Available Now: One Night in Los Angeles by Katey Lovell

ONE NIGHT IN LOS ANGELES
City Nights, #29
Katey Lovell

Length: Novella
Genre: Erotic Romance

Digital Price: $2.99

BUY HERE: TIRGEARR PUBLISHING

Abbi Devine never expected Hollywood to be like this...

Leaving her small town in northern Maine for Hollywood was always going to be a gamble, but she's finally got her chance- a speaking part as a burlesque dancer in a movie starring A list actor Aaron Halliday.

However, when she's thrown off her stride and ends up in a heap on the floor, Aaron's the one to come to her rescue. There's an undeniable attraction between them which comes as a surprise to Abbi, who has sworn off men following a bad experience.

Is Aaron really the unfeeling playboy the press make him out to be? And can Abbi let go of her past to enjoy her present?

• • •

Hot tears of shame filled her eyes before snaking down her cheeks, embarrassingly obvious under the harsh lighting of the set.
“Cut,” the director called irritably, followed by an annoyed sigh.

Abbi wished the floor would swallow her up. At least that would be a distraction from the situation she was in now, naked but for the tassels, a sequin-embossed thong and the shoes she could no longer bear to look at. The over-the-top headdress lay on the ground beside her.

“Here. Hold on to me.”

The voice came from nowhere, rich and warm, and Abbi gladly reached out to clasp the hand that was being offered her. The palm was large, smothering hers tightly as its owner effortlessly hoisted her back onto her feet. With the stupidly tall heels she was now the same height as the man, their eyes level.

And what a man he was. His dark blonde hair was brushed off his face into a sleek and deliberate peak, emphasising the faint crinkles which marked his forehead, and his light brown eyes were sprinkled with flecks of gold. His face was ruggedly attractive, and although he probably wasn’t much over thirty, there was an appealing maturity in his look; as though a hint of wisdom was hidden away. All this was offset by a cheeky, impish grin. There was no denying he was incredibly handsome. Then there were his clothes, smart and well cut, which encased his perfect body. Tanned skin, defined muscles.

He was striking. Perfect.

And as recognition crashed into her like a double decker bus at speed, Abbi realised who it was.

Aaron Halliday.

The Aaron Halliday.

Global movie star, household name.

The leading man in this motion picture.

Abbi couldn’t stop the blood rushing to her tearstained cheeks. She was standing, almost butt-naked, in front of one of the biggest names in the industry.

Shit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned. “That was quite a spectacular fall you took there.”

Abbi looked at the floor, her gaze resting on the stupidly tall heels that had betrayed her. “Oh, erm…yeah. I’m fine, honestly. Nothing’s broken. I’m just mortified to have made such an idiot of myself in front of everyone.”

As she looked up, Aaron ran his hands through his hair.

• • •

Katey Lovell is fanatical about words. An avid reader, writer and poet, she once auditioned for Countdown and still tapes the show every night. Getting the conundrum before the contestants is her ultimate thrill.

She loves love and strives to write feel-good romance that'll make you laugh and cry in equal measure.

Originally from South Wales, Katey now lives in Yorkshire with her husband and their seven year old son.

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Tirgearr Publishing

Available Now: Let There Be Light by David Toft

LET THERE BE LIGHT
The Kyklos Trilogy, #3
David Toft

Length: Novel
Genre: Occult Fantasy
Digita Price: $3.99 (99c/99p through 24 Jan)

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Augustus and Sharna wake on different worlds.

Once again they have failed. Edward Braine still lives. Both can feel his malignant presence. Growing into his new body, Edward rebuilds his reserves of pain and despair, masses an army, and prepares once again to confront his enemy.

Augustus has one last chance. If he fails to destroy Edward this time, Edward will inherit the whole of creation, and Augustus and Sharna will be lost forever.

• • •

Augustus Braithwaite woke to the screams of children. Happy, playground screams, not tortured ones that set him on a panicked struggle to achieve wakefulness.

He had no idea how long he had slept, but felt as if it had been a long time, years, perhaps even centuries. He pushed himself up from the rough, straw-filled mattress, unsteady on his legs, as if after years of idleness they no longer had the strength to bear the weight of his body. He remained motionless, ready to guide his collapse, should it happen, toward the mattress rather than the hard timber boards of the floor.

Eventually he managed a single, tentative step. His balance held. Satisfied he could trust his legs to keep him upright, he allowed his concentration to focus on his surroundings.

The small, wood-floored room contained no furniture other than the cot from which he had risen. A doorless opening to his right provided the only exit. Opposite this, a small, square, unglazed window let in the room’s only light along with the cries of the children. No ornamentation or decoration interrupted the smooth white plaster on the walls and ceiling. The room looked anything but lived in—a cell perhaps, except missing bars on the window and a door.

He strode to the window. The thick walls of the building forced him to lean into the opening in order to see out. The window overlooked a walled courtyard. Twenty feet below, a dozen or so children ran back and forth across its cobbled surface chasing balls of red and blue. Intent on their game, none looked up toward his vantage point. He studied their clothing. Both the boys and the girls, there seemed to be an equal number of each, wore tan-coloured smocks and loose leggings, which looked more mediaeval than modern.

Augustus smiled, infected by the innocent enthusiasm of the game. Slowly the curl of his lips disappeared, and his brow furrowed. He had no idea where he was or why he was here.

• • •

Born in Bradford England, David Toft gained a degree in Education before going on to work in London and Warwickshire. He now lives in South County Dublin, Ireland with his wife, Mary.

David has been writing adult fantasy and paranormal fiction for over twenty years.

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Available Now: Victoria by Joyce Brennan

VICTORIA
Women of Rexford Series, #2
Joyce Brennan

Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Digitial Price: $3.99 (99c/99p Kindle sale through 22 Jan)

BUY HERE: TIRGEARR PUBLISHING

Caught in a web of illegal drugs when she tries to help one of her co-workers, Victoria Gillette places her own life in danger. During the investigation, Sean Casey, an undercover narcotic agent, falls in love with Victoria, although he can’t reveal his true identity. During a crisis, will Sean reach Victoria in time to save her life?

• • •

A shot ripped through the Steak Grill, shattering the ornate mirror behind the bar. A man wearing a shiny, blue suit grabbed Victoria and dragged her, and the couple standing next to her, to the floor. She struggled to free herself, but blue suit held a firm grip on her.

“I’m with security,” he growled. “Keep your head down until we determine who fired the shot.”

The small restaurant evolved into a state of mass confusion. Tables were overturned and drinks spilled as guests of the engagement party scrambled for safety.

Then, dead silence. The other couple stood and the man offered his hand to Victoria.

“I’m Sean Casey. Let me help you.”

Victoria jerked her arm away. “I’ll get up by myself, thank you.”

The last thing Victoria Gillette had in mind was to attend was a party honoring Olivia McDougle and Dr. Mitchell James, but her mother insisted.

“Hold your head high. Show everyone you can rise above their petty gossip.”

Easy for Mom to say; she wasn’t the one jilted. Well, not jilted really. Mitch never displayed any interest in Victoria, no matter what she did. He had eyes only for Olivia.

Victoria had reluctantly offered her best wishes to the happy couple. A lump swelled in her throat when she glanced at Mitch. She should have been holding on to his arm instead of Olivia. She appraised Olivia’s outfit and unconsciously smoothed the skirt of her new dress, which stretched tightly over every curve of her body. Before she could peruse the crowd for any single men, the shot rang out.

Now, Victoria found herself at the bottom of a pile of struggling guests. A large blot of red wine ruined her dress and the band holding her hair broke, allowing her blonde tresses to fall in a tangled mess around her face.

After several agonizing minutes of shocked silence, the entire room energized. The few people still standing stepped aside when Hamilton Bowers, Rexford’s Chief of Police raced to the front of the room and confronted the woman holding the weapon.

“Drop the gun, Mrs. Gleason.”

“What?” Mary Margaret’s eyes widened. Her hand shook uncontrollably.

“We don’t want any more trouble.” Ham, quiet but determined, reached out and removed the revolver from the trembling woman.

One of the guests pushed his way toward the police chief. “She wasn’t the shooter. The lady over there fired the weapon.” He pointed to a white-faced Dorothy Gillette held by two bystanders. “Mrs. Gleason hit her hand just as she fired and then grabbed the gun,” the witness continued.

Victoria disentangled herself from the group on the floor and shouldered her way through the crowd to reach her mother, who had collapsed in a chair, her arms dangling loosely at her side.

“Mom, are you okay? Mom?”

Dorothy’s eyes lids fluttered, her gaze empty, vacant. Her head drooped to the side and drool saturated the collar of her black-silk suit. She babbled to Judge Gillette as if he stood beside her, although her husband had been dead for over a month.

The once quiet restaurant exploded into bedlam. A few guests rushed to gather their coats and leave the chaos, while others crowded around Dorothy and Victoria to observe the drama. Victoria couldn’t help but overhear their slanderous opinions, including a rehash of the Gillette family’s history of scandals. She clapped her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out accusing voices as personal nightmares from the past resurfaced.

The police called for an ambulance, and while they waited, Chief Bowers interrogated Victoria. Fighting hysteria, she explained she and her mother arrived in different cars.

“Mom said social protocol demanded we make an appearance. She planned to congratulate Dr. James and Miss McDougle and then go home. She didn’t want to be seen celebrating so soon after the judge’s death. I intended to stay for dinner and drinks.”

“Does your mother usually carry a gun?”

“What? Mom? No, she hates guns. I just don’t understand.” Victoria buried her face in her hands. Uncontrollable tears gushed from her eyes.

When the ambulance arrived, Chief Bowers steered Victoria aside to allow the EMT team space to attend to her mother. After they checked Dorothy’s vital signs and did the usual work-up, they told Chief Bowers they planned to transport her to the psychiatric ward at St. Marks in Lima for further evaluation.

Sorrow turned to horror as Victoria’s mother lost touch with reality. The crowd avoided Victoria as if she were responsible for the incident. She tried to ignore the hurtful barbs and whispers, instead focusing on her personal dilemma. Why had this happened? What could have caused her mother to react so violently? She looked around the almost empty restaurant and considered her future.

• • •

Joyce Brennan writes Romantic Suspense and Cozy Mysteries. She served as editor for a business school newspaper before embarking upon a career with American Airlines. She has authored three Romance novels: Hidden Journal, Broken Promises, and Don't Dance on My Heart. Her short stories have been published in four anthologies and in an internet magazine. She is an active member of the Las Vegas Romance Writer’s, a Chapter of the Romance Writers of America, The Las Vegas Valley Writers, and The Henderson Writers Group. She gives presentations on writing, hosts a critique group and a leads a Creative Writing class. She writes articles for the community newspaper and gives writing advice on her blog. Joyce volunteers at a warehouse that provides medical equipment for seniors. She resides in Las Vegas, NV, with her husband, Tom and their two Yorkies.

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Available Now: The Fall and Rise of Peter Stoller by M. Pepper Langlinais

THE FALL AND RISE OF PETER STOLLER
M. Pepper Langlinais

Length: Novel
Genre: Thriller
Digital Price: $4.99 (99c/99p Kindle sale through 17 Jan)

BUY HERE: TIRGEARR PUBLISHING

In 1960’s London, British Intelligence agent Peter Stoller is next in line to run the Agency—until he falls in love with cab driver, Charles, and his life goes off the road.

When Charles is accused of treason, Peter is guilty by association. Peter manages to extract them both, but the seeds of doubt have been planted, putting Peter’s mind and heart at war. Is ignorance truly bliss or merely deadly?

• • •

December 196x

“Get him out or take him out.” Peter’s heart was in his knees, but he made sure it didn’t sound in his voice.

Noise on the line as Jules Maier shifted. Peter pictured him tucked up in a dark, cramped flat with too-low ceilings and flimsy furniture. It would be perpetually damp there. Musty. And yet Jules would still somehow manage to look perfectly put together. Jules rolled out of bed perfectly put together. It was sinful.

“After all that work to get him in?” Jules asked.

Perfectly put together but, Peter was reminded, also a tad whiney. Gordon had once told Peter he couldn’t think of the men out in the field as real people, not if he wanted to be able to do the job well. “Don’t think of them as men you’ve met, had lunch with, drinks with,” Gordon said. “Think of them as characters in a book or players in a game.” Peter had wondered at the time whether Gordon thought of him that way, but he’d been too afraid of the answer to ask.

And now, with the file open in front of him and the face of Alexander Sepiol staring back from his desk, it was difficult advice to take. Peter closed the folder. “You know how this goes, Jules.”

A heavy sigh. “I’ll try to get him out, of course.”

“Don’t waste any time,” Peter instructed. “And, Jules?”

“Hmm?”

Peter imagined the arched eyebrow, the tiny smile. He was probably wearing one of those goddamned turtlenecks. “Get yourself out as soon as you can. I don’t want to have to send anyone in after you.”

* * *

He hoped the drive down to Oxshott would clear his head, but his mind continued to jump from Jules to Alexander and back again. Why wouldn’t Alexander leave Germany? How could they coerce him? Had Alexander already given them away? If so, to whom? Was Jules really doing everything he could?

Probably not. Jules was lazy. But if Alexander had leaked, Jules was also in trouble. Along with a half dozen more people in Brandenburg’s Frankfurt.

Peter was surprised to find he’d arrived, his musings having stolen the time. The grass in front of the Lessenbys’ was dead with winter and flat with cars. Peter added his TR3 to the fleet.

He didn’t bother to knock; he never did at the Lessenbys’, and with the party, no one would have heard it anyway. Gordon and Elinor held it every year at the holidays, this odd assemblage of people whose jobs were to be quiet and unseen, Gordon a gaunt anti-Fezziwig.

Peter spotted him standing near the fireplace, Trevor Tillholm planted squarely in front of him, and he started in that direction, but Elinor Lessenby caught sight of Peter and moved in, arresting his progress. Her oversized hat forced him to rock back a bit on his heels; he then took a full step backward as her oversized body followed the brim.

“Peter!” she shrilled as she held out a hand. “How did you sneak in without any of us noticing? Oh!” she laughed, not waiting for him to answer, “no, I know, it’s what you do!”

• • •

Best known for her Sherlock Holmes stories, M Pepper Langlinais is also a produced playwright and screenwriter. She holds a degree in Radio-Television-Film from the University of Texas at Austin, where she interned on film sets and participated in the Shakespeare at Winedale program. She also earned a Master of Arts in Writing, Literature and Publishing from Emerson College. M now lives in Livermore, California.

Find M Pepper Online: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Langlinais_MPepper

Available Now: Moondancing by Celia J Anderson

MOONDANCING
Celia J. Anderson

Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Digital Price: $4.99 (99c/99p Kindle sale through 14 Jan)

BUY HERE: TIRGEARR PUBLISHING

* This is the prequel to Little Boxes

Together since their teens, Molly and Jake have four children, a house in a sleepy village, and jobs that bore them to distraction. Their marriage is an accident waiting to happen.

When Nick arrives in Mayfield, young, disturbed and in desperate need of mother-love, Molly doesn’t realise that he will be the catalyst that blows everything apart.

Add a headmaster whose wife doesn’t understand him, and Molly’s unpredictable, frustrated best friend to the mix, and the blue touch paper has been well and truly lit.

•

Driving along the narrow country lanes into town, Jake’s anger develops into a huge black cloud of self-pity. Why did Molly have to go off the rails on a school night when they’ve both got a hard day at work to get through?

He sighs heavily, feeling the snatched bowl of Weetabix beginning to churn in his stomach. Being a foreman at the brewery is a steady job, even if it’s not that exciting, but he needs to be alert to do it properly. It’s not his dream job – not even close – but it pays the mortgage. Last night’s broken sleep was as bad as the early days with teething babies. Jake doesn’t need this. He loves Molly and his four kids, his home, his allotment and his prize-winning leeks; in that order, usually. He likes to cook, if somebody else has done the shopping and if he can use his home-grown vegetables.

He looks after his pride and joy carefully – an ageing Range Rover, temperamental but solid. At weekends, he gives a hand with the cleaning, if he’s not at work or on the allotment. In all his thirty-nine years he’s never really wanted more than a quiet life. Is he demanding? Jake thinks not.

The September morning sunshine is breaking through the mist, but Jake’s mood darkens even more as he drives along the winding lanes to Hopton. The early rays warm the freshly-cut grass along the verge, the evocative smell bringing unwelcome memories of a time, years ago, when he lay in the wild meadow at the edge of the sports field, trying to persuade Molly to let him see her new bra.

‘Honestly, Moll, you can’t get pregnant just by taking off your PE shirt,’ he’d said hopefully. Molly’s aertex PE shirt was all that lay between Jake and the wonderful lace and wire construction that kept her chest in order, but there was no way she was letting him do more than stroke the bare skin of her back.

‘Look, it’s all right for you, no one calls you a slag if you let them feel your… you-know-whats…’

‘But I haven’t got any you-know-whats.’

‘Don’t be pedantic.’

‘How can I be pedantic? I don’t know what it means. Anyway, I only want to give them a bit of a rub – over your bra, not even under it.’ He’d shuddered at the wonderful thought of actually being allowed underneath a girl’s bra.Jake sighs as a sharp pang of nostalgia for such simple times brings a lump to his throat.

•

Celia J Anderson spends most of her spare time writing in as many different genres as possible, including children’s fiction. In her other life, she’s Assistant Headteacher at a small Catholic primary school in the Midlands and loves teaching literature (now comfortingly called English again but still the best subject in the world.)

She tried a variety of random jobs before discovering that the careers advisor at secondary school was right, including running crèches, childminding, teaching children to ride bikes (having omitted to mention she couldn’t do it herself) and a stint in mental health care. All these were ideal preparation for the classroom and provided huge amounts of copy for the books that were to come.

Celia enjoys cooking and eating in equal measures, and thinks life without wine would be a sad thing indeed. She is married, with two grown up daughters who have defected to the seaside. One day she plans to scoop up husband and cats and join them there.

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