Sunday, July 8, 2018

Focus on: Bloodcurse by Toni V. Sweeney

Wild Women Authors welcomes back author Toni V. Sweeney and. . .
Bloodcurse (Book 3 of the Narrative of Riven the Heretic, Part 1 of the Arcanian Chronicles)

At last married to the woman he has desired for so long, Riven kan Ingan discovers old hatreds and long ago grudges aren’t absolved by wedding vows. In an attempt to protect his young wife from his enemies, he accepts a title from the Margrave, taking her to lead the dull life of a country noble. Married life may have made Riven kan Ingan a love-struck fool, but he refuses to be a cuckold when he returns from battle to discover his beloved Barbara pregnant with a child he couldn’t have sired. In fury at her supposed unfaithfulness, he risks the wrath of the gods and sends her to her death, only to find himself driven from his domain by a deadly curse. Haunted by Barbara’s memory, Riven begins a quest to find the one who cursed him. In the years that follow, his journey will take him to the land of his birth, where he’ll discover long-hidden family secrets and himself dependent upon a barbarian’s woman gentle mercy to help him rid himself of the remnants of the Bloodcurse.

Excerpt:
“If the wind chills you,” he said, “There’s a cloak of marten furs in my saddlebag.”
Rising, she walked to where the bags lay next to his saddle, knelt and unbuckled one pouch, reaching inside.
“Oh, Riven…” The sadness in her voice made him look up in concern.
In her hand she held, not the expected cloak, but a short, slender sword. The firelight flickered and glanced off the blade. It was little more than an over-long knife, made from a stone fallen from the sky, star metal fashioned into a weapon purchased for a barbarian child by a young soldier, long ago.
“Where did that come from?”
“Mikil.” Barbara whispered. She touched the blade gently, as if she once more caressed the man who had been her husband. She looked as if she were about to burst into tears.
Riven remembered Mikil handing him the saddlebags. The boy must have hidden the sword inside while his back was turned.
“Keep it,” he said curtly, startled by that first faint stirring of the jealousy that would stay with him for the rest of his life. “You may need it.”
“For protection, my lord?” She swung around to look at him, brows raised. “From whom? Not you?”
He didn’t answer, but turned away, staring into the fire.
Read the flames for me, woman, as you did when we first met. Tell me if our life together will be all I want it to be.
Returning the sword to the pouch, Barbara rummaged inside the saddlebag. In a moment, her cry of delight told him she’d found the cloak. He smiled slightly as she swung it around her shoulders, rubbing her cheek against the dark, thick fur trimming its edges.
It was an expensive garment. He’d spent the last of his back-pay on it, what he hadn’t squandered on women and ale and payment for damages incurred during the drinking bouts he put himself through trying to forget her. Shortly before leaving for the southern lands, he purchased it from a furrier, cheap, because summer was setting in.
“Where did you find it?”
“In Jestey, before I left. Cost me half a month’s wages.”
And worth it, to see that look on your face.
Before you left?” In the midst of her delight, her hand stopped stroking the fur, one golden brow arching upward. “Certain of yourself, weren’t you? What if I hadn’t come with you? What if Mikil had taken a hayfork and driven you away? What would you do with this, then?”
“I wouldn’t worry.” Riven shrugged indifferently and ate the last morsel. “There’s a black-haired wench at a tavern in Jestey who’d be very grateful for such a gift.” He swallowed and nodded. “Several of them, as a matter of fact.”
He got up and moved closer to the fire, his back to her. Though he expected it, he was still startled as small fists pounded his shoulder. Spinning around, he caught her wrists, laughing.
Then, he kissed her. His mouth sought and demanded hers. At last, he held in his arms the woman he’d hungered for these five years.
When he released her, Barbara didn’t speak. She simply stood on tiptoe, put both hands on his face, and pulled his head down, pressing her lips once more against his. Gently, her fingers caressed the scar on his cheek.
As her small body brushed his, he could feel her breasts, nipples hard as little rounded stones through the thin gauze gown, the dress he’d given her to wear to her wedding with Mikil.
Gods, how I want you.
Bending, he slipped an arm under her knees, lifting her off her feet. Just this once, he wished he had the eloquence of the men at Court, to be able to say exactly what he was feeling.
You’re my woman now, Barbara, he wanted to tell her, and the love I’ll give you will make you forget that Izhmiri farmer…but he couldn’t say it, not yet. His present love still held enough lust that he knew he couldn’t be gentle.
He’d wait. He had to.
With a sigh, he set her down.
He had to take three deep breaths before he could speak. All that time, she waited patiently, looking up at him with those disturbing storm-blue eyes.
“I’ve made many vows and I’ve broken most of them, woman, but you’ll not make me break this one.” he announced. Kissing her forehead, he took a step away from her. “I’ll not touch you until we’re wed. In Aljansur.”
“What of the black-haired wench in Jestey?” she wanted to know.
He didn’t miss the tiny dæmon-light twinkling in her eyes.
“Or the several others?”
“I think I’ll have no reason ever to see any of them, again,” he declared, knowing in his heart he wanted no other but the little woman standing before him.
“No wenching, Riven...ever,” she murmured. She held out her arms and his own went around her without his thinking about it.
“Never, sweetling. Only you…from now on.” Gods…I sound like some moonstruck stripling.
Why shouldn’t he? He loved her, had always loved her. Perhaps at his age, after a life of whoring and heart-stealing, his foolishness could be allowed, for he was experiencing true love for the first time in his life. What a sweet and painful feeling it was.

To purchase Bloodcurse, go to:  

Bloodcurse is available in paperback from the publisher at Class Act Books: http://www.classactbooks.com/component/virtuemart/fantasy/bloodcurse-8422017-09-14-01-50-25-detail?Itemid=0






Monday, July 2, 2018

Focus on Rachel Brimble's The Mistress of Pennington's

Wild Women Authors is pleased to welcome back our friend and author from the UK, Rachel Brimble who is celebrating the release of: The Mistress of Pennington’s

     Set in the United Kingdom in 1910 – this is a compelling tale of female empowerment in Bath's leading department store. Perfect for the fans of the TV series Mr Selfridge and The Paradise.
     Elizabeth Pennington should be the rightful heir of Bath's premier department store through her enterprising schemes and dogged hard work. Her father, Edward Pennington, believes his daughter lacks the business acumen to run his empire and is resolute a man will succeed him.
     Determined to break from her father's iron-clad hold and prove she is worthy of inheriting the store, Elizabeth forms an unlikely alliance with ambitious and charismatic master glove-maker Joseph Carter. United they forge forward to bring Pennington's into a new decade, embracing woman's equality and progression whilst trying not to mix business and pleasure.
     Can this dream team thwart Edward Pennington's plans for the store? Or will Edward prove himself an unshakeable force who will ultimately ruin both Elizabeth and Joseph?

Buy Links:



A bit about Rachel:

     Rachel Brimble lives with her husband and two teenage daughters in a small town near Bath in the UK. Since 2007, she has had several novels published by small US presses, eight books published by Harlequin Superromance (Templeton Cove Stories) and four Victorian romances with eKensington/Lyrical.
     In January 2018, she signed a four-book deal with Aria Fiction for a brand new Edwardian series set in Bath’s finest department store. The first book, The Mistress of Pennington’s releases in July 2018.
     Rachel is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association and Romance Writers of America, and was selected to mentor the Superromance finalist of So You Think You Can Write 2014 contest.      When she isn’t writing, you’ll find Rachel with her head in a book or walking the beautiful English countryside with her family. Her dream place to live is Bourton-on-the-Water in South West England.
She likes nothing more than connecting and chatting with her readers and fellow romance writers. Rachel would love to hear from you!

Links:





Amazon Author Page:

Goodreads:




Sunday, June 24, 2018

Exile, Part 2, Arcanian Chronicles, Toni V. Sweeney

     Aric kan Ingan is a Non-Person, an Exile, stripped of title and citizenship for treason against the Arcanian Empire, crimes of which he is innocent. Sentenced to banishment, he wanders the Emeraunt Galaxy a lonely decade while his uncle withholds clemency. 
     When his meager earnings are depleted and his addictions demand to be fed, he enlists as a guard for a Terran mining colony. Adjusting to life among Terrans is difficult, but Aric meets two people who change his life: Susan Moran, the company doctor, and Miles Sheffield, his former mistress’ younger brother.
     With Miles and Susan, Aric suffers the joy of friendship, the passion of love, and the grief of sudden death, and eventually makes a decision that will change the destiny of the Arcanian Empire forever.

This week Wild Women Authors is pleased to feature more of Toni V. Sweeney and Exile, Part 2 of the futuristic family saga, the Arcanian Chronicles. She has graciously offered to explain the history of Exile:

      Exile is the second novel in the series called The Kan Ingan Archives, Part 2 of the two-part futuristic family saga the Arcanian Chronicles. This novel and the one preceding it have had a history.
In the 70's I wrote what was intended to be a stand-alone novel called Blood Ties. 
     About twenty years after I wrote the book, I got to thinking about the background to that story. I ended up writing of happened before Blood Ties place—about the crime committed, and the acts leading up to it that made my hero, Erik Brand, a fugitive. A prequel, if you will, that eventually became Book One,
     That brought about some title-switching. Book One became Blood Ties and Book 2 (the original Blood Ties) became Blood Kin. After a little more consideration, I decided those titles didn’t exactly tell anything about the stories, so I again made a change. After some finagling and word-searching and plenty of head-scratching, Blood Ties became Sinner and Blood Kin was renamed Exile, both good, short one-word descriptions that definitely carried the gist of the plot.
     Are you still with me? Confused? Read on, the confusion grows…
     During all this switching and re-writing, I also decided to relate the stories to The Narrative of Riven the Heretic by having my hero (Erik Brand) be a direct descendent of the hero of The Narratives. That necessitated a change of name and spelling, so Erik became Aric kan Ingan. Since Riven was considered the ancestor of the ruling family in the Emeraunt Galaxy, Aric became the Crown Prince of the current branch.
     The Narrative of Riven the Heretic became Part 1 of the Arcanian Archives, and the kan Ingan Archives became Part 2, and here we are!
     Whew!

Here's the excerpt:
As he rounded a corner and dodged a brightly-robed Scyllan, he nearly collided with a short weasel of a man darting from a nearby doorway.
The little man brushed against him, backed away with a muttered apology, and sped on, only to be pulled off his feet as Aric wrapped his hand in the collar of his jacket.
“Hold it!” He hauled the little man backward, holding out his hand. “Give it back.”
“Give what back?” A face of total innocence, if a trifle ferret-like, looked up at him.
In answer, Aric snapped his fingers and thrust the hand at the little man again, palm up, shaking it impatiently.
Something about the gesture told the little thief not to argue. It frightened him and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t the stranger’s size. He’d seen bigger men. Nor was it the tiny jewel, set like a droplet of blood in his left earlobe, announcing that here was a warrior blooded in True Battle, just as the sign of Ildred, marking his forehead in indelible mourning-purple, likewise proclaimed him an Exile.
The little man shivered and the stranger smiled. At that moment, Fredi the Pick knew exactly what caused his fear.
Those eyes. Less than human. Like a bird of prey.
Digging into his pocket, he extracted a small leather pouch, hastily dropping it into the Arcanian’s hand.
“There.” Smiling a little weakly, he sidled away. “Now then, I’ll just be on my…”
“Not so fast.”
Before he knew it, he was pinned against the wall, lifted by the force of a hand against his chest. Struggling to keep both feet on the cobbles, he looked up into his captor’s face.
“I suppose you’re going to peach me?” What did he expect, picking someone like this as a mark? Stupid move, truly stupid.
“Hardly.” The Arcanian laughed but it was a grim, cold sound. “You know the Lawkeepers don’t come to the Quad.”
“I’d prefer the Keepers.” The little man looked chagrinned. “We’ve our own rules here, y’know, and the Primary One’s that one inhabitant of the Quad never steals from another.”
Aric nodded. He’d been in and out of enough places like this to understand the little thief’s nervousness. The rules in these areas of criminality were much more stringent than in the law-abiding cities surrounding them.
“…and what’s the punishment for breaking the Primary One?” he prompted.
“Banishment from the Quad.” The pickpocket swallowed loudly before he continued. “For a year.”
A year’s exile. Aric laughed. Hell, that’s nothing compared to the time I’ve wandered.
The little thief winced at the bitterness in the sound.
“No, my little friend, I won’t turn you in.” Aric released the little cutpurse, who staggered and regained his balance.
“Well, then…” Relief and confusion showed on the rat-like face. “I’ll just be go…”
Again, the large hand detained him.
Fredi looked up. “Was there something else?”
“Yes, I need some…things.”
“Oh?” The little man frowned, asking cautiously, “What kind of things?”
In spite of where they were, Aric hesitated. He wasn’t certain he could trust this little rodent. “Are you a procurer?”
“Oh.” The frown disappeared as Fredi relaxed, seeing an unexpected profit coming his way instead of cell-time. “Why didn’t you say so? I thought…you being an Exile and all… Did you break your vows? You want girls? How many?”
“No. Not girls.”
“I see.” The pickpocket’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t usually deal the other way but… Boys? I suppose I could find one or two…”
“No.” Aric’s denial was quick. “I want….” Glancing around to assure himself no passerby was paying them attention, he lowered his voice, struggling to keep the desperation out of it. “I need some drugs.”
“No problem.” The little man still showed no surprise. “What kind?”
Aric didn’t answer.
“Well?” Fredi prompted. “Name your poison…oops…sorry.” He snickered at his little joke.
“I need nicotine and caffeine.” Aric ignored that. “Can you get me some cigarettes and coffee?”
Cigarettes?” The little man looked around quickly before continuing in a whisper, “You want cigarettes and coffee? Hell, man, those two are at the top of the Unlawful Substances List.”
“I’m well aware.” Aric’s answer held weariness. His eyes bore into Fredi’s shifty ones.
“Can you get them?”

To purchase Exile, go to:




Sunday, June 17, 2018

Bloodseek, Arcanian Chronicles by Toni V. Sweeney

. . . Raised by the Margrave of Francovia after his sellsword father is killed in His Majesty’s service, Riven kan Ingan is an opportunist and a nonbeliever, denying the existence religion or magic. Never allowed to forget his foreign ancestry, he schemes to marry the margrave’s daughter, fulfilling the prophecy that he‘s to become a king. In retaliation, the gods plot their revenge
. . . When Aleza is kidnapped by the sorcerer Mahldimir Djaan-Baih, Riven follows them to the demon-ridden desert of Izhmir to rescue his princess.
. . . Saving Aleza doesn’t end the story, however, for Riven’s punishment is only beginning. Thanks to the gods, he’ll discover his true love and lose her to anotherf man. From then on, his days and nights are haunted by the memory of the one woman he can’t have.
. . . There’s nothing he can do to forget and no way he can claim her because the gods aren’t finished with him yet.

Wild Women Authors is pleased to welcome back author Toni V. Sweeney. This week she features Bloodseek the latest in her Arcanian Chronicle series

Here’s an excerpt:

Behind him he heard Bar-Bara’s footsteps.
Drel, boy. You run ran as heavy as a herd of horses.”
He looked up to see the child running toward him, booted feet barely making a sound on the hard ground…but still the noise continued.
“Riders. In the cleft.” His voice was a sharp whisper as he pointed toward the cut in the rock.
Seizing his sword, Riven ran toward the ledge, dropping onto hands and knees, Bar-Bara at his left side. Behind them the dogs crouched, poised for his command.
Trapped forever in the ravine, the wind blew hotly upward, tossing sand into their faces. Through the dust they could see the riders, too many to count, in the same harness-armor and loinskirts as the B’akshir who escaped Riven at the farmhouse, rectangles of cloth protecting their faces. The black feathers of their headdresses moved in the wind like dark wings. All carried spears, heavy swords hanging from each broad belt. The sun gleamed from the metal on the harnesses, sending out bright spears of light.
Behind the soldiers walked a double row of figures, each bound to the one before him by a single rope tied to the saddle of a B’akshir riding in front of the line. The rope ran the length of the row, wrapped around the neck of each prisoner, binding them together so if one fell he would be dragged along by the others’ movement. The captives trudged slowly and steadily down the ravine.
A sudden gasp from the boy made Riven turn quickly to look at him.
“Ilda.” Immeasurable pain filled that one word.
Looking past the forlorn figures, he saw what Bar-Bara had seen. Behind the captives, the great silver stallion and the imperious figure upon it, and seated on the saddle fork in front of him, a fair girl-child. One metal-braced arm was across the child’s chest, hugging her body tightly against his own while her little hands gripped his forearm.
The wind whistled through the ravine, stirring the sand, spraying it against the horse’s body. It danced nervously, neighing in anger, impatient at being restrained as the sound was lifted and swept out of the ravine.
“Ilda.” Bar-Bara rose to his knees, leaning forward.
Before Riven realized what he intended, the boy scrambled to his feet and with surprising quickness, pulled the sword from the Francovian’s loosened grasp. Once again Riven cursed the Fate making him left-handed. Had it not been so, the sword would have been in his other hand and the boy couldn’t have reached it from where he lay.
Bar-Bara stepped onto the ledge, attempting to heft the sword. He gathered himself to jump.
Riven forgot about destroying the B’akshir; his only thought was to stop the child. Leaping to his feet, he seized the boy around the waist and lunged backward as Bar-Bara flung himself into space.
“Let me go.” Bar-Bara gasped at him. “It’s Ilda. My little sister. I’ve got to…”
Riven’s hand slapped over his mouth, stifling his cry. The other arm tightened around the boy’s waist as the frantically twisting figure threatened to slip from his grasp. He held the boy in mid-air until the sound of hooves and the jingle of harness faded into silence.
Relaxing his grip, he pulled the boy’s head back, whispering, “If I let you go, you little fool, will you be quiet?”
Furious blue eyes glared. Renewed struggling answered him.
In a moment, Bar-Bara would fall from his grasp. He tried to tighten his hold, had to take his hand away from the boy’s mouth and risk him crying out. His hand closed on the boy’s chest, clutching at the rough fabric, felt the laces part. His fingers touched soft, yielding flesh…
Riven released Bar-Bara so quickly the boy fell to his knees but he didn’t stay down. Instead, he scrambled to his feet, whirling to face the Francovian. He was fairly choking with fury, chest heaving in short angry pants….and it was at his chest Riven stared as if stupefied, mouth dropping open.
His fingers still tingled, feeling scorched from the contact with that soft flesh and the swell of breast where there should have been none. Riven stared at the gaping tunic, at the white mounds, small, to be sure, but rounded and pink-tipped and definitely female.
At last he managed a surprised croak, “You’re a wench.”
“Oh, you’ve torn my tunic.”
The cry was so feminine it brought an unwilling smile to his face. She pulled the rent cloth together, attempting to re-lace it. It did little good.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry.

To purchase Bloodseek, go to:







Monday, June 11, 2018

Wild Women Feature: Arresting Mason

.....Once you’re in a prison gang, you’re in it for life. That’s what Mason Harding thought until the boss accepted his resignation. After the State releases him on parole, a sexy divorcée behind the wheel of a car almost ends his life quicker than a shank. His chance encounter with Mia Eddison results in a night of passion, but her brother—his parole officer—catches them together and doesn’t approve.
.....Mia falls hard for the cocky ex-con, but not because of his chiseled body. She vows to break through his walls and discover his secrets, but never expects those secrets to threaten her life.
.....When members of an organized crime ring kidnap Mia to force Mason’s return to the gang, he goes up against an old friend to save the woman he loves. Will his sacrifice be enough or will everything fall apart in a blaze of gunfire?

Wild Women Authors is pleased to feature Arresting Mason, a romantic suspense by Amber Daulton. First up is lead character, Mason Harding.
Where are you from? I grew up in a little suburb of Aurora, Colorado. You know the drill. The whole damn neighborhood was all two-story houses, good-sized yards, and white picket fences, but I’ve always preferred the urban areas. More stuff to do, and unfortunately for me in my stupid teenage years, more places to get into trouble.
Tell us a bit about Arresting Mason. After ten years in prison, I left on parole and moved to Denver to live with my brother, Alan. I’m determined to live straight and stay out of trouble, and then I meet Mia Eddison. She’s the hottest woman I’ve ever seen and way out of my league, but I can’t stop thinking about her. We have an instant connection and things are going great, but then her brother—my parole officer—finds out about us. And things just spiral down from there.
What did you think the first time you saw Mia? Yum. Seriously. I definitely wanted her, but my protective instincts overshadowed my lust when she had a panic attack. I felt completely drawn to her, and I wanted—no, needed—to help her.
Sounds good. What was your second thought? Even though she’d almost hit me with her car, I could tell right away Mia was not only beautiful, but smart and caring too. She has a generous heart, and I still don’t know why she chose a rough man like me to fall in love with.
Did you feel it was love at first sight? Lust, definitely. Not love. But love did bloom quickly, more for me than for her, I think.
What do you like most about her? Mia is so damn stubborn. It drives me crazy sometimes, but I like strong women. She doesn’t roll over and let me, or anyone else, walk all over her. She respects herself and stands up for what she believes in.
How would you describe her? She’s a classy brunette fox with more attitude and killer curves than I know what to do with.
How would Mia describe you? That’s a loaded question. Mia would probably say I’m more stubborn than she is and that I have a temper problem. That’s true. I’m a hothead, and I let my emotions control me too often. She would also say I’m gorgeous and the best lover she’s ever had (at least I hope she would).
What made you choose auto mechanics for a career? I love working on cars, and I feel good when I can fix something that’s broken. As an ex-con, I don’t have a lot of legitimate job opportunities, so I consider myself lucky to have found a job as a mechanic.
What is your biggest fear? My past coming back to haunt me. Again. Mia and I have already survived a few throw downs with some old friends of mine, and I never want her in danger again.
How do you relax? I read. Surprising, huh? I prefer classics and old stories about simpler times, which is a far contrast from my own life.
Who is your favorite fictional character? Not sure if I have one. Some of my favorite authors are Mark Twain, Edgar Allen Poe, and Louisa May Alcott. I shocked the hell out of Mia when she found some books by those authors in my old bedroom at my brother’s place.
What is the best piece of advice you ever received? When I first got out of prison, Alan told me to keep a cool head and stay clean. It sounded simple enough, but life isn’t so cut and dry. Still, I try to follow that advice every day, even though I’ve made a bad habit of ignoring good advice.
This has been real interesting, Mason. Thank you for coming to visit. Now we'd like to chat with Amber.
What movies or books have had an impact on your career as a writer? I love action/adventure movies and romance books of most sub-genres, but I don’t have a certain movie or book that has ever influenced me. I did, however, rely on the action/romance genre as a whole for inspiration as I was writing Arresting Mason.
What event in your private life were you able to bring to this story and how do you feel it impacted the novel? None, unfortunately. Or maybe that’s fortunate because I put Mason and Mia through a lot of bad stuff, most of which I wouldn’t want to happen to me. Yeah, I can dish it out, but I sure can’t take it!
Tell us a bit about your publisher: how did you hear about them and what influenced your decision to submit to them? I’ve known about The Wild Rose Press for years and have heard good things about them. Even though I sent my Arresting Mason manuscript to a handful of publishers, TWRP was one of my top choices, so I was very excited when they accepted the book.
What books currently rest on your TBR pile? I can’t possibly answer that question in full. I have almost one thousand ebooks on my Kindle and a few hundred print books in my office. I’ve read a lot of them, but I keep one clicking books on Amazon, so my TBR pile keeps getting bigger and bigger. Lately, I’ve been reading books by Marie Harte, and I’ve enjoyed the ones I’ve read so far.
Lastly, what's up next and when can we expect to see it on the shelves? Arresting Jeremiah, book 2 in the Arresting Onyx series, should be out sometime in 2019. I’m in the process of editing it now, and I’ll send the manuscript to my editor soon.

For our review of Arresting Mason, see the blog post below, for now, Amber brought an excerpt:

“Which one is your car?” She glanced around the crowded parking lot. A few streetlights pushed back the darkness and shadows. The restaurant served customers until midnight on the weekends, but no one loitered in the lot, at least from what Mia could see.
“Don’t have one at the moment.” Mason hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “I took the bus. It stopped a few blocks from here.”
“Would you like a ride?” She pulled the car keys from her purse. “I feel a little ridiculous we met here tonight. I just wasn’t sure if you were some kind of freak.”
His eyebrow lifted, and he closed the distance between them as a tiger would zero in on its mate. A sexy, masculine smile curled his lips. “Have you made up your mind yet?”
“I’ll let you know in the morning.” Desire trickled down her spine. Mia nodded toward the passenger side of the car for him to hop in.
He confiscated her keys instead to unlock and open the driver’s side door for her like a gentleman. Then he leaned closer and nuzzled her temple with his nose.
Not sure if he planned to seduce her in the parking lot or if he merely wanted to tease her, Mia pressed her hand to his chest and tried to think straight. “You’re the first guy I’ve gone on a date with since my divorce. I haven’t slept with anyone since Evan.”
He tunneled his fingers through her wavy, chestnut-brown hair. “I haven’t dated anyone in a long time either. We’ll take it slow or fast, whatever you want, but I promise you one thing. After I’m done with you, you won’t even remember that bastard’s name.”
Oh, God. She almost melted right then and there. “Fast. I want you, Mason.”
“Take me to your place and you can have me.”

To purchase Arresting Mason, go to:
Barnes and Noble – https://bit.ly/2uOj90J
The Wild Rose Press store – http://bit.ly/2FSVvBa

A bit about our featured author:
Writing is the fruit of happiness.
Amber Daulton lives her life by that one belief even though she normally isn’t so Zen. As a fan of contemporary, paranormal, and historical romance novels alike, she can’t get enough of feisty heroines and alpha heroes. Her mind is a wonderland of adventure, laughter, and awesome ways of kicking a guy when he’s down. She probably wouldn’t be too sane without her computer and notebooks. After all, what’s a girl to do when people are jabbering away in her head and it’s hard to shut them up? 
Write! Nothing else works.

To learn more about Amber Daulton and the stories she creates, go to:
Facebook Author Page – www.facebook.com/amber.daulton.author

Saturday, June 9, 2018

Wild Women Review Arresting Mason by Amber Daulton

In the coming week, Wild Women Authors will feature Arresting Mason, a romantic suspense by Amber Daulton. 
Here's our review: 
Caution: Steamy, sensual love scenes.

     After former bad boy Mason Harding is released from prison, he is determined to make something of himself—and get away from gang members and the only life he knew.
     Standing in his way is a Parole Officer who brings new meaning to ‘giving a man grief’ every time Mason turns around. Then he’s almost run down by a distracted driver—and nearly loses more than his life. He loses his heart to Mia Eddison.
     One problem: the gorgeous, sensuous woman who makes him feel things he’s never experienced before is also his PO’s sister.
     So. . . between this sexy, interesting and generous girl who lights Mason’s fire in more ways than one; a parole officer who sparks his potentially deadly temper, often and in more ways than the usual; and former gang affiliations who will go to any lengths to get him back in the life, Mason’s in a mess that makes ten years in the joint look like a kindergarten field trip.

     Read “Arresting Mason” an April 30, 2018 release out of the Wild Rose Press and find out how he and Mia work together to make a new life for themselves.
     
      You won’t be sorry. I wasn’t.

Out of 5 stars, this earns a 4





Sunday, June 3, 2018

Introducing Brendan Fagan and Laura Strickland

. . . Buffalo Police Sergeant Brendan Fagan, investigating a series of grisly murders spurred by clashes between humans and automatons, only wants to save his city. The last thing he needs in his life is a rule-bending, steam-cannon-toting, unpredictable female like Ginny Landry, a woman who could possibly bring down his career and the one woman he quite likely can't resist.
. . . Ginny means to settle the estate of her mother, an infamous madam, quickly and get out of town. She has no intention of becoming involved with any part of her inheritance or falling for Brendan. In fact, she makes it a point never to date handsome men. But when her rash behavior brings them together, the attraction can’t be denied.
. . . And when the city erupts in chaos, forcing her to choose a moral side, can she deny what’s in her heart?

Wild Women Authors is thrilled to introduce Brendan Fagan, male protagonist from Laura Strickland's latest release out of the Wild Rose Press, Last Orders.
Where are you from, Brendan? Well, I came with my family from Ireland when I was fourteen—the old man wanted to give us all a better life—but my roots are down in this great city of Buffalo, on the Niagara frontier, now. You see, I’m a police officer so it’s more or less my job to look after the place and I take my job seriously, though I’m not opposed to a bit o’ fun.
Tell us a bit about Last Orders. My city’s been in turmoil since last summer, when the hybrid automatons built by that genius of a madwoman, Candace Landry wound up battering her to death in front of hundreds of witnesses. There are no laws governing automatons yet because they’re considered property rather than responsible individuals. Now there are two opposing factions in the city, those who support automaton rights—including some of the hybrids themselves—and those who classify them as mere machines. To make matters worse, we’re dealing with a series of nasty murders perpetrated, some say, by steam units out for revenge.
What did you think the first time you saw Ginny Landry? I and another police officer had been called down to Clancy’s bar on the waterfront for reports of a woman shooting up the place with a steam cannon. Clancy’s is an Irish bar, a real rough place, and I expected the worst. But I sure didn’t expect to find Ginny Landry, drunk as a skunk and standing up on the bar, shooting out a line of empties to the admiration of every man in the place. I didn’t know then she was Candace Landry’s daughter, but I still thought she was dangerous—nothing more so than an intoxicated woman with a sidearm. 
What was your second thought? She was the most magnificent woman I’d ever seen, with those long legs cased in leather boots, that glorious mane of brown hair and, well, it didn’t hurt any when she bent down and gave me a peek inside her open bodice. A woman in ten-thousand, I was after thinking.
Did you feel it was love at first sight? Not hardly, given she punched me in the face when I arrested her. Attraction at first sight, sure and I’ll give you that. She made a point of letting me know she never associates with handsome men. Not that I consider myself handsome, but she implied I was, and so she’d never be walking out with me. It crossed my mind, I’d need to get a potato sack to put over me head.
What do you like most about her? Ginny’s her own woman. Also, she’s not afraid to let a man know when she wants him.
How would you describe her? Ginny’s courageous and honest; what she’s thinking is what you’ll hear from her lips. She lives by her own inner compass—nobody will ever tell her anything, but nobody will ever sway her, either.
How would she describe you? Ah well, from the start Ginny had me pegged as a right prig of a police officer, upright, proper and so set on enforcing the rules he couldn’t bend a few. From that moment on, I knew I’d have to set her straight, let her see the man beneath the uniform so to speak.
What made you choose policing for a career? I knew it was a good steady job with opportunities for advancement. I’ve worked hard over the past five years making myself indispensable to the force, and that’s allowed me to make sergeant in record time. Also, the wage allows me to send part of my pay home to my ma every week; pa’s too crippled up with rheumatism to go out and work anymore, though he still tries.
What is your biggest fear? I’m afraid Buffalo’s going to explode in a war between these two factions, the human and automaton citizens. I’m also afraid Ginny will decide to return to the Dakota Territories, where she was raised. Aye, I’m aware those are two things, but to be honest I’m not sure which scares me more.
How do you relax? Ah, a beer with some of the other fellows from the station house does the trick. It’s good to kick back and talk about something besides work. There are people who say I’m never really off duty, but they’d be wrong.
Who is your favorite fictional character? I don’t have a lot of time to read, not like my good friend, Pat Kelly, who’s an automaton and a member of the Buffalo Police Irish Squad. He claims he’s learned what it means to be human by reading widely. But he did lend me a ripping new book by a fellow called Robert Louis Stevenson, called Treasure Island, about a lad named Jim Hawkins. I did enjoy it. That lad had persistence and a whole lot of gumption, even in the face of danger.
What is the best piece of advice you ever received? Ma always told us not to take chances, which doesn’t make a lot of sense when you consider she followed the old man all the way to America from Ireland. And hell—pardon my language—you can’t get ahead without taking a few chances, can you? So I guess that wasn’t very good advice after all. As a policeman, I’ve learned to listen to my gut, but ‘twas life taught me that—life and this great, boisterous and wonderful city of ours.
This has been great, Brendan. Thank you. We'd like to talk to Laura for a moment.
What movies or books have had an impact on your career as a writer? I’m sure that on some level, every book and movie I’ve ever read or seen has impacted me. It all wends its way into the brain and has an effect, however subtle. I’ve been reading since…well, since I could read, and the good books, the important books, have made me the person I am, from the children’s story, Shadow Castle by Marian Cockrell to the wondrous and magnificent Disc World series by Sir Terry Pratchett which, even after multiple readings, still prompts awe at his boundless genius.
What event in your private life were you able to bring to this story and how do you feel it impacted the novel? My days spent growing up in the city of Buffalo have definitely impacted the whole Buffalo Steampunk series, even though it’s set in a Victorian, steam-powered world. It’s a gritty, industrial, courageous city full of the descendants of immigrants who’ve learned to never say “die”. I like to feel Buffalo has become an extra character in these stories. So not a single event, no, but a wealth of them.
Tell us a bit about your publisher: how did you hear about them and what influenced your decision to submit to them? It’s a funny thing: for years I’d been searching for a publisher like The Wild Rose Press, one that treated submitting authors like human beings rather than annoyances, and handled their work kindly. I’d always hoped for a good relationship with an editor, who would care about my work. I stumbled on The Wild Rose Press’s submissions guidelines online and actually set about writing my novel, Devil Black, to meet them. No other purpose for the book to be written—it met with instant acceptance from my editor there, who has indeed become my good friend and valued work partner. So maybe I didn’t just “stumble” on that listing, eh?
What book[s] currently rest on your TBR pile? Actually they’re mostly tucked into my Kindle and they are too many to count. I’d love to read all the books by my fellow The Wild Rose Press authors as they come out, but of course time doesn’t permit. Can’t wait for the next release by fellow TWRP author Sorchia DuBois, and also the next in a series by Avril Borthiry.
Lastly, what's up next and when can we expect to see it on the shelves? Since I publish in a number of different genres, my next up will either be a retelling of the Cinderella tale, called Cinder-Ugly, or the second book in my Hearts of Caledonia Series, called Valiant and Wise. But Buffalo Steampunk fans shouldn’t worry—I’m busy editing the sixth book in that series, called Tough Prospect: A Buffalo Steampunk Adventure, and the seventh book is already written. (Just a teaser, here, the seventh book will feature a little Steampunk hockey!)
Laura brought an excerpt from Last Orders:
     Ginny glared harder at the tall, strapping hunk of man—police officer—who stood before her. She supposed being a police officer didn’t exclude him from being a man but at the moment she felt a little fuzzy about it. In any case, he was much too good looking, well over six feet with a good set of shoulders, reddish hair and features that had been entirely too well-carved. And those eyes—just look at those eyes: bright blue and snapping with rage.
     She detested handsome men.
     He had to be the most detestable she’d ever seen. And his voice! That Irish accent of his caressed his words the way his tongue might well caress a woman.
     “I do not wish to be arrested. What blame fool would want to get arrested?”
     “Then hand over your weapon. You can reclaim it tomorrow at the station.”
     How professional he was. How well he kept his anger under control. But Ginny could feel it and she wondered what it would take to make him lose that control.
     “I’ve had this steam cannon since I was fourteen years old.”
     “Well you and it are going to have to spend the rest of the night apart. Dennis?” The officer jerked his head at the second cop—at least Ginny thought there were two and she wasn’t just seeing double. The two of them closed in on her again, one from either side.
     She raised the weapon, dimly aware it was a stupid thing to do.

To purchase Last Orders, go to:

To learn more about Laura Strickland and the stories she creates, go to: