#HighlandMiracle #HistoricalRomance #Fantasy #TimeTravel

Title: Highland Miracle

Author: Christine Young

Email: achristay@aol.com

Genre: Romance/Fantasy/Paranormal/Historical

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 2

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BLURB: Highland Miracle

HURTLED THROUGH TIME, Sean Michael Sterling, landed in the midst of a May Day celebration he didn’t understand, assuming the role of Laird Sterling. 

ILLIGITAMATE CHILD OF NOBILITY, Reagan Douglas searches for a way out of her half brother’s house.

EXCERPT: Highland Miracle

"Look, Tia," Reagan said as she pointed toward a nearby hill.  

"What is it?" 

"A handsome stranger," Reagan giggled, instantly transfixed by the man. "Coming to dance around the May Pole?" Reagan looked a little more closely. "Oh, it's the Laird of Sterling Castle. Why is he on foot?"

"You are not thinking what I think," Tia said. "You dinnae know who he is. He looks like the laird but then he doesn't."

"How do I look?" Regan asked, ignoring Tia and smoothing her skirts then hoping she looked beautiful enough to snare this man. She wanted to sweep the laird off his feet. This might be her one and only chance.

She heard the celebration in the background and watched as all eyes rose to meet the Laird's. Her brother William's eyes were startled then guarded and thoughtful. Tia's were intrigued. Some of the others gazes were wary and distrustful. They were a superstitious lot here in the Highlands. But even as she watched the people around her, she could not fully keep her attention from the Laird who had never attended this celebration before. 

She felt a curious draw as she met his piercing gaze. She had only once before seen the man. He was an illusive creature, usually keeping inside the walls of his castle. Rumor had it the castle was haunted and the ghost was a woman who kept him from finding true love or happiness.

"Who do you think he is and where did he come from?" Tia asked peering intently at the man. "I really don't think it's the Laird. No one has spoken to the man in years. He is so withdrawn. A few months ago people were saying he had died."

The man possessed a calm air as if he knew and recognized all the people in front of him. His dark gaze was mysterious, and when he stopped walking, he stood as still as a rock, striking and in clothes she had never seen anyone wear before. She had thought then, though, it would not have mattered what he wore.

Reagan could not draw her eyes from his and felt her flesh grow warm. The way he stared at her was unnerving. Her heart thundered beneath her chest. It seemed as if she knew this man from some long ago time.

But that wasn't possible.

It was May Day. The very air was filled with such excitement, and now this man was here as if sent for her and her alone. In the meadow maids and youths already danced around the Maypole. A man with a bear had the animal dancing circles upon his hind feet, and a marionette show was in progress. A flutist played in honor of King James, a group of Highlanders played the bagpipes. Noise and confusion flourished. The day was bright, clear blue, and so very beautiful. 

She saw a strange gold dusting swirling and dancing in the air around her. Instantly, she felt compelled toward the stranger. For a moment she thought someone spoke to her, encouraging her onward.

Reagan was grateful she'd taken so much time with her clothes. Her hose were white silk, and her little leather slippers were blue decorated with glass stones. Next to her flesh she wore a soft silk shift and over it a binding corset and three different petticoats. The dress was blue brocade, with stomachers in velvet, low-cut bodices, and half sleeves with scores of blue lace. Her facemask was covered with feathers and plumes. Her golden hair was done in ringlets, tied through with blue satin ribbons.  When she'd looked at herself in the mirror, she had been quite pleased with the results. 

So lost in thought, she had lost track of the man. 

Until he stood next to her.

"A...hi," he said. "I'm Sean Michael Sterling." He stared at her with dark dangerous brown eyes as he crossed his arms on his chest.

#HighlandMagic #HistoricalRomance

Highland Magic

Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 3

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BLURB: Highland Magic

Throughout the Highlands she is known as Keely, the witch woman. She is a great healer-a woman whose dreams come true. Ian MacPherson is a man who puts honor, loyalty and duty above everything. Their lives are entwined when Ian is sent by the Scottish King to bring Keely to trial for witchcraft. He is attacked and left for dead, but Keely rescues him. When he wakes, he discovers he has no memory. As he remembers his lost past, Ian finds that his need to protect the woman who has saved his life eclipses his duty to his king and country. He is a man torn between honor and duty to his country and the woman he loves.

REVIEW: Highland Magic

4.0 out of 5 stars February 24, 2013 By  H. Murphy "H"

I have enjoyed this series. Strong alpha highlanders....what more could a girl want. The heroin is strong but sometimes just doesn't think....but that makes for the drama. Off to the third book.

Excerpt: Highland Magic

Scotland, Summer 1513:

For a moment the man's gaze met hers, bored into her heart, questioned. Blood curdling war cries rode the wings of death through the timeless night. Claymores clashed. Dark eyes the color of midnight flashed a challenge. The holy man's opponents hesitated then lunged once more.

Moonbeams reflected light from the gold chain he wore around his neck. Brown robes fell from massive shoulders. Three more enemies appeared from the trees. The priest fell to the ground, wounded by the broadside of his enemy's weapon. Motionless, he lay on her flower-strewn meadow, blood staining the grass and wildflowers, marring the colorful, summer landscape.

Keely Gray woke, heart pounding a rapid staccato. She pressed against her throbbing temples with sweat-slick palms, hoping to ease the horrific pain that always accompanied the dreams. Death--the scent of blood, fear and treachery still hung heavy in the darkened hut. The prickling sensation radiating from her spine to encompass her body was too familiar.

She listened and heard nothing.

A dark void impaled her. The usual night sounds stilled. She heard no hoot of owl, no chirp of crickets, no croak of frogs, nor could she hear the mournful sighing of the wind through the branches of the old oak trees.

Silence emptied her heart as well as her soul, leaving only an ever-present loneliness.

Keely wanted nothing more than to cuddle into her bed and pull the covers over her head. Despite the unspeakable agony deep in the pit of her stomach, she rose from her pallet. Her limbs trembling, she slipped a shapeless tunic over her head and soft-soled shoes onto her feet. As she swept past the front door, she grabbed her woolen cloak.

Light from a full moon illuminated the path. She could see, but she could also be seen, the moonlight both a curse and a blessing. Approaching the meadow she'd watched in her dreams, she slowed her pace and waited. Her fingers wound tightly around the amber pendant she always wore, her only keepsake from her mother.

The sounds and scents hovering on the wind would tell her if danger still lurked. Caution guided her. A vigilance she'd learned long ago held her motionless.

 A familiar dragging sound reassured her she wasn't alone. "Whipple?" she whispered.

A self-appointed guardian angel appeared as if from nowhere then nodded, though there was a wary cast to his faded blue eyes. "Aye, lass, I'm here. I heard ye leave your hut. I would not leave ye alone to face whatever dangerous mission awaited."

Keely waited for Whipple to close the distance between them before she spoke. "I would argue with you about your appearance here at this great hour, but I ken it would do no good. You should not be here. Your heart--"

Whipple spat. "My heart is fine."

She determinedly stepped forward, approaching the meadow of her dream, knowing she wouldn't like what she found.

"Have it your way, then." Given a choice, Keely wouldn't have come to this meadow. But she had to know the truth--had she seen the future or something happening at that very moment?

Whipple didn't reply. On his clubfoot, he followed her, his trailing leg sliding behind him with a soft swish. The hard thud of his crooked oak cane followed at a slightly skewed interval.

Together they crested the hill. Below her, she saw her dream. A priest lay on the ground, his head twisted at an odd angle. For a moment her heart stopped. She bit down on her lower lip while she studied the man.

#EditingByAngels

Editing by Angels

Rogue’s Angels would like to help make the publishing process a little bit easier. We offer editing, proofreading, and covers at a reasonable price. 

Rogues Angels have years of editing experience, starting in the 90’s. Please check out resumes at the Rogue’s Angels blog: http://roguesangels.blogspot.com

Editing plus proofreading rates are:

$150 for under 50K words

$250 for 50K to 100K words

$350 for over 100K words.

Covers price varies. Once a cover is used it will not be used again. Check out pre-made covers at:

http://www.designsbymsg.com/SpreeSpecials.html and http://www.designsbymsg.com/FastTrackForSale.html

For more information contact Christine Young ~ achristay@aol.com

AVAILABLE  COVERS:

#HighlandHonor #HistoricalRomance

Highland Honor

Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 3

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BLURB: Highland Honor

Highland Honor

The first book in the Highland Series

Willfully stubborn, innocently courageous, Callie Whitcomb braves a journey through the treacherous highlands to the Macpherson castle. Callie flees from an unwanted marriage as well as her ruthless half brother. Naively she believes Colin MacPherson, the head of the clan, is loyal to her father and will give her sanctuary, protecting her from the vile plans that have been made for her.

As hard and as unyielding as the winter storms that sweep through the countryside, Colin is irresistibly drawn to the impetuous beauty who has magically appeared on his doorsteps. Despite his vows of revenge against her father, she stirs his passion as well as his sense of justice...but to love her would violate all his vows of revenge.

EXCERPT: Highland Honor

Scotland November 1512: 

A heavy frost sat on the frozen earth, and a full moon shone clearly between the heavy clouds dotting the sky. Lady Callie Whitcomb looked over her shoulder as she raced through the deepening gloom toward the lighted tavern ahead. Every shadow, every mournful sigh of the wind sweeping through the trees, every chilling animal sound filled her with terror. Fear for her life drove her to put all thoughts of danger aside. He would follow her, find her, and drag her home. 

Home. 

"Don't think of that now," she reminded herself fiercely, even while tears stung in the back of her throat and fear made her limbs tremble. "Don't ye dare think of home. It no longer exists." Nothing and no one could coax her back or make her believe there was naught but terror in the home where she'd been born. 

"I will never marry Lord Huntington. Never!" she whispered fiercely, the chill night air solemnly echoing her words. 

Her stepbrother, Archibald Covington III, made sure she could never return. 

"There ye be, lass! I've been waiting for you." 

The voice rose from nowhere and surprised her. Her heart froze, lurched, then began an erratic beat, while raw nerves snapped, sending a myriad of sensations racing down her spine. 

"Archibald--" she whispered, panic sweeping through her. "He's found me." All she could hear was the pounding of blood in her ears. 

Before she could reach her destination, before she could find safe refuge from him, his men had found her. No! Not now. Not when she thought she had eluded them all. 

A wave of fear sweeping through her reminded her, that if caught, she would be taken back to Archibald and forced to marry Lord Huntington. 

"I'll help you down, lass." 

"No." 

Before she could react and spur her horse forward, callous, rough hands centered on her waist then pulled her from her mount. 

"No!" She cried out to no avail. Regaining her wits, she beat fiercely upon the man's broad chest, tearing at his face and his thick beard with her fingers. 

"Ach, lass! Hold still! I mean ye no harm. Stop this--" His voice was gruff and impatient. 

Fear for her life had spurred her haste. Terror she might see Huntington or Archibald with each turn of the road haunted every hour of her journey. Archibald had retainers everywhere. Messages would have been sent. A highlander could be bought. 

"Ruffian! Unhand me! Ye barbarous Scotsman." 

If Archibald had guessed what path she followed... 

"Verra well, ne'er let it be said that I dinna do a lass' bidding." Just as suddenly as he'd grabbed her, his hold upon her vanished. She stumbled backward. 

Instantly, she found herself sitting on the frozen earth. The man towering above her watched her with concerned dark eyes. Despite the scar stretching from forehead to chin, his mouth quirked upward in a humorous slant. 

"Ye be a handful, lass." 

Mary of A Romance Review says, "Overall I liked the story and can recommend it as a worthwhile read. The author has a lot of talent and the plot and tension of the story are well handled."

GottaHaveFayth #HistoricalRomance

Title: Gotta Have Fayth

Twelve Dancing Princesses Book Six

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: Amazon, 

Read First Chapter

TAGLINE

Fayth Graham unexpectedly meets a man with sparkling gray eyes and an infectious grin, Jarret Kingsley, who gets more than he bargained in the beautiful debutant.

BLURB: Gotta Have Fayth

A regal beauty with raven hair and piercing blue eyes, Fayth Graham is unwilling to parade herself in front of the wealthy Lords of England during the season. Seeking a means to dissuade any man wishing to wed her, she pursues a way to ruin herself for marriage. When she unexpectedly meets a man with sparkling gray eyes and an infectious grin, she decides this is the man who will keep her from agreeing to obey.

He returned from six months at sea, looking for a few nights of pleasure with a willing lass, but Jarret Kinsley got more than he bargained for when he met a beautiful debutant who responded to his kisses with a wild innocence that touched his heart. Yet the obstacles looming between them might rip them apart. Both had vowed never to marry, so when consequences of their dalliances got in the way, Jarret would have to choose between the life he's always desired and the woman he loves more than life.

EXCERPT: Gotta Have Fayth

            “You’re frightening me. I don’t understand anything you’ve been telling me right now.” For a moment, Fayth closed her eyes, realizing she’d pushed him too far. She didn’t know how to remedy this. “I apologize if I’ve done something to change you.”

            “I stole your innocence instead of keeping you safe.” His voice sounded bitter to her. “I wanted you for myself, only myself, without acting on what was in your best interest.’’

            She focused on Jarret, blinked and smiled slightly. “If you remember, I asked you to ruin me,” she murmured, hoping the truth would help. “I wanted you the instant I saw you.”

            “You had no idea what would happen in the aftermath of the tempest we created. I did. The pain I feel at the thought of what I’ve put you through is an agony I’ve never felt before. You trusted me without reservation, yet I’ve brought you nothing but challenges you never asked for and compromised you so thoroughly there is no way to rectify the situation.”

            “You’ve misconstrued everything about me,” she murmured, wishing he would give her credit for some intelligence and understand she had no misgivings. “I wanted everything we did with all my heart. You should have no regrets unless you regret me.”

            “I’m a bloody fool.”

            “Then I’m a blithering idiot,” she told him, unwilling to make this about him. “I’m a willing and eager partner in everything we’ve done. Perhaps you are a bloody fool if you still think this is all about you.”

            “I could’ve stopped us before we were buried in lies. Nothing will happen to me and I knew it. The town will ostracize you, and they will applaud me and my manly prowess.”

            Fayth smiled and touched Jarret’s hard jawline. “I won’t let you dictate what I do and you’ve always known that fact. You’ve gone far beyond what we discussed in the beginning. I’ve no expectation of marriage, nor do I want any part of the institution that involves weddings and a commitment to obey.”

            Jarret’s mouth flattened. “I’m going to leave and let you have what you’ve made damn clear to me, your independence.”

            “I don’t want you to go, you hard-headed man. I want you to make love to me and hold me in your arms. I don’t want that to end.”

            “I can’t do that without the commitment you will never make. There is no other choice for me. This has become a living hell.”

            “I can still be your mistress.” She’d wanted that from the beginning. “I’ll wait for you and I won’t betray you in anyway. Not like your father betrayed your mother.”

EXCERPT

Their attention once again was directed to the entrance. A young woman stepped through the door. Jarret’s mind centered on her face; she was so beautiful he couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping. She could have been the largest woman he’d ever seen, but her face seemed angelic. Gorgeous. Stunning. Yet she was petite with coal black hair, intricately coiffed with a few tendrils framing her cheekbones. She wore a travelling dress that had seen better days, but it didn’t distract from her slim delicate figure.

He swallowed hard and his breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure he could speak. “I want her. Gotta have her. Tonight.” Maybe my fortune is changing for the best.

“What did you just say?” Logan turned to stare at Jarret.

“My wishes for this evening have just been answered. This is the woman I’ve been waiting for. The next lady who will find my bed and enjoy all the pleasure she deserves.” Jarret rose, striding to the enchanting vision.

He reached her, feeling for the first time he could remember, tongue-tied. The air around her was filled with the scent of lemons. “Can I help you?” He touched her elbow, gently guiding her to the corner of the room where he’d been sitting. He couldn’t resist her aqua colored eyes or the tilt of her chin. When she moistened her lips, all he could think was that he had to taste them, breathe in their essence.

She stared at him, appearing a bit bewildered. “I...”

“I...” One eyebrow rose and the smile inside him grew realizing this woman, whoever she was, would be his next affair. All that remained was convincing her. He didn’t think that would be too difficult.

“I need directions.” She said, her voice assuming a note of command, yet at the same time breathless.

“You entered a tavern for directions?” he queried skeptically. “Then direction you will have.” His heart pounded in his chest, a sudden heat sweeping through his body. More than willing to give instructions to the captain’s cabin of his ship.

She let him lead her across the floor and pulled out a chair for her. “This is...” he began, only to shift his attention from his friends to this gorgeous lady.

“Fayth,” she said.

"And I'm Jarret Kingsley."

An easy peace swept through him. Gotta have Fayth. He touched the top of her hand with his. Its softness sent a warm shimmer spiraling straight to his heart.

“Fayth, a beautiful name,” Logan said, grinning at Jarret as if he knew his intentions.

Jarret slanted him the best hands offlook he could manage. Logan appeared to receive the message, and Drake downed his second pint, signaling for another.

“Kingsley, if I haven’t missed the clues, I believe your wishes for tonight have been granted.” Drake told him. Guess you won’t be going with Logan and myself.”

Now I just have to convince my lady. “Don’t the two of you have somewhere to go?” Jarret asked, nodding his head in the direction of the door.

Fayth slipped her hand from beneath his and placed it on Jarret’s arm. “I came in here for help. Can you help me?”

“Of course, directions where?” Jarret asked, knowing where he wanted her but still trying to figure out the details.

“To my new lodgings. I’ve been travelling for days and I’m confused. I’ve never been in London and I thought...”

“No fears. I’ll make sure you get where you want to go.” Jarret had every intention of taking her wherever she pleased but only after he knew her better, intimately.

The pint of ale Jarret had ordered for her appeared. She licked her lips and stared at the glass. “I don’t know if I should drink that.”

“Only if you want to. I can get you water or wine. The water is horrible, but the wine might be better if it comes from Logan’s vineyard in Bordeaux.” Jarret ignored the conversation between his two best friends. Without listening, he knew what it was that they talked and laughed about and he didn’t care, knowing he was smitten he wasn’t about to deny the emotion.

“I’ll try this.” She sipped the cold brew, a strange expression appearing on her delicate features.

“What do you think?”

“Good.” She licked her lips, and he wanted to follow the path of her tongue with his fingertip.

KEYWORDS

Historical, Romance, Regency, England

SOCIAL LIINKS

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http://christineyoungromancewriter.com/

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Rogue's Angels Present: Memoir of a Hockey Nobody by Jerry Hack

Please welcome Jerry Hack author of Memoir of a Hockey Nobody

Jerry Hack will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Memoir of a Hockey Nobody

by Jerry Hack

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GENRE: Biography and Autobiography / Sports

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

INTERVIEW:

“Memoir of a Hockey Nobody” subtitled: “They Said I Couldn’t Make the NHL, So I Went Out and Proved Them Right!”

What or Who inspired you to start writing?

I had started playing ice hockey when I was 18 and made it all the way to Semi-Pro. While doing so I met many people who said or did a lot of crazy, nutty things. I kept a scrapbook of my hockey playing days and while flipping through the pages I remembered all these stories from my past. I started posting these stories, as well as some pictures, on Facebook. They got to be quite popular among my friends and more than a few of them said I should write a book. I didn’t really think I had a book in me, but I got to thinking about my parents who both had passed away in recent years. I realized that I didn’t really know their story. What it was like for them growing up in the 30’s and 40’s. What were they’re aspirations? They’re hopes and dreams and activities? I thought about my own daughter, Brooklynn, and that I didn’t want to leave this life without her knowing my story. So, my parents and my daughter were my inspiration to start writing.

What elements are necessary components for this genre?

What I learned by writing this book is that everybody has a story to tell. I would encourage everybody to write their life story, it is very cathartic. Even if it is not published, at least it is preserved for posterity. Family members may want to know the history of a loved one, and it would be there for rest of time. The elements necessary would only be a good memory, and a computer.

What expertise did you bring to your writing?

Absolutely none. Which I think is why the book has a chance to be special. I tell people that yes, I am an author. I wrote a book. But I am not a writer, I’m a forklift driver. My expertise, if you will, is that I know how to tell a story. Putting pen to paper is the challenge. Basically, I wrote the book off the top of my head and I think that the honesty comes across in the telling of my story.

 As far as writing goes, what are your future plans?

I have no concrete plans at this stage. All I know is that people are already asking me to write some more. I have a basic idea for a novel, and also there is a news story from back in the ‘80’s that intrigues me, and I am thinking about telling that story from a different perspective. Sorry for being so vague, but this writing thing is all new to me.

Can you give us a sneak peek into this book?

The book chronicles my journey through the hockey world. Starting in 1971 when my sister, Marlene and I watched the Stanley Cup Final between the Montreal Canadiens and the Chicago Blackhawks when I was nine years old. My love of the game and my passion for goaltending grew through my teenage years playing street hockey until the age of 18 when a twist of fate allowed me to make the transition to ice hockey. From there I made it all the way to semi-pro. Along the way I met many interesting and crazy people and I tell parts of their story as well as my own. “Art Birss, our coach, was a no-nonsense coach when it came to game time but after the game, he was loose and a jokester. We had a young player on our team (I forget his name) and he was willing to do just about anything to stay in the lineup. One game he decided to take it upon himself to fight one of the other team’s tougher guys. The fight was pretty even to begin with and both players got some good shots in. But our guy was overmatched and ended up taking a pretty good beating. At the end of the period in the dressing room Art went up to this kid and said “not bad”. The kid replied, “thanks coach”. Art then said to him “I think you should fight him again while his hands are still sore.”

When did you first decide to submit your work? Please tell us what or who encouraged you to take this big step?

Definitely my wife Kathleen. She is from a British family and is therefore very stoic. It is very difficult to get her to laugh out loud. Whenever I tell her something that I think is funny, she usually just rolls her eyes and says “Oh, God”. And if something I say is really hilarious, she will just look at me deadpan and say “funny”. After I decided to give writing a book a shot, I wrote the first two chapters and got her to read what I had written. She actually laughed out loud a couple of times and even at one point started to cry, so I decided then that the book would be submitted for publishing.

What is the best and worst advice you ever received? (Regarding writing or publishing)

Since this is all new to me and I have never taken a Creative Writing class, I can’t say that I’ve received any advice, good or bad from anyone personally. My wife has given me couple of tips about how to word some parts. But other than that, I can’t think of anything. I don’t have a vast vocabulary and I think that resonates with the reader. My way of writing is fairly concise. The best advice I got was from a video on YouTube entitled “How to Self-Publish Your First Book” by Gillian Perkins. She went through the whole process step-by-step. The most helpful advice she gave was to make sure to use 2 editors, which I did. And even then, there are still a couple of mistakes in the book. But in the end, we decided they were so small that someone would probably have to be a Rhodes Scholar to point them out.

Do you outline your books or just start writing?

For this one there was no outline. I just basically wrote it off the top of my head. I have a very good memory for details so I wrote it how I remembered it. Some of the details I know are wrong, but it’s the way I remember it. For my next book (if there is one), if it is a novel, I will write it pretty much the same way. I’m confident the ideas and concepts will just appear in my mind in a straightforward timeline. If the next book is biographical, it will definitely take a ton of research, so I will most assuredly have to use an outline.

How do you maintain your creativity?

This one is easy. My mind never really shuts off. I absorb all that is around me. Things people say. Places I have been, and everything I see. My mind is a whirling dervish of concepts, ideas, plans and practices. It just has never occurred to me until this point in my life, to actually write any of it down. Now that the cat is out of the bag, I am excited to see where this path takes me. I will absolutely write some more, but whether or not it is published is another story indeed. I am hoping so.

 Who is your favourite character in the book? Can you tell us why?

He is not a character. He is an actual person. His name is Darren Livingston. I met him while playing hockey in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory. When I first met him, I felt sorry for him. I thought that he was so thoroughly unattractive that he must struggle in life. He was, unkempt and uncouth. I describe him in the book this way. “He was under six feet tall and about 190 pounds. He had long brown hair that was like wire, and he looked like he hadn’t showered, ever. He had a mouth like a sewer, everything he said was laced with profanity.” My thought at the time was that he was so unattractive that he wouldn’t ever meet a girl. Nothing could be further from the truth. The women flocked to the guy. He must’ve been emitting enough pheromones for ten men. From the book “Women who I’d give my eye teeth to go out with were fawning all over him. I was at a party one night and this attractive girl, who was going gaga over him was standing next to me. I asked her what the attraction was, she looked at me and gave me that quick little raise of the eyebrows and said, “mmmm.......bad boy”. Darren wasn’t exactly splitting the atom in his spare time either. He once tried to grab onto a ceiling fan expecting to hang from it and spin around. Of course, it broke and he fell to the ground. And the girls all loved him more for it. Just an interesting cat Darren was. I’d really like to know where he is now.

Are your plotting bunnies, angels, or demons?

I have to admit, I Googled this term. I didn’t know what it meant. Most definitely bunnies. When I am writing the ideas just multiply exponentially. The great thing about writing is that you are master of your domain. The story can go in any direction at any time and the bunnies can be a great help, or a great deterrent.

Anything else you might want to add?

My story is one that’s never really been told. At least not to my knowledge. Starting to play ice hockey at the age of 18 and making it all the way to semi-pro has never been done. Most of the books about hockey players are by NHLers who describe their struggle to make it to the big time. Rags to riches stories. Mine is more of a rags to rags story. It’s about having modest dreams and attaining them, and enjoying the ride of life. My book “Memoir of a Hockey Nobody” is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Chapters/Indigo, Kindle, Kobo, and Smashwords. Also, you can order it from my website: www.jerryhack.com

BLURB:

Memoir of a Hockey Nobody is the unlikely true story of an average Canadian kid who grew up playing street hockey. Although he didn't learn how to skate until his late teens, he took a shot at entering the world of professional ice hockey with, shall we say, haphazard results.

This is an "against all odds" tale of one man's journey from Vancouver, to all over Western Canada, California, The Yukon, and Alaska. Seemingly blocked at every turn, from managers who believed that someone who came from such humble beginnings couldn't be any good, to coaches who would rather see big names with bigger reputations. It's a story of tragedy, triumph and determination. A roller coaster ride with hilarious anecdotes of all the characters he met along the way.

This is a tale for those who dare to live their dream!

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EXCERPT:

“In the spring of 1980, the New York Islanders won the Stanley Cup, beating the Philadelphia Flyers in 6 games. Bob Nystrom scored the Stanley Cup winning goal in overtime. I was happy, because finally someone other than the Montreal Canadiens won the cup. Despite rooting for the Canadiens when I was nine, I had grown to hate them. I was a diehard Vancouver Canucks fan by then. The Canadiens just kept on winning and winning. I was so tired of watching them win all the time. four straight years they won the cup without breaking a sweat. Little did I know that the Islanders were now on their way to doing the exact same thing. I would grow to hate them too. It was about a month after the Islanders had their first parade that I was over at the Aitken’s house. John and I still hung out, but not as often as in the past. At this time, I was eighteen and had my own vehicle, (a 1969 Datsun pickup). We were discussing how happy we both were that the Montreal dynasty was seemingly over, when the topic of his hockey team came up. He was always playing in one beer league or another. (At one time he played in the N.H.L. The “Natural Hockey League”) At this time he was playing on a team called the Burnaby Kings, and they were playing at the Columbian 4 Rinks. At one time, this was the largest indoor hockey arena in the world, and was even in the Guinness Book of World Records. As it turned out, the Kings were renting one of the rinks once a week, all summer long. Summer hockey was a new thing, all the other rinks became lacrosse rinks for the summer. John was telling me how terrible their goalie was. The guy’s name was Lonnie. I don’t remember his last name. John was telling me that the guy was the worst goalie he had ever played with. They had nicknamed him “Red Light Lonnie,” because he would let in so many goals. He said that Lonnie was so short that shots would regularly hit him in the head and deflect into the net. One time John said that the puck had been shot into the corner and Lonnie went to go get it, fell down, and while he was trying to get up, the puck went up on edge and had such spin on it after it hit the boards, that it reversed itself and curved right into the net. John said Lonnie was like “Bad Luck Schleprock” of the Flintstones.”

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Author bio: I was born and raised in Burnaby, British Columbia. My sisters and I were raised by hard-working blue collar parents. We were and are a tight knit family. I grew up loving sports but hockey most of all. In fact, it was my passion. I read about it, watched it and played it. I was an average student and a good athlete. I could play most sports without looking out of place. But I was born to be a goalie. I graduated from high school in 1979 and a year later began my journey playing ice hockey. 40 years later, I am happily married with a 12 year old daughter and loving life more than ever.

Website: http://jerryhack.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Memoir-of-a-Hockey-Nobody-108751680786091/?modal=admin_todo_tour

BUY LINKS

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Memoir-Hockey-Nobody-couldnt-proved-ebook/dp/B086BM79H2/

Indigo/Chapters: https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/memoir-of-a-hockey-nobody/9780228828037-item.html?  

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/memoir-of-a-hockey-nobody-jerry-hack/1136740350

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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

Jerry Hack will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

RAFFLECOPTER:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f3377