A Woman’s Persuasion by Jeanette Watts – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.
Jeanette Watts will be awarding a Cameo Necklace to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What would you do for a second chance at a perfect love?

Anne’s privileged family forced her to break off her romance with Freddie Wentworth, an Air Force pilot; they didn’t approve. Almost eight years later, Freddie is back in her life. Can they rekindle an old flame? Or is there too much hurt and misunderstanding in the way?

Enjoy an Excerpt:

New York was full of public green spaces: Prospect Park close to the Musgrove house, Green-Wood Cemetery near the dry cleaners, and of course Central Park in Manhattan.

She had gone to see an exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and then went for a long walk on the endlessly winding trails, when she happened upon Henry and Louis walking with Freddie.

“Anne!” Henry exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing, walking alone in Central Park?”

Anne gave them a nonchalant shrug. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m walking alone in Central Park.”

Louis took her arm. “You idiot! Well, you’re going to have to stick with us.” He gestured at Freddie. “Have you met Anne? She’s our brother’s wife’s sister.”

“We met at your brother’s house, and we already ascertained that we went to Cornell at the same time,” Freddie nodded civilly to Anne.

“Hello,” Anne answered her nod with a weak smile.

“We’re asking for details about Freddie’s glamorous career as a pilot. She’s frustratingly close-mouthed about everything,” Henry complained.

“Well, you know military personnel can’t say much about what they’re doing. Why are you asking?” Anne chastised the both of them. Her eyes met Freddie’s for a moment, and Anne’s voice dried up and withered away to nothing. She remembered when she was the one asking Freddie the questions, and Freddie would answer her with a laugh, “Well, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

“Well, what I can tell you is that the recruiters really aren’t lying when they say ‘It’s not just a job, it’s an adventure,’ ” Freddie offered.

About the Author:

Jeanette Watts was happily writing historical fiction when she got the idea for her first Jane Austen-inspired novel, Jane Austen Lied to Me. Going to a JASNA event to work on selling that book, she attended a lecture that asked, “Why does everyone rewrite Pride and Prejudice so much more than her other novels? Why doesn’t anyone rewrite Persuasion?”

So she had to…

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Roosters: Sweet and Innocent by Megan Slayer – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Megan Slayer will be awarding a prize pack featuring a necklace made by the author and signed swag to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Anissa Dunn wants one man — Kameron. He’s got looks, brains and a boatload of attitude… and all that muscle. A girl can only take so much, and he’s her heart’s desire. She’s not afraid to give as good as she gets and she wants him to be her teacher in all things carnal.

There’s only one catch — he’s her bodyguard and the rules state she can’t date the staff.

But rules are meant to be broken…

Read an Excerpt

Copyright ©2018 Megan Slayer

I will make him notice me. Anissa adjusted her dress. The cherry-red halter frock hung on her thin frame. So much for the correct fit. She sighed. No matter what she did, she couldn’t put on weight. She debated what to add to improve her figure. If she wore the leather jacket, she’d appear edgy. The clunky boots helped increase her height, so she was fine there. But her bust… drat. She peered down at her chest. A wave of nausea hit her as she thought about her dating past. Guys didn’t want to date a woman with a flat chest — or so they’d told her.

She spied the gel bra cups she’d bought during her last trip to the fabric store. If she had boobs, maybe the guy of her dreams would finally notice her. He had to.

Anissa stuffed the chilly padding beneath the cups of her dress. Her boobs looked huge. Instead of the burst of confidence she’d expected, she hated her reflection in the mirror. The additions didn’t fit her frame. But she had a date and no choice but to do her best to entice him. If fake boobs worked, then fine. She’d take her chances.

She donned the jacket, then grabbed her purse and hurried downstairs.

Kam stood in the foyer. He wore the same battered leather jacket, faded jeans and dark sunglasses as he always did. He touched his earpiece. “In position.”

Her heart fluttered. Kameron Stone personified sex in human form. Her nipples ached, and she pressed her knees together. She’d never been with a man and wanted Kam to be her first. If she had her way, he’d be her only.

Would he be with her?

Better yet, would he love her the way she loved him?

About the Author:

Megan Slayer, aka 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 LGBTQ and BDSM 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 author, best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan 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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Buy the book at Changling Press, Amazon, or other online venues.

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Sometimes It’s Okay to Tell by Patrice Locke – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Patrice Locke will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Sometimes It’s Okay to Tell
By Patrice Locke, author of “Exit Signs”

Information dump. Those are evil words writers don’t want to hear. It means you’re interrupting your narrative to explain something that you should be weaving seamlessly into your story.

And no dragging out the beginning. Jump into the middle of the action. It’s expected, demanded these days.

My book, “Exit Signs,” which Soul Mate published in September, starts at the end of the story and the bulk of the book is about how the two main characters got to the situation they’re in on the first pages. The published version of the story jumps right into the action.

But the drafts didn’t. There are approximately 6 alternate beginnings for “Exit Signs.” One starts at the beginning and goes chronologically through the action and plot. One starts with what I considered to be the funniest scene, then flashes forward and backward. One is like an essay on documentary film making. And there are others. One sounds as if a stand-up comedian is recounting the events.

In the end, though, I went with the one that leaps tall buildings in a single bound, the Superman version. I picked the scene where the narrator/main character is facing her Kryptonite, is falling apart. That way, we can see what drove her to that precarious spot.

But it’s got to be action. No information dumps allowed. I get that. Usually I do. But sometimes I have the urge to dump away, a tendency that was excused and even applauded at some times in history. Take Jane Austen, for instance. Even people who don’t like her can’t help but admire the way she hoisted her prose around like a lady construction worker. She did the heavy lifting and sometimes she stopped to tell her readers about the side plots. She spends the first few pages of “Emma,” for instance, pouring the foundation for her heroine’s personality.

I know exactly what a writing critique group would say about that: information dump. And, yes, it is just that. She does it with elegance and style. Maybe that’s the key to being allowed that luxury.

But she’d never get away with it today. And how about Mr. Darcy’s letter to Elizabeth Bennet when he skins, carves, and dissects Mr. Wickham’s character? Not a word of dialogue or action. He just dumps that information. And it works.

Of course, most of us aren’t Jane Austen. Okay, none of us are, but we can all take lessons from her. She has a lot to teach us, though her way of storytelling is not in style.

You’ve got to capture the editor, agent, reader, whoever right out of the gate. No time to mosey up to the starting line. You have to open with the starting pistol blast. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

I do, however, sometimes want to sit and think a spell about the characters and setting, and maybe even the background stories before I delve into a book. I’m the type who likes to enter a pool one step at a time instead of careening off the diving board at full speed.

And there’s nothing wrong with that approach. To each his or her own. For myself, I think it’s okay, maybe even better sometimes, to tell rather than to show.

Tracy Price has a documentary-style life until rockstar Jesse Elliot rewrites her script and takes the wheel to drive her crazy.

In her quest to find a writer missing since the 1930’s, Tracy thinks she has discovered exactly how to handle her new relationship. But she may be listening to the wrong voice.

Then Tracy and Jesse find out they’ve both been keeping some big secrets, and the truth may ruin everything.

Will sharing the missing writer’s story open both their hearts?

Read an excerpt:

Jesse lunged toward me. It was too late. I had already launched. He reached out but didn’t connect. Instead, I broke the trajectory of my upper body by grabbing him at chest level and sliding down. He was pushed backward into the table, which stabilized our ungainly host-parasite tableau. He softened my landing so that physically I was fine, but my pride was ready for intensive care.

Heaped at his feet, like a demented penitent, I hugged his knees, my face pressed flat into his thighs. I might as well stay down. What’s worse? To stand up and face you, or remain here, nestled between your legs? What do you think? Then, the finishing touch: I erupted into nervous, snorting laughter. He guessed there was no serious injury.

“It’s nice to see you, too. You are okay, aren’t you? Can you stand?” He reached for my arms to unwrap them from his legs and help me up. I jammed my eyelids together to conjure up a do-over, but no such luck.

I would have to deal with it.

He held my elbows in his hands. “I guess we were both in a hurry to see each other.”

I do appreciate your attempt to lighten the mood, but you are standing SO close. I can feel your body heat. Or is that mine? By the way, you smell tart and fresh, like a lime.

I stared at his shoulder. My dignity meter was stuck on empty.

“Enthusiastic greeting. Thanks for that.” He was blatantly amused.

“It was nothing.” I stepped backward to regain a semblance of independence. Don’t mock me. But, you did go to all the trouble to bring your hair. And your eyes. I might forgive you for witnessing my disgrace. That hair.

About the Author: As a journalist, Patrice Locke wrote a lot of stories with unhappy and even tragic endings.
Facts are facts, and a writer doesn’t mess with facts.

But fiction is another world. Patrice began writing novels, where she could control the endings and make them as happy as she wants. The best thing about fiction, she says, is having time to think before her characters speak, so they can say the things most of us only come up with after the perfect moment has passed.

She loves to write, read, and watch romantic comedies where life always turns out the way it should. Her only obsessive relationships are with semicolons and Oxford commas.

Though she doesn’t like to brag, Patrice is an award-winning artist. She won a gold and diamond watch when she was 13 for decorating a turkey drumstick bone to look like Batman. Alas, that was her last recognition in the fine arts.

Patrice lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where the blue sky is brilliant, the air is thin, and the vistas are breathtaking. She is none of those things, which is one reason she enjoys living among them.

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