulips in the center, and two chairs. Though she didn’t look old enough to have graduated from medical school, she introduced herself as Dr. Silvia Waterford, an ER physician.

They sat.

“Tell me what happened to my wife and son.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “It was an automobile accident on Interstate 10.”

The thread of hope he held started to unravel. “Are Laura and Lucas all right? I want to see them.”

Her throat rippled as she swallowed. “There is no easy way to say this, Mr. Radhauser. I’m so sorry for your loss. But there was nothing we could do for them.”

All at once the scene bleached out. The tulips faded to gray as if a giant flashbulb had gone off in his face. The doctor was rimmed in white light. He stared at her in disbelief for a moment, praying for a mistake, a miracle, anything except what he just heard. “What do you mean there was nothing you could do? This is a Level 1 Trauma Center, isn’t it? One of the best in the state.”

“Yes. But unfortunately, medical science has its limits and we can’t save everyone. Your wife and son were both dead on arrival.”

His body crumpled in on itself, folding over like paper, all the air forced from his chest. This was his fault. Laura asked him to take the night off and go with them. Radhauser would have avoided the freeway and driven the back way home from the fairgrounds. And everything would have ended differently.

He looked up at Dr. Waterford. What was he demanding of her? Even the best trauma center in the world couldn’t bring back the dead.

There was sadness in her eyes. “I’m sure it’s not any comfort, but we think they died on impact.”

He hung his head. “Comfort,” he said. Even the word seemed horrific and out of place here. Your wife and son were both dead on arrival. Nine words that changed his life in the most drastic way he had ever imagined.

“May I call someone for you? We have clergy on staff if you’d like to talk with someone.”

A long moment passed before he raised his head and took in a series of deep breaths, trying to collect himself enough to speak. “No clergy, unless they can bring my family back. Just tell me where my wife and son are.” His voice sounded different, deeper—not the same man who went to work that evening.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But when deaths occur in the ER, we have to move them down to the morgue.”

Radhauser stood. Beneath his anguish, a festering anger simmered. Laura was a good driver. He was willing to bet she wasn’t at fault. More than anything now, he needed someone aside from himself to blame.

Outside, a siren wailed, then came to an abrupt stop. The sound panicked Radhauser as he headed for the elevator, waited for the door to open, then got inside. He pushed the button to the basement floor. He’d visited this hospital morgue once before to identify a fellow police officer shot in a robbery arrest gone bad. The door opened and he lumbered down the empty hallway.

As he neared the stainless steel door to the morgue, a tall, dark-haired man in a suit exited. At first Radhauser thought he was a hospital administrator. The man cleared his throat, flipped open a leather case and showed his badge. “I’m Sergeant Dunlop with the Tucson Police Department. Are you Mr. Radhauser?”

“Detective Radhauser. Pima County Sheriff’s Department.”

Dunlop had a handshake Radhauser felt in every bone in his right hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Detective.”

“Are you investigating the accident involving my wife and son?” Radhauser looked him over. Dunlop wore a pin-striped brown suit with a yellow shirt and a solid brown tie—the conservative uniform of a newly-promoted sergeant. The air around them smelled like antiseptic and the industrial solvent used to wash floors. “Have you determined who was at fault?”

Dunlop hesitated for an instant. “Yes, I’m the investigating officer. From the eyewitness reports, your wife was not to blame. A Dodge pickup was headed south in the northbound lane of Interstate 10 near the Orange Grove exit. No lights. He hit her head-on.”

Radhauser cringed. The image cut deep. “Was he drunk?”

“I need to wait for the blood alcohol test results to come back.”

The anger building inside Radhauser got closer to the surface every second. Silence hung between them like glass. He shattered it. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You were on the scene. What did you see? What did the breathalyzer read?”

Dunlop’s silence told Radhauser everything he needed to know. “Did the bastard die at least?”

“He was miraculously uninjured. But his twin boys weren’t so lucky.” Dunlop’s voice turned flat. “They didn’t make it.” He winced, and a tide of something bitter and hopeless washed over his face. “The idiot let them ride in the pickup bed. Five fucking years old.”

“What’s the idiot’s name?”

“You don’t need to know that right now.”

Biting his lip, Radhauser fought against the surge of rage threatening to flood over him. “Who are you to tell me what I need to know? It’s not your wife and kid in there. Besides, I can easily access the information.”

Dunlop handed him a card. “I know you can. But you have something more important to do right now. We can talk tomorrow.” He draped his arm over Radhauser’s shoulder the way a brother or a friend might do.

The touch opened a hole in Radhauser’s chest.

“Say goodbye to your wife and son,” Dunlop said, then turned and walked away.

In the morgue, after Radhauser introduced himself, a male attendant pulled back the sheet covering their faces. There was no mistake.

“Do you mind if I sit here for a while?” Radhauser asked.

“No problem,” the attendant said. “Stay as long as you want.” He went back to a small alcove where he entered data into a computer. The morgue smelled like the hallway had, disinfectant and cleaning solution, with an added hint of formaldehyde.

Radhauser sat between the stainless steel gurneys that held Laura and Lucas. Of all the possible scenarios Radhauser imagined, none ended like this.

Across the room, two small body bags lay, side by side, on a wider gurney. The twin sons of the man who killed his family.

The clock on the morgue wall kept ticking and when Radhauser finally looked up at it, four hours had passed. He tried, but couldn’t understand how Laura and Lucas could be in the world one minute and gone the next. How could he give them up? It was as if a big piece of him had been cut out. And he didn’t know how to go on living without his heart.

###

For an entire year afterwards, Radhauser operated in a daze. He spent the late evening hours playing For the Good Times on Laura’s old upright piano. It was the first song they ever slow danced to and over their fourteen years together, it became their own.

He played it again and again. The neighbors complained, but he couldn’t stop. It was the only way he could remember the apricot scent of her skin and how it felt to hold her in his arms on the dance floor.

Night after night, he played until he finally collapsed into a fitful sleep, his head resting on the keyboard. The simple acts of waking up, showering, making coffee, and heading to work became a cruel pretense acted out in the cavernous absence of his wife and son.

About the Author

Susan Clayton-Goldner was born in New Castle, Delaware and grew up with four brothers along the banks of the Delaware River. She has been writing poems and short stories since she could hold a pencil and was so in love with writing that she was a creative writing major in college.

Prior to an early retirement which enabled her to write full time, Susan worked as the Director of Corporate Relations for University Medical Center in Tucson, Arizona. It was there she met her husband, Andreas, one of the deans in the University of Arizona's Medical School. About five years after their marriage, they left Tucson to pursue their dreams in 1991--purchasing a 35-acres horse ranch in the Williams Valley in Oregon. They spent a decade there. Andy road, trained and bred Arabian horses and coached a high school equestrian team, while Susan got serious about her writing career.

Through the writing process, Susan has learned that she must be obsessed with the reinvention of self, of finding a way back to something lost, and the process of forgiveness and redemption. These are the recurrent themes in her work.

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Derailed

1/23/2018

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Derailed
Genevieve Iseult Eldredge
(A Circuit Fae Prequel Novella)
Published by: Monster House Books
Publication date: January 23rd 2018
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult

Syl Skye. Rouen Rivoche. Star-crossed lovers who should be mortal enemies. This is the story of how they met.

A nightly excursion to DC. A goth-rock show. One innocent train ride. That’s all it takes for high school sophomore Syl Skye’s perfectly normal world to come crashing down.

Because unbeknownst to her, she’s a sleeper-princess of the fair Fae—a vessel of Fae power that has yet to Awaken—and there are dark Fae who want her dead, dead, dead.

Rouen Rivoche is one of those dark Fae. Bound to the Agravaine the dark Fae Huntsman who is dedicated to wiping out all sleeper-princesses, Rouen has no choice but to hunt Syl down and spill her blood.

But a chance meeting in a nightclub, a brush of their hands, a lingering look… Despite herself, Rouen is attracted to Syl. And when she lets Syl get away…that’s when their troubles really begin.

After all, every couple has their issues, right?

Find out how Syl and Rouen met in this new prequel novella to MORIBUND, Book 1 of the Circuit Fae…

THE CIRCUIT FAE

.5. Derailed (Moribund prequel novella) – January 23, 2018
1. Moribund – September 12, 2017
2. Ouroboros – March 27, 1018

Perfect for readers of romance, urban fantasy, fairy stories and LGBT.

“Moribund is a little bit Throne of Glass, a little bit Buffy, and a whole lot sexy.” – Skye Allen, author of The Songbird Thief

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

In this scene, Syl and her squad are at a club where Euphoria’s playing. Syl’s never seen Euphoria, and she’s excited, but Fiann’s acting weird, treating Syl poorly and trying to bully her into double-dating the Dickinson twins, Brody and Bryce. Syl ducks into the bathroom to catch her breath.

* * * *

I take a deep breath and pat the nail where it rests secretly against my skin. Okay, Syl. It’s go-time. I shove the door open. Head held high, I step out into the flashing lights of the club, and bam! run right into someone.

“Steady on.” Strong hands keep me from falling on my butt, and during our awkward two-step, I catch a glimpse of raven-dark hair and sapphire-blue eyes ringed in gold. Her deep chuckle is like rolling thunder.

“I-I’m sorry.” I look up, brushing my red curls out of my face.

Whoa. My poor heart. She’s gorgeous. Her eyes are all intense and glowy as she searches my face. The ache in my chest gets worse—but also, somehow better.

What is happening? I reach out and touch her hand. Where I want to feel skin, I feel the leather of a glove.

Still, a jolt passes between us.

She lingers, her pretty face a bit dazed. She looks from our touching hands back up. “You…”

She feels it too. Whatever it is.

And dear heaven and all the angels, she’s… Wow. She’s something else. High cheekbones, full lips curved into a smile that’s part mischief, part mayhem. Her bronze skin holds an inner glow even in the dim light of the club, and those eyes… When she looks at me, the club, the flashing lights, all the people—everything falls away and there is only the two of us.

“Who are you?” she whispers, and I hear it because she’s leaned in close, so close I can feel her warm breath on my cheek.

“I…” Introduce yourself already! But I’m all tongue-tied, frozen like the world’s biggest dork. My fingers find the strip of skin between her glove and her sleeve. Ohhhh…so warm and silky, and… What the heck are you doing, Syl?

She chuckles again, more rumbly, rolling thunder. “Are you all right?”

Yes. No. Urgggg… I step back, my cheeks on fire. She smells like all the good things in autumn—crisp leaves and harvest moons and sultry bourbon vanilla. Whoa. I’m getting a little swoony. “I-I’m fine. Really. Are you?”

“Yes, but I’d like to…” She swallows hard, seeming almost shy beneath her super-cool exterior. She licks her bottom lip, and I nearly pass out right there. “Will you meet me after the show?”

Did mine ears deceive me? Girl works fast! Plus, I can tell she’s at least a year older than me. “I…” Say something, silly!

“I’m sorry.” She pulls her hand from mine and steps away.

The loss of her touch leaves me cold. Moments from losing her to the crowd, I pluck up my courage. “What’s your name?”

That smile curves her lips like a kept secret. “I’m Euphoria.”

Euphoria. Whaaaaaaaaatttt? Seriously, Syl, only you could carry on an entire freakin conversation with your goth idol and not even recognize her.

But no…there’s something else, some other reason I didn’t recognize her right off the bat. I just can’t put my finger on it. Plus, I’m still swoony.

“I have to go.” She leans in, whispers in my ear, “After?”

I feel like only my heart can answer that question, but before I can even blink, she’s gone. Like gone-gone. One moment she’s in front of me; the next she’s vanished. Poof!

Euphoria. And she wants to see me “after.”

Crazy. This is crazy.

I shade my eyes from the blue-and-red houselights and look to the stage. After about ten minutes, the house music fades away, and the stage goes dark.

A lone silhouette appears there, backlit. It’s her.

Heat races through my body, my hand tingling from her touch. My stomach does a lazy barrel-roll, and those butterflies everyone’s always told me about? Yeah, apparently mine are Olympic gymnasts, because my whole stomach feels like it’s going for the Gold.

Oooookay. Chill out. I touch the iron nail beneath my dress. Gotta thank Glamma for the lucky pendant.

I step out of the bathroom and beeline toward the stage. I feel feverish, mad as hatter and a March hare all rolled into one.

I only know this: I have to see her again.

I’ve always hated crowds, but without another thought, I push my way to the stage. Toward Euphoria, and toward the “after” that will bring me back to her.

Author Bio:

Raised by witches and dragons in the northern wilds, GIE writes angsty urban fantasy YA romance--where girls who are mortal enemies kick butt, take names, and fall in love against all odds.

She enjoys long hikes in the woods (where better to find the fair folk?), believing in fairies (in fact, she's clapping right now), dancing with dark elves (always wear your best shoes), being a self-rescuing princess (hello, black belt!), and writing diverse books about teenage girls finding love, romance, and their own inner power.

She might be planning high tea at the Fae Court right now.

GIE is multi-published, and in her role as an editor has helped hundreds of authors make their dream of being published a reality.

Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter / Pinterest

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