VBT Guest Post & Giveaway - The Zombie Always Knocks Twice by E. Van Lowe

Welcome to my stop on E. Van Lowe's Virtual Book Tour for The Zombie Always Knocks Twice.  Please be sure to read his guest post below and use the Rafflecopter form to enter his tour wide giveaway which includes: 
 

10 Kindle copies of The Zombie Always Knocks Twice

1Bewitching zombie prize pack contains: zombie bag, zombie zone caution tape, fake brains in a meat container (because what's a zombie prize pack without brains right), two rubber duckies, a large bloody hand print sticker, Bat Bite hand sanitizer, Halloween theme bottle stickers, a purple skull mug, and a Bewitching notebook, pen, and necklace.

You can follow his tour here.  

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Just Say No!

I have just discovered the true purpose of Facebook, Pinterest, Goodreads and Twitter--to keep us from doing ANYTHING constructive with our lives! I now believe these social networks were invented by those Hulu aliens to turn our brains to mush and keep us from achieving our goals.

Case in point, my writing output is down 50%.  FIFTY f**#@ing PERCENT since I got addicted to social networking.  But ask me how many times Meg Cabot tweeted today. In fact, ask me what she tweeted fifteen minutes ago... You know, now that I think about it, I believe Meg Cabot and other successful authors are trying to eliminate the competition.  That’s it.  They want us to sit around reading their tweets all day instead of working.  Well, it's not going to work--at least not with me. Starting tomorrow I am only checking my social networking sites once a day... okay, once an hour (let's not go crazy). You heard me--ONCE! At least until I increase my work output.

And those of you who find yourselves twittering your time away with social networking instead of something constructive, it's time to--JUST SAY NO! And if you happen to catch me on my blog, Facebook or Twitter, please remind me I have more important things to do. And if you'd like, I will do the same for you.

One thing I did complete before I went off the deep end was my latest novel, The Zombie Always Knocks Twice.  If you like what you read here I hope you buy it.  If you do buy it and you enjoy it, don’t tweet me—I’m busy!

E. Van Lowe

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The Zombie Always Knocks Twice

by E. Van Lowe

Hollyweird #1

Genre: YA Paranormal

Publisher: Imajin

Cover Artist: Ryan Doan

Kindle ebook: 978-1-926997-74-2

Trade paperback: 978-1-926997-81-0

Page Count: 177 pages

Book Description:

Hollywood California, Swimming pools, movie stars… and now the risen dead

Hollywood can be a difficult place to grow up, especially if you’re Kristine Golden, a fifteen-year-old necromancer with a sworn duty to lay the risen dead back to rest and no desire to be in the movie business.

When handsome deadie Alex Romero swaggers into her life, Kris must keep her promise, despite her growing feelings for him.  If that’s not enough to give a girl a headache, a murderous zombie comes knocking at Kris’ door, rocking her world and threatening her family.

Can Kris solve the mystery of the rampaging zombie before someone else winds up dead? Or will the walking dead take over Hollywood and turn it into… Hollyweird?

Excerpt: 

The man coming up the block toward us in the hooded sweatshirt stopped directly in our path, about ten feet away. The hood dropped revealing his face. The hair on the left side of his head had been shaved off revealing tiny bits of bony white scalp. Huge staples held his crooked jaw in place. There was a large indentation in his forehead from some sort of blunt force impact. His left eye was covered with a milky, white cataract, and the right drooped unnaturally into his cheek.

My breath caught yet again. Standing before us was a zombie.

‘LEAVE US ALONE!” the zombie screeched. Then he took off on a dead run and plowed into Alex with the impact a freight train.

Just great, I thought. Hollyweird—where the dead come out to play.

Zombies aren’t what the movies make them out to be—slow moving, brain dead, brain suckers. They’re the result of a raising gone bad. They can be strong, and fast, and very dangerous. Also, a bite from a zombie won’t make you a member of the living dead, although I’m sure it must hurt like hell.

The one that plowed into Alex was almost six feet tall and about seventeen years old. He hit Alex with inhuman force, propelling him backward. They slammed into a parked car that seemed to explode on impact. The twisting metal and shattering glass sounded like a horrible automobile accident. The car was totaled, and Alex was embedded into the passenger side, like a toy soldier into a wad of Play Doh.

“Oh, God!” I screamed.

Alex’s eyes were closed. He wasn’t moving… but the zombie was. He peeled himself away from Alex and the wreckage.

“Zombie!” I called at the top of my lungs. “I command you to tell me who raised you and what you are doing here.”

The zombie faced me, a puzzled look on his distorted face. It dawned on me he hadn’t known I was a necromancer until then—not that it made a difference. He wasn’t bound to me so he didn’t have to answer my questions. I was bluffing.

“LEAVE US ALONE!” He screamed in response. He started for me and a wave of fear rippled my gut.

“I command you to stay back!” I called, but my voice was cracking, my words lacked conviction. I took a few shaky steps backward. The zombie continued toward me.

Just then the sound of twisting metal snagged both our attention. Alex’s eyes were open, and he was separating himself from the wreckage. He shed the automobile with the ease of a snake shedding an old skin. He began advancing on the zombie.

“What’s going on down there?” We all looked up and saw three men, all Johnny do-gooders, running up the block in our direction.

“Leave her alone,” one of them called.

The zombie looked from the advancing men to Alex and me.

“Hhhhh!” Hot breath hissed angrily at us. Then he took off past us like a deer, bounding up the block. By the time the men reached us he was nowhere in sight.

“You ok?” one of them asked.

“Yes. He… attacked us?”

“What the heck happened here?” Another of the men asked. He was staring at the twisted pile of metal that used to be a Buick.

Before I could open my mouth, Alex launched into an explanation. “My girl and I were out for a stroll, and he was taking a sledge hammer to that car when we happened upon him. Guess it was some kind of vendetta. And when he saw us he decided to add us to the list.” The lie flowed from his lips effortlessly.

“Hey, aren’t you on that TV show?” the third man asked.

Alex smiled. “The Beloved. Yes. You watch it?”

“No, but my girlfriend does. She can’t get enough of you vampire guys.”

Any suspicions the men may have had about our presence on the street or Alex molesting me immediately vanished. Alex was a bona fide Hollywood star. I guess they thought all stars were boy scouts. Where have they been?

Several minutes and three autographs later the men were gone, and Alex and I were walking back to the party.

“You told that lie like you do it all the time,” I said.

“I’m a dead person among the living. I do do it all the time.”

That wasn’t what I was talking about, but I didn’t push it. He seemed annoyed. I guess being attacked by a zombie wasn’t an everyday occurrence for him either.

“If it makes you feel any better, I memorized the car’s plate number. I’ll take care of the damage,” he said, his words softening.

“Thanks. That does make me feel better.” I wanted to hold my tongue, but I couldn’t. “So, you have any enemies who’d want to send a zombie after you?”

“I don’t have any enemies. I’m a lover not a fighter.” The annoyance was back.

“Maybe you loved the wrong woman.”

“I’m dead. I can’t love any woman,” he replied. The words were seething with anger or pain. I couldn’t tell which.

“He said ‘leave us alone.’ Who’s us?” I asked.

“I don’t know!”

He was getting agitated again so I dropped the subject. But not without noting there was more to Alex than he was telling me. A vindictive zombie had been set loose in Hollywood. It was something I needed to look into along with the deadie from the diner. My, my, I was suddenly a very busy girl.

**********

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About the Author:

 

E. Van Lowe is an author, television writer, screen-writer, playwright and producer who has worked on such TV shows as "The Cosby Show," "Even Stevens," and "Homeboys In Outer Space." He has been nominated for both an Emmy and an Academy Award. His first YA Paranormal novel, "Never Slow Dance With A Zombie," was a selection of The Scholastic Book Club, and a nominee for an American Library Association Award.  His Best Selling novels, “Boyfriend From Hell” and “Earth Angel,” are the first two books in the Falling Angels Saga.  “The Zombie Always Knocks Twice” is the first book in his Hollyweird series.

E lives in Beverly Hills California with his spouse, a werewolf, several zombies and a fairy godmother who grants him wishes from time-to-time.

http://evanlowe.com  

 

http://vanlowe.blogspot.com/ 

@evanlowe 

http://www.facebook.com/author.e.vanlowe  

Don't forget to fill out the Rafflecopter form below and follow E. Van Lowe's Tour here.

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Spotlight - Poison Princess by Kresley Cole - Share the Love Contest

I can't wait for Kresley Cole's debut young adult release, Poison Princess, the first book in her series Arcana Chronicles.  What could top a new release from Ms. Cole, you ask?  How about a great contest?  Kresley  has outdone herself with a wonderful "Spread the Love" contest.  Check out the details below.

Poison Princess by Kresley Cole 

Arcana Chronicles Book 1 

Release Date: October 2, 2012

She could save the world—or destroy it.

Sixteen year old Evangeline “Evie” Greene leads a charmed life, until she begins experiencing horrifying hallucinations. When an apocalyptic event decimates her Louisiana hometown, Evie realizes her hallucinations were actually visions of the future—and they’re still happening. Fighting for her life and desperate for answers, she must turn to her wrong-side-of-the-bayou classmate: Jack Deveaux.

But she can’t do either alone.

With his mile-long rap sheet, wicked grin, and bad attitude, Jack is like no boy Evie has ever known. Even though he once scorned her and everything she represented, he agrees to protect Evie on her quest. She knows she can’t totally depend on Jack. If he ever cast that wicked grin her way, could she possibly resist him?

Who can Evie trust?

As Jack and Evie race to find the source of her visions, they meet others who have gotten the same call. An ancient prophesy is being played out, and Evie is not the only one with special powers. A group of twenty-two teens has been chosen to reenact the ultimate battle between good and evil. But it’s not always clear who is on which side….

Teaser: 

Sterling, Louisiana

The night before the Flash

“This is creepy,” Mel said as we waded through dried-out brush near the abandoned mill on my farm. Again I wondered why my boyfriend Brandon had chosen this remote place for a late-night kick-back with a few couples.

Mel and I had driven as close as we dared in her Beamer, then started walking into the withered woods. The fog was so thick I could barely see where I was stepping. Another of my grandmother’s sayings surfaced: Be wary of droughts—snakes slither about. “This was not my idea, Mel.”

    

POISON PRINCESS SPREAD THE LOVE GIVEAWAY

How would you like a chance to win...

Grand Prize: Apple iPad

Runner Up: eReader of your choice

Here is how to enter:

1. post about POISON PRINCESS on your webpage, Facebook, MySpace, blog, etc, and provide us with the web address. 

2. post the POISON PRINCESS countdown widget on your blog or webpage. Found here: http://www.thearcanachronicles.com/spread-the-word/

3. post reviews for POISON PRINCESS on sites like Amazon, B&N, etc, then send us the link or a screenshot.

4. attend one of the POISON PRINCESS Book Tour stops and take a pic.

Other examples of book love....
--Recommend POISON PRINCESS in a forum you frequent and take a screenshot. The image is your entry.

--Provide proof of purchase for POISON PRINCESS (minus the personal details). You can pre-order here: http://www.thearcanachronicles.com/books/

--Share this post on Facebook

--Create a homemade bumper sticker or graphic about your favorite Arcana character. Take a picture to use as your entry.

These are just suggestions--use your imagination to come up with more ways to win!

Where to send your web addy or images?
Email: contest@kresleycole.com

The iPad winning entry will be chosen at random. The eReader will be awarded to the most fun and original example of book loveage.

Rules:
1. International entries welcome. If you receive mail, you can enter.
2. We encourage multiple entries.
3. Keep it fun; keep it clean; keep it within the laws of your country of residence.
4. If you decide to post a recommendation in a forum, make sure you abide by any forum agreements (don't get yourself banned or kicked off for this contest).
5. Entry into the contest grants us permission to list your name as a winner.

Good luck and thank you for spreading the love!


Please enter at Facebook or here-Arcana Chronicles site) . 

I. O. Review Blitz - Racing With The Wind by

Welcome to my stop on Regan Walker's Book Tour for Racing with the Wind.  Please be sure to enter the Rafflecopter form below as Regan will be giving away 25 eBook copies of her book, Racing with the Wind, at the end of her tour.  You can read my review here.  

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Racing With the Wind by REGAN WALKER 

Copyright 2012 Regan Walker

The intrepid daughter of an earl leaves Regency London for the Parisian court of Louis XVIII, where she finds adventure, mystery, and above all, love.

THE NIGHTHAWK Hugh Redgrave, Marquess of Ormond, was warned. Prinny had dubbed Lady Mary Campbell “the Swan,” but no ordinary man could clip her wings.  She was a bluestocking hellion, an ill-advised match by every account.  Luckily, he sought no bride.  His work lay on the continent, where he’d become legend by stealing war secrets from Boney. And yet, his memories of Lady Mary riding her stallion were a thorn in his mind.  He was the son of a duke and in the service of the Prince Regent…and he would not be whole until he had won her hand. 

THE SWAN It was unheard of for a Regency debutante to postpone her first season, yet Lady Mary had done just that.  Far more interested in politics than a husband, she had no time for foolishness or frippery.   Already she had assisted her statesman uncle in Paris, and she swore to return to the court of Louis XVIII no matter the danger. Like her black stallion, Midnight, she would always run free.  Only the truest heart would race beside her.

Excerpt Chapter 1 - 

London, 1816

Standing at the edge of the ballroom, Lady Mary Campbell smiled to herself, thinking it was a bit like standing on the edge of a cliff. Stepping forward would bring a drop into the unknown. It was a step she had no desire to take.

But, then, she had no choice. She’d postponed her dreaded debut as long as possible, and at nineteen she was well past the age most ingénues greeted their first season. Dressed in ivory satin she was, but she could hardly wait for the day she could wear red. And though she would have preferred her long hair down and flowing free, tonight it was drawn up into a pile of curls.

Gazing into the immense room with its crystal chandeliers, hundreds of candles, and men and women in elegant finery, Mary let out a deep sigh. It was all very glorious, of course, but it wasn’t the Tuileries Palace where she had waltzed last December. It wasn’t the world she loved, the world in which she thrived, the world of books and ideas. It wasn’t the countryside, where she could ride her horse and forget everything. It wasn’t even her uncle’s world of statesmen. Those men, she was certain, would not give a thought to the gowns or balls for young women entering London society, and she wished she could follow their example. No, Mary was not at all at home in this place where young men mingled with their future wives—wives they would dominate and keep from truly seeing or enjoying the world.

That was one reason she was not anxious to wed, and she had several. But at the request of her mother, the dowager countess of Argyll, she had come to this ball and would dance with the young men. And when her sweet mother insisted her only daughter go to court and curtsy before George, Prince of Wales, the Prince Regent, Mary had bowed to the gracious request and sweetly obeyed.

Her best friend, Elizabeth St. Clair, bubbled on at her side about the grand decorations and the pretty gowns, but Mary’s mind was on the Times article she’d read at breakfast describing Napoleon’s exile on the island of St. Helena. There was a small note at the bottom of the article saying recent information suggested Napoleon’s defeat in Russia was, in part, due to the legendary Nighthawk. She longed to meet the mysterious man, that stealer of secrets, if indeed he existed. But if he did, she was certain he would not be wasting his time at some tedious London ball. The world did not revolve around a dance, not even the waltz.

Elizabeth tugged on her glove. “I say, Mary, do you agree?”

Mary realized she had missed what her friend was saying and tried to recall the original question. She wanted to show support for Elizabeth, whose blue eyes were wide with wonder at the beautiful gowns and the handsome young men; her older sisters had already taken their place in London society, and Mary knew Lizzy was anxious to join them.

“Well, it is rather as I expected, Lizzy. It’s like being offered up to the highest bidder, is it not? ’Tis strange so many go so willingly to the auction block.”

Elizabeth’s side-glance stopped Mary’s reflection. “Oh, do try and enjoy yourself, Mary. It’s not so bad. Besides, you’re gathering many admiring looks!”

“I think you are imagining that. Recall the conversation of the Baroness Johnson in the retiring room we overheard. She could barely wait to tell her friends that the Campbell hoyden who reads philosophy and rides horses like a man is here.”

“Actually, you were most gracious to her, Mary; more the lady than she. I rather think she’s just a jealous old biddy. Besides, I wasn’t talking about the women. It is the men who cannot take their eyes off you.”

Mary’s cheeks warmed. Her friend was exaggerating again out of kindness and loyalty. Her mother, too, remarked in a caring way about her appearance, and her uncle complimented her gowns, but Mary knew their words were merely encouragement to wear the female frippery she disdained. Her heart seized with a pang of regret as she wondered if her father would have thought her pretty. He had not lived to see her blossom into womanhood.

“Lizzy, I am not seeing what you are, but since you asked, I will do my best to be happy. After all, you are here, and I do love to dance.”

As if summoned, two young men approached and asked for the first quadrille. Mary

resolved to be nice.

So it begins, she thought to herself.

One young man offered an arm. Green eyes met blue. His kind face was framed by light brown hair, and he smiled, leading her smoothly out into the room. They were soon gliding across the polished wood floor. To her surprise, Mary’s spirits lifted.

As the dance took a turn, Mary’s gaze drifted over her partner’s shoulder, drawn unbidden to two men standing in front of a pillar. She did not recognize them, but the dark stare of the taller man pierced her gown, corset and chemise and touched her very skin. Feeling exposed in a way she never had, she shivered, and she was glad when her partner whirled her away.

And yet, she continued to surreptitiously watch the man, drawn to his overwhelming presence. He wore black, his white shirt and cravat the only contrast to the dark brown hair that fell in waves to his nape. He exuded a kind of power unlike any other male in the room. There was nothing the dandy about him.

Taking a long draw on his brandy and gazing around him, Hugh Redgrave, Marquess of Ormond and only son of the Duke of Albany, drew a breath and held it as his eyes came to rest on a girl gliding across the dance floor like a swan over a lake. The tall young woman with hair the color of spun gold and fine features set in an oval face was striking, but it was more than her beauty that drew him; she moved with a grace beyond her years and had a fire in her eyes that set her apart from the other debutantes.

He had found the evening tiring until now. The ball served only to remind him he was nearing the age of thirty, and as his father’s heir, the pressure to select a wife from among the young ladies presented increased with each passing year. Comforting himself with an occasional mistress to warm his bed was serving his needs just fine; he was in no hurry to take a wife. When he did, it simply would be an arrangement among peers. Far better to see marriage as a matter of business, as so many others did. That would have one advantage: He could never lose someone he loved.

Yet, he wanted to delay the inevitable for a while longer. He had a good excuse. His work had kept him away from England, and if he were fortunate, it still might. Perhaps the Prince Regent had a new assignment for him.

As was his usual practice, Hugh had made this appearance in the ballroom before retiring for a game of cards. Leaning over to his friend, the second son of the Earl of Lindsey, he chuckled. “I feel a bit like a fox watching baby chicks. Do you think we make their mothers nervous?”

“They do watch us with skeptical eyes,” Griffen Lambeth replied. “No doubt they are worried any minute we will pounce.”

Hugh nodded. “Indeed. And how little we’ve done to deserve the reputations we have.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that, since you have cultivated yours as a cover for your other…activities, have you not? And by cultivation I’m not just speaking of your latest indulgence, Lady Hearnshaw. Before her there was the countess of—”

“I confess I have done. It seemed necessary at the time. Just like my sneaking back to England every year or so to put in an appearance at a ball and leave the impression I was still in London, ready to pounce at any moment. All is part of the show.”

His reputation as a rake, a man of the world who would seduce any woman who took his fancy, would unsettle the mamas, he knew, but better the mamas think them rakes than know them as spies. Not that he intended to dance with anyone. No matter there were some real beauties at the ball tonight; his previous encounters had taught him young noblewomen were silly and too talkative, prattling on about town gossip and matters of the home. Insipid. A night with one would precipitate a quick marriage. No, it was best to stay with women who posed no threat to his bachelor status. Older, more experienced women, women who willingly offered their bodies while not asking for his heart.

Still, he was curious about the blonde girl. There was something special about her. “Who’s that dancing with Arthur Bywood?”

Griffen’s eyes scanned the couples. “Ah. I wondered if you’d noticed her. That would be Lady Mary Campbell, daughter of William Campbell, the late Earl of Argyll. You remember, the one killed in that horrible riding accident.”

Hugh’s mind seized at the memory of another riding accident, one that had forever changed his life. But that was not what Griffen referenced. “She couldn’t have been very old at the time.”

“No, she was quite young. An only child. I understand it was heart-rending. Now some young cousin or other will inherit the title.”

Hugh’s eyes followed the girl as she moved gracefully away from and back to her partner. She was laughing at something her partner was saying, her head thrown back in unusual abandon. It was a sensual display, and to his surprise his body responded; his trousers were suddenly too tight.

“All the ton has been anticipating her,” Griffen offered. “This is her first season.”

Hugh was puzzled. “Anticipating her? Why is that?”

“Surely you have heard, my friend. The fiercely independent—and some say rebellious—Mary Campbell? While our young fops here will dote on the girl, I expect the young men’s fathers hope she does not choose them. She has a reputation.”

“What kind of a reputation?”

“Well, a diamond of the first water she may be, but still a diamond in the rough. Too intelligent for a young woman, and both headstrong and outspoken with a tongue that cuts like a blade.”

“A bluestocking hellion?”

“Just so. Of course, it all can be explained, her having been raised without a father. The dowager countess, her mother, is a gentle woman, and she was clearly not up to the challenge. Lady Mary will be…difficult to manage.”

“Hmm.”

“Have you really never met her, not even when you were younger?”

“No.” Even as Hugh said the word, he wondered why that was. The Campbell estate lay only a short ride from his family’s country home. Then again, he’d been on the Continent for several years. “Have you?”

Griffen chuckled. “Oh, aye, and it was most disconcerting. A rare bit of baggage, that one.”

Hugh turned to his friend, suddenly curious. “Don’t be obscure. Tell me.”

“Well, she stared at me with such a bold look I’ll not soon forget… There’s no fear in those piercing green eyes, I can assure you. It’s a bit off-putting in a female that young. Nor is she shy with her opinions.”

Hugh’s gaze returned to the young woman. He sensed again that she was different, but perhaps it was simply as Griffen suggested and she would be difficult to manage. While he loved a challenge, he did not need a difficult and marriageable young woman. Not now. Not ever.

As he and Griffen turned toward the card room, Hugh silently pitied the man who ended up with her.

~~~~~~~~~~

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Author Bio:

As a child, Regan loved to write stories, particularly about adventure-loving girls. But by the time she got to college, more serious pursuits were encouraged. One of her professors thought her suited to the profession of law. Regan says, “I became a lawyer because I thought it would be better to be a hammer than a nail.” Years of serving clients in private practice and several stints in high levels of government gave her a love of international travel and a feel for the demands of the "Crown" on its subjects. Hence, her first romance novels involve a demanding Prince Regent who thinks of his subjects as his private talent pool. Regan says her stories will always involve adventure as well as love.

Regan lives in San Diego with her Golden Retriever, Link, who she says inspires her every day to relax and smell the roses.

Regan Walker Online:

website: www.reganwalkerauthor.com/

blog: http://reganromancereview.blogspot.com/

Website http://www.boroughspublishinggroup.com 

Blog http://www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/blog
Facebook http://www.facebook.com/boroughspublishing
Twitter http://www.twitter.com/BoroughsPubGrp

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Schedule:

Review Blitz

The Bunny's Review
My Cozie Corner
Books, Books and More Books
mademoiselle Le Sphinx
Musings From An Addicted Reader
Sharing Links and Wisdom
I am, Indeed
Queen of All She Reads
Mallory Heart Reviews
books for me
Book Whore Blog

Book Tour
9/11 I Just Wanna Sit Here and Read! Guest Blog, First Chapter, and Giveaway
9/12 Sharing Links and Wisdom First Chapter and Giveaway
9/12 Identity Discovery Promo and Giveaway
9/13 M-N's Amazing Book Reviews First Chapter
9/13 Queen of All She Reads Guest Blog and Giveaway
9/14 huithiang! Guest Blog and Giveaway
9/14 The Bunny's Review First Chapter and Giveaway
9/17 I am, Indeed First Chapter and Giveaway
9/17 A Chick Who Reads Review, Guest Blog, and Giveaway
9/19 Reading Romances Interview and Giveaway
9/19 Reading Reality Review and Giveaway
9/20 My Escape Review and Giveaway
9/21 Kimba the Caffeinated Book Reviewer Review and Giveaway
9/24 Once Upon A Book Review and Giveaway
9/25 The Avid Reader Bio/Book Synopsis and First Chapter
9/26 smartmouthtexan Guest Blog, First Chapter, and Giveaway
9/28 Mademoiselle Le Sphinx Review
10/1 Celestial Reviews Review, Guest Blog, First Chapter, and Giveaway 

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Review - Racing With The Wind by Regan Walker

Title: Racing With The Wind
Author: Regan Walker
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Genre: Historical Romance
Publication Date: July 23, 2012
Length: 190 Pages

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Blurb:  

The intrepid daughter of an earl leaves Regency London for the Parisian court of Louis XVIII, where she finds adventure, mystery, and above all, love.

THE NIGHTHAWK Hugh Redgrave, Marquess of Ormond, was warned. Prinny had dubbed Lady Mary Campbell “the Swan,” but no ordinary man could clip her wings. She was a bluestocking hellion, an ill-advised match by every account. Luckily, he sought no bride. His work lay on the continent, where he’d become legend by stealing war secrets from Boney. And yet, his memories of Lady Mary riding her stallion were a thorn in his mind. He was the son of a duke and in the service of the Prince Regent…and he would not be whole until he had won her hand.

THE SWAN It was unheard of for a Regency debutante to postpone her first season, yet Lady Mary had done just that. Far more interested in politics than a husband, she had no time for foolishness or frippery. Already she had assisted her statesman uncle in Paris, and she swore to return to the court of Louis XVIII no matter the danger. Like her black stallion, Midnight, she would always run free. Only the truest heart would race beside her.

My Review:

Racing With the Wind is the delightful debut release by Regan Walker, and the first book in her Agents of the Crown trilogy.  Set at the end of the Napoleonic Wars, this romance takes place during the changing political and social scenes in both England and France.  With charming characters, good dialogue and plenty of action, Ms. Walker grabbed my attention from the first scene and kept it to the last page.  

Hugh Redgrave, Marquess of Ormond, is a secret agent in the employ of George, the Prince of Wales and Prince Regent.  Known for his ability to steal French secrets, regardless of their location.  Home for a short period of time, his social position requires him to find a wife and begin a family; something he's not really interested in doing.  Forced into accepting invitations for balls during "The Season", Hugh finds himself intrigued by Lady Mary Campbell, one of the new debutantes.  Even her nickname "The Swan" intrigues him.  I liked how Ms. Walker developed Hugh's character, he's charming, smart and the kind of man a lot of women are attracted to.  He's also adventurous, sharp witted and able to take care of himself in a dangerous situation.  

Lady Mary Campbell is a woman before her time; she's educated, interested in politics and determined to help her uncle, a diplomat assigned to France.  Although she managed to postpone her "debut" for a year, Lady Mary finds herself forced to attend the parties and balls during "The Season".  Lady Mary hates the restrictions placed on women by society, instead of listening to dull conversations, and other peoples opinions of how she's been "over educated" and given too much freedom.   Fortunately for her, Lady Mary is able to escape to her country house and ride her horse, Midnight.  Even when she rides, Lady Mary is unconventional - she wears breeches and boots instead of a riding gown and sidesaddle.  I really liked how  Ms. Walker developed Mary's character; she's adventurous, highly intelligent and determined to live life on her own terms.  She's not afraid of being judged by society and wants to make a difference in the world she lives in.  

The scenes between Hugh and Mary are very well done, their dialogue is sharp and witty, and they have great chemistry.  While neither one is looking for a spouse, they are attracted to each other and can't seem to get the other person out of their mind.  As they continue to meet, both in England and France, their attraction grows.  While many men are turned off by Mary's outlandish ideas, Hugh finds himself being drawn to her more and more.

As the political intrigue around them grows, Hugh and Mary will have to work together for the crown.  Will they realize they are perfect for each other before it's too late?  You'll have to read Racing With The Wind to find out.  I can't wait to see where Ms. Walker takes us next in the next book in this series, Against The Wind set to release sometime in 2012. 

My Rating:  4 out of 5 Crowns 

 

FTC Disclosure:  I was provided a complimentary copy of this book by a 

blog touring company in exchange for an honest review.  

Virtual Book Tour Guest Post, Review and Giveaway - Mrs. Jones by B.A. Morton

Hello and welcome to my stop on B.A. Morton's Virtual Book Tour for Mrs. Jones.  Please be sure to leave a comment or question below for B.A.  You can follow her tour here.  

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Selling the Imaginary House by B.A. Morton

I was distracted by a recent discussion regarding sales. More specifically, book sales and how to stack the odds in your favour when writing your “best seller”. It got me thinking about the advice given when selling a house and how strangely relevant it is. When we write, we are, after all, creating a property, a building to house the imagination.

Some of us may follow set plans, start, middle and ending all established from the outset. The timber framed kit house formula. It works; it’s effective and particularly useful if you’re planning a series, an estate of imaginary houses, numbers 1-6 Adventure Drive. Others may adopt the strategy of the weaver bird, skilled builders of fine structures. You marvel at their work and wonder how such a delicate structure can survive and protect its contents. Of course the bird knows what it’s doing, but it’s not obvious to the onlooker, to the reader who is simply enchanted by the skill. And then we have the beavers and their precariously placed lodges. The constant battle against the elements to shore up the holes in the plot, contain the runaway storyline. Diligence and constant maintenance win the day, but will the building ever be fully complete? Will the story leak out on its own?

You’ve followed advice and built according to the market. You’ve ignored the lure of the mansion, the trillion word doorstop, that only a minority of insomniacs will be inclined to invest their money and time in. You’ve also steered away from the quirky windmill. Yes, you love windmills, but reluctantly accept that for most buyers, those pesky sails would be a problem. You’ve settled on that tried and trusted three bed semi. Romance on the first floor, Crime on the ground floor, paranormal in the basement and with an eye on a possible series, plenty room for expansion.

So, you’ve built your dream house. In your opinion it’s the best house on the road and everyone will want one...won’t they?

Not necessarily.

De-clutter - All that stuff, all that unnecessary prose that’s smothering your wonderful creation. Do yourself a favour, get rid. Hire a skip, or a red pen. Engage the services of the delete key and if you can’t bear to see your bric-a-brac, your endless waffling consigned to the tip, hire a house clearer or an editor to do it for you.

De-personalise – I’m talking curtain swags and crocheted loo roll covers, acid green wallpaper and shag-pile carpets. You might love these things, but remember, this marvellous structure you’ve proudly built isn’t just to house your imagination. You have to leave a little room for the buyer too.  So, don’t over describe, leave the vital statistics of the hero to the readers imagination and you’ll find your property far more appealing to far more buyers. Don’t underestimate your readers by overwriting. Allow them to discover, to work it out for themselves.

That something special -   Okay, so you’ve done what you can. You have what the market wants. It’s freshly tidied, awash with magnolia paint and the smell of ground coffee and home baked bread. Trouble is, everyone else on the road, the bookshelf, the genre has followed the same advice, so what makes your gem stand out from the crowd. It’s that “thing” that twist, that unique aspect and if you’ve got it, you’d better make sure everyone knows about it. Sea views, quirky provenance, marvellous architecture. Whatever it is, you’ve got to advertise it, give all those buyers a taste of what they’re missing and that’s where the blurb comes in. It’s the sneak preview, the seduction, the big sell. Your house may be in the estate agents window, your book up there on Amazon but you need to find that hook, and you’d better make sure it’s a good one.

Kerb appeal - You’ve done all of the above. Your house of imagination is the best it can be, you know it is, you believe in it. There’s one last thing you need to do to get people to agree with you, open the gate and come in. Remember you’re in a row of other semis. You might think all houses look the same. They don’t have to. It’s time to create your cover. A cover to draw the eye and tempt a buyer to read the blurb that will draw them into the property. So they’ll believe, as you do, that this is the best house on the road. A cover isn’t meant to tell the story, remember the de-clutter rule, less is more. Allow your reader some imagination. Set the right mood and make sure the genre is clear.

Sell – It’s out there, you’ve ticked all the boxes, you’ve given yourself the best chance possible...now all you need to do is sit back and count the sales...erm...not quite. Make yourself a coffee or a stiff drink and get ready for the hardest part of all...promotion!

We can’t all have best sellers, but we can make sure our house is the best on the road.

BA Morton... August 2012

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Mrs. Jones

By B.A. Morton

Publisher: Taylor Street Publishing

Date of Publication: April 7, 2012

ISBN: 978-1468116885

ASIN: B006OEVRBM

Number of pages:256

Word Count: 88.000

Cover Artist: Bradley Wind

Amazon

Book Description:

A British girl with a secret.

A New York cop with a past.

And a mob that wants revenge

In the slickest, sexiest novel to come out in a long time, ruggedly tough and honest cop Detective Tommy Connell picks up an English girl, Mrs Jones, who claims to be the witness to a murder, and falls in love with her. Well, Mrs Jones, whoever she is, must be very attractive because an awful lot of people seem to want to get their hands on her if they can get her away from Connell's determined hands, including some organized crime boys along with the Feds.

Detective Connell definitely has his work cut out for him if he wants to end up with the body of Mrs Jones, dead or alive, that's for sure. All-in-all it's probably safe to say he hasn't a clue what is going on. It is probably equally safe to guess that Mrs Jones does. Not that 'safe' is quite the right word to use here. 

Excerpt Chapter One

She answered the door on the sixth knock.

He knew that because he had counted.

Six knocks, thirty seconds between knocks, three minutes.

He’d raised his hand to give her the seventh, seeing as how seven was his lucky number and three and half minutes was as long as he was prepared to wait, but she’d beaten him to it. All the same, six knocks.

These weren’t palatial penthouse apartments, they were studios. What

had taken her so long? Delays in answering the door in this neighborhood were usually accompanied by the sounds of a hurriedly flushed toilet. On this occasion there was silence.

When the door finally opened, she left the chain on, which he supposed was sensible, but didn’t make his job any easier or quicker.

He had a hot date waiting. He checked his watch. If she was still waiting. Taking out his badge, he flashed it through the crack in the door.

“Ma’am, New York Police Department, Detective Connell.” He made an

effort to speak slowly and clearly, wondering if they were old folks and whether that could explain the delay in answering.

“You called in a report about a hit and run. I’d like to speak with you, ask you a few questions.”

He pulled his badge away just in time to avoid his hand being jammed as the door slammed closed. Rolling his eyes, he checked his watch again. She definitely wouldn’t be waiting now. She’d be on her way home and deleting his number from her phone. That was twice he’d stood her up; she wouldn’t be letting him make it three. And that was a shame - she was a looker, and no dummy either. No matter,

probably for the best in the long run.

He was about to give her the seventh knock, when he heard the chain being slid. Placing a hand on the weapon holstered under his left arm, he watched as the door swung slowly inwards. All he needed now was some geriatric cop-hater to come barrelling out with a sawed-off Zimmer frame, so he stood off to one side of the door, just in case.

Connell had drawn the short straw on this case. Everyone else on the squad had more important things to do on a Friday night than chase up old ladies who may or may not have seen an accident. He had more important things to do; he’d been on a promise, after all. But he was on dicey ground and his arrest rate was looking bad. He’d been spending far too much time on impossible cases and this looked like an

easy wrap. Find the old lady, confirm her statement and sign off on the case. Maybe his date would wait. Maybe pigs would fly.

“Honey, is your mom at home?” he asked the young girl who peered anxiously at him from behind the door. She was slender and pale, with a mop of unruly dark curls and wide dark eyes. Her feet, resting one on the other, were bare, her toenails painted a vivid pink.

She wore washed-out jeans with holes at the knees and a baggy grey Tshirt. Connell processed her slight frame in seconds and disregarded her. It was a necessary knack - identify and eliminate any risks - certainly in this neighborhood. “I’m looking for a … ” He pulled out his notebook and checked the name he’d scrawled down back at the station “ … Mrs.Jones, Mrs. Elizabeth Jones.”

The girl nodded, opened the door wide and he realized his knack for on-the-spot identification was slipping. She wasn’t a young girl; she was a young woman who looked like she hadn’t been sleeping too well and he knew exactly how that felt.

“I’m Mrs. Jones,” she said hesitantly in a soft, British accent. “You’d better come in.”

Connell wasn’t often surprised. In his line of work it was a necessary requirement to be unflappable and un-shockable, or at the very least to present that image to the public, but she was definitely not what he’d been expecting. She was far too young for a start, didn’t look old enough to be Mrs. Anybody and she didn’t sound like the voice on the tape. The voice had been muffled, admittedly, but had sounded older and certainly not British. Either she hadn’t made the call or the voice had been deliberately disguised. He narrowed his eyes. The first of his inner alarm bells had just gone off.

He followed her into the room. If she wasn’t what he’d expected, then the room certainly was. It was typical of a thousand more in the neighborhood. Close your eyes, stick a pin in a map and you couldn’t fail to come up with a place like this. Short-term, low-rent housing where absentee landlords turned a blind eye and made a killing.

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Author Bio:

B.A. Morton is a British crime, historical and romance writer.

Her first novel is 'Mrs Jones'. The next in the series, 'Molly Brown', will be published during 2012.

She lives and writes on the Scottish Border.

www.goodreads.com/author/show/5405833.B_A_Morton

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My Review:  

I wasn't sure what to expect when I began reading Mrs. Jones by B.A. Morton, sometimes I'll love a mystery written by a British writer and other times I'll have problems with either the plot or the pacing of the story.  I'm happy to report that this was not the case with Mrs. Jones, I found Ms. Morton's writing style easy to follow, the pacing was pretty even (though it was a little slow to start) and I enjoyed getting to know the characters.  I found the dialogue to be sharp, the romance to be well developed and the mystery kept me turning the pages.  

Lizzie, or Mrs. Jones as she calls herself at the beginning of the story, is an interesting character; a young and quite lovely young woman, she's traveling on someone else's passport and is one of several witnesses to a motor vehicle accident which kills a man.  Most of the witnesses say it was an "accident" while Lizzie is the only one to come forward, via an attempted anonymous 911 call, and state positively that it was no accident - she claims it was a murder, the driver ran over the man twice.  The only problem the investigating officer has with her story; she identifies a different driver than everyone else and she's lying about who she is and why she's in the U.S. I liked how Ms. Morton developed Lizzie's character throughout this story, at first she's not really sure who she can trust and has a lot of issues but as the story moves on Lizzie begins to open up and we get to see a young woman who's got a lot of spunk and personality.

Detective Tommy Connell has been having a bad run of luck at work and needs to break a case.  Assigned to investigate the 911 call by "Mrs. Jones", he finds himself intrigued by the lovely young woman, who keeps lying to him.  Determined to get the truth, Tommy finds himself with a witness who identifies his arch-nemesis, Mo Pater, an albino mobster who's somehow tied to the death of Tommy's previous girlfriend (the mother of Tommy's son). While Tommy's attracted to Lizzie, he's not about to let her out of his sight or out of his grasp until he can prove Mo's involvement in a crime that will finally put him behind bars.  He'll do whatever it takes to keep Lizzie safe, he just didn't plan on falling in love with her at the same time.  I really liked how Ms. Morton developed Tommy's character; it's easy to see why people find him so charming and yet he's got issues which he needs to confront - such as his desire for revenge which causes him to take some risks he should not.  

The scenes between Tommy and Lizzie are very well written, their chemistry is pretty obvious from the start but that doesn't detract from them as a couple; they still have plenty of obstacles - her lying and his continuing run of bad luck. The romance works well between Tommy and Lizzie, it's got enough tension and heat to make things interesting.  Plus they seem to get interrupted a lot just as things are beginning to heat up.  

The secondary characters help move the story along, are well developed and even add some humor, from Marty, Tommy's friend in the INS, to the FBI agents who try to hijack Tommy's case.  The villains of the story, and there are 2, are just creepy enough to make you want to see them get the justice they deserve.  There's even a twist with the identity of one of the villains, which I thought added to the story.

Will Tommy be able to prove Mo Pater is a cold blooded murder and keep Lizzie safe?  Will Tommy and Lizzie's relationship ever really get off the ground?  You'll have to read Mrs. Jones to find out.  I enjoyed this story quite a lot and I'm looking forward to reading Molly Brown, the next book featuring Tommy Connell as the main character.

My Rating: 5 out of 5 Crowns

Because I enjoyed this story and it's the weekend, I'll be giving away one ebook copy of Mrs. Jones in Kindle format. Just enter using the Rafflecopter form below.

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