Blog Tour – At Winter’s Demand by Kirsten S. Blacketer

Stick her in the middle of a chaotic home with two children, a hyperactive dog, and a camouflage-wearing husband, and she can cook and clean with the best of them.  But when the sun goes down and the children are nestled in bed fast asleep, she tucks away her pots and broom and like Cinderella she transforms.

Her characters creep forth from the dark recesses of her mind taking their places in the castles and forests built from her words. No simpering heroines linger there with forlorn gazes turned to the horizon, waiting for their Prince Charming. They straighten their spine, arming themselves with blade and bow, prepared to do their part in defense of their honor and destiny. She breathes life into the women she believes our ancestors to be, showing how they lived and loved with passion and grace.

Never bored by the tales still left to tell, she battles the ever-sarcastic muse in her quest for romance.

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A spirited country girl at the mercy of a silent thief harboring a dangerous secret.

Working at the inn Judith fears a constant state of boredom. One snowy night, three strange gentlemen appear and topple her quiet haven into chaos. The leader kidnaps her sister, leaving her under the stern eye of his silent compatriot. Her sister had warned her one day she’d cross the line. With him, that doesn’t take more than a frying pan to the head.

Simon detests disorder. Edmund charged him with one mission: find the jewels. But he never counted on a feisty, curvaceous hellcat standing in his way. She demands to be reunited with her sister in London, and Simon is more than willing to leave her on his friend’s doorstep. When she’s kidnapped at King’s Cross Station, he must summon all his unsavory resources to find the woman who unwittingly stole his heart.

Grab your copy now:    Kindle     Nook     iTunes     Smashwords

22 Feb – Erzabet’s Enchantments
23 Feb – Indy Book Fairy
25 Feb – Foreplay & Fangs
25 Feb – Books on Fire
26 Feb – Night Owl Reviews
26 Feb – Torie James
27 Feb – Room with Books
27 Feb – Books & More
27 Feb – Life, Books & More
28 Feb – Cynthia Bloggs
28 Feb – Shelli Rosewarne

 

As she washed the handful of dishes, Judith lost herself in thought. When the door to the kitchen swung open, she jumped and spun around, nearly dropping the bowl in her hand. She pressed a soapy hand to her chest to still her fluttering heart and glanced up.

The silent stranger stood in the center of the room, his gaze slowly moving along the walls. It slid past her without hesitation. Judith frowned.

“You’re about to drive me bloody insane,” she said through gritted teeth before turning back to her task. She finished the rest of the dishes, dried them, and put them away.

He never wavered from his task. When she passed him to put the pot on the shelf, his gaze fell on her for a brief moment. Before she could even discern the color of his eyes, he turned his back to her.

“Bloody knob,” Judith swore as she passed him again. His scent of leather mingling with notes of tobacco and vanilla blended with the familiar aroma of baked bread. Stopping behind him, she suppressed the urge to bury her face in his coat. Her eyes drifted closed, and she inhaled, drawing the scents deep, letting them linger.

When she opened her eyes, a pair of smoky hazel eyes stared at her. The faint shadow of a beard highlighted his jaw. His sharp features accentuated by the way his black hair slicked back into a queue.

“Fetch me some of that stew.”

Judith blinked twice, unsure if she heard him correctly or not.

“You can talk. Saints above, would it hurt you to polish your manners?” She pushed past him and reached for the ladle. Her hand hovered over the spoon, and then she dropped it to her side to hide the tremor. Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned back to him and met his cool expression with a scowl.

Judith propped her hands on her hips. “Tell me where my sister is first. You can at least do that much. I deserve to know where she is and if she’s even safe…” The words died on her lips as he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a dangerous looking silver pistol.

“The stew, and bread too.” He leveled the barrel at her and cocked the hammer.

Judith swallowed the scream clawing at the back of her throat. With a nod, she ladled the stew into a large bowl and cut a loaf of bread in half. The knife nearly slipped from her grip. She pinched her eyes closed for a moment, refusing to look up and see the hollow barrel pointed at her head. Once she set the meal on the counter before her, she backed away without a word and wiped her hands on her apron in an attempt to hide their trembling.

He uncocked the revolver and slid it back beneath his coat. Without another word, he picked up the food and retreated into the parlor.

When the door swung shut, Judith dropped boneless to the floor. Her heart hammered in her chest as her hands shook.

A gun! He pointed a gun at me. She buried her face in her hands and felt the hot tears against her palms.

“Jess, what the hell have you done to me?”

Blog Tour – Dancing with the Flame by Jamieson Wolf

Jamieson has been writing since a young age when he realized he could be writing instead of paying attention in school. Since then, he has created many worlds in which to live his fantasies and live out his dreams.

He is a Number One Best Selling Author (He likes to tell people that a lot) and writes in many different genre’s. Jamieson is also an accomplished artist. He works in mixed media, charcoal and pastels. He is also something of an amateur photographer, a poet and graphic designer.

He currently lives in Ottawa Ontario Canada with his cat, Tula, who is fearless.

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Following the Number One Best Sellers, Talking to the Sky and Talking with the Earth, Dancing with the Flame contains poems that are part memoir and part journey towards self-love.

They are Wolf’s attempt to not only find balance but to love all parts of himself, even those that are most difficult to love.

They are a testament to the strength of the human spirit. The poems show us that whatever life throws at us, with courage anything is possible.

With unflinching honesty, Wolf talks about disease, sexuality, physical disability and the healing power of love.

Buy your copy here

08 Feb – BookGirl Knitting
09 Feb – Indy Book Fairy
09 Feb – Savvy Authors
10 Feb – Lynn Stevens
11 Feb – Romancing the Book
11 Feb – Foreplay & Fangs
11 Feb – Books on Fire
12 Feb – Torie James
12 Feb – Room with Books
12 Feb – Night Owl Reviews
12 Feb – Coffee Time Romance
13 Feb – Stormy Nights Reviewing & Blogging
13 Feb – Books & More
14 Feb – Shelli Rosewarne

What I Had Become

When the New Year began,

I looked into the mirror.

I saw a reflection of myself

from long ago. I was

lying on a bed, weak,

my whole world changed.

I watched as my reflection

lifted a hand and beckoned to me.

“Come on.”

He said.

I touched a hand to the glass

and it was as if

there was no glass there.

The veil between the present

and the past was thin.

I stepped through the mirror

and found myself in a place

that I remembered but fought

so hard to forget.

It was dark and there was only

one small light in the room.

Even so, by that light I saw

who I used to be lying

on the bed, my past self,

my other self. He regarded me,

and I looked at him.

I remembered that day,

how the night before the New Year

my life had changed forever,

never to be the same again.

I knew just how he was feeling

as I had been him, he had been me.

He was weak and disoriented,

unable to walk very well at all,

his whole world seeming to

move around him, unable to keep still.

He regarded me with tired eyes,

the fear in them so total.

He knew that something was wrong.

“You forgot about me.”

He said.

“You forgot our anniversary.”

It was true. I had forgotten.

Every year since that day,

I always wondered if this

would be the year that it happened,

the year where I lost control

of my body once more.

For a while, I lived in fear

of December 31^st, of who I had been

and of what I had become on that day.

“I’m sorry,”

I said.

“I did forget. I did forget you.”

“Why?”

He asked.

“Because I left you behind. Because I’m so much stronger now. So much happier.”

He regarded me with a blank expression,

the fear increasing in his eyes until

they were full of tears.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so afraid.”

“I know,”

I said kindly.

I sat on the bed beside him and took his hand

in my own. It was cool and sweaty and

I remembered how warm I’d been,

how nothing had felt right,

and how my own body had turned against me.

“You’ll have to be strong,”

I said.

“There is a lot more pain coming, but you’ll have to be stronger than you’ve ever been. Can you do that for me?”

“I don’t know how.”

“You don’t, but you’ll learn. There will come a moment when you’ll want to quit, where you’ll want to give up and head towards the darkness. But I promise you, good times are coming.”

He looked at me with such

an open expression, one of yearning

for something better. I remembered

wearing that look, wishing and hoping

so fiercely that it was painful.

“Okay,”

he said.

“Okay.”

I heard my partner calling me from

the other side of the mirror,

his deep voice making the liquid glass

move in ripples. I took one last look

at who I used to be and patted his hand,

leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead.

“I have to go now.”

“I know you do. Don’t forget me, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise.”

With that, I stood and moved towards the glass.

When I stepped through the glass,

I left behind what I had been

and into what I had

become.