Monday, May 13, 2013

Margay Leah Justice: Medicine Man by S. R. Howen: Giveaway

Margay Leah Justice: Medicine Man by S. R. Howen: Giveaway: Medicine Man 1: Chief of All Time by  S.R. Howen ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ BLURB: Shannon Running Deer is American India...

Sunday, May 5, 2013


Sometimes love gets a helping hand from unexpected sources, as in this excerpt from "No More Poodle Skirts."


Maddie added one last brush stroke to the words, "Hawk's Haven," beside an image of Father Jacobs in his Superhawk suit. Nearby, a small green elfenchaun fluttered on the mural, and a painted little dog that looked strikingly like Mr. Razzles sat on the ground watching them through his goggles.
The sign mural that would be attached to the side of the homeless shelter was finished!
The parents and children standing around began to clap and cheer. 
Little Jonathan began to clap also--until he spotted the paints, momentarily unwatched while everyone else celebrated. With a mischievous grin, Jonathan dipped his hands into the paint and ran toward Maddie, adding his colorful handprints to the other paint splatters on the shirt that had been white at the start of the project. 
Though surprised at first, Maddie quickly began to laugh. Encouraged, Jonathan ran to others, patting his hands on their paint shirts. 
When he reached Daphne, she bent down to say something to him and he struck--leaving handprints on her chest. 
"Oh!" Startled, Daphne straightened up as Jonathan ran toward his daddy, who had been trying to catch him. 
Brenner stared at the handprints on Daphne's breasts. His mouth dropped open. "I--ah..."
Jonathan squirmed in his dad's suddenly loosened grasp and ran across the yard, giggling once again.
In slow motion, Brenner closed the distance between himself and Daphne. "I might as well do something I really need to apologize for."
He dipped his hands in the paint, slipped his arms around her and gripped her derriere, lifting her slightly so his mouth fit perfectly over hers. When he released her to once again chase after his son, the perfect prints of his paint-covered hands branded her backside. And Daphne stood, stunned, her fingertips resting lightly against her lips.
With this excerpt, I'll say goodnight. Just remember to leave a comment, and you'll be entered in a drawing to win two other romantic comedy novellas in ebook format or a $10 gift certificate to or Powell's Books. 

I hope you all enjoyed the party!

-Genie Gabriel

Medicine Man 1 Excerpt two

Excerpt 2 Medicine Man 1; The Chief of All Time

I spun around, refusing to get caught up in another
vision. I slammed the door shut. Those deer couldn’t be in
my yard. A chill came over me. The drums pounded in my
head. My medicine mark tingled. I touched the scar. How
was it the lines of it made up an artful design? Whirling at
the edges of memory, I seemed to remember it hadn’t always
been so. The harder I thought about it, the louder the drums
echoed--a howling wolf sung harmony.

The doorbell sounded. I jerked the door open. My
brother, Sam, stood on the other side. It so surprised me I
couldn’t say anything. He stared back at me with maniclooking

“You’re not going to help me,” he shouted, washing me
with the foul smell of consumed beer and whisky. He turned
and stepped off the porch.

“Sam, wait. You can’t drive like this.” I grabbed for his
arm, and he vanished. He hadn’t been there in the first place.

“Medicine Elk?”

Morning Dove stood in the doorway of the den dressed in
a long, tan buckskin tunic with very few fringes, over
matching pants. On her feet, she wore well-used moccasins
without design. She carried a rough cloth satchel over her
shoulder. How in the world did all of it fit in her backpack?
Reality seemed to have slipped away from me. Maybe a
car had hit me. Who truly knew what a person went through
while they were in a coma? The mind could imagine
anything. The only choice I had was to believe this reality, to
make my way through it and come out the other side sane
and alive. It took both the mind and body to heal a person
from severe trauma. The spirit needed to be treated as well. I
slammed the door shut. The drums died away.

My grandfather needed to go home, and Morning Dove
needed to go with him. I wanted her to stay--traditionalist or


“Look at her. Look at her, Running Deer. She stands in
your home. No one will stop you. Have her. The reward will
be all she possesses. The Power of the Great Spirit will be
yours to command. You will be as timeless as she is. Take

I pressed my eyes shut and compelled the voice of the elkman
to go away. What in the name of the spirits was wrong
with me?

Insanity. It seemed the only answer. Madness had sucked
my mind into its wake. Too many hours in the trauma unit
could do that. Everyone knew the risk of burnout. I should
have recognized it when I believed Morning Dove could heal

When did I lose touch with reality? Before the Life Flight
brought Morning Dove in? Or had it been earlier, at Lake
Side Park, when I first saw her? Could I be in the psychiatric
ward right now and not aware of it?

On the other side of the room, the patio door slid open.
The twittering of birds filled the room. Amazed, I looked
outside. Sunlight shone in bright rays through trees that
shouldn’t have been in my back yard. Sunshine? It was only
half past twelve a.m. A dog barked. Another answered it. On
the patio two mangy dogs, about the size of small huskies,
wagged tails and panted. Each dog wore a harness attached
to a loaded travois.

Morning Dove moved out of the house to stand in the
brilliant light. The dogs wiggled with contentment at her
touch. Shaking my head didn’t dispel this newest twist to my

“We will be late. Hurry.”

Filled with mischief, Morning Dove’s voice teased me as if
I were always tardy, or perhaps she knew how much I hated
being late.

“Come, boy, she’s not your bride yet. They won’t choose
you if you arrive after the council has met.” My grandfather said.

MMI: Chief of All Time is written in American Indian first person POV. S. R. Howen's choice of words creates a complex rhythm of thought drawing the reader through the story. This weaving is visualized in brilliant literary fiction, crossing genres, cultures & time. Howen crafted a masterpiece.

Tomarin 5 stars

I loved the ending as I cheered for better things to happen, and I would definitely be on the American Indian's side of things then, now and always.
I would suggest this book to everyone. It is entertaining, and thought provoking in a positive and enlightening way.

Colleen Bratley 5 stars

Party Pavilion Exclusive Excerpt

Party Pavilion Exclusive Excerpt from Death Lies Between Us!

For Goddess Fish Readers Only, here is a never before seen excerpt from Death Lies Between Us by Jody A Kessler.

Death Lies Between Us is a New Adult Paranormal Romance and new release from Crescent Moon Press. It is the first book in the series, An Angel Falls. The second book in the series, Angel Dreams, has just been signed with Crescent Moon Press and is due out in early 2014!

The back cover blurb

Saving the life of someone you love should not be the worst thing you have ever done, unless you are an Angel of Death.

Disgruntled with his position in the afterlife and conflicted by his feelings toward his new client, Nathaniel Evans forgoes the rules and saves nineteen year old Juliana Crowson from being hopelessly stuck in Forge Creek. This alters Juliana’s destiny and she finds herself in a series of near death accidents.

In the mountains of Colorado, Nathaniel comforts Juliana as she struggles to understand her paranormal abilities while coping with her brother’s drug addiction. When an ill-tempered Native American Shaman teaches her the difference between ghosts and place memories, she decides she wants nothing to do with the supernatural world. Too bad she doesn’t know that Nathaniel is part of it.

Will fate bring these two together, or has Nathaniel made the biggest mistake of his afterlife?


(Here’s the set up — Angel of Death, Nathaniel Evans watches his new client, Juliana Crowson as she becomes stuck in Forge creek. In this scene he decides the consequences of rescuing his client from the freezing water may be worth it. This is the first time they meet in person.)

I wait until she’s looking the other way and then I will myself into visible form.

Her head turns in my direction and she simultaneously jerks and screams, “Holy mother! Where did you come from?” She clutches her chest as if she’s trying to stop her heart from popping out.

I see her pulse racing under her left ear where her hair is pushed back and I like the frenzied beat of it. My own pulse quickens, although I know mine doesn’t show.

She shakes herself and apologizes, “Sorry, I didn’t see you coming.”

“Most people don’t.”

She gives me a quizzical look.
I’m not sure what propelled me to answer her that way. But then again, I’m not sure about anything I’m doing when it comes to her. Marcus, my mentor, would have something to say about this. I put that punishing image in the back of my mind and try to correct by saying, “No one’s ever called me Holy Mother before.”

Light rose creeps over her pale cheeks making me want to embarrass her again.

I try to give her a friendly smile, but it feels awkward. I look away from her warm face. “Having some difficulty?” I direct my gaze at her leg.

“Actually, yes. I’m hopelessly stuck. Do you mind? You’ll probably get all wet, but I’ve tried and tried and I think I’m making it worse. Can you believe it? What a weird thing to happen. I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I’ll shut up now.”

“That’s not necessary,” I tell her, but it’s too late. She clamps down her lips and watches me as I approach. She’s nervous, or excited, maybe both. Is it me? Does she know what I am? I don’t have time to dwell on it. I step into the water, making my physical appearance as believable as possible. It takes an enormous amount of effort to do it, but I want to act, and look, like a normal person.

“Are you ready?”

She nods.

A thick sucking sound follows and she pulls her leg free. I let the rock fall back into place with a small splash.

She hobbles away like a lame doe. “Ohhh, thank you!” she breathes out, and then eases down onto the grassy slope of the bank.

Stepping out of the creek, I watch as she takes off her wet boot and peels off her sock.

“Is your foot going to survive?”

“I’m not sure. It’s too cold to feel anything.”

“How about the rest of you?”

If you would like to know more about Jody or her novels, you can visit her here:



Just Imagine by Dawn Ireland

Original blog done for

“I can be whatever I want to be.” Oscar Hammerstein II gave Leslie Ann Warren that very motivating line in Cinderella. She proceeds to sing about all the terrible trouble her imagination gets her into, and how grateful she is to be back in her own little corner. (She must have been feeling a little pessimistic that day.)

 Imagination is a truly amazing gift. It can take us to places, and allow us to be people, that we’ve yearned for. It will give a lonely child an unseen friend, or a little girl the ability to find the “princess” when she looks in the mirror. It lifts us out of our humdrum, everyday lives, and propels us into a place where anything is possible.

The ability to imagine is what made this country great. In order to invent cars, light bulbs, and computers, you first have to imagine it’s possible.  I’ve often heard it referred to as “thinking outside the box,” but I believe it's more like letting your creative side take flight. I’m a little worried that so many people these days don’t take enough time to use their imagination.  We need to poke at the outside edges of what’s possible in our lives. We are so busy “being busy” that we don’t see any other way to live life.

Now, I’m just as guilty as the next guy. I guess that’s why I enjoy writing.  When I put pen to paper I get to be the characters in my books, feeling that jittery feeling when I first meet Mr. Right, the insecurity of trying to figure out why a man like “him” could to be interested in me, or the devastation that comes with discovering your love has been betrayed. (Okay, I’m beginning to see why Cinderella found that corner so inviting.)

Regardless of how you choose to get lost for a while, reading a book, watching a movie, or listening to music, you won’t regret the “me” time that allows you to regenerate and see your life from a different perspective. Just think, the first step to that “better you” is imagining how your life could actually be better--the rest is just follow-through.
Find my books at:

Beacon of Love by Allie Boniface - The First, well, You Know...

Evening, everyone! So glad you've stopped by to join in the party today ~ isn't it great to read about all these new releases?? My last excerpt today will be a sneak peek at the first time Sophie and Lucas are alone together - and I mean really alone together ;) Enjoy!

“Want something to drink? Water?”

Sophie shook her head.

“Not thirsty?”


He set the glasses down on the counter. “What?”

“Come over here and kiss me.”

His smile crooked. “Or what?”

She took two steps toward the kitchen, and he took one toward the living room, and they met in the middle. “Or I’m going to go crazy.”

He placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead.

Sophie closed her eyes, waiting for the slow, inevitable slip of his mouth down her neck. To her curve of her collarbone. Maybe lower.

“There you go,” he said. His hands went away.

Her eyes flew open. “That’s it?”

“You said you wanted a kiss.”

Her fists landed on her hips. “Ha ha. Funny guy. So funny, in fact, I think I’m gonna recommend that comedy special you were talking about to Lon. He’s looking for a new show, you know. Maybe you’re the next big thing.”

Lucas swung her off the ground. Her arms went around his neck and her mouth ended up a fraction of an inch below his. “Maybe I am.” He kissed her again, this time not on the forehead. And not sweetly. “What do you think?”

But she couldn’t answer, couldn’t think of anything at all except his tongue teasing hers, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist and holding on like she’d never held onto a man in her life. Fire sizzled up her spine, and the air in the room went hot. Her hands--God, her hands couldn’t get enough of him. They wanted to be everywhere, in his hair and on his face and unbuttoning that damn shirt and taking off her own dress that was so in the way right now.

Want to read the whole scene? And more? Grab your copy today!


Sometimes romance hits a few bumps--or meets a few frogs--along the way. Such as Daphne's experience in this excerpt from "No More Poodle Skirts," my romantic comedy novella from A MAY DAY ANTHOLOGY.


Daphne was home before nine, without even a kiss at the door.
"How did your date go?" Maddie asked cautiously.
"Another frog." Daphne walked down the hallway toward her suite of rooms, carrying her shoes. Maddie followed.
"He thought paying for dinner earned him the right to drive out by the sewage treatment plant and watch the submarine races--his words, not mine." 
"You didn't know what that was?"
Daphne shook her head and tossed her broken high heels into the bottom of the closet, where they promptly disappeared. 
"What happened to your shoes?" Maddie asked.
"Horace is testing the cloaking device," Daphne stated as if disappearing items were as common as Ryan testing new recipes. 
"No, I mean before that. Why were the heels broken?"
"One of them broke when I scraped it down Peter the Plumber's shin. The other came off when I was walking home."
"You walked all the way home?" Maddie clenched her fists, prepared to take a pipe wrench to the plumber's tool.
"No. Devon and his mother gave me a ride home. She seems nice enough. She can't find a guy to suit her either." Daphne stepped out of her pale peach dress and drew a bathrobe around her.
From what Devon said about his mother's partying ways, Maddie figured she wore out men. However, her immediate concern was consoling Daphne. "There must be a man who will appreciate your fine qualities."
"I hope so." Daphne sighed as she settled against the pillows on her bed. "Did the television reappear yet? Or should I read a book?"
Maddie handed her a romance novel and left the room. 


Leave a comment and be eligible to win two other romantic comedy novellas in ebook format PLUS a $10 gift certificate to or Powell's Books. 

You can read more at my Web site <> or by visiting Aunt Maddie's Castle <>. I hope May has started out splendidly for all of you!
-Genie Gabriel

The Hourglass:-Excerpt #3 - from our hero's POV & Giveaway!

The Hourglass (Etopia Press) by Sharon Struth
Romantic Women's Fiction

Want to know what CJ's thinking?

CJ ignored the speech document and instead Googled Brenda’s name, scanned the results, and found her Web site. Her picture popped up on her home page. A sunny smile greeted him. She was leaning against the edge of a large mahogany desk with crossed arms. He guessed her to be close to his age, perhaps a bit younger. A slight tilt of her head, combined with a confident aura, suggested that if you had a problem, she could fix it. Her crystal blue eyes showed a starburst of creases near the edges. The rest of the page told about her two books.

A second picture, on the bio page, showed her with a scruffy gray-and-black dog, posed by her side with perfect posture. The caption read, “Brenda McAllister is a psychologist whose practice specializes in individual and couples’ relationship counseling as well as sex therapy in her Greenwich, Connecticut, office. With a master’s degree and doctorate in clinical psychology from the University of Hartford, Brenda sits on the board of the Fairfield County Psychology Association. Aside from her work and writing, Brenda likes to hike, travel, and play tennis.”

CJ knew Greenwich, the affluent community where she practiced. Close to Manhattan and sitting on the shores of the Long Island Sound, aka Connecticut’s Gold Coast, houses there cost a bundle. In fact, the director of one of his films lived there and had invited him over for dinner a couple of times. Did she live there too?

CJ couldn’t find mention of a significant other. Who was the man he’d seen her with at the bar last evening? They’d talked for a while, even hit the dance floor.

The shower stopped, but his curiosity about Brenda still needed to be fed. He located her Facebook page, but instead clicked on an article that had appeared two months earlier in the Stamford Advocate. He scanned it until he spotted a paragraph that mentioned her husband had passed away unexpectedly a year earlier. The article also said her children were grown.

The bathroom door opened and he quickly exited the article. Autumn stepped out in a white terry cloth robe, a towel wrapped around her hair. “Mornin’! I’m glad you’re up. You’d better hurry if you want breakfast before you go on.”

“Can you order room service while I’m in the shower?” The throb in CJ’s temples increased. He shut the computer and walked toward the bathroom. “I’ll have oatmeal and coffee. Please.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

Her agreeableness annoyed him, yet it didn’t stop him from admiring her sway as she walked to pick up the room service menu. A stab of shame forced him to admit that his involvement with her had started and continued for all the wrong reasons.

He turned on the shower, popped two Tylenol, then stepped into the steamy enclosure. Within minutes, the dwindling pain in his head subsided to a tolerable level. Brenda crept back into his thoughts. Besides her nasty comment, there was a second, more irritating reason that he couldn’t get her out of his head: Brenda was precisely the type of woman he’d been trying to avoid for the past ten years.

 * * *

For BUY links and a movie trailer for THE HOURGLASS visit


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The Perfect Duke - Snippet by Dawn Ireland

“The horse seems to know you.”

“He should. There was a time when I practically lived in the stable. Storm was my favorite.”

“What happened?”

“I became a duke.”


He straightened and forced his features into a mask of indifference. “So, Rachel loves horses.” He turned to face Cara. “I can appreciate my niece’s fondness, but I can not allow her to frequent the stable.”

“Why not?”

“It is not proper for young ladies of her station.”

“Garret, she’s a child.”

It was the first time she’d used his name, and somehow, Rachel visiting the horses didn’t seem like such a large request. “I will only allow it if she uses the passageway. At least I can keep the knowledge of her visits to a minimum. If you come with her, you will need to use the tunnel as well.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She blushed and turned away. “I’m afraid.” She said it so quietly, he wasn’t sure he heard her.

“Afraid? Of what?”

“Dark, enclosed places. Even as a child, I fell asleep with a candle burning.” She faced him and gave a small smile. “Perhaps I’m afraid that a beast will gobble me up in the dark.”

“There are no beasts at Belcraven, Miss McClure. I would not allow anyone to hurt you.”


“Never.” He started toward her and stopped. Damn, it would be better if he didn’t get close to her. As he left the stable, her whisper followed him.

“Not even you?”
Find "The Perfect Duke" on


It's easy to laugh, right? But is it easy to write something that will make others laugh? 
Well, writing comedy can be tough for me--especially when I make the switch from writing more dramatic stories. That's what happened when I  wrote "No More Poodle Skirts" for A MAY DAY ANTHOLOGY. Hopefully the result is humorous!
Daphne chatted all the way home that evening, excited to be doing something useful and also about meeting an attractive man who seemed interested in her. "J-J and Jonathan's dad is handsome, don't you think?"
"Not in the same league as my Horace, but attractive enough."
The two women laughed. 
"He seemed interested in me, didn't he?" Daphne asked.
"The gaping mouth and the way he clung to your hand when he introduced himself seemed to indicate that."
"Do you think I'm too old for him?"
"He looks about the same age. I'm guessing he didn't have J-J and Jonathan until late in life. Do you want me to find out--"
"Oh, no! I don't want him to think I'm too interested." Daphne giggled. "But I hope he doesn't wait too long to ask me out."
As a dreamy look drifted across her sister's face, Maddie's mind returned to the little black and white dog. Devon was right. She had pretty much decided the dog should become part of the family. She would talk to Horace about it later tonight.
After dinner, Maddie ventured down to Horace's workshop. 
"You missed dinner." She set a plate of food on a side table that was least cluttered with gadgets.
"Not there," Horace cautioned.
Maddie gasped as the plate disappeared. "What happened?"
"The cloaking device works!" Horace clapped his hands together like a delighted child. 
"You're working on a cloaking device? What happened to the jet-pack?"
Horace looked all around the room, then leaned close to Maddie and whispered, "I'll get back to the jet-pack later. More important is hiding my time machine from the military. They want it."


To celebrate the release of A MAY DAY ANTHOLOGY (which includes my novella, "No More Poodle Skirts") I'm giving away two other romantic comedy novellas in ebook format PLUS a $10 gift certificate to or Powell's Books. Happy May to everyone!

-Genie Gabriel
Please visit my Web site at:
Or come to Aunt Maddie's Castle at:



RELEASES May 15, 2013

Soul Mate Publishing

Available at


Regency propriety and Scottish boldness clash in this romantic suspense flavored with a liberal dose of humor and a dash of inspiration.


She was the heiress determined to never marry.

Shipping heiress Yvette Stapleton is wary of fortune hunting men and their false declarations of love. She’d rather become a spinster than imprisoned in the bonds of marriage. At first, she doesn’t recognize the dangerously handsome man who rescues her from assailants on London’s docks, but her reaction to Lord Sethwick’s passionate kisses soon have her reconsidering her cynical views on matrimony.

He was the nobleman who vowed to make her his own. 

Not a day has gone by that Ewan McTavish, Lord Sethwick and Laird of Craiglocky, hasn’t dreamed of the sensual beauty he danced with two years ago; he’s determined to win her heart. On a mission to stop a War Office traitor, he unwittingly draws Yvette into deadly international intrigue. To protect her, he exploits Scottish Canon law to declare her his lawful wife—without benefit of a ceremony. Yvette is furious upon discovering the irregular marriage is legally binding, though she never said, “I do.”

Amidst murder and betrayal, Ewan attempts to win Yvette’s forgiveness. But is it too late? Has his manipulation cost him her love?



Life seemed much simpler when all a girl had to worry about was keeping her bobby socks and the pompom on her poodle skirt a brilliant white. Daphne Madison wiggled and gyrated into panty hose that seemed determined to twist around her like a boa constrictor squeezing its prey.
A modern woman was expected to have it all--a husband, a family, a career--with never a wrinkle in her face or her confidence.
Daphne zipped up her dress and drew a shaky breath as she stared at herself in the mirror. The form-fitting pink dress wasn't as comfortable as her skirts, and the high heels shoved her feet down into the pointy toes.
I can do this, Daphne reassured herself. She hadn't even been born in the fifties, but it seemed like such an innocent time. If she could pretend to live in that time, surely she could live in the current millennium.
To celebrate this release, I'm giving away two other romantic comedy novellas in ebook format PLUS a $10 gift certificate to or Powell's Books. 

Happy May to everyone!
-Genie Gabriel
For a longer excerpt, visit my Web site at:
Or visit Aunt Maddie's Castle at:

Beacon of Love by Allie Boniface - The First Kiss!

A reader who had just picked up Beacon of Love told me last week, "I was reading this while I was on the elliptical trainer at the gym and all of a sudden I was going faster and faster because of all the tension between Sophie and Lucas. I couldn't wait for them to get together!"

Awww......well, yes, there IS a lot of tension (sexual and otherwise) between my hero and heroine, because what's a happy ending without some struggles getting there? I won't give away too much, but here's a sneak peek at the first time these two kiss:

Facing him, she ran her fingers down the doorframe. “Kind of a sad place, don’t you think?” But the softening of her mouth and the look in her eyes didn’t suggest sadness. Her pupils darkened, and if he hadn’t been so out of practice with reading women, he would have sworn desire was slipping through her mind the same damn way it was slipping through his.

From where he stood, there was a foot or two between them. If he took one step, there would be less than that. She’d be within arms’ reach, that cute curvy figure and the hair he wanted to loosen from its headband and let fall around his fingers as he pulled her close.

Lucas stopped the thoughts. Two people working together shouldn’t get involved. He’d heard that advice more times than he could remember.

“Mm hmm. Kind of sad.” He took one step. She took the other.

“Lucas, listen. We-- I mean I usually don’t--“ she began, but instead of putting distance between them, she rose up on her tiptoes to meet him.

The rest of her words disappeared inside his mouth. He had no control, zero, willpower straight out the window, the minute she softened against him. Her lips parted, and she sighed into his mouth, the smallest sound that turned him hard in a second. He caught her chin with one hand and pulled her to him, and it was like he had never kissed anyone before, the way he wanted her, his tongue inside her and his hands making their way down to her wrists, to her waist, pulling her close as he tasted more. Wanted more. His mouth moved to her neck, to the skin at the base of her throat, and she sighed as he nipped at her flesh.

“Sophie.” He breathed the word. One hand slipped the strap of her sleeve to her elbow, then did the same with her bra, and all he could think of was tasting what lay beneath it. Silk. Bare skin. Warmth and maybe the tang of her soap, and--

Someone cleared a throat behind them...


Sorry to be late to the party--the weather has turned beautifully sunny in my little corner of the world and I fell asleep in one of the chairs on my deck. Yikes! But ahhh... Now I'm scrambling to catch up!

This month I'm celebrating the release of A MAY DAY ANTHOLOGY, a collection of four novellas from Rogue's Angels. We have been critique partners and writing buddies for quite some time and I'm so delighted we each have a story in this anthology.

Here's a snippet of each of those stories.

Highland Miracle -- Christine Young 
Hurtled through time, Sean Michael Sterling, lands in the midst of a May Day celebration he doesn’t understand, assuming the role of Laird Sterling. There he meets Reagan Douglas, an illegitimate child of nobility, who is searching for a way out of her half brother’s house. 
Defying the Odds -- C.L. Kraemer 
The night elves on the hill aren't happy without their magic. They concoct a plan to punish those who were involved in the act that rendered them almost human. Meanwhile, Uther, the rogue night elf, has returned to woo the Librarian to be his eternal mate.

Love in Bloom -- Rosemary Indra 
When childhood friends reunite, it takes two fairies and a matchmaking daughter to help them admit their true love for each other.
No More Poodle Skirts -- Genie Gabriel 
After drifting for years in the innocent age of the 1950s, a woman struggles to join today's world by finding a career and a new love, with some help from her zany family.
(Read an excerpt at

By the way, at the end of this party, I'll be giving away a copy of the two romantic comedies that precede my novella, "No More Poodle Skirts." I'll also be giving away a $10.00 gift certificate to or Powell's Books. 

Hope you are all having a great day!

-Genie Gabriel

The Hourglass - Excerpt 2 and Giveaway!

Excerpt from Chapter 2:
Somehow her goal of indifference toward this man had gone into hiding. Determined to fix the added damage she’d just done, she straightened her shoulders, softened her tone, and smiled. “Double-fisted drinker, huh?”

He cut his eyes in her direction and evaluated her with suspicion. “One’s for Autumn.”
Brenda chortled out loud as a Shirley Temple-drink wisecrack jumped from her brain to the tip of her tongue. About to open her mouth, she halted the comment when CJ narrowed his gaze.
“Listen.” Brenda’s tone became more affable. “We’ll have to work together pretty soon. I’m thinking we should clear the air.”
“Really? Well, I’d say you’re itching for a fight.”
For a brief second, she pondered the notion that he might be right. Had CJ’s earlier grumpiness offered an excuse to funnel untapped anger over Jack’s abrupt departure? Anger she’d kept bottled inside for the past year? “No. Just conversation.” She used as much sincerity as she could muster.
He surveyed her, then shook his head. “My Aussie grandmother used to call me a larrikin when I acted like you.”
“What’s a larrikin?”
“Depends on how it’s used.” He cast a scorn-laden glance in her direction.
The bartender placed two cognacs in front of CJ, who pulled a twenty from his pocket and handed it to him.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
The bartender returned with his change.
“Look it up.” CJ pocketed the bills, then lifted the drinks. His mouth curved into an I-got-the-last-word-this-time smirk and he walked away.

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