RELEASE DAY: Laura J. Marshall "A Christmas Coffee"

 

Blurb:

Villa Bellissimo along with Master Chef Antonio Coronado invite you to Sicily where you will be immersed in the art and passion of Italian culinary delights.

Sarah Cooper is still trying to find her place in the world after her husband died two years ago on Christmas Day. When her parents give her an early holiday gift, it may be just the opportunity she needs.

Parker Matrone is the founder and CEO of the billion dollar company, Coffee Grounds (italicize business name). There’s something about Sarah he can’t resist, but he’s been burned before and is now raising his two young sons alone.

Will they decide loving again is worth the risk? And what of the antique Christmas quilt beneath which Sarah dreams of Christmas’ past, present, and future? Come explore Italy in this Christian Christmas romance where dreams do come true and life begins anew.

 

 

Author:

Life isn't a fairy tale. It can be heart-wrenching and painful.  Difficult times come to us all and many times they shape who we are and how we look at the world.  We can, however, find strength through the valleys as we learn to climb the mountains. 

Laura J. Marshall is a full-time mom of five boys. When not on active duty, she is the best-selling author of Christian romance.

 

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

The bright mid-afternoon sun reflected off the water of the Tyrrhenian Sea as the cab drove past the ancient buildings of Palermo. The car slowed around curves then picked up speed as it barreled farther into the countryside with small condominium-type homes now lining each side of the road.

Sarah’s plane had landed an hour ago. Rolling down her window to view the house fronts painted in bright colors of blues, peaches, and yellows, she breathed deeply. Balconies decorated with lights and Christmas bulbs peered over the street as the car passed below, whispering of the residents inside and their holiday plans.

She strained her eyes drinking it all in. December was similar to early spring back in Iowa, 55 degrees and beautiful. The salt-filled breeze tugged at her long black hair as the car rumbled over the well-worn road.

It was an amazing Christmas gift. The day after Thanksgiving Sarah’s parents had sat her down and placed a large padded envelope in her hands. Her eyes had lifted to see her father’s own turn glassy as he watched her tear open the envelope.

“Are you okay, Dad?”

“I’m fine. Keep ripping in, darlin’.” His Texas handlebar mustache raised in a brief smile, and he blinked several times. The show of emotion was so unlike her Harley-loving dad. Sarah wanted to pause and comfort him, but at his urging she reached inside the package.

She had stared in disbelief at the airline tickets and brochure in her hand.

“It’s all paid. You’ll have to leave in a few weeks. The class starts the day after you arrive, and you’ll stay there in a room at the school.”

“But this is too much. You need to save for…for your retirement and your dream of traveling the country in the Winnebago.”

“Now, dear. It’s all settled,” her mother insisted. “We’ve been saving for years. Your dad and I are still on track, and this is our gift to you, for Christmas. It’s something fun.”

Sarah read the brochure aloud. “‘Villa Bellissimo along with Master Chef Antonio Coronado invite you to Sicily, where you will be immersed in the art and passion of Italian culinary delights.’”

She glanced wide-eyed at her parents, a tentative smile on her lips. The past two years had been the hardest of her life, dragging herself through most days just to get beyond the agony of Tim’s death and the ruin of the life they had, a life they were just beginning as a married couple.

The tragedy had happened on Christmas Day two years before. Tim had risen early, returning to their bedroom a short time later, humming and full of anticipation of the snowy forecast. Sarah had raised her head from the pillow, noting his impish smile as he announced the day’s weather. He was such a morning person, something Sarah was indeed not.

Inhaling the fresh smell of coffee and watching him place her favorite floral china cup and saucer, full to the brim, next to her on the nightstand, she said, “Tim, you are a treasure.” She rubbed her hands together and reached for the potent elixir. “Mmm, delicious. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

She held a hand out to him, but he paced the room looking out the window then returned. “We can hike the trail out back in the snow before we head to my parents’.”

 He stopped mid-sentence, his face creasing with pain. Putting his hand to his head, he gasped out, “Sarah!” Crumpling to the ground, he lay eerily still.

RELEASE DAY: Nicole Zoltack "Love before Honor"

 

Blurb:

Honor. Truth. Loyalty. Love. All of these matter most to Sir Gerald. To avenge his love's death, he challenges her murderer to a duel. Her twin, however, feels that Alice never loved Gerald and gives him a tea. Alice had also given him teas, which enhanced his love for her, but this tea is different. This tea sends him to into the future, to the Regency era.

Lady Vanessa seeks a Christmas treat when she hears something outside the manor. Upon investigation, she sees a man dressed in armor. Unwilling to turn away a confused man with the approaching holiday, she convinces her parents to house Gerald until the new year.

Scandal has forced her parents to accept William as their daughter's best chance at marriage. Although rich, he does not understand her or her love of books and only sees her for her looks, whereas Gerald listens to her, confides in her and she him. With the approaching holiday, nothing is certain – not whether Gerald can discover a way back to his duel, whether he can move on from Alice, and not whether this Christmas will be a happy one for either Gerald or Vanessa.

 

 

Author:

Nicole Zoltack loves to write in many genres, especially romance, whether fantasy, paranormal, or regency. When she’s not writing about knights, superheroes, or zombies, she loves to spend time with her loving husband and three energetic young boys. She enjoys riding horses (pretending they’re unicorns, of course!) and going to the PA Renaissance Faire, dressed in garb. She’ll also read anything she can get her hands on. Her current favorite TV show is The Walking Dead. To learn more about Nicole and her writing, vis-it http://NicoleZoltack.blogspot.com.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter One

 

Honor. Truth. Loyalty. All noble. All good.

Most of the time.

Sir Gerald sharpened his blade, the clashing sound of metal on metal, the sparks flying pleasing him. He had never dueled before, but a few hours' time and that would change.

Blood pounded through him, hot and steady, a constant reminder of all he still had and all his love had lost.

"I can do that," Edwin said. Shadows from the flickering flames within the smithy covered his hand that reached toward the sword.

Gerald merely glared at his squire. Competent, yes, if a tad overeager. "I do believe I told ye several times now that your services are not required this day."

"I will not leave ye." Edwin lifted his chin. A gesture of both defiance and loyalty at the same moment.

He grunted.

"The blade willna sharpen more." The blacksmith picked up a hammer. Evidently some aspect in the fire told him the temperature now burned hot enough to temper new weapons.

With a great deal of reluctance, Gerald handed the fourteen-year-old his sword.

The blacksmith nodded and returned to his work.

The smithy felt like the gate to Hell, the heat immense and growing ever hotter. Still, Gerald did not move, mesmerized by the licking, greedy flames. It had been a fiery night when he first met her. Ever since, he stopped by the smithy daily, paused whenever he saw a flame, and lingered by the dying embers of his campfires.

It was she who necessitated his duel.

"Are ye certain about this?" Edwin asked.

A question the boy had asked many a time after Gerald laid down the gauntlet.

"Quite." Ever his reply. How could he not? As a knight, duty dictated his actions.

"But…" Edwin shifted his weight from side to side. Always boundless energy. His tongue never stopped wagging. It could cause him trouble down the cobbled road if never did he learn to appreciate silence.

For now, at least, Gerald would humor him. "Go on."

"Ye and she… Ye were not even promised to one another."

True, but in their hearts they were. The problem lay with that, that and jealousy.

Gerald filled his broad chest with a strong inhale. "One day, ye will understand. Honor, truth, and loyalty will only get ye so far. Love, though, it lifts ye up, alters your very outlook on life, changes your life itself. Love is all that matters."

The hammering stopped. Although the smithy was loud and prone to echo, Gerald and Edwin had long ago learned how close to be, how loud to speak to be heard despite it. The silence now prevailing in the smithy unnerved Gerald far more than the prospect of dying that late afternoon.

Almis the blacksmith grunted. "Love be not so grand. Love be trouble." His dark eyes fixed on Gerald. "Love be death."

"Death is release," Gerald countered. Perhaps death would be best. Not that Victor would grant him a merciful one.

"Sir Gerald will not fall."

Edwin's confidence lifted a small smile to Gerald's lips. "Is my armor ready?"

The red-haired boy jumped up. "A-almost!" He scampered away, out of the smithy faster than a hare chasing its supper.

The redness of the flames only served to remind Gerald of blood, and he turned away, for once finding no comfort here, wishing for mead to swallow instead of his sorrows.

The dings and clangs resumed, its steady beat almost matching his steady heartbeat. No matter what the outcome, he would do all he could. She, and her memory, deserved that much.

She who never should have felt the sharp end of a blade. She who never stepped near such a place as this. With its burning stove and already forged weapons hanging on the walls, the smithy proved as dangerous as any duel ground. Mayhap a second weapon would not be remiss. Bow and arrows would be less than worthless. A spear or lance, though...

RELEASE DAY: Kathy Bosman "His Halloween Kisses"

Blurb:

Ali’s never been so scared. She’s housesitting for a colleague on Halloween night, but the lights have gone out, and terrible noises and crashes send her imagination into overdrive. When her brother’s friend comes to her rescue, he kisses her in the dark three times. Once back in the light, Ali is embarrassed at allowing him to kiss her. Byron tries to ignore his strong attraction for Ali, especially seeing he’s not ready for a relationship. When Ali finds out why, she runs away, but life has other plans. What can bring them together? Fate, faith, or the memory of his Halloween kisses?

 

Author:

Kathy loves reading and writing even more. She homeschools her three kids, so in between unsuccessfully explaining the difference between subject and predicate or how to divide fractions, she enters an imaginary world of troubled and passionate characters whose stories take over the page. Kathy lives in Kwazulu Natal, South Africa, where the summers are hot, the winters cool, and bugs thrive. Her first published novel, Wedding Gown Girl, came out in 2012 with Astraea Press. She belongs to the Romance Writers of South Africa Group (ROSA) which has been her greatest support and inspiration the last few years.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter One

Ali Micklejohn heaved a large two-seater couch in front of the door and sat down on the expansive three-seater to watch TV. Tonight was going to be a long night.

The wind blew in eerie echoes through the house she stayed in, knocking the loose window clasps like horror music with its squeaks, creaks, and sighs. The elements weren’t worth being scared of though. They were just sounds. No, this was South Africa, and even though she stayed in a fairly safe area, couldn’t someone be lurking in the shadows? Especially since she couldn’t lock the door. That was reason to be scared, she told herself, not all the strange creaking noises and “haunted” thoughts. The lock on the front door had given out on her this evening when she came home after struggling to turn the key for about an hour. The couch across the door provided her only way to feel a measure of safety.

Whines seared through the room; long, sad sounds that pierced into her gut. She shivered slightly and pulled her thin jacket closer to her chest.

Tonight was the 31st October. Halloween. And really, so what?

She’d never believed in Halloween, never celebrated it. Growing up in South Africa, Halloween had only taken off the last few years. Most of the older generation didn’t celebrate it at all. Some kids dressed up in outfits and went to parties. It hadn’t spread to the more serious generation yet.

Trick or treating wasn’t safe in a country where kids dare not walk the streets at night and knock on strangers’ doors. But decorations were all over the shops and even graced the school where Ali worked as a secretary. Spiders, witches’ hats, orange pumpkins, and zombie masks. Dark, sombre colours, which she actually liked in a perverse way. So, to a degree, she’d been immersed in the feeling of scariness, a feeling she normally found funny and wacky.

Not tonight for some reason.

She wasn’t the fearful type, never had been. Having survived being hijacked outside her parents’ gate, she’d learnt to appreciate every day, every moment, and she felt like a survivor. She was one.

The wooden front door creaked and groaned with the vicious spring winds. Why did spring always have to be so windy in Newcastle? She turned the TV up to drown out the sounds. She switched the channel to a comedy show and settled down with her large slab of hazelnut chocolate and a packet of crisps. Oh, the joys of living on her own for a change—she could have the whole bag to herself.

That’s why she’d decided to house-sit a few nights for a teacher at the school where she worked. And to get some time to think.

Besides, all her roommates were going out to a party with their boyfriends. Definitely not fun for the only single one left of the tight-knit group.

The TV made a fizz, and the light from its screen compressed into a small dot. All the lights in the house went out.

A power failure.

She sat frozen for a moment, unsure what to do next. This wasn’t her own home. Where did they keep candles and torches? At her place, she stored them in the kitchen drawer, and so did her parents in her childhood house. Wouldn’t that be the logical place? Blinking furiously, she hoped to find a light somewhere to guide her to the kitchen without bumping into something. Nothing. She couldn’t see a single thing. There was no moon tonight. Probably as overcast as it had been the whole miserable, rainy, windy afternoon. She spread out her hands in front of her and walked slowly, one awkward, terrifying step at a time.

In the darkness, the sounds were magnified. Wind whined like a strangled prisoner through every window, door crack, and ceiling board. Something tapped at one of the windows from the dining room. Tap…tap…tap. Probably just a branch from a nearby bush. It couldn’t be a ghost or a zombie, could it? Her quickened pulse didn’t believe any logical arguments tonight.