Thursday, May 25, 2017

Military Appreciation Month Wrap Up Facebook Event

Here's a list of all the authors participating in the May 31st Facebook event. Hope you can all come join us sometime during the day.
Wed. May 31st.
Contests........ Prizes.......
Over 35 of your favorite Military Romance Authors in 1 place! ..... Aliyah Burke, Caitlyn O'Leary, Debra Parmley, Delilah Devlin, Desiree Holt, Donna Michaels, Gennita Low, Heather C. Leigh, J.m. Madden, Jean Joachim, Joni Hahn, KaLyn Cooper, Author KD Michaels, Kim Lowe, Kris Michaels, Lea Griffith, LeTeisha Newton, Lexi Post, Lindsay Cross, Lynne St James, Lynn Raye Harris, Mandy Harbin, Margaret Madigan, Marissa Dobson, Maryann Jordan, MJ Nightingale. Natasza Waters, Parker Kincade, Patti Fiala, Sharon Hamilton, Teresa Reasor, Tiffani Lynn, Trish Loye, Trish McCallan, Wren Michaels, Zoe Dawson.
"DROP IN" party - Open 25 hours so our International readers and those who work graveyard shifts can participate.


Monday, May 8, 2017

A SEAL Team Heartbreakers Duet: Breaking Ties & Breaking Point

As an author, it's always my responsibility to make things as convenient for my readers as possible to purchase my books.  With that in mind, I've released my two SEAL Team Heartbreakers novellas, Breaking Ties and Breaking Point in a box set I'm calling a duet.

The Duet is available in both Ebook and Print. 

Breaking Ties
Navy SEAL Oliver ‘Greenback’ Shaker is used to making sacrifices in service to his country. Yet he’s blindsided when he returns from a training rotation and learns his wife, Selena has struggled with a terrible secret in his absence—a secret which might require a sacrifice he’s not prepared to make. 

Faced with a life threatening illness, Selena wants to follow the same code of strength and perseverance her husband does as a SEAL, but she can’t go it alone. She needs a team, led by her husband, to see it through. But in Oliver’s line of work, his military duty must come first.

Still reeling after her first diagnosis they then learn Selena is also pregnant. Now with two lives hanging in the balance, the emotional and physical toll stretches the ties that bind their marriage to the breaking point. But true to the SEAL code, Oliver never gives up. And Selena proves valor doesn’t just live on the battlefield, but in every person’s heart.

Breaking Point

After fifteen years of marriage, Trish Marks has hit her breaking point. Her social work caseload has doubled, her son is acting out, and her SEAL husband is never home. Something has to give. When she’s shot and nearly killed by an irate husband during a home check, it does. 

Navy SEAL Senior Chief Petty Officer Langley Marks is five years away from retirement and his pension. He knows there’s trouble in his marriage when he returns home from a deployment to a wife who’s distant, overworked, stressed, and unhappy. He’s only seen her like this once before, when she nearly died after giving birth to their last child. When she’s shot, he re-lives that terrible experience, and feels just as helpless.

But he’s not about to fly away and leave her to fight her way back alone this time. He’s willing to sacrifice it all to prove to her she’s the most important thing in his life. He just has to find a way to make her believe it.

The books are still available separately as well. 

Here's a short excerpt from each: 
Breaking Ties 

The breeze off the water was chilly, so Selena bundled Lucia into the sweater and hat she’d packed earlier. They walked down the long stretch of concrete sidewalk, both of them holding Lucia by a hand while Oliver pushed the empty umbrella stroller.
They reached the pier, and Selena experienced a twinge while she strapped Lucia into the stroller. She was a petite child, in the bottom twenty-five percent for height and weight, understandable since neither of her parents were big people. But she had almost outgrown the small, portable stroller. Her baby had become a toddler overnight. Where had the time gone? She wanted to roll it all back and relive every moment with more clarity, more attention.
Her eyes blurred with tears, and she shoved her sunglasses on and turned to look out to sea so Oliver wouldn’t know. Cirrus clouds shaped like ostrich feathers fluttered across a clear blue sky. The Pacific Ocean stretched to the horizon, its color darkened to ultramarine.
Her gaze settled on her husband while he pushed the stroller and pointed out things to Lucia. Though he only stood five foot eight, he was muscular and fit. Because of his broad shoulders and back, he always seemed taller, and bigger than his one hundred sixty-five pounds. His movements were relaxed, but every step he took radiated purpose and drive.
Should something happen to her, he’d grieve, but he’d move on. He’d formulate a plan to fulfill Lucia’s needs and see it through. He’d make sure their daughter was cared for and loved.
Just as she would have to, should anything happen to him.
But would he sacrifice his calling, his job, for Lucia? And who would he find to care for her while he was out of the country, as he often was?
Gulls screeched overhead and Lucia pointed upward as she followed their flight. As though sensing Selena’s absence, Oliver stopped and looked over his shoulder, searching for her. She hurried to catch up.
“You, okay, cara?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes. Just admiring the scenery.”
Another couple, pushing a double stroller with twins strapped in it, strolled by and exchanged a smile and a nod with Selena.
She experienced another wave of anxiety. If she took chemo for a long time, she’d never be able to have another child. She’d be sterile.
She and Oliver planned to have another baby, had been semi-trying for the last six months, in between his training rotations. Their dreams of another child would end.
“Have you called your mom to talk about any of this?” Oliver asked.
“No, I didn’t want to worry them until I knew something for certain. Maybe not even then.”
“Your mom and sisters will be hurt if you don’t tell them, Selena.”
“Not yet, Oliver.” Every time she said the C word it made it more real, more certain. If she told her family, they’d call her constantly. Their questions and good intentions would undermine what little control she had over her fear.  She had to get a handle on everything before she spoke to them.
“You haven’t told anyone?”
“I told you.”
His dark eyes searched her face, then he slipped an arm around her and rested his lips against her forehead. She wrapped her arms around him and held on. Her anxiety eased.


Breaking Point 
Tad ran around the side of the house, soaking wet, his pale blond hair sticking up on top of his head like spikes. Trish laughed and tugged him between her legs. She stripped him, bundled his sopping clothing onto the table next to her, and grabbed a beach towel from the railing of the deck to dry him off.
“Go into your room and put on dry underwear and your Spiderman sweatpants. Daddy’s in there, so he can help you if you need it. You can take a bath in a little while.”
He used his favorite phrase, “I can do it myself,” before he took off running toward the back door. His narrow, bare behind, a hand’s-width across, glowed white compared to the light tan darkening his back and lower legs. He was going to be lean and tall like his father. She could already see the similarities in his bone structure.
She hung his discarded clothes across the deck railing to dry.
Langley slipped out the door ten minutes later. “He’s sitting in front of the television watching a Spiderman cartoon in his Spidey pants, and I suspect he’ll probably crash soon. I took them to a taco place. You know the one that has the bite-sized tacos? Anna loved them.
“In fact, I brought you some. No sauce, so it won’t bother the baby.” He went back out to the car, brought in a bag, and set it on the table next to her.
He paused a moment. “We got you something at the beach today.”
“What is it?”
He drew a small bouquet of cornhusk roses from behind his back, each flower tipped along its edges very lightly with color. “A girl was making these on the beach. Tad said the blue one was from him and Anna picked the peach one. I chose a yellow one for Jessica, and a red one from me.”
Tears pricked Trish’s eyes as she took them. “They’re beautiful. Thank you, Langley.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He leaned down and brushed her lips with his own.
She looped an arm around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He knelt to nestle between her legs and hold her.
“What is it?”
“I can’t seem to get my feet under me this time, Langley.”
“You had a bad time of it, honey. The doc said you’d have to take things slow for a while.”
She nodded against his shoulder and breathed in the briny scent of the sea, laundry soap, and Langley, while she fought against the pain. She knew her husband. Knew his tells. He was taking the kids, spending one-on-one time with them. Going out of his way to be useful. Not that he didn’t do that a lot when he was here, but he’d been particularly attentive the last few days.
“I think we all need a nap,” he suggested.
She nodded again. He stood and backed away, holding his hand out to help her push up from the chair.
“I’ll get the baby. You go ahead and lie down for a while.”
She gathered the roses and held them against her chest. “When do you leave?”
His features blanked in surprise, but his green gaze remained focused on the baby. “Tomorrow.”
The shock of it struck her silent. She wished him already gone. Dealing with his leaving was harder than his absence.
And she couldn’t say a damn thing. It was against the military wife code to say anything, in case something happened to him while he was gone. She didn’t want to live with that guilt. Didn’t want him carrying it into battle.
She already knew what he was when she married him. She watched him fly away during their engagement, after their wedding, during all three pregnancies.
She needed him now. She wasn’t steady. She needed to be steadier before he left again.
But she turned and walked into the house, because there wasn’t anything else to say.
She placed the roses on the dresser. In the mirror, she looked pale, washed-out, and exhausted. Almost too tired to block off the self-pitying feelings of abandonment that rose up to slash at her.
She lay down on the bed and curled on her side, her back to the door.
Langley came in a few minutes later and lay behind her to spoon, his long legs curled beneath hers. “Everyone’s asleep. We’d better grab some shut-eye while we can.”
“Jessica will be our last baby,” she announced.
“If that’s what you want, Trish. I’m happy with three.”
“That’s what I want.”
“Physically you’ve experienced a trauma. Wait until you’re back from it before you make a firm decision.”
No. She needed to face up to it now. Financially, they couldn’t afford any more. And with Langley always gone, she couldn’t handle any more alone. Tears rose up like a fist at the back of her throat. Exhaustion curled around her tighter than Langley’s arms.
“I love you, Trish.”
She knew he did, but she needed him to just this once put her first. But she couldn’t demand something he was unable give. The choice was out of his hands. But it didn’t ease the hurt. The silence stretched on until she said, “I love you too, Langley.”


I hope you enjoyed the excerpts. I'd love to hear from you if you did. 


Tuesday, May 2, 2017

What do you do when the book is done?

I recently finished my book  Have Wand, Will Travel: Once Bitten, Twice Shy.  It's for Robyn Peterman's Magic and Mayhem Kindle World. It was supposed to be a novella and ended up being a 41,435 word novel.

Now that I'm at loose ends having finished the project, what comes next?  Well, while I wait for the edits from my editor, I move on to the next project.  And while I'm in Paranormal mode I'm going to write the 2nd book of my Superstition Series. Deep Within The Stone. I have a rough mock up of a cover but I'll post the finished one as soon as it's available. And I'm nearly at the 10,000 word mark already.  Since I'm so far along I thought I'd post the beginning to give you just a little taste.

Isle of Skye, Scotland


Coldness permeated Finlay MacLeod’s body, bone-deep and damp. A small finger of reflective light crept across the floor from above. The sun was going down and the chill would grow worse.  He had been held in the oubliette for two days with only a heel of bread dropped down into the narrow cell from above. It wasn’t the hunger gnawing at his belly that preyed on his mind, but the thirst and the cold. He could no longer control his chattering teeth.  He winced at the pain as he clenched his teeth in an instinctive desire to quell them. The side of his face hurt where Clach had struck him. The fool had almost broken his jaw. His chin, cheekbone, and temple ached and his eye was swollen to a slit. His head pounded relentlessly making him queasy. Had he had anything in his stomach he would have bocked.
He twisted against the ropes binding his arms to his sides, but only managed to further chaff the skin. The inside of his elbows was raw and painful, his ribs bruised. Surely his cousin Ian Ciar MacLeod wouldn’t leave him here to freeze to death and die a slow lingering death of starvation and thirst.
A shudder of cold and pain shook him. His cousin was not known for his warmth and generosity. Ian Ciar could be brutal, his moods mercurial. He understood he was upset with him. But all this over a woman?
 Granted she was the Druid’s daughter, but no more valuable than any other lass.
Perhaps if he truly believed that, he would not feel an icy finger of fear blowing up his spine.
The old draoidh seemed to know things others in the clan should, but did not. Ian Ciar depended on the Druid to alert him to troubles long before they struck. Morning prayers were reserved for the castle priest. He was not sure what the Druid, Cinead MacLeod worshiped, but everyone had a healthy fear and respect for the draoidh.
Finlay shook his head and nearly groaned aloud when his jaw and temple throbbed like a punched bruise. He shut his eyes and rested his head back against the hard stone wall.
Why had he gotten it into his mind to seduce Isabel? She had been too innocent to be interesting. But so ripe for the picking. And once picked, so desperate to please. He had lost interest about the time she had come to him with the news she was with child. And now, ‘twas he who was paying for the deed, when she had been just as eager as he.
His resentment died as quickly as it had risen. He did not wish Isabel to be beaten. Surely her father would not go so far as that. He would not see her punished and possibly have the bairn harmed.
She was a sweet lass and deserved better than he was capable of giving her, or any other woman. It was not in his nature to remain faithful and even if it were, that alone would not make him a good guidesman. The fact he had no property of his own, no way to provide for a family and lived largely off what he could earn with his fists and his sword created an obvious impediment to his making the lass happy.
They were both in a sorry state.
At the sound of the bolt above being thrown, Finn cracked his one good eye. The iron grate screeched as Clach swung it aside. Finn’s movements were ginger as he tilted his head back and gazed up at the two men standing at the mouth of the small cell.  
Isabelle’s father glared down at him with disgust. Though the man dressed in brays and a rough shirt, just as the rest of them, there was nothing common about him. He looked down his long nose with the arrogance of a king. The cold hard glow in his dark eyes promised retribution, the sharp chiseled bones of his face carved from stone. His gray beard hung against his chest, iron gray and coarse.  “You have disgraced my daughter and broken trust with your own people. ‘Tis not only m’child you have preyed upon. There are others who have come forward. You will face them now.”
He motioned toward Clach and the huge man bent to pick up a short ladder and lowered it into the pit.
Finn eyed the two men warily. They’d probably beat him again once he was out of the oubliette, but at least he would be free of this hellish, small dungeon. He braced his back against the wall and shoved against it to slide upward to his feet. The ground seemed to sway beneath him as he approached the ladder and clumsily gripped the rungs with hands he could raise only waist high. He paused there for a moment waiting for the motion to cease. He had to lean into the ladder and search for each rung with his feet to ascend. Weakness dragged at his legs and he had to rest between each step.
 Clach gripped his shirt as soon as he was within reach and dragged him onto stable ground then dropped him like a sack of oats.
Finn grunted in pain and his vision went gray as the pain in his head and jaw soared. It hurt to breathe. He lay still a moment willing the pain to subside a wee bit. Perhaps his ribs were more than just bruised. He rolled to his knees and attempted to climb to his feet. With his hands tied at his waist and the room spinning with every move it was difficult, but he managed to get his feet beneath him. He swayed unsteadily and staggered back against one of the close, cold walls. The vision in his right eye blurred then dimmed and his stomach rolled.
He’d been beaten before and the pain had been bad, but there was something wrong here. “If you mean to kill me, you may only need to wait a wee time. Clach has done his job well.” His words sounded slurred and the only thing keeping him on his feet was the wall at his back. He closed his eyes as the room pitched.
Was he facing his death? No fear rushed out to embrace him. Death seemed so foreign, so distant, and he was focusing too fiercely on staying on his feet for the emotion to take hold.
Clach cut his bindings and tossed the rope aside. He gripped Finn's arm, slung it over his shoulder and half carried, half dragged him to the stairs and up. Every step jarred his ribs and jaw. His eyes watered from the pain and he swallowed back more than a few groans while he put pressure on his ribs hoping to hold them in place. Once they reached the landing, he gulped in a breath of relief that was more like a sob.
The castle’s great room smelled of burning wood and roasting meat overwhelming Finn and he gagged. As soon as Clach released him he fell to his knees and he curled into a knot. The painful throbbing inside his head grew worse with each heave. He collapsed on the floor and lay on his side.
“He is dying.” Clach’s deep murmur reached him.
“Nay. Not yet. Not until he has paid.”
“If he dies, is that not payment enough?
“Nay, ‘twill never be payment enough. He shamed my daughter. She was meant for better than he.”
“And better than me as well?” Clach asked.
Finn lay still, grateful the two had forgotten him.
Clach wanted Isabelle? Had he known, he would have never touched her.
He had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Clach, defending the clan. But he had never noticed his interest in Isabella. Why had he not seen it?
And what difference did it make now? It was too late. He could not change his actions any more than he could change the consequences of them.
“You shall have her after the bairn is born, if that be yer wish. She will be grateful to have ye after the likes of him.” Cinead motion toward Finn.
Through the slit of his one good eye Finn recognized the man’s thirst for revenge. It was not his daughter’s honor he was defending, but his own.
What punishment had Cinead heaped upon the girl? He wanted to turn and search the large tables for Isabelle and reassure himself she had not been harmed, but to move would stir the pain once more into a maelstrom and draw the devil bastard’s attention. And at the moment he did not feel strong enough to survive even the man’s harsh words. Despite the huge fires that burnt at each end of the room, he felt cold. The vision in his one eye was growing fuzzy and he could not discern the faces of those few sitting even a short distance away.
The room was strangely still and quiet, the only sound the popping of the fire as it consumed the huge logs.
Would Clach stand between the old Druid and his daughter to protect Isabelle? He would appeal to him to do so because Finn knew he would not live much longer. The pain in his head was growing worse. It throbbed relentlessly behind his eyes, against his ears as though it were a thing alive trying to push its way free of his skull.  
“Raise him so his accusers may look him in the face,” Cinead demanded.
Clach stepped over his body and bent to grip him under the arms. He raised him into a sitting position.
Finn couldn’t bite back the groan of pain, as an ax seemed to split his forehead above his eye. Had Clach not been holding him up Finn could not have been able to remain sitting.  He snagged Clach’s sleeve between his fingers. “Dinna let him hurt Isabelle or the bairn.”
“Nay he winna do so.” Clach said just above a whisper.
Clach would protect them. Finn leaned his head back against the man’s knee and his lids dropped. 
“Open yer eyes, Finn MacLeod.”
It took all his effort to do so. He could see nothing. Everything was black.
“Ye have shamed many women of this clan and deserve a harsh punishment.”
One blow and the pain would be gone. Clach would strike it and it would be over.
“What say you, Finn MacLeod?”
“I didna take m’ pleasure without givin’ as well as I received, Cinead MacLeod. Can ye say as much?”
He could not see the man, but the punch came striking his jaw. A sword of pain lanced into his brain. Blackness closed in around him and awareness fell away.
Seconds later it seemed he was awakened by something cold being poured over his face all at once. He choked as he breathed in some of the water and rolled face down as he hacked and coughed. His body was one huge ache as he gasped for air and finally drew air into his starving lungs.  
His face felt strangely numb.
“Open your eyes, Finn.”
Cinead’s commanding voice did not impress him. “Leave me be, Druid.”
“You will face the women you have spoiled.”
A booted toe hit his ribs and he could not breathe again. He coughed and he tasted blood.
Clach once again tried to intercede. “Look about you, Cinead. What do the people’s faces tell you? What does your daughter’s face tell you?”
“That they are weak willed and foolish to have sympathy for the very man who has shamed them.”
His head was beginning to thunder again but the vision in his one eye had cleared enough for him to see the hatred in Cinead MacLeod’s expression. If he could provoke him, would it end this? He gulped enough air to speak. “‘Tis you who have shamed them, Druid. I have never spoken of any lass I have been with. Who has born witness against any of the lasses here? Or have you frightened them all into saying they have been with me?” Finn coughed again and spat blood. “No matter what you do to me, ‘tis you they will hate for this. Their kin will hate you as well.”
“Then I will give them something more than hatred to think about.” He thrust out his hands toward Finn
“Your heart has hardened to stone,
And for that you shall remain alone,
Trapped in your own hardened shell,
Until you learn to tell,
Respect and affection, from lust,
Or until you crumble into dust.
No sunlight will you feel,
Only at night will the monster in you steal
Sustenance for you to remain
The monster you became.  
The wind looped around him and like a large hand picked him up and set him on his feet. He hunched forward against the pain.
A violent rush of panicked movement came from the large tables and benches in the great room as the clansmen and women scrambled to get away from the hot air that whipped around the chamber knocking over tankards and whipping their clothing close to their bodies. 
Finn’s head felt too heavy to hold aloft and it fell back. He cried out in agony as a piercing cold raced from his fingertips and toes upward consuming his arms and legs, burrowing into his torso. The leaden weight of his limbs dragged at him, threatening to tear them from their sockets.
He screamed as a thousand knives seemed to pierce his body. His shoulder blades ripped from his back and bowed outward growing into more. The weight of the projections dragged against his skin, against his bones, until he thought his back might snap in two.  He fell to one knee, the sound that thrust from his throat more an animal growl than a scream. Power raged through his body, stiffening his limbs until they solidified into a crouched position. He caught one last breath and howled a curse upon the Druid his voice like crushed stone. “Revenge is a double-edged sword, draoidh. You will pay as steep a price as I. You will know every loss I do and more.”

Finn’s lungs seized, everything turned gray and he knew nothing more.

My first novella in the Magic and Mayhem Kindle World is Have Wand, Will Travel.

A soul-sucking wand, a witch, a vampire and a hellhound. ‘Nuff said. 

Private detective and gifted witch Zaira O’Shea has built her reputation on her ability to always find her relic, magical device, or man. When the Witches’ Council hires her to find and return a stolen wand, she can’t refuse, and she’s eager to recover the device. Until the clues lead her to a vampire with fallen-angel good looks, and talents that don’t require a bite to lead her into temptation.

History professor and vampire Christophe Bakas has brushed off his cat burglar skills to steal a powerful wand for the Vampire Council, but only because they are holding his uncle hostage. When he meets Zaira, he hopes he’s found someone who’ll help with the rescue. But from their first teleportation he’s hooked on more than her flying skills. 

The more they learn about the wand, the more Chris and Zaira believe neither council can be trusted with the dangerous device. With both councils closing in, they’re forced to go on the run. Only the vacationing Baba Yaga can make sure the wand isn’t used to destroy the careful balance between witch and vampire kind. If they can find her.

Assjacket, West Virginia here they come. 

Other Paranormal books by Teresa Reasor 

Deep Within The Shadows  $.99
Google Play:

Whisper In My Ear
Google Play:

Google play:

An Automated Death $.99

Happy Reading, 

Teresa Reasor