Show Australia some love - #CharityAnthology #ValentinesDay #Giveaway @WildRosePress

Coming on Valentine’s Day from The Wild Rose Press!

Stories in this collection are contributed by authors who care about Australia and the relief efforts from the devastating bushfires. All profits from the book will be donated to charities involved with the recovery efforts. The publisher and authors are not affiliated with the charities. They simply want to show Australia their love and support.

Each of the three volumes highlights a different set of genres. The anthology series includes some of my favorite authors of romance and women’s fiction.

Volume 1

A collection of Short Stories in Mainstream Fiction,

Women's Fiction, Thrillers, and Mystery

A Solicitous Wife by Madeleine McDonald

No One Knew by Larry Farmer

Pinochle by Brenda Whiteside

The Tuesday Night Meeting by Peggy Jaeger

911, What's Your Emergency? by D. V. Stone

Tall Tales by Laura Strickland

Fare Gain by Alexandra Christle

The Note by Stephen B. King

Three Ghosts by Julie Howard

Detective Paws and Lip Gloss by Maureen L. Bonatch

The Ring by Margaret Ann Spence

Portrait of a Gunfighter by Hywela Lyn

Six Hours or So by Lisa Wilkes

Prussic Acid by Melody DeBlois

Volume 2

A collection of Romance, Young Adult, and Women's Fiction Short Stories

Che Gelida Manina by M. S. Spencer

Recipes for Love by Carol Henry

Waiting for Caleb by Gini Rifkin

Wings of Fire by Jana Richards

A Lark by Gabbi Grey

Apple Crisp by Terry Graham

Goody Twoshoes by Mark Love

The Number by Barbara Bettis

Deadly Homecoming by Peggy Chambers

An Egg-Cellent Witness by Marilyn Barr

Season of Withered Corn by Judy Ann Davis

Beneath the Pines by Debby Grahl

Christopher Reisner by Linda Griffin

Unexpected Love: Chase Allen by Anna Lores

The Cowboy and the Lady by Jean Adams

The Heart Necklace by Amanda Uhl

The Relaxation Response by Darcy Lundeen

Dancing Through Tears by Jeny Heckman

Volume 3

A collection of Paranormal, Horror, and Sci-Fi Fiction Short Stories.

The Pilot's Son by CJ Zahner

The Vengeance by Rhonda Gilmour

A Climb to Kill by ML Erdahl

Born of Fangs by Sydney Winward

Johnny Appleseed by Robert Herold

Rebellion in Slot III by Roni Denholtz

Home, Sweet Mobile Home by Alana Lorens

The Filthy Human by Tori V. Rainn

Baby Daddy by Kerry Blaisdell

The Witch of Calico Island by Cat Dubie

Stained-Glass Vision by Mary Morgan

A Witch's Protocol by Tena Stetler

I Choose Life by Kristal Dawn Harris

Together Forever by N. Christine Samuelson

Where Is Your High School Sweetheart? by Donna Kunkel

Lost and Found by Joanne Guidoccio

Nursery Chimes by D.S. Lucas

Why not buy all three volumes? Every purchase means more help for the responders, and the victims, human and animal.

Volume One Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0848W2HQT

Volume Two Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0849MSLBT

Volume Three Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084H4J37S

Want to do more? Click over to my Charity Sunday post from last month and leave a comment. For every comment I receive between now and the third Sunday of February, I'll donate $2 to the Australian Red Cross.

The publisher is giving away a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Connected in more ways than one - #RomanticSuspense #Giveaway #AustralianBushFires @JMAdeleBooks

Blurb

We were connected in more ways than one—I knew it when we met.

What I didn’t know was how close he would bring me to death.

And that death would be a blessing.

Andrea has always been able to tap into messages from somewhere beyond. When she meets Ben, an unrelenting force draws them together. But it’s going to take some convincing to help Ben realise their potential. Ben never thought his friend’s little sister would be anything more than a nuisance. He was wrong. She’d always been so much more. And now, their bond could be severed and her pulse silenced forever.

*Recommended for readers 18+ due to mature content. *

Excerpt

“You’ve gone quiet. What’s wrong?”

I flicked a glance at his nose, knowing that if I looked him in the eye he might see something I wasn’t ready for him to see. Something I was trying to understand for myself before I admitted it to anyone else. I wouldn’t be admitting it to him, that was for sure.

“Hm? What? No, nothing. I’m just hungry.” I hid my hands under the table. Way to play it cool.

One of Ben’s brows inched up

Tapping a finger on the edge of my seat, I ignored the weight of his stare. The silence was like a wedgie that I couldn’t get rid of.

I cleared my throat and aimed for casual conversation. “So, are you a league convert yet?”

He scoffed. “Never. I was only helping out a friend.”

“If you hate it so much, why’d you do it?”

“I don’t hate it. I’m just loyal to my code.”

“Plenty of players switch.” I picked my brain trying to remember the names Dad had said at the game. “Like, you know, that guy, The King. What’s his name?”

“Wally Lewis?”

“Yeah, him.” I think. He was the only player I could think of.

“Just ’cause The King switched doesn’t mean I have to.”

“Fair enough.”

Ben stood by his convictions. I liked that. My eyes drifted sideways in a bid for some reprieve from his gaze. Two tables away, the boys were slapping each other’s hands, doing some customised shake thing, and laughing like loons.

“They’re good mates.” Ben’s comment brought me right back to those crystal blues.

“They are.” I tilted my head. “Why are you friends with my brother? Seriously?”

His lips quirked. “Stewart’s all right.”

“He’s different with his friends, I guess.”

He hooked an arm behind his seat, twisting his chest towards me. “I know he can be a dick sometimes. He has a weird way of getting attention. He means well.”

The fact that he was defending my brother endeared him to me even more.

“Do you play any sport?” Ben scratched behind his ear like he was uncomfortable talking about Stewart.

I was happy to change the subject. “I dance.”

“You dance?” His brows rose as he leaned back a little. “Like ballet?”

“God, no. I’m not graceful enough for that. Hip-hop is my thang.”

“Your thang?”

“Yeah. Like this.” I jumped out of my seat and gave him a demo—legs popping, arms locking, all while Nelly Furtado and Timbaland sang about promiscuity in my head.

His mouth dropped open and his eyes bugged out.

Am I that bad? I slid back onto my seat, heat infusing my cheeks.

“You’re good.”

Pulling my shoulders back, I puffed out my chest. “Thank you.”

“No, I really mean that.” He blinked, swallowing.

I relaxed against the back of my chair. Sincerity. Another tick on the list of his good characteristics. I was sure there had to be some negatives.

I already liked so many things about him. His commitment. His discipline. His arse. But if I told him, I’d scare him away. He wouldn’t get it. Not for another few years at least. I wasn’t sure how I knew that either. I just did. The thing was, I didn’t understand how or why it was going to take a few years. And that worried me. What was about to go down that I’d have to wait so damn long to have him by my side?

The air grew so thick, my lungs had trouble dragging it in. I shuffled my butt, fighting against the unbearable tug urging my eyes to connect with his. “It was nice of you to help out the opposition, even though they couldn’t find a uniform that fit you.”

He placed his arms on the table, his elbow bumping mine. It was the final yank in the tug-of-war. My gaze snapped to his crystal blue stare.

A hint of a smirk played on his lips. “It’s no biggie.” Deliberately bumping my elbow again, he set his grin free.

He’s laughing at me! My mouth popped open before clamping shut.

The rest of our group approached through the glass, trays in hand. Their arrival would mean the end of our conversation. Last chance to make an impression. “Yeah, you’re right. Their team lost. You were no help at all. I don’t know why Dad whinged that you’re not a league player. Seriously, you sucked. Stick to what you know, Benji.”

Ben’s grin dropped off his face, and his eyebrows jumped high as he barked a laugh.

Like idiots, we grinned at each other, and something more passed between us. That thing that I couldn’t yet define, but saw behind the gaze reflecting back my smiling face. It was so familiar. I’d seen it before. I knew it.

Unbelievably, his face aged ten years in ten seconds. Suddenly he was a man with the beginnings of wrinkles fanning from his eyes. And I was ... huge. I checked myself out. A wedding ring dug into my swollen finger. My stomach was round and full. And moving. We were both naked. Naked!

My gaze snapped back to his, finding his face in transition again. Light reflected off his bright blue irises, splitting into a prism of colour before swirling and blending into a muddy dark brown. A colour that could swallow you whole if you let it.

“Emmeline.” I saw his mouth move, but it wasn’t Ben. I was staring at a young man with scruffy brown hair, sweat and dirt smeared on his neck. “Emmeline,” he pleaded.

Who was Emmeline? Who was he?

About the Author

Author of smart, sexy characters, J.M. Adele loves to flit between the dark and light sides of romance. Somewhere along the way an almost constant procession of imaginary characters settled into her thoughts and she picked up a pen to share their stories.

She lives in Queensland with her three greatest loves, her children. When she’s not writing or being a mum, you might find her hiking up a mountain, singing in the car when nobody is looking, or curled up with a good book.

Author Links

Website - https://www.jmadele.org/

Newsletter - https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/g1p2t7

Reader Group - https://www.facebook.com/groups/JMsGemsters/

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/authorjmadele

Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/j.m.adele/

Twitter - https://twitter.com/JMAdeleBooks

Pinterest - https://www.pinterest.com.au/jmadele/pins/

YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/JMAdele

BookBub - https://www.bookbub.com/profile/j-m-adele

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14553832.J_M_Adele

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/J-M-Adele/e/B0174OOYJC

Buy Links

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/49457085-convincing-you

Universal Link - https://books2read.com/u/b6k6K0

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082WFS6KJ/

J.M. Adele will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Charity Sunday for Oz - #Bushfires #CharitySunday #PNR

Welcome to the first Charity Sunday of 2020.

My post today supports the victims of the horrific fires that have been ravaging Australia. While the world watches in horror, Australia burns. I have many author colleagues from “Oz” and this post is particularly in solidarity with them.

There are so many charities supposedly working to alleviate the suffering of the people and the animals affected by the fires that is it quite difficult to choose. I’ve decided to be conservative and dedicate this post to the disaster relief campaign of the Australian Red Cross. I love animals and I’m tempted to donate to help the unique and severely threatened fauna of Australia, but this month, I’m focusing on the human cost. (Maybe I’ll donate to an animal-related cause next month.)

Image by Monika Schröder from Pixabay

Anyway, I will donate $2 to the Australian Red Cross for each comment I receive on this post.

Meanwhile, I don’t have any books or stories that feature bush fires, but here’s a bit from my MM paranormal romance Necessary Madness involving paranormal visions of catastrophic fire.

Blurb

Nineteen year old Kyle sees visions of disasters, visions that tear his world apart. Everyone assumes that he is schizophrenic, but Rob, the cop who picks him up off the street, knows better. Rob's own experience has taught him that psychic powers are real, and potentially devastating.

Since his telepathic sister's brutal murder, Rob wants nothing to do with "gifted" individuals like Kyle. Yet he can't deny his attraction to the beautiful, tortured young man – an attraction that appears to be mutual. When a brilliant, sadistic practitioner of the black arts lures Kyle into his clutches, Rob faces the possibility that once again he may lose the person he loves most to the forces of darkness.

First came the flames. Then, the screams. Each cry was distinct to Kyle’s ears—the men’s hoarse yells, the women’s shrieks, the inarticulate wails from the infants. He couldn’t see them, not yet. Sooty smoke billowed up, hiding the plummeting bodies, making his eyes sting. Orange tongues of fire pierced the black cloud. The cries grew louder as the heat intensified.

He took a big swig of cheap vodka. The bottle was already half empty. His head spun and he knew he couldn’t stand, but the awful screams still rang in his mind.

Please, he thought. No more. I can’t take any more. Let me pass out soon. He drank again, his gut churning as the raw liquid splashed into his empty stomach.

He tried to focus on the present—the rough stone pressing against his back, the chill wind biting through his ragged jacket, the faint smell of urine that filled the passageway under the highway. Useless. The sensations of the real world seemed thin and frail, powerless to overcome the horrible scenes in his head.

Every time, it got worse. It took more alcohol to remove him to that state of blissful oblivion. I’m adapting, just like any drunk. Before long, I’ll need a whole bottle to drown out the visions. Eventually, it will kill me. The thought was a relief.

The spells came more frequently these days, and not just during his waking hours. Nightmares stalked him, full of bloody flesh and torn limbs, searing fire or icy floods. He’d claw his way back to consciousness, howling like an animal, trying to escape. He’d been kicked out of every shelter in the city. He upset the other residents too much.

He could always go back to the hospital. Thorazine didn’t completely smother the visions, but it deadened the emotional impact. He could sit for hours, watching disasters play themselves out on the screen of his mind, and not care.

It worked for a while, but then he always ended up signing himself out again. As painful as consciousness was, it was better than the half-life of being drugged. At least, that was what he told himself, on the good days when his curse was in remission. The staff looked relieved when he left. Even the professionals had trouble dealing with his ‘hallucinations’.

“Hey, gimme a drink, will ya?” A voice cut through the screams echoing in his head. The grizzled man lying next to him on the sidewalk smelt like long-unwashed socks. “Come on, please? Us bums got to stick together.”

Kyle handed him the bottle. His hand shook. “Sure, help yourself.”

The old timer took a deep swallow, then grinned at him. “Thanks, kid.”

The flames flared up, hiding the man’s pock-marked face and gap-toothed smile. A woman’s cry rang out, full of terror. “No, please, no more…” Kyle muttered, closing his eyes. The hungry fire continued to dance behind his eyelids, mocking his attempt at escape. He groped for the bottle.

Brilliant white light flooded his vision, momentarily chasing the inner fire away. “Okay, boys, time to get up.” The masculine voice held a natural authority—strength without cruelty. “Off to the shelter with you. You know you can’t stay here, getting drunk and blocking pedestrians.” A firm hand grabbed his arm and tried to haul him to a standing position. “Come on. We’ve got a wagon right here. Wouldn’t you rather be in a nice warm bed than a stinking underpass?”

Kyle opened his eyes, blinking in the glare of the cop’s flashlight. “I…no, please…I can’t…” A scream of agony assaulted his inner ears. He doubled over, answering the pain tearing through his stomach. Only the cop’s grip kept him from collapsing onto the damp cement. Another pang knifed through his abdomen. The fire roared inside him.

“Are you sick?” Barely conscious, Kyle had a confused impression of the other man’s face—square jaw, sandy hair, warm blue eyes.

“My stomach… The fire…”

“What fire?”

Kyle couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. The policeman searched his face, trying to understand.

“They’re dying,” he moaned. Maybe he was dying himself. He retched and tasted blood. He was sinking into a rosy, fire-lit haze.

“Who? Who’s dying?” The policeman gripped his shoulders, shaking him, trying to bring him back. “What’s going on, boy?”

The address appeared out of nowhere, written in chalk on a wall of black stone. “Gardner Street,” Kyle whispered, slipping away. “29 Gardner Street.”

The last thing he saw was the cop’s handsome face, the mingled suspicion and concern. The last thing he felt was the man’s heartbeat as he clutched Kyle’s body to his chest.

Don’t forget to leave a comment. Every one means a donation to the Australian Red Cross. And I hope you’ll visit the other blogs participating in today’s hop.

Thank you!