Wednesday, December 24, 2008

MERRY CHRISTMAS!






Wishing you and yours a very merry Christmas and a New Year filled with hope, happiness and peace.


Sarah McNeal and my little darlings, kate, Acorn and Liberty


Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Caging Kat is Joyfully Recommended!

My paranormal erotic short story, "Caging Kat," has been named a recommended read at Joyfully Reviewed! Shayna calls it "...fast, fun, and hot enough to burn...Wickedly delightful!"

"Caging Kat" is currently available in ebook format here. If you still haven't joined the e-revolution, have patience, the story will be released in print in a few months time as part of the Festivals anthology from Tease.

Caging Kat



Blurb: An infamous art thief, Kaitlin lives a life most can only dream of. There's one problem, though - she's bored. When a mysterious invitation to a masquerade ball appears in her mailbox, she decides to attend on a whim.

Ares, God of War, has had his eyes on the feisty Kat for some time. But can he win her over with only one night to tame her wild heart? Can he get what he's always wanted by fulfilling her deepest desires?

Friday, December 5, 2008

My latest Anne Herries


My latest Anne Herries is the third in my Melford Dynasty series. It is currently on sale in America. My new book in UK is The Rake's Rebellious Lady. both are doing very well and have been in the best seller lists at amazon UK and fictionwise.com.


I wanted to tell you all about the great Christmas contest at Red Rose Publishing blog. You can access it from http://www.redrosepublishing.com/


There are four contests. Each contest will be won by one winner. There are eight prizes for each contest. Check it out and have a go!


And come to the party on 13th December at Red rose publishing's group for more prizes, fun, short stories and excerpts.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Buy The Violin And Get A Chance To Win An Ebook Reader




Welcome to the wild and crazy, exhausting preChristmas shopping days. Well, here's a little something-something to gladden and warm your heart--an antiGrinch remedy, if you please. LOL.


If you buy my book, THE VIOLIN, from Amira Press you automatically get a chance to win an Ebook Reader from my publisher. In fact, for every book you buy, you get another chance to win and, when you buy 10 books, you get the 11th book free no matter what.






THE VIOLIN

THE VIOLIN by Sarah J. McNeal (Blurb)


Genevieve has dreamed about him all her life, but it isn’t until she buys his violin and finds the remnants of his life and the mystery of his death in 1927 within its case, that she makes a decision that will change her life forever. Is there a way to change the past and save the man who haunts her heart?
Excerpt:
THE VIOLIN at Amira Press by Sarah McNeal


The couple was left alone in the living room. John’s hands seemed to burn into Genevieve’s. She wanted him to stay with her like this forever. Her heart ached a little and she wasn’t sure why. “Are you really okay? She asked.
“Hell no, I’m not okay. I’m never okay around you.” He smiled charmingly. “Now that you’ve turned into a goddess with the help of my mother, I’m not sure I will ever be okay again,” he said and grinned.
Genevieve jerked her hands out of his grasp. “I don’t think your jokes are all that funny. You scared the life out of me,” she said angrily.
He reached around her and pulled his jacket from the back of the couch. “Come on, Genevieve, let’s get going.” He took her hand back in his firm grip and pulled her along behind him out the front door, off the little porch and across the yard to his motorcycle.
Genevieve skidded to a halt. “I’m not going to ride on that thing.” She felt the knot in her stomach form just looking at the motorcycle. What a dangerous piece of machinery it was.
“Yes you are,” John said determinedly.
“No I’m not.” Genevieve was obstinately determined that she was most certainly not going to get on that death machine. “I could get killed on that thing.” She looked at the Indian motorcycle as if it were a dragon seeking its next meal.
From the back yard came a miniature explosion. Matilda’s little shriek cut the air followed by the laughter of Will and Jimmy. John glanced at Genevieve and laughed lightly. “Well, looks like that cannon you bought Jimmy has gone over big.”
She scrunched her face into a frown not listening to a word he said. “I’m not going to ride on that thing, John.”
John turned to her and spoke in a low voice as if explaining something to a child. “Listen, honey, Sunbury is ten miles or more down the road. You couldn’t even walk the first two miles before those blisters would start to hurt again.”
He guided her slowly over to the motorcycle. “Now see, I have this wonderful wheeled horse just to take milady conveniently and, without walking on sore feet I might add, to a wonderful restaurant I know in Sunbury.”
He turned her around to face him. “Now we can stand here and argue all our time away on how we’re going to get there but, in the end little miss goddess of mine, you are going to get on this motorcycle if I have to drag you on it and tie you to me.” There was absolute resolution in his voice.
Genevieve knew she couldn’t win. John had to be the most stubborn person on the face of the earth. “Okay,” she relented barely audible, “I’ll do it but I want you to know I’m really scared. You better not get us killed.”
John threw a leg over the saddle of the bike and drew her on to the back where she sat with her legs tucked behind his. He laughed a little. “Don’t worry, honey, I’m not going to kill us, not on purpose any way.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Genevieve snapped back sarcastically. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She wasn’t sure which bothered her more, riding on the motorcycle or John’s back pressed against her chest and her legs snugly folded next to his.
John reached back, took her hands, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “All you have to do is hang on tight and lean the way I lean. Got that?”
Genevieve was shaking too much to answer so she nodded her head even though she was sure he wasn’t really waiting for her permission. Her stomach clenched with anxiety and fear made her hands tremble.
John kicked the starter with his left heel and the engine sputtered into life. It sounded like a chain saw.
Genevieve hugged John’s waist in a death grip and laid her face against his back as he drew on his goggles over his eyes. “Genevieve,” he yelled over the roar of the engine, “I have to be able to breathe, honey, not that I don’t love you holding me that tight.” He laughed and the motorcycle lunged forward onto the dirt road.
Genevieve watched as John squeezed the clutch with his left hand and reached down to change the gear with his right hand on the stick gear in front of him.
“Aren’t we supposed to have on helmets? There’s a law about that,” Genevieve yelled into his back. She felt the rumble of his laughter on her cheek.
“I don’t think they have a law about that. We’re not going into battle; we’re just taking a ride.” He laughed out loud. “You might want to keep your mouth shut before a bug flies in it,” he shouted and laughed again.
The engine whined a few seconds as John changed gears again. The machine hummed as they scattered rocks and dirt in their wake down the country road. The wind blew through his hair and Genevieve’s braid flopped heavily in the wind the bike created.
“I never saw a motorcycle with a stick shift on the body before,” Genevieve called out over the roar of the engine. “Isn’t there some kind of shift thingy on the handlebar?”
“That’s a mighty interesting question seeing how there is no other motorcycle anywhere. Indian is all there is and this is where the gears are.” John was silent a moment than added, “But now that I think about it, it would sure be more convenient if the ‘thingy’ was on the handlebar.”
Genevieve was beginning to loosen her grip a little as she began to grow calm. A little burn of fear still scorched her stomach though. “Does this thing have brakes?” she called out the question.
“You’ll be glad to know there’s two. I got one in my right hand and the other is located here under my right foot. You couldn’t be any safer.” He spoke loudly making his voice rise above the engine noise. “Isn’t this the greatest?” He was obviously enjoying himself.
Genevieve wasn’t so sure it was the greatest thing riding wildly down a dirt road on a motorcycle. In her real life, she would never take such a crazy chance. But there was one thing she thought that made this dangerous and impulsive antic worthwhile. She got to hold John close to her until she could hear his heartbeat and the vibration of his voice through his jacket on her cheek. The time she spent with John was worth all the heartache that would come later.
The Violin is available in Print or ebook at the following locations: http://www.amirapress.com/, amazon.com, Fictionwise.com,Bookstrand.com or go to my website at http://www.sarahmcneal.com/ and click on the buy button which will take you straight to Amira Press.

And here is another cool deal. If you join Amira Press Reader's Group, you get my story, I PROMISE YOU, as a free read. Here is a blurb and excerpt for you.

FREE READ Join the Amira Press Yahoo group (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/amirapress/join) today and get a free read courtesy of Sarah J. McNeal.I Promise You
Gideon thought he had the perfect life as a musician with a beautiful model as his girlfriend, until he was diagnosed with breast cancer.Ashamed and afraid he may die, Gideon hits bottom when his girlfriend dumps him for a real man.Hope comes in the form of his father’s ghost and a person he has just met. Can he beat the odds and survive? And if he does, can he ever find happiness again?

I PROMISE YOU Excerpt
By Sarah J. McNeal
Publisher: Amira Press
Available as a FREE READ

In a nonstop run of chatter in the “it’s all about me” world of Sylvia, she handed him the iced tea remembering, at least, to put a straw in the glass affording him the ability to drink. The tea was bitter without any sugar in it. He didn’t bother to ask for sugar, content to drink anything that would slake his thirst. Leaning his head back against the pillows and closing his eyes, he allowed her never-ending stream of words to wash over him. He didn’t feel much like talking any way being more absorbed in his own thoughts about his surgery, his therapy and his hope for survival.
Accustomed to Sylvia’s self-centered and relentless chatter, Gideon knew it wasn’t necessary to comment on anything she said. Sylvia was shallow but she was very entertaining in her own way and, oh, so stunningly beautiful. Gideon pushed the button in his hand that would bring him relief.
Maybe it was the morphine causing him to slip into some kind of hallucination or maybe he was just dreaming—or wishing. The room appeared filled with white fog so thick that nothing was visible beyond the bed where he lay. A fragrance drifted on the fog almost like a memory of forest, pungent cedar, rich, leaf-covered earth and sun warmed water.
Gideon knew before the form appeared through the fog to stand at the foot of his bed that his father was near. He closed his eyes against the visage yearning for it to be real and knowing it couldn’t be. His parents had died two years ago in a car accident. But, when he blinked his eyes open once again, his dad was still there a slim, tall man wearing waders and a fishing hat over his thick, silver hair. A narrow fringe of white mustache graced his upper lip as he smiled that lopsided way that Gideon remembered so well.
He seemed so real that Gideon felt a lump of suppressed emotions form in his throat and wanted to cry for joy. All he could manage to say in a whisper was, “Pop? Is that you?”
The figure moved closer, sat gently on the side of the bed and took Gideon’s hand. His hand felt warm and solid in Gideon’s grasp. With a voice barely audible, filled with an aching, bitter need to clutch his father to him, Gideon asked, “Did I die? Am I in heaven now?” A tear slid down his cheek, not from sadness at the passing of his life, but with pure, unmitigated joy that his father was with him again.
His father shook his head. “No son. I heard you were in trouble and needed me.” The old man smiled and squeezed his hand the way he’d done a thousand times before. From scraped knees to his first broken heart, his dad had always been there to comfort, love and guide him.
In truth, whether this vision of his dad was real or was brought about by the morphine in his veins, Gideon was glad he was there. Never had he needed his father more than he did right now. “Pop,” Gideon spoke the one watery word like a prayer filled with despair and hope, “Please help me.”
“We’ll get you through this, Gideon.” His father’s image seemed to fade, blending into the chair where he sat.
To get this free read, join our group and email Dahlia at http://us.mc365.mail.yahoo.com/mc/compose?to=VMochaXtasi1029@aol.com.
I'll be chatting with you again soon. Stay tuned.
Sarah McNeal
www.sarahmcneal.com
Author of THE VIOLIN (Amira Press)
THE DARK ISLE (New Concepts Publishing)
LAKE OF SORROWS (New Concepts Publishing)

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Good News!

I'm very pleased to at last be able to share some news I've been sitting on for a while.

I've signed a contract for Reckless Liaisons with Black Lyon. My first full-length novel in over two years has found itself a home, and is tentatively due on the shelves in March, 2009. I am thrilled to be part of the Black Lyon family, amongst some very talented authors.

Right now I'm hard at work on the sequel, A Compromising Evening, as well as preparing for final exams.

I look forward to sharing more details about the book as it comes closer to release.

-K

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!


I hope each and every one of you has a wonderful and satisfying Thanksgiving. We'll be having Turkey and stuffin' muffins at my sister's house. I'm assigned to mashed potatoes and broccoli. Thank goodness for my niece, Betsy--she's bringing some rum and coke along with snacks to consume while we play our traditional board games of "cut throat" Parcheesi and Chinese Checkers. I plan on having a wonderful time.
Kate, my sweet dog, will be going with me. Though it's difficult for her to get in and out of the Forester now, I have a ramp for her and a nice quilt for her to lie on while we're there. I thought you'd like to know that she's hanging in there. I hope she can make it for Christmas but, for now, I'm just glad to have her each day.
I hope for all of you a great Thanksgiving Day!!
Sarah McNeal
www.sarahmcneal.com
Author of The Violin at Amira Press
The Dark Isle at New Concepts Publishing
Lake of Sorrows at New Concepts Publishing
My WIP: Harmonica Joe's Reluctant Bride

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Cassie's Sheikh


Cassie's Sheikh/Linda Sole/Red Rose Publishing



Also at other outlets and soon to be in print.

Cassie's Sheikh has been shortlisted for the Christmas Awards 2009 at


Kasim hates scandal magazines and the people who work for them. What chance does Cassie have to make him see that her father's stables is a ghood place to bring his uncle's thoroughbred horses?

enjoy the excerpt!




"If she's the bitch I imagine she must be, there is no way I shall let my uncle place his horses at her father's stable," Kasim said. "It would be the worst thing he could do."
"But you don't know that," Ben Harrison, his friend, constant companion, and lawyer told him. "She may be a perfectly pleasant woman for all you know."
"A woman who writes for one of those filthy rags?" Kasim's eyes flashed with scorn. His face had the proud, regal lines of his ancestors, the bones angled beneath his olive-toned skin, but his eyes told another story. They were a deep brilliant blue, testimony to his mixed parentage, for he was the son of a desert Sheikh and the beautiful blonde and blue-eyed daughter of an American millionaire.
"Maybe she just does it for a living."
The angles of Kasim's face hardened. "Don't try to make excuses for her, Ben. I've had experience with her kind, remember?"
"Yes, of course I remember," Ben replied. "But you shouldn't jump to conclusions. You were all set for this deal until you found out that Josh's daughter worked for that magazine."
"My uncle thinks it is the best place available," Kasim said. "So I shall keep an open mind, but I want to see what they're like on a normal working day, not when everything is cleaned up for inspection."
"Shall I come with you?"
"Not today." Kasim's face relaxed into an affectionate smile, the angles softened as he looked at the man he trusted more than any other. "If I decide to go any further, we'll keep our appointment tomorrow—but today will be my little surprise."
*****
Cassie rushed out into the hall as she heard the commotion, feeling concerned as she saw everyone gathered about her father. Her mother turned to look at her anxiously.
"Your father thinks his ankle may be broken, Cassie."
"Oh, Dad," Cassie said. "Does it hurt badly?"
"Pretty bad," Josh Livingston said, grimacing. "It may mean I'm stuck in hospital for a few days, and you know who's coming tomorrow, don't you?"
"An important client," Cassie and her mother echoed each other.
Cassie understood what was going through his mind. Josh ran a small but successful racing stable in Newmarket, but the owner who had kept a string of horses with them for the past several years was about to retire from the business.
"Maybe they will let you out, Josh," Helen Livingston said, without really believing it. "You may not have to stay in hospital."
"But what if I do? Who is going to explain the way we work here to our visitor? Joe is great with the horses, but he hates getting involved with owners. It's the reason he doesn't work for himself."
"I suppose I could try…" Helen said doubtfully. "If you helped me, Cassie?"
Cassie hesitated for a moment. She was meant to be back in London the next day, and they had a magazine to get out—but she was due a few days leave and she could email her stuff through to the office.
"Yes, of course. If Dad thinks I'm up to it?" She grinned, tossing back her long pale hair, her greenish-blue eyes sparking with mischief. "You know I'm a walking minefield, Dad—dare you risk it?"
"It looks as if I may have to. This ankle is pretty awful, Cas. Try not to say or do anything daft when Mr. Ahmed comes, won't you?"
"You mean like calling him the Sheikh of Araby and wearing my harem costume?"
"Cassie!" her mother cried, horrified. "Please don't joke about this, darling. Your father has enough to worry him."
"It's all right, Cas doesn't mean it. I know you'll both do your best, but you're too like me, Cas—you'll probably fall flat on your backside just as you go to shake his hand," her father said.
"Shake the Sheikh's hand," Cassie said irrepressibly. "I think I could make up a little song about that…"
"Please spare me," her father begged. "That sounds like the ambulance outside, love." He looked at his wife. "I think I shall need a chair."
"Yes, of course. Stay where you are, Josh."
As his wife hurried out, he looked at his daughter. "You know your mother hates horses, Cas, always has. She can't bear to go near them. I sometimes wonder how she has managed to live with me all this time."
"Because she adores you," Cassie said and smiled at him affectionately. "And because you treat her as if she were special, Dad. Not many women are lucky enough to find a man like that, and Mum knows a good thing when she sees it."
"Bless you, love. I'm relying on you to charm Mr. Ahmed, Cas. He can be a pleasant chap, but they say he is hard to please when it comes to business and we need his horses. Tell him that we shall be able to devote ourselves to his string by next month, and that we are very stringent about security, also discreet—that is important to him. He hates newspapers and magazines…"
"Pity about that," Cassie said. "I might have gained Brownie points with Maggie if I'd been able to get an interview for our rag."
"Mr. Ahmed wouldn't be seen dead in your rag," her father said. "Whatever you do, don't tell him you work for Stars & Their Lives or he will be gone so fast we shan't see the dust."
"I was only teasing, Dad," Cassie said, and for once her famous grin was missing. "I do know how much this means to you, and I promise I shall do my best to pull it off for you. I won't breathe a word about the magazine, and I shall tell him what a wonderful trainer you are. Not that I have to with your record. You had six winners last year and that surely speaks for itself."
"I haven't won a Classic for three years," her father said with a grimace. "That could all change with Mr. Ahmed's string—if he placed them with us."
"Yes, I know." Cassie looked at him curiously. "Why doesn't he like to be addressed by his title?"
"He is a very private man. He never allows photographs, and is furious if the press catches him anywhere but at a race meeting. He can't prevent that, of course, nor being addressed as Sheikh Ali bin Ahmed in public, but he prefers to keep a low profile in private."
"He's extremely rich, isn't he?"
"One of the richest of them all. The thing is that he…" Josh broke off as two ambulance men came in carrying a chair.
Cassie watched as her father was helped into the chair by the paramedics and taken outside, followed by his wife. Helen Livingston cast an agonized glance at her daughter as she left.
"You can manage, can't you, love? I may be with your father for the rest of the day. There are a few letters that need typing. You will find them on the desk in the office."
"Yes, of course," Cassie said. "Don't worry about anything here. I'll be all right until you come home, I promise."
And that was quite a promise, Cassie acknowledged after her parents had left in the ambulance. She had columns to write for the magazine, those letters for her father, and a routine tour of the yard, just to make sure she knew anything she ought to know before the arrival of the Sheikh of Araby the next day. A little giggle escaped her as she pictured him, looking much like Rudolph Valentino, the star of the silver screen in the twenties.
"That's enough of that, Cassandra," she told herself severely. She had no idea what Mr. Ahmed looked like. He could be thin and dashingly handsome or fat, boring, and ugly. And that wasn't important either. He was her father's one hope of keeping the stable going, because without him Josh would probably have to sell everything and that would break her father's heart. He had put so many years into this business.
A determined look came over Cassie's face. If she had anything to do with it, Mr. Ahmed was going to run straight to his lawyers and sign the contract even if she had to—what? Oh no, there were limits, she decided. She'd heard about some of these rich playboys, and the one thing she wasn't about to do was fall into bed with him!
But if Mr. Ahmed was the private businessman he claimed to be, he probably wouldn't be interested in her as a woman. Why should he? Cassie glanced at herself in the mirror and giggled. She wasn't exactly Miss Glamourpants, was she? Wearing her oldest jeans, a faded sweatshirt, her hair decidedly in need of a wash, she wouldn't exactly drive any man to madness with lust for her. That wasn't important. Tomorrow she would be wearing smart jodhpurs, her best riding boots, and her hair would be gleaming. But for the moment she had too much to do to worry about what she looked like!
She walked into her father's office and switched on his laptop. She was just about to insert a disc with the details of the articles she had prepared for The Stars & Their Lives when she heard a loud crunching sound and a car come to a screeching halt in the gravel outside her window. Now who on earth is that? she wondered, getting up to investigate. The car was a very expensive Mercedes sports model in metallic silver with a black leather interior, and the hood had been rolled back, which made it appear even racier.
Oh, no, it couldn't be! Cassie's heart sank as the man got out of the car, standing there in the sunshine for a moment. He was tall but not too tall, strong-looking with powerful shoulders and an air of assurance that made Cassie's heart plummet all the way down to her white, wedge mules. It had to be Mr. Ahmed! He was turning towards her now and her breath caught as she saw that he was better looking than any Sheikh she had seen in old movies on the TV screen. His hair was jet black with a bluish tinge in the sunlight and his eyes—were hidden behind his designer shades. His suit shouted Saville Row at her, his shoes obviously handmade and expensive.
What the hell was he doing here today? She felt like exploding as she glanced down at herself. She looked like something the cat had dragged in and felt worse. Oh, why couldn't he have kept to his appointment as arranged? There was no help for it, Cassie realized. She had to meet him as she was and grovel.
She went swiftly through to the front door, opening it seconds before he could ring the bell. He removed his glasses and looked at her, his eyes going over her slowly in a measured way that made her want to die. This man was used to having the best of everything—and no doubt that included women!—what must be going through his mind? He must think her a poor specimen.
Hang on a minute! Those eyes were blue, bright, clear and devastating. She had always thought men from the Middle Eastern countries had dark eyes—but his were startling. And she was staring like an idiot!
"I am so sorry," she said, offering her hand and smiling. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow, sir. I'm afraid I'm not properly dressed for showing you round the yard, but I can find a pair of Wellington boots and then I'll be with you."
"And you are?" he asked, his brows rising. He did not immediately take the hand she offered, and she let it drop, feeling rejected. His voice had the quality of cut glass and Cassie shivered, her knees suddenly feeling as if they had the consistency of jelly. He was clearly a man of authority, and none too pleased by being met by someone who looked as if she'd been pulled backwards through a hedge. "I was expecting to meet Mr. Joshua Livingston—the owner of this stable I understand?"
"My father, yes, of course, sir," Cassie said, but her head went up and she refused to be cut down by the slash of his tone. His manner was sending shivers along the entire length of her spine, but she wasn't going to fail at the first fence. "Unfortunately, he had an accident this morning and had to go to hospital. Actually, there must have been some mix-up, Mr. Ahmed. I am so sorry to seem at a loss, but we weren't expecting you until tomorrow."
"So, you are Miss Livingston?" he said and appeared to be considering, his eyes surveying her with a calculating coldness. "And you are offering yourself in your father's place?"
"It might seem a poor substitute," Cassie admitted. "I'm not a trainer, but I've been around horses all my life and I love them. I don't have my father's expert knowledge, but I know a great deal about the way he runs the stable—and his head groom, Joe Green, will be glad to tell you anything that I can't, sir."
"Mr. Ahmed will do," he said, and his mouth relaxed slightly. She thought he might have been laughing at her, and for a moment her heart did a giddy somersault, but he had replaced his glasses and it was impossible to tell. "Do you think you could find those boots, Miss Livingston? I shall be calling on you officially tomorrow, but I decided to drive myself down early and take a quick look round this morning. I like to see things as they are, not specially tidied up for my benefit."

Friday, November 14, 2008

Books in Print


I have just checked the print proofs for Chateau Despair, Cassie's Sheikh and A Kind of Loving for Red Rose Publishing. When I sent these books to be published in ebook format I never expected that they would all go into print too. While it was very satisfying to see books I love go into ebook format and I do very much like the flexability of this format there is nothing like print copies you can hold in your hand. I hope to buying quite a few of these to pop in Christmas stockings for friends and relatives who would never read an ebook and therefore miss out on mine.


I have been working very hard on my lates saga recently and have now reached the first print out, which is the end of the first stage for me. I sent in a new Melford Dynasty to HMB a few weeks back and have signed a five book contract. I seem to get translations of my HMB books most weeks and this is a source of great pleasure for me. Writing is rewarding in itself but it is lovely to know that your books are being published worldwide!


I wanted to hint at a big competition on Red Rose Publishing's blog and a Christmas party on the group. I can't say anymore yet but this is just a taster. Love to you all, Linda

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

My Kate

MY KATE


I thought when Grandfather Tree died that something shifted, like a shadow fell over my house. I know this is probably just kinda strange but I knew somehow more trouble was on the way. And so it has. My Golden Retriever, Kate, who has been with me through thick and thin, has cancer of the bone and only weeks to live. There is nothing I can do to save her. I am keeping her comfortable at present on meds but that won't last and I dread the final outcome. How will my life be without my Kate? This has been a year of mixed emotions. It was wonderful when my book THE VIOLIN was released but the loss of my friend, Joyce, Grandfather Tree and now this devastating news about my best buddy, Kate, has left me exhausted emotionally. It is my earnest prayer that the new year will bring with it a sense of happiness and hope.


In the meantime, I will spend whatever time I have left with Kate just loving her and try to let her go without allowing her to suffer for my sake.


All good things to your corner of the universe.


Sarah McNeal




Author of


THE VIOLIN at Amira Press


THE DARK ISLE at New Concepts Publishing


LAKE OF SORROWS at New Concepts Publishing

Thursday, November 6, 2008

New Contract...

Well I'm doing the happy dance! I just signed a new contract with Eternal Press for my gay romance Homecoming! Squeeee! As most of you know that have been following along here, I had submitted the manuscript in July and was waiting to hear back from them, and I finally did hear back last week. I am very impressed with their professionalism. Anywho, I don't have a release date yet, but I will be sure and post it here when I do have one. For the time being here is the blurb for Homecoming:

After five years Crew has returned to his home planet of Mara hoping to reunite with his bondmate Eagle. Not knowing what Eagle’s reaction to his return is going to be, Crew is very nervous. When Eagle comes to him first he must decide if Eagle truly loves him or if he is out for revenge.

New Regency Release - Unspeakable

Now Available from Red Rose Publishing!

UNSPEAKABLE

Kayleigh Jamison

Unspeakable

Erotic Romance: Regency, Historical/Period
ISBN: 978-1-60435-262-7
Cover Artist: Shirley Burnett
Editor: WRFG
Word Count: 12,830
Release Date: November 06, 2008



Trevor Caufield has always prided himself on being a consummate rake...until a clandestine meeting with a mysterious, strangely silent woman in a darkened hallway. Setting out to pursue Emma Hatton with purely selfish intentions, he discovers emotions that transcend his formerly uncomplicated existence and teach him that true love has no need for words.


Excerpt


“Ah, silence,” he muttered, rounding a corner and slipped deeper into the house. His steps were unhurried, and the leisurely pace saved him from walking straight into the petite form that blocked his path just after the turn.

The woman stared at him with wide, doe—eyes. She was radiantly beautiful in the dimly lit corridor, the rays of moonlight illuminating the golden tresses of her hair, which spilled over her shoulders in rich, enticing waves. She didn't have the look of a servant girl; her dress, though out—of—date, was far too elegant. Her pixie—like face was soft but refined, with a small, button nose and full, pouty lips that made him, without thinking, lick his own in anticipation. Her eyebrows, the same golden blonde as her hair, were fine and sculpted, arching over eyes that, even in the dim light, he saw were a sparkling, crystalline blue.

“My apologies, Madame, I didn't intend to frighten you,” Trevor soothed, recovering from his momentary shock and offering her a charming half—smile. Where have you been hiding? he wanted to ask instead.

Her eyes widened another fraction, but she said nothing.

“Truly, I thought myself alone,” he continued and flashed another smile. “Had I known I would encounter such an enchanting gem hidden away in this dark hall, I would have brought two glasses.” He lifted the champagne flute to his lips, watching her carefully over the rim.

Still no response from her. Were it not for the slight tremble of her lower lip, Trevor would have begun to wonder if she was a statue – or perhaps a life—sized doll. Yes, she resembled the dolls his little sister had played with as a child, her skin smooth and pale as porcelain, eyelashes almost freakishly long, fanning against the ridge of her eyebrows.

“Am I such a terrifying sight?”

More maddening silence.

He changed tactics. Trevor reached for her hand, half expecting her to jump backwards out of his reach. She didn't, and allowed him to grasp her fingers lightly, giving them a squeeze. Her skin was soft and silky, and he felt a jolt of warmth at the contact. “Are you ill, Madame? Hurt?”

She shook her head just the slightest bit – a minute gesture, the shimmer it stirred amongst her flaxen curls the only indication that she'd moved at all. Her hand remained limp in his much larger palm.

“Damnit, woman, say something, would you? Anything,” he exclaimed.

She shook her head again, this time with more force, and gave his hand a squeeze. Rather than pulling out of his grip, as he expected her to do, she allowed her hand to stay where it was, giving a second squeeze with her fingers.

“Well, good. We've established you're real, and I'm real,” Trevor said. “Now, I really must insist that you…” That she what, Caufield? Exactly what is it you want her to do?

A rustling from around the corner caused him to abandon his thought process. His companion stiffened, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. Before he could stop her she'd pulled her hand free and was running down the hallway.

“Wait!” Trevor called. “At least allow me your name!”

She paused long enough to cast a final, mournful glance over her shoulder, and then disappeared into the shadows.





$1.99

Thursday, October 30, 2008

THE VIOLIN ISBN# 978-1-934475-22-5

THE VIOLIN
by Sarah J. McNeal
Publisher: Amira Press
Available in Print and ebook at www.amirapress.com, Amazon.com,Fictionwise.com and Bookstrands.com or from my website at www.saramcneal.com
Okay, this is really Keanu Reeves but, in this picture, he is exactly like John Douglas in this excerpt from THE VIOLIN. I can just imagine him on his Indian motorcycle speeding down the dirt road from Numidia to Sunbury with Genevieve clinging to him in a death grip. I hope you enjoy this excerpt.
Sarah J. McNeal

BLURB:

Genevieve has dreamed about him all her life, but it isn’t until she buys his violin and finds the remnants of his life and the mystery of his death in 1927 within its case, that she makes a decision that will change her life forever. Is there a way to change the past and save the man who haunts her heart?


EXCERPT:


The couple was left alone in the living room. John’s hands seemed to burn into Genevieve’s. She wanted him to stay with her like this forever. Her heart ached a little and she wasn’t sure why. “Are you really okay? She asked.
“Hell no, I’m not okay. I’m never okay around you.” He smiled charmingly. “Now that you’ve turned into a goddess with the help of my mother, I’m not sure I will ever be okay again,” he said and grinned.
Genevieve jerked her hands out of his grasp. “I don’t think your jokes are all that funny. You scared the life out of me,” she said angrily.
He reached around her and pulled his jacket from the back of the couch. “Come on, Genevieve, let’s get going.” He took her hand back in his firm grip and pulled her along behind him out the front door, off the little porch and across the yard to his motorcycle.
Genevieve skidded to a halt. “I’m not going to ride on that thing.” She felt the knot in her stomach form just looking at the motorcycle. What a dangerous piece of machinery it was.
“Yes you are,” John said determinedly.
“No I’m not.” Genevieve was obstinately determined that she was most certainly not going to get on that death machine. “I could get killed on that thing.” She looked at the Indian motorcycle as if it were a dragon seeking its next meal.
From the back yard came a miniature explosion. Matilda’s little shriek cut the air followed by the laughter of Will and Jimmy. John glanced at Genevieve and laughed lightly. “Well, looks like that cannon you bought Jimmy has gone over big.”
She scrunched her face into a frown not listening to a word he said. “I’m not going to ride on that thing, John.”
John turned to her and spoke in a low voice as if explaining something to a child. “Listen, honey, Sunbury is ten miles or more down the road. You couldn’t even walk the first two miles before those blisters would start to hurt again.”
He guided her slowly over to the motorcycle. “Now see, I have this wonderful wheeled horse just to take milady conveniently and, without walking on sore feet I might add, to a wonderful restaurant I know in Sunbury.”
He turned her around to face him. “Now we can stand here and argue all our time away on how we’re going to get there but, in the end little miss goddess of mine, you are going to get on this motorcycle if I have to drag you on it and tie you to me.” There was absolute resolution in his voice.
Genevieve knew she couldn’t win. John had to be the most stubborn person on the face of the earth. “Okay,” she relented barely audible, “I’ll do it but I want you to know I’m really scared. You better not get us killed.”
John threw a leg over the saddle of the bike and drew her on to the back where she sat with her legs tucked behind his. He laughed a little. “Don’t worry, honey, I’m not going to kill us, not on purpose any way.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Genevieve snapped back sarcastically. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She wasn’t sure which bothered her more, riding on the motorcycle or John’s back pressed against her chest and her legs snugly folded next to his.
John reached back, took her hands, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “All you have to do is hang on tight and lean the way I lean. Got that?”
Genevieve was shaking too much to answer so she nodded her head even though she was sure he wasn’t really waiting for her permission. Her stomach clenched with anxiety and fear made her hands tremble.
John kicked the starter with his left heel and the engine sputtered into life. It sounded like a chain saw.
Genevieve hugged John’s waist in a death grip and laid her face against his back as he drew on his goggles over his eyes. “Genevieve,” he yelled over the roar of the engine, “I have to be able to breathe, honey, not that I don’t love you holding me that tight.” He laughed and the motorcycle lunged forward onto the dirt road.
Genevieve watched as John squeezed the clutch with his left hand and reached down to change the gear with his right hand on the stick gear in front of him.
“Aren’t we supposed to have on helmets? There’s a law about that,” Genevieve yelled into his back. She felt the rumble of his laughter on her cheek.
“I don’t think they have a law about that. We’re not going into battle; we’re just taking a ride.” He laughed out loud. “You might want to keep your mouth shut before a bug flies in it,” he shouted and laughed again.
The engine whined a few seconds as John changed gears again. The machine hummed as they scattered rocks and dirt in their wake down the country road. The wind blew through his hair and Genevieve’s braid flopped heavily in the wind the bike created.
“I never saw a motorcycle with a stick shift on the body before,” Genevieve called out over the roar of the engine. “Isn’t there some kind of shift thingy on the handlebar?”
“That’s a mighty interesting question seeing how there is no other motorcycle anywhere. Indian is all there is and this is where the gears are.” John was silent a moment than added, “But now that I think about it, it would sure be more convenient if the ‘thingy’ was on the handlebar.”
Genevieve was beginning to loosen her grip a little as she began to grow calm. A little burn of fear still scorched her stomach though. “Does this thing have brakes?” she called out the question.
“You’ll be glad to know there’s two. I got one in my right hand and the other is located here under my right foot. You couldn’t be any safer.” He spoke loudly making his voice rise above the engine noise. “Isn’t this the greatest?” He was obviously enjoying himself.
Genevieve wasn’t so sure it was the greatest thing riding wildly down a dirt road on a motorcycle. In her real life, she would never take such a crazy chance. But there was one thing she thought that made this dangerous and impulsive antic worthwhile. She got to hold John close to her until she could hear his heartbeat and the vibration of his voice through his jacket on her cheek. The time she spent with John was worth all the heartache that would come later.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Excerpt Song of The Mountains



Song Of The Mountains/Anne Ireland

Coming From Eternal Press in November



They were swimming towards her, racing each other and calling out excitedly in the way young men will, reminding Morwenna of her young brothers who sometimes swam in the lake near her home at Bala. As they came nearer, she saw their shoulders were naked and realised they must have removed much of their clothing before plunging into the water. One of them had reached the bank a short distance from where she was sitting. He had not seen her because of the reed bed that partially obscured her and them.
She had a clear view of the man, who hauled himself from the river and stood shaking his long hair like a hound, the droplets sparkling in the sunshine as they flew around him. He was completely naked. His strong, muscled body open to her curious gaze as he stood laughing at his friend, clearly unashamed of his unclothed state and pleased to have won his race.
He was beautiful! Morwenna drank in the sight of his power and grace. The colour of his skin seeming to indicate this was not the first time it had been exposed to the elements, gleaming wetly like pale copper in the sun’s rays.


























Chapter One
Morwenna 1399
The sun had risen over the Black Mountains these three hours or more, sweeping through the valley, reaching the gloomy old manor house built of stone into the ridge at the far end, but scarcely penetrating its thick walls.
The house was always cold, had been cold ever since she was brought here as a bride, Maire, Lady of Gruffudd thought, shivering and pulling her shawl about her shoulders.
She was thin and beginning to stoop a little, though she had not yet passed her thirty-fourth summer. She had been fourteen when she was wed to Dafydd Gruffudd, fifteen when her son was born–the only son to survive though she had borne three more and a daughter, all dying in infancy. In the end, her husband had named her a barren cow and sought his pleasures elsewhere.
Walking into her son’s bedchamber, Maire’s nose wrinkled in disgust. The stench of sweat, stale urine, and ale made the air thick in this tiny cell, which was separated from the Great Hall by a curtain of leather. She looked down at the man snoring on his straw pallet for a moment, before taking the pitcher she had brought with her and dashing icy water into his face.
The effect was instantaneous. He spluttered and jerked, starting up with an oath as his hand went instinctively to the sword lying on the floor by his side. Anger sparked in the bright blue eyes as he saw the reason for his rude awakening.
"In God’s name, Mother! Why did you do that?"
"The day is wasting while you snore abed, Morgan Gruffudd. ‘Tis time you rose. Besides, there’s a messenger come from Owain Glyn Dwr himself. Will you show discourtesy to Owain?"
"Owain has sent a messenger to me?" The expression in Morgan’s eyes was suddenly wary, suspicious. "Why should he bother after all this time?"
They had expected to hear something from Maire’s kinsman after the death of Dafydd Gruffudd. The two men had not been exactly enemies, but it was accepted within the family that they had had no love for each other. Had it been otherwise, Morgan might have been sent into the lord of Glyndyfrdwy’s service long ago. He was now almost nineteen years of age, and apart from trips into the mountains and forests that bounded his home. To his mother’s knowledge, he had never been further than Tintern Abbey, Chepstow, or to the Eisteddfod with his father. They had both hoped for a summons after Dafydd died, but the word had not come in two long years. Two years, Morgan had subsequently spent drinking, fighting, and whoring in the neighbouring valleys with his friends.
"How should I know why he sends his messenger?" Maire asked, though she was well aware that Owain Glyn Dwr’s man had come in response to her plea for help. She had despaired of her son, known throughout the lordship of the Brecon as Morgan the Rogue, realising that she had no hope of curbing his wild ways. The small manor was falling into ruin through neglect. Morgan promised always to do whatever she asked the next day and did nothing. If, as she hoped, her kinsman had exercised his rights to take Morgan into his service, the care of the manor would be left in Maire’s capable hands. The land in this southern valley was fertile and sweet; left to her management it would yield a good living for Maire and her dependants. "I suggest you make yourself decent and discover his purpose for yourself."
Morgan had risen from his bed. Despite his indolence of late he was a fine figure of a man, over six feet in height and broad in the shoulder with strong, muscled thighs and a mane of dark hair about his face, his chin dark for want of a shave this past week. A week that Maire suspected he had spent in the bed of some whore.
"If Glyn Dwr has sent a messenger to me I’d best not keep him waiting."
"You’ll not go like that!" Maire pulled a face. "He’ll think you a barbarian!"
"Would you have me dress like an English jay, Mother?" Morgan scowled at her. "You must know that ‘tis said across the border, all Welshmen are barbarians. Why should I be different?"
"You could at least put on a clean tunic and hose."
Maire shook her head as Morgan ignored her and walked into the hall, scratching beneath his armpits. Her son’s habits did not come from her, for she was a clean, industrious woman and had done her best to raise Morgan as a good Christian. There were many in the valleys to listen to the bards sing of the old mythology, but Maire was not one of them.

My latest ebook!


Next month Eternal Press are bringing out a big Medieval story of mine. Song of The Mountains is a powerful story of love, hate, revenge and betrayal. Set against the struggle between the last Welsh Prince of Wales and the English, it tells the story of Morgan, a brave man who makes a mistake and has to pay for it over a number of years. I am posting the cover now and will come back with an excerpt.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Some Fun Stuff This Week



Well, there's a lot going on this week. Amira Press is having a Spooktacular event that will be taking place all week long. There are free reads you can choose from just for signing up. Mine is The Curse of the Amber Tomb about an archiologist whose ambition blinds her to all else, a handsome photographer who was once a part of a family circus act that went bad and a couple of vampires. There's a sexy scene and some intense thrills to be had--for FREE!

Also they are giving away free baskets of wonderful goodies to 2 lucky people during the events. Check out the fun at http://www.amirapress.com Go to the pumpkin at the top of the Amira Press home page and click onto it to get in on the fun. Can't wait to see you there.

Sarah McNeal


Author of

THE VIOLIN at Amira Press in print and ebook

THE DARK ISLE at New Concepts Publishing

LAKE OF SORROWS at New Concepts Publishing

THE CURSE OF THE AMBER TOMB free read at Amira Press

My Destiny's Choices Squidoo Lens...

Yup, I've decided to join the ranks of those who squidoo! I had a little time about a month ago and decided to see what all the hallaboo about making lens was. Well I found out, it's because it's fun! I really enjoyed making mine and I suspect I will be making more before too long, the darned stuff is downright addictive! Anyway, the neat thing about making a lens, was that I made it for my book Destiny's Choices, which allowed me to put some really cool exerpts, my book trailer and all sorts of goodies all in the same place. So, if you want a one stop shop about my book, this is the place to go! So be sure and go check out my Destiny's Choices Squidoo Lens when you have a minute, you won't be sorry. :-)

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Free Romance Fiction Questions Answered...

The other day I was surfing the net looking for links to a new website I'm helping with and I discovered what I felt were some valid questions by authors regarding the website. I wanted to address some of those questions here on the Moonlight Romance Authors Blog to hopefully clear up any misunderstandings regarding it.

1. One complaint was that there was no About Us page and that made the visitor feel as though the site was not legitimate. Okay yes, there is not an About Us page, however that does not mean it is not legitimate. In order to lay that question to rest, here is the answer to it, Free Romance Fiction is the brainchild of myself (Regina Paul) and another friend who writes romance Patricia Richardson. We are both published romance authors and wanted to find a way to help get the word out about our books as well as accomplish two other goals: help other authors get the word out about their books, and help readers find new authors to read, as well as the occasional free story by their favorite author.

2. There was another comment that there was "advertising on the first page." The only advertising on the front page are my and Pat's covers of our latest releases and jj Keller and Linda Sole's covers for theirs because they very kindly provided a free story for readers and I wanted to repay them for doing so with a month of free premium advertising.

Unlike some websites that fill their free space up with Google Adsense ads that make it difficult to even read the content there especially when they put it in between the paragraphs of the story you are trying to read, we decided to provide an advertising opportunity to authors. Whatever revenue, if any that is generated from the ads goes to the upkeep of the website that is all. And the rates are lower than even many of the review websites which offer the same thing to authors. Since we are just beginning we didn't think it was fair to charge an arm and a leg, and also, it's not for the purpose of "getting rich" as many people use Adsense for, but simply for upkeep of the site.

We do have some of the submission information on the front page but that is because we are trying to reach authors and wanted to show some of the advantages to submitting right on the front page. The cover links are in the different sections depending on what genre the story fits into, when you click on the link it takes you to the PDF of the story. These aren't on the front page because we wanted to put stories in their particular genre giving visitors a chance to go and check out different kinds of free stories. I hope that explains why we don't just have a jumble of coverlinks on the front page.

3. Another point made was done in the form of a question: Why should I as an author submit a story to your website when I can just do it myself and PDF it and add it to my blog? This is a very good question, and of course you certainly can do that. The advantages we think are that when you post a piece of romance fiction to Free Romance Fiction.com you are helping not only yourself (you get a free month of premium advertising if you submit a story by midnight October 31, 2008, and a banner that points to the page with the coverlink to your PDF'd story), but giving readers a chance to check out your writing, and hopefully go and buy your currently published books. After all that is the main advantage and hope to offering a free story, to get readers to buy your books. Another advantage could be the opportunity to network with other published authors as well, if you so choose.

I hope posting these here helps to lay to rest any questions authors or organizations that work with and for authors have. Please don't hesitate to contact me personally via either tiwatz@yahoo.com or submissionsfreeromancefiction@yahoo.comthe main e-mail for freeromancefiction.com. I will be more than happy to answer any other questions or concerns any author or organization that works with authors has and I hope if you have you'll contact me.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Update for Free Romance Fiction....

Free Romance Fiction has decided to extend the deadline for submissions, well we'll take submissions anytime from published romance authors, but if you want to get in on a month of free premium advertising then we've extended that deadline to midnight October 31, 2008. So if you thought you missed out on it, there is still time. We have also moved down our grand opening to November 1, 2008 so as to give all of us more time to get more stories up for the grand opening.

If you are a romance author and have heard about Free Romance Fiction, please do help us to pass the word! You can check out our guidelines here. This is a really good opportunity to get some premium advertising at no cost to you except for a little of your writing time if you don't have a short story already done that fits the guidelines that you can submit.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

New stories at Free Romance Fiction.com

I'm excited to announce we have our first free stories at Free Romance Fiction! Squeeee! Okay, yeah I'm probably more than excited. LOL Best-selling author Linda Sole, (yes our very own Linda here on the blog) very kindly submitted a historical short to our site, and it's very, very good! We also have an offering from prolific romance writer, jj Keller that is a paranormal romance.

Both stories are high quality, very enjoyable reads that it is definitely worth your time to check out. Plus the stories are available in PDF format rather than on a web page where it has to compete with ads as on many other free romance story websites.

So be sure and check out Linda's story Yo, Ho, Ho, and a Bottle of Rum.

and jj Keller's story A Haunting Song.

I can guarantee you won't be sorry! :-)

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Love Is Not Enough


I always seem to be late with my posts these days but I don't think anyone will be posting today. A month or so ago I received my copies of the audio of Love Is Not Enough/Linda Sole/Severn House. At first I couldn't find it on the web and amazon didn't have it. Now they do but are saying it is already out of print or temporarily out of stock. I am not sure whethere to be pleased that it has sold out so quickly or disappointed that not enough were pressed. I would have liked to buy an extra copy.


The second book in the series seems to be selling in print, only one left on amazon.com. This is also coming out in audio, perhaps they will print a few more copies of the CD this time. The third book Forbidden Love is out in December in the UK an March 2009 USA. Fingers crossed that will get done in audio as well!


I have just finished a book this morning. I just have to print and check through for mistakes and then I am going to have a holiday. LOL Linda

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Remembering 9/11




Remembering 9/11




So much has happened since that awful day, September 11, 2001 that I sometimes forget what it was like that day. I was at work in the ER as the news came to us that first one tower and then the other had been hit by airplanes. We heard that the Pentagon had been hit and then a plane had gone down in a field in Pennsylvania. We were on lock down. No one could leave. I called my family and I prayed. Was this it? Was this the end? We comforted one another and wondered what would happened next.


I remember images of the towers collapsing, people running and weeping, firemen, policeman and emergency personnel searching and hoping to find someone alive. Most poignant to me was the members of congress standing on the steps of the Capital Building spontaneously singing America The Beautiful and a senator weeping during the memorial service.


Now I remember it all and I pray that some day we can feel secure and that peace will come again.
Sarah McNeal


Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Two More Days Until Do Or Die Releases!!!

PhotobucketHey Everyone!
I'm excited to announce that Do Or Die will be available in ebook format from The Wild Rose Press in just two days!!! I had such a blast writing Do Or Die as it is non stop action from beginning to end. If you like adventure stories with a big dash of romance this one will cater to your tastes. It's also a futuristic so if you're a fan of Sci-Fi Do Or Die will also be right up your alley. I hope it appeals to a wide range of readers for various reasons.

If you recognize the heroine's name, Shylah, you might be remembering it from reading my author bio. Our one Yorkshire Terrier was named for the Shylah in Do or Die, and I think her spunky tenacious attitude mirrors the Shylah McKay in Do Or Die to a pretty perfect 'T'.

Do Or Die will be available in Paperback on October 10, 2008 from Amazon and B&N!!!! The awesome cover was designed by Rae Monet! Thank you again, Rae!
Here's the blurb:
Do Or Die By Marly Mathews
Futuristic Paranormal Romance
The world has changed. Ten years ago, Earth nearly crumbled beneath the might of an intergalactic War. Their Enemy fought them with their destructive psychokinetic powers. Only a band of extraordinary humans stood in their path. They were known as the Gemini Order. Led by Shylah McKay, they saved Earth from ruination.

Now, Shylah McKay and her kind are being persecuted for the very talents that saved Earth. But Shylah's a mover and a shaker, and with her lover Grayson by her side, she'll go to the ends of the Earth and beyond to fight for her people.


Here's an excerpt from Do Or Die to give you a sneak peek!

Grayson stared at the woman. Didn’t she know
who he was? What he was?
The woman intrigued him. Sparks had flown
between them. She was definitely special—she
looked at him as if he were her savior.
He had to help her. He knew that in an instant.
His eyes locked on hers again. He was in love.
One look—that was it. He glanced at the insignia on
her yellow uniform. She was part of the much-
revered Gemini Order. She had to be one hell of a
powerful woman.
He knelt beside her. For some reason he could
touch her...he didn’t understand that. They had to
be bonded in some way. It could only be a
supernatural bond.
Predestined.
“I’m going to touch you again, Captain.”
“Call me, Shylah. Just, Shylah.”
His heartbeat quickened. Her voice was heaven.
Willing all of his energy to him, he leaned down and
gathered her in his arms. He stood up, cradling her
against his chest.
“Shylah.” Her name rolled off his tongue like
music. His voice was a caress and she relaxed.
“Take me, here.” She pressed her hand against
his chest, and a sudden image entered his mind.
She was a telepath.
He’d known the members of The Gemini Order
were skilled, but not all were telepaths.
He nodded his head. “Your wish is my
command.” He took to the sky. It was a miracle he
had found her. She could be his salvation.
“I feel as if we’ve met before.” She tilted her
head toward him, and he drank in the beauty of her
stunning eyes. They seemed to engulf her entire
face. “You feel familiar.” He sighed. He would never
get enough of listening to her voice.

Available September 12, 2008 from The Wild Rose Press!

~Marly


Tuesday, September 9, 2008

THE VIOLIN


THE VIOLIN
by Sarah J. McNeal
Available in print or ebook at www.amirapress.com , fictionwise , amazon.com and through my website at www.sarahmcneal.com
Blurb:
THE VIOLIN by Sarah J. McNeal (Blurb)


Genevieve has dreamed about him all her life, but it isn’t until she buys his violin and finds the remnants of his life and the mystery of his death within its case, that she makes a decision that will change her life forever. Is there a way to change the past and save the man who haunts her heart?

Excerpt:
THE VIOLIN at Amira Press by Sarah McNeal

John bent forward and kissed her on the cheek. He spoke to her in a low voice as his deep, green eyes looked into hers. “I thought you were a goddess. You fairly took my breath away.”
He laughed as he stood up taking her with him as he took both her hands in his. “Forgive me for seeming rude but your beauty rendered me completely speechless for a few moments.”
“Why don’t the two of you stay here for supper tonight instead of going out?” Matilda suggested. Her voice still had an edge to it.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Will added.
Jimmy laughed as he danced around the couple standing in the living room holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. “He was just funning, Pop, that’s all,” Jimmy said.
“John, I think ...,” Will started to speak.
“Pop, please, you’re scaring Genevieve,” John said and gave his father a warning look.
Will scrutinized John for a moment as emotions scattered in a riot across his face. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded his head to give consent. “You're a grown man, John. You will do what you want regardless of what I think. As your father, I only ask that you use discretion when entrusted with another's well being and care for yourself for those who value you.” He looked down at Jimmy and smiled. “Come with me outside and I’ll let you look at my pipe while we test out your cannon.”
“Will,” Matilda cried following the man and the boy out through the kitchen, “Don’t you dare show that boy that pipe.”
The couple was left alone in the living room. John’s hands seemed to burn into Genevieve’s. She wanted him to stay with her like this forever. Her heart ached a little and she wasn’t sure why. “Are you really okay? She asked.
“Hell no, I’m not okay. I’m never okay around you.” He smiled charmingly. “Now that you’ve turned into a goddess with the help of my mother, I’m not sure I will ever be okay again,” he said and grinned.
Genevieve jerked her hands out of his grasp. “I don’t think your jokes are all that funny. You scared the life out of me,” she said angrily.
He reached around her and pulled his jacket from the back of the couch. “Come on, Genevieve, let’s get going.” He took her hand back in his firm grip and pulled her along behind him out the front door, off the little porch and across the yard to his motorcycle.
Genevieve skidded to a halt. “I’m not going to ride on that thing.” She felt the knot in her stomach form just looking at the motorcycle. What a dangerous piece of machinery it was.
“Yes you are,” John said determinedly.
“No I’m not.” Genevieve was obstinately determined that she was most certainly not going to get on that death machine. “I could get killed on that thing.” She looked at the Indian motorcycle as if it were a dragon seeking its next meal.
From the back yard came a miniature explosion. Matilda’s little shriek cut the air followed by the laughter of Will and Jimmy. John glanced at Genevieve and laughed lightly. “Well, looks like that cannon you bought Jimmy has gone over big.”
She scrunched her face into a frown not listening to a word he said. “I’m not going to ride on that thing, John.”
John turned to her and spoke in a low voice as if explaining something to a child. “Listen, honey, Sunbury is ten miles or more down the road. You couldn’t even walk the first two miles before those blisters would start to hurt again.”
He guided her slowly over to the motorcycle. “Now see, I have this wonderful wheeled horse just to take milady conveniently and, without walking on sore feet I might add, to a wonderful restaurant I know in Sunbury.”
He turned her around to face him. “Now we can stand here and argue all our time away on how we’re going to get there but, in the end little miss goddess of mine, you are going to get on this motorcycle if I have to drag you on it and tie you to me.” There was absolute resolution in his voice.
Genevieve knew she couldn’t win. John had to be the most stubborn person on the face of the earth. “Okay,” she relented barely audible, “I’ll do it but I want you to know I’m really scared. You better not get us killed.”
John threw a leg over the saddle of the bike and drew her on to the back where she sat with her legs tucked behind his. He laughed a little. “Don’t worry, honey, I’m not going to kill us, not on purpose any way.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Genevieve snapped back sarcastically. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She wasn’t sure which bothered her more, riding on the motorcycle or John’s back pressed against her chest and her legs snugly folded next to his.
John reached back, took her hands, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “All you have to do is hang on tight and lean the way I lean. Got that?”
Genevieve was shaking too much to answer so she nodded her head even though she was sure he wasn’t really waiting for her permission. Her stomach clenched with anxiety and fear made her hands tremble.
John kicked the starter with his left heel and the engine sputtered into life. It sounded like a chain saw.
Genevieve hugged John’s waist in a death grip and laid her face against his back as he drew on his goggles over his eyes. “Genevieve,” he yelled over the roar of the engine, “I have to be able to breathe, honey, not that I don’t love you holding me that tight.” He laughed and the motorcycle lunged forward onto the dirt road.
Genevieve watched as John squeezed the clutch with his left hand and reached down to change the gear with his right hand on the stick gear in front of him.
“Aren’t we supposed to have on helmets? There’s a law about that,” Genevieve yelled into his back. She felt the rumble of his laughter on her cheek.
“I don’t think they have a law about that. We’re not going into battle; we’re just taking a ride.” He laughed out loud. “You might want to keep your mouth shut before a bug flies in it,” he shouted and laughed again.
The engine whined a few seconds as John changed gears again. The machine hummed as they scattered rocks and dirt in their wake down the country road. The wind blew through his hair and Genevieve’s braid flopped heavily in the wind the bike created.
“I never saw a motorcycle with a stick shift on the body before,” Genevieve called out over the roar of the engine. “Isn’t there some kind of shift thingy on the handlebar?”
“That’s a mighty interesting question seeing how there is no other motorcycle anywhere. Indian is all there is and this is where the gears are.” John was silent a moment than added, “But now that I think about it, it would sure be more convenient if the ‘thingy’ was on the handlebar.”
Genevieve was beginning to loosen her grip a little as she began to grow calm. A little burn of fear still scorched her stomach though. “Does this thing have brakes?” she called out the question.
“You’ll be glad to know there’s two. I got one in my right hand and the other is located here under my right foot. You couldn’t be any safer.” He spoke loudly making his voice rise above the engine noise. “Isn’t this the greatest?” He was obviously enjoying himself.
Genevieve wasn’t so sure it was the greatest thing riding wildly down a dirt road on a motorcycle. In her real life, she would never take such a crazy chance. But there was one thing she thought that made this dangerous and impulsive antic worthwhile. She got to hold John close to her until she could hear his heartbeat and the vibration of his voice through his jacket on her cheek. The time she spent with John was worth all the heartache that would come later.
Sarah McNeal www.sarahmcneal.com

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Call For Submissions...

I'm helping to put together a new website called Free Romance Fiction, and we're putting out a call for submissions from published romance authors. This is a really good opportunity to get the word out about your books! I hope those of you that read the blog here, or that post here on the blog will consider submitting. Here's the details:

We are accepting submissions for a new website called Free Romance Fiction. If you are a published romance author then this could be a very nice opportunity for you. We do not discriminate and your story can be from any sub-genre in the romance genre such as erotic, GLBT, Contemporary etc. Our motto is “Where Readers Find Free Romance Fiction by Their Favorite Authors.”

There are guidelines that must be followed and can be viewed on the Submissions page of our website, but the main ones are that you must be a published romance author, your submission must be at least five pages long, and your story cannot be published anywhere else. We believe the saying that “content is king,” and in order to follow this, and to be able to search engine optimize the site, it is necessary that all our content be original. Even though we are requesting that your story not be published anywhere else, you retain full copyright of your story at all times.

As payment for submitting to Free Romance Fiction, those who submit a story by midnight September 30, 2008 will receive one month of free premium advertising on our front page for the cover of their latest release. If you were published in an online newsletter or magazine and or don’t have a current romance book released at the moment, we will hold your free month until you do. We will also provide you with a cover, there are about 40 to choose from, or you can provide your own if you like. You will also receive a banner that you can put on your website or use in your e-mail signature to link to the page containing your story.

Our goals are two-fold, we want to help romance authors get the word out about their books, and we want to provide readers with some free fiction from their favorite romance authors.

For more information on how to submit, please visit the submissions page on our website at Free Romance Fiction or e-mail us at submissionsfreeromancefiction@yahoo.com

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Trial By Fire


Trial by Fire/Anne Ireland/Eternal Press

This is a historical time slip. The story alternates between Ally, a modern woman who needs to rest and recover from an accident and Isolde, a woman in the fourteenth century who was condemned as a witch. Ally needs to rest but the whispers have started. Is she going mad or is she being haunted - and why.


Out with Eternal Press on 7th September


As she went down to the hall, Ally heard someone laugh. It was a pleasant sound, youthful and joyous. Where had it come from? The door to the sitting room was open. She walked in, half expecting to see a child at play, because it had surely been a child's laughter. The room was unoccupied, but the tiny, latticed window had been left open a little at the top. Of course, that was why she had heard the laughter. Sound carried a long way at night. Her neighbour probably had children.


Ally smiled, picked up another suitcase, and carried it upstairs.


"Why do you always smell so sweet? Why does your skin have the perfume of flowers?"


Ally froze as she heard the whisper. The voice was a man's―a man talking to his lover.


Laughter and now, whispers! Ally's skin prickled as she stood on the threshold to her bedroom. The voice had seemed to come from this room. But, it couldn't have. She had been into the room; she knew it was empty. Perhaps one of the other rooms? Was it possible that someone had been squatting here?


Putting down her case, she walked along the hall and looked inside the other bedrooms. They were both neat and clean, as pristine as when the agent had showed her the cottage. No one was in the house. It was her imagination.


Ally went back to the bedroom. It was quite empty. She was alone in the house. She hadn't heard that whisper. It was all in her mind.


Perhaps it was the book beginning to take shape at last. The explanation was one she could live with, because it had happened occasionally in the past. Not whispers exactly, but thoughts that came out of the blue and were so insistent, so loud in her head that they might have been spoken.

Trial by Fire © 2008 by Anne Ireland


Hope you enjoy the excerpts. To read more bits of my work visit my website and click on the story blog.

www.lindasole.co.uk

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Collecting Stuff

Do you collect stuff--stupid, useless stuff? Apparently, I do. Last Monday when I was writing about every day heroes, I came across this picture of PEZ heroes and the first thing I thought about was, how come I don't have those? I never even saw them. How could I have missed them? I have 2 boxes full of PEZ containers that I haven't even opened in 4 years--not that that stopped me from collecting more. It's always an excuse like, but these have fuzzy coats. When am I going to see an Elvis one again? And so on and so on and so on. I even know the best but hardest to find flavor of PEZ--Cola. Truth is, they all taste a little like chalk. They have peppermint, too but it's also hard to find.
What do you do with this stuff? It's not like there is a cool display case for them though, believe me, I've tried to come up with something. If I did display them, they would fill up all the walls in my study. There would be no room for books.
Speaking of books, I collected those, too. I finally realized that. with a few exceptions, I only read a novel once. Reference books are another matter. I believe one should have plenty of those--and I do--of course. I finally took a car load of novels to The Salvation Army and the Commonwealth Second Hand Book Store (a snooty bunch of people there, by the by who only want certain books. They turned down a complete set of Sherlock Holmes and a bunch of classics--but hey, no problem. I took them right back home.)
So any way, I just wondered if anyone else had this collecting thingy going on. Is there a cure? Meanwhile, I'm looking for a bigger box for these dang PEZ containers. With all the rain we've had maybe I could string them in bundles and use them as floats.
Have a great weekend.
Sarah McNeal
http://www.sarahmcneal.com/

Saturday, August 23, 2008

In Audio




I now have a couple of copies of my book Love Is Not enough in audio. This is an Anne Herries book published by Severn House and now in audio by soundings. It took me ages to find a pic of this, but last night I got lucky so here it is. I am also putting up the cover for the hardback. I'm not sure which I like the best, but they both have merits! Love, Linda/Anne.
I am really pleased because soundings have also taken the second book in the trilogy and this doesn't always happen.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Twilight's Kiss Receives Five Hearts from The Romance Studio!

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Dee Dailey from The Romance Studio gave Twilight's Kiss a FIVE HEART REVIEW! I'm over the moon about this fantastic review! Here's a few snippets of what she had to say about Twilight's Kiss,
Marly Mathews has written a humorous, suspenseful tale of villagers turned vampire slayers. They all know of Lord Sean’s affliction, love him still. Ms. Mathews does a great job building her characters. Bridget, Sean, Grace, Father Clancy, Mary, Rupert, Iris all come alive under her pen.
and...
This is a fun tale with some suspenseful twists from beginning to end. Ms. Mathews writes some of the best dialogue and scenarios around. Sean is such a powerful but loveable guy I just couldn’t help hoping with the rest of the village that Bridget would just say the words and save them both from heartache. It’s a great book with a nice little twist at the end to make it even better.

Thank you so much Dee for your kind words! I'm always happy when a reviewer loves my writing!
If you all are interested you can read the full review by following this link,
Twilight's Kiss reviewed by The Romance Studio!


~Marly

Monday, August 18, 2008

Inspiration and Detractions

There's nothing I love more than getting "in the grove." The muse is singing like a canary in my head and the prose is coming together, that little counter in Microsoft Word clicks up at a steady pace...it's great!

But why is it that I tend to be most inspired when I have the least time to dedicate to writing? I just had a month off from school, with nothing to do but nothing, and while I managed to get some writing done (the start of a new short Regency for an as yet secret project and the beginnings of A Compromising Evening, the second book in the Cade family series), it wasn't nearly as much as you'd think I would have accomplished (and indeed, should have) during my vacation.

Today marked the beginning of a new semester, and the first day of my last year of law school (yay!). I'm sitting here staring down 200 pages of Federal Indian Law text, 100 pages of Bankruptcy, 50 pages of Intellectual Property, 100 pages of International Human Rights, and 45 pages of Maritime Law, all needing to be finished by Wednesday/Thursday of this week. And of course it's now - now - that the muse decides to beat me over the head with the inspiration stick, running sentences through my brain faster than I can type them out.

It might have something to do with being in work mode versus vacation mode. When I have down time, I want down time, my brain shuts off. When I need to fire up the ol' noggin again, it immediately zeros in on the one thing I'd most like to be doing: writing. I tell myself, just one more year of academia, but come May, the real fun begins. I get to study for the bar, I get to start a job...I'm not convinced I'll have more time then for writing than I do now. I'm afraid I'll have even less. It's frustrating going from completing a novel every few months to spending nearly a year on one book, as I did with Reckless Liaisons.

I hate having to find that balance. Believe you me, as soon as I reach the point where I can afford to write full time, I'm there. I've wanted to be an attorney since I was 13, but I've been a writer since I was 7. Books are my first love, and first love wins.