Winter Blogfest: Madeleine McDonald

December 19, 2017 By 13 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a digital copy of A Shackled Inheritance.

The One Resolution Worth Keeping

New Year resolutions? I gave up on them years ago.

For me the year begins at the winter solstice. Lacking the skills of ancient Babylonians or Greeks, I am unable to pinpoint the moment when the sun stands still in the sky, but I am certainly able to detect the extra few minutes of daylight the following day. Daylight that filters through the curtains and seduces me out to patrol the beach at dawn, welcoming a sunrise that will come earlier and earlier.

One of the few advantages to growing older is the realisation that however many New Year resolutions I fail to keep, the earth will keep turning and the cycle of the seasons will continue.

We humans are naturally optimistic, and often unrealistic. Forty years ago, as a new mother, my ambition would have been to snatch back some semblance of sanity from the fog of sleep deprivation. That happened through the passage of time, not through any act of will on my part.

For a New Year resolution to succeed, our behaviour has to change. Yet the other great advantage to growing older is that I have learned to forgive my weaknesses. Having preferred slurps of coffee to an exercise programme, 365 days a year, year in, year out, I know that a formal vow to start doing sit-ups and lose my tummy will be no help at all.

As for grandiose resolutions to write a bestseller, learn to play the piano, or even declutter the house from top to bottom, my brain shrieked “overload” and shut down. Sanity, snatched back from the fog of exhaustion, told me that as a working mum I was stretched to my limits already and that a restorative cup of tea would do me more good.

The big one, becoming a nicer person, forget about that too. My family long ago informed me that crabbiness is part of my nature.

Nowadays I prefer to dilute my essential crabbiness by yoking my spirits to the slow return of light and warmth. Human beings’ reaction to the awesome power of the sun must go back to caveman days, when our ancestors emerged blinking into another dawn, safe from nocturnal predators.

Once past the solstice, my ancestral genes tell me that the earth too is stirring. Despite doing my food shopping in a supermarket, I am still programmed to feel a surge of hope and thankfulness on the appearance of the first snowdrops, with their promise that, come spring, food will no longer be rationed.

Over time, my resolutions have shrunk to a single, modest vow: to take each day as it comes, and to enjoy the small miracles of life, like snowdrops.
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When downtrodden spinster Abigail Carrick inherits one third of a sugar plantation, she defies convention and crosses the ocean to meet two unknown sisters. Yet it is her new sister Desiree who threatens the burgeoning romance between Abigail and idealistic lawyer Euan Sinclair.

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author: Madeleine McDonald lives on the chilly east coast of England, where the wind whistles up through the floorboards.

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Winter Blogfest: Bridie Hall

December 19, 2017 By 8 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win an eBook copy of the Can’t Buy Me Love box set and eBook copy of On the Slopes (1 winner).

Grateful for My Author Friends

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An author friend recently shared with me her newest romance novel. I’ve followed its development as it progressed from the basic outline through the shaping of the characters and several revisions. To have the finished novel in my hands felt very rewarding. I was looking forward to snuggling on the sofa with it while the frigid wind howled outside.

On top of that, my friend also shared a hot chocolate recipe. It seemed only natural to try it as I read her novel. The hot chocolate turned out to be epic. I melted a piece of dark chocolate with whole milk. To thicken it, I added a bit of corn starch. You can add either sugar or stevia, if you’re more health-conscious. I also added a shot of espresso for an extra kick. (I needed it as I read late into the night to finish the novel in one sitting.) I mixed some cardamom into the whipped cream and added a dollop of that on top of the hot chocolate.

My enjoyment of the book was that much greater with a cup of hot chocolate. I felt grateful for my author friends. Not just because they’re willing to share their hot chocolate recipes, but because they’ve been supporting me in my writing endeavors since the very beginning. On my way to getting published, I’ve met some great friends, writers and editors among them. I have other, non-writer friends, of course, but as wonderful as they are, there are things they don’t understand about a writer’s life.

It’s an amazing feeling to have someone understand what it means to get the umpteenth rejection and not think you’re being unreasonable if you just want to curl up and cry. Or to support you when you need that extra motivation to finish the manuscript when you start to despair. Or when they write books which inspire you and fill you with warmth when you read them while drinking hot chocolate during the holidays. Such friends make everything easier and more cheerful.

Seven romantic tales of love where royalty, celebrities, and passion meet. A case of mistaken identity, protecting the one you love, or proving you aren’t all about the money…these tales will entice and thrill.

A Royal Pain by Abigail Drake
Getting shot in the bottom saving a visiting royal turns out to be the best thing to happen to, impoverished socialite, Chloe Burkhart in a long time, especially when the prince’s very handsome, very sexy bodyguard, Nicolai, comes to her aid.

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Blockbuster movie actor, Brody Nash doesn’t quite know what to make of the gorgeous woman precariously perched on his neighbor’s gate, but as they start to get to know each other better, he begins to wonder if she might just be the one for him.

Romancing the Princess by Bridie Hall
A commoner, Sebastian, and Princess Alixandra are set to get married until he begins to wonder if fitting in with royalty is worth sacrificing his principles. Love rules all. Or does it?

All My Memories by Grea Warner
The possibility of reconnecting with an unrequited love leads country music star Finn Murphy on a journey of memories in this special prequel to the Country Roads series.

Me and Tillie by Lisa Hahn
1950s musical film star Oren Cooper returns to Broadway to find new inspiration. Unexpectedly, that inspiration comes in the form of Tillie Parker—his childhood friend’s little sister and an up-and-coming ingénue.

Defending Demma by Melissa Kay Clarke
When faced with an unsavory past, can Demma St. John, rising new starlet, trust ex-Marine Ryker “Digger” McMillan with her secrets and her heart?

His Royal Typeface by Stephanie Keyes
When all is lost, love can be found. Will Prince Asher Tarrington’s unique font design be enough to salvage a royal family and set the tone for true love?

About the Author: Bridie Hall writes young adult and adult contemporary romances. She sold her first story at fourteen. Since then, she has written dozens more, translated books, studied writing, and started writing novels. Her days revolve around stories and words, her sleepless nights involve plotting and inventing fascinating new characters.

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Winter Blogfest: Charli Coty

December 19, 2017 By 7 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win an ebook copy of Toy Run, plus a backlist book of the winner’s choice (from either of my pen names).

Holiday Traditions

Hello and Happy Holidays! Thanks to everyone at Long and Short Reviews for having me!

Today I’m going to talk about a holiday tradition that’s near and dear to my heart: toy drives. For my whole adult life I’ve participated in holiday toy drives, whether they were through an office or a bike run, and have bought just about every kind of toy. When I was younger (and had a young child) I donated blocks and stuffed animals, and as I got older those gifts changed to basketballs, footballs, and board games. I’m sure many of you reading this have given toys too, whether directly to your local firehouse or children’s hospital, or maybe you dropped them into a donation box at Target.

And I’d like to thank you on behalf of all of the children who had a gift on Christmas morning because of you.

You see, when I was a child, my sister and I received donated toys on more than one Christmas. Those years were difficult in many ways, and the whole family felt the shame of having our Christmas gifts delivered by a charity truck. But through all that, I was grateful. Grateful that people I didn’t even know cared enough to make our holiday brighter. Later, I was grateful to be in a position to give that gift to someone else in need. I’ve worked hard through the years, and have always been proud to be able to put a board game in the barrel or give a fancy box set of books to a child in the hospital over the holidays.

I’d love to fill the comments on this post with links to your local toy drives or the toy list you’re planning on buying to donate this year. Let’s make sure every kid has a gift, no matter what holiday they celebrate! Even a $5 gift is better than none at all. I’ve had a difficult year, but plan to shop Cyber Monday for a few cool, geeky toys to make a child’s holiday special!

One random commenter on this post will get a copy of my biker holiday Romance, Toy Run, and a backlist book of their choice (either under my Charli Coty pen name, or Charley Descoteaux).

Thank you for reading and Happy Holidays!

Here’s a teaser from the opening of Toy Run, to get you in the mood!

It was a terrible idea, riding north. For the same five hundred miles I could be in Vegas or San Diego—but terrible ideas were sort of my specialty. Besides, if it all went to hell, I’d just keep moving. Another specialty.

I backed up to the curb, killed the engine, and sat leaning against my pack. Hours early, again. It’s not easy to arrive fashionably late when you have nowhere else to be. I flipped the helmet visor up, and glare from the fog and mist made me want to flip it back down. It was dark when I left Ashland two hundred and fifty miles ago. I missed full dark, but by then the only dark to be found was somewhere over the Pacific. As it was, I could almost see the reflection of the floodlight bouncing off my helmet. Being black didn’t help that thing. Being wet probably didn’t either, but that was what I got for riding into Oregon in December.

A growl in my stomach kicked the rest of me into gear. A moment later my two-ton helmet sat where my ass had been, and I headed toward the truck-stop diner, leathers creaking like my knees would be by the end of the day if it didn’t warm up. Birds know what they’re doing, flying south for the winter.

Every head turned when the bells hanging on the front door slapped against the glass. The smell of toast and coffee and the warm air were welcoming enough. They watched me every step of the way, the redheaded stepchild coming in after curfew. They were half right.

I nodded to the man sitting beside the only empty stool at the counter and shrugged my jacket off before easing onto it. The stool on the end—things were looking up already. He nodded back and extended his hand.

“Ed Gonzalez.”

We shook.

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I grabbed a menu from the holder in front of me, but my stomach had gone from rumbling to shivering. In the space of one handshake, eating became less important than getting out from under his gaze. It usually took a lot more than a pair of dark eyes for me to give up my full name, but those weren’t just any eyes. So brown they were almost black, and full of the promise of rough sex.

Or an ass kicking. Hard to tell. Knowing things like that was not a specialty of mine.

“You here for the run?”

“That’s right.” I crooked my thumb toward the parking lot and couldn’t help smiling. “One of my bags is full of toys.”

“You come in on that blue Shovel?”

“That’s right.” My smile and friendly voice stuck around with some effort. He’d been in a position to see me park her, but I could think of worse ways to spend breakfast than making conversation with Ed Gonzalez. “And you?”

“Green Knuck.”

He nodded toward the other end of the row of bikes parked outside the diner. A green bike. Ed Gonzalez must be younger than he looked, or maybe just not superstitious. Couldn’t pay me to sit on a green bike, let alone buy one. Granddad’s oldest brother and childhood idol had fought in World War II, and Granddad passed all his superstitions down to me.

The Knucklehead sported a two-tone olive-drab paint job and a pyramid of Nerf balls lashed to the rack behind a brown solo saddle seat that could’ve been the original. Late 1930s was my guess. A young gal with Heather on her name tag poured coffee and took my order. Ed didn’t turn away.

“You from around here?” I asked him. “I just got in and am going to need a friendly motel.”

He nodded thoughtfully. The noise level in the diner had been growing steadily higher as more bikes arrived. He bent his head toward me, and I had to lean against the counter to get my arms away from my body before I started to sweat.

Former physical therapist and reluctant loner Ian Bowen has spent the three years since his grandfather’s death searching for a man to inspire him to park his Harley—without much hope of finding him. Terrible ideas are one of Ian’s specialties so when he shows up for a Toy Run in Oregon and finds ice instead of rain, he’s not surprised. Ian meets Ed Gonzalez, another loner with a pile of toys lashed to his bike, and a few beers at the end-of-the-run party turn into an invitation to Ed’s for homebrew. Instead of a hot hookup, the unseasonable cold renders Ed immobile with pain. Before Ed can get to his meds, Ian massages Ed’s pain away, allowing him a restful night’s sleep and creating intimacy neither wants to lose. Ian thinks two men have to follow certain rules to be together, but Ed’s prepared to show him how wrong he is.

About the Author: Charli misspent a large chunk of her youth on the back of a Harley, meeting people and having adventures that sometimes pop up in her fiction. She grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area during a drought, and found her true home in the soggy Pacific Northwest. Charley has survived earthquakes, tornadoes, and floods, but couldn’t make it through one day without stories.

Charli Coty is a pseudonym of the author known as Charley Descoteaux.

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Winter Blogfest: Jane Dougherty

December 18, 2017 By 12 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a digital copy of Revelation.

This year, we have left our offspring in the city and retreated to a farmhouse in the middle of a field. Without the family and religious aspect, and the glittery commercial temptations, Christmas as a concept is fading into the past of childhood when it actually meant something. This year we will listen to the wind in the poplars instead of Christmas carols, the owls calling instead of ‘Dumbo’, and the foxes bickering instead of Julie Andrews. We will celebrate the winter solstice instead of the 25th, with a log fire in the grate, and tell a few stories by the firelight. Like this one, perhaps.

Long ago, in the land of the Northmen, as the longest night of the year was beginning, Gudrun was sent to bring in the last of the wethers. He was the biggest, wildest of the curly-horned sheep and a right royal pain in the arse. Gudrun wrapped her thick cloak tight about her and trudged through the snow up to the oak copse where she suspected he would be, gorging himself on the last of the acorns. She called and whistled, more to keep the wild beasts away than with much hope that the daft sheep would come.

The copse was empty. The wind blew flurries of snowflakes between the tree trunks and Gudrun cursed. Beyond the oaks was empty heathland until the fjord dropped away abruptly, and the sea crashed dark and wicked below. It would be just like the gormless creature to have fallen over the edge and be stuck on a ledge. Sure enough, after a quick search, the setting sun through the clouds along the horizon showed her the wether’s neat prints. Snow clouds hid the sun, and the wind whined, and in its voice, she heard another sound—someone calling faintly.

She ran across the heath that sloped down to the sea, to where the last rowan tree clung to the rocky soil before the slope became bare rock that tumbled into the waves.

“Who’s there?” she called into the wind, fearful that on this long night, the Draugr would be abroad.

“Gudrun? Tis Sigurd Two-Wolves. Take care, the rocks are as treacherous as sin!”

Gudrun picked her way to the broken edge and peered down a narrow goat track. In the middle of a group of scrubby trees, the yellow-eyed wether, straddling a pair of legs, was glaring up at her. With the last of the light to guide her, Gudrun clambered down to the outcrop that had stopped Sigurd’s fall. He raised himself feebly on his forearms, and she caught her breath. A ray of sun picked out the red of his hair and turned it to flame. His eyes glittered, with fever or with something else, she couldn’t say. Though they had been children together, she had never before realised how beautiful he was, and the expression in his eyes, she had never seen in a man’s eyes before. He needed her. Not in the way men usually need women, but he needed her because he was weak and helpless. She knelt down by his side. Her hands twisted a fold of her cloak, itching to touch him, to find out where the pain was.

“It was the wether,” he said sheepishly, “and I almost had him. Then he jumped, and I went with him.” He looked along his body. “The ankle. Nothing to weep over, but I’d best wait for the light before trying that track again.”

Gudrun ran her hand down his leg and had the satisfaction of seeing how he stirred. Gently, she lifted his leg from the rocks that imprisoned it in a twisted position. He cried out and she felt power and pleasure and compassion all at the same time.

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“You’ll stay with me, the dark night through?” he asked, although he must have known the answer.

“This night and every other, if you asked me,” Gudrun whispered as she wrapped them both in her cloak. The wether settled down, sheltering them from the wind, until the sun goddess birthed a daughter to light the first day of the new year.

Carla was expecting Paradisio to be like…well…paradise. But bad boy Nathaniel shows her that the inhabitants are anything but angelic.

Wormwood has fallen, but the journey isn’t over for Carla and Tully. Erelah, the Messenger, leads them onward to Paradisio, where they hope they will find their real home. The Grigori recognize Tully as Israfel, and he takes to his new role of guardian of music like a duck to water, but Carla’s impressions are of a world with dark secrets hiding in the shadows.

Tully seems absorbed in his music and whenever he comes up for air, Erelah with her neat little wings is waiting. In her misery, Carla finds consolation in Nathaniel, a Warrior who is a hunk and knows it. But she is playing with fire. Nat wants her, and what Nat wants, he takes.
As if her personal problems weren’t enough, Carla begins to piece together the mad plan that Nisroc, the Yazata of Paradisio, has lined up for the other worlds. But Tully, who has been promised a star part, seems keen to play along with the lunatic scheme.

Carla finds herself caught up in a revolution, to stop Nisroc and the one who is creating his weapon of mass destruction—Tully.

 

Jane Dougherty writes stories where the magical and the apocalyptic mesh, where horror and romance meet, and the real and the imaginary cohabit on the same page. If real life bores you and you hanker to be whisked away to somewhere infinitely worse…before it gets better…and turns into your wildest dreams, her stories have got just what you’re looking for.

Jane was born when she was very small and was brought up in Yorkshire. Her first job took her to France and she has never found her way anywhere else. She now lives in a strange world where she writes the rules, creates the landscapes, catastrophes and the magic. She also bends the rules of physics, plays Cupid and hands out happy endings to deserving characters.

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Winter Blogfest: Xenia Melzer

December 18, 2017 By 7 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of A Dom and His Writer (ebook).

My Favorite Christmas Food

We probably all have it – that special food that brings back fond childhood memories and immediately gets us into the mood for Christmas. I have to admit, now that I have children of my own, one in elementary school, one in kindergarten, the Christmas season has lost a great deal of its appeal. There’s just too many events that require me to bake like a maniac, to brew punch, to find small presents for the school advent calendar (not more than three Euros and gender neutral, because the presents are raffled), to make nice little arrangements with lots of gold and glitter and candles, and festivities I have to attend with the children. Don’t get me wrong, my children love it and I do my best to create fond memories for them, just like my grandmother and mother did for me and my sister, but once you’re in charge of making the season jolly, it gets less jolly for yourself.

Apart from trying to keep the stress out of the Christmas season as much as possible, I also have one sure-fire method to get myself in the mood. My Christmas food are Vanillekipferl. That’s a kind of cookie mainly found in Bavaria and Austria, and my whole family loves them. Before I start baking, I put on Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album, and when he starts singing “Adeste Fidelis”, I can feel the spirit of Christmas deep inside.

To make a batch of Vanillekipferl, you need:

250 g flour (wheat or spelt, not too dark)

2 packages of vanilla sugar (preferably with the dark dots in it)

75 g powdered sugar

a dash of salt

100 g grounded almonds or hazelnuts (my family prefers hazelnuts, the traditional recipe asks for almonds; your choice ?)

200 g butter (the real deal, sorry, Christmas is NOT the time to watch your waist line…)

2 vanilla beans

100 g sugar

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Take the dough out and make noodles as thick as your finger, then cut them every five centimeters/slightly less than two inches and form little half-moons. Put them on cookie sheets with baking paper and put it in the oven for about 12 minutes.

Meanwhile, open the vanilla beans and mix the content with the sugar (if you can get your hands on sugar that’s already mixed with those delicious black dots, go for it!) in a flat bowl.

Take the Vanillekipferl out of the oven and start rolling them in the sugar while they’re still hot.

Put them in a cookie jar and wait a few days, then enjoy!

 

Life is perfect for Richard and Dean. Richard is a wealthy and successful businessman who also owns a BDSM club, and Dean is a bestselling author and sub to Richard. They’re young, happy, and in love. The future is bright….

Until tragedy strikes and an accident claims Dean’s beloved sister. Dean also finds himself the guardian of a three-month-old infant, and soon he’s trading in his leather fetish gear for diapers and drool bibs. But little Emily is all that remains of his family, so how can he abandon her?

It’s not what Richard signed up for. As much as he tries to be supportive, he never wanted kids and misses having his partner to himself. Suddenly the life he imagined for them is gone, and he’s not sure their relationship can survive the upheaval. But fate isn’t through with Dean, and when misfortune strikes again, will he be able to turn to the man he loves? A final crisis will determine if they can pull together as a family or they must face facts and part ways.

About the Author: Xenia Melzer was born and raised in a small village in the South of Bavaria. As one of nature’s true chocoholics, she’s always in search of the perfect chocolate experience. So far, she’s had about a dozen truly remarkable ones. Despite having been in close proximity to the mountains all her life, she has never understood why so many people think snow sports are fun. There are neither chocolate nor horses involved and it’s cold by definition, so where’s the sense? She does not like beer either and has never been to the Oktoberfest – no quality chocolate there.

Even though her mind is preoccupied with various stories most of the time, Xenia has managed to get through school and university with surprisingly good grades. Right after school she met her one true love who showed her that reality is capable of producing some truly amazing love stories itself.
While she was having her two children, she started writing down the most persistent stories in her head as a way of relieving mommy-related stress symptoms. As it turned out, the stress-relief has now become a source of the same, albeit a positive one.

When she’s not writing, she teaches English at school, enjoys riding and running, spending time with her kids, and dancing with her husband. If you want to contact her, please visit either her website or write her an email: info@xeniamelzer.com.

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Winter Blogfest: David C. Dawson

December 18, 2017 By 4 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a digital copy of “The Deadly Lies.”

Christmas Started in July This Year

Christmas started in July this year. I’m not pleased. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a fan of Christmas with the best of them. Time for family, time for friends. Good food and wine. Time off from work and lots of good movies on the TV.

But July?

We were buying a new doorbell at the local hardware store when it happened. Our old one still works. Occasionally. It’s one of those wireless ones where you can choose between fifteen different ring tones, from the usual “ding dong” to a train whistle. Honestly. Why would you want to hear a train whistle every time someone arrives at your front door? We have the chimes of Big Ben.

And the doorbell works perfectly well. For about a week. Then it just stops.

“Do you know your doorbell’s not working?” It’s usually the grumpy postman who asks us that. For nearly a year now. So one Saturday morning in July, after Nick had dealt with the grumpy postman banging on the front door yet again, he came back into the kitchen and said: “We’ve got to get a new one”.

So there we were in the hardware store, testing all the different ring tones, and arguing over whether the Blue Danube waltz was a suitable ring tone for a front door. That’s when I saw it.

A snow covered Christmas elf about six inches tall.

He was at the back of the store, perched on a bag of birdseed. Smiling.

We had to leave. Well, really.

I’m not Scrooge. But starting Christmas in July? That Saturday was one of England’s few bright, sunny days, and there wasn’t a hint of snow in the sky. And yet there was a Christmas elf, smiling inanely at us, with a dusting of snow on his elf cap.

It wasn’t even Halloween.

So the doorbell still doesn’t work, and the postman is still grumpy every other week. We’ll have to go back I suppose; it’s the only hardware store for miles around.

By the time we do it will be packed with Christmas elves, and singing snowmen too. It’s August now.

Bah, humbug.


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When Bernhardt is killed in a suspicious car accident, Dominic Delingpole discovers his ex-lover was part of a secret group plotting to rewrite the world order.
What is the mysterious Charter Ninety-Nine group? And will their planned internet assault force Dominic to choose between the fate of the world and the life of his lover?
Lies upon lies plunge Dominic and Jonathan into an internet crime that could destroy the lives of millions of people.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author: David C. Dawson is an award-winning author, journalist and documentary maker. His debut novel, The Necessary Deaths, won an FAPA award in the best suspense/thriller category.

The sequel to The Necessary Deaths is published in December 2017. David is working on a romantic suspense novel for publication in 2018, and a one-off drama for British TV.

He has travelled extensively, and filmed in nearly every continent of the world. He has lived in London, Geneva and San Francisco, but now prefers the tranquillity of the Oxfordshire countryside in England.

In his spare time, David tours Europe on his ageing Triumph motorbike, and sings with the London Gay Men’s Chorus.

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Winter Blogfest: Sarita Leone

December 18, 2017 By 15 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a $5 gift card to Starbucks.

Shoeing Through the Winter

I live in the northeast. We pretty much enjoy all four seasons, and I definitely take my activity cues from Mother Nature. Swimming in the summer, raking in the fall, and planting in the spring. Winter? It’s a big deal here—it almost seems like it should be two seasons instead of just one. Cold and colder—or snowy and snowier, maybe.

Things should slow down, given the icy roads and wintery winds but just the opposite happens. The cold weather brings so much activity! People are shopping, meal planning, travel planning—there’s so much to do and so much of it is ridiculously frenzied. Along with the pre-holiday excitement, there’s an almost-insane pace to get everything done despite darkness coming early.

Except here, in my little corner of the world. I don’t get caught up in the “big plans” for the holidays that so many do. I make a conscious decision to hunker down and witness winter unfolding. If anything, life actually slows once the frost hits the pumpkin!

I’m big on enjoying nature even when bright lights beckon from city streets. So I stick to my following the seasons routine, which makes for a much calmer end to my year.

My biggest excitement about the winter season? I can break out my snowshoes! That’s right, I love to hike across snowy meadows and through silent forests. It’s a wonderfully peaceful way to spend an afternoon or even grab some exercise early in the morning before I settle down at my desk. Who needs the gym when Old Man Winter calls? Snowshoeing is great for burning calories and if you move quickly enough, the heart rate ramps right up!

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Are there any winter sports that bring you pleasure?

The Octopus isn’t an urban myth—and its agents are anything but ordinary. The intelligence bureau is so well-hidden most doubt its existence. A handful know its location. And fewer walk the halls in the subterranean compound. Benjamin Sinclair didn’t ask to be a scientific miracle but every mission has its risks and one perfectly-placed bullet ended his life—for a brief moment in time. Nicole Anima battles demons every day. Life as a paranormal resources operative gives her tortured mind a rest—and keeps her from contemplating her own death. When Anima and Sinclair partner on a globe-trotting race to eliminate the threat about to cripple humanity, all hell breaks loose. Leaping from planes, crashing into continents, dealing with voodoo priestesses, and running through jungles with zombies hot on their trail doesn’t leave much time for romance, but this duo somehow manages to sizzle. Two agents. Telepathic mind paired with regenerated commando. One world—and a mission to save it.

About the Author: Sarita Leone is an award-winning author who has written romance in many forms including Regency, paranormal, and contemporary. She loves happily-ever-afters in any setting!

When she’s not writing, Ms. Leone spends her time hiking, learning languages, and traveling. She loves adventure and can pack a suitcase, grab her passport, and hit the road in less time than it takes to peel an apple!

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Filed Under: Guest Blogs, Romance Tagged With: , ,

Winter Blogfest: Wendi Zwaduk

December 18, 2017 By 4 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short’s Review Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a handcuff necklace made by the author along with autographed swag.

A New Tradition for Christmas 

I’ve talked in the past about my family’s traditions for Christmas. We take supplies to the pet shelters, donate toys to the toy drives and food to the shelter, but last year, we decided to make a new tradition in addition to those.

Ohio is home to the Christmas Story house. Yes, the actual house used in the movie. It’s been restored and fixed so it looks like it did in the movie. To help raise money for the restoration and because it’s fun to run, they’ve organized a 5k run called…the Christmas Story House 5k/10k Run. I know, real original name, but it’s fun. Every year a few actors from the movie show up, a big crowd shows up to run and most everyone dresses up as their favorite characters from the movie. Leg lamps, thieves, pink bunny suits… you name it. They will come.

Photo credit: Korona Lacasse (Run, Santa…RUN!) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

So we’ve decided to do this run. I’ll admit. I’m not a runner. Not a chance. My knees are still shot from when I danced in school. But I’m going to do this. Yep. I’m going to. We’ll donate money to the house, but mostly it’ll be sweating together, dressing up in silly costumes and the fun of being a family.

Do you have a tradition your family does? Something that brings the family together? Maybe something that’s silly? Something serious? Maybe there’s a tradition you’d like to enact. What is it? I’d love to know.
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She’s always known who she wanted. Now she’s needs to find the strength to make him see they’re more than a mistake.

Molly Neff creates promotional art for companies with confidence and her working partner is sex on legs. Austin Dean is sexy, smart and everything she’s wanted in a man since the moment they met. They’ve slept together a couple of times, but things haven’t worked out between them. When another woman enters the picture, can Molly convince Austin they belong together or will the relationship end up scrapped for a better idea?

As much as he likes working with Molly, Austin wants more out of life than creating advertising campaigns for others. He wants to be the star. Molly has always been his good luck charm—with her brains and charm, she helps him make his dream come true. But his starring role comes with complications. He’s always sort of known he loved Molly, but another woman wants his attention. Will he choose Molly and a simple life with her or the bright lights of fame?

About the Author: Wendi Zwaduk is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to BDSM and LGBTQ themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com and the former AllRomance Ebooks. She also writes under the name of Megan Slayer.

When she’s not writing, she spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice.

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