TIMELESS Release Day

Today is pretty much like this for me:

All to bring magic to readers like you.

That's right, TIMELESS is out today! The series is complete.

Wow.

The Maiden of Time Series:

The romance of Jane Eyre meets Supernatural.

In a world where people can heal with a touch, kill with a scream, and rob a person of their memories, Alexia is struggling to find her place and learn her gifts--before the Soulless come for her.

BUY

on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or get signed print copies from yours truly!

Today I'm inviting you to join me on tour for fun, prizes, epic cheese.

Oh, and I should mention that

MOONLESS is free on Amazon

today through the 5th to celebrate.

Tour stops:

Bookworm Brandee: Meet Your Doppelganger Quiz

Shooting Stars Reviews: A Super Awesome Book Excerpt

TF Walsh: Editing tips: How to Rescue Your Sagging Middle 

(Email address is required for awarding prizes.)

So what are you waiting for? Go round up some cheese.

Are you celebrating anything AMAZING today?

A Giveaway and Cover Reveal

I am bouncing up and down. My awesome blogging buddy and Choose Your Own Adventure cohort, Kerri Cuevas, is this |<-->| close to her book release, and I, for one, can't wait. Today I've got the honor of unveiling...

DRUM ROLL

...her cover!

Oh my goodness, isn't it gorgeous? And if you think that's good, check out the book summary:

Aiden Grant is seventeen, has a killer kiss, and a boss who used to be President, back in the old days. You see, Aiden is a grim reaper and his kiss welcomes the newly dead. But Aiden’s pleasant grim reaper lifestyle is in jeopardy. And it’s not only because Honest Abe keeps throwing out history lessons with reaping assignments, just to confuse him. It’s because Aiden’s next assignment is to reap the soul of Bee, the only girl he has ever loved.

When Aiden’s kiss of death fails, intertwining their souls, Bee is still very much alive and they are both in trouble. The ancients want Bee, who has special powers of her own, and they’ll do anything to get her.

Some rules are meant to be broken—even if that means Aiden must bargain with his own soul to save Bee. Who knew the afterlife could get so complicated?

The book releases March 5, 2013. You can pre-order it now on Amazon here, and be sure to check out Kerri's Author page on face book and her Goodreads page.

BUT WAIT, there's more! Kerri will be giving away one ebook to the lucky winner. To join in, spread the word and sign up below!



a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Anywhere's 4: The Book

http://mosshead.deviantart.com/art/Elmhurst-27875755?q=boost:popular+suburban+street+night&qo=160

Kaitlyn stood on the darkening curb, framed by a box of light from a window, clinging to her ancient treasure, mammoth backpack threatening to tip her onto her backside.

Biology study group. She hated Biology. Especially the study group. How many times a week could she stand to be laughed at for mistaking chloroplast for chloroform, or mitosis with osmosis?  No matter how she dedicated herself, the ideas wouldn’t stick and her private school chums were ruthless.

“Stupid biology.”

Her focus at piano lessons earlier had been abysmal. Karate was no different, and she had the bruises to prove it—not that she didn’t always take a pounding in Karate. She’d earned “Kamikaze Kaitlyn”, or Kamikaze for short, or Kami (which really bothered her because of the political connotations, comi for communist). ‘Steer clear of the Kami!’ they’d whisper when she entered the room.

“Stupid Karate.”

The window shades dropped, leaving her in shadow. That chipper little house promised a full night’s humiliation. Unless…

She slid the invitation out of her new-old book. Decorative parchment made her fingers tingle. A special symposium, rare artistic opportunity at her favorite place on the planet…

Her phone read 8:25 pm. If she hopped back on the bus she could be there with five minutes to spare—

But then, what about Mr. Strange?

The backpack finally won, pulling her onto her rump.

“Stupid gravity.” She set the invitation aside, sliding her backpack off sore shoulders.

Instant light smacked her in the face. She raised an arm to shield herself, peering around it at the circle of radiance, a headlight. The car sat parked on the curb not ten feet away, but no one started it. It just sat there, blinding her.

Paranoia clenched her throat. A hundred stories about stalkers and kidnapping raced, unwelcomed, through her mind. Strange cars, watchers in the darkness, and an abandoned street…

Snatching up her invitation, she leapt to her feet, racing blindly for the stairs of her dreaded biology inquisition.

Smack. She landed again on her rear.

Black leather boots stood over her, leading up to denim jeans, a black T, fitted leather jacket, crossed arms, and black hair with vibrant red streaks.

The woman, probably only five or six years older than herself, smirked. “Hello Kaitlyn.”

She frowned. “How does everyone know my name? Who are you?”

“You’re wanted at a convention tonight.”

She blinked out her astonishment. “Did Mr. Strange send you?”

“I’m here to escort you.”

“You mean kidnap me?”

The woman laughed. “You have the book. That’s a good thing, but don’t think it’s going to protect you. You have absolutely no idea what’s at stake tonight.”

Kaitlyn swallowed. “Who sent you?”

“Come on, get up. We have to get moving.”

She shook her head. “I-I have to go to biology-”

“There are very few things you have to do Kaitlyn Strom.” The woman offered a hand. “Coming with me is one of them.”

Climbing to her feet, Kaitlyn clasped the book closer.

“You have the key too?” her kidnapper inquired.

She nodded.

“I’m Rose.” Throwing the chevy door open, she pointed at the seat. “And this is your chariot, oh child of paper.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“I’m not the bad guy,” Rose promised.

“There’s a bad guy?”

“Get in.”

Kaitlyn hesitated.

“Or I can force you.” The mischievous smile was enough to convince her to obey. She landed on a black padded seat, clinging still to her book, door snapping shut.

Rose pulled away from the curb, examining the rear view mirrors carefully. “I work with an association of agents, talented ones like you.”

“I’m not talented.”

“Then you don’t know yet? It will happen, and soon. I’m betting tonight.” Rose turned onto a main street. “At any rate, I’m not like you, but I know what you can do. Pretty crazy stuff.”

Reaching into her pocket, Kaitlyn realized her cell phone waited back on the curb somewhere. So much for calling 911. She was at the mercy of psycho lady.

“Have you even cracked that book yet?” Rose asked.

Only to read the inscription on the inner cover. Loosening her hold, she stared at the worn cover.

Dad disappeared after reading it. This was the only clue she had to his sudden departure, and although she was dying to search for leads, half of her feared she would find one. Half of her feared she wouldn’t. Truth is, the superstitious side of her warned that danger waited in these aged pages—which was ridiculous, of course.

Her fingers brushed over the old leather, shivers running up her arms. She brushed at the goosebumps. Whispers tickled across her mind.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?” Rose watched the road intently.

No. She must have imagined it.

“What are you afraid of Kaitlyn Strom? It’s just a book.”

What was she afraid of? She flipped the tome open, landing on a page with a wood-engraving print. A man stood on the prow of a fishing boat, spear raised, helmet gleaming against a stormy sea. Behind him sat another man, balancing the vessel, face half enshadowed by a hat.

She squinted closer. His eyes turned to her.

“Dad!” she gasped.

The Anywhere's 2: Disappearance

The delivery wasn’t what she expected.

Kaitlyn dropped the box, spilling packing peanuts all over the front entry. Dropping to one knee she carefully pulled out a bundle of bubble wrap.

“Oh my gosh!” Peeling back the protective layers, she found cracked leather and ancient paper. “Mom?”

No response. After so kindly pointing out the package, her parent had disappeared into the kitchen, and was undoubtedly sampling her “cooking” wine while Kaitlyn’s back was turned.

“It’s worth a fortune,” she mumbled, transported to utter bliss by the eighteenth century stamp-press ink. Most fifteen-year-olds wouldn’t know or care what this was, but Kaitlyn had been dying to own an early US edition of the poems of Ossian—ever since her father read one to her, right before he disappeared. Original full marbled sheep; spine with simple gilt rules and with a red lettering piece, gilt… Oh she could die this instant happy!

But this couldn’t be the very copy he read to her?

Carefully turning back the cover, she gasped. Old fountain ink pen read, “To my dearest Charles”.

It was the same! The very same! The rarest book in his collection, the one that disappeared around the same time he did, a final puzzle piece the cops never tracked down.

No return label on the box.

She scowled at the package, dying to know as she hadn’t in ten years what happened to her father, and why he simply vanished from the face of the earth.

“You’re going to be late,” Mom reminded from the kitchen.

Late? Right!

Off to piano, then Karate, then Biology study group. She groaned and kicked the box aside, throwing her life-sustaining backpack over both shoulders, and cradling this new jewel. She stepped out.

“See you at nine, Mom. Ahhh!” She tripped through the door of her New York-style townhouse, somersaulting down five steps, and landing with a whomp on her stomach.

“Ugh.” How many people saw that one? Ballet the last seven years hadn’t been enough to graceful-ize her, but maybe, just maybe Karate would? Mom might have actually come to the rescue after that crash if she wasn’t so used to Kaitlyn.

At the top of the steps, a hose stretched from the adjoining townhouse’s railing to hers.

There could only be one explanation: Brett Michals, neighbor and annoyance extraordinaire. Grr. She still couldn’t believe Mom had the audacity to suggest he liked her—that his constant pranks were a sign of affection. Dumb boys.

“All else fails, look first,” she grumbled, newly acquired treasure still clasped safely in her arms. Her Karate uniform and carefully packed dinner sprawled across the sidewalk. A ruby apple rolled to a stop at a glistening black dress shoe.

She looked up, then up some more.

“Can I help you young one?” The mutant-ly tall man offered a hand.

“Are you from England?”

He reminded her of a reaper, drawn, gray, aged as he began gathering up her things. “Perhaps once upon a time, Kaitlyn Strom. Where are you from?”

He really shouldn’t know her name. Did she do something dorky like wear a name tag today? Nope. No name tag. Oh wait, Karate uniform. Yup. Purple permanent marker and her forever label.

“Who are you?” She got to her feet, pulling wild brown curls out of her eyes.

“Oh, no One.” His attention turned to the still open door, and the brown package.

Okay, Mr. Strange, she thought. “You here to see my mom?”

“Hm? No. Are you a collector?” He pointed to her book.

“Maybe.”

“In that case, there is a special symposium at the Museum of Art tonight. Rare artistic opportunity, invitation only.”

“Well see, I don’t have an invitation.”

“Then you are in luck.” He offered an off-white envelope.

Don’t take gifts from strangers! her head screamed, but she couldn’t refuse the crimson wax seal and high quality parchment.

“Nine sharp.” He smiled.

“But the museum closes at 8.” And she would know. She went twice a week if she could manage.

“Special events require special treatment.”

Pulling the ineffective clip out of her hair, she lifted the seal without cracking it. A glimmer of light dropped to the pavement.

“What the…” A key no larger than the tip of her pinkie blinked up at her. “Um, mister-”

He was gone. Just like that, gone. Weird.

The tiny key gleamed up at her. Numbers were engraved across the top: 0097. Some kind of locker key?