Thursday, December 29, 2011

Daffodils by Donna B. Snow

Inspirational Romance

Margaret Ellington is not only grief stricken after her husband dies, but guilt ridden as well. Her solution—to run away. She moves away, hoping to escape the memories of her failure as a wife. She vows never to marry again unless she can love with all her heart—and she’ll never be able to do that unless she can finally get over her first love.

Lukas North is determined to reclaim the love he threw away ten years earlier. He’s willing to give Margaret time to recover from losing her husband—but letting her go is not an option.

When Lukas keeps a secret from Margaret about a major career move, she panics. After the mistakes they made in the past, can their relationship be rebuilt on anything less than complete honesty?

            After dinner, everyone headed for their vehicles while Margaret smiled and waved her thanks. Once again, Lukas stood at her side, his shoulder brushing against hers as he smiled and waved alongside her as if they had both moved.
She took a deep breath and turned to him, studying his face as the last of the vehicles pulled out onto the street. Soft brown hair fell into his eyes, reminding her of the boy she once loved. She fisted her hand to keep from brushing it back for him like she had done so many times in the past.
Returning her look, Lukas took both her hands in his strong ones, smoothing her fist. He lifted a knuckle to her cheekbone, the gesture melting a small piece of her heart.
She had to remind herself his sympathy was ten years too late.
“I wish I could change the past, that things could have been different a long time ago.”
Margaret looked down at their hands and folded her fingers over his. She couldn’t deal with that discussion now…maybe ever. “We can’t change history. Ten years ago you made your choices.” She shrugged, holding herself stiff, her voice flat. “Let’s not dredge it up now. We were just kids.” She couldn’t go there. She would shatter if the wrong words were spoken. Dear Lord, give me strength. You promised not to give me more than I can handle, Lord. Well, I’m nearly there. Please…She turned away, blinking back tears.

Why did Donna write Daffodils?
I see Daffodils as being all about new beginnings and second chances. God is the mastermind of both. He's wonderful at allowing new birth to come out of the most tragic of circumstances in our lives, even when we can't see what He lays before us.

Author Bio:
Donna is a native New Englander, and she loves the change of seasons, although she loves winter less and less as it seems to get longer each year. But you can't beat the beauty of fall colors, or the smell of things coming to life in spring. She'd love to have her readers join her in this, the springtime of her writing. She writes inspirational romances and women's fiction, as well as Christian music.

Purchase Links:
Amazon (including Kindle).
Barnes & Noble (including Nook).

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Angels of the Heart by Regina Andrews

Inspirational Romance

T.V. personality Maryanne Lynch believes in progress, but when developer Travis Collimore insists on knocking down a local landmark, how far will her faith in the town take her? 
The life of a television journalist has been good to Maryanne Lynch and life in Sterling Lakes suits her well. That is, until she learns of developer Travis Collimore’s plans to destroy a local landmark, the Townsend Barn along with its rare angel weather vane, as part of the renovations of St. Luke’s Church. The reappearance of her former high school friend who moved away years earlier turns Maryanne’s life into a series of events which put her values, her character and her beliefs to the test. Will she be able to maintain her professional and ethical standards in the face of a ghost from the past…who looks to be clouding her future?


Chapter One

"That's a wrap, everyone, thank you. Another great show."
Reviewing the studio audience, WMAS television host Maryanne Lynch started to remove her earpiece as usual and roll the wire into a neat coil. This time though, the stone on her diamond engagement ring snagged the strands of her sleek black bob, tangling up the wire and interrupting her thoughts. She freed herself only to have the ring hitch again, this time catching the jacket pocket of her cappuccino business suit as she tried to slip her earpiece safely inside it.
Kirk Blackstone, her producer, approached her. "Maryanne, there's a bunch of girl scouts here. Doing some badge about media careers. Can you meet with them?"
"Sure, in the conference room. Just give me one minute, okay?"
She moved through the studio, scanning the crowd while remaining intent on her purpose. "I had to wear a pencil skirt today," she mumbled. One of the guests today had looked familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She hurried to catch up with him, while considering an even more pressing matter about the show’s topic.
When she turned the final corner before the studio exit doors, she spotted him. With his tall frame and blond hair, he stood out in the crowded lobby area.
"Excuse me!"
"Thank you for visiting the show today."
His brown eyes traveled up and down her frame. "No problem."
"Everyone is all worked up about the renovations to St. Luke's Church and the new face of Sterling Lakes. It's a hot topic."
"It's good the town folks are interested."
"They are more than interested, they are reborn. This is the new lease on life that Sterling Lakes has been praying for so very long. You can't imagine what it means to us."
"Heartwarming. Now, if you'll excuse me?"
Maryanne had done enough interviews to know his tone of voice probably meant he was not really interested. She took one step closer to him. "There's just another thing to clear up. If you develop St. Luke's the way you explained on my show, it means you'll have to raze the Townsend Barn."
"There is a structure--"
"Townsend Barn."
He nodded. "There is a structure, Townsend Barn, thank you, which currently stands right in the middle of the land that will house the rectory and youth center. To build the extension, the barn has to go."
"That can't happen."
"The architect has designed for it to happen that way."
"The people of Sterling Lakes love the barn. It has an angel weather vane. That's very rare, you know."
"I don't know what to tell you. The plans have been drawn up and approved."
Maryanne arched one eyebrow. "Really? We all know plans are made to be broken."
"Some of us do. Especially you."

In Angels of the Heart, the second in her Sterling Lakes series, Regina Andrews again delivers a moving story in which true-to-life characters confront real life challenges, and in facing these challenges reveal their own depth of character and faith. MaryAnne's efforts to reconcile her past with her present adult worldview, her emotions with her principles, will resonate with readers. The power of her faith gives her the courage to follow those principles and provides direction and meaning beyond what she could have imagined. The outstanding quality of Andrews' writing, and the believable characters and situations she has created, allow the reader to both escape from their own reality AND learn valuable lessons about dealing with such conflicts. A must-read! ~~ Amazon Reader Review 
Angels of the Heart is a great book.Please read as it is a wonderful read.The entire series is excellent,and well worth the time.In fact I have read the entire Sterling Lakes series and it is excellent,so please all readers please be aware of the author Regina Andrews who is really making a name for herself in the literary world. ~~ Amazon Reader Review

Why did Regina write Angles of the Heart?

So much of myself and where I come from is in Sterling Lakes. This particular story deals in part with the traditions of the past clashing with the progress of the future. A conflict of this nature can be represented in physical, tangible structures such as the Townsend Barn, or in a personal mentality or outlook, as the we see in the heroine and hero questioning their values.

I think moving forward is a wonderful thing, and that real progress does not mean just hastily denouncing all past values, or quickly destroying physical parts of the past. Reaching this level of insight can be very isolating, though.

That's why we have "Angels" today --  I want readers to connect with this process, saying 'aha!' when the characters look deeply, honestly, within and muster up the courage to fight for something that might not be too popular. Understanding this, and feeling connected to others who have gone through the same type of thing, lends a healthy perspective to our lives as individuals and to our communities, too. Which can only lead to happy endings!

Author Bio: 
Award-winning author Regina Andrews, a resident of Providence, RI, grew up in the nearby seaside village of Barrington. After graduating from Providence College she attended the University of Delaware, eventually earning her Master’s Degree in American Civilization from Brown University. The author of six inspirational romances, Regina is currently working on the nine-book Sterling Lakes Series for Desert Breeze Publishing. In November 2010, he book “Destiny’s Designs” won the AKW Books 2010 eBook of the Year award for Fiction. Her hobbies include travel, museums, theater, reading, music, singing and gardening. Regina is involved in numerous community organizations and is also a radio host for InSight, an association for the visually impaired. She and her husband share their home with a semi-feral cat named Queen Tiana, whom they rescued from a shelter. 

Purchase Links:

Amazion (including Kindle).

Regina's website.

Thursday, December 8, 2011


Christian Historical Fiction

In the time of Louis XIII and Cardinal Richelieu, when being a Protestant could mean death, The Huguenot Sword roamed the streets of Paris by night, defending those faithful to the young heretical religion. The nobility scorned them as ruffians. To the oppressed Protestants they were saviors, but to the Cardinal’s Guards they were a pestilence needing to be terminated.

The situation becomes desperate when those in power launch a bold plan to destroy the group. One wrong move can be fatal. But the ordeal of Paris pales in comparison to the possible annihilation of the faith and people at the Battle of La Rochelle.

Chapter 1
      A large man of twenty-three years, dressed in black doublet, breeches and cloak stood by the door. He peeked out the small opening of the door into the dark night. Standing several inches over six feet, he had to look down through the opening. He shrugged the cloak over his shoulder to move for a better view. The black gloves he wore were stretched to the brink of ripping in an attempt to cover his massive hands. Thick sable hair hung like a wavy mane about his face. On the table in the center of the room were a large black hat and mask.
Beside the table stood a young man of roughly the same age, only a head shorter and thirty pounds lighter. His black outfit was almost identical to his companion and he wore the black mask. He held his hat, fingers nervous in clenching the brim. Even with the mask, his blonde hair and mustache were in marked contrast to his dark disguise. The lamp on the table burned low, yet danced in his hazel eyes, which changed shades with his mood. His focus shifted from a hallway leading further into the house to the door.
“Dominic,” he hissed to get the attention of the other. “Any sign of the Cardinal’s men?”
“No.” Dominic turned from his vigil to glance down the hall. “What of Arsène?”
“Nothing yet, and they should be ready to leave.”
Both became alert at hearing running feet coming down the hall and a harsh call, “Make ready!”
 Dominic slammed the opening shut and moved to stand beside his companion.
“Arsène,” he said to Dominic upon recognizing the voice.
A third young man dressed in identical clothes appeared, only with black hair, clean-shaven, handsome features and blue eyes illuminated by the candlelight. He removed his hat, tossed it onto the table and withdrew a mask from his doublet pocket to put on.
They mimicked Arsène in donning the masks and placing their hats securely on their heads.
“De Lacy?” Arsène asked Dominic.
“No. Maybe we succeeded in thwarting the traitor.”
“Whether we did or didn’t, does not change what must be done. Philipe, the west route,” he said to the blond man then held out his right arm. “For faith.”
“For friendship,” said Philipe, taking hold of Arsène’s arm.
“For freedom,” said Dominic, adding his hand to make a triangle of clasped arms.
After a nod from Arsène, Dominic returned to the door. He waited for Philipe to extinguish the lamp before opening the door enough to poke his head out and look up and down the street. “All clear.”
Arsène moved to the hallway and called in the same voice as earlier. “Go!” He turned and waved to Philipe. The latter took the lead in leaving the house, followed by Arsène and Dominic.
At the corner, Arsène stopped and gazed intently down an adjacent alley. Philipe halted across the boulevard when he noticed Arsène stop. Dominic fell in behind Philipe.
“Well?” asked Philipe.
Arsène moved to join them. “They are away.”
“Why does he not want us as escort?” asked Dominic.
“He does. After we pass Tuileries we are to rendezvous.”
Arsène signaled and once again Philipe took the lead.
Along the dark, quiet streets of Paris they moved fast yet making as little noise as possible for any sound traveled a good distance in such stillness. The quarter moon gave off little light by which to see, but that didn’t trouble them as they navigated the pre-determined route.


If you like the Three Musketeers, the Scarlet Pimpernell, and Zorro, you will like this story. Adventure, disguises, intrigues, court life, expectations of family, arranged marriage, and elements of romance and temptation all enter into the plot and storyline.

Three young men try to live by their motto, "For Friendship, for Faith, and for Freedom," while aiding the Huguenot Resistance in France. Plenty of swordfighting, pursuits and escapes, and insight into how young people view faith as they mature and make decisions about what they really believe and how it will shape their conduct.  ~~ Amazon Review

Why did Shawn write THE HUGUENOT SWORD?

I have loved historical fiction since I was a kid. I couldn't read enough books or watch enough swashbuckling movies. In fact, as a teen, I had a major crush on D'Artagnan. While other girls swooned over Mr. Darcy, I wanted to fight beside D'Artagnan. Hence I took up fencing with the rapier and trained for the 1984 Olympics. I was also considered to be the fencing stunt double for Bo Derek in a pirate that unfortunately got canned.

THE HUGUENOT SWORD started out as homage to all those authors of yesterday, Dumas and Rafael Sabatini. However, as I began researching, I discovered information about Henri, the Duc d Rohan. He was a key leader of the French Huguenots, and actually, very influential with many European princes and powerful lords. He is credited with singlehandedly withstanding Richelieu and keeping the Huguenots alive. For such a man of integrity and stature to be overlooked is surprising. This changed my intent and became a story of faith and courage shown by people under great persecution.

Author Bio:

Shawn Lamb is the author of the YA allegorical fantasy series ALLON and the newly released Christian historical fiction novel THE HUGUENOT SWORD. She began her writing career in television. Shawn wrote for Filmation Studio's series BraveStar. She won several screenwriting awards including a Certificate of Merit for the American Association of Screenwriters. Recently she became a winner in the The Authors Show contest 50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading for 2011.

Purchase Links:

Amazon (including Kindle).

Barnes & Noble (including Nook).

Allon Books.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Primal Thirst by Kent J. Holloway

Action/Adventure, Suspense, Speculative Fiction

Wisecracking cryptozoologist Dr. Obadiah "Jack" Jackson has hunted plenty of dangerous creatures over the years. But he finds a lot more than he bargained for when he travels to Malaysia to save a beautiful missionary and her village from being ravaged by ghoulish, blood-feeding monsters straight from local legend known as the jenglot.

The jenglot are very dangerous, elusive, and intelligent. But that's the least of Jack's troubles. Others besides the blood-crazed cryptids want Jack dead as well...a local witchdoctor threatened by the missionary's message of hope and a mysterious guerilla leader who seems to have a dark and secret agenda. Jack and his team must keep their wits about them to escape the jenglot and discover the answers to the deep mysteries surrounding their existence.

      We trod another twenty minutes before the tunnel completely leveled off. The tepid heat finally submitted to the cool temperatures of the subterranean depths, bringing great relief to our nearly dehydrated bodies. My eyes strained in the darkness. For an instant, the beam of my flashlight dimmed, before brightening again.
      “How far down do you think we’ve gone?” Nikki broke the silence.
      “I’m not sure,” I said, slapping the flashlight against the palm of my hand.
Ah, crap. Please God, don’t let the batteries die now. Not now.
The beam grew even brighter with the impact.
A shudder coursed through my limbs at the sudden thought. I’d just prayed for the first time since…well, for a really long time. And what was worse, I’d actually believed He answered.
This girl is definitely messing with my head.
“I’d say we’ve walked a good mile from the stairwell, wouldn’t you?” she asked, ignoring my bout with the flashlight.
“Er, probably more like two,” I said, climbing up on an overturned stone pillar in the middle of the walkway and reaching down to haul her up. “I’d say we’re getting pretty close. I can’t imagine it’d be much further.”
“I kind of hope not. Jack, I’m getting really creeped out.”
“Feel like we’re being watched?”
“Yeah. Kind of. But it’s more than just being watched. It’s like we’re being…”
“Stalked,” I said, helping her down the other side of the pillar and turning to peer into the darkness behind us. “Yeah, I feel it too.”
I hopped down beside her and pushed on.
“At least the shuffling footsteps have stopped,” she said, forcing a grin.
“That, actually, makes me even more nervous,” I said. “Makes it harder to know where they are.”
Her head turned back the way we came, obviously searching for any signs of our pursuers.
“And who do you think ‘they’ are?” she whispered, as if her very words could make our stalkers materialize from the shadows.
“My first guess would be the jenglot. But I’m not sure. Shantili’s lurking around too. But whatever is, it’ll probably just try to eat my face off.”
 She stifled a laugh at the joke.
“Somehow, I have a feeling you get that alot,” she said.
“Yeah, Vera says I just have a way with monsters—”
I skidded to a halt, forcing Nikki to stumble against my back.
“What is it? Why’d you stop?” she asked as she peeked around my shoulder and beamed her flashlight forward. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh is right.”
We’d come to a dead end. The walls of the tunnel had collapsed ages ago and had erected a stone barrier between us and our supposed destination. I crouched down, grabbed a chunk of stone and tried to lift it from the rubble. It wouldn’t budge.
“What are we going to do?” Nikki’s voice sounded hollow, exhausted.
Ignoring her question, I scanned the walls and the pile of stones blocking our way.
“Look at this,” I said, pointing to a portion of the tunnel wall still standing. Its edges were blackened, charred by intense heat.
“What could have caused that?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s pretty characteristic of black powder burns. These walls were intentionally blown down.”
“With black powder?”
“Yeah. But the scorch marks aren’t that old. Probably no more than fifty years or so ago, I’d say.”
The sound of a pebble skidding across the stone floor jerked our attention away from the debris, spinning us around. Then a barefooted step. No more than a few hundred feet away.
Nikki turned back to the barricade, tucked her flashlight into her pocket, and tested the weight of any stone she could grab hold of.
“That’s not going to work,” I said. “It’s too heavy. Even if you manage to roll of a few rocks away, it’ll just crash down on itself under the stress of its own weight.”
“Well, we’ve got to try. Don’t we?” She sidestepped to the left edge of the debris, pulled down on another stone and brought it crashing to the floor. “Ah ha!”
“That’s only one of them,’ I said, flashing my light back and forth, scanning for any movement behind us. “You’re wasting your time…”
The crash of another rock exploded through the confines of the tunnel.
“Jack!” Nikki shouted. “It’s some kind of a vent!”
A what?
I turned just in time to see the upper portion of Nikki’s body disappear into a tiny opening in the rock barrier. Her feet kicked against the stone floor as she shimmied her way deeper into the crevice.
“What the heck are you doing woman?” I yelled. “Get back here.”
Ignoring my command, she scrambled forward into the unknown. When she had fully disappeared, I crouched down and examined the narrow cleft of rock she’d crawled through.
The crevice was obviously handmade. Whoever had blown the walls apart, had erected a shallow stone tunnel to bridge the gap to the other side. The rocks from the blasted wall had camouflaged the fissure enough so that only someone who knew where to look would have been able to find it. Or someone with some blind stinking luck.
“Are you okay?” I said into the opening, shining the beam of my light through the small cleft.
I can’t believe she’s doing this, I thought, stifling the urge to give her a good verbal lashing for her stupidity. I decided to give it to her later. This girl is nuts and she’s dragging me right along with her.
“Yeah,” she grunted, clambering on her elbows to pull her forward. “It’s a little tight, but I see an opening on the other end. It’s definitely a way through. And it appears pretty sturdy. It’s safe.”
Numerous growls hissed through the chamber behind me as the padded steps of multiple feet echoed through the tunnel.
Great. Here comes the munchkin blood brigade, I thought, climbing to one knee and tentatively poking my head into the tiny opening. My dormant claustrophobia clawed its way up my spine, crushing against my thoughts like a massive, invisible vice.
A howl erupted nearby, followed by the full onslaught of pounding feet against the stones. I cast my light back for one final look and reeled at the sight of three dark shadows charging full speed at me. Flashes of blood-stained fangs reflected in the beam of my light.
Without a second breath, I plunged head first into the stone crevice and clawed my way forward. The sounds of snarling hisses followed me through the shaft and I scurried even faster.
The crevice was tighter than it seemed from the outside. My shoulders barely squeezed through the sides, forcing me to struggle my way through. My stomach and back scraped against the stone floor and ceiling, shredding my shirt and quite a bit of skin in the process.
This must be what it feels like to be in a sardine can, I thought as I scrambled on. Wait a minute. Something’s not right. Nikki!
She was no where to be seen. The heavy breathing and growls of the jenglot tore through the tunnel behind. They’d entered the tight crawl space and were now only yards away.
“Nikki!” I yelled ahead. The beam of my flashlight flickered and dimmed, before brightening again. “Where the blazes are you?”
No response. The sounds of the jenglot were growing louder. They were closing the distance quickly, having much less body mass to contend with in the narrow confines of the tunnel.
A taloned claw latched onto my left ankle, pulling me back with more strength than I would have thought possible for the agile little creatures. Instinctively, I tried turning around to get a better look at my attacker, but forgot the height of the ceiling and struck my head against it.
My head throbbing, I kicked furiously at the unseen creature forcing him to release my leg and pulled myself forward.
 It was then that the batteries of my flashlight gave up the ghost and went completely black, eliciting howls of glee from my pursuers. I’d forgotten their abhorrence to light and had failed to use it to my advantage. I knew it wouldn’t happen again…one way or another.
“Nikki!” Panic ripped through from my words. At this point, I wasn’t exactly concerned with appearing manly.

"An old fashioned jungle romp, liberally spiced with bloodsucking monsters. What's not to love? Primal Thirst will leave you hungry for more." -- Sean Ellis, author of The Shroud of Heaven

"A heart-pumping adventure sure to keep you on the edge of your seat!" -- Nikki Jones, author of The Quest: The Time of Darkness
Why Did Kent Write Primal Thirst?
I’m a huge fan of the SyFy Channel’s Destination Truth. On this reality show, the host and his team travel the world investigating some of the strangest mysteries around…including the hunt for cryptids of all shapes and sizes. One night, while watching the show, I thought to myself how awesome it would be if there was an adventure novel similar to the show. The next day, I went to my local Barnes and Noble and started looking for a great monster hunting book to sink my teeth into, but was horribly disappointed when my search yielded nothing. Sure, there were plenty of adventure novels out there. And yes, a few even had monsters—but none seemed to have the spirit of fun and humor that the show conveys. They were all rather serious books from what I could find and I had really wanted something much more like a popcorn munching Saturday afternoon movie serial. Something a little more pulpy. So, it was at that point that I knew what needed to be done…if I wanted to read this book, I was going to have to write it.

Author Bio:
J. Kent Holloway is an adventure author with a passion for edge-of-your-seat thrillers. He is a graduate of Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary with a Masters in Biblical Studies. A real-life paranormal investigator, his work explores the realms of the unknown. When not writing or scouring the southeastern United States for ghosts and cryptids, he works as a forensic death investigator.
You can get to know more about Kent at his website: or friending him on Facebook here:
Purchase Links:
Amazon (including indle).
Barnes & Noble (including Nook).