Category: book tour

Pak
Han-Yong’s day is here. An elite hacker with Unit 101 of the North
Korean military, he’s labored for years to launch 
Project
Sonnimne:
a series of deadly viruses set to cripple Imperialistinfrastructure.

Brendan
Chogan isn’t a hero. He’s an out-of-work parking enforcement officer
and one-time collegiate boxer trying to support his wife and
children. But now there’s a foreign enemy on the shore, a blackout
that extends across America, and an unseen menace targeting
him.

In
the wake of the cyber attacks, electrical grids fail, satellites
crash to earth, and the destinies of nine strangers
collide.

For
fans of Tom Clancy, ALL SYSTEMS DOWN is a riveting cyber war thriller
which presents a threat so credible you’ll be questioning reality.

Goodreads

* Amazon

He
has worked as a wildland firefighter, journalist, and owner of a
mid-sized marketing agency. Though he’s lived in France and Spain,
his heart belongs to Portland, Oregon, where he lives with his wife,
Tehra, two wonderful children, and a messy cat that keeps them from
owning anything nice.

He
is a member of the Center for Internet Security, International
Information Systems Security Certification Consortium, and Cloud
Security Alliance.

ALL
SYSTEMS DOWN is his first novel, with more to come.

Website

* Facebook *

Twitter * Amazon

* Goodreads

Chapter 1
Sirens blared across all twenty-five decks of the USS Gerald R. Ford.
Lieutenant Kelly Seong grabbed her flight suit from the wall and slipped inside, practiced hands
buckling the straps of her Aramid coveralls. “A goddamned drill at 4 a.m.,” she mumbled as she
attached her flotation vest and checked her oxygen mask and survival gear. Not that she really
needed to. The equipment hadn’t changed since her last flight five hours earlier. But protocol
kept her alive.
Red lights flashed, and the boing, boing, boing of the alarm ricocheted along the corridors of the
ship. Sailors ran to stations. A petty officer shouted orders to passing swabbies. Despite the
cacophony, men and women hurried through the upper decks with purpose. General Quarters
drills occurred frequently. Every Jack and Jill on the Ford supercarrier had an assigned station
and knew where to be.
Well, nearly everyone. Kelly exhaled sharply. Where the fuck was Orion?
“You seen Beetlejuice?” she asked a cadre of her squadron mates. The men shrugged and
raced on, a playing-card spade peeking out from the back of the flight helmets they carried
under their arms. They were Black Aces. First to fight, first to strike.
Orion, as far as she was concerned, hadn’t yet earned the ace on his helmet. He was what they
called a “nugget,” a first-tour aviator fresh from naval flight training. Technically, he was her
weapons systems officer. The wizzo. In the cockpit of their Super Hornet, he engaged air-to-air
or ground targets and operated the laser- and satellite-guided ordnance. In a “turn and burn,”
Kelly would make the turn while he dropped the burn. She would if he were any good.
Unfortunately, he was as green as a grasshopper’s right nut. And here she was, expected to
mentor the bastard.
She checked his bunk then the hangar deck. Alarms blasted too loudly to call for him, and the
rush of hundreds of sailors made it hard to spot his little cornbread head. The other airmen of
the Black Aces beat feet to the ready room. GQ brought the supercarrier alive, even in the dead
of night.
Not that the ship ever really slept; 24 hours a day, the “Jerry” hummed with activity. At any given
time, two-thirds of the four thousand souls aboard would be awake, working on the floating
fortress currently cruising two hundred miles east of Honolulu.
Kelly beelined past the flight lockers toward the ready room where the rest of the squadron
would already be waiting. If her wizzo couldn’t get his ass in the saddle he’d suffer the
consequence. Over her career, she’d seen better pilots than him wash out.
She peered in the ready room. Not there. Then back to the lockers.
“Jesus, what time is it?” Orion Bether shouted above the din, in that whiny voice that set Kelly’s
fist to balling up all on its own.He slinked over to his locker and was now making a hash of getting into his flight suit. Just like a
fucking nugget.
She punched him in the shoulder. “Beetlejuice!” she shouted. “Where the fuck you been? You
look like shit, by the way.”
“Ouch!” He groaned, massaging his shoulder.
Like Kelly, Orion had been pulling twelve-hour shifts, though that was no excuse for the bags
under his eyes and his generally un-shipshape appearance. His sandy blonde hair, short and
squared, still managed to stand up like a sailor’s happy sock after a six-month deployment. He
dropped one of his Nomex flight gloves, revealing, most glaringly, that his flight suit hadn’t been
fastened at the crotch.
“It’s balls thirty. And for fuck’s sake, if you’re going to button salute a boat goat, at least get her
to buckle you up at the end.”
Orion reached down and cursed, fumbling to pull the strap closed while juggling his helmet and
flotation vest. Kelly didn’t wait for him, leading the way to the ready room. He hopped after her.
“She’s no boat goat, Moonshot. She’s a 2-10-2 if I’ve ever seen one.” Then he laughed that
obnoxious cackle of his. A girl who was just a two on a scale of ten when on land could easily
be a ten out on deployment, where the ratio of men to women was forty-to-one. When they got
back to land she’d be a two again. Few Navy men were below fucking an ugly girl at sea.
“Listen up!” The call spun them around in salute. Mike Montez stepped into the room right
behind Kelly and Orion. The squadron commander was a short guy, black hair, usually calm as
a pickle in a salt bath. But in the light of the hangar deck, his dark cheeks were flushed, eyes
excited. “Black Aces,” he said, “this is not a drill. I’m going to repeat myself. This is not a drill.”
“Sir,” Kelly said. “The call on-speakers sounds a lot like a training exercise.” During a true GQ,
loudspeakers would call all hands to man their battle stations. Tonight, there’d been nothing but
sirens.
“Chrissakes, Lieutenant Seong. I know what I know, and we’re buns to our guns. Maybe they’re
having some technical difficulties up on the island.”
That drew some laughter. The Admiral sat up in the island—the control tower rising above the
flight deck—and wherever he went, clusterfucks seemed to follow.
“I don’t know much, but here’s what I got,” Montez continued, sweeping his gaze across the
eighteen pilots in front of him. He bit his lip and smiled, like he was about to give them some
good news. “Ten minutes ago, at zero-four-hundred hours, our radar sweeps caught more blips
than your collective wives have boyfriends. And they’re moving in on our position. It might be
nothing. Might be seagulls or flying peckers. But, sonafabitch, it looks a lot like bogies. I don’t
have more details than that. So get in your birds and beat wings west. Stand by for orders when
you’re airborne.” He clapped his hands. “To stations!”Halle-fuckin’-lujah. It wasn’t a drill. Maybe she’d actually get to see some real action, for the first
time in years.
“Lieutenant Seong. Lieutenant Bether.” Commander Montez stopped Kelly as she advanced on
the exit. “Hold up.” While the other pilots, flight engineers, and wizzos ran out of the ready room,
Kelly and Orion pressed in close to their commander. “Brush and Wildfire are coming off a
training run. Their bird is hitting the trap in two minutes. She’s got live ordnance and half a tank
of fuel, at most. I want you two to take her up the minute she lands.”
“A hot switch?” Orion asked.
“Yes, Lieutenant. Now get your asses up and aft.” He tore out of the ready room, leaving them
alone.
“I’ve never done a hot switch,” Orion confessed.
“Then this is on-the-job training.” Kelly helped Orion into his flotation vest, then handed him his
helmet. “How fast can you run, sailor?” The question was rhetorical, and she didn’t wait for him
to answer before dashing up to the hangar deck. Orion fell in, close behind.
Kelly had performed hot switches many times and didn’t feel any nerves. It meant that she and
Orion would have just three minutes to switch out with the landing flight team. They’d forgo the
normal preflight checks and would have less fuel. The bonus was they’d be lead jet in this foray
—and Kelly loved to lead.
Sprinting through a narrow corridor on the hangar deck, she located the ladder to the flight deck.
A sailor, running the opposite direction, clipped her with his shoulder. Dozens more men pushed
past. The siren wobbled and shifted. A grinding noise now.
Why had the general quarters alarm changed? It didn’t matter. With both hands she grabbed the
rails and ascended to the surface of the supercarrier, into the October night.
The flight deck of the Jerry shone through the darkness, illuminated with a thousand bulbs. A
vibrant city. A red-light district at night. Officers and mates hopped over the lighted pathways.
Adrenaline seeped through her, pulsing in her veins. She hoped, as she slowed to a safer
speed, that the fight would last long enough for her to get in a few good hits.
Starboard, the six-story island dominated the landscape, the most prominent structure on an
otherwise flat surface. From there, the air boss and mini boss would direct the dozens of F-35C
Lightning II and F/A-18E/F Super Hornet aircraft that shuttled across the deck, ready to catapult
into the sky. She scooted past the island, around munitions in large, white bins and over cables,
following markings to where she’d rendezvous with her own multirole fighter jet.
Sweat dripped down her face, though whether from the heat or anticipation she couldn’t tell.
Even two days before Halloween, the North Pacific sizzled. In a lot of ways, it felt like her
hometown, only hotter. And muggier.

What time is it back in Duluth, anyway? It had to be early afternoon. Mom would be working the
phones to sell combines and tillage equipment to small-acreage Georgia farmers. Pop would be
out buying sweet plum candy for the trick-or-treaters.
Kelly forced away thoughts of home. She needed to focus.
More sailors swarmed the deck of the supercarrier, like a thousand bees in a shook-up Coke
can, zipping to stations. Every man had a purpose, his role indicated by his shirt. Maintenance
guys, hook runners, and catapult crews wore a forest green vest over a somewhat lighter green
shirt. Chock and chains wore blue. Purples supplied fuel. Red shirts loaded bombs. But to Kelly,
they were all faceless nobodies that existed for the sole purpose of getting her bird ready to fly.
There was only one thing Kelly liked about the Navy. Flying.
Everything else about this service branch sucked. Two weeks out of port and the food started to
taste like preservatives and powder. The racks stunk. The showers were so small the crew
called them “rain lockers.” And then there were the shower bunnies—clusters of hair, grime, and
semen that stopped up the drains.
But flight was life.
Nothing on earth compared to soaring at eleven-thousand feet and watching the target
approach in an instant. Flights were long, and the payoff was short. But nothing made her feel
alive like rolling in over the bad guys at Mach One, pushing that button, and watching ordnance
erupt below.
Of course, it had been years since her last active duty combat. The world was quiet. Too quiet.
No wars or even military conflicts. Maybe America had just fucking won. Maybe there would
never be another world war. Her gut yawed at the thought.
Up ahead she saw her carrier-capable Super Hornet on approach to land, fourteen feet above
the deck, tailhook out to snag the arresting wire—the trap.
The Super Hornet landed flawlessly, catching the trap and accelerating. The pilot brought it to
full power at the end, just in case the wire broke and he had to pull up to get off the carrier. It
had been known to happen, and this kind of accident killed men on the flight deck as well as in
the plane.
Fortunately, the wire held and the jet jolted to a stop.
Kelly didn’t have time to celebrate the other pilot’s safe night landing. The flight crew ran to the
plane and hauled out the boarding ladder from a jigsaw-shaped door on the side of the
fuselage. As soon as the pilot and his weapons systems officer climbed down, Orion scampered
up the ladder. Kelly followed.
Buckling into her seat, calmness filled her. Everything was routine. She punched in her
coordinates and performed a quick inspection of her flight controls. “Beetlejuice, systems

check?”
His reply came in through her helmet. “Systems a-go.”
“LSO, this is Bravo-60 on a hot switch. Gimme a CAT. Over.”
The landing signal officer, a white shirt, waved a pair of traffic wands, incandescent red,
signaling her toward the bow. “Bravo-60, you’re on CAT Two. First in line. Over.”
There were four “CATs”—short for catapult—on the Jerry, like the starting blocks at a track
meet. Once fired, they could launch a thirty-three-ton aircraft off the deck in seconds. And when

the Jerry really got going, she’d be launching birds off all four CATs at once, sending a death-
dealing warhawk into the sky every twenty seconds.

Kelly obeyed the white shirt’s signals across the deck until she rolled to a stop at CAT Two. The
magnet clicked below. The white shirt indicated the go-ahead with his traffic wands. The air
boss shouted a confirmation. Her catapult was cleared for takeoff.
“Bravo-60 is ready,” she said through her radio.
“Full shhhszzshhsshhshszzzshzz,” a reply came from the tower.
“Tower, I’m getting a lot of static on your end. Repeat the command.”
“They acknowledged ‘full tension,’” Orion said over her shoulder.
It went against protocol not to have heard the command herself, but she could see the white
shirt flagging her forward. And hadn’t her squadron commander required haste? Fucking
Navy. Pay a billion dollars for a plane, can’t maintain a working radio.
“Whatever,” she said. “Full tension is go. Military power is go.”
A yellow shirt, the plane director, touched his helmet, nodding to the shooter. And with that, the
shooter fired the CAT, launching Kelly’s Super Hornet forward.
The G-forces of the catapult slammed her back in her seat, head and neck straining to stay
upright. The combat fighter broke free down the stroke, accelerating to more than 160 mph in
mere seconds. The CAT threw her jet off the flight deck and over the open sea, in starlit
darkness, ascending, and the punch of acceleration knocked into Kelly like a body blow, as it
did every time. Violent. Loud. The catapult could launch her a thousand times over the ocean
and she’d never get used to it.
She pulled the aircraft away from the water and brought the wheels up into the fuselage. They
soared, airborne.

“Beetlejuice, I’m going to take this bird west. Radio the carrier to see if you can get us specifics
on these radar blips.”
“10-4.”
The darkness outside stretched into eternity, ocean and horizon melding together, both black
and indistinct. At night, she always tried to take it slow and let her flight tools do their job. They
called it “flying the instruments.” She called it common sense.
Down in the void of the Pacific, her strike group would be at battle stations. The guided missile
cruiser and two destroyers would be circling the Jerry, protecting her. A nuclear sub patrolled
the waters a quarter-mile below the surface. Even the combat support ship provided a defensive
flank for the supercarrier, their flagship.
Kelly swiveled back toward the vertical red and horizontal blue lights of the optical landing
system that pilots called “the ball.” Beyond, white lights dotted the deck, illuminating the runway.
Otherwise the carrier sat in obscurity. Quiet.
“Beetlejuice, do you have a copy from the island?”
“Negative, Moonshot. They’re radio silent over there.”
“Try the emergency channel.”
She could hear him clicking through stations. “Nah-nothing.” His voice caught like a deer mouse
in a snap trap. “Our, uh, our radio must be out. With the fucking hot switch, we didn’t catch it.”
“That’s crazy. It was working a minute ago. I’m gonna give it a try.”
Kelly moved her dial to the emergency channel. “Bravo-Bravo, this is Bravo-60. Come in.” On
the other end, the shush of static. “Come in, Bravo-Bravo.” Nothing.
“Try one of the other birds,” Orion suggested.
“Who’s in the air?”
Orion craned his head around. “I don’t have a visual on any others. Do you see any on radar?”
Kelly tapped her cockpit radar display. “I’m not picking up any birds. We’re on lead. They should
be right behind us.”
That pissed her off. It was just like the fucking Navy to send her out in the darkness against an
unknown threat without anyone on her six for backup. “I’m circling back. We’re no good to
anyone with a tits-up radio.” A hard turn of the stick brought the plane windward and back to the
east.

“Jesus, Moonshot. We need orders to head back, right?”
“You wanna radio in for new orders?”
“Radio’s busted.”
She rolled her eyes and continued to follow the protocol that prioritized the safety of the plane
and its pilots. They flew back toward the supercarrier.
As they neared, Kelly fixed her gaze on the flight deck, a half-mile away but still clearly visible.
Bathed in moonlight. Beautiful.
One by one, the lights on the USS Gerald R. Ford blinked out. First the red lights of the landing
strip. Then the white deck lights. Then the optical landing system, the ball. All out. Gone in less
than a second.
Kelly gasped. Sweat collected on her palms and between her fingers. This was impossible. In
the eight years she’d flown for the goddamned US Navy she’d been in some hairy situations,
seen some real crazy things. But no one she’d ever flown with had ever seen the lights of their
carrier turn off. Wasn’t supposed to fucking happen.
“Beetlejuice, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Motherfuuhh … we’re gonna crash.” His voice held an edge of panic.
“Anything from the island?” Blood beat at the back of her eyes. “Anything from the Jerry at all?”
He didn’t reply at first. Then a prolonged exhale of “Craaaap.”
The only light on deck came from a lone F-35 shooting forward on the catapult, down the stroke.
She could tell even from here it wouldn’t be fast enough. The CAT hadn’t been correctly
calibrated. Or it had lost power.
In slow motion, the catapult propelled the jet until it flipped lifelessly off the bow and toward the
sea. At the final second, the pilot ejected—an explosion from the cockpit that sent him vertically
into the sky. Then the last light winked out as the jet disappeared into the Pacific.
With her world now illuminated only by moonlight, Kelly never saw the pilot land. Never even
saw the splash of the F-35 hitting the water.
But it didn’t matter. A fellow pilot losing a plane into the ocean didn’t matter. The blackout on the
Jerry didn’t matter. At least not compared to what was happening inside her plane.
“Was that Tater’s bird?” Orion said over her shoulder.

Kelly didn’t reply. Instead, she stared at her cockpit controls. The systems on the Super Hornet
were failing. The Navigation Forward Looking Infrared—the advanced sensors that let her see—
dropped offline. The Doppler ground mapping radar followed. Then the target designator that
delivered laser-guided bombs.
Even those system failures paled in comparison to the reading from the fuel gauge. Where the
hell are we going to land? Her hand shook on the stick.
And the dial moved steadily toward empty.

Followthe tour HEREfor exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!

 

Connor
may be the change Lia is looking for, but he is certainly not the
ending Hawk wants for his Queen. Hawk’s invested too much time in
planning his future to let some random guy walk away with his happily
ever after. He will do anything to protect her virtue, even if it
means protecting her from herself because Amelia belongs to him.

He’s
chosen her…

He’s
watched her…

He’s
studied her…

He
knows everything there is to learn about her…

And
when the time is right she will reign his heart.

Goodreads* Amazon

 

The
closer Amelia gets to figuring out her love life, the more Hawk
unravels. While he deals with loose ends and new threats, his
strategic plans start to fall into place. Pawns advance, the King’s
in the ideal position and the Rook hosts the Mad Lib Auction. What he
doesn’t expect is for his Queen to be in danger and for Knights to
steal hearts.

Amelia
finally figures out exactly who her heart wants, and she is
determined to go for it. She is willing to give the knight who stole
her heart everything. She owns up to her mistakes and truly attempts
to change, but just because her mind is made up, doesn’t mean her
love is reciprocated. Will she choose the best-friend who learned her
by heart, or the soccer god who ignored her for the longest time? One
of them will win her heart, the other will break it… But neither of
them are safe from the guy who will stop at nothing to protect
her.

Murder
isn’t something Hawk shies away from. Actually, he prefers to use
it as a last recourse, but he’s unravelling. The closer Amelia getsto achieving happiness, the more his control disintegrates. And when
one of his carefully laid plans turns on him, he loses it. Realizing
he’s the reason behind Amelia’s attack, plagues him with guilt.
In all his attempts to protect her, he was the one who put her in
danger- a failure he isn’t willing to have looming over him… But
what happens when his Queen fails him in ways she can never take
back?

New
Adult, Romantic Suspense. Contains sexual content that may not be
appropriate for younger audiences.

Website
* Facebook *
Twitter * Instagram* Amazon
* Goodreads

Followthe tour HERE

for exclusive content, guest posts and a giveaway!

 

If
faced with your worst fear, what would you do? Would you run or would
you fight?

 

Camryn
Hamilton is a fighter.

A
thirty-something mother of two, Camryn appears to have it all: a
husband, plenty of money, and children she adores. When she returns
home to spend Christmas with her family, her perfect world she has
created begins to crumble, thrusting her face to face with the only
man who truly knows her.

Holden
Patrick will fight harder.

A
powerful, handsome attorney, Holden left town after his adoptive
parents’ death. In his time away he almost managed to forget the
girl who ran away with his heart. At least until a turn of fate
brought him back to Mantoloking, and back to Camryn.

But
are they willing to fight for each other?

Faced
with a tragic past that they both wanted to forget, they struggle to
protect their hearts from being broken again. Will their love be
enough to get them through another tragedy, or will they close
themselves off and run away again?

Amazon
* Apple
* B&N

RECOMMENDED
FOR AGES 18 AND UP DUE TO SEXUAL SITUATIONS AND STRONG
LANGUAGE.

 

Imagine
that you were married to the love of your life and had a happy
family. Now imagine everything was destroyed in an instant, making
you question who you are and how you can possibly go on once the one
person you truly love is gone.

It
is a rare thing to find your soul mate, but Jess found true love in
Dave when they were only teenagers. They’ve built a happy life
together in a small shore town, becoming pillars of the community and
making everyone around them envious of the perfect life they have
built together. Their love is something that seems like it can only
exist in a fairy tale. But what happens when the fairy tale is
broken?

Jess
has always been the life of the party, and Dave was always there to
reel her in and keep her safe. But one night, while on duty as the
town Sheriff, the unimaginable happens, altering the directions of
their lives forever.

Jess
is now forced to dig deep in her soul and find herself again. When
love tries to chip away at her frozen over heart, she struggles to
fight the guilt of moving on while keeping the memory of her perfect
love alive.

This
is a story about finding love, having it all taken away, and
discovering that moving on doesn’t mean forgetting the
past.

***This
is the second book of the A Broken Fairy Tale series, but can also be
read as a stand alone

Addto Goodreads

Kat
Pierce is a fiercely independent thirty something who knows Joey’s
womanizing ways far too well. When she lands a teaching job and moves
into her cousin’s house at the shore, she finds herself with Joey
more than she would like. There’s always been an attraction betweenthe two of them, but Kat knows better than to act on her feelings.
Her heart has been broken before, and she knows Joey is a one way
ticket to having it broken again.

Will
Joey and Kat find the love they are looking for?

HIS
JAR OF HEARTS is the third book of the A BROKEN FAIRY TALE SERIES.

Amazon
* Apple* B&N

S.P.
Cervantes’s new dystopian romance, AN IMPOSSIBLE WORLD, will be
released on July 25th.

S.P.
is also the author of the highly rated Young Adult Romantic Fantasy
trilogy Secrets of Shadow Hill. “Always and Forever”, “The
Prophecy”, and “War of Wizards” that has been
described as “Twilight Meets Harry Potter”. It’s not your
typical romantic fantasy.

S.P
Cervantes lives in Orange County, California with her husband and
three children, where she is a teacher. She enjoys spending time with
her family, writing, reading, and running, but is always thinking of
an idea for her next novel.

Jar of Hearts Excerpt:

When the song ends, I move to go sit over on the seats he has set up for us, but he doesn’t
let me. “Kat.” He says my name as if it’s the one thing he needs to survive. He turns me back to
him and lifts my chin so I have no choice but to be captivated by his intense eyes. He leans down
and feathers a kiss on my lips. I want so much more. He pulls back, as if asking for permission. I
don’t need to say anything. He can see it. He kisses me again, raking his fingers through my hair,
pulling me into his kiss like a swirling black hole of pleasure. If there was ever a kiss that could
make me lose it all, this is it. His tongue brushes across my lips, parting them, causing a moan of
pleasure to escape when I oblige with need. His hands move down the sides of my body and all I
want is for him to touch me everywhere. But I remind myself that I can’t move too fast with him,
even though my body wants him everywhere.
I’m dizzy with pleasure, not able to think of anything but how perfect this kiss feels.
Although I’ve kissed Joey before, it’s never been like this because I’ve never let myself believe
that his kiss means something. Being with Joey could be the one thing that could mend my
broken heart.I can hardly keep busy enough at work today. I’d hoped there be more action with
summer only a few weeks away and vacationers already taking advantage of the early heat wave.
I wonder whether being away from Kat will always be this hard, or whether it will get easier as
time passes. I never minded being gone from home for weeks at a time, but as the fire season
draws near, the times where I’m away for weeks at a time will feel nearly impossible. I know the
way I’ve been thinking about Kat and a future together is crazy, but these days, I can’t imagine
one more day without her. Being in love is so much more all-consuming than I expected, I’m
glad that it didn’t happen for me until now. Because now, I have no doubt that I will do anything
it takes to spend the rest of my life with her. I have no questions whether there’s someone else
out there for me. I’ve been with all kinds of women before, but not one has touched my heart the
way Kat has, or even come close.
She’s.
My.
Plaster.

Followthe tour HEREfor exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!

Refusing
to believe the rumors that the European prince she was forced to
marry had died in a far-off land, the princess, Sierra, sets sail to
America, bent on revenge and determined to learn the truth. Because
she will require a scout to guide her through the wilderness, she
calls in a favor from the man who had betrayed her long ago, the man
she had once loved deeply and had hoped to wed, the noble Cheyennescout, High Wolf.

Many
years before, a European prince had invited High Wolf to travel an
ocean and as a brother, to live as a member of the royal family.
There High Wolf had fallen in love with the princess, Sierra. But
instead of an engagement and the planned wedding, the princess had
treacherously married his friend, the prince. Betrayed and
broken-hearted, High Wolf sailed back to America, determined to
forget the princess. But a promise given to her years earlier brings
her back into his life, igniting a desire he must resist, for to
surrender to her again is unthinkable.

Forced
into one another’s company, with the threat of life or death around
every corner, overcoming their prejudice might be their only means of
survival. But can either of them trust in a love, once betrayed? Or
will their past force them apart again, this time forever?…

This
book has been previously published.

Warning:
A sensuous romance that might fan the flames of desire. Be warned.
You might fall in love all over again.

All
of her books concern the Native American culture, and says Karen,
“With the power and passion of romance, I hope to bring about an
awareness of the vital forces that helped shape the American Indian
culture. There are some things that should never be forgotten.”

Website
* Facebook
* Facebook
* Amazon
* Goodreads

Enjoy this excerpt from The Princess and the Wolf

“The housekeeper tells that ’ tis well known the prince would divorce her,
were he here,” said the kitchen maid.
“Aye, that he would,” replied the housemaid. “And good riddance, says I. It
was she that drove him away. That she did.”

Gossip between servants at
Prince Alathom’s Castle

“Do you wish anything else before we go ashore?”
“No, Maria,” answered Princess Sierra, watching from her perch high above
the dock, as Governor Clark stepped from the carriage, accompanied by an Indian
maiden. “I do not require anything else at the moment. You’ve done quite well, my
friend, despite the demanding conditions of this vessel.” She gave Maria a brief
smile. “Would you please find Mr. Dominic and inform him that I am ready to
leave this ship?”
“Yes, Your Highness. At once. Do we go to greet Governor Clark, then?”
“I believe so,” said the princess. “And for this task, I will have need of you
both to accompany me.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Maria said, curtsying before she turned to do as bid.
Sierra smoothed a white-gloved hand over the blue and white muslin of her
very full skirt, pulling the lace that bordered her walking dress into place.
Straightening her shoulders, she settled her blue and white-lace mantle over the

double bouffant of her sleeves, buttoning the mantle’s closure at the neck. Briefly,
she touched her wide belt, which was made of the same light blue color as her
dress, pulling it a little more tightly around her waist so as to accentuate its most
tiny aspect. A white straw bonnet, adorned with ribbons of blue and tied at the
neck, completed the image of the fashionable royal that she was.
Opening her blue and white parasol, Sierra narrowed her eyes, placing a hand
gently over her forehead as though it were an extra shield from the sun. She
frowned.
From her view of it, there seemed to be no sign of the man she had instructed
Governor Clark to hire. Had she needlessly tortured herself over this first meeting
with High Wolf?
Perhaps he hadn’t yet arrived.
Or maybe, she thought on a grimmer note, he wasn’t coming. Had he mayhap
learned that it was she behind the request?
For a moment, she worried over the possibility. As absurd as it might appear,
such a thing was possible: He might know of her coming. He’d always seemed to
have ways of gleaning information about things—ways that she had never
understood. Perhaps he had discovered her scheme well ahead of the fact.
At that thought, Sierra tried to swallow her disappointment.
It wasn’t that she was looking forward to seeing him again. No. It was only
that he, and he alone, could lead her to Prince Alathom, and it was Prince Alathom
she needed to find and challenge, Prince Alathom whom she would repay in
kind…if need be…
Squaring her shoulders and setting her features into as delightful a smile as
she could, Princess Sierra pulled unconsciously at her mantle, noticing as she did
so that her fingers shook with the effort.

It was then that she caught sight of something in her peripheral
vision…something familiar. She turned her head carefully to the left, her eyes
colliding with and staring hard at a pair of dark eyes looking directly back at her.
Her stomach flipped over twice before it at last performed a dive toward her
toes. She inhaled swiftly to try to quell the reaction.
It was he, High Wolf. He had come, after all.
As impossible as it might seem, she stared back at a face that she had once
thought never to see again. Yet, there he was; there, across a very short distance.
And unable to curtail it, she was suddenly awash in nearly palpable relief.
Relief? Nonsense. It was probably more to the point to say that she was glad
that her scheme now contained the element of possibility, the possibility of
success.
But if he were to be caught looking up at her, she would be staring back down
at him as well, almost as though she were hungry for the sight of him…although
she corrected herself, this last thought was ridiculous.
Again, she reminded herself that he, as well as the prince, had betrayed her. In
different ways, perhaps. But betrayal was certain treachery after all, regardless of
the circumstances. And faith, once lost, could never be restored.
Still, despite the intervening years, an all too familiar pain shot through her,
and without her conscious will, she found herself scrutinizing the man she had
once thought herself to be in love with…a man who had left her for no more than
three hundred gold dukaten.
He looked much the same as he had ten years ago, yet different. Whereas
High Wolf had been little more than a boy then, he was now very much a man, and
he looked bigger somehow, though he was still extraordinarily slim. Perhaps it was
because his chest was wider, larger…or perhaps he was more muscular.

He looked…better, more handsome, more virile.
Sierra grimaced at her thoughts and decided to scrutinize something else less
potent…his manner of dress, for instance…
Gone were the fashionable trousers and high leather boots that she
remembered him wearing in the past; in their place were buckskin leggings,
breechcloth and moccasins. Gone also were the carefully stitched linen shirt and
cravat so precisely tied, supplanted now with a long buckskin shirt, fringed, with
the bottom of it hanging down almost past his breechcloth. An ornament of what
looked to be a concatenation of beads and bone, in the shape of a breastplate, hung
down over his chest. It was a sight she had never beheld until this moment.
Instead of a hat, however, he now wore feathers on his head—or at least there
was one feather sticking straight up behind him. And his hair…
Relegated to the past was the fashionable haircut she recalled so well,
displaced now by long, black hair that hung well past his shoulders.
He looked…Indian, alien from all she had ever known and loved. Yet his
countenance was, contrarily, as familiar to her as a well-rehearsed play.
And she wondered: Despite their past, would he help her?
Not if he knew her purpose.
Only too well, she recalled that High Wolf considered the prince to be more
than a friend. To him, and perhaps rightly so, Prince Alathom was a brother, a
brother in fact as well as in deed. Besides, High Wolf would hardly condone her
murderous plan…a scheme she fully intended to execute if the prince refused to
return to the Continent, whereupon he would take up his responsibilities.
Indeed, she would be satisfied.

Those at home thought she knew nothing of their wagging tongues; they
believed their whispered insults were discreet. But Sierra did know. She did care.
And he would pay.
Oh, yes, he would pay.
Which meant, she realized, that the real reason for her journey must remain a
well-guarded secret; from Governor Clark, from her guides and especially from
High Wolf.
She only wondered if she could successfully hide her motives from High
Wolf. After all, as she had already surmised, High Wolf was an extremely
perceptive man. Might he guess?
Well, it was up to her to keep her secret well hidden. She only hoped she was
up to the task.

***

He stared at her as though he had come face-to-face with his worst
nightmare—or maybe his best fantasy. Princess Sierra? Here? Now?
His heart skipped a beat, then picked up its pace, pounding onward in triple
speed. High Wolf caught his breath before forcing himself to breathe in and out. In
a daze, he stared up at her, feeling as though he were caught in an illusion.
Had she come for him? Had she traveled all this distance to reach out to him,
realizing after all this time that she could not live without him, as she had once
proclaimed?
Or was she a mere mirage, the same sort of image that haunted his dreams?
Without warning, the desire to run to her, to take her in his arms and embrace
her, was almost more real than the solidness of the ground beneath him. Of its own
will, the memory of the taste of her, the scent of her, the sweetness of her embrace,
overwhelmed him.

And he knew he needed, he wanted to kiss her. Now. In truth, so strong was
the desire, he had taken a few steps toward her before he became once more fully
aware of himself, and stopped.
The prince. How could he have forgotten the prince—as well as her
duplicity—so easily? Where was the prince?
Odd, he thought, how the mind could forget the pain, the anguish, the loss.
For a moment, all had been gone, replaced by the simple joy of seeing her again.
Odd, too, how his body was even now reacting, that most manly part of him
pulsing with every pounding of his heart, remembering, anticipating…what could
never be.
He groaned. He had to bring himself, his thoughts, his body under control,
quickly.
Concentrate on her faithlessness, he cautioned himself. Hers and Prince
Alathom’s.
He glanced to the side of her and all around her. Where was the prince?
And then, as though it came through the fog cluttering his mind, a thought
came to him. Governor Clark had hired him, had told High Wolf that he was to
escort and protect a royal party, one that was coming to the Americas for a wild-
game hunt.
It was the prince and princess . It had to be.
Had the two of them asked for him, personally? For old time’s sake? Was that
why Clark had sent for him?
Or was this mere coincidence?
Coincidence? He sneered. High Wolf knew there was no such thing.
Had the two of them no compassion? No pity?
Surely they were aware of what the mere act of seeing them
again—together—would do to him.

Or did they think that they could renew friendship? That he would have
forgotten?
Well, he had not forgotten; he could not.
Breathing in deeply, High Wolf calmed himself. He was letting his emotions
take control of his mind, even of his body. It was possible, he conceded, that he
was not thinking clearly, putting elements together that did not necessarily go
together.
Besides, he didn’t have to take the job at hand. He had not pledged his word.
And it wouldn’t be as if he were deserting the prince and princess, either.
After all, there were these two disreputable trappers that Clark had hired as well.
Wearily, High Wolf glanced at the two shabbily dressed men. Yes, let them
have the assignment…while he, High Wolf, quietly disappeared…
Surely, that would be best. For indeed, if this were his initial reaction to the
princess—and at this great a distance from her—what would be his fate if he were
to witness her beauty closer to hand?
At that thought, a rush of desire swept through him that was as uncontrollable
as it was unwelcome. In truth, so swift was his reaction, he rocked back on his feet.
The response shocked him as much as it excited him. And High Wolf knew he
had best renew his intention to leave—quickly…
Yet he didn’t budge so much as an inch. In faith, he could not have turned
away from her now had he been a saint. Not yet.
Contrarily, another part of him reasoned that little harm could come from
feasting his sights upon her for a while longer. Perhaps the image gained could
serve to fuel the fiber of his imagination in the lonely nights ahead of him.

Make no mistake, Princess Sierra had always been the most beautiful creature
he had ever seen, and it appeared she had changed little, except to have blossomed.
More curves, more womanly features.
As he stared, his heart warmed to his subject. Dark curls bounced around her
face while her bonnet hid the rest of her coiffure. Oval face, high cheekbones, eyes
that he knew were as green as a prairie in spring. Even from this distance, he could
attest that her skin still glowed with health and vitality. It was one of the features
he remembered most about her. Her skin had been luminous, clear; had shone with
a radiance even under cover of darkness, as though she might be lit by a fire
within.
How he had loved to run his hands over her face, her neck, those curves…
Cease this, he cautioned himself, letting out his breath.
Yet the mind was often a mysterious thing, and despite himself, his thoughts
rambled on. At five foot four, she had always been a slender little thing. He
recalled that he had once spanned her waist within the outstretched grip of both his
hands. They had laughed about it. All three of them. Himself, Prince Alathom and
the princess.
Odd, how close the three of them had once been, so close they had shared
most everything.
High Wolf sighed.
Perhaps it was the way of the world that some things—even good
things—were destined to end. Maybe that was why one should reach out for all the
happiness he could have, while it still lay within his grasp.
Taking a few steps away, High Wolf at last turned his back on the sight of
her. Best to disappear now, as quickly as possible. For of one matter he was

entirely certain: He would not escort the princess and the prince. Not now. Not
ever.
He took a few steps away.
“High Wolf!”
His insides plummeted at the sound of her voice. Yet he remained steadfast in
his decision and kept walking, ignoring the call.
“High Wolf, don’t go!”
Don’t listen to her, he counseled himself. Go now, before she has a chance to
weave her spell around you. Go at once .
But even as he thought it, an odd music, a rhythm perchance, began to pound
through his mind, reminding him of other places, other times…

Followthe tour HEREfor exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!

As
you get to know Simon and the Rage that he carries with him, you will
find there is a lot more to this man than some random serial killer.
He is a man with very unique “problem solving” skills and he
really enjoys his work and the mission he has taken on to help rid
the world of some really unnecessary… bad drivers…

Goodreads* Amazon

On
September 16, 2015, Amanda’s husband Kevin was on his way home from
work late one night and was waiting for traffic to clear in the left
turn lane about a mile from their home.  A drunk driver coming
from behind Kevin, at what was estimated 75 mph in a 45 mph zone,
veered out of the travel lanes and struck Kevin in the rear of his
Dodge Neon with a full-size SUV.  Kevin was killed instantly inthe crash.

Road Rage: Unleashed
I have tried everything to control the rage, I work out like crazy, eat right, have tried yoga and meditation and yet the rage is
always there, on a hair trigger. People are so oblivious and wrapped up in their own lives that they don’t even know that there
are predators like me all around them and yet they drive like they own the world. My fondest hope is that my work will make
people stop and reevaluate how they drive and become more aware of others. All I am asking for is some basic courtesy and
the simple manners that should have been taught to you when you were younger. If you were not blessed with a strong role
model, you should have at least picked up on the fact that your choices have consequences. That is a word that I don’t think
people really appreciate and I am going to take great care to make sure that you all fully understand its meaning by the time our
project ends. Everyone is so wrapped up in their own lives with social media, texting and virtual interactions that they don’t
understand there are consequences to their actions, good or bad. I read about these kids that cyberbully others into committing
suicide, consequences. I don’t think if these kids actually understood what the consequences are for their actions that they
would do these things, at least I hope so.
I am not a monster, not entirely anyway. I truly believe that the mission I am embarking on will serve humanity more than if I
were to just kill myself and be done with the pain and struggle to try and contain the rage. I really don’t care if you or anyone
agrees with me, as long as you drive like you should, we will likely never meet. Likely….

Followthe tour HEREfor exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!