THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: EVREN: Enter the Dragonette, Marian Tee {$0.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

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Description of EVREN: Enter the Dragonette:

A rollicking tale of murder, romance, and bordellos…

Sixteen-year-old Deli Winters wakes up, dying. A voice asks her if she wants help, no matter the cost, and she agrees. The next thing she knows, a monster is bathing her in fire.

She has become Evren: immortals with dragons for souls.

Deli is pretty, bubbly, and stubbornly optimistic. She’s not what anyone would think the ideal girlfriend would be for someone like Lucian Chevalier, her gorgeous, aloof, and perpetually busy savior.

But Deli is in love with him and in between dodging the traps of Sanger High’s Queen Bee and working hard at becoming an ass-kicking Evren warrior chick to avenge her parents’ murders, Deli is determined to win Lucian’s heart…whether he likes it or not.

 

Accolades:

“ The storyline was cute and hilarious! ”
“ I can only hope that the author plans on taking this series further. ”
“ This was a nice easy read to enjoy on a rainy afternoon. ”


Amazon Reader Reviews:

EVREN: Enter the Dragonette currently has a Amazon reader review rating of 4.1 stars, with 33 reviews! Read the reviews here!


EVREN: Enter the Dragonette is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

Excerpt from EVREN: Enter the Dragonette:

Pain greeted me when I returned to consciousness. I didn’t need a mirror to know the truth…I was bruised and bleeding all over, and my ribs were broken. Every inch of my body screamed in agony, and I wished I’d had the chance to overdose myself with Vicodin. I’d have done anything just to make the pain go away. If that meant I’d die, it was a risk I was willing to take.

But someone didn’t want me taking that risk. A pair of hands gripped my shoulders and began shaking me. Hard. Each and every shake intensified the pain until I was drowning in it.

I tried to make sense of what I was going through, but my mind could only recall bits and pieces of the past.

The explosion that had turned our car into a midnight pyre of twisted metal…

That first horrible sight of a killer’s face—as if something inside me had been built to recognize evil, no matter what form it took—and the moment of choking realization that there was nothing I could do as he threw me on the ground, battering my body with head-splitting blows and rib-cracking kicks…

The sound of my sister’s screams as they dragged her away—

I forced my eyes open, a silent cry of protest emerging from my throat at the memories. This time, I welcomed the pain. It was better than reliving those moments. I couldn’t think about them. Not now, not just yet.

Everything was blurry but I could discern a face—a guy’s face—looking down at me. 911, I wanted to tell him. Don’t bother waking me up. Just call 911. And hurry, please, because I’m kinda dying here. But I couldn’t say any of those words because I was too busy trying to keep myself sane in the course of my suffering.

“Are you awake, human?”

Was I dreaming?

“She’s awake,” a second voice confirmed.

Silence and then the other voice again—the one that belonged to the guy still shaking me like a party popper. “Human. Are you awake?”

“I’m awake, alien.” Irritation gave me enough strength to snap at him. I didn’t like the way he called me human. It sounded very insulting. Was that his tactful way of saying I was so flat chested he couldn’t guess what my gender was? Or maybe he was delusional and he thought he was from outer space?

Idiot. I did my best to glare at him, deliberately focusing my every thought on staying mad at him. Anger pushed the past away.

The pain also helped, every bone in my body blazed in agony with the merest move I made.

Someone chuckled in the background. “She’s got you there.”

I would have smiled if I weren’t so busy finding a way to silence the echoes of my sister’s endless screams inside my mind. The shaking had thankfully stopped, but the pain hadn’t lessened. Not a bit. So this was how a human punching bag felt.

“Do you still want to live, human? Whatever it takes?” The question had a clinical tone to it.

Was he asking if I would accept some kind of surgery? “Yes, alien.” I badly wanted to roll my eyes. What kind of question was that? Of course, I wanted to be saved. Did I look in any way suicidal to him?

I squinted hard, but my gaze remained blurred by pain, and all I could concentrate on was his voice, cold and sharp, like a surgical needle.

“Then it is done. This was your choice. Remember.”

I didn’t bother wasting my effort answering. Idiot.

And then a roaring fire ate me alive and I screamed.

This time, I really screamed. But my screams abruptly died when I realized the golden fire enveloping my entire being didn’t hurt at all. I blinked several times, but the fire around me stayed, snarling and swirling across my skin but never causing me pain.
It burned away the film of pain that had obscured my gaze and through the dancing flames, I glimpsed the ragged outline of distant mountains, moonlight casting a glow on their peaks against the night’s dark landscape, the unmistakable scarecrow-like shadows of man-tall cactuses, and vast acres of desert land.

The fire slowly lifted me to my feet. What was this? Some painless version of hell? Maybe the Devil wanted me perfectly healthy before he started torturing me? But what had I done to have been sent to—

A vicious-looking creature loomed before me, and I screamed again, forgetting all thoughts about eternal damnation. The huge, unknown animal had a head about eight feet high—I had no problems imagining how easy it would be for Animal X to swallow me whole—and golden scales that glowed like sunlight, almost outshining the crescent moon behind its serpent-like shadow.
Its fierce forest green eyes arrested me on the spot. They were like magical emeralds, ones possessing an irresistible, almost hypnotic, charm. I could only stare back at the nightmarish being in horrified fascination. You know how tigers can be so dangerously beautiful, how their faces can mesmerize you even when you know they’re thinking about chewing you to death? That’s exactly how I felt about the powerful beast before me. This beast…or whatever it was called…looked something like Godzilla but less horrendous and more attractive. If it were domesticated, I wouldn’t have minded having a picture taken with the horrible fiend. Oh, God. I was definitely losing my mind if I thought monsters were the coolest thing next to Orlando Bloom.
“Are you scared, human?”

It was him. That voice…so he was an alien.

“Human, are you scared?”

“No.” And I wasn’t. Much.

“If you are, you will die.”

That particular threat should have made me think twice but it didn’t. If there was any truth to the memories in my mind, the memories that I was still unable to bury, then there wasn’t anything to live for, was there? Not if everyone I loved was already gone.

“I told you I’m not.” My voice was stronger now, containing more than a hint of annoyance. The fire made the pain inside me recede, allowing me to be more myself. I’ve never been a coward and I’ve never allowed anyone to intimidate me. That wasn’t going to change now, not even while I was still weak as a baby.

A part of me wondered how this was all happening, but the rest of me ignored that pertinent question. It was a bad habit of mine.

“Then I will try to heal you.”

The alien didn’t give me a chance to answer. The fire around me swirled faster, seeming to have a life of its own. The flames spun around me with such speed that I had to close my eyes.

The fire bathed my skin. I could feel the tips touching my body, filling me, merging with my blood. It was like taking a hot shower that could also clean the veins, the muscles, and the bones under my skin, cleansing and irrevocably changing me at the same time. My throat clogged as the blazing sensations urged me to just…let go. The inferno engulfing me played a seductive tune, and every beat tempted me to lose myself in the wordless, earthly music. The heat inside me intensified, the pressure building and building until I finally lost control of everything I was, of everything I was thinking or feeling. My whole being exploded, lightning streaks of heat splintering out each and every pore in my body. I closed my eyes, savoring every heavenly sensation.

“You are Evren now.”

The fire lovingly circled me one last time before it disappeared bit by bit, the cool night air slowly invading my skin. My body became heavy, and I felt myself falling and falling. But I didn’t crash. There was an invisible force of heat around me, making sure I landed on the ground gently and helping me lean back to rest. I opened my eyes and this time, everything was amazingly vivid, as if the whole world had been polished and varnished from top to bottom.

The beast was gone, and in its place stood a guy about my age. He was tall and lean, but there was a quiet strength in him, the kind not honed in a gym. He was dressed entirely in black and his skin was darkly tanned, like he had lived under the sun throughout his life. His cheeks were sharp and high, and his lips were almost too red. If he didn’t look so harsh, I would have said those lips were kissable. He was beautiful. Not gorgeous or cute, but beautiful.

With the almost-barren landscape of the desert behind him and the fading glow of the moonlight, he looked like an assassin straight out of the action movies Dad loved to watch. He also had the same pair of forest green eyes I had seen in the creature, and I stared at him in wonder. “Alien?”

Someone choked in the background, and I absently noticed another tall guy standing beside the one I was speaking to. I looked back at the green-eyed man. “Alien? Wh-what happened back there?”

His mouth tightened at the “Alien” bit but he didn’t answer. He crouched down instead, and with his vivid green eyes now at the same level with mine, I found myself even more entranced. Almost scarily so.

“How do you feel?” Green Eyes scanned me from head to toe. He still hadn’t told me his name and since he seemed to take offense with Alien, Green Eyes was the next best thing. Not that I’d call him that to his face.

“Does anything hurt?” His voice had the same doctor-like quality from earlier. Did he ever smile? And why did I even care?

Shouldn’t I be worrying about—I lurched up, or tried to, gasping when everything came back to me—all the ugly memories, every devastating second of them.

The memory of my sister’s screams deafened me, and now, I remembered the last time I had seen my parents, death granting them eternal masks of terror and helplessness.

“Mom. Dad. Davie.” I turned to look at him. “Where are they?” I didn’t mean to scream but the tightening of my stomach told me there were things I had forgotten and needed to recall. Another part of me wanted to deny the truth. Because even if the guy with me didn’t answer, that part of me already knew what he would say.

Regret touched his gaze as he spoke. “Your parents are dead.”

A pitiful cry pierced the stillness of the night, the sound rushing out of my throat. I began to sob. Tears never helped change things, but they had been my best friends throughout the years. They made me feel better, and I used them shamelessly for comfort, regardless of what anyone else thought.

I curled myself into a ball, ignoring the hardness of the ground and the rough edges of the boulder pillowing my head. All I could feel was the numbing grief of knowing that Mom and Dad were gone. They’d gone on a trip they could never come back from.

My eyes scanned the seemingly infinite sea of sun-baked land before me. Could their dead bodies still be out there? I closed my eyes briefly, unable to bear the thought that their bodies were lying out there, abandoned.

“Your parents’ remains have been taken away.” Green Eyes had followed my gaze. He must be a doctor. Or he is studying to be one.

How else could he be so perceptive of my thoughts?

“I am sorry for your loss.” His hand almost came close to touching mine before it was quickly withdrawn, as if he had suddenly found physical contact dangerous.

I coped with my parents’ deaths by burying the thought deep inside me. I couldn’t bear even contemplating how life would be without them. “My sister?”

“Alive.”

 

EVREN: Enter the Dragonette is available for purchase at:

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{Updated with winners!} THE SATURDAY GIVEAWAY: 5 eCopies of Ain’t Love Grand? from Dana Taylor!


Happy Saturday!

It’s time for a Frugal eReader Giveaway!

{Congratulations to the winners of Her Own Best EnemyGiveaway!}

See below for how to win one of 4 eCopies of Ain’t Love Grand?, sponsored by the author Dana Taylor!... but first, a little about the novel:


Winner 2005 Golden Quill Best First Book

The Healer vs. the Lawyer. Energy healer, Persephone Jones, has a new neighbor in Peeler, Oklahoma—hot shot lawyer, Jason Brooks. They meet in June; it would take a miracle to get them together by Christmas. She’s a vegan; he likes his steaks rare. She’s about saving Mother Earth while he protects the interests of Big Business. Their attraction is mutual, but disturbing. And life gets even more complicated when the whole town is caught in a conflict that pits these two on opposite sides of a political fence….Foreword Magazine says AIN’T LOVE GRAND? is “written with a fresh voice, an impeccable sense of comedic timing, vivid narrative, and fascinating characters.”

Now, for the giveaway:

Simply leave a comment on this post to be entered to win an eCopy of Ain’t Love Grand?! Let us know which format {Kindle or Nook} you prefer!

Want more opportunities to win? Share this giveaway via the buttons at the top of this post, and leave a separate comment stating that you’ve done so! {Every share/comment counts as an extra entry!}

The winners will be announced during next Saturday’s Giveaway!

Good Luck!

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THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Death Turns A Trick, Julie Smith {$4.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

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Julie Smith‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Death Turns A Trick:

A rollicking tale of murder, romance, and bordellos…

Rebecca Schwartz, nice Jewish lawyer with a few too many fantasies, is happily playing the piano in a whorehouse when she suddenly finds herself assigned to make sure a near-naked state senator escapes a police raid. That dirty job done, a lovely evening turns even more delightful when she’s picked up by the cops and spends the next two hours at the Hall of Justice. Could this day get any worse? Of Course! Guess who arrives home to find a dead hooker on her living room floor?

Handsome Parker Phillips, Rebecca’s new beau and the most attractive man she’s met in ages, is arrested for the murder. (Worse, she suspects he might actually have done it.)

On the plus side, another very attractive man is following the case–reporter Rob Burns of the San Francisco Chronicle, a possible ally. And there are other possibilities.

 

Accolades:

A lively romp of a novel … Smith shows an Agatha Christie-like capacity for making much ado about clues, concocting straw hypotheses, and surprising us, in the end … Smith’s crisp storytelling… and her likable, unpredictable heroine will make readers look forward to more.” — San Francisco Chronicle

“Funny and witty, with a clever, outspoken heroine.” — Library Journal

“Rebecca’s lively first-person narration brands her a new detective to watch.” — Wilson Library Bulletin


Amazon Reader Reviews:

Death Turns A Trick currently has a Amazon reader review rating of 4 stars, with 10 reviews! Read the reviews here!


Death Turns A Trick is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $4.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

Excerpt from Death Turns A Trick:

The argument was getting loud, so I played loud to drown it out. I was looking at the keyboard, I guess, or maybe staring into space, I don’t know which. Anyway, I didn’t see two uniformed cops come in the door with guns drawn. I just heard a hush and then some screams. That made me look up. I saw them and stopped playing. People in the foyer were crowding back toward the stairs. Elena Mooney was backing toward the fireplace.

“Awright, everybody quiet,” said one of the cops. “This is a raid.” Those very words.

It’s funny how you react in a situation like that. I should have been terrified. I should have had visions of lurid headlines: “Lawyer Caught in Bordello Raid.” I should have despaired of my Martindale-Hubbell rating and started planning how I was going to explain to my mother. But I didn’t. I was looking down the barrel of a gun and hearing someone say “This is a raid”—a thing I’d done a million times in movie theaters. I gripped the piano so I wouldn’t holler, “Cheezit, the cops!”

Then the lights went out. I don’t mean I fainted; I mean it got dark. A hand closed over my forearm, jerked me to my feet and started pulling. People started screaming again, and one of the cops fired. I didn’t know if anybody was hit or not, but the reality of the situation dawned on me and I offered whoever was pulling me no resistance. We bumped into a lot of people getting through the saloon room, but it took about two seconds, I guess. I vaguely heard things like “Don’t panic” and “Be quiet,” which I suppose came from the cops, and I heard two more shots and a lot more screaming.

My rescuer pulled the kitchen door open and me through it. The kitchen window had cafe curtains, and there was a little light from outside, enough to see that I was with Elena. She dropped my arm, grabbed a flashlight from the top of the refrigerator, and opened a door that I imagined led to a pantry. But I was wrong. Elena shone the light on steps descending to a basement.

She gestured for me to go first, then followed, locking the door behind us. There was a tiny landing at the bottom of the stairway and, on the right, a doorway to the basement itself. You couldn’t see into it from the stairs.

When I got to the landing, I waited for Elena to join me with the light, but she turned it off as soon as she got there. I noticed a faint glow coming from the doorway to the basement. Elena put a finger to her lips and squeezed past me into the room. I followed.

The room was unfinished, but the plasterboard was painted. The light came from a silver candelabrum on the floor, with all its black candles lighted. Attached to two beams on the far wall were manacles at ankle and shoulder level. Some scary-looking hoists and pulleys hung from ceiling beams, but I can’t say I was in a mood to examine them too closely. In fact, it’s a miracle I noticed them at all, considering what else was in the room—a brass bed with a naked man lying face up, spread-eagled on it.

His wrists were tied to the headboard and his ankles to the footboards. Even without his customary conservative suit, I recognized him. He was State Senator Calvin Handley. That same week I’d seen him on TV holding a press conference about the bill he’d just introduced to legalize prostitution. At least he wasn’t a hypocrite.
Elena still had her finger to her lips for his benefit. She removed it and started untying his wrists. “Rebecca, get his ankles,” she whispered.

She spoke to the client, without addressing him as “Senator”—on the off chance, I suppose, that I wouldn’t recognize him. “There’s been some trouble. The cops are here, but the door’s locked and we’ll have time to get you out of here. Where are your clothes?”

“I think Kandi forgot to bring them down. We came down the usual way.”

“Damn her!” Elena finished freeing the senator’s hands, and he sat up and rubbed them. She looked in an armoire at the front of the room. “She forgot, all right. You’ll have to wear this.”

She picked up something black from a low chair. In the chair underneath the black garment were a pair of handcuffs and a square of black fabric fashioned into a blindfold. I figured it must be quite a trick to negotiate those stairs coming down “the usual way,” but chacun a son gout. Consenting adults and all that.

I finished with the senatorial ankle bonds, and the lawmaker slipped the black garment on. It was a floor-length robe with full sleeves and a hood, perfectly decent but damn-all odd.

“Shoes?” asked Elena. The senator shook his head. “Okay, come on. You too, Rebecca.”

She pushed aside the armoire, revealing a crude passageway—a tunnel, really. She gave me the flashlight and fished a key from her bodice. As she handed it over, I could see that her hand was shaking. “Listen, both of you,” she whispered. “Shots were fired up there. For all I know, someone may be dead or hurt. This is my house and I can’t leave. Rebecca, this is . . . Joe. I’m depending on you to get him to his car. Then go home, change into street clothes, and get back here. We’ll be needing you. The door at the end of the tunnel is padlocked, and this is the key. My car is parked almost dead against the door. It’s unlocked and the keys are in it. Take the padlock with you; we may need to use the tunnel again tonight. Just get the sen—get Joe out of here. I’ll wait five minutes after I hear the car drive off before I go back up. Good luck.” She squeezed my hand.

We had to bend nearly double in the tunnel. I went first with the light, the senator following with a hand on each of my hips. I felt this was not completely necessary, but I put up with it. It was the least of my problems at the moment. I cursed whatever insanity had made me comply with Elena’s request, and I cursed Elena for making it sound so safe.

She hadn’t exactly lied. It was true no one was turning tricks at the party. But leaving out a naked senator in the basement was a rather serious sin of omission, if you ask me.

Senator alter kocker took his hands off me long enough to hold the light while I unlocked the door. Elena’s Mustang was parked close, all right, but not close enough to avoid stepping in a mud puddle getting in. Since I had on sandals and the senator was barefoot, it was deuced inconvenient.

The Mustang snorted a couple of times, then laid back its ears and reared. We were in a lane that led to Broderick Street.

“Where’s your car?” I asked as we reached the street.
“Oh my God. I’ve got to go back—I haven’t got my keys.”

“Keys, hell. You can’t go back. I’ll take you home.”

“But my money! My ID! They’ll find it. I’ve got to get it. Turn around.”

“No.”

“I said turn around.”

“Look,” I said. “The cops don’t care about johns. They’ll probably just return your things discreetly. It’ll be embarrassing, but nothing compared to being caught traipsing around a bordello in that outfit.”

“Goddammit, turn around.”

A citizen likes to think her elected officials have at least a minimal amount of brains in their tiny heads, whatever their sexual proclivities. But this guy had fried eggs. I stopped trying to reason with him. I could see he wasn’t used to taking orders, except maybe from Kandi when they played amusing games, so I stopped being firm. I just drove, more or less in the direction of my apartment, and carefully, because of the rain.

He was quiet for a minute or two, so I tried again as we turned onto Fillmore Street. This time I tried to sound helpful and cheerful like a secretary or a wife, someone he could identify with. “Where can I drop you off?”

“Goddammit, young woman, take me back!” he shouted.

“You’re out of your senatorial head!” I shouted back.

“Where the hell do you live?”

He reached over and grabbed the wheel. I lost control and we skidded to the right, tires squealing like seagulls. I jerked the wheel back in time to avoid plowing into a parked car, and slammed on the brakes. But I overcompensated and winged the parked car with the rear end of the Mustang. I heard a siren even as I felt the bump, and I looked in the mirror. The red light of a police car was half a block away.

Before I could get my bearings, that fruitcake of a senator had his door open and his bare feet on Fillmore Street. Without so much as a “thanks for the lift,” he rounded the car wed hit, stepped up on the sidewalk, and took off running, with that silly black robe billowing behind him. In that context, he looked like just another San Francisco freak, only they don’t usually have a fine head of silvery hair. I leaned over and shut the passenger door, hoping the cops hadn’t seen him. They pulled up as he turned the corner.

The cop who got out of the patrol car had a fine silky mustache, and the rest of him looked okay, too. “Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked.

“I think so. I skidded in the rain and pulled too far back.”

“Let’s see your driver’s license.”

“I—uh—had an emergency. I don’t have it.”

“You’ve got your keys. They must have been in your purse with your license.”

“No, they were already in the car.”

“What’s your name?”

“Rebecca Schwartz.”

“You been drinking, Miss Schwartz?”

“A little. That’s not why I hit the car, though. I skidded.”

“How about parking the car over there on the curb, Miss Schwartz? I’ll be with you in a minute.”

I don’t do my best parking jobs in situations of stress, but I don’t think the cop noticed. He was doing something with his partner in the patrol car.

He joined me in a minute. “You got any ID at all?”

“I told you I didn’t.”

“We just ran this car through the computer. It’s registered to an Elena Mooney.”

“I know. I borrowed it from her.”

“Does she know you’ve got it?”

“Certainly.”

“Miss Schwartz, I’m going to have to ask you to take a roadside sobriety test. Would you mind just stretching your arms out horizontally? Good. Okay now, put your head back a little, close your eyes, and touch your nose with the tip of your index finger.”

“Left or right?”

“Both. Three times.”

I never have been good at silly games. I hit my nose three out of six times, and that’s as well as I can do cold sober. I know, because I’ve tried it a million times since. But I don’t have to tell you the attractive cop wouldn’t believe it was just a personal idiosyncrasy. I have to say he was nice about the whole thing, though. He seemed almost apologetic: “I hate to ask you on a night like this, but do you think you can walk a straight line, toe-to-heel?”

“I’ll get wet.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” He was really nice, that fellow, especially considering I wasn’t looking any too respectable.

The rain pelted into my cleavage as I got out of the car. I got up on the sidewalk, put one shoe in front of the other, and kept on doing it until the cop told me to stop. I wanted to go on, because I knew that line would straighten up as soon as I got the hang of it, but the cop wasn’t convinced. I’d meandered pretty far off course.
“I’m afraid that emergency of yours is going to have to wait, Miss Schwartz. You’ve just had an accident in a car that’s not yours, and you got no driver’s license and no ID, and you can’t pass your sobriety test. And the car’s got 200 dollars’ worth of traffic warrants on it.”

“But . . .”

“I don’t think you’d better drive the Mustang. Just lock it, please, and get in the backseat of the patrol car.”

“Wait a minute. I can explain what I’m doing with the car.”

“All the explaining in the world’s not going to convince me you’re sober.”

So I locked the Mustang while they inspected the parked car for damage. Then we sat in the patrol car, the cop with the mustache and me, while his partner made out an accident report. I never did figure out why that had to be done at the scene instead of at the Hall, but it did give me time to pour out my story.

I said I’d been to a costume party—which I had hoped might explain my get-up—and that a friend had been suddenly taken ill. I was driving him to the hospital when I hit the parked car.

“So where is he now?”

“He got frightened when I hit the car and ran away.”

“How sick was he?”

I lowered my eyes. “I don’t know. He was acting very strangely. I think he was having some sort of nervous attack.”\

The cop came to the conclusion I wanted him to. He raised an eyebrow. “Were there drugs at that party, Miss Schwartz?”

I said there were, and he didn’t ask any more questions.
On the way to the Hall, I assessed the situation. I was dressed like a hooker, so they probably thought I was one in spite of my lame little explanation; no one has costume parties three weeks after Halloween. So there was no use protesting that I was a lawyer without an ID to back it up. It wouldn’t do any good anyway, since they thought I was drunk.

I figured Elena and the others would be at the Hall. We could straighten out the ownership of the car and maybe establish my identification. Then we could call my partner to get us out.

But I wondered if she could. It might just be that Rebecca Schwartz, Jewish feminist lawyer, was about to spend a night in jail. I prayed I would pass my breathalyzer test. And when I got done praying, I mused on the dark and sinister forces that had gotten me into the backseat of a patrol car.

 

Death Turns A Trick is available for purchase at:

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“Kiss Me, Dancer” By Alicia Street, Roy Street    (contemporary romance)

“Her Greek Romance” By Mona Risk   (contemporary romance)

“Beguiled” By RaShelle Workman   (YA sci-fi romance)

“Provoking the Spirit” By Crista McHugh   (paranormal romance)

“Kiss of an Angel” By Janelle Denison   (contemporary paranormal romance)

“The Waylaid Heart” By Holly Newman   (regency romance)

“The Nude” By Dorothy McFalls   (historical romance)

“Ridiculous” By D. L. Carter   (regency romance)

“The Heart’s Companion” By Holly Newman   (regency romance)

“Much Ado About Mavericks (Hearts of Owyhee #3)” By Jacquie Rogers   (western historical romance)

 

Mystery/Thriller/Horror/Sci-Fi

“Jackrabbit Junction Jitters” By Ann Charles   (romantic mystery)

“I Think I Love You” By Stephanie Bond   (humorous romantic mystery)

“A Reader’s Feast: Something for Everyone” By Carolyn McCray

“Optical Delusions in Deadwood” By Ann Charles   (romantic paranormal mystery)

“Dark Lullaby” By Carolyn McCray    (mystery/thriller)

“Targeted” By Carolyn McCray   (historical/thriller)

“HeartsBlood” By Carolyn McCray    (urban fantasy/thriller)

“All Hallow’s Eve” By Carolyn McCray    (serial killer/thriller)

“Rook” By Carolyn McCray  (supernatural/thriller)

“The Hunt (A Chilling Vampire Short Story)” By J. Thorn   (horror/vampire)

“Club Death” By Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin (mystery/horror)

“Gauntlet” By Carolyn McCray           (mystery/horror)

“The Rush” By Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin    (action/adventure)

 

Non-Fiction/Lighthearted/Children’s

“Confucius Cat Says” By P.R. Mason   (non-fiction/humor)

“Pet Holiday Miracles” By Carolyn McCray   (pet/inspirational)

“Pups in Tea Cups” By Carolyn McCray   (humorous/non-fiction)

“Invasion of the Blue Lights” By Ruth Glick   (juvenile science fiction)

 

And a perfect gift for children at the discounted price of $1.99:

“The Creation” By Nancy Radke       (children – Bible)

 

Head over to http://bit.ly/AfterXmasIBBAds now to grab these titles from Amazon before the prices go back up at midnight!

PLUS – sign up for their Newsletter & Enter to win a Kindle!

The Sky Between Two Worlds, Glen Books {FREE!}

A story of intrigue, love, battle and survival in a near-future world of titanic East-West conflict.

What readers are saying:

“A Great Techno-Thrilier Sci-Fi Debut! This novel starts innocently enough in the year 2027 asKantak Johnson, an Inupiat from Alaska, strolls through the campus of MIT, days away from graduation. But that’s where the innocence of the scene ends in this original, apocalyptic war thriller by debut author Glen E. Books … Books has penned a tight, lightning quick techno-thrillerin his first outing. He effortlessly weaves dense technological and scientific information into theplot of the story without losing the reader’s interest. The writing is spare and economic, and at no time does this author stray far from his well-thought-out plot. The political posturing between thetwo hostile sides is handled with deft and much skill in the capable hands of Books. By the timethe war is waged, we have fully bought into the tragic sequence of events that have led to thisapocalyptic crisis … The Sky Between Two Worlds is a first-rate techno- thriller sciFi novella that should be read by all fans of this genre. Books, who has an impressive science and academic resume, is an author readers should keep an eye on.”
—Joesph Souza, award-winning suspense author.

The average Amazon reader review rating is currently 5 stars, with 7 reviews.

Click here to read more about and purchase The Sky Between Two Worlds for FREE at Amazon

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Phone Kitten, Marika Christian {$2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

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Marika Christian‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Phone Kitten:

Think “Bridget Jones meets Nancy Drew”. Throw in a gig as a phone sex operator, an unexpected hunk of a boyfriend, and a client’s murder and you have all the ingredients for the perfect chick-lit romp.

What’s Emily Winters, a self-described “chubby girl with a sexy voice,” to do when she loses her dream job as a newspaper writer? Why, phone sex, of course. After landing a gig as a phone sex operator, no one is more surprised than Emily to finds she’s good at channeling a wild alter-ego named Peyton. When a client is murdered and Emily becomes a person of interest, she decides to do a little sleuthing of her own. Along the way, Emily finds herself entangled with shady characters and an intriguing new romance, all colored by her sharp-witted and often hilarious observations.

 

Accolades:

“Christian hits it out of the ballpark with this hysterical, quirky, and endearing story … Phone Kitten is laugh out loud funny from page one. I was immediately captured by Emily and her innocence, and had to laugh at most of the phone sex scenes.” -ChickLitPlus

“When I first heard of this book I was intrigued; a phone-sex worker turned sleuth? Sounds like the perfect mix … Marika is an excellent writer and I simply loved Emily … A fabulous book.” -Trashionista

“Marika Christian’s debut novel was one of the most fun reads I have had this year. Sweet Emily taking a job as a “phone actress” has to be one of the funniest things ever. And after chatting with Marika and knowing these phone calls were real, amused me all the more.” -Just Jump


Amazon Reader Reviews:

Phone Kitten currently has a Amazon reader review rating of 4.5 stars, with 88 reviews! Read the reviews here!


Phone Kitten is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

Excerpt from Phone Kitten:

Chapter Two

ARE YOU ALWAYS ON THE PHONE?

GET PAID TO TALK TO GUYS FROM ALL OVER THE COUNTRY!

NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY!

We offer a signing bonus, incentives, flexible hours, insurance and 401k benefits! Call now for more information!

Phone sex girls get retirement benefits? Who knew? But there it was, written in black and white. The job had everything I needed. The question was, could I do it? Was phone sex going to be my path to success? There’s just a chance, I thought.

Just so you know, not only am I invisible, I’m also a stereotype. I’m a chubby girl with a sexy voice. When telemarketers call me, one of two things happens. If it’s a woman, she’ll ask if my mother or father is home. If it’s a man, he’ll try to get a date. I don’t know how they’re able to determine that I’m of age, but somehow they can and they go for it. My voice is a little squeaky and little breathy. It’s a love-it-or-leave-it kinda voice. Some people call it annoying, but I’ve always preferred the term kittenish. The people who love it really love it, and that’s three-fourths of the male population.

Could I actually whisper dirty words in a stranger’s ear? There was only one way to find out. I called for an interview.

The girl who answered the phone sounded a lot like me. She was perky, upbeat, and wanted me to come in that night for an interview. The thought terrified me, but my only other option was Walmart. I heard Walmart locks employees in the store. I’ve often wondered what would happen if one of the employees were pregnant and went into labor while locked up. Would they let her out? Would her supervisor deliver the baby in housewares and slap a little smiley face sticker on the baby’s bottom? Phone sex had to be better than twenty-four hour retail.

The company name was Dimensions. Located in the back of an industrial park, it was a little scary. There was a gravel parking lot with a dozen cars and only one door with a camera to capture anyone who pressed the call button. I was buzzed in immediately. I wondered, Why does a phone sex place need this much security?

I was met by Taylor, the bubbly girl I talked to on the phone. “Come on, I’ll take you in the back and we can talk.”

She wasn’t what I pictured. Taylor was a tattooed Goth chick, with every piercing imaginable. Taylor isn’t what most people envisioned when it came to “bubbly.”

Once we were in her office, she quickly closed the door. “Look, we talk dirty here. The language is sexually explicit. You have to say it all. Tits, cock, and fuck. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” There, I said it. I said I could do it. I hoped I really could.

She whipped out a headset, plugged it in, and said, “I want you to listen to a call. We get a lot of girls who come in here and think they can do it, and then freak out on their first call. It really pisses me off. You aren’t going to piss me off, are you?”

Taylor didn’t seem like the type of girl I wanted to piss off. I put on the headset and listened as a girl named Raven guided some guy through the “manipulation of his instrument.” Like a man really needs that type of instruction. There were moans, groans, panting—even a few noises I couldn’t identify—and that was just from her. He screamed once, and then it was over. Raven went on to her next call. It occurred to me that freaking out wasn’t going to be my problem. Trying not to laugh was going to be my problem.

I did my best not to smile. “I think I can do that.”

She studied me for a second and said, “I think you can, too. Here, fill out these forms, and write down the hours you want to work.”

“That’s it?”

Taylor looked at me. “Well, this isn’t the kinda job that checks references.”

That made sense. What could they really check for?

When I left, I had my schedule. I was starting in two days, and my shift began at midnight. I’d even managed to score weekends off. At the end of the first week, I would have my signing bonus. Now all I had to do was learn to talk dirty, and there was only one man who could help me with that.

“You want me to what?”

“I want you to talk dirty to me. I want to see if I can do this. I got a job as a phone actress.” Why was Dennis making such a big deal about this?

He seemed stunned. “You’re a phone whore?”

“Phone actress,” I corrected.

“Phone whore. You’re talking nasty for money, right?”

“Given your past, do you really think you’re in a place to call me a whore? I know all about the debauchery that is Craig Boone.” Craig Boone is Dennis’s only weakness. Not only could Craig get Dennis to do anything, he could get him to do it anywhere, at any time.

“That’s slut, not whore. You’re going to have to learn the difference.” He sighed. “Were there no waitressing jobs in town? Emmie, what are you doing? I heard Walmart is hiring.”

“This will pay more, there are incentives, and a bonus, and… ”

Dennis screeched. “I do not even want to hear what your bonus is. Jesus! If someone had told me you’d be asking me to do this, I’d have said they were nuts! I’d have said, not my Emmie.”

“Come on, Dennis, I need you to help me! I wouldn’t do it if I weren’t desperate. Ask me about my boobs.”

“The less I know about your boobs the happier I am.”

“Dennis, they aren’t really my boobs, they’re Delilah’s boobs.” “Delilah? Who’s Delilah?”

“Delilah is the girl I’ll be playing. It’s my character. I told you: it’s acting.”

“Is that what they told you?”

His smug little chuckle was starting to annoy me, so I talked over it. “I thought Delilah was a good name. You know—Biblical temptress and all.”

“Emmie, do you think the men who are going to be calling you are going to be interested in Biblical temptresses? Do you think that after talking to you, they’re going to reach over to the night stand and get the good book?”

“Can you please do this?”

He groaned, cleared his throat, and in his sexiest hey-baby voice, he said, “Tell me about your breasts, Delilah.”

“Dennis! Say it right! A guy calling wouldn’t say breasts. He’d call them tits!” I was beginning to wonder what Craig saw in him. Dennis was being rather unsexy right now.

“I’m in character. My name is Arthur Wuller. I’m a shoe salesman from Beloit, Wisconsin, and Arthur would say breasts. He’s respectful.”

“Artie has had a couple beers and is looking to have fun. He’d say tits.”

“You’re making up a whole lot of rules for my dirty phone call!” He cleared his throat and said, “Take two.” Like he was directing. Once again, he started in his sexy voice. “So tell me about your tits.”

I started to laugh.

“You can’t laugh, Emmie! You’re supposed to be naked, nubile Delilah, who sits at home all day masturbating. Start with the nipples. Tell me about your nips.”

 

Phone Kitten is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

Connect with Marika Christian:

Author Website: 

www.booksbnimble.com

Author Facebook Page:

www.facebook.com/booksbnimble

Author Twitter Page:

@booksbnimble

Pearls of Asia: A Love Story, Lee Geiger {$2.99 or Borrow FREE with Prime!}

A beloved San Francisco anchorwoman is found murdered in her palatial Nob Hill home, and detective Mac Fleet is assigned the biggest homicide case The City by the Bay has seen in years. The investigation leads to PEARLS OF ASIA, a stylish restaurant where the food and drinks are nearly as exotic as the waitresses. Mac crawls down a rabbit hole and comes face to face with the restaurant’s uniquely captivating servers–and discovers a lifestyle full of drama, humor and high heels. As the case heats up, so does Mac’s romantic interest in the primary murder suspect, whose exquisite beauty and fascinating personality compel him to cross the line between his personal impulses and professional responsibilities. Ultimately, the ruggedly handsome detective is moved to make a decision he never dreamed of.

What readers are saying:

From Kirkus Reviews:  ”…portrays with emotional depth and complexity.”

“…a fast-paced romp with plenty of plot twists.”

“An enjoyable, intelligent read that triumphs…”

The average Amazon reader review is currently 4.7 stars {23 reviews}.

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: In The Name Of The Father, Judi Coltman {$3.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

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Judi Coltman‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of In The Name Of The Father:

Time doesn’t quell a killer’s instinct and there is no place to find solace. . .not even in His house.

Liz’s best friend rode off on the back of a motorcycle when she was 16 years old. Her body parts washed up on the shores of a Virginia beach community days later, prompting Liz’s parents to sequester her away to Richmond, far away from the vicious murder. Now on her own, Liz returns to take back that part of her life and make peace with the events of her 16th summer.

John Williams’ heart broke when, after being questioned in the grisly murder, Liz’s parents spirited her away for good, leaving him grieving for his forsaken love. With the guidance of his father, the community preacher, John moves on with a clear understanding of his life’s mission.

When another body turns up, savagely hacked-up on the side of the road, safety becomes elusive, even in the small community church where the answers are hidden. Liz and John have to face the truth that the killer is still out there. Watching. Waiting for them.

WARNING:  There is one chapter that involves sex, drug use and some language.

 

Accolades:

A classic mystery which was well plotted. Very creative, well constructed with vivid detail of location. Suspenseful…………satisfying with unexpected twists and turns. Truly enjoyed the read.

.. this is a great “whodunnit” book. I knew who did it about 1/3 of the way through. Then I knew who REALLY did it. And then I realized that was just a red herring and I knew who REALLY REALLY did it. But then maybe not…

I was hooked from the very beginning and was kept guessing until the end. Just the kind of mystery and romance that is my favorite kind of read. Could almost feel the breeze and taste those crab cakes! If intrigue is your thing, I recommend this book highly!

 

Amazon Reader Reviews:

In The Name Of The Father currently has a Amazon reader review rating of 4 stars, with 31 reviews! Read the reviews here!


In The Name Of The Father is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $3.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

Excerpt from In The Name Of The Father:

She sat at the end of the bar, engaged in a low conversation with the bartender.  The mid afternoon sun streamed through the windows of the darkened tavern creating a halo of cigarette smoke and light where she sat.  She sipped her drink, the condensation dripping from the glass onto her hand.  The rivulet of water slowly meandered down her thin wrist and dropped onto her thigh.  She didnʼt seem to notice the track of the droplet as it trailed over her thigh and between her legs. She shifted on the stool and slowly spun it around to face the room.  Her elbows propped on the bar, she crossed her legs.  Advertising?

“Why donʼt you get her a fresh drink,” he said and indicated toward the woman at the end of the bar with a tilt of his head.  The bartender took the money from the bar and filled her glass with cola.  Cola?  Thatʼs it? That bastard bartender had taken the fiver.  He glared at him for a moment, but decided to forget it.  He fixed his gaze on her now.  She lifted the drink and acknowledged him with her smile.  The come on.  He moved to the end of the bar, sat down on the stool right next to her.

“So what are you looking for?” She stared straight out, never making eye contact.  He looked around, uncertain she was even talking to him.  The place was empty.

He whispered, “50/50.  How much?”

“How much you got?”

“Twenty.”

She snickered and took a sip of her cola, “That wonʼt get you more than a blow job you gotta finish yourself,” she swung the stool back around and faced the bar again feigning interest in the television that hung from the wall.  He pulled a fifty from his pocket and slid it over next to her.  She sat quietly for a minute, staring at the television.  He waited, finishing his beer.

She quickly grabbed the money and placed a key on the bar.  “Colonial Apartments.  Number 3.  Seventeenth Street and Baltic.” She slipped off the stool and left out the back door.

He palmed the key in his left hand and swiped the coins on the bar into his right hand.  Eyeing the bartender who was not paying attention, he pushed open the front door and emerged on the sunny sidewalk.  Two blocks to 17th and another two to Baltic.  He was feeling horny as hell now and fantasized about giving this chick more than she ever dreamed about.  He wasnʼt her usual trick, he could assure that.  Sheʼd probably offer to return his money even.  He smirked and headed down 17th Street to Baltic.  The apartment building was an old white structure with seven apartments.  Each apartment had itʼs own door and a small front window.  They all looked exactly alike except for the number on the door.  He climbed the crumbing concrete step that was the front stoop and inserted the key in the door.

She came out of the bathroom, naked, and gestured to the bed.  “Take your pants off.”

This was not going the way he had imagined and he took a deep breath, “How about we do this my way, Sugar.” He guided her back into the bathroom, “Put your clothes back on.  For $50, I want more than mechanics.”

She stared up at him but closed the door and complied.  When she emerged, he was lying on the old mattress fully erect with his pants around his knees.  He smiled, “Comeer Sugar,” he patted the empty side of the bed indicating that was where he wanted her to sit.  She climbed on the bed and silently performed her services.

Spent from a trip into his mind, he lay on the dilapidated bed while she showered.  She had instructed him to leave the key on the bedside table when he left but he decided to stay and relive the whole thing.  She liked it.  A lot.  He was sure of that.  She was so much better than a place like this and he pictured himself rescuing her from this din.  He could give her things, make her happy.

The water from the shower abruptly shut off and he heard the scraping sound of the shower curtain as she pulled it back.  He zipped the pants and lay back on the bed.  She came out of the bathroom, her dark hair still dry but skin glistening from the water.  He smelled soap.  “There she is,” he said talking about her in the third person.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked, trying to hide the surprise in her voice with a hard tone of disgust.

“I was thinking, Sugar.  How about I take you out for a nice meal? Get yourself dressed, freshen your make-up and Iʼll wait here.” She thought about it for a moment, he didnʼt seem like a bad guy, not like the usual johns she serviced and she was hungry.

“Ok, give me a few minutes.”  He sat up, and tucked his shirt in.  Things were looking good.

They sat in a booth at one of the many pancake houses on the beach.  Not busy in mid- afternoon, they were most busy after the bars closed late at night.  The waitress sat at a back booth, smoking a cigarette and rolling silverware in a napkin while the couple ate.

“So, are you available tomorrow night?” he was thinking some dancing and dinner might be fun.

She eyed him in suspicion, “How many hours are you talking?” she asked, wondering what this dude was looking for.

He had it all set up in his head.  Theyʼd have a real date, maybe sex at the end, but the kind he didnʼt have to pay for.  She would see that he was just a guy who found her attractive.

“All night,” he insisted just realizing she thought he wanted to buy services, “a date!”

She laughed out loud, “Are you kidding? Waste a hot night on a date with someone Iʼve fucked?! No.”   She shook her head violently, placed her napkin on the table and started to get up to leave.

“No! Donʼt leave!” he insisted and grabbed her wrist.  Pulling with force he intoned, “Sit down.” She sat, unsure of the tone change.  “At least let me drive you home.” She pondered the offer.  She didnʼt allow johns to see where she really lived, “You can take me back to Baltic,” she agreed.  He smiled.  There, thatʼs more like it.

He flipped some cash on the table, enough to cover their meals and leave a tip and guided her outside.  His vehicle was parked in the public lot on 20th, and headed her in that direction.

He started the engine and waited for her to buckle her seatbelt.  He loved that part.  The slow, deliberate click indicating that the lock was engaged and secure.  He pulled out onto Atlantic Avenue, heading south to 17th Street.  He signaled a right turn at 17th St and headed due west, past Pacific Ave and Baltic.  She nudged his arm, “You missed my building.” He didnʼt say a word and when she started to fiddle with the seatbelt, it tightened across her lap.  She leaned forward and it pulled her back.  She frantically pushed at the seatbelt button to release the buckle and it would not move.  “Hey! I want to get out,” she demanded.  He smiled, “you will.”

“NOW” she yelled. Every movement tightened the belt and it was beginning to cut into her armpits.  “Listen!” she hissed, “You let me out of this car right now or I will call the cops!” He began whistling, a slow, haunting tune.

Driving down Birdneck Road, he headed toward the Great Dismal Swamp.  Indian River Road ran along the edge of the swamp buffeted by thick trees on both sides, there were plenty of pull offs along the way that he could pull into.  She grasped for the button to activate the window.

He laughed, “Doesnʼt work, Sugar,“ he said staring straight ahead.  She pulled the door latch, nothing.  She screamed.  Loud, long, curdling, piercing, desperate screams.  He turned the radio up, whistling his tune. Some long ago memory told her it was a song she knew but her fear was overwhelming.  She reached out to grab the steering wheel and throw him off the road.  He snatched her wrist, applying pressure with one hand, he bent her wrist forward.  With a minor exertion of pressure, her delicate bones snapped and her wrist dropped, dangling from her arm.  The screams and the tears from pain and fear began to have a choking effect and she coughed and sputtered as he drove.

“You need to relax Sugar or this will be a lot worse than you can imagine.  Have you ever been to church?” Her red eyes bulged from her head and she nodded as tears continued to drop from her eyes.  “You know, if you listened to your Sunday School teacher, you would know that whoring is a sin.  You do know that donʼt you?” His voice was steady and calm as if he were going to pray for her.  She nodded again.  “But, you didnʼt listen Sugar.  You thought that selling your God given gifts was a good way to earn money.  You like it too, donʼt you Sugar?”  Her fear dictated her movements and she nodded her head again as she continued to cry, anything to make him happy.  Turning into a well camouflaged pull off, the vehicle disappeared, as if swallowed up by the swamp.  Coming to a rest at the precipice of the swamp’s, mucky edges, he knew a few more inches could trigger a reaction that would suck the front tires under and backing out would be impossible.  He was well practiced.  The bitch was hyperventilating now.  He jammed his shoulder into her throat to subdue her further.  When he felt her body go limp.  He began to sing the tune he had whistled earlier, “Jesus loves you, this I know.  For the Bible tells me so,” he stopped and pulled away, “You Read the Bible Sugar?” he asked sounding genuine and concerned all of the sudden.  She shook her head no, gasping and coughing.

“Too bad.  The Word is insightful.  If you take the time to understand Godʼs word, you are free forever.  Sometimes, I have to help people find their freedom. Do you want to go free Sugar?” She vigorously nodded her head.  He smiled.  With the strength of his left hand, he slipped his fingers around her throat and slowly crushed her windpipe.  The air escaping from her mouth carried the sweet scent of pancakes and maple syrup.  She desperately tried to inhale, his pressure only getting tighter around her neck.  The throbbing in her broken wrist, the inability to breathe, slowly and excruciatingly, he squeezed whatever life was left in her out.  Her head slumped forward.  He checked for a pulse.  She was dead.  She was free.

He reached under the seat, feeling for the right handle, and pulled out his serrated hunting knife.

 

In The Name Of The Father is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $3.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

Connect with Judi Coltman:

 

 

Frugal Freebie Wednesday! {12/26/12}

What could help push us through the middle of the week better than Frugal Freebies??

Check out these Frugal Freebies from the Kindle Store! {And grab them quick, they won’t be FREE for long*}


Star Crash (Star Chronicles)
, Elysa Hendricks
~ Free!

When Planet of the Apes meets Star Trek what’s a girl to do?

After recon pilot Cora Daniels crash lands on an alien planet she finds herself a prisoner of the Flock: a race of birdlike humanoids. Trapped in their zoo she discovers they intend her to mate. To breed. To be part of their human herd.

She’s placed in a cage with a man – a powerful, virile man, but not just any man – Alexander. Was he her lost love, who’d disappeared so long ago? Here he was: naked, glistening, a warrior trained by the Flock to fight for their amusement. How could the brilliant man, the tender lover she remember have become this animal born to dominate and destroy? Was he a pawn of the Flock or would their flight to freedom be a long-sought reunion?

{4 Stars, 20 Reviews}


The Girl on the Mountain, Carol Ervin ~ FREE

When her husband disappears, young May Rose is stranded in a rough town owned by a company logging the last of West Virginia’s virgin forest. It’s 1899, and a woman alone has few options. As she struggles to sustain herself, she discovers people are not what they seem–not the husband who wooed her with stories and songs, not the wild, dirty child, the sullen cook, nor the stiff boardinghouse proprietor, and certainly not the company manager, pillar of the town. But May Rose is also not the obedient woman she once was. She’s been scorned as the girl on the mountain, the subject of shocking stories, yet there’s more to her than anyone expected. To survive, she must distinguish friend from foe, defend herself from predatory men and boys, and prove herself a person of value. Most important, she must believe that love is never wasted.

{4.9 Stars, 7 Reviews}


CURE (A Strandville Zombie Novel), Belinda S. Frisch ~ Free!

**Runner-up in the 2012 Halloween Book Festival
**Recently optioned for film

In Strandville, there are worse fates than becoming undead.

“Creepy and claustrophobic, with enough gore to please any zombie-phile, Frisch’s book begins promisingly. Her omniscient narrator takes particular joy in the visceral details of horror, tweaking the reader’s senses with a bevy of bodily fluids and dismembered limbs.” Kirkus Reviews

Welcome to the Nixon Healing and Research Center, playground for the maniacal Dr. Howard Nixon whose medical research has him dabbling in the undead and has the women of Strandville disappearing.

Desperate to find a cure for the lethal virus which turns its victims into zombies, Nixon kidnaps Miranda Penton, a security recruit with a past that won’t let her go. He doesn’t count on anyone coming looking for her, least of all her ex-husband, Scott, who is still in love with her.

A warning call brings Scott to Strandville where he bands together with a team of locals determined to bring their own loved ones home. Together, they infiltrate Nixon’s staff, hatching a plan that releases not only the surviving women, but the virus on those left in the hospital.

Nixon locks down the center to contain the spread, turning patients, visitors, and staff into a dangerous horde that is almost impossible to escape. Miranda and the others fight for their lives, but their getaway is further complicated by a raging storm and a homicidal security guard. The town of Strandville is ground zero for the zombie apocalypse and Miranda must get free because the fate of humanity lies with her unborn child.

{4.3 stars, 19 reviews}

Click on the above covers or links to read more about and purchase these new Frugal Freebies from Amazon!

*Please be sure to verify the price before 1-click buying. The price may change from the time of posting.

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