Tuesday, July 08, 2014

WYATT'S WAR RELEASE DAY! YAY!

Please help me share the news. 

Today is release day for WYATT'S WAR, the first book in my military romance series HEARTS & HEROES. Hot military hero, romantic suspense, spitfire heroine in San Antonio,TX.


WYATT'S WAR
by Myla Jackson
July 8, 2014 Release
Order Now:
Scroll down to read Excerpt 


Hearts & Heroes, Book 1
After a particularly difficult operation in Somalia, Master Sergeant Wyatt Magnus is stuck with “light” duty providing anti-terrorist security for delegates at the International Trade Convention in San Antonio.

As he settles in for what he expects will be an easy assignment, he discovers he’s got a whole new kind of battle on his hands with the convention’s director, a tightly packaged, five-foot-nothing, sexy piece of work with an iron fist.

Under pressure to bring foreign dignitaries to the River Walk without a hitch, Fiona Allen doesn’t have time to babysit a Special Forces grunt with a superiority complex. Even if just looking at him makes her mouth water.

When a hotel snafu lands them in the same room, at first she’s steaming mad. Then burning up in smoking-hot desire. But even as she tells herself he’s a one-time ride, trouble is brewing behind the scenes. The kind of trouble with a vendetta—and a detonator.

Warning: Contains one hot hero with a gift for strategic placement of his hands, one fiery redhead who’d like to make a career out of exploring every rippling muscle, and one hotel room that’s about to see some serious action. Fire extinguisher recommended.

For more information:
To learn more about Myla Jackson visit her website at http://www.mylajackson.comOr join her newsletter to enter in the fun with other readers:MylaJackson_Newsletter@yahoogroups.com



Excerpt
Chapter One

Sergeant Major Wyatt Magnus pushed past the pain in his knee, forcing himself to finish a three-mile run in the sticky heat of south Texas. Thankfully his ribs had healed and his broken fingers had mended enough he could pull the trigger again. He didn’t anticipate needing to use the nine-millimeter Beretta tucked beneath his fluorescent vest. San Antonio wasn’t what he’d call a hot zone. Not like Somalia, his last real assignment.

It wouldn’t be long before his commander saw he was fit for combat duty, not playing the role of a babysitter for fat tourists, politicians and businessmen visiting the Alamo and stuffing themselves on Tex-Mex food while pretending to attend an International Trade Convention.

The scents of fajitas and salsa filled the air, accompanied by the happy cadence of a mariachi band. Twinkle lights lit the trees along the downtown River Walk as he completed his run around the San Antonio Convention Center and started back to his hotel. Neither the food, nor the music lightened his spirits.

Since being medevaced out of Somalia to San Antonio Medical Center, the combined armed forces’ medical facility, he’d been chomping at the bit to get back to where the action was. But for some damn reason, his commander and the psych evaluator thought he needed to cool his heels a little longer and get his head on straight before he went back into the more volatile situations.

So what? He’d been captured and tortured by Somali militants. If he hadn’t been so trusting of the men he’d been sent to train in combat techniques, he might have picked up on the signs. Staff Sergeant Dane might not be dead and Wyatt wouldn’t have spent three of the worst weeks of his life held captive. He’d been tortured: nine fingers, four ribs and one kneecap broken and had been beaten to within an inch of his life. All his training, his experience in the field, the culture briefings and in-country observations hadn’t prepared him for complete betrayal by the very people he had been sent there to help.

He understood why the Somali armed forces had turned him over to the residual al-Shabab militants that were attempting a comeback after being ousted from the capital, Mogadishu. He might have done the same if his family had been kidnapped and threatened with torture and beheading if he didn’t hand over the foreigners.

No, he’d have found a better way to deal with the terrorists. A way that involved very painful deaths. His breathing grew shallower and the beginning of a panic attack snuck up on him like a freight train.

Focus. The psych doc had given him methods to cope with the onset of anxiety that made him feel like he was having a heart attack. He had to focus to get his mind out of Somalia and torture and back to San Antonio and the River Walk.
Ahead he spied the pert twitch of a female butt encased in hot pink running shorts and a neon green tank top. Her ass was as far from the dry terrain of Somalia as a guy could get. Wyatt focused on her and her tight buttocks, picking up the pace to catch up. She was a pretty young woman with an MP3 device strapped to her arm with wires leading to the earbuds in her ears. Her dark red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail bounced with every step. Running in the zone, she seemed to ignore everything around but the path in front of her.

Once he caught up, Wyatt slowed to her pace, falling in behind. His heart rate slowed, returning to normal, his breathing regular and steady. Panic attack averted, he felt more normal, in control and aware of the time. As much as he liked following the pretty woman with the pink ass and the dark red, bobbing ponytail, he needed to get back and shower before he met the coordinator of the International Trade Convention.

Wyatt lengthened his stride and passed the woman, thankful that simply by jogging ahead of him, she’d brought him back to the present and out of a near clash with the crippling anxiety he refused to let get the better of him.
As he put distance between him and the woman in pink, he passed the shadow of a building. A movement out of the corner of his eye made him spin around. He jogged in a circle, his pulse ratcheting up, his body ready, instincts on high alert. The scuffle of feet made him circle again and stop. He crouched in a fighting stance and faced the threat, the memory of his abduction exploding in his mind, slamming him back to Somalia, back to the dry terrain of Africa and the twenty rebels who’d jumped him and Dane when they’d been leading a training exercise in the bush.

Instead of Somali militants garbed in camouflage and turbans, a small child darted out of his parents’ reach and ran past Wyatt, headed toward the edge of the river.

His mother screamed, “Johnnie, stop!”

By the time Wyatt grasped that the child wasn’t an al-Shabab fighter, the kid had nearly reached the edge.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

BOOTS AND TWISTERS is Available now!



See the prize package and dates below
 

Ugly Stick Saloon:
Boots & Twisters

Samhain Publishing
Available now!

Welcome back to the Ugly Stick Saloon!

Blurb:

Two ranchers are about to get Lucky—in more ways than one. 

Lucky Albright’s unlucky streak is so long and wide that she’s been run out of one town and it looks like it may happen again.

When she finds herself out of money and out of gas in Temptation, Texas, a part-time job from the kind owner of the Ugly Stick Saloon gives her a glimmer of hope that this time things will be different.

Trent Jameson and Isaac Moore have always believed you make your own luck, but a black cloud of disaster seems to hover over their new hand. Under a tumbling stack of hay, Isaac discovers what Lucky’s hiding beneath baggy clothes and a tough exterior. Enough sexy curves to satisfy both men’s appetites.

But it isn’t long before Lucky’s history starts wreaking havoc all over town. It’ll take a force of nature to help the ranchers convince the law, the Garden Club—even Lucky herself—that now is no time to hit the road.

Warning: Hot cowboys meet hot cowgirl, and there’s a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on in Temptation. Get your twist-and-shout on at the Ugly Stick Saloon!
 
Night Owl Review a TOP PICK!:

"Humor is everywhere in this erotic romance as it seems no matter what Lucky does something unexpected happens. But, this story is so much more than just a humorous romance. Lucky isn’t your typical female lead...I think this is one of the best stories in this series and that is saying a lot!"

Excerpt:
 
Copyright © 2014 Myla Jackson
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Trent went to work stacking the hay on another wall, one bale at a time. Halfway through the stack, his muscles burned and he’d worked up a good sweat. He was feeling better and had almost forgotten the woman at the saloon.

With several tall columns of bales leaning against one wall, Trent was about to start a stack in front of them when a noise made him turn around.

A slim figure in jeans and a chambray shirt entered Thunder’s horse stall.

Thunder hadn’t been ridden since Dusty the ranch foreman had been tossed and ended up in the hospital.

Trent started to say something to the new ranch hand about the horse and his temperament. Before he could, the hand emerged, leading a placid Thunder out by his lead rope. If the horse had an attitude, it wasn’t on display that morning.

The cowboy had his head dipped, his cowboy hat pulled low. Between the dim lighting in the barn and the shadows from the rim of his hat, Trent couldn’t see the cowboy’s face. Covered in sweat and hay, Trent didn’t feel much like introducing himself yet. But he watched as the young man led the horse out of the barn. A few minutes later, he returned and entered the stall with the wheelbarrow, and soon had a pile of soiled straw loaded into it.

Trent resumed his work on the hay, keeping a watch on the new guy from the corner of his eye.
One stall after the other the young cowboy worked. When he completed the last stall and was pushing the last wheelbarrow load of soiled straw toward the door, Trent decided it was time to inspect the job and introduce himself.

“Wait up, there.” Trent tossed the bale he’d been carrying, dusted the straw off his gloves and crossed to the ranch hand. He glanced past the man’s shoulder into the cleaned stall and noted it was cleaner than he or Isaac usually got it. “Name’s Trent Jameson.” He held out his hand. “Nice work you’ve been doin’ there.”

For a moment the cowboy froze. Then gripped Trent’s hand with his own gloved one. “Thanks.” The cowboy refused to look up, keeping his chin tucked in, his head lowered.
Trent couldn’t look the man in the eye. He didn’t trust a man who wouldn’t look him directly in the eye. “You got a name?”

“Lucky.”

“Lucky.” Trent digested that. “Nickname?”

The ranch hand shook his head and tipped his hat lower over his head. “I better go dump this.” As he hurried around Trent, the wheel ran over Trent’s toe.

“Ow!” Trent yanked his foot back and teetered on one leg.

“Oh my gosh!” The cowboy’s hands flew in the air and the wheelbarrow dumped over, the contents rushing out, knocking Trent backward. He slammed into the freshly stacked hay bales and they swayed.

Trent glanced up, his breath hitching.

Crap.

“Oh no.” The young cowboy launched himself at the hay, tripped over the pile of dung and straw and, instead of catching the bales before they toppled, sprawled out on top of Trent.

The bales tipped and fell, one after the other, landing on or near them.

Several grunts sounded from the cowboy who took the bulk of the pummeling.

His hat flew off and long sandy-blonde hair tangled with the loose hay flying around the interior of the barn.

Trent blinked the hay and dust out of his eyes and stared up into pretty gray eyes, the color of storm clouds. “You!”

The woman he’d been dreaming about kissing planted her hands against his chest and tried to push herself off him.

“Yes, me.”

He opened his mouth to admit he thought he’d never see her again. Thinking better of it, he demanded, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Working.” Jerking her leg out from under a heavy bale, she managed to roll off him and onto the ground. “What does it look like?” As agile as a cat, she shot to her feet.

“I can see that. But why?”

“Isaac hired me as the new ranch hand.”

“What?” Trent stood and stared at her.

“Is it so hard to believe a woman can be as effective and efficient at ranch work as a man?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you didn’t have to.” She stood, brushing the hay from her jeans but missing the straws stuck in her hair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get to work cleaning this up.”

“I didn’t say I agreed with Isaac’s decision to hire you.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “You gonna fire me?”

He glared at her. “I don’t know.”

“Well, until you say otherwise, I have work to do.”

Trent climbed over the bales to stand in front of her. “Like I said last night. You’re trouble.”

Something clouded her already stormy eyes. “Maybe, but I work hard and I know my way around a ranch.”

She grabbed a bale and threw it up onto the stack.

“I gathered that.” And she was beautiful with fire in her eyes and hay in her hair. Trent worked alongside her until they had all the hay stacked in neat rows. When they were done, he brushed straw off his body and grinned. She’d worked hefting as many bales as he had. So, she could lift bales.

Lucky flicked hay off her shoulders. “If we’re done here, there’s a fence on the northeast corner of the property I intend to fix.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because it’s a two-man—person—job.”

“I’ve strung fence with and without help. I can handle it.”

“Maybe so, but we use the buddy rule around here. Unless you’re working around the house or barn, you always take a buddy with you. That way if one or the other is hurt, you have someone there to help.”

She looked at him through slitted eyes. “You’re making that up.”

He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Her eyes narrowed even more. “When were you ever a Scout?”

His lips twisted. “Okay, so I’ve never been a Scout. But we do use the buddy system. I’ll go with you.”

Her full, soft lips tightened. “How do you usually get there?”

“I take the four-wheeler. You can ride on the back.”

“Is that how you and your partner…er, brother ride out?”

“We usually take a couple of four-wheelers, but one of them is in the shop for repair.”

She hesitated then nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Trent gathered the come-along, a roll of barbed wire, pliers, a hammer and a couple of metal fence posts and the heavy pounder used to drive them in.

Lucky took half of the supplies and carried them out into the open, then went back for the other half while Trent pulled the four-wheeler out of one of the storage areas in the barn.

Loading what she could in the box on the back, she settled the fence posts over the box and Trent strapped them down along with the pole pounder.

“I’ll get my hat and be ready to go.” Lucky disappeared into the barn.

Isaac joined Trent, carrying two water bottles. He settled them in the box with the tools. “I take it you’ve met our new ranch hand.”

Trent gave Isaac a withering look. “Yeah. You could have warned me.”

“She has the experience and know-how. And from the looks of it, the stamina.” Isaac’s lips twitched.

“Don’t go there.”



Stop by to enter the contest to win this prize!

Myla Jackson's BOOTS AND TWISTERS Book Blast Schedule
3/24 - Bookin' It Reviews  http://bookinitreviews.com
3/24 - Literal Hotties Naughty Book Reviews http://literalhottiesnaughtybookreviews.blogspot.com/
3/24 - Myla Jackson Blog http://www.mylajack.blogspot.com/
3/26 - In The Pages of a Good Book  http://wp.me/p3sIcU-12d
3/27 - Elle James Blog http://ellejames.blogspot.com/
3/28 - Book Monster Reviews http://bookmonsterreviews.com
3/29 - Dirty Girl Romance http://dirtygirlromance.blogspot.com
3/29 - Deal Sharing Aunt  http://dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
3/31 - For the Love of Bookends               http://loveofbookends.blogspot.com/
4/02 - Books And Their Seven Deadly Sins http://booksandtheirsevendeadlysins.blogspot.co.uk/
4/03 - Inner Goddess http://www.InnerGoddessForum.com
4/03 - Romancing the Book http://romancing-the-book.com
4/05 - Urban Girl Reader http://urbangirlreader.com
4/05 - The Lusty Literate http://thelustyliterate.com/
4/05 - We Love Kink http://welovekink.com
4/05 - Kristina's Books & More   http://kristinasbooksandmore.blogspot.com/
4/06 - Coffee Talk Writers http://coffeetalkwriters.com/blog
4/06 - Words of Wisdom from The Scarf Princess http://wowfromthescarfprincess.blogspot.com
4/06 - For Whom The Books Toll http://forwhomthebookstoll.blogspot.com
4/06 - The Snarkology    http://melissasnark.blogspot.com
4/06 - Toot's Book Reviews http://tootsbookreviews.blogspot.com



Wednesday, March 05, 2014

Eleri Stone's REAPER'S TOUCH Book Blast



REAPER'S TOUCH
Genre:  Western Paranormal Romance
Print Length: 280 pages (95,000 words)
Publisher: Carina Press
Publication Date:  February 10, 2014
ASIN: B00GKBHIT4

Abby is a Ranger, part of an elite group who defend the border against Reapers—humans infected with a parasite that turns them into mindless cannibals. Rangers are immune to Reaper infection, and as one of the only female Rangers, Abby is expected to settle down and breed more Rangers—a fate she’s keen to avoid. When she’s ambushed on the plains, she’s ready to go out with guns blazing—until a mysterious, handsome cowboy rides to her rescue.

Jake has his own motives for helping Abby, beyond aiding a damsel in distress. He’s a Reaper, and while he’s learned to wrest control of his mind from the parasite, the effects won’t last without a permanent cure. And he needs Abby to get it.

Abby and Jake are natural enemies and unlikely partners. But when their search reveals a conspiracy between Reapers and the rich industrialists who own the mountain cities, they must work together to find the cure—or lose the border, and each other, forever.

Available at:


REVIEWS:
“Stone crafts a dark and delicious tale of cowboys vs. zombies and bittersweet love found in unexpected places. Truly exceptional! I did not want this to end!” —Kristen Callihan, bestselling author of FIRELIGHT

“A thrilling, original romance with the right mix of danger and desire.”—Zöe Archer, award-winning author of SWEET REVENGE

“Stone isn’t afraid to bring on the heat in this twisted tale of life on the range.” —Karina Cooper, award-winning author of TARNISHED


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:



Eleri Stone grew up in New Jersey, but now lives in the Midwest with her husband and their three children. A lifelong fan of fantasy, she started reading romance as an adult and was instantly captivated by the strong female protagonists, character-driven storylines and guarantee of a happy-ever-after. Writing fantasy and paranormal romance, she is the author of the Lost City Shifters series (cat shifters in the Amazon), the Twilight of the Gods series (Norse demigods in the American Midwest) and the Spellcraft series (adult high fantasy).



Contact links:



TOUR GIVEAWAY:

GRAND PRIZE:
 One $25 gift card to Amazon or Barnes & Noble

RUNNERS UP:  
Two $10 gift cards to Amazon or Barnes & Noble


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Tuesday, March 04, 2014

The Art Lover by Maggie Wells



Please welcome my good friend Maggie Wells!
This week she's got a treat for you. 
THE ART LOVER is free!! 
Hurry out and get your copy while the deal lasts!
 
Blurb
Starving artist Kelsey Tecato takes being The Templeton Museum's artist in residence a little too literally. By day, she puts on a show of painting for the crowds that shuffle through the galleries, but at night, her muse runs wild.

Mitch Jameson is a guy's guy. A cop moonlighting as a security guard, he has little use for the artsy-fartsy stuff, but the mysterious Ms. Tecato's sexy portraits call to him.

So does an interior alarm.

When Officer Jameson goes to investigate, he finds a paint-splattered goddess working on a self-portrait--in the nude.

A couple tubes of paint and a roll in the drop cloths later, free-spirited Kelsey helps Officer Jameson discover his passion for art.

Buy Link
Retail Price: $0.99                        Promotional Price: FREE
 March 3-7, 2014


Excerpt
His gaze traveled over the discreet placard affixed to the wall, but he’d already memorized the pertinent facts. The paintings were created by someone named Kelsey Tecato, the museum’s ‘Artist in Residence’.
Coming on shift as the museum closed for the day, he’d searched the faces of museum patrons and employees as they straggled past the security station, but he’d yet to spot the one that matched the headshot of a studious-looking brunette featured in the museum brochure. When he oh-so-casually posed the question to Bert, he learned that meant Ms. Tecato’s art was being subsidized in exchange for her participation in demonstrations and exhibitions sponsored by the museum board. The knowing twinkle in the older man’s eyes when he clarified that the ‘in residence’ part didn’t refer to the artist’s living situation was enough to make him drop the subject. Bert was too damn nosy for a guy who never managed to pass the detective’s exam.

Forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, he left the provocative portraits behind and turned toward the west end of the building. The Templeton rambled for nearly a city block but most of the space went unused. Exhibits occupied the open center space of the two-story building joined by a pair of sweeping marble staircases. The east side had been converted to classroom space decades before, but the warren of tiny rooms on the west end were primarily administrative offices and storage.

His heart started to pound when he picked up the murmur of a deep voice. Shifting the flashlight to his left hand, Mitch reached for his sidearm and came up empty. He was a guard tonight, not a cop. His service weapon was locked up safe in his apartment. At the end of the corridor he pulled up short, pressing his back against the wall and tightening his grip on the flashlight. He wore a panic button clipped to his belt but his instincts told him he wasn’t at the panic stage yet. Breathing soft and slow, he closed his eyes and focused his energy on catching a few words. Perhaps he could figure out what the intruders were after before making his presence known.

Thirty seconds passed. His eyes popped open then rolled heavenward as the droning voice segued into a bouncy pop song. The radio. Someone had left a radio playing in one of the offices. Shaking off the rush of adrenaline, Mitch pushed away from the wall and rounded the corner, only to come to a dead stop when he saw the fan of light spilling from the office at the very end of the hall.

Two things he knew for certain: the radio hadn’t been playing when he’d made his post-closing rounds, and that door on the end of the corridor hadn’t been open. He let the barrel of the flashlight slip through his fingers until he gripped the lamp. Wielding his only weapon like a club, he crept toward the door as silently as a guy who clocked in at six-four and two-ten could. Just outside the office, he caught a flash of movement inside the room and quickly pressed his back to the wall.

“About time you showed up.”

A woman. The intruder was a woman and she’d been expecting him. Irked by the presumptuous amusement in her tone, he stepped into the open doorway, prepared to let her have it, and almost swallowed his tongue.
Screw the flashing red lights. Alarm bells clamored in his head the moment recognition clicked. Kelsey Tecato. Artist in Residence. Painter of hard-on-inducing nudes. Live and in person, standing in the Templeton Museum after hours.

And naked as the day she was born.

Author Info
Multi-published author, Maggie Wells, is a deep-down dirty girl with a weakness for hot heroes and happy endings. By day she is buried in spreadsheets, but at night she pens tales of people tangling up the sheets. The product of a charming rogue and a shameless flirt, this mild-mannered married lady has a naughty streak a mile wide.
Fueled by supertankers of Diet Coke, Maggie juggles fictional romance and the real deal by keeping her slow-talking Southern gentleman constantly amused and their two children mildly embarrassed. They are the food purveyors to three dogs, a passel of fish, and one impertinent house rabbit she claims is the love of her life. Shh. Don’t tell her husband.
You can find her online at maggie-wells.com , on Twitter @maggiewells1, or on Facebook 

Author Links
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1482834.Maggie_Wells