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COVER REVEAL – Wake Me Up by Justin Bog

Posted in Author, Book Blog Tour, Book Promotion, Uncategorized with tags , , on March 12, 2016 by mrsmack97

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Wake Me Up

By Justin BogWakeMeUp_FinalEbook

Genre: Literary Fiction, Crime, Family Saga, LGBT

 

A FATHER IS HAUNTED BY HIS PAST — HIS WIFE LIVES HER LIFE IN A RIGID SHELL — THEIR SON, UNTETHERED, DISCOVERS THE SECRET THEY SHARE WITH DEEPIKA, A VISITOR TO THEIR TOWN.

 

“I see all of these people. They’re living and breathing and acting on their basest impulses. I lay in a coma. They live. I hover over all of them, all at once. I can see my body, motionless, wired up, adrift. And I can find out why this happened. This is my story and I won’t remember any of it when—if—I wake up. But I’ll try to remember—I’ll try damn hard.”

 

MIDDLETON, MONTANA—OCTOBER 2004—AN ELECTION YEAR

A small college town’s populace is tied, complicitly, to the brutal attack of a teenage boy by four of his classmates. Soon, heated rumors of a possible hate crime surface. Injustice is a hungry beast.

While Chris Bullet remains unresponsive in a coma, his skull shattered, he floats above dire circumstance. In this phantom state, compelled to witness his past once more, the family’s darkest secrets, hidden over generations, will be aired.

 

 Author Bio

A member of ITW: International Thriller Writers group, Justin Bog lives in the Pacific Northwest with his two long coat German shepherds, Zippy and Kipling. He is the author of the Suspense Magazine Award-winning collection, Sandcastle and Other Stories: The Complete Edition, and Hark: A Christmas Collection. Find Justin at http://www.justinbog.com and on Facebook at Justin Bog.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JustinBog

On Amazon: http://amzn.to/1SwsfUv

On B&N: http://bit.ly/1PE9fkf

On Goodreads: http://bit.ly/20KuQLi

Introducing #freebiefriday

Posted in Author, ebook, erotic romance, FreebieFriday, novella, paranormal, romance with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 26, 2016 by mrsmack97

TGIF. I love those letters. To me, they say, get ready for Saturday. I immediately think of sleeping in, being lazy and dragging my feet around the house wearing fuzzy slippers. There’s no appointments looming, no drop off schedule, no car pooling, no work–just me and a hot cup of coffee while I pour over my latest “hot” read.

I love erotic romance but if the mood strikes, I can dig into a mystery, a horror or even a little chick-lit. Hey, what can I say–I’m a reader.

I love to write erotic romance but I do tend to cross genre’s. A lot. There’s just so much sex you can write before you need to take a break and write something else. But, if I must be honest, those scenes sneak into all of my books at some point or another. Some a lot more than others. In the last year, I started a paranormal series, A Late Summer Bloom – Witches Of The Bayou.

I even wrote a free prequel to kick off the series which brings me to #freebiefriday. Although this prequel is readily available for you to download at any time by visiting the Evernight Publishing website, I thought I might gift it to you right here on my blog. But a little at a time. Please enjoy the first three chapters of my free prequel, The Beginning – Witches Of The Bayou. Every Friday I will post another three chapters until you have the entire novella. Read it here, all of it, on my blog.

If you are one of those people who need the rest of the story right away…well…I can relate. Visit http://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-beginning-by-cherrie-mack

OR…Fill out the contact form at the bottom of this post and I will send the remaining chapters your way. That’s it. By filling out the form, I will enter your name in a drawing to receive A Late Summer Bloom – Witches Of The Bayou.

DISCLAIMER…This novella includes ADULT CONTENT and is not intended for those under the age of 18.

thebeginning-free

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright© 2014 Cherrie Mack

 

Chapter One

 

New Orleans, 1992

 

Cecily Jareau’s clumsiness was a definite win today. At least that’s what she thought after a muscled, tattooed arm reached out, catching her as she stumbled forward into a crowded Jackson Square. As she stared into the stranger’s smoky lavender eyes, she tried to ignore the embarrassing trip over her own feet that landed her in his arms. Left speechless by his good looks, she wasn’t too unhappy about her misstep and the interesting predicament it caused. Silently, she searched for something clever to say but nothing came out except for that strangled grunt when she lurched forward.

“You okay?” His velvety baritone voice commanded attention without being forceful.

She felt her cheeks flush as she tried to right herself. Soaking up his masculine scent, she smiled. He was easy on the eyes but his handsome features weren’t the only thing Cecily appreciated. His firm yet gentle grip sent a warm tingle through her body. She studied him before speaking—after all, witches were so easy to spot these days. However, here in New Orleans, it was a bit of a challenge. The variety of people, some feigning supernatural powers, could be daunting. But, the stranger before her wasn’t putting out any mating pheromones which led her to believe he wasn’t a witch. Good. I’m safe.

Her voice came out in a dreamy whisper. “Obviously I can be clumsy but otherwise fine.”

His smile was slow to appear but when it did, a mere feather could have sent her toppling all over again.

“Yeah—you’re no worse for the wear. You be careful now.” He winked.

“Thanks. I will.”

When he released her, she wanted to go after him. Instead, she watched him strut away into the crowd until he was out of sight. Cecily shook her head. Now, if witches were made like that, I’d be mating like crazy. With regret, she continued on in the opposite direction to the Creole café where she was to meet her friend, Brigitte.

New Orleans—now this was the city where she wanted to spend her time. Not in a stuffy, slower-than-molasses Florida town. Why they would choose Cottonwood Landing for their home base was a mystery to her. It had no culture, no excitement. Although the sprawling estate was a royal witch’s palace and housed the most blue-blooded witches of the covens, here she felt different. Normal.

However, according to the higher-ups, Cecily was anything but normal. She was statuesque, beautiful, talented and most importantly—royal. She could hear the words they repeated over and over like a mantra. But Cecily’s truth was far less intriguing. She was of royal blood for sure but mostly she felt tired, discouraged, and just plain miserable.

Her abilities, her royal status, it was all a burden. Although humans were of a lesser race, she couldn’t help but yearn to be like them. Not knowing the things she knew would be a relief. The happiness she desired always seemed to evade her. And she wanted her life to be different—she wanted to be human. What better place than the city of New Orleans? It was the perfect setting to blend in with the human population for a while. To her, the irony was amusing. Here, human people often pretended to be witches. If they only knew how real we are.

The Creole café was bustling when Cecily arrived but she managed to spot Brigitte easily enough. The flamboyant witch captivated everyone around her by her brightly colored clothes, large-brimmed hat and red lipstick.

“Cecily my dear. It’s so good to see you.” She held her arms open wide, inviting Cecily in for one of her famous hugs. The embrace was more like a squeeze from a python and it lasted way too long for her liking, but she managed to stifle her annoyance. Brigitte released her, waving her arms in a downward motion signaling her to sit.

“Sit my dear. Mmm. Still as stunning as ever. You never age, do you?”

Cecily rolled her eyes. “You are dramatic but quite good for my ego.”

“Seriously, Cecily. A woman of your looks and status should have the witches falling at her feet.”

She laughed it off. The only line of witches she fought off was the line to get out the door. She felt nothing for them and the feeling was mutual.

“Maybe it’s my black wavy hair that ensnares them and my piercing dark eyes that send them running for the hills.” She widened her eyes then batted her lashes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. So—tell me everything.” Brigitte waved her arms in the air erecting a privacy wall to protect their conversation from human curiosity.

Cecily scrunched up her face. “Not much to tell since that last time I saw you.”

“Nonsense. How are things in Cottonwood Landing?”

Knowing she’d have to put up with her friend’s meddling questions, she let out a sigh. “Fine. Percy is running things quite well.”

“How is that fine specimen of male witch?”

“Still holding out hope for one of us royal witches to birth a female child.”

“Anyone nearing a tenth pregnancy?”

“Not that I know of.”

The silent pause gave her an uneasy feeling. It told her Brigitte was fishing for information.

Brigitte narrowed her eyes, trying to be nonchalant. “How many is it for you now?”

Ah ha! Cecily felt resentment coil in her gut. Never able to carry her pregnancies to term, she felt inept. Unworthy. “I lost count,” she stated coldly.

Brigitte’s voice rose up an octave. “I’m sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”

“You always hit a nerve Brigitte,” Cecily snapped.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s difficult for our kind to become pregnant, Cecily. You should know this. And carrying a child has its share of problems for us as well. But, our race needs its tenth power. If you are nearing a tenth pregnancy, you should try to have a child. You could birth a female. You owe it to our people to at least try.”

That. Was. It. Her stomach churned with anger. She was realizing she had been lured here to discuss the future of the covens. Not her future. Not her life. No—it was never about her. It was always about the covens, the royals—the need for the tenth power. Cecily leaned in and told her friend just how she felt.

“I owe it to our people? The same people who treat female witches like chattel? Is that what this get-together is about? To convince me to procreate?”

Feigning outrage at her accusation, Brigitte held her hand against her chest, displaying blood red nails. “I can’t believe you would think such a thing. I’m only asking because you are still of child bearing years. We all must do our part, Cecily. You are only thirty-five.”

Cecily narrowed her eyes. “That’s right and I’m far too old for this! I’m done. I’m tired of sacrificing my happiness, my life, my desires—all for what? On the off chance I’ll give birth to the tenth power? Let someone else deal with it. I want out of this vicious cycle. I sleep with witch after witch just to let them spill their seed inside me. Where’s my pleasure? Where’s my payoff? There is no love, no romance, no relationship. Most of these male witches don’t even take the time to arouse me. They just shove their cocks into me without as much as a second glance. It’s revolting.” She shook her head at Brigitte with disgust and continued with her tirade. “You come here pretending to care. Tricking me into believing I might have one friend left in this whole coven who actually cares about me. Well, it looks as though I was wrong. Percy put you up to this didn’t he?”

Brigitte looked around the café, her desire to keep up appearances obvious. The patrons might not hear what they were saying but they certainly could see her angry demeanor.

“Put a lid on your anger, Cecily. We don’t want to bring attention to ourselves. Percy is worried for our race. And he is right to worry. There are murders every week now. One—several. The warlocks are taking the souls of our loved ones and we are losing what little control we have left. The travelers are sparse, their army weakening. If there is a tenth power born today, we’d still have to wait years before she comes of age to access her power. That means it will take almost twenty years of waiting. If it doesn’t happen soon, we could all be doomed.”

Cecily no longer wanted to carry the responsibility of the coven on her shoulders. “Let the travelers kill the warlocks. That’s what they pledged to do. I’ve heard stories about them. They’re nothing but power hungry immortals—let them earn their keep.”

Brigitte spoke as if trying to reason with her.   “The travelers are thinning out. Most are reverting back to witch status and dying off. They’ve seen too much blood and sadness. They themselves are a dying race.”

Cecily’s chair made a loud screech as she abruptly pushed it back and stood up. Towering over Brigitte, she pointed her finger in her face. “Let the master of the realm worry about it. I’m through! And I’ll tell you another thing—I’m not going to allow myself to be used anymore. I refuse to be a whore for the cause. I can promise you, there isn’t a male witch on this planet who will get within ten feet of me!”

When Cecily stood up and marched toward the exit, she vowed just that. She swore off the witch population. From now on, if she couldn’t be human, she’d pretend to be.

****

Brigitte watched her leave, ignoring the stares of the locals. She rummaged through her oversized bag and pulled out her cell phone. The large clunky thing was more of a nuisance than it was useful. She pulled up the antenna and dialed. When she heard Percy’s voice on the other end, she let out a loud sigh.

“I’m sorry Percy. She told me nothing and I’m afraid the news gets worse. Our Cecily has refused to try anymore. It doesn’t look as though she’ll be the host for the tenth power.”

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Cecily couldn’t walk away fast enough. Out the door and into the street she went without looking back. She was shedding her witch world and trading it in for a new one. A human one. No longer would she cower to that royal bunch of bullies. She would live here in New Orleans and to hell with everything else. It was her turn to make a grab at happiness. And if she didn’t try, she’d have no one to blame but herself.

Without a direction in mind, she walked and walked until her feet ached. Guilt, slow and steady, weaseled its way into her mind. No. She wouldn’t allow it. She gave too many precious years—youthful years to her coven. She owed them nothing and nothing was what they deserved.

Cecily couldn’t walk another step. She must’ve circled the French Quarter more than a few times as it was growing dark. Stopping to survey her surroundings, she leaned her weight from one foot to another, wincing when she wiggled her sore toes around the inside of her shoes. It was then she heard it, the sound of a horn. Not a car horn, but a trumpet.

The melodious sound enveloped her, almost making her swoon. It called to her in a way she couldn’t describe. It wasn’t magic but it was damn close. And Cecily had to find its source. She followed the sound of the music straight to the door of Al’s House of Blues.

Inside, she was bathed in the smell of dry martinis and cigarette smoke so thick she could cut it with a knife. But Cecily didn’t care, she never did. It was a human smell and for that she was thankful. The music lifted her spirit, feeding it light and encouragement. The mellow, soulful sounds coming from the horn lulled her into a better mood. Maybe her life wasn’t so bad after all?

Cecily needed a better look at the bandmates gathered on the tiny platform. She moved through the crowd, slowly bobbing and weaving her way to the stage. As luck would have it, there was an empty table, right up front. She made a beeline for the seat and quickly sat down, her eyes searching out the person responsible for making such sinful sounds. Stunned, her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at the musician playing the instrument that willed her inside.

The tattoo on his arm stood out, assuring her this man and the man who saved her from falling into the street earlier today, were one and the same. His jet black hair looked glossy under the lights. His cheeks flushed a pinkish hue as he played his instrument with precision. Every sound reverberated under her skin, stroking a place deep inside—a place long forgotten and frozen with contempt.

She watched his fingers move, switching from one note to the other, mesmerizing fingers she suddenly wanted to feel touching her. Cecily dreamily watched him deliver a solo, the notes stroking her body, electrifying each erogenous zone. And when he was done, her body throbbed with a desire she had never known.

Continuing to watch him with intensity, she concluded he was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. Somehow, in this place, in this light, with that instrument, he became her sole focus. And when his lavender eyes met hers, he smiled a knowing smile that, if possible, made her heart swell almost to bursting. Recognition lit his features, causing him to put a little more oomph into his performance. Suddenly, she felt as if he were playing just for her. The music rocked her body, penetrating deep until she swayed in her chair. His eyes widened as she sensuously performed, teasing his senses.

The time seemed to fly by when Cecily realized their set was over. Applause erupted and the crowd eventually thinned out. Apparently they were the one and only draw for this little dive of a blues joint. But if he continued to play here, she’d reserve this very seat for the rest of her life. The feeling she had at this moment was better than anything she’d ever felt before. And Cecily wanted more of it.

As she allowed herself some time to regroup, remorse quickly set in. Afraid she’d made a fool of herself, she decided a swift exit was a necessity. Who was she kidding? She was a thirty-five-year-old woman who, in the course of a day, acted like a clumsy fool and then a lovesick groupie. Cecily rolled her eyes at her stupidity. She scanned the club for the exit, got up from her chair, and headed straight for the door.

“I hope you don’t think you’re leaving,” the deep baritone voice said, a voice she heard once before and prayed to the fates she’d hear again.

Cecily stopped and turned around to find him standing inches from her. “I—yes I was. Just. Leaving. I planned on going earlier but your music—your music held me prisoner.”

“Prisoner? I like that. Are you a big fan of the blues?”

I live them. “Not really. This is my first time.”

He held his hand out to her. She obligingly placed her hand in his, watching as he brought the back of her hand to his lips, applying a chaste kiss to her skin. His eyes sparkled when he offered her a slight smile.

“There is a first time for everything and I hope I made yours one to remember.”

She was so enthralled she couldn’t pull her hand away. “I’m Cecily. And I don’t think I’ll ever forget tonight.”

Even his laugh was like music to her ears. She felt like a young girl who just discovered her first crush.

“I’m James.”

“It’s nice to meet you, James.” After a few seconds of silence Cecily leaned in close to his ear. “Can I have my hand back?”

She felt his grip loosen then tighten again. “No—I don’t think so. I’d like to hang on to you a little longer. Or at least until you agree to have a drink with me.”

She let out a nervous giggle. “I guess I do need my hand to function.”

“After that performance, I need a cool drink.”

“It was a very good show.”

“I’m not talking about my performance. You got me pretty heated up there with those moves in your seat.”

Cecily swallowed hard, embarrassment firing up her cheeks. “Oh—I’m sorry. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea but I—”

He pulled her close, so close his breath tickled her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “It’s just a drink Cecily. Nothing more.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s fine.”

His deep chuckle made her legs weak. This man could take her right here—right now. And the feeling was so foreign, it caught her off guard.

“Shall we?” He lifted his arm. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.

As she laced her arm through his, she narrowed her eyes at him. “How old are you?”

He gave her smile that could melt ice in a blizzard. “I’m thirty-two and you are—twenty eight?”

She giggled. “Nice try, Romeo.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Georgie – Follow That Dress 2

Posted in Author, ebook, erotic romance, novella, romance with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 23, 2016 by mrsmack97

So…. I love this book. I loved writing it and creating Gee, a/k/a Georgie. She is flawed, beautiful and raw. With a passion for kink, young, innocent Georgie makes a poor judgement call and is forever marred by her past.

Hardened, she runs. Finding a home at Diamond Lil’s, the bar she calls home, is where Georgie truly comes alive, living her life as she sees fit.

And love? She never expected love, especially one that ignites her passion for all things kinky. Can the “lucky red dress” give her a happily ever after? When you “Follow That Dress” all things are possible.

Sexy young woman laying on the bad and man drinking wine

A 9/11 Tribute

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on September 11, 2015 by mrsmack97

I remember the day so well. It was a beautiful, crisp, sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky. It was the kind of day that made you thankful to be alive. A near perfect September day. I wasn’t going to blog today but (my famous but…) I saw this on facebook and immediately thought I should share. I don’t know who wrote it but I figure someone out there in the blogosphere might know. However, these are the thoughts we should think today. It’s not about getting even. It’s not about war. It’s not about hate and intolerance. As much as I detest saying it, those things are real. We need to think about them. And we will think about them. Just not today. In the famous words of Scarlet O’Hara, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”

So for tonight, think about this:

At this moment 14 years ago, millions o Americans went to bed quietly, with no thought

that the next morning their world would change forever.

That night hundreds packed flight bags they would not live to open.

Thousands slept with loved ones for the last time.  

One never knows what a new day has in store. Let us live each day to he fullest, and never

miss a chance to let those dearest to us know of our love for them. so TONIGHT if you

have someone in your life that you love, tell them…

                                                                                                                                              Goodnight Sweethearts.

I'm feeling a bit patriotic today...You?

INCONCEIVABLE – Cover Reveal

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on August 24, 2015 by mrsmack97

Inconceivable E-Book Cover

When Prince Charming comes looking for the woman who stole his heart at a Manhattan shoe store, he instead finds her stepsister, Allie. Allie doesn’t leave the best impression with the handsome Zach Brady, who quickly dismisses her as the maid. But an unusual fairy godmother with a huge heart and even bigger biceps has plans for her. Can Allie keep herself from falling for the wrong man and convince him to help her snag Zach? This duo quickly learns that sometimes if the shoe fits, the pair could be all wrong.

Available for purchase 9/2/15 on AMAZON

Available in Kindle Prime library

Available ARC on Netgalley

Are You Ready For It? INCONCEIVABLE – Coming 9/2

Posted in angels, Author, coming soon, ebook, magical realism, romance with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 18, 2015 by mrsmack97

Shot of a passionate young people in love.

I’m thrilled to announce my upcoming title, Inconceivable will be released 9/2. 

Previously titled, My Sister’s Shoes, this story is one of my favorites. I received my rights back for this sexy fantasy and I’m going all out so new readers can meet and fall in love with Angelo. The rough, loveable fairy godmother is enough to melt any girls heart. This book will be available in the kindle library and will be added to Netgalley (for the month of September)

Available for a .99 cent purchase through Amazon for the entirety of September.

Cover Reveal – 8/24

The Curious Case of Writers Blah…

Posted in Author with tags , , , on July 4, 2015 by mrsmack97

I am a writer. I write stories from the depths of my mind about people I’ve never met. It took me until “later” in life to realize I was an author. I say author because I always knew I was a writer.

I was pointed in the right direction by a teacher no less, those caring, giving human beings who try to nurture and guide you through the wicked world of middle school. It was a direction I did not take. Oh how I wish I would’ve. But I’m a big believer in, everything happens for a reason.

Fast forward twenty something years. It took moving to a new state, new friends and a whole lotta of soul searching to make the picture clear. I opened my laptop, staring at the blank page before me. Unbeknownst to me at the time, a few key strokes later I was on my way to becoming an author. A few weeks later, I had my first rough manuscript. I went through one rewrite and three edits. Finally. Submission. Multiple rejections later, I was developing what we authors term, a thick skin. But I didn’t give up. One morning I opened my email and….magic. I had an offer. Of course, I signed.

My second book was in the works when another story made its presence known. I stopped my paranormal to write my romantic comedy novella. This book, although a mere thirty five thousand words, came at a fierce pace. I wrote, submitted and contracted within three months. WOW! Why didn’t I do this before?

I wasn’t selling like crazy but that wasn’t the point. I was published. I was living the dream. Readers were buying my work. I felt overjoyed. Humbled. Grateful.

For the next year I worked feverishly on my writing, submitting new stories and jumping into the wacky world of publishing without a care in the world. I created a facebook page, I joined twitter and built my own website! I was up at 5:30am writing my blog. Yes. I impressed myself. I had six published titles and seven more in the works. I wrote every waking moment. I wrote while making dinner, on the car line at school, in between laundry loads. I read at night, downloading every chance I got. This was awesome. There’s no downside! Until…

It. All. Stopped. Just like that.

Illustration of a girl writer leaning on her chair while thinking

Illustration of a girl writer leaning on her chair while thinking

At first I didn’t worry. I figured I needed a break. But as weeks turned to months, I questioned my ability. Was I out of stories? I normally write by the seat of my pants, letting the characters dictate where the story will go. And they stopped talking. I was stuck. I sat at my computer day after day, willing the words to come. Some days, I’d get a sentence, some days a whole paragraph. If I was lucky, I’d get a full chapter but this writing thing was quickly becoming a job, no longer the adventure I was used to.

This made me question everything. Was I writer? Yes. But, did I have what it takes to be an author? I’ve learned every author goes through the doldrums. My creativity would return. Ten months later and I’ve just started to pull out of the slump. This is bad. Very bad. At first I wrote so much, so fast, I thought I was invincible but, turns out I’m not. I burned out.

My latest book took me to a place I never thought I’d go. Procrastination land. And you know what? I HATE that place. I bet purgatory isn’t as bad. It has taken me forever to finish this story. And while it’s still not complete, the hard part is over. I think. And as sure as I’m writing this blog, I know I will be back to writing. Maybe my stories won’t come so quickly, maybe they will take more time and patience to develop. I have to be okay with that.

If you’re a struggling writer, please know, you will eventually write again. It won’t all be shit either. You won’t chuck whole scenes at a time. And rejections are part of the process. Take the rejection and learn from it. Publishers want your book. They want a hit, just like you. And maybe if you pay attention to the good advice of the professionals, you’ll have it.

As for me, I’ll be taking my career to the next level. I’m becoming an indie author. I’m excited about this step and have already networked and met wonderful people who offer invaluable advice.

So…I will have a few titles hitting amazon this year. I’m targeting September so be patient with me, my kind readers. You keep me going. Thank you for your emails, words of encouragement and the will to keep writing. ((HUGS))

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