Sunday, October 26, 2014

Deadlines: A Visit with Judy McDonough #free

Today we welcome the lovely and talented Judy McDonough to the blog. Judy writes paranormal romance with a spooky edge-just in time for Halloween. Right now Deadline is free on Amazon, so run, don't walk to your one click button and download it today!

Take it away Judy!

I was inspired to write after I read The Twilight Saga in its entirety in 4 days. I wanted to write something people would not be able to put down the way I couldn’t put those books down. I had some creepy paranormal experiences in my past that I took and embellished into the fantastic idea of a girl being haunted by someone from her past to help solve the mystery of her death. 

I’m a panster, so I tend to write the story as I go, but everything seems to fall into place. I am learning how to plot, though. I desperately need organization in my life. :)

I don’t have a specific place where I write. I wish I had a desk, but I have three little boys, so my office was transformed in to a play room. My desk now holds construction paper, glue sticks, Transformers, legos, and play-doh. Maybe someday I’ll get it back, but fortunately I can write from anywhere.

Most of my story ideas come from dreams, but I’m a people watcher. I love to observe how different people react to things. I often take an experience that happened to a friend or family member and distort it into a fascinating plot, or will use unique character traits of people I know to form a character for my book. I have a very vivid imagination, so I try to use it at maximum capacity.

I am a Gemini, so I’m huge kid at heart, love goofing off, being quirky and fun, and I get bored incredibly easily. I can shift my train of thought mid-sentence, and be on a completely different topic before you even realize I’ve changed the subject. I love anything involving the supernatural, and I hope to have a supernatural twist to all my stories.

Caroline's life is on track. She's about to get her nursing degree and she's engaged to rich, handsome Trevor. But, before they get married, Trevor wants Caroline to spend the summer in Louisiana, getting to know her father, who's never been in her life. She reluctantly agrees and heads south, deep into bayou country where she meets Cade. Charming and handsome, he's pulling out all the stops to convince her that he's the man for her, not Trevor. As she becomes frightened by a series of strange accidents that began after her arrival, she learns that the woman haunting her dreams is actually a long-dead family member come to warn her about the men in her life. Caroline soon realizes that if she doesn't solve the mysteries from the past, they could permanently alter her future.


Chapter One
The oyster shell gravel crunched beneath the worn tires of Caroline’s Jeep Cherokee as she pulled into the long driveway of the huge plantation home. She squinted through the torrential downpour to compare the address on her map to the golden numbers strategically placed between the majestic columns. Caroline had never seen rain like this. She’d grown up in Arkansas, only one state away, but the raindrops here were different. They were gargantuan and the intensity had strengthened since she’d stopped. Great.
Her heart still pounded from the almost-accident she narrowly avoided just after crossing into the tiny town of Golden Meadow, Louisiana. That would’ve been a fun one to explain. “Honest officer, I swerved so I wouldn’t hit the person standing in the
road. . .in the pouring rain and darkness. . .in the middle of nowhere.” Unbelievable.
She still had no clue who it was or why he or she was there, but when she’d stopped screaming and looked out her back window, whoever she’d nearly creamed had vanished. Yet another creepy incident to add to her list of unexplainable episodes. Caroline couldn’t ignore the hairs standing at attention on her arms. This spooky bayou was already getting to her and she hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet. She had to pull herself together. No time for crazy right now. As much as she dreaded it, she had a mission to accomplish. She was about to rock Eddie Fontenot’s world.
It was nearly impossible to see the house number for the giant raindrops slapping her window like water balloons, but she finally confirmed she was at the right place and groaned. She instantly wished she’d stayed at her mother’s house in Arkansas. Damn Trevor for making me do this! Damn him!
After two years together, you would think she’d be used to the spontaneous, sometimes moody architect’s crazy ideas, but since she’d accepted the two-something carat rock weighing her finger down, she had to admit Trevor had been a different person. Caroline stared at her ring finger and wiggled it so the diamond caught the light from the nearby gas lamp. It was fabulous. Not quite square, more rectangular and it sparkled like the stars on a moonless night.
Caroline remembered something her best friend said in an argument over three months ago. Kristy’s words still stung as if she’d just said them.
“Perhaps you should look up a more accurate definition of gentleman. He most certainly does manipulate you. You’re just too blinded by the rock to see it.”
Was she blinded by the rock? No, she didn’t care about material things. Maybe Kristy was right, maybe Trevor did manipulate her sometimes, but Caroline loved him. She’d been with him long enough to know she was in love with him. She and Trevor had a great relationship.
He had talked her off the ledge every time she thought she’d had enough of college. His patience while pulling all the late nighters tutoring her in advanced math, the romantic dates and high-end concerts of her favorite bands, and his ability to keep her focus on the goal. He’d pulled some strings through his friends who now worked at the University to help her get the professors she really wanted. Also, the never ending physical attention and awareness she absorbed every second they were together. They trusted each other, rarely fought, and she loved him. Every defined inch of the naturally bronze skin he’d inherited from his Native American ancestors.
Her body tingled remembering their last date before she left when he described the deliciously erotic ways he would rock her world on their wedding night. He could hardly keep his hands off her when they were together. Her heart thrummed with anticipation, and nerves, of their wedding night, but she had no doubt Trevor could handle her with care. “This ain’t my first rodeo” were his exact words. She forced herself not to think about the number of rodeos that helped him perfect his ride.
Just to be cautious, and to prevent her discussion with Eddie from focusing on her new bling, Caroline slipped the ring off her finger and tucked it safely in the inside zipper pocket of her purse. She wanted the focus of this meeting to be why Eddie left, not Trevor’s money or the assumption she was shallow and blinded by lavish gifts. Trevor loved Caroline and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her; it just so happened he came from money and had a great career. Sparkly rings and wealth weren’t important to Caroline, and clearly not why she agreed to marry him.
However, Trevor’s temper had reared its ugly head more since she accepted the lovely token than it had the whole two years they’d been together. Curt texts and voicemails when he couldn’t get hold of her, she’d overheard an unsettling phone conversation between him and his dad, and worst of all, he’d booked a church and reception hall without even talking with her—the bride, about it!
Caroline sighed, fogging her windows a little. Perhaps he’s been this way the whole time and she only noticed now since she’d promised to be with him forever. She wondered about the real motivation behind him sending her down here. Trevor explained it as wanting her to make amends with her estranged father before they got married so there would be no surprises in the future. No skeletons in the closet or unfinished business. Whatever. Caroline shook her head and rubbed the twitching muscle in her eyebrow. She could respect that, but had a feeling his reasoning stemmed from the contents in his boxers.
She stared at the beautiful home she never had a chance to enjoy—or even visit! Her heart raced with anxiety as she clenched her jaw. She loved her fiancé, but this was ridiculous. Love doesn’t have conditions, right? Why did Trevor care if her father was included in their lives anyway? He hadn’t been in her life in twenty-three years, why should it matter now? Why was she sitting in Eddie’s driveway having this crazy internal battle?
She knew why. Her uncontrollable curiosity. She wanted to meet him. She needed an explanation. Answers. She needed to know why he never felt the desire to know about her or how she was doing. She needed closure.
Time to finally hear his side of the story. Her mother said he offered her money, but she wouldn’t take it. Emily hadn’t wanted a pity-driven severance package, and her mother, Caroline’s grandmother, was ill, so she moved back to Arkansas to be closer to her parents. That was Emily’s side of the story. Caroline wondered if her mom’s version of the story was, in fact, influenced by her role as the woman scorned. She assured Caroline her father wasn’t the coward she’d made him out to be. That he was a good man easily influenced by his pushy family.
Apparently Eddie was fine with Caroline not being in his life, and now she expected him to what? Open his arms and accept her into his home for an extended period of time? She at least wanted to know why he hadn’t pressed for joint custody rather than moving on with his posh lifestyle pretending she never existed.
She had the whole summer to work things out with him, but hoped all would be resolved in less than a week. Maybe that’s all it would take and Caroline could get on with her life. Maybe even as quick as the weekend.
Her mom’s encouragement to form her own opinion of her dad and his family was understandable, but Trevor’s suggestion to stay the whole three months and come back just before the fall semester was insane! She already missed him and his comforting embrace. Besides, what could she possibly have to talk about with the man who abandoned her, obviously still doesn’t care about her existence, and lives in a gigantic house full of people she doesn’t know? At least, she assumed it was full. It’s awfully big for him to live there alone.
She swallowed the stinging ball of nerves at the realization of not knowing if she had a step family. That part had her almost as nervous as confronting the man she never cared to meet at all. Almost. She would just play it by ear and gauge his reaction to her presence.

Caroline admired her father’s home and wondered how long it had been there. Had to be at least a century. It reminded her of the recurring dreams she’d had, like a scene from Gone with the Wind. She sighed. Maybe Trevor was on to something. Caroline could understand where he came from in one sense. It’s best to clear the air and start with a fresh, clean slate. No sullen, bitter past haunting them. Trevor had a good relationship with both of his parents, from what she could tell by the two or three occasions she had seen them. In the long run, when she and Trevor had kids, it would be nice for them to have both sets of grandparents. Okay, enough stalling.
As she opened her car door, the stinging rain battered her exposed skin. She tried to open the faulty umbrella, but it wouldn’t latch to stay open. She grumbled under her breath and opted to run to the porch. So much for making a good first impression. She’d look like a drowned rat by the time she reached the front door. On her third step off the crushed shell surface of the driveway, her boot sank in about three inches of mud.
“Gah! Great. Fan-freakin-tastic!” She held the broken umbrella over her head to protect as much of her hair as possible, but it was no use. Nothing was going her way. She glanced up at movement from the corner of her eye and squinted through the rain. Someone observed her, completely motionless, from a dark third-story window. Terrific. So much for no one witnessing my embarrassing moment. Oh well, might as well go all in and finish the humiliation. Caroline slung the mud from her boot the best she could as she limped her way toward the house.

She approached the broad, extravagant front porch, and studied the old mansion. It reminded Caroline of her latest dream of the auburn-haired girl dressed in a flowing white nightdress who wept uncontrollably while frantically scribbling in a journal. The details of the one she’d had a few nights ago stuck with Caroline despite the blinding headache that always accompanied these particular dreams. She had admired the mahogany canopy bed and the sheer white material cascading from the beams. A perfect complement to the exquisite matching dressing table and mirror. The immaculate fixtures and decor were stunning and very elegant.
Before the girl busted into the room, Caroline had peeked out the bedroom window to the male voices she’d heard below outside. Men stood in the yard smoking cigars and wore skinny bow ties, and a couple had on bowler-style hats. Like in her previous dreams, the characters were dressed in fashion reminiscent of the mid 1800s.
Caroline peered through the darkness to see if the yard looked the same, but the much-too-brief slack in the rain prohibited her from seeing much past the porch. Unable to shake the niggling déjà vu feeling, she faced the house again and soaked in the ambience of the historical home. The flickering gas lamps flanking the front door lit the area enough for her to see that the black paint covering the wooden shutters couldn’t hide the scars from years of abuse provided by Mother Nature. Though somewhat battered, they reflected the care and hard work it took to preserve the brilliance and luster of the historical structure. Caroline brushed her fingertips across the clean, white paint that covered the regal columns and admired the matching white rocking chairs.

Amazed by the grace and beauty of the home, Caroline peeled the tail of her soaked shirt from her skin to ring out the saturated fabric, and knocked the remaining mud from her boot. She flipped her head over and fluffed her wet hair, tossing it back again to smooth it while she silently stoked her courage. Procrastinating, her eyes scanned the structure one last time. The house had obviously been built to last. Man, Trevor would die over this incredible architecture. If the gorgeous outside provided any indication of how prestigious the inside would be, Caroline was way out of her league. And she was about to find out.
With a deep breath and a silent prayer, Caroline blindly wiped beneath her eyes to remove any possibly smudged mascara and murmured, “Here goes nothing.”
Another deep breath, she finally knocked. After a few moments, the beautiful solid wood door slowly opened. A small-framed woman in her mid-forties stood at the threshold. Her deep blue dress matched her vibrant eyes and contrasting pale skin. Her hair was swept up in a French twist, but the shiny, dark spiral curls that framed her petite features didn’t hide her unmitigated surprise. She stared at Caroline for a long moment as if she recognized her. The tiny woman’s eyes never left Caroline’s face, and she shook her head like a child shaking an etch-a-sketch toy.
“Um, hi there. I’m looking for Eddie Fontenot.” Caroline tried to force herself to smile, but the nerves made it difficult.
The woman stared blankly. “Certainly, wh-who may I tell him is calling?”
“Um, you may tell him his daughter is here.”
The lady, with her mouth still hanging open, hesitated. “Uh, sure, one moment please.”
As the woman turned to go get him, Caroline heard a man’s voice. “Who is it Delia?” The door still open, she could see him coming down the stairs. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. When the woman didn’t answer him, he asked her again, “Delia, who’s at the door?”
Delia said nothing and turned to look at her through the open door. Caroline’s heart threatened to burst from her chest. His eyes followed Delia’s and he stopped cold when he saw her.
Delia choked out a whisper, “She says she’s your daughter, sir.”

Buy Links:

I am a U. S. Navy veteran, a wife, and mother. I'm a member of the Romance Writers of America and I love to read. I love to escape to another world and experience someone else's life from a different perspective. I love to be entertained. I strive to entertain others with my crazy imagination and stories that will suck you in to their world and hold you to the very (happy) ending. Follow me and be entertained. Be inspired.

Social Media:

Twitter: @JudyMcDonough
Google+: JudyMcDonoughAuthor

Thursday, October 23, 2014

The Book Blogger Platform

The Book Blogger Platform
by Barb Drozdowich



Book Blogging - One of the Best Hobbies in the World!

Join thousands of book bloggers in expressing their joy of reading!

Are you a book blogger or do you want to be one? Are you having trouble handling the technical details of blogging? The Book Blogger Platform can be a "user manual" for your blog! A book written by a book blogger for book bloggers and that answers all your questions!

The Book Blogger Platform covers topics such as:

1.         What a book blogger blog needs to contain
2.         A step by step guide to manipulating images and videos
3.         A description of all the common features hosted by book bloggers
4.         A description of the social media aspect to a book blogger platform
5.         Being Social - the social aspect of book blogging

 If you are tired of always asking other bloggers questions

Let The Book Blogger Platform guide you painlessly. Over 80 color graphics lead you step by step through some of the more difficult technical issues that bloggers face.

Pick up a copy today and approach blogging with confidence!



This book breaks down some of the lesser known facts about book blogging today. If you blog, review or just occasionally talk about books, this wonderful book should find a place on your e-reader. The information is top notch and has made me change the way I think about book blogs.

*   *   *

Excerpt 2 from Chapter 2:

During the 1990s, a blog was known as a weblog, indicating that it was something found on the Internet as a serial recording of information—a diary, if you will. Today blogs are quite different; they are personalized and modified to display information in a variety of ways. But ultimately, a blog is still a serial collection of information.

In my experience, many book bloggers either start their blog on Blogger or on because they both offer a free platform. Whether you’re a new or seasoned blogger, I hope that by the end of our discussion of blogs you will have a better sense of the components required for a successful blogging experience.

This brings me to an important point—regardless of your web designer’s opinion, ultimately your blog must be easy to use and tailored to your needs. If you have a blog that is too complicated for your skill level, ask for help. If you have paid someone to design a blog for you, ensure that the designer understands your skill level and creates something you are comfortable using.

Blogging is a very popular activity. In February 2011, it was estimated that there were approximately 152,000,000 blogs worldwide on various platforms (according to Wikipedia). That number has only increased since then. There are many different platforms for blogs. The most common include Blogger, free WordPress (also known as, and self-hosted WordPress (also known as In addition, there is Tumblr, Medium, Google+, Squarespace, LiveJournal, Weebly, Typepad, and Joomla. Each platform has positive and negative aspects. For the purposes of this book, we will be talking about Blogger and WordPress, as they are by far the most popular of the platforms.

When I went looking for some stats, I found it impossible to get current numbers of Blogger blogs. Apparently they haven’t published their numbers in over a decade. Of the numbers that are published, they are impressive! As of midway through 2013,
·        There were 101.7 million Tumblr blogs
·        There were 63 million WordPress blogs
·        There were 62.6 million LiveJournal blogs
·        There were 12 million Weebly blogs

As I’m sure you will determine as we go along, my preference for blogging is self-hosted WordPress. As of this writing, a self-hosted WordPress blog costs no more than $100.00 a year. There are some additional startup costs (for example, how much you spend depends on the graphics selected for your blog). If you decide to go with a “free” platform, you can register a domain for a nominal charge. I’m not a huge fan of the massive URLs that come with or Blogger blogs.

Do you care if you register your own domain? Only you can answer that question. In my opinion, you should.

*   *   *


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Bio: Social Media and Wordpress Consultant Barb Drozdowich has taught at Universities and Colleges, trained technical personnel in the banking industry and, most recently, used her expertise to help dozens of authors develop the social media platform needed to succeed in today’s fast evolving publishing world. She owns Bakerview Consulting and manages the popular blog, Sugarbeat’s Books.

Bakerview Consulting (Business Site)

Barb Drozdowich (Author Site)

Sugarbeat’s Books (Book Blog)

Facebook(Author blog)



Buy link: (only available currently on Amazon)

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Good Faith

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Prizes will be awarded via Rafflecopter as follows:

GRAND PRIZE: Kindle Fire pre-loaded with all Liz Tri-Desitny titles
FIRST PRIZE: $50 Amazon Gift Card
SECOND PRIZE: $25 Amazon Gift Card
THIRD PRIZE: full ebook set of STEWART REALTY SERIES up to Good Faith (8 books in all including the prequel House Rules)

Strong personalities—volatile marriages—stressful careers—conflicting goals—difficult children.

Contemporary challenges facing close-knit families form the crucible that forges a new generation.

Brandis, Gabriel, Blair and Lillian emerge from the entanglement of their parents’ longstanding emotional connections, but one’s star will burn brighter – and hotter – than the others.

With a personality that consumes everyone and everything in its path, Brandis Gordon struggles to maintain control as he ricochets between wild success and miserable failure. His life proves how even the strongest relationships can be strangled by the ties that bind.

Brandis and Gabe Frietag are as close as any brothers, bound by both loyalty and fierce rivalry. The strength of their ultimate alliance is tested time and again by Brandis’ choices.

Companions from birth, Blair Frietag and Lillian Robinson share loner tendencies, but come to rely on each other through adolescence. As they mature, both are forced to confront their feelings for the men they knew as boys.

Somewhere between the tangle of good memories and bad, independence and addiction, optimism and despair, the intertwined destinies of the new generation finally collide, leaving some stronger, others broken, but none unscathed.

As a chronicle of three families navigating the minefields of teen years into the turbulence of young adulthood, Good Faith holds up a literary mirror to contemporary life with joys and temptations unflinchingly reflected. Its fresh, real-life voice portrays the sheer volatility of human nature, complete with the hopes, dreams, and unexpected setbacks of marriage, parenthood and “coming of age.”

Enjoy an excerpt:

That morning his father had roused him from a sound sleep. He’d blinked, confused, by the angle of the sunlight. He rarely slept much past eight since he usually had some sort of training or the other.

“Let’s go son. Time for lunch.”

Brandis had dragged himself up, his limbs feeling like they weighed a thousand pounds each. His brain buzzed with a strange sort of energy, his typical state, and not at all welcome considering it normally didn’t hit him until later in the day. The conversation his father began as soon as they were seated at their usual diner did not help.

“So, listen, Brandis. These girls…Katie’s friends from college….”

Brandis sipped his ice water, waiting for his father to finish the thought. His heart pounded, and his face flushed hot with embarrassment.

Jack sighed, as if exasperated that Brandis didn’t pick up the thread on his own, leaving him to carry on with the awkwardness about to ensue. Then he leveled his gaze, his face open, not angry or judgmental. “I think that you may be in for some…I mean, they’re…shit.”

“If you are gonna tell me where babies come from again,” Brandis said, after deciding to ease his father’s obvious distress. He cocked an eyebrow and half a smile. Jack seemed to relax somewhat as Brandis continued. “Don’t bother. I already know.”

He flashed his brightest smile up at the middle-aged woman who stood at their table, coffee pot in hand. She blinked rapidly at him, and at that precise moment, Brandis got his first flash of…something…about his power. Up until now he’d merely been “Brandis the trouble maker, the causer of strife.” Suddenly, he felt strong, amazingly so, stronger than even the man sitting across from him, a taller, older version of himself. His body tingled all over, as he tested the smile out again on the woman, making her slop some coffee out onto the table. His father frowned, but then chuckled as the woman walked away after they gave their orders.

“Son,” he said, leaning back and cradling the coffee mug to his chest. “Your adventure has only just begun.”

“Huh?” Brandis picked up his cup but didn’t drink any. He hated coffee, but had ordered it in a burst of need to be more like Jack. As he sipped the bitter stuff, he was transported back years before when he and his dad would spend every single Saturday morning together, eating breakfast at this very diner. He had adored the man, he remembered distinctly. His chest hurt at the simplicity of their relationship then. He looked away from Jack’s deep blue, knowing gaze.

The subject changed of its own accord, and Brandis let it. Although part of him wanted to ask for advice, a much bigger part would not allow the words past his lips.

They ate, discussing the upcoming football season and Brandis’ part in it. The recruiting company Jack had contracted last year to video his every move would start up with the first game. He’d made varsity again, technically as backup quarterback to a senior boy. Brandis didn’t see this as a setback and had every intention of starting under center by the second or third game.

Finally, when they pushed their empty plates back and sat looking at each other, Brandis felt more comfortable in his father’s presence than he had been in a long time. Jack said, “I am pretty sure at least one of those girls sleeping in the basement is determined to change the status of your virginity for you probably as soon as tonight.”

Brandis choked on the last sip of lukewarm coffee. His face burned, and his body tingled again. “I’m…it’s…uh….” He clutched the napkin in his lap unable to meet his father’s eyes.

“No need to say anything. Let’s just say your mother is an astute reader of female intent. While I was busy admiring your sister’s friend’s ass, she apparently read the girl’s mind or something.” Brandis’ face flushed even hotter.

He resisted the urge to protest, to proclaim his innocence of such things. Because he wanted it back—those mornings between them, father and son, man and boy, not this awkward, man and almost-man bullshit. Because while the thought of one of his sister’s college friends popping his cherry remained a pleasant fantasy, it also made him feel older than he wanted to be right then.

“So, I bought a box of condoms this morning,” Jack went on. “Put some downstairs in the side table drawer and the rest in your room. Use them please.” He sipped the last of his coffee, looked as if he were about to get up, then leaned forward, touching Brandis’ wrist. “Have fun. Don’t be an asshole to women. Let every experience teach you…something. Because you are nothing as a man if you don’t learn from every woman you…love.” Jack looked out the window onto the nearly empty parking lot. Then he turned back, tightened his grip on his son’s arm. “God, you are so…young.” His face fell a moment, then he perked up again, his eyes twinkling. “Okay, so, your mother told me to tell you not to let them corrupt you. But all I’m gonna say is this: always wear protection, no matter what, no matter how much you don’t want to. And don’t let your mom catch you in the act. I’ll handle her otherwise.”

Then he let go, stood and smiled, draping a friendly arm around Brandis’ shoulders as they exited the restaurant.

“You really didn’t tell me you were admiring Katie’s friend’s ass, did you, Dad?”

“No, son. I most certainly did not. You obviously misheard me.” Jack winked as he stood by the passenger’s side of his classic Corvette convertible and tossed the keys to Brandis. “Remember what I told you. Don’t ride my clutch.”

About the Author:
Amazon best-selling author, beer blogger and beer marketing expert, mom of three, and soccer fan, Liz Crowe lives Ann Arbor. She has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse.

Her early forays into the publishing world led to a groundbreaking fiction subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” which has gained thousands of fans and followers interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”). More recently she is garnering even more fans across genres with her latest novels, which are more character-driven fiction, while remaining very much “real life.”

With stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch, in successful real estate offices and at times in exotic locales like Istanbul, Turkey, her books are unique and told with a fresh voice. The Liz Crowe backlist has something for any reader seeking complex storylines with humor and complete casts of characters that will delight, frustrate and linger in the imagination long after the book is finished.

Buy the book at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, Kobo, iTunes

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Monday, October 13, 2014

Confessions of a Self Help Writer

Confessions of a Self-Help Writer
by Benjamin W. DeHaven



A ghost, a philanthropist, a con man, a devout Catholic, a gigolo, a savior, an heir, a common man, and an addict are just some of the words used to describe Michael Enzo, who some sources credit with ghost-writing more than 108 self-help books on behalf of celebrities, politicians and business leaders. After failing to make what he considered to be a positive impact on society he began to destroy those closest to him including Benjamin DeHaven, the author of this book, and former collaborator. Defrauding an industry for almost 20 years by exploiting people's insecurities and profiting from them, more than likely these friends contributed more to the field of self-help, while profiting from it, than they will ever know. Believing they could only understand people's problems by suffering along with them, they lived on the razor's edge. If you've ever picked up a tell-all biography of a celebrity or a title from the self-help section at the bookstore, certainly you would question the source.This is an inside look at the mind of Michael Enzo and it is the author's hope that people will start helping themselves again after reading it. Discover what turns someone from preaching salvation towards seeking its destruction. You won't believe this could be true.


 Where do ideas come from?
Ideas come from everyday life. I once dreamed of traveling the world, but then realized how much there was to see just in America. (I still took a job in Spain and my credit card debt is a constant reminder) Once you realize how rich the environment in which you exist is, it’s easy to find material. Also, I keep a journal of every book I’ve read and add notes, ideas, even the most obscure thought. It is impossible not to find something to like in every book: Whether it’s a writing style, a quote, a description, a piece of dialogue, or even something not to do you can steal ideas from books. I have a ton of working titles and have no idea what they are about yet. To me that’s really exciting. This way, when I am looking for ideas I have an inspiration reference point to turn back to.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

A Graduate of Columbia College in Chicago, Benjamin DeHaven keeps his heart in Chicago and his soul in New Orleans. He holds a MBA from Tulane and a film degree from Columbia. Once ejected from a community college for arguing Frost cried out for acceptance in Birches, he has since written screenplays, traded futures in Madrid, and was Editor in Chief of the Nola Shopper Newspaper, a free art newspaper and the 2nd largest monthly paper in the New Orleans, MSA. . He also has a "shout out" in a Jay "Z" Song.

DeHaven, who currently resides in Las Vegas began his writing career with Stone United, a Chicago based Film Company, which works primarily in independent film. As an unknown fiction writer, he feels the best description of himself, is a sarcastic one and is as follows:

Benjamin W. DeHaven was born on a pool table after a Waylon Jennings' concert in 1977. His personal success is outweighed only by his stunning good looks and adherence to unwritten moral guidelines. He has been described as a thinking man's Tucker Max as well as an idiot's Hunter S. Thompson. His goal is to die from an unwavering commitment to be more like Hemingway.

He and Michael Enzo were friends.



Follow the tour and comment for a chance to win a $50 gift card and 5 copies of the hardcover edition!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

One Shingle to Hang

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. A commenter will win a $25 Barnes and Noble gift card via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Everyone knew Lil Wentfield would never marry. What man would want her? Granted she was a real beauty.

A woman with too much knowledge was at risk for insanity. Their fragile mind couldn’t handle it. That’s what Lil had been told when she went against convention and became an attorney. The 1800’s had fewer women lawyers than women doctors. Her pride knew no bounds when she hung her shingle—L.M. Wentfield, Attorney At Law.

Drew was a struggling cattle rancher, building a fledging Hereford empire. He was working toward that goal when he was accused of rustling and faced possible hanging. He needed a lawyer—a good one—a man. Chesterfield had one lawyer—a new one—L.M. Wentfield. He wasn’t prepared for a beautiful blonde with a sharp tongue and fiercely won independence.

Lil had no homemaking abilities. Her love was the law. And if the thoughts of the gray-eyed cowboy, who had the audacity to refuse her legal help stayed in her mind, she’d push them aside. She had nothing to offer a rancher . Even her wealth wouldn’t be considered an asset to a prideful man. And Drew Jackson was proud. So proud, he knew he couldn’t ask a woman of Lil’s stature to share his life—but he wanted to—from the moment he’d stolen that first kiss.

Enjoy an excerpt:

A loud knock broke into her thoughts. “Come in,” she called out.

Nothing happened, then another knock. “Please, come in,” she called again.

Getting no response, Lil came around her desk and, with some irritation at the interruption, jerked open the door, nearly toppling the tall man who held the doorknob on the other side. He muttered something under his breath, and tried to regain his balance only to bump into Lil, throwing her off stride. She stumbled backwards and would have fallen if not for the man’s quick reaction. He grabbed Lil and, wrapping both arms around, pulled her to him. Then, in a parody of the two-step, he danced her to safety.

Lil felt herself falling, then rescued by two strong arms. Not only was she pulled up short, but she was wrapped tightly against a rock hard chest, her nose buried in the man’s damp shirt. A very pleasant smell greeted her nose. The scent of summer rain and witch hazel. She found the masculine odor intoxicating.

Neither moved. Then Lil raised her head and looked into a pair of dancing gray eyes. His arms never relaxed their grip; in fact, they seemed to tighten around her as his mouth twitched, then broke into a smile.

“Didn’t expect to end up with a beautiful woman in my arms. For a moment there, I expected to land on the rug, Ma’am. With you alongside me,” he added with a chuckle.

He loosened his grip and gently pushed her away from the warmth and safety of his chest. Lil stepped back, feeling as though she’d just had something precious taken from her. She realized her hands still gripped his arms. Like a hot potato, she dropped them and turned away from the man’s disturbing presence. Like a fox heading for her den, Lil scurried behind her desk and gratefully lowered her trembling body onto the waiting chair.

With the desk between them, she was once again in charge. “May I help you?” she asked coolly, hoping the tremble in her voice went unnoticed. “I called come in not once but twice.”

“Sorry, Ma’am. Guess I didn’t hear you. I was just fixing to open the door when you did just that. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Lil answered with no desire to elaborate. “I—I appreciate you catching me. Now,” she hurried away from that topic, “to repeat myself, how may I help you?”

He smiled, as if knowing her thoughts. Walking over to the desk, he removed his hat and stood with it in his hands. “I apologize for dripping on your floor, but it’s raining like hel—, uh, like heck out there.”

Lil tried not to look at how the ends of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. She focused instead on his hair, black and shiny with rain drops glistening on the wavy strands not covered by his hat. She didn’t realize she was staring at him until he shifted from foot to foot.


“Yes,” Lil answered, pulling herself back to reality.

“What I’m here for is to see L.M. Wentfield, Attorney At Law.” He pointed at the window, in the direction of the sign.

Lil nodded. “Yes,” she said again. At this rate, he’d think she only had a one word vocabulary.

The man tilted his head to one side. “Could you direct me to L. M. Wentfield, Ma’am?”

“Of course I can. How may I help you?”

Two small furrows appeared between the man’s eyes. He peered closer at her. Perhaps he needed to try another approach.

“Ma’am, could I speak with your husband?”

“There is no husband,” Lil said with a hint of asperity.

About the Author:
I live in Colorado with my husband and my two Yorkie kid dogs: Stormy, four pounds, and Eli, six pounds. I’m a native of Colorado, but I’ve lived several years in Wyoming and Montana. I draw from these beautiful states for most of my books. My Western Historical Romances are: Montana Star, Sapphire Blue, Unconquerable Callie, Wyoming Heather and One Shingle To Hang. Tears In The Wind is a contemporary romance. Then I changed genres from my beloved romances and wrote, under the pen name of D. M. Woods, my first suspense/thriller: Death Crosses The Finish Line. The second book in this ‘death’ series, Death Is A Habit, came out January 8, 2014. I am currently working on the third book in the ‘death’ series, Death Walks C Dock. I am also working on another Western Historical Romance, Montana Man. It features the characters readers came to know and love in Montana Star. Truly, I mean it when I say my greatest pleasure next to writing is having my books read and enjoyed. There are many more stories just waiting to be written.

Buy the book at Amazon

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Friday, October 10, 2014

Asylum Release Day

Title: Asylum
ISBN: 978-1-77101-393-2
By Dana Wright
Heat Rating: 1
Word Count: 16435
Release Date: October 10, 2014

The voices of the past are alive behind the iron gates of Bremore Asylum. Can Rachel and Matt deduce its secrets before it's too late?
When Rachel agrees to take the job investigating the disappearance of a fellow ghost hunter at Bremore Asylum, she is totally unprepared for the sexy and stubborn psychic debunker Matt Rutledge to be a part of the package. Can these two opposing forces find the answers behind the asylum's crumbling walls before they become the newest victims to the asylum's grim history?

Rachel narrowed her eyes. What little hold she held on her frayed temper snapped. Self-doubt flared, but she stamped it out as quickly as it came.
"What's that supposed to mean?" She stepped forward, hands clenched into fists, her foot brushing against the luggage. Her hoodie slid off the suitcase and flopped unceremoniously into the dirt.
"We haven't even started on the project and you're trying to displace me already?"
Rutledge stepped back, surprise clear on his lightly parted lips. Lips she apparently still wanted to kiss, damn his eyes. God, what was wrong with her?
"My friend almost died because of a mistake I made. But you're already aware of that, aren't you, Mr. High and Mighty? Listen to me and listen good. I'm here because my grandmother needs me. I'm a damn fine ghost hunter, which you would already know if you bothered to see beyond what happened to Jeannie." She poked her finger into his chest and had the satisfaction of seeing him wince.
Matt stepped back and held up his hands, a ruddy flush creeping up his cheeks. "Okay. I was out of line. Truce?" He bent down and carefully picked up her hoodie, handing it to her gingerly.
"Thank you, Mr. Rutledge." Rachel snatched the hoodie from his hands and tied it around her waist with a firm yank. She didn't want to chance it falling in the dirt again and it was going to be a long weekend. At the rate they were going, it was going to be a full-on ice storm between them.
A flash of humor crossed his face. "Do you think maybe you could call me Matt?"
"That depends."
"On what?" Matt cocked his eyebrow with surprise.
"On whether you can stop dissecting me like one of your frauds."

Buy Link:

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, Wonderstruck, Shifters: A Charity Anthology, Dead Harvest, Monster Diaries (upcoming), Holiday Horrors and the Roms, Bombs and Zoms Anthology from Evil Girlfriend Media. She is the author of Asylum due out in October 2014.   Dana has also reviewed music for specializing in New Age and alternative music and has been a contributing writer to Eternal Haunted Summer, Nightmare Illustrated, 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.

Follow Dana’s reviews:
Twitter: @danawrite

Thursday, October 9, 2014

His Flower Queen

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Lena will be awarding a $20 gift card (Reader's choice to Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or All Romance eBooks) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Nina can’t get enough of Gabe…but Gabe’s been keeping secrets. Gabe is a shrewd businessman who knows what he wants and he wants Nina. There’s only one person keeping him from the woman he’s determined to have—his soon-to-be ex-wife. As Gabe works to restore Nina’s trust in him, she suddenly finds herself caught in a dangerous web of jealousy and obsession and soon learns that loving Gabe may just cost them more than they bargained for.

Enjoy an excerpt:

“Who told you I was married?”

Her back straightened and he winced at his choice of words. The glare she shot him told him exactly what she thought of him at that moment.

“You’re not even going to deny it,” she accused incredulously. The disgust in her tone made him feel like a cheating, conniving bastard.

He sat up on the bed and reached for her. She jerked back, taking him by surprise. She had never pulled away from him before. The hard knot in his stomach intensified and he wavered between dragging her into his arms and giving her space.

“Don’t you dare touch me again, Gabe,” she snapped. “I’m not going to be your whore. We…this was a one-time thing. Now I need you to leave.”

He clenched his jaw as he tried to suppress his rising frustration at the situation. This couldn’t have come out at a worse time. “I’m not going anywhere, Nina.”

Her eyes flared dangerously and he was lucky she didn’t know that he’d arranged to have her stay in the room he often reserved whenever he spent his nights at Royal Courts. The knowledge would have either sent her into a rage or running out of the room, away from him. Given the vicious glare she was leveling him with, both could have easily become a reality.

“I don’t know how you found out about that,” he continued, “but my marriage only exists on paper. It’s been over for three years and the only thing keeping it from being officially over is a signature.”

Lena Hart is a Florida native currently living in the Harlem edge of New York City. Though she enjoys reading a variety of romance genres, she mainly writes sensual interracial romances with a flare of suspense and mystery. When Lena is not busy writing, she’s reading, researching, or conferring with her muse. To learn more about Lena and her work, visit








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Friday, October 3, 2014

The Cattleman

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Anna be awarding a grand prize of a Kindle Fire to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour and one runner up will receive e-copies of THE TYCOON and THE CATTLEMAN, Books 1 and 2 of the Sons of Texas series. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Ever since a disastrous marriage and divorce at a young age, Pickett Lockhart has kept his emotions under control. He’s preoccupied anyway with learning to be the general manager of the vast Double-Barrel Ranch outside of Drinkwell, Texas. Still, his older brother’s marriage and looming fatherhood has aroused an envy within him to have a wife, kids and home of his own. But he can’t get married, even to a woman he loves who also loves him. His divorce cost him and his family a bundle, leaving him with an overwhelming fear of stepping into another financial trap.

Amanda Breckenridge, swim team coach and English teacher in Drinkwell High School, has been in love with Pic for as long as she can remember. They were high school sweethearts. After he eloped with someone he met in college, Amanda left Drinkwell. Her father’s illness brought her back to town and a revived relationship with Pic. But Pic’s mother has never thought Amanda was good enough for him. She intends to destroy their relationship by sending a friend’s beautiful daughter to the ranch to tempt Pic. Can Amanda and Pic’s bond survive his mother and her schemes? Or the unexpected career opportunity that falls into Amanda’s lap?

Enjoy an excerpt:

Standing at a dark-tinted window wall, sipping at a Crown and water, Pickett Charles Lockhart looked out from the Petroleum Club’s cocktail lounge in downtown Fort Worth. Suffocated. That was the word that described how he felt.

Forty stories below, vehicles that looked like toy cars moved through the city streets. Low-hanging clouds in a leaden sky teased with the possibility of longed-for rain. Relief from the relentless drought ought to make any man in an agriculture business— as he was—happy. But Pic only hoped to hell those clouds didn’t gin up a storm and a big blow while he was still on the fortieth floor of this building. He didn’t mind high places if his feet were firmly planted on God’s earth, but a high-rise building made him dizzy. No way could he ever adapt to life in a skyscraper in the city where his older brother Drake had lived the last few years. Trying to overcome a powerful urge to bolt, he took a step backward.

His younger half-brother, Troy Rattigan, who enjoyed nothing more than yanking his chain, looked at him across his shoulder and chuckled. “What’s the matter, Bro? All that space out there make you queasy?”

Pic ignored the dig, running his finger around the inside of his collar. His tie threatened to choke him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had worn one. “April first,” he groused. “Helluva day to get married, if you ask me.”

About the Author:
Anna Jeffrey is an award-winning author of romance novels as well as romantic comedy/mystery. She has written 9 romance novels and co-authored 7 as USA Today Bestselling author, Dixie Cash. Her most recent book is “The Tycoon.”

Anna Jeffrey's books have won the Write Touch Readers' Award, the Aspen Gold, and the More Than Magic awards. Her books have been finalists in the Colorado Romance Writers award, the Golden Quill and Southern Magic as well as the Write Touch Readers' Award, the Aspen Gold and the More than Magic awards. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Dallas Area Romance Authors and PASIC.

Anna is a fifth generation Texan. She was born and grew up in West Texas, where most of her family members were farmers and ranchers or worked in the oil fields. She left Texas for many years and lived in four of the western states, a rich experience she’ll never forget.

She loves most things western, from the customs and culture to the philosophy of life. She enjoys many hobbies, i.e., reading, painting and drawing, crafting, needlework and beading.

These days, she’s back home in Texas. She and her husband currently live in Granbury, Texas, a small town not far from the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex.

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Wednesday, October 1, 2014

The Gladiator's Bride

Title: The Gladiator’s Bride
Author: Nhys Glover
Release Date: November 1st
Genre: Historical Romance

Crippled by shyness, shunned for being not-right-in-the-head, gifted artist and Roman noblewoman, Marcia Mica, has only two people in the world who truly love her – her teacher, Daedalus, and her childhood friend, Asterion, both slaves in her father’s household. But when forbidden love blooms between the unlikely friends, only disaster can come of it. That disaster leaves Marcia horribly scarred and Asterion sold into the arena as a gladiator. 

Years later, Daedalus brings a broken Marcia to Britannia, and Sabrina, the healer who saved his life when he was a boy, works miracles on the scarred girl. However, not all scars are physical and those Sabrina has no ability to heal. 

When Sabrina and Marcia are kidnapped by a Celtic leader bent on revenge, Asterion must depend on the dreams of a Celtic Seer to find the love of his life and help foil a revolt that threatens the fragile peace in Roman Britannia. But even if he and his friends succeed, can scars that are more than just physical ever really be healed and can those whose lives are owned by others ever truly be free to follow their hearts? 

Author bio:

After a lifetime of teaching others to appreciate the written word, Aussie author Nhys Glover finally decided to make the most of the Indie Book Revolution to get her own written word out to the world. Now, with almost 100,000 of her ebooks downloaded internationally and a winner of 2013 SFR Galaxy Award for 'The Titan Drowns', Nhys finds her words, too, are being appreciated.

At home in the beautiful Yorkshire Dales of England, Nhys these days spends most of her time "living the dream" by looking out over the moors as she writes the kind of novels she loves to read: The ones that are a little bit steamy, a little bit different and wholly romantic.

Author and Buy Links:

Excerpt: (1,000 words)

As he took the shortcut through the forest, heading for home, a shadow flitted through the trees and appeared at his side. He was so shocked by her sudden appearance that he dropped the sack of flour.

‘Marcie, what are you doing here?’ he demanded as he tried to get his heartbeat under control again. ‘You shouldn’t be out here alone.’

‘You were with her again, weren’t you?’ Her delicately beautiful face was twisted in fury, honey-brown eyes flashing fire at him.

‘What? Who? What are you talking about? Don’t come up on me like that. I might have hurt you.’

‘That widow. The one the boys all talk about. I heard them. They think I don’t understand, but I do. You go to her house and do things to her!’ Her accusations stung and he felt guilt morph instantly into fury.

‘Mind your own business. It’s nothing to do with you!’ He slung the flour-sack onto his back again and stomped off down the narrow trail.

‘Don’t you talk to me like that, Asterion! You’re my slave and I have the right to know what you’re doing with your time. You aren’t free to go where you like, see who you like!’ she snarled at him.

He stopped and looked down at her in shock. In the last year he’d grown taller by almost a head than she was. Now, the year’s difference in their age seemed insignificant. In fact, after spending time with the widow, he felt much older and more worldly-wise than she was. Marcie was still a child, even though her sixteen-year-old body said otherwise. This little display of temper only went to prove it.

‘Oh sorry, mistress, I forgot my place for a moment. Of course you have the right to know that I’ve been sharing the widow’s bed. Do you want the details? How I make her scream and pant? How she sucked my cock until I came in her mouth?’ He knew he was stepping over the line, but so had she.

 Their relative stations in life had always been ignored by mutual, unspoken agreement. They’d always been equals. But now, by throwing his servitude in his face, she’d crossed the line. She’d showed him how she really saw him. How beneath her he really was.

Marcie’s mouth dropped open and he was immediately aware of the seductive draw of it. Those red lips were so full and sweet, covering perfect white teeth that looked just like rows of pearls. By brushing back a stray tendril of glossy brown hair, she drew his eye to the seductive softness of it, made him itch to bury his fingers in its lengths.

But honey-brown eyes that were usually filled with warmth when they gazed at him were now wide with astonishment and pain. And he suddenly realised what he’d done.

In that moment, he wanted to call back the words and go back in time to do this all again.

‘She sucked what?’ she gasped, her cheeks flaming red.

‘Nothing. Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. You just made me mad. Let’s get home. Daedalus will be wondering what happened to you.’

‘He’s gone to the coast to check on our cargo. Pater went with him,’ she said absently, clearly not focused on the information she was imparting.

‘Then it’s me who has to get back. I’ll be in trouble if I’m much later.’

‘You wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t gone to her. How could you? How…How could you?’ Her eyes filled with tears and his heart felt sick in his chest. In that moment, he wanted to cut off his cock for making him cause her this pain.

‘Marcie, don’t. You don’t understand. I’m a man now. I…I have needs I can’t control. The widow helps me. Haven’t you noticed the difference in me the last few months?’ He was almost pleading with her for forgiveness. And that was stupid. What had he done wrong except take an hour a week for himself? He deserved that, didn’t he?

‘Yes, I’ve noticed. You look so smug and cocky, swaggering around the place. The boys say you’ve got too big for your own sandals now. They say that the widow has played with more than your prick. She’s played with your head. Made you think you’re better than them.’
‘I am better than them. And it didn’t take the widow to make me know it. What do you want from me Marcie? Tell me – ’

She launched herself at him so fast that he again dropped the sack of flour. Her tightly closed lips butted against his in a fiercely innocent kiss. It smashed her teeth into his, cutting his lip, and it felt nothing like the soft, seductive caresses the widow gave him.

But it was like putting a naked flame to tinder. Like a lightning strike to a tree. The very fact that her lips were sealed to his blew every thought from his head and brought his cock to instant, painful attention. Blood pounded in his ears, his legs grew weak. Air evaporated from his lungs.

Fighting for control, he pushed her away. ‘What are you doing? Stop!’

‘You don’t have to go to her. If kissing is what you want, I can give you that. You don’t have to go to her!’

‘Yes I do!’

‘Why? Aren’t I good enough for you?’

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her in fury. His head felt ready to explode.

‘I need more than kisses! Don’t you get it? We aren’t children anymore. And I need more than friendship and kisses. And you can’t give me what I need. You’re the little mistress and I’m the slave. They’d cut off my balls if I so much as looked at you the wrong way!’

Her eyes filled with tears again and she sobbed so hard it felt like her searing pain came from his own chest. Looking at her hurt too much, so he dragged her into his arms and pressed her to his aching heart.