Friday, February 6, 2015

Saving Grace by Misa Buckley

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:
Champagne Book Group 

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.”

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:
Champagne Book Group

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
Saving Grace by Misa Buckley for $0.99

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Tattle & Wrye February 2015



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. 


“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.”


“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