Witchy Woman - Erotic Paranormal Romance - NEW Release - Witch - Vampire - Blood Slave - Tina Donahue Monthly Newsmagazine #EroticParanormalRomance #BloodSlave #Giveaways #EyeCandy

NEW RELEASE!

Witchy Woman

(Vampire Quest Book 1)

Amazon Preorder

(Releases Feb 7)

A witch who's ditched sorcery...

A down-on-his-luck vampire...

One fateful encounter between them

that could be pure magic.

Erotic Paranormal Romance

Blood Slave

Las Vegas

Unexpected Lovers

Switched Powers

Bored with getting whatever she wants whenever she wants it, Wren’s now earning things the mortal way—through hard work… specifically erotic dancing.

As a newly turned vampire, Roman dreads eternity until he chances upon Wren at a Las Vegas strip club during her nightly show.

Desire sparks. Lips meet.

Trouble brews from the vamp who turned Roman, and also from the vile warlock who’s determined to make Wren his…forcing her and Roman to battle dark magic and blood lust to turn a disturbing future into their shared paradise.

As they embark on their Vampire Quest.

TEASERS

Excerpt from Chapter One:

WREN

My mother thinks I’m nuts. My relatives avoid me like the plague. Buddies I’ve had since forever have mostly turned their backs on me.

Why?

Because I’ve chosen the one thing no self-respecting witch has ever done to my knowledge… I’ve turned my back on magic.

The bus I’m on lumbers toward my place of employment, a Las Vegas strip club. I want to try things the mortal way for a change. However, that doesn’t mean I’m shy. Besides, stripping is one of the few things I can do without any advanced training, which I never had to take because I am a witch. Damn, fate really screwed me for the real world.

Bummed, I sag in my seat. Despite my attire—calling the scant stuff I wear a costume is being generous—no one on this bus notices my near nudity. Their attention remains glued to their phones, their gazes vacant.

Except for the bus driver.

He regards me in the rearview mirror then slowly drags his tongue over his thick lips and grins.

Ew.

I suppress a shudder and give him the finger instead. If that doesn’t get his eyes back on the road, I’ll twist his head around until it’s facing me, permanently.

He gets the hint and concentrates on his driving.

I blow out a relieved breath and make it to my stop without further incident.

The outside air is balmy, the sky splashed with glittering stars. Hard bass pumps from inside the club. Ready to boogie, I grab the handle for the staff entrance but don’t open the door.

For some reason I can’t.

Expectation floods me as it never has. My skin tingles and my breath catches…as if something exciting and new is going to happen tonight.

An event that might totally change my entire existence.

 

ROMAN

Let’s get something straight from the get-go. For those mortals seeking eternal youth and a never-ending life, thanks to Botox, exercise, or selling their souls to Satan—which is fucking hardcore and stupid—I have one thing to report.

Immortality sucks. Being a vampire blows. Big-time.

I slump in my chair, overwhelmed by an endless future I never asked for and don’t want. Being a mortal with a sell-by date on my existence was fine with me, no matter what anyone else prefers. Different strokes, I say. Despite my liberal attitude toward existence, did I get what I wanted even though I was minding my own damn business?

Hell no.

I gulp whiskey faster than I ever guzzled water. Unfortunately, the booze has the same effect on me. Rather than a pleasant buzz I came to expect as a mortal, I now experience nada, zilch, zero.

Yet I keep drinking, hoping for the best when only blood will ease my craving.

I am so screwed.

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A Valentine

What is a Valentine if not a message to the heart filled with love. Burning Bridges offers many different versions of love: a mother to a daughter, a daughter to a mother, friends, old and new, and most importantly, the love for a lost passion. For Sara Richards, is the passion she felt as a teenager for Paul Steinert gone forever, or against all odds, can it be rekindled? Burning bridges are a bitch to rebuild. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be.

I hope you see Burning Bridges as the Valentine it’s meant to be!

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

Consider the role of strangers in our lives. An unknown postman in Virginia hides a bag of mail one day. His simple action set in motion untold consequences for many others—strangers—all over the country. How many bridges were burned in that forgotten mail pouch?

Sara Richards’s world is rocked when three love letters from 1970 are delivered decades late. The letters were written by Paul Steinert, a young sailor who took her innocence with whispered words of love and promises of forever before leaving for Vietnam. Sara is left behind, broken hearted and secretly pregnant, yearning for letters she never received.

Then Paul died.

Now, years later, she discovers the betrayal wasn’t Paul’s, when her mother confesses to a sin that changed their lives forever. How can Sara reveal to Paul’s parents that they have a granddaughter they’ve missed the chance to know? Even worse, how will she find the words to tell her daughter that she’s lived her life in the shadow of a lie?

Picking her way through the minefields of secrets, distrust, and betrayal, Sara finds that putting her life together again while crossing burning bridges will be the hardest thing she’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.

 Reviews:

"I loved it! And now my daughter's reading it." Sherry, a reader

 "I just finished reading BURNING BRIDGES. Thank you for writing such a powerful story about how real love can overcome all obstacles… How nice that characters of middle age were written as attractive and sexual human beings." A reader, Virginia

"I give Burning Bridges 6 stars out of 5!! A true love story...I'm ready for more." - A reader, Byron, TaylorMade Bod

 "I loved it, just loved it! I was going to take it with me on vacation but I started reading and didn't want to stop. It was addictive." - Chiara, a reader

"Loved it. Just loved it." - Beverly, a Beaufort reader

Winner! Coffee Pot Book Club awarded Burning Bridges the Gold Medal for Best Romance 2020!

A little about me:
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.

Author links:

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

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

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

 

Taken by the Lady of the Lake by @meganslayer #outnow #romance #paranormal @changelingpress

 

Taken by the Lady of the Lake (Taken 12)

A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Novel

Author: Megan Slayer

Cover Art: Bryan Keller

BIN: 011758-03831

Genres: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Urban Fantasy

Themes: 2nd Chance Romance, Capture Fantasy, Elves /Dragons /Magical Creatures, Magic /Sorcery /Witchcraft, Murder Mystery, Shapeshifters

Series: Taken (#12)

Book Length: Novel

Page Count: 112

Price: $4.99   $4.24

https://www.changelingpress.com/taken-by-the-lady-of-the-lake-taken-12-b-3831

She’s an urban legend. He’s adrift. With a little magic, they’ll discover their fates are entwined.

Amanda Fortune never expected to be left in the lake, but after her murder and subsequent dumping, that’s exactly where she is. She’s become an urban legend, her ghost seen only by a very few. She longs to have a second chance at life, but that’s not possible when you’re dead. Is it?

With the right circumstances, anything is possible.

Sawyer Gibson doesn’t know what he’s meant to do in life. He has abilities to read the Fates, but his talents aren’t needed in the town of Eerie. Everyone here has magic. He’s nothing special. But Aunt Chloe is dying, and she knows more than Sawyer ever thought possible. Amanda is -- was -- her best friend. So Aunt Chloe sends Sawyer on a chase to find Amanda’s killer.

But Amanda’s a myth. A ghost. And ghosts can’t be seen, right?

The moment Sawyer lays eyes on Amanda, he’s smitten. There’s the tiny problem of her being a ghost… but that detail won’t stop Sawyer, even if someone else thinks it will.

Snowedin with a Good Series

Like most of the eastern United States I’ve spent the last few weeks buried in ice and snow. Thankfully we never lost power, or had to deal with any major consequences of the storm, like house damage or frozen pipes. Instead we got a few extra days at home, cuddled up against the cold and world outside.

And like many others affected by this massive storm, I wanted to spend those days reading. But instead of reading a new book, and exploring a new world, nothing says comfort to me, like reading a great book I already know I love. So I thought I’d share my favorite series to reread. If I’ve had a bad day, need a pick me up, or just wants to escape, these series will give me exactly what I need.

Tessa Dare’s Spindle Cove series is my ultimate comfort read. I stumbled upon the series almost two decades ago and I don’t think I’ve gone a year since without reading one of these books. The stories take place in a quiet town in regency England where upper class women can go to hide from the prying eyes of the ton. Everyone of the women that inhabit this world are strong, and unique, and I can’t help loving everyone of them.

Just thinking about Meghan March’s, Mount Trilogy has my heart all fluttery. I’m not sure there is a hero written that I love more than Lachlan Mount. He’s everything I love in a hero. He’s spent years alone. He cares deeply. He lives by his own code, to protect and defend those that need it. And he’s willing to do anything (and I do mean anything) for his woman. He’s definitely on the darker side, but that only makes it all the sweeter what he is willing to do for love. Whenever I need a pick me up, I always turn to this series, especially the twist at the end of book one.

Just like Spindle cover, The Brother’s Sinister Series by Courtney Milan shows a different side of historical romance by focusing on stories of women who are strong, complete, with their own interests and desires beyond marriage, whether that be chess or science or newspaper editing. Not a spicy as most of the other books on list, the stories that Courtney creates are amazing. And also show such a different side of history than we are used to seeing in romance, from interracial couples, to medical practices, the trauma of war and mental health disorders.

The Bishop Landing books are exactly the kind of books I love to escape into. They are exciting, filled with the uber wealthy that live by their own set of rules, and are sexy as hell. I love all the Morrelli’s, but the Beast of Bishop Landing are my favorite of the series. Maybe it’s the beauty and the beast retelling aspect, maybe it’s the bookish heroine, or the sexy scene in a library, but whatever the reason, this is always one of the series I turn to when an escape from real life. Which let’s be honest, I’ve needed a lot lately.

I love to read new books. To explore new worlds, new characters and new stories. But sometimes you just need a nice comforting read to escape into. A world you know, a story you know will satisfy everything you are looking for. And I can’t think of a better time to indulge in one of those worlds than trapped at home in the snowstorm.

So what are your comfort reads? Any books you keep coming back to over and over?

Love- under the snow #RomanceNovels #Writing #LoveStories

Another winter snowstorm completely covered my little area of the world in a sparkly blanket. The air after a snowstorm looks cleaner, more breathable. Everything feels lighter and brighter. My little house in the forest looks like a gingerbread cottage where dessert is always baking in the oven while everybody knits quietly in a rocking chair by a roaring fire. And that image is definitely a lie.

When the snow melts, we see truths about what’s hidden underneath. Sometimes, what’s under the surface of sparkle and shine is more beautiful, more lasting than one could have ever realized. My house that looks like a gingerbread cottage is rarely quiet, but the joyful noise and wonderful chaos of four people and three pets living inside the walls is a different reality entirely than the image projected of a quiet, gently charming house full of settled, stillness.

The beginnings of love stories are a lot like a town after a snowstorm— we see the mask of snow, the sparkle of light reflecting. The surface is just the beginning. As the snow melts, the hidden parts begin to show through. Similarly, as characters learn more about one another, strengths, weaknesses, fears, wants and wishes begin to shine through the exterior.

I enjoy writing the journey to the deeper parts of characters, the parts where they see beyond the pretty masks, beyond the cultivated image, and straight into the depths. The journey to a deeper, more enduring love— where someone sees the darker, deeper parts of the person they’re falling for and finds they like the truth even better— is one of my favorite aspects of writing in the romance genre.  

What I’m currently working on:

These past couple of weeks, I’ve been writing the last few chapters of steamy, paranormal romance, Hawk’s Heart. This will be Jordan and Luke’s story, and the very last book in my Stranger Creatures series. Each book in the series features a different couple in their fight for a happily-ever-after. I’ve also been working on a couple of romantasy novellas featuring women in their forties navigating unexpected new paths in life, as well as writing poetry and learning the how to write flash fiction.

You can visit my amazon author page for buy links and to learn more about the books in my Stranger Creatures series and my Haven Forest Resort series (also available at other e-book sellers like Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, iBooks, Google Books, and Kobo).

Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Christina-Lynn-Lambert/e/B01MCYK0K7

If you’d like to follow me on social media for my latest book information and excerpts, poems, contest info, book recommendations, and other fun stuff, you can find me at:

BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/christina-lynn-lambert

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15900423.Christina_Lynn_Lambert

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/christinalynnlambert

Wordpress: https://christinalynnlambertwordpress.com

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/cllambauthor.bsky.social

What's In Your Playpen?

 

Every writer has a special place where they rendezvous with their muse. Some find inspiration by writing at their favorite coffee bistro. Some may seek it under a shady tree in the park, surrounded by nature’s glory. Others might opt for the comfort of their bed, where they can sit cross-legged with their keyboards and pound out sultry tales while nibbling on bon-bons and sipping wine. 

 

My own creative space is a small bedroom that I converted into a home office. When people visit, they often mistake it for Fred Sanford’s junk yard, but everything in there has a purpose. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I have an old desk that’s been in my family for years, with stacks of papers and Post-it notes that I’m sure were important once upon a time. There are also the requisite kitschy items I picked up here and there, like souvenir ashtrays and pen holders. The walls around it are adorned with posters from some of my favorite movies, along with awards I’ve won and obscure artwork that I found interesting. Another wall is decorated by some of my book covers in frames.

There’s a bookcase filled with old paperbacks I’ve collected but just can’t part with. They include the complete works of Mickey Spillane, Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, and Ian Fleming. I have reference books, such as The KISS Guide to the Kama Sutra, an English-to-Spanish dictionary, Roget’s Thesaurus, The People’s Almanac, and Romance Writing for Dummies. I didn’t say I had all the answers. There’s also a dog-eared copy of The Godfather that I’ve read so many times, the pages are falling out. 

 

Research is important when you write atmospheric thrillers set in exotic locations, and I strive for accuracy. I have a credenza with things I’ve brought back from my travels, like photo albums, maps, tourist brochures, and copies of local newspapers. I often refer to these things when I’m trying to set a mood or accurately describe a location. If I’m writing about a sunset over the Florida Bay, it helps to look at some of the pics I took for inspiration. The maps and brochures are invaluable when I want to feature a landmark, but can’t remember exactly what it looks like.

 

Earlier, I mentioned my collection of paperbacks. A few years ago, I found some at a yard sale that were written in the early 1960’s. These were the ones you’d find on a rack in the drug store that sold for 25 or 50 cents. Can you imagine the royalties on a book that goes for half a buck? No wonder the writers were called starving artists! I read some of these steamy potboilers to get a sense of what people were into back then, when censorship was being challenged. The titles alone were enough to push boundaries. They include such classics as Station Wagon Wives, Nude in the Mirror, Nude in the Sand (probably a sequel), Suburban Sin, Strip the Town Naked, Country Club Hussies, and The Lady is a Lush. That last one sounds like a Sinatra tune. 

 

And the tag lines they used to entice readers! Get a load of these:

 

“The shocking portrait of a pretty wife who fell victim to the soft and corrupt passions of another woman.”

 

“She showed men the way—the wrong way!”

 

“A novel of women who trade husbands, of men who borrow wives!”

 

“The full, terrifying story of a woman trapped by the desperate demands of her body.”

 

“A man, a woman, and a bottle. John and Mary sought escape through alcohol and sexual excesses.”

 

“Sex and savagery in the advertising jungle.”

 

“They knew each other’s bodies—but not each other’s names!”

 

These books would be politically incorrect today, and I’m not advocating for a return to this type of storytelling. If there was a woman’s point of view in any of them, I missed it. These were clearly written for the suburban Martini crowd, and the folks who populated Doris Day/Rock Hudson movies, or episodes of Mad Men. I doubt that Harriet Nelson read any of these, but Ozzie probably enjoyed a chapter or two while she was at the PTA meetings.

 

As a bonus, here’s a pic of me visiting one of Ernest Hemingway’s writing spots, on board his fishing boat, the Pilar. I thought I might get a bolt of inspiration from sitting at his desk with his typewriter, but no such luck.

So…what’s in your playpen? 

 

 Tim Smith is an award-winning bestselling author of romantic mystery/thrillers and rom/coms. His author page is AllAuthor.com. 

       

       

Focus, Productivity, and Squirrel Brain

 

 

Image by Annette Meyer from Pixabay

I wrote this piece for an online EDA (Eating Disorders Anonymous) recovery meeting. I thought it was pertinent to the struggles that some writers, particularly those of us who are neurodivergent, experience.

Called Out!

Prompt 1

Reflections on Recovery by EDA Members, May 19, page 151

Early in recovery, I was busy doing many things at once, constantly interrupting and distracting myself. I would take on too much and then be hard on myself for not being able to do it all. I felt hopeless and discouraged. The suggestion to do one thing at a time was new and eye opening to me.

I certainly feel called out by this prompt! I have spent my entire life doing too many things at once, taking on too many projects, then crashing, burning, and hating myself because I couldn't keep up with the impossible goals I had set for myself. 

I don't know if I'll ever be able to focus on just one project. I have ADHD. I can focus on one project for a time, but having only one goal will lead me to becoming unsettled. Best to work with my nature rather than going entirely against it. 

I watched a brilliant video last night about the nature of the ADHD mind. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-ecZKkYFR

The title of the video is Good Enough Beats Perfect When You’re Neurodivergent. I think this is true for everybody, but those of us who are neurodivergent tend to have been shamed for being distractible and having difficulty focusing. At this point I think the way people who are neurodivergent are treated is akin to the way left-handed people used to be treated. Punitive techniques are used to try to turn us "normal." 

I'm an early member of gen-x. One of the first, in fact. I was born February 15, 1965. I've been punished for my distractability, oddball sleep patterns, and nervous energy from the time I was born, literally. My mother told me I was a terrible baby who never slept more than two hours at a time. When I was eighteen months old, a real schmuck of a pediatrician prescribed me phenobarbital because of my noncompliant sleep patterns. As I tend to do with psych medications, I had a paradoxical reaction to this wildly inappropriate prescription. I was awake for three days straight.

The number of people who have defended this pediatrician's actions when I tell this story never ceases to amaze me. How do you justify giving hard drugs to a toddler?

Prompt 2

Reflections on Recovery from EDA Members, May 19, page 151

… doing one thing at a time brings me clarity and peace. I don't feel frantic or rushed when I am doing one thing at a time. Instead, I feel capable and secure. Doing one thing at a time slows my thoughts and helps me remain in the moment. This is important, because wisdom, love and hope exist only in the moment. I get to be here, right now, and experience all the benefits of recovery, by doing one thing at a time.

https://odysee.com/@flowingwaters:7/hRjWTuO5hZI__10h_gentle_forest_stream_sounds_in_4k_calm_water_ambience_for_study_focus:4?r=GTwnGJ4fFBQfzuJgpHVpfKBKaC9b8B16

Forest stream sounds to calm the anxiety.

I'm learning how to focus on one thing at a time, but the ability to do this has taken a long time, and it isn't like anyone ever helped me learn to do so. Certainly, people have tried to train me to focus by shaming and threatening me. This isn't teaching, it's only enforcing compliance. If these people got what they wanted, that's all they cared about. My well-being was never a consideration.

I liked learning but I hated school. For me, school was a place where I was shown that I didn't belong, both by the classmates who bullied me in one way and the teachers who bullied me in another. I was less likely to be bullied in classes that relied on creativity. I was actually a good reader. My dyslexia tends to impact me more with directions and numbers than with words. I will sometimes discover that I've been seeing a word wrong, but often I'm able to figure things out from context. I'm also reasonably competent with spelling. 

I have no internal sense of direction. By this time, I've learned what the directions are from my house. I was in my fifties when I discovered the clever mnemonic, Never Eat Shredded Wheat. I actually like shredded wheat, but this little phrase isn't really about the drawbacks of shredded wheat. It's about understanding directions when you have no sense of direction. 

I know which way each direction is from my house. So, if I was sitting in a hovercraft in front of my house, I could fly it to Cheyenne by turning it around 180 degrees and going north. If I wanted to fly it to Denver, on the other hand, I would just go straight ahead. I could go to Fort Collins by turning it to the right and to Sydney, Nebraska by turning it to the left--wait, scratch that! Other way! Agh! No! I had it right the first time!

Whoops, got off track there, didn't I? That's the squirrel brain for ya!

 naughtynetherworldpress.substack.com

https://bit.ly/ReadersRoost