If you're under 18, then go on and git.

Friday, December 11, 2015

Promo Links :D

Earlier this week, I posted the links for the Racing Hearts charity antho, now here's the links for Peyton's GoFundMe/Medical expenses, and my next book up for pre-order, the re-release(d) Something Shattered! Then I'm starting in on the installment for today which I hope to have up in a couple of hours. :D

Y'all read about Destined Prey, the first book in the Wild Ones series, all of the royalties of which will go to help pay the accumulated medical bills for Peyton. It's not just me donating--

Beany Sparks, owner of Rainbow Ninja Press, is donating all her company's part of the earnings, too. The book cover artist did the cover for free-- Naomi, my daughter's pen name-- and Beany helped her clean the cover up.

Will Parkinson at Pride Promotions returned the book tour fee to Rainbow Ninja Press and asked that it be applied to the earnings/royalties.

There are many-- I mean many-- fabulous book blogs taking part in the tour, all so many people eager to help.

I love people, I do, and it's people like them, and you, that comment and chat, or just read my stories and let me know that, people who have put kindness over selfishness, y'all remind me that more people are good in this world than not.

Okay, links, blurbs, excerpts:

Destined Prey at Rainbow Ninja Press
Destined Prey at ARe

All Jack Tucker wanted was to come home for a little while and try to figure out where his life had gone wrong. Moving from Wyoming to New York hadn’t turned out the way he’d thought it would, and a bad breakup leaves him bruised in more than just the emotional sense.
He doesn’t expect to be glad he’s back on the Double T Ranch with his brother, Rhett, and he sure doesn’t expect to find the place crawling with coywolves, wolves, and coyotes. There seems to be some kind of animal-warfare going on, and he and Rhett are caught in the middle of it.
Coywolves—the hybrid of wolves and coyotes, hated by both, and more predatory than either. Add in the fact that all the battling species are shifters, and there’s bound to be trouble.
Ben Akers is part of his brother’s pack. The only coywolf shifters in existence, they find themselves under constant attack from wolf and coyote packs determined to make the Akers pack extinct. But coywolves don’t die out so easy, and when Ben’s life takes a surprising turn in the form of one sexy human named Jack Tucker, they’re both in for surprises, danger, and, if Destiny rules, an abiding love that most people—and shifters—only dream of.

*All proceeds and royalties from this book will be donated to help pay the medical bills for Peyton Hollingsworth. While he is currently being treated at St. Jude’s for Ewing’s Sarcoma, and treatment there is free, there are accumulated bills from his treatment and diagnosis before being sent to St. Jude’s. 
- See more at: http://www.rainbowninjapress.com/Destined-Prey#sthash.4l8MaorA.dpuf

Jack Tucker watched his brother retrieve the rifle from the gun cabinet in the office. “Um. Rhett? What’re you doing?”
Rhett didn’t even glance back at him as he loaded the gun. “What does it look like I’m doing? You been living in the city so long you forgot how a Wyoming rancher lives?” Then he did look over his shoulder at Jack, and Jack kind of wished he hadn’t.
He hated seeing that judgment in his brother’s eyes, and knowing he’d never be good enough for Rhett, never be the man his brother was. “No,” Jack mumbled, “I didn’t forget.”
Rhett sighed and turned until he faced Jack. “Look, that was uncalled for. I’m… I’m sorry, okay?”
Jack was so startled by the apology that he gulped and couldn’t think of a word to say.
Rhett grimaced. “Yeah. Well, okay. Gotta check on some tracks Eddie said he found leading from his property to ours. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He left, striding from the room without seeming to hesitate.
Jack groaned and closed his eyes. Of course Rhett didn’t hesitate—he never had. Rhett always knew what to do, and how to do it, and who he was, and that he was right… Except, he apologized to me, and it screwed my head right up.
“Worse than it already is,” he muttered. Jack couldn’t stop himself from touching his left side, where his bruised ribs throbbed as the pain meds wore off. He was lucky, very lucky, that Rhett hadn’t pushed him on the accident that had sent Jack running home from New York, and possibly into the unemployment line. His boss hadn’t been happy with Jack taking off, even with a medical note as an excuse. Jack hadn’t told Rhett much about any of that. As far as Rhett knew, Jack had fallen down some icy steps, and that was all he was going to ever know about the incident.
Jack replayed his brother’s apology in his head and somehow it mingled in with Alex’s. Cold fear trickled down Jack’s spine and his gut cramped hard enough to make him worry about the dinner he’d just eaten.
After several minutes of trying to calm himself down, Jack stood and left. He’d wanted to sit and talk with Rhett about finances and try to decide if he should offer to let Rhett buy him out. Jack wasn’t made to be a rancher. He wasn’t made to be a New Yorker, either.
Jack didn’t know what he was supposed to do in life, and at the age of twenty-seven, he kind of thought he should have an inkling.
His cell phone was ringing when he stepped into his bedroom. Without looking, he knew it was Alex calling. “Who else would it be?” he huffed. It wasn’t like he had any friends left.
Rather than check to see how many times Alex had called and how many texts he’d sent, Jack turned the phone off, then stuck it in the nightstand. He eased himself onto the bed, then took a couple of prescription pain meds and washed them down with the rest of the water he’d brought in earlier.
The glass was old and familiar, and he felt a pang of regret as he looked it over after he set it down. Green glass, nothing special about it, yet he remembered so much as he stared.
He could see his mom in the kitchen, fixing a pitcher of tea, talking to him, and listening as he told her about his day at school or the chores he’d had to do around the ranch. She’d always been so kind and understanding, Jack had to believe she’d have been okay with him being gay. He’d spent many afternoons in the kitchen, helping her prepare meals or just basking in her presence. Losing her had almost broken him.
For a few more minutes, he let his mind go back to happy childhood days. His dad wasn’t in nearly as many of those good memories, but Chauncey Tucker hadn’t been a bad man. His dad had been more like Rhett—stoic, focused on the ranch and less on the people around him.
Jack ran one finger around the rim of the glass. He was surprised, really, that there were any of the old things left.
The sound of gunshot startled him so badly he jerked and nearly sent the glass flying.
“Shit!” He winced as he pushed it back, then stood as quickly as he could manage.
Another shot rang out, then a third, and fear quickly overtook every other sensation he’d felt until then.
Rhett had always been an ace shot. If he’d had to use three bullets, then there was something bad outside—a bear or a whole pack of wolves.
Jack didn’t like guns, but he went and got one from the gun cabinet anyway. He loaded it as he walked to the front door, and hoped like hell Rhett wasn’t hurt.
As soon as he stepped outside, the fine hairs at his nape seemed to stand up and vibrate, like some kind of primitive survival instinct warning alert system. Jack froze, his back to the door as his heart slammed hard against his ribs.
Another shot sounded, and it jolted Jack into action. “Rhett! Rhett!” He rushed down the steps and toward the direction the shots had come from. “Rhett! Are you okay?”
When Rhett didn’t immediately answer, Jack ran, careless with the gun, aware of that but unable to make himself do anything other than find his brother as soon as possible.
“Rhett!” He stumbled over something on the ground and almost fell before he managed to flail enough to keep himself upright.
Pain tore down his injured side, but he ignored it as he called out for his brother yet again. He cursed himself for not thinking to grab a flashlight. The sky was overcast and there was no moonlight to assist him in his search, and once he was past the barns there was no light coming from the house or other structures, either.
Jack realized that the cattle in the closest field were making enough noise to drown out his voice or Rhett’s, making it impossible for them to hear each other.
The sounds of the gunshots must have scared the cattle. Jack worried about a stampede, but he’d never seen any of the critters take out a fence, so he dismissed the idea.
“Rhett!” His throat burned as he hollered again.
Lightning streaked across the sky, blinding Jack for a moment, then thunder followed and he couldn’t contain his startled yelp as his ears rang from the sound.
Or his shriek when six pairs of glowing yellow eyes appeared between him and the fence line.
“Shit!” Jack skidded to a halt and hoped he could steady his hands, and force himself to do what he had to do.

When something inside him is shattered by an act of violence, Caleb Tomas doesn’t think he can ever be whole again.
Police Officer Jesse Martin has lived in the small town of El Jardin, New Mexico, for a decade, but he’s never seen anything like the mysterious man who moves in in the middle of the night. The house across the street from Jesse’s trailer is no longer empty. There’s a puzzle waiting to be solved there in the form of one sexy, but decidedly different, man.
Bruised and battered inside and out, Caleb Tomas flees to the town of El Jardin in the hopes of escaping the terror that haunts him. Instead, he becomes more of a recluse, scared of everything, unable to get more than a dozen feet past his porch before he panics. His head’s a mess, and he knows he needs help, but that’s a step he doesn’t want to take. It’s easier, safer to stay hidden away with only his adorable puppy, Loopy, and the bird-murdering cat, Mix, for companionship.
But Caleb can’t help but notice the sexy man across the street, and when Loopy escapes from the back yard, it’s Jesse Martin who comes to the rescue.
And he might save more than one bouncy little poodle, if Caleb and Jesse are willing to take the risk.
Reader Advisory: This book contains references to physical assault.
Publisher's Note: This book was previously released elsewhere. It has been revised and re-edited for re-release with Pride Publishing. 
General Release Date: 29th December 2015

Jesse Martin sat on the porch steps of his rented trailer, looking at the sparse patches of grass in his tiny yard. The New Mexico sun was bright in the clear blue sky, the heat beyond oppressive and bordering on hellish.
The beer bottle in his hand was sweating almost as much as he was, and he wondered if the yellowish-brown color of the grass meant it was dead or just severely dehydrated. Maybe if he watered the grass, it would eventually become a lush green carpet like his neighbor’s. That was one pretty lawn across the street.
Right. Like he would remember to water the pathetic splotch that was his yard—and he sure didn’t want to know what that would do to his water bill. If the landlady didn’t like the crappy lawn, then she could foot the bill and take care of the stuff. At least this way he didn’t have to mow.
Still, he couldn’t help but be a little envious of that thick, green grass across the street. The neighbor must be some kind of plant-life miracle worker. Even the man’s back yard was flourishing. It was possible that he had an in-ground sprinkler system or something, which was well beyond Jesse’s means.
Jesse took a drink of his warm beer. Still nasty. If he were smart, he’d sit out here with a little ice chest, though even then he’d have to really chug the beer to get it down before the temperature did a number on it.
Glancing at his watch, he saw it was five till three. He turned his attention to the house across the street. From behind darkly tinted sunglasses, he watched, waiting for the door to that home to open. A ripple of anticipation went through him.
Sure enough, as had happened Monday through Saturday every afternoon for the past month, the door slowly opened.
Jesse’s anticipation doubled. He tensed, waiting for what would happen next. When he saw it, he slumped with relief. Nothing had changed today.
One thin arm slipped out of the opened door, inch by inch.
Then, Jesse’s heart did its usual odd skippy-thing that happened every time he watched.
A man appeared, cautiously moving through the doorway. Beat-up tennis shoes, baggy denim jeans, a ratty T-shirt about two sizes too big for his frame, a cast on his lower right arm that had gotten dingier since Jesse had first seen it. Everything the neighbor had on was pretty much the same outfit Jesse had seen before. Whether this was due to the guy having a bunch of the same shirts, bad hygiene, or a limited wardrobe, Jesse hadn’t a clue. It wasn’t like he could just ask either—they weren’t exactly on speaking terms.
After only a few seconds’ hesitation, the man moved through the doorway and stepped onto the little cement porch. Jesse checked him out as inconspicuously as possible. Not quite short, and thin to the point of gauntness, the man was a mystery to everyone in the small town of El Jardin. Tongues were wagging, and gossip spreading. Some of the stories people told were unbelievable and, to Jesse, solid proof that the creators of those tales had too much time on their hands.
Besides, he remembered very clearly what it was like to be the new kid in town, even though ten years had passed. Jesse still wasn’t completely accepted by all the natives. More than a few of them talked about him, but he ignored them. For some reason, that was harder to do when the gossiping was about his new neighbor. Even his coworker, Officer Pat Monroe, made remarks here and there. But that didn’t surprise Jesse. Monroe was an asshole who never missed an opportunity to make snide remarks. Some days it seemed Monroe spent more time talking trash than performing his duties as a police officer.
Jesse tried not to give such talk any credence, with the exception of ensuring there wasn’t some pervert living across the street. No, he’d rather get the truth from the source, but that was kind of hard to do when the source wasn’t talking.
Granted, Jesse hadn’t tried too hard, just knocked on the door the day after the guy had moved in. When his knock had gone unanswered, he’d figured his new neighbor was either asleep or maybe at a doctor’s appointment, considering all the injuries he’d had. Jesse had walked back to his trailer and gotten ready for work. Right before getting in his car to leave, he’d glanced across and noticed that a printed sign now graced the door. Curious, Jesse had walked to the sidewalk, squinting in an attempt to read it.


Well. That had seemed pretty clear. Jesse hadn’t been offended by the snotty sign at the time. Easy enough to understand, since the man was so banged up. Except, over a month later, the sign was still up. Pretty clear, but not so understandable. Now the sign just seemed rude.
Jesse took another drink of his beer, grimacing as the heated liquid hit his tongue. The neighbor was at the mailbox now. Well, not exactly at the mailbox—that would mean he had to step off the sidewalk and into the street. Instead, as was the norm on these little treks, he kept his feet firmly planted on the edge of the walkway while he leaned forward and stretched out his left hand to retrieve the mail. Probably not uncomfortable, Jesse mused, but still, why not just take the few extra steps to actually walk to the mailbox?
The man slapped the box lid shut and pivoted carefully. Jesse quit trying to pretend he wasn’t watching and tipped his glasses down. Without the dark tint impeding his vision, he was treated to a brilliant display of gorgeous, curly auburn hair. The sun brought out streaks of red as well as glints of gold and orange in the silky-looking mess. Jesse’s fingers tightened on the beer bottle—the urge to touch the colorful curls was nearly a physical thing.
He sat on the steps for several minutes after the neighbor had disappeared back inside, wondering how pathetic he’d become when this was the highlight of his day.

Caleb took a deep breath and steeled himself. He could do this, he could. It was a pretty sorry thing when a grown man had to work to find the courage to walk fifteen feet to his own mailbox. Some days it took longer than others to even open the door.
Maybe that cop will be sitting on his steps. He’d seen the man numerous times—there were times it made his trip outside easier, knowing there was a police officer just a few feet away. Sometimes it made him nervous, though, because Caleb was pretty sure the guy was watching him. Maybe it was all innocuous, or maybe the cop was watching him for other reasons. Did he think Caleb was a criminal, some kind of threat to the people in this town?
Caleb actually snorted at the idea as he made himself unlock the deadbolts then slip on the glasses. His fingers shook as he reached for the doorknob, but he managed to turn it with a slight twist of the wrist. Caleb gingerly opened the door, fighting to keep his muscles from trembling. A deep breath, then another, and he was able to take the step that brought him outside and onto his porch.
I can do this. Keeping his head down, Caleb willed his feet to move. Slowly, he shuffled down the sidewalk. The sun’s heat seemed to seep inside him, warming the dark, frightened places in his mind. Caleb tipped his head up just enough to see the man sitting on his porch. He looked big and fit, a tight T-shirt clinging to sculpted muscles. Safe. I’m safe as long as he’s out here too.


Shorty Chelle said...

That is wonderful to hear that so many wanted to help Bailey. I'm looking forward to reading the books. **huggz** <3

Anonymous said...

love that you are doing so much good karma right now. it will come back beautifully for you. *hugs*

MA Church said...

Oh, oh! Destined Prey is at ARe??? I read the excerpt as I was setting up the post for the tour and was like... I gotta have this NOW!!! LOL so now I'm off to buy it. :) Weeeeee!!!

Donna said...

The coywolf idea is haunting me - gimme!!

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