Friday, 8 January 2016

Discovered by Em Taylor

Discovered is the first book in the exciting new Forsaken Blood Series by Em Taylor.

GENRE – Vampire Romance/ Science Fiction Romance/ Futuristic Romance
PUBLICATION DATE –  4th December 2015
LENGTH  – 98,000 words
COVER ARTIST –  Veronica Fernandez Munoz and Em Taylor


Lachlan Ethelred Mackenzie looks like an ordinary sexy university professor, but for over a millennium, he’s been one of a number of his kind trying to steer humanity towards the heavens. But humans are slow and stubborn. 

It’s been a long slow journey since the spaceship from Vampyras experienced technical difficulty near Earth in 1006 and the Vampyrs had to abandon ship, and learn to survive on a planet filled with primitive beings. 

It’s now 2061, and humanity is heading to Mars - perhaps now the Vampyrs can research space folding technology away from prying human eyes. 

Psychologist, Doctor Kate Maxwell is excited about going to Mars—except for one thing - she’s terrified of the journey. A space accident when she was twelve has left her with PTSD and a fear of space travel. But when the handsome Professor, Lachlan Mackenzie becomes her cabin mate she finds herself falling for him all too easily. But why is he so reticent? He’s cute, single and seems altogether perfect. 

Things are getting complicated for Lachlan. He’s falling for the sexy red-headed psychologist, his long-lost daughter is on board the spaceship to Mars and she has no clue what or who he is and it seems that the leader of the Vampyr council is plotting something. Lachlan has too many secrets and too many problems. And Kate is the only thing he wants. Can he keep his hands and his fangs away from her? Does he want to? And what will happen if she discovers his secret? 

All hell is about to break loose.

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Blood spurted everywhere. Kate squealed as it hit her face and dripped onto her chest, arms, and hands. It ruined her dress, but she had no time to think about that now. His eyes had turned a dark silver colour, almost like sparkling granite.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Kate.” His voice was a deep growl, and his teeth were covered in blood—his fangs still visible as he grinned wolfishly at her. Lachlan placed the half full bag into an empty coffee mug and surveyed the damage. “I’m a Vampyr. You know I can’t just let you wash blood down the drain. It’s almost sacrilegious.”
He lifted the hand which she had used to squeeze the bag and surveyed it, licking his lips before he sucked her index finger slowly into his mouth. She held her breath as the sensation pulled at her core. His rough tongue worked around the digit, and his eyes sparked with pleasure before he closed them and moaned. She squirmed on her seat atop his lap. When he opened his mouth extending his tongue between her other fingers and licking, her breath hitched.
“Lachlan.” Her voice was just a whisper.
The Vampyr pulled her finger out of his mouth and stroked his tongue up a large dark red globule which ran from her ring finger almost to her wrist.

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Wednesday, 28 October 2015

Nanowrimo if you want to

Yes, it's that time of year again when well meaning authors get on their high horses and let rip their opinions about the 30 day extravaganza that is the National Novel Writing Month.

On one side of the fence we have have the miserable lot telling us that no decent novel can be written in 30 days (despite the fact that when it comes down to brass tacks it is only 1667 words a day and that is do-able if you really put your mind to it). They tell us that it's contrived and that it's absolute nonsense that everyone has a novel in them. They bemoan the idea that it minimises their craft so that everyone thinks that they can write a book and that it's easy. (I used to be a teacher. You've no idea how many people thought teaching was a piece of cake and if we were just tougher on the pupils then everything would fall into place. That was before they complained we were too tough on their wee Johnny who had obviously done nothing wrong and was an angel--of course).

On the other side we have the evangelicals trying to convince everyone to have a go, to empty their local supermarket of Doritos, high sugar drinks and caffeinated products. They tell us that two chalkboards and two ink boards filled with notations and post-it notes are the minimum amount of pre-nano preparation we must do, along with joining up to every group we can in order to make the most out of the experience. They tell us it will be the hardest thing we've ever done in our lives and that by December the 1st we'll have done the literary equivalent of climbing Everest.

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I've done Nanowrimo four times and I highly recommend it. I recommend it if you are an author and just want to get a book out, like me or if you've always fancied trying writing. The first year I did Nano, I had been writing Star Trek Voyager fan fiction for friends and posting it online for about a
year. I wanted to write my own character and situations. So I wrote a science fiction story. It wasn't the best book and I had a nervous breakdown right there in the middle of November, which included me ending up off work and on anti-depressants. I suspect Nanowrimo was the only anchor in my storm that year. I finished with hours to go on November 30th and I still have no idea how. That book was published for about five days on Amazon and then I decided I hated it and it was awful and I couldn't in all conscience ask money for it. It was sold under a pen name. The next two years I didn't win but both books were eventually published, One under my old pen name of Krystal Brookes and the other was Restoring Lady Anna. I gave up both years quite early on due to work but I did eventually finish both books.
Last year I took a last stab at the book I had tried to write three times. It was originally entitled Lachlan but when it's released in the next couple of months it shall be called Discovered. It's a futuristic vampire story. The first of the Forsaken Blood series. It's twice the size it was when I finished Nanowrimo last November.

So should you do it? My advice is, do it if you want to. Don't let the naysayers stop you. But do it your way. If you want to have post it notes and coloured mind maps and a garage full of Doritos, knock yourself out. If you prefer to sit down and batter at the keys like one of those monkeys that will hopefully one day produce the entire works of Shakespeare (that's my method) then that's equally valid. The point is to have fun, even if you're an author and this is how you make your living. It's the one point of the year when you have a whole load of company on the crazy and sometimes lonely journey.

And if Nanowrimo isn't your bag, then you don't have to participate. Smile indulgently at us and look forward to Christmas. There's another good thing about Nano. It staves off the dreaded C word for another month.

Wednesday, 16 September 2015

Book Blast - The Cynfell Brothers by Samantha Holt



SERIES – Cynfell Brothers
AUTHOR – Samantha Holt
GENRE – Victorian Romance
COVER ARTISTLove, Lust & Lipstick Stains


Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. The Cynfell brothers are the very embodiment of a sinful existence. But could the right woman change that?


Sinful Confessions
Sinful Confessions

Sinful Deeds
Sinful Deeds

Sinful Liaisons
Sinful Liaisons

Sinful Liasons - Teaser


Sinful Liaisons Oxfordshire, 1897
A breeze whistled across his nether regions. Pierce grimaced. It could have been worse, he supposed. At least the day was mild with no sign of rain. He peered into the distance. Only the deeply grooved road cutting its path through the gentle hills hinted at civilisation. He grimaced again. Where the bloody hell was he?
He curled a fist and began trudging along the grass at the side of the road. Stones pricked his bare feet.
“Bloody Goddamn it.”
Pierce was going to kill Giles if he lived through this. He hadn’t intended to visit their favourite gambling den, but Giles just had to talk him into it. Nor had he meant to get utterly foxed. He hardly remembered wagering everything including his clothes. As for how he’d ended up naked on the roadside...
“Bloody Goddamn it all to hell.”
One final wager...He had vague recollections. Something to do with a race? Damnation, if only his head wasn’t so fuzzy. But even then, why had Giles left him to sleep it off in a field—naked?
The rumble of a carriage made him stiffen. He wouldn’t get far with his bare feet. A form of transport would be useful indeed. But who would give a naked man a ride? Pierce shrugged to himself and turned, cupping one hand over himself to preserve what little modesty he had left and using the other to gain the driver’s attention.
The black, glossy carriage rumbled closer, led by two horses. He saw the driver glance his way then look again before turning his head away. Dirt spattered his legs making him jump back as it rolled past.
“Rot in hell then,” he muttered half-heartedly and resisted the urge to scuff his bare foot across the ground.
A command from the driver reached his ears and he held his breath as the horses came to a halt. The vehicle stopped. Both hands over the family jewels, Pierce waited. The door swung open.
“Thank you,” he uttered, lifting his gaze to the heavens, and hurried toward the carriage. He cursed under his breath when several more rocks jabbed the soles of his feet.
Trying to look as noble as one could when naked, he paused in front of the open door. There, in the dark confines of the vehicle and set against plush royal blue seats, an elegant redhead skimmed her gaze up and down his body. Even in the gloom of the carriage, he saw an eyebrow rise. Then he noted the curve of her lips.
Pierce stared back. He allowed his own gaze to travel over her, observing the generous rise of her breasts against a low cut bodice and the slender waist that led to hips that were emphasised by a bustle. Hair coiled high, it gave him a fine view of the gems on her neck and ears. From the delicate porcelain skin to the emeralds casting a faint green hew across it, everything about this woman told him of her importance.
And her attractiveness. He had to force his gaze from her breasts or else both hands wouldn’t conceal anything.
“Get in.”


Samantha lives in a small village in England with her gorgeous twin girls. She enjoys writing historical romance involving chivalrous knights, hot highlanders and cravatted men, but sometimes gets lured away by bad boy bikers, soldiers and other heroic modern men.



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Friday, 24 October 2014

Double Cover Reveal - Samantha Holt

Tempting His Mistress

Coming November 10th

What could possibly induce at woman to follow in the footsteps of her mother and further sully her reputation by becoming a mistress?

Lilly Claremont is well used to being at the centre of gossip.  Being the illegitimate child of a rich businessman never failed to titillate the gossips and while she cared little about the wagging tongues she never intended to reinforce their opinions of her by ruining herself completely.

But it seems Lord Hawksley is determined to make the fascinating Lilly his mistress…

Evan has no doubt her bold tongue and beautiful body could keep him entertained for some time. Captivated by her, he must find a way to burn through his desire for her. He cannot marry a woman of such social standing so why not make her his mistress?

After the murder of her father, Lilly is searching for answers and they lead her directly to Lord Hawksley. But will they also lead her to his bed...?

Once Upon a Rake

Coming November 24th

In Victorian England, little Ellie Browning swiftly discovered happy endings did not exist, and rakes were simply rakes. When the man she had adored for years kissed her and left her heartbroken, she resolved to put any dreams of fairy tales aside.
Seven years later, the widowed Eleanor, Countess of Hawthorne, has returned to England after years of travelling with a few ideas in mind. Firstly, she will continue to be the refined, elegant woman she has learned to be—or at least she shall try her best—and secondly, she will make a difference to the lives of those less fortunate than her.  A fine opportunity presents itself when she discovers she is now a part owner of a cotton mill.But the owner of the mill and the very same rake who had hurt her, has no desire to let a woman interfere with his business, let alone little Ellie Browning. After one of Lucian’s mills succumbed to fire, he’s fighting to save the other and continue his father’s legacy of fine business decisions and accruing wealth.However, after a series of accidents, it becomes clear someone wishes the mill to close. But who, and why? Forced together to investigate the incidents, they must get past their shared history if they want to save the business.
If only the growing attraction between them did not prove such a distraction. With things heating up between them, it becomes clear that they are both at risk of getting burned...

Friday, 8 August 2014

Too Much to Lose by Samantha Holt - Cover Reveal

I don't normally do contemporary books on my blog but Samantha is also a great historical writer and I'm really looking forward to this book

Have you ever been so desperate you made a decision that would haunt you forever?

 Jess has.

She became a porn star. Jess is on the run from her past. She has no friends, no life. She tries to forget everything that happened to her all those years ago. After changing her image, leaving her home and getting a new job, she’s determined it won’t happen again. If that means never being close to anyone ever again, then so be it.

If only Hunter O’Reilly didn’t make her wish things could be different. Hunter needs this job. After being screwed over by his partner—make that ex-partner—his investigation business is on the line. Already in debt, he eagerly takes on the job of finding some stolen money at triple his going rate and all leads point in Jess’s direction. He expects problems at that price. But he doesn’t expect to fall for her.

However, no job is ever that simple. When he’s forced to spend more time with her, the lines between business and pleasure are blurred. And once Jess’s life comes under threat, they have to make a decision, can they both overcome Jess’s past?

Coming  5th September Goodreads link:

Monday, 23 June 2014

Regency Men on Monday - Colonel Brandon

Today I'm talking about Colonel Brandon from Sense and Sensibility. He is such a wonderfully honourable man and he soooo loves Marianne. I'm torn between which TV/movie adaption version of Brandon I like the best. I mean Alan Rickman is fantastic in everything he acts in, but David Morrissey made my heart beat that little bit faster. Forget the Walking Dead, that man rocks breeches and top boots. So I hate to drop Rickman into second place but David Morrissey wins. Also the BBC adaption version had Brandon duelling with Willoughby, Nothing like a man with a sword in his hand to make me go all weak at the knees. So today's blog is going to be dedicated to gratuitous photos of David Morrissey as Colonel Brandon

A man who loves animals...swoon

This is the screensaver on my ipad... you can see why.

I really don't see what Elinor sees in Edward Ferrars

If she doesn't want you, I'll happily oblige, Colonel.

OK, clearly he doesn't love all animals but a man has to eat,

Looking all heartbroken. I would gladly mend his broken heart

Aw shucks, I do love a happy ending

And the last ones are just gratuitous photos because they happened to be on my hard drive. 

Friday, 20 June 2014

Blog Tour - Ravensdale by Lucinda Elliot

Ravensdale - Tour Banner

About The Book

TITLE – Ravensdale 

SERIES – That Scoundrel Émile Duois 

AUTHOR – Lucinda Elliot 

GENRE – Historical Romantic Comedy 

PUBLICATION DATE – 19 April 2014 

LENGTH – Approx 85,000 words 


COVER ARTIST – Streetlight Graphics

Ravensdale - Book Cover


When the group of highwaymen headed by the disgraced Earl of Little Dean, Reynaud Ravensdale holds up the hoydenish Isabella Murray’s coach, she knocks one of them down and lectures them all on following Robin Hood’s example.

The rascally Reynaud Ravensdale – otherwise known as the dashing highwayman Mr Fox – is fascinated at her spirit.

He escaped abroad three years back following his supposedly shooting a friend dead after a quarrel. Rumour has it that his far more respectable cousin was involved. Now, having come back during his father’s last illness, the young Earl is seeking to clear his name of murder, even if he is living as an outlaw meanwhile.

Isabella’s ambitious parents are eager to marry her off to Reynaud Ravensdale’s cousin, the next in line to his title. The totally unromantic Isabella is even ready to elope with her outlaw admirer to escape this fate – on condition that he teaches her how to be a highwaywoman herself.

This hilarious spoof uses vivid characters and lively comedy to bring new life to a theme traditionally favoured by historical novelists – that of the wild young Earl, who, falsely accused of murder by the machinations of a conniving cousin and prejudged by his reputation, lives as an outlaw whilst seeking to clear his name.

‘Ravensdale’ is a fast paced, funny and romantic read from the writer of ‘That Scoundrel Émile Dubois’, following the adventures of that character's equally roguish cousin and set in 1792, just prior to the outbreak of the French Revolutionary Wars and two years before the story of 'That Scoundrel Émile Dubois' .



Ravensdale - Full Wrap

Book Excerpt

Jumping the ditch, he vanished amongst the shrubs and bushes. Longface, following more cautiously, nearly twisted his ankle.

Suddenly, Mr Fox sprang behind a bush. Longface leapt behind a lilac tree. The strapping wench who’d floored Filthy Fred came round the side of the house, holding a pair of pistols, and made for a target fixed to one of the shrubs.

She wore a pale lemon dress with matching floppy bonnet contrasting with her dark mane of carelessly piled up waving black hair. Longface supposed that she looked quite pretty. The sight of her had an astounding effect on his companion, who reeled on his feet and ogled like a madman.

She went over to a bench, and began to load the pistols. Longface shuddered. She got into difficulty with loading the wadding in the first, and after struggling for a while, shocking Longface with her language, threw it on the bench and marched about the adjoining rose garden in her rage.

Here Mr Fox showed the full extent of his madness. He stole up to the bench, and using a stone, hammered the wadding securely into place, darting back as the girl turned.

Longface awaited detection. On seeing that the pistol had been loaded, the girl merely raised her eyebrows, smiled, and moved towards the target. Longface, behind a bush nearby, threw himself to the ground, covering his head with his arms. The shot rang out. Looking up, he saw that she had shot through the centre of the target and was smiling happily.

Longface, startled at how charming her smile was, dreaded its affect on the deranged Mr Fox, who quivered and seemed about to have a fit.

The next hour was both dull and nerve racking. The besotted outlaw dodged from bush to shrub, yearning eyes fixed on the hoyden, while she practiced her shooting, singing happily as she loaded the pistol, swearing savagely when she bungled her aim.

Longface dreaded that she must see one of them, but Mr Fox was good at concealing himself. Once he sprang behind a bush at the back of which Longface had already rolled. One of his booted feet came down on Longface’s favourite neck cloth. Longface felt at his last gasp when his tormentor finally moved, tearing it and leaving Longface panting.

At last, a maid came out to speak to the girl. In frozen horror, Longface heard the words, ‘Mr Ravensdale’. Could this be the cousin whom the rumour went had been involved in the then Viscount’s disgrace? Miss Isabella agreed to be led in, the maid fussing about her heavy dark hair tumbling down, one piece having snaked as far as her waist.

On her way into the house, Mr Fox’s goddess dropped a lace edged handkerchief. Of course, as soon as she had gone in, he darted to snatch it up, sniffing it ecstatically and fondling it as if it were the girls’ own flesh.

Then he staggered over to a tree, and beating his head on it, muttered of ‘Outlaw’ ‘Cozened, by Hell and the Devil!’ ‘Brigandage’ and ‘Disgrace’. Longface’s embarrassment at this display was swept away in fear that the Young Hothead might do himself an injury. He also wondered vaguely if he was Disgraced himself. The emotional effect was the same, but as after his father’s ruin his goods amounted to half a donkey and a pound in silver, the practical effects weren’t. Meggie was lucky to have had any solvent man offer for her after it, even if her husband was a misery.

He started forward to stop Fox just as the outcast pulled away from the tree. Then he stole round the side of the house. Here great windows opened on to a long terrace. With bleeding forehead and wild eyes, he hid behind one of the rhododendrons, staring across at the windows, one being that of a drawing room. Longface feared even more for his sanity, wondering if they would ever leave.

After a while, the Disgraced Earl’s patience was rewarded. Several family members came into the room, including the hoyden, now dressed for dinner in ivory silk, her hair up again. She did look well, and the outcast groaned aloud. Longface’s fears were confirmed with the appearance of an upright, tall, vigorous young man who could almost have been the outlaw’s twin.

A woman’s voice came stridently over the lawn, repeating, ‘Mr Ravensdale’ as if she could never say it often enough. After a time, this other Ravensdale came up to the piano near the window and Miss Isabella sat down to accompany him while he sang in a fine baritone:

‘Where’er you walk, cool glades shall fan the glade; Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade; Where’er you tread, the blushing flowers shall rise, And all things flourish, where you turn your eyes…’

Mr Fox writhed. Longface felt his pain. Miss Isabella laughed with his cousin as they finished the song, and so the outlaw’s torment wore on. Then Edmund Ravensdale came out onto the terrace to take a turn in the air alone.

Now the outlaw’s hand crept to this pistol, and he took aim. The only thing that stopped Longface from throwing himself on him was a strange sense, he knew not from where – that something of the sort had happened before with Reynaud Ravensdale and turned out badly. He stared frozen instead.

Then his chief put his hand on the rumpskuttle’s handkerchief and thrust his pistol back into his belt. His cousin went back in. The robber turned away hunched. On his way back towards his horse, he murmured once:

‘Ye Gods, and is there no relief from Love?... On me love’s fiercer flames forever prey, By night he scorches, as he burns by day.’

Longface, dolefully chewing on a piece of grass, muttered, ‘He’s gone fairly off his chump.”

After a few more steps, Mr Fox stopped. So did Longface, but the other, without troubling to turn round, called him.

Sheepishly, Longface approached. He was astounded that his chief had seen him when he had been hiding so skillfully. Still, Mr Fox had sharp eyes, so needed in their trade.

Fox was too distracted even to be angry. He swallowed. “Now you know.”

Longface met his eyes, and turned away. “I’m sorry,” he offered. He had once known the torments of love himself.

On their long, silent ride back to the inn, Longface tried to think of some comforting words to say, but found none. Perhaps, ‘There must be other strapping wenches with gipsyish looks and a liking for fisticuffs and shooting,’ wasn’t tactful. To suggest Kate’s cure might spark off a fit of rage. So, he kept a discreet silence, fingering his torn neck cloth.

As they drew into the inn yard , Longface’s chief spoke. “We’ve got our prize; Jack is to Town. Now is your chance to retire into respectability, Longface, as I’m going for a respectable occupation myself.” To Longface’s amazement, he grinned.

Late that night, when all was still in The Huntsman, Reynaud Ravensdale appeared downstairs, light in hand, looking for something. He searched first in the bar, then in the kitchen. At last his eyes fell on the brown bottle of the pedlar’s cure, also known as The Famed and Marvellous Elixir, which stood next to the teapot. Finding a spoon, he poured himself a generous helping, swallowing it in one gulp. Then he stood, eagerly waiting for the result.

This came speedily. His eyes widened, his face drained of colour, his breathing quickened and he swallowed and looked very ill for the next five minutes. Finally, recovering enough to speak, he swore heartily, poured the bottle down the sink, and trudged back to bed.

Character Bio

Reynaud Ravensdale is twenty-three and a notorious highwayman.  Famous for his good  looks, he is reputedly very gallant, never taking money from women or the less well off, and he has a reputation for targeting corrupt merchants and authority figures, particularly judges and lawyers. He and his fellow robbers love to play pranks on them.

He is the disgraced Earl of Little Dean, who's been living as an outlaw for three years.  At that time, he reputedly shot dead a friend and fellow guardsman  as they were on their way to duel after as the man had insulted Reynaud’s then fiancée.  Reynaud was notoriously hot tempered, and a footman had heard him shouting that he would kill the other man  if he said another word.

He wants to clear his name, but as he believes his ex fiancée accidentally caused the shooting and with typical gallantry he has kept this quiet, this is going to be  difficult.  

When Ravensdale’s gang accidentally hold up the heroine, the  tall, statuesque, flashing- eyed Isabella Murray, with her outspoken manner and untamed ways,  he’s astounded when she gives him and his men a lecture on following the example of Robin Hood;  that’s after she’s  knocked down one of his men. ..
Reynaud Ravesndale can’t stop thinking about her, and soon he realises he’s in love. But is his love object likely to consider an outlaw, when her parents intend her for his cousin, the conventional, smooth tongued Edmund? 

Unknown to Reynaud Ravensdale, Isabella‘s secret dream is to be a Gentlewoman of the Road. She’s a notorious hoyden. She loves to gallop about on horseback in men’s clothing, wants to improve her shooting and always regretted that her brother Dicky wouldn’t teach her boxing.  She jeers at romantic ideas and never wants to get married.

After Isabella’s father Sir Wilfred sacks his drunken librarian, a new one turns up, wearing the silliest old- fashioned wig and glasses, but  obviously handsome and brawny underneath his disguise, and oddly familiar to Isabella.  Surely this nervous man can’t  be the arrogant highwayman who she encountered a couple of weeks earlier?    

About the Author

Lucinda Elliot was born in Buckinghamshire England, and brought up in various parts of the UK, as her parents earned a living renovating isolated, old country houses before it became fashionable. Some of these would have made an ideal setting for the Gothic novels she loves to write.

Having lived and worked in London for many years she now lives with her family in North Wales and writes. She has many interests, including improving her languages and weight training, and loves a laugh above anything. She’s also an environmental and a classic English novel geek with combined first class honours.



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3 eCopy sets of “That Scoundrel Emile Dubois” and “Ravensdale”

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