Cold Sleep - Spotlight and #Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

It’s the perfect score—stealing valuable data from a VIP in cryo-freeze midway through a decades-long interstellar crossing. If it works, Kara will have enough money to buy what she’s always wanted—a Captaincy.

But with the rest of the crew and the cargo of one hundred thousand colonists still frozen, Kara and her accomplice, Zed, realize they’re not the only ones awake. The murdered woman they find is only the first victim of whoever or whatever has woken from Cold Sleep.

Read an Excerpt

Blood streaks the VIP casket’s pristine white ceramic shell. Crimson handprints mark the controls and edges of the casket’s lid. Bright red spray mars the shining surface of the nearest casket and trickles down across its viewport. The deckplate’s smeared here and there, but the marks aren’t clear enough to make out any footprints.

“No one else in here,” Zed says.

While I’ve been gawping at the corpse, he’s secured the room.

There’s more to him than being a reliable bit of rough. It’s become too easy to dismiss him—the man is capable enough.

“I don’t understand. How could one of the passengers get out of storage?” I ask.

“Look at the casket,” Zed says. “Why’s it still registering an occupant?”

Being careful not to step in any blood, I get closer to her. What strikes me is the way the arcs of blood paint the VIP bay looks like something out of an anti-Ares Cult propaganda piece. The sacrifice of innocent beauty to sate the spirit of Mars. Kind of thing we’d only caught rumors of my first time shipping out. Then the newsfeeds had become more and more clogged with hysteria with every return to Earth. That and the usual.

War. War threatening everywhere.

Makes me think of my brother and hope he isn’t—wait, decades have passed—wasn’t on the frontline.

I drag my mind back from the futureshock and my eyes from the corpse. Getting lost in the past is a sure-fire way to get killed in the here and now.

About the Author:

A Brit now living in the Scandinavian wilds of Denmark with his wife and half-Viking kids, Luke worked as a Criminal Barrister in and around London for over a decade dealing with everything from minor theft cases to a real life axe murder and everything in between. Thanks to parents in the military he grew up being dragged around the world--while living in the Far East he picked up a love for the martial arts which continues to this day, as he passes on what he’s learned to a select dojo of students. Cold Sleep is his third novel. His first was Amazon cyberpunk bestseller Mercury’s Son, his second a UK set supernatural suspense novel 3:33 AM.

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Forever Askole - Book Blast and #Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Gail Koger will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

My name is Ella McAllister, I’m a psychic witch and a healer. My life is kinda nuts. Not only do I have the Coletti hunters chasing me, but now I also have a very determined Askole High Commander after me. Why? I shot his ship down and it crash landed, and it blew up. Yep, itty-bitty pieces everywhere. My bad, but his ship was a dead ringer for a Rodan Marauder, and it was my civic duty to blow the enemy spacecraft out of the sky. Wasn’t it? Any hoo, I healed his owies and boogied.

I thought that was the end of it, but oh no. For some unknown reason, Sariel, the Askole High Commander, decided I would make him the perfect mate. As if. I think the blow to his head made him completely bonkers.

Sariel informed me the mating dance had begun and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The idiot had obviously never dealt with a witch before. I didn’t have the time to play games with him, so I did a little abracadabra alakazam and ran.

Sigh. The persistent Askole found me. Now I have a decision to make. Keep running or surrender to the High Commander. He is a damn good kisser.

Would the mating dance bring two lonely souls together? Who knew?

Read an Excerpt:

“He was your lover?” Sariel queried in disbelief.

I cringed with embarrassment. “Briefly. I fell for his lies and didn’t see his true nature until he tried to sell me to the hunters.”

“I will never betray you or lie to you,” Sariel stated.

“So, you keep saying, but I’m not looking for a mate nor do I need one.”

Sariel’s tentacles stood out from his head. “A lie. Your loneliness drove you to bed a traitor.”

Ouch! “Okay, fine. I’m lonely, but…”

“I.”

“Am.”

“Not.”

“Mating with you,” I enunciated clearly.

“As a warrior, you can challenge me to combat to stop the mating dance.” Sariel’s rather toothy grin was alarming. “Do you dare duel with me?”

In hand-to-hand combat I wouldn’t last ten seconds. “How about I teach you a little-known fact?”

Sariel’s helmet formed over his head, and he asked warily, “What would that be?”

“Never mess with a witch. It doesn’t end well.” I shouted my power word, “Sufflamine!” A thunderous cracking boom rent the air. A second later, a shockwave of energy hit Sariel and flung him out into the ocean.

He hit with a big splash and sank beneath the surface. “Excellent tactical move.”

Seriously? He sounded almost proud of me. “Stay away from me or next time I won’t be so gentle.”

“There is no where you can run that I cannot find you,” Sariel replied.

About the Author:

I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for the Glendale Police Department and to keep from going totally bonkers – I mean people have no idea what a real emergency is. Take this for example: I answered, “9-1-1 emergency, what’s your emergency?” And this hysterical woman yelled, “My bird is in a tree.” Sometimes I really couldn’t help myself, so I said, “Birds have a tendency to do that, ma’am.” The woman screeched, “No! You don’t understand. My pet parakeet is in the tree. I’ve just got to get him down.” Like I said, not a clue. “I’m sorry ma’am but we don’t get birds out of trees.” The woman then cried, “But… What about my husband? He’s up there, too.” See what I had to deal with? To keep from hitting myself repeatedly in the head with my phone I took up writing.

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For insider news and subscriber-only info, subscribe to my occasional Newsletter. I promise not to spam and your in-box will only see an email from me every 3 or 4 months or so - unless of course I have something really Newsworthy to share! I also promise that I never have and never will share your information or email address with anyone or any organisation. http://madmimi.com/signups/196357/join