Featured Title Of The Day: Frozen Death by G.L. Didaleusky

Frozen Death

G. L. Didaleusky

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

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At 3:30 A.M., the telephone rang. On the fourth ring, John picked up the receiver, his mind still foggy from sleep. "This better be an emergency."

"Is this…Dr. Randall?"

John realized the caller had a male voice, not the feminine voice of Nurse Simpson. “Yes, I'm Dr. Randall. I'm sorry for being so abrupt when I first answered the phone. I thought it was the infirmary nurse calling again."

"I've answered the phone the same way on several occasions at this time of the morning," said the male caller. "My name is Steve Patterson. I'm the ER physician at Ocala General Hospital."

"Is it about the inmate I sent to you a few hours ago? Was it a drug overdose?"

"No."

"A brain tumor?"

"No. His CT brain scan was normal, along with a normal drug screen," said Patterson. "I'm sorry to tell you but the inmate died."

John nearly dropped the phone. "What did he die from?"

"He froze to death. I've never seen anything like this in my thirty years as an ER doctor. After running all the tests on him, he started to shake. His temperature rapidly dropped followed by cardiac arrest. I tried everything to save his life, but nothing worked."

"I’m sure you did everything you could. Hopefully an autopsy will give us an answer to his death." John decided not to tell him about Inmate Armstrong’s similar death yesterday morning. "Thanks for calling me, Dr. Patterson."    

"I'm just sorry I didn't have good news to tell you." He hung up the phone.

John couldn't go back to sleep. He got up and put on a pot of coffee. After he had showered, shaved, and dressed, he went back to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

As he sat at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee, the telephone rang. The ominous ring almost caused him to lose his grip on the coffee cup. He glanced up at the wall clock: 5:15 A.M. John sprang from his chair and rushed toward the ringing phone on the wall.

He picked up the phone. "Dr. Randall."

"It's Nurse Simpson from the infirmary." She took a deep breath. "I have an inmate…"

Review

Stevi B. for Manic Readers says:

"Frozen Death is a very intriguing mystery and it gets even more interesting as the answer appears to be found in Ancient Indian lore. If you love Indian lore, medically impossible puzzles, and mysteries that look impossible, you will like Frozen Death."

Buy at: http://www.roguephoenixpress.com/

Featured Title Of The Day: Forever His by Christine Young

Forever His by Chrsitine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 3

Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at:  www.roguephoenixpress.com 

This is the 4th book in the Lakota/Pinkerton series

Dakota's Bride, My Angel, The Locket, The Talisman, and Forever His

Read An Excerpt

August 30, 1895

Near Buffalo Creek,

South Dakota

The sun beat down. Searing heat waves hit the hard packed earth, blistering, charring everything, even the dry prairie grass. Jacob St. John, his arms stretched overhead and bound to a whipping post, no longer counted the lashes tearing into his back, no longer felt the horrific agony.

More than a half-dozen men and one woman were gathered in the sage-patched backyard of the run-down shack. So far not one person made a sound as they watched Chavez wield the whip, stripping the flesh off his back.

If Chavez weren't so angry and seeking revenge of his own, he would probably have just had him shot. Revenge was a powerful motive. Chavez wanted Jacob to suffer, to yell before he died. It seemed Etta Barringer did too. So far Chavez was toying with him, taunting and teasing him, cutting an inch here, ripping an inch there, not doing much damage but making mincemeat out of his back.

Jacob hadn't made a sound yet, not even a sharp, indrawn breath. He wasn't about to even though he knew Chavez would get impatient and start slashing. There was no hurry. Chavez had as long as he wanted. No one save Etta knew where he was, no one would come looking for him, at least not until the sun went down. By then Chavez would be done with him, and he would either be dead or buzzard-bait. For the life of him, he couldn't figure why Etta would hand him over to Chavez. She had always been Pinkerton to the core, yet she had betrayed him once before. If he survived this, he meant to have answers. He'd move heaven and earth to search out the lying Etta Barringer and find out exactly what she had against him.

The pain of betrayal at the forefront of his mind, and vows of revenge against the instigator of this kept him going. He focused on the woman's laughter and the scent of lemons that permeated his soul.

He had been taken by surprise. Still, he didn't go down easily. It took all of Chavez's men to get him bound securely to the post in back of the shack. And of those men, not one came away from the encounter without a scratch. Blood from the multitude of small cuts Chavez had inflicted ran in rivulets from his back, pooling on the parched thirsty ground, soaking into the dirt, staining it.

He stood, his head proudly erect and that seemed to draw anger from Chavez. The grip of his fingers curled around the top of the post, the only sign of Jacob's pain--and fury.

The first real stroke of the whip felt like a red-hot branding iron searing across his back. Jacob didn't flinch, nor would he as long as he could hear her laughter or smell lemons floating languidly on the breeze. He wished he could see her, stare into her beguiling, green eyes until she knew he'd never stop hunting for her. Fury at his own weakness rose, and the anger he felt deep inside simmered, because she'd always attracted him. Ever since she showed up in a small town in Oregon, seduced him then drugged him and left him to sleep off the opium-laced whiskey, she'd fascinated him.

Concentrate on her--on what you're going to do when you find her again . . .

 Review

Christine Young has done it again in this historical romance. The blizzards, betrayal, deceit and a ruthless bandito like Chavez made this a great romance.

Melinda for Night Owl Romance     5 out of 5

Featured Title of the Day: College Leadership Crisis: The Philip Dolly Affair

College Leadership Crisis: The Philip Dolly Affair

By Jann M. Contento and Jeffrey Ross

Biographies

Jann M. Contento has a broad range of experiences in higher education including student affairs administration, athletics, and institutional research. He is currently working in a community college setting and has co-authored several articles on leadership and college culture.

Jeffrey Ross, who resides in Arizona with his wife and son, is a writer, rockabilly musician, and former full-time community college teacher. He has had four "Views" pieces published on InsidehigherEd.com since 2007, has authored and co-authored several op-ed articles on community college identity, purpose, and culture, and has recently had several parody poems published on the Cronk News higher education satire website.

 

How much truth is there in what you portrayed in the book?

We would like to think a great deal of Truth is portrayed in the Philip Dolly Affair — at least representational Truth. Co-author Jann and I were very careful not to simply make up situations.  We made an effort to find at least three instances (the Washington Post method) of any situational issue we portray—such as college president dismissals. [Google was a great help!] Colleges, like every workplace, have employees who are heroes and those who are not so heroic. Our characters are clearly fictive, clearly exaggerated, but they should function as ghosts or whispers of recognition for our readers.

Personal career ambition, unrelenting commoditization and compartmentalization of learning and culture, predictable and obvious staff behaviors (such as daily emails about social gatherings, management advice, fund raising, and fatiguing meetings) and ACRONYMS seem to be part of nearly every work place and educational setting. 

[PS--I actually learned about hummus and quiche at work-related pot lucks— WRPL’s.]

Our characters, we would venture, are almost caricatures of representative staff types. And these types magnify successful and failed employee personalities everywhere.

For all the talk of individualism in our society, conformity seems to be the “best practice.”  Somehow, our society’s decision to “follow the money”— while joked about daily and ridiculed in popular culture — has clearly articulated and defined our emotional, spiritual, and work lives.  For most of us, K-12 and college are things to “get out of the way” so that we can hitch to the career path and . . . . 

Well, what is the final outcome of all this? 

The American public complains about Wall Street, but continues to chase segmented materialistic dreams anyway. Our characters, we think reflect different pathways to such dreams and different dreams and even thwarted dreams. [And we also consider the difficult Truths, the pathways, of a few thwarted romantic relationships!]

Since 2000 or so, many institutions  have worked tirelessly on issues related to organizational management, strategic planning, mission statements, and professional development. I once asked a very personable and bright college administrator— “Why has there been such wholesale adoption of corporate management practices at educational institutions?”  

She told me, clearly, without pause, and to the point-- “Because we have to act like corporations now.”

And I suppose she is right. But what is the rest of the story? What will the final outcome be? Are we headed towards a greater good, towards happier lives, better families, and improved personal-fulfillment?

There are, undoubtedly, many excellent administrators, staff, and faculty members who work at America’s community colleges.  But the Truth we write about in PDA is based on our emerging composite experiences with the culture’s endless discussions about leadership, careers, and professionalism. Getting the good work done of helping students, of improving our communities, we think, can be easily lost in the shuffle.  

We hear about commitment to excellence, leadership training, quality improvement— at the same time, we hear American education is failing. Which represents the Truth?

At some point in time, education institutions determined they should be leaders rather than Stewards of the Public Trust.  Our position in the novel is clear: We should be Stewards first, and lead when called. Teaching and learning should be our first priorities. That is the Truth we hope to convey. Thank you.

Excerpt

College Leadership Crisis: The Philip Dolly Affair

Jann M. Contento and Jeffrey Ross

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 1

Buy at: www.roguephoenixpress.com

Call Me Phil

I'm Phil Dolly, EdD, recently resigned, or deposed, community college president.

Yesterday I was the CEO at North East Central Community College here in Folsom County, West Dakota. Today, I'm contemplating my own crisis in leadership. Following a faculty vote of no confidence and caving in to growing board pressure, I packed it in this morning. No one was surprised, really, including me. But more about that later...

This evening I am sitting here at the bar nursing a weak gin and tonic, assessing the landscape of my shattered career. This place is nothing fancy, that's for sure. I don't know when it saw fresh air last. Located in Payson, West Dakota, this bar and grill has been owned by the same guy, I.M. Tyred, for nearly a decade. I'm a little bit out of my element--but I'm comforted by the visual relics of my own blue collar past--seed company calendars, jars of pickled pig's feet, softball trophies, and the effervescent aroma of bacon, beer, and cheese. Many of the locals know me and enjoy seeing me stop in for an occasional drink. I probably get in here once a month. Maybe more.

I'm not sure what happened. Enrollments didn't increase, but they didn't decline much, either. We opened up more centers. I had bandwidth upgraded. I was in Rotary Club. I brought in some of my former graduate school colleagues from University of Toledo at Arlington to help invigorate the executive staff and to help bring this district into the 21st century in terms of management. I wanted diversity on the management team.

Hmm, I made all of the directors deans and all of the deans became associate VPs. Only one of the new VPs had emotional problems, but no damage was done. He checked into rehab. Our quality initiatives must have moved the college forward. We redid offices, put in new floors and windows, and really spruced the place up too. We won several national awards.

I remember there was some grousing when I had the president's salary increased to 475K, but the board agreed we needed to be competitive in future presidential searches.

I guess the future arrived more quickly than I anticipated.

The hazy blue smoke in this bar settles at about stool seat level. I wish I.M. Tyred would do something. Why doesn't he install some fans or air purifiers or something? I should say something before I have another asthma attack. The country music just drones on and on. All those sad songs about lying, drinking, and needing to be somewhere else are driving me crazy. How do these people stand it?

The lights around the mirrors seem so harsh. I barely recognize my own face in the mirror--the burdens of leadership, I guess. All those retreats, keynote speeches, conferences, dinners, trips to Europe--just so much, so much over the years.

The governing board said I spent too much time out of state. They said I belonged to too many national organizations and attended too many conferences. They just don't understand the difficult and complicated nature of being a community college president. Networking means survival and prosperity for the institution and for me. They don't understand the community is much bigger now. We can serve China! GIs! Nebraska! Technology has empowered us to do so much more than teach welding, massage therapy, and fertilizer applications.

We ought to do more than just serve the needs of our county taxpayers! We can have the reputation of being a global higher education leader! Oh, I guess it's no longer we.

Tour Dates:

2/28  http://www.elainepcantrell.blogspot.com/

2/29  http://www.ichbineinteufel.blogspot.com/?zx=7da81b2491fa230a

3/1    http://www.cerebralwriter.com/blog.html

3/2   http://www.meganjohnsinvites.blogspot.com/ 

3/5   http://rasanaatreya.wordpress.com/

3/6   http://melanieatkins.wordpress.com/

3/7   http://bkwalkerbooksetc.blogspot.com/

3/8   http://amycorwin.blogspot.com/

3/9   http://everydayadventure11.blogspot.com/

3/12

3/13

3/14  http://its-raining-books.blogspot.com/

3/15

3/16  http://sarah-janelehoux.blogspot.com/

Featured Title Of The Day: Fire Underneath the Ice by R.S. Natanevin

Fire Underneath the Ice

R. S. Natanevin

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Downtown Toronto, September, 2008

Michael paced his large office back and forth. Karyn--classy, beautiful Karyn--would soon be in front of him. Perhaps he would have a chance to touch her. He neared the gilded mirror. The interior decorator had insisted on adding the expensive item to give the space reserved to his customers a friendly, almost intimate atmosphere. Michael stared at his reflection and adjusted the collar of his polo shirt. Tall and skinny, with a mane of unruly red curls, he wasn’t bad looking but not handsome either. His facial features were rather irregular--very pronounced nose and cheekbones and wind-catcher ears. He sighed. His appearance would have to do.

He moved near the marble coffee table and slumped in one of the easy chairs.

At five minutes past five o’clock Michael started to doubt Karyn would ever come. After all, she was the daughter of late millionaire Richard McDonnell and the sole heir of the family fortune. Four years ago, when her brother had died in a tragic accident, the tabloids had filled their pages with mourning Karyn, all dressed in black, tears incessantly raking her face. He remembered well the day of the funeral when he had approached her briefly to offer his condolences. Karyn had been devastated by grief.

Then came the rumor that the man in charge of the McDonnell’s affairs, Jean Berenson, had left for Europe and made investments over there. At Berenson’s death, two years ago, Karyn had taken over the estate, assisted by a corporate lawyer to help her untangle the complex financial situation. While still a very wealthy woman on paper, at present she was without liquid assets and had found it difficult to keep up with her standard of living.

He stopped pacing, walked over to the large window, and watched the traffic down in the street. It was a quarter past five now, and Karyn hadn’t arrived yet. It was foolish to think she would meet with a poor boy. An ex-poor boy, actually. Finally, at five-thirty, footsteps resounded crisply in the hallway. Glancing through the semi-open door he saw Karyn approaching the secretary’s desk.

His heart started to pound. Would he be able to carry out what he decided to do? Or would he give up before he even started?

Review

Rather zippy and unusual descriptions add a clever touch throughout...

Snapdragon for Long and Short Reviews

Featured Title Of The Day: Dragons Among Us by C.L. Kraemer

Dragons Among Us

C. L. Kraemer

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

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Aleda crawled from her sleeping bag and, individually, stretched her muscles. She’d always enjoyed camping. It was the only time she slept well. Something about the unpolluted air, the nights sounds of nature and knowing there were no other people about produced a sleeping potion no doctor could recreate. She dressed warmly against the morning chill and meandered to the stream to get water for coffee and cooking. Not having done much the day before, her ravenous hunger puzzled her.

“Must be the good mountain air.” She made coffee, scrambled eggs, and toasted bread with a slender wire camp toaster, which she held over the fire. As she sat in her chair enjoying the taste of food and quiet of the surrounding woods, hair on the back of her neck began to stand on end and her skin tingled. She shook off the feeling and poured another cup of coffee. The sensation of eyes observing her movements overpowered her senses and her amulet began humming, the sound increasing in volume with each passing minute.

“Enough!” Aleda tossed her plastic plate to the table with a clatter, stomped to her tent and retrieved a heavy coat. “I’ll nip this foolishness in the bud, right now!”

She hesitated as she started to storm from the camp. Camera. Quickly returning to her tent, she stomped away from her personal sanctuary, Nikon in hand, stomach complaining. Half a dozen paces from the camp, after wreaking a rushing flurry of birds into flight, Aleda realized, if she was to find out what was inducing her amulet to hum and her hair to stand on end, she would need to slow her pace—think before she stumbled into trouble. She proceeded into the stand of trees serving as the backdrop for her camp. Sauntering to nearest the evergreen, she placed her hand on the bark and felt a buzzing sensation tickle her palm. Aleda stumbled backward, dumbfounded by the commotion stirring within her. Logic and reason said she shouldn’t be sensing anything by touching the tree.

“This whole trip is turning out to be totally illogical.”

Aleda narrowed her eyes and concentrated on the skin of the tree. She began to see small creatures scurrying up and down the grooved surface of the bark, the scene recalling the Marquam Bridge merging into I-5 at rush hour. She pulled deeply of the air surrounding her and discovered she could taste ponderosa, yellow pine and western larch trees tinged by intermittent bursts of avalanche lily, trillium and huckleberry. Another deep breath captured faint blackberry and raspberry sensations. Standing very still and concentrating with an intensity she’d never utilized, Aleda began to recognize the buzz of life around her. In her ears, insect sounds whispered from every direction, her skin reverberated with the movement of air caused by birds flying and bees busy with spring activities. When the scene before her began to waver and tiny flashes of white light popped in her vision, Aleda realized she’d quit breathing. She pulled air into her lungs and crumbled to the soft pine needle and moss covered forest floor.

Review

"All in all I was very impressed with this author’s imagination and the ability to bring the story to life for me within the pages of her book.  It held my attention and kept me wondering what was next throughout the pages."  Courtney Rene for Rogue's Angles 

Buy now at: http://www.roguephoenixpress.com/

Featured Title Of The Day: Dragons Among the Eagles by C.L. Kraemer

Dragons Among the Eagles by C. L. Kraemer

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 1

Buy at:  www.roguephoenixpress.com 

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Rain thwacked against Aleda's leathery black appendages. Her arms ached; heck, every muscle in her body ached. This flying thing was going to take more practice. The continual downpour of the spring night slithered past her shielded turquoise eyes, bathing her scales in cool refreshment. As much as she would like to have frolicked in the showers, she was more interested in landing in one spot, curling up and sleeping for the next four days. If only…

Cyre winged up to her side.

"You go in first and I'll follow. I want to wash off the grit of the trip."

Aleda pulled back her lips in a semblance of a smile.

"No problem," she shouted over the wind drafts.

When Cyre's sister, Brittany, had first suggested Aleda attend the dragon council in China, she'd been ecstatic. Her recent discovery of her true identity--half human, half dragon--had put her beliefs to the test. She imagined being around those like her would make her transition simpler. Cyre and Brittany, full-blooded Celtic dragons, had helped as best they could by explaining rules of dragon protocol and pointing out the good guys from the bad guys at the council meetings. By the end of the week, Aleda's fairy tale illusion had fallen abruptly on sharp rocks. Politics and power were as rampant in the dragon-shapeshifter community as in the human community.

Brittany was going to spend a night or two in Cyre's den before continuing her journey back to Scotland. Then Aleda and Cyre would be faced with the decisions they'd both been putting off since their first meeting.

She felt the solid rock beneath her talons and breathed a sigh of relief. The council meeting had been exhilarating, educational and overwhelming all at once. It was nice, really nice, to be back in the Northwest of the United States. Aleda stood, getting her land legs then shook the extra moisture from her body. Placing her talon on the button in the rock wall, she pushed and the door of the cave slid open. Watching the heavy glass trundle into the backside of Mt. St. Helens still gave her chill bumps. So much about the twenty-first century dragon world made her shake her head. How could they survive with all the advancements humans had accomplished? Knowing the answer still didn't stop her from asking the question.

The few minutes she'd stood contemplating questions already asked had given the cavern a chance to air out. While her sense of smell wasn't as acute for some things, sulfur being one of those, she still hadn't been able to adjust completely to the acrid aroma Cyre tolerated in his cave.

As she dragged her tired feet over the threshold, Cyre backwinged his way on the landing. Aleda turned just in time to catch the wicked twinkle in his eyes.

He sprayed water over the landing, his laughter bubbling over the surrounding rocks like thunder.

"Cyre! I just dried off! Jiminy!"

Aleda wrinkled her brow and glared at the young gray-green dragon. His mirthful smirk did nothing to help her anger.

"Hey, you two. Get in here and dry off. I did some hunting before you got here and there's dinner in the great room. I've had mine and to be quite frank, I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep."

Brittany tromped back to the great room and found a warm spot near the back wall.

Cyre and Aleda located the carcasses of the deer where Brittany had dropped the bodies. Each took one and moved off to eat, alone, before settling in for the night. Minutes after devouring their meals, the trio of dragons were fast asleep, the decisions of the previous week set aside for the normality of life.

 Review

Dragons Among the Eagles is an excellent sequel that will hold your attention until the very end and leave you craving more.  Well done Ms. Kraemer for delivering yet another awesome book!

Worthy of a 5 Angel Eyes rating

L. Nickels for Rogue's Angels

Featured Title of the Day: Diamonds For The Devil by Nickie Fleming

Diamond for the Devil by Nickie Fleming

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 3

Buy at:  www.roguephoenixpress.com 

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Traffic in Paris was in a mess once more. Small wonder, thought Marguerite, with this nice spring weather everyone wants to go out.

"Madame la baronesse?" A face popped up next to the window of the carriage. "The coachman says we're probably stuck here for an hour or more. Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?"

"I'm in no hurry, Henri." She sighed nevertheless. One hour could be a long time, and the coach would get hotter as the sun reached its zenith. Could she? The new idea became more attractive by the second.

"As it is, I've changed my mind," she announced. "I want to go for a walk. We are not far from the Pont Neuf, are we? I'd like to have a look around there. You can come along to protect me. Come, help me out."

While he offered her his hand, she saw the servant frown.

"It is my duty to warn Madame that the bridge is an unsafe place for people of quality, especially when they are so richly dressed. You'll be an open invitation to every pickpocket present."

Marguerite could not prevent a light smile. Henri had served the De Laneuil family for ages and had grown very protective towards its members. "I'm sure you're exaggerating, Henri. Besides, you'll be there to watch over me. Don't I notice a big gun between your belt?"

"I'll keep my eyes open", he swore, cursing under his breath for the folly his mistress displayed.

 Review

There were no ho-hum moments and I found myself going back to read again and again until I had finished.

A Scottish Lass for Rogue's Angels   5 Angel Wings

Featured Title of the Day: Dakota's Bride by Christine Young

Dakota's Bride by Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at:  www.roguephoenixpress.com 

This is the 4th book in the Lakota/Pinkerton series

Dakota's Bride, My Angel, The Locket, The Talisman, and Forever His

Read An Excerpt

Moonless and frigid, the December night sent chills down Emma's spine. Yet she didn't stop at the lighted inn nearby, nor did she break stride when she stumbled over a rut in the muddy road. Instead, she pulled her skirts higher. A carriage raced by, hell-bent in the same direction, spitting mud as it flew past

A frantic look over her shoulder did nothing to relieve the fear. He was closing on her, forcing her from her hiding place. She stopped for a moment while she quickly shook the mud off her cape, then she turned to the little girl.

"You all right, Clare?" Emma asked.

The little girl nodded but didn't say anything, her face screwed tight with concentration, her breaths ragged and hard.

The big Mississippi paddle wheeler, due to leave in ten minutes, let out two loud, booming whistles. To Emma's frayed nerves, the sound was heart-stopping.

The wind from the docks smelled of fish and tar. When it shifted, she could make out the aroma of fresh baked scones coming from the inn. Emma gripped the tiny hand she held in her own a little tighter, and prayed that Clare could keep up the pace.

"It's only a wee bit farther. We can make it," Emma told the little girl, her sister. Half sister, she reminded herself.

Clare's father was not her own. His demonically hand some face leering at her while he calmly explained what he meant for Emma to do in the bordello was something she'd never forget.

Clare was a tiny and very fragile seven-year old. She had loving green eyes and a long, slender nose coupled with delicate cheekbones. Emma knew that someday Clare would grow into a classic beauty.

One long blond lock of hair slipped loose from Clare's cap. The little girl pushed it away with her free hand, wrinkling her nose disgustedly.

Frost coated the road, and each hurried step caused the almost frozen mud to crunch beneath their feet. A horse and rider passed them, the man tipping his hat as he and his mount thundered by. Church bells rang out, the sound hollow and thin. It was almost six o'clock. She had five minutes to reach the boat.

A gust of wind caught her broadside and whisked the hood of her cape off the top of her head. She grabbed the soft fur and pulled the fabric back where it belonged. Distracted by the wind and her haste to reach the boat, Emma caught the toe of her shoe on a rock and balanced precariously for an instant.

She swore softly under her breath.

Had only one month passed?

No, three weeks ago her mother had died and two weeks ago she had learned the awful truth. Lawrence Stevens had slowly poisoned her mother. He had given her a small dose of arsenic each day until finally her mother took to her bed. Several days later Emma had held her mother's hand while she breathed her last.

Emma would never have known about the murder if she hadn't overheard Stevens speaking in harsh whispers with a friend of his. There were other things said and promised, things Emma had not wanted to acknowledge.

Disbelief and denial had caused her to waste precious time. Seven days had come and gone since she'd had her last horrible encounter with her stepfather. It was an encounter that had left her with no doubts that everything she'd heard was the god-awful truth. Stevens had meant to sell her to a whorehouse. Still, she'd had a difficult time believing the extent of Lawrence Stevens's depravity. But when he'd installed her in Madame leBon's bordello, she realized too late that her life was in grave jeopardy.

And Clare, sweet, sweet Clare, had understood all she'd told her and perhaps more. With the eyes of a child, Clare had somehow sensed the evil that surrounded her father long before anyone else did.

Five long days and nights they'd spent on the run. Clare had not complained. No matter how exhausted or hungry she was, the little girl had pressed on, understanding the imminent danger that faced Emma. Clare had somehow known that Emma had to get as far away from Lawrence as possible.

 Review

This incredible romance is one I positively fell in love with and is good enough to read again and again.

Cherokee
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More 4 Cups

I can’t remember the last time I was so engrossed in a book: Dakota’s Bride took over my weekend, and even now, am wishing to go peruse it one more time…

Rating: 4.5 Books
Reviewed by Snapdragon Long and Short Reviews 

Featured Title of the Day: Bones by K.J. Dahlen

Excerpt

Bones by K. J. Dahlen

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 1

Buy at:  www.roguephoenixpress.com 

Max squatted near the opening in the rocky outcrop and took off his sunglasses. He was hot and tired and had just about given up finding this place. He wasn’t eager to go inside since the inside of the opening was dark and uninviting. But Max knew he had to go in there. The small hole in the side of the cliff was barely big enough for a child to scramble into let alone a full size man, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. God, I hate small places, he thought as he crawled inside. The hole was small and cramped and Max had to bend over to get through. I really hate small places, he emphasized as he struggled to get through the cramped opening. The hole in the cliff had been harder to find than he expected. The directions given to him by two young boys hadn’t been all that clear.

The boys said the opening was straight up from the dam below and a little left of the big oak tree. What they failed to tell him was which big oak tree. The whole hill was littered with oak trees right up to the base of the cliff.

It had taken him the better part of an hour to find the opening. There had been a lot of hillside to search. The boys had told him they left an old t-shirt to mark the opening, but Max hadn’t found the t-shirt. Some small animal or the wind must have carried it away. He hoped he had the right entrance this time.

He’d found a couple of other openings in the rock face that had led him nowhere. This opening appeared to be the one the boys had described. According to the boys, this small cave led to a cavern with the treasure. Max hoped it led somewhere.

His hands and face were scratched up from pushing brambles and brush out of his way. The thought had also occurred to him that the seldom visited, rocky part of the side of a cliff just a little ways north of the town Max was sheriff of, might be just the spot to run into a snoozing wolf or worse yet a rattlesnake. He heard something scramble out of his way a couple of times, but he hadn’t heard the symbolic rattle of the snake so whatever remained hidden from his sight wasn’t a snake. He’d tried to make enough noise to ward off unexpected company and hoped he hadn’t sounded like a complete idiot in the process. If anyone had spotted him, they would have thought he was drunk in the middle of the morning and that would never do for a sheriff.

The flashlight he held in his hand did little to penetrate the utter darkness that surrounded him. The cave walls and floor were slimy with what Max didn’t even want to hazard a guess and it smelled even worse. It smelled like something crawled in this narrow opening and died. The boys who found the cave might think this little venture was "neat", but Max didn’t. He’d lost his sense of adventure for little games like this a long time ago. He couldn’t believe he was here now.

The boys had been in this cave a couple of days before and had found what they thought was an Indian burial place. They had been reluctant at first to tell anyone of their find but eventually told their dads. As a result, Richard Crabtree had brought his son, Timmy, to see him. Max could tell that Timmy hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about his secret place and Max hadn’t been all that interested in the boy’s tale. Most of it was just the imagination of a ten year old. It wasn’t until Timmy mentioned the skeletons that Max became interested.

Max knew enough about the local tribes in Wisconsin to know they didn’t bury their dead above ground in forgotten caves. The boys told him that they hadn’t seen or found any other Indian artifacts and Timmy was positive someone else had robbed the cave of all its treasure. As sheriff, Max felt bound to check out their story. If there were skeletons in there, he had to find out why.

 Review

All-in-all, this is an enjoyable mystery that kept my interest from beginning to end.

Laurie
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More

Featured Title of the Day: Blood Veins by Brian Young

Excerpt

Even though the pain had all but disappeared, he felt the sudden pressure against the wound and a warm hand on his forehead. The darkness relented a little as his eyes fluttered open and stared into the brown pair not inches from his face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I only just found out or I would have been here sooner. I could have saved you."

He tried to smile but wasn't sure if he had succeeded. It certainly didn't feel right. He started to shake, as the pain was completely gone and cold started to flood into his body. "It's not your fault."

He could see hurt in her eyes and a single tear rolled down her face. The feelings he felt for her had barely begun to grow. He never could have imagined finding any kind of friend in such a dark place, but the tear let him know the feelings were reciprocated. He reached his shaking hand to her face and wiped away the tear replacing it with a smear of dirt from his filthy finger. Instead of demeaning the tear by telling her how wasteful it was, he accepted the gift.

"I take your water for myself in the manner for which it was intended."

She sniffed, controlling herself, and no more tears fell. "I wish I could do something for you. I'm sorry."

"You can," his voice now barely a whisper.

"Anything."

"Come closer. Hold me."

She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, her face next to his. He knew she was warm and knew she smelled of flowers and spices but both senses were beyond him. "He will come after me. Look after him like you looked after me, Belinda."

"I will do better," she said.

With one final sigh, he was gone.

Review

Blood Veins
Brian Young
Rogue Phoenix Press
http://www.roguephoenixpress.com/

$4.99
It's Raining Books Review

Rating: 4 Flowers

Prince Alexander, the last member of the royal family, is with his guerrilla force attempting to find out who the attacking forces are, and how to stop them. He and his group head back towards the castle with the intent to recapture it.

So many things happens on the way back that it keeps you on the edge of your seat. Just about the time you think you know what is going on, it changes. There were times I felt as though I knew how a particular scene was going to end, and I was always wrong. As the story progressed, it was so tense and exciting with all the additional characters appearing or not showing themselves, I had little time for the tension to ease. Even when I was able to relax a little, I was really waiting for something else to happen, and it usually did.

Several times while reading this story, I actually had to put it down so I could catch my breath. It was really suspenseful and I could never figure out how it would end.

This author has a way of making his characters come to life so that you can really get to know them and begin to understand their reasons for doing what they are doing. He even made the bad guys real and helped you understand them also. Sometimes I wanted to stop reading because I had things to do, or because I wanted to prolong the story, but I also wanted to know what was really going on and how it would end.

Then, more than halfway through the story, I found out something very significant about this strange world and just what it really was. It made the story even more exciting. This book has the feel of a movie with vivid descriptions, exciting plot and a cast of interesting characters that I truly cared about. I can't wait for the next book in the series!

I give this book a 4 flower rating.

A black wave of terror has passed over the thriving kingdom of Larista. Mysterious invaders have swept over the land, laying waste to everything in their path and leaving ghost towns in their wake. No one knows where they came from and no one knows their purpose.

Featured Title of the Day: Blue Fire by Angela Castle

Blue Fire

Angela Castle

Excerpt Heat Level: Violence

Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at  www.roguephoenixpress.com

Excerpt

Crystal City

Land of the Kell

Claws dug into Drystan's arm. He swung his blade round his head, twisting his large body. Drystan, the commander of the Kell army, kicked high into the lizard-like man's underbelly then shoved the body away. The Drac Scoull left bloody scratch marks as it was hurtled onto its back. Drystan did not hesitate, his blade sunk all the way into the exposed side of the Scoull's armour. The enemy gave a high pitched squeal, its body convulsing in its death throes. He yanked the blade out and ran forward to the next target; blood and adrenaline coursed through his system. His heart, full of anguish and rage, pounded so hard against his ribs he feared it would explode. So many Drac Scoulls in the way.

The screams of the women echoed around him. Oh, by the gods. He fought not for his life but for theirs. The city had been left unguarded; the Drac Scoulls had stormed the inner city. In and out of every home they had gone. Drystan had witnessed them dragging out the women, the helpless babes, the young girls, to slaughter them. The streets were running red with their blood.

The army had been too far away, lured out to battle by Norlac, ruler of the Drac. Adalardo, King of the Kells, had seized the opportunity to end the war once and for all. Every able-bodied man had marched on the Drac fortress.

The Drac were like a swarm of insects moving in every direction. Drystan leapt over the body of an adolescent girl. His blade again hitting its mark; another Scoull's head went flying. His hard, muscled body ached from exertion and was dripping with sweat; his body armour was splattered with blood. He battled, until there were none left to kill.

"That has to be the entire Drac army," panted Melor, who had been fighting a step behind him.

"Go, keep searching. Do not rest until we know every Scoull is dead. May the gods have spared some of our women from this horror."

Melor nodded, racing off. Adalardo came hurtling around the corner on the back of his stag; his own face dark with the same anguished rage Drystan was feeling.

Review

"Drystan, to the palace! There are still Scoulls inside." He bolted towards the Palace gate tower. Drystan raced behind his King. He hoped and prayed there were some still alive.

Angela Castle’s Blue Fire is a fabulous short novel that had me entertained the whole way through.

Lila for Two Lips Reviews