Friday, May 23, 2014


Congratulations Mary Preston on winning the Knight Blindness giveaway! Your gift will arrive soon. :)

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Blog Swap Featureing Tara Maya's "The Unfinished Song (Book 1)"

The Unfinished Song (Book 1): Initiate by Tara Maya


Dindi can't do anything right, maybe because she spends more time dancing with pixies than doing her chores. Her clan hopes to marry her off and settle her down, but she dreams of becoming a Tavaedi, one of the powerful warrior-dancers whose secret magics are revealed only to those who pass a mysterious Test during the Initiation ceremony. The problem? No-one in Dindi's clan has ever passed the Test. Her grandmother died trying. But Dindi has a plan.

Kavio is the most powerful warrior-dancer in Faearth, but when he is exiled from the tribehold for a crime he didn't commit, he decides to shed his old life. If roving cannibals and hexers don't kill him first, this is his chance to escape the shadow of his father's wars and his mother's curse. But when he rescues a young Initiate girl, he finds himself drawn into as deadly a plot as any he left behind. He must decide whether to walk away or fight for her... assuming she would even accept the help of an exile.


Blue-skinned rusalki grappled Dindi under the churning surface of the river. She could feel their claws dig into her arms. Their riverweed-like hair entangled her legs when she tried to kick back to the surface. She only managed to gulp a few breaths of air before they pulled her under again.

She hadn't appreciated how fast and deep the river was. On her second gasp for air, she saw that the current was already dragging her out of sight of the screaming girls on the bank. A whirlpool of froth and fae roiled between two large rocks in the middle of the river. The rusalka and her sisters tugged Dindi toward it. Other water fae joined the rusalki. Long snouted pookas, turtle-like kappas and hairy-armed gwyllions all swam around her, leading her to the whirlpool, where even more fae swirled in the whitewater.

"Join our circle, Dindi!" the fae voices gurgled under the water. "Dance with us forever!"

"No!" She kicked and swam and stole another gasp for air before they snagged her again. There were so many of them now, all pulling her down, all singing to the tune of the rushing river. She tried to shout, "Dispel!" but swallowed water instead. Her head hit a rock, disorienting her. She sank, this time sure she wouldn't be coming up again.

"Dispel!" It was a man's voice.

Strong arms encircled her and lifted her until her arms and head broke the surface. Her rescuer swam with her toward the shore. He overpowered the current, he shrugged aside the hands of the water faeries stroking his hair and arms. When he reached the shallows, he scooped Dindi into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to the grassy bank. He set her down gently.

She coughed out some water while he supported her back.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded. He was young--only a few years older than she. The aura of confidence and competence he radiated made him seem older. Without knowing quite why, she was certain he was a Tavaedi.

"Good." He had a gorgeous smile. A wisp of his dark bangs dangled over one eye. He brushed his dripping hair back over his head.

Dindi's hand touched skin--he was not wearing any shirt. Both of them were sopping wet. On him, that meant trickles of water coursed over a bedrock of muscle. As for her, the thin white wrap clung transparently to her body like a wet leaf. She blushed.

"It might have been easier to swim if you had let go of that," he teased. He touched her hand, which was closed around something. "What were you holding onto so tightly that it mattered more than drowning?"

Tara’s blog
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Initiate is free everywhere except on Barnes and Noble (where it’s $0.99). You can download a free .epub version via Smashwords.

Knight Blindness Blog Tour & Giveaway!

Blog Tour for KNIGHT BLINDNESS by Chris Karlsen
May 19th – 23rd, 2014

Gliterary Girl wants to introduce you to KNIGHT BLINDNESS by Chris Karlsen. 


Given a choice between the pleasant life you knew centuries ago or 
the possibility of all you want in an uncertain new world, which would you choose? 

Two men torn through time find themselves in the modern but alien world. 
Old enemies, one hunting the other, one discovering love, both fighting private battles to survive. 

Book 3 of The Knights in Time Series 

Ready for battle, Medieval English knight, Stephen Palmer, charges into the French enemy’s cavalry line. Heeding a warning given months before, he hesitates as he comes face-to-face with the knight in the warning. Struck down in the year 1356, he finds himself landing in the year 2013. Grievously wounded, he’s taken to a nearby hospital. Confused by the new world surrounding him, he attempts to convince the staff he’s from another time, only to find they think him mad.

Rescued by friends, who, to his surprise, have also come through time, he must find a way to function in this odd modern England. He is quickly enchanted by the kind Esme Crippen, the young woman hired to tutor him. She too is enchanted by him. Tempted to deepen the relationship, she hesitates thinking him adorable, but mad. He must discover the means for getting her to believe the truth, all the while, unknown to him, he didn’t come forward in time alone. The enemy knight has also traveled to 2013.

French noble, Roger Marchand, doesn’t question why the English knight who charged him hesitated. That fraction of a pause gave him the advantage needed and he brought his sword down upon the Englishman’s helmet hard, unhorsing the knight. He moved to finish the Englishman off when the world changed in a rush of sensations as he is ripped through time.

Seeking a reason for the terrible event, he enters a nearby chapel. There, thinking God has chosen him for a quest to turn French defeat that day in 1356 to victory, he sets out to find the English knight. The man he is convinced holds the key to time. If he returns to the day of the battle, he can warn his king of mistakes that snatched victory from them. 


She knocked and a short, compact man with grey, thinning hair, cloudy blue eyes, and the reddest lips she’d ever seen on a man answered. In a way, he reminded her of Rupert Bear. He wore a red sweater vest over an open-collared white shirt, unfashionable brown plaid cuffed trousers that looked a size too big, and well-worn brown, wing-tipped shoes.
“You must be Esme Crippen.” He gestured for her and Electra to come inside. He closed the door and extended his hand. “Will Davison.”
“I’m Esme,” she said, shaking his hand. “This is my sister, Electra.”
“Electra, a fine literary name,” Davison said as they shook hands.
Esme took a quick scan of the cluttered office, surprised a curator, even of a small museum, hadn’t a secretary.
“You said you’re looking for a drawing lent to us by the National Gallery in 1960. The Black Prince at Crecy, you said.”
“Yes. Does it sound familiar?”
“I was an apprentice here then. I believe I know the work you’re speaking of, an impressively detailed rendering considering the environment. It was done on vellum, we believe for the king, as colored inks were used, including gold, although no gold leaf was applied. We think the work was probably done by one of his priests. Unfortunately it was placed into storage back in the seventies and the facility burned to the ground in 1979.”
The news sucked every ounce of energy from her. She had so much hope. Why didn’t Davison tell her over the phone and save her the trip? The bloody drive took three hours. Bad enough to waste those hours not to mention they’d hit the London rush hour on the return. She’d like to wrap her hands around his scrawny neck and shake the fillings from his teeth.
“Fortunately,” he continued, “We had a copy made prior to the drawing going into storage. “The original was fragile, obviously. The curator and I worried it might deteriorate more if it stayed on display. As the Black Prince was the subject, and is such a big part of Canterbury’s history, we did want to keep a representation exhibited. We had it copied in oil. It hangs in the main room of the museum. Come, I’ll show you.”
He led them to a side door of his office that also served as a door to the rear of the museum proper. This section of the museum displayed artifacts and pictures from the Victorian period up to and including the hard fought air war, the Battle of Britain.
Through another archway to the next room, Davison led them to a painting. The gilded-framed oil was about a meter wide and a half meter high and hung in the center of one wall.
“Remarkable isn’t it?” he said. “It depicts the aftermath of the battle. This is where the young prince raised up so many young men who fought alongside him to knighthood.”
“Oh my God,” Esme whispered. Shocked, she stared unable to take her eyes from the painting. How could this be? Identical down to the wound on the chin. She’d seen the scar on Stephen’s chin up close.
Unlike the larger, more famous sister institutions, the simpler Museum of Canterbury didn’t employ infrared protective alarms that go off when a visitor gets too close to an exhibit.
Davison’s hand on her arm stopped Esme as she stepped forward, fingers inches from the canvas. “No touching allowed, Ms. Crippen,” he warned and removed his hand.
“Sorry,” she said, moving back to drop onto the bench in front of the painting.
“What is it?” Electra asked.
“Are you ill, my dear?” Davison asked.
She shook her head, too numb to speak.
Electra joined her on the bench. “You look like you’re going to faint. You’re white as a ghost.”
“Would you like some water, Miss Crippen?”
Finally, she found her voice. “No. Thank you but I’m fine,” she told Electra and Davison.
Esme turned from the painting to ask, “Is this an exact copy of the original?”
“Yes. The curator at the time was meticulous man and would not approve even the slightest deviation.”
“You’re positive?”
He nodded. “Very.”
She held up her hand to stop Electra’s question. “Thank you, Mr. Davison. This is more than I expected when I asked about the drawing. If it’s all right, I’d like a few minutes more to appreciate the excellent artistry.”
“No worries, Miss Crippen. If you require no more of me, I’m going to return to my office. Take as much time as you like. The museum is open until five.” Davison gave each a polite tip of his head and left.
As soon as he was out of the room, Electra said, “Esme talk to me. There’s something up with you and this painting. I want to know what.”
“The young man kneeling, two over from the prince’s left, the one holding a bloody gauntleted hand under his chin.”
“What about him?”
“He looks just like Stephen.”
From Electra’s sour expression, she found the explanation anticlimactic. “That’s all? Jeez, I thought it was something really big.”
“You don’t understand. He could be Stephen’s double. That’s not all. The man standing behind him I’d swear is Alex Lancaster. A younger version but hand to heart, I think it’s him.”
“I’ve only seen pictures of Alex Lancaster when he’s been in the press. I agree. It does look like him. But it isn’t either Stephen or Alex since those men,” she tipped her chin toward the painting, “lived close to seven hundred years ago. Why are you weirding out?”
Esme ignored the question. Too many of her own occupied her thoughts. How had his face wound up on this medieval man: the narrow too long nose, the strong jaw, the broad forehead, even the shape of his eyes...his injury didn’t change the slight downward tip to the outside corners?
“Hello,” Electra waved her hand in front of Esme’s face.
“Stop it.” She dug her cell phone out. Conscious of how light and shadow might affect the shots, she took pictures of the painting from different angles.
Electra tugged on her arm, pulling the camera away from her face. “He’s not Stephen. Maybe he’s his ancestor, five-hundred times removed, but he’s not Stephen.” She let out a heavy sigh.

Buy Links

Bio for Chris Karlsen

I was born and raised in Chicago. My father was a history professor and my mother was, and is, a voracious reader. I grew up with a love of history and books.

My parents also love traveling, a passion they passed onto me. I wanted to see the places I read about, see the land and monuments from the time periods that fascinated me. I’ve had the good fortune to travel extensively throughout Europe, the Near East, and North Africa.

I am a retired police detective. I spent twenty-five years in law enforcement with two different agencies. My desire to write came in my early teens. After I retired, I decided to pursue that dream. I write two different series. My paranormal romance series is called, Knights in Time. My romantic thriller series is, Dangerous Waters.

I currently live in the Pacific Northwest with my husband, four rescue dogs and a rescue horse. 

Social Media Links

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Facebook -!/chriskarlsenwriter
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In honor of this celebration, Chris Karlsen would like to gift each blog stop an ebook set of her books HEROES LIVE FOREVER and JOURNEY IN TIME.  

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Goodreads Giveaway

Do you like giveaways as much as I do? If that is a definite yes, and you'd be crazy not to, then click on the picture below and ENTER to WIN!


For a limited time only, you can get a chance to win a copy of STAY. Hurry before these run out! Only a few will win! 

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Kirsten Osbourne Giveaway!

Big news from the Lone Star State! 

A gal from Wisconsin by the name of Kirsten Osbourne is currently rising up the best selling ranks on Amazon. Though she is from Wisconsin, her heart is deep as the Texas skies. 

For the MONTH of MAY she is placing her four novels for JUST NINETY-NINE CENTS!  You won't wanna miss out on the chance to grab these before it's too late! 

ABOUT Kirsten

Kirsten Osbourne hails from the state of Wisconsin, but has lived in Texas for almost thirty years.  She is a mother, a writer, and a wife.  Married to the love of her life for fifteen years, she knows that true love exists and wants to share her vision of love with the world.  Writing is something she has always loved and plans on doing for a long time into the future. As Kirsten Osbourne, she writes contemporary romance as well as historical.  As Morganna Mayfair, she ventures into the realm of paranormal romance.  She invites you to join her in her world of fantasy and make believe where there is always a happily ever after at the end.


First Four Books in the BRIDES OF BECKHAM Series is on sale from $7.99 to .99 cents for the whole month of May.