The Sydney Rye Series by Emily Kimelman - Virtual Tour and Giveaway!

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Emily will be awarding a $25 Amazon GC to one randomly drawn commenter. The other stops can be found by clicking the tour banner.

Books 1-3, The complete Series Box Set (Value Pack)

The Sydney Rye series of mysteries features a strong female protagonist and her rescue dog, Blue. This series is recommended for the 18+ who enjoy some violence, don't mind dirty language, and are up for a dash of sex. Not to mention an awesome, rollicking good mystery!

This box set includes all three of the Sydney Rye Books.

UNLEASHED (A Sydney Rye Novel, #1)

When the series begins Sydney Rye is named Joy Humbolt. She does not like people telling her what to do, so it comes as no surprise that she was just fired from her last job. When she buys Charlene Miller's dog-walking business on Manhattan's exclusive upper east side, it seems like the perfect fit: Quiet environment, minimal contact with people.

But then one of her clients turns up dead, and Charlene disappears. Rumors say Charlene was having an affair with the victim--and of course, everyone assumes Joy must know where she is. Joy begins to look into the crime, first out of curiosity then out of anger when there is another murder and threats start to come her way.

When police detective Mulberry is assigned to the case, Joy finds a kindred spirit--cynical and none-too-fond of the human race. As they dig deep into the secrets of Manhattan's elite, they not only get closer to the killer but also to a point of no return. One last murder sends Joy Humbolt hurtling over the edge. Her only chance of survival is to become Sydney Rye.

DEATH IN THE DARK (A Sydney Rye Novella, #2)

At the beginning of Death in the Dark we find Joy Humbolt hiding, not only from the law, but also from her past and the mistakes she's made. Living this isolated life doesn't last long though when a visit from Mulberry brings Joy to accept her new identity as the Private Detective, Sydney Rye. To complete the transformation, Joy must learn to control her emotions as well as her giant aggressive dog, Blue. With the help of an expert trainer, Joy learns to fight with her mind as well as her body. However, when the daughter of a close friend is brutally murdered in the desert, Rye turns away from her mentor to seek revenge. Sydney's quick temper and deadly intentions lead her into a trap that she will need all of her new skills to survive.

INSATIABLE (A Sydney Rye Novel, #3)

The third book in the series begins with private detective Sydney Rye living a simple, disciplined life in London, but when a dangerous man from her past calls, Rye finds she cannot turn him away. Robert Maxim explains that the daughter of a powerful friend has gone missing and he wants Rye to find her. In exchange he offers her something she had given up hope of ever having; freedom from her past.

With her dog, Blue, at her side, Rye meets up with her new partner, a handsome man she's not sure she can trust. Heading for Mexico City, they go undercover, posing as husband and wife. After meeting with the bereaved parents, Rye starts to sense that there is more going on than just a missing girl. But it isn't until they arrive in the Yucatan Peninsula, hot on the girl's trail in Paradise, that all hell breaks loose. Sydney has to reach out for help from old friends and deal with the consequences of her past, if she's going to find the girl and keep them all alive.

New release! STRINGS OF GLASS (A Sydney Rye Novel, #4)

STRINGS OF GLASS is the fourth novel in Emily Kimelman's Sydney Rye Series of dark murder mystery novels. This series features a strong female protagonist and her rescue dog, Blue. It is recommended for the 18+ who enjoy some violence, don't mind dirty language, and are up for a dash of sex. Not to mention an awesome, rollicking good mystery!

Sydney Rye is hanging out in India with her boyfriend, Dan, reading paperbacks and sipping beer. No violence and no reminders of her past. But when she and Blue, are attacked by a pact of wild dogs, Sydney starts to feel that old itch again; to do good by being bad.

Trouble finds Rye when she stops the attempted rape and murder of Anita, a reporter working on a story of corruption and human trafficking. The atrocities Anita describes send Sydney, Blue and Dan on a quest that takes them across India after a dangerous and, up until now, untouchable, figure. While Sydney struggles to accept her true nature she realizes that it is the only way to end decades of abuse and exploitation. But Rye fears that she will lose herself, becoming no better than the monster she fights against.

About the Author:

Emily Kimelman lives on a boat in the Hudson Valley with her husband, Sean and their dog Kinsey (named after Sue Grafton's Kinsey Millhone). Kimelman has a passion for traveling and spends as much time as possible in the pursuit of adventure.

Her "Sydney Rye Series" are dark murder mystery novels which features a strong female protagonist and her rescue dog, Blue. This series is recommended for the 18+ who enjoy some violence, don't mind dirty language, and are up for a dash of sex. Not to mention an awesome, rollicking good mystery!

The first four books in Kimelman's series, UNLEASHED, DEATH IN THE DARK, INSATIABLE and STRINGS OF GLASS are available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, and Kobo.

If you've read Emily's work, and enjoyed it, please let Emily know. You can reach her via email ejkimelman@gmail.com

Buy all Emily's books at Amazon or Barnes and Noble

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Soul Slam, Adventurous YA Romance - Giveaway

Surprise! I didn't know what to expect when I received this invitation to join the Goddess Fish Party.And since I'm in the throes of the holiday madness I probably left writing this a bit late. But I wanted to introduce myself.

I'm really excited about the release of my book Soul Slam, an adventurous young adult romance. It has clues, chases, first kisses, paranormal elements, and love. Best of all its about romance and finding your soul mate. I hope you'll take a peek at the description and the excerpt below.

Leave a comment and your email addressto win a free ebook copy of Soul Slam.

And I'm giving away a Kindle if I reach 100 newsletter subscribers on my website at www.allieburton.com.

Soul Slam
Soul Force Book 1

A sixteen-year-old on her first heist to steal an ancient Egyptian amulet inadvertently receives the soul of King Tut…and the deadly curse that comes with it.

And Olivia is not alone at the museum.

A member of a secret society, Xander believes it is his place to inherit King Tut’s soul and justly rule. He knows nothing about the society’s evil plan to control the world or the curse. Now, he must deal with the female imposter who stole the amulet.

Xander convinces Olivia they must form a temporary partnership. The two teens develop a connection, and together they must figure out how to end the curse before it turns deadly. On the run, unable to touch because of the curse, and managing the male soul inside her female body, Olivia must learn to trust Xander.
As the mystery surrounding the amulet unfolds, Olivia and Xander start to fall for each other. But is love enough to save them and the world from destruction?

Excerpt

Chapter One

“Olivia, hide.” Fitch, Gangfather, took cover across the corridor behind a sign announcing the King Tut exhibition right before a shadow fell over me.

I swallowed a gasp and crouched behind one of the vertical mummy cases littering the darkened hallway of the museum. I gripped the tire iron with sweaty hands. My heart beat a frenzied drill in my chest, echoing the clump, clump, clump of the footsteps coming this way.

The footsteps drew nearer. The shadow morphed from blob to human as it passed an emergency light. The profile clearly outlined a security guard’s hat. A security guard who wasn’t supposed to be here.

This is not what Fitch promised for my first heist.

We go in. Grab the amulet. Get out. That was the plan.

In slow motion, Fitch raised his arms and brought them silently crashing down, signaling he wanted me to take the guard out.

I shook my head. What were the odds the guard headed for the same exhibit?

Fitch’s wrinkled face grew stern. This was not a request. Get the guard now or pay for not listening later.

The guard paced across the floor heading our way, toward the exhibition about the Egyptian boy king. I didn’t care about all-important titles, didn’t want to rule the world. All I cared about was surviving. Collecting the prize for Fitch so I could stay in his family and watch over the younger kids.

Fitch signaled the crashing motion again. Then he pointed a gnarled finger at me, raised his hand to his neck and made a slashing motion across. My knees knocked together like chattering teeth. My perspiration had perspiration. If I didn’t get the guard out of the way, Fitch would get me out of the way.

The guard passed. I forced my knees to still. Fitch wouldn’t let this guy ruin the plan. The plan he designed down to the last second. The plan to be executed by me.

Or I’d be executed.

Actually, an execution wouldn’t be so bad. At least it was fast. If I didn’t pull this off, my fate would be long, slow, torturous.

Like my life.

No. Fitch would never execute me. He got too much pleasure abusing me. Without me to kick around he’d have nothing to do. His slashing motion had been overly-dramatic.

The guard strolled closer. So close, his evergreen aftershave tickled my nose.

My hands clutched and unclutched the tire iron. My stomach cramped and my gaze went fuzzy. I couldn’t stand here and wait for us to be discovered. I couldn’t let this security guard go into the King Tut exhibit. I couldn’t delay this heist any longer.

I raised my arms and held the tire iron high. The guard walked by. His thin frame and wiry mustache reminded me of someone from my past. My way distant past. Ignoring the tingle of memory, I gathered my courage to hit the guard on the head and knock him out. Just like Fitch wanted.

I waited…waited.

At the last second I pulled back. I couldn’t hurt an innocent guy. He was just doing his job. Probably a dad. Then his kids would end up like me. Or Tina and Doug.

The guard continued forward. So what if we had to wait for him to finish his rounds before we stole the amulet. Fitch couldn’t do much more to me. He already treated me like a slave. I lowered the tire iron and let out a slow breath.

The guard swiveled back around.

My relieved breath must’ve given me away. Fitch would kill me if we were caught. Panic jolted as if someone had attached jumper cables and revved the engine. I leapt behind the security guard and shoved him toward one of the open mummy cases. He wiggled, trying to fight, but surprise was on my side. All one hundred pounds of me pushed and shoved to get his small frame inside. I slammed the cover shut and leaned, using all my weight to keep it closed. Then, I braced the tire iron against the carved out arms on the mummy case lid and the grooved tile floor.

The guard pounded on the inside like a soul begging to get out. His mumbled yells scratched at my nerves. I hoped he wasn’t claustrophobic.

“So, sorry.” I lifted my shoulders high trying to block out the sound and shake off the icky-ness of leaving him in an enclosed, small, dark space. I couldn’t feel sorry for him. At least he was alive.

“You stupid kid.” Fitch came out from his hiding spot yelling in a whisper. His diamond-cut eyes lasered into me. His misshapen hands curled like he wanted to crush my windpipe. “You were supposed to knock him out. What if he saw our faces?”

Fitch had been angry before. A lot. But I’d never seen rage fill every pore of his skin, spew from every breath, vibrate off his entire body.

“He didn’t.” My voice sounded confident, but inside I was a shivering mass of nerves. “I pushed him from behind.”

“You think you’re so smart.” Fitch’s tone was not complimentary. “What’re we supposed to do with the guy now?”

The guard kept banging.

“He’s going to alert another guard.” Yellow spittle flew from Fitch’s mouth. “We’re on a tight schedule. We don’t have time to deal with this.”

I glanced up and down the hallway. “We could call for back-up. Have one of the older guys come and get him.”

“No cell.”

Right. I slapped my empty back pocket. Our technophobe client had insisted we not take cell phones on this job, afraid the phones would give our location away to authorities. I felt naked without it.

“I’ll take care of the security guard while you get the amulet.”

Alone? My first job? The beat of my heart scurried like the rats in the warehouse we call home. “Wh-what?”

“We don’t have time for one of your educational discussions.” Fitch grabbed my arm in a painful squeeze. For a guy who acts feeble, he can be strong when he wants to. “Get the amulet like you practiced. I’ll meet you on the loading dock.”

“B-b-but—”

“I should’ve used Tina and Doug.”

“They’re only ten.” Twins, Tina and Doug had been abandoned by their druggie parents. “They’re way too young to crawl around a museum stealing a priceless artifact.”

They deserved so much better. And I planned to give it to them.

“At least they would’ve listened.” Fitch angled his head and gave me a death stare.

I entered the exhibit. The light from the full moon shone through the skylight and glinted off the glass cases displaying Tut’s precious artifacts. A beautiful gold bracelet with lapis lazuli stones got my attention, but I wasn’t here to admire the pieces. I was here to steal the Mighty Amulet of Aten, the sun god King Tut worshipped.

Strapped by Nina G. Jones - Blog tour starts this week!

Blog par-tay time!

I just finished my first draft of the sequel to Strapped, Strapped Down. Dare I say, it's even crazier than the first installment of the series! It picks up right where Strapped left off, and is a wild ride.

My blog tour with Goddess Fish kicks off this week, and I will be giving away a $50 Victoria's Secret Gift card, so make sure you stay in the loop by following me!

Stay updated on Nina G. Jones' so you can enter the raffle for a $50 VS gift card:

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If you haven't read Strapped, here's a description and excerpt for you. It's dark, it's sensual, sometimes funny, and it has twists and turns.:

By all appearances, Shyla Ball has an enviable life: a loyal boyfriend, a great job, and family that loves her. She doesn't realize how deeply unsatisfied she is until she has an embarrassing encounter with a handsome stranger at a coffee shop. Taylor Holden, a successful businessman, takes a sudden special interest in her and offers her a job she cannot refuse. Soon after, she learns there is much more to this intensely private man than meets the eye. He is hiding many painful secrets, including why it is that he has seemingly plucked her out of obscurity for such a lucrative position. Her "perfect" world is turned upside down by her infatuation towards Taylor and in just a couple of months, her life looks nothing like it did before. While she is frightened by the changes she sees in herself, she cannot resist the lure of Taylor Holden. As Shyla slowly gains Taylor's trust, she learns of his complex history and how it has molded him into the person he has become. When elements of Taylor's secret past resurface and threaten to destroy them, Shyla finds out there may be more to Taylor's story than even he is aware of. Strapped is a story of passion, manipulation, obsession, and family secrets.

Excerpt:

"Let's start." I cautiously disengage the parking break, move my foot from the brake to the clutch...“Wait a second,” he says and I hurriedly slam my foot down on the break. “Relax, everything is fine. Safety first.” He reaches over me and pulls down my seatbelt. I stiffen and look straight ahead as his arm ever so slightly grazes my chest. The click of the seat belt securing into the buckle is the only sound to break the awkward silence. I feel his warm breath on my neck as he reaches and I take a deep nervous inhale. His scent fills my nose, it is clean and warm, just like in the coffee shop. The smell of his skin is delicious. I try to stop these thoughts, but they are invading my brain in a way that has never happened to me before. Not even with…Rick. I try push him back out of my mind at this moment because I feel a sense of guilt. Rick and I are frozen. That’s the only way I can describe us. He is faithful, he is steady, he is nice, but he is not like this man in front of me: new, mysterious, and unpredictable. Rick and I are in a state of comfort, but like much of my life, I am becoming more and more discontent with comfort. Mr. Holden then proffers a disclaimer. "Normally, we wouldn't be driving after drinks, but I noticed you didn't really touch your brandy."
 
“I’m sorry, it looked great, but then we came down here and I didn’t have time to finish.”

“No need to be sorry, I just don’t want to give the impression that drinking and driving is something I condone.”

“It can’t be hard to avoid when you have your own driver.” Oops. That wasn’t supposed to sound disdainful. I meant it as a matter of fact, but that’s definitely not how it sounds. I should shut up. His eyebrow cocks. “That came out really bad! I meant that it must be great not having to worry about those things. I think it’s great that you have a driver. He is really nice.”
“You mean Mr. Belvedere?” he asks sarcastically. I don’t know how to react to his deadpan remark. 

“Oh...yeah, I mean that’s the only butler I knew growing up...I have a big mouth, don’t I?”

“No, I thought it was funny. He’s technically not a butler by the way. He doesn’t serve me tea and crumpets.
 
“You’ll have to forgive me, I know nothing about the finer things in life. Whatever I know, I learned from Robin Leach.”


Stay updated on Nina G. Jones' and Strapped:

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Buy Links for Strapped (check out those reviews!):
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I hope to see you around in the next few weeks as I have some really fun posts coming up throughout my blog tour :)

OXOX (my Strapped readers know what that's about), 

Nina G.  

An Excerpt From Chain of Command

Signing Chain of Command at the Official Launch Party

As I leave you guys today, I’d like to say a huge thanks for partying with me. I’ve had a great time joining you here at the Goddessfish Party Pavilion.   I leave you now, with an excerpt from the first chapter of my debut thriller, Chain of Command, which R.L. Stine, the thriller master himself, says, “…will shock you—and the shocks keep right on coming. Colby Marshall has written a book that deserves to be called THRILLER." 

I hope you enjoy the excerpt, and if you do, please consider purchasing Chain of Command!  And without further ado, here’s the excerpt:

CHAIN OF COMMAND

By Colby Marshall

CHAPTER ONE      

Zero Hour

California

His heart rate never rose above sixty as he looked through the scope of his .50 caliber sniper rifle at the unfortunate soul caught in his crosshairs.

He kept his breathing even. He inhaled deeply, slowly, so he could hold his breath as long as it took when the moment came. Then, he controlled his exhale equally. Hold. Breathing when he pulled the trigger could affect the shot’s precision. He had done this a time or two. Actually way more than that. 

But this one was different.

This one he knew.

Still, no reason to worry. Stick to the protocol.

He fixed on the target’s head in the center of the scope. The perfect kill shot. Just the way the United States military taught him.

Beside him sat a cell phone, the prepaid kind you could pay cash for in any discount store so it could never be traced. Only one person had the number to this phone.

He sucked air into his nostrils, noting the feel of the air temperature as he watched the glowing face of the phone, the clock flicking in time from 8:59 to 9:00 PM. The phone vibrated against the cement. He turned it on and listened in his earpiece.

“You good to go?”

“Yep, have to go now. Target locked.”

“On my three,” said the voice.

It was important their shots go off at exactly the same time so the message would be unmistakable.

He heard the voice count it off at the other end of the phone. “One...”

His finger tightened on the trigger. His eyes bored into the skull of the man he was about to blow apart. He was lucky he still had a clear shot, but then again, his plans rarely went wrong. Amazing that something so incredible and horrible could be counted off in the same manner as ripping a Band-Aid off of a five-year-old kid’s knee.

“Two…”

His finger tensed just the right amount and held there, ready to fire.

“Three.”

As he squeezed the trigger, he heard the shot at the other end of the line. A blast right on top of my own. That’s a new one.

Even as the recoil slammed his frame backward, he was already back on his feet and disassembling the rifle. He thrust the pieces into his case in less than thirty seconds, then ran down the stairwell, calm but rushed.

And he was right to be in a hurry. He’d not only just heard the gunshot that killed the President of the United States. He had just executed the Vice President.

Day 1: Early Morning

Washington D.C.

The phone rang. The shrill cry of her mockingbird ringtone crowed in the air demanding an answer. Try as she might to ignore it, it just wouldn’t stop.

“All right, all right!” Fifty-three-year-old Elaine Covington rolled over in her bed and pulled the receiver to her ear. This had better be good.

“What?” she barked into the phone. The numbers on the clock beside her four-poster bed read 12:44 A. M. Who the hell would be calling at this hour, and what was so important they felt like they needed to wake her up?

“I’m sorry for the lateness of the hour, Madame Speaker,” said the voice on the other line, tension seeping through the cracks of his tone. His first words were too fast, his last few too slow, as if he didn’t know what to call her. “But it’s an emergency. This is Bert Royal.”

She knew him, though her staff spent more time with him than she had. There weren’t many occasions when her position required her to interact with President Seymour’s Chief of Staff. Elaine clutched the phone tighter as Bert spoke.

“The president and the vice president have been shot. Both are dead. Madame Speaker, you’re the first Congressperson, um, former Congressperson to know.”

Through the white hailstorm in her mind, the lists of what to do, what to say, in what order, and to whom battled for dominance. She had to get dressed, had to get out of this room, out of bed, damn it. 

“Give me ten minutes. No, make it fifteen. Get that new bimbo press secretary we just hired. Meet me at the back office.”

“No, Madame Speaker. I’m sorry. I’ve got orders to send a car with a special detail to take you to a secure place.”

She swore. What her exact words were she doubted she’d remember. She agreed to be ready within the hour. She dropped her cell phone back on the nightstand, her knuckles still white from clenching the phone.

She lay back on her pillow. Surely she was in the middle of a dream. A nightmare. Congress would assemble; she would have to preside for hours over a debate about whether or not to attack the country responsible.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open. She sat up straight in her bed. She hadn’t been asked to show up at the Capitol. She had been told she’d be taken to an undisclosed location where she would be debriefed.

It was as if she’d been slapped across the face the same way her grandmother smacked her once when she talked back to her at age ten.

President Seymour was dead.

Vice President Tifton was dead.

The Constitution dictated the next person in line.

Elaine Covington blinked twice. She was now the President of the United States.

I hope you’ve enjoyed spending a little of your day with me.  Don’t forget to leave a comment on any of my posts today for a chance to win a cool Chain of Command messenger bag.  The bag giveaway winner will be announced the afternoon of Feb, 4 on my facebook fan page and my twitter, so be sure you’re following me in one of those places to claim your prize.

Follow me on Twitter here: https://twitter.com/colbymarshall

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorcolbymarshall

And if you’ve enjoyed what you’ve seen here today and would like to know more about my books, please check out my website at www.colbymarshall.com.  Consider joining the newest addition to the site, the SWAT page at www.colbymarshall.com/swat, a members-only page that allows fans of the books to gain access to exclusive material such as deleted chapters from Chain of Command, SWAT-only giveaways, and sneak peeks at my newest thriller, which will be published in June 2013.  Thanks again for hanging with me today, and I hope you’re having a great weekend.  Cheers!

WIN THE RIGHT TO NAME A CHARACTER [giveaway]

THE HOUNDING is Book One in the Shirley Combs/Dr. Mary Watson series. I'll be blogging about it and being interviewed about it all next week. Meanwhile, I'm halfway through Book Two: The Illustrious Client, so today, I'm offering one person who comments here the right to name a character in Book Two. You can make the character either gender, or give her/him a unisex name like Terry or Kim or Alex. This character will be implicated in the murder of the victim, so you might want to give careful thought to who you choose to name this character after. Feel free to give me some traits as well, if you like. Want to name this person after a personal enemy? Dish me some dirt, some nasty habits. Don't give me a last name. I don't want to get sued! ha. If you like the Sherlock Holmes books, or if you read Nancy Drew books growing up, you might like my series. Shirley and Dr. Mary make a good team. Mary is the narrator of the books, and Shirley is the world's greatest living detective (in her mind and Mary's anyway). The tales are set in Portland, Oregon in current day. All the stories are descended from the original Sherlock Holmes adventures, but mine will always have a murder. The books are available on Amazon, along with some of my plays and short stories. My author page lists everything:

My Love Affair With an Older Man - Blair McDowell

I suppose all writers have favorites among their characters. It’s only natural that some of our inventions should resonate more in our minds and emotions than others. So it is that I fell in love with an older man. Ian McQuaid in The Memory of Roses is a man I’d like to meet outside the pages of fiction.

Ian is an American archaeologist who works in Greece.  He always wanted to be an archaeologist even when he was a boy. His father wanted him to be an engineer but Ian persisted against all odds and went on to become world-renown in his field.

Even as a young man Ian has a brilliant mind but, like many highly intelligent men, he isn’t very bright about women. And so, as often happens, Ian ends up married to the wrong woman. It takes him years to realize that his marriage is a sham.

Ian is forty-two and recuperating from a serious illness on the Greek Island of Corfu, wondering what to do about his dysfunctional marriage, when a young Italian artist, Maria Calbrese, walks into his life and shatters his complacency. Their love affair rocks him to the depths of his soul.

I suppose what I love most about Ian is his vulnerability. That, and his sense of what is right and moral. He is at heart a totally decent man.

In the scene below, Ian meets Maria for the first time.

It was on June eleventh that he met her. He had gone to Adriatika for his evening meal. It was a week night and he had lingered over his late afternoon swim. By the time he arrived, the few other diners were well into their meals.

“What have you for me tonight, my friend?” he asked.

“Ah! You are in luck. We have Rabbit Steffado and I have kept a portion back for you.”

Ian settled into his chair at his regular table and opened his book. He had long had the habit of reading in restaurants until his food arrived. It kept him from feeling lonely.

He heard a commotion at the door and glanced up from his book to see a stunning young woman in conversation with Yiannis.

“Of course you are not too late, signorina,” Yiannis was saying as he showed her to a table. “We always look forward to your return in June. Did you have a pleasant journey from Venice?”

“Pleasant enough, Yiannis. I hope you have some of your Rabbit Steffado for me tonight. I’ve been looking forward to it for months.”

“Alas, I am afraid the last portion has just been ordered by someone else,” he said, nodding in the general direction of Ian’s table. “But I have a very nice fish if you’re interested.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it. Meanwhile, if you could bring me a pitcher of your good house wine…”

“Of course.”

Ian went back to reading his book. Suddenly he sensed that he was not alone. He looked up to see the woman who had just entered the restaurant standing at his table, a brimming pitcher of wine in her hand. She was tall and full breasted, her long ebony hair swung loosely to her shoulders and her eyes were dark and lively. Her face could have come from a Botticelli painting, beautifully oval, classically Italian. She wore a low necked blouse that seemed to fall off one shoulder and a full skirt that emphasized her small waist.

He realized, with a shock, that she was speaking to him in English and that he had not heard a word she’d said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said I assume you speak English since you are reading a book in that language. If you’d rather, we could speak in Italian. My Greek is a bit primitive.”

Confused, Ian managed to stutter, “English will be fine.”

“Good. I have a proposition for you.” She smiled.

Ian thought, whatever it is, the answer is yes. He merely nodded.

“You,” she resumed accusingly, “you have ordered the last portion of Rabbit Steffado. I have been looking forward to Rabbit Steffado for months. I propose that we should sit together and enjoy that rabbit together. There is always enough for two in Yiannis’ portions. Meanwhile we can order some of Catarina’s eggplant and a salad to start, and,” here she held up the pitcher, “I already have the wine.” She waited expectantly.

Ian threw back his head and laughed for the first time in months. “Please,” he said, getting up quickly and pulling out a chair for her, “Be my guest. I am Ian McQuaid.”

Over the eggplant she told him she was from Venice and that her name was Maria. “I always spend six weeks here at this time of the year. And this is my favorite restaurant on Corfu. I always came here on my first night back.”

They worked their way through the appetizers, laughing and chatting about their experiences on Corfu as if they were old friends.

 The rabbit arrived at the table, steaming and aromatic in its rich sauce. Maria ladled it on to their plates. “So what brings you to Corfu?”

 Ian somehow didn’t want to admit his recent illness to this young woman who was the picture of health and vitality. “I was working on Crete and I just decided to take some time off. A friend suggested Corfu.”

 “What do you do on Crete?”

“I’m an archaeologist. My special area is Bronze-Age societies, the Minoans in particular. Knossos, on Crete, is one of the best preserved Minoan sites in the world. I’ve been working there, off and on, for some years.”

“You’re an American, aren’t you? Your accent isn’t British.”

“Yes. I’m a professor at Stanford University in California. But I spend half of every year in Greece.”

They continued to chat and laugh their way through the rest of meal. Ian could hardly take his eyes off of her. She was so utterly alive. Her mobile face telegraphed her every thought and mood. When she laughed at his stories her whole face lit up. When she was serious, her eyes held the reflective calm of a mountain lake. He found her utterly entrancing. By the time they had finished dessert he was wondering how he could prolong the evening, how he could arrange to see her again. 

Then he reminded himself that he was still married, that he had no right to become involved with this young, vibrant creature sitting at his table. And that surely she would have no interest in him, a middle-aged man, graying at the temples and many years her senior. Regretfully, when Catarina began closing the shutters, he moved to pay the bill. “Please allow me,” he said. “You have given me so much pleasure tonight.”

She nodded and rose to leave.

Outside the restaurant, she paused, confused, and looked around. “Where is your car?”

“Actually, I don’t have one. I haven’t found much need for one here. I walk everyplace. The house I’m renting is just up the hill a mile or so.”

“Please let me drive you home,” she said. “I insist. It is small payment for that lovely dinner.”

Ten minutes longer with her, Ian thought. Ten minutes more of her lovely voice and beautiful face. “Of course,” he responded.

She drove efficiently and competently. He watched the shadows and light fall on her face as she navigated the curves of the narrow, winding country road.

“Turn here,” he instructed as they reached the open gates to the property. She came to a stop at the circle in front of the villa. The fountain was splashing, its dolphins alive in the moonlight.

“What a beautiful spot.” She said. They sat in silence for a moment, neither quite willing to end the evening.

“You could come in for a brandy,” he suggested.

They got as far as the front door. Later, they could neither of them remember who moved first. They were in each other’s arms, tearing at their clothing, stumbling up the steps toward the bedroom. Frustrated with their slow progress Ian swept her up into his arms and carried her to his bed, covering her with his body. They made love wordlessly, frantically, as if their very lives depended on their being together in this way at this moment.

When the storm had passed, Ian tried to speak. “I had no right to do this,” he said. “I’m married.”

“Of course you are,” she replied. “No man as attractive as you could be single. Not at your age. I came to you willingly. I asked for no commitment. We have here and now. We have tonight. Let’s not ask for more.”

 

Win a Copy of my new Paranormal Romance!

ENTER TO WIN A COPY OF

Delighting In Your Company!

Just answer the following question: 

What would Jonathan like to do if he were 'in the flesh'?

Hint here:

Alas my love you do me wrong,
To leave me so discourteously,
While I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company.  

These words from a fifteenth century song, Greensleeves, were a part of the inspiration for my paranormal novel with time travel, Delighting In Your Company.

  
My heroine, Amalie Ansett, finds herself in the unenviable position of falling in love with a ghost.   Jonathan Evans was a plantation owner on the small Caribbean island of St. Clement’s in the early 1800’s.   He died suddenly and violently and has walked the island ever since as a ghost, or, as the people there call the dead who walk, a 'jumbie'.  

Amalie can see and hear and touch him as no one else has in two hundred years.   It is up to her to help him find out what happened all those years ago.   Why he is alive but not alive, dead but not dead.  

The island in my book is based on a real one, St. Eustatius.   I’ve had a home there for many years.   Details in my book about jumbies and Obeah, the ancient religious practice brought by the slaves from Africa, are based on stories I’ve heard many times from local friends.   There is a White Wall Road.   And there is, according to local lore, a ghost who walks White Wall.   The “real” ghost, however, is a woman.   In my book I’ve chosen to change her into a man.  

There are other differences, as well.   My book is fiction after all.   While St. Eustatius is Dutch today, I’ve chosen to make my fictional island, St. Clement’s, English.   I did this because in 1807 the British Parliament enacted a law prohibiting the transportation of slaves into and out of all ports in England and all British possessions.   At that time St. Eustatius was a British Island.  This had a profound effect on the economies and social structures of the British Caribbean Islands, and it is a key factor in my plot.  

While I’ve been steeped in Caribbean culture for many years, I learned much in the course of researching the Caribbean of the eighteen hundreds.   I have a large collection of books on the history of the Caribbean, some of them very old, and these were invaluable.  

Museum on St. Eustatius

Delighting In Your Company is a fantasy.   A figment of my imagination.   But the scenes of a slave auction and of an Obeah Ceremony are taken from the works of nineteenth and early twentieth century writers, and the hand written records of slave sales that my heroine finds are, with minor changes, the ledgers I have seen in the Museum of the St. Eustatius Historical Society.  

This book almost wrote itself.   Once I became immersed in the tale, all that I love about the Caribbean Islands and their culture and peoples simply took over.  

I hope you will enjoy reading Delighting In Your Company as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

In the following scene, my heroine, Amalie, is transported in time and is observing a slave auction.   

In the basement room, Amalie contemplated the papers strewn around the wide pine table.   There was a large, leather-bound ledger sitting on top of them.   She hadn’t noticed that yesterday.   Where had it come from? She opened it and started to read the faded ink entries. 

To her shock she discovered it was a ledger of slave sales, with descriptions and prices. 

• 1 male and 2 females, household slaves to Jeremiah Johnston ….   425 guineas.  
• 2 field workers to Emerson Gainsborough….   250 guineas
• 6 field workers to John Taylor….   1250 guineas

The room spun around her.   She grasped the edge of the table to keep from falling as consciousness faded.

She was in a harbor full of wooden ships.   A crowd of men, from the look of their clothing, planters, shopkeepers and businessmen, milled about the dock, shouting to one another, pushing and shoving, vying for position.   The cacophony was ear splitting.   A large vessel was pulled up to the pier.   Naked male slaves, their ankles chained together, were shuffling down the gangplank and being herded into a holding pen.   The smell of their fear and hopelessness hovered in the air.  

Amalie heard a voice raised above the clamor and turned to see an auction block.  

“And here we have a fine specimen from the Gold Coast.   You all know there ain’t no stronger or better field workers than these.   Turn around, boy.   Let’em see you.   So what am I bid? Come on gentleman.”

Bids started coming, fast and furious.   

Horrified, Amalie watched as the young man was led away by the successful bidder.   

When she turned back to the auction block she saw that it was occupied by an emaciated boy barely into his teens.   Even in the hot tropical sun he stood shivering as the crowd jeered and the auctioneer turned him around for prospective buyers to examine.
 

“I’ll admit he ain’t much, but he might be some use as kitchen help.   Don’t know how he got into this batch.   Was supposed to be all field workers.   What am I bid? Come on gentlemen, got to move along.   Don’t nobody want this scrawny piece o’ nigger flesh?”
 

There was a moment’s silence.   Then from the back of the crowd, near where Amalie stood invisibly, “I’ll take him.   Ten guineas.  ” The speaker was a boy no older than the one on the block.
“Ten guineas?” the auctioneer sneered.   “Might as well give ’im away.   What am I bid, gentlemen?”
 

The crowd was silent.   The boy reached into his pocket and counted out a handful of change.   “Ten guineas and twelve bob.”
 

Someone in the crowd called out.   “Jonathan Evans.   Your pappy know how you’re squanderin’ his money?”
 

The crowd broke into raucous laughter.
 

“Never you mind.  ” The auctioneer took control.   “The boy’s money’s as good as anybody else's.   You got yourself a slave, boy.   Come and git him.  ”

Purchase Blair's books today by clicking on the covers below.  You can then select the vendor of your choice.

                                                                                                                

Find Blair:

Website:  http://www.blairmcdowell.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/BlairMcDowellWriter

Google+:  https://plus.google.com/u/0/111235595606875813906/posts

Blog:  http://blairmcdowellauthor.blogspot.ca/  
Email:  info@blairmcdowell.com

Win a Copy of My Book, The Memory of Roses

ENTER TO WIN A COPY OF THE MEMORY OF ROSES!

Just answer the question below:

What dinner did both Ian and Maria order when they met at the restaurant? 

Hint here:

The Memory of Roses is now out in both e-book format and in paperback. It’s been a long journey and I’ve had a lot of help along the way.

In my previous life, I had a successful career as a university professor. I wrote six professional books and countless articles in my field and had no difficulty finding a publisher for any of these. Somehow I thought when I retired and turned to something I had always wanted to do—writing romantic fiction—it would be the same. I would write my book, send it off to one of the big five publishers in New York and they would send me a letter full of praise and a contract by return mail.

A friend of mine, a long time writer of fiction, said, “I hope you’re into rejection.”

My first book was rejected, as it should have been. I knew nothing about the craft of writing fiction. Of staying within my character’s point of view, writing believable dialogue, pacing and plotting so that crisis points happened neither too soon nor too late, developing characters that lived and breathed; my ignorance of all these things was abysmal. I somehow thought that all my years as a voracious reader of fiction would enable me to write it.

That’s rather like thinking that years of attending symphony concerts would enable one to play the French Horn.

I knew I had to go back and acquire the skills necessary to writing fiction. I took courses, read books on craft, and joined the Romance Writers of America, devouring every issue of their journal, Romance Writer’s Report, from cover to cover. I entered contests and used the judges’ comments in revising my work. I put my works-in-progress in the hands of critique groups. And I kept writing and rewriting.

Finally all the blood, sweat and tears paid off. Elizabeth Carr of Rebel Ink Press liked The Memory of Roses. I remember when she emailed me that she had read half of the book and wanted to publish it, my first reaction was to wish she would read the rest just to be sure. I had become so accustomed to rejection that I hardly knew how to handle acceptance.

In The Memory of Roses, I trace the physical and emotional voyage of a young woman, Brit McQuaid, trying to come to grips with her father’s past. Brit’s journey takes her to the Greek island of Corfu, where she meets a sizzling young Greek archaeologist, Andreas Leandros. 



Below is a scene between Brit and Andreas from The Memory of Roses:

She looked at the lines of strain etched on his face.  “You know you don’t really have to help tomorrow. Daphne and I can manage the last of the painting. You’re under no obligation to keep coming all this way just to help me.”
“I thought we’d resolved that. I don’t ever do anything out of some mistaken sense of obligation. What I do, I do because I want to.” 
He paused, placing his hands on her arms in a grip that brooked no interference. “And right at this moment what I want to do is kiss you.”
Before Brit could react to his words Andreas brought his mouth down to hers. His lips touched hers softly at first, then his arms went around her and he buried himself in her mouth, his tongue caressing hers, hunger driven. He groaned, wordlessly declaring his need.
Brit had never in her life experienced such a torrent of desire as swept through her at this moment for this man. She tried to gather her scattered thoughts. Shaken, using every ounce of strength she could muster, she pushed him away.
“Stop! We mustn’t do this,”
Andreas looked at her, dazed.
“You’re too young for me,” Brit blurted out before she could stop herself.  “Just how old are you?
“Twenty-six. And you’re thirty-two. Daphne told me. A difference of six years. Would it matter to you if I were six years older than you?”
“Of course not.”
“Well then?”
“You’re just twisting things around. You know it’s not the same.”
“I believe that it is exactly the same, and I assure you that I’m not in the least too young for what I have in mind.”
Andreas brought his mouth down again to hers and Brit’s last conscious thought was what the hell! Why not? Why shouldn’t I have this brief interlude? Andreas will return to Santorini in January, and I’m only here for a year. I’ll be sensible later.

Purchase Blair's books today by clicking on the covers below.  You can then select the vendor of your choice.

                                                                                                               

Find Blair:

Website:  http://www.blairmcdowell.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/BlairMcDowellWriter

Google+:  https://plus.google.com/u/0/111235595606875813906/posts

Blog:  http://blairmcdowellauthor.blogspot.ca/  
Email:  info@blairmcdowell.com