Friday, December 24, 2010

Happy Holidays Everyone!


Happy holidays to all of you.  I hope You stay safe and happy.
Sarah

Friday, November 26, 2010

Slave of Desire by Marly Mathews and Raven Willow-Wood

Taken, Book I: Slave of Desire by Marly Mathews and Raven Willow-Wood is now available in Print at New Concepts Publishing! NCP also has a 20% off sale on all of their print books when ordered directly from their site! Visit their site for details! Buy Slave of Desire in Print!

Friday, November 19, 2010

Intergalactic Justice Book II: Maximum Velocity!


Intergalactic Justice Book II: Maximum Velocity is now available in print format at New Concepts Publishing!
Join Samantha on her second daring adventure in my futuristic paranormal series!
Dark forces conspire against Samantha Cassidy and her family. With her niece taken by a ruthless Intergalactic Triad, Samantha must ally with a powerful man who was once her enemy and in doing so...she just might lose herself.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

The Witch Child


She was beautiful. She was wicked. She was wanton. And she drove men mad with desire! But to love her was to court death or despair. She was the Witch Child…

The Witch Child is now published in kindle at amazon. It is up at Uk site under Linda Sole/Kindle but it should soon be up at amazon US too.

This is my first published book. It was brought to life by Robert Hale of London and published in hardback in 1980 but the rights were returned to me years ago. I never did anything with it but now I've been rather daring for me and put it into kindle myself. I didn't have a cover for this one but put u a picture of a secret summerhouse, which is quite apt for this book.

It is an experiment. I used thuis book for my first attempt but I have other books that are too long or not right for either Severn House or Mills and Boon and I am thinking about putting these in if The With Child sells a few copies, which I hope it will.

Now read a short episode from the book:


I was but eleven years old when they first named me for a witch. That terrible day is burned so deeply into my memory that even now, years later, there are times when I wake from some nightmarish dream, shaking with fear. Yet it was important, for it brought Justin to me and so sealed my destiny. But perhaps I should start at the beginning . . .
I must have looked a pathetic sight as I stood just inside the door of Granny Fisher’s cottage, soaked to the skin by the driving rain, which persisted as my companion and I walked the last half mile to the cottage in its lonely isolation at the top of the cliffs. A child of eight, slight and small for my age, my green eyes must have been stark with the misery I felt as I stared at the old woman. Meeting her bleak, unsmiling eyes, I shivered, for her lined face showed no trace of warmth or pity.
My heart sank and I clutched at Mr. Jackson’s hand, waiting for her to speak. He glanced down at me with sympathy, then pushed me forward. My heart beat wildly. I was terrified of this silent, old woman and longed for the comfort of my mother’s arms, though I knew I should never feel them about me again. Nor would my father toss me into the air, laughing as I screamed in childish delight. They were both dead and I was alone in the world, except for this woman whom I had never seen before today.
“You say Beth’s dead?” she spoke at last. “And her husband, too?”
“Yes, Mrs. Fisher,” replied my companion. “Your daughter died of the pox. It was her last wish that I should bring the girl to you.”
In the ensuing silence I swallowed nervously, trying to hold back my shameful tears. Granny looked at me suspiciously, her eyes hawklike in the wrinkled face. My instincts told me that she did not want me.
“If she died of the pox—why did the child not take it from her?”
Mr. Jackson shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t rightly know, ma’am—some say ‘tis a miracle.” He shuffled his feet awk-wardly, then handed her a purse. “This is what was left after the debts were paid. ‘Tis not much, there are few folk as will buy goods from a house where the pox has visited.”
She took the purse unwillingly. “Is there no one else to care for her? Times are hard and ‘tis work enough to keep the flesh on these bones of mine, without a growing child to feed.”
He shook his head. “ Nay. I’d have took her meself but my wife’s dead set against it. I’m damned if I know why. She’s a good little thing and she’ll be no bother to you.”
“Ha!—that’s all you know. Children are always a bother whether they mean to be or not. Beth was ever a thoughtless lass. It would not occur to her that I might not want the girl. Not a word from her since she ran off, now she sends me her girl. Well, come here, child, and let me look at you!”
I shook my head, wrapping my arms about Mr. Jackson’s knees. He looked down at me with pity and I think he might have taken me back with him had he not feared his wife’s temper. Mrs. Jackson was a shrew and she had vowed she would have none of me. He wrestled with his conscience briefly, but he lived in fear of her tongue and he dare not return with me in tow. He untangled my clinging limbs and pushed me firmly into the cottage.
Granny grasped me with her clawlike hands, peering into my face for a long time, a strange expression in her eyes. She sighed. “You’re Beth’s girl all right. What was that fool name she gave you ?”
I took a deep breath. “ My name is Jalinda and it is a pretty name. My mother liked it.”
“ Ha! So you can talk after all. Well, come in, lass. I didn’t ask you to come and I dare say as you’d rather be elsewhere—but it seems we’ve neither of us any choice.”
She took my bundle from me and laid it down, then she turned to Mr. Jackson. “Be off with you,” she said. “What arc you waiting for ?”
He was surprised by the suddenness of her attack. He stared at her, then he nodded his head. Abandoning me to my fate, he hurried back down the cliffs the way we had come. I tried not to think harshly of him; it had been a long journey and he had brought me himself. It was more than most would have done.
I stood in the middle of that floor—which was nothing but compounded earth, covered by a layer of filthy rushes— and glanced about me. In one corner was a pile of dried grass, which I was later to discover, served as Granny Fisher’s bed. Apart from a three-legged stool, a coffer, her table and a heavy cooking-pot suspended over the fire I could see only a few bowls and platters.
I recalled the table my father had made, which my mother polished until she could see her face in its gleaming surface. I remembered the stools, the panelled linen-chests, the dresser with its bulbous legs and the special chair, which had a high, carved back. It was in this chair that my father sat of an evening, intent on carving the intricate patterns which were his trademark; and taking the same care whether it was something for a valued customer or a little wooden horse for me. The memory of him brought tears to my eyes and they spilled over in noisy sobs.
Granny Fisher stared at me, a semblance of pity in her eyes. For a moment I thought she would take me in her arms to comfort me, but she had lost the art of loving. Her life had been too hard and she was too old to begin now.
“Now then, lass, dry your eyes. ‘Tis no use in grieving for them as is gone. It won’t bring them back and we must think of ourselves. No doubt you’re hungry; I never yet knew a child who wasn’t.”
At this I stopped crying and looked up expectantly. It seemed a long while since I had eaten and my stomach rumbled emptily.
She gave a crow of triumph, her thin lips parting in a toothless grin. “ That’s it, girl, ‘tis time to look to the future. Take off those wet things and come to the fire whilst I make you something to eat. We’ll manage, you’ll see. It will be hard at first but you’ll learn. Oh, yes, you’ll learn all right!”

* * * *

And learn I did !
I learned what it was to be cold and hungry in the long winter, which followed. I learned to go searching for driftwood on the beach when it was freezing cold and a biting wind blew in from the sea; to come home to the cottage soaked to the skin and to a stewpot containing only a few vegetables— unless we were lucky enough to catch a rabbit. That was seldom enough, for Granny rarely caught anything in her snares—it had been a hard winter for the rabbits, too.
I do not know how I survived that first year. I had been gently reared, and according to the laws of nature I should have sickened and died. Instead, I thrived. I grew thin but it was a tough, wiry leanness.
It was a hard life, so different from the one I had known. Often I would take out the little wooden horse, stroking its smooth surface lovingly. Then I would ache for the sound of my father’s voice, or the touch of my mother’s hands as she tucked me up in my cot at night. If only someone had shown me a little love, but there was no one but Granny, and she had forgotten how.
Sometimes we huddled together in front of the fire, listening to the howling wind. It tore at the cottage walls with a vindictive fury, and the waves lashed at the foot of the cliffs, sending spray high into the air. On certain nights, when the power of the storm was at its height, I sometimes thought I could hear the souls of drowning men, screaming in the darkness.
“The sea be terrible cruel,” Granny said once. “I lost a man and two sons out there on just such a night as this. Aye, she be a wicked mistress, the sea ...”
Looking at her then I began to understand what had made her the way she was. Loneliness and suffering will make granite of the softest heart in time, and I guessed that her life had been lonely. I drew closer to her, realising that she hated the howling wind as much as I. Somehow that knowledge robbed the storm of some of its power to frighten me and I no longer felt quite so alone.

Friday, October 22, 2010

New Release: Slave of Desire!


New Release: Slave of Desire by Marly Mathews and Raven Willow-Wood


I am excited to announce that Slave of Desire is now available at New Concepts Publishing! Slave of Desire is book one in the Taken Series!

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Have A Great Fourth of July

I hope everyone has a wonderful, fun-filled and safe Fourth of July holiday. Get those hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill and have a great time.  And while you're celebrating the freedoms our forefathers gave us, please keep in your hearts and prayers those who serve to mantain them.
Happy 4th of July everyone!
Sarah McNeal

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Happy Father's Day

This is my dad.  As you can tell from the picture, it's from way back in the day.  He thought he was quite debonair in this photo.  Well, at least my mom thought he was.  Any way, today is father's day and I wanted to honor him and remember him.


Just being in my dad's presence often made me feel safe and calm. He was the solid base we all leaned on and the wisdom I frequently called upon.  He taught me much about life, love and friendship, and how I should act in the world.  He was a conservationist and loved all creatures of the Earth.  He taught me to respect all God's creatures and to have gratitude for all Earth's treasures.

So on this Father's Day, I remember Pop with fond memories for the times we shared while he was still on the earth. Happy Father's Day, Pop. I will always love you.

And I wish for all of you, whether your father is living or has gone to the other side, to have a thoughtful and happy holiday in celebration and memory of your dad.
Sarah McNeal

Friday, June 11, 2010

Excerpt #2: Alien Deceptions by Regina Paul...


Angel glanced over the top of her sunglasses. There was that
man again. She spotted him twice since she entered the market.
It appeared he was following her. Is he my contact? She shivered.
If so, she didn't intend to go anywhere with him except to
someplace very public. She'd rather take the risk of being
overheard than be alone with such a man. He was too big for her
tastes. He could almost pass for one of her mother's people,
almost except there was something else there, some other
heritage she could only just barely discern but had no way to
explain. He had dark skin, and dark hair like her mother's
people, but he looked too exotic to be American Indian; he
looked more foreign somehow.

Angel looked back at the glass bowl she held. It reminded her
of the carnival glass from the twenties, blue with rainbow colors
that shot through it when held up to the light. She grimaced as
she realized she could buy it if she wanted to, but with her luck
the visitors would take a liking to it and help themselves. The
thought reminded her of why she came here. Someone had
called her and set up this appointment, a man who claimed to be
an abductee. On the phone he said his name was Tom, but
refused to tell her his surname. He claimed he might have
another piece of the puzzle she had been trying to put together
with her research.

Eyes bored into her back. She felt them burning twin holes
there; it didn't take a rocket scientist to know the man still stood
behind her. Is he Tom, or is he one of the numerous government types
with their trendy, yet nondescript clothes who follow me no matter how
hard I try to conceal my identity? She found them worse than the
visitors and just as tenacious.

Ever since her parents had been abducted and not returned,
the government had taken a keen interest in her life. She did her
research under an alias, but she felt fairly certain the government
types had discovered that long ago. Still as long as they didn't
interfere, she'd let bygones be bygones.

Putting the bowl down Angel stole another look and saw the
man had left. That could only mean one thing, he wasn't her
contact, but one of the government's many peons. Damn! She
didn't need this right now while she tried to do research. Where
the hell is Tom?

I have to get out of here! The market might be public, but I don't
want to put my contact under the gun either. She turned and
promptly ran into the man observing her.

"Excuse me." She mumbled, trying to get around him. God
he's big!

"Are you Angel Whitedove?"

Now she knew how human women must have felt when the
fallen angels appearing as beings of light attempted to lure them
into their beds. The man's voice combined velvet and gravel,
and he hadn't used her alias. Damn! Definitely a government type.

"Nope, sorry afraid you've got the wrong woman." Angel
tried to move around the man again, but then he clamped his
hand hard around her arm.

"You are Angel Whitedove," he said as a statement this time,
not a question.

Now she grew mad. "Listen, buster, unless you want to be
facing a lawsuit for assault, I suggest you let go of me right
now!" Angel whispered furiously. She didn't want to draw
attention to herself, but if she could use the crowd to her
advantage she would. He had exactly five seconds to let go of
her arm, before she started screaming bloody murder.

"You are Angel Whitedove."

What the hell is the matter with this guy? He kept repeating her
name as though it were a crime or something.
She looked up over the top of her shades and something
about his eyes stopped her from screaming. His eyes were the
same color as hers.

"Who are you?" She whispered.

"You are Angel Whitedove."

If he said that one more time, eyes or no eyes she'd scream. "Yes,
but who are you?"

"Darek."

Is that name supposed to mean something to me? His voice
should be declared illegal. It did funny things to her insides;
made them turn inside out or something. "And I suppose that's
supposed to mean something to me?" Sarcasm would get her
somewhere she hoped.

"No, we've never met, but we have a common connection. I
know of your father."

Great, just great. He's one of dad's crazy science fiction fans.
"Look, I don't write like my father did, and I have no
intention of ever becoming a writer. There's enough science
fiction on the market as it is. It's positively glutted, so if you
think to talk me into writing a book about my experiences,
fiction or otherwise, forget it," she told him flatly.

"That isn't why I have come to you, Angel Whitedove. I want
to help you find your parents."

Got to admit that's a new angle. She had to give the guy credit;
none of the other weirdoes ever tried this one before. She came
up with something to get rid of her "fan" really quick.

"My parents are dead." As far as she was concerned the
discussion ended there.

His grip on her arm tightened as though he felt frustrated
with her answers. Frightened that he'd do something even
worse, Angel immediately went almost boneless. She could still
stand, but she loosened her muscles enough to give the weirdo
reason to think she might stay and continue the conversation.

"You're hurting me." She told him quietly. Seconds later his
grip lessened, but he still hadn't said anything yet. Angel began
to look around her to see if anyone close by could help. This one
is definitely ready for the men in the little white coats. She knew just what he
needed, a nice padded cell with heavy-duty restraints
and three squares a day. Oh, and drugs, lots of drugs. She knew
just the place, and if at all possible, she'd do everything she
could to put him there really soon. Somebody has been reading a
little too much science fiction and it certainly isn't me.

Suddenly he completely released her arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to cause you pain."

Now why does he have to go and turn into a gentleman? Just when
I was getting some really good ideas about how I can help him into the
nuthouse.

Angel began to rub her arm absently and backed up a couple
of steps. Got to put some distance between myself and the big guy.
"That's all right," she told him finally, "but really, I don't
think you understand. My parents are dead, and I have no
intention of writing about what happened to us. If you're a
publisher or a reporter, or something like that, I'm really not
interested."

"I am neither a publisher nor a reporter, and I think you are
doing the right thing by not talking to such people. They only
seek to magnify your pain."

"Not to mention the fact I've already experienced stardom,
and believe me, tabloid stardom isn't for the weak hearted. I
have no intention of ever going through that again." Angel told
him, smiling wryly. "So, if you're not a publisher and you're not
a reporter and I assume since you haven't flashed your
government ID at me yet, that you're not a fed, who are you
Darek? What do you do?" We need to get to the point so I can get
away and call Tom. Thank God he gave me a phone number to reach
him in case of an emergency; too bad he didn't give me his description.

"I am a Commander."

Well hell, that doesn't tell me a damn thing, except he's a fed. Fuck!

"So, you're a fed. Well thanks for letting me know that ahead
of time. Mind if I see your ID?"

"I do not have it with me at this time. Is there somewhere we
can talk in private?" Angel watched as Darek looked around as
if searching for somewhere to go.

He doesn't have any ID? No way am I going anywhere with this
guy. Why the hell didn't someone tell me the men in black changed
their favorite color to blue? Angel whirled quickly and took off at a
dead run, never stopping to look behind her until she reached
her car in one of the underground parking lots Portland was
famous for. Only then did she slow down. She had to know if he
was still there, better to know where he was than to have him
following her. Reaching behind her she pulled her shoulder
length hair from its severe twist and reached into her bag for
make-up. I have to do this quickly or else he might have time to follow me.
Hell, he could be following me right now. She glanced in her rearview window to
be sure.

The sunglasses flew the way of the clip which formerly
pulled back her hair, then light foundation and makeup brushed
onto her face. Reaching deeper into the backseat she found a
purple sweater and pulled it over her head. Angel had learned
long ago how to disguise herself and fool a tail. She pulled out of
the parking garage and onto the street where Skidmore Fountain
was. As she drove past, she saw Darek standing in the same
place she had left him. Good! That means he won't be following me.
A small smile lifted her lips that rarely had a reason to smile
anymore. Darek, whoever he was, wouldn't be bothering her
again anytime soon. Angel wasn't sure she believed his story
about being a fed. Most likely he was just another one of her
Dad's science fiction fans playing out a fantasy about saving the
famous author by helping the daughter. Too bad really, she
found the man quite stunning, but she'd made it a policy to
never get involved with the feds.

(c) 2010 by Regina Paul. All Rights Reserved.

Get Your Copy Today!

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Excerpt from Alien Deceptions by Regina Paul...


They were back! What did they want this time? She felt paralyzed as
ice water crept through her veins. Her muscles refused to
cooperate. She wanted to run, to hide, anything but this awful
feeling of being unable to move. No! No! Not again! I don't want to
go with you! As usual her wants weren't taken into account, and
the familiar process began to take place.
The blinding white light, common to these experiences,
spilled into the room from one window on the west wall. The
foot of her bed faced the opposing wall in an attempt to deter
her tormentors, in the hopes that she could deter them.
Wolf howled in the back yard, and his chain rattled in an
attempt to get to her. There would be no protection this night.
They found her again. No matter how many times she moved,
they found her. The recent move to Portland, Oregon was no
exception. For a year she felt safe. Now it didn't matter; it was all
starting again.

Her body felt light and she levitated off the bed. The blood
stilled in her veins, her body growing stiffer. The sensation of
fight or flight took over, but she had no energy to follow through
with it.

A small scraping sound to her left, she turned her eyes, the
only thing she could move in that direction. The window opened
by itself. A blue beam with her torturers, tiny, hairless gray
beings with large black eyes flowed into the room. She shut her
eyes; she didn't want to see them. They removed her blankets,
and their hands guided her body.

Their grainy, leathery hands felt so cold she shivered involuntarily.
She hated it when they touched her. Caught in the
blue beam she looked up to see something she had hoped never
to see again. Her body floated out the open window and then
up, up, up toward the waiting craft.

Her back brushed the top of the cedar tree in her back yard.
She knew which tree because she could smell its calming scent.
Far below her, Wolf had ceased his howling, but she could still
hear his whimpers as though from far away. Tears that wouldn't
fall grew in the corners of her eyes. I should never have tied Wolf up
in the backyard. If she had kept him with her maybe she wouldn't
be about to suffer this again.

Unable to resist she opened her eyes just in time to see the
bottom of the craft open up before she floated inside. Terror
moved through her, making her previous fear seem as nothing.
What are they going to do this time? What tests will they perform?
Will they return me to my home, or will I disappear from Earth never
to be seen again? The not knowing what to expect was the worst.

The only thing certain with these experiences was it would be
extremely painful both psychologically and physically.
Everything else about the experiences depended on the
tormentors.

She opened her eyes and looked around. I must've blacked out
again. She wiggled her fingers and attempted to pick up her
hands, but found she couldn't. They had put her wrists in
restraints. She tried to lift one of her legs and found her ankles
restrained as well.

They removed my clothes again! It was one of the worst things
about the experiences. She had nothing, nothing. No way to
protect herself. No way to run. No way to escape. It always felt
the same, trapped like a rat in a maze with nowhere to hide.
Huge black tilted eyes that almost encompassed the entire
width of an overly large gray skull peered down at her. She
found she couldn't look away.

"Don't be afraid. We will not hurt you." An almost mechanical
voice touched her mind.

"Leave me alone! Let me go!"

"You are special. You are one of our chosen ones. Only you and
others like you can help save your planet," the voice continued as
though she wasn't trying to resist.

In some dim corner of Angel's mind she knew she had been
told this before. In fact they used telepathy as their main
communication at the beginning of an experience. They tried to
distract her from what they did. She remembered this from the
other times. They'd speak to her in her mind, telling her how
special she was and how what they were doing to her would
help them save her world. It was all lies. She knew what they
were doing, and she knew it was wrong.

She felt their leathery hands on her stomach. She tried to look
down, but the alien's black eyes wouldn't let her. A sharp
agonizing pain in her stomach below her navel told her they
performed a familiar procedure. They performed their
pregnancy test by inserting a large needle about a quarter inch
around into her ovaries to extract eggs. Why they called it a
pregnancy test, she had never been able to figure out.
Some small part of her mind grasped weakly at the idea;
there was something here she wasn't remembering, something
important.

"You are feeling no pain, no pain." The alien's telepathic words
interrupted her thought processes.

"No pain, my ass!"

For some reason, her tormentors thought if they told her
there'd be no pain, it'd somehow miraculously disappear. What a
crock! She always felt the pain of their procedures.

The agony escalated to enormous proportions and Angel's
mind, in an effort to escape, blacked out. At least she always felt
this is what happened. She could never be sure if the pain or the
being, who kept her distracted, put the suggestion into her mind.

* * * *

When Angel Whitedove opened her eyes, it was starting
again. Her stomach hurt badly. She pulled her legs up and held
herself in a fetal position. They had returned. She groaned softly
and realized she couldn't run this time. She had nowhere to go.
They always found her in the end. It might take them a year or
so, but they always found her. Now that they had, she knew the
sleepless nights, the nightmares, and the silent horror would
start all over again.

Her mouth felt like the inside of an old shoe and tasted like one too. A wild
shiver moved through her. She looked down
and saw that she was naked. They hadn't bothered to redress her
this time. Carefully she sat up and examined her stomach. She
saw a small, red puncture wound just below her navel. It hadn't
just been a bad dream then. They had really found her again.
Damn!

Angel reached up to brush long strands of dark hair away
from her face, and her hand came away with small sprigs of
cedar. She pulled the cedar from her hair and rose from the bed.
She looked around for her robe but couldn't find it. Her
tormentors must have decided to keep it for a souvenir. Taking a
deep breath to clear the cobwebs from her mind, she crossed to
her dresser and pulled a clean t-shirt and underwear out and put
them on. She knew from experience she needed to get out her
Polaroid camera and take a picture of the small puncture wound
on her stomach because it'd disappear by early afternoon.
Angel despondently wandered into the kitchen for a plastic
bag to put the cedar twigs in. She knew they weren't really proof
but like the puncture wound they were the only tangible
evidence that the visitors had found her yet again.
She felt like crying. What good would that do? As a child
when she had first begun to remember the horrible experiences
she'd cry for days after being taken, her father really the only
person able to console her. But her father was no longer with
her. She had no one to hold her and tell her everything would be
ok. Angel made sure of it. She allowed none close to her so no
one could be touched by the visitors as she had been. She didn't
want the responsibility.

The Polaroid camera positioned, her shirt lifted and the
panties lowered she took several pictures of the puncture mark
on her stomach. The journal lay open to a new page with the
date written at the top, and the bag of cedar taped to it. There
was room for at least one of the Polaroid pictures beneath it. The
other two pictures along with a few of the sprigs of cedar would
be placed in a safety deposit box at her bank along with a second
copy of the journal. She'd deposit the pages with the experience
along with them later in the day. She had learned one thing in
investigating this phenomenon, the visitors weren't above
stealing evidence. She always made sure she had two sets; one locked away safely
where they hopefully couldn't get to it.

Fortunately, they hadn't tampered with her coffee maker and
the required two hot cups waited for her just as she had set the
timer to do. Standing at the counter she looked out the window
at what promised to be another sunny but cool day. Spring in
Oregon could be incredibly fickle, boasting sunshine in the
morning and black roiling clouds filled with rain by afternoon.
Angel didn't mind though, she loved Oregon. She found it
worth all the rain to have the beautiful green everywhere. She
found the trees, the flowers, and the grass all so colorful this
time of year. I should never have left.

Angel stood on tiptoe to reach up and grab a mug out of the
cupboard above and to the left of her sink. She poured herself a
mug of caffeine fortification and added cream and sugar before
she turned and walked to the table to record the events of last
evening in what she privately called her "tormentor journal."
She needed to get it all down while it remained fresh in her
mind, at least what she could readily recall. Later she'd
transcribe her notes into her computer and take the printed
pages to be added to her typed version of the journal ensconced
in her safety deposit box at her local U.S. Bank. She could never
be too sure with the visitors.

Get your copy today!

(c) 2010 by Regina Paul. All Rights Reserved.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Alien Deceptions by Regina Paul...

She's BBBAAACCKKKK! Yes, I know I've been rather absent from the blog lately. What with getting through the latest edits on Alien Deceptions my newest release which will be out on June 7th from Eternal Press and then doing editing for 2 other publishers and working the occasional temp assignment, Regina has been one busy woman! LOL

As I was saying I have a new release coming out in just a few days that I'm very excited about. This is the first book in my otherworlds series titled Alien Deceptions. Here's the blurb and do check out the cover art below!

Blurb:

Terror stalks Angel's nights as she waits to be abducted again. During the day she researches, and interviews other alien abductees. Into her waking nightmare steps a gorgeous stranger. Does he have the answers she's looking for? The answer is beyond her wildest imaginings, and could be either her salvation and a chance at true love, or her death.



I'm going to be promoting like crazy for the next month or so and so please be sure and check out my website for current chat dates.

Call For Submissions....

Leap of Faith Publishing, LLC is now open to submissions of all genres and sub-genres of romance and erotic romance.

All submissions must be new material in order to be considered for publication. After you have published one book with Leap of Faith Publishing, LLC we will consider publishing books that have been previously published elsewhere. Also, at this time we are not accepting simultaneous submissions.

We love new stories that don’t fit the mold, so please feel free to submit manuscripts where your muse has gone wild! You just never know what the next hot new romance or erotic romance sub-genre is going to be, so surprise us with your most creative efforts.

We will consider manuscripts starting at 1000k , but ideally we are looking for manuscripts that are at least 20000k for publication. However, bottom line, if it’s a fantastic story we’ll consider it regardless of length.

Please no submissions that have rape for purposes of titillation, child exploitation, golden showers, necrophilia (vamps are the exception), bestiality (shapeshifters and animal-like aliens are the exception), or pornography.

Please visit our Submissions page for more information.

We hope you will consider joining us! Leap of Faith Publishing, LLC is an author-friendly publisher who believes that there can never be too many good books in the world.

Thank you!
Patricia Richardson, CEO
Leap of Faith Publishing, LLC

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

RT nomination for 'A Knight's Captive'

I'm delighted to say that A Knight's Captive was chosen among the select band of nominees for the Best Historical Novel category in the Romantic Times 2009 Reviewers' Choice Awards this month. I'm tickled pink to have been shortlisted, and congratulations to Tessa Dare, who won.

The list of all the nominees and winners is here.

Lindsay

Monday, April 5, 2010

New Books From Linda Sole




I haven't been able to get into the blog for ages, but now Regina has made it possible again so here I am. There are a lot of new books to catch up with. Red Rose Publishing brought out Dangerous To Know, Ryan's son, Daddy Loves Belinda and a Regency - An Impetuous Miss, Anne Ireland, all of them a long time in the editing but now out at RRp.

As Anne Herries I have the Melford series coming out this year in England - Forbidden Lady and The Lord's Forced Bride, two that have already been out in USA. In america I have another Ottoman Empire book, the title Bought For the Harem. Like Captive of the Harem the title is lurid and fun but the book is a romance as always. Captive of the Harem was and is my best selling book for Mills & Boon. It has sold all over the world despite an awful review on amazon. I have hopes the new one will do the same. I also have lots of other new books in the pipeline with M&B.

As Linda Sole I've had the Family Feud trilogy out over the past eighteen months and I now have another book coming in May called All My Sins. This is written in the first person and I think it's my best saga since Lovers & Sinners, which sold in big numbers for Century and Arrow.

I hope to get back sooner this time with an excerpt next time.

Best wishes, Linda

Friday, March 19, 2010

DABWAHA 2010

Having been away for a while, I only discovered this morning that Blue Gold was chosen to participate in DABWAHA 2010, run by Dear Author and Smart Bitches, Trashy Books.

Whatever happens, I'm delighted to be nominated in some very strong company. If you want to take part in the voting, here's the link.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Happy St Patrick's Day

Happy Saint Patrick's Day to all my Irish brothers and sisters (and those who are Irish in their hearts)
Slan's beannachd! (Health and a blessing)
Sarah McNeal

Sunday, February 14, 2010

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY


Happy Valentine's Day
Go out and share the love with family, friends, that special someone and your pets. Have a wonderful time and enjoy the love you have with gratitude.
Sending out love vibes to your corner of the universe.
Sarah McNeal

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Announcement And Invitation


BITTER NOTES soon to be released by Amira Press.
Cover art by Anastasia Rabiyah.
On Monday evening, January 11, 2010, I'll be celebrating my new job as one of the hostesses at THE ROMANCE ROOM and the soon to be released BITTER NOTES. I will not just be yakking it up while I'm there; but also having contests (simple ones I promise) and giving away some cool stuff like piano shaped pencil erasers, magnetic calendars, a music box shaped like a baby grand piano and a download of my previous release, THE VIOLIN. I hope you'll come and join me for the fun.
All good things to your corner of the universe.
Sarah McNeal
http://www.sarahmcneal.com