Sunday, November 30, 2014

Book Review: Shift your brilliance by Simon T Bailey. Brilliance Is A Decision. It’s Time to Disrupt Your Current Reality and… Experience Your Shift Into Brilliance.



About the book:
This book is your road map, your call to action; your opportunity to create accelerated results professionally, personally and financially. It is time for you to turn every day into a brilliant breakthrough.

Shift Your Brilliance will teach you:

Strategies for sharpening your focus Steps to clear your vision Actions to harness individual and organizational potential Tools to unearth what really sets you on fire Tips on how to become a Chief Breakthrough Officer Its now time for you to Shift Your Brilliance!





5 Star Review.

This book was recommended to me in my up line; what a great book. It is a work in progress, a book that will be on your bedside table always. Since there will not be a time that you can say "I have read the book." and afterwards you allow it to gather dust. It has so many nuggets of wisdom that it will be difficult to repeat everything here.
Each person, who is looking for more self development, and a nudge in the correct mindset, while trying to shift into the next phase of your life, will find truths in here.
It is a practical handbook; filled with practical exercises that opens your eyes to really see what is the things you need to work on in order to shift correctly. It creates the environment of changes and challenge you to be the best you can be.
A book I thoroughly enjoyed, which I can recommend to all people with a yearning for more.

Mannatech links:

Friday, November 28, 2014

Promo Tour: Disturbingly Beautiful by J. & L. Wells. A Paradox In Time, #1 Series. Will love conquer all, or will time always stand in their way?


Disturbingly Beautiful
by J. & L. Wells
Series: A Paradox In Time, #1
Genre: Historical Romance/Time Travel
Release Date: November 13, 2014



Is it really possible that somewhere in time, the perfect paradox could be created? Does romance really stand a chance, and could it ever flourish amidst so many intricacies and broken lives? How can a nineteenth-century governess unknowingly cause so much devastation?

As Nell’s world opens up, we follow her on a complex journey, on which she discovers love, loss and betrayal, and is forced to play a dangerous game from which there appears to be no escape.

An intricate family plot slowly begins to unravel, in which she finds herself centre stage. She was never supposed to leave Haunchcroft estate, and he will do everything in his power to keep her there…

Could a possible rip in time be the salvation that Nell seeks?

“I find you disturbingly beautiful,” are the contradictory words bestowed upon the governess by her master.

Mr Buchannan’s infatuation is a shadow from which Nell cannot escape. The feelings he holds for her are not reciprocated, and though his lust soon turns to love, Nell’s feelings towards him turn to hatred. Dreams and a love of literature are Nell’s only escapism from the downtrodden life she leads as a governess in the nineteenth century.

One night, an intruder on the estate catches Nell off guard, but she gives chase; a decision that leads her through an opening in time between the centuries, where she finds equality, true friendship and a completely different outlook on life.

Despite using this to her advantage to escape the advances of her unwanted suitor, she is somewhat perturbed when she unexpectedly finds him at her side in the twenty-first century. Will love conquer all, or will time always stand in their way?



Where did the idea come from for the book?
Our idea actually came from the cover photo- it was a photo the amazing Regina Wamba posted of Kim Tallman…. Our last two novels are time travel, and being massive regency fans…it all slotted into place. We do try and write books with twists and turns, and I guess that was the hardest part- the paradox.

What genre does your book fall under?
New-adult regency/ time travel romance

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
Michelle Keegan for Nell (English soap star)
Mr Buchannan – oooo not sure actually- he’s in my head at the moment, maybe a Colin Firth (with green eyes)
Lawrence – Clarke Gable
Jeremy – Eldon Henson

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
An interlinking of regency/ time travel romance, and a perfect paradox to undo so many wrongs

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
Indie

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
6 months- 2/3 months extra to make perfect

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
Film/book- butterfly effect meets pride and prejudice (I hate comparing anything to the amazing Jane Austen, but being that Era, she is the only author I can think of)

Who or What inspired you to write this book?
The Cover picture – a lot of my ideas come to me of a night when my 9m old is asleep

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
The beautiful cover, beautiful story that unravels many intricacies as you read. It isn't an easy read, it's one in depth and one to savour, until the final page is closed


As Nell rolled down her window and breathed in the sea air, Spencer informed them that they would have the beach to themselves for the night, since it had been closed due to falling rocks. Nell turned to look out of the car’s back window and up at the vast cliff face. Spencer did not seem perturbed in the slightest, and informed her and Mr Buchannan that they should definitely be okay, though his eyes were evasive.

Mr Buchannan described the navy canvas tent as an unsightly carbuncle blighting the scenery, to which Nell had to laugh.

“I’ll leave you with the night,” Spencer said playfully.

Jumping back in the driver’s seat, he reversed up the narrow incline, with sand spitting up from the tyres. Nell looked up at the cloudless sky, breathing in the sea’s salty liquor. She shook her hair free, feeling the soft caress of the breeze as it waltzed across her face and shoulders.

It seemed to her that Mr Buchannan was trying to get into the spirit of things, as he had already pulled off his long boots and she could see his breeches rolled up to just below his knees. She offered her assistance willingly as he struggled to unfold a fleecy blanket and place it for them to sit on, though the breeze had other ideas and kept lifting its corners. With its antics all played out, they reclined on the coarseness of its fibres, entranced by the tide’s rolling waves as the lowering sun highlighted its journey.

Nell exhaled with contentment on feeling the cotton material of Mr Buchannan’s shirt slip across her shoulders, and she warmed instantly at the strength of his loving embrace. Sitting for a while lost in the ambience and passing of time, the two grew hungry. Mr Buchannan reached for the strap of a cool bag Spencer had left with them, filled with mouth-watering refreshments. But that was not the food of love for which Nell yearned. Pulling free from his arms, she lifted herself to her feet and reached her hands up to the narrow straps of her dress, then slid them down from her shoulders. She knew the game she played as she followed the intensity of his dreamy green eyes as the silken material fell from her tiny frame. There was not a moment she felt even the slightest ounce of embarrassment. She stood open to the elements in her near naked form; there were no frills or petticoats to cover her virtue, only sheer lace panties and a matching brassiere.

Mr Buchannan lay back unhurriedly, and Nell’s eyes caught the quick-fingered unbuttoning of his tight-fitting shirt. She gasped back her innermost desires as he revealed the perfectly toned contours of his broad ivory physique.

Without taking his eyes from her own, Mr Buchannan reached up to her awaiting hand. Teasingly she ran her tongue between her lips, smiling down. Prompted by the call of the waves, she turned briskly and ran for the unspoilt shoreline. She was unable to pick up the silence of Mr Buchannan’s steps as they gave chase. Unsteady in her footing, his arms scooped her up, and child-like she squealed as he pulled her unclad frame tightly into the tautness of his chest. As the waves leapt up and kissed at his ankles, Nell felt the release of his arm and watched as his breeches were thrown far from the water’s edge. With his long tailed shirt flailing wide, he waded deeper until the cool waves cushioned the small of Nell’s back. Her eyes rested upon the fullness of his handsome face, where the sea spray glistened like white diamond droplets as they splashed upon his cheeks.

Her heart raced beyond belief as she pawed her way up to his shoulders, clasping her arms around his neck. Like a ballerina in flight, she lifted her legs, pressing her knees boldly into the narrow physique of his waistline. She gasped as he grew beneath her. She could feel the desire in his fingertips as they released her panties, and watched as the lacy undergarments were washed out to sea. She surrendered to an uncontrollable tremble inside on feeling the hardness of his male form as it moved inside her to the rhythmical motion of the tide, and cried out at the climatic heights to which he took her. Their love making went unwatched, hidden beneath the unbinding secrets of the crashing white waves.

At their ebbing crescendo, Mr Buchannan carried her breathless body out of the darkened waters. Cradling her head in his hand, he gently lowered her onto the red tartan blanket, wrapping away her involuntary shivers.

The fruit of love is so apt, Nell thought as she felt the tickling sensation as he teased her navel with the ripest of English strawberries, licking away the fruity sweetness from her skin. His mouth slipped up her body, between the creamy soft skin of her breasts, and she exhaled loudly at the meeting of their lips, each kiss enhanced by the vibrant fragrance of fruits which volleyed between the intimate twisting of tongues. It seemed that their lips were not wanting to part.

Cossetted by the serenade of rolling waves, they were rocked into a peaceful sleep by the arms of true love. As the vibrant stars visited the night sky they smiled down from the heavens, throwing their light and a blessing upon the sleeping lovers.






Laura Wells is a swimming teacher, with a love of books, animals and, of course, Jane Austen. Once a national swimmer, she now runs three swim schools of her own. She enjoys spending her spare time with her family and two mad Shiba Inus. She lives in Staffordshire, England.

Judy Wells works at a school; in her spare time she enjoys writing poetry and novels, and spending time with her animals. She also lives in Staffordshire, England.

Laura and Judy are a mother and daughter duo; with Judy's love of poetry and writing and Laura's ideas, they work extremely well together. Time-travel and historical romance novels are their passion, and they hope that after you have read their books, you will feel the same.


L. Wells: Amazon ~ Goodreads
J. Wells:  Amazon ~ Goodreads


Monday, November 24
Smut Fanatics (Promo)

Tuesday, November 25
Chicas Love To Read (Promo, Dream Cast)
Snugglebooks (Promo)
We Stole Your Book Boyfriend (Promo, Excerpt, Dream Cast)

Wednesday, November 26
Padme's Library (Promo, Excerpt, Dream Cast)
Room With Books (Promo, Excerpt, Dream Cast)

Thursday, November 27
Em & M Books (Promo)
Inspire to Read (Promo, Excerpt, Dream Cast, Author Interview)
Book Groupies (Promo)

Friday, November 28
Girl with Pen (Promo, Excerpt, Dream Cast)
Kim Book Blog (Review)
Page by Page Book Obsession (Promo, Excerpt)
Rock Out With Your Book Out (Promo, Excerpt)
Page By Page Inside-Out Reviews & Promotion (Promo, Excerpt, Dream Cast)



Imogen and ISIS: A Story of Terrorism and Manhattan Apartment Rents By Jack Mauro. A modern and dark comedy






Imogen and ISIS: A Story of Terrorism and Manhattan Apartment Rents
By Jack Mauro
Genre: Fiction, Dark Comedy
Novella, 128 pages.  

Synopsis: 

A modern and dark comedy combining one woman's struggle to live in a city she cannot afford with a native New Yorker's rather different path. Imogen Curtis - 40, idealistic, and a fool for New York - is thrown in multiple directions as she negotiates with the madness that is securing a place to live in Manhattan.  At the same time, Ahmad Bertesh's personal pain seizes upon the monstrous presence of ISIS as inspiration for avenging himself on a heartless city. Destinies finally collide in a remarkably non-violent way, with a cast of manic secondary characters, insight, and just enough satire to emphasize the crazy of these lives and the metropolis in 2014.



Author Bio: 
After years in the South and several works of fiction set in his beloved Knoxville, Tennessee, Jack Mauro has returned to New York City. He has as well published a guide to Internet dating (Simon & Schuster, 2007), done extensive work for singer/songwriter Carly Simon, and a wide array of national magazine reviews and commentary. Mauro also reviews theater for StageBuddy.com, when he is not prowling the streets of the town he knows so well and captures in Imogen and ISIS. 




EXCERPT:


Eleven blocks north, the omnipresent stack of Daily Newses on the floor of Broadway Gifts and Goods featured the headline, Iraq and a Hard Place.  A picture of President Obama was to the side.  He was gesturing, possibly to signal a pathway in between.  Before leaving work, Ahmad did something he never did.  He took the paper home.
On that day and on that brief walk, Ahmad paused on 9th Avenue.  He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.  What occasioned this was only the absolute beauty of the day.  A misery overtaking him, Ahmad was human and a young man, and thus still susceptible to the power of a lovely morning. Dry and cool breezes were blowing and did not stink of burnt pretzels or exhaust fumes.  Flickering shadows of the leaves and branches of the sidewalk trees dappled, actually dappled, the avenue, rendering the diner and the mobile phone store and the Mexican restaurant quaint.
It was then that Mariah smacked into him.  Petite and curvy and fiercely dark, Mariah Pena literally bounced off of Ahmad's slimness, ricocheted a few steps back with her black curls jiggling, and blinked a lot.
Ahmad said, “I am sorry, very sorry.” He did not move, his paper was clamped in one hand, and his expression betrayed not the least trace of embarrassment or contrition.
For her part Mariah put her hands on her hips – and now the sidewalk was doubly blocked – and gave to Ahmad the most fetching smile he had ever seen. It was a boomerang of a smile, a nearly perfect triangle of whiteness framed in glistening pink.  Mariah had a little cleft chin and turned-up nose, and Ahmad took these additional features in while she expertly appraised him from his Nikes to the top of his shining black hair.
“That's OK.  You want to go out with me sometime?”
Mariah's head was cocked and the little hands stayed on the hips.  Ahmad's eyes went to fuchsia nail polish.  The overtness, the electric blast, of the girl's invitation did not startle him at all, particularly given his recent history of unmeaningful contact with women. It should have, of course.  There is something wrong when anyone acts in real life as they do online.
Within seconds appearances utterly defied reality.  Mariah, bubbly and instantaneously smitten, had not one scintilla of interest in Ahmad beyond the allure of his lanky, smoldering physicality.  No scintilla would be generated, for this was not Mariah's way or nature.  Ahmad, scowl fixed under scary eyes, hate snaking around his spine and making a home there, left his body in a sense and took full romantic possession of the girl.  Mariah knew what she was about, knowing nothing else in her life, and Ahmad was unaware of falling in this way.
“Yes. Who are you?”
He may be forgiven. The big fall in the other direction was recent and he was only just discovering this new self.  Then, that fall altered the trajectory of the romantic, or what must be called romantic, descent.  It kind of swallowed Mariah up, placing her in Ahmad's fevered mind as a princess and partner against the awfulness of the world.
Mariah, still smiling, dug into a little pink handbag and fished out a card and a pen.  She said, Ma-ri-ah, very distinctly. She bit her lower lip while writing, and Ahmad retained his poker face and was certain that this was the girl for him. A plump and sexy warrior vixen. This relationship, forty seconds old, would have been perfect, as all relationships would be perfect, if no one said anything more or did anything else.
 

Book Blast: Black is the Colour – Tales from the Hearthfire by Nicole Hurley-Moore. A Medieval Fairytale Romance

Black Is The Colour - Banner

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Black is the Colour SERIES – Tales from the Hearthfire AUTHOR – Nicole Hurley-Moore GENRE – Romance – medieval fairytale PUBLICATION DATE – 27th October, 2014 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 189 pages COVER ARTIST – Conor Moore
Black is the Colour Cover  

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Ciana has loved Oran all her life and nothing, not even her father will prevent them from being together. But the Mayor of Stonemark has higher aspirations for his daughter than the village blacksmith. He engages the help of a witch and dark magic to bend Ciana to his will.
Oran knows that he doesn’t deserve Ciana. But their love is stronger than the metal he forges and welds. She has his heart and he will never turn from her no matter the cost.
Separated, Ciana will need all her strength to journey through the deep forest and save Oran from the witch’s curse. Alone and with only a trail of black feathers to follow, Ciana will fight against the odds and attempt to bring her lover home.
Round double, double you go, Until black feathers upon you grow. Beak and claw, talon and wing, Now with raven’s voice you shall sing. To the heavens you shall fly, It is my will – So say I.
 

BUY & TBR LINKS

 

EXCERPT

Oran’s arms were around her, holding her tight. She snuggled against him to capture his warmth. Outside the wind had picked up. It caused the branches to scratch against the cottage walls. Ciana closed her eyes but there was something that wouldn’t let her sleep. She tilted her head back and looked at Oran. His eyelids flickered for an instant before closing altogether. His dark hair had fallen forward and obscured part of his face. Reaching up, Ciana brushed it back. “You should sleep. The dawn will be here soon enough and we have a long journey ahead of us,” he said as he tightened his grasp. “I know, but I can’t settle... it’s as if...” “What?” “Oh, I don’t know. It’s as if something isn’t right.” “All is well, my love,” he answered sleepily. “It’s been an eventful day. You’re worried that your father will come after us but we will soon be far beyond his reach.” “I suppose you’re right.” “We’ll be long gone before he even returns. Fear not,” he said as he kissed her shoulder. “We’ll be at Havensport in three days and the very thought of Stonemark will be far behind us.” “I’m sure that’s true,” Ciana said as she closed her eyes and willed herself to fall asleep. But the wind shrieked and circled the cottage and Ciana could not shake the feeling of foreboding. “Of course I’m right. There is nothing to worry about...” The door burst open with a bang. The wind tore around the room, circling the bed. With it came leaves, sticks and debris from the woods. Oran threw himself over Ciana in an attempt to shield her from the maelstrom. The wind howled like a banshee and the bed shook, until she was sure that both of them would fall. “What’s happening?” Ciana shouted. “I don’t know – but nothing natural I’ll wager,” Oran said as buried his head above hers. “Just hold on, love and wait for it to pass.” But it didn’t. The wind became stronger and rattled the cottage until Ciana thought the whole thing would blow away. Ciana wrapped her arms around Oran’s waist but let out a cry as a branch dragged across her forearm, scratching and snagging her flesh until it bled. “Put your arms beneath me and keep down – I’ll protect you.” “But who will protect you?” “I’ll be fine as long you’re safe. Everything will be...” Oran broke off as the wind tugged at his body. It began to lift him up. Ciana grabbed his arms and tried to anchor him to her. “You can’t have him!” she screamed against the circling wind. “You can’t have him!” Oran held on to the rough wooden bed head and she felt his muscles strain and bulge as he gripped on. “Ciana, I...” The vortex spun quicker around the room. Noise thundered in Ciana’s ears as she was buffeted by more twigs, leaves and black feathers. She held onto Oran until her knuckles were white and her nails dug into his skin. “I won’t let you go.” His dark eyes locked onto hers for a moment. “I love you.” “Nay, I won’t let you go...” But even as the words fell from her lips her grip slipped. The force of the wind lifted Oran off the bed. The leaves swirled around him and swallowed his body so only his outstretched arms and head were visible. The strength of the whirlwind wretched Oran from Ciana’s grasp, the bed head snapped and with one final look Oran was dragged off the bed, back through the open door and into the night dark wood.
Black is the colour promo 2  

AUTHOR BIO

Nicole has always been a lover of fairy tales, history and romance. She grew up in Melbourne and Central Victoria and has travelled extensively. Her first passion in life has always been her family, but after studying and achieving her BA in History and Honours in Medieval Literature, she devoted her time to writing historical, fantasy and contemporary romance. She is a full time writer who lives in the Central Highlands of Victoria with her family, where they live in the peaceful surrounds of a semi-rural town.

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Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Cover Reveal: Noah and me by Beckie Stevenson. Seven years ago he loved me, but now he hates me. And I hate that he hates me. Sounds intriguing. You can win your very own copy!



RELEASE DATE:  15th December 2014


SYNOPSIS:

“So you fix broken hearts, do you?” I ask. “Seems a little ironic.”

Noah Carter is one of the best cardiothoracic doctors in the country. He’s incredibly intelligent, funny, kind and he’s a beast in the bedroom. He has scars that drizzle down his chest and painful memories of an unforgettable night that plague his every waking hour. 

Seven years ago, Noah stumbled upon me at the side of a grave and saved me in one of the most compassionate ways another human being can save another.  I will always love him for that. Always.

He loved me in a way that no man has ever loved me since, and I gave him everything. I gave him it all until my secrets and lies tore us apart, forcing me to shatter his heart into a thousand little pieces.

Seven years ago he loved me, but now he hates me. And I hate that he hates me. Leaving Noah is my biggest regret in life - and I have a lot of things that I regret. A lot.

I’m Ariel Miller and this is the story of Noah and Me.





EXCERPT:

I glance around the corner of the small building and spot a woman who isn’t dressed like a smart teacher. She’s wearing white stilettoes and a tiny little black dress that just about covers her backside. Her breasts, which are definitely fake, protrude out from the scoop neckline of the dress. Her chocolate-coloured hair is poker straight and falls to her shoulder blades. I hear her giggling. I see her hand shoot out to touch a glistening, tanned and extremely toned forearm.
“That’s Candy,” whispers Ben.
“What does she do?” I ask. She arches her back and pushes her breasts out even further than they were before.
“She’s a Lawyer,” he tells me. “They call her the black widow.”
I glance at Ben and realise he’s not joking. I look back at Candy and hear her giggle again, watching as she flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Does she eat men after she’s slept with them?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “She eats them after she’s done with them in court instead.”
More like she hypnotises them with her breasts and hair flicking, I think. “I see,” I say.
“Her tongue is evil,” he says before adding, “and not in a good way.”
I grin at him.
“Anyway,” he says, pulling on my elbow, “we should go and say hello to the birthday boy.”
I take a step forward and then the earth stops moving as all of the blood in my body rushes to my ears. I can hear the beat of my own heart as it bangs against my chest. The birthday boy’s blue eyes collide with mine and they’re slowly turning to hard stone in front of me. He steps away from the wall, roughly pushing Candy off him, and marches towards me.
I can’t take my eyes off him. How can someone who is beyond beautiful look so ugly at the same time? His light brown hair is styled perfectly on his head as if he’s just got out of bed. Or maybe he has, if Candy’s performance was anything to go by. His pale, crystal-blue eyes display nothing of the thoughts that I have no doubt are obviously running through his mind. He’s wearing a dark grey shirt and black trousers. Even with his clothes on, I can tell that there’s a wall of pure muscle hiding underneath them. I see a faint smattering of chest hair poking out from the top of his shirt where his top button is undone. His face is tanned and freshly shaven.
“You!” he says, his deep voice wrapping around me like a warm blanket. His gaze shifts to my neck like lightning. His eyes linger for a fraction of a second on my necklace and I see a hint of astonishment flash across his face. Then it’s gone, replaced by the cold, screwed-up face that he had before.
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Every single hair on my skin stands on end as his angry breath washes over my face. Air leaves my lungs and doesn’t come back in. How the fuck is he here? Of all the places in the entire world, how is he here?
I finally realise he’s still towering over me, looking as if he wants to strangle me. I take a deep breath. I can’t do this.
“Erm, do you two know each other?” asks Ben.
Ignoring Ben, I continue to stare at him. He stares at me. What could we possibly say to each other that would make any of it okay? I can’t be here. I can’t be near him. I need to leave.
“No,” he hisses, as his eyes trail all over me.
Liar.
“I don’t know who this girl is,” he says.
I know it’s wrong to feel hurt that he called me a girl, but I do. I don’t want him looking at me like that either. Not when I feel so shitty about what I’m wearing. I wish I could cover myself up, but I don’t have enough clothes on to even start.
Ben blinks, looking confused. “Noah, this is Ariel. Ariel, this is the birthday boy, Noah.”
This isn’t Noah. This is a stranger that doesn’t know me anymore.
“I’m going,” I announce, tearing my gaze away from Noah. I look at Ben and feel myself beginning to panic. “Erm, I have to go.”
“You have to?” Ben questions.
I nod quickly and start to back away from them. “I have to go. Right now. I have a horrible headache. Here,” I say, pushing my glass into Ben’s hand, “take this. And I’m sorry.”
“Ariel,” Ben calls as I turn to leave.
“Let her go,” Noah says. “She wasn’t invited and she’s not welcome.”




AUTHOR BIO:

Beckie's real name is Rebecca, but she get’s called (and answers to) any of the following…Beckie, Bek, Becca, Rebecca, Pip, Pippy or Stevo.

Beckie is the author of 'Sorrow Woods,' the 'Existing' series and 'Noah and Me.'

She is due to publish more YA and NA novels in 2015/16.

She lives in Staffordshire, England, with her partner and two children.

Beckie likes putting music on in the house and dancing around like a mad woman.

When she isn’t playing with her children, doing housework, dancing around the house like a mad woman, walking, cycling reading or writing, then she can be found working in an investment bank. Or sleeping.
You can find Beckie here…


You can find Beckie here…

Twitter: @BeckieStevenson
Instagram: BeckieStevo


COVER REVEAL HOSTED BY:



Blog Tour: No Time like Now by Jennifer Young. Excerpt and Giveaway. Can you run from your past - or is facing it together the only way forward?



Excerpt
Ahoy there!’
The boat was close enough now for him to see the man’s face. He took off his hard hat, pushed his sunglasses up on to the top of his head and wiped sweat from his face with his forearm. ‘Hey Holly, look. Company. Let’s see what this is about.’
A pittter-patter of crumbled limestone trickled from the cliff face as she turned. ‘Oh God, Tim, you said it was okay to come down here.’
‘It’s perfectly okay.’ He took the few steps across the narrow strip of pebbles to the water’s edge. ‘Good afternoon!’
The man steered his boat inshore as far as he dared and switched the outboard into neutral, leaving the boat bobbing on the clear blue sky. ‘Busy?’
‘Yes. We’re doing some fieldwork.’
‘You’re staying up at the field centre?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I just thought I’d let you know. You’re on private property.’
‘Yes, I know that.’ The distance between them made communication difficult and the sunglasses made things worse. Frustrated, Tim failed to read the man’s intent. The body language wasn’t great, though — arms splayed to make himself as big as possible, body braced forward as if to spring. ‘As I understand it, there’s no law of trespass in Spain.’ Being polite never did any harm. The stranger would surely know the law, too, but it wouldn’t do any harm to throw it out there in case he didn’t. And it would show that he couldn’t be intimidated.
Behind him, Holly drew a sharp breath. ‘Tim, I knew this would happen. Let’s just go.’
‘It’ll be fine.’ He didn’t turn; it wouldn’t do for the stranger to think he could be intimidated.
‘Regardless of that,’ the man shouted, ‘I think I’d prefer that you keep off my land.’
Dead bodies were one thing, downright obstruction another. A body came and went, but an unhelpful — no, an aggressive — landowner was a more permanent obstacle. ‘Let me introduce myself. I’m Dr Tim Stone. I’m a research geologist from the University of…’
 ‘I heard you the first time. But either you didn’t hear me, or you weren’t listening.
‘We should have let them know we were coming,’ breathed Holly, agonised. ‘Then we’d have known…’
Tim stiffened. ‘This land belongs to a Señor Valdez. I wrote to him explaining that we’d be here. Out of courtesy, of course. Because in law I don’t need permission.’
He waited a second, got no reply and continued. ‘Are you him? I’m guessing you aren’t.’ If he was, then Señor Valdez was the least likely of Liverpudlians; there was a clearly identifiable tang of the Mersey in the stranger’s voice.
The man found his voice. ‘You’re correct, Dr Stone. I’m not him. I’m his tenant, and as his tenant I have the right to refuse you access to this land. You should know that I value my privacy. So I apologise if there’s been any misunderstanding but I think you’d better leave, sooner rather than later.


About No Time Like Now
Hiding away from a disastrous past, Megan McLeod is getting along nicely in her job as housekeeper at a university field centre in Majorca. But the arrival of geological researcher, Tim Stone, throws everything into disarray because Tim was the father of the baby she lost some years before and the two of them had parted very messily indeed.
As if having Tim on the scene wasnt bad enough, he's there with his new partner, Holly. But when in the course of his research he comes upon something extremely nasty along the cliffs of north Majorca, hes forced to turn to Megan for help.
Buy it from





About Jennifer Young
Jennifer Young is an Edinburgh-based writer, editor and copywriter. She is interested in a wide range of subjects and writing media, perhaps reflecting the fact that she has both arts and science degrees. Jennifer has been writing fiction, including romantic fiction, for a number of years with several short stories already published. No Time Like Now is her second published novel; her first novel, Thank You For The Music, is also set on the Balearic island of Majorca.
Find me on
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@JYnovelist
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GIVEAWAY!

Release Blitz: Christmas in the Cotswolds by Jenny Kane. Excerpt is available.





A seasonal easy read romance, Christmas in the Cotswolds is Jenny Kane’s festive sequel to Another Cup of Christmas. (It can also be read as a stand alone story.)
Blurb

Izzie Spencer-Harris, owner of the Cotswold Art and Crafts Centre, is due to host the prestigious Cotswold Choir’s annual Christmas carol concert in her beautiful converted church. Or at least she was, until a storm smashed a hole right through the chancel roof.
Days from Christmas, Izzie suddenly finds herself up to her neck in DIY, with her last dodgy workman having walked off the job. She does the only thing she can … calls in her best friend Megan to help.
Leaving Peggy and Scott to run Pickwicks Café in her absence, Megan heads to the Cotswolds for Christmas. Within minutes of her arrival, she finds herself hunting down anyone willing to take on extra work so close to Christmas. It seems the only person available to help is Joseph Parker – a carpenter who, while admittedly gorgeous, seems to have ulterior motives for everything he does …
With Izzie’s bossy mother, Lady Spencer-Harris, causing her problems at every turn, an accident at work causing yet more delays, and the date for the concert drawing ever nearer, it’s going to take a lot more than Mrs Vickers’ powerful mulled wine to make sure everything is all right on the night …


Extract
Izzie closed her eyes and counted to ten as the door of the Cotswold Arts Centre slammed shut.
There was no point in panicking. She simply didn’t have time for such luxuries if her converted church was going to be ready to host a Christmas carol concert by the renowned Cotswold Choir in nine days’ time.
Bored of being propositioned by men who weren’t remotely interested in her until they discovered she was a daughter of the gentry, Izzie had ejected the carpenter through her front door before he’d quite had time to work out just how insulting her rejection of his latest lurid suggestion was.

Now, her hasty tongue having deprived her of a desperately needed pair of tradesman’s hands, Izzie sat with a heavy thump onto the nearest pew. She knew she had to find fresh help, and fast. A task that wouldn’t be easy so close to Christmas.
‘Although,’ Izzie addressed the image of Noah, who smiled benevolently at her from his stained-glass window, as if grateful he hadn’t been smashed to pieces by the tree branch that had come through the top of the chancel and caused so much seasonal inconvenience, ‘I’m damn sure I’m not asking my mother to help out ever again!’
Reaching for the offending package of invitations that had arrived by courier first thing that morning, Izzie emptied it onto the table. The invitations were supposed to have been posted by now. As soon as she’d seen them, Izzie understood why her mother had left them to the last minute.
Unfussy, cost-effective, and with a medieval Christmas flavour in keeping with the spirit of the converted fourteenth-century church where the concert was to be held. That’s what she’d asked for.
What she’d got was decadent Victorian-style gold-edged invitations which weighed so much, Izzie was sure that posting them alone would break the bank. And if that wasn’t bad enough, her mother had done the one thing that she had expressively forbidden. She’d put Izzie’s full name on the invitations.
Lady Perdita Spencer-Harris had been unable to comprehend why her daughter didn’t want to use the family name to help sales. She simply didn’t understand that Izzie wanted people to come to hear the choir for its own sake, or because they wanted to see what she’d done in her art centre; not because she was a young and single female member of the landed gentry.

Miss Isadora Spencer-Harris
cordially invites you to a magical festive evening at
The Cotswold Arts Centre, Chipping Swinton
to hear the renowned Cotswold Choir’s
Christmas Carol Concert
Saturday 21st December
7 p.m. for 7.30 p.m. start
£25 per ticket
Refreshments provided
RSVP by 18th December to Harris Park
Wrapping her stripy woollen scarf more tightly around her neck, Izzie breathed warm air over her cold fingers. Deciding it wasn’t cost effective to heat the church this late at night just for her, she gathered up the invitations, and with one last check that the polythene sheeting would keep the rest of her chancel roof in place overnight, Izzie headed home.

Izzie scooped up three Christmas cards from her doormat. A smile replaced her frown as she opened the first envelope to see a cartoon robin wishing her a Merry Christmas. Inside, beneath the seasonal greeting, her friend Megan had written Must meet up SOON! I’d love to see your new art centre.
‘Should I?’ Izzie was sure her dearest friend from college would help. Megan always helped. Izzie addressed the picture of the robin, ‘But won’t she be hugely busy at Pickwicks café this close to Christmas?’
Switching on her laptop, Izzie started to hunt for a replacement tradesman to help repair her church roof. Half an hour of searching later, and her quest was looking increasingly hopeless by the minute.
It was no good, if she wasn’t going to be forced to ask her parents to bail her out – which was an ‘over her dead body’ situation as far as Izzie was concerned – she needed alternative assistance. Izzie picked up her mobile before guilt at disturbing her friend’s life at Christmas overtook her.
‘Megan, thank goodness you’re there! How can I put this … help!’

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Bio
With a background in history and archaeology, Jenny Kane should really be sat in a dusty university library translating Medieval Latin criminal records, before writing research documents that hardly anyone would want to read. Instead, tucked away in the South West of England, Jenny Kane writes stories with one hand, while working for a Distance Learning Company with the other.
Jenny spends a large part of her time in the local coffee shops, where she creates her stories, including the novels Romancing Robin Hood (Accent Press, 2014), the best selling contemporary romance Another Cup of Coffee (Accent Press, 2013), and the novella length sequels Another Cup of Christmas (Accent Press, 2013) and Christmas in the Cotswolds, (Accent Press, 2014)
Jenny’s next full length novel, Abi’s House, will be published by Accent Press in 2015.
Jenny Kane is also the author of quirky children’s picture books There’s a Cow in the Flat (Hushpuppy, 2014) and Joe’s Letter (Coming soon from Hushpuppy)
Keep your eye on Jenny’s blog at www.jennykane.co.uk for more details.
Twitter - @JennyKaneAuthor
Jenny Kane also writes erotica as Kay Jaybee. (www.kayjaybee.me.uk)