Release Day Blitz for ‘Rescued’, by Felice Stevens

Today, I’m pleased to let you all know about a book I’ve been eagerly awaiting. It may surprise some of you to find out that this cynical, smarty-pants, vampire-and-werewolf-lovin’ girl enjoys reading a good romance. What?! So when my friend Felice Stevens told me she was writing her first male/male romance, I could hardly wait. Read all about ‘Rescued‘ here. Love is love. xx

 

Release Day Banner.jpgBook Blurb: Ryder Daniels has spent the last year recovering from rejection: his parents couldn’t accept his sexuality and his lover chose drugs over his love. The only bright lights in his life are his younger brother and his rescued pit bull. But now his mother’s punishment for his lifestyle has cut him off from his brother he loves so deeply. Devastated, he throws himself into the work of the Pit Bull Foundation he and his friends started.
FS_Rescued_coverinJason Mallory can no longer hide the dissatisfaction of his relationship with his longtime girlfriend. When her marriage ultimatum pushes him to break things off, he’s determined not to jump into the dating scene. But when a group of injured pit bulls are found on his construction site, he can’t forget the guy who shows up to help.

After Jason adopts one of the dogs, he and Ryder become fast friends—until one night, Ryder lets down his guard and Jason recognizes his desire. Soon, they can’t deny the passion between them but will family differences and ugly prejudices keep them apart, or can they fight to prove that love is precious, no matter the flavor?

Author Bio: Felice Stevens has always been a romantic at heart. She believes that while life is tough, there is always a happy ending just around the corner. She started reading traditional historical romances when she was a teenager, then life and law school got in the way. It wasn’t until she picked up a copy of Bertrice Small and became swept away to Queen Elizabeth’s court that her interest in romance novels became renewed.

But somewhere along the way, her tastes shifted. While she still enjoys a juicy Historical RescuedPromo5.1romance, she began experimenting with newer, more cutting edge genres and discovered the world of Male/Male romance. And once she picked up her first, she became so enamored of the authors, the character-driven stories and the overwhelming emotion of the books, she knew she wanted to write her own.

Felice lives in New York City with her husband and two children and hopefully soon a cat of her own. Her day begins with a lot of caffeine and ends with a glass or two of red wine. She practices law but daydreams of a time when she can sit by a beach somewhere and write beautiful stories of men falling in love. Although there is bound to be angst along the way, a Happily Ever After is always guaranteed.

Connect with Felice Stevens
Website | Facebook | Twitter |

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I’m back! (What do you mean, you didn’t notice I was gone?)

Hello! Vacation is over (sob). It was super. Very relaxing in the most part – mainly because it was too hot to move. ;-) When I did move, it was from the sun lounger, to the pool, to the bar, to the beach, to the sun lounger…you get the picture. However, hubby and I did venture out and about a few times.

Our holiday resort was Port El-Kantaoui, on the east coast of the small North African country of Tunisia. This coast is a popular tourist destination, with sandy beaches and turquoise seas. But you don’t have to go far to find a different landscape altogether. Inland, there are lush olive groves and date gardens, stunning mountain ranges, and ruins of the many civilisations that have occupied Tunisia over the centuries. We went on a 4 wheel drive adventure that showed us all these things. The only place we didn’t get to was the Sahara in the south. The UK had stopped letting tourists visit there due to unrest on the country’s border with Algeria.

I will now bore you with a few holiday snaps. Feel free to doze off on the couch. Firstly, here’s our resort.

On our 2nd day, we celebrated our 16th Wedding Anniversary, with a visit to the hotel spa in the morning, and an a la carte meal, with champagne, in the evening. Aaww!

Our 4 wheel drive trip enabled us to get to some inaccessible places. The Berbers are the indigenous non-Arab people of North Africa. Mostly nomadic, when they did settle in the north they chose defensible locations in the mountains.

The Romans were in Tunisia. They got everywhere.

Of course, we met some cats. The cheeky cheese-eating puss is at a restaurant we visited. Before you start screaming, yes, it was summarily removed from the table and the cheese replaced. The restaurant was on a farm, so there were cats to control the vermin. However, they had worked out that mooching around the gullible tourists was more fun. Cat number 2 belonged to the hotel, and soon discovered what a sucker hubby is. She sat like that for 2 hours.

And lastly, a bit of nonsense. I rode a quad bike for the 1st time! Not a flattering photo, but I’m having fun!

So that’s my vacation. Now back to real life: work, cooking, cleaning…sigh. Oh, and writing, of course. Better get to it! :-)

Holiday/Vacation/Summer Break Begins – See Ya Later!

As I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’m about to disappear for a couple of weeks. I’m very fortunate to be visiting Tunisia, a fascinating country on the continent of Africa. Long-suffering hubby is coming too, of course. :-)

I intend to:

Read lots of books

Laze about and get a suntan

Visit places of interest

Play in the pool and the sea

Eat local foods, and enjoy a drink or two. ;-)

Oh, and shop. I like haggling in markets.

I may pop up on social media from time to time, or I may not…

Be good while I’m away!

Karen xx

The Blood and the Cauldron – Part 3

Karen Soutar:

The 3rd and final part of this tale (for now). ;-)
Many thanks to Mari Wells for letting me feature on her blog!

(Read Part 1 and Part 2 if you haven’t already)

Originally posted on Mari Wells:

Karen is back to give you the final installment of The Blood and the Cauldron

The Blood and the Cauldron – Part 3

Mark pounded on the door of the cottage. He hated going behind Ewan’s back, but his friend was in over his head this time. ‘Kate! Open up!’

‘Good Goddess!’ The door flew open, revealing the Witch – as she was known to nearly everyone. Most people didn’t want to know her name, or any more about her than they needed to. At this moment, Mark saw why. Her arms were covered up to the elbows with leaves and sap, and in her left hand she held a bundle of twigs which was crawling with spiders.

‘Kate, I need your help,’ panted Mark. ‘It’s Ewan.’

‘Get in here.’ Kate hurried back inside.

Following her, Mark glimpsed something steaming away in her stillroom, before he was whisked into the…

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The Blood and the Cauldron – Part 2

Karen Soutar:

Okay folks, this is the EROTIC Part 2 of my vampire story. AND there’s blood. You have been warned… ;-)

(If you haven’t already, read Part 1 here. And for Part 3, click here)

Originally posted on Mari Wells:

Everyone who knows Karen’s writing knows it gets HOT and steamy. She’s about to make it hot and steamy up on this blog. You know if you’ve got Little “eyes” all around you or not. If you do, I recommend you come back once those little “eyes” take their naps. :D

The Blood and the Cauldron – Part 2

‘No,’ he whispered. ‘It’s not true. It can’t be. I’ve seen you in daylight. You can’t…you can’t…’
The corners of Cara’s mouth turned up. ‘Never full daylight, Ewan. At dawn and dusk. If I’ve consumed enough human blood I can withstand the light. It lulls people into a false sense of security.’
He scrambled towards the door, but the acolytes caught him. His body betrayed him, refusing to fight as lust surged at their touch. Forcing his mind to overcome his treacherous limbs, he struggled in their grasp. He might as…

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The Blood and the Cauldron – Part 1

Karen Soutar:

Today and for the next 2 days I’m featuring on Mari Wells’s blog for Vampire Month. Thanks for letting me loose, Mari! Read Part 1 of my 3 part story here.
(If you’ve already read Part 1, Part 2 is here, and Part 3 is here)

Originally posted on Mari Wells:

Karen Soutar, is an awesome writer. Her vampires are smexy to the extreme. This installment is tame, but just keep coming back. Tomorrow’s installment is as hot as an Arizona summer.

The Blood and the Cauldron – Part 1

The heavy door swung inwards without a sound. That was good; he had half-expected it to creak. He stepped inside, hugging the wall and scanning the hallway for any movement. There was none. He left the door open, hoping that a little light would follow him. It was risky being here this late. The sun was almost down. Then they would rise, and he had no way of knowing how many there were. He had only ever seen the two, but he couldn’t save Cara if there were many more. He would be too outnumbered.

He had asked Mark to go with him, but his friend had refused.
‘It’s a trap,’…

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A Taste of Freedom? (Flash Fiction)

I mentioned in my last post that many of the exercises I did for my Creative Writing course turned into stories in their own right. A lot of them are short pieces – spot on for flash fiction.

The following piece was written for this exercise:
Write a 500 word scene in which a character feels trapped in his or her surroundings with no immediate prospect of escape.
Of course, that prompt lends itself to my slightly dark style. ;-) Hope you enjoy it.

 

A Taste of Freedom?

She felt the accusation of the books all around her. We’ve never been read, they seemed to shout. We’re trapped here behind these glass doors. Surely you can understand that? We want somebody to free us, dust us off, see what’s inside. There are wonders in here, if only someone would look.

She didn’t know why she kept coming back to the library. Maybe because it was the only part of the house where she could still feel her mother. In this room, she still raged silently at her, just as she had when mum was alive. Mum, who had shackled her here, even more so now that she was gone. Mum, who had wanted everyone to see that she owned this house, this library, and these books. Reading them wasn’t the point. Appearance was what mattered, not what was on the inside.

The fuchsia tapped on the window, stirred by the rising wind. She should do something about that. But she daren’t tackle it herself, and there was no money to hire a gardener. The overgrown garden meant that the room was dark even on the sunniest of days. She should clean the windows, as well – that would help. She snorted. Help with what? Having a clear view of the world outside that she was never going to be a part of? Even the journey to the gate to collect the post was an ordeal.

The bookshelves dominated the room. Their mahogany did nothing to lighten the atmosphere, being a serious, oppressive kind of wood. Of course, it had been chosen because it was expensive. It was too dark for the room, even when the windows had been clean and unobstructed by branches. Now, the unpolished cabinets just added to the gloom.

She sat down in the old chair by the fire (unlit, of course), and stared at the shelves. The ones nearest to her held travel books. She was staring at faraway places, journeys by land and sea, unusual foods and exotic drinks. Dare she slide back the glass doors; take out a volume and read of these things? Would she sense her prison even more keenly? Or would she be transported to another world in the only way she could, feeling sand between her toes, smelling spices, hearing snatches of conversation in a foreign tongue and trying to work out what was being said? She imagined her mother, checking that the staff had dusted and polished, that the glass doors were clean so everyone who visited was able to read the titles. She had never seen her mum read a book in her life. What a waste of time, when there were neighbours to impress, social gatherings to attend, and her less-than-perfect daughter to worry about.

She threw back the door, freed the first book she put her hand on, and sat back in the chair, trembling. On an impulse, she jumped back up, opened every case, and took a title from each one. She left the doors open. Curling up in the chair, she piled the books on the table beside her, and set the first one on her knee. ‘Travels in Egypt’, the cover said, above a symbol of an eye surrounded by curly lines and strange markings.

She opened the book and began to read.