Saturday, 25 April 2015


Historical Romance
Date Published: April 17, 2015

Can she betray the Gypsy clan who saved her for the love of a stranger? 
Martine Petrulengo is stifled by the traditions of her adopted Gypsy clan. They gave her new life when she was left all alone. And now she is expected to marry in order to forge clan allegiances. When she nurses handsome and charming Lord Declan Forrester back to health, she is lured by the seductive idea of life outside of the clan—and the prospect of love with the Irishman. 

Can he prove his innocence in order to claim his Gypsy?
Lord Declan Forrester trades prison bars for a loveless marriage in order to save his soul. And now he’s trying to prove his innocence not only as a traitor, but that of his wife’s murder.  When the lovely and beguiling Martine saves him, he falls in love for the first time. Yet, the obstacles of his past seem insurmountable. 

Martine and Declan must fight tradition, prejudice and the haunting ghosts of their past in order to fight for their love and ensure their future.

A rider urged his horse forward. He wore a leather doublet of a quality she’d never seen. The black hide was pierced with metal and thick stitching formed elaborate Celtic designs. Regal and rich. His breeches hugged his thighs so closely ’twas indecent, but that didn’t stop her gaze from venturing along the hard expanse of his legs. Heat crept up her neck and flushed her face like a flame.
He tipped his head in her brother’s direction. Martine gasped.
The stranger from the glen.
“We’ve business,” was all he said.
Rafe nodded, but didn’t twitch a muscle. Martine wanted to run from the confrontation, hide in her grandmother’s berth safe from the bewitching blue eyes of the intruder. But her feet stayed rooted to the ground.
Och, this man was handsome. Strong jaw, brilliant eyes, and a broad mouth composed a man so striking. His face was a composite of hard planes of granite that matched the intense glare of his eyes.

The man sighed and his comrades inched closer to his side. They dressed as he did, except their clothing lacked the obvious quality she could see stitched in the leather of his.
“The villagers are concerned with your presence, Gypsy.”
She could feel the tension in the tight line of her brother’s shoulders, taste the anger in the air that hummed about him and the stranger. His jaw clenched and he remained silent.
“I’ve come to ask you to leave. Gypsies bring foul memories to Riverton.” His voice was rough, husky, as he commanded her brother.
Rafe stepped forward. She knew he wished to throttle the tactless man. “We’re Tinkers. Men and women with skills and trade.”
“And itchy fingers if Lady Bannon’s sheep have say of it,” the man behind the stranger spouted. The other men chortled and slapped the man on the back.
The stranger held up his hand and was rewarded with instant silence.
Her brother shrugged, a harmless action unless you were Rafe Petrulengo. “My clan has no need of other people’s sheep.”
Martine took a step forward.

The stranger’s head snapped in her direction.
He leaned forward in his saddle. “You’ll leave my land, or pay the consequences.” His tone brooked no room for argument.
“We’re people of the land, trainers of dogs, and masters of horses.”
Her brother’s words seemed to befuddle the stranger’s friends. They looked to one another, smirks creasing their faces. If only they knew her brother’s genius.
“I’m Lord Declan Forrester, Earl of Riverton,” the stranger pompously said. “This is my land—and you are to leave.”
Rafe bowed deep at the waist, his extended arm almost grazing the dirt before him. “As you wish.”
“Be gone by morning. ’Tis all the time I’ll give you.”
A shiver ran up her spine at the cold gruffness of his voice. He clucked his horse forward, a magnificent animal, well-muscled with a gleaming coat of black.
Martine was so aware of the lord’s presence, her skin tingled. And she knew without looking up that trouble was about to ensue. He stopped the horse before her and just sat. When her gaze met his, the lord nodded his head and gave a mocking salute.

She sighed, not knowing why she was reacting so unlike herself, why she was enthralled with the stranger.
With a nudge to his horse’s side, he was off without a backward glance at her or her brother.
One look at Rafe and she knew he’d witnessed what had transpired. Rage boiled in his dark eyes and tension pulsed his jaw. He tapped a pointy leather boot against the packed earth. The women of the clan weren’t to be appraised by Gajos. Especially a Gajo who’d ordered the Kapo to leave.

No matter, she thought with a smile of satisfaction. Lord Forrester had acknowledged her, and the realization swept through her with unparalleled warmth

Madelyn Hill has always loved the written word. From the time she could read and all through her school years, she'd sneak books into her textbooks during school. And she devoured books daily. At the age of 10 she proclaimed she wanted to be a writer. After being a "closet" writer for several years, she sent her manuscripts out there and is now published with Soul Mate Publishing. And she couldn't be happier! A resident of Western New York, she moved from one Rochester to another Rochester to be with the love of her life. They now have 3 children and keep busy cooking, watching their children's sporting events, and of course reading!
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Friday, 24 April 2015




We're both addicted to sex, just not with each other.

High school friends - nothing more.

That was our promise to each other, because let's face it, infidelity spreads like a disease.

Everybody cheats.


And it's easier to remain friends than hurt the only person you ever cared about - or so we thought.





Excerpt: Chapter 1

“What the hell is that?” The new patient in the ER had an erection almost the size of a man’s arm. It tented the sheet covering him, and I thanked my lucky stars that I wasn’t on the front lines in the triage area. I could still hear the giggles from behind a curtain.

“This one’s yours, Jules. I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.” My co-worker and best friend’s humor didn’t escape me. The two of us were working the graveyard shift, and from the look of it, Chris was not going to help. In fact, bringing all the nurses’ attention to the patient may have only hindered any progress. Fortunately, she decided to leave. “I’m pretty sure I have a patient who needs an enema. I think I’d rather work that end than the one you’ll be working on.”

I highly doubted that. Chris worked the male nurses better than strippers did metal poles.

“Everybody out!” I pointed my finger to the door, but no one moved. Their heads were peeking one over another, trying to catch a glimpse of the patient’s prominent injury. My mind was already running amok as I wondered what the heck was underneath that sheet. “This is not Grey’s Anatomy, people, so unless you’re helping I don’t want to see you.”

They finally scattered back to their duties. On Saturday nights, or should I say Sunday mornings, we usually got the weekend party leftovers, and most of our patients were passed out drunk, stoned, or heavily medicated. Comprehension in any of those states was minimal. This guy on the bed in front of me was totally out. His face was covered in paint – green, red, yellow, blue, you name it and it was there. What kind of a party had he gone to?

I peeled back the sheets with hesitation. The rest of his body was painted in the same mix of colors as his face. My gaze rested over his hip, where underneath the smeared paint I could make out the black lines of a tattoo, though its shape remained mysterious. I wondered whether the patient had any clothes on when he came in. I sighed and removed the sheet down to his knees. The nurse beside me had her mouth completely open and was focused on what first appeared to be a cannon – a huge cannon made of a cylinder that imprisoned the patient’s enlarged penis.

“Holy crap!” I said under my breath. How do you get your cock stuck in a pump?





USA TODAY Bestselling Author Lacey Silks writes erotic suspense and contemporary romance. her stories come from life experiences, drams and fantasies. She likes a pinkish shade on a woman's cheeks, men with large feet and sexy lingerie, especially when it's torn off the body. Her favourite piece of clothing is a birthday suit.

When she's not thinking about writing steamy stories, which is a rare occasion, Lacey enjoys camping and skiing with her family (not at the same time). She's a happily married wife blessed with two kids who adore going to the library. She's an early bird by nature but loves the nightly adventures with her hubby which provide good content for her books.

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Note from the Author: While Cheaters Anonymous is a stand alone novel with HEA ending, it is advisable to read its short prequel When Things Go Wrong available at: Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play

family couple in a winter clothes

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The Unrequited Trilogy

DENIAL (Book One)

Genre - Contemporary, MM, Romance
Length - 35,413 words
Heat Level - Sextreme
Released - Sept 2014

Tristan Bailey is a man who never takes no for an answer in anything he does or wants. Life treats him good as the CEO of his own airline, and one of New York's finest bachelors. Men and women alike fall at his feet, the world opens to him without complaint. There isn't much he desires. Until he lays eyes on Joshua, that is.

Death has become a living nightmare for Joshua Malone. No matter what he does, a past riveted with pain and destruction follows him and forces him to make life decisions he would rather not. Josh never wanted to be reminded of the heartache that loving someone could bring, but he finds himself struggling to deny Tristan's advances.

Two different worlds collide in a heated meeting of longing and lust. Can the inner fears of one be laid to rest by the newfound love for the other, or will they both be denied?

Read an Excerpt  


Genre - Contemporary, MM, Romance
Length - 33, 053 words
Heat Level - Sextreme
Released - March 2015
Following the difficult trials leading to their newfound relationship, Tristan and Joshua thought things would get easier. They had fought their dark pasts together, and made a vow to never allow them to control their lives again.

Now a whole new kind of complication has arrived to test their loyalty and trust. A sexy complication in the form of Logan Mclean.

Lust, lies and emotions run rampant as the Scottish businessman wedges himself between the lovers. Have Tristan and Joshua truly laid the ghosts of their pasts to rest, or will they allow another’s desires to ruin everything? For in this ever growing world of emotion, one step can lead to either complete happiness, or an ultimate betrayal.

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Buy Links: Bookstrand / Amazon UK / Kobo  / Google Play /  Amazon US / Book World / Angus & Robertson 


Drama / Suspense
Date Published - June 2013

Lady of the Manor is an epic tale of misery for Richard Creek. It is the story of how his mother, Rosemary, makes life miserable for him, his family, and many citizens of Savannah. The novel takes places during the summer of 1958 in a beautiful mansion. Secrets begin to unravel for the Creek family as they continue a summer filled with rape, murder, and indiscretions. Someone must prohibit the Lady of the Manor from her continuous oppression.  But, does anyone have the courage to try?

The one woman who was supposed to love him was the one person who tried to destroy him. Richard Creek finally took a stand against his abusive mother, Rosemary, in the fall of 1929, leading to nearly three decades of her merciless tyranny. He has to decide how to protect his children from the omnipotent hand of the Lady of the Manor while they dwell beneath the same roof. Tensions overflow in this atypical home in Savannah, Georgia during the blazing summer of 1958.

71-year old Rosemary (Rosey) Isabella Creek is the cruel and ruthless matriarch of Creek Manor who carries out her malevolent deeds with the help of her loyal butler, Rayford Caruthers, whom she continually degrades for being an albino black man with atrocious English. Her only friend is Pop Barnes, who along with Rosemary’s brother, are the only ones who seem to remember a softer, lovelier ‘Rosey’. She lords over her only son, Richard, a 43-year old banker; his wife, 42-year old Helen; and their five children: the twins; Hilary and Taylor, along with Kimberly, Reginald, and Brock.

The patience of everyone is tested with each of Rosemary’s taunts as they try to understand the nature and reason of her cruelty. As more details of her past are revealed, it only further complicates their comprehension. Will she ever transform into a woman that they can love?
Chapter One
Rosemary’s Baby
She picked up a large silver bucket and emptied it into an old copper tub. The tub was six feet in length and held some of the iciest well water that you’ll ever find in Savannah at that time of the year. It was drawn from one of the deepest wells in Chatham County. The well had been dug out in the backyard, nearly twenty yards from the back porch. She walked over to the corner and set the bucket down with the little dent facing outward, always facing outward.
“I guess it would help if you added the hot water, Rosemary,” she muttered to herself.
Rosemary went back to the corner and took the silver bucket over to the fireplace. She had a black, cast-iron cauldron of water boiling over a wooden fire. She could never fill it to the brim because of an inch long crack at the top that had been there since she was a child. Rosemary repeatedly dipped the bucket into the scalding hot water, emptying it into the copper tub until it was nearly full. The steam glazed over the lone window until no one could see in or out. She walked the bucket back over to its natural habitat, dent facing outward. Rosemary grabbed a brown jug of iodine and poured a quart of it into the tub. Then, she took a little swig in her mouth, swooshed it around, and spat into the tub.
“Now, it’s ready. Richard! Bath time!”
He hated those words. It was like the sound a buck hears, slightly before the bullet enters his flesh. He opened the door and slowly peeped inside.
“Come in, Richard. It’s time to get clean.”
Once a week, Richard had to participate in the dreaded bath time. He walked slowly toward the tub and stood there, gazing into the water.
“Can’t I do it myself, mother?” He asked, knowing what her answer would be.
“Nonsense!” She always replied. “You’re merely a baby. Now, strip off those clothes and get in.”
He completely undressed and put his left foot into the water, letting out a yelp.
“It’s too hot, mother.”
“Nonsense, it’s always the same every week. Now, get in.”
He stood in the water for a long minute, and then slowly settled into the copper tub.
“It’s burning, mother. Why is it stinging?
“I saw where you scraped your elbow and got that cut on your leg. So, I added iodine into the water.”
“I have to get out. It hurts.”
“Nonsense; it will pass. Sit back and soak your body real good while I get the soap.”
She had a large chunk of homemade lye soap on a shelf. Rosemary grabbed a handful of it; the door flung open.
“Did you have enough water, Rosemary?” A smooth, gangly man stood in the doorway.
“Yes,” she responded without looking around.
“Father, how was work today?”
“Terrible,” he replied. “This economy is destroying people’s lives. It may take years for this country to recover.”
“Nonsense, Eugene,” Rosemary turned around. “This stock market will rebound within another month.”
“I don’t think so, Rosey. They say it completely crashed. Lots of folks lost everything. People are out there killing themselves.”
“People with no faith. As great as the twenties have been, you people panic over one day in the stock market. Nonsense!”
“If you say so. Why don’t you give Richard that soap and come sit with me in the den? I set on a bit of tea.”
“I can’t leave this child alone in a tub of water. He might drown. Do you think me an unfit mother?”
“I assure you; he won’t drown, Rosemary. Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?”
“Of course not, E.H. I mustn’t risk it. I insist on being here. The Lady of the Manor has spoken.”
“Sorry, Richard; I tried. When the lady has spoken; she has spoken.”
“Keep the tea hot, dear.”
“Of course, Rosey,” he shook his head in disgust, wishing he would do more but knowing he wouldn’t. He was frustrated with his wife, but even more disappointed in himself.
“Close the door, darling.”
He slammed it shut.
“Why can’t I wash myself, mother dearest?”
“You are a little child, Richard. Children don’t know how to wash themselves. You just sit back and let mother scrub the dirt and filth from your body.”
“But all the other boys my age bathe themselves.”
“Nonsense. Now, hand me that cloth rag and relax.”
She took the rag from his hand and squeezed the water down his back and shoulders. Richard stared at the little dent on the silver bucket and clinched his fists. She rubbed the rag on the lye soap and began to scrub the back of his neck and behind his ears.
“Such a dirty little boy. How do young boys attract such filth?”
Richard closed his eyes. He could still see that silver bucket in his mind, dent always outward. Rosemary began to cleanse his chest, stomach, and back. His eyes remained shut.
“I met a girl today, mother. She was quite lovely.” He tried anything to take his mind off this bath.
“Nonsense. You’re much too young for courting.”
“Mother, I’m fourteen years old. I’m quite old enough for a relationship. The other boys in my grade have girlfriends. It’s 1929; times are different.”
“Nonsense. Remember this and remember it well. All girls are evil. They’ll use you for your money, cheat on you, and lie on you and to you. Never trust a female, Richard.”
“You’re a female.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m your mother. Now, lift up your feet.”
She took the rag and rubbed the bottom of his feet, then between his toes. She washed his legs up toward the thighs. Richard’s eyes had remained closed.
“Please, mother; let me wash the rest.”
“Never. Only I can clean you correctly. Otherwise, you will miss spots. Now, open your legs.”
Richard stared at the bucket’s dent one last time before clenching his eyes again. He opened his legs, slowly and reluctantly. She reached down into the water with the ragged, soapy piece of cloth and began to clean his genitalia. They both knew that ‘cleaning’ was the least of her concerns at this point. As tightly as he clenched his eyelids, he couldn’t keep the tears from seeping through and gliding down his cheeks into the milky water. She eventually dropped the rag and continued with her hand. He cried even harder, trying to focus his mind on the dent in the silver bucket. She broke his concentration with a light voice.
“Who’s Rosemary’s baby?” She whispered in his ear.
He refused to answer, pretending not to hear.
“Who’s Rosemary’s baby?” She slowed her strokes and softened her whisper. His slow tears turned into a speedy sob.
“Please stop, mother.”
“Nonsense,” Rosemary continued to whisper. “Mother must finish cleaning her special, special boy. Now, tell me who is Rosemary’s baby and we’ll be done.”
“I am,” the sobbing turned into full-blown crying. “I am Rosemary’s baby.”
“Stand up,” she stopped rubbing him. He stood in the tub, still erect from being molested. “My, how you grow with each week. You have surpassed your father; I do believe.”
His eyes never opened as ‘mommy dearest’ went for the towel. She began to dry him off, beginning with the upper body. Rosemary worked her way down to the buttocks, then around to her target area. She began to stroke him with the towel as she had with the tattered rag. He withstood as much as he could before he snatched the towel from her hands.
“No more!” Richard covered his nakedness with the towel. He kept his eyes shut. “This is the last time you will put your filthy hands on me, mother!”
“Nonsense. However will you get clean?”
“I’ll bathe myself. I am perfectly capable.”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
“Either that or I shall run away. I want a tub in my room and a lock on the inside of my door.”
“Nonsense?” He interrupted her. “Is it, mother? Is it, really? Does it really seem like nonsense that I desire my privacy?”
“I suppose not,” she stood up from her knees. “But…”
“Either that or I leave.”
“Okay, Richard. I don’t want you to leave me, ever. As long as you are here, I shall never touch you again.”
“I need to dry off and get dressed…alone.”
“Okay,” Rosemary opened the door. “I only did what I did because I love you, Richard. When you’re ready for me again, I’ll meet you here. Empty the tub when you’re done.” She closed the door behind her. “I may not touch you again, Richard, but I will make your life a miserable hell until you let me,” she muttered to herself as she walked down the hall.
Downstairs, Eugene was pouring hot tea into two porcelain cups. He squeezed the juice of a half a lemon into each cup, along with two teaspoons of sugar. He set the cups, pitcher, and Rosemary’s oatmeal raisin cookies on a silver platter and brought them into the den. They were sitting on a mahoganycoffee table when Rosemary entered the room. She grabbed a cup and sat in silence. Eugene nibbled on a cookie, trying to figure out how to start the conversation.
“It isn’t right, Rosemary. It’s got to stop.”
“I can’t help myself, E.H. It’s all I know.”
“Doesn’t matter. A son’s worth can go no further than a mother’s trust will guide him. It can’t happen anymore.”
“It won’t. I promised him that I wouldn’t touch him again.”
“Do you mean that, Rosey?”
“I have no choice. He threatened to run away from me. I can’t lose my baby.”
She sipped her tea in silence for a while, staring into the fireplace. Eugene picked up his cup and followed suit. She knew that the urge would come up sooner or later. If she couldn’t touch Richard, she’d have to find someone else until she could.
She finally broke the calm, “You know I don’t care much for this tea. Have Caruthers put on a pot of coffee.”
“He’s already left for the night.”
“Oh bother,” she continued to sip her tea, saying nothing else till they went to sleep.
Upstairs, Richard finally managed to pry his eyes open. He was still standing naked in the water, holding the towel. He vomited into the tub as he had done after every other episode with his mother. The thought of her hands on him always made him puke. He slowly dried himself, shaking all the while. Then, he grabbed the silver bucket. He began filling the bucket with tub water, pouring it down a chute that led to a water trough outside of the house.
Richard couldn’t help but notice the little dent on the bucket. He had only noticed it the first time she had molested him two years prior. It was the roaring twenties, but for him it hadn’t been that much fun. He knew that he would have never run away, but it was the only viable threat he could think of, other than murder. But, he knew he could never kill his mother.
Richard poured the last bit of water out and set the bucket on the floor. He hung the towel and rag up on nails and slipped into his long johns. He sat on the oak wood floor, back to the tub, eyes red from crying. He decided to leave the ring of vomit and dirt around the tub. If she wanted it clean, she could do it herself. He planned to never use it or the room again.
Richard caught sight of the silver bucket out of the corner of his eye. He punched it over and over until his knuckles bled. He picked it up and walked over to the window, intending to toss it outside. He hesitated for a moment, and then walked it back over to its proper place. Richard spun it in his hands over and over as if the dent might somehow change. Then, he set it down in that same corner that it had always resided, dent facing outward, always outward.

Adrian Heflin is a graduate of the University of West Georgia with an accounting degree. He is a former banker and security guard. He began his writing career with short stories, eventually evolving to novels. Adrian has published four books and is in the planning stage of several others. Lady of the Manor (ISBN: 978-1490416434) a family saga and Devil Town (ISBN: 978-1490523392) an urban fiction novel was published in 2013. E.M.A. Chronicles (ISBN: 978-1491078341) a collection of short stories and The Untrackables: Zhang Rule (ISBN: 978-1491077863) a political thriller were both published in 2014.

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Thursday, 23 April 2015


Well this week iv stumbled across a new author, her name is   Jacinta Maree.

Self confessed chocaholic, Jacinta was born and raised in Melbourne Australia with her loving family of five. Even as a child Jacinta had an itch to write. Writing was the one constant hobby she clung to, also trying her hand at piano, flute, tennis, horseback riding and drama.
Jacinta works full time in the family business and spends her afternoons either playing basketball, reading, writing or hanging out with friends. She is always happy to try something new; getting her real estate license, practicing ninjitshu, Zumba and parkour to name a few.  For her future, Jacinta sees herself writing. It is a large part of her identity and something she hopes to continue. Aside from her love of stories she loves Japan and its unique and beautiful culture and history. From their delicious sushi dishes right down to their wooden sandals and kimonos. She is also a huge cat person and loves to snuggle up in front of the fire for a good movie or book. Her favorite genres are paranormal and fantasy but she also loves anything written by thriller writer, Stephen King.  

Now the book im waiting on is the first in her My Demonic Ghost   series.   

Rachael has traveled to Whitehaven to visit her father, a trek she can not help but dread given his recent descent into madness. Upon her arrival she realizes his deterioration has not only been mental, it’s been physical as well. His death comes as no surprise, but what she discovers soon after, is shocking when his burden becomes hers. 
Lock is a banished spirit who must attach himself to a human host in order to hide from those who would drag him back to hell to be destroyed. When he meets Rachael he finds more than a host, he finds an ally. 
Together they must defeat each of the seven sins in order to guarantee Lock's safe passage into the Third Realm, a loophole in creation that would allow him to escape hell and have peace at long last. Through their unlikely friendship, other banished spirits flock to them in hopes of a peace they hadn't dreamt possible

Once it comes and Iv read it I shall post a review  but if you want more info on the books then just click the links below.

Wednesday, 22 April 2015

The Scwarzschild Radius by Gustave Florentin

Crime Thriller
Date Published: September 2014

Columbia student Rachel Wallen descends into the netherworld of runaways and predators to find her sister, Olivia, who has been abducted by a killer who auctions the deaths of young girls in an eBay of agony. As she closes in on the killer who’s taken Olivia, Rachel becomes his next target.

Recent Praise for The Schwarzschild Radius: 

“A fierce thriller that doesn’t offer many chances to catch a breath.” ~Kirkus Reviews

“A top-rate thriller.” –San Francisco Book Review

“One of the Top-Ten Fiction Books of 2014″ –

“The next GONE GIRL”–

‘Vivid, sinister, unsettling – Florentin delves into the darkest recesses of humanity in this fast-

paced thriller’ – Crime Thriller Hound

The Schwarzschild Radius is available in both print and ebook formats.

Gustavo Florentin was born in Queens, New York and received a bachelor's degree in electrical engineering from the Polytechnic Institute of NYU. He spent a decade in the defense industry then, after the fall of the Soviet Union, he moved on to the financial sector in New York where he is currently a network engineer. His passions include violin, travel to exotic places and exploring worldwide conspiracies. He lives in New Jersey where he is working on his third novel.