Thursday, November 27, 2014

Happy Thanksgiving and a chance to win an Amazon GC!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! For those who celebrate the holiday, did ya know these fun facts? And I have some goodies to talk about, so make sure to check out the whole post, lol.

Fun Facts about Thanksgiving Today

In the US, about 280 million turkeys are sold for the Thanksgiving celebrations.

Each year, the average American eats somewhere between 16 - 18 pounds of turkey.

Californians are the largest consumers of turkey in the United States.

Thanksgiving Day is celebrated on the fourth Thursday in November in the United States.

Although, Thanksgiving is widely considered an American holiday, it is also celebrated on the second Monday in October in Canada.

Black Friday is the Friday after Thanksgiving in the United States, where it is the beginning of the traditional Christmas shopping season.

*For Thanksgiving, Dreamspinner has marked down everything, so my books are on sale, 

*The Harvest: Taken (2nd edition) will be on sale at ARe from Thanksgiving to Monday.

*And for the holiday, leave me your name and email for a chance to win a $10.00 GC from Amazon! Winner announced Dec 1st.

I hope everyone has a great time, eats way too much, and enjoys the football games. Oh wait, those are my plans lol! Happy Thanksgiving Day, guys!

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Wednesday Briefs - In Enemy Hands Ch3

Welcome to the Wednesday Briefs flash group (click to go to the site). The short stories have a maximum of a 1000 word count plus links at the bottom to the other flashers. If interested in joining us, drop me a line and I'll tell you how. :)
Prompts for this week:

“What have we here?”
“It’s a money pit.”
“What are you looking for?”
“X marks the spot.”
“Turn the wheel the other way.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard about it.”
“Let’s get this done.”
“Jump to it.”
“Make sure everything is cleared away.”
“It was a dark and stormy night…”  
or use: swamp, metal, beach
or use: game, slash, shore
or use: zipper, black, bill
or have your character slip down
or use: hat, mud, branch
or have a character jump into a pool.
or have a character get a hair cut
 or have a character eat a hot dog
or have a character make a bird house 
or “Bend over, I’ll show you how thankful I am…”
or “It’s my turn to be the Pilgrim this year!”
or “For what I am about to receive, I am truly thankful…”
or “Go away, I’m watching football…”
or “Don’t touch that drumstick!”
or “What do you mean there’s no pumpkin pie?”

Chapter Three

“Frack.” Adlar’s loud snarl echoed through the battle shuttle he piloted toward the Yesri crash site.

The Satellite Surveillance Network suffered a complete failure, something that hadn’t happened in recent memory. It was pure chance nothing more than a small Yesri shuttle managed to penetrate their defenses. But even that was a danger, as every spacefaring race knew.

Shuttles had warp engines, and when they blew, the damage was massive. Fortunately, the SSN had reactivated as the shuttle passed through, shorting out its main controls and rendering the crew helpless to wreak whatever destruction they’d planned.

That wasn’t to say the people themselves were helpless.

They weren’t. What they were was a species who enjoyed a battle as much as the next race. But it was their superior, egotistical attitude that caused some to back away from committing to new trade agreements with them. Then the Yesri had turned their greedy eyes toward Helkan. They desired to trade for the Black Phospolrock his people, the Helkans, controlled.

The fact the Helkans didn’t trade with any species didn’t seem to matter. The Yesri’s refused to accept the Helkans decision not to sell, trade, or discuss mining rights to the Black Phospolrock. Both races exchanged unpleasantries, and then the Yesri declared war.

“The gall.” Adlar shook his head as he remembered the flood of insults, then threats, from the Yesri king. “Fracking Yesri’s. It’s our planet to do with as we please. That does not include appeasing your kind.”

Adlar tapped the holographic helm in front of him, bringing up the distance to the crash site. As he drew nearer, he had to admit he was impressed. Whoever had piloted the shuttle was talented. He’d give his enemy that. Such a controlled entry took unshakable nerve and the blessing of a goddess. Which he could use a little of too, since he was next up to land in the small restrictive space.
Adlar called in the location to The Helkan Strategic Command, or HSC. Most soldiers called it Command. Their scans had showed four males on the shuttle. The Yesri had abandoned their starship, using the escapes pods to return home.

They’d let them flee.

But not these four. For some unknown reason, these males targeted the planet, instead of fleeing. They would find that was a mistake. The ones who managed to get to the surface? Well, those males were going to regret their actions.

Adlar maneuvered the battle shuttle, swearing under his breath, as he lowered the craft not far from the crash site. Unstrapping from the pilot chair, he walked to the bay area, where four seasoned warriors waited for him.

“Excellent piloting, sir,” one of the warriors said.

“Thank you.” Adlar nodded to the group. “As you saw in the report, there are four males. Assume they are armed and dangerous. Now pay attention, because I want this clearly understood. Your orders are to capture, not kill.”

A loud groan went up.

Adlar’s lips tried to twitch, but he repressed the urge. “I also expect each of you to return in the condition you leave in. Granted, said condition—for some of you—leaves a bit to be desired.”

Again, a loud groan went up, along with some rather creative suggestions as to what he could do with his ‘condition’. Adlar’s lips did twitch this time. They knew he was joking. These warriors were highly trained, and in top physical shape—they were deadly. 

And he was about to piss off the youngest member of the squad. “Searlolf, I need you to stay and guard the battle shuttle.”

Searlof snapped to attention, his disgruntlement clear on his face. “Oh, come on, sir! Why me?”

“Sorry, newbie, but I’m going on this hunt.” Adlar patted the warrior on the back. Searlolf’s letting his unhappiness with the situation show was something he’d grow out of as he matured. “I know you’re itching to sink your teeth in some juicy Yesri prey, but I need you to stand guard, and be prepared to offer assistance if we’re in need. You have the most medical training.”

Searlolf nodded, emotions contained. “Understood, sir.”

“Good” Adlar turned back to the rest of the group. “As I said, orders are to bring them in alive and in good condition. You may defend yourselves, of course, but each of you knows how to do so without causing irreparable damage. Understood?”

“Understood,” they yelled.

“Move out, then.” Adlar watched as the men faded into the jungle.

He didn’t believe the hunt would take long. The Yesri intruders were unused to the darkness that covered their planet the majority of the time. As such, they hadn’t developed adaptations like elongated ears to catch the faintest of sounds, or slitted pupils that adjusted to both low and bright levels of illumination.

Due to the amount of sunlight the planet Yesri received, it inhabitants were all tanned. They were also all blond—which would draw attention in a land full of darkness. Stepping outside, his pupils enlarged, and he removed his stunner. He scanned the area, satisfied all was as it should be. He moved steadily through the jungle, caution leading his steps.

Approaching the abandoned Yesri shuttle, he crouched behind a twisted lavender tree with weeping limbs. Listening carefully, he searched for any sounds that did not belong. The wildlife chirped and called in its usual song of nightfall. Outside of the normal noise, he heard nothing to indicate his enemy was nearby.

Surveying the area, he saw the shuttle had left a long gorge where it slid before coming to a halt, throwing dirt everywhere. He hated the scar on the landscape. Environment was an issue of the upmost important to his species. It was the main reason only they mined the Black Phospolrock in the most noninvasive method possible.

Adlar knelt and touched the destruction. The land would heal itself—they’d make sure of that. A flash of something—a color not found in the landscape—caught his eye.

Frowning, he shifted the rich dirt through his fingers. “What…?”

As he dug, his hands touched something. Grasping it, he slowly uncovered what the dirt hid.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” Adlar pulled the red sash from the grime. A hard smile covered his face.


Pride Promotions presents Kiss My Ash by Renee George and a Giveaway!

Book Name: Kiss My Ash
Goodreads Link:
Author Name: Renee George
Author Bio: Multi-published, best-selling author Renee George has been a factory worker, an army medic, a nurse, a website designer, a small press editor, an artist, and a teacher, but writing stories about sexy alpha men is the BEST job she's ever had. When she turned thirty, she went back to college and earned her BA in creative writing. She has been married to the love of her life, a wonderful man who supports in every way, for over half her life (and that is a VERY long time!). She happily lives in a small, Midwest town with her husband, two needy dogs and a very independent cat. Anything else you want to know, just ask. She’ll give you all the nitty gritty dirt.
Author Contact:
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave

A werewolf who’s hairless in full shift.
A water sprite who can’t hold his shape at the slightest touch of water.
An ash-tree nymph with a black thumb who kills every bit of flora in her vicinity.
That’s Fortunate, Missouri, in a nutshell—the town for abnormal paranormals. Nymph Romy, however, can one-up them all—her particular flaw is killing her. But thanks to a possible love spell, the wolf and the water sprite could be Romy’s key to cheating death. And the three misfits may find that even imperfect creatures can still create a sexy, loving, perfect union.
Inside Scoop:  Sol, Romy and Lucien love each other—emotionally, spiritually and physically. Which means both m√©nage and male/male action. You lucky reader, you.
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Categories: Bisexual, Erotica, Fantasy, Fiction, Menage/Poly, Paranormal, Romance

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.
An Excerpt From: KISS MY ASH
Copyright © RENEE GEORGE, 2014
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Mathias was a korrigan, a fairy dwarf, and to his detriment, he’d been born male. An abomination amongst the korrigans, who were always female. Even his own mother had wanted him dead, but you can’t kill an immortal.
When he finally strolled out from behind the counter, his height no more than four feet, he held a red clay pot filled to the brim with a dark, loamy soil. Carefully, he handed it to Romy. “Here.”
She stepped away. “And what the hell am I supposed to do with dirt?” Maybe Mathias was tired of her bringing back dead plant after dead plant. It didn’t matter how much she watered the damn things, fed them, or even talked to them—none survived. She’d stopped giving them names after a while, awash with guilt and shame over each death.
His red eyes sparkled with excitement. “In this soil, there is a very special seed, my girl. Very rare and unique. I’m entrusting you with its care.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. There is no way in hell I’m taking on a ‘rare and unique’ plant. No. No. No. Give me a hardy shrub or weed. Better yet, maybe a cabbage. I won’t feel so bad about a cabbage when it croaks.”
Romy was a dryad; specifically, an ash tree nymph. Which meant, in theory, plants should flourish around her, but she couldn’t even keep her own tree alive. Her mother had postulated it had something to do with the sperm donor, aka Romy’s biological father, but the elder dryad had refused to say more on the subject. Tree nymphs were traditionally a love-’em-and-leave-’em race of females. They didn’t get involved with beings they considered no more than means to an end. Males born to tree nymphs always developed into the same race as the male halves of the couplings, while the females were always dryads.
Unfortunately, something had gone very wrong in the making of Romy. It hadn’t taken long after the dryad equivalent of puberty set in before her people had decided she was toxic.
She pushed the pot back to Mathias. “Uh-uh. You’ve seen my track record.”
When her “birth defect” had eventually started to affect the trees of her forest six months ago, Romy had been summarily kicked out by the other dryads. Of course, her people had called it a “long, extended respite” and sent her to the town of Fortunate, Missouri.
The moniker, over the years, had become a joke. The town had been named after the Fortunate Isles, also called the Isles of the Blessed, and had been used for more than two hundred years as a dumping ground for the “paranormally challenged”. Those who didn’t fit in with their own kind were sent to Fortunate to finish out their days. For immortals like Mathias, the end of days was a long-ass time.
For Romy, well…without a tree to tend, she wouldn’t live another year, the chlorophyll drying in her veins. The plants were test subjects for her, to see if she could sustain life. So far, they’d served only to help ease the ache of dying. But as far as tending plants and making them flourish, she failed constantly.
For Mathias to trust her with a “special” plant…no way was she taking on that kind of responsibility.
It was one thing to kill a common houseplant, but a whole ’nother thing to be responsible for something “rare and unique”. Was Mathias crazy? Romy shook her head again. “I can’t. Don’t you have an air plant or something? Hell, those suckers don’t even require watering.”
He patted her hands, his fingers soothing and gentle. “Ah, but my dear, I hope this may be the answer to—”
Mathias’ explanation was cut off by a barking baritone. “Ah, shit!”
Romy put the pot on the counter as she scooted around Mathias to see who the unfamiliar voice belonged to.
In the greenhouse area beyond the main shop, two long, well-muscled legs and a firm ass, all packaged in perfectly tight jeans, stood nestled between two rows of plants.
“Hello,” Romy said.
The owner of the legs and ass straightened, making him a foot taller than Romy. And oh goddess, did he have an upper body and face to go with the lower half—thickly muscled chest and broad shoulders crowned by a face with bow lips, a Roman nose and the brightest green eyes. All framed by messy, shiny black hair that fell about his shoulders. It was as if the gods had decided to create perfection.
Ridiculous though—they would never do that. But hot damn, they’d come pretty close.
“Uh, hello yourself,” he said back, dusting his palms against his jeans.
His really low voice, which would have better suited a grizzly bear, sent a humming through Romy that made her body sing.
“What have you done now, Lucien?” Mathias asked when he walked into the back. His presence was enough to break the harmony, and Romy snapped out of her new-guy-induced daze.
“What a great name.” She smiled. It made her feel foolish, but she couldn’t punch down the giddiness.
“It’s a name.” He shrugged then leaned over again, which gave Romy another clear shot of his fabulous ass. When he stood once more, he held a small plant, cradling the roots carefully. He looked at Mathias. “I broke the pot, but the fern is fine.”
Lucien had a slight accent, but Romy couldn’t put her finger on the origin. If possible, it made the young man even more exotic and mysterious.
Mathias shook his head, making his red beard sweep his chest. “Where’s Sol?”
“I’m here!” Sol Winter, who’d been working for Mathias long before Romy had moved to Fortunate, stepped out from behind the last row of plants. He wore a baby-blue polo shirt that matched his light-blue eyes. It also complemented his tan, a deep golden bronze. Natural, according to him. Strange for an elf, but who was Romy to judge? His long blond hair was pulled into a ponytail. He often wore it down and spilling over his shoulders, but generally had it tied back for work.
Sol was taller than Lucien by several inches and a little broader. His smile brightened when he saw Romy. “Hey, you.” His mouth turned down in sympathy. “Kill another one?”
They’d had a strange relationship ever since Romy had arrived in Fortunate, which generally involved spirited banter and sarcasm. Even when the conversation turned a little mean, Romy was still thankful for Sol. He was the closest thing she had to a friend.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Nice.” He raised a brow. “Bitchy much?”
Even though she was certain Sol was gay, it didn’t stop her from having some wicked fantasies about him. After all, the man was hot-hot and knew how to dress. “Takes one to know one.”
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the oak this morning.” Sol scooped a handful of topsoil and pitched it at her.
“Oh no you didn’t.” In retaliation, Romy grabbed a nearby hose and squeezed the nozzle trigger, dowsing Sol where he stood.
“Stop!” Lucien yelled.
Too late. At Lucien’s shout, Romy turned, the spray of water slapping across the man’s face—and Lucien instantly melted into a clear puddle on the greenhouse floor.
Mortified, she dropped the hose. “Oh no!” She shook her head and stumbled forward. “What have I done?” Not only was she a plant killer, apparently she was a man killer as well.
Two lips formed in the clear pool. “I’m fine. Really.”

Words: 27,000

Tour Dates: November 26

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