With Grace held at Hammel, it’s down to her lover Benedict Thomas and the other “abnormals” he and Grace rescued to return the favour.
eBook $0.99 available for order on:
Amazon http://goo.gl/Kurf7D
Champagne Book Group http://goo.gl/T9huv1
Excerpt just for Champagne Book Club:
The link snapped. Its recoil brought Benedict to wakefulness with a gasp. He flailed, but already knew he'd find the bed empty. The apartment was silent, Grace's absence a hole in his mental awareness. He reached out. Horror slid cold fingers down his spine when he couldn't find her. Sitting up, he closed his eyes, sinking himself into his own subconscious.
“Do not follow me.”
Benedict sighed hard. He should have known she couldn't leave Hammel alone. Damn the woman! Annoyance flared, then petered out. Worry replaced it—a terrible yawning sensation in his gut. She'd gone to Hammel. On her own. And they'd caught her.
He knew what they'd do. She was powerful, uniquely so, with exactly the sort of abilities they wanted to cultivate. They would pull her apart to see what she was made of. It's what they'd done to him, and he'd only just survived. His blood turned to ice at the thought of Grace going through so much pain. And there was a possibility she might not be as lucky.
Scrambling out of bed, Benedict located his clothes and dressed hurriedly. A glance at the clock showed the time was a little after four. He shoved his feet into sneakers, then pulled back the curtain. The pre-dawn sky was navy-gray, lightening to pale blue across the eastern horizon. Tapping his fingers on the windowsill, he considered what he ought to do. Didn't manage anything. No, he needed to speak to someone else. He grabbed the spare key off the top of the drawers and left the apartment.
Emery Wade opened his door after five minutes of knocking. Wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt over plaid boxers, he rubbed his eyes before blinking at Benedict. “What the fuck, Thomas? You any idea what time it is?”
“Grace went to Hammel,” Benedict replied. “They've got her.”
The big man froze and stared. “Shit. Are you sure?”
Benedict nodded. “The link broke. That means they've isolated her somehow. I can't reach her.”
“What's going on?” Charity Peterson's voice was sleepily plaintive.
Emery glanced back. “Hammel has Grace.”
Friday, February 6, 2015
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Strangclyf Secret by Mary McCall with Special Excerpt
Ordered to wed a Saxon he doesn’t want, Bernon runs headlong
into a challenge of secrets and curses with the one woman he can’t live
without.
Strangclyf Secret eBook by Mary McCall, $4.95 available for order on:
Amazon http://goo.gl/ysS2me
Champagne Book Group http://goo.gl/nP2HZO
Exclusive Excerpt:
Bernon studied her pale strained features, taking in the
long golden lashes, short pert nose, tremulous rosy lips, and small pointed
chin. Her features seemed to fit together well enough. At least she wasn’t an
eyesore. His gaze fell upon mottled bruises around her neck, and his blood
boiled. Had he been a volcano, he would have been spewing. He may not want her,
but she was his and nobody marked his property.
Emerald eyes popped open and fastened on him. She looked
like a terrified fairy. A gorgeous terrified fairy.
The muscles in her throat constricted and she whispered in a
hushed frightened voice, “Are you him?”
“I am.”
“Zut! When did I
die?” She sat up and raked her fingers through her hair, glancing wildly about.
Bernon frowned at the curse. “You will not use—”
“Oh Lord!” she exclaimed, cutting him off. “I did not please
my husband, did I? And he killed me. Now I have to spend all eternity in hell
with you.” She turned an anxious gaze upon him. “I was truly hoping we would
never meet.”
What kind of game was she playing? He cocked his head and
considered her through narrowed eyes. “Are you daft?”
“Nay. I am valuable, rare, and precious.” Her hands twisted
in the sheets. “Are you going to start my eternal torture now or make me worry
about when you will strike?”
If fear could kill, he wouldn’t have to worry about having a
wife long. He had never seen anyone so craven in his life. “You are not dead.”
“Am I not?” she asked, a surprised tone in her voice. He
shook his head.
“Then why do you come to me on earth?” She gasped then
narrowed her eyes. “Why, you no-good demon, You must think you will get my
consent.” She scrunched her face in what he assumed must be her version of a scowl.
“I’ll not let you take my soul.”
Bernon closed his eyes and counted to ten. The woman lacked
wit and could not even summon an expression to scare a mouse. “I do not want
your soul.”
“Well, why not?”
she asked in a disgruntled tone of voice and balled her hands into dainty
fists. “What is wrong with me that even the devil doesn’t want my soul?”
Bernon folded his arms across his chest and studied her
curiously. His enemies upon occasion may have referred him to as Satan
Incarnate, but he didn’t expect such a comparison from a bride he had never
met. Was she trying to rouse his ire to test him? “Now you insult me. What
makes you think I am the devil?”
“Because only Lucifer could be so handsome in such a dark
way, and you just said you were him.”
She waved an arm indicating his entire body then peered up, giving him a look
that told him she wasn’t impressed. “How can you expect to steal souls if you
cannot remember what lies you use? Is your memory short?”
He wiped a hand over his face conveying his exasperation.
This had to be the most ridiculous conversation he had ever had. “I am not
Lucifer.”
“Well if you are not Lucifer, then who are you and wher—”
She broke off and slapped a hand over her mouth. Then she peeked up at him
through her lashes. “Are you Bernon?”
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
February 2015 Book Releases
Happy Release Day! We've got two great ones this time:
Strangclyf Secret by Mary McCall for $4.95
~and~
Saving Grace by Misa Buckley for $0.99
Check them out at: http://champagnebooks.com/store/index.php
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Tattle & Wrye February 2015
FROM THE DESK OF
DONA PENZA TATTLE, ESQ.
AND
ASSOCIATE WRYE
BALDERDASH
Greetings,
Tattle and Wrye exchange boxes of
chocolates, though ‘tis the month of hearts and flowers, neither box is shaped
like a heart, just simply huge!
"You shouldn't have," notes
Tattle, recognizing her box is slightly bigger, and then frowns as she
realizes, upon opening it, that all confectionaries have nuts. "Is there a subliminal message in
this?"
Wrye suppresses a sheepish
grin. "Nuts for a nut, you
mean?" He holds up a staying hand
before she can react. "No messages,
m'sweetoholic muncher. I just know candy with nuts is your
fav."
Mollified, she leads the way to this
month's Love of Literature Leap.
"I'm taking mine along for a snack."
"Good idea!" He leaves his on his office desk and whispers
to Jamie, one of the office dogs, "Nuts for a nut, good one, eh?"
The gossipy duet appear in the first
chapter of Elizabeth Fountain’s YOU,
JANE a Burst Books Sci-Fi/Fantasy
“Do you see that?” whispers Tattle,
opening her chocolates, and snagging two.
“The comfy sofa? I wouldn’t mind taking a nap.” Wrye spreads his invisible self on the couch,
but when Tattle isn’t watching he helps himself to a sweet and pops it into his
mouth.
“Ahhh!”
“No, silly-snoozer. Jane Margaret Blake’s old papers. The old box she just found in her
closet. A box she hid away many, many,
many years ago. All of them have once upon a time written on them.”
Wrye finds a pillow and stuffs it
behind his head, then holds up three fingers.
“That’s a lot of manys.”
“And a lot of years. She always adored writing stories and each
one started with those words.”
“Well, it is a great way to start a fairy
tale.” Wrye grabs a blanket and tosses
it over himself and chews on another pilfered chocolate.
“She called them fables, and she
wrote them as if she were in a trance, sometimes they were long and sometimes
short but they all had something in common.”
Wrye snaps his fingers and a
steaming cup of hot chocolate appears in his hand. “And that is?”
Pacing, Tattle’s brow furrows. “They came true.”
One of Wrye’s bushy brows arches. “What?”
Tattle pauses, settles tensely on
the arm of the couch. “Not only that,
the story’s reality caused her all sorts of problems in her life.” Tattle indicates the opposite end of the
couch where Jane curled up with her box and her stories, sorting through a
variety of cards and college news clippings and those stories on brittle,
fading papers. “She is getting lost in
her past.”
Wrye settles into the cozy cushions,
but suddenly comes alert. “But what harm
can that do? All of us enjoy a little
nostalgia.” He mutters, taking another
helping, “And candy.”
“Only, her nostalgia can come back
to haunt her.”
Wrye pops up. “Ut oh!”
“You said it, one very big ut oh!”
“Sooo, let’s stick around and see
what happens.” With a yawn, he cuddles
back into the sofa, reaching for the candy box.
“Oh no you don’t,” gives Wyre a
naughty-boy finger waggle. “Besides,
we’re off on another leap!”
“Oooh, he’s cute!”
“He’s an actor, albeit, soon to be a
crash and burn actor. Our hero from the
contemporary CBG book A FALLING STAR by Linda Rettstatt had a fling and got
the sting. Y’ouch!” Holds up a finger as if having just gotten
stung by a bee.
“Are you feeling ok?” Tattle touches Wrye’s forehead with the back
of her hand.
Butterfly bats her hand
away. “I was demonstrating.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind!” Wrye straightens his tie, tugs at his jacket, and
then points to the book. “Your cutie is
Spence Parker who heads home to Pittsburgh, PA, U.S.A. hiding out until the
poop that hit the fan no longer stinks.”
Grins his proud grin. “Good one,
eh?”
Tattle winces at the bad pun, ignores
his puffery, but offers him a handkerchief to clean the chocolate off his lower
lip. “But he left a different sort of
stink in his hometown, which is now in financial turmoil. His abrupt departure for tinsel town had left
broken relationships and a particularly achy heart.”
“Now, that’s a cutie!” Wrye interjects, pointing to Valerie
Marks. “Spence’s high school flame who
now runs her grandfather’s newspaper.”
“And is a proud single mom of
a nine-year-old daughter, who she has every intention of protecting.” As if the word protection alerts Tattle to
Wrye helping himself to another snack, she waves her hand and sends her
half-eaten box of delights back to the office.
“Val also intends to protect her own heart. Spencer left her once and there is every
indication that the bright lights will draw him right back. She is not being swayed by his involvement in
helping in the revival of his hometown or of his self-awareness to become a
better person.”
“But then there is that heat
and heart-tug between them. I
wonder….” Wrye’s words fades as he
realizes Tattle is no longer about.
In a flash, Wrye returns to
the office and finds her nibbling away at the contents of his box of chocolates.
We so enjoyed our little
venture into CBG books, hope you have as well.
Have a Happy Valentine’s Day!
Dona
Penza Rutabaga Tattle, Esq. and Associate Wrye Balderdash
of
Blather City, Wannachat
Created
and written by
Angelica Hart and Zi
Books by
Angelica Hart and Zi
KILLER
DOLLS ~ SNAKE DANCE ~
CHASING
YESTERDAY ~ CHRISTMAS EVE...VIL
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