Thursday, 16 June 2016

Diane Saxon - Barbara's Redemption

Today I would love to welcome Diane Saxon. Her new books Barbara's Redemption has just come out and she is giving us a taste of what it's about!

 Black Hawk pilot Captain Barbara Lynn Perry is running scared. Witness to an event too horrible to think about and too dangerous to talk of, she finds herself alienated from a world she has always had faith in.
With her Special Forces brother missing, she has only one other person to turn to. When her friend Flynn Swann isn’t available, Barbara is left with no choice but to trust the man Flynn sends to save her.
Psychiatrist Dominic Salter’s information from her superior officer’s file is that Barbara has gone rogue. Despite the damning evidence, every instinct tells him he’s dealing with an honorable woman, one who single-handedly saved Flynn from torture and a sure death. Dominic’s challenge is to delve his way beneath her tough, defensive attitude and coax the truth from a woman who’s too frightened to reveal her dark secret.
In his brand new facility containing a state of the art Dreampsych Transcender he’s experimenting with, a machine far beyond a simulator, Dominic has to gain the trust and confidence of Barbara while he resists the hard pull of attraction to this kick-ass woman.
Betrayed by a member of his staff, events take a sinister turn, and the pressure is on in a fight against time for Dominic to persuade Barbara to put her trust in him and reveal the truth before matters are taken out of his hands.
Pre-Order Links & Order Links

Excerpt - Chapter One
She raised a shaky hand to rub her fingertips over taut lips and tried to swallow, but her tongue was too thick to allow it, her mouth too dry to comply. She held the same hand horizontally in front of her face and watched the vague tremble. The tremor that threatened her sharp shot. The shake that no longer allowed her to pick up a glass of whiskey without being a dead giveaway.
She needed help.
Flynn could help.
She’d saved his life, goddammit. Of course he would help.
So she waited in the silent twilight for Flynn to come.
Pitch black descended and still no sign of the man. So dark she could no longer see the trembling hand in front of her face, but the sweat still formed in the creases along her palm, making her hand slip as she tightened her grip on the gun. She swapped it over from right to left while she rubbed the damp onto the leg of her black yoga pants. It made no difference, she could shoot as well with one hand as the other. Not that she could see to shoot, but she hadn’t imagined for one moment Flynn would have kept her waiting this long, and dark would close in before he arrived.
She’d hunkered down in the comfort of the straw, her mind filled with visions of blood and gunshots while night descended faster than she’d realized.
She’d kept Flynn waiting three nights previously. God only knew how long he’d waited for her, but she’d listened to her sixth sense, believed someone else was there at the meeting point, and she’d hightailed it out of there, leaving Flynn to his own devices. He was still a tough cookie. No point in her hanging around to save him. She’d already saved his sorry ass once before.
The dim light of the stables flickered on and filled the place with a dull buzzing sound. Cautious, she straightened and moved toward her target. The cowboy seemed to be the right height, but it looked like Flynn had gone to seed since leaving the Special Forces three years earlier. She’d heard rumors he hadn’t coped well with civilian life. Probably more to do with having half his face carved up. She twitched her nose in distaste. The voices of the men who had tortured him filled her head, the vicious sound of their hyena cackles as they cut Flynn with glee. It hadn’t been the prettiest of sights, but she’d seen worse. She’d even killed men herself, but never for fun. Only out of necessity, duty, and a desperate desire to live.
It was the pleasure they’d taken out of torturing a man that had turned her stomach. Not that anyone knew. She’d die before she allowed anyone to see her
weakness. It looked like she may have to, after recent events. She’d thought she’d never witness anything worse than Flynn’s torture. But she had.
She closed her eyes and took a moment to control her pulse rate before she stepped forward.
The cowboy turned, staggered slightly in the dead giveaway of a drunken sidestep, and smiled broad and sloppy as his unfocused gaze met hers. Drawing in a deep, slow breath, she realized her mistake. It wasn’t Flynn.
With no other option, Barbara tucked her gun into the back of her pants. It was a mistake she would never have made a month ago. One that under any other circumstances would have cost her life. Lucky for her, it was only some piss head in her way.
“Hey.” Loose-limbed, she stepped forward, a deliberate wide smile in place. “I’m looking for Flynn. Is he here?”
Confusion flitted across the man’s face, his brows pulled down in an exaggerated drunken frown.
“He’s a dipshit.”
Surprise at his viciousness stopped her advance as the man swayed, took two clumsy steps to his left before he gained his balance, and stood swaying before her. His thin lips twisted, bitter and angry.
“You’re not his girl. His girl’s a fuckin’ little bitch. Lost me my job and had me arrested.”
With barely a twitch of her eyebrow, Barbara skimmed her gaze over him. Nasty little fucker. Reminded her of her mother’s boyfriend. Several of her mother’s boyfriends. But one in particular had been a mean son of a bitch. He’d slapped her around plenty, until her mother had caught him and almost pulled his hair out by the roots. Her mother may have had scores of men come and go after Barbara’s father’s death, but she never let a single one mess with her daughter.
Barbara narrowed her eyes at him, never flinched as the horse behind her snorted and stamped impatiently in its stall. All her concentration centered on the drunk. She’d learned long ago with hard lessons not to take her gaze off the threat. This guy was definitely a threat.
“No, I’m not his girl. Have you seen him?”
He rubbed his hand over his lips, sly gaze darting sideways. “I heard he left with the slut.”
Muscles tense, Barbara felt the sick slide of dread. “Where’d he go?”
“New Zealand. They were talking about it in the jailhouse.”
“The fucking sheriff and his fucking deputies.”
“What were you doing there?” She wasn’t interested, but she could see him lowering his guard as they chatted. She never lowered hers. That’s what got you killed.
The guy turned his head and spat into the hay and then sneered at her. “Mistaken identity.” He held up a hand with fingers swathed in bandages.
“Flynn’s bitch said I went after her. It was her who attacked me and broke my fucking little finger.”
She repressed the desire to smile. She hadn’t much to smile about, but it seemed as though Flynn could have met his match after all.
“Stupid fuckers let my wife bail me out.”
Barbara couldn’t stop the blink of surprise. He had a wife? Poor woman.
“She’s my ex-wife.” His mean eyes flickered down. “She just wants rid of me.”
She could imagine why.
Barbara watched as he skimmed his bloodshot gaze over her, recognized the lascivious leer, and knew instinctively she wasn’t simply going to walk away from their encounter. “So, what are your plans?”
“Fuckers took my gun, but I had another one they didn’t know about at my stupid fucking wife’s house. She didn’t even know it was there. I’m going to take me a horse and ride out of here, and no one is going to stop me.”
She stepped back and spread her arms wide for him to carry on. “I wouldn’t want to try.”
He took a small, stumbling step forward and then lurched at her. Little shit, she never quite saw him coming. She’d somehow thought he would have a little more finesse. His body slammed into hers, and she realized what she’d thought was fat was one hell of a lot of solid muscle bound tightly in that fat.
As he took her down, she allowed her body to go loose. She anticipated the fast whoosh of air that expelled from her lungs, but his weight was a little harder and heavier than she had expected. Winded, she lay still for a long moment. By the time she recovered, he had her breast in his hand, squeezing it tightly. Pain and indignation radiated through her, but as she tried to move, he slung his leg over both of hers to pin her to the ground. The metal buckle on his belt dug hard into the flesh of her belly, and as she wriggled in the straw, the slide of it cut in deeper. The solid press of her own gun into her spine had her stilling.
The guy was an idiot; sometimes they just made it too easy by underestimating her. She may only be five feet four inches, but she was a trained soldier, goddammit.
With a weary sigh, she gave her head a disgusted shake and tightened her lips as she slipped his gun from his hip holster and held it against his temple before he could take another drunken grunt. She pulled back the hammer and met the surprise in his rheumy eyes. There was barely a tremor in her grip as her finger softened against the trigger. No need to terminate him, provided he was reasonable.
The quiet snick of metal stopped her mid thought.
“Take the gun away from Buddy’s head.” Mellow Irish tones reasoned with her from behind her head.
She held it firm, never so much as twitched.
The silver glint of a gun slid into her peripheral vision and kicked up her pulse.
“I’ve got him covered, Barbara, you can remove your gun.” Her name from the unfamiliar Irish voice had her hesitating.
The sour smell of whiskey puffed over her skin, and the bloated face of the drunk still lying on top of her gave her a moment’s pause. She could have simply immobilized him and left him writhing in agony on the floor by twisting his already broken finger, or she could blow his brains out, the stupid fuck.
It wouldn’t have bothered her.
Sweat slicked on the handle of the gun to make a liar of her. Who was she trying to kid? It was never a choice she’d make to deliberately take a life. He may be stupid, but he was no longer a threat.

Where to Find Diane Saxon
Author Website | Author Blog | Facebook  | Author Twitter | Goodreads Author |
Author Amazon Profile Page

Diane Saxon lives in the Shropshire countryside with her tall, dark, handsome husband, two gorgeous daughters, a Dalmatian, one-eyed kitten, ginger cat, four chickens and a new black Labrador puppy called Beau, whose name has been borrowed for her hero in For Heaven's Cakes.

After working for years in a demanding job, on-call and travelling great distances, Diane gave it all up when her husband said “follow that dream”.

Having been hidden all too long, her characters have burst forth demanding plot lines of their own and she’s found the more she lets them, the more they’re inclined to run wild.

Previous Books: 

Loving Lydia -Atlantic Divide Book 1
Bad Girl Bill – Atlantic Divide Book 2
Finding Zoe - Atlantic Divide Book 3
Flight of Her Life
Flynn’s Kiss – Disarmed & Dangerous Book 1
Short Circuit Time
For Heaven’s Cakes

Thursday, 2 June 2016

Ryan Jo Summers - Upon the Tide

So happy to have Ryan Jo back today showing us her new book Upon the Tide. 

Tossed together by happenstance, fleeing for their lives and falling in love under the Caribbean sun as paradise turns deadly.


 New York Fashion designer, Piper Kincaid, just wanted a pleasant visit with her cousin down in Florida. That was before she and handsome beach bum, Kade Wyatt, become the targets of a gang of robbers and killers.

     Kade simply wanted some fish for his pet seagull. Now he and the lovely exec from out of town are caught in a deadly game of cat and mouse. He's busy concentrating on Piper when he should be focusing on keeping them alive. 
     Fleeing for their lives aboard Kade’s houseboat, 'The Hightide', they experience risk, surprises, mystery and romance during the Great Caribbean Boat Chase. However, the biggest surprises are waiting for them back at port.


“Seems we have a good thing going here,” Kade joked, handing his bowl over. “I cook and you clean. At least I won’t get dishpan hands.”
He remained at the table, sipping his sweet concoction while she cleaned the few dishes. As she passed the window, a gunshot rang out. The bowls she’d been about to put away crashed to the floor, shattering.
Instantly Kade lunged from his chair, grabbing her by the waist and landing on the floor, her body pressed under him.
“You’re heavy!” she complained, squirming. “Get off me.”
“Shh!” he hissed in a fierce whisper. “Someone’s shooting at us. That means they got past the guards. Stay down and keep still.”
The impact of their predicament hit Piper, feeling like a lightning bolt sweeping down from above. Like her dream of last night. She smelled his musky scent and felt his hot, anxious breath on the back of her neck. She inhaled the sweet coffee he had been drinking just seconds before. The fuzzy hairs on the back of her neck slowly pricked as her body hummed.
His hands covered hers and she felt the strength they contained and even his callouses. His long frame successfully held her pinned against the hard wood floor.
Lowering his mouth to her ear, he whispered softly, his words quick and hot on her skin.
“You smell really great. But aside from that, we’re no longer safe in this safe house. I have a plan, but we need to get out of here alive first. And I have every intention of doing just that. When I say ‘now’, roll over behind the sofa. It will give you some protection in case they storm the place. Stay down. Get ready.”
She went cold. Storm the place? Had they really come this far and were still to die at the robber’s hands? Numbly she nodded her understanding of his instructions. A volley of gunfire sounded outside, and she wondered who was winning. All she heard were echoing gunshots.
Kade’s trained ear picked out three different kind of guns. “One is a police issue service revolver and two are ordinary pawn shop pistols. But all three can kill.”
She felt Kade tense himself, and she drew in a painful breath, waiting for his word, her heart thumping loudly.


Years ago I loved the tv show 'Riptide' with Perry King and Joe Penny. Later it was Don Johnson in Miami Vice. What drew me to the weekly series was mostly the boats. In both cases one of the main star's characters lived on houseboats. I thought that was the most incredible way to live. I don't recall much about the plots of the shows but I remember those boats. Then country music artist Dierks Bentley arrived on the music scene, and he lived on a houseboat. Why did these guys have all the luck?

Thinking it so unfair, I created a character, Kade Wyatt, and had him living on a houseboat called 'The Hightide'. I fell in love with that trawler and went aboard as frequently as possible in my dreams.

Now, since I work security for a fashion retailer, I am exposed to fashion and clothing to the point of almost being force fed it. However, that does have it advantages. I created a heroine who lived and breathed fashion and clothing as much as my work environment did and plunked her into Kade's world. A fish out of water? In the Caribbean.
Interestingly, work became helpful for dressing fashion conscious Piper. I was working on a beach dance scene and took a break to go to work for the afternoon. Walking into the back area, I spotted some dresses hanging up, staged to be stored. Literally, I stopped. Immediately I envisioned Piper wearing one of those dresses at the beach and what it would do to poor Kade. I wrote that scene that night when I got home and the beach party is still one of my favorites.



Ryan Jo Summers is a North Carolina author who specializes in writing romances with a twist. Love stories blended with inspirational, paranormal, suspense or time travel--or several at once. She also writes non-fiction for regional periodicals. Ryan's dad is a songwriter and his aunt wrote poetry so she claims she came by her writing skill honestly. Apparently it's in the genes.
Her hobbies include bird-watching, houseplants (50 ish and growing), poetry and yard work. She loves to gather with friends, hike in the forest with her dog, paint ceramics and canvas and work on wiggly word find puzzles. She lives in a 1920 cottage with a menagerie of pets. Living in the mountains, she dreams of the shore and frequently uses the water as scenes for her stories.
More about Ryan Jo can be discovered at her website, Home or her blog