​How can you imagine forever with someone who's leaving everything behind?
Callahan, a former army sniper, wants to make an escape from his past and everything he experienced at war, but most of all, just not feel. Feeling leads to pain and he's suffered enough. When he inherits a house on South Carolina's Kiawah Island, he packs his bags, lured by the peace and seclusion he thinks it will bring. But, Callahan never counted on meeting anyone like Trinity . . .

Trinity has always been the cute, and funny one, who most guys overlook in pursuit of her "hot" friends. She became used to being everyone's pal, until the day the young man she was attracted to, was drawn to her in return. He became her first great love, and first crushing heartbreak when she found him in bed with one of her closest friends.

To move forward, and to carry out her commitment to helping those in need, Trinity enlists in the Peace Corps, but not before returning to Kiawah for one last memorable summer. She just never imagined it would be so unforgettable.

Callahan doesn't want to get close to anyone-let alone Trinity. He finds her perkiness insufferable and her attempts to entice a smile distracting. After all, he's in Kiawah to leave all feelings behind. But when it comes to Trinity, who feels everything, it's hard not to feel something.

Neither expected to fall in love. And no one could have predicted how inseverable they'd become.


Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2016/04/inseverable-carolina-beach-novel-by.html
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29630863-inseverable?ref=ru_lihp_up_rv_1_mclk-up3186736511


Buy Links:     Amazon | B & N | iTunes | Kobo
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1TSEslT
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/inseverable-cecy-robson/1123601826?ean=2940153226927
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/inseverable/id1097838195?mt=11
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/inseverable

​Prologue
Callahan


Three days.
That’s all I have left until this shit ends.
Three days shouldn’t feel like forever, not compared to the eight years I’ve bled to the Army. Thing is, good men have been killed in less time. In as quick as a blink, a squeeze of a trigger, or a small breath right before a grenade blows is all the time it takes to shove someone right out of life and well into death.
That’s what makes three days as long as it is. Three days is plenty of time to die.
My eyes tear when the wind picks up and shoots grime through the small hole of my lookout point. This blown out piece of cinderblock is only big enough to allow me a view of the street below, but not so small I don’t get smacked in the face with more filth. The tarp flaps above me as I spit out another layer of the dirt-sand mix spackling my teeth. Christ Almighty, I need a swig of the water resting near my elbow. But my thirst, like everything else has to wait.
I have a job to do.
I adjust my hips against the cracked cement of my bed, bathroom, and home all rolled into one, thankful that the agonizing ache stretching over the lower half of my body has settled into a now familiar numbness.
Out of all the points I’d scouted, and all the accumulated years spent in this position, I should be used to it. And in a strange way, it should almost be home. Yet nothing ever has been home.
But in three days, maybe something finally will be . . .
I shove my thoughts away and breathe as my fellow Rangers stalk along the street. It’s then I see them, a mother and daughter walking straight toward my team. Less than one city block separates them from the men counting on me to keep them alive.
The hell? How did they get past the other sniper unreported? Rogers is new on watch. But the quick paces these two are taking should have clued him in that something’s up. I train my scope on their faces; their expressions are blank, unreadable. ‘Cept that’s not what keeps my attention.
The little girl can’t be more than five. So why the fuck isn’t her mother holding her hand? I lift my radio and bark a warning, dropping it beside me as I lock my scope dead center on the woman’s head.
The radio crackles and Modreski chimes in, yelling at his team to hold their positions. He asks me what my plan is, knowing if something’s caused the short-hairs on my neck to rise, he and the boys damn well need to listen. But I don’t hear him, with a breath and a squeeze of the trigger, I leave a kid without a mother.
Just beneath the sleeve of her abayah―the dress completely covering her body―I see it, a detonator that would trigger the explosives likely strapped to her chest. A few Rangers I know―Simons and Boreman, rush forward. I start to mutter a curse, pissed at her for making me shoot her in front of her kid. But the curse lodges in my throat when I see the kid isn’t looking at her mother lying next to her dead.
She’s watching my advancing team as she lifts the detonator clasped tight in her hand.

Cecy Robson is a new adult and contemporary author of the Shattered Past series, the O’Brien Family novels and upcoming Carolina Beach novels, as well as the award-winning author of the Weird Girls urban fantasy romance series. A 2016 double nominated RITA®finalist for Once Pure and Once Kissed, Cecy is a recovering Jersey girl living in the South who enjoys carbs way too much, and exercise way too little. Gifted and cursed with an overactive imagination, you can typically find her on her laptop silencing the yappy characters in her head by telling their stories.


Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Website: http://www.cecyrobson.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Cecy.Robson.Author
Twitter: https://twitter.com/cecyrobson
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6177334.Cecy_Robson ​

​Kate recently inherited half her father’s private investigation company and a partner who is as irritating as he is attractive. Kate has been avoiding Jake Carmedy for years, but now her life might depend on him.

Kate and Jake are on the hunt for a serial cat killer who has mysterious connections to her father’s last police case. Kate’s father had been forced to retire when he was shot investigating a domestic disturbance. Is the shooter back for revenge? And is Kate or Jake next?

www.amazon.com/Deadly-Season-Carmedy-Garrett-Mini-Mystery-book/dp/B017AFRN02
www.store.kobobooks.com/en-ca/ebook/deadly-season
www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/deadly-season/9781772231533-item.html
www.play.google.com/store/books/details/Alison_Bruce_Deadly_Season?id=SzvSCgAAQBAJ
www.smashwords.com/books/view/588711 ​


​

​December 16

Violent death was never pleasant. The cold hadn’t diminished the smell of blood, piss and stool—or if it had, I didn’t want to think about it.
A dart, the kind animal control officers use in their rifles, was sticking into the ribs. Instead of delivering a tranquillizer, its payload was poison. The feathery stabilizer at the end was red and green. Very seasonal.
“Do we know what the poison is, Chief?”
“Looks like cyanide. Samples were taken from the last victim. I’ll let you know when the latest batch have been processed and compared.”
Igor Thorsen, Chief of Detectives and my godfather, bent down and offered me his hand. I let him pull me out of the crouch I had been sustaining for several minutes while I examined the body. I didn’t need the help, but it was a warm gesture on a cold night.
“I could use your help on this, Kathleen. People are getting nervous but I can hardly free up a detective for a serial cat-killer. I can authorize support services for a week and the East Hills Neighbourhood Group will pay your fees.”
I stripped off my gloves and ran my fingers through my hair, pushing back the auburn strands that had blown into my face. Time for a cut. Or maybe not. I didn’t have to keep up the uniform code for keeping hair short or worn up.
I looked up at the Chief. Way up. And I’m not short. Or particularly tall.
I nodded.
My name is Kate Garrett. Up until recently, I had been a rookie detective in the violent crimes unit. The chief was my boss. Almost one month ago my father, the Joe Garrett of Garrett Investigations, was killed in a pedestrian-vehicle incident. Now I was the Garrett of Carmedy and Garrett Investigations.
Last month I was a homicide detective. Now I was a pet P.I.?

Alison Bruce has had many careers and writing has always been one of them. Copywriter, editor and graphic designer since 1992, Alison has also been a comic store manager, small press publisher, webmaster and arithmetically challenged bookkeeper. She is the author of mystery, romantic suspense and historical western romance novels. Three of her novels have been finalists for genre awards.


http://www.alisonbruce.ca (author and business website)
https://www.facebook.com/alisonbruce.books (author page)
https://www.facebook.com/alison.e.bruce (personal)
http://alisonebruce.blogspot.ca (author blog)
https://twitter.com/alisonebruce
http://www.pinterest.com/alisonebruce ​

Alison Bruce is also a regular contributor to:

Pop Culture Divas: http://www.thepopculturedivas.com
Cowboy Kisses: http://cowboykisses.blogspot.com ​

Fans of Heidi Cullinan will devour this scorching new male/male series by Elizabeth Varlet. Behind the Sassy Boyz's seductive smiles and sinful dance moves are desires that will leave readers breathless.
Fitch Donovan never thought a lap dance could change his life, but from the moment the gorgeous dancer's lips touch his, his world comes screeching to a halt. No matter how hard he tries, he can't shake the desire that rocks him to his core. He's longed for this passion all his life—he just never dreamed he'd find it with another man.
Sharing a soul-shaking kiss with a straight boy is the kind of drama Ansel Becke just doesn't need. Spotlights aren't made for two and Ansel prefers to keep things on a one-night-only basis. So when Fitch shows up asking for an encore, Ansel knows he should send his gorgeous ass packing.
Though Ansel tries to pretend that what's between him and Fitch is far from fabulous, there's something about the big, burly contractor that makes Ansel's world sparkle in a way no amount of glitter ever could. And Fitch will do whatever it takes to convince Ansel that when the thing you need most in the world falls right into your lap, you'd be a fool to let it go.
​

​Elizabeth Varlet is a nerd at heart and spends way too many hours binging on episodes of her favorite television shows. If you love Doctor Who, Supernatural, Stargate, Star Trek, Sherlock, or Firefly you are already her best friend.
She started writing stories in high school and hasn’t stopped. Now, her characters like to get frisky under the covers – or the stars, they’re not picky. She’s a thirty-something, newly married, world traveler who devours books like they were candy.
Find Elizabeth: Website | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter |Tumblr

​Thank you so much for hosting me at The Recipe Fairy. I’m thrilled to be here and share a delicious recipe.

Ansel Becke, the MC in Fierce & Fabulous, enjoys cooking and has begun a tradition of Sunday dinners where all his friends come to eat. During the course of the novel, we see Ansel cooking a tradition German meal. This recipe was handed down to him from his grandmother and there is a funny story about it in the book. I won’t spoil the fun, you’ll just have to read Fierce & Fabulous to find out the odd history of this recipe.


Oma Richter’s Famous Käse Spätzle

For the Spätzle

• 4 eggs
• 1/3 cup milk
• 2 tsp salt
• 2 cups flour
• 4 tbsp butter (unsalted)
• 1 tsp pepper (white preferred)
• ¼ tsp nutmeg

Whisk together the milk, eggs, & salt then add the flour slowly until combined. Place your Spätzle maker over a large pot of salted boiling water and begin pouring the batter to make your tiny dumplings. This takes practice so you may need a few tries to get the right length and consistency.

Cook the Spätzle for 1 to 2 minutes until they begin to float to the surface then remove with a slotted spoon.


For the Käse Casserole

• 2-3 cups shredded Emmentaler cheese
• 2 tbsp butter
• 2 small onions (sliced)
• Salt & pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 325 ° F. Sauté onions in a skillet with butter until tender & just slightly caramelized. This will take about 5 to 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, butter casserole dish. When the onions are ready, layer half of your boiled Spätzle and season with additional salt & pepper then sprinkle half of your cheese. Continue with the final portion of Spätzle and the rest of the cheese. Top with onion mixture.

Bake uncovered for 20 to 30 minutes or until bubbly and browned on top.


You can follow me for more Sassy Boyz info at:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ElizabethVarlet
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EVarletAuthor
Website: http://www.elizabethvarlet.com/
Newsletter: http://www.elizabethvarlet.com/?page_id=3153

​Based on true events, MELT is both a chilling tale of abuse, and a timeless romance. MELT will hit you like a punch in the face, and also seep through the cracks in your soul.


MELT is a brutal love story set against the metaphorical backdrop of The Wizard of Oz (not a retelling). When sixteen year old Dorothy moves to the small town of Highland Park, she meets, and falls for Joey – a “bad boy” who tells no one about the catastrophic domestic violence he witnesses at home. Can these two lovers survive peer pressure, Joey’s reputation, and his alcoholism?
Told in dual first person, Joey’s words are scattered on the page – reflecting his broken state. Dorothy is the voice of reason – until something so shattering happens that she, too, may lose her grip. Can their love endure, or will it melt away?

MELT: Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

​

​ The tables are turned with a vengeance in this tour de force love story. Nearly a year has gone by and now it’s Dorothy who is fragmented and lost, while Joey keeps the promise he had made her to better himself—even though she’s gone. Joey talks about what is happening in the present while Dorothy describes what happened before— in the moments and hours after the Glock dropped. This time the stakes are even higher, as Joey forces himself to move forward while Dorothy is frozen in place. But when he learns of a devastating decision, Joey races to find her before it is too late. Truth, consequence, repercussion and modern medicine collide as pieces converge in this psychological, thrilling story, which begs the question: Can love really conquer all?


Signs of Life: Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble
​

​Selene Castrovilla is the award-winning author of multiple narrative nonfiction picture books and young adult novels. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from The New School and a BA in English from New York University. She lives on Long Island with her two sons and too many cats. Visit her website: www.SeleneCastrovilla.com. 


Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Tumblr | Pinterest

​Greetings!

I’m so excited to be here at the Recipe Fairy for the premier of my blog tour. At first, I panicked. I’m not a chef, or even a cook! I can barely follow a recipe, let alone create one.(I know it was optional, but I do like to please.)
Then I realized, I’ll share a book club adventure I recently had!

Melt is chosen by many bookclubs because it isn’t so long and dense that it takes forever to get through (number one complaint by book club members: “I don’t have time to read long books!”) and also because it’s a fast-paced read (number two complaint by book club members: “The books are boring!”) And yet, it’s a literary book with lots of layers to provide fodder for discussion. It’s a book that invites you to add your own opinion — a book that challenges you to change your outlook on certain things. (And by the way, Signs of Life ups the ante.)

I visit Long Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens and Bronx book clubs for free — or rather, for a free meal ;) (I Skype everywhere else - and you will probably see me in my pajamas.) It’s always festive and fun, but one book club came up with quite the creative theme:

A Smashed Potato Party!

Smashed potatoes are mashed potatoes made with bourbon — thereby combining Jack Daniels and mashed potatoes, two key symbols in Melt. (The Jack Daniels continues in Signs of Life.)
Our hostess served the mashed potatoes in martini glasses, and had a toppings bar with everything from bacon to whipped cream (she served Sweet Smashed Potatoes too!)
We had a blast, as you can imagine. And the drink she served? Champagne “punch” — paying homage to a key factor in the book, both good and bad: punching.
“Good and bad” is actually an accurate way to sum up Joey, our dark hero: he is in a constant struggle with good and bad, and we don’t know until the end of the book which side will win.
Here’s a recipe for Smashed Potatoes! Don’t forget to add butter on top: melted!

SMASHED POTATOES

Ingredients
5 pounds potatoes; peeled and cut into chunks
(you might also want to try sweet potatoes)
(you might also want to try cauliflower, for a healthy version - but of course that wouldn’t fly in Joey’s house)

2 sticks butter; softened
1/2 cup milk
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 1/2 cup boursin cheese
1 cup bourbon
1/2 cream
Yields” 8 servings

Preparation:
Put potato chunks into a huge pot and fill with water just until potatoes are covered. Bring to a boil over high heat and cook until tender (approx 30 minutes.) Drain well, place in a large bowl (or you can use the pot.) Add butter, milk, salt and pepper — beat with an electric mixer until smooth and creamy. In a small saucepan add bourbon and reduce by half over medium heat. Add cream and reduce entire mixture by half. Stir mixture into prepared mashed potatoes and fold in boursin cheese.


Suggestions for toppings bar:
crumbled cooked bacon
shredded or grated cheese(s)
chopped scallions/chives
herbed butter
sour cream
basil pesto
creamed corn
BBQ pulled pork or chicken
black caviar
olive tapenade
sautéed wild mushrooms
gravy
mini marshmallows
maple syrup
brown sugar
crystallized ginger
whipped cream


Whip ‘em up and enjoy your discussion of Melt. And if you live on Long Island or in NYC: invite me!

​The book is available on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/dp/0692687599/


In 2014, Al DeCesaris set out on a 1,935-mile solo run from Lubec, Maine to Key Largo, Florida. He ran to bring hope to his 10-year-old niece Jenna who suffers with Sturge-Weber Syndrome, a rare and life-threatening neurological disorder. He ran to create awareness and raise funds for medical research so a cure can be found.
 
​For three consecutive months, he battled the rigors of the road, endured numerous injuries, encountered wild animals, and narrowly escaped getting hit by more than a few reckless drivers. Yet, he also experienced the generosity of strangers, had heart-warming interactions with families affected by this devastating disorder, and came to realize - with purpose, determination, and belief - even the seemingly impossible can be achieved.
 
Running The Coast For A Cure is one man's journey to make a difference for his niece. Told with humor and warmth, Al candidly captures the adversity he faced and the joy he experienced as he ran close to a marathon a day through 14 states down the East Coast. His journey of love and hope will have you running with him, and leave you inspired.

​In each of us is the power to make a difference! This isn’t just rhetoric. This is something I wholeheartedly believe, something I’ve observed time and again. So when the cause of Sturge-Weber Syndrome – the rare neurological disorder that afflicts my 10-year-old niece Jenna – was discovered, I knew it was time, my time, to help further the efforts to find a cure.


I was determined to make a difference in Jenna’s life and in the lives of all those suffering with this devastating disorder. Thus, on the heels of my 2013 cross-country bike ride, which I chronicled in my book, Crossing America For A Cure: A Bicycle Journey Of Inspiration And Hope, I began training for a new charity event – a solo athletic endeavor that would have me running close to a marathon a day through 14 states down the entire East Coast.


I suppose I could have come up with something a little less arduous (no doubt, my legs would have appreciated it), but I wanted to do something unique and eye-opening to create as much awareness and raise as much money for Sturge-Weber research as possible. My plan was to run (walk … and even crawl, if necessary) on average 22 miles a day for three consecutive months from Lubec, Maine to Key Largo, Florida. Picking up each day exactly where I left off the day before, I would cover every mile (every foot actually) down the coast.


Now, it’s no secret I’ve never been much of an athlete. And I didn’t have the running experience that would lead one to believe I could accomplish something this ambitious. In fact, even though I planned to run close to a marathon a day, I’d never actually run a marathon. Still, I have something within me that I knew would make this seemingly impossible task achievable – purpose. My purpose is my desire to help my beautiful young niece Jenna live a better life. For her and because of her, I am inspired to fight Sturge-Weber Syndrome on her behalf.

​For the past 10 years Al DeCesaris has volunteered his time and dedicated his efforts to fighting Sturge-Weber Syndrome, a rare and life-threatening neurological disorder that afflicts his young niece Jenna. Through charitable events, athletic endeavors, and his “For A Cure” books, he has created considerable awareness about the disorder and helped raise significant funds to further the efforts to find a cure.
CHARITABLE EVENTS:
Al’s crusade began not long after the birth of his niece. Recognizing the need and importance of raising funds for the research and treatment of Sturge-Weber Syndrome, he and his family organized a concert and auction fundraiser called Bands on the Bay. The fundraiser proved to be a huge success and motivated them to turn it into an annual event. Since its inception, Bands on the Bay has raised over $1,000,000. This money has directly supported the work of the Sturge-Weber Center at Kennedy Krieger Institute and helped fund research that led to the discovery of the cause of Sturge-Weber Syndrome.
ATHLETIC ENDEAVORS:
Even with the success of Bands on the Bay and the DeCesaris family’s contributions to this ground-breaking discovery, Al couldn’t help but think that there was more they could do to further the efforts to find a cure. More he could do.
In 2013, he set out on a solo cross-country bicycle journey in honor of Jenna. Despite great adversity, he biked over 3,000miles from Santa Monica, California to Ocean City, Maryland. Through his Crossing America For A Cure bike ride, he created awareness about Sturge-Weber Syndrome across the country, raised critical funds for medical research, and brought hope to his niece and countless others suffering with this devastating disorder.
In 2014, he took on another incredibly challenging endeavor, this time on foot. Running close to a marathon a day for three consecutive months, he logged 1,935 miles as he made his way from Lubec, Maine to Key Largo, Florida. Through his Running The Coast For A Cure charity run, he created awareness about Sturge-Weber Syndrome down the East Coast, raised additional funds for ongoing research, and inspired numerous individuals to join the fight against the disorder.
BOOKS:
After both his ride and his run, Al wrote books about his experiences on the road: the things he saw, the emotions he felt, the challenges he faced and of the extraordinary people he met along the way. His books about these athletic endeavors, Crossing America For A Cure and Running The Coast For A Cure, are honest, entertaining and, above all, inspirational.
Al’s “For A Cure” books are available for purchase on Amazon. To further the efforts to find a cure, Al is dedicating all profits from the sale of his books to Sturge-Weber research.

​Sandra Moyer’s preschool is struggling, so when her sister suggests allowing a super-famous actor to research his latest role there, she reluctantly agrees. Except the actor turns out to be Ben Capshaw—a playboy who’s never serious, always joking around, and who knows zero about kids or being a parent. Case in point: his involvement in the untimely death of the preschool’s class pet…
Ben is enjoying teaching more than he thought he would, but that doesn’t mean he’s looking for a permanent position. Sure, he’s ready for more serious movie roles and less goofing off, but the buttoned-up, beautiful Sandra and her young daughter are more than he bargained for. Plus, Sandra still won’t trust him—what if it’s all an act, research for the role? As the lines between make-believe and reality blur, Ben will have to decide if love is worth casting aside the role of his life for a new role…that could last a lifetime.

Previously released as The Role of a Lifetime - (May 2008) and has been enhanced with new material.


Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2016/05/from-fake-to-forever-by-jennifer-shirk.html
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30071064-from-fake-to-forever


Buy Links:     Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iTunes
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Fake-Forever-Jennifer-Shirk-ebook/dp/B01F1YMJNK?ie=UTF8&camp=211189&creative=9325&link_code=ur2&tag=entangpublis-20
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/from-fake-to-forever-jennifer-shirk/1123747338?ean=9781633756397
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/from-fake-to-forever/id1110009023?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/from-fake-to-forever-3

​Ben stood up and walked over to the windows, grabbing the attention of Missy and the rest of the class. His eyes swept around the floor a few seconds, and then he finally saw it. Holy crap, how could he not? That thing was huge.
“What’s the matter, Big Bens?” he heard Missy ask.
“Nothing.” Gargantuan spider, actually. But he didn’t want to announce that in case there were any squeamish kids in the room.
It was one mother of an ugly insect and—now that it began to move—remarkably fast for possessing those thick little legs. Being the he-man he was, he wasn’t about to let it get away so it could boast to all its hairy little friends. So he grabbed a heavy dictionary off the shelf, aimed, and then let the book drop. “Got it!” he called out.
The children shrieked. His head whipped up and around, trying to sort through the sudden mayhem. He’d had absolutely no idea ten little preschoolers had the ability to create enough noise to blow out an eardrum, but at that precise moment there was enough sound to fill a stadium. But even among the loud chatter, he heard some of the kids cry out, “Herbie!”
Herbie?
That thing had a name?
Ben’s eyes shot to Missy for an explanation, but she just stood there like a corpse with wide eyes bulging out and a hand raised to her mouth. Oh-kay. He obviously wasn’t going to get any support in that corner. He was officially on his own.
Great. Now what? He was going to make things much worse if he picked up the book and allowed the class to see the smeared-up guts of Herbie, so he simply froze, wishing for some big hook to come and yank him away.
Then his wish was granted.
Sandra, aka big hook, appeared at the door of the classroom with her no-nonsense line of attack that stomped out all the commotion around them. Oh, man. She was not looking happy with him, either—not that he’d seen her looking any other way. More bad timing on his part. She had a way of popping in on him when he wasn’t exactly his best. Too bad he couldn’t have screenwriters helping him out with choice lines in real life, because he could sure use a witty one now. Coming up with nothing on his own, he hiked his shoulders up at her, hoping she’d take it as a white flag being waved. However, Sandra didn’t seem ready to declare peace.
“Ah, Mr. Ben, a word, please?”
Uh-oh. This was bad. She was giving him an even more snotty tone than she had first used on him. He had to be more careful with what he wished for in the future. No more big hooks. Next time, he’d be much more specific and wish for a scantily clad woman with more than a significant amount of appreciation for movie stars. But one who still looked exactly like Sandra.
Where did that thought come from?
Sandra turned and disappeared, not waiting for his response. He supposed she thought it was automatic, a given that he’d ask how high when she said jump. But he followed her out anyway. Even the wrath of Miss Sandra was better than staring into the shocked little faces of those poor kids. He obviously needed more child training than he thought.
Once they were out in the hallway, he quickly tried to make amends. “Okay, maybe I didn’t use good judgment in that particular circumstance. But I—”
“Our theme this month is bugs,” Sandra informed him, pointing to the countless decorations of various bugs throughout the hall. “Are you blind or something?”
Ben took in his surroundings and blinked, strangely noticing them for the very first time. Hmm. Well, what do you know about that? “Uh...no, I saw your little bug things hanging around.”
“Right.” She shot him a withering glare before entering her of office.
He followed her in, running a hand over the top of his head. “Okay, I didn’t know. But I didn’t commit a felony, either. Like you never killed a bug before.”
“Never in front of the children.”
“What are you, some kind of tree hugger? Did you see that thing? It was a gross-looking spider.”
She whirled around to face him. “Yes, I know! Herbie, that gross-looking spider as you call it, is dead thanks to you.”
“Now, how was I supposed to know you had some kind of freaky school mascot?” he shot back. “What kind of place are you running here, anyway? Your daughter told me there was a bug. I saw it, the thing was scary and hairy, and I reacted. As an actor, I’m used to going with my emotions.”
Her arms folded tighter than a bed waiting for basic- training inspection. Her sleeveless cream-colored turtleneck accentuated her tanned, beautifully sculpted arms, and as she cocked her head, studying him—no, judging—with eyes like two deadly blue arrows, he’d never seen anyone look as captivating or as alluring in his life. And as a man—not an actor—he wanted to react to that as well.

​Jennifer Shirk has a bachelor degree in pharmacy-which has in NO WAY at all helped her with her writing career. But she likes to point it out, since it shows romantic-at-hearts come in all shapes, sizes, and mind-numbing educations.

She writes sweet (and sometimes even funny) romances for Samhain Publishing, Avalon Books/Montlake Romance and now Entangled Publishing. She won third place in the RWA 2006 NYC's Kathryn Hayes Love and Laughter Contest with her first book, THE ROLE OF A LIFETIME. Recently, her novel SUNNY DAYS FOR SAM won the 2013 Golden Quill Published Authors Contest for Best Traditional Romance.

Lately she's been on a serious exercise kick. But don't hold that against her.

Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads
Website: http://www.jennifershirk.com/
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​Kai met Avery only once--in the moment he died saving her life. Now when he's not using his new healing powers to help people, he watches helplessly as Avery's life is unraveled by his death. To help her, he risks everything by breaking the rules, dangerously blurring the barriers between life and death. 


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​Praise for the Book:

“Vividly imagined, this novel is the perfect mix of modern love story and literary fiction. One brimming with genuine emotion that had me re-reading passages simply because they were too beautifully written to experience just once.” --Julie N. Ford, author of With No Regrets

“This book is not only an engaging and satisfying supernatural romance, but also a beautiful story about life, death, and the gray places in between.” --E.B. Wheeler, author of The Haunting of Springett Hall

"This is one of those stories that stays with you long after the closing scene. It was beautifully imagined and vividly written and I absolutely loved it!” --Teresa Richards, author of Emerald Bound

​I’m not sure if I have a heart, but something in my ribcage swells at the sight of Avery. Her hair shimmers like spun gold in the sunlight, falling over her shoulder and hiding her face. She’s sitting on a sheet of black rock, head bent, and the flowery skirt of her sundress ripples in the breeze.
    If she turns around, she’ll see me. If I speak, she’ll hear my voice. I open my mouth to do that, but it’s parched, hit with an unexpected drought of words.
    I’ve been walking for hours, and I still don’t have a solid plan. I have an end goal, but it’s like looking up at the peak of a mountain when I’m still in the valley. I want Avery to find happiness again, but I have no idea how to get her there. 
    Luckily, improvising is what I’m best at. Writing songs on the fly, talking myself out of trouble, and ad-libbing life in general. When I had a life, I was dropped into a new environment every few months with no time for planning. Survival depended on my ability to improvise, because it was the only way to keep my head above water. 
    As I inch toward Avery, I turn phrases over in my mind, trying to choose the best way to introduce myself. I hate to think how she’ll react if she recognizes me, but I doubt she will. I saw her run across my picture on a missing persons report once, and she scanned right past it. Besides, I saw my reflection in the shop window this morning, and although my face is the same, I don’t exactly look like myself with my new Jack Frost hair.
    Over her shoulder, I see she’s holding a fishing net in her lap. Her fingers are working with it like she’s trying to free something. A crab. Her hands tremble as she tries to unravel it, so she’s not really getting anywhere. 
    Without thinking, I fish the pocketknife from my shorts, unfold the blade, and lower it in front of her in offering. She flinches and whips around to look at me, eyes wide. 
    So much for improvising. 
    I nod toward the tangled mess in her lap. “For the crab.” Yes. Those are the words I’ve waited six months to speak to her. If Charles comes in the next moment to take back his ring, at least I can live in eternal peace knowing I was able to utter those three words.
    Her brows pinch together, then she shakes her head and turns back to the crab. “I’m trying to free him, not eat him.”
    For a few breaths, I’m speechless. In awe that she just talked to me. She can see me. And hear me. If I reach out and touch her shoulder, she’ll feel my fingertips on her skin. I don’t, of course. I’ve scared her enough for one day. 
    “I know,” I say, trying to keep my voice soft and non-threatening. I crouch down and offer the knife again, this time handle first. “It’s for the net.”
    Her hands go still, and then she smiles sheepishly. “Oh. Right.” 
She takes the knife and goes to work, biting her lower lip as she concentrates on plucking away strands of netting. I wonder why she’s going to so much trouble to free a half-dead crab, but I say nothing because for some reason it seems really important to her.
    The knife makes her task easier, but when the crab is free, she frowns at the water, swallowing hard. Seeing the reluctance in her face, I stand and open my hand. “Here. I’ll throw it in.” 
    She deposits the crab in my palm, and I carry the newly liberated creature to where the waves are pitching against the rock. I toss it back home, and it disappears beneath the marbled surface.
    When I turn back, Avery is standing with her arms twined around her waist. As I stroll toward her, the wind kicks up and sends golden strands of hair flying around her. With the way she’s standing there on the rocks, she looks like some kind of mythical siren. I feel just as scared as if she were one, just as bewitched. The haunting song in her eyes lures me in until I’m standing right in front of her. She gazes up at me a long moment, searching my face as if she’s hunting for familiarity. For a minute I worry she recognizes me. But then she folds the knife and hands it back. 

​Sarah Beard is the author of YA novels PORCELAIN KEYS and BEYOND THE RISING TIDE. She earned a degree in communications from the University of Utah and is currently pursuing an MFA in creative writing from VCFA. When she's not writing, she referees wrestling matches between her three boys and listens to audiobooks while folding self-replicating piles of laundry. She is a breast cancer survivor, a baker of sweets, a seeker of good love stories, a composer of melancholy music, and a traveler who wishes her travel budget was much bigger. She lives with her husband and children in the shadow of the beautiful Wasatch Mountains. You can follow Sarah on twitter at @authorsarahb, or atfacebook.com/authorsarahbeard.


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​Guest Post: Facing my Fears in the Name of Book Research

I’m going to tell you something about myself: I love the ocean. And I’m terrified of it. I love strolling along the beach, watching and listening to the waves roll in. I love the feel of the water as it washes over my feet and then drags me, inch by inch, out to sea. I love stepping into the waves and then moving deeper, feeling the tug and pull of that majestic and powerful thing that is the sea. But as soon as I can’t feel the sand beneath my feet, I panic. My imagination offers up all kinds of terrifying suggestions of what creatures are lurking beneath me, or how far the sea floor is from my feet.

Despite this fear, I knew that if I was going to write a book about a surfer, I needed to try surfing. So one December afternoon when I was on vacation near Avila beach, I squeezed into a wetsuit (the Pacific is COLD in December), and carried my borrowed surfboard into the waves. I’d watched a bunch of YouTube surfing lessons beforehand and practiced “popping up” on the sand, so in theory, I knew the basics.

As I paddled out past the breakers though, I wasn’t thinking about how to choose the right wave or where to put my feet or how fun this would be. All I could think about was where the shark might be. Every time I dipped my arm in the water, I practically expected it to get chomped off by a three-foot-wide mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Sure, there was only a 1 in 3.7 million chance that I’d be attacked, but the sharks would smell my fear and single me out, right?

Well, I finally made it past the breakers, and that’s when I paused for a minute and told myself to chill out. I’d made it this far, and I was going to surf, and I was going to have fun. And if I got eaten by a shark, at least I would die knowing that I was brave enough to face my fears. I looked out to sea at the set of waves that was moving toward me. I studied their shape and paddled over to where the swell would be the fullest. Then I turned my board shoreward while recalling all those surfing tips. When I felt the wave begin to swell beneath me, I paddled as hard as I could, then popped up to my feet.

I was standing! I was SURFING!

And then a few seconds later I biffed it and learned what it was like to have my sinuses cleaned out with saltwater. But I didn’t care, because I had surfed. I knew what it felt like now, and it was AMAZING. But even more amazing was knowing that I’d overcome a fear so that I could experience something new.