Saturday, October 31, 2015

Texas Twister by Dana Wright


Texas Twister (Blue Moon Chronicles) by Dana Wright - Romance>Fantasy
Sometimes love finds you in the darkest places.
Magdalay Rousseau is having a bad day. She can't find the charging cable to her laptop, and when she goes into her husband's office to look for it, she discovers he's been cheating on her. She decides to hire a private investigator to dig into her husband's secrets, but what the detective discovers about her turns her world upside-down.
Carter Zusak is a private detective--and a cat shifter. When a new client shows up, he's almost certain she's a flake. What kind of woman writes romance novels and owns a shop selling supplies for witches? He's sure she's got a bat or two loose in her belfry--until he delves deeper into her case. No one in her life is what they seem, and Magdalay has just put herself in danger more insidious than he ever imagined. Something about this witch sets his heart on fire. But he'll have to figure out a way to save her before they both get burned...

Buy links:
All Romance:
Barnes & Noble:

Published By: Etopia Press
Published: Oct 27, 2015
ISBN # 9781944138158
Pages: 99

blue moon chronicles, cat shifter, cisgender, dana wright, etopia press, fantasy romance, ghost, heterosexual, magic, male / female, paranormal, paranormal / horror, paranormal romance, private detective, private investigator, shapeshifter, shifters, shifters / cats, shifters / felines, supernatural, witch, wizard / witch / mystic



Magdalay Rousseau stared at her lifeless laptop and groaned. It wouldn’t turn on. Again. So much for a lasting battery. Already irritated from lack of sleep, she pressed the on button one more time and tried to recall where she’d left the charger. It should be in the little plastic bag she usually kept next to her laptop, but it wasn’t.
“Great. I can’t believe this. I ought to just spell you and be done with it.”
She growled and pushed herself up from the small space at the kitchen table. Perhaps it was in her work bag in the foyer. She hated resorting to magic when real world solutions worked just fine. It had been a point of contention with her mother for years. Besides, she wasn’t very good at it. Wish for rain and get a flood in her kitchen. That was her life right now.
Magdalay peered into the bag.
“Oh. This is just getting better and better.”
Magdalay spun on her heel and considered her next move. She had a deadline for her publisher, and today would be her only day off with no distractions until next week. Not that she could focus anyway. Not with the antics Russ was pulling lately. Her mind kept circling him like a dog with a bone.
He’d been out with the boys from the club, but something in the back of her mind kept digging at her. Their poker games didn’t last that long. Neither did their dinners at the club, which she now refused to attend. Not after the last time with his uppity friends and their equally unpleasant wives. She didn’t fit in with the country club scene, and that was more than all right with her.
Russ hadn’t come home—again—by the time her head hit the pillow last night at midnight. It was becoming par for the course. Magdalay couldn’t concentrate on anything and that included leaving her damn charging cable someplace. She could swear it was next to her workstation last night when she went to bed, but she could have been dreaming. She couldn’t remember, and that just pissed her off, making her already foul mood even more noxious.
“Did you wash my pants?” Russ called out from the bedroom, his voice lacking any of the warmth she used to receive from him.
“Yes,” she ground out, barely containing her urge to demand where the hell he’d been all damned night. It didn’t do any good. He never answered her anyway. “They’re folded on the dryer.”
Her husband, Russ, clad in a blue pullover shirt and tighty-whities bolted from their bedroom down the short hall toward the laundry room. The door opened and shut, and she caught a streak of blue out of the corner of her eye but no acknowledgement or thank you.
Next time she ought to let his clothes just pile up and see what happened. Well…she took that back. A week ago, she’d been too busy to keep up with the laundry and he’d shaken her awake after a long day at the shop and writing, demanding to know when she would get around to it. The icy stare was enough to motivate her into preemptive action. She’d never been afraid of her husband before that night, but things had changed between them at an alarming rate.
She poured the water into the coffeepot and flipped on the switch, sighing as the rich aroma of the Columbian blend pervaded the kitchen. It was still early, and she’d spent a sleepless night tossing and turning and imagining his car wrapped around a pole or worse. The man hadn’t come home until after two. At least that was the last time she recalled on the blinking clock on the nightstand. Russ hadn’t even had the decency to let her know where he was or if he was OK. Magdalay didn’t remember him sneaking in. She’d tried to stay awake so she could talk to him or at least give him a piece of her mind, but she must have drifted off in a wave of jittery exhaustion.
Last night had just been the latest in a long line of whatever was happening in their marriage and fixing it was becoming a pipe dream. He’d grown more and more distant over the past three months and she didn’t know what had gone wrong. Well…except for her working. He hated the hours she spent away from home, but with her mother’s passing, Broomstix had become hers. The irony wasn’t lost on her. A witch who didn’t want to be, or worse yet, was terrible at it.
She thought back to her mother’s last days and the love she had for her trusty cat, Jules. They’d been inseparable.
“You need a familiar, love. Sometimes having someone at your back and by your side is the most powerful magic in the world.”
Magdalay’s lips twisted and she sighed. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried. Every cat she’d gotten went missing in a matter of days. When she’d gone to Russ about the missing animals, he’d had nothing to say. Frustrating wasn’t even half the word for it. Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for animals. Then she thought all she needed was her soul mate. That would have to be enough. She’d always thought Russ was that person, but more and more, she sensed a tremendous gulf between them, and it left her hollow inside.
Last month she’d been at the stitching circle and each of the ladies was practicing poppet magic. The little cloth dolls danced and frolicked in anticipation of whatever task they were intended for. Hers lay there, looking still and unresponsive. It was to be a creative muse for her magic. She figured if she could cast a spell and have a poppet work on some of her overdue plot lines and synopses, she’d be ahead of the game. No such luck.
The stitching circle, full of her mother’s old friends, thought it was hilarious. Now on top of her writing schedule, it was her responsibility to keep Broomstix going. People depended on her, and she was trying to learn as much as she could. Gaining the knowledge she needed wasn't going as smooth as she’d like.
Her gaze raked the cluttered counter where her husband paid bills and recoiled. No way was she touching that. “Not a chance.” Then she remembered Russ had the same model laptop she did. She could borrow his charger and pick hers up tomorrow when she went back into work. Problem solved.
“I’m out. See you tonight,” came the clipped response from the front hallway followed by the slamming of the decorative lead glass door. He hadn’t even come into the kitchen. Not even for coffee.
“Wow.” Now she knew he was avoiding her and likely hiding something. Magdalay shook her head, the bitterness of her new reality sliding down her stomach like a Ping Pong ball. His behavior stung, and she didn’t know what to make of it. She moved down the hall, her linen nightgown floating around her legs. In the Texas heat, it helped to have something comfortable and the Eileen West nightgowns were her guilty pleasure. Goddess knew she needed something.
She paused in the doorway to his office and sighed. Goddess, she hated invading his space. Maybe the charger was right out in the open and she could snap it up and be out before she disturbed anything of importance. Then she saw it. Propped on a pile of paperwork next to his computer was her small, holiday design-covered Ziploc bag with her cord dangling off the desk over the top of it.
“What the heck?” Her lips slid into a frown and she unclenched her hands. He took it. Probably to do the same thing she’d been about to do, but at least she would have replaced his where she found it as soon as she was done. She reached down to pick up the bag and wind up the charging cord, and her hand brushed the mouse on his desk, the darkened screen erupting to life. His e-mail was up. She wouldn’t have stopped save for the name on the screen.
Slowly, Magdalay lowered herself into the chair and began to read. She hadn’t meant to intrude on his privacy. They’d always respected each other enough to be honest. At least she’d always thought so. But with every line she read, the trust she believed her marriage was based on was revealed to be nothing more than a lie.
She hated wives who resorted to sneaking into their husband’s phone records and all of those things to find out what they’d been up to. Now, here she was, and she didn’t have a clue what to do about it. What was done was done and couldn’t be taken back. One e-mail turned into two. Two turned into a dozen, and at that point she had to stop, the contents of her stomach churning like wildfire in her gut.
Fuck me. Fuck me like you did in your office.
I want it all.
You motherfucker.
Tears stung her eyes. There was no other explanation was there? It was all laid out in black and white. The only thing missing was a frigging video of them fornicating. Her stomach lurched.
The lump in her throat threatened to overtake her, and she had to pause and take a deep breath. Her mother’s absence was a raw and gaping wound. Eleanor would have known what to do, but Magdalay was frozen with indecision. Her thoughts turned to the ladies in her stitching circle. They met once a month but it wasn’t scheduled until next week. Goddess, but she sure could use some comfort now. Or at least, a sounding board for her fury. Her fingertips itched to zot the fucker but no…not yet. Not that she was fully capable, but her circle was. She’d seen it time and again.
But the emails…she read the last line again.
I want to run my fingers down your long, long legs and part your… She had to stop. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her once again.
“You cheating bastard,” she whispered. She had to be sure. It was possible it was only emails. In her heart, she knew that was a lie. Magdalay stood, her knees shaking and made her way out of Russ’s office to her work space in the kitchen. She hooked up the laptop to the charger and shoved the plug into the wall.
Magdalay considered her options. She could wait and confront him when he got home. Whenever that would be.
Or she could hex him where he stood and watch as his dick shriveled up and fell off. A tiny smile twitched at the corner of her lips at the idea. If only. With her luck, she’d turn him into an overlarge piece of beef jerky and have to explain that one to the police.
Not a good idea. Her magic was unpredictable at best. She’d hid it from him, not wanting to go there. It wasn’t her fault she was born a witch. It was her choice whether or not to use it. If something needing a spell came up, she waited until her hubby was off doing engineer things or sleeping in front of the television. Proof. She needed more proof. The laptop whirled to life and she pulled up her search engine.
What about a private detective? She had a little mad money put aside for the dress she wanted for the romance writer’s convention in a few months. Magdalay had no idea what the detective would cost, but she had to know. With unblinking eyes she typed, private investigator Spinnaker, Texas then she closed her eyes, rolled the mouse, and clicked on the Blue Moon Detective Agency.

About the author:

Dana Wright has always had a fascination with things that go bump in the night. She is often found playing at local bookstores, trying not to maim herself with crochet hooks or knitting needles, watching monster movies with her husband and furry kids or blogging about books. More commonly, she is chained to her computers, writing like a woman possessed. She is currently working on several children's stories, young adult fiction, romantic suspense, short stories and is trying her hand at poetry. She is a contributing author to Ghost Sniffer’s CYOA, Siren’s Call E-zine in their “Women in Horror” issue in February 2013 and "Revenge" in October 2013, a contributing author to Potatoes!, Fossil Lake, Of Dragons and Magic: Tales of the Lost Worlds, Undead in Pictures, Potnia, Shadows and Light, Dark Corners (upcoming), Wonderstruck, Shifters: A Charity Anthology, Dead Harvest, Monster Diaries, Holiday Horrors and the Roms, Bombs and Zoms Anthology from Evil Girlfriend Media. She is the author of Asylum, The Invitation and Texas Twister.   Dana has also reviewed music for specializing in New Age and alternative music and has been a contributing writer to Eternal Haunted Summer, Massacre Magazine, Metaphor Magazine, The Were Traveler October 2013 edition: The Little Magazine of Magnificent Monsters, the December 2013 issue The Day the Zombies Ruled the Earth. She currently reviews music at New Age Music Reviews and Write a Music Review.

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Monday, October 19, 2015

The Jock and the Fat Girl

The Jock and the Fat Chick
Nicole Winters

Debut Romance Novel  *  250 pages  *  HarperCollins
YA / NA. Mild swearing. No explicit sex.
Buy Links:

Author Bio:

Nicole Winters:
Born into a literary family.
Could write before speaking.
Spent childhood in sunshiny green meadows devouring highbrow literary works.


More like she was told that C-average, learning disabled students couldn’t possibly grow up to be writers.

Nicole proved them wrong.


English B.A. from the University of Toronto. Loves cats, books, horror films, globe hopping and home-baked cookies. Had once been spotted wearing a sundress.

Cool dudes and motorcycles: TT Full Throttle
Hot guys and romance: The Jock And The Fat Chick

Nicole is currently at work on her third book involving magic called, The Conjurer.

No one ever said high school was easy. In this hilarious and heartwarming debut, one high school senior has to ask himself how much he's willing to give up in order to fit in.
Kevin seems to have it all: he's popular, good looking, and on his way to scoring a college hockey scholarship. However, he's keeping two big secrets. The first is that he failed an assignment and is now forced to take the most embarrassing course ever--domestic tech. The second is that he is falling for his domestic tech classmate, Claire.
As far as Kevin is concerned, Claire does have it all: she's funny, smart, beautiful, and confident. But she's off-limits. Because Kevin knows what happens when someone in his group dares to date a girl who isn't a cheerleader, and there's no way he is going to put himself—or Claire—through that.
But steering clear of the girl of his dreams is a lot harder than Kevin thought…especially when a cooking project they are paired together for provides the perfect opportunity for things to heat up between them outside the classroom….

I raise an eyebrow, letting her know I’m listening, but I’m not sure where she’s going with this.
“I tell you what to do and say around Mrs. A, and that way I keep my A and you can pass this class.”
I consider Claire’s offer. On the one hand, I don’t like her calling me a dumb jock. On the other, she’s amazingly good at cooking and needs to keep her grades high, which means if I do what she says, I’ll pass too. I’ve got nothing to lose, so I nod.
“Okay,” I say.
She gives me this big warm smile, like I’ve made her day.
“Good.” She motions to the fish. “Keep flaking.”
I respond with a “Yes, Coach,” as a lighthearted way of sealing our deal.
When I’m done flaking, Claire adds the fish to the thick rice mixture and then stirs, making my mouth water. It looks and smells incredible. There must be a million grams of carbs in there. If I ate all that, I’d slip into a carb coma.
Claire pulls a large wooden spoon from the drawer and then offers it to me. “Want to taste?”
She’s surprised when I shake my head, like I have no clue what I’ve turned down.
“Ugh,” she says. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those carb-counting gym rats.”
I make a face. “I hate the term ‘gym rat’; it makes me sound greasy.”
“True.” Claire sizes me up and then adds, “And you’re definitely not greasy.”
Hey, did she just check me out?
“Okay, how’s ‘don’t tell me you’re one of those carb-counting fitness bunnies’?”
I grunt, amused.
“I bet you work out twice a day,” she goes on, stirring the risotto, “and you eat nothing but skinless chicken and steamed broccoli.”
I shrug.
She bobs her head, like she’s confirming something. “Yeah, you look like a guy who denies himself pleasure....”
An unexpected rush of heat spreads across my face. “Well, if you want six-pack abs, there’s got to be sacrifices.”
Claire glances at my stomach, and even though she can’t see anything under my shirt and apron, she turns her gaze away and smiles, big.

That was definitely a check-me-out move.

1. How did you get started writing?
I really enjoyed movies growing up, so when I was a student at the University of Toronto, I joined Hart House’s New Filmmaker’s Club. There were roughly thirty of us at our first meeting, sitting at this huge Harry Potter dining hall style table. The other students were vying for the director’s position in the club, so while they chatted, I used the time to write my first ten-minute short film. When I finished, something just hit me. It was like a horrible cliché; it felt as if the clouds parted and a ray of sun shone down upon me. I just knew storytelling was what I wanted to do.
2. Name three things on your desk right now.
Camera that needs charging, two empty pint sized mugs of tea, and jewellery: four silver rings and a bracelete.

3. Hamburger or sushi?
Definitely sushi.

4. If I were your favorite cookie I would be what flavor?
I’d be one of the cookies I get at the The Chocolateria. He makes them with high quality real ingredients — good chocolate, butter, etc. along with leftover ingredients from his other chocolate goodies, which is the real secret. You don’t snarf this cookie down, no-no. It’s a put on a pot of tea and sit in your favourite chair with a good book by your side kind of cookie.

5. Open your new release to any page and tell us what is happening.
Claire’s teaching Kevin how to properly hold a knife, but he’s not paying attention because she’s just laid her palm overtop his hand and his heart is thumpity-smashing.

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

7. Tell us one tip you would pass on to new writers.
If it’s in your heart to tell stories, don’t let anyone stop you.

8. Plotter or pantster?
Definite plotter.

9. What is your favorite movie or book and why?
This is a tough one as there are just so many. I love ALMOST FAMOUS as I used it as a tool to help me understand Joseph Campbell’s work on the hero’s journey.

10. What's next on your writerly horizon?
THE CONJURER, a story involving stage magic.

11. (for YA) What do you think makes your book connect and resonate with teen readers?
There is a raw honesty to it. My characters aren’t know it all’s. They’re trying to navigate and make sense of the world, just as much as my readers are.

12. (horror/zombie) Do you write about things that scare you? If so, what and (gasp) why?
Yes. I like to write about characters who sometimes question the existence of God. What if it’s true? Also, what if it’s not true? Either scenario is terrifying.

Monday, October 5, 2015

The Chemist's Shop Book Tour

The Book Mistress Tours Presents

The Chemist's Shop
Richard Brumer
Stand Alone or Series:   Stand Alone
Length of Book:                Approx 68,000 words/ 300 pages
Genre:                                  Suspense thriller wrapped around a tender love story.
Buy Links:                           

Author Bio:
Richard Brumer grew up in the Bronx and now lives in Florida with his wife Carol. For many years his passions were skiing, sports car racing, and sailing, including sailing solo in the South Pacific. As a retired pharmacist, he turned his hand to writing and has written several novels and short stories.
Information about his work can be seen on his website:
Social Media Links:         Facebook: 
Twitter:                @rxrich

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out...
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out...
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out...
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me...and there was no one left to speak for me.
—Martin Niemoller, Protestant pastor
The Chemist’s Shop, a novel by RICHARD BRUMER. It is a gripping psychological suspense thriller wrapped around a tender love story.
Pharmacology professor Michael Ross retires from the world of academia in 1970 and opens a community pharmacy in a peaceful upstate New York town. He puts the horrific tragedies of his past behind him and finds serenity in his new life. That is, until he recognizes a customer as former Nazi SS officer, Hans Stern.
Michael looks into Stern’s cold steel-blue eyes, clenches his fists and boils inside, remembering how his three young daughters were taken from him and gassed, and his wife, Ilona, was tortured, raped and stripped of all dignity by Stern, twenty-five years earlier in Auschwitz.
Face to face with this evil being, Michael forces himself to stay calm. In that moment, he experiences two opposing but related feelings. One is anger, the other exhilaration.
Michael could not protect his family then, but he can avenge their deaths now. It isn’t just about killing Stern. That would be too easy. His death has to be slow, painful, and diabolical, and it begins with a game of chess.
Available online from Barnes and Noble, Amazon, Goodreads, and in Palm Beach County, FL public libraries
I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be with you for the past few days. The court case consumes me but being in jail doesn’t take me away from you, When I lost you and later learned you were in Paradise, I felt cursed by the distance between us. But now I feel blessed that I can enjoy the finer parts of our love that others with the privilege of nearness fail to notice.
Our minds and hearts are joined for all eternity, a gift perhaps few can share. Thank you so much for loving me and being my wife.

Miklos and Ilona protected their daughters from worry and harm so they could live in their sweet world of innocence. He was delighted to see his girls play dress-up as they danced around the house, like little ballerinas, to the music of Swan Lake. Little Eva was the best dancer of them all.
“Go, go, Eva,” he shouted and clapped with his hands over his head.
She turned and spun, like a prima ballerina, the star of the show. She had her own graceful style and expressed her emotions with her small, delicate hands, dancing and turning, with her arms arched above her. In his mind’s eye, Miklos saw her grown-up, in her ballet costume, on point and on stage.
The twins skipped and danced until they were breathless. They were all dressed up and fancy, painted with their mother’s makeup and wearing colorful outfits sewn together by Ilona from scraps of material. Roza and Magda had their own sense of grace. They lived in the moment, their moment, as they twirled their young bodies, attempted pirouettes, and leaped into the air.

Ilona turned toward Miklos and whispered in his ear, “When the girls are finished dancing, remind me to tell you something.”
“Tell me now.”
“No, it’s a surprise for the whole family.”
Magda’s excited cries interrupted them. “Look at me, look at me!” She skipped barefoot along the hardwood floor, spinning, turning and bowing to her audience.
“Wonderful!” Miklos shouted as he clapped in rhythm to the music.
“Look at me, too,” Roza yelled as she jumped up and down on the sofa.
Then little Eva caught her breath and performed her solo. “Look at me, Papa. I’m the swan queen.”
She twirled her young body around until she was dizzy, but continued to dazzle her audience. At the end of her dance, her black curls were wet with perspiration and she bowed to everyone as they applauded. Her eyes widened and sparkled when Miklos presented her with a red rose he had taken from Ilona’s birthday bouquet.
“Oh, Papa, thank you!” she said, taking in the delicate scent of the rose.
“You’re welcome, Eva. Every ballerina should have flowers when she takes her bows at the end of her performance.”
Miklos squeezed his wife’s hand. “Did you ever think that when our girls were born, they would provide us with so much entertainment?”
“Never,” Ilona said with tears of delight. “We were given a gift, a wonderful present,” she said, her dark-brown eyes glistening.
“We’re blessed,” he said with a deep sigh, but his thoughts were troubled.
 “Will we be all right, Miklos?” Ilona asked. “I’m worried about the girls. They’re so young, just babies.”
“Everything will go well. I was a professor. The Nazis will show respect and find some use for me. We will be safe, Ilona. I promise you.”
Little Eva was out of breath. She sat on the couch, her chest heaving in and out, but Roza and Magda continued to dance with the little energy they had left. They loved each other in a special way, as twins do, but had distinctive personalities. Magda was a bit of a complainer, but good-natured. At the dinner table, she would scrutinize the food carefully and either eat it or give it a “yuck.” Her dream was to be a singer, and she constantly hummed and whistled her tunes. Roza was the resident introvert. She read books and loved to write poetry. She was sensitive, like her mother. Miklos thought that when his girls grew up, they would be a gift to the artistic world. They had so much ahead of them and were lucky to be at the beginning of their lives. The dancing and music continued. Everything will work out all right. He and Ilona continued to be an enthusiastic audience. They clapped and sang through their daughters performances.
The sound of marching boots and loud banging on the door brought the festivities to a halt.

How did you get started writing?

Stopped sailing in the South Pacific and skiing down mountains when I became 85—now I write!

. Name three things on your desk right now.
Glasses, iPhone, computer

. Hamburger or sushi?

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

. Open your new release to any page and tell us what is happening. Reading my back cover blurb on The Chemist’s Shop—a novel:

The book was published by Limitless Publishing and is available on Amazon:
Pharmacology professor Michael Ross retires from the world of academia in 1970 and opens a community pharmacy in a peaceful upstate New York Town. He puts the horrific tragedies of his past behind him and finds serenity in his new life. That is, until he recognizes a customer as former Nazi SS officer, Hans Stern.
Michael looks into Stern’s cold steel-blue eyes, clenches his fists and boils inside, remembering how his three young daughters were taken from him and gassed, and his wife, Ilona, was tortured, raped and stripped of all dignity by Stern twenty-five years earlier in Auschwitz.
Face to face with this evil being, Michael forces himself to stay calm. In that moment, he experiences two opposing but related feelings. One is anger, the other exhilaration.
He could not protect his family then, but he can avenge their deaths now. It wasn’t just about killing Stern. That would be too easy. His death had to be slow, painful, and diabolical, and it begins with a game of chess.

. Heels, flats or sneakers? (or nothing at all)
Tell us one tip you would pass on to new writers.

. Plotter or pantster?
What is your favorite movie or book and why?
Lawrence of Arabia—Historical---beautifully filmed

Monday, September 28, 2015

Out of Time by Shona Husk

1. How did you get started writing?
I always wrote as a child, but as an adult I didn’t get started until I was on maternity leave, and even then it was several years before I decided to aim for publication.

2. Name three things on your desk right now.
My planner so I know what I’m doing monthly and daily. My phone…because I like to have it nearby—although sometimes I put it at the other end of the house so I can work without the distraction. Chocolate, leftover from my morning tea :)

3. Hamburger or sushi?
It depends on how I’m feeling. Sometimes there is nothing better than a nice gourmet beef burger with salty fries. But I do love California rolls with smoked salmon.

4. If I were your favorite cookie I would be what flavor?
I love Donna Hay’s chocolate brownie cookies with peanut butter frosting. They are so good!

5. Open your new release to any page and tell us what is happening.
The hero and the heroine are getting intimate, or trying to, but they are also negotiating boundaries. She knows that he has a bit of a raunchy past and she doesn’t want to be a statistic. 

6. Heels, flats or sneakers? (or nothing at all)
Flats or sneakers. I only wear heels for special occasion or conferences.

7. Tell us one tip you would pass on to new writers.
Read widely and write often. That’s kind of two tips but they are equally important.

8. Plotter or pantster?
Plotter without a doubt. I like to get to know my characters before I jump in and have an idea about what the main turning points will be in the story.

9. What is your favorite movie or book and why?
I’m really enjoying the Natural History of Dragons series by Marie Brennan at the moment and the Dresden files by Jim Butcher. They both have excellent world building that sucks you into the story, even though the two series couldn’t be more different in other ways.

10. What's next on your writerly horizon?
I had a paranormal romance, Taming the Assassin, just come out and in October my first m/m romance, Kelly, is out as part of the Secret Confession: Backstage mini-series. I also have a new sci-fi romance series starting with Desire to Fall which I’m super excited about.

Out of Time
The fabulous New Adult series from Shona Husk continues: he wants to shut out the world; she wants to invite it in…

Mike Peterson has learned the hard way that the good really do die young. He and his mum only have each other, and now she’s losing her second battle with cancer. He wants to stay with her; she wants him to keep following his dreams. He doesn’t have long to decide and the rest of the band is waiting on him. Whatever choice he makes, he will lose.

Living at home has become impossible for Ava Brand. Her very religious, very traditional grandmother would like to see her married off to a nice Indian boy. But Ava wants to make her own choices. Meeting Mike gives her a chance to rebel.

What starts off as easy rapidly becomes complicated, as their problems expand and emotions bubble to the surface. Neither has time for complicated, as Ava’s family discovers her extra-curricular activities and Mike has to make incredibly hard choices. But love never waits for the perfect time, and Mike and Ava are going to have to decide if they’re playing for fun, or playing for keeps.

Buy Links:

About the author:
Shona Husk lives in Western Australia at the edge of the Indian Ocean. Blessed with a lively imagination she spent most of her childhood making up stories. As an adult she discovered romance novels and hasn’t looked back.

With over forty published stories, ranging from sensual to scorching, she writes contemporary, paranormal, fantasy and sci-fi romance.

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‘I don’t know why I texted you.’ Her lips curved into a small smile before she pinched her lower lip between her teeth, as if to stop it from spreading. ‘I just wanted to get out and thought that if you were close by …’
‘And here I am.’ This wasn’t awkward at all. What were they doing?
She nodded and her gaze skimmed over him. ‘And here you are.’ She took a step closer.
He could reach out and touch her, yet he didn’t. He hadn’t been this hesitant in a very long time. But Ava wasn’t some random chick whose name he didn’t know or couldn’t remember. Her name was etched inside his skull. ‘Did you want to go for a walk?’
‘Why not.’ She flicked him another little smile.
Why not indeed, he wasn’t sure what else they were going to do. This was outside their usual activities. They walked down the road a bit toward the foreshore. He was aware of her arm when it brushed his. And while they had sat close after a ride, this felt different.
How different did he want it?
He wasn’t sure. He liked what they had and that they could talk and there were no complications. But his fingers brushed her hand and then her fingers were linking with his and then they were holding hands before they reached the grassed foreshore.
Around them people moved, walking from wherever they’d parked their car or jumped off the bus. She wouldn’t want to be down here when the show started, not when she could be watching from her balcony with her friends, plus they’d wonder where she was. He glanced back up the road toward the hotel.
‘Guess I should go back.’ She didn’t sound entirely convinced.
‘I’ll walk you.’ He didn’t care if he missed the whole thing. They went back the way they’d come.
They were almost there when she stopped. In that heartbeat, he knew this was about to get complicated and he wasn’t going to do a damn thing to stop it. He’d wanted her the first time he’d seen her. The heat of the evening was on his skin and her touch was under his skin.
If she invited him up, he’d follow.
Fuck. He had no condoms.
Maybe she did … but the thought brought him up short. He liked her. He didn’t just want to sleep with her. If he did that, then what happened next? Did they go back to just being friends … is that what had been happening, or had she wanted more from the start?
It was complicated already. He’d been pretending otherwise because Ava was a very pretty distraction.
A quick screw never brought this headache, neither had making love with a girlfriend. He wasn’t sure he remembered how to do that. It had been too long.
She looked up at him and stepped closer. ‘I remembered why I texted you.’
‘Uh-huh.’ He’d kind of got that. He was sure his heart was about to self-destruct in a frenzy of lust and anticipation.
He put his hand on her waist. He knew she was all lithe muscle. Her riding gear had given him plenty to think about in the shower. She probably wouldn’t find that flattering. After giving her a moment to pull away—she didn’t—he drew her a fraction closer.
Neither of them moved. Her lips were tilted up, and her fingers were locked around his. He drew in a breath. If he crossed the line, he wouldn’t be able to uncross it. He didn’t need this. His life was a mess that he couldn’t afford to screw up further. His dick pulsed. It had only been a month, not even a full month. It wasn’t going to drop off if it didn’t get used.
‘Kiss me,’ she whispered.
Any resistance he’d had was shattered by those two words. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. All other thoughts melting away.
She wanted him and he needed her. But he didn’t rush the kiss and neither did she. It slowly deepened from first kiss to more. Her free hand slid over his chest to land on his shoulder. He closed the last few centimetres between them.
Still she didn’t pull away.
There were too many people around to do more here. But he moved against her, leaving no doubt about what he was thinking. She gasped then swayed her hips.
He wanted to pick her up and have her against the nearest wall—which had been his first thought the first time he’d seen her. Her hotel was only metres away. He was pathetic, drawing boundaries, only to ignore them when he changed his mind.
Her tongue found his ring. Then her teeth gave it a gentle tug. She gave a little laugh as he growled.
‘You like that one?’
‘Mmm. Do you have any more?’
No, he didn’t, and this is where things usually took a dive. But he wasn’t drunk and neither was she. And they weren’t strangers. But he didn’t want to give up all his secrets too soon. ‘Maybe, maybe not.’
She was still pressed against him. Her body moulding to his. She reached up and took another kiss. ‘Guess I’ll have to wait to find out.’
Her fingers slid free from his and then she was drifting out of reach. She took a couple more steps back, her eyes still on him.
He covered the distance in a few quick strides. Kissed her again. Harder this time; then drew back, knowing there wasn’t going to be anymore tonight. It was better this way. No sex to make a mess of things. It was fairly obvious that it was on both their minds. ‘Enjoy the fireworks.’