Happy Valentines Day Contest

Win a digital copy of a Valentine's Day Anthology

All you have to do is fill in the blanks of our story to win a copy of A Valentine's Day Anthology.

FIVE randomly drawn commenters will win. Please leave your email address.

Once upon a time, a __________ (who--princess, dragon, peanut butter

sandwich or ??) was born to the Royal Family.

A ________ (who?) came to the celebration of this birth, and

______________ (did what?).

Aghast, the Royal Family ____________ (did what?)

which resulted in ______________ (what happened?).

After ___________________ (how long?), the ____________ (who?) did

_____________ (what?) 

and they lived __________________ (happily ever after? in the swamp

forever?)

EXCERPTS: A Valentine Anthology

The Lending Library:

Ailidh wobbled precariously on her high heels. 

Kayne smirked. "Having problems, dear?"

"Shut up!" she snapped. "I need to practice this until I get it right. We don’t really have many options left open to us, Kayne. You had better practice, too."

He stopped and steadied himself on the railing of the porch. He wriggled his feet out of the closed leather shoes that encased them.

"I don’t know why you insist we wear these ridiculous articles of clothing. This long-sleeved shirt cuts off the circulation to my hands not to mention the lack of space for my wings and these long pants chap my legs.

"Worst of all, are these horrendous leather shoes. They pinch and make my feet swell. Why do we have to go through all of this? I don’t understand." Kayne grumbled.

Ailidh sighed and slowly, patientlyexplained to him, once again, why they were practicing.

Chasing Rainbows:

Ka-boom! The blast shattered the settling peace of dusk as Marissa Madison pulled into the circular drive. Rissa threw open the car door and sprinted toward the gray stone house.

"Please, no blood this time," she whispered as her feet hit the rough-hewn steps leading up to the broad double doors.

A bespectacled man stepped through the doorway amid a confetti shower of envelopes and leaflets. His silvery hair stood in startled spikes around a balding pate as if it too had been a victim of the explosion. 

"Too much torque in the mail conveyor," he muttered with a frown.

"Please turn it off, Uncle Horace!"

"Right." The old man disappeared back into the house. Within moments, the clanking stopped and silence fell over the rolling hills once again.

Just another normal day, Rissa thought, as she surveyed the day's mail scattered in gay abandon across the landscape. 

The Gift:

"Get in the house, now!" 

"Mama?"

Elice Weld shielded her eyes and watched the ground fog rising in the distance. She didn't know what was coming her way, but she could guess. The rumors that a Union cavalry unit was in the vicinity had spread like a wildfire on a Kansas prairie.

Rain had fallen all morning. Now the clouds had separated, and the sun heated the earth, causing the evaporation of the water-soaked ground. The cavalry rode through the mist like dark, avenging wraiths bent on the destruction of all mankind. She could see seven men silhouetted on the horizon. 

"Izzy, go." Elice didn't want to frighten her daughter but the urgency of the moment could not be denied.

"But mama?" 

"Go to the cellar. Now."

"It's dark."

Izzy's voice echoed in Elice's head, filling her with a wild panic she didn't know how to stop. Every time soldiers approached she was terrified. The last four years had been the longest years of her life. "Do as I say, quickly." Elice hugged her daughter, turning her at the same moment and with a gentle shove sent her through the open door of her house.

"Izzy."

Elice knew the panic in her voice would mobilize her young daughter. She despised the fear and the terror. She loathed the war. She looked up. The fog was dissipating, and she could see the dark blue of the Union coats. She didn't have anything left for the soldiers to take. Good God, they'd taken everything already--everything save her daughter and her hope for the future.

She inhaled a quick breath then stood on the steps, hands folded together in front of her, watching the dark wraiths inch closer. She knew from experience she couldn't fight these men. She would do as they said and when they left, she would put the pieces of her life back together.

Until the next time…

WHEN YOU COMMENT DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS SO THE ANGELS CAN CONTACT YOU.

#HighlandMiracle #HistoricalRomance #Fantasy

Title: Highland Miracle

Author: Christine Young

Email: achristay@aol.com

Genre: Romance/Fantasy/Paranormal

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 2

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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

Buy at Amazon: 

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.

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.

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.

#LegacyOfAngels #RomanticSuspense

Legacy of Angels

Genie Gabriel

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 3

Buy at Amazon: Buy at Barnes & Noble: 

BLURB: Legacy of Angels

Claudia deGras was forced into prostitution by her mother at age twelve. In spite of the trauma and abuse, she dreams of a respectful life filled with joy, laughter and the love of one man. Ironically, that man is Patrick O'Shea, a priest facing demons of his own. Since seminary, he has suffered memory loss and darkness at the edges of his vision that extend into his soul. They are drawn together in a deeply emotional journey of healing that becomes a life-and-death challenge to outwit the twisted man-beast who has vowed revenge against all he thinks have wronged him.

"I'm not safe anywhere." Terror beat in Claudia deGras' heart, pulsed through her veins, shut down any rational thought. Get out of here!

EXCERPT: Legacy of Angels

She bolted toward the door, not daring to look back as the sound of heavy footsteps followed her.

The old brown sedan sitting in the driveway always had the keys in the ignition. Most of the time, it started without much protest.

Claudia flung open the door and cranked the key. The engine caught and roared as she shoved the accelerator to the floor. Two doors banged shut as the old Buick slid sideways on the gravel, then found traction on the pavement.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Patrick O'Shea on the wide bench seat beside her, his hand braced against the dashboard for balance, but his face reflected his normal serenity.

Could she trust him? Did she have a choice? And where was she going?

She eased her foot off the accelerator and settled the old sedan into a speed that wouldn't get them stopped by the police, though patrols were rare on this sparsely traveled road in Eastern Oregon. 

While she drove the highway in silence, the childhood memories of curses and shouting and fists landing heavy blows on her body receded, and her panicked mind calmed down. 

No one had harmed her today. In fact, over the last few weeks the O'Shea siblings, including Patrick, had rearranged their lives to protect her from the man-beast who stalked her. 

She shivered. 

The man-beast was the real danger.

"Take the next exit." Patrick's deep voice interrupted Claudia's thoughts. 

Patrick's wisdom and gentleness had provided a balm to Claudia's soul many times during the time she had been recovering from her physical wounds at his mother's rambling farmhouse. Today, she discovered the emotional fears were deeper than she imagined. Facing the man-beast again--even in her memory--pushed her into a panicked flight.

Now reason was returning and adrenaline ebbing, and Claudia floundered. Once again, Patrick's reassuring voice provided an anchor, so she followed his instructions. Down a paved road for several miles, flanked on either side by acres of rangeland turning dusty gold in the early summer heat. Then another turn onto a graveled road with no other traffic. Finally off any road entirely, bumping over the rangeland to come to a stop under a sheltering copse of trees near a lake.

After Claudia turned off the engine, Patrick opened the car door. "Come with me." 

He walked toward the lake, not looking back. 

Claudia watched him for long minutes. Was he simply going to leave her? 

The land sloped downward where Patrick now walked, making it seem like he was disappearing. When only the top of his head was still in view, panic seized Claudia once again. "Wait!" 

She jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind her, running to catch up with Patrick. She topped the knoll and stopped, her chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion and fright. 

Patrick stood looking up at her, the same serene expression on his face. Then he turned and continued walking to the water's edge. Hidden in the tall reeds was a raft that looked as if it would sink with the weight of the family of ducks swimming nearby. However, when Patrick climbed on, the craft barely dipped before stabilizing. He turned and reached out his hand in invitation. Cautious but curious, Claudia climbed aboard. 

Using a long pole, Patrick pushed them across the lake and under a rocky outcropping. He secured the raft to a sawed-off tree stump that served as a pier post for a make-shift dock and stepped off. "Be careful. It can be slippery." 

Intrigued, Claudia once again took Patrick's hand and climbed off the raft. They walked toward a sheer rock cliff topped by ruins of what could have been an ancient stone cathedral. However, as they reached the cliff, Patrick slipped through a notch in one of the rocks. Once inside, he retrieved a flashlight from a pocket in the rock wall and turned it on, revealing a narrow corridor. Claudia followed him down a winding pathway for what seemed like miles. Patrick walked without hesitation, turning down side tunnels until she felt totally disoriented. 

At last he stopped in front of a solid rock wall. Well, it appeared solid. Until he slid aside what must have been a doorway, revealing into a cavernous room.

"Where are we?" Claudia asked. 

Patrick turned with a half-smile. "Safe. That's what you wanted, right?"

#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:

Groundhog Day

There he is; the purveyor of good or bad news, depending on your point of view. I've always known about Groundhog Day but not the reason behind it.

Why do we even care about an overgrown squirrel who lives in a burrow? Well, I did a little [very little] research, and the truth is the German settlers who came to America brought the tradition with them. In those days, prior to continual newscasts, those people who depended on the farming needed to try and find a way to prepare for early planting if the signs prevailed. Since they didn't have any familiar creatures to observe such as the bear or badger -- I don't think they were looking very hard. After all, Wisconsin is the badger state -- they chose the closest hibernating creature they could find, i.e., the groundhog. 

The idea is if the groundhog appears from its burrow early in February, the conditions will be right for early planting. The thought was the warming of the earth would alert them animals to coming spring.

Apparently, the groundhogs aren't as reliable as bears or badgers. However, we have another reason for a celebration.

Sable Angel

How much is too much?

You've just spent the last three months researching your latest story. You've read everything ever written about the subject and all parts related. You even have the first line ready. Now, you begin to unfold the history, describing the town, and all the businesses surrounding the quaint square. You make sure to note the connection to the civil war general who stayed at the local inn and gifted the innkeeper with a charming son. You go on to show the incredible courage displayed by the woodworker who spent the last months of his life creating the ornate gazebo in the center of the square.

You carry on sharing this information for two chapters because this is the backdrop for your characters and their story. This will serve as the setting for all the coming dramas being played out in your book.

The problem is... no one will get past the first page due to shock suffered by information overload. Yes, research is necessary to bring realism to your story and give a foundation from which you can spin the many sides of this tale. However, you may need to know this, but your reader doesn't. Don't create a 'landfill' of information for them to tunnel through to find the few grains of story buried at the bottom. Temper your backstory. Add small bits and pieces throughout your book. Have the characters tell stories that include pieces of the information you want to convey. Otherwise, you will have a lovely book with no readers.

Sable Angel