Wednesday, October 15, 2014


It's an honor today to present SHERI VELARDE (who also writes as KELLY RYAN) as a Guest Host. Her newest release LOOTED releases 10/18/14!!!

Well a big thank you to the lovely and very gracious Mia for letting me stop by today!! Thanks doll, you’re the best!

Today I thought I would write a little bit about writing and my biggest support of my writing, my wonderful fiancĂ© William. It has been a difficult year for me health, day job, and personally and I don’t know if I would have kept writing if not for him. Writing is a pretty demanding profession, one that takes a lot of time and commitment and does not always have a huge payback in the beginning. There’s a lot of rejection that often comes with writing and without a personal cheerleader or two in your corner, well it can be daunting to continue at time, especially when the rest of your life keeps trying to get in the way.

Well this past year has been one of those years where it really took outside cheering to keep me going, enter William. From the moment we started dating he was always very encouraging of my writing. As times began to get tough and my confidence began to wane, he was the first one there to tell me I was a good writer and not to give up. When family, a terrible day job, and more threatened to get in the way, he helped me figure out more time to write and always encouraged me to keep going.

When I had to change editors at one house and rejection seemed to be my fate, he told me to just dust myself off and submit elsewhere. He always tells me not to give up and to keep pursuing my dream. In fact one of his dreams is to be the one who works outside the home and to allow me to write and make art full time. That would be such a dream come true for me, but something that I had never verbalized, but as it turns out it is his dream for me too.

School and work life permitting, William has even become one of my beta readers. Looted, is the first story of mine that he ever beta read for me. I bounced most of the ideas off of him too during the writing process. He thought that combining my love of mythology with a modern day art heist mystery would be a great idea. I must say that I agree with him as Looted is one of my favorite stories to date and it is the first in the series Gods Behaving Badly. And to think I was about to stop writing if not for my own personal cheerleader pushing me to keep at it. I just hope every writer is as lucky as I am in their cheering departments!


 Sophia longs for the days when she was worshipped as a goddess and celebrated for her glory. Now she hides in plain sight and does what she must to keep the lifestyle she is accustomed. She has never been close to discovery until one New York City Detective, Bruce Stoker, enters the picture. Now all that she is and has done could come out into the open and destroy everything. She should disappear, but there is something different about this man that draws her to him.

Detective Bruce Stoker has never had an unsolved case, but there is something different about these art heists. Money is taken, but art is given to museums. Strange. If he can find the beautiful woman who seems to be the common link, then everything should be simple. That is what he thought at least until he met the gorgeous suspect in question.


Bruce sat in the lounge. Another night, another expensive bar. He didn’t think his NYPD salary would take much more of this side investigation, but he knew that he was on the right track. Now he just needed to find his mystery beauty, then the real investigation could begin. He had sent out feelers to every host of the finer bars, restaurants and hotels in town, hoping to find a woman to match the description he had. Needless to say there were a lot of gorgeous women in Manhattan and he had spent more time and money than he cared to think about chasing models and actresses.

This was his last tip and his wallet thanked him. If this didn’t pan out, well then back to the drawing board. The fellows back at the station were already making fun of him for searching for a “Model Ring of Thieves,” but they all also knew his hunches always paid off. Could this be the first time he was actually wrong?

Suddenly he felt a hot tingle running down his spine, something more than his “spidey sense” the guys joked about. This was a first. His entire being seemed to be heating up from the inside. It was not unpleasant, but it certainly left him feeling confused. He turned around and saw her walking into the lounge. He had seen the best-looking women Manhattan had to offer over the past few weeks, but none of them could compare to this creature. As he stared, she turned toward him and gave a start, a look of surprise quickly passing over her face before she resumed her beautiful perfection. This was the woman he had been searching for.


Sheri Velarde, who sometimes uses the pen name Kelly Ryan, lives in New Mexico and grew up with a fascination for all things that "go bump in the night", so it is no wonder that she turned to writing paranormal romance. In her spare time, she fancies herself a cryptozoologist and loves to paranormal related outings, searching for things that might not really exist. She is an avid exerciser and gets some of her best ideas while on runs. She also has a bit of a wild side, which only leads to inspiration for her writing.

Being an avid reader since an early age, she has wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. She has been writing all her life, but only recently started to actually try to pursue her dream of writing for a living.

She is constantly putting out new material, so it is best to keep up with her on her website.

Kelly/Sheri is a multi-published author; you can keep up to date with all things Kelly Ryan/Sheri Velarde at: or on Facebook at Sheri Velarde/Kelly Ryan.

Buy links:

Tuesday, October 14, 2014


THAT NIGHT, a short side story featuring the characters from 'Wedding Belle Blues' will release from Breathless Press on 11.14.14.

Friday, October 10, 2014


It's an honor to be a part of this COVER REVEAL. I've followed this story from its beginnings and can promise THIS Is the one you want to read for that delicious chill down your spine and mix of the creepy and the romantic. Yes, the two can indeed, coexist. And make you believe.

His Cemetery Doll

There's a woman in the graveyard.

Conall Mackay never put stock in ghost stories. Not even after thirteen years serving as the cemetery keeper in the village of Whitetail Knoll. But things change. Now, his daughter is dreaming of a figure among the tombstones. The grounds are overrun by dark thorns almost faster than Con can clear them. White fog and gray ribbons creep up on him in the night, and a voiceless beauty beckons him from the darkest corners of the graves.

When the world he knows starts to unravel, Conall might finally be forced to believe.


He hadn't slept long before he heard sounds from down in the kitchen below.
"Shyla!" he called gruffly. "Weren't you heading into town?"
No answer came from below, but the sounds of pots clanging told him his daughter toyed about down there. Perhaps she'd decided not to leave him after all and taken it into her head to now re-organize the house, since he'd so clearly wanted her to stay out of the cemetery. With a low groan, Conall rolled out of bed and stepped out into the hall.
"Shyla!" he called again, coming to the head of the stairs. If she had stayed home, she could at least do it without making a lot of noise.
"Shyla, I—"
He staggered then, as the hallway dimmed. Afternoon light flickered strangely, lightning cracking a dismal sky outside, and in the space of time afterward everything else darkened. Conall darted a glance around him as the house fell into shadow.
From the top of the stairwell, he saw the first whispering tendrils of white fog.
The heat of adrenaline shot through his limbs. Conall stumbled back into his bedroom, even as the fog pursued. His gaze shot to the window as the last gray light of day faded away and eerie darkness replaced it, like an eclipse sliding over the sun.
More cold mists veiled the glass, dancing and floating. Trembling overtook him as he spun to find another escape.
He froze, finding himself face-to-face with the broken mask of the cemetery doll.
"You—" he gasped. His breath came out white as the fog enveloped them both, leaving a space of mere inches between them, so he could still see her expressionless face. Gray ribbons wound and curled through the air around him.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The doll stared up at him. He sensed her searching, looking into his eyes even though hers remained covered. She held him there with her unseen gaze, until her cool, cold hand came up to touch his bare chest.
Conall let out a low breath. He closed his eyes, and a shudder of strange ease rippled through his body. The cool pads of her fingers ran down his sternum, to his navel. The silky ribbons brushed along his side.
Then he noticed her other hand. She lifted it up, to her own chest, and she held something tightly in her fingers: Shyla's stuffed dog.
"I made that...for my daughter," he whispered. The woman with the broken mask tilted her head down toward the small toy, studying it. For a fraction of a second, her fingers appeared to tighten around it. She returned her gaze to him, then, and the toy fell from her grip into the fog, forgotten.
"Wait—" he said, but she brought her other hand up to his chest to join the first, and he recognized eagerness in the way she pressed her icy skin against his. Her face tilted to him, and then came her lips again, ivory and flawless.
"I—" Conall breathed. "I...don't understand..."
Her fingers slid up, around his neck, but he pulled away.
"No, this...this can't real. I'm asleep. I must be."
Gray ribbons danced, pulling him back to her, and she stroked his face. He sucked in a breath at her touch and found his own hand coming up to brush hers.
"You're so cold," he said. "Like stone...but..."
Her cool touch thrilled him; it made his skin tingle and the heat of his own body sing. Her perfect flesh did, in fact, prove soft under his hands, as if the contact with his worn calluses infused cold ivory with yearning. She caressed his cheek, and Conall leaned into it. Before he could stop himself, he bowed his head to her and kissed her frozen lips.

Coming October 24th
From Breathless Press

Visit Brantwijn Serrah and Foreplay and Fangs Supernatural Romance:

Friday, October 3, 2014


Our Author of the Week is KIRSTEN S. BLACKETER, best selling historical Romance Author of the series The Shadow Guardians. Welcome Kirsten!!!


1. When did you first decide to become a writer? Why?

I never decided I wanted to be a writer. It was always in my blood. The drive to write has always been strong within me. I decided to dabble with creative writing when I was fifteen, but the decision to take my writing in a serious direction didn't hit me until I was twenty-five. I'd been to college, gotten married, and was living the dream as a stay at home mom of a two year old. I joined a local writer's group and my writing exploded, as did my realization that I needed to work on my craft. 

2. Do you find your unique life experiences add to or hinder your writing?

There are events from my life that have influenced my writing, yes. But predominantly my writing flows from a cavern deep within. A lonely place where my dreams, fantasies, and creativity mesh together. I know what I like as a reader, so I write those types of stories. Sometimes a tidbit of reality, an event from my life, makes its way into my stories, but most times those are nods to someone who deserves to be immortalized in my story. ;)

3. What is your most frightening experience? Would you use this in a story?

I haven't really had a truly frightening experience yet. Not one that I could deem paralyzing. But if I ever had one that made a distinct mark on me, then I would probably use some of the elements in a story. It gives the story more depth if you can accurately describe the pulse pounding fear in a way that makes the reader experience it as you did. Sometimes reality makes great writing fodder. 

4. What inspired your latest work?

I'm working on the third book in the Shadow Guardian's series. Angus was quite adamant he deserved to have his own story, so I oblige him.
I also wrote a short story which will turn into a series of novellas that took root after I played a Japanese dating simulation game on my iPad. A choose your own adventure romance kind of thing. The characters took shape in my mind, and I ran with them. They are darker and more dangerous than most of my previous heroes. 

5. Which media sites are your favorites? Why?
I’m addicted to Tumblr. It's a micro-blogging platform that focuses on visual rather than a ton of text. There's a variety of types of blogs that cater to whatever you enjoy. I've met some great people on that site and found some wonderful writing advice/inspiration there as well. 

6. How do you, as an author, handle promotion?
I'm a wallflower. I'd rather be in the background than in the spotlight. Promotion is hard for me. I don't like to brag or pimp myself. I hate to sound like I'm tooting my own horn. If someone else wants to do it because they think I'm a great writer, then that's awesome. Go for it! 

7. Who are your favorite writers and why?
I love Julia Quinn, Jo Beverley, Teresa Medeiros, and Tara Janzen. They all have unique ways of writing and distinct writer's voices. I'm not firmly locked into one specific I'll only read historical. I prefer to let the story speak to me through the blurb. Each of these authors has books that spoke to me, and in turn, I became a loyal reader. I'll pick up their books without reading the backs, because I love their work in general. 

8. If you could visit any period of time in history which would it be and why?
Oh man, that's a tough question. I'd love to see snippets of each time period, but I'd only like the trip to be temporary. I love my modern conveniences too much to give them up permanently. I've always been drawn to medieval, renaissance, and the Victorian eras. 

9. Is there a message you want readers to take from your novels?
Don't be afraid to follow your heart. While it may be the last thing you want to do, your heart sometimes knows the truth before your brain does. 

10. What is your favorite holiday?
I don't really have a favorite holiday. I'm drawn more to specific seasons than a specific holiday. I've always said I'm a non-traditionalist. I eat lasagna for Christmas and prime rib for Thanksgiving. Autumn is my favorite season though, if you were curious. I love the smells and the colors of the shifting season.

Author Bio:

Stick her in the middle of a chaotic home with two children, a hyperactive dog, and a camouflage wearing husband, and she can cook and clean with the best of them.  But when the sun goes down and the children are nestled in bed fast asleep, she tucks away her pots and broom and like Cinderella she transforms.
Her characters creep forth from the dark recesses of her mind taking their places in the castles and forests built from her words. No simpering heroines linger there with forlorn gazes turned to the horizon, waiting for their Prince Charming. They straighten their spine, arming themselves with blade and bow, prepared to do their part in defense of their honor and destiny. She breathes life into the women she believes our ancestors to be, showing how they lived and loved with passion and grace.
Never bored by the tales still left to tell, she battles the ever sarcastic muse in her quest for romance.

Blurb for An Irresistible Shadow:

Trust is more valuable than gold in a world where traitors conspire, and Lady Evelyn realizes that even shadows demand payment. 

Lady Evelyn Montgomery, only daughter of the Baron of Rayne, detests the thought of marriage. She will never allow a man to control her. Crushed by the constraints of propriety, she steals away from the safety of the keep and stumbles onto a plot designed to stir up trouble between England and Scotland. When a mysterious hooded man saves her, she fights her attraction to him as they join forces to hunt down a traitor and save her father. But can she save her heart? 
Gabriel is a Shadow Guardian. Hiding beneath his black cowl and blending into the night, he is sworn to protect the Baron's daughter. The spirited Lady Evelyn is far from the delicate flower he anticipated. She makes herself crystal clear, no man will possess her. Can he prove to her that love can be more than just possession? Or will the traitor they seek tear them apart forever?

Excerpt for An Irresistible Shadow:

Fear infused her body, Evelyn had been captured. The fear melted into anger. She thrashed in her captor's arms, twisting and kicking. His gloved hand tightened over her mouth and the other pinned her securely against his chest. 

"I mean you no harm," a velvet voice whispered in her ear. "I don't want to bind you, but I will." Evelyn's heel connected with the man's shin. He cursed. "Although you evidently mean to harm me." His voice was calm, suffused with amusement. He carried her to where their horses were tethered. 
Evelyn struggled to free herself, but he was much stronger. She was close enough to the keep to call for help, if he would only remove his hand from her mouth. He was all warm muscle against her back, a living, breathing stone wall. His breath caressed the fine hairs on her neck. When he stopped moving, she wedged her mouth open enough to fit her teeth around one of his fingers and bit down. Hard. 
"God's blood, woman! I'm trying to help you," he swore in his velvet whisper, then readjusted his hand over her mouth. 
So much for that idea. If she had to play along with the rogue, so be it. He held no weapon to her throat. Though his hold on her was firm, he did not cause her pain. His muscles flexed as he shifted her in his grasp. She was keenly aware of every part of him that touched her. Okay, so he had a weapon against her. Though she had yet to see his face, her body betrayed her with its reaction. Evelyn inhaled in an effort to regain her composure and breathed in his scent. It was fresh, earthy, and dangerously sinful. She groaned, embarrassed by her wicked thoughts. 
Her captor stilled, his breath quickening. "I will let you go," he murmured. "If you promise to behave." She nodded, relieved when he kept his word. 
Evelyn broke from his embrace and spun on him. "Who are you?" she hissed. "What do you want?" She scrutinized the shadowed man before her. He wore all black: boots, leggings, tunic, and cloak. The hood covering his head was positioned low purposefully to hide his face from scrutiny. 
The man proffered a sardonic bow, waving his arm with a flourish. "I am your humble servant, my lady." 
The humor in his voice made her wary of his intent. "How did you know I was here?" 
"I followed you," he answered. 
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Following her? The words of Sir Alexander echoed in her mind. She should have taken a guard. "Why did you not make your presence known?" 
"That would not have served my purpose, my lady," he replied as he leaned against a tree, melding into the shadows. Since he seemed more amused than disturbed by her questions, she asked another. 
"Why did you grab me?" she demanded, licking her dry lips. Formidable and mysterious, this man of the shadows aroused her curiosity. 
"Ensuring your safety. You're not as quiet as you think you are." 
Evelyn bristled. She was proud, unwilling to admit he was right. "Who do you think you are?" Her voice rose in pitch and fervor. "First, you follow me, then accost me, and finally insult me. You, sir, are playing a dangerous game. I should turn you over to the night watch." She poked him in the chest. "I don't need your help. I can take care of myself." Evelyn turned looking for her horse. 
"I can see that."

Buy Link:

A Shadow's Kiss (Book 2)