Showing posts with label Women's Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Women's Fiction. Show all posts

Friday, December 18, 2015

Cover Reveal for Incandescence by Xunaira J.!!

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BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Incandescence
AUTHOR – Xunaira J.
GENRE – Chick lit Romance/ Women’s literature/
PUBLICATION DATE – 14-Febuary-2016
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 100,000 words
PUBLISHER – Amazon

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Incandescence - Cover
CAN LOVE REALLY HEAL ALL WOUNDS?
Alisha had everything she ever wished for: a loving family, a career and friends who doted on her. But a late night at work, a cup of coffee, and a burning candle changed her life forever. Then Anis--a tall, dark, and handsome engineer, heir to his father's vast empire--walks back into her life. After a brief meeting a few years ago, she isn't sure he'll remember her. When he does, he wants to help her overcome her life-changing injuries. Has her accident scarred not only her skin, but also her soul?
Incandescence is a story of love and friendship in the face of disaster, and one young woman's quest to make the most of her new life.
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AUTHOR BIO

Author Photo Xunaria J
As a thirteen year old teenager, Xunaira J. aspired to be an author someday. From short stories to novellas, she has written them all but as an adult now, she has published two short stories and is now aiming to publish her first Novel, Before Time, scheduled for November release. Xunaira resides in Islamabad, Pakistan and enjoys a hot cup of cappuccino, a good romance novel and her favorite music from the 80's. Apart from that, when she's not working on her current literary project, she loves developing mobile applications and studies as a software engineer.

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Monday, March 10, 2014

Review of Compromising Positions by Mary Whitney!!



Title: Compromising Positions
Author: Mary Whitney  
Genre: Women’s Fiction  
Publication Date: January 23, 2014  
Event Organized by: Literati Author Services, Inc.

Synopsis
We weren’t supposed to be friends. We weren’t even supposed to like each other. I’m Michael Grath. I’ll admit I was elected to Congress on my Republican family history. I was out to make a name for myself, until I met Jessie Clark, a spitfire Democrat. She’d be my nemesis, if I could just stop thinking about her. We’ve got nothing and everything in common, and one big issue that divides us. All of this is going to land us in more than one compromising position. And like I said, we weren’t supposed to be friends, we weren’t even supposed to like each other, and we certainly weren’t supposed to fall in love.



Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iTunes

MY REVIEW
OMG... there were moments in this book that had me laughing out loud!! Especially when Jessie first meets Michael!  It's hilarious, and embarrassing.

Michael McGrath is a Republican Congressman whose family is deep rooted in politics.  When he first meets Jessie Clark, the Democratic Congresswoman from Arizona, he thinks she's pretty but knows nothing can happen between them.  First... she's a democratic and also, he's going through a very messy divorce.

Fate has different ideas though, and brings these two people together in some very funny ways.  

The attraction starts when the two of them start working on an Amendment together.  Knowing they must keep their feelings to themselves, it gets more and more difficult for them to do so.  Jessie realizes there is more to Michael then meets the eye, and he is actually a good man.  There are things they constantly disagree about, but it what makes things interesting for them.  There is never a boring minute with Michael and Jessie.

The only person I absolutely loved was Jessie's Chief of Staff.  Trish Wengren is a tough of nails woman, who is extremely protective of her best friend.  She doesn't like Michael, but knows that Jessie wants him.  

I loved Michael, who despite what everyone is telling him, he goes after Jessie.  He doesn't go out of his way to romance her... more like he is friends with her first.  He knows he can't do anything because of his pending divorce, and wants nothing more then to be done with it.  He's someone who doesn't like his name in the media for anything other then politics and hates it when his soon to be ex attempts to make their private life more public.  

Jessie, wants to keep her distance from Michael, but as fate would have it... it can't be done.  She doesn't want to like him, but finds herself growing closer and closer to him.  She knows it would be political suicide to get involved with him, but her attraction to him won't be ignored.  

About the Author

Even before she graduated from law school, Mary Whitney knew she wasn’t cut out to be a real lawyer. Drawn to politics, she’s spent her career as an organizer, lobbyist, and nonprofit executive. Nothing piques her interest more than a good political scandal or romance, and when she stumbled upon writing, she put the two together. A born Midwesterner, naturalized Texan, and transient resident of Washington, D.C., Mary now lives in Northern California with her two daughters and real lawyer husband.




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Thursday, March 6, 2014

Blog Blitz for You Will Pay by Eve Rabi!!!

youwillpay
 
Title – You Will Pay for Leaving me  
Author – Eve Rabi  
Genre – Woman’s Fiction  
Publisher – Eve Rabi  
Cover Artist – Eve Rabi
 
cover you will pay 2 28 nov 13 (1)
SYNOPSIS:
“A compelling and heartbreaking story about love, lust and revenge.”
 
Blurb:
To the world it looked like I was the luckiest woman on earth. I had every material possession I could want or desire. Women envied me, while men strove to be like my successful and charismatic husband, Tom.
Little did everyone know that behind closed doors, Tom, the man I had chosen to have and to hold was a brutal tyrant who abused me and controlled everything aspect of my life.
In spite of his controlling ways, I found the strength to take my two children and leave.
I started a new life, met a wonderful man named Bear in record time and fell madly in love with him. Bear was everything Tom wasn’t and my children and I lived a blissful existence.
But Tom was livid at my new-found happiness. As promised when I left him, he took revenge for my leaving in the most horrific way possible, then sent me to prison.
Over time, I learned his game and when I realized he wasn’t going to stop, I knew it was time to fight back and fight dirty.
 
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EXCERPT:
The first time Tom hit me, I was eight months pregnant. Slapped me across the face. Unexpected and so hard, I saw tiny white stars even though I was indoors.
I was twenty-two, he was thirty-five.
I was eight months pregnant and waddling like a duck, he was eight-one kilos and took part in triathlons, ran ten kilometers almost every day, had wheat-grass and quinoa for breakfast, a green salad with no dressing for lunch, and usually ate lean chicken breast with three different colour vegetables for dinner.
Fit, disciplined and focused – that was my husband.
Throughout my two years of marriage, I’d seen bursts of his rage – towards me, towards others and his road-rage, now that was the worst – it terrified me. Especially since he liked to take it out on trucks drivers. The bigger the truck, the greater his rage. 
Deep down, I guess I did fear being hit by him one day, but I didn’t expect it that day – the day of my second wedding anniversary.
I was so stunned by the slap that I didn’t move away or try to defend myself. I just stood and gaped at him, one hand on my cheek, the other on my swollen belly.
“I take care of everything!” he hissed. “All you had to do was to chill the Kristal and you forget to do that. A small thing like that. Chill …the …Kristal – how hard is that, huh?”
To celebrate our wedding anniversary, Tom had invited eight couples to a four-course, sit-down dinner at our house, located in the upscale suburbs of St Ives, Sydney.
He had hired caterers, wait-staff and a barman. Like all of Tom’s parties, it promised to be interesting, excessive and showy.
It was true, all I had to do was chill the Kristal, as he took care of everything, without consulting me once, or asking what I would like to serve our guests.
I didn’t mind though, as Tom was extremely capable, highly efficient and he had flair. I didn’t, so if I did make a suggestion of just about anything, he’d usually scoff at it and shred it to bits, making me feel like the hillbilly that I was. So over time, I stopped suggesting or contributing and left everything to Tom.
That suited him just fine.
With pregnancy hormones, my brain sometimes became a pile of mush and I tended to forget a lot of things. I would walk into a room and forget why I was there, and often at a mall, I couldn’t remember the level I had parked my car on.
It annoyed the hell out of Tom as he didn’t suffer fools gladly, and just about everything I did was foolish to him. Irritated him.
“See what you do to me!” he snarled, his nostrils flaring, his lips a thin line. “You make me like this.”
After throwing me a look of disgust, he adjusted his tie, straightened his 5’8” frame and walked towards the door of our bedroom.
“Put on a darker shade of lipstick, wear the necklace I bought you for Christmas and be downstairs in five!” he flung over his shoulder as he strode out of our bedroom.
With my hand on my cheek, I sat on the bed, shrouded in disappointment.
How could he hit me, I asked myself? How could he hit a pregnant woman? His pregnant wife – who does that?
There was no way I was going to go his party after he had just hit me. I would leave quietly through the back door before our guests arrived, I decided. I wouldn’t even tell him that I was leaving.
Fuck him and his party.
The doorbell went. Too late, our guests had just arrived.
“The place looks wonderful, Tom.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes, it’s fabulous, Tom. Marvelous. Where’s Arena?”
 “She’ll be down in a sec,” I heard Tom say.
I didn’t know what to do. How could I possibly not turn up when guests had already arrived? After a lot of thought, I decided that I would go to the party, but I would leave immediately after it. I would have it out with him and call the cops if I needed to. I may have been twenty-two years old, but I wasn’t stupid enough to let him hit me and get away with it.
I scrambled up from the bed and walked over to a mirror where I eyed my cheek, red from his slap.
I picked up some concealer and dotted it over the redness. Didn’t work. His imprint on my cheek showed through the concealer.
I tried green concealer. That worked – my redness disappeared. That was the first time I learned that green concealer covers redness, better than yellow or beige concealer.
Over the years I used a lot of green concealer and I became an expert at concealing ‘flaws.’
Luckily, my hair was in a bob, deep mahogany and fell in a sharp point two centimeters below my ears and covered most of my cheek. (Hairstyle as per Tom’s orders. He instructed me to wear my hair exactly that way. He was in awe of Victoria Beckham.)
I decided that if for any reason, someone enquired about the marks on my face, say the concealer faded or something, I would simply say that I had an allergy –a new facial that didn’t quite agree with me. (Over the years, my friends were surprised at how many facials didn’t agree with me.)
Still dazed, I adjusted my clothing, darkened my lipstick, put on the chunky gold necklace and waddled downstairs. As instructed.
When I reached the last stair of the spiral staircase of our $2.6 million dollar home, which had a spa, sauna, tennis court and an Olympic-size pool, I plastered a smile on my disappointed lips and greeted our guests.
 
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AUTHOR BIO:
Eve Rabi lives in Sydney Australia, but was born in South Africa. She is the author of 22 books and is known for her kick-ass leading ladies, her alpha males and her ability to make you cry and make you laugh as you fall in love.
   
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Friday, January 17, 2014

Guest Post by Carole Brown, Author of The Redemption of Caralynn Hayman!!


Title: The Redemption of Caralynne Hayman  
Author:  Carole Brown
Published:  October 21st, 2013
Publisher:  Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas
Word Count:  90,000
Genre:  Women’s Fiction – Christian Suspense, Romance
Content Warning:  Contains adult subject matter such as abuse within cults
Recommended Age:  16+
Synopsis: How far would YOU go to avenge the murder of a daughter?
Caralynne Hayman is angry and bitter over the abuse and death of her eleven-year-old daughter from the hands of her religious group, The Children of Righteous Cain. When her husband suffers a sudden heart attack, she does nothing to help him. In her eyes someone needs to pay, and if that means all of the men in the group, then so be it.

Dayne MacFarland is sent away to college by the senior elder of the group to learn ministry. When he returns after finding salvation, determined to bring the truth to the people he’s known all his life, he rediscovers Cara and realizes the love he once felt for her is still deeply embedded within his heart.

Dayne faces men unwilling to turn their backs on the cult training he despises. Cara faces men who follow their leader in abuse toward their wives and the young girls of the group. Cara is considered rebellious and inappropriate to befriend. Dayne is the apple of Elder Simmons’ eye—until he takes a stand against their teachings.

Can Cara overcome the feelings that have governed her most of her life? Can she learn to trust Dayne, and most of all a God whom she sees as uncaring—if he’s really there at all? Only Dayne’s prayers and love can reach Cara and show her the way to redemption, and Cara must recognize and accept God’s love and forgiveness before she goes too far.




About the Author:
Besides being a member and active participant of many writing groups, Carole Brown enjoys mentoring beginning writers. She loves to weave suspense and tough topics into her books, along with a touch of romance and whimsy, and is always on the lookout for outstanding titles and catchy ideas. She and her husband reside in SE Ohio but have ministered and counseled nationally and internationally. Together, they enjoy their grandsons, traveling, gardening, good food, the simple life, and did she mention their grandsons?




THE GUEST POST:


One Writer’s Love: Research!
By Carole Brown


One of the aspects I love about writing is research.


Everything a writer pens down should have validity. It should be as true as we can make it, as real as possible. Scenes, places, descriptions, even mentions, need to be factual or at least have a basis for factuality.


It’s easy to get so absorbed in research. I forget the time and whittle away hours in reading the knowledge that keeps coming. It’s entrancing to learn and store away downloaded/written/typed/saved (thick) notebooks full of information. Much more than I need, for whatever particular reason I began the research. (Rainy day material!)


For an example:


In The Redemption of Caralynne Hayman I researched:


  • West Virginia
  • Tattoos
  • Cults
  • Names
  • Legal matters
  • Biblical history


Reasons? Let me give you some simple ones:


  • West Virginia: the locale of the story had to be in a particular setting. One secluded enough to hide/or escape local authorities immediate attention. I used magazines, internet resources, interviews with WV citizens, and personal information.
  • Tattoos? The cult I created needed a symbol to show their marriage rites were accepted. But it also needed to vibe with the first chapter--a little girl who sees the tattoo and is afraid of it. Though there’s a tattoo parlor not too far away, I mainly used the internet and writing buddies to decide this.
  • Cults: how do they think? What ritualistic actions do they do? How far will they go? Talked to those involved in cults and used lots of internet studies.
  • Names: I wanted names that fit with the setting. Baby books was my main resource.
  • Legal matters: to create the proper punishment for Caralynne, it was necessary to see what would be in store for her. A critique partner who is a writer and also a prosecuting attorney served my needs with this one.
  • Biblical history: because the cult originated from a Biblical era/history, I had to check on the right event from the Bible and scriptures to make sure everything was clear for touches of the cult’s origins in the book. The Bible, a writing friend, and my husband helped me with this.


Although there were many more situations why these items of research were necessary, it gives us a glance into the research that went into the book.


I’ve found if I do my research early, it creates lots less tension and lots more ease in getting the first draft down. That’s why every time I begin a new novel, I rub my hands in glee (figuratively!) and promptly speculate where my research will take me this time. A country where I’ve never been? A study of creatures with which I’m not that familiar? To the moon and back?


Who knows?


Happy Reading!


Excerpt from The Redemption of Caralynne Hayman by Carole Brown:


The midnight air cooled, and Dayne pressed the button to roll up both windows in his car. Cara shivered and snuggled deeper into the plush seat.
“Are you asleep?”
Dayne’s soft whisper rolled over her like a silk blanket. “No. Thinking.”
“A penny for them.”
The urge to share almost overwhelmed her. How wonderful to place some of this depressing burden on Dayne’s wide, strong shoulders. She let the wish—the weakness—drift away.
“Worrying about Abby. Wondering if she’ll be okay.”
“You’re a friend anyone would be glad to have, Cara. I see the caring, loyal, and responsible person you are, the one you show everyone.” Dayne steered around a slower-moving car. “But sometimes I’d like a glimpse of the part you keep hidden.”
The heaviness in her heart lifted, and for a moment, she envisioned herself as a carefree young person experiencing life to the full.
“I don’t know what that would be.” She closed her eyes. “I’m a foolish romantic.”
“A romantic is foolish?”
“Dreaming impossible dreams, wishing for fables, is unrealistic and foolish. I’ve always had a tendency to imagine what could be, what could happen. I suppose because I like beautiful things.” She chuckled. “See the moon and the star-studded sky? Instead of ignoring its beauty, I get the shivers. I wonder if a different world lives in another universe. A colony of people who know only goodness and peace and happiness.”
“I think this side of you is beautiful, and I love it.”
“You don’t love all sides of me?”
“I love—now you’re fishing.” He cleared his throat and his hand slid across the space between them and touched hers. “You’re beautiful.”
Cara pulled her hand from his. Too much danger for her. “Tell me about some of the things you experienced while you were gone. Were your studies hard? Did you like living in the city?”
“In some ways, but I missed the country. When I arrived home, I think I took the first deep breath I’d had in six years.”
“Did you meet many girls?”
She felt his quick glance. Felt the question hover in the air between them. What have I done? He’s not under obligation to answer my nosy questions. And what difference does it make anyhow?
“Do you mean did I date while away?”
At his words, the tension lessened. “You don’t have to answer the question. It’s none of my business.”
But I want to know.
Dayne pulled into her driveway and shut off the car. He slipped his arm on the back of the seat. “When is your meeting?”
Cara blinked but answered, “Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Want me to pick you up?”
“Thanks, but I’ll walk. It’ll give me time to reflect on how to behave while in the presence of such an august figure.” A hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so flip.”
“No problem. The fact is I came home carrying a bunch of my own questions.”
“You?”
“Me. More questions than answers.”
“How do we find the answers, Dayne? You graduated with honors in ministry, so if you don’t know the answers, how is someone like me who’s uneducated supposed to get answers?”
He gripped her hand again as if he would never let go. She heard his long drawn intake of breath.
“What would you have done if you’d had the chance to choose something else?”
“Are you serious? I’ve never taken time to think about could-be’s and would-be’s. As I said, there’s not much sense in wishing for what will never happen.”
“But if you could have …”
“I don’t know. I’d mountain climb. Probably fly. Own my own private plane. Do rescue work.”
“What else?” His interest spurred her on. How long had it been since she’d had someone to share nonsense with?
“I’d learn to parachute and hang glide for fun and anything else to get me off the ground and into the air.”
“You crazy girl. Mind if I join you?”
Cara rested her head against the back of the seat.
His hand stirred beside her.
“I am crazy, aren’t I?”
He slipped his arm around her and tugged lightly until she gave in and rested her head on his shoulder.
“You know it’s not too late to experience your dreams.”
“What do you mean? Elder Simmons would never allow me to do that.”
A pause. Dayne stroked her hand with one finger. “Do it anyway.”
“Don’t encourage me, Dayne. Please. You don’t know—” With a sob, she straightened and flung open the door.
Dayne ran from his side of the car and grabbed her shoulders. “Cara. Cara, don’t cry. I’m doing my best to work on the elders. Trust me.” He cupped her chin, tilted it, and stared into her eyes.
She gave a shaky nod. “I do.”
Mostly.
With a thumb he wiped away the tears from her cheeks. “I wish—”
For me?
“What do you wish?” Cara held her breath.
He took her shoulders for a moment, his grip tight, and then let his hands drop. “Nothing. Go on.”
She moved as if in a daze toward the lighted porch. She’d barely reached the steps when Dayne’s voice stopped her again.
“Cara?”
She stopped moving, her back still toward him.
“You asked me if I met any girls while away. I did. Several. But every time I tried to get romantic or think about girlfriends, all I could see were the beautiful blue-green eyes of someone back home. A very effective deterrent for romance.”
Was she hearing him correctly? Interpreting his words the way he meant them? Her body warmed, the frozenness melting as surely as if the sun was ridding the earth of a winter avalanche. Slowly she turned.
He lifted a hand and returned to his car.
She stared after him, depression gone.

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