Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Review Tuesday: Bleeding Edge by Thomas Pynchon - #ReviewTuesday #NewYork #DotComCollapse

Bleeding Edge cover

Bleeding Edge by Thomas Pynchon
Penguin Books, 2013

It’s early 2001 in New York. Divorced Jewish mother Maxine Tarnow used to be a certified fraud investigator, until she skated too close to the dark side and lost her license. That hasn’t diminished the reputation of Tail ‘Em and Nail ‘Em, the firm she runs out of a small Upper West Side office. Indeed, she’s seems to be in greater demand than ever, by clients with tangled connections to various dubiously legal activities, and to each other. In the wake of the dot-com collapse, the city’s investors, entrepreneurs and hackers are all scrambling to save themselves. They’ll stoop to anything to keep their heads above water: embezzlement, drug-running, money laundering, weapons smuggling, even murder. They’re doing deals with crime bosses, foreign spies, terrorists and the Feds, losing themselves and their souls in real and simulated conspiracies, hiding out in underground bunkers and on the Dark Web, in the vast reaches of cyberspace where commercialism hasn’t yet penetrated.

Like a spider in its web, geek billionaire Gabriel Ice lies at the heart of these plots and counter-plots, pulling strings and making plans. All Maxine’s contacts — video-pirate- turned-film-maker Reg Despard, sleazy venture capitalist Rocky Slagiatt, Russian agent Igor Dashkov, crooked accountant Lester Traipse, neo-con operative Nicholas Windust, even Maxi’s best friend Heidi — are somehow linked to Ice and his paradoxically profitable company hashslingrz.com. At the same time, Maxine appears to be a nexus herself, as these varied characters explode into her life, dragging her on midnight boat trips to vast harborside landfills, pulling her into drunken and drug-infused parties, convincing her to take a turn on the stage at a strip club. Mysterious USB memory sticks and DVDs are delivered to her, full of classified dossiers and videos taken by hidden cameras. As she struggles to make sense of what’s going on, threats pile up, people around her die or disappear, and finally, two planes barrel into the World Trade Center, turning it to a cloud a toxic dust.

I realize that as a summary, the above paragraphs seem pretty incoherent. I’m trying to capture the delirious, frantic, nearly overwhelming complexity of Bleeding Edge. This brilliant, funny, frightening book is one of the best things I’ve read in a long time, but it’s almost impossible to describe. What is it “about”? The raw wound in the American psyche ripped open by 9/11? The vanishing of the beloved and familiar in New York, and by extension, everywhere? The co-opting of the Internet and every other type of media? The gutted dream of freedom, personal responsibility, even personal agency? The nature of reality?

All of the above. Bleeding Edge casts a gritty, ironic spotlight on our times (and despite the supposedly historical references, the book is definitely a commentary on our times, not the early years of the century). Yet it has touches of magical realism, as Maxine catches glimpses of the dead and experiences the occasional revelation. It’s also hilarious, with acerbic dialogue and perfectly-pitched cultural nuance.

Maxine herself is a delight, a tough, smart, compassionate, sentimental Yenta who’s also a sexy MILF. Though disturbed by the chaos around her, visited by dark, twisted dreams whose meaning eludes her, she somehow remains centered. She takes shopping to the level of an art, knows where to find the best bagels, mothers her two sons without smothering them. At the same time, she packs a revolver in her handbag and hardly thinks twice about kicking off her shoes to satisfy a foot fetishist.

Let me warn you; once you begin reading this book, you’re committed. One review on Amazon commented that Pynchon demands your full attention. I wholeheartedly agree. The sheer number of characters means you’re likely to forget who’s who if you take a break to sample something else. I put the novel down for a few weeks and found I needed to start from the beginning. The book is not exactly difficult (though Pynchon has that reputation), but it’s so rich it may spoil your appetite for other fiction.

How can I summarize a rollicking, provocative, pyrotechnic masterpiece like Bleeding Edge? I can’t. All I can do is urge you to read it.

Monday, September 24, 2018

Not your usual ghost story - Kayelle Allen's Lights Out #SpaceOpera #SciFi

What if today was "lights out?"

Read Lights Out in The Expanding Universe #SpaceOpera #NewRelease by @KayelleAllen

If you knew this was your last day to live, what would you do? Would you face the end with a clear conscience? Would you fight for one more day? Look for that person you wronged and make it right? Run away? Turn and fight? What would you do?

In Lights Out by Kayelle Allen, the hero knows his end is near. Instead of running, Tornahdo makes a choice. He will face death with a clear conscience and the knowledge that his death will serve mankind. He will join... GHOST CORPS

He can save mankind. After he does one important thing. Die.

Join the Ghost Corps, they said. You'll live forever, they said. You'll save mankind, they said. They didn't say that to do it, first he had to die.

When Tornahdo signs on the dotted line, he puts his life into the steady hands of the mighty Ghost Corps. Three grisly deaths and three agonizing resurrections later, he's assigned duty on Enderium Six.

He's facing his most dangerous mission yet, the very reason the corps exists.

Do they expect him to win? Fat chance. Tornahdo and his team are already dead and this mission is codenamed "Lights Out." No, there's more to this than he can see.

To discover the truth, he must face an unbeatable, unkillable enemy, and this time--somehow--find a way to keep himself alive...

Excerpt, Lights Out by Kayelle Allen

The air reeked of antiseptic and starch stiffened the pillowcase. If only the mind-numbing jabbering would stop.

Tornahdo pried open his eyes. The flattened blood bag above him, stenciled equipment and gray walls screamed military hospital.

He'd died. Again.

Spanish curses slipped out. His abuela would've taken a switch to him. He made the sign of the cross and kissed his fingertips.

After yanking the tube out of his arm, he pressed a thumb over the entry point. Thankfully, this time, he wasn't writhing on the floor in agony. Well, not yet.

A faceless android in a Ghost Corps uniform loomed over a bank of equipment displaying Tornahdo's name and vitals. First impression was right. Military hospital.

The weapons-grade yapping continued.

"Did you hear?" a youthful voice bragged. "He killed six of 'em last night."

"Yeah, but they don't stay dead. They never do."

"If Ultras didn't come back to life, their plasma wouldn't bring our own people back."

The transfusion of enemy blood healed the hole in Tornahdo's arm in seconds. He thumbed off the red smear and rolled over on the gurney.

An open door led to a sink and toilet built to let gravity do its work. Which meant this was a planet. You hadn't lived until you were in space, floating in zero gravity while your body's final twitches sent your corpse spinning.

Notices on the wall confirmed this was San Xavier in the Colonies of Man. Same place he'd bought it the first time.

This was getting old.

Lights Out part of the Science Fiction/Space Opera anthology 
The Expanding Universe Vol 4
edited by Craig Martelle Available Sept 17, 2018 Exclusively on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited https://kayelleallen.com/lights-out-save-mankind/

Peek Inside Lights Out

Go behind the scenes with the world and characters of Lights Out with an exclusive illustrated PDF book. Nothing to sign for or opt in to get. Just click and read: http://bit.ly/peek-lights-out

Read Lights Out in The Expanding Universe #SpaceOpera #NewRelease by @KayelleAllen

About Kayelle Allen

Kayelle Allen writes Sci Fi and Space Opera with misbehaving robots, mythic heroes, role playing immortal gamers, and warriors who purr. She's a US Navy veteran who's been married so long she's tenured. She is the author of seven books, three novellas, and multiple short stories.


Kayelle's Contact Information

Join one of Kayelle's reader groups and get four free books right away https://kayelleallen.com/reader-groups

Friday, September 21, 2018

Looking for Adventure (In All the Wrong Places) - #Adventure #Inspiration #WriteWhatYouKnow @Heather_Curley

Claimed cover

By Heather Hambel Curley (Guest Blogger)

If the experts are right, and we’re supposed to write what we know, I really should be writing the dull saga of a mid-thirties mother, who is still obsessed with boy bands, wears too much eyeliner, and stays in the house most of the time. Not like, sexy housewife stays in the house all day, but more like working a day job, doing laundry, and picking up a bizarre amount of sweaty, stinky socks draped around the house by two children. And never getting to use the bathroom alone.

Relatable. But not exciting.

When I started writing I was in fourth grade. My best friend Sara and I wrote stories about girls exactly like us—except way more popular—who ate lunch together in the cafeteria, liked grape kool-aid, and watched VCR tapes together after school. Shortly after that, when I was far more sophisticated and worldly, in fifth grade, I started writing ‘scary’ stories about four friends who were abandoned by a creepy school bus driver in the woods and start exploring a haunted house: falling through floors, kissing boys, and solving mysteries. All without one single cell phone!

Once I figured out that I was taking this ‘writing what you know’ thing way more literally than was good for my writing, I started to write about what I wanted. I wrote about women with lots of tattoos and piercings; of teenage girls who battle ghosts during the Civil War; of drug addicted survivors and of brooding, long haired men. I wrote the stories that I wanted to read—awkward women like me, but with better paying jobs from college degrees they actually use and adventures that leave me breathless. Is it always what I know? Not exactly. But, I mean, I know how to be female. So, that’s a start. And I’ll take inspiration from wherever I can get it: I once wrote a novel after being inspired by a zombie video game my husband was playing. The novel had nothing to do with zombies: it was the setting; the Wild West and a long haired, brooding male character. Yee haw!

That’s not to say that I don’t sometimes stumble upon my own adventure. I’m a mom, for pete’s sake, there’s nothing more terrifying than two boys who have been quiet for way too long, followed by, “Hey, Mom….come see what we did!” I’ve ridden the Hot Mess Highway since my first son was born in 2010. But I’ve also done a wee bit of traveling: I’ve stood on top of Mayan ruins in Mexico. I’ve been drunk in a speeding taxi in Bulgaria. I’ve petted a rhinoceros. I’ve run a half-marathon. And from those experiences, comes reality in writing: the eerie silence and smooth stones in temple ruins; the thrill of a car chase; the heart-pounding panic of being next to a giant, wild creature (except I was at the zoo and it was in a holding space….not like, me on some kind of safari with a jaunty hat and khaki shorts).

My most recent release, Claimed, has absolutely nothing to do with anything I know. But it’s definitely something I’d want to read:

The first time the world ended, she went into hiding.

The second time, she became a fugitive.

When war breaks out between two American political coalitions, witch Wren Richards is forced into hiding. She and her family conceal themselves and their power, living on only what they can grow and create with their own hard work. But then there is a break in the doldrums of normalcy: Wren is sent to fetch supplies in town.

And then the atomic bomb hits. Everything changes. Now Wren isnt just a witch: shes a survivor. A slave. A water seeker. A murderer. She and her sister are kidnapped and dragged to another dimension. As witches, theyll fetch a higher dollar at auction. Because as witches, energy can be sourced from their souls. The only person who can save Wren is herself.

And shes just been sold to the highest bidder.

Maybe Wren is a throwback to those kids on the school bus I wrote about in fifth grade. She’s on the run, acting on instinct and gut feeling. There’s no cell phones, no one to help her. And then, just when she thinks it can’t get any worse….the world ends. Again. In the end, though, she’s just as awkward and unimpressed as the rest of us:

When the Age of Man was balanced on a crumbling precipice, the covens shattered and we returned to the woods.

We’d fled to the forest a week before my nineteenth birthday and now, a
year later, we were still here. My mother’s precognition abilities were first rate, but even she had to admit her visions had changed. The End was less certain now. There was still a finality to everything—to man, to Earth, to the stagnant lives we lived—but she couldn’t tell us how it was going to happen.

Or when.

I flexed my arms, forcing my body weight down on the mortar to grind the corn into a fine powder. When we’d left our house in the city, my father insisted we retreat as far from civilization as we could. That meant felling our own trees and building our homestead by hand; we harvested our own food and sought out clean water. Clean was turning out to be a relative term. When my parents weren’t looking, my younger sister would cast a purification spell and we lugged the buckets back to the lodge.

I dragged my wrist across my forehead, blotting away beads of sweat. A year. We’d been tucked in the hills for over a year and still weren’t allowed to use our powers. No magic. No spells or telekinesis. Before the war, we’d kept our abilities to ourselves—unless under Coven sanction—but now? We were alone. There was no one to panic that we were writhing with the devil or causing all the world’s problems with our abilities. No one to grit their teeth and spit at us. Witch. Their fear of the unknown, the things they didn’t understand, always spewed out as hate.

Leaning back against my heels, I arched my back in an attempt to ease the searing pain from my spine. War was everywhere. You can’t rely on power alone, my parents drilled it into our heads like there was a chance we might forget, you need to take what you have and survive. Thrive.

I crouched over the corn again, slamming the pestle against the kernels. I wouldn’t call this thriving. This was hard work: this was waking up early and going to bed as soon as the sun set. This was the shit I’d read about in history class when I’d been in school. It was no way to live.

I’m so tired of cornbread.” My sister, Soleil, set a large bucket on the ground and settled down next to it, reaching in and pulling out the skeleton of a basket. Pushing her sleeves up, she started weaving the reeds together. For once, I’d love one of those yeast rolls Nana Gumm used to make when we were kids. Remember?”

Well. Find me yeast, flour that doesn’t turn rancid in this godawful heat, and bring Nana Gumm back from the dead.” I threw my back into the grinding, trying to force the kernels to break up on my sheer will alone. Then you can have yeast rolls.”

With melted butter? Remember?” She grinned, her smile punctuated by her dimples. That was always the best part of dinner. I could have eaten a dozen on my own.”

She’s been dead almost thirteen years. I’m surprised you remember.”

I remember everything.”

She was right. Soleil was only sixteen, but it seemed like she’d honed in on her abilities far better than I ever had. Part of me hated her for it: her abilities to commune with nature, to properly and efficiently cast a healing spell or circle spell. She couldn’t master divination and her telekinetic abilities were almost nonexistent. At least I had that over her.

To read the rest of Wren’s story, you can grab it in paperback or as an ebook: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B06ZXSLK93/

About the Author

Heather Hambel Curley is a thirty-something year old fake red head from the city of Pittsburgh. She has a growing collection of tattoos, a love for the Caribbean, and an obsession for running (like a T-Rex, she has strong legs and feeble arms). Currently, she lives in central Pennsylvania with her patient husband and two, rowdy sons.

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

Why Ghosts, Supernatural, and Kendra Spark? @SPDavis788 #ghosts #FBI #Suspense

By S. Peters-Davis (Guest Blogger)

Hello, Lisabet, and everyone visiting Beyond Romance:) Thank you for stopping in and checking out the fun stuff of ghosts and supernatural…oh, yes, and Kendra Spark.

So, who is Kendra Spark? Besides a mystery-romance author created from my imagination…and her specifically tapping into my subconscious wanting to come out and play as a story-star in a series of books. She sees ghosts and can actually communicate with them, which acts as a curse or as a gifted ability depending on who she’s communicating with and who happens to be around witnessing her bizarre behavior.

The subconscious part in my brain (the one Kendra tapped into) actually remembers seeing a ghost, a few times, when I was between the ages of five and seven. I didn’t recognize the old woman and she scared the crap out of me whenever she reached her arms toward me. Needless to say, my parents got sick of getting woken up by my terrified screaming – and they chalked it up to a nasty nightmare, but I wasn’t asleep and the ghost was real.

That ability of seeing the ghost had shut down, and I later recognized the old woman ghost as my grandmother on my father’s side. She had passed away when I was two years old, and I had never met her. I was much older when I saw a photo of her and wished for the “ghost-seer” ability to come back so that we may communicate.

The ability has come back to me through Kendra Spark: ) Man…I absolutely love writing fiction;)

In the first book of the series, Unorthodox, Kendra’s BFF, Jenna, an FBI Criminal Analysis, gets ghostisized. Their friendship continues and so does Jenna’s ability to analyze criminal behavior. FBI Agent of hotness, Derek Knight, leads the team and utilizes Kendra’s ability to communicate with Jenna and the murdered victims. I didn’t specifically mention romance, but there definitely is tension growing between Kendra and Derek.

So, I’ve shared about Kendra Spark and the ghost reference, but what about the supernatural spin? Oh, my…Supernatural, the show with Dean and Sam (gotta love Dean’s husky masculine voice, yummy!) – I adore that show. I’m a freak about all kinds of paranormal/supernatural entities. To me, that’s fiction at its finest:) I love the spin of worlds under worlds or over worlds with the preternatural. And it plays a pretty good part in the Kendra Spark Series.

There you have it – why ghosts, supernatural, and Kendra Spark? They all have played major roles in my life and subconscious and are now coming out in my fiction. I hope you enjoy the series: )

Kendra Spark Novel Series

Kendra sees ghosts, and then her BFF, Jenna, becomes one. The two friends and FBI agent Derek Knight fight to bring justice for the victims of heinous crimes.


Kendra’s ability of communicating with the dead is requested by her FBI criminal analyst friend to stop a killer from murdering agents.

Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery romance author and communicator with the dead, is requested to hop on the first flight to D.C.
Jenna Powers, FBI criminal analyst and estranged best friend of Kendra, gets ghosticized in a fatal accident before relaying all the details of the FBI killer case.

Derek Knight, a dedicated (hot) FBI Special Task Force agent, takes lead on the case.

The investigation into the FBI agent killings continues as Kendra, Jenna – yes, even after death – and Derek work together on the case before Director of the Special Task Force Jackson Powers’ number is up. He’s Jenna’s father and the end-game of the killer’s target list.

Somehow the elusive killer remains undetected, until Kendra’s unique ability produces results and a final possibility at stopping his killing spree before it’s too late.


Trafficked girls marked to lose their souls by a malevolent supernatural entity require someone with explicit abilities for their rescue. Will Kendra be able to save them?

Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery writer and communicator with the dead, signs on to the next FBI Special Task Force case, trafficked girls that are marked to lose their souls.

Jenna Powers, ghostified criminal analyst, sticks close to the case as she and Kendra are also marked by the same malevolent supernatural force.

Derek Knight, lead FBI Agent on this case, learns of the malevolent entity and the deeper paranormal realm of danger.

Kendra’s unfiltered feelings for Derek struggle to take a backseat, and as the menacing threat grows more intense, so does her passion for Derek.

Derek faces uncertainties he’s never dealt with in his past, like malicious entities and the loss of his heart to love. How can he protect Kendra against forces he can’t see?

As boundless supernatural danger intertwines with the future reality of the trafficked teens, Kendra and Jenna realize only they can shoulder the rescue by calling in a voodoo priestess…

About the Author

S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories, but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.

She also writes YA paranormal, supernatural novels as DK Davis.

One lucky commenter will win a $10 Amazon GC – good luck!! Winner will be announced here and emailed, so please leave an email addy for your chance to win: )

Tuesday, September 18, 2018

A Werewolf State of Mind by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #PNR #shifter #werewolf #romance

A Werewolf State of Mind cover


Anneke’s typical day at the office is thrown into disarray when she finds her next patient is an unwitting werewolf. And it doesn’t end there.

From the moment Caleb Kitt walks into Doctor Anneke Lund’s office for his psychiatry session, she knows his problem isn’t mental. He’s been experiencing night terrors, having violent and bloodthirsty dreams, and waking up naked in strange places. But he’s not losing his mind, as he suspects. He’s actually a werewolf—he just doesn’t know it yet.

Anneke isn’t just a psychiatrist—she’s also an empath, meaning she can read minds, and influence thoughts and behavior. She rarely uses her powers, but recognizes she may have no other choice as Caleb must be convinced of his supernatural status before the next full moon arrives. When it does, though, she finds herself going way beyond her duty of care to ensure Caleb doesn’t hurt or kill anyone when he transforms. But at what cost?

Please note: A Werewolf State of Mind was previously published in Coming in Hot: Rescue Me boxed set.


The intercom buzzed. “Anneke?” came the voice of her receptionist, Ellen. “Your one-thirty is here.”

Anneke pressed the button to respond. “Thanks, Ellen. Send him in.”

Will do.”

Anneke took a moment—knowing she had a few as her patient made his way from the reception area, down the short corridor and to her office—to pull up and glance at his notes on her computer. There wasn’t much information, since he was a new patient, but there was a brief description he’d given of the problem, which had spurred him on to book the psychiatric consultation with her in the first place.

Caleb Kitt was a thirty-five-year-old personal trainer who, in his own words, thought he was losing his damn mind. He was experiencing night terrors, having violent and bloodthirsty dreams, and waking up in strange places—certainly not where he’d gone to bed.

A multitude of potential diagnoses popped into Anneke’s head, but she refused to jump to any conclusions. There was no way to know for sure what his problem was, not without speaking to him, hearing his story, finding out more. And if she struggled to get to the root of his issues using traditional methods, there was always her back up plan.

Anneke was an empath. Her unique talents comprised of mind reading, mild mind control, and being able to sense supernatural creatures. However, using those talents was always a last resort. She preferred to do things the right way, the way she had been trained to in her years at medical school. It felt like cheating otherwise, and she couldn’t help feeling it was unethical to tap into people’s brains without their knowledge or consent.

For the vast majority of the time, she didn’t have to use her gifts—just her skill and hard-earned education. But occasionally—very occasionally—when a patient wasn’t being forthcoming, or their problem proved elusive, tricky to diagnose, she would reluctantly tap into her powers. Rather that than have a patient suffer unnecessarily, when she had the tools to help them. This fine balancing act between using her paranormal abilities and her training and education made her an incredibly effective psychiatrist, and she had to be incredibly careful not to come across as too good, too quick at diagnosing patients, otherwise she’d attract attention for all the wrong reasons. She dreaded to think what would happen if people found out what she could do.

There came a knock at the door.

Come in!” she called, minimizing all the programs on her computer screen, activating the screen saver, then getting to her feet.

The door opened, and a tentative looking, but incredibly handsome man entered the room. To her surprise, a millisecond later her gifts kicked in and she realized what his problem was—he was a werewolf. And he clearly didn’t have a clue.

She frequently sensed other supernatural creatures when she was out and about—in the street, the supermarket, the cinema. But this was the first time she’d ever had one walk in to her office, as a patient. This was going to be interesting, to say the least.

About the Author

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight and The Heiress’s Harem series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Join her Facebook group for exclusive cover reveals, sneak peeks and more! Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter here: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Monday, September 17, 2018

That could have been me - #trauma #insight #healing @viviMacKade

His Midnight Sun cover

By Viviana MacKade (Guest Blogger)

Aidan, the hero of my last novel, had a rough childhood–and I’m hugely underplaying this. As a reaction, he closed the world out and hunkered down into himself and his art.

Well, that could easily have been me.

I didn’t have it as bad as he did, not by any measure. My father was a raging alcoholic, one who ended up hanging with the wrong crowd and because of it, I saw things no child of seven should.

But I had my mom, my grandparents, and my little town that never failed to make me feel loved and accepted. It was a cushion that didn’t make me break.

The cracks though, those I carry with me, probably always will.

I hardly ever cried for whatever crap my dear daddy did, anger was my medium. It was easier getting mad, really mad, than sad and hurt. Oversensitive and empathetic, I made myself be the fighter I probably wouldn’t have been otherwise out of necessity. I didn’t like lit, I didn’t want it, but I had to in order to survive emotionally.

I had huge issues with trust, and only because my husband is the very definition of an honorable man I started believing in the male category again. I can trust him, people can trust him, and that means there are good men around.

But it wasn’t until I wrote Aidan’s story that I realized how much of an impact my father had on me throughout the years and most importantly, that letting go of the past might start because of someone (my husband for me, Summer for Aidan), but it can’t be done by someone else. It has to come from within.

Aidan’s epilogue came as such a catharsis.

It was like he was showing me the way. He got rid of his ghosts, so maybe it’s time for me to do the same.

He made me see it was time.

We have a trip to Italy planned for this Christmas, so it will be my chance to say my goodbyes–to bad memories, to people who are no longer here, to what can’t be changed.

Oh, how it will suck. But it’s needed.

This is the real power of books. Sometimes you have to see things from someone else’s perspective to find your way out from a problem, maybe even a problem you didn’t know you had.

I didn’t write Aidan’s story because of me, or my experience. It was his story, his demons. But it made me see mine, and made me want to do something about it.

So, thank you, Aidan and Summer.

Now I know the way.

His Midnight Sun
By Viviana MacKade

Tormented, fierce, and broken, sculptor Aidan Murphy has judged himself guilty. He yearns for love but pushes everyone away. He longs for acceptance but has lost the key to open his heart. Until he meets Summer Williams. Beautiful and smart, Dr. Williams promises haven for a man who believes he deserves none. All he has to do is let her in and risk his heart and soul.

Summer’s managed to keep her inner light alive, even through tragedy. She’s created a new life for herself and her daughter in Crescent Creek with loving, caring and fun friends–well, except brooding, breathtaking Aidan. She’s used to keeping away from his type, though. All she has to do is ignore the pull of a man who’s turning up to be much more than snarls and storms. Will her compassion and medical instincts let her?

Love can heal a broken soul and shake up a timid heart. Or it can unleash devastation and revenge.

Will Aidan and Summer survive the hurricane?

Released September 15
$0.99 FREE with KU

Buy Link

About the Author

Beach bum and country music addicted, Viviana lives in a small Floridian town with her husband and her son, her die-hard fans and personal cheer squad. She spends her days between typing on her beloved keyboard, playing in the pool with her boy, and eating whatever her husband puts on her plate (the guy is that good, and she really loves eating). Besides beaching, she enjoys long walks, horse-riding, hiking, and pretty much whatever she can do outside with her family.

Find me...


Saturday, September 15, 2018

Gay Space Opera! Starship Lovers by @creestorm79 #scifi #gay #mm #erotica

Starship Lovers cover


The day Marty met the Defense Troopers is the day his life had changed forever. Men that could shift into machines…insane, but true. After fixing their device that allowed them to fully shift into bigger and better weapons, Marty was a wanted man…by the enemy. If he could fix the Defense Troopers battle capacitator then the enemy knew he could fix theirs.

Faruke is a Defense Trooper and second in command, it was his job to make people fear him…well that is until he met Marty. The other half to his soul. Now for the first time he was afraid. One of the most evil of his planet was after his mate and Faruke would do anything to keep his mate alive and safe from harm…even if it meant his own death.

Buy Links


The door opened, and Bryton walked into the room carrying a tray. “Hey, Pops thought you might be hungry.”

Marty started to shake his head, but Bryton wasn’t about to hear it, “You will eat it, or I will get my man to hold you down as I puree it and pour it down your throat.”

You know you really have an attitude. I would think with all that sex you’re having, you would be… I don’t know… skipping around singing Zipadeedoodah or something.” Marty said as he sat down and placed the tray on the side table.

Swirling his hips, Bryton countered, “I’m more the Pitbull and DJ Kass doing the Scooby Doo Pa Pa.”

Marty picked up his roast beef sandwich and took a bite. Bryton walked over to Faruke, “You know, he looks so innocent and sweet when he sleeps. Yet, when he opens his mouth he’s like that Alien creature which spits acid.”

God, Bryton, why do you have to be such an ass. The man almost died.” Marty hissed.

And if I recall, it was me who kept it from happening. Somehow I think I’m going to regret it.” Bryton muttered.

Marty snorted as he finished half of the sandwich, took a drink, then said, “This coming from the man who said he needed Faruke to live so he could have someone who could almost match him in sarcasm wars.”

Bryton shrugged, “I’m not the one who promised him dates if he lived.”

Marty felt his stomach knot and feared that half of his roast beef sandwich was going to come back up.

What’s going on with you?” Bryton asked.

Marty looked at Faruke carding his fingers in his dark black hair. The man was so fucking gorgeous. He was so tall and had muscles on top of muscles and those eyes… son of a bitch, Marty could look into those turquoise orbs for days on end and never get tired of it.

You really like him, don’t you, Marty?” Bryton softly asked.

Sighing, Marty replied, “I can be standing clear across the room and just a look from him makes me hard as a rock, Bry. I don’t understand it. He is so not my type. He always seems angry. He snaps orders instead of asks. He thinks he can tell me what to do all the time. He’s just not the kind of guy I would look twice at no matter how sexy he is.”

I don’t think he’s angry as much as frustrated and pissed. Valkin said that he and Marston were best friends. The three of them used to do everything together and the day that Marston showed his true colors, he killed two of Faruke’s guys and damn near killed him too. Then you have to add in the fact that they had to leave the only home they have ever known, leaving behind their friends, family… it just can’t be easy.”

Marty nodded, stood up and turned to Bryton. “I just don’t know. I don’t understand any of this. How did we go from two average guys trying to live in an average world, to trying to save the world with men from outer space who can shift into machines?”

Bryton snickered, “Well it did liven up our lives, that’s for sure.”

Bryton, I’m serious. What do we know about any of this? Did you see the size of those men who attacked this place?” Marty asked in awe.

Marty, our side is just as big and if you remember correctly, we kicked ass too. They didn’t leave here unscathed. You were amazing coming up with those machines to help Valkin and the others fight off Marston and his men.

Faruke suddenly made a sound. Marty quickly turned to see those beautiful eyes looking at him.

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