Wednesday, March 31, 2021

Book Blast ~ Midnight Masquerade by Anya Summers


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Anya Summers will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Sophia is in trouble. Again.

Maybe it’s the masks. Maybe she needs to feel something other than regret. Whatever the reason, she is either daring… or foolish… when she trades places with another submissive, and ends up spending the night in her mysterious boss’s bed.

He doesn’t recognize her, but now she’s had him, she knows one taste of his dark love will never be enough.

Gabriel Ryan has one firm rule: don’t sleep with employees.

Even though he’s infuriated beyond measure to discover Sophia in his bed after a night of mind-blowing pleasure, she is now in his blood. He craves her. Needs her. Yearns for her surrender.

But she is forbidden. He will break her with his dark desires.

When Sophia’s dangerous past waltzes into his club, Gabriel must protect her. He must claim her. And break every single one of his rules to keep her safe.

Read an Excerpt

Son of a bitch!

She’d pulled it off again.

Gabriel Ryan surveyed the crowded scene at Eternal Eros, amazed by the transformation of his club. Tonight, it was decorated for the feast of May Day, with May Day poles stationed throughout the club. Great wreaths, and streamers bursting with colorful flowers were draped along balconies and overhead, transforming the black floors and walls into something bordering on ethereal. The patrons in attendance were fully invested, dressed in all manner of costumes from elegant to bawdy, with the added touch of masks, shielding their real personas, allowing them to transform themselves for the Masquerade Ball. In a few short months, his event coordinator, Sophia, had taken his club from great to the crème de la crème of nightclubs in Denver, catapulting it into the top hot spot in the city.

His bank account wept with joy.

There wasn’t much Gabe relished more than adding to his company’s sizable funds, the exception being finding a sub for the night, and losing himself in the pleasures of the flesh. Not that there had been much of that lately. There always seemed to be one task or another vying for his attention. Eternal Eros was one of many companies under the umbrella of RMD Industries, his family’s conglomerate enterprise that was the parent company for a plethora of businesses—including this club.

Thinking of his event coordinator, he smiled. The ballsy woman was half his size, smart as a whip, immensely creative, and didn’t back away from a fight, not to mention she was a stunning beauty, with one of the purest souls he had ever met.

It really was a shame she worked for him, because she stirred him with her direct gaze and take no prisoners attitude. But since she did, she was in the off-limits category. Gabe prided himself on his control. It was part and parcel of being a Master. In his opinion, a Dom who couldn’t manage his lust and baser instincts, was a piss poor excuse for a Dominant. It was why he followed a set of self-imposed rules he had established years ago.

Rule number one: he didn’t fuck his employees. Ever.

Mixing business with pleasure was simply bad business.

Rule number two: no falling in love. Gabe kept his heart to himself, no matter the scene or the submissive. Nothing good ever came from allowing your emotions to get in the way. It was why he kept his interactions with the opposite sex to the club or the private playroom in his penthouse, but he never allowed the women to spend the night, and didn’t permit them anywhere near his bedroom.

And rule number three: never lose control. A Master who couldn’t control himself and his responses in all things was a sad excuse for a Dom.

About the Author:
Born in St. Louis, Missouri, Anya grew up listening to Cardinals baseball and reading anything she could get her hands on. She remembers her mother saying if only she would read the right type of books instead binging her way through the romance aisles at the bookstore, she’d have been a doctor. While Anya never did get that doctorate, she graduated cum laude from the University of Missouri-St. Louis with an M.A. in History.

Anya is a bestselling and award-winning author published in multiple fiction genres. She also writes urban fantasy, paranormal romance, and contemporary romance under the name Maggie Mae Gallagher. A total geek at her core, when she is not writing, she adores attending the latest comic con or spending time with her family. She currently lives in the Midwest with her two furry felines.

Amazon Author Page:


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Monday, March 29, 2021

Book Blast ~ Ellerslie by William Francis


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. William Francis will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Did you know author F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda lived in a haunted house?

It’s the Jazz Age, it’s Prohibition and aviator Charles Lindbergh is the most famous person in America. Author F. Scott Fitzgerald rents a mansion in Edgemoor, Delaware called Ellerslie hoping for a quiet retreat so that he can write his next novel following The Great Gatsby.

April Ross, the first and only female history major at the University of Delaware, is commissioned by the owner of Ellerslie to research the estate’s history for a potential sale. At least, that’s what April is told. In the days ahead, April’s historical research uncovers Ellerslie’s former owners dating back to 1810. She interacts with the Fitzgeralds, yet endures unexplained occurrences and visits by an unknown woman. Against her better judgement, April eventually accepts that the woman is a ghost and realizes that her true purpose is to find out who this woman is, or was, and what happened to her in real life.

Read an Excerpt

“I don’t know,” Scott said, lifting his glass of gin, his bowl of stew untouched. “I’m just so sick and tired of hearing about Charles Lindbergh. They report everything he says and does.”

Zelda spooned her stew and turned serious. “I’m sorry, Fitz. I know you’re upset about the latest sales figures for Gatsby. I should’ve been more receptive to your feelings when you told me.”

Scott took another sip. “I blame the title. I told you I hated the title.” He mimicked sarcasm. “The Great Gatsby. Rather pretentious, don’t you think? And what’s so great about him? He’s a sick symbol of today’s greed and self-absorption. Who needs to read a story about a man who epitomizes what we see in everyday society?”

“You know,” Zelda said, “I think those journalists who are coverin’ Lindbergh would better serve the public if they examined the disgusting tastes of American readers. They need to explain to me why dime novelists like Zane Grey are making a fortune while respectable writers like you, Fitz, are not.”

April appreciated seeing Zelda act kindly to her husband, but she wondered how long it would last.

“My friend Mencken is soooo right,” Scott said after tasting some stew. “Quote: ‘No one has ever lost money by underestimating the intelligence of the great masses of plain people, nor has anyone ever lost public office thereby.”

“Fitz, maybe you should write one of those dime novels.”

“I’d rather die.”

“Do not fret, monsieur. I believe you could write a good one.”

“Well,” Scott said to April, “what do you think? You’ve been silent so far.”

April put her spoon down and took a moment to formulate her response. “I’ve been reading The Great Gatsby and I really like it. I’m intrigued by the mysterious Jay Gatsby and how Nick perceives him. And then there’s the relationship between Jay and Daisy and Tom Buchanan. I look forward to finishing the book, hopefully tonight.”

“Thank you for saying so, but that wasn’t the question. Should I write a dime novel?”

“No, sir,” April said staring directly at Scott’s bloodshot eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with writing at an elite level. It’s a known fact that the masses prefer tabloid stories and yellow journalism, and that Mr. Hearts has capitalized on this. But I think you’d be doing yourself and the literary world a great disservice if you lowered your talents to that type of writing.”

Scott’s eyes watered. He looked shocked.

“Wow, Fitz,” Zelda said, humbled. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to you about your writing.”

About the Author:
Raised in Newark, Delaware, William spends his days working in Corporate America and writing about the First State. He achieved a Masters Degree in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, but also writes non-fiction. Through Arcadia Publishing he has produced 5 books related to Delaware: The DuPont Highway, Along the Kirkwood Highway, Along the Christina River, Building Interstate in 95 in Delaware and Newark Then &amp Now. Fiction titles include: A Life Told to None, The Umpire, Seacrest, and the five-star The Katie Dugan Case. Whether his books are fact or fiction, William hopes to entertain as well as inform and leave the reader with a satisfying experience.


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Tuesday, March 16, 2021

Book Blast ~ Fully Involved by Lindy Bell


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Lindy Bell will be awarding a $25 Starbucks gift card (US ONLY) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Katie Garrett is madly in love with her dashing firefighter husband, Andy. When he is diagnosed with cancer, their entire world is turned upside down. Andy clumsily tries to protect Katie from the truth by not telling her, but her fear — and his increasing pain and tumultuous emotions — only feed her deep-seated insecurities, as they fight for Andy’s life and for their marriage.

While the fire station and its camaraderie are Andy’s refuge, station officer Lt. Mike Bentley wages a vendetta against Andy, making Andy more determined to avoid revealing weakness of any kind. In spite of Bentley’s despising Andy, the C shift crew rally to support Andy until events take a downward turn.

As she discovers Andy’s cancer was caused by exposure to lethal chemicals while on duty, Katie navigates the treacherous maze of uncertainty and grief to emerge a stronger, more confident woman who represents her husband and the fire service as an advocate for firefighter safety and protection.

Firefighters face a myriad of dangers, but the invisible dangers – his past, her fears -- can pose the greatest threat of all. Will courage, duty, and love be enough to save Andy from these unseen threats? Will he come to recognize the far-reaching impact his life has on others? If the worst should happen, would his greatest legacy be the love of the fire service or the love for his wife? In the end, the unforeseen might have the greatest significance of all.

Read an Excerpt

Katie slipped her shoes off and swung them from the tips of two fingers as she walked down the hall. She stepped into their bedroom just as Andy came out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower. A towel around his waist but still beaded with water, his broad chest and muscular arms, flexed as he grabbed her in a wet hug. He smelled of soap, his damp skin still warm from the shower.

“Hey, beautiful!”

“You’re soaking wet!” Katie squealed as Andy lifted her up and swung her around. She laughed as she looked into Andy’s electric blue eyes, crinkling with pleasure. He set her gently down but before she could say anything, his warm lips covered hers, tenderly at first and then more intensely as he pulled her close, her body fitting willingly to his. Katie felt her heart race and her breath quicken as Andy’s strong arms held her so tight she could feel his heart beating.

Andy grazed her lips with another lingering kiss before leaning back and grinning into her flushed face.

“That was some welcome home, mister,” she sighed happily before opening her eyes.

Looking into Andy’s face, she could tell something was wrong. The smile on her face turned into a frown and then a look of concern.

“You look pale.”

Andy dropped his arms and walked quickly back to the bathroom. “I’m fine,” he said, an edge in his voice.

“You sure?” Katie ventured, peering into the steamy bathroom.

“I said I’m fine,” Andy said as he snapped a tee shirt over his head. “Why can’t you just take me at my word. I’m tired of being second guessed on everything.” A sudden flush of anger covered his face as he turned on Katie.

Startled, Katie took a quick step back. “No one is second guessing you,” she tried to assure him in a soft voice. “You just don’t look like you feel well.”

“Again, I am fine,” Andy snarled, brushing past her. “Don’t we have an open house to get to?”

About the Author
A project ten years in the making, Fully Involved is Lindy Bell’s debut novel and avidly reflects her admiration and love of the fire service. Thoroughly researched, the quest for accuracy for the book led Lindy to participate in the Plano Citizens Fire Academy, attend classes and accompany firefighters on ride outs. With a retired fire chief and a current paramedic/firefighter in the family, Lindy has witnessed firsthand the dedication and humbleness of first responders which fueled the impetus to convey the importance of the legendary fire service brotherhood and create cancer awareness and its growing effect on the fire service.

Lindy’s first book, Jane Austen Celebrates~Holidays and Occasions Regency Style, is a showcase Regency Era holidays and their impact on modern holiday celebration traditions. A member of the Jane Austen Society of North America, Lindy has spoken to a variety of groups and taught Continuing and Adult Professional Education courses at Southern Methodist University (SMU).

A graduate of Abilene Christian University, Lindy currently lives in Plano, TX and works from home for a governmental executive recruitment and training firm. As hobbies, Lindy enjoys supporting Plano Fire Rescue by volunteering with the Plano Fire Rescue Association, writing, reading an engaging novel and cross stitching.


Amazon Buy Link:

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Monday, March 8, 2021

How A Road Trip Inspired A Road Trip by Alexandra Alan

 In my novella ‘Going the Distance’ (out now!) the protagonists find love and understanding as they drive across the United States. The landscape is, in a way, a character of its own--the flatness of the Midwest inspires lighthearted conversation, a brilliant blue ocean is the backdrop for an emotional epiphany, and the chill of a Rocky Mountain evening drives the two leads to press close to each other for warmth.

In the summer of 2019, my partner and I took a road trip of our own. The route wasn’t nearly as long as the route in the book (instead of roughly 2,800 miles, we only managed about a thousand), yet as we snaked through deserts and over mountain passes, and with every long-haul semi-truck we passed, I felt the seeds of this story begin to grow.

Now, it should be stated for people who live outside of the US (and even for those who live in the smaller states): this country is enormous. The West, even more so. I’ve taken a four hour train ride from Edinburgh to London. In Europe, four hours can bring you from one country into another, while in the western United States, it’ll bring you about halfway across Colorado.

I’ve lived in either the Southwest or along the Rockies my entire life. The space is easy to get used to, and every time I travel to smaller states and far-off countries, I am struck by the openness of the landscapes when I return.

I’ll admit; part of the joy in writing a story about a road trip is writing about the scenery.

Road trips have always been a staple in my life. I have many well-loved memories of sitting in a hot car with my mother, a worn map draped over my lap. We’d travel to national parks and huge cities, monuments and museums. I was always the navigator, and had to figure out our route while also protecting the map from the dog’s drool whenever he’d stick his head over my shoulder.

So when I plotted out the road trip with my spouse last year, it felt as natural as anything.

We talked about points we wanted to reach, then made the reservations and checked the weather. Instead of the novella’s titular semi-truck, we were in my creaky Civic, the back seat of which was packed with our traditional road trip fare of beef jerky, cheese sticks, and chips. (There’s something immensely satisfying about crunching down onto MSG-laced fake cheese when you’re stuck in a car for six hours.)

Our first stop was an old mining town in the Rockies, where we stayed in a hotel from the late 1800s that looked like it had last been renovated in the late 1800s. It was the kind of hotel where you’re almost certain someone has died in every room, but it would have been a relaxing death, since the wallpaper is gorgeous. The claw-footed bathtub was just high enough and the bathroom floor was just slippery enough that when I emerged from my shower on the first night, I fell with a thud so loud it startled my partner into thinking I might have joined the ranks of ghosts the website claimed roamed the carpeted hallways.

We wandered over the next few days, hiking in the surrounding mountains and exploring museums with antiquities from the ‘Old West’ that, if they hadn’t been fascinating enough on their own, definitely made me want to dabble in historical fiction. I learned about Winchester rifles and Stetson hats and rules for schoolteachers in 1850. We saw signs behind plexiglass barriers that advertised arsenic medical treatments, old needles with gauges large enough to make me dizzy, and startlingly large ‘anal dilators’ that supposedly helped with piles. These re-branded dildos also eased constipation, if the matching box had anything to say about it.

I could have spent many more days in this little town, pretending to live in centuries past, and soaked in the hot springs until my fingers wrinkled off.

But the road called.

Well, the road, and our other reservations. But that doesn’t sound as romantic.

We drove along palpitation-inducing steep slopes without guardrails, passed over streams that had turned into waterfalls from the melting snow, saw fields of wildflowers and mountains scored by avalanche damage. The farther south we went, the drier the landscape became. Yucca and cholla replaced the ponderosa pines and the aspens. Sand blew across the road in pale clouds, and the weather reached temperatures that made us express our gratitude for the car’s working AC. The landscapes shifted outside of our bubble of metal and glass and it was easy to feel like we changed, too.

Somewhere along the road, we began to play the RV game mentioned in the novella. It is a real game; my partner shared it with me a few days before we left after hearing of it from a friend. In a nutshell, you put ‘anal’ in front of an RV name, read the new title out loud, and laugh. I have pages and pages of these names still saved in my phone. We’d pass a dealership, and whoever wasn’t driving at the time would name off as many as possible. (Some of the best ones have been inserted [heh heh] into the story.)

We listened to audiobooks and podcasts, the most memorable being Not Another D&D Podcast, My Dad Wrote A Porno, and, of course, the book alluded to in the novella, “Carsick: John Waters Hitchhikes Across America.” Hearing John Waters describe his adventures and hypothesize his potential misadventures made something click in my head. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but the chaos of his stories blended with the raspy twang of his voice and then suddenly, I knew what I had to write:

Smut, romance, and anal RVs.

Friday, March 5, 2021

Ink Between the Sheets with Claw by Ellen Mint @introvertedwife


Welcome to Ink Between The Sheets

Your favorite craven and charming creature fresh from the bowels of hell is here to answer all your burning questions…and give you a few of your own. Please welcome Ink, the world’s only advice-slinging incubus.

Letter # 1

I’m torn and hope you can help me. Long story short, I’d been having some issues with my stepmother. My dad is NO help just leaving us to fight it out. When everything came to a head I had to leave the house just to get away from her. Things were going pretty good, I found a house with these seven guys that are so sweet. They got me my own special yogurt fridge and take me on hikes through the forest.

My big problem started when my stepmom tried to make up with a fruit bouquet. I forgot about my allergy (I feel so stupid for that), and with one bite of that apple I wound up in a coma. I’m much better now, but along the way to the hospital I was resuscitated by an EMT who’s been blowing up my phone. I don’t even know how he got my number and he keeps asking me out.

Should I go for it? I mean, he did save my life. And that sounds really romantic.

Snowed Over In Georgia

Good morrow, Snow. I hope you do not mind me calling you Snow. Ah, I’m certain you don’t as you seem to be easily browbeaten by any passing person with a pulse.

First order of business, the EMT who, I assume, plucked a hair from your head and utilized witchcraft to discern your phone number. A man of such feral vulgarity is disclosing to you an inordinate lack of charm. Such levels are typically only seen in bottom-dwelling groupers or slime molds. You would do best to steer clear unless your kink is to assure a man after five thrusts that you quite enjoyed his performance.

I prescribe you give in to your real desires—roast a plump peacock, invite the seven men who took you in to join you for the dinner, and discuss the details of a proper orgy. Do not skimp on your wildest demands, debauchery knows no limits when seven men in the woods are involved. I imagine at least two of them would quite like to be chained to the wall and watch. The rest…well, I’m sure you have your favorites and I will leave it up to you to discover how deep that well goes.

By the by, your stepmother is a witch. Put a circle of salt around your house before she transforms into an eagle and plucks you through the window.

Ink, the Orgy Pushing Demon

Letter #2
While I’m uncertain if this is not all a waste of time, I shall proceed. Last year at a company function, which required black-tie and social-climbing socializing, I had the unfortunate experience of meeting a man who enrages me on every level. I would have written off his dismissive tongue and callow demeanor were it not for discovering that my beloved sister is madly in love with his best friend. And this bastard had the audacity to say my sister isn’t good enough for his friend.
To make matters even more infuriating, this man has hired my firm to assist in renovating his summer home by the lake. Every day, I am forced to grit my teeth and get through another eight hours of his curt words and antagonistic gestures. Because my life is one ending tragedy, he’s begun to insist we meet even after work hours to solidify the plans already marked as finalized.
Even when I am not near him, I can hear his grating, snooty voice in my ear and smell his expensive cologne on my clothing. What, short of any illegal activities, can I do to rid myself of this problem?
Not Too Prideful To Ask For Help

Well, Prideful, do you have a pen handy? First, when he no doubt once again dismisses your thoughts, I want you to march him to a private room. With the full length of your spine, unleash all the vitriol you’ve been building upon the man without letting him get a word in.

After the two of you have ravished each other in a pique of pent up passion liable to set his seventeenth century writing desk in flames, you would do well to check the lock on the door or adjourn to a boudoir. I’d suggest somewhere with access to bonds and anal beads.

Be warned, if the man becomes so smitten he dares to suggest a proposal, you must refuse. If he persists, the lake would provide a handy bath to cool his tempers. It is up to you if you want to continue the desk-breaking sex with a man who drives you mad, or if you’d prefer to put him out of his misery now.

Turtles can make for excellent body disposal.

Ink, the Enemies Can Make Debauched Lovers Incubus

Thank you for entrusting your problems to my claws. If you wish to learn more about me, my exploits can be discovered between the pages of Claw. I am forever at the whims of my bond, Layla as she studies witchcraft, but am happy to take a few moments to delight in your mortals.

Never forget, life is too short for mortals to ignore their endless desires.


He’s not your typical werewolf-next-door.

Layla didn’t count on a sex demon appearing in her living room. Nor did she expect to find she’s a witch, tasked with protecting the mortal realm. And now her friend, fellow nursing student and impossible crush could be a potential killer?

She’s silently lusted after Cal for a year, knowing a guy that hot, sweet, and kind wouldn’t look twice at her. All their flirting was innocent and went nowhere, until Ink—the incubus bound to her—ran into her life and bed. Next thing she knows, Cal’s growling at her while Ink flirts, and women are being ripped apart by wild animals. Couldn’t the murder monster mystery wait until after finals?

She wanted to be a nurse, not a paranormal investigator, but Layla has no choice. Apparently only witches can stop these creatures that she didn’t even know existed a month ago. But the deeper she digs, the more it looks like Cal’s deep in the middle of it all. How can she save her friend from the claws of a cult, keep her sex-craved demon happy and find a way to let both into her heart or bed?

Everyone who buys a copy of Claw will receive the short story Retail Hell free. Set between the events of Ink and Claw in the Coven of Desire series, Layla's workday from hell is interrupted by her personal sex demon.
Claw Link:

Monday, March 1, 2021

NBTM Parallax by Dixie Jackson

 It's a Name Before the Masses tour and there are prizes to be won, plus great books to see. Which one is being spotlighted today? Parallax by Dixie Jackson. I'm looking forward to this book. You should be, too. While you're here, there's a contest. What's up for grabs? Dixie Jackson will be awarding a $50 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. How cool is that? Want more chances to win? Then follow the tour. You can do that here:

Parallax by Dixie Jackson

Six years later, Trent Wayland still isn’t over his spring fling. Probably because he was convinced when he married Captain Leila O’Neil, their fling would go on a lifetime. Leila is his soul mate and Trent knows it. He might not admit it on a regular basis, but that doesn’t negate the raw emotion she draws out of him each and every time he thinks about her. Forget the fact his heart splits in two all over again when he’s afforded the luxury of hearing her voice. That doesn’t happen often, however. Leila only tosses a handful of words his way when she initiates the weekly video calls he’s allowed with the other love of his life, their daughter Lucy.

Once upon a time, Leila O’Neil wanted to be a Marine when she grew up. She worked hard, she landed a seat at the Academy, and she was the head of her class. Then her dream was destroyed and she traded it in for a new one at the nearest Coterie portal. She wears so many faces and so many hats, at some point she lost track of her soul. That didn’t really bother her until Trent Wayland came along and almost peeled her dressing room curtain back nearly exposing her innermost person. The real person, the real Leila, who once upon a time wanted to be a Marine when she grew up.

Leila misses the real person, and realizes it at the worst possible moment. With her daughter’s life on the line and Trent on the scene of the crime, Leila figures out she’s been using her hurt and anger to fuel all the wrong goals. In a daring move, she puts it all on the line, hoping it’s enough to gain her freedom from her handlers and her husband’s forgiveness.

Get your copy here:

Now for the guest post: 

“Inspiration is finding something that excites you.”-Connie Smith

I remember when I first began my journey to publication about eleven years ago, one piece of advice that kept floating through my space from various sources was, write what you know and if you don’t know it learn it. At that point, I’d been married to the Marine Corps for almost fifteen years. If there was one thing I knew, it was life as a Marine Corps bride. I knew the ups and downs and ins and outs, the sorrows, the heartaches, the joys, and the adventures. So, that’s where I started, with contemporary, military romances. They were pretty straight forward in their execution. Marine meets future spouse, conflicts happened, they fell madly in love, and there was a happily-ever-after. Also during that time, however, the war machine was in high-gear and deployments were frequent and long. And I began to meet and befriend quite a few female marines. And thus began a new vein of inspiration.

I’d written a couple of stand-alone titles during that and many of the characters from those two titles became the new character pool for the S3 series. You can actually get those two books as a boxed set, Flashpoint, at Amazon. I’ve recently republished them myself. However, it would be until about eighteen months ago before the S3 series would become a reality.

FET: Female Engagement Team. Military females sent out as a group to interact with their female counterparts in combat zones and collect intelligence.

Yes, it’s as dangerous as it sounds. While I never officially met one of these ladies, I heard much scuttle about them and was enthralled with their role in the Middle East situation. They worked primarily in the intelligence field and were tough as nails. Out of my research and endless questions about FETs, Leila O’Neil from Parallax was born. But she wasn’t just part of a FET, she was a Marine by day and a dark operator for a secret government agency by night. And once she was embedded firmly in my mind’s eye, her story grew, and grew, and grew. I discovered when I created my own world and stepped outside the box of strict contemporary romance thinking, I could create situations and consequences that might not otherwise seem reasonable or realistic in mainstream fiction. I loved the latitude that gave me insofar as creative space. And then Leila’s world expanded and before I knew it, I had a full-blown series on my hands filled with second-chances, redemptions, and kick-butt heroines who could hold their own in any situation.

As of today, I have six full-length novels planned for the S3 series. Book one, Parallax is available now. Book two, Recoil, is currently with my editor and book three, Residue, is nearly written. I’m toying with the idea of a novella featuring a side character that may need his story fleshed just a bit more but not enough to go full-length. I’m as excited today about writing these stories as I was when they first became a conceived idea.

Thank you, Wendi, for hosting me today! It’s been a pleasure being here.

Dixie Jackson


Here's an excerpt!

“Does your mother know?” Trent asked. “Does she at least know you’re alive?”

“No. No one in the real world does. Well, except you.” Leila waved one hand toward him then jerked it back and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Now you do.”

For a few bloated moments, Trent just stared at her with a look in his eyes which told Leila he was trying hard to wrap his head around what she’d just revealed, but was having a hard time making two ends meet.

“You need to pack.” Standing, Trent stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “We’re moving out of here within the hour.”

With his eyes to the floor, he shuffled away, left the room, and didn’t look back.

Leila pulled her hands down her face, growled, and flopped back onto the bed. Insufferable daddy issues. Why hadn’t she just sought the counsel of a good therapist instead of trying to be super daughter? But no. Absolutely not. She couldn’t let life be that easy. Leila had to take the hardest route she could map out. Except now she was lost along the road in a blinding snow storm with no GPS. Honestly, at this point, she didn’t even have a Cracker Jack box compass.

Easing back up, Leila palmed the top of her head and sighed. Pack? A half-chuckle popped out of her. When was the last time she’d been on assignment without Lucy and a situation presented itself requiring her to bug out?

She didn’t want to do this anymore.

About the Author:  

Born and raised in the heart of the Ozarks, Dixie Jackson learned a love of the written word at a young age. She remembers spinning tales before she could even write them down, but it was the encouragement of her sixth-grade creative writing teacher which would plant the idea that just never seemed to go away. She wanted to someday see her works in print.

Dixie makes her home in the Great Smoky Mountains with her retired Marine husband, two rescue dogs, and her beloved chickens. When she’s not writing, you can find her digging in the dirt and nurturing her plants while plotting the next step in one story line or another. She also loves experimenting in her kitchen, embroidering, quilting, crocheting, tracing her family’s twisted tree, and of course reading.

You can find Dixie at:

Facebook Group:
Instagram: @dixiejwriter

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