Monday, April 16, 2012

Monday Blues Promotion Day

Welcome to another Monday. Yes, you know what that means. It's time for some PROMOTION!! Yeah!

Today's theme- easy peasy.  An unlucky day. Friday marked a Friday the 13th, and for some, they feel that's unlucky. So, show a scene where luck is just not on a characters side. Bad day? Mishap, something that makes them feel a little bit unlucky. Got it? All right.

Remember, excerpts shouldn't be too much more than 500 words long, and if you leave the title of the book, and if it's a release, put in a buy link. Let's see some of those unlucky day excerpts!  Comments section is WIDE open!

Until next time,

Storm Goddess


  1. Thanks for a great promo opp!

    Blurb and excerpt: Miss Good Samaritan – Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy


    Robin Cavanaugh's ordinary Saturday goes awry when a wounded man leaps
    into her car at a traffic light and refuses to go to the hospital. Robin's
    first instinct is to take him to the nearest police station but when he
    tells her his name, she realizes he's a member of her church. He swears
    he's one of the good guys and Robin feels inclined to believe him. So she
    takes him home and tends his wounds.

    When his condition worsens, she even uses his cell phone to contact what
    turns out to be his brother, the local medical doctor. Robin soon learns
    that Gray is no criminal but an undercover agent whose life may be in

    As their relationship develops and Gray heals, Robin becomes part of the
    action, too. When she gives him her heart and accepts his marriage
    proposal, Robin has no idea if he'll survive his last undercover operation
    or not.


    Until now, her Saturday had been as ordinary as faded denim jeans, the same old routine as Robin ran her weekly errands, ten minutes late for her hair appointment. Dirty laundry piled high filled half the back seat en route to the Laundromat. As she slowed for a traffic signal behind a long string of vehicles at one of the highway interchanges, the runner she’d noticed reached the sidewalk traveling alongside the road. His diagonal path took him front of her car so to avoid hitting him Robin braked hard enough to bring the car to a sudden stop, a vehicle length behind the others at the light. At the last moment, he veered, switching course and instead of passing in front of her Buick, snatched open the passenger door and climbed inside. Before she could scream or protest, the light turned green, and he spat out two words,
    “Hit it!”
    She almost didn’t but the truck behind her blared its horn and after a brief hesitation, she drove forward, heart beating with a rock and roll rhythm. Every bone in her law-abiding body screamed something must be wrong. Although the sun was shining, the air held the first chill of autumn frost. Her passenger’s sweating face gleamed too pale and his eyes glittered with misery. He gasped for breath as if he’d been running hard for a long time and when she sneaked a closer glance, she noticed blood dripping in short, staccato rhythm from beneath his leather jacket.
    “You’re bleeding,” she said, shocked. In her comfortable world, people didn’t bleed from anything besides minor cuts inflicted while slicing fresh vegetables, a stray sewing needle, or skinned knees when you were three. “Are you hurt?”
    “I got shot,” he barked, each word requiring a harsh drawn breath. “Just drive, okay?”
    “Shot?” she echoed. “You’re shot?”

  2. Blurb and Excerpt: Irish Dreams by Toni Kelly

    Ethan's unlucky day...


    After being traded for another woman by her fiance, Maggie decides she’s had it with men. Good thing she's far away from him, in Ireland fulfilling her best friend's request to be maid-of-honor. Wicklow and the Emerald Isle are more than she expects-—green, lush, and exactly what she needs. What she doesn't need is rescuing by some emerald-eyed charmer.

    Newly divorced, Ethan Moore is ready to enjoy bachelorhood. Only one problem—-the fiery-haired Maggie Christy. Unlike any woman he’s ever met, Maggie draws him close and turns him inside out. The attraction is unexpected and inconvenient, but nobody ever said true love was easy.

    WARNING: Exceedingly charming Irishmen and sexually explicit scenes.


    “Do you like city life or do you prefer the open Irish countryside?” Ethan slowed their dancing, suddenly very interested in hearing her answer.
    “I’m not sure,” Maggie said. “I’ve been a bit tired of it lately. When I come on trips like this, it’s like a dream. I wish I could stay here forever.”
    “And why can’t you?”
    Her lashes shaded her eyes as she looked away. “I just couldn’t.”
    “Why not?” What reason did she have to be so timid? He itched to peel away her unruly ringlets and turn her face toward him.
    “I don’t know. What about you? Do you go where you want?”
    “Aye. I buy and build hotels. Where I like land is where I stay. Ireland is always home. But don’t change the subject. I want to know why you can’t stay.”
    “We’re talking about two different situations. Your job requires you to move around. Most people don’t just get up and rearrange their entire lives.”
    “They might for the right reason or if perhaps their lives needed a bit of rearranging.”
    She turned and met his gaze. A spark of heat lit her eyes. “Maybe.”
    “Maybe I’m right?”
    As if to answer, she opened her perfect, glossy lips, and for an instant, an urge to kiss her overpowered him. She studied him openly, her gaze combing over his features to rest on his lips. The thud of his heartbeat vibrated in his ear and the air between them seemed charged with an energy so intense, she had to feel it too.
    Her lids grew heavy and she blinked. “Ethan.”
    His stomach clenched in anticipation as he leaned closer to her.
    “What a surprise, already meeting fine Irish folk,” a man said beside them.
    Ethan didn’t recognize the voice. Neither did he like how Maggie tensed in his arms.
    “Rick.” She took a step back. “What are you doing here?”
    “We need to talk,” Rick said.
    Based on the accent, the other man must be a Yank. A spoiled, pretty boy dressed in a designer suit and graced with a decent--if not slim--build. Ethan had come across his type one too many times before. Of course, Rick rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps it was the air of arrogance he wore along with his diamond encrusted cufflinks. Or maybe his curt tone explained the sudden desire to drive his fist into the man’s smug expression.
    “Maggie, did you hear me?” Rick said.
    A deep crease formed between her brows. This spineless tool intimidated her. Ethan clenched his fists, wedging himself between them. “Doesn’t seem she wants to talk with you.”
    “Oh Christ, Maggie,” Rick snapped. “Are we going to make a scene over this? I flew several thousand miles. Least you can do is hear me out.”
    “Ethan.” Brushing her hand down his arm, Maggie tugged him back. “It’s okay. Give me some time with him. I’ll only be a minute.”
    Ethan didn’t like it, but he claimed nothing over her. “Okay. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

  3. I don't have anything to post, but I sure like this idea!!

  4. I love this idea--and loved the excerpts.

    Here's mine from Love's Prophecy.

    Friday, June 13, 2:15a.m
    Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

    From a dark corner table, Mel studied the crowd of humans while they drank and partied. Their shouts and laughter mingled with AC/DC’s Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, pulsating throughout the dim interior of The Green Tree, a seedy nightclub set in the heart of downtown Surrey. Sweat and strong perfumes mixed together to form a nauseating bouquet.

    Humans were clueless. Completely unaware vampires lived amongst them. Unaware one was amidst them at this moment, watching their every move. If they knew, they'd trample each other as they stormed to the nearest exit. A dark part of him wanted to jump up, bare his fangs and shout, “I vant to suck your blood.” He smiled, picturing the scene. Yeah, too bad he left his Dracula cape at home.

  5. Excerpt from upcoming novel,JACK OF HEARTS, to be released in June by Untreed Reads. Told from the canine POV, mayhem ensues when a small, privileged, Italian dog named Shimoni realizes that his master's infidelity, and the theft of his mistress's diamond ring, could lead to divorce and the loss of everything he loves. His mission: Restore his people to each other and his life, to normal. The first draft was written while I was living in Rome.

    ...I used restraint when it came to barking. My Contessa chided me as a pup for disturbing the peace, such as it was, of the Roman streets. I learned instead to express opinion using various body language. A raised profile, a sideways glance, an ear pinned, lip curled to bare a tooth: that was the way of a noble dog. Yet, it occurred to me that the creature in my dream might very well have been one of the three impudent felines poking their business into my ear. A daring advance given the proximity of my collar.
    Invasion. The only rebuttal: indignant, pervasive barking.
    To my misfortune, the small-minded cats took the display to be a comment on their general character rather than the warning for which it was meant. In truth, it was a bit of both. In one coordinated leap, all three attacked, clawing and biting their revenge across my already injured form. The clatter was deafening.
    My first reaction was to fight. For an instant I was at the top of the oscillating heap, but the cone about my neck proved a hindrance. The cats used it as a shield, throwing claws and swipes in safety. I tried to leave the cone behind in a dizzying display of circular maneuvers, but I was outnumbered, outweighed, and cats had no principles when it came to a fight. I turned to run; an effective retreat only as long as the length of my leash, which was still attached to the base of the fountain.
    Against the severe walls of the Roman architecture, the effect of the sharp bark and squeal of a dog in distress was immediate. The space shuddered like the bells of St. Peter’s on Easter day. Before long, windows flew open revealing faces of angry and anxious people alike; all witness to the assault in the courtyard below.
    The cats were relentless. They had resolved to etch their frustration with countless generations of arrogant mutts on the hide of one hapless canine. Just when I was certain to be remembered as Santo Shimoni, martyr for all cat hating dogs, the Count appeared. The man descended the stairs shirtless, pants zipped yet belt undone. A towel flapped around his neck as he banged a large saucepan along the banister. He dipped the pan into the fountain and doused us all with water. The feline thugs dispersed.
    I huddled, a wet mass on the cold, hard stone at the base of the fountain. I looked up at the Count, so happy to see him my lip curled with pleasure.
    The man stooped to rub a hand over my eyes, pausing at a deep scratch on my nose. “You’re a Joker, all right.”
    A came a call from above. “Che succede?”
    La Donna Rosa appeared, shoulders bare behind an open window. She leaned out just far enough to reveal the deep cleavage of her breasts as they pushed up against the sill.
    What happened, indeed.
    There was no question in any of the minds behind the interested faces now turned. Soon it would be the talk of the town. Rome was a small place. The fine family linens were airing and they were smutty to be sure.

  6. I don't have anything either, but enjoyed the stories.

  7. Thank you for this opportunity. Here is an excerpt from HARD TARGET, found at

    (Sergeant Dawna Atkinson has arrived at her embassy shortly after it was bombed.)

    No way would this country have the resources to do a decent forensic investigation. Not while struggling to deal with the sudden increase of terrorist activity. Damn those terrorists. Bolivians, a kind, temperate people, didn't deserve all this trouble. "Good," Dawna finally answered, keeping her tone commanding. "Get the samples."
    Ramos nodded again and moved away. Dawna shifted her attention to the embassy's front facade. The explosive device had been small, all right. The exterior around the pedestrian door looked like it had suffered nothing more than minor cosmetic damage. Not much different than its neglected surroundings.
    She skirted a firefighter as he did one final check of the burn site. A nearby police officer tested the main vehicular door for any damage. It opened smoothly. Inside the compound, Marconi, Ramos' morning replacement, assisted.
    "Safe, safe," Marconi called out to her through the open door.
    Dawna inspected the compound, then the narrow building that fronted on the street. General offices filled the commercial space there, a common practice here in South America. All seemed fine. The barred, outer windows on either side of her had cracked, but surprisingly, the original vehicular door was still intact. Whoever built the original inner city school knew how rough kids could be. She stalked across the small compound toward the embassy's main building. Inside its front foyer was the newer, specialized entrance, a bullet-proof glass mantrap that acted as an airlock.
    Still gripping his rifle, Ramos caught up with her as she trotted up the well-worn stone steps.
    As she entered the mantrap, some sixth sense made her pivot and stare across the compound, right through the vehicular door to the square beyond. Past Marconi and the policia outside. Ignoring her request to stay put in his car where he would be safe, her boss, the Ambassador, was now striding into the compound, his escolta trotting beside him.
    Dawna sagged. The start to a really bad Monday.

  8. This comment has been removed by the author.

    1. The next entry is from "Bonds of Affection"

  9. Tom and Gina's unlucky day: Tied together as hostages in a bank robbery, an ex-race-car driver, Gina Branson, feels the shock of the bank guard, Thomas Woods, as he witnesses the murder of his twin brother. Once freed, the roller coaster of Tom’s grief and rage alienates them on issues of retribution and clemency. Bound to each other from their first flicker of interest, the couple weathers both the bank-robbery trial and the death of Gina’s ailing mother to a final testing of their faith, trust and affection.


    Gina had waited an hour after leaving a message for Tom.
    She wanted out of the hospital! People, her friends, died in hospitals. No pastel ambiance could change the fact this was a place for the sick and dying.
    The taxi took another hour to arrive and Gina actually hoped Tom would appear before the cab. What was he doing? Repainting the kitchen? Building a cat tree in the basement? She knew he was angry, but he’d get over it.
    Now she was angry. At least he could have taken her home. It was her home after all!
    When the cab hit the stop light at 31 and Main Street in Geneva, she saw Tom.
    Gina rolled down her window to holler.
    Then she saw he was busy, opening the door of his beat-up car for a high-school beauty.
    “Oh, no,” she said out loud.
    The light changed and the cabby agreed, “These lights are long.”
    Gina tried to stretch her face into a smile for him. Her face was a mess. Her whole world was going down the drain. No wonder Tom had been so spiteful. He was looking for an excuse to break up with her. Why not? He had this young beauty on the side. No wonder he left her. He had a perfect ten to compare to her swollen face.
    Well he could get his things together and get out of her house.
    Gina was sure of one true fact; she didn’t need to put up with anything!