The Last Finesse by Brian Bloom @BrianB_Aust

From Chapter 37

‘Gramps wasn’t around anymore. Successful industrialists don’t have time for their daughters. My mother had her hands full with the boys. Teenagers crave attention. That’s all I was doing. It turned out I was quite normal. I finally grew up. Sports were helpful.’

He was as intrigued with her as ever. ‘What kind of sports?’

‘Gymkhana horse riding, till I was 15, and then some board surfing, on the odd occasion, and then, more recently, board sailing. I love to be at one with nature.’ She flicked back her hair and looked up at the sun.

‘So,’ he said in response, ‘we both know how to ride a horse – that’s a start isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ I guess so, she replied, ‘but I’d rather play golf.’

‘I’d be delighted if you’d play with me,’ he stated enthusiastically. ‘What did you do when you were “finished” at that “finishing school” of yours?’

‘I’ve told you,’ she answered: ‘my old man wanted me “barefoot and pregnant” in the kitchen next door – he thought it was time I settled down. We had a hell of a fight, but I had Guido on my side, and my mother finally came to the party and supported me.

‘I enrolled in a journalism course at Texas U, in Austin. I did quite well. My old man finally acknowledged my existence by coming to my graduation ceremony. And then our relationship became an armed truce, when I “informed” him I’d decided to go out on my own.’ Using her index and middle fingers, she drew quotation marks in the air, around the word “informed”.

‘That wasn’t his idea of how a good Italian woman should conduct herself. I basically told him, “Go fuck yourself!”, but I used more diplomatic language – as they taught me at finishing school. He finally came to realise he’d been a failure as a father, and backed off. From time to time, he still dangles my trust fund in my face, in the hope he can make me see reason and live my life according to his paternal script.’

‘Right,’ Luke acknowledged. ‘And your mother?’

‘Mum died when I was 20, a week before my 21st-birthday party. That rug was also pulled out from under me, and it was the last straw, as far as I was concerned. That’s when I moved to San Francisco to start living my own life properly.

‘That’s also why I wanted to know your views about gay marriage. Like Sydney, San Fran’s got a large gay community, and I’m lucky enough to have a lot of gay friends.’

His ‘naughty streak’ surfaced again. ‘And if you come to live in Australia among the “large gays”?’

She smiled, but was clearly fixated on wrapping up her story. ‘Some of them might miss me.’

‘Did you struggle to get a job?’

‘No,’ she answered, ‘not really. A few doors were opened to me because I topped my class and was the daughter of Louis Marchetti.’

Luke imagined the opening doors, and indulged in a quick fantasy about banging his boys up against her open doors . . . ‘So,’ he remarked, ‘he wasn’t entirely a waste of rations . . . Hang on a second: did you just say you topped your class?’

She had a palpable air of relief that she’d finally told her story. ‘Look, Luke, he’s not really a bad guy; it’s just he’s been hanging on to his old values in the modern world. I’m convinced that somewhere deep inside him, he’s just as sad as I am that we don’t have a relationship. I’m his only daughter. Maybe, if you and I finally get together, it’ll serve as an ice breaker.’

‘You topped your class?’ he persisted.

‘Yes,’ she replied, with a trace of impatience. ‘So what?

He considered his next question. ‘Can I ask you something personal?’

‘Sure,’

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Genre - Conspiracy Thriller

Rating – MA (15+)

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Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone) by Michelle Rabe @michrabe

NEW ORLEANS SEP 4, 2009

The Assassin’s voice boomed through the closed double doors to the study for the fifth time since he’d entered the room with Morgan’s Blood Sons, almost five hours before.  Marcus cringed as the doors were flung open, and Nicholas strode out, rage radiating from every inch of his six–foot, four–inch frame. Storm–gray eyes landed on Marcus, narrowed to slits, and he stalked past, commanding him to follow with an imperious wave of his right hand. Not wanting to piss the Assassin off more, Marcus bit back a snide comment, and followed him up the sweeping staircase to the mansion’s upper floors.

“Damn it all to hell, Old Man!” Nicholas roared as he began pacing the landing at the top of the stairs. He wanted Marcus to throw himself against his temper to take the edge off.

Ye Gods, Marcus thought, we’ve done this more times than I’d care to count in the centuries we’ve known one another, but this is different. Well, something other than the fact that we’ve barely spoken a civil word to one another in almost two hundred years.

“I take it the boys couldn’t add anything to what we already knew. In spite of the almost five hour interrogation?” Marcus asked, fighting to rein in his own temper, leaning against the banister at the top of the stairs.

“Five hours?” Nicholas stopped moving. He turned to Marcus, meeting his eyes. The other vampire nodded.  “It was really that long?”

“Yes. What’s next, Assassin?” Marcus asked, letting some of the frustration he felt give his voice a hard edge. The last thing they needed right now was for Nicholas to go soft.

“We can’t do anything before the sun sets,” he said, after giving Marcus a long, appraising look.

He’s assessed my well–being and decided I’m not fit for the field. I’ve seen that look too many times before and know better than to argue with him, Marcus thought, trying to work out a logical counter argument.

“I haven’t slept.” Nicholas sighed. “You look like death warmed over and those two are rattled.” He nodded toward the room where he’d left the younger vampires.

“Fine.” Marcus nodded. “I took the liberty of having my staff get us some SUVs. If Morgan’s alive, she’s going to need fresh blood. We’re going to need the extra room.” Marcus was almost certain that he didn’t have to mention that, but the desperate look in Nicholas’s eyes led him to believe that there was no such thing as being too careful in this situation.

“She has to be alive, Marcus.”

“We’ll find her.” Marcus answered, feeling like an ass for lying. We both know that the odds suck. This could be nothing more than trying to find her body. Gods, whoever did this is going to pay.

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” the Assassin muttered, looking through Marcus. Nicholas’s mind was turning over what he knew, making connections and searching for others.

“How so?” Marcus asked, prompting Nicholas to think aloud, knowing it helped him make connections he otherwise missed, and it gave Marcus the opportunity to make a few as well.

“The security footage Danny sent over from the club’s parking lot shows Morgan and her attackers, but never their faces.”

“The club has cameras outside?”

“Apparently one of the human staff had some trouble right after the club opened. Morgan had them installed after that.”

“They could have scoped out the cameras. Not too difficult when you know what to look for,” Marcus muttered, his brows drawn together. “Why didn’t anyone see her being attacked, if it was caught on camera? Why are we just learning about this now? Just because she somehow jacked my mind and knocked me flat on my ever–loving ass.” Marcus’s words sped up as he continued, agitation given voice.

“The footage is stored on massive hard drives but not reviewed unless an incident is reported. Since no one reported her disappearance…” Nicholas’s voice trailed off.

“I have a feeling Morgan will be revising that policy when she returns.”

“If she returns.”

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Genre - Paranormal Urban Fantasy

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://paperbackvamp.tumblr.com/

Sebastiana Randone – Virtue Of The Adjective @sebasti29567440

Virtue Of The Adjective
In the same way that a palette replete of every colour imaginable, equips the artist with endless possibilities from which to capture flights of fancy, the adjective, in all its boundlessness, provides the writer with a lexical feast from which to express the vast spectrum of emotion.
Description, as clay for the sculptor, delineates and shapes characters and places. At times fantastical and wondrous, or harrowingly real and visceral. Were it not for the adjective, the reader could not connect emotionally with newfound friends, foes or lovers. Or walk down shadowy alley ways, scale craggy and dramatic moors, or drift into a hidden island where sought treasures lie hidden amongst predacious fauna.
Many adjectives came out to play in my book, The House.  This detailed approach was predicated by the need to evoke settings reminiscent of the 19^th century.  Later in the story, it is discovered that one of the characters penned this novel. Therefore in order to adhere to the integrity of the story, I adopted a pictorial writing style.
It was, at times, a challenging feat, that I cannot attest to having mastered. The process was vicissitudinous, as I ascended the heights of euphoria only to fall crashing down into a puddle of self doubt. I do however love the literary abandonment that poetic language affords one.
The difficulty in creating, often lie in the limitless number of choices. Where at times, monotones craft a discernible poignancy, whilst in other instances a strong commanding outline can be exhilarating when accompanied by a mosaic of colour and detail.
Despite past readers accustomed to language laden in adjectives, contemporary audiences have adopted and embraced a more economical approach to the art of expression.  Although not a long read, The House moves at a dizzying pace, and may require an occasional visit to the dictionary.  I imagine it is suited to those who have the time and freedom to go wandering into the past, on the way encountering a large cast of distinctive characters whose tribulations and attitudes are familiar to us all.
It is not a book that will appeal to those engaging in the technique of speed reading – that questionable practice which enables one to follow a narrative whilst washing over extraneous details.
Time poor as many are today, it is not surprising that very little space in one’s mental clutter exists for reflection, let alone to imbibe a long illuminative line of prose.
As with the ubiquitous car chase sequence prevalent in the modern day film, many mainstream readers now demand that the narrative moves quickly and cuts to the chase (no pun intended). Simply put descriptions that serve to convey the dramatic impetus and so propel the narrative.
Whilst The House, does indeed move at a brisk pace, it will however suit readers, who have the time to meander along a brook that ripples in rhythm with the lover’s caress; or to witness a tempest lay siege upon a bedevilled town, ringing in the vituperative howl of nature’s malcontent.
Whilst verbs present energy and movement, adjectives tend to stand still by portraying a portrait or landscape imagined by the writer. It is an intimate exchange that can often render the author vulnerable and exposed, particularly when the work is being analysed objectively.

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Genre - Historical, Fantasy, Romance

Rating - PG-16

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Fool for Love by Merry Farmer @MerryFarmer20

Chapter Four

The Majestic rose up out of the water in its Liverpool dock with all the glory of its name.  Amelia held one hand to her hat and stared at its iron sides, its two dun-colored funnels and three tall masts.  The ship was a strange thing to her, a mixture of old and new, progress with hints of the past.  It had sails that could be unfurled in a pinch, but with its powerful new engines, the ship could cross the ocean in a week.

Seven days to a new world.  It was an exact description of everything her life had become.  It was every bit as daunting.

“What am I doing?” Amelia whispered, staring at the hopeful monstrosity in front of her.  It was one thing to accept an offer for a new life.  It was another thing entirely to go through with it.

She turned away from the ship, swallowing the nausea that had plagued her since she’d left her mother’s house.  This time it wasn’t morning sickness.  That was long past.  At the moment, the baby was the least of her worries.  Her stomach rolled over the idea that she was about to board a ship heading for a new life at the mercy of a stranger, a man, no less.  The last time she had trusted her life and her future to a man had been a disaster.

She paced, purse clutched to her chest, scanning the busy dock in search of her American savior.  Men, women, and children crowded the gangplanks, eager to start their journeys, excited and hopeful.  Many of the third-class passengers carried bundles that indicated theirs was a one-way trip as much as hers was.  Eric had left her there to go buy her ticket, but there was nothing stopping him from running off and leaving her stranded.  Like her father.  Like Nick.  She was a fool to agree to this.  She pivoted and marched away from the ship.

No, she stopped herself after a handful of steps, this was the best decision she could have made.  She may have felt small and lonely standing by herself, waiting, heart and stomach fluttering, but she was as much a part of the intrepid adventurers seeking a new life in America as any of her fellow passengers.  This was right.

Maybe.

“Well, we got a minor problem on our hands.”

The twang of Eric’s accent shocked Amelia from her worries.  She spun to face him as he approached her with wide strides, scratching his head and looking as guilty as a schoolboy.

“A problem?” she asked, voice fluttering.

“Yeah.  I went to buy you a ticket, but they’re plumb sold out.”

Amelia’s chest tightened and her tender stomach lurched.  “Oh.  Oh dear.  Well I suppose….”

She lowered her eyes, heart aquiver.  As quickly as it started, her chance for a new life was over.  All that worrying for nothing.

She squared her shoulders to face her fate.  “I … I thank you for your efforts on my behalf regardless, Mr. Quinlan.”

Eric’s brow crinkled into a curious frown.  “Regardless?”

“I suppose I could find work here in Liverpool,” she explained.  “Surely there must be a shop somewhere that would look the other way from….”  She lowered her hand to the mound of her stomach.

Eric’s lips twitched.  The morning sunlight caught in his eyes.  “I didn’t want to have to put you in third-class, so I told them you were my wife.”

Amelia blinked.  “You what?”

“I told them we’re newlyweds.  I reserved my stateroom in first class last year when I came over.  Good thing I paid for it then too, ‘cuz after this fiasco of a trip I’ll never ride first-class again.  Anyhow, when they said they didn’t have any more rooms, I told them you were my wife and that we would be staying in the same stateroom.  They sold me a ticket for that.”  He handed her a fresh, clean ticket with her name written as ‘Mrs. Amelia Quinlan’.  “Sorry.”

Amelia held perfectly still on the outside, but on the inside her heart pounded and her stomach rolled with guilt for questioning him.  He wasn’t abandoning her.  He had gone out of his way to help her.  Her heart squeezed as it never had before.  She took the ticket from him with a trembling hand, hardly noticing when her fingers brushed his.  She was rescued after all.

“Thank you, Mr. Quinlan.  You have no idea how much this kindness means to me.”  She had to concentrate on breathing, standing straight, and looking up into his handsome eyes with a smile to keep her tears at bay.

“You don’t mind sharing then?” he asked her.

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Genre – Western Historical Romance

Rating – R

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Website http://merryfarmer.net

#Author Anne-Rae Vasquez on Writing, Life & Relaxing @write2film #Paranormal #Thriller #amongus

If you could have a dinner party and invite anyone dead or alive, who would you ask?.

I’d invite the unnamed seekers of truth out there… those who gave up their lives to fight for truth and justice.  In addition, I’d invite truth seekers: Aaron Swartz, Harry Fear, Cairn Rodrigues, author of Song of Soltice series, The Book Landers, Heromine Granger, Linus Pauling, and Gene Shoemaker.
And to entertain them, I’d invite John Lennon (my childhood hero), Johnny Depp (straight up good guy and actor), Jeffrey Dawson (good actor), Joshua Jackson (a Canadian actor) and Justin Timberlake and Jay Z (so that they can perform their hit song “Suit and Tie” for me and my kids).   Just realized that they all start with the letter J…. hmmm… coincidence?  My mother always told me that there are no such things as coincidences.

When you are not writing, how do you like to relax?

Watching back to back episodes of my favourite shows… Fringe, Turkish soap operas (yeah, read my last book to find out about that connection), Burn Notice, White Collar, 666 Park Avenue and more…

Do you have any tips on how writers can relax?

Buy your kids tons of games so that they can play quietly in their room.  Kidding!  Take time to spend time with your family.  Work is always there but your family may not be if you ignore them too much.

How often do you write? And what is the process?

I write in spurts.  Then I drag my developmental author into a room where she can rip it apart and massage it or punch me out.  Then we sit and rewrite it and then go through it again.  We let it sit and then visit it again and re-work, re-edit.  When we finally get to a point where we need more input, then we call on our beta readers and my critique partner to give us feedback. We have some that love it and some that hate it and then we go back and try to rework it again.  Finally when it is done, we send it off to professional editors to polish the book off.

Sometimes it’s so hard to keep at it - What keeps you going?

Artists just want to create and that is really all that keeps me going.

What’s your favorite meal?

Mediterranean food is my favourite kind of meals because I love the rich ethnic flavours and spices.

What color represents your personality the most?

Purple or magenta – my developmental editor says that colours have meanings that describe a person’s personality. She just read to me what Purple and Magenta mean and I was a bit surprised at how accurate it was.

If you could do any job in the world what would you do?

I would be a film maker and author.

What are you most passionate about? What gets you fired up?

I’m passionate about being creative.

Are you a city slicker or a country lover?

City slicker. Born and raised.

What’s your next project?

Book 2 of the Among Us Trilogy… and my developmental editor is bugging me to get started.

What would you love to produce in your life?

A TV series like Fringe or more feature films.

How important are friends in your life?

Extremely important but I can count on one hand who my true friends are.

Do you find the time to read?

Always… and I try to squeeze reading in between even the writing.  It is a my way to escape for a few minutes into another world and sometimes I find that a good book can jump start my creative juices.

What is your favorite quote, by whom, and why?

Quote by me:  Writing is emotional. It is baring your soul to the world and waiting for someone to acknowledge and love it, or shun and hate it, or worse be indifferent about it. --- Anne-Rae Vasquez

What’s your favorite place in the entire world?

Vancouver, BC, Canada is the best place in the world. If you have never visited, you should. Enough said.

How has your upbringing influenced your writing?

As you can see I inject a lot of culture in my stories no matter what the genre. I come from a mixed background and witnessed many clashes between both sides of the family especially from the different cultural traditions and way of life. I like to throw my characters into situations where they have to overcome cultural differences to achieve their goals.

How long have you been writing?

I’ve been writing for four decades since I was old enough to hold a pencil.

Did writing this book teach you anything and what was it?

I usually write by myself but I learned that being the Lone Ranger is not the best way to write. Thankfully, when I was writing Doubt, I had my developmental editor by my side. It was mostly a collaboration of minds, although we frequently butted heads. But the outcome, once we ironed things out, was pure magic.  In addition, my team of beta readers participated in missions (in the theme of the book) and also provided further feedback of each chapter. I also worked with my critique partner who helped shake up the story and make it richer.  Finally, the manuscript went through two copy and proof editors to refine the work and polish off the writing.

Do you love shows like J.J. Abrams' Fringe and read books like Cassandra Clare's City of Bones?

"Doubt" mashes fringe science, corporate espionage and paranormal encounters to catapult you into an out-of-this-world experience.

At 21 years old, Harry and Cristal are fresh out of university with their PhD's. Labeled all their lives as being 'weird' and 'geeky', they find true friendships with other outcasts by playing online virtual reality games.

Harry Doubt, a genius programmer and creator of the popular online game 'Truth Seekers', has a personal mission of his own; to find his mother who went mysteriously missing while volunteering on a peacekeeping mission in Palestine. His gaming friends and followers inadvertently join in helping him find her; believing that they are on missions to find out what has happened to their own missing loved ones. During Harry's missions, Cristal and the team of 'Truth Seekers' stumble upon things that make them doubt the reality of their own lives. As they get closer to the truth, they realize that there are spiritual forces among them both good and evil, but in learning this, they activate a chain of events that start the beginning of the 'end of the world' as they know it.

Doubt is Book 1 of the Among Us Trilogy. Among Us is a book series which delves into the world of the supernatural and how it intersects with the everyday lives of seemingly ordinary young people as catastrophic events on earth lead to the end of times. Among Us weaves the theme of a young man and woman, who while not fully understanding their 'abilities', are drawn together in their desire to find out the truth about the world they live in which is similar to themes used in J.J. Abrams' TV shows Fringe and Lost.

What readers have to say...

As a big fan of the show Fringe, this book appealed to me tremendously. The writing was well done, and the way the "supernatural" forces were introduced was great.

A good, clean read for any age.

It was an excellent story that I'm sure both adult and teen urban fantasy fans will enjoy. You don't have to be a gamer or know one to identify with the characters. They're very well developed and definitely feel like people. I would definitely recommend it to a friend and I'm really looking forward to the second book.

...the novel is written in such a languid style, it moves on effortlessly and absorbs the reader into the story completely. Although the story itself revolves around the online gaming industry, one does not have to have an in depth knowledge as it is ably explained and discussed within the plot line.
OMGosh! I just finished reading "Doubt" INCREDIBLE! I couldn't put it down.

˃˃˃ >>> Depth and Substance mashed up with Fringe Science. Will entertain young and old alike.

This book is intended for mature young adults and new adults. Ages 16 to 45 +

˃˃˃ >>Inspired by real Truth Seekers Aaron Swartz and Harry Fear

The main character Harry Doubt was inspired by Aaron Swartz, internet prodigy and activist, co-founder of the Creative Commons and Reddit, and Harry Fear, journalist, documentary filmmaker and activist whose coverage of the conflict in the Middle East was seen on UStream by millions of viewers.

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Genre - Young Adult, Paranormal, Science Fiction, Thriller

Rating – G

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Website http://amongus.ca

Superhuman Nature by Brandon Overall #SciFi #Excerpt #AmReading

The guard behind him tried to hit Neil in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle, but he felt nothing from the blow.  Anger consumed him.  The guard had shot Sung in cold blood.  There was no arrest, no trial, and no judge.  He didn’t deserve any mercy, and Neil wasn’t going to give him any.

Neil lifted the guard off of the ground several feet and slammed him hard onto the pavement.  The distinct sound of snapping bones would have made anyone cringe, but Neil did not have enough humanity left to care.  The guard behind Neil yelled something, but he wasn’t paying any attention.  The guard was raised into the air again, and slammed down once more.  Every time Neil slammed the guard down, the bones disintegrated under the immense force.  The guard screamed in agony.

The guard behind Neil fired several shots from his AK-47 into Neil’s back, but his body reacted automatically to the threat.  The bullets bounced off of his back like nerf darts.  Neil was still too focused on the guard that he was repeatedly slamming into the ground to worry about the crushed projectiles falling to the ground behind him.

As the guard lay bleeding and broken on the ground, Neil walked up to him slowly.  He could see the fear and pain in his eyes.  He cried, knowing what was going to happen to him.  The guard behind Neil was still firing, but it didn’t distract Neil from what he was about to do.  He raised his foot above the guard’s head, and brought it down, again and again.  He was gurgling and blood poured out of his mouth.  He stopped crying.

Neil turned around to focus his attention on the guard that had been shooting him in the back.  At the sight of the gruesome execution before him, the guard dropped his rifle and sprinted away, trying to escape.  He didn’t get far.  Neil severed his Achilles tendon, and he tumbled face first into the ground.  He screamed as the tendon shot up into his body like a rubber band.  He was completely helpless, as his calf muscles were no longer attached to his foot.

The man desperately tried crawling away.  He was crying as he chanted something while inching forward, pulling his body along the road with his hands.  Neil didn’t have to speak Korean to know what a prayer sounded like.  As he approached the man, Neil’s shadow loomed over him, blocking the last sunlight he would ever feel.

Neil slowly and deliberately pulled on each limb of his body.  The muscles stretched, the tendons began to tear, and a soft pop could be heard as the joints at the shoulders and hips separated.  He shrieked with pain, but his suffering wasn’t over.  The skin connecting each limb stretched several inches without giving way.

Pools of blood began to form inside his body where the internal arteries were severed.  Finally, the skin couldn’t stretch any more, and it tore.  The pooled blood spilled out onto the ground.  With each beat of his struggling heart, a line of crimson shot out of each severed artery where a limb was supposed to be connected.  The beats became slower as the life drained from his body.  The screams turned into soft moans.  Finally, the noise stopped, and the blood stopped pouring.

Superhuman Nature is Brandon Overall's first novel. It was written and published during his first deployment to Afghanistan as a 2nd Lieutenant in late 2013.

Neil Hitchens was a senior ROTC Cadet in college. He was just weeks away from graduating and becoming an Officer in the United States Army, until a strange dream set off a chain of events that would twist his life into something he could have never prepared for.

In the days following his dream, several strange happenings occurred that he began to suspect were the result of his own actions. Before long, he discovered that he had the ability to control the world around him with his mind.

What started out as an unpredictable ability quickly evolved into an extraordinary power that had the capacity to change the world. It didn't take long for the government to find out what Neil could do.

They knew having such limitless potential on the side of the US Military could give them limitless political influence, and they would stop at nothing to get Neil to do their bidding. They would find out what happens when you back a dangerous animal into a corner.

Neil spent his whole life believing he would amount to greatness, but he never expected how greatness could corrupt even the most innocent of minds.

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Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – PG-13

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#Author Amy L. Gale Shares Her Favorite Reads Throughout the Years @Amyg618 #Romance #TBR

From the day I was born, books have been an important part of my life. My mother loves to remind me that the first item in my nursery was a bookshelf filled with Little Golden Books. As an infant, she rocked me to bed while reading The Poky Little Puppy. Maybe these books helped develop my love for animals.

As I grew older, I would leaf through the pages of my Little Golden Book until I was old enough to read them. Once that day arrived, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped. My favorite book when I was in kindergarten was Tawny Scrawny Lion. I didn’t leave the house without it in my book bag. I have to admit, every once in a while I still pull it out and sink into my rocking chair for a trip down memory lane.

Of course our tastes change all the time throughout childhood, and when I was in grade school I couldn’t get enough of Amelia Bedelia and her silly antics. When I hit the third grade I was introduced to another author whose books prepared me for the turbulent whirlwind also known as adolescence. Yep, I’m talking about Judy Blume. I started the Judy Blume experience with Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing and quickly moved onto Are You There God it’s Me Margaret? So many of the questions and emotions I was going through at the time were depicted in these books and they’ve helped me through some trying times.

Once high school hit I was all about hauntings and tales of the supernatural. I think I’ve read almost all of Stephen King’s books, and some of them were pretty graphic. Maybe the flashlight hidden under my pillow wasn’t only there to read after bedtime. Hey, bringing a book to life is the fun part. Everyone likes a good scare every once in a while.

In my college days, I didn’t get to read for pleasure as much as I would’ve liked. My reading consisted mostly of text books and medical journals, but when I had some down time there was nothing better than losing myself in a romance novel. I flipped through the pages, praying that love could conquer all and there would be a happy ending. I’ve never stopped that habit.

Now, I mainly read and write romance novels. My favorite genres are new adult and contemporary, but I like to throw in a few erotic romance novels and paranormal romances every once in a while to spice things up. I loved my college days and find myself creating characters who are about to enter college, in college, or just graduated college. Most of us will or have experienced some type of intense love connection during these years and there’s nothing more amazing than finding your soul mate. I try to capture that passion and excitement in my writing and always find a way to entwine another passion of mine, music, into the mix.

Sometimes love is more than tragedy or bliss.

Ambitious 22-year-old Lexie Waters is intent on taking the advertising world by storm. When she’s offered the soon to be open position she’s been vying for at a swanky advertising agency, there’s only one last summer separating her from dreams of corporate success. Still bitter from catching her boyfriend cheating, she heads out for a night of fun to see her favorite band, Devil’s Garden, but fun turns into utter embarrassment when she insults the enticingly confident lead singer, Van Sinclair. 

Van is intrigued by Lexie’s ability to resist his charm and secretly obtains her cell number. Shocked but eager to get to know this captivating rocker, Lexie accepts Van’s invitation to see his next show, which requires an overnight stay. The overwhelming feelings that follow take them both by surprise, and with two months left before starting her sought after new position, Lexie joins the tour. As she’s catapulted into the world of groupies and wild parties, she questions Van’s commitment to her. So what happens at summer’s end when time runs out?

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Genre - Contemporary Romance

Rating – R

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Website www.authoramygale.com