Showing posts with label Loving The Book Tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Loving The Book Tours. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 8, 2020

Master of Malice by Cas Peace

Cas lives in the lovely county of Hampshire, southern UK, where she was born. On leaving school she trained for two years before qualifying as horse-riding instructor. During this time she also learned to carriage-drive. She spent thirteen years in the British Civil Service before moving to Rome, Italy, where she and her husband, Dave, lived for three years. They enjoy returning whenever they can. Cas supports many animal charities and owns two rescue dogs. She has a large collection of cacti and loves gardening. She is also a folk singer/songwriter and is currently writing and recording nine folk-style songs to accompany each of her fantasy books. You can listen to and download all the songs from her website: 

See the video of her performing live at the King’s Envoy book launch here:

Author Facebook ~

Facebook ~ Website ~

 ~ Blog ~ Amazon ~ Reverbnation ~

Pure evil rises once again in Albia…

Three years have passed since Baron Reen’s trial. A
terrible accident on the island of his exile has transformed him into a
nightmarish scarecrow creature with dark, mysterious powers. Staging his own
suicide, Reen breaks free of his prison and, with the help of the former queen
Sofira, embarks on a ruthless quest for vengeance against his worst enemy, the
woman responsible for the overthrow of his schemes and his own ruination:
Brynne Sullyan.

Sullyan is tasked with investigating Reen’s suicide.
The missing body and a series of disasters in Port Loxton—a vicious murder, a
brutal ambush, and a devastating fire—raise suspicions in her mind. She probes
deeper, determined to uncover the truth, unsuspecting of the evil that’s about to
be unleashed…

Reviews for this series:
Cas Peace's Artesans of Albia series immediately sweeps you away to a
world so deftly written. These nesting novels are evocative, hauntingly
real. Smart. Powerful. Compelling.

Janet E Morris: Bestselling sci-fi and fantasy author of: Thieves World,
The Sacred Band of Stepsons series; the Dream Dancer series; I, the Sun;
Outpassage; The Silistra Quartet; and editor of the Bangsian In Hell

"A thoroughly believable and hauntingly evocative tale portraying one of
the best magical systems ever devised. What are you waiting for? Step
through the veil and immerse yourselves in the worlds of the Artesan

Andrew P. Weston Author of the internationally bestselling "IX Series"

Universal Amazon Link ~ 


See the full set on Amazon below
    Trilogy 1         Trilogy 2          Trilogy 3


Excerpt #3

The Captives
The red-haired man who had once been Othal, swordsman of Lerric’s personal guard, looked about him in confusion. He had somehow traveled through a misty, shimmering cloud to this strange place, and he had a task. He had a vague recollection of something dreadful happening to him, something violating, invasive, and agonizing, but had no clear memory of what. Or who had done it. He could not even remember what he had done yesterday. His life before this moment was a blur. All he knew was he hurt and an imperative existed in his mind. If he did not carry out his orders to exacting standards, he would suffer horribly.
Shivering in fear, he scratched at his chest, yelping when his dirty nails caught on a painful spot. He glanced down at his clothing, pulling it away with one hand. The raw, running sore that met his eyes nearly provoked a memory, but it left as quickly as it came. As he readjusted his clothing, Othal forgot both pain and sore.
He hid among winter-bare woodlands, close by a worn path. Evergreen shrubs surrounded black-limbed trees, affording him cover from the wind and the cold, as well as casual eyes. Not that there were any. He had been here since dawn without seeing a soul.
His eyes, prickling from the cold, gazed at the rope. One end was tied to the bole of a tree opposite; the other lay at his feet. He had brushed snow over its length with a branch, also wiping out his own tracks. His subjugated mind did not question what he had done. His actions were automatic. All he needed to do now was wait.
There it was. The thump of hoof beats. His own heart pounded as he readied himself. He took up the free end of the rope, eyeing the pathway to his right, from whence the rider would come. Courage and sure-footedness were prerequisites for runners and their horses. The pair would be moving fast.
Othal had orders not to permanently damage horse or rider. It was vital they be fit to carry out their duties. He must time his attack to perfection. Too early and the horse might see the rope in time to jump it cleanly. Too late and it might tangle its limbs, breaking a leg or its neck. Neither was acceptable. Othal desired the horse to swerve abruptly, throwing its rider, who should land softly on the recent fall of snow.
Well, that was the plan.
The muffling snow was playing tricks on him and the pair was closer than Othal had thought. He was nearly too late with the rope. He jerked it tight at the last moment, but still the horse tripped over it. Squealing in fear and pain, the beast thudded to the ground in a flurry of legs, kicking out and scattering snow. Taken by surprise, the rider yelled, pitching over the horse’s shoulder to land heavily at the base of a tree.
Othal leaped from hiding, another shorter length of rope in his hands. He sped to the dazed rider as the horse scrambled upright. He knelt beside the groaning rider and pulled the young man’s arms tight behind his back.
The rider yelped again, but Othal took no notice. The youth’s eyes flew open, fastening on Othal as the ropes bit. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he rasped, his pale face spattered with dirty snow. “I’m a King’s runner. You risk death by harming me. I carry nothing of interest to you, scum, so you might as well let me go. And my horse is branded, so you won’t be able to sell it.”
Othal knew this. He knew all about Elias’s runner system and how it operated. He had heard Lerric’s grudgingly admiring comments many a time, and his sullen laments about not having the funds to set up a similar service himself. Othal ignored the rider and crossed to the shivering horse. He caught its reins, soothing it with a murmured word. He ran a practiced hand down its slender legs, relieved to find no heat in the tendons. He led it forward a few steps. It was sound.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He had fulfilled the first part of his orders. Going back to the young man, who was still trying to convince his captor to let him go, Othal stared down at him. The youth was barely more than a boy, and Othal felt a twinge of doubt. Would the lad be old enough? Would he have the knowledge his master required? What if he wasn’t a local? But that was not likely. This place was so remote, so isolated. No one in their right mind would come here looking for employment if they lived far away. Many did not even know of its existence.
Bending to the lad, Othal tapped him below one ear with the butt of his dagger. The youth collapsed, unconscious. Checking that the precious message pouch was still secure on the runner’s belt, Othal picked him up and slung him across his horse’s saddle. Using the rope he had brought the beast down with, Othal fashioned long reins to the horse’s bit. He walked behind the animal, driving it like a plow horse, stepping in the prints of its hooves to mask his tracks as he made for his hiding place. Now all he had to do was wait for his master’s call.

To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our Official Event page 

Friday, December 20, 2019

Christmas Countdown Blitz Lost Shepherd by Mike Judson Day 15

“Who were THOSE shepherds, and why were they so favored?” That one question stirred the imagination of author Michael I. Judson and led to the creation of Lost Shepherd, the fictional backstory of the first witnesses to the birth of the precious Babe of Bethlehem. After you read Lost Shepherd, watch for his answers to other compelling questions (his next books!)

When he’s not writing, he has a large family to love, gardens to grow, fun places to see, ancestors to discover, and even chickens to raise! He also has a full-time job that occupies the bulk of his waking hours. Though still a few years off, retirement beckons with aspirations of writing (with all the fun imagining and discovery that goes with it) becoming his full-time pursuit.

~ Facebook


Just who were the shepherds that were singled out from among earth's inhabitants to hear the angelic announcement of Christ's birth? What made them so special, or what uniquely qualified them to be His first witnesses? The Bible tells us very little about them. Now there is an answer!

Eleazar grows up awash in a culture of shepherding, but not among ordinary sheep. No, the flocks he and his companions tend are destined for sacrifice on the altar of the great temple at Jerusalem. Like his fathers before him, his life's work fuels the faith of a nation that tirelessly awaits the signs of their long-foretold Messiah. But unforeseen circumstances lead Eleazar away from his purposeful existence and onto a path of doubt and life-altering decisions that threaten to destroy both his faith and his future. Only the miraculous power of the Christ Child can reclaim him and restore to him to a life of hope and peace—and to an understanding of his importance as a shepherd in Israel.

Lost Shepherd is a tale of real hope and redemption, of faith lost and reclaimed. Let the story transport you back in time as you discover anew the timeless healing power found only in the Savior Jesus Christ.

~ Universal Amazon Link


Following the evening meal, Miriam and Eleazar would clear and wash the dishes and Jacob and Simeon would retire to a grove of gnarled olive trees behind the shepherd’s home to catch up on news from around the region. On this particular occasion, Jacob was especially keen on hearing Simeon’s take on the fate of one, Cornelius, a self-proclaimed prophet who had foolishly rushed Herod’s chariot as it passed, loudly proclaiming that the coming of Israel’s Deliverer was imminent.

“What do you think happened to him?” Simeon queried in return.

“Well he didn’t commit a crime that I’m aware of.”

“Perhaps not,” Simeon replied, “but he couldn’t have been much of a student of history, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he must not have remembered the failings of Herod’s father Antipater, whose leniency with the so-called Jewish rebellion earned him nothing but grief. It’s certain that Herod himself has not forgotten that lesson, judging from the way he has silenced every other threat to his rule.”

“So are you saying that Cornelius was imprisoned by Herod?”

“If he was, he should count himself blessed. Others committing lesser crimes have met with far greater consequences.”

Puzzled, Jacob commented: “Surely Herod is not as cruel as you say. After all, he re-built and maintains the temple and keeps Rome from further intruding into our way of life.”

“Be not deceived, old friend,” said the wise Levite. “Herod does only that which serves his own purposes. His pretended allegiance to Rome is no more real than his pretended affection for the Jews. What serves Herod is all that matters, and he is particularly wary of any mention of a successor. I fear in his mind he actually believes he will live and rule forever.”

“Hence the strong reaction to any mention of the Messiah,” Jacob accurately surmised.

“Now you’re beginning to understand—and you’re beginning to see why there have been such concessions made by Joazar ben Boethus, the high priest, and the rest of the temple elders. Herod is slowly making over all of Jerusalem in his own image.”

“But what of their faith?” Jacob questioned. “Surely the temple elders would not compromise where it really matters.”

“My friend, sometimes one must do what is required to survive. A temple of stone gives more hope to more people than one that exists only in memory. Besides, many yet find great fulfillment in worshipping there. I must admit, however, that I sorely miss the open conversations we once enjoyed on the subject of the Messiah. My how faith was strengthened when we could openly testify to one another of our feelings and impressions!”

“Well, Simeon, you are free to speak of your feelings here,” Jacob responded, sympathetically. “Tell me all about your thoughts of the Messiah and his coming. There are none here but a lowly shepherd and these olive trees to hear your confession.”

“None but a lowly shepherd, some olive trees and a curious, nine-year-old, would-be shepherd boy, you mean!”

With that, Eleazar sheepishly stepped out from behind the tree where he had been hiding.

“Ah, I wondered why the lights in the house hadn’t dimmed,” said Jacob, casting a disappointed look in the direction of Miriam’s flickering lamp. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, but mind you, young man, it is exceedingly bad form to eavesdrop on a private conversation. I expect you to apologize to Simeon and then head straight to your bed.”

“Oh don’t be so hard on the lad,” Simeon pleaded. “He owes me nothing. After all, he’s nearly old enough to join the other shepherds. If you can entrust him with that responsibility, I think he should be entitled to a bit of adult conversation.”

“All in good time, my friend. All in good time. For now, what this almost-shepherd needs is sleep.”

With that, young Eleazar was escorted to bed. Deciding he too was in need of rest, Simeon excused himself for the night.

To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our   Official Event page Part 2 

Thursday, December 19, 2019

Christmas Countdown Blitz The Gift of a Child by Donna K. Weaver Day 14

Award-winning author, wife, mother, grandmother, Harry Potter geek, Army veteran, karate black belt, and online gamer girl.

~ Facebook ~ Website ~

~ Amazon

 "Recently widowed Rae Cavanaugh just survived the worst birthday of her life. She and her two young children must now face a holiday season filled with so many reminders of what they've lost. But when a coworker who’s raising his young nephew moves next door, Rae discovers that the support of a good friend, and the gift of a child, can bring back some of the joy of the season. 

**A Novelette**"


“Text me when you’re done.” Rae turned with the stroller, but Dylan put his hand over hers on the handle.

“Isn’t Beth going to get her picture taken too?” he asked.

“She’s too young. He’ll scare her.”

“Not if she’s with the Littles. Come on. Do you really want to have a picture of Preston but not one of Beth?”

“Well . . .” Rae hadn’t considered that.

“When she’s sixteen, she’ll want to know why you have a picture of Preston with Santa and not one of her.” He arched a brow, his head tilted. “She’ll play the you love him more than me card.”
Rae frowned, but he had a point.

“Baby, do you want to go with Preston?” When Beth nodded, Rae heaved out a breath and stepped back so Dylan could take hold of the stroller.

“Okay, guys, each of you put a hand over mine.” They did, and the four of them strode toward the Santa Claus line.
Rae’s eyes prickled. That man had been Heaven-sent. She’d worried how she could ever fill the hole that Mike’s death had left in her children’s lives, and then Dylan had shown up.

To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our   Official Event page Part 2 

Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Christmas Countdown Blitz MELODY, Angel Creek Christmas Brides book 7 by Caroline Clemmons Day 13

Through a crazy twist of fate, Caroline Clemmons was not born on a Texas ranch. To compensate for this illogical error, she writes about handsome cowboys, feisty ranch women, and scheming villains in a tiny office her family calls her pink cave. She and her Hero live in North Central Texas cowboy country where they ride herd on their dog and three rescued indoor cats as well as providing nourishment outdoors for squirrels, birds, and other critters. 

The over fifty titles she has created in her pink cave have made her an Amazon bestselling author and won several awards. She writes sweet to sensual romances about the West, both historical and contemporary as well as time travel and mystery. Her series include the Kincaids, McClintocks, Stone Mountain Texas, Bride Brigade, Texas Time Travel, Texas Caprock Tales, Loving A Rancher, and Pearson Grove as well as numerous single titles and contributions to multi-author sets. When she’s not writing, she loves spending time with her family, reading her friends’ books, lunching with friends, browsing antique malls, checking Facebook, and taking the occasional nap.

~ Facebook ~ Website ~

~ Amazon

Such a tiny lie… 
Desperation drove her… 

She couldn’t know the risk… 

After the death of her grandmother, Melody Fraser must quickly leave what has been her home in South Carolina. There are those who think she murdered her Nana Fraser. She’s innocent but there’s talk about arrest and prosecution. To escape, this Southern Belle agrees to become a mail-order bride in far away Montana. Several of her friends will be living in the same town. Traveling so far to marry a man she’s never met is daunting. Surely things will work out, won’t they?

Nicholas “Nick” Walker is a doctor from Gettysburg whose wife and children were killed when mortar fire destroyed their home. Eager to escape the memories and ravages of the Civil War, he buys a medical practice in Montana Territory. He wants a competent nurse who can assist him with operations and care for patients as his plans expand for a hospital. He wants a well-organized wife to keep him company and start a family. With his usual efficiency, he combines the two into one job description when he requests a mail-order bride.
What will it take to teach Nick that—although she isn’t what he expected—Melody is exactly what he needs?


She opened the oven and removed a pan of golden biscuits. After setting the pan on the table, she set a platter of ham beside the bread. 

She didn’t look at him. “I didn’t know how you like your eggs so we’re having them scrambled.” 

“Actually, that’s my preference.” He sat at the table. 

When she’d set the bowl on the table and was seated she nodded at him. “Time for you to say the blessing.” 

He sat frozen. Not since he’d lost Jenny and the children had he uttered a prayer. Did he remember how? Did God remember him? 

 Melody sent him a disapproving glance. “If you’ve lost your voice, take another swallow of coffee. Maybe that’ll loosen your tongue.” 

Cheeky woman. He glared at her before he bowed his head and offered a brief blessing.

To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our   Official Event page Part 2 

Tuesday, December 17, 2019

Christmas Countdown Blitz Miss Dashwood's Dilemma by Arabella Sheraton Day 12

Arabella Sheraton grew up on a diet of Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, and many other writers of that period. From Jane Austen to Georgette Heyer, Arabella has found both enjoyment and inspiration in sparkling, witty Regency novels. She also loves history and generally finds the past more fascinating than the future. Arabella wrote her first Regency romance to entertain her aged mom who loved the genre. Arabella is honoured to share the adventures of her heroes and heroines with readers.

In this delightful traditional Regency romance, Miss Diana Dashwood accepts an invitation to Lady Prescott's Christmas party at Camden House, in the countryside. But things do not go quite as she imagined. Through an unexpected event, she is forced to spend the night in a woodsman's hut with one of the guests. What a scandal! Of course, Sir Gareth Blakely must propose, and he does. Unfortunately, Miss Diana Dashwood has already been engaged to and broken off her engagement from Sir Gareth Blakely after a bitter quarrel. Is it likely she will bow to social pressure and accept his proposal, one made only to save her reputation, and if they marry, does their union stand a chance of survival? And what about the pretty heiress, Miss Jemima Plymstock, whom everyone thinks is the lady Sir Gareth had his eye upon? Headstrong and proud, Miss Diana Dashwood is caught in a dreadful dilemma. A must-read for Regency fans!


Diana stepped into the carriage as if hypnotized and sat next to Miss Plymstock. What are you going to do to me?she asked. 

Mr. Rundle put on an expression of exaggerated surprise while Miss Taggart giggled behind one black-gloved hand. He stroked his beard. 

My dear Miss Dashwood, you are so imaginative. You make me sound like a villain in these romantic novels so popular with young ladies nowadays. I am going to do nothing to you. You will witness the marriage, along with Miss Taggart. I will begin my honeymoon with my lovely young bride, and the carriage will return you to town. Then you will, no doubt, make your way back to London and forget all about Jemima.

 He gave a leering wink. 

She will be too busy learning her new marital duties as Mrs. Rundle to keep up any acquaintance with you.” 

He knocked on the roof of the carriage to signal the driver. Miss Plymstock moaned but did not wake. Diana looked out of the carriage window as the horses gained speed. 

What have I done? I was a fool not to wait for Mr. Whittaker. Oh, Gareth, if only you were here.

To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our   Official Event page Part 2