A Chat with Father Patrick from Melora Johnson’s new romantic fantasy Earthbound @MeloraJohnson #ParanormalRomance #UrbanFantasy @Tirgearr

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Blurb:

Her healing touch could start a fire.

Ally Reynolds is a veterinarian specializing in raptor rehabilitation in New Hampshire. Other than one horrific incident in her childhood and a little extra “spark” for healing in her hands, both of which she has kept secret from even her best friend, her life has been singularly boring. It has also been extremely lonely. Ally longs for someone to share her life with, but how can she trust anyone with her secret?

Matthew Blake, an ornithologist at Cornell University, calls Ally, asking for her help with an injured raptor. Matthew grew up in New Zealand and has lived around the world. He has read about Ally’s high success rates in raptor rehabilitation and suspects there is more to it than is generally known.

Matthew has some secrets of his own; he is a demon hunter. He suspects Ally’s healing powers could benefit him. He wants her to join him and thinks they’d make a great team.

Can Ally trust him or is he just using her? Matthew definitely has more secrets, and some of them are about Ally.

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A Chat with Father Patrick:

Melora: Thank you for hosting us today! I’ve brought along Father Patrick to share his version of the story.

Father Patrick: Thank you, Melora. It’s always a pleasure to have the chance to spread the mission of the church to people outside of Sunday services.

Melora: And what do you see as the mission of the church, Father Patrick?

Father Patrick: I believe that we are called to build connections between people and strengthen the community with a sense of shared purpose, to help build one another up, and journey through life together.

Melora: I think that’s something all of us can agree to.

Father Patrick: And to do battle with the demons of hell.

Melora: Oh. Yes?

Father Patrick: Yes! All through my seminary years and youth I viewed the problem of demons and being led astray by minions of Satan as a metaphorical problem, but I see now, due to recent events, that this is a much more immediate and hands-on problem, than I ever imagined.

Melora: So, Father, can you tell us a little about what you’ve . . . seen?

Father Patrick: (vaguely) To quote a great man, “I’ve seen enough to know I’ve seen too much.”

Melora: Who was that? Ghandi? One of the Popes?

Father Patrick: Actually, I think it was a movie line. Sorry.

Melora: I see, and, um, what do you propose to do about what you’ve seen?

Father Patrick: I’ve been doing some research into more advanced methods of recognizing and banishing demons. I’m putting together home kits – holy water, small book of the Gospels, a cross.

Melora: (dryly) I see and would you be selling these?

Father Patrick: Well, we are a not-for-profit but there is a cost to putting them together.

Melora: Uh-huh, I see. Really, Father, I didn’t think you were the type.

Father Patrick: But if anyone can’t afford it, of course I’ll make it available to them for free.

Melora: (confused) Okay.

Father Patrick: The point is that we have to be prepared.

Melora: Well, thank you for joining us today, Father. I’m sorry ladies and gentlemen, that is not where I saw this going today. I think the good father has seen a little more than he was prepared to process.

Father Patrick: (grabbing the microphone) If anyone would like a kit, they can stop by the rectory at any time.

Melora: Father! I think you need a nice cup of tea, or maybe a little nap.

Father Patrick: Coffee would be good. And some cookies?

Melora: Sure, we’ll get you some nice decaf and cookies. Come along now, Father.

Earthbound Excerpt:

I chose to sit across the table from Matt in the diner. I didn’t know which was more confusing to my body and psyche, having him next to me or having him watch me with those eyes. They did something unquantifiable to me. They were serious now as he reached out to put his hand over mine. I withdrew. I didn’t want to be confused by his touch.

“What exactly do you want from me?” I asked again. I wasn’t sure I believed the answer he’d given earlier. I really wanted to ask what he knew about me, but that sounded just a little too defensive. After the way he had caught me on film back at the lab, I felt trapped.

“I just want to help you,” he said softly.

I snorted. “Yeah, most people who want to help someone else don’t try to get something on them first.”

“I needed to know if you were really who I thought you were. Once I knew for sure, I wanted to explain, but I was waiting for the right time.” He shook his head. “Look, you can’t just go around healing animals outright like that, or I’m not the only one who is going to notice.”

I leaned across the table, anger again taking the place of the fear. This guy really didn’t know me or what I was capable of. I spoke in a furious whisper. “Just what do you think you know about me? How long have you been… watching me, studying me? Is this some kind of government experiment or investigation?”

“It’s not like that, I promise you. I’m an ornithologist,” he said as he placed one hand on his chest. “Just like you, I work with birds. I came across an article about your amazing success rates with rehabilitation. It set something off in my head, so I started digging, searching through old papers in the town where you grew up.”

I froze, the fear back now. What had he found? This guy knew way too much, made too many intuitive leaps.

He looked up as the waitress approached with our drink orders. “Here you go, one iced tea and one coffee.” She tugged a pad of paper out of her apron pocket and clicked a pen, then tapped it on the pad. “Have you decided what you’d like to order?”

Matt looked at me. When I didn’t say anything, he spoke. “I’ll take a burger with lettuce, tomato, and cheese.”

“Fries okay on the side?”

He nodded. “And a side salad, Italian dressing.”

They both looked expectantly at me. This was all so mundane, considering the conversation we were having. I wanted to throw myself across the table, grab him by the collar and ask what the hell he was on, but years of acting normal no matter the situation had trained me to behave myself.

“I’ll have the same,” I said evenly.

As soon as the waitress left, I glared at him. “Get to the point. What do you know about me? What do you want?” I demanded.

A corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “Trust me, it’s nothing bad. Like I said, I want to help you.”

I sat back, took a deep breath, and blew it out slowly. I still wasn’t sure I believed him, but I’d refrain from stabbing him with a fork. For now.

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Author Bio:

Melora Johnson is a poet and novelist living in Upstate New York with her husband, daughter, a black cat, and quite a few chickens. Her most recent published work includes A Sanctuary Built of Words: Poems of Peace, Grief, and Passion, and publication in The Sexuality Poems from Foothills Publishing. She also runs a large and thriving writer’s group for adults. Of course, into every life a little rain must fall as well as the occasional tornado, but you’ll find that amply covered in her writing. Find out more about Melora and her writing –

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Blog Tour + #Giveaway – One Night in Havana – by Kathleen Rowland @RowlandKathleen #erotic #romance #mystery

One Night in Havana 
#34 in the City Nights Series from Tirgearr Publishing
by Kathleen Rowland

Kathleen will be awarding 3 lucky winners a $10 Amazon Gift Certiticate. Winners will be chosen randomly with Rafflecopter. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.

About the Book:  

A desperate competition and sizzling attraction leads to dangerous desire.

New York Marine biologist Veronica “Roni” Keane is attending the Havana Bay Conference in Cuba. Tomorrow only one grant will be awarded which will provide the winner with professional recognition, resources for a project, and living expenses for two years. She hopes to continue her deceased father’s work, but smooth operator, Carlos Montoya, has won many grants in the past.

Carlos, a freelancer for the Havana Port Authority, works to help protect Havana’s reputation as a bastion of safety. As international travelers flock to the island, attracted by its 1950’s time-warp and colonial architecture, the drug business is running rampant, particularly on Roni’s cruise ship. Something’s not right, and when her scuba tanks are tampered with, Carlos brings in the military police to investigate. For her safety, he keeps her close, but he craves her body.

Their attraction leads to a fun night with a bit of kink. But Roni finds herself in more trouble than she bargained for when the criminals blame her for alerting the military police and come looking for her. Can Roni trust Carlos to protect her? Will she stay in Havana if Carlos wins the coveted grant, or kiss her lover goodbye?

An erotic romance with mystery. 

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Excerpt:

— Chapter One

“Why, Veronica Keane.” A voice heavy with a Spanish accent drawled from behind her. “A dive bar?” A taunting tsk. “What do we have? A slumming New Yorker?”
She stiffened and closed her eyes. She knew that voice and its owner, Dr. Carlos Montoya, a finalist like her, competing for the same damn grant at the biggest Cephalopoda conference of the decade. Her heart pitter-pattered against her ribs. To turn toward him would intimate distress, or worse yet, weakness. She wouldn’t fail to win this grant, not when she was a final contender. “I like this funky little place.” Sia Macario Café, smack in the center of Havana, allowed her to observe locals and their daily lives.
“You need to eat with all the mojitos you’ve downed.” The big tease wasn’t  counting. This was her first drink, but his rumbling, sexy timbre hinted at all kinds of dark, hot promises. She’d rubbed shoulders with the Cuban scientist all week. This splendid specimen of Latin male brought on a physical ache that punched low.
A flare-up stirred fear. For her own good, she needed to resist. “I ordered camarones enchiladas.” By now she knew the menu on the chalkboard by heart. She tipped her head back to whiff grilled shrimp soon to arrive in sofrito sauce with fried sweet plantains.
“The flan is good. Just like my abuela makes.”
“I bet. Your grandmother would be happy to hear that,” she said, knowing he brought out the best in most people. Two days ago he’d invited her and a handful of others scuba diving. The chance to ogle him had been one of the perks. He’d worn nothing but swim trunks, his bare chest on display. Every glistening muscle was finely etched. Not a drop of fat on him. Since he’d not given her the time of day, she’d checked him out without him noticing.
The hard-bodied host had led the way toward habitats of soft-bodied creatures. To find where invertebrates lived was never an easy task. Octopuses squeezed into narrow passages of coral for protection and gave females a place to keep their eggs. She’d discovered the remains of a few meals nearby.Octopuses scattered rocks and shells to help them hide.
 This grant meant so much to her and no doubt to him as well. Veronica mindlessly toyed with the gold necklace around her neck, but anxiety crackled through her brain. Unlike this man of action, she lacked the flamboyant personality necessary to talk people into things. Carlos had that ability. He’d made friends with judges on board while she’d conversed with an older woman about a box of scones made with Cuban vanilla cream.
That day the wind had picked up to a gale force, and this woman named Bela with Lucille Ball red hair needed help walking to her home. The half mile down the seaside promenade, The Malecón, had provided her with time to practice her Spanish. Turned out Bela was Carlos’s grandmother. She’d worked as a maid when the Castro government came to power. When private homes were nationalized, titles were handed over to the dwelling occupants. Bela owned a crumbling home in the respected Verdado district and rented out rooms.
What Veronica detested about Carlos was his abnormal level of talent for schmoozing. Not that he wasn’t charismatic; he drew her like a powerful magnet with emotions hard to untangle. Why was a self-assured woman who ran her own life thinking about a man who commanded everyone around him?
She inhaled a breath and turned around on the barstool, caught fast by a gut punch of Carlos Montoya in the flesh. She sighed and surrendered to the tendrils of want sliding up between her thighs.
Tall and muscular, his lush dark hair curled to his collar giving him a wild, roguish appearance. His face was lean and chiseled. His mouth full and tempting. His eyes the smoky-gray of a grass fire and fringed with black lashes as dense as paintbrushes. He smiled. A faint hint of mockery curved his mouth, a sensual mouth she imagined to be either inviting or cruel. Or both at the same time when he leaned over a woman with a diamond-hard gleam in his dark eyes while she drowned with pleasure. She fought a fierce desire to run her hand across his broad chest, tip her face upward, and…
His breath tickled her face.
Not going there. She blinked and forced her mind to focus. Carlos Montoya was not the kind of man you lost focus around. But that image of putting her mouth full on his and peeling away his shirt once introduced in her mind was impossible to expunge. Pointless even to try.
He was an intimidating blend of intellect and sexy danger. Both qualities had her leaning back against the bar’s edge. If it weren’t for him, she’d have a chance at winning the grant.
His lips twitched. “You’re staying on one of the cruise ships, am I right?” He rolled up the sleeves of his linen jacket to reveal a dusting of manly hair.
”Yes.” Her cabin served as her hotel room while attending the January meetings with perfect high-seventies temperatures. His eyes locked with hers. She willed herself to move and yet she remained seated, clutching heat between her legs, a wetness so intense that her breath stalled in her chest while her heart hammered faster. Soon she’d return to freezing New York City.
“So, Bonita, give.” He slid onto the bar stool next to her. “What brings you down from a lofty ship to grace us lowly Cubans with your presence?”
Bonita. Pretty lady was not an endearment coming from the mouth curved in a taunting smile, but not a slight either. Not with his deep, melodic voice speaking words as if he knew secrets about her. What secrets did he know? Would he pry into her personal life? She doubted this bad-boy college professor acknowledged boundaries.
“Just drinks and dinner.” She scrambled for composure. “Aren’t we attending a world-class conference? I find the local population to be friendly and kind. That’s not slumming.”
The bartender set down a saoco. “Hope you like it, senorita.”
“Gracias,” she said. “Very nice, served in a coconut.”
“Ah, the saoco,” Carlos said. “Rum, lime juice, sugar, and ice. The saoco,” he repeated, disbelief heavy in his words. “Um. Wow. Once used as a tonic for prisoners of the revolution.”
“Medicinal?” She couldn’t help it. She chuckled and sounded as if a rusty spoon had scraped her throat raw, but it was genuine. The warm glow in its wake was welcome and needed. .
He leaned an elbow on the bar, his beer bottle with the green-and-red Cristal label dangling between his fingers. “Be careful with that one.” He dipped his head toward the front door as if he needed to go somewhere soon.
That fast, the glow snuffed out. She cleared her throat and gripped the fuzzy surface of the coconut container.
He placed a five-peso coin with a brass plug on the counter and whirled it. The spinning motion mirrored a dizzying attraction going on in low parts of her belly.
She cleared her wayward mind and nodded toward artwork on the opposite wall. “I plan to buy a painting tonight.”
“Don’t buy anything unless the seller gives you a certificate. You’ll need one to take art from Cuba. Artists deal in euros in case you don’t have pesos.”
She’d come prepared but said, “Thanks for the info.”
His coal-black eyes widened as he gazed from her head down to the tiny straps around her ankles as if she wore high heels and nothing else. “You give off a Barbie doll image,” he replied and stood up.
“Huh?”
“Where’s Ken, anyway? Kenneth Morton. He came with you to the talks in Antarctica. Five years ago.” He grinned, and the mortification in her belly gave way to a longing which she had no business feeling toward her competitor.
“Ken and I broke up.” She hesitated for a moment. “You have a gift for remembering names. Like a salesman.”
“A person’s name is, to that person, the most important and sweetest sound. Back then I introduced myself to Ken in the men’s room.”
“I remember now. Didn’t you give a talk on a specialized pigment in the octopus?”
“Ahh, si.” He splayed his fingers over his chest. “A pigment in their blood is—”
 “—called hemocyanin. Turns their blood blue and helps them survive subfreezing temperatures. Were you awarded something?”
“The antifreeze protein grant? No. It went to a deep-diving photographer. He wasn’t chicken about getting lost or trapped under the ice.”
She slid from her stool and strutted around, jutting her chin in and out like a chicken. “Bock, bock, bock, bock, bock, begowwwwk.”
He chuckled. “Cute chicken dance. Very cute in that skimpy black dress.”
Her cheeks heated, and she clutched her necklace. He’d seen plenty of women in body-fitting attire. In Cuba, women wore dresses to meetings. If she’d harnessed sexier mojo, she’d have livened up presentations. Her presentations with an abundance of dull data went south. She slid back against her stool and clutched her purse to her stomach as if the small satin bag could calm the nerves playing deep down kickball. She belonged in her tidy New York office filled with computers, modems, and research manuals. Not in this softly lit café where passion oozed from a man’s pores, and artists displayed their canvases. Here was where Havana’s trendsetters congregated, and Ernest Hemingway wrote about desire.
“Good luck with your purchases, Veronica Keane.”
Okay, so they weren’t going to pretend they were going head to head for the grant.
As if he had more to say, he grinned at her, his perfect white teeth flashing.. “Do you find us different, like apples and oranges?”
“What am I, an apple or an orange?”
“Hmm. You’re an apple.” He was doing that sexy voice thing which made her brain shut down. Heady. 
It started with an unexpected spark, an instant attraction, the jolting jab of oh-I’m-feeling-something. Something like a flashfire in her belly, but now they were talking. “Am I the apple of desire? Want to take a bite out of me?” She pulled in a breath. Had she really said that?
Bonita, do I ever.”
“Tomorrow is the final ceremony.” Would she watch him walk to the podium to accept the grant? 

About the Author: 

Book Buyers Best finalist Kathleen Rowland is devoted to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes suspense with an erotic love story sure to melt their hearts.  Her latest release is One Night in Havana, #34 in the City Nights series.

Kathleen also has a steamy romantic suspense series with Tirgearr Publishing, Deadly Alliance is followed by Unholy Alliance. Keep an icy drink handy while reading these sizzling stories.

Kathleen used to write computer programs but now writes novels.   She grew up in Iowa where she caught lightning bugs, ran barefoot, and raced her sailboat on Lake Okoboji.  Now she wears flip-flops and sails with her husband, Gerry, on Newport Harbor but wishes there were lightning bugs in California.

Kathleen exists happily with her witty CPA husband, Gerry, in their 70’s poolside retreat in Southern California where she adores time spent with visiting grandchildren, dogs, one bunny, and noisy neighbors.  While proud of their five children who’ve flown the coop, she appreciates the luxury of time to write.

If you’d enjoy news,  sign up for Kathleen’s newsletter at http://www.kathleenrowland.com/

Book Blitz – A Vampire’s Tale – Birthday Bash #pnr @mayatylerauthor

A Vampire’s Tale

by Maya Tyler

AVT Canva 5 573 x 480

Blurb:

The best laid plans…
Cover 500

Marisa Clements was never satisfied writing the ‘gossip column’ in the local paper so she quit her job to follow her dream of writing fiction. Floundering in an unforgiving industry, she wrote about vampires, a popular subject she considered fascinating but as real as unicorns, to pay the rent.

Corgan Halton was tired of human misconceptions about vampires. He planned on telling Marisa his story and end his existence. It was no coincidence Corgan selected Marisa to write his story. With the ability to see the future, he knew she would be a major part of it. He knew she would be the one to help him die, but in doing so, she’d be doomed to the same fate. Once they met, their futures would be irrevocably intertwined.

Corgan began caring for Marisa and finally revealed the truth to her. He admitted his quest to atone for his past sins had put her in grave danger from a nest of revenge-seeking vampires. Corgan must claim her for her own protection. But claiming her is not enough, he must ask for help from his wizard friends and his maker in order to destroy his enemy or Marisa will never be safe.

Buy Links:

Amazon US http://amzn.to/2wfsMnT

Amazon UK http://amzn.to/2vG1qUk

Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/698693?ref=cw1985

Apple https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/a-vampires-tale/id1199624720?mt=11

Kobo https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/a-vampire-s-tale-3

Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-vampires-tale-maya-tyler/1125552098

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Praise for A Vampire’s Tale:

“…I have truly enjoyed reading Corgan and Marisa’s story. I loved all the new twist that the author created for the way vampires live and the magic things they are capable of doing. A Vampire’s Tale puts a whole new twist on vampires. I would recommend A Vampire’s Tale to anyone who loves reading about vampires.”

— The Avid Reader

“… A Vampire’s Tale is a unique type of romance. It is essentially a slow burn for most of the story, a deep and progressive tale of love between our intrepid heroine Marisa and the enigmatic vampire Corgan.

For me this book was reminiscent of Interview with a Vampire, a tiny smidge of Misery (you’ll get the reference once you read it), a little bit Twilight mixed with a whole lot of originality, romance and drama, with the intimate scenes being softer and more fade to black than vampire books often portray…”

— Emerald Book Reviews

“… This novel is a paranormal romance unlike any other I have read before. I must confess I was a little worried about the writer-vampire relationship. Probably because I thought the romance will be a little cheesy and not too much action or plot development into it, but I am glad I was wrong. The story ended up being a sweet and heartwarming romance mixed with a good enough dose of action and mystery.

This book is quite a specimen because it’s worth isn’t just in the romance development but in the stories behind our hero and heorine. I highly recommend this novel to those searching for something much fulfilling, interesting and enchanting than your typical romance…”

— Two Girls Book Reviews

AVT Canva 2 480 x 480

Excerpt:

… My heroine Marisa faces two would-be assailants before my hero Corgan valiantly swoops in and saves her …

Lost in thought, the last half of her coffee had grown cold, and she didn’t want more, anyway. The coffee shop was deserted except for the lone attendant. It must be later than she realized. Her stomach churned, and something akin to fear gripped her. She had the strangest notion she had to go home. Now.

Leaving the mug on the table, she walked out of the restaurant without a second glance. Her step quickened as she heard frightening sounds in the darkness. Almost home. She sighed.

Two strange men, with dark hoodies concealing their faces, stepped out of the shadows.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry, pretty lady?”

She ignored the speaker and continued walking.

“Hey, we’re talking to you.”

The largest man of the duo blocked her path while the other grabbed her by the back of her neck and yanked her into the alley.

Every fiber of her being wanted to flee. “Let go of me,” Marisa demanded.

“Not until we’ve had some fun.”

She tensed and clenched her fists. “Maybe you didn’t hear me clearly before, asshole. I said let go!”

The man in front of her pulled out a knife, the metal reflecting in the dim light of the moon.

Heart racing, she struggled against her attacker, trying to kick her way free.

“The lady doesn’t want to play tonight, fellas. I suggest you find a new friend.”

The man behind her released his grip, and the two thugs inched away from her. “Hey, man. We didn’t mean any harm.”

Corgan stepped in front of her and waved his hand in the air. “You were never here. You never saw me. If you ever see this lady again, you will run away from her and won’t know why. Am I clear?”

They nodded blankly.

“Then go, before I change my mind.”

Marisa fell into Corgan’s arms as her would-be assailants dashed down the street. Sobs racked her as she shivered uncontrollably. “You saved me.”

“I should’ve been here sooner.” Holding her tightly, he stroked her hair. “Nothing will ever harm you again.”

Surrounded by the safety of his strong arms, she had complete faith in him. She leaned into his embrace and sighed.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Hold on.”

He scooped her up in his arms and floated into the air. His black cape swirled around him as they rose higher. Then they soared over the city, high above the buildings.

“Wow. I had no idea.” As he flew through a wet cloud, she snuggled closer. “Don’t drop me, okay?”

He chuckled, a deep and throaty sound, as if she amused him. “I’ll try not to, little one.”

“Well, try hard, mister. I’m too pretty to fall from the sky and smash on the sidewalk.”

“Yes, it would be a shame to mar your pretty face.”

Returning below the clouds, he lowered them onto a curved, marble balcony. With a wave of his hand, the double French doors swung open. Light from many flickering candles illuminated the room.

“Where are we?”

“My place.”

Author Bio:

Maya Tyler, wife and mother of two boys, writes paranormal romance with a twist. Her debut novella Dream Hunter was released in December 2014. Her second novel A Vampire’s Tale released on March 22, 2017. She’s a romantic and believes in happily-ever-after. Being an author is her lifelong dream. She enjoys reading, music (alternative rock, especially from the 90’s), yoga, movies and TV, and spending her free time writing and blogging at Maya’s Musings.

Author Contact Information:

Author Site: http://www.mayatylerauthor.com/
Blog: http://mayatylerauthor.blogspot.ca/
Twitter: @mayatyerauthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/maya.tyler.792
Facebook Maya Tyler Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/mayatylerauthor

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Book blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Book Tour + #Giveaway Igraine by Jane Godman @JaneGodman #historical #romance @SilverDaggerSxx

Igraine
Camelot Uncovered, #1
by Jane Godman
 Genre: Historical Romance, Fantasy
Igraine is the most beautiful woman in the world and her destiny is to become
the mother of King Arthur. The daughter of a mysterious fae, every
man she meets desires her. Married to a man who dominates her body,
Igraine is in love with a man she has never met.
Uther Pendragon, the mighty King of Britain is said to be more god than
man. When the great sorcerer, Merlin, promises Uther he will marry
the beautiful woman who features in his erotic dreams, the
consequences threaten to tear his kingdom apart.
jane_godman
Jane Godman writes paranormal romance for Harlequin Nocturne, thrillers
for Harlequin Romantic Suspense, and steamy historical romance for
Samhain Publishing. Her new paranormal series, The Arctic
Brotherhood, is coming from SMP Swerve in 2017.
Although I’ve lived all over the world and have traveled to lots of
interesting countries, the place I call home is the Wirral Peninsula
in North West England. It’s on the opposite side of the River
Mersey to Liverpool and the iconic ‘ferry ‘cross the Mersey’
originates here.
I’ve always loved writing, and for as long as I’ve been able to I’ve put
pen to paper and told stories. As a teenager, I lived in South
Africa, and my best friend and I discovered the novels of Kathleen E
Woodiwiss when we were thirteen. We used to spend our evenings
writing books in the style of ‘The Wolf and the Dove’ and ‘The
Flame and the Flower’. When I had a big birthday (let’s just say it
had a zero at the end), my friend gave me the most amazing present.
She had kept one of the books I wrote when I was fourteen! It’s a
medieval romance, written in felt tip pen. It’s one of my most
treasured possessions.
I love reading, traveling and spending time with my family (especially
my new grandson).