Dispatches from Paradise By Shelley Gitlow ~ Goddess Fish Book Blast ~ Giveaway

Dispatches from Paradise

By Shelley Gitlow

Shelley will be awarding an autographed copy of the book to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. So please leave a comment below along with your email address so you may be contacted if you are the lucky winner. To increase your chances of winning please visit the other tour stops. The locations may be found here.... http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/02/book-blast-dispatches-from-paradise-by.html

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BLURB:  

Author and screenwriter Shelly Gitlow makes her fiction debut in this colorful, lightning-paced, and often wildly unpredictable modern tale about sex, lies, and love. 

From the very first page, DISPATCHES FROM PARADISE takes readers to the family battlefield of three generations of women living together in the sultry city of Miami -- where DD cups abound, octogenarians recite erotic poetry and an S&M Fitness class is not for the fainthearted. 

Written in the distinct voices of Liz (39) who pulls the plug on her marriage and quits her job so she can re-boot her life, her over-sexed mother, Claudette (55) who’s searching for her next partner/meal ticket, and Darcy (18) Liz’s beautiful, reckless daughter who’s realizing she might also have a brain and be a lesbian, DISPATCHES FROM PARADISE explores the complex dynamics of the women’s relationships as they tear through Miami’s wild clubs and outrageous art scene, changing, growing and reconnecting on new terms.

Drawing upon her unique insights as a family therapist, author Shelly Gitlow gives readers three characters they will never forget.  Her debut novel marks the arrival of a bold brash narrative voice.

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EXCERPT:

(MOM) LIZ: “I couldn’t stand my cheating husband and that soul-sucking bank job for one more nanosecond, so I declared my life a do-over and took action. Richard was shocked, but (surprise!) he moved in with his bimbo. And my co-workers freaked when I walked out, flinging my pantyhose over my shoulder like a bride’s bouquet. But with my daughter Darcy (a former drug user) away at college, I was about to fulfill my fantasies of opening an art gallery and learning to kayak. Then all hell broke loose. My nymphomaniac mother manipulated me into letting her move in, and Darcy quit school and came back home. How am I going to handle the drugs, the sex, and (worst of all), the telling me how to live my life?”

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AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Miami-based author Shelly Gitlow is the co-writer of the feature film Boynton Beach Club and the author of the novel Dispatches From Paradise.  In her former life, she was a family therapist and wrote several books on quality management.  She divides her time between New York City and Miami.

LINKS:  www.shellygitlow.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/shellygitlow#

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Dispatches-From-Paradise-Shelly-Gitlow/dp/0983937877

Books & Books: http://www.booksandbooks.com/book/9780983937876

Barnes & Noble:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dispatches-from-paradise-shelly-gitlow/1116010900?ean=9780983937876

Wolf Hunger By Ella J Phoenix Book 3 of the Dragon Heat series ~ Cover Reveal ~ Spotlight ~ Giveaway

Wolf Hunger

Book 3 of the Dragon Heat series

By Ella J Phoenix 

Ella is offering a ebook of Wolf Hunger to two commenters. Please be sure to leave a comment below along with your email address so you may be contacted if you are the lucky winner. 


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Backcover blurb:

When the last box of deadly bullets is stolen, the hunt is on and the Vampire King’s band of fighters is set for the challenge of recovering it. But Yara, the shifter-witch, has other problems to face.  She must help her leader to overcome the strange illness that has befallen her before it’s too late. For that, she must go back to the only place she swore never to return – her home land. 
Rafe is a typical lone wolf who spends his nights earning his bucks in the fighting ring. When he was offered a pardon for his debts in exchange for the Vampire King’s head, he didn’t even blink, thinking it would be a hard mission but not impossible. He just wasn’t expecting the saucy shifter-witch to cross his path and ruin his plans. Now, he can’t get her out of his mind and the clock is ticking for him to make good on his word. 
This is the third novel of the Dragon Heat series – a paranormal lover’s delight with vampires, shifters, dragons, witches, bathed in magic. 
***Warning: this novel contains hot, steamy, descriptive sexual scenes. Enjoy.*** 


Publication Details
Title – Wolf Hunger (Book 3 of the Dragon Heat series)
Publication date – March 12, 2014
Publisher – Self Publishing  
Word count - 126,900
Amazon Link - www.amazon.com/dp/B00IYUAGEI/
My Facebook page link - www.facebook.com/ellaj.phoenix 
Twitter - twitter.com/ellajphoenix

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Excerpt 

Chapter 1
The crowd was clearly not in the mood to cooperate tonight, or the current fighters weren’t doing their jobs properly. Either way, shit was going to hit the fan very soon. The usual cheering had been replaced by curses and boos just 3 minutes after the bell rang. 
Hidden in the shadows, Yara cracked her neck, left, then right, then carried on wrapping her hands with the protective cotton straps. After ensuring both her wrists, knuckles and thumbs were safely strapped, she pushed off the stool and stretched her calves. In the corner of her eye she saw Dyam, her vampire friend and brother-in-arms of sorts, leaning against the bar. His silky-smooth long hair and olive skin contrasted heavily against those of the other patrons, who were basically a bunch of supernatural, stinking low-lifes. His chocolate gaze briefly met hers. He gave her a quick nod, then returned his focus to the octagonal cage-like ring in the middle of the club. Yara roamed her eyes over the crowd and spotted her other co-pilot in the mission, the vamp Joel, standing a few feet from Dyam. Just like his counterpart, the royal bodyguard exuded a calm that was as reassuring as it was deceiving. Yara had no doubts that he was ready to pounce at anyone or anything to protect her. 
Joel lifted a blond brow at Yara, as if asking if she would still go ahead with the plan. She narrowed her eyes at him. By the gates of Hiad, of course she would! Ever since they destroyed Dr. Burvis’ laboratory in the U.K., where the psycho was attempting to mass market a bullet-size H-bomb, they had been trying to track down the last box of the little atomic fellas – the box she had let be stolen. Damn the Soartas! She was still kicking herself for that. Yara had come face to face with the mugger and what had she done? Did she kick his ass and snatch the box away? No, she stood there, like a deer headlights, hypnotized by gods knew what! Now after almost three months chasing ghosts and dead ends, they had finally got wind that the thief was going to sell the bullets tonight, and the deal was going down here, at this fighting joint. And since she had been the only one with access to the place – let’s just say she enjoyed the occasional bet – it was only natural for her to set their plan and get that freakin’ box back. They had carefully planned it all out – while the patrons were focused on the fights, Joel and Dyam would go in disguised as patrons and search the general area of the club. Sam and Hikuro, Yara’s best friend and the vampire king’s second in command, were outside, ready to jump in if needed. Yara would be working on the inside, since she had easy access to backstage. It was all mapped out and calculated by the second. In no time, Yara would be able to spot the buyer and the seller, then she’d call Joel and Dyam, they’d break the deal up, get the box back and tah-dah! Mission accomplished. 
However… it was easier said than done. The Dungeon, the fighting joint in question, was famous for holding the most brutal and ruthless fights to ever take place outside the umbrella of the law. They were usually quick, some even lasting less than a minute, but the best ones – the ones that really drove the crowd wild – lasted ten times as long. A massive scoreboard located just above one of the ends of the cage-like ring displayed the sad tally of the current battle. The ten-foot iron net shook with another blow from the contestants but the crowd wasn’t impressed. 
“Hey, gorgeous.”
Yara turned around to see her “guy” staring back at her. CJ was the Dungeon’s master of ceremony. Despite his many shortcomings, he had been her contact for a lot of her “hobbies,” like her underground fights and her poker nights with morally-questionable individuals. He had even introduced her into her favorite past-time of late. A naughty smile lifted the corner of her lips. Yep, it was worth keeping him around, and his half-demon/half-human nature had come in handy more than once. The SOB had an incredible knack for sensing bad news, and tonight his gaze carried a weight that didn’t match his relaxed greeting. 
“Hey, CJ,” she replied as gravely. “What’s up?”
“The buyer is here,” he replied, scanning the area for eavesdroppers. 
He lifted his chin toward the back of the room. Yara followed his hint, and spotted a tall blond man with grey eyes leaning against one of the pillars on the far corner. 
The buyer was Phillip – the draco who was working with Dr. Burvis in London, the rat bastard who double crossed them one too many times. 
Yara clutched her jaw tight. “What about the seller, any sign?”
CJ shook his head. “No, but I’ll keep you posted.” He started walking away, but stopped, turned back around and pinned her with his eerie snake-like eyes. “Look, be careful out there, alright?”
“If I had a penny for every warning I got, I’d be rich by now,” she answered. 
“I’m serious,” CJ replied. 
Yara frowned, then narrowed her eyes at him. “Is there anything else you’d like to share, CJ?”
He quickly scanned the area as if afraid they were being over heard or something. “Weird vibes in this place tonight. Weirder than usual. Just saying.” He shrugged then walked off. 
Hmm, a knack for sensing bad news. 
A loud thump followed by a painful grunt called Yara’s attention back to the mission. The crowd cheered rowdily. And another one bites the dust, she thought. After a few seconds, a massive bouncer left the cage carrying one of the fighters over his shoulders. But apparently the audience wasn’t very supportive of the winner, because all he got was a shitload of boos and curses. The iron grid around the ring was the only thing that protected the winner from the empty bottles that went flying by. She bet that the supposed winner was thanking the Soartas for the protective grid. People thought the cage-like ring was to keep the fighters in and protect the audience, but nah, they were so wrong, it was there keep the angry mob out. 
Yara was very well acquainted with what went down in this sort of hellhole. Only one fighter was divulged before the showdown. His opponent was a surprise – supposedly “taken out of the hat.” This way the audience were kept intrigued by who would fight whom, and throw more money on last-minute bets. 
“And now, for the second fight of the evening we have two very different opponents,” CJ declared from his safely guarded post near the sound booth. “On one side, we have the bulldozer of the east mountains, the beast who enjoys ripping his opponents guts out – Bulldozer Jones!” he chanted, pointing to the opposite direction. 
From her vantage point, Yara couldn’t see much – the place was packed to the rafters – but she bet that someone who had been nicknamed after a tractor wouldn’t be scrawny. 
Suddenly, a bushy head opened the sea of drunks and made its way into the ring. 
“And to fight against the beast of the east,” CJ bellowed over the keyed up cheers from the crowd, “a queen of the underground circuit, a flower that would tear you apart and leave you smiling. From the depths of the Amazon jungle, I give you …”
Oh-oh.
“Yara, the Brazilian witch!”  
Fuck. 
The crowd went crazy, searching for a rose with thorns. 
Yara took a deep breath, straightened herself up and pushed her way through the sea of smelly males. She didn’t bother using the little side door to the ring; she climbed the tall iron fence instead and landed expertly on the inside. 
The drunken mob went completely silent. A coin would have been heard dropping on the sticky floor.
Yara roamed her eyes over them, clearly showing she wasn’t seeking anyone’s approval, and met a bunch of confused looks. Some guys stared at her face, others were locked on her red sports bra and spandex shorts, but none had any idea of what to make of her. 
Then someone shouted, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” 
And the cursing started again, followed by very creative indecent proposals.  
Yara ignored them all. Having been in that ring a couple of times before, she knew the crowd’s disapproval would come sooner or later. Not worth wasting her time; instead, she focused on reading her adversary. 
Being more than a head taller than her, Bulldozer Jones did his nickname justice. His neck was the size of her thighs; his chest was so puffed up that his bulging arms were resting on a 45-degree angle away from his body. His bushy red hair was thick and short, looking more like a fur. Long sideburns framed his disproportioned face, and matched his fat nose. 
She sighed. Ai, Apa Dobrý, this was going to hurt. With virtually no rules and no referees, there were only two ways to end a fight in the cage – as the winner or a corpse. You could do whatever you wanted to earn your cash in the ring, except shape-shift or use magical powers. That’s why it was very rare to see a female name on the scoreboard. 
Yara flicked a glance at the panel on the far wall. CJ’s assistant was holding her name in his hand, as if waiting to see if it was worth the effort to put it up or not.  
So encouraging. 
“Last bets, fellas!” the bookie, and owner of the joint, shouted from somewhere near the bar. 
A swarm of males surrounded him, waving dollar bills up high and shouting “On Jones! On Jones!” 
Yara rolled her eyes but deep inside, she’d have bet her money on the bulldozer as well. She took the opportunity to scrutinize the room. Phillip had disappeared. The guy who stole the bullets from under her nose in London would have arrived. The cage was a few feet higher than the standing audience, so she should be able to spot him easily, but would she recognize him? Their encounter had been so quick and he had been protected by the shadows, so despite her acute eyesight from her panther inmã, all she could get was a glimpse of his amazing biceps and ripped abs.
Dyam moved from his spot near the exit to the crowded front row. His eyes were filled with concern. She gave him a reassuring nod, but deep inside her panther paced anxiously. She could do this; she had won many fights like this before. The main question was at what cost? She liked her limbs how and where they were, and would like them to stay that way. 
The bell rang. Bulldozer Jones jumped forward, like an ugly bear in heat. 
“I’m gonna make you beg, love,” he drawled. “And after I take you down, I’m gonna show real fun.”
“Charming,” Yara replied. 
She lifted her fists high up, to shield her face, and kept her feet light, skipping in place. It would be a lot harder for Heavy Jones here to hit a fast, moving target. Her only chance was to use her speed and agility against his sheer strength. 
He came at her with the arrogance of a bulldog, drooling and all. Yara’s stomach churned at the sight of his ugly yellow teeth. Without ceremony, he threw a cross punch at her. She quickly shifted her balance and hunkered backwards, missing the guy’s wrist by a few inches. She then slid underneath his still outstretched arm and punched his exposed ribs, several times. Bulldozer hunkered down, obviously feeling the pain. 
For the second time in the night, the crowd went silent. Sharp intakes on breath and curses of disbelief replaced the earlier slurs.
“Yara, look out!” 
Dyam’s shout brought her back to the present. She turned around, forearms high for protection but it was no use. Jones’ fist connected to her right ear with such a force that she saw stars. She stumbled sideways and before she could recover, a tight bear-hug locked her in place, whooshing the air out of her lungs. 
Not good, not good at all. She tried to break free, but Bulldozer’s thick arms were like an anaconda around her. 
“That’s it, bitch, struggle for me, I love a fighter,” her charming opponent drawled just inches from her nose. Then he clacked his teeth together, as if giving her a snapshot of what he’d really like to do to her. His putrid breath reached her, making breathing even harder. 
The crowd went absolutely insane. 
Dark spots filled Yara’s eyesight, her oxygen intake was running dangerously slow; a few more seconds and the Bulldozer would succeed in blacking her out, or worse, cracking all her ribs. 
Right. Time to end this circus. 
Yara lifted her knees up and planted her both feet firmly on his thighs. Using them as leverage, she pulled back as far away from the stinking rat as she could, and then rammed her forehead into the fucker’s nose. A crack and a grunt later, she was free to breathe. 
“You fuckin’ bitch! You’re gonna pay for this,” he bellowed holding his bleeding nose. But in no time, he was charging at her again, arms outstretched, like a bull in Pamplona. 
Yara swirled around, hooked her left arm on his and in a fluid movement, she dragged him down and over her, lifting his heavy body by her feet. Bulldozer did a cartwheel in the air and crashed down with a loud thump on the arena. 
The crowd cheered and more profanities were suggested, together with marriage proposals. Hmm, that’s an improvement. But Yara didn’t have time to laugh at the crowd’s change of heart. Before Jones could recover, she climbed on the thick fence, then jumped, elbow first, on top of S.O.B.’s stomach. 
“Oooh,” the audience shrieked. 
Feeling the love in the room, Yara stood up and swirled around slowly, making sure they all saw the message stamped on the back of her shorts – “Dream On.” 
Suckers.
Her respite didn’t last long, though. Jones shook his head awake, pushed off the floor and roared at her. Yara stood her ground, showing him no fear, but then, the unthinkable happened. He started heaving and growing and getting heavier at each breath. Smoke came out of his abnormally enlarged nostrils and two horns emerged from his forehead, at the same time a set of immense wings popped out of his shoulder blades. His eyes turned bright yellow and his skin got covered in thick red fur.
Oh. Fuck. 
The Bulldozer was a Lamassu deamon, aka a freaking winged bull. 
Her evening was getting more promising by the second. 
“Hey! No shifting!” she heard someone yell, but the crowd had gone even more berserk with the promise of a good blood-spilling showdown. 
The Lamassu lunged forward. His spike-like teeth glistened with moisture. The ringmaster was giving no indication that he intended to stop the fight, so it was up to her to get her ass out of that cage, and fast. At the same time that Jones lunged at her, she shifted to the right, dodging his attack by a millimeter. Leveraging off the guy’s own weight, she leaped off the ground and landed on his back. He tried to get her off him, but, as she predicted, his arms were much too thick to reach back. She rode him to the left, then to the right, making him lose his balance. In no time, they crashed to the ground. Advantage #1: neutralized. While on the ground, the Lamassu couldn’t use his height and length against her. Next step, neutralize Advantage #2: his freaking wings. With her left hand, she quickly pinned one of his arms to her chest, while her right hand locked his elbow out-stretched. She then placed her left foot on his hip, pivoted her body exactly forty-five degrees to the right, then swung her left leg up, wrapped it around the bastard’s neck, and squeezed. The beast tried to fight her off, but the beauty of an arm-bar move is that no matter how big you are, the more you struggle, the more you choke. 
Thank you, Brazilian jiu-jitsu! 
After a few moments of more struggles, his limbs lost the strength, went floppy then completely still. He wasn’t dead, Yara knew it for a fact, but the beast was going to enjoy a little nap before waking up with a headache from Hiad. 
She took a deep breath and stood up. The crowd replied with applause, whistles and other less-polite noises. Joel was clapping his hands together, his loud laughter adding to the audience’s cheers. Even Dyam’s grim face showed a hint of amusement. She winked at him. He shook his head in disapproval but she noticed his lips curving up in a small smile. 
Now all they had to do was find the thief, get the box of bullets and get the hell out of there. As per protocol, she would be taken to the back room to receive her share of the winnings. And as per their plan, she’d use the opportunity to access the secure area and find the bastard thief with the box. 
Yara’s eyes perused the room, looking for CJ, but didn’t find him. Instead she met the most amazing grey gaze. Fearless. Powerful. Viral. 
Wow. 
The pair of eyes belonged to a dark haired, tall man with sharp features and broad shoulders. Even his long sleeved T-shirt wasn’t enough to hide the well-defined muscles underneath. 
Again, wow. Her panther purred inside. 
She frowned. I know him, her mind uttered, but from where? A tightness curled in her heart, something she’d only felt once before – when the Soartas placed her at a crossroads that changed her life forever. Yara blinked, trying to deal with the flood of feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. Focus! Focus on the mission! 
The sound of the cage’s small iron chains opening up reached Yara’s ears. The bookie got inside and gestured for the crowd to shut up. They complied, barely. “This fight is a ‘no contest’!’” 
“What?” Yara shouted in utter disbelief. 
“It’s not valid.”
“Why?” 
“Because shifting and magical tricks are not allowed in my ring.”
“I didn’t use any magic,” she growled between clenched teeth. 
“But he shifted,” the bookie retorted, pointing at the Lamassu deamon still napping on the floor. “And that’s not allowed.” 
Loud cheers mixed with angry curses swamped the house. 
“You worthless prick!” Yara shouted. If that weasel thought she’d let him take that win away from her without a fight, he was terribly wrong. She had gone through Hiad to get them inside that club tonight. She was not giving up now. 
She opened her stance and prepared to give the bookie a piece of her mind, when the fence was suddenly shaken so hard that made both of them stop halt. 
“Let her fight me,” the guy with amazing grey eyes said. 
He looked at Yara as if daring her to accept. She glared back at him, and couldn’t stop the low growling from escaping her mouth. 
“Let her fight me,” he repeated, louder this time. “And if she wins again, she takes the winnings … from both fights.”
There, he’d done it. The crowd stood up and roared, showing their support with whistles, clapping and more obscene proposals. She glared at the mob, unable to mask her annoyance. Seriously? Every time? 
Yara turned back around and faced the owner of the ridiculous idea. “I won the fight with honor, no cheating. I deserve my share.”
“And your share you will get,” the bookie said with a sleazy smile. “All you need to do is defeat our champion.”
Champion? Ai, Apa Dobrý, her night couldn’t get any better. 
As if on cue, the crowd cheered again, like the filthy monkeys they were. 
Yara quickly searched for Dyam. He wasn’t happy. He ran his tongue over his teeth and shook his head, a clear sign of “don’t you dare accept this.” Joel was right there, too. Murder stamped on his face. 
Did she have any choice in the matter? If she backed down from the challenge, they’d never be able to come back to the club – hell, they’d probably be kicked out like rabid dogs and miss out on the chance of retrieving the black box with the last sample of the atomic bullets. No, she couldn’t let Phillip get his hands on that box. If that happened, their entire efforts in London would have been for nothing, and Hiad would break loose. Literally. 
Yara exhaled a tired breath. She had no other choice but to agree with fighting this new guy. “Whatever. Just don’t spring any wings or horns when you lose, alright, champ boy?” she sneered.  
Grey Eyes bowed ceremoniously, then leaped over the grid and landed smoothly in the middle of the ring. The bookie took his cue and quickly made himself scarce. 
At close range, Yara was able to scrutinize her new adversary better. He wasn’t handsome in a Hollywood sort of way. His beauty was rough, savage, but very handsome nonetheless. 
He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. 
Ai, Apa Dobrý. Yara’s jaw dropped involuntarily. His broad shoulders and pecs were covered in intricate tattoos. His square jaw carried a delicious stubble, that matched perfectly with his deceivingly disheveled brown hair. There was a raw vibe to him that permeated in the air like the amazing scent of dark spices he gave off. And reverberated all the way to her core. 
We’ve definitely met before … but where?
That was so not the analysis she needed to be doing right now. She shoved the wanton wonderings back into her subconscious, and focused on the planning her fight moves. 
He stood imperially on the opposite side of the ring, watching her, but not giving her a hint of opening the tally. 
She cocked an eyebrow at him.  “So are we doing this or what?” she asked. 
A lazy, crooked smile played on his lips. “Let’s dance.”

Blaze of Glory by M. Garzon ~ Goddess Fish Promotions Virtual Book Tour ~ Giveaway

Blaze of Glory

by M. Garzon

The author will be awarding the entire trilogy on Kindle or Kobo (winner's choice) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Please be sure to leave a comment below along with your email address so you may be contacted if you win. To increase your chances of winning visit the other tour stops. You can find those locations here... http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/02/virtual-book-tour-blaze-of-glory-by-m.html

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Interview: 

Crystal: Today as part of this Goddess Fish Promotions Virtual Book Tour, I have the chance to ask M. Garzon a few questions. Welcome, I'm so happy to have you here today. Would you share a little bit about yourself with us today?

M. Garzon: I grew up feeling rather rootless, part of a family that moved every two years (in the middle of the school year!  Yeah, that didn’t suck).  I think my obsession with horses is the only thing that preserved my sanity, so a career with horses naturally followed.  Unfortunately an injury followed by back surgery in my early twenties put an end to competitive riding for me, so I got an education and went to work on Bay Street, which is the Canadian version of Wall Street.

After my kids were born I worked from home on a contract basis, until I was assaulted by the muse and became a writer.  Now I’m a single parent writing full-time, and loving every second of it!

Crystal: Where did you come up with the idea for Blaze of Glory?

M. Garzon: I didn’t really have to think about it – the muse ordered me to write, I complied, and this is the story that emerged.  The whole experience felt very much as if I were being guided along, but it’s no surprise that horses figure large in the end result.


Crystal: What are you currently working on?

M. Garzon: I’m still not quite sure how this happened, but I’m writing a kid’s horse novel with my children.  It’s an interesting process, since my 7 year old son wants something to catch on fire in every scene, and my 9 year old daughter just wants everyone to be nice to each other and for the horse to get patted a lot.

Crystal: Do you have any special routine that you follow when you are writing? 

M. Garzon: I put the kids on the bus at 7:20 am, walk our hyperactive, naughty, lovable Australian Shepherd, then I make coffee and plunk myself down in front of my laptop for the next six hours.  A much more productive routine, I might add, than when I was scrawling on discarded envelopes in my car.


Crystal: Did you have to do a lot of research for this book or any other? If so do you have a fascinating fact that you have learned you would like to share with us?

M. Garzon:  Blaze of Glory is set in the horse world, parts of which I’m intimately familiar with.  In the story there are scenes in the jumper ring, at the racetrack, and involving natural horsemanship.  However, I’d never played or even watched polo before, so I went and hung out at our local polo club one summer.  From that I learned that the rumors are true: polo players are, in fact, hot.


Crystal: Who are some of your favorite authors that you like to read?

M. Garzon: It’s such a long list… right now it’s Laini Taylor and Cassandra Clare, but there’s always Elizabeth Gilbert and Khaled Hosseini, and occasionally Jodi Picoult.  I recently enjoyed several of Harley Jane Kozak’s books.  I’ve read everything that Robert Heinlein’s ever written.  I’m always discovering new writers too.

Crystal:  Is there a genre you haven't written that you would like to try?


M. Garzon: My first trilogy is a family drama, now I’m doing a kid’s book, and then there’s a spin-off novel planned for the trilogy (no idea what genre they’ll label it).  After that I plan to write a fantasy series – here’s to stirring things up 

Crystal: Do you have a favorite scene you would like to share with us?

Author's Favorite Scene:

Jaden came in as I was closing the door to Zac’s stall. He grabbed my shoulders; I thought he was going to shake me but he just spun me around to face him. 
“Tea, have you looked in a mirror lately?” He said it with painful restraint, but his eyes were scorching.
“Um…” I was confused by his question, and his unblinking glower was making it hard for me to think. 
“You—are—a—small—girl,” he bit off each word distinctly. “For you to attack a full‑grown man like that is insane.” 
“Did you see what he did to Zac?” I demanded. My power of speech returned in a rush as my temper began to flare; small flames were erupting inside my chest, but they felt good. It had been too long since I’d felt anything.
“That’s irrelevant-”
“Not to me!”
“What if he had hit you back? Did you pause for one second to consider what would happen after your daring rescue?” His intensity was oddly intimidating, considering that he didn’t raise his voice.
I was saved from answering by Seth’s arrival. “Nice move, Sparky.” My brother grinned, shaking his head. For once I couldn’t blame him for using my hated nickname.
I couldn’t think of a witty riposte, so I settled for, “Shut up.” 
“Seriously though, what are you going to tell Dec when we lose a boarder because he was assaulted by an elf?”
I’d been trying not to think that far ahead, but now I was gripped by worry. It eased a bit when Jaden answered, “I don’t think that will be a problem. For one thing, I pointed out to Marcus that he could be held responsible for any injuries to Zac. And honestly… can you see him admitting publicly that Tea was able to take him out?”
He and Seth both looked at me and howled with laughter.

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BLURB:

"The first book in the popular trilogy, soon to be a major new television series!

Some fires can consume you.

Last year, I had it all. Two jumpers on the show circuit, a lot of wins, and a lot of attention - the good kind. But now I have nothing. My life is circling the drain. The only spark of light that exists for me is my new, forbidden passion. If my stepfather finds out, he will kill me. My twin brother, my only blood relative in the world, has already begged me not to. But I can't help myself. If it can't be horses, it has to be this..."

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EXCERPT:

Prologue

I squished my way through the water-soaked grass to the pasture. The sudden downpour had cooled the air, and I shivered slightly in my wet clothes. The worst of the storm seemed to be over, and when I reached the pasture fence I paused, debating whether I needed to bring the horses in. The rain had abated to a fine drizzle, and there hadn’t been any lightning or thunder since I’d left the barn. It was such a relief to escape the tense atmosphere there that I lingered, leaning on the fence and watching the dark wet patches creeping down the horses’ coats.

I didn’t hear the footsteps until they were right behind me. I knew whose they were without turning; only Jaden’s presence would raise the hairs on my body like that.

“Tea,” he said my name like a caress.

I was about to duck away, but he knew me too well—his hands shot out and gripped the fence board on either side of me, though he didn’t touch me, of course. He was so close now that I could feel the heat from his body searing the back of mine, but this heat made me shiver all the more. 

“How long are you planning on not talking to me?” His voice was subdued.

I shrugged. I felt, rather than heard, his sigh.

“You’re angry with me.”

He was wrong about that. It wasn’t anger that was making me avoid him, it was self preservation. 

“I don’t blame you. I know I’ve made a mess of things. I came to give you a choice… I was planning to leave at the end of the season.” He paused, but my brain was already frozen. As though it couldn’t process the word ‘leave’. “But if you’d rather I left now, I’ll understand. I’ll find a spot for my horses closer to Toronto.”

My chest constricted painfully, and my breath started coming in sharp, raw gasps. Either way, he would be gone. My only option was whether to prolong my suffering. It was always the same impossible choice: the pain of his presence versus the torture of his absence. I didn’t say anything. I don’t think I could have spoken even if I’d wanted to.

“Let me know what you decide,” he continued quietly. He hesitated, then dropped his head close to mine; I felt the zing of current from my face down to my shoulder. He whispered his parting line in my ear.

“I miss you.”

I waited until his footsteps faded to surrender to the wracking sobs, and they shook me for a long time before I pulled myself together and went back to work.



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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

M. Garzon rode horses professionally for ten years, until an injury prompted a career change. She returned to school and completed a BSc; then for good measure, an MBA. After several years of toiling as a business consultant, she turned to writing in a desperate bid to regain her sanity. A mom of two fabulous children, she lives in St Lazare, QC and considers herself extremely lucky to be a writer.





Links:

www.mgarzon.ca

https://www.facebook.com/pages/M-garzon/217322391615168

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0081NXULY/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=211189&creative=373489&creativeASIN=B0081NXULY&link_code=as3&tag=revibycrys-20

(also available on Kobo, NOOK, and iBooks)

Summoned By Rainy Kaye ~ Goddess Fish Promotions Super Book Blast ~ Giveaway

Summoned

By Rainy Kaye

One randomly drawn commenter will receive a $10 Amazon GC. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. To increase your chances of winning visit the other tour stops. You may find those locations here. http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/01/cover-reveal-summoned-by-rainy-kaye.html


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BLURB:   

Twenty-three year old Dimitri has to do what he is told—literally. Controlled by a paranormal bond, he is forced to use his wits to fulfill unlimited deadly wishes made by multimillionaire Karl Walker.
Dimitri has no idea how his family line became trapped in the genie bond. He just knows resisting has never ended well. When he meets Syd—assertive, sexy, intelligent Syd—he becomes determined to make her his own. Except Karl has ensured Dimitri can't tell anyone about the bond, and Syd isn't the type to tolerate secrets.
Then Karl starts sending him away on back-to-back wishes. Unable to balance love and lies, Dimitri sets out to uncover Karl's ultimate plan and put it to an end. But doing so forces him to confront the one wish he never saw coming—the wish that will destroy him.
Summoned is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA.

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A Cowboy for Delilah by Sabrina York From the Cowboy Heat Anthology ~ Spotlight ~

A Cowboy for Delilah 

by Sabrina York

From the Cowboy Heat Anthology

The authors of this great Anthology are having a release party today on facebook. Here is the link to the party  https://www.facebook.com/events/1403998729860517/

Here is the whole party schedule. 

Author                                           Eastern             Central             Pacific

Cynthia D'Alba                                9:00 AM            8:00 AM            6:00 AM

Amber Lin                                       10:00 AM          9:00 AM            7:00 AM

Randi Alexander                             11:00 AM          10:00 AM          8:00 AM

Layla Chase                                    Noon                11:00 AM          9:00 AM

Cat Johnson                                   1:00 PM            Noon                10:00 AM

Megan Mitcham                              2:00 PM            1:00 PM            11:00 AM

Robie Madison                               3:00 PM            2:00 PM            Noon

Shoshanna Evers                            4:00 PM            3:00 PM            1:00 PM

Emma Jay                                      5:00 PM            4:00 PM            2:00 PM

Sabrina York                                  6:00 PM            5:00 PM            3:00 PM

Delilah Devlin                                 9:00 PM            8:00 PM            6:00 PM

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Excerpt: 

The last thing this independent, high-powered lawyer wants is a cowboy in her life, but one steamy kiss from a sexy rancher burns her resolve to a crisp


What a disaster. Delilah glared at her rental car in helpless frustration. She hated the feeling. She was hardly a frail, fragile woman. She prided herself on the fact that she was self-sufficient and didn’t need anyone. Counting on others was, after all, a recipe for disappointment.
Hard, cold experience had taught her that.
Yet here she was. In the boondocks. In six-inch heels. With a flat tire.
Oh, she could change a fricking tire. Hell, she could rip out and refurbish a transmission. But the idiots at the wilderness rental car company hadn’t bothered to put a jack in the trunk. She was resourceful…but not that resourceful.  Even if she could channel her MacGyveresque tendencies, there was nothing out on this barren plain she could use to lever her car up high enough to do the job.
So here she stood by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, in six-inch heels and without cell phone service—the epitome of a helpless woman. All she needed was slasher music and she could be the star of a horror flick.
A plume of dust blossomed on the horizon and her mood lifted. Oh, thank god. Someone was coming. No one had passed in the two hours since the blowout.
Hopefully, it wasn’t a slasher.
The plume grew. A beat-up pickup topped one rise, and then the next. The truck rolled to a stop in front of her crippled Honda.
Oh. Lovely. Her savior had a gun rack.
Delilah covered her mouth and nose as the cloud of dust caught up with the truck and engulfed her. Angie’s birthday party had better be worth all this trouble.
She plastered a smile on her face and turned to greet the Good Samaritan. At least, she hoped he was a Good Samaritan. She was quite alone on this deserted stretch of road and—
Oh god.
He unfolded himself from the cab of his truck, and her breath wedged in her throat. He was enormous. And, judging from his ratty chambray shirt, shit-kicker boots and Stetson, he was a cowboy.
She hated cowboys. Selfish, misogynistic sons of bitches. Her fake smile threatened to become a very real grimace.
He stepped closer through the lingering cloud of dust, and Delilah’s heart ker-chunked. He was gorgeous. Not only was he tall—which she really liked in a man—he was big. Broad and brawny and muscular. His face was a dream from his heavily lashed brown eyes to the intriguing dent on his chin. She had to remind herself why cowboys and city girls didn’t mix, but even that couldn’t keep her from ogling his forearms. His sleeves were rolled up, just enough to give her a glimpse of defined veins and a sprinkling of dark hair. She loved veiny forearms.
Damn. Why couldn’t he have been something other than a cowboy? Or, if he had to be a cowboy, why couldn’t he have been an old one…with Dunlap syndrome—where his belly done lapped over his belt?
“Howdy.” His voice was deep and smoky.
Delilah couldn’t appreciate the sultry timbre. Of all greetings in the universe, Howdy was her least favorite. 
“Having some trouble?” He whipped off his Stetson to wipe his brow and thick black curls tumbled out.
Curls. Not fair. Why couldn’t he be bald?
Delilah cleared her throat. “Flat tire.”
He glanced at her car. A dimple exploded on his cheek.
Fuck.
Dimples were her kryptonite.
“Would you like me to change it for you? You do have a spare?”
Yeah. There it was. Sure he was superhot, gorgeous and sexy as hell. But his patronizing tone squelched any simmering temptation she might have been harboring.
That’s how it was with cowboys, wasn’t it? They saw all women as helpless, idiot creatures stumbling around in six-inch heels, batting their lashes and flashing their boobs and simpering.
Delilah was not a simperer. She was a fuck-you, take-no-prisoners, hard-core lawyer, who could take care of herself just fine.
But she did have a flat. And no jack. She kinda needed his help.
So she batted her lashes. “Um. I think there’s a tire thingy in the…what do you call it? Trunk?” She affected a Southern drawl and thrust out her boobage, just for good measure.
It annoyed her that he bought her act. And it kind of didn’t. The bedazzled look in his eyes was a salve to her ego. After Trevor and all. It was nice to know she could still appeal to a man. Even a redneck cowboy.
He loped over to her car—yes, loped. She tried not to stare at his ass but his jeans were tight. It was a challenge to look elsewhere. He bent to search the trunk—again, a mighty fine ass—and stood, tipping back his Stetson. His profile, against the bird’s-egg-blue backdrop of the sky, stole her breath.
“There’s no jack.”
“No what?”
He sighed and headed for his truck, pulling out an impressively fancy jack. “This,” he said, “is a jack. You use it to lift the carriage up high enough to change the tire.”
It was so sweet the way he made his voice all slow and pedantic. You know, so she could understand. Idiot woman that she was.
“Gosh. You’re smart.” She probably didn’t need to gush quite that much, but hell, she hated condescending men. Especially cowboys. But she might as well have fun with this.
He knelt and fitted the jack and started cranking. His muscles bunched, forearms bulging with each pump.
Delilah sighed, and told herself it was only a pretend sigh, but her gaze was riveted to the sight. “You are such a big, strong man.” 
He flashed a grin at her. 
Yeah. Of course he did. Men loved to be told how big and strong they were. She completely ignored the dimples erupting all over his bristled cheek. Did he never shave? “How can I ever repay you?”
He stilled. The glint in his eye was horrifying. Crap. Had she gone too far with her helpless female shtick? She was all alone. On a deserted highway. With an enormous Neanderthal cowboy.
When he tipped his head to the side, her trepidation vanished. He looked more like a mischievous boy than a mad rapist-slasher. “How about a kiss?”
Delilah blinked. “A…what?”
“A kiss. Just a little one.”
Her brain fogged over. And it wasn’t horror at the prospect of a strange man demanding a kiss on the side of a deserted road that muddied the waters. It was pure exhilaration at the thought of his mouth devouring hers, those arms wrapping around her, that massive chest, warm and hard as he yanked her close…
Aw hell.
Why was she always attracted to the wrong guys? She wanted a man who liked opera and dreamed of traveling to Italy. Not a guy who listened to Country and Western music, spat chew into a bean can, and whose dream of an exciting evening was a night at the local bar playing pool.
“What do you say, ma’am? One kiss, in exchange for my…services?” When she hesitated, he repeated, “A little one.”
Why she nodded, she had no clue.
Well, she knew why she nodded—because she was incapable of speech.
Why she agreed was the mystery. 
Then again, he was superhot. She ached to know how he tasted…and it wasn’t as though they would ever see each other again. Besides, if things got out of hand, she had mace. And she knew how to use it.
At her assent, he sprang into action. It was astounding how quickly he changed that tire. He tossed the flat into the trunk, returned his jack to his truck and wiped his hands.
“All done.” 
Her heart skittered as he stepped closer. 
“Time for payment.”  

PREORDER NOW! (Available March 18)

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COWBOY HEAT STORIES:

 “Mrs. Morgan and the Marshal” by Emma Jay A dalliance with the sexy town marshal makes a woman rancher question which she wants most, her independence or him

“Remember” by Mia Hopkins A jilted bride saddles up with the blazing-hot cowboy stripper hired for her cancelled bachelorette party

“Cowboy Downtime” by Cheyenne Blue Passion ignites at a polocrosse game in the Australian outback—she plays attack, he plays defense, and their sexy wager decides the winner

“Coming Home” by Megan Mitcham A busted-up rodeo champion finds the squirt he tormented in youth transformed into a fiery woman challenging him to become the man she deserves

“Her Captured Cowboy” by Layla Chase A lonely woman, ostracized by Colorado townspeople after years in Indian captivity, takes what she needs from a wandering cowboy

“Back Stage Pass” by Cynthia D’Alba A sexy night with a hired escort, who looks exactly like a woman’s favorite country singer, leaves her with a back stage pass and a lot of burning questions

“Unfinished Business” by Cat Johnson A class reunion gives one woman a second chance with a sultry cowboy from her past

“At the Mercy of the Cowboy” by Amber Lin A new farmhand finds rough living and an even rougher cowboy to soothe away her pain

“Cowboy Adonis” by Michael Bracken When a naked cowboy rises from a stock pond, a nature photographer’s assignment gets personal

“Denim and Lace” by Robie Madison One woman in a pair of rhinestone heels plus two sexy cowboys equals a highly combustible combination

“One Track Cowboy” by Delilah Devlin After tracking two lost hikers, a park ranger and a local rancher lose themselves to a wild passion

“Skin Deep” by Randi Alexander A pretty city girl and a scarred country cowboy discover love waits when you’re ready to look beneath the surface

“Drop Two Tears in a Bucket” by Shoshanna Evers Alone on her Montana cattle ranch after her husband divorces her, a woman finds satisfaction in the arms of the one cowboy she can’t resist

“A Cowboy for Delilah” by Sabrina York The last thing this independent, high-powered lawyer wants is a cowboy in her life, but one steamy kiss from a sexy rancher burns her resolve to a crisp

“Shall We Dance?” by Myla Jackson When a lonely woman gives private dance lessons to a shy, sexy cowboy, she stumbles on passion worth fighting for

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WANT MORE COWBOYS? 

Check out my Pintrest Page dedicated to these steamy hunks!
Visit the Cowboy Heat Blog Page

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About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!

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Books by Sabrina York:

A Cowboy for Delilah (Erotic Contemporary for the Cowboy Heat Anthology, Cleis Press)
Adam’s Obsession (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)
Dark Duke (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soon
Brigand (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soon
Dark Fancy (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)
Devlin’s Dare: A Tryst island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary) 
Dragonfly Kisses: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary) 
Extreme Couponing (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)
Fierce (One Night Stand, Decadence Press)
Five Alarm Fire (Erotic Contemporary for the High Octane Heroes Anthology, Cleis Press)
Folly (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)
Heart of Ash: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary)
Lust Eternal (Erotic Fantasy, Ellora’s Cave)  
Pushing Her Buttons (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)
Making Over Maris (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)
Man Hungry (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)
Rebound: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary, Available on Amazon)
Rebound is now available on Smashwords
Rising Green (Erotic Horror, Ellora’s Cave) 
Saving Charlotte (Erotic Contemporary for the Smokin' Hot Firemen Anthology, Cleis Press)  
Smoking Holt: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary) 
Training Tess (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)
Trickery (Erotic Contemporary with Magical Elements, Ellora’s Cave Hex Line)
Tristan’s Temptation (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)

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CURRENT PROMOS:

Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/
Newsletter & contest: http://sabrinayork.com/sabrinas-contest-and-newsletter/
Enter to win a signed print copy of scorching Regency romance, Dark Fancy on Goodreads! https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17409083-dark-fancy

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Like my Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/SabrinaYorkBooks 

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