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Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Sizzling PR Presents Tristan by Randi Everheart

RandiEverheart_TristanCover

Author: Randi Everheart
Title: Tristan
Series: A Kendall Family Novel #1
Release Date: December 23rd, 2014
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Five years ago, Tristan Kendall left home and the woman he loved to prove himself on the sport bike racing circuit. With his career briefly on hold, he’s come to realize everything - and everyone - he ever wanted was right at home all along. Now he’s determined to win back her heart no matter the cost.

But Victoria Lane’s been through more than Tristan knows since he broke her heart. No longer the girl he once knew, she has a life to live, and a heart to give, but only to someone who’s planning to stick around. And she’s sure that isn’t him. Can he convince her that she’s the only victory lane he wants to be in?

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EXCERPT

Tristan Kendall wove his blue Yamaha R1 motorcycle in and out of traffic on I-270 in Maryland at over 140 mph. His sport bike was a marvel of engineering that allowed a rider to aggressively mate with it like two lovers in spoon position. Speeding up as he neared his hometown, he glanced in the rearview mirror. The cop behind him had grown smaller and smaller with each mile, but Tristan knew that if he didn’t get off the highway soon, police reinforcements would arrive. They’d never catch him, but one picture of his license plate and he’d get more than just a speeding ticket. Assuming he didn’t wreck and end up dead.

When he pulled off onto the winding back roads and slowed down, the cop didn’t see him exit. Familiar sights caused memories of home to return. He hadn’t been back in five years and more houses had sprung up. The plague of suburbia seemed to crowd in a bit more on the rural town of Comus, creeping up from D.C. to the south. One day there’d surely be a skyscraper in his backyard, but for now rolling farmlands dotted the landscape. Despite his familiarity with the roads, he rode them cautiously, his green eyes alert for patches of dirt or leftover road salt from winter storms. They could send him skidding off the pavement.

As if to prove his point, he came around a curve to find that another sport bike and its rider weren’t wrapped around each other anymore. The bike was upside down against a sapling. The rider stood with hands on hips, staring at the flipped-over Suzuki Hayabusa that no one would be taking for a spin anytime soon by the look of the chain, which had disengaged from the rear sprocket to drape near the ground. The clutch lever on the left handlebar hung loose as if snapped, paint had scratched off, and small dents had damaged the body work. Tristan quickly dismounted, running into the tall grass beside the rider.

“Hey, are you all right?” he asked.

The rider turned and Tristan stopped short, his gaze riveted on the rider’s brown eyes, which reminded him of melted chocolate, long lashes framing them. A spark of anger gleamed within. Her posture was defiant. His pulse raced faster now than in the last hour. Even with her helmet still on, the visor up, her face radiated beauty, though he couldn’t see more than those eyes and cheekbones, making him desperately curious to see more. Full breasts strained at the form-fitting leather suit of red and white. Her zipper was down enough to reveal magnificent cleavage pushed up like two mountains of fleshy delights that Sugarloaf Mountain behind them could not compete with; not all of Mother Earth’s mounds were created equal.

“I’m fine,” said the woman, hardly sparing him a fiery glance.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should get checked out.”

“I’m standing, aren’t I?”

He nodded, wondering if her bravado was covering for her being shaken up. By the look of the scene, she’d likely tumbled through the grass and that was all. They silently gazed at the Hayabusa together. “That was a nice bike.”

“Was being the operative word.”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen worse. It can be fixed.”

“Yeah,” she said, not sounding convinced.

“What happened?”

“Deer.”

He cringed. “Ouch. That could’ve been a lot worse. Fatal, even. Whatever move you pulled to avoid colliding was worth it.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, her face softening. “Thanks,” she said, noting the blonde hair peeking out from the back of his helmet. He hadn’t lifted the mirror visor, which hid his face. All she could see under the helmet were a sexy neck, Adam’s apple, and stubble, besides broad shoulders on a lean frame. He wore faded blue jeans, black boots, and a blue t-shirt under a white-and-blue summer riding jacket. “You always leave your visor down?”

“Sorry. No. It broke this morning. If I get it up, I won’t be able to get it back down, and catching a bug in the face sucks.”

“You have trouble getting it up?”

He hadn’t expected the joke and laughed, exaggerating the motion of looking her up and down. “Not at the moment.” Thinking she seemed amused, he added, “Well, you’re gonna need a ride. Can I take you somewhere? Like my place?”

The look in her eyes wavered between mirth and annoyance. “Does that line work on anyone?”

“You’d be surprised,” he said. Sensing that maybe his repartee hadn’t gone over well, he added, “Sorry. Not a great time for jokes. I was just trying to lighten things up. I know a fall can scare the crap of you.”

She nodded. “Crash much? Maybe I should get a ride from someone else.”

“You might be out here a while if you want to wait. You got a phone to call someone?”

Shaking her head, she said, “Didn’t bring it.”

“Mine died earlier. Forgot to charge it at my last stop. I can run by Clarksburg Motorsports and tell them to come get you. It’s about fifteen minutes away. They’ll need to come anyway to get the bike unless you want someone else to haul it.”

She turned to him and sighed, seeming resigned. “No. I know the place. That’s where I bought it. And they service it. I don’t feel like standing here for the time they’ll take to get here. Let’s go.” She headed toward his bike and he followed through the tall grass. He lowered the rear foot pegs and got on the front seat.

He had a knack for making suggestive remarks that were technically innocent, so he said, as if unaware of the double-entendre, “I don’t usually let a woman ride my crotch rocket so soon after meeting.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she said, smiling wryly. She stepped on a peg, grabbed his shoulder, and easily lifted herself behind him, sitting down gracefully. She squeezed her legs against his, her crotch against his ass. “Take me to the strip mall in Comus. I work there.”

“Okay.” Over one shoulder, he advised, “Try to find something hard to hold onto.”

“I’m afraid to ask what you had in mind.” She put her visor back down and wrapped both arms around him from behind.

“You’re gonna want to grip harder than that,” he said, starting the engine, which came to life with a loud growl due to the aftermarket exhaust system he’d installed. When she didn’t hold tighter, he smirked and took off with a small wheelie that caused her to yelp in surprise and squeeze hard with both arms and legs, her head pressed against his back. He let the wheel down softly and noticed she didn’t lighten her grip as he continued more safely, the heat of her warming him through his back, legs, and ass.

He was no stranger to women mounting his crotch rocket, whether that was his bike or not. Those who rode one were willing to ride the other. The lone exception had been Victoria, his high school sweetheart. Her father had been killed in a motorcycle accident, making her deathly afraid of them and for Tristan once they’d fallen in love. His high-speed shenanigans had caused no end of fights. When she found out he wanted to be a pro rider, she’d freaked. He’d certainly never gotten her onto the bike, which had bothered him. If you can’t share one love of your life with the other love of your life, something’s amiss. For him, it had taken some of the steam out of their bond and ultimately made it easier for him to leave town, even though he understood her fears. He hadn’t seen her in the five years since or learned what became of her except that she’d left town, too, but he was hoping to find out something about that now that he was back, however briefly. Maybe he’d even go looking for her.

The girl currently on his bike—and he only now realized he hadn’t gotten her name—distracted him from the thought when she unzipped his jacket some and slid one hand inside. Tristan’s pulse raced, his hand inadvertently pulling on the throttle so the bike revved like his heart. Her hand caressed his chest a few times, giving him a squeeze before dropping to his belly, running over his six-pack abs slowly, as if counting the ripples under the shirt. He struggled to keep his mind on the road and half-wondered if this is how she’d crashed. Had she been riding with some other guy and made him leave the road, his body nowhere in sight among the wreckage?

The thought brought him to his senses, but not for long. Her other hand slipped down to his inner thigh, close to his growing erection, and she playfully squeezed his ass with her legs, making him wish he was facing the other way and buck naked. This woman would be the death of them both, but if he got her back to her place and got her to mount his other rocket, the sex just might be worth the risk of bodily harm now. He’d give her a lift-off worthy of a Space Shuttle launch and all the media coverage that came with.

By the time they pulled into the only strip mall in Comus, where four businesses lay in a row, with parking out front, his visor had begun to fog up. His passenger pointed at a shop that said “Pilates” above it, and he smiled to himself as they parked before it, hoping she was an instructor. Flexibility in a woman was a good thing.

Looking for an excuse to get inside, he asked, “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure,” she said, turning toward the door and pulling her helmet off with her back to him. A tumble of silken brown hair fell out over her leather-covered back. She unlocked the door and went in without looking at him. He followed, fumbling with his helmet strap, finally getting the whole thing off just as she turned to face him. He barely saw her face before she slapped him.

“You bastard!” she screamed. “Get out!”

The color drained from Tristan’s face before anger brought it back in a flash. Then he got a good look at her and his mouth fell open.

“Victoria?”

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AUTHOR BIO

Randi Everheart is an avid author of romance, due in no small part to being a diehard romantic.  After all, Randi once wrote a song for the object of a crush and penned a fifty page love letter for another! The same spirit now flows into these stories – hopefully to win your heart!

Randi has a Bachelors of Music in classical guitar but has always been more of a rocker, having released several albums under another name.  Tendonitis in both arms ended career plans in music, leading to a new career as a software developer. Today Randi co-owns a software consulting firm and lives in the Maryland suburbs north of D.C., is married, and loves spending time with son Ryan when not writing, playing guitar or golf, or writing smut.

AUTHOR LINKS: Website | Twitter | Facebook

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GIVEAWAY

Please enter the Rafflecopter giveaway to win the ecopy of Tristan by Randi Everheart.  The giveaway is open INTERNATIONALLY until March 10th, 2014.  There will be five winners.  So, all the best!

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Monday, January 26, 2015

Sizzling PR presents Not Looking For Love by Lena Bourne


Not Looking For Love: Episode 1
Lena Bourne




Blurb:
Sometimes, what you want is not really what you need.

Gail is only twenty-two years old and her mom is dying. Not just dying, she will be dead in a few days, if the doctors are to be trusted, and Gail is certain she herself won't survive that. After a run in with Scott, the hot gardener from next door, Gail begins to see him as the perfect distraction from her unbearable life. It's not love Gail wants. She just wants to feel good with someone who makes her forget, if only for a little while, and Scott fits that description perfectly.

Scott just got back into town and he's still trying to get his life back together. He already has more problems and regrets than he can ever hope to live with, and the last thing he needs is to get tangled up with a rich girl who is clearly a little unsettled, if not downright insane. But the fact that Gail is very attractive and keeps throwing herself at him makes it impossible to keep sending her away. Which he should, for Gail's sake more than his own.
Lena Bourne



Excerpt:

Not Looking For Love: Episode 1
Chapter 1 Excerpt:

I crawl through the hole in the fence that separates my garden from Kate's. It's a tight fit, now that I'm no longer five years old. Chairs and towels, empty glasses and discarded clothes are still strewn across the lawn, but, thankfully, no one is around. Likely, the cold dawn chased the last of the party away. I glance up at the house to make sure no one is watching. All the windows are dark. A light reflects in the first floor windows, and I drop into a crouch reflexively, but it's just a passing car.
I find my dress near the pool where I took it off to take a dip. Right before Brandon tossed me in. I just left it lying there when I ran home. Everyone must think I'm completely mental now. I hope Brandon does too. Why won't he just take a hint? Brandon is Kate's brother, and since she's like a sister to me, he's like a brother to me. I can't be dating my brother. Besides he's the love 'em and leave 'em type, and all he can give me is a broken heart. Like he did with his last five girlfriends. As if my heart could take any more breaking.
I look around, tossing things aside, not caring where they land, hoping to find the bracelet. It's not anywhere. The sun's not up yet, but birds are chirping something awful all around me, and the sky is more white than grey now. Dawn is my favorite time of day. I love watching the colors of the sky change from inky black to grey to lilac blue and finally yellow, the new day being born, bringing new hope. Today, I just wish the sun would come up.
If the bracelet is not in the grass, it might be in the pool. The thought of going back in the water makes me shiver, but my desperation to get the bracelet back right away is stronger.
I ease myself off the side of the pool in roughly the spot where I went in before, feet first, trying not to make any sound that could wake Kate's family. It's like slow torture to do it that way, and my whole body cramps up, but the last thing I need is to cause a panic. I could just go back home and come back once the sun is up, but I can't. I need that bracelet, or else I won't sleep.
The cold water grips my body like a vice and I take shallow breaths until the worst of the pain passes. The lights in the pool are off already, they're connected to the porch lights, and someone thoughtfully turned them all off after the party ended. Too thoughtfully. I could really use those lights right now.
After a final deep breath, I submerge my head, fighting the overwhelming urge to gasp as the cold water goes straight to my brain, which is what it feels like. I can almost see the steam coming off, but at least my heart is no longer pounding. I let myself float on the surface, scanning the floor of the pool. Lucky really, that Kate's pool is saltwater. I can float, eliminating the need to tread water to keep myself on the surface.
Shadows play upon the mosaic floor of the pool, all blues, whites, yellows, and pinks. I turn slightly to adjust my angle of view. No silver gleams against the tiles anywhere. I only come up for air once my lungs start burning and dip my face back in immediately. Grey is giving way to white in the sky now, so the visibility should soon improve. I'm enjoying the silence, the serenity of floating in the water, with my long hair plastered down my ears, blocking out the chirping birds.
The eerie silence is almost like diving, only without the crushing weight of the water pressing against me. But I can't see my bracelet anywhere, and no doubt the servants will be out cleaning up soon. I adjust my angle again and am just about to come up for more air when something grabs my waist and flips me over in the water.
I scream and flail, gulp water instead of air, with visions of a shark attacking vivid in my mind. Beating and kicking, I paddle hard to get out of the water, my hair obscuring my vision.
Whatever grabbed me is no longer touching me, but I kick back to the side of the pool frantically anyway, still coughing, still seeing nothing. My knuckles collide with the wall of the pool, but I ignore the pain, scraping my knees as I struggle out of the water. My arms are shaking so badly I can't lift myself up to get out of the pool
"Calm the fuck down!" a man yells behind me. "You'll hurt yourself. It's alright."
He places his hands on my hips and lifts me from the water.
I'm panting now, but at least I'm not swallowing water anymore. I brush my hair from my eyes and stand up, though my legs are shaking so hard I'll probably just topple back down even if I succeed.
The guy is still in the water, eyeing me like I'm insane. "Are you alright?"
I nod as I finally manage to stand.
He hoists himself from the water in one fluid motion. His white t-shirt is plastered against his chest, and his grey pants hug his legs tightly. He's all muscle, from his biceps, to his shoulders, chest, and stomach that ripples in a neat six-pack. And not those chiseled for-show muscles that otherwise thin guys have. He's bulky, twice as wide as any guy I know. Even his legs. No wonder he had no problem tossing me out of the pool.
"Are you alright?" he asks again, standing right in front of me now.
I quickly look up into his face, hoping he didn't notice me checking him out before. He can't be much older than me, I see now. His short blond hair looks black near his scalp, but stands up in light colored spikes all over his head. His eyes are either blue or grey—the kind of eyes that change color according to the light. And deep. I could stare at his eyes all day long just to see what I could see.

http://www.amazon.com/Not-Looking-For-Love-Episode-ebook/dp/B00QMYEYPA/ref=pd_sim_kstore_6?ie=UTF8&refRID=08HRAFCCZ6XXNYRTSMNT




Authors Bio:

Lena Bourne is a young writer, but she has seen her fair share of the world, of love and loss, and all that happens in between. Now she’s here telling the stories you might otherwise have missed, which are made up, of course, but could very well be real and true. Not Looking For Love is her first serial, a steamy New Adult romance, which will be released in five installments over the next few months.

Lena Bourne – Edgy Romance Writer






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Saturday, January 10, 2015

99 cent reads for both adults and kids!





Do you or the kiddo in your life have a new (or not so new) kindle you need to fill up?  I've got 99 cents stories for all ages and from different authors.

Take a second and check it out!  What have you got to lose?

http://www.pinterest.com/pennyestelle/



Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Award winning Lizzi Tremayne stops by Penny's Tales with her new story, A Long Trail Rolling


A Long Trail Rolling By Lizzi Tremayne
Cover and Excerpt
A Long Trail Rolling
by Lizzi Tremayne
The Long Trail Book One







Escaping her father's killer, Aleksandra rode the Pony Express—full speed into the middle of the Indian Paiute Wars.
She didn’t expect to become a target, but she is one now!
Seventeen year old Aleksandra, trained in the Cossack arts from infancy by her father, finds herself alone and running to prevent her Pa's killer from obtaining a secret coveted by the Russian Czar, one which could alter the forces of power in Europe. Disguised as a Pony Express rider in 1860's Utah Territory, she finds herself in even deeper trouble. Her Californio boss Xavier has a strength to match her own, but can they overcome their differences before the ever-increasing odds overtake them?

With this debut Western Historical Adventure, Lizzi Tremayne won the 2014 RWNZ Pacific Hearts Award and was a finalist in the 2013 Great Beginnings A saga of the Old West with a multicultural cast of those who make up America, it would interest readers who enjoy Westerns, horses, American Indians, immigrants, and the Pony Express. It has a capable heroine, strong historical detail, period veterinary treatment and frontier-pushing characters. It compares to the work of Phillipa Gregory, Diana Gabaldon and Jean Auel, with a little Laura Ingalls Wilder thrown in.
This novel is the first in The Long Trail quadrilogy of historical adventure sagas following her characters from the wilderness of 1860 Utah to Colonial New Zealand.

Genre: Western Historical Adventure Fiction with Romantic Elements
Content/Theme(s): Western, horse, native American, Indian, immigrant, Pony Express, veterinary, Utah Territory, Old West
Release Date: 10 January 2015
Launch Party: 14 January 2015, Placerville, California!
See my page for details! LizziTremayne.com
Publisher: Indie, as Blue Mist Publishing
Excerpt and more: LizziTremayne.com
Links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/A-Long-Trail-Rolling/588148927951917

Excerpt:
Lookout Pass, she reminded herself as she neared the summit. Glancing north to the distant white tops of the Onaqui Mountains, she swallowed hard as she thought again of her papa and the fossil he'd fossicked for her from its rocky ledges.
The spotted pony broke into a lope over the crest of the hill and began the mile-long descent. Aleksandra's thoughts filled with memories, she was absentmindedly fingering the fossil inside the medicine bag hung about her neck when she felt the first arrow whizz past her head.
Her heart stopped in its tracks and she flung herself to the left side of the Palouse's neck in a Cossack hang, lying flat against his side.
'Yah! Yah! Let's go, Scout!' she shouted, throwing the reins at him.
He needed little urging to run full tilt down the steep and treacherously rocky trail as the yells of Indian warriors echoed through the narrow valley. The arrows came hard and fast from the southwest, screaming like a mad bunch of hornets.
Smart. Her lips curved in the hint of a wry grin.
The Indians had placed themselves between the trail and the setting sun, so Aleksandra couldn't see her attackers in the glimpses she stole,from beneath Scout's neck, of the world whizzing past. With the ground only three feet from her head, the scent of sage filled her nostrils when Scout crashed through a clump of brush. Briefly considering letting go of one of her death-grip holds onto the racing horse to pull a gun from her holster, something akin to suicide, she tightened her lip in a grimace and stayed put, trusting far more in the Palouse's speed and handiness to save them. Knowing her weight hanging off to one side had to put him off his best, she tried to stay out of his way, keeping as still as possible, tucked down on the side of the skidding and leaping beast. Praying the cinch would hold, she sent fervent thanks to the pony selectors for their choice of horses.
How I would love to have my bow and arrows, but I only need to get us through to Doc Faust at Rush—
The Palouse interrupted her musings as he threw up his head and reared, angrily trumpeting and shaking his head for a moment, nearly dropping Aleksandra, then resumed his headlong rush down the hill. When he carried on, she heard whistling sounds with every breath and turned her face forward to see where the noise was coming from.
Then she saw the arrow.

Looking forward to seeing you soon!
Kind regards,
Lizzi Tremayne

Monday, January 5, 2015

Sara Walter Elwood stops by Penny's Tales with a tease from Gambling On A Secret




 Book 1 of The Colton Gamblers….
In anticipation of the June release of Book 3: Gambling On A Dream, Kensington Publishing has put Book 1: Gambling On A Secret on sale!
***ON SALE FOR THE MONTH OF JANUARY FOR $0.99***
Blurb:
When Charli bets everything on a secret, will she find the deck stacked against her?
Former runaway-turned heiress Charli Monroe is hiding her sordid past and planning a future in Colton, Texas. Attending the local college for a degree in social work, she intends to raise cattle on her newly purchased ranch, which she plans to open as a home for troubled teens. Only a few glitches—the Victorian mansion is crumbling, the barn needs a roof, and her oilman neighbor wants more than friendship. When she meets Dylan Quinn, Charli is willing to take a chance on the town drunk to help her rebuild the rundown ranch.
Dylan has his demons, too. The former Special Forces commander can’t get past his ex-wife’s betrayal and the botched mission that left him with much more than a bad limp. Certain the greedy oilman next door to Charli wants much more than just her heart, Dylan’s even willing to stop drinking in order to protect her.
When things get dangerous and secrets of the past are revealed, is he only looking out for his new employer, or is she the new start he so desperately needs?

COVER QUOTE: “Full of intrigue, tangled pasts, and raw emotions, this one is guaranteed to keep you turning pages from start to finish and then wishing for one more chapter!”
Carolyn Brown, New York Times bestselling author.

Ms. Brown also named Gambling On A Secret as one of her favorite romance reads in 2012 in the Happy Ever After Blog on USA Today.
“HONESTLY this was a FABULOUS read. Gambling on a Secret is a gripping, entertaining and an absolutely delightful romantic read which is set in the town of Colton located in Texas. Sara Walter Ellwood has scored with this book. This has been one of my favourite reads for 2013…” Read the rest of this 5 Satin Pillow review at Satin Sheets Romance  

Excerpt:
Dylan regarded her for a long moment and cocked a brow. Damn, was he making fun of her? He looked her up and down. “Wouldn’t a woman like you be more comfortable getting manicures and massages in a Dallas spa, not worrying about cattle breeds and barn roofs? It’s no secret around town you’re the heiress to the Monroe Farm Equipment fortune, and you sold a huge ranch in Oklahoma your grandfather left you. Why on Earth did you buy a dump like this?”
Now he’d pissed her off. Charli might have more money than she’d ever dreamed of having. She might like to dress in designer clothes, but it was none of this jerk’s business which ranch she bought. Or why she wanted it. She had a business plan and a vision for the ranch; what else mattered? “I happen to like this place. It suits me better than the ranch I sold.”
“Is that so? Did you bring any equipment with you? A tractor, a planter, hay mower, baler, anything?”
He would bring up one of the stupidest things she’d done. Sighing, she admitted, “I sold the equipment with the ranch when I decided to leave Oklahoma. One more reason I need a manager.” Her cheeks burned. “When I sold the ranch after inheriting it, I didn’t intend to buy another.”
“Why did you buy another ranch?” He slid his gaze back to hers and peered at her as if he could read her every thought--but what had her swallowing hard was the spark of something hot in his eyes.
She tightened her arms in the hug she gave herself--a self-protecting, insecure gesture she’d acquired while she lived with her abusive lover in Las Vegas as a teenage runaway.
“Buying a ranch the size of this one isn’t something most folks just wake up and decide to do, Miss Monroe. A ten-thousand-acre spread takes commitment and dedication and is damned hard work.”
Yeah, she knew that.
He looked down at her multicolored Manolo Blahnik five-inch heeled slides. The ghost of a smile touched his lips again, but this time little crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, which held a spark of interest she didn’t want.
Damn, he was good-looking. She squelched that notion like the roach she’d killed earlier in the house. Hadn’t her life with Ricardo taught her a handsome face meant nothing but trouble?
“I can’t imagine you stuffing those pampered and polished feet into rubber boots to muck around in the barn.”
Me, either. But she would if she had to.
She drew in a breath and dropped her arms to her sides. “I think we should get back to asking questions about you. When your sister called about my newspaper ad, she said you were exactly what I’m looking for.”
He shrugged again in a not-a-care-in-the-world way again. What was this guy’s problem? If she weren’t running out of time, she would tell him to leave. She couldn’t waste this year, which meant she had to get someone hired. And her prospects were limited.
“Can you do the job?”
“Affirmative.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, she frowned. “Do you have any references?”
“I expected you to ask. Everything you need to know should be in here.”
She moved closer and took the folded sheet of paper he held out the window. After glancing at it, she wasn’t surprised it was a resume, but his listed experience had her heart beating a little faster. She looked up at him. “You have a degree in agricultural business from Texas A & M, started up your own ranch and served in the Army?”
He looked off in the distance. “I was in the service for thirteen years, three years in the Corps of Engineers, four in Airborne and the last six in Special Forces.” His jaw clenched, making his face the chiseled block of cold stone again. “And I know something about building. When I wasn’t deployed, I built the house and barn on my two-hundred acre ranch.”
“You don’t own the ranch now?”
“No. My ex-wife got it in our divorce settlement. I planned to get out of the Army after my last tour in Afghanistan and raise cattle. But things never happen the way we want them to.”
The bitterness of his tone had her stepping away. She shivered again and busied herself with looking at the resume. Whatever his ex-wife had done to him, it wasn’t good. “Your reference list is pretty skimpy.”
“The first name is my old commander, but I just got word he’s shipped out on a secret mission.”
Something wasn’t adding up. Either he was hiding something or his sister had lied about his experience. “Your sister said you worked on Oak Springs Ranch while in high school, but it’s not listed on your resume. Are you related to the owner, Leon Ferguson? You said your mother grew up there.”
His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned into a tight line. “Leon is my mother’s stepbrother. While my grandfather was still alive and ran the ranch, I worked there until I joined the Army after he died. I chose not to mention it.”
But why? She didn’t press the matter. She wasn’t seriously considering him for the job anyway, was she?
She studied the resume again. “Brenda Dailey. Is this person off-limits, too? Or can I speak with her?”
“My ex-wife. I’d appreciate it if you don’t involve her. I put her on there because of the ranch.”
She looked up at him. “The divorce that bad, huh?”
Dylan shrugged and looked away. He gripped the top of the steering wheel hard enough to whiten his knuckles. “Suppose it’s no secret. Our divorce has only been final four months, and she married her baby-daddy the day after it became official. You figure it out.”
“Ouch. Okay, I won’t call your ex. Nevertheless, I’d like to see your house. Your sister mentioned you were a carpenter.” She glanced at the address of his former ranch. “Killeen’s south of here?”
He nodded. “It’s your two hours and tank of gas.”
“Thank you for stopping by. Your number’s on here. I’ll call you.”
“Thanks for your time, Miss Monroe. Good luck with this place.” He looked around at the buildings and over her before he turned the key in the ignition. The rusted bucket of bolts sputtered and the starter groaned before the engine turned over.
As he pulled away, she looked at the piece of paper in her shaky hand and studied his name at the top.
Damn, she’d hoped he was the one.
She crumpled the paper, and the memory of his weathered eyes, as dull and gray as her ranch buildings, came to her. What ghosts did he see when he closed them?
She opened her palm and stared at the wad of paper. Feeling haunted by the past was something she understood very well.
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Bio:
Although Sara Walter Ellwood has long ago left the farm for the glamour of the big town, she draws on her experiences growing up on a small hobby farm in West Central Pennsylvania to write her contemporary westerns. She’s been married to her college sweetheart for over 20 years, and they have two teenagers and one very spoiled rescue cat named Penny. She longs to visit the places she writes about and jokes she’s a cowgirl at heart stuck in Pennsylvania suburbia. Sara Walter Ellwood is a multi-published and international Amazon bestselling author of the anthology set Cowboy Up. She also publishes paranormal romantic suspense under the pen name Cera duBois.
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Also look for:
Book 2: Gambling On A Heart at Amazon | Barnes and Noble | iTunes | Kobo
Available now for preorder—Book 3: Gambling On A Dream at Amazon | Barnes and Noble  | Kobo


Monday, December 29, 2014

Bernard Foong stops by Penny's Tales





Synopsis: A Harem Boy Saga; A Memoir. Book 1 - INITIATION.

This provocative story is about a young man who was initiated into a clandestine sexual society. He was spirited to the Middle East, from his UK boarding school. He attended the Bahriji School (Oasis,) in The United Arab Emirates in preparation for serving in Harems for the wealthy and elite.

It is also a love story between the young man and his ‘Valet’ who served as his chaperone and mentor during the boy’s Harem service.

Author’s Note:

I had a privileged and unique upbringing in Malaysia. Following in my brothers' footsteps, I was sent to an exclusive boarding school in England. It is there that I was inducted into a clandestine organization, E.R.O.S. The Enlightened Royal Oracle Society. For four years, unbeknownst to my family, I was willingly and happily part of a Harem.

My story has been kept under wraps for close to 45 years. The correct moment has arrived for me to make known my unique education.

www.aharemboysaga.com




A Harem Boy’s Saga – II – Unbridled; a memoir by Young

This is the sequel to Initiation - A provocative story about a young man who was initiated into a clandestine sexual society. He was spirited to the Middle East, from his UK boarding school. He attended the Bahriji School (Oasis,) in The United Arab Emirates in preparation for serving in Harems for the wealthy and elite.

It is also a love story between the young man, his ‘Big Brother’ and his ‘Valet’ who served as his chaperones and mentors during the boy’s Harem services.

This book follows the teenagers’ erotic and exotic adventures and experiences at their 2nd Arab Household Harem, the Sekham. They were apprentices and models, for the household patriarch’s controversial photography project, “Sacred Sex in Sacred Places”.

The author's experiences present facts that are truthful. Through these truths, which are often demonized by contemporary societies that deem such behaviors inappropriate, the author hopes to dispel condemnations and negativity which relate to his experiences. 

There are 5 - 7 volumes in A Harem Boy’s Saga series.





Debauchery is the triquel to A Harem Boy’s Saga, a provocative story about a young man who was initiated into a clandestine sexual society through his UK boarding school. From there, he was spirited to the Middle East to attend the Bahriji (Oasis) School in The United Arab Emirates in preparation for Harem services for the wealthy elite.

It is also a love story between the young man, his ‘Big Brother,’ and his ‘Valet,’ who served as his chaperones and mentors.


Goals I hope to achieve through
A Harem Boy Saga:
  • Provide Tolerance to Sissy Boys by understanding parents/peers and the community.
Anderson Cooper 360 documentary on the devastating treatment of effeminate boys influence me to tell my story.

  • Bullying can be Avoided through Big Brother/Big Sister volunteer programs in school or outside school system. Older students acting as mentors to younger students.
  • Gay Adolescent Tolerance – parents/child/siblings relationship issues.
Support/mentorship program to all parties involved to foster understanding and acceptance of Gay kids.

  • Provide an Alternative Educational System;
Understanding Big Brother/adolescent mentorship programs in schools, BB as protector to keep younger kids from being bullied.

  • Human Relationship Building Program;
Between parents/teachers and young students on sexual topics/issues, especially when adolescent are just discovering their sexuality. They can be guided on a healthy and honest sexual journey instead of “don’t ask, don’t tell” hide it behind the closet policy.





Author’s Bio




Young alias Bernard Foong is, first and foremost, a sensitivist. He finds nuance in everything. To experience the world he inhabits is an adventure which is mystical, childlike and refreshing. He has a rare ability to create beauty in a unique fashion. His palettes have been material, paint, words and human experiences.
By Christine Maynard (screenwriter and novelist).

Bernard Foong (designer) – A brief history

 Born in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. At the age of 8, he was assisting his aunt and cousin, learning the art of sewing and fabrics/colors matching. He attended an exclusive private boarding school in the United Kingdom before obtaining his Diploma in Fashion Design at the Harrow College of Art & Technology in London, England.  He went on to complete his Master of Design at the Royal College of Art & Design, London, England. During his college years he won several international fashion awards and was already retailing bridal and evening dresses to several well known department stores in England. Liberty of London, Selfridges, Harrods and Harvey Nichols to name a few that carried his designs. His Royal College of Art graduation wedding/evening wear collection was sold to Liberty of London and displayed in their store windows for the entire month of June that year.

For four years, he worked for Liberty’s bridal department as their in-house designer until a trip to Hong Kong, while working on a freelance project for ‘Bird’s’(casual wear) company, he was recruited by the Hong Kong Polytechnic University as their Fashion professor for the next 6 years. During his stay in Hong Kong, he freelanced for numerous fashion companies. From designing casual wear, swimwear, lingerie, and fur garments, men’s wear, bridal and evening fashions to accessories (bags, shoes, and head-wear). He also participated and organized numerous fashion shows, events, functions, and presentations in the Asia Pacific region.

Working for Keys Far East Hong Kong as chief lingerie designer - travelling extensively to the United States, he was soon  recruited as an Associate Fashion Design/Illustration Professor to the University of Wisconsin, Madison and also lectured at the Minneapolis College of Art & Design for a couple of years.

Foong was then appointed as the Fashion Development Manager by an established department store – Parkson Grand (22 stores in Malaysia and one in Shanghai, China). Producing under the label, Natural Life by Bernard Foong, he designed casual-wear collections for the Parkson Grand’s flagship store in Kuala Lumpur. After a couple of years later, he was invited by the Temasek Polytechnic, Singapore to join their design school to establish a Fashion Design department. For two years, he assisted several founding members of the design school - working on the fashion department’s teaching curriculum.

The Fitzgerald Theatre Department, University of Hawaii, Manoa, Oahu, Hawaii awarded a full scholarship for Foong to complete his second Master of Art in Theatre Costuming. Now a resident on the Island of Maui, he has assisted many charity organizations in their fund raising events with his extravagant fashion and performance shows/presentations. In 2005, he and his partner, Mr. Walter Jay Bissett opened Fire Dragon Bistro Orient & Design Shop. He also designs costumes/fashions for numerous theatrical productions in Hawaii and abroad.

 Appointed as chief lingerie designer for Cerie International Limited – Hong Kong, his lingerie designs can be found in major department stores in Canada and the United Kingdom.

He showcased the BERNARD FOONG R-T-W collections and BERNARD FOONG @ Modern Classic Ltd. (an established – Hong Kong bridal & evening wear company) collections in Hong Kong. His 2008 & 2009 bridal/evening/bridal lingerie fashion show, “Grace” & “Coming Up Roses” were premiered at Hong Kong Fashion Week in July 2007 and January 2008 respectively at the Hong Kong Convention & Exhibition Center, garnering positive interest in many Asian press reviews, including a China nationwide television broadcast of his latest collection. Aika (International Opera Singer) wore several Bernard Foong special occasion dresses at her Japan & European tour in September & October 2009.

Foong was the chief Creative Director for Official (Special Occasion fashion manufacturing company) Guangzhou, China  producing BERNARD FOONG Couture (specialty one-of-a-kind creations), White (RTW - Wedding/Special Occasion wear), Foxy Cute (Smart Casual/Cocktail wear), SexZ  (decorative bustier) & Diva Bitch (sexual lingerie inner/outer-wear) collections.

Besides working on his regular haute couture, R-T-W and lingerie collections he is a visiting consultant/advisor for:
·       Pivot Point fashion college, Chengdu, China.
·       Hong Kong Design Institute (fashion department), Hong Kong, SAR.
·       Hong Kong Poly/U, Hong Kong (School of Apparel Design & Merchandising), SAR.
·       Hong Kong Fashion Designers Association, Hong Kong.
·       Singapore Temasek Polytechnic – School of Apparel Design & Merchandising (ADM), Singapore.

Bernard is also writing his autobiography, a seven book series of Mr. Foong’s young life:
A Harem Boy’s Saga: A Memoir by Young.
This provocative story spanning 4 decades and 3 continents is about a boy who was sent to a very exclusive English boarding school in the 1960s where he was initiated into a clandestine sexual society and then spirited away to serve in wealthy and elite Middle Eastern harems ."
A Harem Boy’s Saga series is published by Solstice Publishing and is available in print and E-books internationally.

Out of his busy schedule, Bernard is also working on a mini series of three contemporary paintings for the Rathe Galleries in Dallas, Houston and soon to open gallery in Austin, Texas.