Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Excerpt from Guardians Angels


Guardian Angels (Book 1)
by Andrew P. Weston



BOOK SUMMARY

In a series of terrifying events, otherworldly beings intervene to save innocent lives. The world community reacts with relief as they realize that angels may in fact exist, and they are diligently protecting us.

But there are those who would seek to stop what they feel is a threat against their livelihoods. How far will some go to battle the Guardians? Is the fairy tale over before it even begins?

Guardian Angels is a powerful and compelling story about the catalyst that has the power to unite society in the hope for a better future. The spark of hope is fragile—can it last?




CHECK OUT THE EXCERPT BELOW:



Holding Room 2 – Angel Project

Little Becky Selleck had eventually fallen into an exhausted sleep in

 the early hours of the morning, dreaming of home and her mommy.

In her dreams, she was in the safety of her warm and cozy room,

buried under the quilt, half asleep. She was waiting for her mother to

 wake her as she did every day, coming up the stairs projecting

 thoughts of love and security, humming the tune from the radio in

 her head.

Telepathically and out loud, she would come into the room and say,

“Now where’s my Becky today?” She always made a point of

 standing in the doorway as if she was searching every corner of the

 room with her eyes.

Looking at the moving mound on the bed, with the quietly giggling

 child inside, who was trying to shuffle into an even smaller ball, she

 would say, “Oh, she’s not in bed, it’s just the quilt.”

Becky’s mommy would walk over to the bed, get on her knees, and

 look under it. “She’s not hiding under here, either. I know, she’ll be

in the closet and will try and jump out and scare me. Well, it won’t

 work today because I know where you are, and I’m going to . . . .”

Throwing open the closet door, she would feign further surprise.

 “My, my, she’s not here. Oh dear, I suppose I will have to eat her

 favorite breakfast for her. What a shame—she sooo loves

 Wheatyflakes as well. Never mind, if I can’t eat them, I can always

 give them to Barney next door.”

At the mention of Barney, the neighbor’s very fat and affectionate

 dog, who loved having Becky give him tummy tickles that lasted

 forever, Becky would usually leap out from under the quilt. “Here I

 am! You never find me!”


Lately, she had taken to using her new gift by moving something

 small on the other side of the room with her mind, making it go

 “bump.”

Mommy would play along and say, “I heard you, now I’ve found

 you.” She would look and exclaim, “Oh, she’s not here. I know—it

must have been a mouse wearing Becky’s shoes. I do hope the mouse

 asked Becky first?”

One time, Becky even made the quilt jump into the air as she

 revealed herself, much to their delight.

She would miss mommy, she would miss being woken by her

 thoughts, and she would miss her cuddles . . . .

Becky? A voice said.

Still half asleep, buried as usual under the quilt, Becky tried to hang

 onto the dream of mommy and home.

Becky, where are you, little one? The same voice spoke again; it was a

 man’s voice.
Go away, you’re making mommy disappear.

I’m sorry, but I can’t go away, your mommy wanted me to come and find you.

Becky suddenly became wide awake and went very still, realizing she

 hadn’t actually been speaking, just thinking, and that the man’s voice

 was not a voice at all, but only inside her head.

Hello? She whispered with her mind, not daring to move.

The same warm mind replied. Hello little one. Who’s been a very good girl,

 then? Who did exactly what mommy said and kept herself safe until someone

 came to take her to her new home, a special home?

Not daring to reply, Becky suddenly remembered what her mommy

used to say to her over and over again when they were together.

“Darling, if ever there’s a time when I can’t be with you, remember

never to trust anyone who can’t speak to you in the special way I do.”

At first, the little girl had been confused by her mother’s caution.

 “But why won’t you be there? Why would you leave me alone?”

Mommy would always reassure her. “I wouldn’t want to leave you,

 my darling, of course not, but this is important.”

Gradually, over time, Becky had come to realize that mommy was

just being very careful. Mommy was special like she was, and she

 wanted to make sure that Becky would always be safe if there ever

 came a time when she couldn’t be there. Safe from others who

 couldn’t do the things that they could.


“Where are the other special people?” she would ask.

“They are everywhere living in houses like you and me. Some very

 special ones live all together in a big home.”

“Well, why can’t we live there?” she would ask, employing a child’s

logic.


 “Well, mommy nearly did when she was younger, but she was just

going to get married to daddy, and so we ended up living in our own

 house. And now, I like living here, and I like it you have all sorts of

 friends at school, and mommy has her friends at work.”

“Aaah, but the people here are not special like us, so we have to keep

 it secret from them. So couldn’t we live there now?”


“That would be lovely, but it would mean leaving behind the friends

 we have here, so I thought we would wait until you’re a bit older.”

“Then we’re going to go and live with other special people?”

“Hopefully, yes. But until then, we have to stay secret. And if I ever

do have to go away, do you remember what I told you?”

“Yes.” Becky would reply in a serious tone. “Be careful who I make

 friends with. Be careful who I talk to. If they can’t speak to me with

 their mind, I must not tell them I can do it.”

“And what else?” Mommy would emphasize, tuning in her aura so

Becky could see it.

“Look at them carefully to see if they can shine.” Becky would reply

proudly, making her own aura shine brightly in return.

Mommy would then scoop her up in her arms. “Well done, my good

 little girl! They are the only ones you can really trust Becky, never

 forget that.”

Special home! The words struck a powerful cord in young Becky’s

little heart. Still hardly daring to move, still trying so hard to do

exactly what her mommy had told her, she carefully thought. Why can

 you hear what I’m thinking?

Feelings of warmth and a broad smile registered strongly in her mind

 as the voice replied. Aaah, that’s because I’m special like you. Like your

 mommy.
You’re special? Becky thought, still being careful.

A powerful feeling of approval radiated toward her from the


 unknown mind.

Good girl. Your mommy would be very proud that you listened to her. If I could

 just find you, I would give you a big hug to say well done. But the people upstairs

must have tricked me, because they said you were still in bed. You’re not there, all

I can see is the quilt. I know, perhaps you’re hiding in the closet over there.


The sound of his footsteps walking past the bottom of the bed

 toward the single closet in the room caused Becky’s spine to tingle as

 she recognized the game she would play with her mother.

She exerted her farseeing faculty very gently and saw a man dressed

 in black, with pretty stripy things on his sleeves opening the closet

 door. He was shining like the sun, surrounded by gold and dark blue

bands of light, with greens and oranges and reds and purples of

 different shades, all swirling around and around.

A SHINING MAN! A BRIGHT SHINING MAN!

He was peering into the almost empty closet now and shaking his

 head sadly.

He turned to a woman still standing by the door, one of the ladies

 who worked there. He winked at her and said, “No, she’s not in here,

 either. Oh well, I shall have to go without her then, what a shame.”

The quilt exploded upward from the bed as little Becky launched

 herself toward his arms, shouting loudly with mind and voice. “No!

 Don’t leave me, here I am.”

Laughing loudly, the man caught her, held her up and looked into her

hopeful face, his eyes shining like two warm suns. “Don’t you ever

worry about that, Becky. You’ll never be alone again. Trust me,

 you’re safe now.”

Becky looked him straight in the eye and simply said, “I know.” She

 snuggled into his chest and held on tight. She felt truly safe for the


 first time since her mommy had had to go away.




About the Author

Author Links

Andrew P Weston was born in the city of Birmingham, UK and grew up in the towns of Bearwood and Edgbaston, eventually attending Holly Lodge Grammar School for Boy’s where he was School Captain and Head Boy.

He was an active sportsperson for the school, college and a variety of rugby, martial art, swimming and athletics teams throughout the city.

On graduation in 1977 he joined the Royal Marines fulfilling a number of roles both in the UK and abroad.

In 1985 he became a police officer with the Devon & Cornwall Constabulary, and served in a variety of uniformed and plain clothed departments until his retirement in 2008.

Over those years, he wrote and illustrated a selection of private books for his children regarding the life of a tiny kitten, called, “The Adventures of Willy Whiskers”, gained further qualifications in Law and Religious Studies, was an active member of Mensa and continued to be an active sportsperson, providing lessons free of charge to local communities.

An unfortunate accident received on duty meant Andrew had to retire early from the police force, but after moving to the sunny Greek island of Kos to speed up his recuperation, he was at last able to devote time to the “Guardian Concept” he had developed over his years in the military and police.

When not writing, Andrew enjoys Greek dancing and language lessons, being told what to do by his wife, Annette, and hunting shadows in the dark.

Andrew is now contracted to Pagan Writers Press for two books.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Guest Post: Why Fantasy Is Fun, by Marni Troop

 Hey Fantasy Floozies!

Author, Marni Troop is here discussing how the fantasy genre is more fun to write than other genres.

Before you read her post, here's a cool fyi on her ongoing tour giveaway:

Marni will be giving away a copy of Brian Froud's and John Matthew's How to See Faeries. Marni said, "Brian Froud's artwork is one of my inspirations, so it's very appropriate. Plus, it's a cool book!"

Make sure you follow the tour and comment. The more you comment, the better your chances of winning.
The tour dates can be found HERE 





The fantasy genre has a leg up on all of the other genres. All writers begin their stories by asking, “What if…?” Only in Fantasy can that question be asked without conditions.

In Fantasy, the very laws of physics can be bent to our will. If the writer can make the universe believable, anything can happen. The same can’t be said for any other genre. Why? Because Fantasy is… fantasy.

But let’s not be that grandiose. Let’s step back a little and look at Fantasy in a much simpler way. Fantasy is what goes on in our heads. It’s our daydreams. Sure, in our daydreams we’re having a moment of afternoon delight with our favorite movie star or punching our boss in the gut or winning the lottery. Surely those are not real Fantasy, right? Well, wrong. That’s the awesome thing about Fantasy. As outrageous as we might choose to make our universes, what makes Fantasy so rich is that, quite literally, anything is possible. In what other genre can you say that?

In my series, “The Heart of Ireland,” I have blended the history of Ireland with the mythology of the Irish Faeries, which include their gods and goddesses. Because of the wonder that is Fantasy, I was able in “Journal One” to describe how the ancient Celts invaded Ireland and met the Faerie race.

I wrote about the violent wars between the two peoples, the blossoming romance of a human and a faerie, and the miraculous creation of Tir Na n’Og, the Land of the Ever Young. So why isn’t this considered Science Fiction? You can use multiple dimensions as a reason for the existence of Tir Na n’Og even though it is entered through the ground.

You could think of the Fairies as aliens. Aliens? No way! That’s the problem. The Faeries come from human mythology. To turn them into aliens takes away their nature. But if they come from Earth, then the fact that they would have inter-dimensional access would make them far more advanced than any other human race.

See? With Fantasy, the genre that allows anything to be possible, the Faeries remain mythological creatures that happen, in my universe, to have existed in human history. Neat, huh? Thanks for reading, everyone! Now, I’m going to sit back and practice some fantasy with my favorite movie actor.



 About the Author:

Marni grew up in a suburb of Washington, D.C., where she worked at and attended many sci-fi/fantasy conventions and bought several Tarot decks before going off to college. After college, she moved to Los Angeles to work as a story analyst, editor, ghostwriter and just about any film or television job she could find.

After earning a Master of Professional Writing in Cinema/TV-Drama from the University of Southern California, Marni started teaching others how to write.

Marni currently lives in Glendale, Arizona, with her spouse, two brilliant children and six crazy pets (11 if you count the fish).

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Romantic Tales: Bedtime Stories


Introducing Romantic Tales: Bedtime Stories! Three exciting

stories for only .99 cents!


From your everyday Contemporary Romance (The Getaway) to your Hot and Heavy Rockers turned Werewolves (Crave) and your Sci-Fi/Paranormal with Erotic overtones (The Genesis Project), each episode will entice its readers and draw them in.





Crave
By Ty Langston

The lights went down. The crowd that was laughing, talking and mingling with one another was hushed into dead silence; putting all their focus onto the front of the stage.
The first few bars of the anthem, ‘Rock me,’ gradually blared its way louder and louder.
There he stood wearing a pair of black leather pants that hung low on his waist along with a long sleeved black mesh shirt, whose buttons, by most females in the audience, were grateful to have been unbuttoned.
After getting focused on the crowd, his brown eyes locked firm with hers, seemingly burning a hole into her soul. The photograph didn’t do him justice. Everyone was correct, Cass St. Marie was exquisite.
“Good evening.” He told the crowd in a deep, southern drawl that reminded her of the day she first tasted her father’s favorite bourbon. It was sweet, delicious and full of body.
The more she heard, the more she wanted. It was heaven on earth.
He had only said two words and Harper and the rest of the audiences found themselves swooning despite him not singing a single note. His southern drawl and shoulder-length brown locks were enough to put any woman over the edge. His lips curved into a smile and the crowd erupted.
“Guess you’re here to see us play, huh?” he quipped.
The crowd clapped wildly. His southern accent should be banned Harper thought. It could make the most level headed woman, like herself, want to walk up to him and have her way with him.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He said as he glanced over the crowd once more before looking back at her with a wink. With an intensity that rivaled any top international act, Cass held the frenzied crowd in the palm of his hand as he began sing.
Where the hell have I been? And why haven’t I seen any of these guys around before? This job makes me wonder if I live under a fucking rock. Where he has been all my life?




The Genesis Project 
 by Tigris Eden


Vaggo smiled down at the squirming infant in his arms. Genetics was a tricky thing, but he’d finally gotten it right. The infant was perfect in every way. It hadn’t matter what the final outcome produced gender wise, as long as everything inside worked. What he’d gotten was a perfect little miracle, with ice, blue eyes surrounded by a golden circle, and a crown of silky black hair and honey, almond skin. He’d yet to give the infant a name and didn’t know if he should.

A flawless golden toned face stared up at him in recognition. Beneath her skin you could see flecks of gold and blue veins that pulsed with life. An oddity he was sure, but out of her oddness was perfection.
He’d copied the genetic code from old text books he’d gathered from the science section at the Hall of Records. The books pre-dated the first Uni-war. The pages not marred by time or soiled fingers, they were legible and clear. How she ended up looking nothing like her kind was an anomaly. She was growing at an accelerated rate and it worried him. What if she died due to her rapidly aging body and he wasn’t able to harness her genetics in time for proper research? What if she fell ill? Vaggo stared down at the restless baby and decided then, he wouldn’t allow for either of the possibilities. She was his and he would keep her alive always. The baby needed a name, and only one would do- Genesis.




The Getaway 
 by Riley Ross.

“Morning Sweets,” he whispered.

“Morning Romeo,” I said softly as he grinned at me. I leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. He pulled me closer to him. He deepened the kiss as his hands roamed over my breasts. I purred as he slipped his hand underneath my tee shirt and lightly squeezed my nipple. Our breathing increased rapidly as we explored each other’s body. His hands warmed my skin as he touched me. I was instantly turned on and I wanted him right then and there. The sunlight that filtered in through the shades highlighted his face. The air in the room was buzzing with electricity as I pushed him onto his back and straddled him. I felt his erection pressing against me and I rocked against him gently. He grunted as he somehow flipped us over. I purred with anticipation as he stripped himself of his underwear. I slipped off my sleep shorts and tossed them onto the floor. My heartbeat was so loud that I was surprised that he couldn’t hear it. His eyes were darkened with desire and my breathing was rapid.

“I want you naked and I want it now.” He growled gently in my ear. His tone might have been gentle but his touch was telling about how urgent his need was.

I couldn’t respond as he kissed me passionately. He pulled back and helped me into a sitting position. I felt butterflies in my stomach as I thought to myself ‘yes we are finally going to make love!’ I pulled my tee shirt off and was getting ready to slip off my underwear but we heard the front door open and someone call out his name.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Book Review: Flat-Out Love by Jessica Park

Flat-Out LoveFlat-Out Love by Jessica Park
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I really wanted to do this review right, by making a "Flat-Kenya" and posting it within my review.

What is a Flat-Kenya?
Read the damn book!

BHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!


I've waited a long time to read this book because of all the one star reviews on Goodreads. Finally, one day I took the time to read the damn reviews and what did I find.... the reviews aren't even about the book. lol. They're about the author being an AssHat and argueing with reviewers on a book that she didn't write.

That sucks on both fronts because I'm sure the readers were annoyed by the events AND I bet the author may regret the behaviour, BUT let's not take it out on the BOOK!

Why not?

Because this book ROCKED!!!!!!

After the first chapter I slung the book between my greedy thighs and I went to town!


Oh yeah, baby!

I humped it!!
With each chapter, a cold literary lust of sensations saturated my brain!

You don't even want to know what I did to the book when my husband and kids left the house for the day.



You would think that sex was in this book.... but not one Sex Scene! And
yet
the
humping
continued!


Sick right?

Don't blame me. Blame the author.

The concept of the book gave me a literary boner!

I mean seriously this is why people pick up books, to be transported in the irregular and captivated by a story that incites many emotions.





PLUS ITS GEEKVILLE FUN!


I loved the facebook status updates. I saw some readers didn't like it.
News Flash: YOU SUCK!




And if you choose not to read this book because the author was (or still is) an AssHat, then fine. We all have our rights.

As an author, I think it was a wrong move on her part. Sadly, I'm a reader first and always have been! I just love to read good books not question the author of the book's personal life and choices. Granted, I have three kids so I'm too busy to care, but with all the garbage out there on the NY Times List, Amazon Bestseller's list, etc.....


Don't you want to read a book that incites you to HUMP IT?


Additionally, I've had many authors contact me and bitch about the bad book review that I gave them so I get why people are annoyed. I was also told an author read my bad review of their book out loud during a convention. Oh Well. But I don't think I'm going to not read a book because of a situation that is not directly related to me. At least those are my thoughts for now. We all have our own personal opinions and choices to make.

Either way! I can't wait to read a new humpable book!


View all my reviews

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

How to Write an Erotic Romance Novella


It takes special skill to write an interesting and page-turning

novella. Add the attempt to try and turn your reader on

within the short pages of a novella, and you have an even

more difficult task.




 Author Virginia Nelson is visiting the Fantasy Floozies today

to give us Five awesome tips in writing an erotic romance

novella! Before we get into her tips, check out her

new novella:





  • First off, thanks for having me on the blog.  That said, my

number one tip for writing an erotic romance novella is…get

very thick skin.  To be any kind of writer, you’ve got to be

 able to roll with all sorts of ups and downs.



From rejection letters to bad reviews, writing in general isn’t

 a great choice for those easily swayed from their dream. 

 This is at least two-fold for the erotic writer since you can

 expect everything from completely inappropriate messages

 on your social networks—“So, you write dirty books?  Bet

 you need lots of help researching for that, right?”—to the

 genteel social snub. 



I prefer the snub, myself, but if you’re going to be offended

 when someone makes comments about the genre, consider

a pen name because someone will.  If you’re like me, you can

 shrug and say, “Yup.  I write dirty books.  I get paid to say

nipples.”



  • My second biggest tip for this would be, cut

all the fluff.  In  any book, you want to make sure every word

counts, every  scene moves the plot forward, and no excess is

left on it before you’re done.



There are things you need to know about your characters

 and their motivations that the reader doesn’t really need to

 know.  You needed to know—to get in their head—but the

 reader would rather just read the story. In a novella, words

 are even more valuable.  If you can cut a scene out of your

 story and the story still flows beautifully, chances are very

 good you don’t need it at all.




  • Third, build a team.  Writing is a solitary sport. 
Like swimming, you’re only really competing against yourself.

Other authors are the only ones who actually understand

what you’re doing. If you manage to build up a strong team

 consisting of crit partners who can keep up with you, who

 aren’t afraid to tell you when you suck…beta readers who

 can just read, and friends and family who are going to be

 your never tiring cheerleaders, you really can’t fail. 



 If everyone believes in you and is waiting for the next

 chapter, it’s a bit easier to force yourself to do the butt in

 chair time that is needed.






  • Fourth, research.  Sure, you’re writing a novel
which will focus on two characters, their love story, and

there’s going to be graphic sex involved.  If you’re writing

BDSM, though, and have only lived a very vanilla sex life, you

 need to dig a little to find out what you’re writing about. 



If you’re writing the story of a cop, but he doesn’t ever go to

 work in your book, perhaps you don’t need to know every

 procedure he would use but you still have to understand the

 things he would know because they’re going to change how

 that character thinks, even if why he thinks that way never

 makes it onto the page.





  • Fifth, never fear writing sex scenes.  They’re just

like any other scene.  You’re showing the reader the

 development of the relationship using their physical

reaction to each other.  There are hundreds of different kinds

 of kisses and countless ways to make love.  Are they angry

 with each other but desperate for each other’s touch?




You’re not just writing sex.  You’re still telling the story and

 letting their bodies show the reader what’s going on.  Get

 past your own personal inhibitions because your character

 might not share them.  Just write…like any other scene, your

 gut will let you know when it’s just right.




If erotic romance is what you want to write, go for it. 

 Novellas are harder than full length novels because you

do have less time to make the reader not only care about

these characters enough to want to see them in bed but to

want them to make it out of the bed into a hea/hfn ending. 



 Harder isn’t always a bad thing.  Sometimes


 harder can be a whole lot more fun.



Happy writing!



About the author:



Virginia Nelson spends her days chasing

 three very active kids around.  When she is

 not doing this, or plotting taking over the

 world, she likes to write, play in the mud,

 drive far too fast and scream at inanimate objects. 



She can often be found listening to music that is far too loud and

typing her next fantastic tale of blood, sex and random acts of

ineptitude.



  Romance, in Ms. Nelson’s opinion, is not about riding off into the

 sunset on the back of a horse with the knight in shining armor— it

is about riding the dragon.  If the knight can keep up… well, that is

 love.