Friday, November 24, 2017

Forsaking Hope: Fair Cyprians of London By Beverley Oakley

Forsaking Hope
Fair Cyprians of London By Beverley Oakley
Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here
About the Book: 
Felix, Lord Durham's eldest son, has been in love with the vicar's wild and wilful daughter, Hope, for as long as he can remember. When he learns that Hope is to be sent to Germany to become a governess, he arranges a romantic rendezvous. But Hope fails to appear. Two years later, Felix’s friends arrange a ‘special birthday gift’ for him: a night with notorious brothel owner Madam Chambon’s most sought-after girls. When Hope appears in his bed, Felix is horrified to discover that the passionate, ambitious girl of his dreams has been replaced by a world-weary prostitute who treats him like a transaction. But while love appears to have forsaken Hope, there are chinks in her armour. Can Felix unravel the mystery surrounding Hope’s terrible transformation in time to prevent an even greater tragedy?
Available for preorder here:
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Excerpt: 
Chapter One Wilfred Hunt. If there was a name to tip Hope into the abyss of despair she was hearing it spill from Madame Chambon’s lips now as the older woman directed Hope to take a seat in the reception room, presumably so Madame could loom oppressively over her. With her hands on her ample, expensively padded hips, Hope’s benefactress—procuress, employer and gaoler were other monikers—sent Hope a beetling look that needed no interpreting: Regardless of Hope’s true feelings, Hope must project the required show of warmth and delight at being the chosen one. Madame patted the side of her faux curls. Years of hot irons had reduced her hair to the texture of wool but her crowning glory these days was supplemented by the lustrous locks of those girls who dared cross her – before they were thrown back into the street from where most had come. Nevertheless, Hope had to make her resistance clear. Surely Madame who knew her history would understand her loathing for this man, above all others. “I shan’t do it,” she whispered. There was little evidence of the willful child and wild adolescent who’d been the despair of her family. “I won’t—” Outside, the noise of the traffic rumbling over the cobbles and the shrill calls of competing vendors settled upon the tense silence. Madame Chambon’s other girls, ranged around the sumptuously appointed room on red velvet upholstered banquettes, watched the exchange with prurient fascination. Hope knew it had been a calculated ploy of Madame’s to conduct her interview in public so that Hope would serve as an example to them. No one crossed Madame Chambon. The shrill cry of a fishmonger caused Madame to look pointedly out of the window. With something between a smile and a sneer, she smoothed a Marcel wave. “Is that where you plan to return, Hope? The gutter?” Her nose twitched and in the sunlight that filtered into the room, the grooves chiselled between mouth and chin were thrown into harsh relief, highlighted rather than hidden by the thick powder she used to conceal her age. Madame Chambon’s comfort, now and into retirement, depended on obedient girls. Hope knew that as well as anyone. She’d had to bury her rebellious streak just to ensure food in her belly. The Frenchwoman raised a chiselled brow and began to pace slowly in front of her girls. A painter with an eye for beauty would have been ecstatic at capturing such a spectacle on canvas. The discerning young man about town who visited 56 Albemarle Street was frequently rendered ecstatic by the range of delights Madame Chambon's girls offered in addition to the visual. “You forget yourself, Hope. I put a roof over your head and deck you out as handsomely as Mr Charles Worth ever did for his most discerning customer.” There was acid in Madame Chambon’s tone. “But for me, you'd be starving and glad of the pennies you could trade for a grubby stand-up encounter in a dark alley.” Madame Chambon thrust out her bosom and breathed through her nose, her response a calculated warning to the other girls arranged in various languid poses about the ornately decorated reception room that intransigence would not be tolerated. “Mr Hunt has requested you.” She paused and when Hope remained silent, though her stance and expression left no one in any doubt as to her horror regarding this enforced assignation, went on. “Remember what I told you—what I tell all my girls when they first come here? The past must be forgotten the moment you step over my threshold. You are reborn, remodelled, refashioned into the most exquisite delectation of womanhood. A marquess, a prince, is well recompensed for the tidy sum he hands over in order to enjoy your sparkling wit, to converse with you in French, or if he chooses, on philosophy…to enjoy your charms…and,” she added significantly, “your gracious hospitality and tender ministrations to his needs. That is our agreement and you are no different. If Mr Hunt wishes you, Hope, to attend him at his residence then you will go.” Faith, one of the kinder girls, patted Hope’s arm in silent solidarity. Hope didn’t expect any of them to speak up in her defence. Not when they all relied on Madame Chambon as much as she did to provide them with the necessities of life. Anything more than that was part of a strict contract that indentured a girl for life unless she was able to secure a generous benefactor to settle Madame's severance bill. The fine clothes were part of the charade, necessary to entice a more elite clientele. Hope’s exquisite wardrobe did not belong to her though she'd have forsaken all the dupion silk and Spitalfields lace for the freedom of the gutter and to be mistress of her own destiny – and her body - if she could only be sure of a plate of gravy and potatoes every second day. Closing her eyes, she hung her head, the carefully coiffed curls that fell forwards brushing against her tear-streaked cheeks. It was as well that they not be in evidence. Tears, weakness, vulnerability were like a red rag to a bull where Madame Chambon was concerned. “How long…do I have to prepare myself?” She was not so stupid she couldn’t admit defeat when there was no alternative. Obduracy was beaten out of one, but tears ensured a girl got the very worst next assignment. Their clients weren’t all marquesses and princes, though they did require a very fat pocket book. “Tomorrow.” “Tomorrow.” Hope repeated it in a leaden tone, and stared at her hands, clasped in her lap; white-knuckled. As white as the rabbit-fur that edged her fashionable black-and-white striped satin cuirass. Hope had the tall, slim figure suited to the scandalously tight tie-back skirts that were all the rage, the back flowing into a train adorned with elaborate swags and trimmed with bows. She'd turned heads the length of Oxford Street as she’d promenaded along the pavement following a walk through Hyde Park earlier that afternoon. In fact, for the first time in two years, she’d almost felt happy as she’d pretended a sense of freedom in the afternoon sun, blocking her mind to the prison to which she was returning. She drew in her breath and forced herself to be brave, knowing the punishment she’d invite for daring to speak her mind. “Please tell Mr Hunt I will see him again under sufferance.” Madame Chambon’s voice was surprisingly caramel. “Well then, now that you have made your objection clear, Hope, you will be pleased to hear that Mr Hunt’s desires are not only motivated by fond memories of your no-doubt mutually satisfying congress. I believe he wishes to acquaint you with news of your family.” Hope hid her shock. “I have no family.” With care, she modified her tone so it was as leaden as before though emotion roiled close to the surface. “Not even a sister?” Hope raised her chin. Here was the chink and Madame knew it. The woman did her research. Aware that the other girls who surrounded her were tense with anticipation, Hope struggled not to respond. Camaraderie existed at surface level but one never knew when it might profit one to have the dirt on a fellow prostitute. It was, clearly, another reason Madame Chambon had chosen to make this conversation public. “Mr Hunt will see you at nine tomorrow evening,” said the so-called Frenchwoman who, it was whispered, was from the gutters of Lambeth, not Paris. “At his apartments in Duke Street. Now go and prepare yourself for Lord Farrow. Married to a monolith like the venerable Lady Farrow, he likes his girls vivacious and free-spirited. There’ll be less coin in your pocket if you sully the transaction with that long face, Hope.” ~*~*~*~*~*~ Author Info: 
Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.
Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.
Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.
Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.
You can get in contact with Beverley at:

Monday, November 20, 2017

Hi Readers,
I've got a winter treat for you. I'm one of the sponsors of the Night Owl Reviews Winter Wonderland Scavenger Hunt.
During this event I'm going to help you find some great new books. Make sure to check out my featured title, LEGACY OF EVIL, along the way.
The grand prize is a $100 Amazon Gift Card.
Event Dates: Nov 20 - Dec 13

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Bringer of Chaos: Forged in Fire The Sempervian Saga (Book 2) by Kayelle Allen


Bringer of Chaos: Forged in Fire  The Sempervian Saga (Book 2) by Kayelle Allen
BLURB: 
Humans created the Ultras, a genetically enhanced race, to defend mankind. Instead, Ultras became their greatest threat. With the help of traitors, humans captured half a million of the immortal warriors.
Exiled to an alien world with no tech, no tools, and no resources, their leader, Pietas, must protect his people, find food and shelter and unite them. But before he can, he must regain command from a ruthless adversary he's fought for centuries--his brutal, merciless father.
Ultras are immortal, and no matter how they die, they come back. Reviving after death isn't all it's cracked up to be. Some wounds heal instantly and a few take time, but battered and broken trust? Immortals may heal, but a wound of the heart lasts forever.
Genre: Science Fiction with romantic elements
Rating: PG13 for violence, no profanity or explicit content
Cover artist Brumae DeviantArt https://brumae-art.deviantart.com/ Facebook https://www.facebook.com/Brumae

Excerpt: 
Bringer of Chaos: Forged in Fire is military science fiction with romantic elements. This excerpt is the foreword, which was "written" by Pietas, the hero.
You're human. Lies are your nature.
Truth is mine. Honoring my word means more to me than life.
Humans are craven, contemptible and reprehensible supplanters of power. What you need is the truth.
Traitors among my kind lied to you. They concealed themselves among you and claimed we were myth. They fed you false hope you were safe. They lulled you into complacent ignorance. The deceivers manipulated, confused, and desensitized you.
You chose to believe the lies.
You've heard tales of visitors from outer space. Stories of aliens who walk among you. You called them urban legends, myths, tall tales for the campfire, untrue.
You refused to believe the truth.
This book relates my tale but is not from my point of view. Call it Science Fiction, but it happened. I exist. My dimension is not yours, so you have not been aware of me--until now--but I know everything about you.
To honor a worthy human friend, I considered sparing humanity. I have since seen the folly of blanket exemption. Not all of you deserve to die, but there are requirements for being protected. Will I choose you?
Perhaps. I offer no guarantee. Your fate is a bequest no one can usurp.
Believe me.
Read this, if you dare to know the truth.
~ Pietas
Bringer of Chaos: The Origin of Pietas 
The Sempervian Saga (Book 1)
Why should Pietas end the war with humans?
His people are winning, yet they insist on peace talks. The Ultra people want to grant humans a seat on the Council. Pietas ap Lorectic, Chancellor of the High Council, War Leader and First Conqueror, disagrees. What's best for mortals is oppression, control, and if necessary, elimination.
Pietas seethes with rage at the idea of human equality. Humans might have created Ultras, but the creation has far surpassed the creator. Humans die. Ultras are reborn, no matter how grievous the injury. They have no equals.
His people permit him no choice. He must attend these insipid peace talks on Enderium Six and what's worse, be polite. To humans.
When a human special ops warrior is killed in battle, he's resurrected in a secret process and inducted into the Ghost Corps. He's given enough strength to perma-kill immortal Ultras. Ghosts are the most hated and feared of warriors.
When the ghost entraps and captures Pietas at the peace talks, the two begin a long journey toward Sempervia, an isolated and forgotten world. Once there, Pietas is marooned and the ghost abandoned alongside him. The two must either fight to perma-death, or join forces to survive.

As Pietas comes to trust the human, an unlikely and awkward friendship begins. Until he discovers how ghosts are resurrected...

Giveaway - Free Download
Free -- download Endure, Illustrated Quotes by Pietas (as told to Kayelle Allen). Enjoy an exclusive collection of quotes on the concept of endurance by the man known to other immortals as the Bringer of Chaos. https://kayelleallen.com/media/30-days-endure.pdf
Download a free adult coloring book you can print and share. Relax and color with friends. It's fun! https://kayelleallen.com/media/pietas-coloring-book.pdf

Mythic Heroes and Misbehaving Robots:

Kayelle Allen writes Sci Fi with mythic heroes, misbehaving robots, role playing immortal gamers, and warriors who purr. She's a US Navy veteran and has been married so long she's tenured. https://kayelleallen.com Twitter https://twitter.com/kayelleallen Facebook https://facebook.com/kayelleallen.author Join the Romance Lives Forever Reader Group Download four free books and get news about books coming soon. You can unsubscribe at any time.

Monday, November 13, 2017

#BookHugs Dark Love Rising by Danita Minnis

Former MI6 agent Xavier Quinn would say that you're daft if you think he will stop killing for a living. But that is exactly what is about to happen. Very soon now, Quinn will start killing to stay alive. On the run after taking out the wrong man, Quinn would die a happy man if he could just live long enough to ruin the Parliament member who set him up.

Layla, a 2,000 year old vampire with a moral code, has other plans for the contract killer. When she awakens to the sound of a dark rising, she enlists Quinn to join her on a mission to save humanity from her twin sister Tamara.

But Quinn is just the kind of man that a cold-blooded killer like Tamara needs in her world. A man like Quinn, who never believed in humanity, has only one belief; self-preservation. Being a vampire sounds much better than staying human in the game of kill or be killed. Will he stay alive long enough to find out how Layla's love can change the equation?

Excerpt:
She was a beautiful cadaver. This young woman was sick.

Quinn let her go when she was able to stand on her own. She pushed glossy sheets of midnight hair out of her eyes and it fell to either side of her, like a silken shroud. He was watching that hair shimmer against her hips in a lover’s embrace when he felt her hands clamp around his neck.

He grabbed her wrists, but couldn’t break the frosted beauty’s grip on his throat.  For one unbelievable moment, he could have sworn her feet didn’t touch the ground. Her head was level with his.

She had seemed almost catatonic before, but now, even as he struggled, this petite goddess pulled him down.
Her eyelids fluttered and he thought she would pass out, but the grip on his neck was cutting off his air supply.

Just as his own eyelids began to close, she looked him directly in the eye.

“Aurelius.” Eyes, the shape and color of almonds with a hint of gold, widened in recognition and she loosened the chokehold on his throat.

Coughing, he lost his footing and stumbled back. Damned if he wouldn’t have fallen to the ground without her hand steadying his arm, this woman-child. 
She stepped closer, and a small, clammy hand traveled over his features to caress his cheek. One long talon traced the shape of his lips.

She wasn’t hurt. She had acted so violently, she was either on drugs or in shock.  The change in her, from sluggish to the swiftness of a predator made his hand slide back down to the gun.

“Who are you?”     

For some reason, hurt flashed in her beautiful eyes, dulling them a bit. “I am Layla.”

Her voice was hoarse, but he detected an accent. Mediterranean.

“Are you alone?” Quinn looked around for drug paraphernalia, this boyfriend Aurelius she called for, something that made sense this time of night for a tourist to be out and about on the Nile banks.

“Yes.”

“What are you doing out here alone?”

When she did not answer he looked down at her. Her eyes roamed his body with the kind of interest that must have been in his eyes before she tried to choke him to death.

The young woman who called herself Layla ran one hand along the satin trimmed lapel of his tuxedo jacket while the other raked through the curls at the base of his neck.

There was something about those fingernails; they were a bit longer than he cared for and looked very…strong. Even so, the hair massage was undeniably arousing.

Abruptly, he looked away from the amber pools drawing him in and focused on a question. “Are you hurt?”

“My head…” She leaned against his chest.

His arms betrayed him, wrapping around her, and he stifled a curse. She burrowed closer, her lush curves pressing against him. Now was not the time to play the hero.

He took her by the shoulders and held her away from his body. “Where do you live?”

Her eyes traveled slowly down his tux. “Why are you dressed in this way?” She reached for him again but he stepped back.

“Why are you not dressed at all?”
#BookHugs  #DarkLoveRising

Born and raised in the heart of New York City, Danita Minnis is a singer, writer and lover of romance. Her fourth novel, Dark Love Rising is her first vampire romance. She is the author of the ghostly love story Adderley’s Bride and the Cardiff novels, Falcon’s Angel and Love Entwined. Mystery, mayhem, the fantastic and the fey are as intriguing as Siberian Huskies - shout out to the Khan Man. One more hour with her laptop and Danita is living the dream.

Connect with Danita:
Website: http://danitaminnis.com/Home_Page.php
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Danita_Minnis
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pg/Danita-Minnis-Romance-Author-433534206657385/about/?ref=page_internal
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6154485.Danita_Minnis

Book Links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MZFICFR/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1485912379&sr=1-1
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dark-love-rising-danita-minnis/1125606509?ean=9781542798402
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dark-love-rising-1
Liquid Silver Books: http://liquidsilverpublishing.com/?s=Danita+Minnis&post_type=product

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Catherine E. McLean says, "BEWARE OF IT!"

"It" seems like such a tiny word but far too many writers gloss over this pronoun's affect on their storytelling. Fewer remember the proper English grammar rules for pronouns, let alone the definition of:  a pronoun is a class of words that function as substitutes for nouns or noun phrases and designate persons or things asked for, previously specified, or understood from the context.

Okay, so that definition sounds convoluted to anyone who isn't an English teacher. Because I'm for simplifying things, let me explain it in simpler, more useful terms— When writing fiction, a pronoun takes the place of the last noun, thing, or name used.
The most serious infraction when using "it" is, of course, a Pronoun Reference Error. Such mistakes cause various calamities, faux pas, awkwardness, hilarity, and downright confusion when a reader encounters such errors.

Why? Because CLARITY ensures the reader doesn't stop reading to puzzle out what the pronoun refers to. After all, nothing should ever stop a reader from enjoying what they are reading. Here is a correct example of pronoun use—

    "Marsha loved ice cream. It was her comfort food."  ("It" refers to the ice cream.)
Now for an example of what can go wrong—

    He dropped the thermometer, securing it to the side of the boat so it dangled in the water. The temperature held at forty-eight degrees. It was cold enough to make him shudder.

Now let's translate those "its" to show what they refer to—

    He dropped the thermometer, securing the thermometer to the side of the boat so the boat dangled in the water. The temperature held at forty-eight degrees. Degrees was cold enough to make him shudder.

The humorous image of the boat dangling is one a reader should not conjure in their mind. And the last sentence makes no sense because "Degrees" is the subject. This passage also has what's called a crop of "its."  Crops of are unnecessary repetitions and should be ruthlessly weeded out. So, let's look at this passage for what was actually meant—

    Using string he'd attached to the top of the thermometer, John lowered the digital device over the side of the dingy. When the thermometer was half submerged in the water, he secured the line to an oar mount. He leaned over, watching, waiting, noting the digits slowly winked down until they held at forty-eight.
        Forty-eight degrees. Would his wet suit keep him warm enough, long enough?


In your mind, you had no trouble with the correct example. You easily followed what happened as it happened. You didn't stop and go back to puzzle anything out. This re-edited passage shows (instead of tells).

Which brings me to—"it" often peppers a page because "it" is one of those "shorthand words" grabbed in the heat of drafting. Take a moment now to test your writing for the use of "it." You can use a sample of five or ten pages, or one of your short stories, or a chapter of your novel. Use your computer's search-find feature and type in it — however —  be sure to put a space before and after the word so the computer doesn't find words with "it" as part of the word.

Since your computer highlights the word "it," what do you see? Did you pepper a page?  Do you have "crops of?" You should also do a ratio (divide the total number found into the total number of words checked, which will net 1 "it" every ____ words). Nothing beats a visual to actually see what's what. And nothing beats doing a ratio to discover repetitions that are detrimental to the story or which showcase overuse of crutch words (words unknowingly relied on).

Oh, and do consider this—if you have a problem in those few pages you sampled, it's likely there are hundreds more in the rest of the manuscript to weed out.
  
For those who don't seem to have a problem with "it," take no chances. Add a "pronoun reference error check" on your Revision To Do List when you get to the polishing stage for your story. You do have a check list for your revision process, right? After all, you want the best possible manuscript to present, one that's free of repetitions without purpose.

By the way, "it" is number four on my free Writers Cheat Sheets list of 10 Red Flag Words.
  
And lastly, I collect ratio data on repetitions of Red Flag Words like "it." If you do an "it" check, please share your findings with a comment.

Catherine E. McLean website:  http://www.CatherineEmclean.com
Email: catherinemclean00@gmail.com
Writers Cheat Sheets website: http://www.WritersCheatSheets.com
Writers Cheat Sheet Blog:  http://jewelsofthesky.wordpress.com
Linked-In: http://www.linkedin.com/pub/catherine-e-mclean/7/70b/372  

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/catherine.e.mclean.5

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/#!/CatherineMcLea7
                 Revision is a Process hashtag: #revisionisaprocess

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/catherinemclean

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Sultry Nights: A Limited Edition Romance Collection

Sultry Nights 
A Limited Edition Romance Collection
Containing Stories from: Nicole Morgan, Jocelyn Dex, Alison Foster,  Kate Richards, Linda O'Connor, Samantha Holt, Jerrie Alexander,  Whitley Cox, Krista Ames, Ursula Sinclair, Measha Stone, Tuesday Embers, 
Siera London,  Rachel Shane, Bonnie Phelps, Misha Elliott, 
Alyson Reynolds, Jenna Bayley-Burke,  Madison Michael, 
Pepper Goodrich, Marcia James, Destiny Blaine
The authors are giving away lots of goodies with this tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Don't forget  you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here
 

Blurb:
Love, passion, romance and desire… No matter what your preference, this set of 22 hot and sexy reads has just what you need. From surprise love affairs to bad boys that we can’t help but fall for, and couples that were meant to be, this compilation from Romance Collections is sure to please your every single need. Sultry Nights Buy Links: Amazon |  ~*~*~*~*~*~
Featuring:
Carried Away 
by Jenna Bayley-Burke
Blurb:
Lust brought them together. Will love tear them apart?
Any woman would willingly lock lips with sexy Mateo Torres.
But probably not on stage.
During a lap dance.
At her ex’s bachelor party.
Any man would easily get wrapped up in Carrie Nielson.
But probably not with a crowd cheering them on.
For his last performance.
As an exotic dancer.
Mateo has a past as dark as his eyes, but the best way to convince everyone she hasn’t lost her damn mind is to pretend they’re lovers.
Until they’re not pretending.
~*~*~*~*~*~ Excerpt:  “We really should practice a few things, so we’re believable tomorrow.” “Like?” His heart thudded in his chest at all the things her suggestion might mean. She was such an captivating mixture of daring words and innocent blushes he didn’t know what to hope for. Carrie slid down into his lap like she’d done it a million times before. “Like kissing.” “If you insist.” He’d been dying to know if her kiss on stage had been so potent because of the atmosphere. Sliding his mouth against hers she moaned softly. “What?” He looked at her, her eyes closed, her face holding a dreamy expression. “Nothing, it’s just nice to be kissed.” Without opening her eyes she leaned closer. Guilt rushed at him. The reason for her innocent look, her trouble with their performance earlier, came to him in a flash. “You haven’t kissed someone since Kevin, have you?” Her eyelids fluttered open. “There’s this really hot guy I danced with downstairs. Maybe I should go find him again.” ~*~*~*~*~*~ Author Bio and links:
USA Today Bestselling Author Jenna Bayley-Burke is known for hot and sexy romance, and if you think the books are funny, romantic comedy. If not, forget that bit. LINKS Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jenna.bayleyburke/ Pinterest: http://bit.ly/2kDJZPM Twitter: https://twitter.com/JennaBB Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2giBWWp Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jbayleyburke/ Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2kJRX98 Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Jenna-Bayley-Burke/e/B0034N92Y0/1/ Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/jenna-bayley-burke
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday, October 30, 2017

The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle Garners Another Award!

I'm thrilled to announce that The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle tied for SECOND in the Paranormal Novel category of the 2017 International Digital Awards (IDA) Contest from the Oklahoma Romance Writers Award (OKRWA). Announcements will be up on the website shortly. 

The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle is Book 1 in the Hotel LaBelle Series. It was great fun to research and to write.



The sequel, Legacy of Evil, Hotel LaBelle Series Book 2 is out now. I hope you grab copies and enjoy the reads!