On the Far Side of Darkness Giveaway!

Enter to win R. C. Graham’s book On the Far Side of Darkness.

Enter to win!
Enter to win!


On the Far Side of Darkness Giveaway!

Available for 0.99¢ if you preorder from B & N, Kobo, or Apple.

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On The Far Side of Darkness is an anthology of stories about Georges Belleveau, a vampire since The Terror and his human lover, Diane Patterson. It is now available for pre-order from Smashwords and will be released on Halloween. The price will be $0.99 until that day. Here is an excerpt to whet your appetite. It’s adults only and very hot.

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It’s three in the morning and I am in Diane’s bed.

My hands stroke her auburn hair and my lips caress the fair satin skin of her forehead. She shivers in response.

I need to use little of my power with her these days. She’s become accustomed to and desirous for my touch. But for her pleasure, I push some fire into her, make the shimmering heat she feels rise.

I pause to make sure my mask is in place. Diane can never know what I am. The consequences would be too grievous for me to bear. For a moment my body stiffens at the vision my imagination creates of that moment, of Diane in terror of what I am.

“Georges?” my love asks, puzzled at my sudden hesitation.

“Nothing, cher. Once again I’m awed by how I feel.” Which is both true and very frightening.

My mouth moves down, covers hers, works at her hungrily. She answers with the same passion. Her hands rove, teasing my skin. As always, to my amazement, I react. Shimmering emotion fills me. This isn’t my usual hunt. I’ve come to care for her.

My arms go around her back and I hug her close. Breaking my face away from hers I look into her eyes. “Sweet Diane,” I exhale.

Her eyes glitter at me, lust providing the sharp sparkles and warmth a deep glow. “Georges,” she whispers back.

My face lowers to her neck. For a moment, my hunger screams at me to feed, drain her dry, leave a cold corpse lying here to spread fear in the world. I easily ignore it. Monster I may be but not all the time, and especially not now.

Instead my tongue teases with soft, quick licks. I use my power to push Diane’s passion a little higher. She sucks in a sharp breath and a tremor runs through her. Her fingernails dig softly into my arm and back.

I chuckle against her throat and move on. Playing, I lave her shoulders and chest, sweep up her small breast and take a nipple in my mouth. It pops into stiffness and I feel her aureola crinkle under my tongue. With my canines I lightly nip the tender nub. A slight hint of the ecstasy feeding creates washes into her. Diane gurgles, grabs my dark hair and pulls me close. I suck hard at her. The sound of her legs running over the sheets as she spreads herself comes to me.

I play over to her other breast and gambol there for long moments. Her body begins a steady tremble as I do.

With mischievous kisses I move down to her tummy. My power propels her emotions, raising her joy higher still. As I come to her hips I run the edges of my teeth over the skin above her joints. Her muscles jerk, then jerk again. “Georges” she whimpers, “no more teasing, please.”

“D’accord,” I tell her. I drape her left leg over my shoulder so that her labia sit in front of me, quivering and lustrous. The sweet, rich aroma of her arousal stuffs my nose.

My tongue runs out and licks up her soaking outer lips. Diane hisses and her body lurches as I do. I run around and around her, sopping up her taste. The hiss becomes a moan and her movements rhythmic. More lusciously flavored fluids dribble from her to be swallowed by me.

Gently, I work a finger inside, pushing slowly. I run in and out with a steady beat. Her hips match my cadence and her inner muscles squeeze my digit. Her moan becomes syncopated with sharp gasps. Diane’s heated odor grows more intense.

I add a second finger and my pumps increase in speed. Diane’s moan rises in volume, nears a wail. “Ah!” she huffs, “God! Please!” Her skin heats, I can feel its glow on my own.

My fingers rotate in her, press hard against the spongy spot on the ceiling of her channel. Her body stiffens and she gurgles, moments away from ecstasy.

I cover her stiff clit with my mouth. A little suction and I pull the little bud in, lap at it softly and rapidly. Diane falls away from the world as I do.

A loud stutter rushes from her lungs. Her hips blur back and forth, driving my fingers in and out. She clamps on them, her joy demanding I stay inside her. Her skin colors and sweat runs over her.

Diane’s climax fades but doesn’t draw back far. My thumb replaces my tongue and tickles softly. She sounds an “Oh!”, pauses to gasp, another “Oh!” and she’s gone again. She keens her pleasure and shivers with an ague of ecstasy.

While she’s distracted, I place my mouth on her left thigh, drop my fangs and puncture her femoral artery.

This is my climax. The rich taste of her blood runs into my mouth and my awareness is almost lost under it. The rush of life fills me with an abandoned glee. Nothing tasted as delicious when I was alive.

Adding even more to it is the fact that I care deeply for this woman, and she cares for me. It adds an exponent of elation I’ve not tasted in far too long.

That joy radiates out from me and into Diane. It slams into her orgasm, pumps it up into a bright flame that blanks out her mind. She grows stiff as a board. Every few seconds she twitches and a tiny click sounds from her throat. I’ve taken her far from the physical world.

I pull my mouth from her with a quiet hiss. I’ve had enough. What I am wants it all but I’m full. I don’t feed until death. I’m forced to drink, not to kill. Pain shimmers through me as I recall the times I did kill. I don’t like being a monster.

Diane relaxes, her bliss releasing her. Before she can notice, I lick my punctures and they vanish as if they never existed.

I move myself next to her. Leaning in, I kiss her cheek, swipe at the salt liquid slicked there. Pulling back, I watch her, one hand gently petting her stomach, calling her back to reality. Her face is blank and her chest heaves.

Again I feel amazement that I’m here with her close, in more ways than one. I don’t want to but I wallow in the sensation. Once more, I almost feel like a man again.

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The Bridge of Deaths by M.C.V. Egan: Promotion of Authors

The Bridge of Death

On August 15th, 1939 an English passenger plane from British Airways Ltd. Crashed in Danish waters between the towns of Nykobing/Falster and Vordingborg. There were five casualties reported and one survivor, the pilot. A mere two weeks before Hitler invaded Poland with the world at the brink of war the manner in which this incident was investigated left much open to doubt.

The jurisdiction battle between the two towns and the newly formed Danish secret police, created an atmosphere of intrigue and distrust.
The five casualties were:

Cesar Agustin Castillo, a bio-chemical engineer educated in both Germany and the USA, a Mexican national working for Standard Oil of New Jersey’s London branch.

Samuel James Simonton, American national also employed by Standard Oil of New Jersey’s London office with a very strong military back ground, graduate of West Point.

Erich Bruno Wilhelm Beuss a German national a corporate lawyer travelling with medals earned in World War I.

Anthony Crommelin Crossley English Member of Parliament who is known and outspoken on the antipathy to Hitler during the Munich Pact. He is also the sole defender of the Arab cause in the matter of Palestinian Territories in the 1930s.

Alfred Stanley Mardsin Leigh, on all files as an employee of British Airways LTD he is referred to   as either a co-pilot, a mechanic and a radio Operator.

The sole survivor is the Pilot Clifford Frederick Cecil Wright.

In the winter of 2009-2010 a young executive, Bill is promoted and transferred to London for a major International firm. He has struggled for the better part of his life with nightmares and phobias, which only seem to worsen in London.

As he seeks the help of a therapist he accepts that his issues may well be related to a ‘past-life trauma’. His love interest Maggie helps him in his quest and realizes that she too is part of the events as much in the past as she is in 2009-2010. Maggie and Bill find that through their love and the courage to submit to past life regression they find more questions than answers.

They become very curious about events leading up to World War II and through archives and the information superhighway of the 21st century Bill and Maggie travel through knowledge and time to uncover the story of the 1939 plane crash.

Their quest includes a friendship forged through Skype with a middle-aged woman in Florida obsessed with the truth about her grandfather’s death. This woman has worked for nearly two decades with archives in Denmark, England and the United States to unfold the mystery that left her family scarred and wondering.

The author’s meticulous search and actual copies of documents in the book help the reader understand that we are indeed dealing with true events.

All historical data is clearly documented and footnoted as many of the files used by the author were rather obscure and not found in any history books.

The author’s use of psychics and past life regression is also very clearly documented.

The Bridge of Deaths is a love story and a mystery. Fictional characters travel through the world of past life regression and information acquired from psychics as well as archives and historical sources to solve “One of those mysteries that never get solved” is based on true events and real people, it is the culmination of 18 years of sifting through sources in Denmark, England and the United States, it finds a way to help the reader feel that he /she is also sifting through data and forming their own conclusions.

The journey takes the reader to well-known and little known events leading up to the Second World War, both in Europe and America. The journey also takes the reader to the possibility of finding oneself in this lifetime by exploring past lives.

M.C. V. Egan is the pen name of  Maria Catalina Egan, the author of The Bridge of Deaths. Catalina was born in Mexico CATALINA LONDON 2012City, Mexico in 1959, one of eight children. From a very young age, she became obsessed with the story of her maternal Grandfather, Cesar Agustin Castillo. What fascinated her most was the story of how he died. She spent her childhood in Mexico.

Catalina now lives in the USA. She is fluent in Spanish, English, French and Swedish.

Maria Catalina Egan is married with one son, who together with their five-pound Chihuahua, make her feel like a full-time mother. Although she would not call herself an Astrologer, she has taken many classes and taught a few beginner classes in Astrology. This is one of her many past times when she is not writing or researching.

On  sale now in a variety of places on-line.
BARNES AND NOBLE:  http://bit.ly/I3Mz9r

Hailey Edwards: Promoting Authors

Soul WeaverSince the accident that nearly took her life, Chloe suffers from acute agoraphobia. Living alone above her family’s bookstore, she spends restless nights terrified by strange visions . . . until a mysterious stranger appears and offers her salvation. Chloe is drawn to the ethereal, gorgeous Nathaniel–but her haunted soul warns her there is more to him than meets the eye.

An archangel who roams Earth collecting souls of the newly departed, Nathanial is the sole witness to the accident that should have taken Chloe’s life. Seduced by the purity of her soul, he defies Providence by saving her life. But his attempt at kindness marks Chloe for damnation, and makes her an unwitting pawn in a game of unholy ambition. Now together they must fight the demons of Hell itself–for a love that defies the boundaries of Heaven and Earth.

———————————–EXCERPT———————————–

“If you’re asking me to choose, I choose you.” His lips brushed over hers. “I always will.”

“You’ll leave when this job is over,” she said. He couldn’t deny the fact.

His eyes flashed dark. No longer warm tropical waters, they were storm tossed and forceful. When his smile came, it held a sharp edge. “I’ll take you with me.” He nipped at her lips, forcing them open so his tongue could dip inside.

Her eyes closed to better enjoy him. Desire roared to life between them, fanned the flames low in her belly until they licked along her insides.

Leaving wasn’t a possibility. When things cooled between them, he would realize she must stay. The break up would hurt, but they would both move on when his job was finished. He would return to his world while she remained here, in hers.

She groaned beneath his lips and he smiled against her mouth. God, she would miss him.

He traded his hold on the window for her. Cupped her shoulder, then smoothed down her back. Fisted the fabric of her shirt and tugged until his palm flattened against her spine, skin to glorious skin. She moaned into their kiss, leaned farther, reached for him, grabbed his belt loop, and tugged him flush against the wall, against her.

“Did you hear that?” His hand continued its downward trek, fingers teasing the waistband of her jeans and sneaking between the denim and her skin.

“I didn’t hear anything.” She nipped his bottom lip, slid her hand around his hip and into his back pocket. When she squeezed, his groan vibrated through their lips. Her other hand was making its way toward his other pocket when she heard it too–a familiar sharp, buzzing sound.

He broke their kiss. “You don’t hear that?”

Of all the times for Neve to arrive, this was the absolute worst. “It’s the doorbell.”

“You’re expecting someone this late?” As if remembering, he nodded. “Neve, right?”

“Right.” Chloe withdrew her hand from his back pocket. She didn’t even cop one last feel. It seemed kind of rude given the moment had passed. “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

“Thanks, but I should go.” He traced over the elastic band of her panties. She couldn’t remember which pair she was wearing, but she sent up a quick prayer they were sexy.

The buzzing resumed and Chloe sighed. “I guess I’ll see you Monday, then.”

“Bright and early.” He stole a final kiss and withdrew. “Enjoy your weekend.”

“You too.” Before he turned, Chloe added, “Think about what I said, okay?”

“I’ve already made up my mind.” He sounded certain. “But we can finish this Monday.”

For a minute, her brain hazed over. Finish this? Finish what, exactly? Their conversation or where their hands had left off before they were interrupted?

———————————–CONTEST———————————–

In Soul Weaver, the hero, Nathaniel, is the Weaver of Souls. He owns a pair of magical shears that can slice rifts from one location to another, anywhere in the world. Imagine not needing planes or cars or buses for travel, just whipping out your shears and cutting your own gateway to wherever you want to be.

Tell me where you’d go if you had the shears and you’ll be entered to win your choice of any title from my digital backlist (excluding Soul Weaver) in any digital format.

Website*Facebook*Twitter*Blog

Shamrocked by Joanne Kenrick: Promotion of Authors

Hi my readers. I am on an airplane heading to Toronto, ON, Canada today! Yes, after 9 months, I finally get to spend about 75 days with my husband. We will turn in the last of the paperwork needed for Immigration to Canada while I’m here, and then it’s Hurry up and Wait to see if I’m approved.

While I’m flying, I thought you’d like a little something to go with your Two for Tuesday.  So here, we have a Promotion for author Joanne Kenrick.

Enjoy. Please, if you’re so inclined, say a prayer, light a candle, think good thoughts, etc for a safe trip for me to be with my hubby. (Rob Graham)

Shamrocked by Joanne Kenrick

Will Devlin Kinney’s Irish charm and toys be enough to hold onto his leading lady, or will his heart be shamrocked into next week?

SHAMROCKED, Irish Kisses book 2, is OUT NOW in most major ebook stores.

CONTEST TO WIN A KINDLE FIRE Or NOOK TABLET HERE: http://britauthor.blogspot.com/2012/07/get-shamrocked-and-win-kindlefire-or.html

 

Devlin Kinney is the crass Irish charmer who helped Shaun Bell out on his 1Night Stand by packing him up a few surprises in his overnight bag in the HUGE bestseller SWEET IRISH KISS. Surprises both he and Rachel were grateful for. And now you can have all of him because he’s back! With his toy box and a 1Night Stand of his own.

Set in Notting Hill, London and the now infamous Bell’s Irish Pub in Soho, London.

Bell’s Irish Pub is open for business, and Devlin Kinney is serving up one tasty treat.

 

BUYLINKS:

All Romance: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=JoAnne+Kenrick

WHSmiths: http://www.whsmith.co.uk/CatalogAndSearch/SearchWithinCategory.aspx?as_Author=JoAnne+Kenrick++&cat=%5ceb_eBooks

Kindle USA: http://www.amazon.com/JoAnne-Kenrick/e/B004FMUJMS

Kindle UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/JoAnne-Kenrick/e/B004FMUJMS

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/joanne-kenrick

BookStrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/joanne-kenrick

Decadent Publishing: http://www.decadentpublishing.com/advanced_search_result.php?osCsid=6c1232251c1e45744bd0b3ee7262f414&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&pfrom=0&pto=999999&dfrom=&dto=&manufacturers_id=43

 

AUTHOR SIGNING: 

http://kindlegraph.com/authors/joannekenrick

 

BLURB:

Devlin Kinney is focused on his Irish Rock band, Shamrocked. Between that and tending bar at Bell’s Irish Pub, he’s rushed off his feet. Still, he’s envious of Shaun who found his perfect woman through Madame Eve’s exclusive agency, 1Night Stand. Pushed for time, he follows his friend’s lead and hopes to be matched with a woman ballsy enough to share in his fetish for things that go buzzzz.

At the event of the year for soap stars, Elizabeth Grant meets Devlin and mistakes him for her soon-to-be The EastEnd co-star. Before she has a chance to confess she’s not his 1Night Stand as he seems to think, the silver-tongued smooth dancer proves irresistible. He seems perfect…for one night of pleasure. She’s ready to play the role of her

life!

Will his Irish charm and toys be enough to hold onto his leading lady, or will his heart be shamrocked into next week?

 

Mini Excerpt

Surrounded by bridesmaids—the hottest guy in the place. His thick Irish brogue carried over the chattering wedding crowd and bad party songs.

Swallowing any signs of stage fright, she checked her fake hair in a mirrored wall, plumped her boobs, and plastered on a smile before making a beeline for her drop-dead gorgeous, future co-star.

She waded through the rough sea of pink-chiffoned up women, snapped out her arm, and took his hand like one of those shaking weight things. Thought she’d blown it until his mouth tilted up into a tempting smile. Dimples. Oh, my. He would be popular with the ladies. Might even help get her noticed by movie producers. Dating this hottie would get her on every front page known to the British public.

“Liz.” She fought to keep focused on his face rather than his thick muscles and rhythmic movements. She couldn’t recall ever seeing a man who could make dancing to All Night Long by Lionel Ritchie so goddamned sexy. His jig was infectious—her arm swayed in beat with his, their hands still clasped together.

“As in Elizabeth?”

“Uh-huh.” The swarm of bridesmaids knitted their brows and pursed their lips. One even stamped her foot. Liz couldn’t help but turning on a sweet smile. “Buh-bye, ladies.”

MORE ABOUT 1NS series: http://decadent1nightstand.blogspot.com

 

JoAnne Kenrick

JoAnne Kenrick, an ex-Ghost Tour Guide turned Romance Author, is a Welsh lass who has lived in various countries around the world. She now calls North Carolina her home, where she lives with her husband, two children and two cheeky cats. When they aren’t demanding her attention, she can most likely be found watching a vampire movie, reading or baking up a British favorite in her N.C. kitchen. That is, when she isn’t writing or chatting up a storm on social networking sites. Travel across the pond and faraway…with JoAnne Kenrick http://www.joannekenrick.com