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The paranormal takes charge! Janelle Barker

Encounters with The Unknown.
Heightening your senses to the paranormal world. Experience what others have experienced in their waking life. Rocking you to the core, embedding you with goosebumps from head to toe. Delve into the darkness of Ghost and Demonic behaviors. Some of the stories in this psychological book still affects the people that have gone through these experiences. Available now on all Amazon sites and my website http://www.jellspoetrybooks.com.

Excerpt:
From Annabelle

Last year I met my now ex-boyfriend through a ghost hunt we were both on which was great to share the mutual interest. He had a collection of dolls, which I was not too fond of to begin with however they did soon grow on me. When we started getting more serious, he wanted me to pick a doll which would them become mine. One of these dolls were supposedly haunted which he pointed out to me and although it scared me a little, I was compelled to choose her and gave her the name Willow.

I was told this doll was hexed by a Roman Gypsy family and he came into possession with it from a girl he went to school with as they felt he’d be more respectful towards her. I was told as long as she was on show and acknowledged everyday then she wouldn’t be any trouble.

One night we decided to do a mini investigation at home as I wanted to try and contact Willow on the Ouija board and sure enough, she came through. The energy was the strongest I had ever felt on the board, it was as if she knew how to work the board. She proceeded to tell us that my partner and I were together in a past life and she was our child, that we had hexed her into the doll, so she could wait for us to be all together again. Willow told us the year and our names along with other personal information that my partner could not possibly know. We were both so blown away as it was all so surreal. After this we decided to leave a cat ball on her at all times in case, she wanted to communicate with us throughout the day. At random times she would make the cat ball flash for about 15-20 minutes at a time and then there would be nothing for a long time.

Sadly, my partner and I broke up and I am still in possession of Willow. She now sits up in my bedroom, on my bedside table still with a cat ball on her, which she will set off once in a while, it tends to be when I need guidance. I continue to do Ouija board sessions and without fail she will always come through to me for a little chat and when I am about to close the board I ask ”Do you have any other messages?” she will respond with “I love you mum”. As crazy as this sounds, it warms my heart and I genuinely feel the love from her and towards her as if once upon a time I was her mother, like she told me.

Available on Kindle Unlimited
My website http://www.jellspoetrybooks.com

Meet Janelle:
NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book?
JB: I was watching a series on Netflix of people’s ghost experiences made into little clips and I thought I could start a book and give the people a voice to tell what they experienced without judgement.

NA: What is the main thing you want readers to take away from your book?
JB: To be open minded to what people have gone through in their waking life, they cannot explain why it happened to them. I believe unless you experience some sort of paranormal activity you will always be skeptical, but you should always be open minded that there maybe something other than us that does exist.

NA: A fun fact about writing your book.
JB: I believe that everyone loves to read about other people’s experiences in life, well I do. The fun for me was reading and writing this book alone excited me, that people were willing to tell their stories, for me it’s more fascination than fun – per say.

NA: Do you have a day job? What was your job before you started writing full time?|My day job now is promoting and continual writing of more books. Before I started writing, I was a cleaner in Aged Care.

NA: What started you on the path to writing?
I was at a crossroads in my life and did not know what direction to take. Something told me to look at my old diary with poems in it, as I looked at it I wrote more and more then I decided to submit it to a publisher to see if my work was acceptable and they took it on straight away and the rest is history as they say.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
JB: Oh gosh! At first they thought I was kidding, its sounds bad but nobody thought I could write books, not even myself at the time, but with perseverance and learning more and more as I write and developing myself and always will be I achieved the impossible in my eyes.

NA: The biggest surprise you had after becoming a writer
JB: Learning to have patience. Hahaha. I did not have patience prior to writing, when I want something done, I want it done now. Well I soon learnt that in the publishing industry nothing goes fast it all takes time and I am still adjust to the lengthy process of it all, but I handle it better now. To hear feedback that people connect with what you write is the best surprise of all, also that I can write Poetry, fiction and non-fiction books ( a variety of Genres is a big surprise ) to me also.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
JB: My Poetry has been in international Poetry Digests x 2 worldwide, my work also came in the top 100 Poems digest worldwide, I have had a actor read one of my Poems, my work has been promoted on several platforms. To receive the book in finished product form is the most rewarding experience.

NA: Which kind of scenes are the hardest for you to write? Action, dialogue, sex?
JB: I cannot write romance or comedy it is just not my expertise.

NA: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
JB: When I am not writing I am out in nature, camping, fishing, boating, being a mum, wife and nana, and shopping on the internet. Haha.

NA: First thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning.
JB: Thank you, Jesus, for another day.

NA: What errand/chore do you despise the most?
JB: Peeling potatoes and vacuuming.

NA: What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
JB: Oprah Winfrey. She got me through a lot when I was a young single mum, watching her show was inspirational.

NA: What are you working on now?
JB: I am marketing all my 7 books I have authored; soon I will do a volume 2 of the ENCOUNTERS WITH THE UNKNOWN – Ghost stories, and maybe more. I would also like to do another fiction thriller; I will never stop writing I do not think.

NA: What is any question we did not ask that you would like to answer?
JB: The names of my books that are published now are:

Emotives volumes 1 and 2 – volume 2 will be for sale on 22/10/2020

Sounds of the World volumes 1 and 2 both PUBLISHED

Encounters with The Unknown – ghost stories – PUBLISHED

A Biography of Jason King, Ghost Hunter – PUBLISHED

No One Is Safe at Night – Fiction Thriller – WILL BE PUBLISHED in couple weeks.

ALL BOOKS SOLD ON ALL AMAZON SITES

Amazon.com
Amazon Australia
EMOTIVES COLLECTION can also be purchased at Shawline Publishing Group

Janelle’s Website
www.jellspoetrybooks.com
https://www.shawlinepublishing.com.au/authors
Instagram https://www.instagram.com/jellbarker/
Twitter https://twitter.com/Janelle52158526
LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/feed/

How did I get so attached?? #MFRWauthor

When Jack and I lived in a small town in Virginia, we routinely drove in and out of Richmond and Charlottesville (50 miles and 35 miles respectively) for grocery shopping, plays, dinner, work, etc. and never gave a thought that we were driving those distances on two-lane country roads WITHOUT A DARN CELL PHONE. In fact, there weren’t any cell phones back then. Sure, the thought of breaking down crossed my mind, but houses weren’t spaced out too far, and I just figured I’d walk to one of them and call for help. Now that I have a cell phone? I can’t drive half a mile from home without panicking if I discover I’ve forgotten the phone. I’ve turned into a phone wuss, and I’m not proud of it.

For the longest time, I had a flip phone, long after smart phones were out. “You have the oldest phone of anyone I know,” a friend once told me. I smacked the lid down on the screen and said, “I use my phone for making calls. I don’t need all that stuff that comes on smart phones.” Sigh. Or for the naivete! Of course, as soon as I got a smart phone I set up weather, Google, a news app, and Solitaire. I am picking the phone up a hundred times a day to do something on it that doesn’t involve making a call.

I am happy to say that I don’t keep my phone with

me all the time. I’m not stuck to it. But every time I’m in one room and an alarm goes off or I receive a call on the phone in a different room, I curse the fact that I don’t have it stuck to me. My, how the mighty have fallen.

What about you? Are you a slave to your phone?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

New from Helen Henderson! Windmaster Golem

Let’s chat with Helen!

HH: Thank you letting me visit the Nomads. However, I’m not here to talk about myself, but to introduce Kiansel of Givneh. Her tale is told in Windmaster Golem, the newest release in the fantasy romance series The Windmaster Novels. She’s asked me for help with a decision. Rather than try to describe her, the cover of Windmaster Golem is included. I’ve been assured the likeness is very accurate.

Kia, why don’t you tell me a little more?

KIA: The men and women of my family have been leaders in the Tmeple of Givneh for many generations. My brother, Brantly, wears the robe of the Oracle and currently leads the flock. For myself, I help teach the little ones the path to a good life.

HH: You asked for help with a decision?

KIA: For the past few seasons, I’ve felt this need to travel to somewhere. Images in my mind showed me where to go. This past full moon it was almost unbearable. My feet started moving of their own accord.

Her eyes glazed over in memory before the light returned to them.

The summoning was to the Council Isle, the hearthome of all mages, and the location of the School of Magic.

Tense shoulders told of the conflict within her.

I belong to the temple. But the lure of magic is a siren song I am not sure I can resist. To follow the Way of magic means I have to turn my back on my family, my heritage, and the teachings of the Oracle.

HH: Only you can answer which call to answer. Talk to your brother and your father. They will help you know which path to take. There is more, isn’t there?

I waited as Kia dropped her gaze to the hands clasped in her lap.

KIA: The call to the council fire is not the only ethereal contact I’ve had. Someone stalks me. Not even the protective wards around the temple prevent his spying. Last night he broke through my meditation with his whisper of “Come to me, little wizardling. Come to me and live.”

HH: Thank you Kiansel for sharing this time with us. To my readers. As to her decision, I won’t spoil what the future holds. Her decision and journey is told in Windmaster Golem.

Read about Windmaster!

Blurb:
Kiansel, sister to the current Oracle of Givneh, is expected to one day assume the mantle and lead the temple’s followers. Her emerging powers force an impossible decision. To answer the siren call of magic requires she turn her back on her family, her heritage and the teachings of the oracle.

Banishment to a remote village as healer, a position he despised, fueled Relliq’s desire for revenge. The discovery of a mythical city and an army of clay soldiers provided the means to control all mages–including the one he wanted most—Kia.

Brodie, weaponsmith for the School of Mages couldn’t refuse the archmage’s request to act as escort for a healing team fighting a curse upon the land. But how can a man without any magic of his own fight a curse or protect a friend from an invisible stalker?

Buy Links:
Amazon
Kobo
More ebook sites

Excerpt:
Cold enveloped Kia. Her hand stopped in mid-knock. Although she knew no one was in sight, she still looked over her shoulder and scanned the street. Use of the postern door was restricted to senior members of the temple. I will not betray Brantly’s trust in me, she thought. Neither Brantly my brother, nor Brantly the Oracle of Givneh.

Ghostly fingers caressed her hair. The touch slid down her arm, not a lover’s touch, but that of an icy wind. The feeling of a presence was so strong she put her back against the wall. What heat the stones retained from the noon-day sun did nothing to warm her skin—or soul.

No one is there, reality encouraged.

No one you can see, caution answered.

For long moments she stood watching the street. Finally, the bags of vegetables she had purchased at the market grew heavy. “This is ridiculous,” she growled. “There is no one there.” This is just a case of nerves.

A toss of her head cleared an errant strand of hair from her face. A whispered incantation to cloak herself from the prying eyes of villagers and she knocked.

The hidden door slid open to reveal the same young soldier who was on duty when she left earlier that morning. “Greetings, mistress.” However, instead of the usual wave, he brushed past her and scanned the street.

He feels it too. Her unease growing stronger, Kia stepped over the threshold into the darkness of the building. Hurry up and close the door, she silently urged. Then she sent a prayer winging skyward that the sanctuary of the temple would stop whoever, or whatever, spied on her.

Author Bio:
Although the author of several local histories, and numerous articles on the topics of American and military history, antiques and collectibles, Henderson’s first love is fiction. Her work in the museum and history fields enables a special insight into the creation of fantasy worlds. The descendent of a coal-miner’s daughter and an aviation flight engineer, her writing reflects the contrasts of her heritage as well as that of her Gemini sign. Her stories cross genres from historical westerns to science fiction and fantasy. In the world of fantasy romance, she is the author of the Dragshi Chronicles and The Windmaster Novels. In her books, she invites you to join her on travels through the stars, or among fantasy worlds of the imagination.

Contact Links:
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The Navy way #MFRWsteam

Blurb:
Men and women of the armed forces experience lust and love pretty much like everyone else. Except, well, there is that uniform. And the hard-to-resist attraction of “duty, honor, service” as a man might apply them to a woman’s pleasure. All things considered, romance among the military is a pretty sexy, compelling force for which you’d better be armed, whether weighing anchor and moving forward into desire, dropping anchor and staying put for passion, or setting a course for renewed love with anchor home. Explore the world of love and the military and see just how hot Naval Maneuvers can be.

Weighing Anchor (allowing a ship to move forward by retrieving the anchor): A professional woman sworn to avoiding all things military finds herself in love with a lieutenant commander in the Navy. Love won’t conquer all if she allows her childhood memories to eclipse future happiness.
Dropping Anchor (securing movement by dropping the anchor): Two people find (surprisingly) that they are both in the Navy and love their chosen professions—until one turns out to be an officer but not a gentleman and the other is a gentleman but not an officer.
Anchor Home (safe, smooth sailing): When two former lovers find each other after more than a decade, will a long-hidden secret threaten the course of a rekindled romance or be the cause of it?

Excerpt from Weighing Anchor:
David swung open the door of their room after only one knock. He took her in with one quick glance and proclaimed her fucking beautiful. He’d been aching for this all afternoon.

Holding up a white bag he said, “As promised, I brought Italian. And I’m hungry. But not for baked ziti.” He dropped the bag on the room’s café table and opened his arms. Mel rushed to him. Molding her body to his and feeling her soften in his arms, taking her lips in a greedy kiss that she met with equal hunger—this is what he’d imagined and longed for. What he knew now he would always long for.

“You’re mine,” he ground out in a raspy voice. “Mine.”

Flipping positions so that she backed the wall, he dropped to his knees and reached under her skirt—thank God she’d worn something other than slacks. “You naughty girl. You’ve gone all commando on me.” He nestled his nose to the apex of her thighs and inhaled, taking the scent of her arousal deep into his lungs. He nudged her legs apart and pushed her skirt to her waist and with one, long lick, he took in her taste. She was fucking delicious.

Mel’s moans faded to the background as he proceeded to mine her pussy with his tongue. He loved the way she kept herself clean shaven, knowing how much he enjoyed eating her out, something he intended to do several times before they separated on Sunday afternoon—something he hated the thought of doing. Feasting on Melissa had turned into one of his favorite things in the world. How could he do without?

By the time he’d switched from his tongue to two fingers lightly stroking her pussy while his tongue sought out and attended to her clit, Mel had stabbed her fingers into his hair and pressed his mouth closer. Her hips rocked against him. She was close. Her moans had changed to sweet little sounds between pants.

Once again, David used his tongue on her pussy and pressed her clit hard with his thumb. Mel screamed his name and her cream drenched his mouth and chin. He lapped at her, taking all she had to give before pressing his forehead into her stomach and catching his breath.

Finally, as shaky as she, he stood up and took her mouth. Their tongues battled for supremacy. Mel pushed into his mouth and he pushed back. “God, I missed you,” he said when they broke for breath.

She smiled and smoothed her hand over his hair. “It was only a few hours. But I missed you, too,” she said, and then kissed him once more. “I have to admit, after being apart you sure know how to welcome a girl.”

“That? That was nothing. I have hours of pleasure saved up to share with you.” He laid his forehead against hers. “Did you really miss me? Even with all the texts?”

Her arms were around his neck and she lazily stroked his neck. He loved when she touched him. Anywhere. “They only made me miss you more. I don’t know how people stand long distance relationships. If I’d had to go longer than these few hours, I would have died.” She took his mouth again, but this time, in addition to the passion, a tiny frisson of worry ran down his spine.

He pushed it away. It’s the kind of things lovers say—I couldn’t wait to be with you, or I couldn’t stand another minute away from you—but in the end, people put away that hyperbole and dealt with the realities of life. That is, people in love do. And he hoped Mel was in love with him because he sure as hell was in love with her.

“If you can wait a few more minutes to eat, we have the microwave to reheat dinner. I think I need some more Mel time,” he said with a grin. “Let’s get you off your feet.” Sweeping her into his arms, he took her into the bedroom.

“And what do you intend to do now that you have me off my feet?” she asked in an innocent voice.

“Have my wicked way with you,” he answered with a growl. “But first, naked. I need you naked.”

She smiled, exchanging innocence for sexy in a nanosecond. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He’d thought his cock couldn’t be any more needy but he’d been wrong. “You’re on,” he ground out.

Instead of hopping to get out of her clothes, though, she lay back and regarded him. “David, are you…are you clean? That is—”

His hand froze on his belt buckle. “Yes! Yes, I’m good, I swear.” Was she implying what he thought she was? “And I can assure you, I’m not the kind of guy who slept around much, but during those times I’ve never, ever been without a condom.” Maybe he should ask about her, but she was a doctor, right? Surely she wouldn’t take any risks.

“Then do you think…I mean I really care for you. A lot. And if you think you care for me, too, maybe we could forego the condoms? I’m on the pill.”

Stunned, David wondered the correct thing to do here. He’d never been in this situation before and he wanted to get it right. Instead of continuing to strip, he lay on the bed beside her. He stroked her lips with his finger and took in her scent, which was unique to her.

“Melissa, this is early on. I know we’ve hardly known each other a month, and we haven’t been together for the majority of that time, but I know myself pretty damn well and I’m not afraid to say the words.” She gasped and her eyes grew wide. “I love you, Mel. Nothing like you has ever happened to me. As impossible as it seems after so little time, I love you.”

She was silent, staring at him with wonder. It was wonder, wasn’t it, and not horror or disgust?

“David, I love you, too.”

Fucking yeah. He gave a metal fist pump. Taking her into his arms, he kissed her tenderly, hoping to convey through his lips the sentiments he’d just expressed in words. He loved her damn it, and she loved him back. The world was one hell of a happy place.

When she leaned back from him he said, “So, shall we see what this feels like, skin to skin? It’s something I’ve never felt before.”

“Me either.”

He wrapped a strand of hair around his finger, loving the way it looked, binding them together for the moment the way his next actions would bind them for forever. This act of sex would be an emotional tie as well as a physical one. She was his woman. His. And he was about to claim her. She would claim him, too, and strangely, a calm settled over David with that knowledge.

“Think it will be different?”

“I know it will be because it will be new to each of us, a sign of our love and trust. And when I come,” he whispered, “a part of me will stay inside you for days, you and me as one.” He kissed her. “We can’t get any closer.”

In less than a minute the two were naked. David looked into her eyes and saw desire and a depth of feeling he’d never known. Love filled his heart and he knew this is how he would feel forever.

This is the way it’s always going to be for us. That was David’s last cogent thought before sliding into the wet heat of her body.

* * *

Mel had never felt anything like it. She wrapped her legs around David’s waist and used them to pull him closer, further inside her. Her breath came in erratic pants, her fingers clawed at his back, urging him on.

But David wouldn’t be rushed. He seemed to have his own time table for bringing her off. He pushed in and then pulled out until his cock lingered at the entrance to her pussy. Slowly—ever so slowly—he glided back in. She trembled with desire and the love she knew she held for him. Mel had never been so happy.

“So fucking good, baby. God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Yes,” she murmured and nipped his neck where his shoulder met it. Stroking that same place with her tongue as he started his slow but purposeful entry brought forth a guttural moan. She dug her hips into the mattress and then thrust forward to meet him.

“David, I love you!” She couldn’t hold back. This felt too damn good, too right. This was her man. Hers. And she wanted this for the rest of her life, this friction of his loving, his cock making her feel alive, his smile to wake to every morning, his hands sending shock waves of pleasure through her body.

“Melissa. Oh, God, Melissa!” David increased his speed, his thrusts becoming hard and fast. He took her mouth in a rage of passion. His tongue invaded and conquered, his lips ate at her mouth. Breaking off, he took her shoulder in an open-mouth kiss, nipping and sucking.

Mel was so close, so very close. Every deep thrust rubbed her clit until she thought she would scream. Instead, she gasped in a breath, sure she would let go, not wanting to so that this would go on and on. His thrusts rocketed her to a state of mindlessness and she gave up all thought, surrendering to pure feelings.

About Dee:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Where to find her (them):

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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The curse (or joy) of Christmas catalogues #MFRWauthor

Anyone who’s ever ordered anything from a catalogue knows that once you have, you’ve condemned yourself to a lifetime of a mailbox filled that catalogue’s brethren, forevermore. It only takes one small, single purchase from even the most obscure catalogue and your name goes on every mailing list for all catalogues, big and small. It’s a racket, and you’re the sucker.

All that said, I love looking through Christmas catalogues. That’s when retailers pull out all the stops. Tee shirts have cute sayings on them, each page is alight with candles, fairy lights, flashing outdoor lights, flashing indoor lights, and so on. I love all those lights! I love looking at the beautiful sweaters and coats. I love seeing models standing in snow (because A) it’s not real, and B) I don’t have to stand in it) while they show off the latest winter footwear. Gifts, gifts, gifts! They’re so much fun to look at!!

Now, do I buy? Um… No. Not usually. It’s window shopping from my couch, in my bunny slippers. And, I love it.

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

How do you know it’s love? MFRWhooks

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt from Weighing Anchor:
“I don’t get here often, but I love Richmond.” Mel glanced at her watch. Her little fantasy of seeing him again was about to end. The rush of disappointment surprised her but no good could come of extending their time. He’d explained why he’d left as he had and she’d apologized for not giving him a chance to do so weeks ago. The man was like sex on a stick. He made her pussy clench and her nipples perk up for attention. If she stayed with him much longer, she’d fall back into bed with him, and she’d already experienced a turn on the wild side.

“It’s been fun seeing you again, David, but I have dinner reservations and have to get back to my hotel.”

The evening she’d originally looked forward to—dinner, a hot soak, reading and then settling into bed—alone—now held no appeal, but she’d meant it when she said she wasn’t available for a night’s sex just because they’d been thrown together again. They’d shared a very nice afternoon but now it was time to go back to her life and let him get back to his.

“Nooo,” he said. “You aren’t going to make me dine alone, are you?”

“I’m afraid so.” As soon as the thought occurred to her she tried to swallow it down but the words slipped out anyway. “I’m sure there are any number of girls available to keep a mad scientist like you from eating dinner alone. You wouldn’t even have to look very hard to find one.” She hated the very idea of his spending the evening with another woman but she had no strings on him.

His victorious grin was immediate and he backed her up against the side of the building beside large glass doors leading into the lobby. “I think you just said I was sexy.” One arm braced above her head and the other still at her waist, his breath fanned her cheeks. “Is that what you were saying, Mel?”

She tried and failed to stop her heart from racing. His eyes were the color of the dark chocolate of the cake they’d just eaten, and so heated and intense, it scorched her wherever his gaze landed. Points south heated, too. Keeping her voice from showing how much she wanted him to kiss her took all of her effort. “I’m sure some women would think so.” She tapped his chest with her index finger. “But don’t be vain.”

He chuckled and leaned impossible closer, his mouth to her ear. All of her defenses crumbled. The scent of him invaded her mind. She wanted to drown in him, wanted to consume him and have him consume her. She shivered with sudden need.

“Didn’t we already talk about the difference between us and college kids? There’s only one woman in this city, no, in this whole fucking state that I want to find me sexy, and I’m standing with her right now.”

He moved his hand from her waist up and over her arm and shoulder to sweep it under her hair. His lips nuzzled the tender skin beneath her ear. “Do you, Melissa? Do you find me sexy?”

It was so much like a pick up scenario. Oh baby, I only want you to find me sexy. Do ya? So cheesy. So lame. So damn intoxicating. If they hadn’t been steps away from the museum crowds, she would have ripped off his shirt and slid her leg up over his hip.

Time to end this. “You are delusional.”

He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “Too fast? No matter. I meant what I said. I know what I want. And you’re it, Mel.”

“You mean tonight.”

He studied her eyes. His gaze dropped to her lips and back up. She started to squirm under his inspection. “I mean at least for tonight. I have the whole weekend.”

“If you don’t get called away for ‘work’ again.”

He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Nothing is going to drag me away this weekend. How about you?”

“I came for the lectures and a weekend of relaxation.”

He smiled, showing his dimples, and her heart nearly stopped. “I know the best form of relaxation in the history of man.”

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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I’m for the sunshine #MFRWauthor

I should qualify that title. I’m for the sunshine, if I can watch it from behind a window. I’m not fussy about where that window is—could be in the house or in the car or a restaurant or… You get the idea. Suffice it to say, like Scarlett, I’ve always been one to watch my complexion. Why? Because I burn in nothing flat. Plus, I’m not much of an outdoors person. Plus 2, sunshine means bugs. Flying bugs, crawling bugs, all kinds of bugs. Nope. Not for me. But I am happy to open the blinds and curtains and “Let the sunshine. Let the sunshine in, the sunshine in!” (Courtesy of the 7th Dimension)

But I have to admit, if there ever were times that I would love being out in the sunshine, it is during the fall. My favorite season, it always seems as though the sky is bluer, the breezes brisker, and the sun most welcome during the autumn. Maybe because we know winter is coming? At any rate, being outside in September, October, or November is a treat. I’ll take the sunshine then, thanks very much!

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist
One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

Taking advantage of the sunshine #MFRWauthor

It’s a sunshiny day! What do you do?

After a cold and windy August, spring has arrived in Australia. Instead of waking up to gloomy dark mornings, the sun is now poking its head over the horizon before 6am. While our southern states are still waiting for some warmth, here in the Hunter Valley New South Wales, the early spring days have been lovely.

After the first cup of tea to kick start the day, my dog and I go for a walk to enjoy this new season and after such wonderful rain this year our gardens are in full bloom. I’ve been weeding, trimming and today I planted my first bougainvillea. Fingers crossed it will like where I put it and grow.

I’m not on my own enjoying these early sunshiny days, the native birds are taking full advantage as well. There have been flocks of white cockatoos screeching their heads off in the eucalyptus trees nearby and rosellas are busy gorging on the nectar in the bottlebrush trees. Its widely believed kookaburras laughing in the middle of the day means more rain on the way, but who knows, they could very well be laughing at us. However, farmers swear a large flock of black cockatoos means serious rain is on the way.
While the kookaburras and cockatoos forecasting skills have nothing to do with my plans for a sunshiny day, I thought I’d mention them because they make these days so much nicer.

The spring sunshiny days are my favourite for all too soon the intense heat of summer will be with us and when those sunny days hit 40+ degrees C the air conditioner is my best friend.

What do you think?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Jan Selbourne

Perilous Love
The Proposition
The Woman Behind the Mirror
Lies of Gold—Silver Historical for 2019: Coffee Pot Book Club

Secret baby? Well…maybe #MFRWHooks

Blurb:
Not your typical “secret baby” book! This Southern romance packs in the emotion.

Letters delivered decades late send shock waves through Sara Richards’s world. Nothing is the same, especially her memories of Paul, a man to whom she’d given her heart years before. Now, sharing her secrets and mending her mistakes of the past means putting her life back together while crossing burning bridges. It will be the hardest thing Sara’s ever done.

Buy link:

Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:
Sara stared at the letters arranged before her in numerical order. The moment in time she and Paul shared was long ago, yet her dream had conjured his presence as though she’d just seen him. In her mind, his blue eyes darkened with passion before his lips captured hers, and he moaned his appreciation when their tongues met. She tasted his sweetness and knew the steel of his arms as he held her. How many nights had she put herself through hell reliving those memories? Too damn many.

After the concert, they’d met clandestinely on weekends, mostly at Sandbridge, where they could walk and talk undisturbed. With each meeting, stirrings built deep in Sara that pushed her to want more, but Paul insisted they restrain themselves because of her age.

Then the weekend before he shipped out, she’d planned a surprise and her life changed forever.

The kettle screeched, bringing her back to the present. Sara prepared a cup of tea and then picked up the envelope marked twenty-eight. At one time, she would have given her right arm to hold this letter. Now, curiosity and the desire for a brief escape drove her more than the passion of youth. Blind love had faded when she’d had no word to bolster her during the long weeks after the ship left.

First had come the waiting. No letters arrived, even though she wrote him daily. There were no phone calls, no notes, no anything, for days that dragged into weeks then crept into months.

Anticipation morphed into anxiety. She worried he was sick or hurt and unable to write.

One day she admitted that Paul must be afraid to write for some reason, and she feared what he would say if she did receive a letter. That their time together had been a mistake, that she was too young to be in love. That he really loved someone else and Sara had been only a stand-in while he was in Virginia. Perversely, she began to sigh with relief when she arrived home and found no word.

Now, knowing why she hadn’t received mail, what would she feel if she opened this letter and her old fears proved to be true?

“Nothing,” she murmured. “Paul’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.” At the very least, his letters might allow her to put his ghost to rest. For that reason alone, she had to read them.

She slid her thumb under the flap and ripped the envelope open. A single sheet held his hurried scrawl.

Author Anne Krist:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

Anne Krist is the “sister” to erotic romance author Dee S. Knight. She is quieter, more reserved, and certainly more circumspect about S-E-X than her wild and crazy sibling. Thus she’s more comfortable writing sweet(er) romance, where there might be a few sensual scenes, but no more than that. One thing about Anne: she’s not more romantic than Dee. They both write in happily ever after and share the solid belief that love can last forever and beyond!

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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So many lies, so much gold #MFRWHooks

Blurb:
Silent, ruthless, protected by an unknown ally in Whitehall, he smuggles gold across the Channel to Bonaparte. When flimsy evidence points to the Essex coast, three men are given secret orders to find these traitors. One of those men, Julian Ashford, has his life transformed into debts and disgrace and sent back to Halton Hall, and Katherine the woman he loved and lost. What Julian discovers within the walls of his ancestral home is much deeper and more sinister than he thought possible, but nothing could prepare him for the betrayal when he finally faces the mastermind behind this sordid operation.

Buy links:
Amazon
Goodreads
B&N

Excerpt:
He turned the horse to the left and settled into an easy canter. They rounded a bend which he didn’t remember and a quarter of a mile ahead was the narrow road dividing the estate from the tenanted farms. He now knew where he was, but everything looked different. He reminded himself again that local scenery was the last thing on a twelve years old boy’s mind. When they came to the stream the horse dropped its head to drink and the first drops of rain fell.

“Christ, that’s all we need, a bloody soaking.” He’d have to ride back to where they’d emerged onto the grassy slope. His grandfather had shown good sense leasing his land but he’d made it plain he didn’t have to look at his lowly tenant farmers. Not only had he forbidden them to use the estate road, he’d ordered a wall be built along that end of his land. After strong protests, he grudgingly agreed to build a narrow apology of a road to meet the village road so they could take their produce to market. He’d then ordered them to show their gratitude by building a drystone wall on their side, to make it ‘visually pleasing’.

Julian vaguely remembered a gate in the estate wall and hoped he was right. The rain was falling in earnest as he urged the horse along the narrow, rutted road and almost missed it behind the thick ivy. Dismounting, he pushed aside the green blanket and swore. The gate was rusted and jammed. Remounting they continued and he shook his head in confusion. Ahead was another gate in the wall and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember it. He dismounted again, this gate was secured with a thick chain and lock on the inside. As he turned away a sliver of shiny metal in the wet earth caught his eye. Reaching down he picked up a small crucifix.

“What the hell?” he muttered then his eyes went to the lock. Despite the rain he had to try. His fingers reached through the bars of the gate to insert the long end of the crucifix into the lock and, concentrating intently, he moved it gently. “Oh, come on!” He eased it around the inside workings again and it suddenly gave way.

“Well done, you haven’t lost your touch,” he congratulated himself, led the horse through and locked it behind him.

The rain fell steadily as they approached a semi- circle of poplars and he tightened the reins. Ahead of him was the rear of the Dower House. His childhood home. Urging the horse through the poplars, he stared dumbfounded at the sagging, derelict building. Weeds and grass had almost taken over what remained of the small stone wall surrounding the house and the large pathway between the flower beds and rockeries had disappeared under a tangle of ground creepers and debris. A thick blanket of ivy had worked its way over most of the house and covered the chimneys. The glass had long gone from the gaping windows. The remains of the front portico were sagging and roof shingles lay scattered on the ground.

Julian remembered the Dower House was creaky, draughty and damp but this was a disgrace. Why hadn’t Charles ordered it knocked down? He led the horse to the crumbling remains of the stables and they stood huddled against the wall until the rain increased and the dripping from above became a stream. Pushing the horse further in, he ran to the house and pushed against the front door. After a protesting squeal of rusty hinges, the door gave way and scraped against the warped floorboards. He stepped into a large puddle on the hallway floor, peeling walls and the smell of decay.

“Christ, what a mess.”

The room on his right, once his mother’s sitting room, was littered with dead leaves and debris blown in through the gaping windows. Pushing open the door on the opposite side of the hallway, he stopped dead. Although the room was dark he could see straw mattresses covering most of the floor. His eyes adjusted to the gloom showing him a table covered with tin plates and mugs and beside the fireplace freshly cut wood was stacked. Boards now covered what was once the window. Feeling vulnerable without a weapon, Julian backed out into the hallway, paused, then walked to the bottom of the staircase. Looking up to the floor above shrouded in darkness, he continued through the narrow hallway leading to the servants’ quarters and kitchen.

The hairs lifted from the nape of his neck. Wood was stacked on both sides of the huge fireplace and black cooking pots hung from the iron crossbar in the chimney. He turned and walked swiftly back through the house and out to the crumbling stables. It could very well be smugglers or poachers using the derelict building but his instincts were screaming that it wasn’t. The rain showed no signs of abating so he remounted and guided the horse along the now overgrown carriageway between the avenue of dripping trees leading to the park and the warmth of Halton Hall stables. He’d return to the Dower House again tonight.

Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

Contact Jan:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com/JanSelbourne/index.html

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/JanSelbourne

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14661584.Jan_Selbourne?from_search=true

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jan-Selbourne/e/B0184OSZ6E/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/jan-selbourne-2817b6140/

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