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Welcome to the Wednesday Coffee Chat!

My guest today is Voss Foster, who is answering questions about his multi-genre writing.

How do you take your coffee, Voss?

2 sugars, 5 creams.

Ally:  Hmm. Maybe a little coffee with that? Okay, sorry, probably not funny except to us coffee hardcores who drink it black. :) I'll pour, while you show readers your bio.


Voss Foster lives in the middle of the Eastern Washington desert, where he writes speculative fiction from inside a single-wide. When he can be pried away from his keyboard, he can be found cooking, singing, playing trombone, and belly dancing, though rarely all at the same time.

Something Unique: I was ranked as one of the top youth trombonists in Washington State in my sophomore year of high school.

Author Contact Links:


Ally: Shall we begin by talking about genres?  What do you write and how did you make those choices?

VOSS:  I write speculative fiction, and I'm not narrowing it down more than that, no matter how may times I get told I should. I write horror, sci-fi, fantasy, paranormal, magic realism. I can't force myself into a tiny box. It's true that most of my work is fantasy, but some of my favorites among my own pieces have been sci-fi, so it's all a big jumble.
As for choosing them, I don't know for certain that I ever had a choice. Even back in elementary school, I was writing about interdimensional portals and superheroes and cursed roller coasters. I even remember getting a bad mark on a short story in fifth grade because it wasn't something that would really happen.

Ally: Writing in such an unusual spectrum of fiction, what was your route to publication?

VOSS:  Currently, most of my available work is through a small press (Torquere/Prizm), with a small amount of it self-published. For Prizm, from submission to publication was about half a year. But before, that, I edited that book for about three years. It was really, really rough. I wrote it fresh out of high school, the month after I graduated, so it needed some tender care. With a big stick.

Ally:  If you could go on a writing retreat with two other authors (living or dead), who would they be? And why?

VOSS:  Questions like these are always hard for me to answer, but here we go. Assuming that there's no language barrier to contend with, I would definitely put Stanislaw Lem on the list. He's a personal addition. One of my all time favorite books is The Cyberiad, so I'd hop on just about any chance to meet him. And for the other, I'd probably pick Christopher Moore. His writing, whether it's bawdy and irreverent or serious and artistic, is brilliance.

Ally:  What writing projects are in your future?

VOSS:  Well, I'm currently working on a top secret fantasy-romance... with unicorns. So that might be fun, I suppose. After that, I'll be working on book two of my Rings of Vivak books, which I'm hoping will be a fun change from all the gobs of fantasy I've been working on lately. Vivak is a world I love to play with, so I'm really looking forward to going back into it.

Ally: Try these quick answer questions:    
  • a. favorite music while you're writing: SJ Tucker    
  • b. favorite holiday movie: Hocus Pocus    
  • c. what kind of car do you drive, and what would you like to drive?: I drive an '88 Caprice. Given preference, I'd love a Chevy Volt.   
  • d. an item on your bucket list: Meet JK Rowling    
  • e. favorite after hours drink: Brandy, neat

Ally: Thanks so much for visiting today! Best of luck in your career. Let's take a look at your book before you go...
Book Blurb:

Zirkua Fantastic has been running steadily since 1753, amazing its patrons with acts of otherworldly skill and prowess. But that talent comes at a steep price: each artist must give a year of his or her life to the circus. None of them know why, only that the circus' owners will go to whatever lengths are necessary to ensure it. Toby, the hoop dancer at Zirkua Fantastic
and son of one of the owners, is content with his life: he enjoys performing and Zirkua's wandering life, and even has a boyfriend among the circus' hawkers. But when a new artist arrives, bringing with him a strange flask and a number of odd occurrences, Toby falls face-first into the truth behind the circus: Its contracts bind King Jester, the immortal embodiment of chaos.

Zirkua's performances and contracts have held King Jester prisoner for centuries, but now something's amiss. King Jester's sister, Dragon, has escaped her own bonds and is working to free her brother, and his power is growing. If he is loosed on the world, it will mean the worst war in human history and the end of civilization... unless Zirkua Fantastic can find a way to stop him.

Buy Links:

Prizm Books:

Thanks for spending time with us!


Autumn is settling around those of us in the north. Why not curl up with a comic mystery?


Book Blurb:

Baby Boomer Carol Andrews is shocked to hear that her hunky landscaper, Will Finnegan, has died, and feels obligated to pay her respects to his family. But this Finnegan’s wake is shut down before it even starts, when Carol discovers someone has added a pair of scissors to the guest of honor’s chest. Once again, her husband Jim and the Fairport police forbid Carol to get involved. But the always curious Carol can’t help herself when one of the most important people in her life jumps to the top of the suspect list.      


Mallory and Mallory Funeral Home, Fairport, Connecticut
Another Finnegan’s Wake

“I hate wakes,” I said, turning my car into the parking lot of Mallory and Mallory Funeral Home on Fairport Turnpike and cruising for an empty spot.

This pronouncement was greeted by a heavy sigh from my passenger. “Mom,” said my usually patient daughter, Jenny, “first of all, nobody likes wakes. Or funerals. Especially the guest of honor. And Dad was right. We didn’t have to come at all. You weren’t that close to the deceased.”   

I matched Jenny’s sigh with one of my own. “I know,” I said. “But when I saw the obituary in yesterday’s paper, I was so shocked. It was only last week that Will Finnegan was raking our leaves and getting our yard in shape. He seemed fine. And now, he’s gone. Just like that.”

I sighed again.

“Life is too short for so many people we know,” I continued, easing the car into the perfect parking spot for someone my age – the kind I can drive straight out of without having to back up. My neck isn’t as flexible as it was when I was younger. Nor are several other body parts, to tell the truth.

“It just seemed appropriate that I come to pay my respects to his family.” I reached over and squeezed Jenny’s hand. “I appreciate your coming with me, sweetie.”

“I didn’t want you to go alone,” Jenny said. “And Mark’s working. I hate it when he works nights. I always worry more about him than I do when he’s on the day shift. I guess I should be used to being married to a police detective by now, but I’m not. Maybe, after we pay a quick visit to the funeral parlor, we can go out and grab a quick dinner at Maria’s Trattoria. My treat.”

“I’m never one to turn down the chance of a dinner I didn’t have to cook myself,” I said. “And your father has plenty of leftovers to graze on, plus there’s a UConn game on television tonight. I bet he won’t even notice how long I’ve been gone.”

I frowned. “Maybe I should get a pair of pom poms and pretend to be a college cheerleader. What do you think?”

“Please, tell me you’re kidding, Mom,” Jenny said as we arrived at the front door of what some locals have dubbed M & M,  the funeral parlor of choice for many Fairport, Connecticut residents.

I smoothed my hair down and tried to make myself look presentable. The late fall winds had been especially punishing on our brisk walk from the parking lot. I could hear organ music – probably pre-recorded – coming from Slumber Room A. There was a sign near the door marking it as the parlor for the William Finnegan wake, as well as a guest book for mourners to sign.

I couldn’t help but notice, as I wrote “Mrs. James Andrews,” that I was the first person on the page. I handed the pen to Jenny.

“I didn’t think we’d be the first ones here, Mom,” she whispered, adding her signature below mine. “Where’s the family? Didn’t he have one?”

“According to the obituary, he did,” I whispered back. “Maybe they didn’t feel they needed to sign the guest book.”

Jenny nodded and pushed me in front of her toward the sound of the organ music. “You first, Mom. At least you have a tenuous relationship to the deceased. I never even laid eyes on the man.”

Slumber Room A was dimly lit, but it took me only half a second to realize that Jenny and I were the only people here. Except for the recently deceased William Finnegan, whom I presumed was residing in the open casket at the other end of the room.

The organ music reached a crescendo, then the room became eerily silent.

“What’ll we do, Mom?” Jenny asked. “There’s no one to pay our respects to.”

“We sit down and wait a few minutes,” I whispered back. “The family is probably in another room, composing themselves for a long and emotional night.” I looked at my watch. “I don’t think I got the time wrong. I’m sure the obituary said the viewing started at seven o’clock. It’s ten past seven now.”

The organ music started up again. Not exactly a toe-tapper, but at least it made me feel like we were in the right place.

Or were we?

“Jenny,” I whispered, “I think I’ll just go up and say a prayer at the casket. And be sure I haven’t made a mistake.” I smiled weakly. “If I have, dinner’s on me.”

I threaded my way through the rows of empty chairs and found myself gazing at the waxen face of our late landscaper, sleeping in his casket.

Yup, Will was dead all right.

But just to be extra sure, one mourner, who’d gotten to the casket ahead of me, had plunged a scissors into Will’s chest.  


An early member of the Baby Boomer generation, Susan Santangelo has been a feature writer, drama critic and editor for daily and weekly newspapers in the New York metropolitan area, including a stint at Cosmopolitan magazine. A seasoned public relations and marketing professional, she has designed and managed not-for-profit events and programs for over 25 years, and was principal of her own public relations firm, Events Unlimited, in Princeton NJ for ten years. She also served as Director of Special Events and Volunteers for Carnegie Hall during the Hall's 1990-1991 Centennial season.  

Susan divides her time between Cape Cod MA and the Connecticut shoreline. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and the Cape Cod Writers Center, and shares her life with her husband Joe and one very spoiled English cocker spaniel, Boomer, who also serves as the model for the books’ covers.

A portion of the sales from the Baby Boomer Mysteries is donated to the Breast Cancer Survival Center, a non-profit organization based in Connecticut which Susan founded in 1999 after being diagnosed with cancer herself. 

Amazon Author page:
Twitter:  Grammasuze


Thanks for visiting the blog today. Come back soon!

I hope you enjoy today's spotlight on Melanie Robertson-King's novel of young love and time travel!

A Shadow in the Past Blurb:

When nineteen year old Sarah Shand finds herself in Victorian Era Aberdeenshire, Scotland, she has no idea how she got there. Her last memory is of being at the stone circle on the family farm in the year 2010.

Despite having difficulty coming to terms with her situation, Sarah quickly learns she must keep her true identity a secret.

Still, she feels stifled by the Victorians’ confining social practices, including arranged marriages between wealthy and influential families, confronts them head on and suffers the consequences.

When Sarah realizes she has fallen in love with the handsome Laird of Weetshill, she faces an agonizing decision. Does she try to find her way back to 2010 or remain in the past with the man she loves?

Excerpt (from Chapter 3):

When Sarah’s eyes flickered open, the young girl and her wrecked car were nowhere to be seen. Instead of the asphalt surface of Kendonald Road, Sarah lay sprawled out on a narrow gravel lane.
Sarah’s chest felt like the family’s herd of cows sat on it and she gasped for air. Stones gouged her elbows as she tried to prop herself up.

Using her last ounce of strength, Sarah hauled herself to her feet. Her head throbbed as if it were about to explode, and something wet and sticky ran down the back of her neck. Dirt and blood covered her rugby shirt and jeans, and her trainers were gone. Sharp gravel bit into her stocking feet as she staggered, trying not to fall. Sarah was surprised she was able to stand. She was certain the impact with the car had broken her legs and maybe even her back.

She wiped her hands on her shirt and cried out in pain. Dirt and blood covered her palms, and her knees felt like they’d been scraped with sandpaper. Her chest hurt with every breath, and she wondered if her ribs were broken. Where were the terrified driver and her wrecked car? They seemed to have vanished into the mist.

Sarah barely made out a faint light shining in the distance, and she stumbled toward it, thinking it was the yard light near her father’s barn. She clapped her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the incessant ringing, but it didn’t work. Taking those pills had been a huge mistake. No matter how badly she wanted to hurt Blair and Niamh, she realized that she didn’t want to die. She couldn’t do that to her family.

Sarah blinked and stared at one of the ghostly trees lining the roadway. The trunk expanded and contracted before her eyes as if it were breathing. A gust of wind rasped through the branches and a sudden cry of a long-eared owl made her jump. Shivering, Sarah crossed her arms and rubbed, but pain shot all the way down to her fingertips, forcing her to stop.

At the narrow stone bridge, she stopped and rested. As she stood there trying to catch her breath, the bridge began to vibrate and black smoke filled the air. A shrill whistle pierced the silence, drowning out the ringing in her ears. Sarah wheeled around and gasped. Off in the distance she saw the tiny speck of a headlight. It grew larger and brighter as the train drew closer and thundered beneath the bridge. Sarah watched the disappearing train and tried to understand what she had seen. There was no railway line near her house, only a flat dirt trail leading to the village.

Soon the smell of freshly cut hay, manure, and farm animals replaced the lingering aroma of the train’s oily coal smoke. If the barn was this close, she was almost home. Drawing closer, she heard the sounds of hooves pawing…

Purchase links:

Barnes & Noble:

Author Bio:

When Melanie isn’t writing, she’s reading. The writing bug first bit when she was thirteen but the itch subsided and it wasn’t until a number of years later that she put “pen to paper” and began writing again.

Prior to returning to fiction, Melanie wrote articles for various publications for a number of years and has been published in Canada, the US and the UK.

In addition to writing, her interests include genealogy, photography and travel, especially Scotland. On one of her trips to the Auld Country, she had the honor of meeting The Princess Royal, Princess Anne.

Author links:

Blog: Celtic Connexions
Facebook Author Page:
Twitter Account: @RobertsoKing

Sliding into Home
A New League Series (Book 1)
Contemporary Erotic Romance

Anne Lange

Totally Bound Publishing
Word Count:  37,827  words
Heat Level:  Hot
Release Date: October 17, 2014

Can an injured ex ball player convince the woman he wakes up married to in Las Vegas to take a second chance on him?


What the hell am I thinking?

She wasn’t a one-night or even a two-night stand kind of girl. She didn’t do fantasy sex. Hell, she didn’t really do sex, period. It was okay. It wasn’t great. Isn’t that why Roger had fallen into the arms of another warm body? Well, that and the fact that her aspirations didn’t match up with his.

She needed to get out of there. She’d pay her friends back for the room—somehow. Devyn took a step toward the door that appeared to be a mile away.

The water stopped, freezing her mid-stride. Panic swelled. She spun in all directions. Oh, God. Typically, she considered herself a strong woman, but at the moment, she felt so out of her element, and a strong sense of foreboding rolled over her. She needed a place to hide. Dive behind the sofa or behind the heavy curtains?

A door opened and steam rolled into the hallway. The slap of wet feet against ceramic tile pulled her gaze back to the hallway but didn’t encourage her feet to move. Then the soft thud of footfalls on carpet and a deep hum preceded the man about to make his entrance.

Devyn began backing up, hands out at her sides to avoid tripping over furniture. The closer the humming got, the quicker she stepped, until she smacked into the patio door, and sucked in a breath, just as he entered the main room.

She couldn’t stop the immediate flood of arousal that shot through her when she caught sight of the gorgeous hulking male specimen strolling into the room, head down, large hands adjusting a fluffy white towel slung low on his hips, his damp hair curling around the edges of his ears.

She licked her lips. Instinct. Gut feeling. Whatever it was—she knew.  She couldn’t look. Yet she couldn’t close her eyes. She noticed every little detail starting at his sexy feet. The dark hair covering his legs. Could knees be sexy? Every hard line, every muscle of his tight abdomen, as her gaze swept up, up and up, until she reached his face.

That face. She must have moaned, must have made some small noise announcing her presence. His head jerked up and his eyes rounded in surprise, his skin flushed from the shower, or from finding her in his room?

Oh God, this has to be dream. Or maybe it was her fantasy after all.



About the Author:

Shoes are her addiction, but books are her passion.  Anne Lange grew up with a love for reading. If you take a close look, she’s got either a book, her Kindle or her Kobo—maybe all three—tucked into her bag or a pocket when she leaves the house. You know, just in case there’s time to sneak in a chapter or ten.  Anne reads many genres of romance, but prefers to write sexy stories, often with a dash of humor, and usually with a side of those sinful pleasures your mom never told you about. 

Oh, and always a happily ever after. 

While embarking on this wild journey of becoming a romance author, Anne juggles a full time job and a family. Not always successfully. Who needs a clean house every day?  And what’s wrong with cereal for dinner? She lives in Ontario, Canada with her wonderfully supportive husband, three awesome kids who are growing up way too fast, and Rocky the bearded dragon.

Welcome, Booklovers!

Vicki Batman, an author who combines romantic comedy and mystery, is our guest today with her book, Temporarily Employed.

May I pour you a cup of coffee, Vicki?

Honestly, I don't drink coffee. I wasn't raised with it either. I drink a lot of milk and diet Dr. Pepper!

Ally: No problem. I'll grab something from the fridge while you introduce yourself to readers.

Author bio:

Like some of her characters, award-winning author, Vicki Batman has worked a wide variety of jobs including lifeguard, ride attendant at an amusement park; a hardware store, department store, book store, antique store clerk; administrative assistant in an international real estate firm; and a general “do anything gal” at a financial services firm--the list is endless, giving her plenty of crazy material for her writing.

Writing for several years, she has completed three manuscripts, written essays, and sold many short stories. She is a member of RWA and several writing groups and chapters. In 2004, she joined DARA and has served in many capacities, including 2009 President. DARA awarded her the Robin Teer Memorial Service Award in 2010. Most days begin with her hands set to the keyboard and thinking "What if??"

You also asked for something unusual that wasn't in my bio:  
Once Upon a Time, I was Ms. Oak Lawn Moped.

Find Vicki at:

Author Central:

Ally:  Let's talk about the genre you write, and how you got started in that particular field.

I write romantic comedy and romantic comedy mystery. I grew up reading mysteries, devoured them. At age 14, I discovered romance and read those pretty quickly too. I didn't even know I said funny things until a friend told me. I'd always admired the banter in old movies like The Thin Man. A combination of romance, mystery, and funny equals me and my writing.

Ally:  Do you outline? If not, how do you keep track of things?

I don't outline. I go by Opening hook, Black Moment, and Ending. Then toss lots of good things in. With a book, however, I do keep some character information, setting, and a timeline.

Ally:  Do you ever write to music?

I write to classical guitar. There are no words to mess with my head! Give me lyrics and I start singing. The only exception is at Christmas time and I rock away then.

Ally:  When and why did you go from writing just for fun to thinking you might try publication?

After I showed an early draft to my friend and she said to keep going, I did. I couldn't stop. Yet, I wanted to get better at my craft. So I found RWA and my local chapter. It seemed natural to want to publish my book and eventually my short stories. All the people in my chapter who did so were rather inspiring.

Ally:  What's your current work in progress?

VICKI:  Temporarily Insane

Ally:  Quick Answer Questions
  • Favorite movie: The Thin Man
  • Last place you went shopping:  gas station.
  • What author (living or dead) would you like to have lunch with?  Dick Francis
  • An item on your bucket list:  To hike to Machu Pichu
  • Would you rather have a new car or a piece of jewelry of equal value?  New car, specifically a new Jeep.
Ally: Thanks for visiting with us. Let's take a look at that all important book...

Temporarily Employed by Vicki Bateman
Paperback release date: October 3, 2014
Ebook release date: October 17, 2014

Book Blurb:

Hattie Cook's dream job is down the toilet and her new SUV violated. Desperate for cash to cover the basic necessities of rent and food, she takes a temporary job at Buy Rite Insurance Company where she uncovers an embezzling scam tied to the death of a former employee--the very one she replaced. The last thing she wants is to clash with By-the-Book Detective Wellborn, no matter how much he makes her heart pound.
Detective Allan Charles Wellborn has secretly adored Hattie all his life. When the police determine there's more to the death of a former Buy Rite employee, he steps in to lead the investigation. Overly dedicated, always perfect, he puts his job first, even if doing so ultimately hurts the one he loves.
Can the killer be found before Hattie's time is up?



Pretty much covered the whole freakin’ day. 

A blinding red-white, red-white strobe, reflected in my brand new Wrangler’s rearview mirror, seized my attention. The police. I tossed my hands skyward, ready to surrender. I shouldn’t have been too surprised. Like I'd commented this a.m. to my roommate, Jenny, “Today, anything’s possible.”

My Bad Day checklist included:

- Crappy job interview, one which might have provided desperately needed income.

- Wore gut-busting panty hose on a hot day which had now worked past my waist and strangled my diaphragm.

- A barely blowing air conditioner indicated something had malfunctioned in my new, fun car.

I stole another glance in the mirror, and with great reluctance, flipped the right turn indicator. My vehicle coasted to a stop on the shoulder of Boston Avenue in my hometown of Sommerville, a nice suburb located between two large cities. Four lanes of cars and trucks zipped by as I sat there where every single one of my family, friends, friends’ friends, and their friends—including Rat Fink Suzanne—would see a police vehicle positioned right behind mine. Gleefully, drivers would chant the “Ha-ha, got you, not me” ditty.

How embarrassing.

After killing the engine, I flopped back in the seat. Shooting the morons the finger was an idea. Nah. I'm too exhausted to care.

A litany of:  "No, not hiring." "Just filled the position." "You're over qualified." "You're under qualified…" tornadoed through my head. Coupled with the intense job search through various outlets like the internet and completing numerous online employment applications, no wonder my body had been depleted of all life force.

Not even a breeze blew to take the edge off the unbearable summertime heat. Tangled wild trees and dry scrubby bushes banked the roadside. The grass had taken on a scorched look. Rolling down the driver’s window, I surveyed my surroundings. Nothing great. Nothing new. 

I stole a glance in the side mirror at the policeman who strode purposefully along the shoulder. The gravel crunched under his boots. He looked huge, probably because his uniform, which appeared to be bulked with a bullet-proof vest, made him resemble a buffed-up superhero in size. Exceedingly intimidating.

Sigh. When things went wrong, they were really wrong.

Book Buy Links :

(ebook and paperback)
Wild Rose Press:  Ebook      Paperback

Thanks for stopping by. Come back soon!


In war torn England the battle lines between Saxon and Norman are clearly drawn. The Saxons must fight for everything they have in the hopes of winning their country back from the Normans who are determined to break their resistance. Rowena Godwinson, the sole remaining member of the defeated royal family, stands proudly against the Normans that would trample them underfoot.

When the new King decrees she marry a powerful Norman knight, her subjugation appears to be complete. The handsome soldier with the kind brown eyes and gentle touch is a threat to her determination to defy the interlopers. Can she hold firm to her Saxon heritage and refuse to give in to his advances? John of Normandy resists marriage and wants only to prove himself worthy of William's trust but when rewarded by King William with the gift of an earldom and a Saxon bride, he balks at marriage, driven by the guilt of knowing her father died by his sword. However, John's reluctance is soon replaced by a deep desire to please this woman and win her over as well as her people.  As their people look to them for guidance and peace, can John and Rowena find a love that unites all of England?

Buy Link:


A Norman. I have been given to a Norman to wife.

Rowena Godwinson, daughter of the late Earl of Essex and the last living member of that powerful Saxon family, stood before her reflection in the polished brass. The wedding gown passed down through three generations of Godwin women before her, draped softly across the shoulders, skimming down her waist and falling over the tips of her deerskin slippers. She blinked back with vacant eyes.

Fear tripped up her spine and her stomach clenched. She had lived among the victors for nigh on five years now. Their disdain for her people was quite obvious. Now the man who had usurped her own uncle as rightful king at the Battle of Hastings had ordered her to marry. With both parents dead, she was his ward.

Rowena clenched her teeth and turned to the window. She glimpsed the slate roof of the chapel beyond the trees where the nuptials would take place this very day. Her family's chapel. Countless celebrations with uncles, close friends, and more cousins than she could name, had taken place there. Those were happy years.

"My lady?"

Rowena looked at the drawn face of her handmaiden, Joan. The blonde sheen of her hair, long gone with the stress of the circumstances and occupation they were all forced to live under.


Joan gulped. "Do you think he will be kind to you? Tonight, I mean?"

Rowena's breath caught in her throat. The marriage bed. How would her husband treat her? With kindness? As her husband, he gained much by this union. A lot of responsibility, yes, but also power. Some men loved power.

She tipped her chin up.

"I believe he will be kind as I will give him no reason not to be."

Joan's eyes rounded. Rowena smiled tightly.

"Fear not, Joan. I will be amicable."

"My lady, would that I could impart upon you my own knowledge, but I have none. Your mother's death before she prepared you leaves you in a bad way."

"Perhaps he will be a gentle man. John." His name was all she knew.

"Yes, my lady. He is one of William's most trusted knights."

"A warrior." Rowena's tone was flat and for an instant she saw again her father. Cold and dead. Blood all around. She forced the memory aside. "Then he will be a good protector."

"Yes, but of whom?"

About the Author:

Always an avid romance reader herself, Ashley York enjoys bringing history to life through vibrant and meaningful characters, writing historical romance novels full of passion and intrigue set in the 11th and 12th century British Isles. Her newest release, The Saxon Bride, is the first in the Norman Conquest series.

When she is not writing, talking about writing, or thinking about writing, Ashley relaxes with visits to the local pubs listening to live Celtic tunes. She lives in southern New England with her husband and 3 very spoiled animals.

Contact Links:

Twitter:    @ashley1066york


Have a great day!


She came through the elven portal looking for excitement in New Orleans, but she found more than she bargained for...conspiracy, murder and magic.

PictureWonder what's behind the modesty ribbon? Click on it!

In a time of false peace, the dead rise as soldiers for the Warloc’s scheme. For thousands of years he has stood ready for the final battle. Though the witch and her cursed Elvin have destroyed his physical body, now with his protégé, he has honed a new way to wage war.

Shunned by her own people and weary-hearted from centuries of lost loves, Elvin warrior Mirhana scours the land to silence the undead. Her heart has turned as cold as the sword she wields, until a prince seeks her aid.

Never has Prince Landon met a woman like Mirhana. Both beautiful and deadly, she haunts his dreams. The battle at hand becomes more enchanting than fighting to remain true to his unseen betrothed.

When a traitor emerges, new alliances are tested and the only remaining hope is to follow the prophecy and find the ... Son of Dragons.


Clean from the bath, Landon let the air from the open window dry his hair. Dressed only in trousers, he leaned against the windowsill.

He thought he smelled the hint of roses and heat on the breeze. Movement from the street below caught his eye. He leaned out, squinting into the night.

Torches lined the cobbled street corners. A cloaked figure waited. Then the innkeeper rushed outside. His hands flew in gestures as the figure nodded.

Then he pointed to the window where Landon watched. At the same instant, the cloaked figure followed his finger’s path to Landon. Green eyes that seemed to glow met his.

Landon jumped up and cursed when his head hit the bottom of the window. When he looked back, both figures were gone.

Thinking the innkeeper would send guards, he waited with his sword in hand and his stare riveted on the door. No one came. He must be getting paranoid, thinking there was a ghost or enemy around every corner. His eyelids grew heavy as he waited for a fight that failed to materialize. Finally, he rolled his shoulders back to ease out the tension.

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about those piercing emerald eyes. They’d belonged to a woman; he could tell. There was intelligence and cunning in them. Her stare felt as though she saw through the façade he often wore as prince and to please others, and into his kajh.

A woman who was not afraid, but used to being feared. It unnerved him, yet excited him. His pulse quickened and his loins tightened at the thought of those eyes filled with passion for him.

Better get some sleep before the night was gone. Tomorrow, he’d tell Gillespie about what he saw. He doubted he could explain those captivating green eyes that continued to haunt him even now.


“We are introduced to new and wonderful creatures, and meet up with those we know and love from the first book, as each character's unique role and journey begins to intersect... and each will have a pivotal role in the outcome of an epic battle that is about to take place. Deception, self discovery, and sacrifices will be made, as each character's true role is uncovered... and in these magical lands, nothing is at it seems…Still, the book builds on the last with new and enchanting worlds, exciting creatures, and breathtaking originality. ..A really fun read, and a complimentary addition to the Legends of Oblivion series!” 4 1/2 stars Moonrise Book Blog

Book Trailer:

Buy Links:

Crimson Romance ebooks
Smartlink: (USA, UK, Australia, Canada)

See more of the Legends of Oblivion series:

The Garnet Dagger – Book 1 in the Legends of Oblivion series
Cursed in Shadow – Book 1.5 in the Legends of Oblivion series


Romance and breathtaking fantasy collide as cursed traveler Brock falls in love with imprisoned witch Celeste. She holds the key to his salvation — but it will come at a price….

The Garnet Dagger Book Trailer
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Brock and Celeste must defeat prejudice and power to continue their journey and find Brock’s twin sister, Mirhana.

Cursed in Shadow Book Trailer:
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Andrea’s Bio:  Andrea has always created characters and stories. But it wasn't until she was in her late twenties that she started writing novels.

What happened that ignited the writing flame in her fingers? Divorced, and disillusioned by love songs and stories. They exaggerate. She thought. Love and Romance are not like that in the real world. Then she met her husband and realized, yes, love and romance are exactly like the songs and stories say. She is now a happy wife, and a mom to three kids (two boys and a girl).

Andrea writes paranormal and historical romance. When not writing or reading, one may find Andrea dancing in Zumba.

She believes in the power of change and counting each moment as a blessing. But most importantly, she believes in love.

Contact the Author:

Author Website:


The Coffee Chat is taking a week off, but we have one of our "hot" authors visiting with her provocative title ~ Kinky Toes...


Introducing Suz deMello’s latest HOT short story, Kinky Toes.

What’s it about, you ask?

Genre: contemporary erotic romance

Shelbie Nathanson resents Rick Saldano's ascension to C.O.O. of her family's shoe company, a job she's wanted all her life. But she can't resist his red-hot, sexy style of lovemaking... one that focuses on her passion: shoes.

Here’s a snippet to pique your interest:

A secretary entered holding a tray of coffees. She set it on the big desk and offered a cup to Shelbie. “Two sugars and a drop of cream, just how you like it, Ms. Nathanson,” the girl squeaked.

“Great, thanks.” Shelbie took the coffee while wondering why the secretary was so jumpy. Maybe she’d had too much caffeine.

The girl cast Shelbie another scared glance before giving a cup to Rick, visibly relaxing as she served him and then Shelbie’s father, who sat behind his big desk in the place Shelbie expected to fill once he retired. With another frightened peek at Shelbie, the gofer scooted out.

“What’s with her?” Shelbie sipped. “Is she new?”

“Yeah, but it seems that your reputation precedes you,” Rick said drily.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean that no assistant of yours has lasted longer than six months. Word gets around.”

“That’s not my fault.” She stirred her coffee. “The last one was impossible.”

“Failing to know the difference between heliotrope and mauve isn’t impossible.”

“It is if you work for me. And calling my beautiful shoes Shelbie’s Slut Heels wasn’t appropriate.” She stretched out her leg to again admire her handiwork.

“True,” Rick said. “Talk like that damages the company.”

She glared at him, noting his attention fixed on her shoe. Man, he was just too easy.

If you want to find out what happens between this sexy couple, find the book here:

About the author:

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written seventeen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s held the positions of managing editor and senior editor, working for such firms asTotally Bound, Liquid Silver Books and Ai Press. She also takes private clients. Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists. A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

--Find her books at
--For editing services, email her at
--Befriend her on Facebook:, and visit her group page at
--She tweets @Suzdemello
--Her current blog is