Better When He's Bad

We are so excited to bring you the Release Day Launch for BETTER WHEN HE’S BAD by Jay Crownover! BETTER WHEN HE'S BAD is the first novel in her Welcome to the Point Series published by William Morrow, and imprint of HarperCollins. This book, and the series to come, is one you don't want to miss!! 

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About BETTER WHEN HE’S BAD: New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jay Crownover returns with a heart-stopping new series… Welcome to the Point. There’s a difference between a bad boy and a boy who’s bad . . . meet Shane Baxter. Sexy, dark, and dangerous, Bax isn’t just from the wrong side of the tracks, he is the wrong side of the tracks. A criminal, a thug, and a brawler, he’s the master of bad choices, until one such choice landed him in prison for five years. Now Bax is out and looking for answers, and he doesn’t care what he has to do or who he has to hurt to get them. But there’s a new player in the game, and she’s much too innocent, much too soft…and standing directly in his way. Dovie Pryce knows all about living a hard life and the tough choices that come with it. She’s always tried to be good, tried to help others, and tried not to let the darkness pull her down. But the streets are fighting back, things have gone from bad to worse, and the only person who can help her is the scariest, sexiest, most complicated ex-con The Point has ever produced. Bax terrifies her, awakening feelings she never thought she’d have for a guy like him. But it doesn’t take Dovie long to realize . . . some boys are just better when they’re bad.    

 EXCERPT:

  I let out the breath I was holding and took another step closer to her. The water was splashing on the sleeve of my shirt as I reached up to grab both of her cheeks in my palms. “Are you scared of me?” It was the start of the questions I had asked her what felt like a lifetime ago. Her answer didn’t change, but this time when she answered, she was holding back a smile that made my heart hurt. “Terrified, but I kind of like it now.” “Do you trust me?” My voice broke. I had never really trusted anyone but Race and now there was her and my brother and just all kinds of new things making my life so much more complicated and undeniably fuller. “With my life. I trust all the parts of you, Bax. You need to know that.” “You going to go to bed with me?” That made her outright laugh and she reached up to curl her hands around my wrists. “As often as I can and anyplace in between when the mood strikes.” The rest of the blood racing around my system went solidly south. I dropped my forehead so it was resting on hers and the water from the showerhead was cascading down around us. I was making a mess, but I didn’t care because I had her, and she was my home. “Do you love me?” The words sounded so foreign, but so right, when I was saying them to her. She brushed her full lips across mine and the last three months without her faded away. “Do you want me to lie to you or tell you the truth?” I smiled against her mouth and kissed her back twice as hard as she had kissed me. “Lie to me.” She reached up and put her arms around my neck and took a step back, dragging me all the way into the shower stall with her. The water was lukewarm at best, and it made me shiver. So did the fact that she started to impatiently pull the tail of my shirt up over my head. A task made increasingly difficult considering I was now soaked head to toe and the material was clinging to me. “Of course not. You’re the last person in the world I could love.” GIVEAWAY: There is an international giveaway. It includes 5 prizes for 5 individual winners! 1st $100 Amazon gift card and a signed BETTER WHEN HE’S BAD for 1 winner 2nd $50 Amazon gift card and a signed BETTER WHEN HE’S BAD for 1 winner 3rd $25 Amazon gift card and a signed BETTER WHEN HE’S BAD for 1 winner 4th BETTER WHEN HE’S BAD swag and a signed BETTER WHEN HE’S BAD for 1 winner 5th BETTER WHEN HE’S BAD swag and a signed BETTER WHEN HE’S BAD for 1 winner

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About Jay Crownover: Jay Crownover is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Marked Men series. She will also be introducing the dark and sexy world of The Point in a new series this summer starting with Better When He’s Bad. Like her characters, she is a big fan of tattoos. She loves music and wishes she could be a rock star, but since she has no aptitude for singing or instrument playing, she'll settle for writing stories with interesting characters that make the reader feel something. She lives in Colorado with her three dogs.        

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Gone

Title: Gone
Author: Anna Bloom
Genre: Mature YA (intended for readers ages 16-19)
Publication: July 28th, 2014

Rebecca Walters harbours a dark secret, and as the fifty-three bangles she wears on her wrists as a self-imposed sentence of guilt remind her, she can’t even begin to consider moving on. Not after what happened on that night six months ago… a night which she can’t remember and yet managed to change her life forever.

When Rebecca comes across Joshua Adams, man equally haunted by past tragedies, on a moonlit beach, both of their lives are destined to change forever, and when the girl made out of the sun meets the boy made out of the moon and sea, anything can happen… but will the knowledge of their murky pasts bring them together or drive them apart?

Will Rebecca finally be able to claim her freedom? Will she stay and fight to be the girl she found on the sandy beaches of Cornwall or is she destined to keep running and hiding from a past that won’t stay Gone? One thing’s for certain: either way, nothing will ever be the same again.

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Walking down the lane from the pub I decide to take a detour to the beach. The light is fading but the glimmer of light from the sun setting on the horizon is just enough that I can make my way down the path without landing on my face.

I spend a lot of time on the beach at night. This isn’t like the beach in Newquay which is filled with drunks attempting to get it on under the cover of darkness. Our quiet beach in St Agnes is perfect for a solitary ten minutes. If I go home now I know Aunt May will be twitching around me like she has the last half a year, ever since my life ended at the end of one drunken night. She doesn’t know what to say to help my get out of the ‘phase’ I’m going through. Six months in, I think we can rule out the chance of it being a phase. This is just me. I’m a guy without a plan. Aunt May tries, but having her wandering around wringing her hands, asking me every three minutes if I’m hungry and need some food is not a relaxing way to spend an evening.

I don’t know what people want. Do they expect that one day I will wake up and suddenly be over the fact that I carelessly lost my girlfriend one night?

As I walk down onto the beach I keep thinking of Faye’s words. “Bridge Cottage.” “Painting.” “Mum and Dad.” They hammer inside my head.

I know everyone is waiting for me, for some resolution. They want to know that I’ve let go of the past, and that if I can do it, they all can too. But I can’t. I want them to, but I can’t do it myself. I can’t even acknowledge to myself what happened. I can’t even think about it or let the thought enter my mind.

 Small steps, that’s what a counselor told me a few months ago. “Just take small steps, Josh, and everything will work out.” Today I have picked up a paint brush and drunk a pint of cider. That’s got to be two small steps in the right direction. I’m not sure what direction those things are taking me in, but it’s heading somewhere at least.

As I tread over the dark sand I can see someone sitting on my rock. That’s just plain rude. Everyone knows it’s mine.

Edging myself closer, I slip off my flip flops and sink my toes into the cool sand as I walk down the beach and try to get close enough to investigate without being seen.

It’s her.

My feet come to a grinding halt.

I want to move in the opposite direction but my damn legs won’t listen. Instead I stand there, looming behind her on the sand, like an axe murderer.

“I can see your silhouette in the sand.”

Busted.

“What are you doing?” On my rock?

“Thinking. What are you doing?”

“Thinking too.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yes it is.”

I stand there like an idiot working out what to say next. “Nice bangles.”

“Thanks. They make me walk like a percusssion instrument.”

“Why so many?”

“None of your business, dreadlock boy.”

“Well you’re a charmer aren’t you?”

“I was sitting here first. You’re the one with the stalking, stealth-like sand walk.”

“It’s my rock.” It’s my rock? It’s my rock? Really. . .?

She does not say anything. Let’s be realistic there is not much to say to that comment. She just sits there looking out to the sea, and I stand there my feet sunk into the cool sand.

“I like your dreadlocks," she says after an age has passed.

“Thanks. They're a lifestyle choice.”

She turns to look at me and for a moment, just one brief moment my mind swirls with colours. The make-up is gone and the waning sun illuminates her skin. She look different. So different. A better different.

I should walk away. I don’t talk to holiday makers unless I’m taking their money in the shop.

I don’t.

Instead I fold my legs and sit on the sand, my fingers automatically picking up a splinter of driftwood as I cast my eyes up at the sun and then I start to draw.

“So do you have a name girl with the bangles?” I’m trying to remember what the young girl who was with her in the shop called her yesterday. Becca? Something like that?”

Turning to me with a frown on her face she bites her lower lip. Jeez, I only asked her name.

The frown and the angry glare instantly make me recall her name. “Bex.” I answer for her. The frown deepens.

“No one calls me that, only my sister.”

“Well I don’t know what else to call you?” I prompt. Her feistiness is rather amusing, it’s actually doing a good job of distracting me from the usual shit I try to keep out of my head.

Her top lip curls a little in distaste at my goading. She really doesn’t want to tell me her name. Who doesn’t want people to know their name? My eyes flick over her with a little more interest. She is rather pretty. Hot, Dan would call it. But I would go with pretty. Pretty is a more delicate sounding word, easy to pair with the freckles and flame hair.

Oh good god. I’ve realized what I am doing? I’m looking at another girl. I try and turn myself away from her a little. She must register the motion because she speaks, her voice low like she is sharing a secret.

“Rebecca.” She clears her throat. “My name is Rebecca.”

Something about her low tone makes me cast my eyes back over her. Well not exactly willingly, my eyes just won’t damn behave themselves and head straight back to the smooth sunlit skin.

She looks nervous, her fingers brushing over her overload of bangles.

“Does Rebecca have a second name?” My feet do this bizarre thing where they scoot over the sand towards her toes.

“No.”

“What no surname? So you are Rebecca No Name?”

She scowls further. “Yes. I am Rebecca No Name.”

Her tone and the death stare she lays on me make me do something I am not expecting in the least. I laugh. Fucking loud. I laugh like I never stopped.

“Well Rebecca No Name. I am Joshua Adams, it’s a pleasure to meet you and your bangles.”

I lean forward and shake her hand my fingers grazing against hers, sand rolls between our connected skin.

Rebecca No Name digs her toes into the sand, burying them deep. “Walters. It’s Rebecca Walters.”

“Bex Walters, now that has a nice ring to it.”

“It’s Rebecca Walters.” She spits her name out like it burns her lips to say it.

“Okay, okay.”

“So Rebecca Walters where are you on holiday from?”

“Nowhere.”

Seriously. It’s like talking to a wall. I don’t even know why I am still sitting here. This makes an evening with Aunt May look like a social highlight.

I get up and start to brush the sand from my legs.

The girl with attitude stares up at me from the ground and I hesitate. “London. I come from London, and I’m not on holiday. My family have moved into Bridge Cottage.”

Just like that the air gushes out of my lungs. The girl with the attitude and the wrong clothes and the frown lives in the house that I was fully expecting to move into one day. The cottage I expected to grow old in.

I sit back on the sand with a bump.

“I am leaving though, in two weeks.” Her gaze is on the sea as she speaks. “Two weeks. I’ve just got to get through two weeks.” She repeats almost to herself.

Two weeks of what?

“Who are you running from?”

Rebecca, Bex, the girl with the attitude turns to me, her eyes hidden in the shadows of the dipping sun. “Myself.”
       And that I just don’t know how to answer, so I don’t. I pick my stick back up and start to draw some more.

Anna Bloom is a contemporary romance writer who writes about life as it happens. Combining a busy schedule of looking after two small children whilst working in a local school and completing The Uni Files series she also spends a lot of time imagining kissing hot guys – all in the name of her art.

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It's Never Okay

I'm about to step up on my soapbox and rant it will most include a few curse words so if that language offends you don't read this.

1) It's never ok to pirate an authors work, I don't give a rats ass if you are taking it for your own personal use or if you are taking it so you can give it to someone else, you wouldn't walk into a store and steal a dress or purse you pay for shit you want that's just the way it is.

2) Authors work really hard when you steal their stuff and distribute it for free you are taking money out of their pockets, people are not going to buy stuff that they can get for free.

3) It's illegal to pirate books, yes it is illegal to pirate books besides the fact that it is morally wrong there can be legal ramification all that information that is in the beginning of books is not just filler pages to make the book look thicker, it's the copyright information for the book.

4) If you have blog don't try to buy followers by offering giveaways with stolen shit, you should let your work speak for itself. Everyone loves giveaways but you don't have to have them.

5) If you really want to do a giveaway and you don't have the money yourself to personally finance it or become an associate and put some advertising on your page, earn the money.

6) If you are impatient you can always ask an author, because guess what when you're not trying to be greedy and steal lots of their work they are more than happy to donate a couple books for your giveaway.

7) Authors and bloggers have a relationship that is built on trust, an author trusts a blogger not to pirate their work and to give them an honest review of it, they get exposure for their work as well. Bloggers in turn can receive advanced review copies and free books from authors, many people also become good friends with authors and other bloggers. When some shitheads go out and do something for their own personal gain it makes new authors question if they can trust bloggers and other authors can start wondering the same thing.

Bottom line if you are a blogger then you need to have respect for what you do, you need to have respect for authors and you need to have respect for your readers. As one person said on Facebook we talk, a lot if you are doing something shady people will find out and while some people are decent and will protect your identity other people won't be as nice. So if you are doing something you're not supposed to own up to it apologize to the people you have wronged and see if there is anything you can do to make it up to them. 

Cry Wolf

 AMAZON

 Amanda Archer is on the fast track to success. At twenty-five she has just about everything she’s ever wanted. She has complete control of her life…until she meets Marco. 

Marco De Lucia is a very influential man. Handsome, rich, and very powerful. Marco has a secret that few know about and live to tell it. He’s a wolf. 

From the moment Marco steps into Amanda’s life everything spins out of her control. Marco tells her about fate, destiny and her obligations. She was born to be his... 

Marco has waited three hundred years to finally find Amanda and fulfill their destiny. He knows who she is...he just has to convince her of that. 

There are others that aren’t too excited that Marco’s found his mate. Others that will stop at nothing to make sure the prophecy isn’t fulfilled...

Amanda stood outside Mr. De Lucia’s closed door, trying to put her thoughts together. “Entri Benvenuto, Amanda, si prega di avere un posto a sedere.” Amanda felt a moment of panic. “Huh?” she managed to squeak. “Uh, I mean pardon me?” She heard him chuckle softly through the closed door, and the sound reminded her of the man in her dream. The memory sent goosebumps up her arm. “I said ‘Come in. Welcome, Amanda, please have a seat.’” Maybe it wasn’t a dream, she thought. That voice is the same. But that’s impossible...or is it? What do I do now? “What do you do? You do as you’re instructed, tesoro. Entri now, per favore...please.” Did he just hear my thoughts? “I am not accustomed to repeating myself, tesoro.” “Yes, sir,” she said as she twisted the knob and pushed the door open. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself today. It’s been a weird two days actually. I—” Her train of thought fled as her gaze now rested on the elusive Mr. De Lucia.  The eyes, they are the same eyes in my dream, but how? Forget the eyes, and don’t be stupid, Amanda. You need to look at the total picture. Stacey wasn’t exaggerating, she thought. The man’s gorgeous. He smiled as if he heard her thoughts, flashing perfectly straight white teeth, and she felt her heart flutter. His features were classic Italian…firm jaw, straight nose, well defined lips, black wavy hair framed his face, and he sported a slight five o’clock shadow. As he stood, he held out his hand to her. The man was tall, well over six feet as Stacey had said. The dark grey Armani suit fit well and accentuated his muscles. Her gaze caught a glint of gold from his left hand pinkie finger. The ring was a snarling wolf with rubies for eyes. “Do I measure up?” Startled, she only half heard what he said. “I’m sorry, what?” Her gaze met his. “You are staring. Do I measure up, tesoro?” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” she said as she reached for his outstretched hand. “I’m not normally this flustered…it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. De Lucia.” “Marco,” he said as his hand enveloped her smaller one. His touch sent sensations up her arm, causing her eyes to widen. “Think nothing of it. It is nice to be regarded so well by a bella donna. Please, be seated.” He let go of her hand and leaned on the edge of his desk while she sat in the chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her. “I trust you’re feeling better?” “Feeling better?” “You missed work yesterday.” “Oh, that.” She looked away. “I wasn’t sick…I can’t really explain it.” “Do you make a habit of missing work?” She looked back to him sharply, emitting a low growl. “Certainly not!” He laughed softly. “Good, good!” he said as he clapped his hands together once. “You do have some spirit after all. You’re not the timid mouse you just portrayed yourself to be.” Amanda blinked in shock. “But…but I just growled at you. I’m sorry, I…I don’t know what came over me.” Marco pushed away from the desk, then took her hands in his. “Do not apologize for being yourself il mio amore. You hide your passion, deep within yourself, but I can see it there, the alfa lupo, begging to surface. I can sense her calling to mine. Do not be afraid to be yourself around me. Eravamo fatti per stare insieme, il mio amore.” “I don’t speak Italian, Marco, so I don’t understand. What is an alfa lu—?”
He squeezed her hands, then let go and leaned back against the desk. “Alfa lupo is alpha wolf.” Alpha wolf, what in the hell is that supposed to mean? And what does he mean, mine calls to his? He smiled again as if he heard her thoughts. Did he just read my thoughts? The smile broadened. She narrowed her eyes and slammed her hand down on the arm of the chair. “Tell me what that last sentence you just said means.” “Eravamo fatti per stare insieme, il mio amore?” She nodded. “It translates to ‘we were meant to be together, my love.’” She stood, then started backing toward the door. “And tesoro?” “Sweetheart.” Amanda’s back slammed against the door as her fingers fumbled for the doorknob. “This, this is sexual harassment. There are laws against this kind of behavior in a workplace.” “Human laws do not concern me, tesoro.” He took a step toward her and she plastered herself further against the door. “And they shouldn’t concern you either, il mio amore.”  “You talk like you’re not human.” When he nodded her eyes bugged. “You’re implying that you’re not human?” “No, we are not.” “We?” She swallowed hard. “You and I….” She shook her head frantically. “I am not a human.” He reached up and ran his knuckles gently across her cheek. “Neither are you, il mio amore.” “If you’re not human, then what are you?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “We are lupo, wolf.” Amanda felt light headed and swayed on her feet. Marco pulled her into his arms and rubbed his cheek against hers. “Tu sei la mia anima gemella, Amanda. Ho aspettato 300 anni per la vostra nascita.” He sighed. “Scusi. In English. You are my soul mate, and I have waited three hundred years for your birth.” Amanda pushed away, then sat back down hard in the chair. “You are crazy. I am not a wolf and neither are you. Werewolves are myths, stories told to frighten children and the weak minded.” Marco flashed her a another smile. “Stories like this?” His soft brown eyes changed shape, turning golden and emanating a soft glow. Her own eyes saucered as she cringed in the chair. “This isn’t possible.” The smile left his face as he leaned forward and gripped her shoulders, his eyes now normal. “Never cower away from me.” His tone was forceful and commanding, then softened. “I will not hurt you, and I never meant to frighten you. You just needed a little convincing. Most all myths are based on truths, and this one is very true. We are lupo, il mio amore.” She took a quivering breath. “I am not a wolf and you…I don’t know what you—” “Liar!” he yelled as his grip tightened on her shoulders. She grit her teeth, emitting a low growl. “I. Do. Not. Lie!” Marco yanked her out of the chair, then turned her to face the mirror, forcing her to look at herself. “Look at your reflection, Amanda. See what I see when you are angry.” Amanda’s mouth dropped open as she gazed at her reflection. “You see, il mio amore? Look at your eyes.” She reached up and touched her face and then the mirror, her anger turning to disbelief as tears pooled on her bottom lashes. Her eyes glowed like his. “In the beginning, anger will be your trigger for the change. Your hormones will be raging and you will anger very easily. This will pass, and you will learn to control it.” “I…I don’t understand what’s happening to me.” Her voice broke. “This…this is not normal.” Her gaze met his in the reflection. “Last night I was eating raw meat and hearing
things I couldn’t possibly be hearing. This morning I nearly attacked a co-worker over something stupid, and now this.” The tears spilled from her lashes to course down her face, then her bottom lip quivered. “You’re obviously behind all this. What have you done to me? I’m a freak.” Marco gently turned her to face him, cupping her face in the palms of his hands, gazing intently into her eyes. “What have I done to you?” She swallowed hard, then nodded. “I have done nothing but awaken your inner wolf. She has always been there just below the surface…impatiently waiting.” “She?” He nodded. “What is ‘she’ waiting for?” The corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile as he answered. “She was waiting to be claimed by me.” Amanda caught her breath. “Was?” “We are a proud and superior race, Amanda.” His thumb slid across her cheek, brushing away a tear. “Be proud of who you are. You are not a freak, you are my miracle, il mio compagno.”  “You didn’t answer my question.” “You are mine, Amanda. You bear my mark.” He moved her open collar aside and brushed the marks on her shoulder with his fingertips. Her brow furrowed as she strained to see. She pushed away from him and turned to the mirror, baring her shoulder fully, and glared at the marks in the mirror. “No other would dare touch you.” Amanda lifted her hands and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. Her eyes narrowed as she scowled at him in the mirror’s reflection, her jaw set, her upper lip curled back in a snarl. He threw his head back and laughed. “Tu sei magnifico, il mio amore. Tale fuoco e bellezza.” (You are magnificient, my love. Such fire and beauty.) She balled her fists and whirled around to face him. “I’ll show you a firey beauty!” He stopped laughing and regarded her statement, a slight smirk still remaining. “So, you understood what I said?” “Sì,” she seethed as she reared back her fist and punched him in the nose. Marco’s eyes widened in surprise as he brought his hand up to cover his nose.  “Arrogante bastardo!” she spat as she brought her fist up again to strike. His open palm caught her fist, and he wrenched her hand behind her back, bringing her chest up to his. Her chest heaved against his body as she struggled to free herself. “Let me go, Marco, or I swear to God I will hurt you. I can see for myself that you bleed as any other man.” Even as she spoke the words the blood faded. He brought his other hand up and brushed the hair from her eyes. “You cannot hurt me, my little alfa lupo. We are mates. It is in our genes that a mate cannot hurt the other.” Her mouth dropped open. He smiled. “You see, between mates the sex can get a little...rough.” He shrugged. “Our genetics protect us from unintentional harm from the other.” “How about intentional harm?” she growled as her knee connected with his groin.  He let go of her hand, but didn’t double over as she had expected. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her body fully to his. She brought her hands up to push against his chest. “That hurt,” he said, his lips a hair’s-breadth from hers. She grinned. “Good. I meant for it to hurt. Now let me go.” Marco quirked an eyebrow, then brought a hand down to cup her ass and brought her hips firmly against his erection. “No.” The smile dropped from Amanda’s face as her brow furrowed in disbelief. “That’s impossible. I just kneed you there. There is no way—”
His lips covered hers, taking her by surprise and halting her protest in mid-sentence. Amanda’s body betrayed her turbulent thoughts by clutching him to her, relaxing further in his arms as his tongue slipped past her parted lips to dance frantically with hers. The kiss was electrifying, setting her body on fire as she kissed him back. A yearning settled deep in her core. A low moan escaped the back of her throat when Marco deepened the kiss and pushed her back up against the wall, wedging his leg between hers. He lifted her leg, draping it around his hip, and rocked into her. She tore her mouth from his and stared into his eyes as she lifted her other leg and locked them both around his hips. She breathed in deeply and felt her canine teeth elongate as his scent overwhelmed her. Placing her nose in the crook of his neck, she inhaled again. “You smell like ambrosia.” Her voice sounded foreign to her ears.  “You smell the same to me.” She nodded as his lips grazed her neck. “It is the way between mates.” Tilting her head, she allowed him better access. “Soon you will sense me even though you cannot see me.” “Intoxicating…I feel so strange…I want to taste….” Amanda closed her eyes and ran her tongue from his collarbone to nip his neck just below his earlobe. “Mmmmm.” He tasted as good as he smelled. The urge to bite was almost overwhelming as she felt his cock swell more, and he rocked into her again.  “Keep that up, il mio amore, and you won’t be leaving my office anytime soon.” Her eyes flew open and locked with his. “I would love nothing better than to tear the clothes from your luscious body and pleasure us both until we are both sated...but?” Amanda dropped her legs and looked away. “Oh, God. What am I doing?” She pushed away from him and took a step toward the door, making an effort to hurriedly tuck in her blouse. “I’ve got to go…this can’t happen again.” Marco gripped her shoulders from behind, stopping her in her tracks, and nipped at her neck. She closed her eyes and shivered. “This will happen again, il mio amore. Count on it. You are mine. Next time?” “Marco, there can’t be a next time.” “Next time I will lay you over my desk and feast upon that luscious body of yours.” She shivered again. “And I will not stop until you’ve screamed my name at least a dozen times and we’ve both had our fill.”

As an Author, I love romance. Paranormal Romance happens to be a favorite of mine. I have always been an avid reader and a few years ago I discovered a passion for writing as well. I live in the Panhandle of Florida, and I have been happily married to a wonderful man for the last twenty-seven years. I have two grown children and 1 grandchild. When I am not writing and running my own publishing company I can be found camping with my husband or attending a NASCAR race. Please visit my websites. I am always adding something new.

ONLINE LINKS:

Website~http://www.karenfullerauthor.com/

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Eternal Tuat

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Bagsu, his name alone strikes fear in the Guardian Nation.
What can cause one twin, destined to take his father’s place as a priest turn evil and lead a crusade to dominate the human race while the other fights to save mankind?

Finally, secrets are revealed when Bagsu leads us back in time to the land of New Tuat. Experience first hand what really happened to Bagsu and Gabriel long before they became immortal, when twin brothers were the best of friends. 

Excerpt

She grows silent. I stroke her back, hoping she’ll turn so I can see her face again.
“Nefer, what is it? What is it you are not saying? Taking your first initiation isn’t deeming you an oracle. From what you have told me, it is just another step in your schooling. You said not so long ago when you take your initiation you will have more freedom… freedom for us to see each other more often.”
She sits up, pulls back and puts inches between us. I lean up with my legs still stretched out in front of me. “Nefer?”
“I can’t take my vows, not now, not ever… Bagsu…”
Again, she lowers her head and lets her sentence fall short from what she wants to say. I place my forefinger on her chin and gently turn her head to look at me. “Nefer?”
“Bagsu, oh Bagsu,” she cries, throwing herself upon my chest.
Oh how I wish I had her gift, to know what she is thinking. She’s told me she has accepted her destiny, not to shame her parents, and to become a priestess as long as we can be together like this. Does she not want to see me again? Does she not love me? My heart is wrenching. I need to comfort her, to protect her from what ever is tearing her apart.
“Nefer, there is nothing we cannot accomplish together. Nothing so terrible we cannot overcome… unless… you have grown tired of me?”
“No, Bagsu, I grow not tired of you. You have always been foremost in my heart. You are, as you have always been, my strength, my world, my love.”
Gently with my hands on her shoulders, I tilt her where I can look into her eyes.
“Nefer, do not torture me like this. Together, there is nothing we cannot do. Do you not know, your pain is mine? Share with me what troubles you so. Why can’t you take your vows?”
She takes my hand and places it on her lower abdomen. “The seed of life grows within. Bagsu, I am with child.”

With a love for history, Native American author V.S. Nelson, instructed elementary, high school and college in the U.S. and abroad before launching her second writing career.

V has been a story-teller all her life, always creating stories about people discovering the courage to make a difference. This drove her into writing her paranormal series centering on strong relationships and led her to coin the term: Ancient Legends, New Worlds.

She is well known for her “time management and sprint style writing,” producing well over five thousand words daily - consecutively.

V is available for speaking engagements, appearances and is more than willing to share her methodology with others in a variety of workshops.

A member of three RWA chapters she sits on several committees and judges writing contests across the states.

In Jan, 2013, Eternal Lovers, the first book in her eleven book paranormal series, Sekhmet’s Guardians launched with a fury. Being a series reader herself, she has held true to her promise by releasing no less than two books in the series per year in addition to her other work. 

Links: Website Blog Author Facebook Series Facebook Twitter Goodreads

 

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