Floats The Dark Shadow by Yves Fey @YvesFey

Excerpt from Deleted Chapter at a strange Paris shop.  Fun, but it didn’t further the mystery enough.

Dark gleaming eyes watched her.

Black lips parted to show fearsome fangs.

Mesmerized, Theodora stared at the snarling leopard crouched and ready to spring.

Laughter erupted nearby.  Paused on the threshold, Theo fought the answering smile that quivered at the edge of her lips.  Instead, she pressed one hand to her heart, the other to her brow, and faux swooned against the doorjamb.  “Save me.  I will be devoured.”

“Save you from such a unique death?”  Paul exclaimed.  “Never!”

“Indeed, what poet would spare you such a devastatingly delicious experience?” Casimir  inquired.

“Delicious for the leopard,” Theo scoffed, stepping into Deyrolle’s taxidermist shop.  Underneath bowls of potpourri exuding rosemary, lemon, and lavender, she breathed a musty aroma of fur and feathers, a hint of chemicals.  Kneeling in front of the leopard, she felt its sharp fangs and stroked its rough, spotted pelt.  She wished she could feel the muscle ripple beneath the hide.  How wonderful that would be—to stroke a live leopard.

Despite all the praises Theo had heard, this was her first visit to Deyrolle’s.  She loved living animals and had had little desire to visit a shop full of dead ones, however unusual.  Now that she was here, to her surprise, she felt caught in its spell.  There was a strange blending of cruelty and in love the preservation of these creatures.  Violation and honor.  Still kneeling, she looked about her.  Hovering above the crouching leopard, a crane soared on outstretched wings.  A passageway opened to either side.  In one, a baby elephant lifted its trunk as if sniffing the air.  In the other, a huge king cobra rose, spreading his hood.  Beside the winding staircase stood a mannequin in a dapper suit and striped cravat, topped with the head of a gazelle.  Deyrolle’s managed to be at once charming, sad, and unnerving.

Theo stood and went to join the Revenants who had responded to Averill’s request to meet here.  Casimir, Paul, Jules were gathered around a glass case near the elephant.  They were dressed in descending degrees of elegance, aristocratic, professorial, and shabby country church mouse.  Also present were les trois Traits—the three Hyphens, as Paul had dubbed them—three slim, dark-haired poets named Jean-Jacques, Pierre-Henri, and Louis-LeRoi, professor, student, and fledgling lawyer … There was a bucket with three bottles of iced champagne on the floor beside them, and a fancy basket held crystal flutes.  An attendant waiting behind the cash register had a towel draped over his arm, as if champagne were de rigueur on such occasions.  Theo looked around for Averill and saw him descend the curving staircase that led to the next floor.  Her heart trip-stepped at the sight of him.  At first he seemed freshly scrubbed, almost boyish.  His hair was smoothly pomaded, his linen gleaming white, and his suit neatly pressed.  When he came close to greet her, she saw dark circles under his eyes.  Too much studying—or too much absinthe?

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Genre – Historical Mystery

Rating – R

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#Excerpt - The Forgotten Child by Lorhainne Eckhart @LEckhart #Romance

Emily balanced the hastily scribbled directions on the steering wheel. She passed the faded red barn at the second marker on the highway. Making a right turn onto a gravel road, she continued until she saw the split-rail fencing with 665 in bright green numbers embedded in the wood. A huge fir archway on two solid beams surrounded the entrance to the dirt driveway, with the name Echo Springs carved into the weathered wood. What was it about the name that stirred some nostalgic memory of longing in her tummy?

History, established families, of Mom, Dad, grandparents passing down their heritage and land. She’d heard the powerful family names whispered in the community: the Ricksons, the Folleys, who were the others? She was caught now by a nervous flutter starting to pound her solar plexus as she drove down the long dirt driveway. Old growth spruce, cedar and fir trees on both sides created a dense canopy overhead, and a mixture of other bushes and trees gave the appearance of walls. At the end, the driveway opened up into a large clearing, exposing a two-story white frame house with a wraparound veranda and large post beams. It resembled an old rambling Victorian. Emily parked in front of the house beside an old Ford Escort, a dirty blue pickup truck that had seen better days, a chipped yellow digger, a fairly new black GMC one ton pickup and a flatbed trailer loaded with some mysterious goods covered with a tarp. How many people live here, she wondered?

The wind created a chilly breeze as thick clouds cluttered the baby blue sky. Emily was far from cold when she climbed out of her van. Her underarms were damp and she prayed her deodorant was strong enough to keep her from smelling ripe. It’s nerves, that’s all. Or maybe it was the five cups of high-octane coffee she’d guzzled before Gina arrived, which wound her nerves so tight she could have bounced her way to the door.

She paused and breathed deep the clean air. The front of the house was virtually bare of any landscaping. Patches of grass poked up here and there from the well-packed dirt in the front yard. The flowerbeds in front were littered with dead perennials, weeds and overgrown grass long and bare leaning against the house. How many acres did he have? A large barn and other outbuildings littered the property with what looked like miles of open land with a spectacular view of the mountains.

She flexed her damp hands and climbed the four white wooden steps. She noticed the paint was chipped. Emily nearly tripped when the third step suddenly creaked and caught her off guard. She was way out of her comfort zone and this didn’t help, prompting her self-doubt to send SOS signals to confuse her already shaky insides. She was a mess. Her face ached so much, she was positive the forced smile she wore looked more like a grimace. Emily clutched a brown manila envelope, stuffed with her resume and references from her friends. On unsteady legs, she crossed the wide porch. A porch made for families to gather at the end of the day, to laugh together and share dreams and triumphs. Something families did. Well, the sort of dream family Emily yearned to be part of. She spied a wooden swing suspended by chains at the far end of the porch, beside two wicker chairs placed on each side of a large picture window, and she sighed.

 

How do you tell a man there is something wrong with his child?

THE FORGOTTEN CHILD a kindle bestseller in romance series and westerns. And Book #1 of Finding Love ~ The Outsider Series. This is by far one of the best books I have read. Lorhainne Eckhart proved herself yet again  by pulling you in with a heartfelt story and keeping your attention with the passion that fills   the pages. ~ ROMANCE JUNKIES 

A Real Tear Jerker: Omg, I loved this book. I stayed up all night trying to finish it. I cried,  My heart broke, I have an 18 year old with autism. This would make a fabulous movie…  Tammy

Overview:

He wasn’t looking to love again. But what he got was a woman who shook his lonely bitter world upside down, and touched him in a way no other woman could.

Emily Nelson, a courageous young mother, ends a loveless, bitter marriage and strikes out on her own. She answers an ad as a cook and live-in caregiver to a three-year-old boy on a local ranch. Ranch owner Brad Friessen hires and moves in Emily and her daughter. But Emily soon discovers something’s seriously wrong with the boy, and the reclusive, difficult man who hired her can’t see the behavior and how delayed his son is. So Emily researches until she stumbles across what she suspects are the soft signs of autism.

Now she must tell him, give him hope, and help him come to terms with this neurological disorder–to take the necessary steps to get his child the help he needs.As their lives become intertwined, their attraction is unavoidable–a connection sparks between them. But just as they’re getting close, Brad’s estranged wife, Crystal, returns after abandoning the family two years earlier. Among the shock and confusion is one disturbing question Brad can’t shake: How does Crystal know so much of his personal business, the inner working of the ranch, and Emily’s relationship with his son?

Crystal must’ve had a plan, as she somehow gains the upper hand, driving a wedge in the emotional bond forged between Brad, Emily, and the children. The primary focus for care and therapy of three-year-old Trevor is diverted. The lengths to which Crystal will go, the lies, the greed, just to keep what’s hers, are nothing short of cold and calculating. Emily’s forced out of the house. Brad fights to save his boy, to protect what’s his, and struggles over his greatest sacrifice–Emily, and the haunting question: Has he lost her forever?

More Praise for THE FORGOTTEN CHILD…

“Brilliant, there is no other word for it, heart grabbing, heart warming, gut wrenching, well written well researched, wanted to read it over & over again.” Amazon Reviewer – Maureen

BLACK RAVEN’S REVIEWS - Ms. Eckhart has crafted a delightful story with engaging  characters, enough drama for a Hallmark movie, and enough unconditional love to last a life  time.  ~Rated 5 Ravens and a Recommended Read by AJ!~

READERS FAVORITE *5 Star Review A real page turner ~ fast moving plot ~ a must read! by Brenda C. for Readers Favorite

I didn’t expect I’d fall for the four main characters as hard as I did, but The Forgotten Child is an amazing book, not just for a romance fan like myself, but for single parents who may or  may not have a child with autism. ~ Reviewer ~ Adria

If you love western romances filled with love, passion and drama, then you’ll love THE FORGOTTEN CHILD. This book will not disappoint!

Other Romantic Stories from Author Lorhainne Eckhart

Finding Love ~ THE OUTSIDER SERIES in order:

• THE FORGOTTEN CHILD
• A BABY AND A WEDDING
• FALLEN HERO
• THE SEARCH
• THE AWAKENING
• SECRETS
• RUNAWAY
• OVERDUE
• THE UNEXPECTED STORM

Military Romantic Suspense – The Saved Series

• SAVED - Growing up, I had dreams that one day I’d fall in love, get married and start a family. Then one night I was taken. But I survived, I escaped, and I was saved. Eric  didn’t see me as damaged. He didn’t see my baby as a monster. He protected me, he kept me safe…he saved me.
• VANISHED - She thought her nightmare was over…

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Genre – Contemporary Western Romance

Rating – PG

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Goodnight, Gustav Klein by Elliot C. Mason @ArthurRay44

Goodnight, Gustav Klein

Chapter I

              Change

*

Stark parades of wintry air pounded the reddened face of Gustav Klein. He was unadorned, not bothering to notice the skilfully rehearsed tricks of the Scottish wind; he was lost in a burning recollection, sketches of the past inside his mind hurling from one side to the other, dipping a steady toe into consciousness, ablaze and frantic. A crack expanding between ruptured stone, the dam burst and a flood of memories enthralled the wayfarer, whose hair jittered in the gale, who considered the season of intrepid sadness, lust and turmoil which had brought him to this point, to the peak of his sorrows, where the only way now to go is down.
              He was standing atop a small mountain near Aviemore, in the Cairngorms. The air was not warm, but it never is. And the fatigued rambler looked down, back to his trail of hope, drenched in the blood of reality, at the slopes and crevasses of his journey.
              To wind back through the broken ruins of history, the scratched dance floor: the ballet pumps of time stretch outward, arms fixed parallel with the ground, holding a tendu: he remembers a woman behind a window, sunlight glaring off the glass, turning her eyes into red dots and her cheeks as pale as the clouds. The left leg is raised, holding a firm countenance, leaning forwards into an arabesque: he remembers the sound of the fireworks, the celebrations, the cheering euphoria which brought him into the current year, and forgets why. The slender body of memory gracefully peeling away from its core, balancing a perfect adage: he remembers a round of applause, remembers the miserable beat of the train rolling through sodden tracks. And the dancing clock stretches farther, reaching down to the distant floor, allongé, allongé: he remembers grey clouds; remembers the sun endeavouring to break through, or hide away; remembers not being able to tell which. The strings of space grow, forceful plucking and an ominous ring, the hands of the conductor ravaging the air; the left leg beating in unison, the grand thump of a balançoire: he remembers a beautiful woman in a splendid city, and enjoying it for a while, before the Christmas lights were put up. Turning, tightening, the dancer of memory, rolling in, the plié lifting with heavy breath, and turn, turn, a pirouette into the past: he remembers tears and arguments and the stains of red wine. Bending at the knee, the ballerina who whisks the memories into a flamboyant concerto for the pensive thinker, the sweat of the conductor drowning the orchestra, the deafening blow of horns for the final soubresaut: he remembers saying goodnight to the journey that tantalisingly slipped through his heart like a fresh blade, and saying hello to the reflection of Mr Klein’s face, the single man who tried to escape, through the window of a train.
Time leaps. It hauls the body through the cesspit of regret. It silences the past and darkens the future. It guides with a rough hand, leading the memory to where it all began; the descent to the top of a mountain. The misty confusion of the mind is cleared, and all that is left are the dim, yellow lights of a small budget hotel in Munich switching off, the radiators crackling as they cool, the ‘For Sale’ sign twitching in the wind, the discarded rubbish blowing through the car park as the last car leaves. And the driver winds down the window, leaning out into the mild night of Bavaria, and his lethargy conquers each speck of his existence. He stares blankly at the building, the empty rooms, the moribund memories, and then he drives on.
              Time patters through the gloom of the memory in bourrée, and Gustav Klein merely thinks, hauling thoughts back to the foreshadowing bitterness of autumn.

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Genre – Travel, Political, Dystopia, Romance

Rating – PG15

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Lazar’s Mission by Kevin Sterling @ksterlingwriter

0Excerpt from Chapter Four

It was eleven fifteen, and there was no sign of Melati. She could have been late for a number of reasons, or a complete no-show for that matter, and Jack hoped it was the former. No doubt, fraternizing with the passengers was forbidden, or at least frowned upon. So the question was whether she had been sufficiently lured by Jack’s charm to break the rules. His stomach was in knots from the anticipation of seeing her, and he paced the floor of his suite like a caged animal.

Part of him was over-the-top excited to see her, play with her. But a voice of reason in the depths of his consciousness couldn’t help but speculate whether he was getting himself into trouble again. He just couldn’t see how.

Perhaps Jack was just channeling his Eastern mentor, Tasagi, who had not only been his private jujitsu and karate instructor for several years now, but over time had become a valuable spiritual guide as well. According to Tasagi, Jack was bringing dangerous situations to himself through a process called the Law of Attraction, and it was tied to his internal belief system. That meant Jack consciously believed he had chosen to involve himself with certain people or situations because of their reasonable appearance on the surface, whereas in reality his energy had attracted an underlying issue or conflict, and he didn’t recognize it until it was too late.

The problem was that Tasagi had him questioning everything now, including sweet Balinese girls, and he knew he had finally taken it too far. He knew there was nothing at all wrong with Melati, and he prayed he would soon hear her knock on the door.

In the meantime, he forced himself to stop pacing, and he reclined on the couch with a bottle of water to hydrate himself for what he hoped to be a spirited night.

To get more comfortable, he had changed into a loose-fitting pair of white drawstring linen pants with an aquamarine linen shirt and brown woven leather loafers sans the socks. After all, the ship was traversing the Mediterranean Sea toward the north coast of Africa, so an outfit leaning toward the tropical seemed most fitting.

Also, despite his earlier wine-opening announcement of eleven o’clock, he chose to uncork the bottle of Caymus Special Selection Napa Cab at ten and empty it into a decanter to let it breathe. The wine steward had thoughtfully included a pair of Spiegelau vinovino Cabernet wineglasses, and Jack knew the large, appellation-designed bowls would let the wine open up to its full potential.

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Genre – Action, Mystery, Suspense

Rating – R

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Caroline Kennedy – On Being A Writer @StephenWardBook

On Being A Writer

Being a writer is something I have always known I was going to be. I can’t remember a time in my life that being a writer wasn’t an aspiration. From as young as five years old I was always scribbling stories, always writing long handwritten letters, always imagining the day when I would be a successful author.  I never went through that phase of indecision when adults would ask me, “And what do you want to be when you grow up?”  It’s just something I have always known. It certainly made life simpler. I didn’t have to make difficult decisions when it came to selecting “O” level or “A” level subjects. English, Creative Writing and History (since I was definitely addicted to non-fiction books) were a natural choice for me.

I often dreamt of the day I would see my name next to a number one best-seller. I anticipated the newspaper interviews, the TV appearances and the accolades I would receive. These were definitely the optimistic hopes of a young and eager writer. I knew they were not realistic and I never really believed they would happen. But when they did my reaction to them was surprising. There was no feeling of immense joy, pride or self-satisfaction. When I saw my name attached to the number one best-selling book in May-June 1987, I simply felt a certain calm – yes, I had achieved it…but then, so what? The same when I was invited to go on television to be interviewed about the book, I took it all in my stride but felt no particular sense of pride in myself. It was simply something that had happened in my life and it was back to being a mother again.

Little did I realize that 25 years after the book, “An Affair of State”, was published it would get a new lease on life as “How the English Establishment Framed Stephen Ward” – that Andrew Lloyd-Weber would produce a musical based on my main character. Stephen Ward – and that a leading Human Rights QC would take up Ward’s case, using much of the evidence I provided in the book, to have the conviction against Ward overturned. Now that is what really thrilled me and filled me with pride. If my research helped lead to Ward’s conviction being quashed then that was my greatest achievement – not the number one bestseller!

"How the English Establishment Framed Stephen Ward" is a major expose of a government cover-up that has lasted half a century. It is a powerful story of sexual compulsion, political malice and ultimate betrayal. A number-one bestseller when it came out in 1987 under its original title, "An Affair of State", the book reveals never-before-heard testimony that has been uncovered by the authors in the years since the scandal broke. Using startling new evidence, including Ward’s own unpublished memoirs and hundreds of interviews with many who, conscience-stricken, have now spoken out for the first time, this important account rips through a half-century cover-up in order to show exactly why the government, the police forces, the Judiciary and the security forces decided to frame Stephen Ward. Stephen Ward is now the subject of an upcoming Andrew Lloyd-Weber musical and this book offers a wider perspective on its complex, central character as well as a broader insight into one of the greatest scandals of the past 100 years. As the authors’ research reveals, Ward’s “trial of the century” was caused by an unprecedented corruption of justice and political malice which resulted in an innocent man becoming a scapegoat for those who could not bear to lose power. This is an epic tale of sex, lies, and governmental abuse whose aftermath almost brought down the government and shook the American, British, and Soviet espionage worlds to their core. With its surprising revelations and meticulous research, Ward’s complete story can finally be told.

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Genre – Politics, Espionage, Scandal

Rating – PG-16

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David Litwack – Ideas are everywhere @DavidLitwack

Ideas are everywhere

What do the following have in common? A rustic stone church in Boothbay Harbor, Maine; Mt. Etna; the Temple of Zeus in Agrigento, Sicily; the old merry-go-round in Oak Bluffs on Martha’s Vineyard; the Chihuly Glass Museum in Seattle; and the Palantine Chapel in Palermo. (click here to see pictures)

All of these are sources of inspiration for my next novel, the sequel to There Comes a Prophet.

I’ve always believed that the difference between the creative and non-creative person is not the ability to come up with new ideas, but rather being open to them when they present themselves. That’s why it’s so important to write regularly.

When I’m writing every day, I live in two worlds, the evolving world of my story and my real life, day-to-day world. As a result, when I see something that strikes me, my mind starts making connections. The places I visit, the images I see morph into scenes in my story. What would the mood of the setting be like? What are the sounds? The smells? How would my characters see it? Would they touch the ancient stones and flashback to their own past? Would they scoop up a fistful of volcanic soil and, finding it hot, appreciate the immensity and power of their world? In what way would these experiences change them and therefore alter their actions and the course of the plot.

Out comes my smart phone. I take a few pictures, and type some hasty notes. Then, when I get home, I rough out a new scene. Does it always fit in to the story? Of course not. But it gets my creative juices flowing.

When I reread a copy of a soon-to-be-submitted novel for the final time, I always wonder how it all had come to pass. It seems like a mystery, a miracle of the muse. But I know this: if I’m open to new ideas and follow their threads, one thing leads to another. A paragraph gets written, then a page and a scene. And a couple of years later, after much blood, sweat and tears, voila–instant novel.

WINNER: Readers' Favorite Book 2013 Bronze Award Winner, Drama Category -Fiction

A Tragic Warrior Lost in Two Worlds...

The war in Iraq ended for Lieutenant Freddie Williams when an IED explosion left his mind and body shattered. Once he was a skilled gamer and expert in virtual warfare. Now he's a broken warrior, emerging from a medically induced coma to discover he's inhabiting two separate realities. The first is his waking world of pain, family trials, and remorse--and slow rehabilitation through the tender care of Becky, his physical therapist. The second is a dark fantasy realm of quests, demons, and magic that Freddie enters when he sleeps.

In his dreams he is Frederick, Prince of Stormwind, who must make sense of his horrific visions in order to save his embattled kingdom from the monstrous Horde. His only solace awaits him in the royal gardens, where the gentle words of the beautiful gardener, Rebecca, calm the storms in his soul. While in the conscious world, the severely wounded vet faces a strangely similar and equally perilous mission--a journey along a dark road haunted by demons of guilt and memory--and letting patient, loving Becky into his damaged and shuttered heart may be his only way back from Hell.

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Genre – Contemporary Fiction, Fantasy

Rating – PG

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Website http://www.davidlitwack.com

 

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Malpractice! The Novel by William Louis Harvey @sexandlawnovel

In the midst of this process, he heard the water start in the shower but didn’t alter the pace of undressing. When all was in order, he went into the bathroom and opened the shower door. He stood there, immobile except for a growing erection, admiring her beautiful body. Cleo was a few inches shorter than Paul, neither thin nor fat, with a firm body; beautiful, firm breasts with erect nipples; a thin waist; and smooth skin that had a slightly tan color from her one-quarter Hawaiian heritage. Her face remained exotically beautiful after all of its makeup was washed away, with just a hint of Asia in her eyelids, and she had black hair that was stylishly cut short.

Her pubic hair was also black and appeared to be standing guard over the delights below, like the eunuch guarding the sultan’s harem.

Finally, in mock anger, Cleo said, “OK, Boss, either come in or leave, but close the door. You’re getting water all over the floor.”

Paul laughed and complied. They put wet, soapy arms around each other and washed backs while their fronts were in contact. (pp 181-182) Malpractice! the Novel

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Genre – Steamy Courtroom Drama

Rating – R

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