I Have Moved...

Good morning all!

Not only am I busy traversing the highways and bi-ways on my new grand adventure toward Portland Oregon...I've also purchased my own domain and have moved cyberly. I'll hope you'll find and join me here:

http://www.lilamunro.com

The set up there is much the same as it is here...I'm blogging, you'll find all my purchase links and all the descriptions for my books and there is a news and events page.

Come on over as I spread my wings and be a part of my amazing grand new adventure this year...

Happy reading and thanks for following me!
Lila

Welcome Zenobia Renquist!

She’s entered a world where blood, sex, and cash rules everything around her. 

What do a four hundred-year-old vampire and a mid-level necromancer have in common? Money. Jeliyah needs it to pay off the people who trained her and Teaghan enjoys killing to get it. Together they hunt rogue vampires—assuming Teaghan can focus on something other than getting her in bed and Jeliyah doesn’t put a bullet in him first.

The uneasy partnership promises to be lucrative until Teaghan and Jeliyah get on the wrong side of a feud. Jeliyah is forced to use forbidden magic and finds herself bound to a man she should hate—but whom she can’t stop fantasizing about.

 

Every second they stay alive fuels a growing desire Jeliyah is unwilling to deny. Is it the magic? The danger? The only way to get the answers she craves is to outrun the enemy or kill them. She knows Teaghan’s preference but it’s Jeliyah who must put their mind-blowing sex aside and make the choice that will decide both their fates.

Excerpt

Teaghan knew it. A coup was about to happen. He didn’t know the players and didn’t care. So long as the bills got paid, the person in power didn’t matter. From one leader to the next, nothing ever changed.

He said, “Fine. You want me. I get that. Leave the necromancer out of it. No one would miss me but take her out and you’ll have the higher-ups gunning for you and your boss.”

“You’re right, the higher-ups would be quite upset if we killed the necromancer, and that wasn’t my intention. The others wanted to have some fun with her before handing her over but that was all.”

Jeliyah gripped the door handle and her eyes widened.

Teaghan said, “The higher-ups won’t overlook you molesting one of their own.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. They’ve given us permission to do with her as we please so long we return her to them intact.”

Jeliyah yelled, “They would never do that.”

Fredrick chuckled. “Well, hello, Jeliyah. Ephraim tells me you smell of vampire seed and blood. Recent seed. Old blood. I had thought you would hold out against Teaghan much longer given your initial reaction to him. Either I overestimated you or underestimated him.” He made the vocal equivalent of a shrug. “Doesn’t matter since I felt the need to pass on the news of your little indiscretion to Hirsch, who then relayed it to the higher-ups. They are very displeased that a high-middle class such as yourself would give a vampire permission to invade her body. That displeasure graduated to anger when I informed them of the blood sharing as well.”

Oh please, no. No. No.

Teaghan grabbed Jeliyah’s hand in a firm grip to anchor her to the here and now. She clutched at him and stared at his profile. Tears rimmed her eyes. He knew she was holding it together by a thin thread of will. Images of the bleeding chamber raced through her mind. She was imagining herself in the place of the person she’d seen when she was young.

He told her through their link, I’ve got you, Jeliyah. Nothing’s going to happen.

Fredrick said, “Stop the car and give up. Make this easier for all of us.”

“Denied.” Teaghan released Jeliyah’s hand so he could snatch the phone off the dash and hit the end button.

Jeliyah asked, “What do we do? They want you dead and me—” Her words choked to a halt and she pulled in a shuddering breath. A single tear slipped down her cheek.

He retrieved her hand and squeezed it. “Easy there, necromancer. Don’t fall apart on me now.”

“Why? All you did was kill a rogue.”

“That’s why. It’s a changing of the guard. It happens every few centuries. Family infighting. They involve people from neighboring families who have been promised some little tidbit or other to help the wannabe head take power. It’s a story as old as the vampires. Seems you and I got in the way.”

Teaghan changed his destination. The enforcers probably knew which hotel they’d used by now and might be lying in wait. He steered the car back on the highway. If one family wanted him dead then his only protection was to seek refuge in another family’s territory.

While a risky proposition without petitioning for entrance first, the destination Teaghan had in mind came with a sponsor. He released Jeliyah’s hand once more to bring up a number he hadn’t called in years. He hoped it still worked. 

Buy Links:

Ellora’s Cave - http://www.ellorascave.com/cream.html

Kindle - http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00B3UYBJC/

Nook - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cream-zenobia-renquist/1114503151?ean=9781419944659 

Kobo - http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/CREAM/book-B0GDBxjujEKbzoyNiqjG7g/page1.html

Zenobia Renquist lives in her imagination. When not traveling through her fantasy worlds, she can be found in Hawaii living with her husband and two cats. 

She is an Air Force brat turned Air Force wife, which means she’s accustomed to travel and does it whenever possible (so long as she doesn’t have to fly). Her favorite pastime is torturing her characters on their way to happily-ever-after for the enjoyment of her readers.

On the few occasions her muse flees the scene of the crime, Zenobia likes to read (comics, manga, and romance), go to the movies, play a few levels of whichever puzzle game has hijacked her interest or experiment with a new chain maille weave. 

website - http://zenobiarenquist.com
blog - http://blog.dreneebagby.com
FB - https://www.facebook.com/Author.DRBagby.ZRenquist
Twitter - http://www.twitter.com/zenobiarenquist

Ellora’s Cave: http://www.ellorascave.com/cream.html

 

Zenobia will be awarding a $25 Starbucks GC to both a randomly drawn commenter during the tour, and a randomly drawn host.  

Sunday Selections Welcomes Joanne C Berroa!

Welcome Joanne and thanks for coming by today to share a bit of your historical romance On Angels' Wings with us. On Angels' Wings is available now at Amazon and ARe...Enjoy!

December 1940 found the world on the brink of a conflict greater than it could ever fathom but for Anne Miller, the days before Pearl Harbor find her world full of excitement and promise. She’s left the comfort of family and friends back in Washington, DC to venture out into the foreign and beautiful Hawaiian landscape to make a new life for herself and her fiancé, Corporal Daniel Beiler.

Little did Anne know her perfect world was just an illusion. She didn’t expect to fall in love with a Navy flier she’d meet at the USO dancehall on the eve of “the day that will live in infamy.” Her love for Daniel is threatened while she fights new and strange emotions for the brave and reckless Lieutenant Johnny Morgan. How can she love both men and remain true to either? Will the outbreak of WWII tear their lives apart or pull them together on the rain-drenched islands of the South Pacific? On Angels’ Wings is a story of desperation, hope, and fulfillment during the tumultuous years of World War II.

 

Chapter One

December 1941

Pineapples smelled delightfully sweet in the heat of the day as the Ford station wagon lumbered through the hilly roads of Oahu. It was a special time for Anne Miller, one of discovery and perhaps a shade of apprehension. It was the beginning of her one year tour of Hawaii, if all went well. Anne had recently been hired as the lead singer for the USO troupe in the lush tropical islands. It meant leaving her family, but it was a concession she’d made to be near her fiancé, Daniel Beiler. He’d enlisted in the Army a couple of years ago and was part of the 25^th Division at Schofield Barracks near Pearl Harbor.

            She and Daniel followed world events and wanted to do their share, even if it meant putting off their marriage for a couple of years or more even though they’d already been engaged three years with no date set. Anne met Daniel in grade school, dated him through high school, and they were engaged her senior year at George Washington University. Neither was in a hurry to tie the knot, for each had an agenda, things needing to been done and places to go before they’d settle down and raise a family.

            Anne’s agenda included the USO. Her voice was brilliant, having perfected it through years of voice lessons. Anne could’ve had dance lessons or piano lessons, but she chose voice because her favorite hobby was singing the songs she heard on the Philco radio in their parlor, learning all the latest from Frank Sinatra and his cronies. She could’ve been a big star with recording contracts, but instead chose to devote her energies to the USO.

             Her father was a retired Colonel and she’d grown up knowing little else but Army life. Fortunately, Joseph Miller spent most of his service time in D.C., so Anne had stability. They weren’t wealthy, but what Joseph earned served to keep them well enough.

            “We’re almost there,” the driver said.  

            “I’m to meet a Mrs. Scott,” Anne said.

            He nodded. “She’s a great person once you get to know her,” he said. “She comes across a bit harsh at first, but she’s all whipped cream underneath.”

            Anne cringed.  Hoping the formidable woman wouldn’t eat her alive, a little wave of trepidation raced down her spine, but she shook it off.  She’d sung at local clubs in Washington for two years, but it was different, for it was only minutes away from her house. This was far away, in a land of beauty and enchantment in the Pacific Ocean.

            “I’m ready,” she said breathlessly.          

            The driver turned onto a tree-lined street and pulled alongside the curb in front of a large white building. He turned to look back at her and said, “This is it, ma’am. Used to be a church until the USO took it over. It’s now home away from home for our soldiers and sailors who’re on leave. Wait till you see the insides,” he said.

            She let him help her out of the Ford and followed him with her suitcase up the stairs of the wooden building. The outside of the building was neat and clean and it was apparent it was undergoing a sprucing as scaffolding was still in place with paint cans resting on it.

            After the driver deposited the rest of her luggage inside, he bid her farewell. “You’ll do okay.”

            Anne smiled and walked to the receptionist at a small desk in the corner of the vestibule. “Hello,” she said to the girl who was busy filing red fingernails. “I’m Anne Miller and I’m to meet Mrs. Scott.”

            “Are you the new singer?” the dark haired girl asked. Her name tag read Kathy.

            “Yes.”

            “Well here’s Mrs. Scott,” Kathy said, just as a tall, gray haired woman appeared in the doorway.

            “Welcome, Miss Miller. I trust you had a good flight?” the woman said, her cold eyes taking in every inch of Anne.

“Yes, thank you,” Anne responded. She stood tall, but her stance contradicted what she felt. There were butterflies in her stomach.

“I’m happy to see you’re pretty. It doesn’t hurt to have an attractive lead singer, you know, since our audience is primarily the male gender. I hope your stay here will be advantageous for all of us. You’ve had a long flight, so I’ll show you to your room and tonight after dinner, we’ll have a practice session where you can meet the other girls with whom you will be singing.”

            Mrs. Scott seemed nice enough, Anne surmised. “I’m looking forward to that,” she said. She followed the woman through a maze of oak paneled hallways to a room at the far end.            “This is your room,” Mrs. Scott said, opening the door.

            It was a large room with double windows overlooking a shrub laden walkway which housed a shellacked wooden bench. Muted colors of lavender and blue highlighted the room, with a large four poster bed in the middle. There were chests of drawers and a large closet . Only last week she purchased a wardrobe suitable for a warm climate, even though it was almost winter. She found pastel, short-sleeved, cotton blouses on sale at Lord and Taylor and paired them with crisp linen skirts.

            On a small table next to the bed stood a vase full of freshly cut blossoms in shades to match the décor of the room. “The room is lovely,” she told Mrs. Scott who merely nodded and left Anne alone in her new surroundings.

            Anne padded across the room to the adjoining bathroom where she washed her hands and face. The water felt cool on her smooth cheeks and she was instantly refreshed. Tomorrow she’d write to her parents telling them all about her trip and Mrs. Scott.

            After unpacking her clothing, she threw off her black, patent leather pumps and sprawled across the huge bed. So far what she’d seen of Hawaii was beautiful. Mrs. Scott didn’t seem as harsh as the driver said, but she’d exchanged only a few brief words with the woman.

            After a hot meal of red beans and rice with sausage, Anne was taken to the largest room in the building where soldiers came to relax and enjoy free coffee and donuts, meet people, listen to songs, and dance. There was a smaller room off to the side where they could write letters home. It also held a sewing machine for sewing on buttons and repairing uniforms, board games such as chess, checkers, and backgammon, and a small library. They could also avail themselves of religious counsel and see movies.

A wooden stage adorned the center of the giant hall and she made her way to it with Mrs. Scott in the lead. Three girls about her own age sat upon folding chairs on stage and they smiled when they saw Anne. Mrs. Scott made the introductions. The shortest girl with eyes like saucers was named Nancy, there was a redhead named Ethel, and a girl who looked a little like Anne, with blond hair and blue eyes. Her name was Grace.

            “Do you sing all the latest songs?” Nancy asked Anne.

            Anne nodded. “I sang for a couple of years back home,” she said.

            In walked four lanky, young men, each carrying a musical instrument. There was a violin, an acoustic guitar, a trumpet, and a saxophone. Another man joined them and sat down at a shiny, black, grand piano to the right of the stage, cracking his knuckles before striking a few keys.

            “Burt, Todd, Henry, Mark and Bruce,” Mrs. Scott said by way of introduction. “Todd has been with the group the longest, since the USO’s inception this past year.”

            “Fellas, this is Anne Miller, our new singer,” Mrs. Scott said. “If she can sing as well as she claims, she’ll be an asset to our team. If not, we’ll have to bid her farewell.”

            Anne’s smile was sheepish. She hoped when she began to sing, she wouldn’t disappoint Mrs. Scott or the others.

            The band struck up a few introductory chords and began to play Stormy Weather. Anne knew it well, but her heartbeat increased a bit before she began to sing. After a few notes, the other girls joined in with their harmony. Soon she began to lose tension and even started to enjoy herself. She never felt as relaxed as when she was singing, usually in the shower or somewhere where no one could hear her. When she was on stage, she was only a little less relaxed, intent on doing her best and giving a good performance.

            When the song ended and the music stopped, Mrs. Scott stared at Anne and cleared her throat. “You sing very well. I suppose you can stay, but you’ll need to sing louder if you want to be heard above the usual chatter.”

            After an hour long rehearsal, Grace walked Anne back to her room, filling her in on the routine and offering to be of assistance if Anne should have any questions.

            “We get a good crowd of boys,” Grace said. “We’ve got sailors from over at Ford Island in Pearl Harbor, as well as boys from Hickam, Bellows, and Wheeler Fields. They’re a friendly bunch and you’ll like them all. Some are so young,” she said, frowning. “You wonder why they’re even here. They look as though they should be back in high school.”

            Anne nodded. She’d known servicemen in Washington who looked younger than they were, but acted years wiser. Military life made men out of boys.

            Grace went back to her room . Anne was unpacking when a knock on her door startled her. “Miss Miller? Are you in there?” It was Mrs. Scott’s voice and Anne stopped her unpacking, smoothed her hair and dress, and opened the door.

            Mrs. Scott looked worried. “Sorry to bother you this late,” she said. “But I noticed from your resume you have a bachelor’s degree in psychology. We could use your help. There’s a young private here tonight who has a problem and he won’t talk to anyone about it. He just sits and stares and Kathy noticed tears in his eyes. I offered to help if he wanted to talk, but he refused. I told him he could see a minister, but he refused that as well. Finally I said there was a new girl here, a singer, who might be able to help. Perhaps I shouldn’t have volunteered your services, but he was so down and out. He agreed to see you. Would you mind just talking to him a little?”

            Anne wasn’t sure she could help the fellow. “I don’t know what I can do,” she said, honestly.

            “Just listen to him. I think he needs to vent.”

            Anne nodded. “I can do that.” She wondered how she looked and unconsciously her hand went up to her hair.

            “You look fine, Miss Miller. Come with me.”

            Anne followed her to the grand hall where a blonde haired young man in khakis sat alone at a table, his face buried in his hands.

            “That’s him,” Mrs. Scott said. “His name is Archie Brooks. I’ll leave you alone and thanks.” Mrs. Scott went to her office, leaving Anne standing at the table.

            “Hello,” Anne said. “Mind if I join you?” There was an extra chair at the table and she sat down on it.

            He looked up and Anne could see pain in his eyes. He nodded slowly.

             “I’m Anne Miller, the new singer,” she said.

            “Archie Brooks, ma’am. Sorry to be a bother.”

            “You’re no bother. Mrs. Scott said you needed someone to talk to. People say I’m a good listener.”

            He frowned. “I don’t know if I can talk about it. I’ve been trying to sort it out myself, but I can’t. It’s just so awful.”

            Anne placed her hand on top of his. He made no move to pull away and his eyes were liquid pools. “Maybe you could start at the beginning,” she said.

            He sighed. “I have this girlfriend back home. Her name’s Debbie. She’s sixteen. We’ve been dating on and off for a year.” He stopped, took a deep sigh then continued. “She wrote me a letter I got today. She’s...” He looked down, avoiding Anne’s eyes.

            “Pregnant?” Anne said, hoping what she feared wasn’t so.

            He nodded slowly. “Eight weeks.”

            “Does her family know?”

            “She hasn’t told anyone. You see, Miss Miller, we want to get married, but her parents don’t like me because I enlisted in the Army and they think that’s just a way to avoid getting a real job. They might disown her if they knew she was pregnant with my kid.”

            Anne said, “What does Debbie want to do?”

            “She wants our baby.”

            “And what do you want?”

            “I want us to be a family. I want to marry her, but she’s underage and we need her parents’ approval.”

            “I see how this would upset you, Archie,” she said. “I’d like to help.  I think perhaps if I wrote them, explaining the situation, telling them you and Debbie wish to marry, they’d agree in light of the pregnancy. Sometimes a note from someone not involved in the situation can help put it in proper perspective. I’ll explain to them you and Debbie are in love and you’re willing to support her with your government pay.”

            He looked at her, his eyes narrow slits. “You think it’d help?”

            “Parents are special people, Archie. They come across strong and opinionated, but deep down they only want what’s best for their children. When they learn that Debbie is expecting your child and you both want to have the baby and get married, they’ll consider what’s best for all. I’m almost positive they’ll agree to the marriage.”

            “You’ll write them and put in a good word for me?” he said hopefully.

            “I’m going to get some stationery and we’ll do it together.”

            “Gee, thanks,” he said. A look of hope lit his brown eyes.

            Anne went to the adjacent room for paper and a pen then sat down with Archie to write the letter. She wasn’t sure what Debbie’s parents would do, but she knew it was a shot in the right direction. Anne’s position with the USO would help because the organization in its short life had become well known and widely respected.

            It took only a short time to put everything down on paper. By the time Anne signed it and sealed the envelope, Archie was smiling.

            “Please let me know how you make out,” she said.

            “Okay, I will. Thank you, Miss Miller. I don’t feel so bad now.”

            As she made her way back to her room, Anne thought how odd her day had been. The flight, meeting Mrs. Scott, the audition and now Archie. She sighed. It was a full day and she was tired. What would tomorrow bring?

            She took a long, soothing bath and donned pretty pink pajamas. In bed, she thought of  Daniel and the first time he’d kissed her. It’d been her sixteenth birthday and they’d walked hand in hand through the park. He’d pulled her against the trunk of a large oak tree and completely surprised her by placing his mouth over hers, shutting off what she’d been about to say. The feel of his warm lips on hers both fascinated her and brought new emotions, alien, yet nice. He’d deepened the kiss and it felt good. He’d kissed her again and again. From that day on she dated no one else and accepted his offer to go steady.

            Her thoughts were filled with fond memories and also anxiety, fearing for his safety. Adolf Hitler was a force to be reckoned with in Europe and it seemed he was overtaking every country, imposing his will by destroying their governments. There was word Hitler forced five thousand Parisian Jews into labor camps and incarcerated Polish Jews behind a walled ghetto. Soon America would have to intervene, she was sure, because this man had to be stopped before the world was swept up in anarchy. Even though President Roosevelt said the U.S. wouldn’t get involved in foreign wars, it would, no doubt, become inevitable. That meant Daniel’s unit would be deployed and see combat and his life would be on the line every day.

            She said a quick mental prayer for world peace and Daniel’s safety.

 

I'm Moving!

For some of you the title might be misleading or you think it's old news, as it is true I am moving in a few short weeks to Portland, Oregon. However, my website is also moving! I recently purchased my own domain and am getting settled in at:

http://www.lilamunro.com

Please come on by and bookmark my new link so you can still keep up with me once I pack the last tab up from here and sweep the place out. :)

In other news concerning the move, Rebel Ink Press is hosting an Earth Day blog hop all week long and my contribution to that can be found at the new place here:

http://www.lilamunro.com/2/post/2013/04/welcome-to-realmantic-moments.html

Up for grabs is a Kindle Paperwhite, a swag bag, and various other goodies at the individual author stops. At my stop a $10.00 gift card is up for grabs, so come on by the new place! Have a look around and enter to win!

Thanks readers, fans and passersby!

Lila

Welcome Cheryl Douglas!

 

First Love

I’m a sucker for first love stories. I love to read them, write them, and daydream about writing them. Let me preface this by saying I didn’t marry my first love, and believe me when I tell you I made the right choice marrying my hubby, but I still think about my first love from time to time. I may hear a song on the radio that reminds me of him and I wonder where he is, what he’s doing, if he’s happy. He was a great guy, but we were too young to even think about forever. He went away to university and I stayed at home for school. While he and I remained good friends, talking on the phone every week, I met my husband shortly thereafter and the rest as the say is history.

I heard a song on the radio the other day that really made me think about the power of first love. I love country music, which anyone who’s read Nashville Nights will tell you. This song was called Springsteen, and it talked about that snapshot in time where the singer fell in love. They went to a Springsteen concert, listened to his music all the time when they were together, and even though the relationship was brief, he can’t hear the Boss without thinking about that girl. I love that!

In my opinion, music captures a mood and emotion in the same way a good book does, but in songs they only have a few minutes to make that deep connection with their listener. With a book, we have several hours to connect with our readers. For those of you who listen to country music, you know that many of the songs tell the story of a first love, or the guy or girl who got away, and it made me think about that premise in romance novels as well.

What is it about the prospect of re-connecting with our first love? Are we trying to make up for past mistakes, recapture our lost youth, live out our fantasies, or escape our reality? Honestly, I have no idea, but I do know that I’ll probably continue to read and write stories about first love forever, because whatever it is that appeals to us as readers, it draws us in and won’t let go. So here’s to taking a moment to honor our first love. Whether it ended well or badly or we went on to marry our first love, it’s definitely an experience we’ll never forget.

High Stakes

by Cheryl Douglas

 

Former party girl, Alisa Turner, made a deal with her daddy, Trey. He’ll provide the seed money for her new business venture as long as she promises to stay out of trouble. Too bad her good intentions tumble 30,000 feet when she meets a sexy stranger on a flight to sin city.

Hotel mogul, Liam Bryson, has never believed in love at first sight, but when a sexy little siren twenty years his junior tempts him into a night of high stakes Blackjack, he’s suddenly playing for keeps.

Alisa wakes up in Liam’s bed the next morning, cursing Tequila and the five carat diamond on her left hand. She demands an annulment before her over-protective father finds out she reneged on their agreement, but her new hubby isn’t prepared to let her go without a fight.

 

Excerpt:

 

Liam Bryson cursed his big mouth. Speaking his mind was part of who he was, and he knew people judged him because of it. They’d called him opinionated, arrogant, insufferable, stubborn—the list went on, but those qualities helped him build one of the most exclusive boutique hotel chains in the world, so he refused to apologize for the attributes that made him successful.  

But when he realized his unwarranted opinion had offended Alisa, he immediately wished he could retract his words. He’d lumped her in with all of the other women he’d dated, and it was obvious to him in the few moments they spent together that she was nothing like them. She was special. He didn’t know how he knew, and he didn’t question it. He trusted his instincts, and he knew he had to find a way to get back into her good graces, because even if he never saw her again after their plane touched down, he didn’t want her to think poorly of him. 

 

He hadn’t considered another person’s opinion of him in years, and he’d never, ever gone out of his way to impress a lady. He’d never had to, not when the prospect of accessing his bank account seemed to be the only enticement they needed.  

He stood up to let Alisa slide into her window seat and impulse prompted him to settle his hands on her waist and pull her flush against his chest as he whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry.” 

Cheryl began her professional career as a nutritionist, but her love of books started at an early age. She studied writing for many years before she decided to pursue her passion as a full-time career. After receiving constructive criticism from several well-known authors, Cheryl finally had the confidence to write her first romance novel.  

The first book in the Nashville Nights series, Shameless, was a book that had been dwelling in Cheryl’s subconscious for years. For her, the surprise came when the manuscript began taking on a life of its own. Characters came to life, secondary characters became more prominent, outlines were forgotten, and a single title evolved into an eight book series, and another eight book spin-off series entitled Nashville Nights, Next Generation.  

One word would aptly describe Cheryl: workaholic. She lives and breathes her writing, when she’s sleeping, watching TV, driving, reading… it’s always in the periphery of her mind. Her imagination rarely takes a holiday, even when she escapes to a sandy beach with her husband and son, she’s planning, plotting, outlining, and daydreaming.  

Cheryl feels blessed to be able to get up every day and do something she loves. The thousands of fans who have embraced the Nashville Nights have made that possible. She writes for the readers who ask for more, she writes to satisfy the muse residing inside of her, but most of all, she writes because she couldn’t imagine doing anything else with her life. It took her thirty-seven years to decide what she wanted to be when she grew up, but now that she knows, she’s convinced she’s found her purpose. 

AMAZON:

http://www.amazon.com/Stakes-Nashville-Nights-Generation-ebook/dp/B009O8N8CG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1358601209&sr=8-1&keywords=high+stakes+cheryl+douglas 

BARNES & NOBLE:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/high-stakes-cheryl-douglas/1113744569?ean=2940045037969&itm=1&usri=high+stakes+by+cheryl+brooks

Website:

http://www.cheryldouglasbooks.com 

Facebook:

http://www.cheryldouglasbooks.com

Cheryl will be awarding a $20 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn host. She'll be awarding the following prizes to randomly drawn commenters during the tour:

* two $20 Amazon Gift Cards

* ten trading card/cover flat packs (US/Canada)

* ten eBooks from the Nashville Nights series (winner's choice)

* two sterling silver necklaces (US/Canada)

The tour dates can be found here:

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2013/01/virtual-book-tour-high-stakes-by-cheryl.html

Sunday Selections Welcomes Michel Prince!

Today we get a glimpse into Michel Prince's Chrysalis series with a first chapter peek at book one. You can find Chrysalis at Amazon and ARe...Enjoy!

In the annals of dysfunctional families, the Chisholm’s are working their way to the top. Drug abuse, an unwed mother with multiple fathers, and the questionable cash flow for the 'pretty one'. All this from a seemingly normal, two parent middle class family. But were the choices truly made of their free will?

Bad choices are a Chisholm family trait, one that confounds the youngest child, Ellie, who's trying to separate herself by making smart decisions. And falling for Oscar Jeffreys, the hottest guy at school, would be number one on the list of Chisholm family disasters. Yet the crazy part is it’s not a one sided attraction. Somehow Ellie has caught Oscar Jeffreys’ eye. Sure she could see the barriers between them. Race, age, popularity. They were at opposite ends of the spectrum. But a demon set to destroy her family? She can't see that.

Oscar provides security and acceptance Ellie never imagined she deserved. As the passion of first love grows, Ellie honestly believes she has a chance to beat the odds and live a happy, normal life. Then her world collapses around her. With the help of a guardian angel, Ellie learns of a world that has unknowingly surrounded her for years. And she'll have to find strength buried deep inside to save not only her future, but flush out and stop the demon in her midst.

And Ellie will have to learn that sometimes the hardest lesson about growing up is accepting that you're worth more.

 

Chapter One

The chocolate colored skin on his clean-shaven head glistened with sweat from football practice. Was it smooth to the touch, I wondered, or would little prickles of hair scratch my palm? I became entranced by a drop of sweat sliding down his neck, under his collar, and I could only think what I wouldn’t do to follow that trail to its end.

His sleeveless t-shirt stuck to him, defining his chest and his biceps were exposed, showing he had the perfect horseshoe that comes from hours of lifting. No way could I get my hands around his arm and have my fingers touch, but part of me just wanted to try.

He was joking with a few other players as they crossed the gym to go down to the locker room. As he reached to push open the door, his t-shirt road up, revealing his abs and upper hip. The tie of his football pants was already loosened. I stopped breathing. I had seen him walk through the gym before, but something about seeing part of his body that had always been covered sent my private fantasies into overdrive.

My head flew to the side as a thousand pinpricks exploded like fireworks across my left cheek. The unexpected assault came from a volleyball sent special delivery by one of the senior players.

The white-leather facial was followed by a snotty “knock it off.” I couldn’t tell if it was her voice or my mild concussion distorting her voice into a screeching noise.

“What did I do?” I asked in vain.

It wouldn’t have mattered. Waking up this morning in her neighborhood and having the audacity to come to her school was enough.

“Don’t even think about it, Soft-Meat,” Sharyn Johnson growled as she crossed over to me, her eyes burning into mine. “He ain’t no damn coconut!”

I turned away, not wanting the confrontation and realized maybe I wasn’t as good as I thought at sneaking looks at him. I looked back at the faux oak double swinging doors that led to the boy’s locker room, but he was out of sight. The rest of the team was passing through the door now.

“A cocoawhat?”

Having lost what had become my vision of perfection, I wanted an explanation from Sharyn.

“A coconut. Black on the outside, white on the inside and water on the brain. He don’t mix. The last thing he’s thinking about is some pasty ass white girl with an itch to piss off her daddy.”

She picked up the ball that bounced off my head as I stared at her in amazement. It’s not that I’d never gotten the vibe from her that she hated me for reasons other than my setting skills, but for her to put it out there like this was…Well…Unparalleled.

Oscar Jeffreys was a senior. Correction, Oscar was the senior. Captain of every team, class president. I heard he completed an Eagle project, though at the time, I had no idea what that meant. He was the guy every girl wanted and only one girl ever had. Mya Thompson, last year’s queen of everything. She went away to college a few weeks ago. Rumor has it theirs was a mutual break up. They were “taking a break.” As a result all the girls on the team were dying to take her place. It was the only thing my volleyball team talked about in the locker room.

“Leave her alone, Sharyn!”

Kelly March came to my rescue, again. Kelly was a junior and had been in my older brother’s class in elementary school. Caleb was the fourth child in our family, but everyone called us Irish twins. I used to think we were twins because we did so much together, but I was ten months younger. He died right before my tenth birthday.

At five-foot-nine, Kelly wasn’t the biggest girl on the team, but she carried herself as if she was. She never picked a fight, but she ended many.

“Up your game instead of tryin’ to tear down someone else’s,” she bit at Sharyn.

Sharyn stalked off, slamming her ball into a wall with all her might.

“Ellie, I know it’s hard not to look at him,” Kelly said, always the queen of the obvious. “But, really, you’re a sophomore so keep him for your fantasies. I’ve never seen a senior/sophomore relationship that didn’t end in heartbreak or pregnancy. It’s usually both.”

There it was! I was not getting pregnant. My family was the unmitigated study in failure. Being the youngest of five very different children, you’d think people wouldn’t know what to expect from me. Instead, they saw me as another one of the Chisholm children, destined to make the same mistakes as my siblings. I was never given any credit that I might have learned

from their mistakes instead of being doomed to repeat them. I was just another problem someone would eventually have to deal with.

This is why I lived in the world of movies. My real life never made sense to me. The families and friends in movies had what I considered normal reactions to situations. Audrey Hepburn was my favorite actress, but I was currently on a Doris Day kick. If you want an idealistic reality, watch a Doris Day movie. She had enough spunk to not be a pushover, something I always looked for in the heroine.

I avoided attachments that could pull me down. Oh, I had a few friends, but outside of volleyball, I wasn’t about to get too involved. Involvement meant attachment and attachment meant someone would have to get to know me, and worse yet my family. I had this grand idea, if I went away to college, I’d say I was an orphan. No brothers or sisters. No family to speak of. Alone. Hey, it works in the movies, right?

So that’s me. Head down, push through and hope to survive. And of course keep Oscar Jeffreys for my fantasies. Plus, Sharyn was probably right about one thing. What would Oscar want with a pasty white girl?

Mixing did happen in our school, but not with someone like Oscar.

Our game would start soon. It was the first of the season. Looking around the gym I needed a landmark to regain my focus so I zeroed in on the twelve banners of the other schools in our conference. Our banner was the largest, white with blue print and silver trim. The fierce head of a cougar growled in warning in the center.

The same cougar growled in the center of our pine court. The white lines for the volleyball court defined the boundaries, as well as the ten-foot lines. Blue lines cut through our court for the three-point line of the basketball court.

“All right, Cougars, shag the balls and get over here.”

Coach Marks’ high voice stood out. She had been coaching for five years. Her blond hair was cut short. In a suit, she always seemed to look so uncomfortable. The tight, black pinstripe pants looked short and the sleeves of her jacket were too long.

Not that I was a fashonista. Far from it. I was probably the only one in the school who would prefer a uniform to having to figure out what to wear. Jeans and a t-shirt until it got

colder. Then I added a hoodie. Kelly tried to get me to dress up more, but for me that usually just meant adding a sweater.

We snatched all the balls and put them in our basket and threw it in the corner. Finding a spot on the bench, we waited to hear who Coach had in our lineup.

The bleachers rose at least thirty rows behind us, all the way to the windows at the top of the gym. If this had been the boys basketball opener, the stands would have been packed. Oh well, the less witnesses, the better for me.

But even with the small number of fans, I was nervous. In the stands, little sisters and brothers looked bored and annoyed with having to be there. Maybe a few grandparents were sprinkled in, but mostly it was moms and dads. Minus mine, of course.

“March, you serve first. Sands, Johnson, Kendall, Zupfer, Chisholm, you’re setting opposite Johnson,” Coach informed us as we stood up to run out on the court as our names were called.

We were using a pathetic, junior-high level 4-2 offense: four hitters and two setters. Coach Marks said it was that way until I proved myself enough to run a 5-1. That scared me. Then I’d run the whole floor by myself. Being five-foot-three, I was just too short to be a hitter. With a 4-2, I could be taken out when I was in the back row. If I stayed in, I’d have no responsibility other than defense.

Volleyball had always been a sport that appealed to me in a deep way. I could hit the ball as hard as I wanted, grunt, run and yell “mine” without consequence. There was little cost to the sport, so I never had to worry about trying, fruitlessly, to get money from my parents. Earning a spot on the varsity squad as a sophomore was next to impossible, but I’d done just that. This was the main reason Sharyn hated me. I was her competition for her position, team setter.

I was hoping to grow, but no girl in my family was over five-foot-seven. When I started playing volleyball I focused all my energy on being a setter. My parents wouldn’t pay for me to join a club team and they wouldn’t bring me to practices or games. I had to wait until school could take care of transportation to join a sport. I babysat all summer to pay for my jersey, shoes and kneepads. This was my happy place, I just wished I didn’t have to fight with anyone to stay here.

“Good luck, snot face.”

That could only come from my new best friend, Jordan. He was a freckle-faced redhead who lived two houses down. He was too gangly and uncoordinated to play any sport, but he seemed happy to cheer me on. We’d met over the summer. His family moved in to the Jensen house, which sat empty for a few years. The Jensen’s son was with Caleb when he died. I don’t think they ever got over the guilt of that. I’d only known Jordan since June, but there was something that seemed trustworthy about him. Must have been the eyes, green with slight specks of hazel. We stayed up for hours talking about my family and our lives. He understood when I was with my family, I felt alone, adrift in an ocean with no land in sight.

“Thanks, loser,” I said punching him in the shoulder.

“Mr. Franklin, can you please be a line judge?”

Coach learned that she could count on Jordan, too. This was our first game, but he’d helped a lot during our preseason practices.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“Jessie Smith’s our other line judge. Go talk to her and get set up.”

Jessie was cool. She was a sophomore who I had been with in elementary school. Jessie hadn’t even made the JV team, but she told Coach she would be the JV manager. She tried to help out on Varsity wherever she could. It was a good way to earn points with the coach for next year.

The refs blew the whistle and we set up. I was standing directly next to Mary, a junior and outside hitter. Blue and silver glitter adorned her mahogany brown eyes and her black hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail. We had to switch positions so I could be in the middle by the net once Kelly served. Luckily, we’d won the coin toss. We were playing the Bears, a decent team from Eagan. They were set up similarly, but I could tell by their setter they had converted to a 6-1 offense. That let me know they were better prepared and their setter could actually spike the ball.

The setter controls the floor. She’s supposed to get the second hit and decide who finishes it off. One mistake and I could be sent back to JV. I wished now I hadn’t pushed myself so much this summer. What was the point? I wasn’t above spending a year on JV.

My stomach was already tightening. I turned my head and saw Kelly standing almost to the wall. With the volleyball extended in front of her, she looked me in the eye and winked. The knot in my midsection eased as she refocused her eyes on the ball then the other side of the net. Two steps and she jumped while throwing the ball high in the air. Right as she hit the height of her leap, her right hand made contact.

Slam. Kelly’s serve was loud as I got into my spot. Mary backed away from the net and everyone was low and in position waiting to see what would happen to the serve.

“Aaaaaaaaaaace!” We all came together in the middle of our half of the court slamming our hands down. Kelly got us on the board by landing a perfect serve right on the backline of the court. The other team’s back row was blaming each other, which I thought played in our favor. If their team was breaking down this early in the game, we might have a chance of creaming these guys.

I set up Mary and Steph and easy passes led to easy sets, as they hammered home some great spikes. Then a shanked ball from a dig ended up hitting the ceiling and being called out.

The other team served a few times. We didn’t make any major errors, but they gained back some of our lead. Finally Mary spiked the ball to get control back on our side. We rotated positions on the possession change. I was stuck serving, my least favorite part of the game and one of the reasons we still ran a 4-2. No jump-serve for me. Kelly promised she’d teach me if I could ever get enough control. My weak serve barely cleared the net, falling gently over and setting up a perfect situation for the other team.

We ended up winning the first game 25-14 but we lost the second game 21-25. As the third game was nearing its start, Coach told us to not give up.

“Play hard. This is our house and we’re not going to lose this match!”

We served first and Kelly gave us a nice start to the game. Then we were met with disaster! The Bears slammed down a spike that Sharyn dug for and although she missed the ball, she ate the floor when she did it. Blood was everywhere. She bit her lip and split her chin and the game was paused for an injury time-out. The school janitor came in to clean up the blood and Coach substituted Laura for Sharyn. Laura was a good hitter so I didn’t know why she didn’t play more. Then I realized exactly why.

“Ellie. We need to switch to a 5-1. We just don’t have the depth to put in another setter.”

Her voice sounded as if it was in a tunnel. She grasped me by both arms and barked, forcing me to lift my eyes from the floor.

“Look at me!”

Looking up at her, I felt like a two-year-old being scolded by my mother.

“Ellie, you’re the best natural talent I’ve seen since college. You can do this. Run the floor!”

I shook my head to try to stop the echoing as my stomach cramped. I rubbed hard on my stomach, hoping I could release the gut wrenching pain. What was she thinking? Me run the floor? I took a deep breath and looked across the floor to Jordan, who was giving me the thumbs up and making a whiney face mocking Sharyn. If nothing else he made me smile. Kelly came from behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders.

“We got this,” she said.

Only a few minutes removed from Sharyn’s injury and still everything seemed as if it was moving in slow motion. It felt like it took an hour to walk to my position. Shaking out my hands, hoping my fear would go with it, the Bears setter looked at me and smirked. She knew she was older, more experienced. What was I doing? Was I crazy? I closed my eyes, reminding myself that I’d worked hard for this. This was my position.

I could still hear Sharyn screaming on the bench. Her parents were there to help get her settled down, fighting over whether they should leave now for the emergency room or wait until the end of the game.

I don’t know where I found it, but somewhere deep inside I found the courage to step up to the situation. I kept telling myself it was just practice. The ball went back and forth a few times. The score was now tied 25-25. We needed two points to win. Betsy served us up an ace which was great. No pressure. If she could do that one more time, we would win.

Slam! The ball went deep into the left hand corner. Pass, set, get low, get low, get low, here comes the spike. Kelly dug the ball, but it came off her arms wrong. I ran to where it flew my eyes trained on the ball, refusing to let it get away. This was my job! I had to get this ball and set up for the kill. Yelling “mine, mine, mine” at the top of my lungs, I ran across the floor. Finally catching it on my fingertips right by the stands, I did a back set, yelling “5-2, 5-2, 5-2,” letting Mary know it was coming to her and low at that. I felt myself falling backwards. I knew I had to turn, but the arch from my back getting it to Mary was enough to upset my center of balance. I fell back in time to see her slam home a spike that went right through the defenders’ block and hit between the left and center back players. They both dove, missing the ball and ended up hitting each other.

Our bench erupted. I scrambled to get myself off the floor and this was when I realized I truly never fell. Someone’s strong hand was holding me on my low back above my waist. I lifted my head. Oscar’s deep brown eyes were like a warm inviting macchiato begging me to fall forward to him. My legs were straddling one of his own.

He slowly pulled me up so I stood upright, but he kept his hand on the small of my back. His hand was so massive it fit across the whole of my back. I clutched his shoulders for balance and to let him know he could let me go. But he kept looking in my eyes. If I didn’t turn I’d be eternally lost in his.

“Aahh…thanks. I think I got it from here.”

“Great save. Lucky for you I was here to save your life.”

I never heard his voice before, it was deep and comforting.

“I never knew anyone who died from fallin’ on their butt,” I replied.

The other girls pulled me as his hand slipped from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw him talking to some of the other football players, his eyes keeping watch on me. We lined up to shake hands and echoes a chorus of “good game.” Coach was telling us to get rest, finish our homework and hit the showers. Not necessarily in that order.