Monday, September 8, 2014

City of Toys by Lindy Hudis

City of Toys
by Lindy Hudis
What would you do to become famous in Hollywood? In City of Toys, four beautiful women confront that very question. It takes more than just looks to make it in Tinsel Town, as they soon discover. The city brings them together as roommates and the hunger of fame lures them into situations that they never expected.  Through a series of intertwined yet separate events, City of Toys takes us from the naive optimism of the girl’s hopes and dreams to the sordid Hollywood underworld. Relying on one another helps get them through the Hollywood maze but will their friendship be enough to save them?    
    Four beautiful women, each with their own demons driving them towards the fame and fortune they so desperately seek, come together in Hollywood, the land of shattered dreams and broken hearts. Marlo, the tough-talking, former child actress from New York, Rhonda, the small town beauty queen, Kim, the "nice Jewish girl" with a painful childhood, and Guyla, the "serious actress" with a debilitating, stress-induced illness, all meet and reside in the same apartment building deep in the heart of Hollywood.
Each of these fame-hungry women experiences one painful disaster after another from casting directors behaving in sexually inappropriate ways, to crazed stalkers and jealous, mentally deranged starlets hounding them. They begin to rely upon one another to get through the horrific maze called Hollywood. But when the pressure gets too much, will their friendship be enough to save them in the City Of Toys?

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Chapter 1

The morning sun sparkled high in the sky above Los Angeles, and the summer heat had not yet fully invaded the curious world known as Hollywood. A cool, coastal breeze drifted in from the Pacific Ocean, so the infamous L.A. smog was not going to permeate the atmosphere too severely. The traffic at the intersection of Franklin Avenue and La Brea was typical, bumper to bumper and road rage simmering from tempestuous drivers. But, it was made even worse today by the arrival of a large moving van in front of the building.
The Franklin Regency was a five-story dwelling that loomed on the southwest corner of the crossway, halfway between the sparkling wealth of the Hollywood Hills and the sordid madness that was Hollywood Boulevard.
Everywhere beautiful, young people with fabulous faces and perfect bodies -- every single one of them a struggling actor, model or something or other, trying to keep the bitterness at bay -- jogged, walked dogs, hurried to auditions and roller-bladed. While the homeless (and other un-lovely denizens of ‘paradise’ almost equal in number) who had long ago lost the spark of life, seemed to blend into the background, completely ignored and snubbed by the bronzed gods and goddesses scurrying to an audition for a laxative commercial.
Awe-filled and often-disappointed tourists took it all in, recording it on film and video for the folks back home, wherever that may be. In the bright, mirrored lobby of the Franklin Regency, however, all was cheerful and sanguine. Rhonda McNutt talked excitedly on a pay phone to her father back in Cordova, Tennessee. Rhonda was nineteen, beautiful, and in the process of moving into the Franklin Regency Apartments.
“Yes, poppa, the truck just got here.” She spoke into the receiver with her thick Southern drawl. Outside, the large van containing all of her worldly possessions had pulled up to the curb. Rhonda had driven out to Los Angeles the week before, and was still in shock that she was actually here. She looked vigilantly around the lobby, at the longhaired rocker guys covered with tattoos, the sexy, gorgeous blondes, and the older men who could not resist winking at her as they passed by. She knew she was in a whole new place, but that didn’t matter. She was in Hollywood, and she was determined to be an actress. I’m here, and I’m going to make it! I’m going to be a star!
“All right, poppa, I’ll call you as soon as the phone is turned on...I love you too, poppa. Bye.” She gently hung up the phone, and waited for Marina Edwards, the apartment manager. An older woman stepped out of the elevator, clad in a severe dark business suit, and walked purposefully towards the front door.
She turned and gaveRhonda a nasty look, then stepped outside, chatting deliberately into a cell phone. Rhonda sat on a pink plush couch and waited while the moving men began to unload her furniture. She stared up at the famous James Dean poster on the wall. ‘The Boulevard of Broken Dreams’ was the caption underneath. Not for me, Rhonda thought, my dreams of Hollywood stardom are going to come true. She had dreamt of being a movie star since she was five, and nothing was going to stand in the way of her goals. Finally, the elevator doors opened, and Marina stepped out, accompanied by a tall, beautiful redhead.
“I’m glad this place is centrally located, my agent says I need to get to my auditions quickly.” She told Marina curtly, glancing down at her watch.
“We’re just fifteen minutes from Burbank and Warner Brothers, and five minutes from Hollywood and Paramount.” Marina explained. The girl pursed her lips and gripped her designer handbag.
“Well, I’ll think about it. I live in Pasadena now, and my agent is on my case about being late to auditions all the time. Things are starting to happen for me, and my agent tells me that I need to be close to the studios,” she said a little too loudly, glancing over at Rhonda to make sure she overheard.
She thrust her hand out to Marina, who smiled. “I’ll call you.” The girl turned sharply on her heel and headed out the front door, not without sneaking a quick glimpse of Rhonda. She gave Rhonda an uppish glance, and darted out the door.
Marina.” Rhonda jumped up and cheerfully bounded over to her.
“Hey you! Come on in.” Marina unlocked the office door and the two of them ambled in. Marina was in her late thirties, blonde and beautiful, with very white teeth and an enormous smile. The two women had met a few days before, when Rhonda noticed the ‘Now Renting’ sign out front as she was driving around. Marina had leased her a single apartment on the first floor, and now it was time to go over little details. The moving men were placing Rhonda’s things in the lobby.
Apartment 122, right?” Marina smiled sweetly. She smelled of Noxzema and peppermint chewing gum.
Rhonda was so excited she could barely contain herself. My God, I’m really here!

Lindy S. Hudis is a graduate of New York University, where she studied drama at Tisch School of the Arts. She is the author of several titles, including her romance suspense novel, Weekends, her "Hollywood" story City of Toys, and her crime novel, Crashers. She is also the author of an erotic short story series, "The S&M Club" and "The Mile High Club". Her short film “The Lesson” was screened at the Seattle Underground Film Festival and Cine-Nights in 2000. She is also an actress, having appeared in the television daytime drama "Sunset Beach". She and her husband, Hollywood stuntman Stephen Hudis, have formed their own production company called Impact Motion Pictures, and have several projects and screenplays in development. She lives in California with her husband and two children.
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Monday, August 4, 2014

Mercy Killing by Kathryn Johnson

Mercy Killing
By Kathryn Johnson

            Artist and Washington, D.C. socialite Mercy O'Brien Davis married for love and gave up a promising job as a Smithsonian curator to support her husband's diplomatic career. But while accompanying him to Mexico City, she learns  her famous photo-journalist mother has disappeared without a trace in Ukraine. Desperate to find her, Mercy runs afoul of the U. S. State Department and stumbles into a maze of lies, crime, and international intrigue. When she appeals to her husband for help in locating her mother, he is strangely reluctant. With her marriage already on shaky ground in the aftermath of her husband's infidelity, and the U.S. government ignoring her entreaties on her mother's behalf, Mercy accepts help from a mysterious American agent who enlists her to spy on sexy cattle baron Sebastian Hidalgo, suspected of heading a Mexican crime cartel. Hidalgo is determined to keep her from discovering his darkest secrets, even as he lusts for her.  Manipulated by the men in her life, and their hidden agendas, Mercy wonders if there's anyone she can trust, and what price she will have to pay for her mother's safe return.

Mercy Killing--Excerpt #1
A yellow torch beam flashed across the front of the house. Mercy huddled in the shadow cast by the platform beneath her. The guard muttered that it was probably nothing more than a bat flying into the side of the house. The men returned to their posts. Mercy squeezed her eyes shut in relief. She breathed, letting her runaway pulse slow. The next jump she got almost right. Banging her ribs again but stifling her cry of pain. However, her final leap was worthy of Olympic gold. All right! But before she tried the door she checked for alarm wires, triggers, or infra-red beams. Seeing none, she carefully turned the knob. The door eased open. No lock. No screaming alarms. Nothing. She was in. While passing Sebastian’s office before he'd left that day, she’d glanced through the open doorway and quickly memorized the placement of furniture. She was confident she could negotiate the room without bumping into things in the dark. Standing with her back to the now-closed balcony door, Mercy let her gaze drift across the black space before her. She could see nothing other than vague shapes but recalled the layout of the room and its contents. Vertical files along the left wall. Three oil paintings hanging over them in a row. A huge ebony desk had occupied the center of the room, facing the door. Lamps, two visitors’ chairs, a tall 18th-century armoire she’d need to investigate as a possible hiding place for files and correspondence. Wet bar along the right wall. Nearest to the door would be the couch and coffee table. She took a cautious step toward the center of the room. One of the shapes moved. Startled, Mercy froze and sucked in air. Was it an illusion? Her heartbeat—bang, bang, bang in her ears—like gunshots. Her mouth, sand dry. She waited, talking to herself: You’re the only one here. Stop imagining things. She felt like a rabbit caught away from its warren, instinct messaging its bunny brain—Don’t move and the fox won’t see you! The sharp scratch of a match strike broke the silence. A whiff of sulphur, followed by a wavering yellow flame. Mercy stared at it, mesmerized, breath held. The flame moved downward, its faint glow revealing a pillar candle set on one corner of the desk. One. . .two. . .three wicks were lit, revealing the room in a dim amber glow. “You waited much longer than I'd expected.” His voice.

Mercy Killing--Excerpt #2
Reaching out she laced her fingers through his and brought his hand into her lap. Mercy smiled. “The ultimate bad boy, huh?” The simple intimacy of their holding hands set his pulse thrumming. A deep longing and intense need to draw her into his arms, to touch her, everywhere, filled him. He reminded himself that she was married. And that all of the things he was feeling for her were wrong and could go no further. “Will your husband be worried about you?” “I don’t know. Maybe.” She avoided his eyes. “Do you love him?” She seemed unsettled by the question. “I did at one time. I’m not so sure now.” She swallowed and blinked up at the brightening sky of morning. Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t think so. Not anymore.” His heart soared. “Did you love Maria’s mother?” she whispered. “Si. Very much.” “But you have had other lovers. Many, if I'm to believe the gossip. Or is that also part of your charade?” She slanted him an unexpectedly coy look from beneath long, lowered eyelashes, and he went steamy inside. Sebastian shook his head. “Never while we were together. After my wife died—it took a while. Quite a long while, actually. Then, one day, I started noticing women again. No one has held my interest for very long. I saw no reason to take a lover seriously.” Mercy nodded and bit down on her bottom lip, making it look as if she were pouting although he was sure she was just thinking very hard. He suddenly was convinced he'd never take another breath if she stood up and walked away from him. He wanted her. Now! Here! Under the stars and with a desperation he could taste.

Kathryn Johnson (aka Mary Hart Perry), author of over 40 published novels, teaches in Washington, DC for the renowned The Writer's Center, and is a popular speaker at many conferences and venues including The Smithsonian Associates programs and the Library of Congress. CEO of Write by You, a writer's mentoring service, she's an Agatha Christy Award nominee, winner of the Heart of Excellence and Bookseller's Best Awards. Recent novels include Victorian thrillers featuring Queen Victoria's daughters. Kathryn's new contemporary Romantic-Suspense series, AFFAIRS OF STATE, launches the first two titles in 2014. She is Vice-President of the Mystery Writers of America, Mid-Atlantic chapter, a member of the Author's Guild, Romance Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, Novelists Inc, and the Historical Novel Society.


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Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Crashers by Lindy Hudis

It may not be armed robbery, but the illegal business of fraudulent car accidents is a multi-million dollar racket, involving unscrupulous medical providers, personal injury attorneys, and the cooperating passengers involved in the accidents and who also receive a portion of the illegal proceeds.
What makes good people turn to crime—any type of crime? Newly engaged, Nathan and Shari are blissfully happy—but their joy is tempered by the dark cloud of mounting debt. They know it’s just a matter of time until an avalanche of bills buries them—and their future along with it.
A chance encounter with a stranger in whom Shari confides her troubles, proves fortuitous: he tells her of a get-rich-quick scheme that will put her and her fiancĂ© on easy street. Seduced by the chance to move from hard times to good times in no time, she takes the carrot offered her, and finds herself acting as a “stuffed passenger”—the “victim” in a staged auto accident. The act goes according to plan and Shari gets her payday. She goes back for more—again and again, eventually becoming trapped in a dark and dangerous underworld, dragging her fiancĂ© with her. Getting out and breaking free will take nothing short of a miracle.
A modern day cautionary tale, Crashers is a fascinating study in the derailing of a young couple’s moral compass.

Chapter 1 For KXXX TV and KXXX AM Radio News, this is Katie Carlson with your mid-morning eye-in-the-sky traffic report, and it’s an easy one: It’s messed up EVERYWHERE! So far, the 405 South is backed up all the way to the 101. So, if you are going into Hollywood this morning, you are going to be late for that audition. Also, there is an injury crash on the Eastbound 10. So, if you are heading into downtown LA, you might want to bring a magazine or get some knitting done. If you are going to LAX, forget it, call mom back east and tell her you will be driving out instead. Just Kidding! Any way, this is Katie Carlson with the Los Angeles mid-morning traffic report. Enjoy your commute everybody, NOT! * * * As the blare of the clock radio on the night table jolted her awake, Shari Barnes rubbed her eyes, blew her long brown hair out of her face, and snuggled into Nathan Townsend’s chest. She curled her body around his middle and took a deep whiff of his salty, masculine neck. But she couldn’t ignore the voice on the radio. “Monday morning traffic,” she sighed. Nathan matched the sigh and put his arms around her. “At least you don’t have to drive over the hill.” “Yeah, I would just die if I had to drive into Beverly Hills every day to work in a beautiful office.” Shari giggled and disappeared under their thick blue comforter for a few more moments of sleepy-headed bliss. She felt Nathan stretch up, and a moment later the radio shut off. Then he slid down next to her in the single bed they shared in their Studio City apartment, a few blocks north of Ventura Boulevard. The constant drone and rumble of another L.A. morning came clearly through the open window: cars honking, rock music blaring, the frantic scurrying sounds of the film shoot a few blocks away. Shari ran her bare feet up the inside of Nathan’s thigh. He jumped. “Shit, your feet are cold.” He pushed her legs off of him. “What time is it?” she murmured between kisses. “Um, seven.” He nuzzled her neck and she felt him becoming erect against her. “No time for that!” She threw off the covers. “Gotta be at work on time for once; gotta get my asp out of bed.” “There’s a snake in the bed?” Nathan grabbed her with both hands and gave her belly gentle nips. “Yeah, of the one-eyed variety.” Shari leaped to the floor and padded naked into the bathroom. She turned the hot water in the shower to high and stepped in, filling the small bathroom with steam. She had just poured a green drop of shampoo into her palm and was running her hands together when the flimsy yellow and white shower curtain flew back and Nathan grinned in at her. She smiled back, surprised by neither his arrival nor the partial hard-on that preceded him. “Mind if we join you?” he asked. “There’s enough shampoo for everybody,” Shari said as she rubbed her hands across her scalp. He stepped into the stall, pulled the curtain closed and began to lather her hair for her. She put her hands on his back, feeling the taut muscles and the water streaming there, but did not reach down between them. It took him about five seconds to realize it and hold her away. “You okay?” “Fine….” “Don’t lie; I can always tell when you have something on your mind.” “You know me better than I know me,” she said. “You know it.” He pushed her wet hair over her shoulders. “Come on, give.” “I was thinking maybe I should get a second job.” “You’re worrying about money again?” “Well, I have to shoot my student thesis film this year or I won’t graduate. But where am I going to get the money I need?” “How much do you need?” “At least five figures.”

Lindy S. Hudis is a graduate of New York University, where she studied drama at Tisch School of the Arts. She is the author of several titles, including her romance suspense novel, Weekends, her "Hollywood" story City of Toys, and her crime novel, Crashers. She is also the author of an erotic short story series, "The S&M Club" and "The Mile High Club". Her short film “The Lesson” was screened at the Seattle Underground Film Festival and Cine-Nights in 2000. She is also an actress, having appeared in the television daytime drama "Sunset Beach". She and her husband, Hollywood stuntman Stephen Hudis, have formed their own production company called Impact Motion Pictures, and have several projects and screenplays in development. She lives in California with her husband and two children.



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Monday, July 28, 2014

How We Deal With Gravity By Ginger Scott

How We Deal With Gravity
by Ginger Scott
When her son Max was diagnosed with autism, Avery Abbot’s life changed forever. Her husband left, and her own dreams became a distant fantasy—always second to fighting never-ending battles to make sure Max was given opportunity, love and respect. Finding someone to fight along her side wasn’t even on her list, and she’d come to terms with the fact that she could never be her own priority again.

But a familiar face walking into her life in the form of 25-year-old Mason Street had Avery’s heart waging a war within. Mason was a failure. When he left his hometown five years ago, he was never coming back—it was only a matter of time before his records hit the billboard charts. Women, booze and rock-n-roll—that was it for him. But it seemed fate had a different plan in mind, and with a dropped record contract, little money and nowhere to go, Mason turned to the only family that ever made him feel home—the Abbots.

Avery loved Mason silently for years—until he broke her heart…completely. But time and life have a funny way of changing people, and sometimes second chances are there for a reason. Could this one save them both?

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Excerpts from ‘How We Deal With Gravity’ Mason’s first conversation with Ray about Max’s autism:
“You heading to therapy this morning?” Ray asks over his shoulder, stopping Avery just before she starts up the stairs. She just nods yes and gives her dad a wink. I wait until she’s out of earshot before I ask Ray. “What’s Avery in therapy for?” I’m so damned curious, and suddenly all I want to do is spend my day gathering facts and putting together Avery’s puzzle. “It’s not for her. It’s for Max,” he says, running a washcloth under the water and turning to wipe down the table. I grab a dry towel and follow after him. “Oh. I get it,” I swallow. I’m dying to know what’s wrong with Max, but I feel like nobody wants to come right out and tell me. Unable to stand it any longer, I finally break. “What’s wrong with him? Max? I mean…what does he go to therapy for?” My words are jumbled, and on instinct I brace myself for Ray to knock my teeth out. Last time I talked about Max I got slapped—hard! Ray pauses at my question, refolding the washcloth a few times on the table before knocking his fist on the wood lightly. When he looks up at me, his lips are tight—serious. “Max is an amazing kid,” Ray starts, his smile full of conflict—pride and sorrow. “Avery…she lives her life for that boy. He’s her center, her sun and moon all rolled into one.” “Yeah, I get that. It’s plain to see,” I say, trying to show my respect. I’ve only witnessed a little, but Avery has my vote for mother of the year the way she defends Max. My jaw hurts just from memory. Ray finishes wiping down the table, chewing at his top lip and nodding, like he’s working out what to say in his head before he fills me in. He pulls out a chair finally and leans back, folding his arms across his body, not really looking at me, but more looking beyond me, before finally coming back to meet my eyes. “Mason, Max has autism,” he says. I nod like I understand, and I try my best to match the face he’s making, but I have no idea what the fuck autism really means. I know the word, sure. And I’ve heard about it. But I don’t know if it’s something in your brain or if it’s something that happens over time. Isn’t it, like, mental retardation? “Oh, okay. I…I didn’t know. I’m sorry. How…how do you fix that?” I ask, raising a brow, wishing like hell I understood more than I do. “You don’t, Mason. You don’t,” Ray says, and I can tell by the crack in his voice that this—Avery’s life with Max, Max himself—is what real-life problems look like.
Mason plays a song for Avery:
  The whistles still get to me, and I can’t help the embarrassed smile on my face. I climb up and take the stool at the front of the stage while tonight’s crowd screams for me. It’s just the stool and a mic—that’s how I wanted it tonight. And even though it’s a crowd for Dusty’s—probably 150 people—it’s small compared to some of the places I’ve been playing. “Hey there,” I say, my voice echoing a little, and more whistles coming back up in response. I laugh lightly, my cheeks hurting from the embarrassed smile filling my face. The people here have always been so good to me. It used to be the adoration that got me off—the girls thought I was sexy, the guys thought I was man enough to not want to kick my ass in the parking lot after the show. But coming back—playing here tonight—has my eyes wide open. These people don’t love me because I’m some hotshot musician. They don’t care that I have some stupid ounce of talent that sets me apart from them. They love me because I’m theirs—because this is home, and I’m family. The feeling that sinks into my chest is strange, but it’s good. “First off. Thanks, Ray, for letting me hang out up here tonight,” I say, nodding my head to the edge of the stage where Ray’s still standing. Once Ray gets a few whistles, though, he stands up and heads back behind the bar where he feels more at home. “So, I’ve got a few favorites I’d like to play for you guys tonight. Nothing new, just some songs that have always been kind of a big deal to me, if that’s okay?” I ask, hearing a few more squeals from some of the girls in the audience. Normally, I’d scan the crowd, zeroing in on exactly where those screams are coming from to decide which girl—or two—I’d be talking into coming back to the hotel room with me. But my gaze doesn’t stray an inch tonight. I saw Avery the second I took the stage, and I can’t seem to look away. She’s floating from table to table, her hair piled on top of her head with a few lone strands kissing her neck. She’s keeping her back to me. And something tells me it’s on purpose. I was planning on starting out simple, to get my chops warm. But I’m man enough to admit that Avery’s part of the reason I’m doing this in the first place, and if she’s not willing to look at me, I’m willing to work for it. “This first one is a song I never thought I got quite right. But a good friend…well…she told me otherwise. She’s pretty stubborn,” I laugh lightly as I set the song up, my insides just begging Avery to turn around. I can see her back at the bar, and she’s alone. I know she’s just listening, waiting to see if I’m going to do what she thinks I’m going to do. “This one’s ‘Wild Horses’.” When her tray falls, my heart speeds up. I know I’m in trouble. But I’ve been in trouble before. I love trouble. So I start to play, and when I sing, I keep my eyes on her the entire time, just waiting for the moment she turns around. She never does. But she doesn’t move from her spot, either, and I think maybe she’s in trouble, too.
Avery fighting her attraction to Mason:
  He’s watching me over his phone. I can see his eyes move to me every so often, and I just smile and continue on with my work. His attention scares the hell out of me, because I know how quickly it can latch on to someone else. But for now, I give myself this little moment. Right now, slightly drunk, Mason Street finds me pretty enough to flirt with, and damn it, I am. “Do you ever just stop?” Mason asks, pushing his phone back into his pocket and dropping his feet to the ground. He leans forward on his elbows, looking at me across the table. His arms flex slightly, and I can’t help but shift my gaze to his bicep and the tattoo. “What’s with the tiger?” I ask, changing the subject entirely. “He was a makeup tattoo. Covering up something stupid I got when I was drunk once in Vegas. You didn’t answer my question.” He moves over a seat, so he’s closer to me, and I shift my tray to my other hip, just to add a barrier. He notices, and his lip curls up on the side in a devious grin. “I know. I’m avoiding it,” I say back. He’s not going to charm me—this girl can dish it, and take it. He sits back in his chair, and folds his arms now, propping a foot back up along the side of the table. He’s chewing at the inside of his cheek, and I’m just waiting for him to come back with a second round. I keep loading up my tray, and when it’s full, I turn to leave. I’m almost free when Mason catches up to me and walks me to the bar. “I probably should have asked that differently,” he says, pulling the tray from my hands and putting the dirties in the bin before handing it back to me. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Avery. Not a girl in her twenties, anyways. You just go and go and go. And I was just thinking, you never take time to just stop—and to just be.” I’m sure the face I’m making back at him isn’t flattering, but really…that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. How can I just be? “You know what kind of girl does that?” I say, moving in a little closer just so Mason knows he doesn’t intimidate me. “A vapid one, without a kid, and who is planning a beach-house getaway with her girlfriends. That girl is a fairytale, Mason. Make-believe. Us realwomen? We have responsibilities—and we put other people first. Because it’s the right thing to do. So no—no, I don’t just ever…stop. Too much depends on me going.” I can actually feel my hands shaking I’m so flustered by this conversation. All I want to do is smash my tray in his face and race off to the locker area to lie down and breathe. But I can’t. I can’t, because somewhere in the midst of my rant, Mason grabbed my hand with his, and now all I can freaking focus on is the feeling of his thumb lightly grazing my fingers and how much it makes me want to burst into tears. “One drink, right before close. That’s all I’m asking,” Mason says, his eyes boring into mine like lasers. “I’m not saying pick up and go backpacking across Europe. I’m just asking you to take a break, for once in your life. Have a beer with the guys and me while Ray closes up. We’ll shoot some pool, or throw some darts. Twenty minutes, and then you can go back to living for everyone else.” Mason’s hand is still on mine, and my brain is tangled from the many emotions being mixed like a blender inside my chest. Whatever the cause, I nod yes slowly, and slide my hand from his.

Ginger Scott is a writer and journalist from Peoria, Arizona. Her new adult romance, "How We Deal With Gravity," centers on a young, single mother of a child with autism and her chance at love with a familiar face from her past. 'Gravity' releases July 8.

Scott is also the author of "Waiting on the Sidelines," a coming-of-age love story that explores the real heartbreak we all feel as we become adults throughout our high school years. The story follows two characters, Nolan (a Tomboy with a baseball player's name) and Reed (the quarterback she wishes would notice her) as they struggle with peer-pressure, underage drinking, bullying and finding a balance between what your heart wants and what society says you should want—even if you aren't ready. You can read it, and the sequel, "Going Long," now on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other e-book outlets.She is also the author of "Blindness," and the soon-to-be-released new-adult romance "This Is Falling."
Scott has been writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for more than 15 years. She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists, cowboys, criminals and towns. She throws a ball better than most boys, can put together one hell of a fantasy baseball team, and has been known to be nocturnal. When she’s not typing away on her MacBook or hiding under the covers with her iPad, she’s likely to be found near a baseball diamond watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper. She is married to her college sweetheart, whom she met in history class at ASU—fork’em Devils! For more on her and her work, visit her website at
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Friday, July 25, 2014


By VA Dold
NOTE: Complete novel. No cliffhanger. Dual POV. Rated 18+ for language and strong sexual content. 

Four years of honorably serving his country has left Simon, Cade’s younger brother, damaged and trapped in wolf form. Little did he know the only person with the ability to heal him completely would be found at home. Literally. Now that he’s found her, he is desperate to claim her. 

Rose is a beautiful, voluptuous woman with limited experience with men. Although she's confident, she still has reservations. Never having a family of her own, her fear of abandonment has her fleeing romantic relationships, and doubting herself. 

Travis is insane. A deadly loose cannon that a secret organization hired to destroy the Le Beau family by denying them their mates. Permanently. 

Simon’s dream will be lost forever unless he is able to maintain human form. 
Rose needs unconditional love and a mate to create the family she’s always wanted. 
Travis’s all-consuming drive is to take Rose for himself. 
Will Simon ever be whole again, able to claim his mate, giving Rose the love and family she so desperately craves? Or will Travis destroy them both?


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V.A.Dold is the bestselling author of the Le Beau Brothers series, New Orleans wolf shifter novels. A graduate of Saint Cloud University, she majored in marketing. Prior to becoming a full time writer, she was a publicist to the authors, owning Innovative Online Book Tours and ARC Author & Reader Con's (ARC NOLA) (ARC Phoenix). Still is. The companies mesh so well together, much like PB&J.
Her idea of absolute heaven is a day in the French Quarter filled with nothing but her computer, her coffee mug and the Brothers, of course.
A Minnesota native with her heart lost to Louisiana, she has a penchant for titillating tales featuring sexy men and strong women. When she's not writing, she's probably taking in a movie, reading or traveling.
Her earliest reading memories are from grade school. She had a major fixation with horses, and the Black Stallion was a favorite. Then junior high came along and teenage hormones kicked in. It became all about the Harlequin Romances. She has been hooked on romances ever since.