Angela Smith @angelaswriter and her new release Burn on the Western Slope #blast

During my senior year in high school, I was dubbed most likely to write a novel because I always had my nose stuck in a book.   I would hide my romance novels under my history book until my teacher called me out on it.  Writing has been my dream ever since my mother read Brer Rabbit to my sister and me so often that we were able to recite it back to each other before actually learning to read.  I love reading about the adventure of love, and getting involved in the legal field developed my love of suspense. I believe love is a mystery that most people have trouble resolving.  While I don’t expect we’ll ever solve that mystery, I love to read and write about characters who work to solve their love’s mystery.  See more about me at my website www.loveisamystery.com or tweet me!

Angela will be awarding one of three prizes: a car mirror hanger or key chain (a seashell as a tie-in to her book), an mp3 album by Pretty Little Blisters, a $10 Amazon gift card, to three randomly drawn commenters during the tour.

Blurb:

On the ski slopes of Montana, deception turns deadly and seduction becomes more hypnotic than jewels.

Reagan McKinney is on a mission to discover more about a deceased uncle who mysteriously left her a sizable inheritance, a condo in the mountains, and a stash of stolen jewels.  With both her graphic design career and her love life in shambles, the opportunity to begin a new life couldn’t have come at a better time.  When she becomes involved with the sexy FBI agent next door, she finds her struggle is not only to keep her heart intact, but her life.

         

Grief stricken after an undercover investigation ends in the tragic death of his partner, FBI Agent Garret Chambers goes home to find solace in the arms of his mountain home.  That is, until his boss assigns him to investigate the spirited brunette staying in the condo next door.  He is assigned to investigate Reagan’s involvement with a large jewel fencing organization, but his investigation becomes comprised when his attraction to her heats up.  Will his discovery destroy everything he has come to love, including Reagan?

Excerpt:

“Wait,” he said, settling his hand over hers. He didn’t know what he would say to keep her here, didn’t know if he should kiss her again. Had he insulted her in some way? “Do you have a boyfriend back home?” he asked. A stupid question at a time like this, but he had to know. For Buchanan, who would call sometime tonight, and for himself.

Silence stretched among them. He fought to soften his breathing, but his heart only pounded harder as he tried to convince himself she was not his to possess.

When she looked at him, dead in the eye, she didn’t flicker. The strength she’d shown on the mountain today, pushing herself when most women would have cried and complained, and the snappy comeback with Tanner made Garret realize she was the kind of woman who could stand up to a man like Javier Mass. The type of woman Javier—or Nelson, either one—would prize. Garret’s world capsized.

Shaking her hand from his, she said, “Shouldn’t you have asked me that before you kissed me?”

Where to Buy: www.crimsonromance.com

Amazon

No tattoos

Or why my Marine Special Forces don't have tattoos despite my love of them on a man.

When I searched tattoos on special forces I found a military forum (you have to sign in to access it) that very specifically said:

There is a lot of misconceptions out there about this subject -mainly due to movies and television shows. Having a "Unit identifying Tattoo" is frowned upon and greatly discouraged at all levels of Special Operations....especially in SEAL and SF units. SEAL's and SF guys have tattoos -I see more and more tattoos on younger guys in the units -BUT not "Unit Identifying Tattoos".

Which makes a whole lot of sense! What if they're captures while undercover? If the guy has a tattoo then that cover is totally blown. No hiding the fact that you're special forces then.

#Excerpt: Improper Conduct

Callum looked up at the knock and motioned Jules in. She looked serious and the folder clenched in her hand, while thin, looked official. A conversation about their inappropriate eye-sex? She didn’t look that serious and really, he needed to stop hearing Iris’s voice in his head talking about getting the two of them—he and Jules, not he and Iris—together.

Hell, she’d somehow managed to have Carlos in on it, too.

Jules looked tired, but the fire in her hazel eyes steadied as she closed the door softly behind her. Probably not a conversation about them, then. Pity.

He didn’t know how to approach the conversation he wanted to have with her, but Callum knew he wanted to have it. Iris aside. A delicate matter, tiptoeing around sexual harassment of course, but he needed to know. Wanted to know. He knew interest when he saw it, and doubted Jules was the type to scream harassment when the feeling was mutual.

The question was: How far would she go to break the rules?

“I’m not quite sure how to approach this,” Jules began, sitting on the edge of the chair in front of his desk. “But I need to talk to you about something.”

 
Where to find: Amazon
Amazon UK
Amazon Canada

Barnes and Noble

All Romance eBooks

Kobo

Print

a Rafflecopter giveaway

#BookBlast Jacqui Morrison and her new release The Vigilante

About Jacqui:

I am Jacqui Morrison. I started writing poems and short stories as a child. I also enjoyed public speaking in elementary school and at University. In High School, a great teacher, Lenore Hawley, inspired me and in 1995 I pursued my life-long passion for writing.

 My career is a complicated web and includes: owning an ice cream parlour and fine food shop, teaching life-skills management to adults, teaching computer applications, social service work and marketing.

From 1994 to 2003, I assisted survivors of domestic violence in both criminal and family court as a support worker. I’ve always had a strong interest in law and justice.

I love to write and I am happiest writing or encouraging others to fulfill their writing dreams. I facilitate writing seminars for Canadore College and various agencies.

I live in northern Ontario, Canada with my daughter Alison, my husband Wayne, and a three-legged dog named Willow. Our daughter has convinced us to adopt four cats so Felix, Sasha, Nikke and Angel round out our family. Angel, at four-months-of-age was abandoned by its owner and we rescued her in -15 degree weather.

 

Alison has a future in politics, animal rescue work or sales … because I’m not really a cat person and she’s persuaded me to adopt four.

My parents are the late Drs John and Irene Morrison. Mom was a family physician and a competitive swimmer. My father worked for the Provincial Parole Board. Dad enjoyed to write fictional stories in his spare time. He was my mentor, my editor and my hero. I have one sister named Trish. She is a competitive swimming coach. Trish resides in southern Ontario with her husband, four children, two dogs and a cat.

In our spare time we like to cruise Georgian Bay on our boat or spend quality family time.

Website

Facebook

Jacqui will be awarding Loose Tea and Chipnuts to two randomly drawn commenters during this tour and the Virtual Reviews Tour combined.

Blurb:

It isn’t safe for men who work in the porn business in the city of Toronto.

When porn producer Sal Turbit is found dead in his apartment, no one seems to care. No one, that is, except Detective Lynette Wilton. Lynette has been a homicide detective for only three months, and has yet to earn her stripes.

Murder is murder no matter who the victim is—and Lynette is out to catch a killer. 

Could the killer be Wanda Chambers, a mentally ill woman who hates the “scumbags” who prey on the vulnerable? Wanda’s beloved sister, Cathy, was one such woman. Cathy became a porn actress and then took her own life when her sleazy manager/boyfriend, Gil Lee, wouldn’t let her go.

Lynette’s sergeant doesn’t think it’s possible. Wanda has a debilitating illness. But Lynette believes that Wanda’s hatred and harsh childhood make her a prime suspect, and she proves it by catching Wanda in the act of attempting to shoot Lee.

Renowned defense lawyer Maxine Swayman takes on Wanda’s case; Maxine has a different view of the accused. She wants to help Wanda get the help that she needs, and it’s not going to happen in a prison cell.

As the trial proceeds, will Maxine prevail and save Wanda, or will Lynette be able to tie Wanda to Turbit’s murder as well? 

"Morrison knows how to create suspense! She brings readers on a roller-coaster ride that leaves you breathless from start to finish!" —Trey Anthony, star and producer “Da Kink in Da Hair”

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

“Hey,” Sal said, “come on in. You’re right on time. Good to meet ya.” He left the visitor in the living room of his shabby apartment in a grungy, low-rent building, and slipped into the kitchen. The metallic pop of a beer bottle opening echoed in the other room. Then another.

Six empty beer bottles, a heaping ashtray, and assorted marijuana paraphernalia were already strewn across his table. The grandfather clock struck four times. Sal stumbled back into the room. “I got you a beer.”

Glassy-eyed, Sal said, “I’ve got lots of great products for you to move today.” He showed the visitor the cover of a DVD. “This one is new. It’ll sell out. She’s a real sweet thing. Told me she was eighteen ’n had the ID to prove it. Likely just some little tramp from nowhere-ville. Came to the big, bad city for excitement––”

The metal felt cool as the visitor pulled out a gun.

“What the hell?” Sal screamed, just before the bullet penetrated his skull.

He fell onto the sofa, blood oozing out the back of his head. His face was contorted, almost angry looking. Certainly surprised.

The spent cartridge from the handgun ricocheted against a metal garbage can––reminiscent of the pop of a beer cap––and then landed on the carpet.

The murderer studied the victim’s splayed body, feeling a sense of elation and satisfaction. Out came a Swiss Army knife, and the killer wordlessly hacked off a section of Sal’s hair, stuffed it into a small plastic bag, and then threw it into a knapsack. The killer then picked up the half-spilled beer that Sal had been handing over when the shot was fired. Perfect. Grinning, the murderer chugged the beer, retrieved the spent cartridge, and smugly looked at Sal Turbit’s still body, now surrounded by pooling blood.

Still wearing leather gloves, the murderer put the beer bottle and hot metal bullet charge into a knapsack and fled, smiling, into the dense night.