Thursday, May 26, 2016

Masked Hearts Anthology



Masked Hearts
A sweet romance anthology
By Various Authors
Publisher: Roane Publishing
Release Date: May 23, 2016
Keywords: Fantasy, romance, shifters, dragon, elves, masquerade, sweet

What secrets do the Masked Hearts hold?


Affinity by Dana Wright
Behind the shadows lies the truth…

A magic mirror and a houseful of ghosts await Kristen when fate leads her to Wanderly House. Secrets and spirits consume her days, but one look in the magic mirror and her heart falls fast. A mask, a cloak, and a key leading her to an enchanted evening in the faery garden might be Kristen's end as all that glitters may well have sharp teeth.

Magic mirror on the wall…

Connor is trapped in Faery. With only a view through a bewitched mirror to the real world, his attention is nabbed by a curious cat shifter with a ghostly following. Can he find a way to break the spell that binds him so he can reach the girl that haunts his dreams?

When the forces of Faery and Wanderly House collide, will Kristen and Connor's love be enough to save them?
Water Woman by Claire Davon
Sparks fly when a Spanish water woman, and an African two-horned horse shifter meet at a masquerade. Kimoni has gone to ask Isidora to use her skills to aid him with his ailing grandfather. When strangers claiming to be Isidora’s relatives try to force her to share her powers, the pair is plunged into danger. Isidora and Kimoni look for a way to fight the ruthless intruders, while also saving his grandfather.

Using their combined powers, they meet the challenge, all the while conscious of the growing attraction between them. It has been a long time since Isidora has met a man who calls to her as Kimoni does. The strong, handsome horse shifter sings to her senses, and she sees a matching spark in his eyes. Can love between them blossom? Can a water woman and a horse shifter find happiness together?
Dragon Law by Nemma Wollenfang
The kingdom of Baelin is under attack. A terrifying dragon rains fire down on the capital city, burning all in his path. The people’s one hope lies with the Princess Draxa, who – in accordance with an ancient rite – must willingly sacrifice her future to sate the beast’s wrath.
For her kingdom, Draxa will do it. She will leave Andre, the fierce soldier she loves with all of her heart, don her red cloak, and make the treacherous trip into the heart of the mountain, to face the monstrous Lord Siouxlian in his lair.  
Feather Fall by Sheryl Winters
Brooke Adair's autism has turned the world into a constant puzzle, especially when it comes to men. When she meets fellow swan shifter Blake Landen in a dream, though, Brooke feels a potential connection to someone who could understand her. If she lets him.

But trusting in Blake takes a whole lot more courage than Brooke has. After all, if she doesn’t take this leap, Brooke might miss out on meeting the one man she could actually learn to understand.
Duty or Desire by Sharon Hughson
Alyona Wyrden dwells contentedly in her elven realm, but when her brother disappears, she travels to Earth to bring him home.

Camden Kerr hunts down magical artifacts, keeping them out of the wrong hands. The amulet that draws Alyona to her brother is just the sort of object Cam’s after. The way his flesh responds to the lithe, blonde necklace wearer is a different matter altogether. When their paths keep crossing, Camden decides they can work together-until he discovers her elven heritage.

Can their attraction defeat prejudice? Which will rule—duty or desire?

Purchase links:

Excerpt #3 -  Dragon Law by Nemma Wollenfang

Her eyes whipped to the cavern opening. Nothing but blackness, then…a rumble, quiet at first. Then another. The ground shook until each rumble became a boom. Tiny pebbles quaked, Draxa’s breathing shallowed.

Could she see something there? Uncoiling in the darkness? Something vast and powerful and deadly?

“The flag, you fool!” the high priest commanded, flapping his arm at another guard. “Put up the flag!”

No sooner had he spoken than a white flag rose up, waving about.

Andre’s mien had grown stony and tense. Ready to fight, ready to protect. Draxa wanted to reach out, to take his hand, even in view of the priest and guards. But that would not help him fight, so she stayed the urge, clasping her hands together beneath her red robe.

Then, as if some ghastly apparition from her most terrifying nightmares had come to life, a gigantic form slithered from the shadows, larger even than any of her imaginings.

Oh, sweet heavens…

Sharp black horns jutted back on his head, his hide was an array of ruby scales, and his eyes were of a black so deep that no abyss could compare.

In a tremulous voice, the high priest called out, “Oh great and p-powerful Siouxlian! M-mighty Dragon Lord. We come here under a b-banner of t-truce!”

About the author:

Nemma is a prize-winning steampunk short story writer, whose works have appeared in several publications, including: Gothic Fantasy Science Fiction Short Stories (Flame Tree Publishing, 2015), A Bleak New World (Raven International Publishing, 2015), and Come Into the House (Corazon Books, 2015). One of her unpublished novels has been shortlisted in three different novel awards. Another won first place in the Retreat West First Chapter Competition. An MSc postgraduate of Vector Biology and Parasitology, she has studied at Keele, Salford, and Manchester Universities. She also volunteers at an animal rescue.

Nemma can be found on facebook and twitter: @NemmaW. Anthologies she has contributed to are on Amazon and Goodreads.


Tour Schedule



A $10 Roane Publishing gift card

Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Gift Code.  No purchase necessary, but you must be 18 or older to enter. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter, and announced on the widget. Winner well be notified by emailed and have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. The number of entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Roane Publishing's marketing department.

Thursday, March 24, 2016

The Purse Book Blast

The Purse
by Julie A. Burns


GENRE: Mystery Thriller



When Lydia Blackwell visits her dying father for the last time, he reveals the deeply hidden truth about her mother. After the funeral, the stranger Derek Meade gifts her with a gorgeous antique purse. But before she has the chance to connect with the man who knew her father intimately, Lydia finds Derek murdered in his home.

Lieutenant Sonja MacIntosh is assigned to investigate Mr. Meade’s death, but her career on the force never prepared her for Lydia Blackwell. As Sonja works to solve the murder, Lydia takes the greatest risk of her life in leaving Chicago to search for clues to her mother’s past. Their instant attraction surprises them both, but even through the chaos Lydia can’t deny the intensity of her feelings for the strong willed Lieutenant.

Lydia’s possession of the antique purse throws her already chaotic life into a whirlwind of kidnapping, blackmail, vengeful mob bosses, and mind-numbing revelations. Through it all, Lydia must find the strength to accept herself – and those closest to her – despite their darkest secrets.


Excerpt Two:

As she walked into the bedroom, the smell of her father’s cologne lingered even through all the sickness that had been in the air. Stepping over to the deep walk-in closet, Lydia opened the double doors to reveal her father’s suits, ties, and shoes. She made a mental note to have Rosita donate her father’s clothes so they didn’t hang like a shrine. She stared at every inch of the closet until her eyes fell on a small shoebox buried on the top shelf. Lydia retrieved the step-ladder from within a hidden compartment in the closet’s wall and stood on it to pull down the shoebox. Without thinking, she strolled over to her father’s bed, sat down, and went through all the memories kept in the cardboard box.

Many were just baby pictures of Lydia, and then she discovered a picture of her mother when she was pregnant. How beautiful she was; she looked so happy and carefree. What in the world could have happened? More questions, no answers. Lydia decided to keep the picture with her. Digging deeper yet into the box, she also found pictures of her father and Derek together. They made a handsome couple, though it was still difficult to believe her father had been involved with a man. At least true love hadn’t escaped him as she’d previously thought.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Julie A. Burns is a native Iowan born in Marshalltown, Iowa and raised in Davenport, Iowa. After her parent’s divorce at age 7, she took to writing, whether it was her diary or poems about people she met or situations that bothered her. After graduating from high school in 1983, she spent time working as a Nurse’s Aide in different nursing homes in Iowa. In 1989, she gave birth to a daughter, Brittany and raised her as a single parent. In the same year, she enrolled at Iowa State University in Ames, Iowa. She graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Sociology in 1994. Since then, Julie has spent time working with developmentally disabled adults and the mentally ill throughout Iowa and also in Wyoming, where she lived for 6 years. Julie currently lives in Waterloo, Iowa with her spouse. When she’s not writing, she enjoys being a grandmother to 3 year old Sophie.



Julie will be awarding 1 printed book of The Purse or 2 ebooks (The Purse and a second of their choice) from RRPI to a randomly drawn winner (international) via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Murder at Morningside Tour and Giveaway

Murder at Morningside
by Sandra Bretting


GENRE: Cozy Mystery



Hat designer Missy DuBois opened her shop, Crowning Glory, along Louisiana's Great River Road to cater to the sophisticated Southern bride. But bless her heart, who knew creating stylish wedding veils would lead to murder?


Excerpt Two:

Before Beatrice could say more, the front door flew open and in stomped an elderly gentleman. He was on the verge of a good old-fashioned hissy fit.

“Y’all don’t deserve a say in this wedding!” he said to a young woman who’d slunk in behind him.

The girl looked to be the right age for his daughter. She wore flip-flops and a wrinkled peasant blouse, and she buried her head in her hands. Well, that lifted the blouse an inch or two and exposed her bare stomach.

Lorda mercy. It seemed the girl and her fiancĂ© must have eaten supper before they said grace, as we said here in the South, because an unmistakable bump appeared under her top. She looked to be about four months along, give or take a few weeks, and I could see why her daddy wasn’t too happy with her right about now.

After a piece, she lifted her chin and glared at him. “I hate you!” Her voice rippled as cold as the river water that ran nearby. “I wish you were dead.” She stalked away.

I fully expected the man to cringe, or at least follow her. Instead, he merely glanced our way and shrugged. After a minute, he pivoted on the spectacle he’d caused and casually strolled away, leaving a bit of frost in the air.

“Oh my. Why don’t we continue,” Beatrice said.

Poor Beatrice. She obviously wanted to divert our attention elsewhere. It couldn’t have been every day one of her hotel guests wished another guest was dead. She hustled us farther into the ballroom, as if nothing had happened, all the while explaining the history of Morningside Plantation.

Follow the tour:


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Sandra Bretting works as a freelance feature writer under contract to the Houston Chronicle. She received a journalism degree from the University of Missouri School of Journalism and wrote for other publications (including the Los Angeles Times and Orange Coast Magazine) before moving to Texas.

Her Missy DuBois Mysteries series debuts from Kensington/Lyrical Underground in May 2016. Bretting’s previous mysteries include Unholy Lies (2012) and Bless the Dying (2014). Readers can reach her online at and through Facebook at

Buy Links:





Sandra will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn host.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday, February 8, 2016

Dancing With the Flame: Poems by Jamieson Wolf

Dancing with the Flame
Jamieson Wolf

Third collected works of poetry  *  212 pages
Author Bio:
Jamieson has been writing since a young age when he realized he could be writing instead of paying attention in school. Since then, he has created many worlds in which to live his fantasies and live out his dreams.
He is a Number One Best Selling Author (He likes to tell people that a lot) and writes in many different genre’s. Jamieson is also an accomplished artist. He works in mixed media, charcoal and pastels. He is also something of an amateur photographer, a poet and graphic designer. 
He currently lives in Ottawa Ontario Canada with his cat, Tula, who is fearless. 
Social Media Links:
Following the Number One Best Sellers, Talking to the Sky and Talking with the Earth, Dancing with the Flame contains poems that are part memoir and part journey towards self-love.
They are Wolf’s attempt to not only find balance but to love all parts of himself, even those that are most difficult to love. 
They are a testament to the strength of the human spirit. The poems show us that whatever life throws at us, with courage anything is possible.
With unflinching honesty, Wolf talks about disease, sexuality, physical disability and the healing power of love.
Buy Links:


What I Had Become

When the New Year began,
I looked into the mirror.
I saw a reflection of myself
from long ago. I was
lying on a bed, weak,
my whole world changed.
I watched as my reflection
lifted a hand and beckoned to me.
“Come on.”
He said.
I touched a hand to the glass
and it was as if
there was no glass there.
The veil between the present
and the past was thin.
I stepped through the mirror
and found myself in a place
that I remembered but fought
so hard to forget.
It was dark and there was only
one small light in the room.
Even so, by that light I saw
who I used to be lying
on the bed, my past self,
my other self. He regarded me,
and I looked at him.
I remembered that day,
how the night before the New Year
my life had changed forever,
never to be the same again.
I knew just how he was feeling
as I had been him, he had been me.
He was weak and disoriented,
unable to walk very well at all,
his whole world seeming to
move around him, unable to keep still.
He regarded me with tired eyes,
the fear in them so total.
He knew that something was wrong.
“You forgot about me.”
He said.
“You forgot our anniversary.”
It was true. I had forgotten.
Every year since that day,
I always wondered if this
would be the year that it happened,
the year where I lost control
of my body once more.
For a while, I lived in fear
of December 31st, of who I had been
and of what I had become on that day.
“I’m sorry,”
I said.
“I did forget. I did forget you.”
He asked.
“Because I left you behind. Because I’m so much stronger now. So much happier.”
He regarded me with a blank expression,
the fear increasing in his eyes until
they were full of tears.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so afraid.”
“I know,”
I said kindly.
I sat on the bed beside him and took his hand
in my own. It was cool and sweaty and
I remembered how warm I’d been,
how nothing had felt right,
and how my own body had turned against me.
“You’ll have to be strong,”
I said.
“There is a lot more pain coming, but you’ll have to be stronger than you’ve ever been. Can you do that for me?”
“I don’t know how.”
“You don’t, but you’ll learn. There will come a moment when you’ll want to quit, where you’ll want to give up and head towards the darkness. But I promise you, good times are coming.”
He looked at me with such
an open expression, one of yearning
for something better. I remembered
wearing that look, wishing and hoping
so fiercely that it was painful.
he said.
I heard my partner calling me from
the other side of the mirror,
his deep voice making the liquid glass
move in ripples. I took one last look
at who I used to be and patted his hand,
leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead.
“I have to go now.”
“I know you do. Don’t forget me, okay?”
“I won’t, I promise.”
With that, I stood and moved towards the glass.
When I stepped through the glass,
I left behind what I had been
and into what I had

1.     How did you get started writing?

I’ve always been a writer. I wrote as a child, mostly stories, since I was eight or as soon as I was able to string words together. I was nineteen when I decided to make it a profession.

2.     Name three things on your desk right now.

A Tarot guidebook, my cup of coffee in a Harry Potter mug and a statue of Buddha.

3.     Hamburger or sushi?

Always sushi!

4.     If I were your favorite cookie I would be what flavor?

Macadamia and white chocolate without question!

5.     Open your new release to any page and tell us what is happening.

It’s a poem called Floating on a Sea of Stars. Here it is:

Floating on a Sea of Stars

I walked into
the room and
tried not to
shiver. The hospital
was cold, especially
so in my
gown with my
back exposed for
all to see.
The technician smiled
weakly at me.
It was late
and who knew
how many MRI’s
she still had
left to do.
She gestured to
the machine, sitting
larger than life
in the middle
of the room.
“Here are your ear plugs. And you even get a little party hat.”
She handed me
a disposable cap
that kept the
machine sterile. She
gestured again at
the MRI machine.
“I want you to lay down, putting your head here in this rest. I’m also going to prop a pillow under your legs.”
I nodded and
hefted myself up
onto the table.
I lay down
as she helped
me guide myself
into the proper
position. She attached
the camera that
would take close
pictures of my
head and neck.
This was the
moment I always
began to lose
it a little.
I felt I
was being shut
into a cage,
with no exit.
“Try not to move while the MRI is on.”
She said. I
knew I would
be able to
hear her voice
once I was
in the machine.
I nodded and
the table slid
into the long
metallic tube. My eyes
were closed and
despite whatever bravery
I possessed, my
eyes watered with
a few tears.
I opened them
and blinked a
few times to
chase the tears
away. It was
then that I
noticed the stars.
Someone had stuck
stars on the
inside of the
tube. I looked
at them and
marveled at the
sight of such
a happy thing
here. I heard
the clicks of
the machine starting
up and then
the MRI started,
shaking the table
that I lay on
as the magnetic
rings moved faster
and faster around
me. I closed
my eyes and
focused on my
breathing. After a
few breaths, I
was able to
breathe deeply. I
eased into
my breathing, letting
their rhythm compliment
the sounds of the
machine as it
thrummed around me.
After some time,
It began to
feel as if
I was sliding
out of the
magnetic tube. I
opened my eyes
and saw the
stars were still
in front of
me. I hadn’t
moved. I closed
my eyes again
and after a
moment, the sensation
of moving returned.
It was as if
an unseen wave
of water ran
beneath me, except
it wasn’t water,
but stars. I
could feel their
sparkle caress my
skin. I was
still moving, sliding
out of the
machine. I heard
a voice speak
in my ear.
“You’re doing so well. We’re almost done. Just a few more minutes.”
I opened my
eyes and saw
the sky, filled
with sparkling stars.
They joined with
the ones that
held me aloft.
I floated there,
held by a sea
of stars. It
seemed like I
could look into
them forever and
never see the
end. Below me,
the machine began
one last loud
round of thrums,
bumps and beeps
It sounded like
the music that
stars would make,
unintelligible to my
human ears. The
the voice spoke
softly once more.
“You’re almost done. You better come back now. You’re almost done.”
I closed my
eyes and relaxed,
floating downward until
I felt the press of
the sliding table
against my back.
The tickling of
the stars lessened
as the machine
began to settle
itself around me.
I felt the
stars leave from
beneath my body.
They slide out
as if made
of water. Then
the machine gave
one final click.
I opened my
eyes and was
once more looking
at the yellow
stars that someone
had stuck inside
the machine. I
said a silent
note of thanks
to that technician,
as those stars
had given me
a way to
float amongst the
stars that came
from forever. As
I walked out
of the room,
I looked behind
me and saw
that I left
behind a trail
of stars, sparkling
in the air.
I almost reached
out to touch
them, to run
my fingers through
them. Instead, I
made a wish
on one of
them and hoped
that it would
come true.

6.     Heels, flats or sneakers? (or nothing at all)

As I would kill myself in heels, always sneakers.

7.     Tell us one tip you would pass on to new writers.

Just keep writing. Is you have the will and want to write, just do it. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise.

8.     Plotter or pantster?

Pantser. Whenever I try to plot, I get writers block.

9.     What is your favorite movie or book and why?

The Princess Bride, both book and movie. I just love that, despite everything, true love always wins.

10.  What's next on your writerly horizon?

I’m going to continue my current work in progress called Boy Friends and hopefully put out a book of short stories.