Posted by: reneewildes1 | May 16, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Tamela Miles

Heart of a Hunter
Hell On Heels Book 1
by Tamela Miles
Genre: Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance
Life has never been kind to teen, Elle Connor. With a troubled home life,
the gritty, violent streets of Los Angeles have become her home. She
never questions her superhuman abilities until she encounters, in a
fight or die situation, a guardian angel Tagas, who reveals her holy
origins as one in a long history of demon hunters. She also has her
eye on her attractive classmate, Brandon.
Problems arise when Elle finally realizes that life as a hunter is fraught
with tragedies and is deeply lonely. Elle is presented with a choice
– follow her calling from God as a hunter or live a “normal”
life with love. Can Elle tip the scales in favor of what’s good or
will she become just another casualty in the eternal war between good
and evil?
Dark Deliverance
Hell On Heels Book 2
Elle Connor’s life is as grim as she had always feared. Years of demon
slaying have left her with nothing to show for her trouble. She’s
convinced a “normal” life was never meant for her.
Patrick Holt wants nothing more than to be away from the holy wars and has
lived quietly for years as an average human. The trouble is that he’s
anything but average–he’s a fallen hybrid angel.
When Tagas the guardian angel pairs them up to investigate the brutal
slayings of young women in Los Angeles, Elle wants nothing to do with
Patrick. As Elle and Patrick begin to understand each other,
irritation is forgotten and fiery passion ignites between them. “No
ties” is how they both live, but Elle soon begins to long for
much more. As they become sucked deeper into the mysterious killings,
Elle fears that, in this battle, Hell will win.
Hell Hath No Fury
Hell On Heels Book 3
Elle and Patrick have settled into a life of peaceful domesticity with
their infant daughter after years of battling in the holy wars.
However, Hell’s agents haven’t forgotten about them. When Pyro
unleashes his torment in the worst way, Elle and Patrick must find a
way to save their child and hold onto each other in the face of
incredible evil. Will Hell have the last word in a battle that forces
Elle to return to the darkness inside herself?
Tamela Miles is a California State University San Bernardino graduate
student with a Bachelor of Science degree in Child Development and a
former flight attendant. She grew up in Altadena, California in that
tumultuous time known as the 1980s. She now resides with her family
in the Inland Empire, CA. She’s a horror/paranormal romance writer
mainly because it feels so good having her characters do bad things
and, later, pondering what makes them so bad and why they can never
seem to change their wicked ways.
She enjoys emails from
people who like her work. In fact, she loves emails. She can be
contacted at or
her Facebook page, Tamela Miles Books. She also welcomes reader
reviews and enjoys the feedback from people who love to read as much
as she does.
Follow the tour HERE
for exclusive content and a giveaway!


Posted by: reneewildes1 | May 14, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Ann Crawford

See my review here:

TourBanner_Fresh off the Starship (1)

GENRE: Women’s fiction / humor



Love to laugh? You’ll enjoy this feel-good tale.

A starbeing skyrockets to Earth from the other side of forever with a specific assignment: to help steer humanity away from the collision course it’s on. But we all know how travel can get drastically diverted–instead of landing in Washington, D.C., where she could assist on a grand geopolitical scale, she ends up in…Kansas!

Wrong place, right time? Join our shero on this whimsical journey as she pursues her purpose as well as discovers the beauty of life and love on Earth.




Matt hands her a large drink with a little mountain of fluffy white stuff on top, with stripes of brown dripping down the mountainsides.

“Here, got you extra whipped cream and lots of car’mul on top, just the way you like it.”

Missy takes a lick of the whipped cream and her eyes go wide. “Oh!”

“Well, yer not supposed to lick it like an ice-cream cone. Sip it.”

She does and then slaps her hand on the table.

“Missy! You okay?”

“Oh, my! How can you beings ever complain about anything?”

“How’s that now?”

“Nothing.” She takes another sip and moans again. Several customers seated nearby look over at her.

“Missy, sweetheart, can you calm yourself a bit?”

She takes a bite of the round treat on a stick he’d set down by her. The moans escalate.

“Geez,” Matt says, trying to sink farther into his seat, “I feel like I’m straight out of
When Harry Met Sally.”

“Who’s Harry? Who’s Sally?”

“The main characters in one of yer favorite movies. You made me watch it at least half a dozen times.”

She takes another sip and bite. The moans escalate even more. By this time everyone in the café is looking at her.

“Missy! Perhaps we should eat these in the car.”

“Wherever you want!”

The customers in the café receive one more rendition of “Ohhhhhhhh!” as Matt leads her out the door and she takes another sip of her drink.

Okay, maybe it’s not thaaaat bad here.


AuthorPic (1)AUTHOR Bio and Links:

I’m a fun-loving, world-traveling, high-flying, deep-diving, and living-to-the-max author of eight books. When I’m not flying planes, scuba diving, climbing every mountain (on the back of my husband’s motorcycle) or riding the world’s fastest roller coasters, you can find me in my writing nest with a view of Colorado’s Rocky Mountains out the window. I’ve lived all over–from both oceans white with foam, to the prairie, and now to the mountain. Yes, a little backwards, but what the hey.

My bestselling and award-winning novels go as high and deep as I do—they’re profound yet funny; playful although poignant; heart-opening and heart-lifting; thought-provoking and inspiring; and edgy while universal. I’m also a screenwriter and award-winning filmmaker and humanitarian.

Social Media & Book Links
Book link:

The book will be on sale for only $0.99.


Ann Crawford will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Enter to win a $25 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted by: reneewildes1 | May 10, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Ryan Wieser

Dawn of the Hunters
Hunters of Infinity #3
by Ryan Wieser
Genre: Space Opera, SciFi
Pub Date: 5/7/19
Even the Hunters of Infinity are splintered when faced
with the greatest battle in the Daharian galaxy’s history . . .
Jessop has proven herself to be an unstoppable force from Aranthol to Azgul, inarguably
the fiercest warrior the Hunters have ever seen. And her abilities only seem to
strengthen as her rage grows. With the two men she holds dear by her side—one
good-souled, one with a treacherous past, and both deadly with a sword—she
prepares to enter the most important fight of her life, with the most personal stakes yet . . .
Armies are divided and reforged, and battle lines are drawn. Blind loyalty drives some
while others are sworn to protect the galaxy at all costs.
Bonds will be tested.
Lives will be lost.
Consequences will be devastating.
“This thrilling, action-packed debut ties together strong characters with a building
story line that will have readers clamoring for the next volume in this new
series.” —Library Journal, STARRED REVIEW, on The Glass Blade
The Shadow City
Hunters of Infinity #2
The Hunters of Infinity have guarded the Daharian galaxy for ages, but when betrayed, they can
become a vicious enemy . . .
Jessop, the first woman to join the Hunters, has finally been reunited with those who mean
the most to her. In her quest for vengeance, she has left many embittered and
betrayed, chief among them Kohl O’Hanlon, the Hunter who once loved her.
Now, as the feared Falco Bane leads his forces into the Hunters’ territory, Kohl attempts
to retaliate, flooding their infamous Shadow City with his own followers.
Jessop must fight a war on two fronts, testing her commitment to the ones she
loves and challenging her abilities as the most elite warrior among the
Hunters. With the future of Daharia’s leadership at stake, Jessop is determined
to protect those closest to her at all costs . But when allies turn into
adversaries, the real threat comes from a place least expected . . .
The Glass Blade
Hunters of Infinity #1
The Hunters of Infinity have been
protecting the Daharian galaxy for years, but there has never been a female
Hunter—until now.

In a seedy bar in the shadowy corners of Daharia,
Jessop comes to the rescue of young Hunter Kohl O’Hanlon. Impressed by her
remarkable sword-wielding skills, the Hunters invite her to their training
facility, the Glass Blade, though not all are pleased with the intrusion. But
they soon discover that Jessop learned to fight from the rogue leader of the
Shadow City of Aranthol—and escaped.
Now they want to use her intimate knowledge of their enemy to destroy him.

As Jessop grows closer to this elite brotherhood,
their leader succumbs to a mysterious ailment,
and Kohl learns that Jessop is hiding dark secrets, raising suspicions
about the enigmatic woman who saved his life. Has the Hunters’ security been
breached—or do they have a traitor in their ranks?

Allegiances will be questioned.

Loyalties will be betrayed.

Vengeance will be brutal.

“This thrilling, action-packed debut ties
together a strong characters with a building story line that will have readers
clamoring for the next volume in this new series.” —Library Journal, STARRED REVIEW, on The Glass Blade

**Only .99 cents!!**
Ryan Wieser completedher B.A. in Sociology and Socio-Legal Studies before going on
to complete her MSc. in Experimental Psychology. Having been raised in Africa and
educated across multiple countries, Ryan has a passion for travel and an interest in
diverse cultures. She currently resides in Wyoming with her husband, where she
is writing her next book.
Follow the tour HERE
for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!


Posted by: reneewildes1 | May 7, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Kaitlynzq

Audio Poem_Ancient Script of Lovecontu audio poem

Genre: Adult Literary Fiction, Poetry

The story within Ancient Script of Lovecontu
contains words of
caresses around
as a cocoon of soft cashmere
accompanied by sweet aroma
allures to intimate nearness
remains a velvet kiss

Vocal Synopsis:
An audio poem that is interwoven in the Lovecontu Song de Light Lovecontu series that includes
Ancient Script of Lovecontu audio poem
Legend of Song de Light audio book
Legend of Song de Light audio play
Lovecontu Song de Light Lovecontu audio set

blog curated pages for the series:

curated playlist for the series:

Excerpts from Ancient Script of Lovecontu audio poem:
“…Oh, actually, that’s how I’m feeling…
A breeze, melodic in pace…”
“…Captivated, she draws nearer
Closer to…than she’s ever gone before…”
“…Water leaked from my eyes…”
“…And begins to sing…”

Available to Purchase on my Website that is supported by two URL addresses:
Direct Links on my Website to the story:

Contact Information:

Posted by: reneewildes1 | May 5, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Kat Caulberg

SD Tours logo

three star island banner

GENRE: Historical Time Travel Romance

Read my REVIEW Here:


Stepping through a time portal into 1716, historian Penny Saunders didn’t expect to get stranded in the past. Five years later, now a pariah to the townsfolk of Three Star Island, she endures so

litude and ridicule until a hurricane tosses a dangerous castaway onto her shores.

William Payne’s history precedes him. Pirate, outlaw, and ruthless captain, he’s a monster among men . . . or so it seems. Desperately seeking redemption for his blood-soaked past, he upends Penny’s world by showing her a passion she’s never experienced.

But time is closing in on them; the governor of the Carolinas has rescinded his pirates’ pardon, the locals are growing suspicious of Penny’s new houseguest, and she can’t keep her secrets from William forever. When everything falls apart, she must use both wits and weapons against lawmen and pirates alike to save the one man who would tear down the world for her.


Penelope stood in the crater the time portal had sliced into the tree line. Sheared-off branches sprouted new growth overhead, and grass choked the scorched ground, concealing most of the sand that had been fused into glass globules by the rift. Frowning, she dislodged one of the spheres with the tip of her shoe and kicked it into the dunes. This gate hadn’t opened in months.

Two days prior, a hurricane had ravaged Three Star. Alone on the southern tip of the island, Penny had ridden out the storm in her farmhouse while gales ripped up centuries-old live oaks by their roots and tossed debris through the walls of her outbuildings. She’d seen a time gate’s flicker in the immediate aftermath half a mile from where she now stood on the beach, but there had been no reason to dash out into the dwindling rain in hopes of reaching it before it shut.

None of them would let her go home again.

Grasping her skirts in one hand, she made her way through the oat grass to ascertain what the storm had offered her in compensation. The summer of 1721 had been a blistering one, providing scarcely any rain to offset the heat. With few thunderstorms of much note, ships in the area had enjoyed a season of calm, returning to port with full holds and happy sailors, and Penny’s larder suffered for it. Without wreckage to pick through, she’d survived on meager rations from her garden and the bones of a sloop that ran aground on the shoals to the south.

Yesterday threw one more long, hard bout of rain at the island, keeping her inside until dusk. Now, with the sun a few hours into the sky, she hurried to collect her share of the shattered remains of dead men’s fortunes. This time, she was determined it wouldn’t bother her. She tucked a short strand of hair behind her ear, knuckled her glasses higher, and proceeded to the shore.

The sea mirrored the heavens, flat and tranquil. Whitecaps lapped the sand, pulling back to reveal a stripe of broken shells stretching as far as she could see. Currents funneled past the rock barrier jutting out into the water, and a smattering of planks and splintered crates gathered on the sand bars the rising tide would soon submerge.

Penny stooped to dip her fingers into a mountain of sea foam. Lacework-white and delicate, it dissolved at her touch. A flicker of movement caught her eye. Slanting toward the beach on a downdraft, a laughing gull shrieked its peculiar, broken cry and swooped over a figure lying in the surf.

Her stomach dropped. The waves had disgorged a body.

Straightening, she fidgeted with her apron strings. The tide was rising. Soon, the ocean would reclaim the life it had taken, leaving no trace of the drowned man behind. Here, he was alone and unknown. Somewhere else, however, he would be an empty seat at a hearth, a bed half-filled, a promise unkept. Like her, he could never go home again.
Penelope sighed. Unable to bury him, she could at least bear witness to his return to the sea. Keeping close to the water, she trudged toward him.

She stopped when his arm moved. It was a tiny motion she could’ve mistaken for a trick of the wind, his sleeve toyed with by the breeze, yet when his fist clenched the sand, she was certain.

He was alive.

“Son of a . . .”

Kat Caulberg


For as long as she can remember, Kat Caulberg has been obsessed with history and the paranormal. Somewhat to the dismay of her parents, her interests led her into both museums and graveyards as a child, a trend which has continued into her adulthood. This has influenced her reading tastes and her writing, whether it be a good ghost story, thrilling tales of time-travel, or devouring endless volumes of ancient warfare.

She signed a contract with Soul Mate Publishing in 2018 for her first novel, Three Star Island, a time-travel story set in 1721. She enjoys writing strong, quirky heroines, and has a weakness for cheeky heroes who have as much compassion as they have flaws.

Kat currently lives in North Carolina with her Englishman and a few cats.

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

Author Links







$15 Amazon

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway!

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Posted by: reneewildes1 | May 3, 2019

Guest Blog: Fellow Champagne Author Barbara Russell

A Knight to Celebrate
New Camelot Prequel
by Barbara Russell
Genre: YA Arthurian Steampunk Fantasy Romance
Nathair and two other fellow cadets of the Sir Lancelot’s Academy for
Knights are pulling a prank on the ladies of Lady Guinevere’s
Academy for Damsels. After the ladies filled the cadets’ quivers
with honey, it’s only fair that the cadets return the favour.
**Only .99 cents!!**
THE FIRST RULE to be a good, no, a great thief was to be patient. Hurry would get Nathair caught, and getting caught picking the lock of Lady Guinevere’s Academy for Damsels meant an immediate expulsion from Sir Lancelot Academy for Knights, a month grounded at home, and the end of his dream of becoming a knight.
But with his fellow cadets fretting around him and urging him to be fast, the noise of the night patrols roaming New Camelot’s streets, and the looming fear that a clockwork knight might discover them, he wasn’t particularly prone to follow this first rule.
Not that he was a real thief. He’d never stolen anything. So far, he’d used his pilfering skills to help his best friend, Tristan, enter the ladies’ academy to meet his girlfriend of the moment. If Sir Lancelot had been alive today, almost five hundred years after King Arthur’s death, he wouldn’t be impressed by what the young knights in training were about to do. Protecting the ladies was one of the first rules of the Knight Code. Heck, Nathair’s mother wouldn’t be impressed or amused.
He was the first dark-skinned cadet, member of the tribe of the Snake, to almost become a knight, and he might blow his career tonight. But two days ago, the girls of the Lady
Guinevere had filled the cadets’ quivers with honey. So, it was only fair that the cadets returned the favour.
“Will it take long, Nathair?” Raymond asked, biting his fingernails. His gaze darted
around, and his chest strained the jacket of the cadets’ uniform.
Nathair slid a thin knife into the slit between the door and the doorframe. “It’ll take the time that it’s needed.”
He paused to wipe his clammy hands over his trousers and to push back his hair. A sliver of anxiety crawled up his neck like a spider, but he ignored it. He’d picked this lock dozens of times. He knew it intimately, better than the cabbage field in his farmhouse. Yet that night the lock didn’t want to yield to his touch. The knife jammed even though the lock hadn’t been changed. He was sure of that. It was the same, rusty old lock of a few days ago.
Raymond shifted his weight and blew air on his hands. The blue cloak swished about his ankles. “Can’t you speed up?”
Tristan swatted his shoulder. “First, don’t disturb Nat while he’s working. He tends to become sloppy when you push him.”
“No, I don’t,” Nathair gritted out, sticking the second knife in the lock.
“You do.” Tristan waved a dismissive hand before returning his attention to Raymond. “And second, why did you wear the academy uniform? If someone sees us, they’ll know the Sir Lancelot’s cadets broke into the Guinevere’s Academy.”
A Knight in Distress
New Camelot #1
Knights are supposed to rescue damsels. That’s the natural order. So when
Nathair, a knight in training, finds himself rescued by the princess
he’s supposed to save, he’s annoyed. And when the princess proves
she can fight like a knight? Well, that’s enough for a boy to think
about a career change.
Nathair hadn’t planned to end his last day at Sir Lancelot’s Academy for Knights getting caught cheating on his final examination. Especially since the cheating had been a misunderstanding. The incriminating piece of parchment was still in his best friend’s extended hand. General Baldwin loomed over Nathair in his emerald uniform, one eyebrow arched in disappointment.
“Sir, I wasn’t—” Nathair started, standing at his desk.
“Don’t even try, Locksbay.” General Baldwin held up a hand to silence him. “The situation is clear enough. I’ve caught your friend Tristan red-handed passing you that piece of paper with the correct Numeracy answers. Cheating is not only against the academy rules, but the Knights’ Honor Code as well.”
Ouch. That hurts. Nathair wasn’t a cheater. He was an average student maybe, but never
a cheater. He bit down the remark and ignored his fellow cadets whispering and giggling behind his back. They leaned forward on their wooden desks, heads turning from him to the general like in a game of stool-ball. Many cadets would enjoy seeing the only russet-skinned boy at the academy being publicly scolded.
Tristan of Greystone stood and bowed to the general. His blond hair swished about his shoulders. “General Baldwin, it’s my fault. It was my idea to help Nathair. I knew he needed help with Numeracy, and I thought to pass him the answers. He didn’t ask me anything.”
That was true, and swyve. Tristan excelled at many things—he was the academy’s top cadet—but persuading people was his most honed skill. His confident tone, reassuring smile, and bright blue eyes could soothe the most inveterate criminal into turning himself in.
General Baldwin waved a dismissive hand. “You can sit down, Greystone, and keep going with your examination, but I’ll take fifty points off your final score for breaking the rules.”
Tristan did as told, casting an apologetic glance at Nathair.
General Baldwin took Nathair’s test and scanned it. “Let’s see why you wanted
Greystone’s intervention.”
When his gray eyebrows shot up, Nathair smelled trouble. He didn’t need the mind-reading power of the mind-wrens to guess what the general was thinking. The bell echoed in the high-vaulted ceiling of the Training Hall, and Nathair exhaled. Chairs scraped back against the wooden floor.
Now he was done for.
“Locksbay,” General Baldwin’s voice sounded stern, “…follow me to my office.”
“Of course, sir.” He collected his quill, parchments, and ink bottle and stuffed them in his bag.
“Sorry,” Tristan whispered. “I’ll wait for you here.”
With heavy feet, Nathair followed the man who might expel him. He swallowed hard, thinking about his mentor. What would Ewhen say when he heard about this? Nathair shuffled behind the general along the Champions’ Corridor lined with famous knights’ suits of armor. They headed to the eastern tower of the castle toward the mechanical winch.
Before entering the narrow cabin that would lift him up to the third floor, Nathair hesitated. Traveling suspended by an iron cable wasn’t his idea of a safe trip. In comparison, the clockwork stairs, despite the grinding noise of the steps winding up, seemed safer. Nathair stepped inside the cabin and shoved his hands in his blue cloak pockets, while the winch coiled up with a grinding of metal against stone. From a gap between two metal plates, he caught a glimpse of rotating wheels and pumping pistons.
Once at the landing, Nathair trudged toward General Baldwin’s office. The oak door closed behind them with a thud. The room had four floor-to-ceiling windows, a high-vaulted ceiling, and a fireplace that resembled a dragon’s open jaw. Despite the size of the room, Nathair’s chest constricted. He breathed in the familiar smell. The musty scent of old parchments mingled with that of the armchairs’ worn leather.
“Sit.” General Baldwin sat on his throne-like chair.
Nathair groaned and dropped down onto one of the stuffed chairs. No chance this would be quick.
General Baldwin scanned Nathair’s test, his eyes darting up and down. “You have twenty-five points. It’s not good enough, but it’s not an excuse to cheat either.”
He didn’t reply. He’d rather take the blame than involve Tristan. Besides, telling the truth wouldn’t change his score.
General Baldwin drummed his fingers on the desk. “What happened? You were a good student. Not the finest, but decent. This,” he gestured at the paper, “is not what I’d have expected from you, and I’m not talking about today’s examination.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a leather folder fat with parchments. He unfastened the string and spread them out.
Nathair gripped the armrests.
“I had a look at your tests and assignments, and I’m very disappointed.” General Baldwin flipped through the stack of papers. “In your last Wildlife and Wild-flora test you scored an Insufficient, same thing with Music and Courteous Conversation.”
He shook his head. A sickening lump crawled into his stomach. Please, anything but Poetry.
“For example, Poetry.” As General Baldwin read, his frown deepened. “Dame Puddifoot wrote only one word about your poetic skills: hopeless. What is your obsession with cats? Cats are all over your poems. You must love them.”
Hardly. Cat rhymed with everything: fat, hat, sat, bat, mat—the possibilities were endless.
“And I see no extracurricular skills or activities.” He stared at Nathair.
He wiped his hands on the trousers of his uniform and pulled back a curled strand of his chestnut hair. Call it a hunch but breaking into Lady Guinevere’s Damsels Academy using nothing but two knives probably wasn’t an extracurricular skill the general would be interested in, but then someone had to release those greasy pigs into Lady Guinevere’s dormitory. Last week, the ladies had filled the cadets’ quivers with honey. It was only sensible that the cadets returned the favor, and Tristan needed help to sneak into the rooms of his many girlfriends.
“Well?” General Baldwin prompted.
“I don’t have much time for extra activities, sir.”
“Anyway, I might agree that Music and Poetry aren’t essential for a knight, but an Unsatisfactory in Swordsmanship and Defensive Strategy is inexcusable. You’ve excelled in them until recently. Ewhen’s always praised your fighting skills and resilience. What’s going on with you?”
He loosened his jacket’s collar. “I…my family had problems this winter.”
“What problems?”
“My sister got the water-elf disease.”
General Baldwin’s jaw dropped. “Was it serious?”
“Her lungs were affected.” Nathair fussed with his cloak. “The healer’s fee was exorbitant, and my mother couldn’t hire a worker for the harvest. I had to help her.”
Not that his mother had asked for his help. She wanted Nathair to focus on his studies. In fact, they’d had a furious fight. Still, he’d worked tirelessly on the field. The cuts and bruises covering his hands didn’t come from combat practice. The hours spent plowing and tilling had taken their toll.
“Did your mother ask for a loan?” General Baldwin asked.
“She did.” Nathair’s eyes narrowed. “They wanted forty percent interest.”
General Baldwin tilted his head. “What? That’s robbery. Your mother is being treated like a witch. The reason?”
“They said that…” Anger and shame swept through Nathair. He squirmed on the chair as if he were sitting on hot coals. At least he would be eighteen soon and the official owner of their land. “They don’t trust a russet-skinned woman of the Snake clan, and she was lucky that Ewhen is our landowner. Otherwise, the Wizarding Council would’ve already confiscated our land. Unless we pay the debt in a month, they’ll take our farm, and my mother’s permit to stay in New Camelot will be revoked.”
If his mother were expelled from the city, he’d follow her into the Snake Mountains where her people lived. New Camelot was his home. He’d been born here. All he knew about the Snake people was that they were dark-skinned and worshiped a half-woman, half-snake goddess. He didn’t even speak their tongue.
“I’m not surprised. The war against the Snake people has gone on for too long—like the war against the Saxons and the Goths, and now we’re on the edge of a war with the Romans.” General Baldwin rose and paced. “Did you tell the moneylenders about your father and how your mother is a hardworking, law-abiding citizen? I guess they don’t care.” He stopped pacing. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? I might’ve helped.”
Nathair scuffed his boots on the marble floor. “I thought I could handle it.”
“Pride is a knight’s trait, but you should’ve told me. Now I can’t do anything. Tomorrow, when the High Wizard assigns you your quest, you’ll be on your own. Besides, I have to inform him of your attempt at cheating, which means your quest will be harder. After the last Wizarding Council’s decree, I’m afraid that…” He fell silent and waved a hand. “Never mind. You’ll know soon enough.”
“Even if I fail tomorrow, I can try next year, right?” He wouldn’t graduate with Tristan, but next year he’d study hard, and his final examination would be better.
General Baldwin paled. “Er…well, that’s the rule…for now.” He turned to the mantelpiece and straightened the shield of the order of the Swan. Always brave, always faithful, always a knight, the motto read.
Those ancient words would be written on Nathair’s shield one day, if he were ever accepted into the order.
General Baldwin faced Nathair, his expression grave. “I know how badly you want to be a Swan.” His chest puffed. “The order of the Swan has the best warriors of the kingdom. I’ve been a Swan knight since your age and fought with them for more than thirty years, so I understand your feelings. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid or reckless tomorrow. When the High Wizard assigns you a quest, I want you to think carefully before accepting it.”
Nathair rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to follow the conversation. He could have a second chance if he failed the quest, but not if he turned it down. Without even trying it, he could never apply to the Swans and could never be a knight. “I’ll do my best, sir.”
“Off you go.” General Baldwin opened the door. “Tomorrow is an important day for you. Sleep well and get ready.”
A Damsel in Shiny Armor
New Camelot #2
After fighting dragons, wild Vikings, and clockwork monsters, Nathair is
facing the biggest challenge of his life: proposing to Bryhannon.
Apparently, flowers and a three-month salary worth ring aren’t
enough because she doesn’t seem thrilled by the proposal. She has a
devastating power to control, Reapers to face, and more importantly
she has to find the courage to tell Nathair that she’s a Morrigan.
The wild spinning into the air, the feeling of his ribs almost being crushed, and the searing pain in the skull didn’t bother Nathair much. His head throbbed, and his stomach rolled with nausea, but that was normal when he used a traveling charm.
What bothered him during a trip with a traveling charm was the fear of being beheaded or losing a limb as it’d happened to a junior knight a few weeks ago. The poor lad had lost his foot and screamed so loud Nathair thought a dragon was attacking the Swan’s headquarters.
Yes, a healer had reattached the missing limb, and now the lad walked with only a minor limp, yet, experiencing that type of pain wasn’t something Nathair looked forward to.
He landed on the grass in the middle of the Order of the Swan’s headquarters in New Camelot and staggered onto his feet. The blue smoke produced by the charm twirled around him and dissolved in the morning air. He bent forward and sucked in a deep breath, the faint smell of sulfur, dragonwort, and something else spicy filling his nostrils. He touched his face to confirm his nose and ears were still there. His long curled, chestnut hair fell over his cheeks, and he pulled it back. Good. So even his hair seemed all right. He hadn’t turned bald. Legs? Two. Eyes? Two as well. Fingers? Ten.
Nathair straightened his black Swan uniform and brushed off the dust it’d gathered during his trip from Astolat. Next time, he’d take a dragon flight. It was slower but safer. More or less.
“Finally.” Tristan strode over to him, cutting through the courtyard packed with horses. His neat uniform stretched over broad shoulders, making his golden hair appear shinier. “You should’ve come back yesterday. What happened? Problems with the mission?”
“No.” Nathair smiled. Bryhannon’s flowery scent still lingered on his clothes. “I easily found the Swan’s headquarters in Astolat and delivered the documents, but…” He checked the courtyard. A group of recruits in green uniforms sparred against a clockwork knight—an Ametor. The clash of swords covered their grunts. Senior knights practiced hand-to-hand combat, and a few healers milled around, their noses stuck inside the pages of fat books. No one was close enough to hear him. “Bryhannon came with me and—”
“Bryhannon? You took her with you during a mission?” Tristan’s sapphire eyes widened.
“Shush!” Nathair pressed his lips together and glanced around. “She wanted to buy a few things in Astolat, and I asked her to come. It’s not like I took her into a Saxon war zone. Astolat is relatively safe.” It wasn’t like Londinium, where Saxon dragons had thrown fireballs on the city and almost burned everything to the ground.
Tristan put a hand on the hilt of Gutrender. “She’s still a princess even though her father disowned her and an unchaperoned lady. People will talk. Her reputation will be ruined.”
“No one knows she was with me. She told General Baldwin she was going to visit her sister in Summerland, and since when you’re so worried about propriety?”
Tristan’s cheeks flushed. “I suppose that if the situation were reversed and I’d taken your sister in Astolat with me—”
“You wouldn’t breathe right now,” he gritted out.
Tristan spread his arms. “See what I mean?”
Nathair’s face warmed, and he loosened the collar of his jacket. Tristan had a point, but Nathair had only wanted to spend some time alone with his new girlfriend without General Baldwin’s constant vigilance or a maid listening to everything he said to Bryhannon. Was it that bad?
“Bryhannon insisted, and nothing happened. We slept into two different bedrooms.”
“That’s something.”
Nathair arched a brow. “You aren’t planning on taking my sister somewhere, are you?”
Tristan’s stare dropped to the ground. “No. I’ve invited her to Beltane ball in my house, and she said yes.” His chest swelled then deflated. “But she didn’t sound happy.”
Nathair frowned. With her damaged leg, Nineveh probably didn’t feel confident enough to go to a ball, but her mechanical boot allowed her to jump and run freely. So why wasn’t she happy to attend a ball?
Tristan was right about Bryhannon though. Her reputation was at stake, and he had to behave like a proper gentleman. He tapped the small velvet box in his pocket–the proof that he was a gentleman, and that he was serious about Bryhannon. The small case represented the first big step toward a life together.
Slowly, as if he were handling an asp, he fished out the box and showed it to Tristan. “I care about her reputation.”
Tristan’s mouth hung low. “You’re going to propose to her?”
Nathair nodded, not trusting his voice.
“Are you sure it’s the right thing to do?” Tristan peered at him.
“It’s what I want and what she needs. Her father disowned her. She’s been forced to live in General Baldwin’s house. She doesn’t have a family anymore. Besides, I love her, and I’m eighteen now. Why shouldn’t I marry her?”
“I simply think it’s a bit too early.”
Nathair stiffened, closing his hand around the box. “Just because you prefer changing girlfriends every other day, it doesn’t give you the right to judge me.”
Tristan exhaled through clenched teeth and glowered. “Those days are in the past, you know this, or I wouldn’t be courting Nineveh.”
Nathair raked a hand through his hair, a pang of guilt striking him. Tristan had proved to
have serious intentions about Nineveh. “Sorry,” he said, stuffing the box back in his pocket.
“Well, congratulations then.” Tristan clasped his forearm like the Swan warriors used to greet each other.
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I have a job now. My mother’s debt has been paid. I can take care of Bryhannon.” I want to. Then, they could be alone as much as they wanted.
Tristan swatted his arm, startling him. “Ewhen wants to talk to you.” He headed toward the wooden barracks that surrounded the courtyard. “Actually, he was waiting for you early this morning for the camouflage training session.”
Nathair dodged a stray arrow and scowled at the recruit who shot it. The boy flustered and bowed his head. “I thought the camouflage training session was optional.” Besides, spending hours dressed like a bush and imitating birds’ songs grated on his nerves.
“We’re senior knights now. We aren’t at the academy anymore. Optional means compulsory.”
They entered the main building and climbed the wooden stairs to Captain Ewhen’s office. The familiar smell of worn leather and sword polish wafted around. Knights’ boots stomped on the polished floor as a group of Swans marched along the corridor. Some had blood-stained bandages around their heads and arms, the result of a recent Saxon intrusion into Briton territory.
Nathair stopped in front of Ewhen’s office. The door stood ajar, and Ewhen’s booming voice drifted out.
“We’ll find him, whoever he is.” He slammed a fist on the desk, causing it to shake. The content of an ink bottle quivered. “If I have to interrogate every single knight in the entire Briton Empire to find him, I will.”
Nathair winced. Ewhen wasn’t nicknamed the Dragonhearted for being sweet. He peeked inside. A see-through face floated in the middle of the desk right over the silver bar of an orator—the device for long distance communications.
“What’s this all about?” he whispered.
Tristan shrugged. “A dispatch arrived yesterday from the war zone in the south. Something happened, and since the Saxons invaded the land of the Franks, Ewhen didn’t have a moment of rest.”
Sir Bohemond paced in front of the desk, his large frame obscuring the view at every passage.
The ghostly head of the man nodded. “The situation is out of control, Sir Ewhen. Every garrison in Londinium has been thoroughly searched.”
“Search again until you find him.”
The head bowed. “Sir, yes sir.”
“Dismissed.” Ewhen punched a button, and the spectral image disappeared. He shot a glare at the door, features tensing. “Come in.”
Sir Bohemond opened the door fully and beckoned Nathair and Tristan inside. The long scar, crisscrossing his face twitched when his jaw muscle rippled. “Welcome back, Nathair.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Tristan closed the door behind them. Nathair stepped over a pair of muddy boots and stood in front of Ewhen’s wooden desk. It was so large it took up and entire corner, almost as big as his bed.
Ewhen pushed the orator aside. With its long, tubular shape, rounded ends, and the holes on its top, it resembled a flute. He ran a hand over his face, and his auburn hair tumbled forward covering his tense shoulders. “Nathair, I didn’t see you this morning at the camouflage training session.”
Oops. “Uh, thank you, Captain.”
Bohemond chuckled, and Tristan’s mouth twitched up.
Ewhen arched a red eyebrow, but the hard lines on his face softened. “Very funny. Did you have problems in Astolat?”
“Not at all.” Nathair swallowed the lump in his throat. Now his idea of spending more time with Bryhannon didn’t sound so reasonable. “I was delayed.” By the most beautiful and smartest girl I’ve ever met. A smile threatened to raise his lips when he remembered a particularly happy hour spent with Bryhannon by the empty shore of the Lynn River in the moonlight. So he cleared his throat.
I’m an entomologist and a soil biologist, which is a fancy way to say
that I dig in the dirt, looking for bugs. Nature and books have
always been my passion. I was a kid when I read The Lord Of The Ring
and fell in love with fantasy novels.
When I discovered cozy mystery and crime novels, I fell in love with
Hercules Poirot and Sherlock Holmes. Then I grew up and . . . Nah,
I’m joking. I didn’t grow up. Don’t grow up, folks! It’s a trap.
PS I hate gardening. There, I said it. Sorry fellow Kiwis.
Follow the tour HERE
for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!


Posted by: reneewildes1 | May 2, 2019

Guest Blog: Author E. Curtis

TourBannerFS_Discussion of a Decent Dream

GENRE: Dark Fantasy


In the fall of 1789, on the western edge of the Yorkshire Dales, a dense, persistent fog enshrouds the village of Ingleton. Shadowed spirits hide in the mist and bedevil the townsfolk, heralding a tragedy that has befallen one of their own.

Edmond continues to search for Alexandra, his fiancée, who disappeared the same night that the mist set upon their town. Presumed dead by all others, he visits Alexandra’s empty grave, desperate for any hint of what has become of her. Weary from the sleepless nights on his quest, no longer able to stay awake, Edmond falls into a dream before her headstone and there obtains clues from Alexandra as to her whereabouts.

Haunted all the while by a malevolent spirit, Edmond follows the trail that Alexandra left for him and enters the underworld, only to learn that he has been there before, and in fact, quite often. But more, he discovers how he is to blame for Alexandra’s disappearance.

A dark literary novel rich in imagery, Discussion of a Decent Dream unearths the consequences of a child’s decision to surrender his heart in exchange for unholy power and transcendent knowledge.

Discussion of a Decent Dream is a Finalist in Britain’s Wishing Self Book Awards in the Adult category.
Cover_Discussion of a Decent Dream~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I had seen in dream that which appeared before me, a gloriously lined whirlwind of black. It exhibited itself as odd, twitchy, yet with cohesion, both beautiful and horrible at once, as if the core of this being eclipsed an otherwise unseen dawn. The vapor then solidified and took the form of a man, though its feet made no impression in the sand.

It warmed to me, expressing in that charred face such familiarity and delight. Even for my instinctive recoil, I made no real retreat, for I again wanted to hear it speak.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:AuthorPicture (4)

E. Curtis draws on personal experiences of the otherworldly for his writing. Through dreams, visions, and waking encounters, his exposure to darkness has motivated him to detail what he has come to know of the preternatural. While a few short pieces have been published on an online literary magazine, Discussion of a Decent Dream is his first novel.




The book is on sale for $0.99 during the tour.
Buy link:



One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/ gift card.

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Posted by: reneewildes1 | May 1, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Marianna Green

Read my review here:

TourBanner_Colonel Brandon's Widow and Willoughby (1)

GENRE: romance historical Jane Austen sequel


Mrs. Brandon, the former Marianne Dashwood, is now a widow, and not yet twenty-five.
Her former admirer Willoughby is as unhappily married as ever, and the thought that she is free to marry again drives him to distraction. He has continued in his dissolute lifestyle, which Marianne abhors, while his wife Sophia’s life has been poisoned by jealousy of Marianne.
Marianne urges him that the only possibility of happiness for Willoughby and his wife is for him to give up his empty pursuit of pleasure – but now the Colonel is gone, Marianne finds that she can no longer push aside thoughts of Willoughby easily herself; she must find some way of occupying her own empty hours. Willoughby retains his rascally charm, which an older and wiser Marianne is determined to resist; Elinor and Edward are as astute as ever, while Sir John and Lady Middleton are as foolish. Mrs. Jennings remains determined to marry off all her associates as before, while Sophia Willoughby is even more sour as the wife of the man she wanted, and Willoughby’s friends are suitably cynical rakes.

This sequel to Jane Austen’s ‘Sense and Sensibility’ strives to emulate some of the light ironic touch of the inimitable style of Jane Austen; it is both funny and sad, and is told as dark comedy.


Cover_Colonel Brandon's Widow and Willoughby (1)EXCERPT:

The union of the Willoughbys’ only resembled that of the Brandons’ in being childless. Unlike the latter couple, they had no common interests to compensate, unless an unfortunate tendency to over indulge in wine and other stimulants could count as a mutual source of diversion. It is true that they did share in common a manner of relating to each other that involved raised voices behind slammed doors, angry silences and periods of cold civility; but this shared inclination brought them no closer together.

It could be further urged on their behalf , that in this conduct, they provided society with the diversion of much talk, and their staff with constant entertainment; – for Willoughby’s confidential valet knew all about his improper pursuits, while his wife’s lady’s maid could recount how Mrs Willoughby had cursed him for a fortune hunting libertine in full hearing of the servants, and of how savagely he had kicked shut her sitting room door before retorting that, ‘Devil take it, in his whole worthless life, he had only cared for Mrs Brandon, and he’d be damned if he pretended anything else to please a scolding…’

But the reader does not wish to hear any more of this. Seemingly their staff lacked any discretion, and soon enough, the content of the Willoughbys’ exchanges leaked out into polite society, which showed still less decorum in repeating them assiduously. Many a man had dined out for a month on his knowledge of episodes that ought to have been cloaked in decent silence, and Miss Steele was one of many maiden ladies agog for the latest outrage…

“Not another word, damn it!” he exclaimed, coming again to a stop and turning on her in a fury she had never seen in him before. “I cannot endure to hear this from you, of all people. As to my wife, it must come to a separation; we are so at each other’s throats. Then, Mrs. Brandon, you recommend to me a life devoted to duty?” He stood breathing quickly, while unseen by either of them, a hare bolted across their path. Willoughby’s normally fractious mount did not even notice. Throughout their talk, it had showed remarkable patience at being stopped and started at every other minute, and now stood gently waving its ears, almost as if it felt for its master’s desperation.

He rushed on, “No doubt that is how you plan to waste your youth and beauty. No, I cannot find comfort in a life devoted to good works. Mrs. Smith’s tenants must go to the hell in a handcart along with their master, when he comes to inherit. Lord, but I am well served for my former misdeeds and treachery.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Marianna Green is lives in the UK, has a geekish fascination with English Literature and History, and an irrepressible sense of humour.
Goodreads link:

Amazon link:

Book will be on sale for $0.99.



Marianna Green will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Please use this rafflecopter code on your post:

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Posted by: reneewildes1 | April 30, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Meg Benjamin

Read my review here:


GENRE: Paranormal Romance


Some think she’s a monster. He thinks she’s the love of his life.


After she sent several men to the hospital, Dame Blanche Eva Winchester is learning to control her power. But she’s also bored to tears. Enter Prince Bertie, who offers her the chance to go undercover as a waitress in order to find out who’s attacking men in the parking lots of Folk-owned clubs. Bertie’s motives aren’t entirely innocent—he’s smitten by the lethal lady’s charms. But he and Eva discover the attacks are part of a more wide-ranging conspiracy, involving the very survival of the Folk.


As their investigations bring Bertie and Eva closer, Eva finds the downside of dating a prince, even one as yummy as Bertie. But when the prince is attacked, Eva swears to protect him. To overcome a ruthless enemy, the two must stage a last-ditch battle in the blizzard-ridden mountains. And this time they’ll need more than love and super strength to survive.




Someone moved across the lighted front door. A security guard. Eva tensed. “How will you get in without them noticing you?”

The queen smiled. “Through the front door. I still have enough ability to confuse a security guard.”

Eva smiled back. “Shall I come with you?”

“I’ll be all right. Thank you for walking with me.”

“Of course.”

The queen moved away, heading for the front entrance. Then she turned back for a moment. “Will you protect my son?”

Eva took a breath, ready to offer her usual qualified yes. But those weren’t the words she found herself saying. “With my life.”

The queen nodded. “Good. Thank you.” She pivoted and stepped toward the door again.

After a moment, Eva followed, keeping far enough back so she wouldn’t interfere. She wanted to see the queen use her power to cloud men’s minds. She watched Her Majesty step inside, hunching her shoulders in her cheap raincoat. The guard looked at her and away, as if he didn’t see her there. Maybe he didn’t. The queen moved briskly out of sight.

Once upon a time, affecting men’s minds was probably a snap for her. Anyone as sexy as the queen had once been could have stopped men dead in their tracks without magic. Eva stayed at her post in the shadows. She’d assume the queen had gotten back safely. Go, Your Majesty.


AuthorPhoto_FoundAUTHOR Bio and Links:

Meg Benjamin is an award-winning author of romance. Her newest series, the Folk, is a paranormal series from Soul Mate Publishing set in Colorado. Meg’s Konigsburg series is set in the Texas Hill Country and her Salt Box and Brewing Love trilogies are set in the Colorado Rockies (all are available from Entangled Publishing). Along with contemporary romance, Meg is also the author of the paranormal Ramos Family trilogy from Berkley InterMix. Meg’s books have won numerous awards, including an EPIC Award, a Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Holt Medallion from Virginia Romance Writers, the Beanpot Award from the New England Romance Writers, and the Award of Excellence from Colorado Romance Writers.

Meg’s Web site is

You can follow her on Facebook



Instagram meg_benjamin

Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at

Found is available from Amazon Kindle:



Meg Benjamin will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via

rafflecopter during the tour.

<a href=”″>Enter to win a $25 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>


Posted by: reneewildes1 | April 23, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Emily Mims


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Emily will be awarding two prizes each containing ebooks Mist and Smoke, the first two books in the Smoky Blues series, to randomly drawn winners via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.



The marriage was one of convenience. She had status and he had money. But… there was something there, and both of them felt it. After three years of him working long hours and her spending too much time at the Durango Street Theatre, Miguel Abonce and Vivienne Heiser called it quits. One year later, they are forced to work together to save or sell the theater. In the process they discover things they never knew about each other and they learn there’s more between them than burning up the sheets. They might really love each other after all.

Read an Excerpt

For a moment, he looked like she’d shot him through the heart with a sawed-off shotgun. Then he straightened. “You don’t love me, either, Vivi. Marriage is like any other business arrangement. It’s all about assets, querida. Who is bringing what to the table.”

“You know what? I just lost the thing in this life that I love with all my heart and you’re standing here giving me a Wharton Business School lecture. I don’t want a business deal. I want a husband I love who loves me back. I deserve that much out of life and I’m going to get it.” She pulled the ring off her finger and pushed it into his hand.

He turned away and walked to his car. Her hands trembled as she beeped open her car. She heard him pull out of the parking lot as she slid into her seat. As she started the engine and got the air conditioner going, fat, sloppy tears ran down her cheeks.

About the Author:

The author of over thirty romance novels, Emily Mims combined her writing career with a career in public education until leaving the classroom to write full time. The mother of two sons, she and her husband split their time between central Texas, eastern Tennessee, and Georgia visiting their kids and grandchildren. For relaxation Emily plays the piano, organ, dulcimer, and ukulele for two different performing groups, and even sings a little. She says, “I love to write romances because I believe in them. Romance happened to me and it can happen to any woman—if she’ll just let it.”





Amazon Author Page:

Buy link:

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Posted by: reneewildes1 | April 17, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Laura Boon

Read my Review Here:

TourBanner_Lion Dancing for Love

Genre: Contemporary Small-Town Romance


Licking her wounds after a bad relationship, San Diego accountant Caitlyn Summers travels to Willow Springs to help her friend gear up for the annual Maple Sugar Ball. She isn’t planning on staying long, but one encounter with the delicious Corey Duncan has her re-evaluating her plans.

Corey swore off love when his wife Annie died from breast cancer. Caitlyn is too young, too citified, and vibrates with a passion and energy that will upend the safe, comfortable rhythm of his life. Corey has to choose between playing it safe and taking a risk on love. Caitlyn needs to find the patience to let Corey lead. If not, the Maple Sugar Ball might end in a sticky mess, instead of a slow dance with the man who has captured her heart.

Will their fire burn hot enough to erase doubts and past hurts?


Cover_Lion Dancing for LoveEXCERPT:

She walked across to Corey, tucking her hair behind her right ear, unexpectedly shy at his acknowledgement. She squared her shoulders. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He stood and pulled out a chair for her, a half-smile playing on his lips. “You and I can’t avoid each other.”

She shrugged. “It’s a small town. Although you’ve looked awfully busy.” Too busy to say hello was her unspoken message. She’d let him know she was interested, and he had ignored her ever since.


Her drink arrived, and they fell silent while the waitress fussed with a coaster and peanuts.
He rubbed his hand against his chin and gazed directly into her eyes. “I’ve been a bit preoccupied, mostly with you.”

“Me?” She choked on a swig of champagne and coughed as the bubbles went down the wrong way.

He grabbed her glass and set it down before patting her on the back.

“I’m fine,” she gasped.

“Sorry. I take it that was my fault for surprising the heck out of you.”


“Why? You’re the one who kissed me.”

And why wouldn’t she when he looked so delectable? She was tempted to kiss him again, rub out the mischievous twitch to his lips. Instead she retorted, “And you’re the one who
didn’t kiss me back.”


AuthorPicture (3)

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

About Laura
Laura Boon stole her first romance from her father’s bookshelves as a teenager, The Flame and the Flower by Kathleen Woodiwiss, and was immediately captivated. After holding a variety of positions in publishing, from bookseller to sales rep and publicist, she eventually found the courage to write her own stories. She was born in Zambia, grew up in South Africa, and went to university in America. She now lives in Australia with her husband and their adorable dogs Beau and Arro. When she is not reading or writing, she enjoys sleuthing for artisan chocolate and beautiful stationery, watching tennis, and walking alongside Sydney’s beautiful harbor.

Social Media Links
You can find Laura online at:

Lion Dancing for Love Buy Links

Amazon US:
Amazon UK:
Amazon AUS:
The Wild Rose Press (publisher):



Laura Boon will be awarding a $50 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

<a href=”″>Enter to win a $50 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>

Posted by: reneewildes1 | April 15, 2019

It’s MY Turn, LOL: New Release A GUARDIAN’S DREAM

Today is release day for the next installment in the fantasy romance Guardians of Light series from Champagne Book Group and, well, moi! It’s Book 4 but each title is stand-alone. Looking forward to reviews and sales, The cover, done by Carly Marino, is gorgeous!


Without his forbidden touch, her light will disappear forever.


Plagued with nightmares of a goblin child tormented by monsters—and with her usual cures having no effect—dream faerie Pryseis journeys to the Shadowlands to heal the child in person even though doing so risks the wrath of the faerie council. And, if she’s away from home too long, her very existence.

Caught and imprisoned by an ungrateful goblin sorcerer, she’s now trapped underground, chained, her despair growing as her time ticks down yet warmed by the memory of a man she has only touched in dreams.

Benilo ta Myran drained his spirit healing powers during the war, but he has no choice. The beautiful faerie in his dreams is in trouble, and not even his worried king and queen can stop him from trying to save her before the darkness snuffs out her light.

Finally they are together—chained side-by-side in a goblin dungeon. Their only hope for escape is to break the law to merge their powers in a ritual so intensely erotic it binds them for life. However short and nightmarish that life might be…

Warning: Beware beautiful faeries and hot elves appearing in your dreams. They may lead you astray…and steal your heart.


Sky-blue eyes flashed in her mind. Warm. Steady. Comforting. The elven spirit-healer. Benilo. Their connection surprised her. But she clung to that brief reassurance now. He’d come to help the lad. If she failed, if she died, there was another.

Since when had she become so defeatist? Pryseis shook herself back to sense. She studied the goblin in the lead. The black sorcerer with that ominous staff of power clutched in his gnarled hands. What were his powers? Was he somehow amplifying the magnitude of her grief and rage?

What if he was doing the same to the lad’s nightmares? To what end?

Think, Pryseis, think…

They crawled past a pool inhabited by ghostly white fish with no eyes. She cringed. Lost, she was lost in a nightmare world of earth and darkness.



Posted by: reneewildes1 | April 8, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Maxine Mansfield

Read my review here:

TourBanner_Heart of a Highlander

GENRE: Time Travel/Historical Romance
Staff Sergeant Ian Mackay didn’t care if he lived or died. He’d left what really mattered strewn across Afghanistan three years ago. All the self-help groups and doctors in the world couldn’t assuage his guilt. But when an accident takes his life and Fate steps in with an offer to fix what was once unfixable, he jumps at the second chance to save his men. Now he’s stuck in a strange land, in an even stranger time, and expected to bed his equally strange but desirable new bride. Healer Aila Gordan of the Sutherland clan thought her betrothed dead, had even seen his lifeless body the night before their wedding. Why then is her sworn enemy, Ian Mackay, standing before the priest, waiting for her to repeat the vows that would make her his wife? The fairies must have possessed his body, a frightening notion, indeed. But marriage to the handsome laird, possessed or otherwise, couldn’t be any worse than living in her brother’s castle where, like all women in 1643 Scotland, she has no freedom. And if the kiss at the altar is any indication, she could just steal the heart of a highlander.



“I’m from the future, Aila,” he spat out. “Almost four hundred years from now to be exact. But I’m not from this body you now see me in. You were right. The original Ian Mackay was dead that night you found him. He was one of my ancestors, you see, and we shared the same name and linage. When I died in an accident—in the future—Fate himself sent me back into the past and into this Ian Mackay’s body to correct a mistake that should never have happened in the first place.”

“What should nae have happened, Ian?” she asked.

He gulped. “Your death, Aila.”

AuthorPicture (1)
AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Hi, my name is Maxine Mansfield and I write erotic romance, be it Fantasy or Time travel from my easy chair in the great state of Alaska. A magical place where the summer days are long and bright, and the winter nights even longer.

Web site:





Maxine Mansfield will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Enter to win a $25 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted by: reneewildes1 | March 28, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Michelle Diener

see my review here:

GENRE: Sci-Fi Romance

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Michelle Diener 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.

He’s on a mission . . .

She’s running for her life . . .

And if they get off-planet alive, she’ll have to trust he won’t reveal her darkest secret.

Tally Riva is not what she seems, and even she’s not happy about it. Infected, invaded, she’s not quite sure how to describe it, but on a disastrous mission to a ghost ship, something burrowed its way into her body. Into her mind.

When her commander decides the best cure for what he thinks is Tally’s trauma is to send her on the famous Veltos Trail, Tally goes without revealing what’s really behind her mental anguish. Anything to be seen as normal again, anything to ignore what she’s afraid is happening to her.

But Veltos isn’t the safe place it seems. The chosen military personnel lucky enough to be offered the chance to walk the Trail are supposed to be the only people on Veltos. But Ben Guthrie, a captain in Arkhoran Special Forces, knows they’re not. He and his team have been on Veltos for a month already, tracking suspicious enemy activity, and he’s gone undercover on the Trail in search of a satellite his superiors are sure has been shot down.

When Ben’s worst fears become reality, and they find themselves hunted by a cunning enemy through the thick forests of Veltos, Tally and Ben fight together to survive. And Tally has to decide if accepting the changes inside her will save them both, or be her doom.

TRAILBLAZER is part of the Verdant String series but can easily be read as a standalone novel. Other books in the series include Interference & Insurgency (Two Novellas of the Verdant String), and Breakaway and Breakeven.

Read an Excerpt

Ben stood outside to watch the military runner come in.

The flare of the engine was visible because dusk had already fallen and the sky was the indigo blue that shouldn’t be unique to Veltos, but somehow was. There was just something special about the color here.

“Nervous?” Irwin stepped out to join him and looked up, following the runner as it fell toward them.

Ben glanced at him, wondering if the guide actively worked to be this annoying, or whether it was just a gift.

“Should I be?” He kept his tone mild.

Irwin glanced at him, shrugged. “Most people are a little nervous to meet their fellow Trail walkers. It’s a two week journey, and there’s no getting away from anyone who’s difficult.”

And certainly no getting away from them if they were the guide.

Ben crossed his arms and watched the runner touch down lightly on the hoverpad a thou away. It was close enough that he could hear the hum of the engine and the silence when it cut off.

“So you never said which warship dropped you off.” Irwin had turned to watch the runner, too.

“No, I didn’t.” Ben kept his answer short.

Irwin gave a snort. “Super secret, huh?”

Ben said nothing.

“Do you Arkhorans actively try to irritate the living shit out of the rest of us, or is it just how you’re made?”

Irwin’s comment was so similar to what Ben had thought about the guide, he couldn’t help the laugh that burst from him.

“Let’s leave it at ‘super secret’.”

About the Author:

Michelle Diener writes historical fiction, fantasy and science fiction. Having worked in publishing and IT, she’s now very happy crafting new worlds and interesting characters and wondering which part of the world she can travel to next.

Michelle was born in London, grew up in South Africa and currently lives in Australia with her husband and children. When she’s not writing, or driving her kids from activity to activity, you can find her at her website, or online at Twitter and Facebook.





Buy link:



Michelle Diener will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Enter to win a $25 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted by: reneewildes1 | March 21, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Kaitlynzq


Tour Banner_Legend of Sond De Light copy



The stories within Legend of Song de Light
connect, unfold, interweave many character’s stories needs, feelings, desires, dreams

their threads as two crescent moons connected under the firelights
that layer the chords, and form the lyrics
all of you entered my world as dawn’s awakening sky of soft palette my garnet heart melted in iridescence to bloom in sun’s rays glow in night’s depth as the stars echo the rhythm of my heart my insides sigh and expand in delight harmonious blend as our lives circle the melody


Information for the audio book: Recorded in Kaitlynzq’s voice with a blend of music like a heart’s wave into downloadable mp3 files.

An audio book that is interwoven in the Lovecontu Song de Light Lovecontu series that includes

Ancient Script of Lovecontu audio poem
Legend of Song de Light audio book Legend of Song de Light audio play
Lovecontu Song de Light Lovecontu audio set

Vocal Synopsis:


BookCover_Audio Book_Legend of Song de Light audio book


“…Dearest Euzy,

Your drum of cashmere footsteps, harp of silk strings touch, and velvet flute voice,
Are an ensemble for my heart.

Forever Yours, Edwin…”

“…As my imagination worked its magic, I vibrated to a guitar string’s luxurious touch…”

“…Dendranthema x grandiflora has layers of petals that caress every fiber of the flower’s center, as my dear Rquhwy’s touch vibrates in my veins to the core of my breath…”

“…The room that is partitioned with a fireplace’s heat wave, and holds teardrop flower petals in the corners, flows freely into my heart with each pebble of sand in an hourglass. Wisjvye’s heartbeat radiates…”



AUTHOR Bio and Links:

My fictional stories are written from the inside view of a character’s interior heart-that beautiful, vulnerable, intimate space feelings, desires, needs, dreams a blend of delicate feather ripples of heart waves needs, feelings, dreams, desires quiet, gentle heart strings tender, continuous soft, vulnerable air mist circles, weaves to caress a sonic sea of heart’s breath

Woven into audio books that are recorded in my voice with a medley of music as a heart’s wave into downloadable mp3 files;

audio plays adapted from the audio books, and layered into pdf files like a heart’s song;

audio poems that are multiple poems designed to connect to form a story as a heart’s breath;

and audio sets that are sets of these interconnected stories with elements from each story that interweave in one another as heart’s wave, heart’s song, heart’s breath.


Social Media

blog and vlog posts by Kaitlynzq




Contact Information

and any way noted on my contact page

Available to Purchase on my Website that is supported by two URL addresses:

Direct Links on my Website to the story:



Kaitlynzq will be awarding 2 $15 gift cards to her book boutique, 2 $10 gift cards to her book boutique, and 4 $4 gift cards to her book boutique to randomly drawn commenters (8 winners) via Rafflecopter.“>Enter to win a GC to the author’s book boutique page – a Rafflecopter giveaway


Posted by: reneewildes1 | March 11, 2019

GUEST BLOG: Author Tena Stetler

See my review here:


GENRE: Paranormal Romance


Synn, a demon, carries extraordinary magic and power, but there is more within her than she dreams. Kidnapped as a child, her captors murdered her family and forced her into training as a warrior assassin. When an assignment goes horribly wrong, she finds herself at the mercy of the friends and family of her intended target. Offering valuable information in exchange for protection, she gains her freedom, but it is not without its challenges.

Gavin Shaughnessy is the publican at his family’s Irish pub. He is certain Synn is meant to be his and isn’t bothered by her past. He must find a way to convince her, their future together is stronger than the dark memories that haunt her dreams.

When her past comes calling for revenge, will their love survive the raging inferno she brings down upon them? Or will the searing path of destruction destroy all they hold dear?



Darkness engulfed her. The voices in her head returned calling her a traitor suggesting retribution would be sweet and exacted soon. She fought against the words and covered her ears. As suddenly as the booming words came, it was silent. The dream shifted to a dank room, without windows, or light, and a darkness she could almost feel. Scraping sounds against a large wooden plank door grated on her nerves.

Magic failed her leaving her drained and unresponsive. She curled up in a fetal position. Baltizar’s voice whispered again in her mind. “I still control you. They’re all going to die a horrible death at my hands. You will get to watch. Just like when you failed to save your family.”

His wicked laugh echoed though her mind and faded. A warm liquid flowed over her hands. She looked down. They were covered in blood. Bodies were strewn over what looked like the dirt floor of a cave. Screaming, she awoke soaked with sweat, head pounding and blood trickled from her palms where her finger nails had sliced through the skin.

A loud bark came from the foot of her bed. She stumbled out of bed and rushed to Storm’s crate, knelt, and yanked open the door. A warm, fur ball bounded into her lap, the dog covered her face with kisses. She sat on the floor, tears streaming down her face dripping on the soft fur she buried her face in.

Never allowed to cry, she allowed the flood gates open, and cried for her family, mistakes made, decisions forced upon her, and wished she’d died in the battle with Baltizar. She wouldn’t be responsible for the deaths of her new friends, Gavin and his family, or Storm.



Tena Stetler is a best-selling author of award winning paranormal romance. She has an over-active imagination, which led to writing her first vampire romance as a tween to the chagrin of her mother and delight of her friends. After many years as a paralegal, then an IT Manager, she decided to live out her dream of pursuing a publishing career.

With the Rocky Mountains outside her window, she sits at her computer surrounded by a wide array of witches, shapeshifters, demons, faeries, and gryphons, with a Navy SEAL or two mixed in telling their tales. Her books tell stories of magical kick-ass women and mystical alpha males that dare to love them. Travel, adventure and a bit of mystery flourish in her books along with a few companion animals to round out the tales.

Colorado is home; shared with her husband of many moons, a brilliant Chow Chow, a spoiled parrot and a forty-five-year-old box turtle. When she’s not writing, her time is spent kayaking, camping, hiking, biking  or just relaxing in the great Colorado outdoors. During the winter you can find her curled up in front of a crackling fire with a good book, a mug of hot chocolate and a big bowl of popcorn.

Author Links:

Contact Information:


Authors’ Secret’s Blog –

My Say What Blog –

Facebook Page:

Twitter Page:


The Wild Rose Press:




Tribber –



BookGorilla –

Buy Links:


Full addy:

Amazon UK   –

Amazon AU   –

Amazon CA –


Barnes& Noble-


The Wild Rose Press:


Tena Stetler will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

<a href=”″>Enter to win a $10 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>


Posted by: reneewildes1 | March 7, 2019

Guest Blog: Author Shami Stovall

see my review here:

TourBanner_Star Marque Rising

GENRE: Science Fiction


The future is governed through a genetic hierarchy—superhumans at the top, humans and defects at the bottom.

Clevon Demarco, a genetically modified human, has a cocksure attitude and the combat skills to back it up. With his unparalleled skills, he makes his living as a ruthless gunrunner on a shady space station near the edges of the quadrant. Stronger, faster, and wittier than most sad sacks, no one even comes close to Demarco’s abilities—until he crosses paths with the captain of the notorious Star Marque, Endellion Voight.

Captain Voight arrests Demarco and offers him a choice: go to a prison planet for his crimes, or join her starship, the Star Marque, working as mercenaries for the superhumans. But she didn’t pick him at random. She has a plan to become a planet governor; a title no human has held since the superhumans won the war. It doesn’t matter the cost—assassinations, extortion, blackmail—she’s determined to claw her way to the top.

All Captain Voight needs is Demarco’s help to carry out her machinations, and she’ll give him everything he’s ever wanted in return.

A fast-paced space opera for those who enjoy Old Man’s War by John Scalzi, Revelation Space by Alastair Reynolds, or anything by Robert A. Heinlein.



I wheezed and hacked as I stepped out of the vat. The slimy fluid filled my nose and ears, and it took me a moment to snort them clear.

The bright lighting of the room hurt my eyes, but I adjusted in a matter of moments. I got a quick look around and froze up.

Everything was so well ventilated and clean…

I wasn’t in Section Six.

It was a medium-sized room with a single metal door. My healing vat sat in the back corner, extending from the floor to the ceiling. There was a computer terminal and two large, steel crates with the words Medical Supplies stamped across the side. But those things paled in comparison to the viewing window on the far wall.

I walked over, eyes wide, and stared out into the depths of space.

Capital Station hung in orbit around Galvis-4, a brown-and-turquoise planet that acted as the station’s anchor. The space station—white and pristine from the outside—didn’t look half bad from a distance. It was a hexagonal torus, forever spinning to maintain gravity, powering itself from the rays of the system’s star. From the outside, one would never know of the filth that dwelled inside. From space, it was impossible to see the overcrowding and meaningless death that had made the station so infamous.

We had left the dock, but the starship I was on hadn’t left for its destination. Why? My thoughts didn’t linger on it for long.

Man, my new skin felt great.

I rubbed my arms and shins, impressed by how supple everything had become. I wiped away as much excess mother-cell fluid as possible, but the stuff was everywhere. Just… everywhere.

The door to the room slid open. I tensed and whirled around on my heel.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Shami Stovall relies on her BA in History and Juris Doctorate to make her living as an author and history professor in the central valley of California. She writes in a wide range of fiction, from crime thrills to fantasy to science-fiction. Stovall loves reading, playing video games, entertaining others with stories, and writing about herself in the third person.

Twitter: @GameOverStation
Facebook: SAStovall
Barnes & Noble:

The book is on sale for only $0.99.


Shami Stovall will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Enter to win a $25 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted by: reneewildes1 | March 6, 2019

GUEST BLOG: Author January Bain

See my review here

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. January Bain will be awarding a Paypal $25.00 cash payout to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Canadian romance writer Rebecca Fairfax thinks a few months living in an English castle will allow her to test out her research theories about the castle and get new material for her writing. Oh, and she’ll be able to carry out her Brass Ring Sorority sisters’ dare to kiss a duke, too. Only, the whole experience ends up changing her life in a way she could never have seen coming…

Ash Piers isn’t interested in peerage and titles. He’s a freewheeling playboy who’s adopted a hedonistic lifestyle after a disastrous love affair. He thinks the upstart Canadian is a gold-digger of the worst kind, kissing his father, the Duke of Piers, on first greeting, then getting engaged to him a moment later! But, damn, he’s attracted to the woman who’s living in his home for the summer. How’s he, a red-blooded Englishman, supposed to keep his hands off her as propriety and family demand?

But with the castle lurching from one crisis to another, Ash and Rebecca have to work together to ensure his family make it through events that threaten to tear everyone apart. And when an ancient and deadly danger looms, both Ash and Rebecca are forced to conquer all fear—physical and emotional…

Part madcap caper, part serious treasure hunting, the Brass Ringers never fail to entertain or get their way!

Read an Excerpt

“Oh, my God. I’m driving the wrong way!” Rebecca Fairfax quit staring at the lovely wildflowers growing in profusion by the side of the country road and hit the brakes—hard—skidding the back wheel of her cherry-red Honda Gold Wing motorcycle to an abrupt halt.

“Damn it, why can’t everyone the world over commit to driving on the same darn side of the road?” she muttered from under her safety helmet, using her foot to help rotate the heavy bike around to face the correct way. Running late, check. Needing to use the bathroom, check. Losing my bloody mind, as evidenced by my accepting the Ringers’ dare to kiss a duke, check and mate.

After backtracking for a mile, she noted the brown tourist road sign she’d missed the first time. Castle Piers, next exit, with an image of a castle outlined in white. Sixty seconds later she made the turn, loving the sensation of the huge bike vibrating between her thighs while the world lived close, the air sweet with the aroma of honeysuckle, the wind caressing the bare skin of her cheeks. Riding a bike made being human different, somehow more raw and real. No other form of travel could compete. And, thanks to Lacey’s William James Thornton Ш, the powerful bike had been waiting at the five-star hotel when Rebecca had arrived in glorious London last night.

Then Castle Piers came into view and the oh my God stuck in her throat.

Perfection. Surrounded by a vast moat stippled with water lilies and swans a-floating? She half expected the Lady of the Lake to rise and present her with Excalibur. Mesmerized, she rolled back on the throttle, bringing the bike to a standstill, bracing it with her feet and turning off the motor. She kicked out the back stand, and, with one booted foot outstretched to add stability to the motorcycle, leaned back in the leather saddle, determined to take the time to drink in the awesome sight. The sweet, fresh fragrance of early summer assailed her senses and she tipped her head back, eyes closed.

About the Author:

January Bain has wished on every falling star, every blown-out birthday candle, and every coin thrown in a fountain to be a storyteller. To share the tales of high adventure, mysteries, and thrillers she has dreamed of all her life. The story you now have in your hands is the compilation of a lot of things manifesting itself for this special series. Hundreds of hours spent researching the unusual and the mundane have come together to create books that features strong women who live life to the fullest, wild adventures full of twists and unforeseen turns, and hot complicated men who aren’t afraid to take risks. She can only hope her stories will capture your imagination and heart as much as they do hers.

If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her hard at work every morning without fail in her office with two furry babies trying to prove who does a better job of guarding the doorway. And, of course, she’s married to the most romantic man!

If you wish to connect in the virtual world she is easily found on Facebook, her second home. Oh, and she loves to talk books…

Blog Address:
Twitter Name:
Facebook Page:
Email address for fans –

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 22, 2019


see my review here

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Robin Daniels will be awarding a $50 mazon 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.

Sadie is a successful romance author. She can write a swoon-worthy man with the best of them but can’t seem to find one for herself. Miles is the cute and wealthy heir to Copeland Press, Sadie’s publishing house. It’s hard to find a woman in his social circle who appreciates a down-to-earth book nerd.

When a twist of fate has Miles and Sadie double booked in the same vacation rental, they decide to share the cabin. Even though Miles isn’t Sadie’s type, she can’t deny the chemistry between them. Sadie’s down for a flirty fling, but Miles has other plans. He’s got a huge crush, and just one week to convince Sadie they were meant for a happily ever after.

Read an Excerpt


Chuck grabbed my arm, bringing me to a stop. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“What’s a great idea?” I asked dryly.

“Find Sadie Kent. Ask her out.”

I cocked my head to the side. “And what am I supposed to say? Hi. You don’t know me, but I know all about you. I think you’re awesome and hot, and I’ve been obsessed with you for years. Oh, I’m also your new boss. Want to go out sometime?”


“Don’t be dumb.” I jerked out of his grip and pulled the restaurant door open. He walked in ahead of me. “I can’t even say some of that. She’ll think I’m a stalker.”

“You are a stalker,” Chuck stated, rather loudly. The hostess gave us a funny look.

“How many?” she asked.

“Just the two of us,” I replied.

“Would you like a table or a booth?” She smiled sweetly. “We have a nice, cozy spot in the corner. Very private.”

Her implication didn’t register until Chuck jumped away from me. “Gah!”

I laughed and asked, “Can we sit at the bar?” Then I winked for good measure, and she blushed, realizing her mistake.

“Sure. Follow me, please.”

Once seated, Chuck started in again. “I think you should call her.”

“Where am I going to get her number?”

“Ask Madi.”

“No way!”

He picked up a menu and opened it. “As the boss, don’t you have access to Human Resources files?”

“That’s creepy.”

He shrugged. “Hey, you’re the stalker.”

About the Author:

Robin is an overgrown child who fancies herself a bit of a comedienne. She loves to laugh, crack jokes, create flirty characters, write witty banter and believes in happy endings. Robin lives outside of Phoenix with her wonderful husband, five crazy kids and naughty labradoodle puppy. Millionaire B&B is her first adult rom-com, but she has six YA titles that are equally fun.


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Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 20, 2019


Please Join me in welcoming science fiction/fantasy author S.R. Cronin to my blog today, with her featured novel One of One.TourBanner_OneofOne


A young Nigerian telepath faces a crisis. After Somadina’s sister is forced into a frightening marriage, Somadina cannot find her sibling or even her thoughts. She seeks another telepath to help.

What she finds is Lola, a busy Texan scientist who has ignored the disturbing phenomenon in her mind for decades, and has no intention of embracing this nonsense now. Yet these two have more in common than they know, and a powerful link will be forged.

Once Somadina discovers her sister is a pawn in a dangerous political game, the stakes rise for everyone, including an ancient organization of telepaths compelled to intervene. Both women are stronger than they realize, and they have ignited the wrath of a fanatic willing to kill anyone to alter his nation’s future.

Cover_One of One

Then Lola’s thoughts invariably wandered off to the bizarre situation with the woman Lola had agreed to help. It was disturbing how much she knew about this woman. She was younger and less educated. She lived somewhere far from Texas. Based on her not wanting Lola to leave Lagos, Lola assumed she was Nigerian.

She had a younger sister, and Lola was supposed to help locate her. She was worried for this sister, and puzzled as to why she could seldom sense anything from her when she was able to pick up information from so many others.

Why did the woman not know her own sister’s whereabouts? Was the sister lost? Kidnapped? Had she run-away from home? All Lola could tell was that she was gone and could not be found.

The problem was Lola had not the faintest idea of how to find this sister. Except for the mystery woman and Jumoke, the engineer in Lagos, the most she could do was sense vague feelings from others. She lacked the skills this woman seemed to think she had, and she’d be quite happy if it stayed that way.

Yet, she’d made a promise to help. So Sometimes Lola tried to mutter comforting things back to the woman, because she didn’t know what else she could do.

On rare occasion, she sat on the porch and thought about nothing at all. On one of those times, when her mind was blank, she heard an elderly gentleman’s voice in her head.

Lola? Little Lola Conroy? Good heavens dear, is that you?

Lola searched her mind for knowledge of an older man who might have known her by her maiden name.

It’s okay honey. You’re fine. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s okay. She could almost see an elderly man backing out of her mind with great care.

Good grief, she thought. Now what?


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Sherrie Roth grew up in Western Kansas thinking there was no place in the universe more fascinating than outer space. After her mother vetoed astronaut as a career ambition, she went on to study journalism and physics in hopes of becoming a science writer.

She published her first science fiction short story long ago, and then waited a lot of tables while she looked for inspiration for the next story. When it finally came,  it declared to her it had to be a whole book, nothing less. One night, while digesting this disturbing piece of news, she drank way too many shots of ouzo with her boyfriend. She woke up thirty-one years later demanding to know what was going on.

The boyfriend, who she had apparently long since married, asked her to calm down and  explained how, in a fit of practicality, she had gone back to school and gotten a degree in geophysics and spent the last 28 years interpreting seismic data in the oil industry. The good news, according to Mr. Cronin, was that she had found it to be entertaining and ridiculously well-paying. The bad news was the two of them had still managed to spend almost all of the money.

Apparently she was now Mrs. Cronin, and further good news was that they had produced three wonderful children whom they loved, even though, to be honest, that was where a lot of the money had gone. Even better news was that Mr. Cronin turned out to be a warm-hearted, encouraging sort who was happy to see her awake and ready to write. “It’s about time,” were his exact words.

Sherrie Cronin discovered that over the ensuing decades Sally Ride had already managed to become the first woman in space and apparently had done a fine job of it. No one, however, had written the book that had been in Sherrie’s head for decades. The only problem was, the book informed her it had now grown into a six book collection. Sherrie decided she better start writing it before it got any longer. She’s been wide awake ever since, and writing away.

Author Social Media Links







46 Ascending

Face Painting for World Peace  –

Fire Dancing for Fun and Profit

Treasure Hunting for a Good Time

Leaving the Nest to Touch the Sky

Touching the Sky to Save the World






S. R. Cronin will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

<a href="“>Enter to win a $20 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 8, 2019

GUEST BLOG – Welcome Fellow Champagne Author J.M. Jinks

So excited to welcome my fellow Champagne Book Group author here today!

Read my review of Mostly Innocent here

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. J.M. Jinks will be awarding a $10 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.

Meet Layla James, your typical smart and snarky chick—except for the whole succubus thing. After nearly a millennium on Earth, Layla’s settled down in a boring life in Palm Springs, until a smoking-hot hunter comes to arrest her for murder. But Layla knows the rules—she’d never kill someone and incite the wrath of The Powers That Be.

Elijah Daines is a hunter, maintaining the balance of good and evil in the mortal realm, his power stronger than any hunter she’s ever encountered. Plus, he’s a seriously sexy distraction. Too bad he’s accused her of a crime she didn’t commit.

As the killer continues a murder spree that not only frames Layla but threatens to expose the existence of supernatural creatures to humans, Layla and Elijah team up to investigate. Hopefully, they can fight off their escalating attraction for each other long enough to exonerate her and stop the murder madness.

Read an Excerpt

He edged nearer the counter. I, or maybe my succubus, decided on a whim I would not be intimidated by his power. I wasn’t sure where my sudden courage came from. He had to have sensed my succubus signature. We weren’t a violent race when we controlled our urges. I’m Queen of Control over here. I’m sure he knows I won’t hurt him. Right?

But why is he here? Something must be wrong.

With every step he took closer, I had a better look at him. His dark hair was in slight disarray and his crystal blue eyes scoured my face. He towered over me in every sense of the word. My stomach dipped.

He and Jolene should go back-to-back so I can get an accurate measure of his height.

I shook away my thoughts of him. Given his disapproving glare, he came here on a mission. Greek god or not, he was still a hunter, and I—

I was a product of evil, aka something he hunts.

“Succubus,” he growled. One little word filled with eons of unabashed hatred. It vibrated through me. All hopes of him wanting a new bathroom paint color vanished. No, this visit wouldn’t be pleasant, not at all.

Perhaps I could seduce him. Hell, he could do me right on the floor of aisle nine next to the light fixtures, if it kept him from killing me. I bit my lip. Hunters weren’t typically susceptible to succubi charms. A failed attempt of Aphrodisia could earn me more problems.

I released a breath. Some buried-deep, natural instinct rolled through me again, and I decided to stand my ground. I stood straighter and barked back, “Hunter.”

About the Author:

J.M. Jinks was born and raised in Southern California. She lives with her husband, two dogs, and two cats in her hometown. J has a Bachelor’s in French and a Master’s of Education. She is a teacher by day and a writer by night. J and her husband welcomed a baby boy in May 2018.

J has always had a love of reading that progressed into writing. Mostly Innocent is her first published manuscript.

J loves to connect with her readers. You can find her at:



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Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 7, 2019

GUEST BLOG – Welcome Sue Perkins

Read my review here

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Sue Perkins will be awarding a PDF ebook of The Sixth Key to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click no the tour banner to see the other stop on the tour.

Kidnapped, taken to another planet – how much worse can Riley’s life get?

The kidnapper is her boyfriend Jothur and Sacral is his home planet. The castle inhabitants are psychic, mainly telepaths, and they are at odds with the Mutes in the forest. The psychics’ plan is to discover how Riley blocks her thoughts. This will help them completely eradicate the Mutes who are a mixture of free telepaths and non-telepaths.

Riley seeks help from the Mutes and meets Tynan, their leader. She hopes he will help her escape the tests the telepaths want to do. Instead she discovers the magic of Sacral is dying due to an imposter being on the throne.

Riley and Tynan work together to discover the real king and place him on the throne. Part of the plan relies on Riley returning to the castle to delve for more information. Will she survive or will her mind be torn apart by the tests?

Read an Excerpt

She frowned as her mind struggled to recall what had happened. Her last memory had been the truck heading straight for her. Cautiously, she moved her arms and legs. No pain. There didn’t appear to be any injuries, but the vehicle couldn’t possibly have missed her. Slowly she sat up and looked around.

Riley sat beside a small pond in a grassy clearing. Reeds grew along the edge of the water and huge, but strangely delicate, trees clustered at the edge of the grass. The singing of birds floated down from the branches.

“Oh great. Just when I think things can’t get worse I get run over, die and end up here. I suppose this is Heaven.” Riley didn’t know why the thought of dying upset her so much. Her life sucked, but at least there had been the remote chance things would get better.

“Funny, I never thought Heaven would look like Earth. What happened to the angels sitting on fluffy clouds playing their harps? Where are the beautiful people and the Pearly Gates?”

Riley stood and stretched. High above her, the trees entwined their branches in a delicate filigree, making the forest look light and airy. Birds swooped in and out of the aerial canopy, chirruping happily. Beneath the trunks nothing stirred.

“What happens next? Do I find St Peter and sign in? Or do I wander around until I find someone? Perhaps I should tidy up first.”

About the Author:

Sue Perkins emigrated to New Zealand in the 1980s. A few years later she took a creative writing course, then started writing novels and short stories. Despite rejections from several publishers Sue persevered and in 2006 she won the Pacific Region of the Commonwealth Broadcasting Short Story Competition. The following year her first romance novel was published.

In the intervening years Sue has had ebook and paperback novels published for middle grade, young adult and adults, mainly in the fantasy genre. Dragons and magic are her favourite subjects in fantasy, but ghosts are also making their appearance in her young adult books.


Author blog:

Publisher website:




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Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 26, 2019

JOSH GATES In Milwaukee

The genuinely humble and funny host of Destination Truth, Expedition Unknown, and Legendary Locations was at the Marcus Performing Arts Center last night in Milwaukee, WI. Warm and charming man. The real deal – what you see on TV is what you get in person.

It was freezing cold (-15 degrees!) and we (me, my husband Todd, my daughter Tami, and my friend/coworker Alicia) walked back and forth from PAC to Mo’s Irish Pub for dinner several blocks via the Riverwalk. I’m sure it’s beautiful in summer, but Holy Hannah the wind was brutal. I couldn’t feel my face (or, weirdly enough, my KNEES – what’s up with that?). Josh made the comment after  his introduction that his producer was in Siberia laying the groundwork for his trip there next week, and she was complaining about how cold it was there – it was +2 degrees. He laughed at her and said “I’m in Milwaukee, WI and it’s -250 degrees here!) So you guys (us) are colder than Siberia!” LOL

It was a celebration of stories and universal truths. We got the tale of how he got started on this gig, what’s up with the amulet around his neck, and lots of laughter over faulty transportation, weird food, and other travel foibles. There was a Q&A afterwards, and we got to purchase signed photos and I got an autographed Expedition Unknown journal. He even bought GS cookies from one little girl in the audience, BTW, because she asked him to. (The Caramel Delites – he called them Samoans.)

The only negative was, when I bought the tickets, we were promised signed books for our seat location (we were Orchestra Row C – 7th row!). When we got there…no books. ONLY those in the Meet-and-Greet VIP section got those – and there was a list. (We weren’t the only ones promised that – there were a bunch of us talking to the manager before the show.) So BOO on you PAC. But Josh Gates and the show itself was awesome.

Felt bad for the guy – had to catch a 6 AM flight out so had to be at the airport by 4. Show got done at 10. We arrived home half-dead-tired at 2 AM. But it was WORTH it!

If you get a chance to catch one of his shows in your area – DO IT!

Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 17, 2019


A Guardian Revealed

Guardians of Light, 3

Ruled by the moon. Lured by desire. Destined for a miracle…or bitter betrayal.

Years ago, the pull of the full moon and a powerful curiosity drew Finora into a human fisherman’s bed—a man who stole her selkie skin and took its location to his grave. For seven years, trapped on land, she has searched fruitlessly. Hope fading with every passing year.

Tasked with finding and returning dragons to his mountain homeland in the east, Trystan follows a slim lead westward across an unfamiliar sea. When pirates attack his ship, leaving him with injuries too severe for his werewolf to heal, he comes face to face with the most unexpected of rescuers—Finora, her two, half-human children, and the biggest damned dog he’s ever seen.

Tristan and Finora’s attraction is instant, undeniable, and hopeless. Finora is pulled to the sea, Tristan is tied to the land. But Finora can help him complete his mission, and share one night of searing, heartbreaking passion. And memories only the deepest of betrayals could shatter…

Warning: Contains Celtic legends, seven-year curses, dragons with bad attitudes, imperiled children, a grumpy sea goddess, and wave upon wave of soul-searing pleasure.


Tucking the wee ones into bed with a kiss, she closed the door. Edgy, she grabbed her shawl and stepped outside. Storm sprawled before the door, but Niadh and Trystan were not to be seen. Striding over to the edge of the cliff, she sat in the cool grass, tucking her knees under her chin, and stared out at the dark depths of the sea. The tide tugged at her soul, that never-ending siren’s call. She’d no business on land—her home lay beyond. Curse Bran’s pride and folly. But what if she did find her skin? What would happen to her wee ones if she returned to the sea? What would it be like to forego her newfound freedom for the constraints of the harem, to surrender her will anew to whatever bull she must answer to, be it sire…or mate? The long-silent Prince Matteo? They’d been Intended by her sire, in a formal binding ceremony. Whatever had become of him after her disappearance? Griogair hadn’t said—and she hadn’t asked.

She lay back and stared up at the all-powerful moon, the cool, glowing face of Cilaniestra, who gave and took back, like the very tide itself. So much a part of her…

Trystan’s steady footsteps approached. He dropped beside her. “I could hear you brooding clear across the bluff.” He’d been running, long and hard. Damp heat poured off him.

“Do you think she’s beautiful, the face of Cilaniestra?” She waved to the moon.

“From your tone, you don’t? She rules our world—nightwalker and sea critter alike.”

“She’s a treacherous bitch.” Her tone was hard as stone as she sat up. Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“What do you not think I’d understand? Being trapped in one form while your entire being screams to be another? Having that hollowness gnaw at your bones day and night without rest?” He cupped his hand under her chin, turning her face so her gaze met his. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, a trace of feral-green mere inches away. “I know the sea calls you home, but you can’t return. Why?”


Posted by: reneewildes1 | September 4, 2018


An assassin nun. An elven paladin. A ruthless queen who will destroy all they hold dear.
Guardian's book two

As a child, invaders butchered Maleta’s parents and left her ravaged body for dead. Now, reborn as a finely-honed weapon for the Gray Goddess, Maleta has shed the burden of emotions for one goal—regain her homeland for her brother.
Cianan ta Daneal’s mission to the fractured land of Shamar is twofold: to overthrow a despotic queen, and to save a life. For months, he’s been haunted by recurring visions of a beautiful swordswoman slaughtered by a skeleton army. He never expected to lay eyes on that woman and recognize her as his Lifemate—or that she’d turn and run like hell.
Uniting Shamar’s diverse peoples in revolt is easy compared to the delicate task of wooing a woman who flinches from his touch.
Slowly, Maleta dares to hope that her country, what’s left of her family, and her shattered heart are safe in Cianan’s steady hands. But when the cold blade of fate strikes true, can she trust his love is strong enough to pull her back from the Abyss?
Warning: This new twist on Sleeping Beauty contains an assassin nun who knows no fear. Okay, just one fear, but it’s a biggie. And an Elven paladin with the Devil’s own negotiating skills. To coax her heart out of hiding, he’s gonna need every one of them.

Check out the YouTube book trailer: A Guardian’s Hope

Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 19, 2018

Why Champagne Books?

With the demise of Samhain, all of us in-house authors had to scramble for “What now?” Many of my friends opted to go Indie, but that’s not me. I’ve always been with a publishing house–Samhain, The Wild Rose Press, Tirgearr. (I was also offered a contract by Noble, right before they closed their doors forever–that was weird…) I am definitely not a lone wolf. I prefer a pack. I might not have been the biggest author at Samhain, but I was the second biggest in the Fantasy division–behind Bianca D’Arc–and had garnered a wallful of awards, as well as numerous 5-star reviews. So, resume in hand, I went in search of a new publisher.

Backtrack a bit to my early days in Wisconsin RWA–when I was first starting out and didn’t know ANYTHING. I entered a manuscript entitled Hedda’s Sword in the Fab 5 pre-pubbed contest (I had won the year before with Duality). When I’d heard Hedda finalled, I went to the conference to learn the results. I was of two minds about this, because I’d royally screwed up in the one-page critique the year before. They said enter your best work, and I didn’t know that referred to “make the first (opening) page your best work” so I entered what I thought was the best page…from somewhere in the middle. (Told you I didn’t know anything…)

One of WisRWA’s grand matriarchs, Jane Toombs, quietly took me aside and explained things to me. I am grateful she was kind, and discreet, but Jane Toombs was a legend with like a zillion books published and she intimidated the HELL out of little old dumb-hick me. So when she approached me THIS year, I found myself eyeing the nearest exits, wondering what did I do wrong NOW? I never expected her to say, “I judged Hedda’s Sword and regardless of what happens tomorrow, I wanted to ask a favor of you. Tell me where that manuscript lands because it WILL be published. I loved it.”

I just about fainted then and there. Jane Toombs believed in me, saw potential in my writing. Jane Toombs!

(Later on, she gave me her entire 18th century Colonial America research library. I’m planning on putting it to good use writing a historical romance that I’ll dedicate to her.)

So when I was perusing Champagne Book Group’s website, I really liked the cover art and went to list of authors to see if I could recognize any names. And I saw Jane Toombs on the list. Now, I am a Jane Toombs fangirl–she’s been around forever and she knows stuff. If she was willing to be a part of Champagne, then I wanted to go for it also.

And so I queried Cassiel Knight about Duality…and got the entire seven book Guardians of Light series signed. All thanks to the wonderful Jane Toombs!

Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 4, 2018


Happy new Year and welcome 2018! I am back with lots of changes in my writing future. Since the demise of Samhain Publishing, I have a new website and picked up a new Publisher, Champagne Books, and have been working hard on edits and other paperwork. And I am excited to share them with you.

Like a phoenix, the award-winning Fantasy Romance series Guardians of Light are being reborn, with new edits, new scenes, new covers, and new titles. Starting next month, there will be a new title released every three months, as follows:

Duality = A Guardian’s Heart (coming 2/5/18)

Hedda’s Sword = A Guardian’s Hope (coming 5/7/18)

Lycan Tides = A Guardian’s Storm (coming 8/6/18)

Dust of Dreams = A Guardian’s Dream (coming 11/5/18)

Riever’s Heart = A Guardian’s Destiny (coming February 2019)

God of Fyre Mountain = A Guardian Betrayed (coming May 2019)

Moonwitched = A Guardian Redeemed (coming August 2019)

The rights to Marek’s New World will revert to me when my contract with Tirgearr expires in October 2018. Looking forward to being able to redo that one, also. Contemporary Rural Paranormal Romance!

I am editing Seditious Hearts and hope to be able to submit that title for Champagne consideration, as well. Science Fiction Romance!


Posted by: reneewildes1 | June 21, 2017

Life With A Chow-Chow

I have been a certified Vet Tech/LAT since 1996 and a professional dog groomer for 4 years now, and it never ceases to amaze me what a misunderstood dog breed Chows are. They’re beautiful balls of fluff that come in two body/coat types and a variety of colors, with a distinctive blue-black tongue. So many times, people ask my what breed my Abby is. When I say “Chow” the FIRST question people ask is “Is she mean?”

(Yes, b/c I would so TOTALLY keep a MEAN dog around my three kids and three cats…)

Chows are an ancient medium-sized spitz-type breed from China. They were bred for guarding and hunting. They are known to be “one-man dogs,” both independent and stubborn. They are NOT for first-time dog owners – or ANY owner who thinks a Golden Retriever is the epitome of “a perfect dog. ”

red chowChows are fiercely loyal and protective. They are intensely territorial and can be dog aggressive. They do not trust strangers. They have a high-maintenance coat that blows a horrifying amount of undercoat twice a year all over the house ands mats on a whim if not brushed regularly. They are prone to hip dysplasia, bladder stones, and eye problems. They think of obedience training as “more actual guidelines.” (Basically, they are cats that bark.)

They are also the ultimate clowns. They get into what I call “whirling dervish” mode and tear about like the energizer bunny–then curl up next to you & fall asleep. They’re not huge cuddlers for very long b/c they got too hot, but make very nice, comfy pillows. When properly socialized they are very calm, tolerant dogs.

AbbyI’ve had Abby (New Moon’s Twilight Night} since she was 6 months old. She’ll be 8 years old this coming August. She’s a black, smooth-coated Chow with a long but not woolly coat. We got her as an unofficial  “rescue”–as in, from a private owner who didn’t know how to take care of her. She was matted, underweight, had both roundworms & whipworms, NO vaccinations, and was in dire need of entropic eye surgery (both eyes were getting rubbed raw from in-turned lashes). She was not housebroken and had never been socialized. She was afraid of hardwood floors and didn’t know how to walk on concrete (she’d walk on the grass and panic when we got to a driveway to cross).

The vets at VCA referred us to Kronenwetter for her eyelid surgery, and they did all four. Said it was one of the worst cases they’d ever seen. She healed beautifully and been right as rain since. She almost died from a huge bladder stone at the age of two, and is now on prescription diet (was Royal Canin SO, now Hills C/D) for life. Her favorite treats are Dentastix. She has very thin dental enamel and the vets are leery of doing dentals on her b/c they’re trying to save her teeth surfaces for as long as possible. They have a litmus-paper-type test to check bacterial-count/gingivitis, and so far she’s been passing. Eventually, we expect her to lose her teeth and need to go to a canned diet.

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Because she was not socialized as a small pup, she is EXTREMELY dog aggressive. We worked with Cindy Stienke from K9 Elementary on how to get Abby’s respect and how to control her when she’s around other dogs. She does great with our cats, b/c when we first got Abby, Chandra marched right up to her and smacked her on the nose with her claws. Abby now has a healthy respect for cats, and they rule the roost. Sad to see a 45-pound dog completely kitty-whipped–they’ll grab her toys and take over the water bowl, and she backs right down. Pathetic. She’s great at the vet, and easy to handle for grooming. She is great with elderly people, very slow and gentle, does NOT like strange men (especially drunks and she is particularly protective of my teenage daughter), and is leery of children–they have to go slow or she hides and tries to bolt. She hates delivery people coming on the porch. She looks like a Flufferina but sounds like a Chowminator.

She knows basic obedience commands on leash, but has no recall and the minute she sees a squirrel all bets are off. She’s walked into trees looking for them. My daughter taught her a variety of tricks – including dancing on her hind legs and army-crawling (although she sticks her butt in the air and would get her tail shot off in real-life).

We love her to pieces and can’t imagine life any other way.

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Posted by: reneewildes1 | April 22, 2017


Been working with Jo from Glass Slipper Web Design on my new website, Renee Wildes Romance (dot com). It’s been a long time since I had one, and it’s SO pretty. Come check it out and leave me a message from the Contact Page to say hi!

Posted by: reneewildes1 | March 1, 2017

Farewell SAMHAIN


It’s a sad day for me and a lot of fellow romance authors–the end of an era. Samhain Publishing LLC goes dark after a decade of leading the small, independent ebook/print pub pack. I started with them in 2006 and published 7 fantasy romance titles in the Guardians of Light series. I was fortunate enough to keep the same editor throughout my Samhain career, the amazing Linda Ingmanson.

I’ve head two fabulous cover artists–Anne Cain did the first three (Duality, Hedda’s Sword and Lycan Tides)

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and Kanaxa did the last four (Dust of Dreams, Riever’s Heart, God of Fyre Mountain, and Moonwitched).

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No automatic alt text available.Weird story about how I first got published. I attended the 2006 NJ RWA Conference with a bunch of fellow FFP RWA writers, and I got talked into pitching Duality to Angela James (then with Samhain, now with Carina Press). I dropped my “cheat” index cards under my chair, I was so nervous. She asked a lot of pointed questions about my twist on Cinderella, and invited me to submit the manuscript to them. When I started to type the query letter, my oh-so-nosy-and-helpful cat Chandra walked across the keyboard and sent the darn thing prematurely. Half a letter, no attachments. I just about had a heart attack, when I had to rewrite and resubmit with an explanation. *sob* Two weeks later, I got an acceptance letter from Linda offering a contract:

Dear Renee: Thank you for sending Duality for consideration for publishing. I think it’s a terrific book, really well written, with great characters and an interesting story line. I would like to offer you a contract.

The only caveat is that I probably won’t be able to schedule the release for any earlier than late summer/early fall next year. If you don’t mind a bit of a wait, then I’ll go ahead and put in for the contract. Please let me know.
Thank you-
Linda Ingmanson, Editor
Samhain Publishing
I was over the moon, and Linda and I turned out some award-winning projects:
Duality – Hedda’s Sword – Lycan Tides
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I’m sad to see it all end, and I hope I can find a new home that comes close to what I’ve enjoyed at Samhain. I wish everyone the best in future endeavors.

Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 28, 2017

Music to Write To

Music is such a visceral subjective thing, and a huge part of our world culture. Your music preferences say a lot about you as a person. It defines who and what we are.

Some people write to music, to help them think/create. My books all have soundtracks. I have general “fantasy romance” bands, and then specific bands/sounds for specific books. Thought I’d share where my stories come from.

I love Kate Price (hammer dulcimer) and Mediaeval Baebes — my go-to for all my stories. I love the Old World chants and instruments. They really set the stage for my world-building: castles and kings, peasant villages & serfs, knights and healers, bards and seers.







I play Enya for love scenes, Nightwish & Within Temptation for magical scenes, and Axel Rudi Pell for my fight/battle scenes. For dark magic I’ve been known to pull Warlock out of the archives. Doro Pesch’s voice could cut glass.


Tarja turunen:

Sharon den Adel   Within Temptation:






Axel Rudi Pell:

Doro Pesch:







Hedda’s Sword is set in Shamar, and Riever’s Heart is set in Isadorikja. Both countries experienced major political upheaval. For them I went with Nordic bands, because the minor keys and not-quite-blending harmonics leave a wonderful unsettled feeling. My kids tease me because I don’t know the words to the lyrics, but I just like the sound! Gamarna, Hedningarna & Varttina:













Lycan Tides is more traditional Celtic – Danu &Leahy in particular

Danu brings Irish music to the Rialto Theater Center - Loveland Reporter-Herald:









R. Carlos Nakai - Godfather of Native American Flute playing & most famous of all NAF performers today.:

My one non-Guardians of Light published book is Marek’s New World, from Tirgearr Publishing. It’s what I call a contemporary rural paranormal. Heroine is a white wolf shifter and forestry ranger. Hero is a 2000-year-old Native American warrior. They try to apprehend a loosed demon in Kootenai National Forest. For this story I played a lot of Native American flute, esp. R. Carlos Nakai





So that pretty much sums up my musical journey as a writer. I’d love to hear what you listen to!


Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 24, 2017

A Few of My Favorite Things

So, just thought I’d post this as a “getting to know you.” Writer & book info is all well and good, but we’re first and foremost people, too. So I thought I’d let you get to know me a little better. Writers are first and foremost readers, and I’m no exception.

I grew up reading fantasy and watching sci fi. My first crush was Captain Apollo from the ORIGINAL Battlestar Galactica TV series (Richard Hatch).

I love reading Mercedes Lackey. My favorite was the “Storm” trilogy – I’ve read them to pieces! The book I consider my inspiration, what got me started writing is Barbara Hambly’s “The Ladies of Mandrigyn.”


 My favorite color is blue, my favorite flower is stargazer lily, and I can never get enough Mexican food. I usually order Cosmopolitans at the bar, but my favorite wine (at home) is Australian Shiraz (esp. Rosemont). I’m more of a stay-in person than a go-out person, and I get cold really easy so I’m usually snuggled in a fuzzy blanket with a cup of coffee, reading or scrapbooking or watching movies.


When I DO venture outside, it’s usually to spend time walking my Chow Abby

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and/or hanging out at my daughter’s 4H horse shows with out Morab mare Sassy (Temptation Fyre N Ice)

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I love movies with strong heroines – my all-time favorites are Jessica Lange as Mary McGregor in Rob Roy and Madeleine Stowe as Cora Monroe in Last of the Mohicans. (What, you thought I watched for Liam Neeson in a kilt and Daniel Day Lewis in buckskins? LOL)






I try to write heroines in the same strong-but-feminine vein, inspired by the above fictitious women. Now that I write fantasy romance, I read a lot more of it, just to see what else other people are doing. My all-time favorite fantasy romance books in recent years is Elizabeth Vaughan’s “Warprize”

So that’s a bit about the “real” me!





Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 22, 2017

Self-Editing Old Books

With the imminent demise of Samhain Publishing, I and my fellow authors face the big question: What to do with all our books? Many people decided to go indie, self-publish. I can’t afford to do that. I can’t even afford to buy back my covers/back blurbs to reuse. So I’m looking at resubmitting to another publisher willing to take a look at previously published works. I haven’t had to blind-query in years. I had an editor at Samhain who loved me–I’d send a book, she’d send a contract. Worked together seamlessly for almost a decade. Seven books total in my Guardians of Light series.

Now I’m out to seduce strangers, people who don’t know me and are deluged by thousands of other hopefuls all screaming “LOOK AT ME!” *sigh*

So in the interests of beating out the competition, I’m revamping these–yes, already edited–titles with a fresh eye. Why? Because I want them to be the best they can be. I’ve learned a lot since I started writing. Book 1, Duality, came out in 2008. I’ve learned a lot since then. Trends and style preferences change. The market changes. Reader preferences change.

But where to start? My two big requirements? Readability and Marketability

One of the first things I did is go back through my reviews and look at the less-than-stellar comments, to see if any commonalities jumped out at me. And they did. Several people mentioned the creative grammar & phonetic spelling/dialects as being problematic. I know the stories are good, but if people notice the writing instead of the story, it’s a problem.

Duality being Book One is the platform from which to launch a campaign to find a new home for the entire series. It’s going to be my ambassador, my sample, my handshake. In addition to being intimidatingly LONG at over 108K in its original form, it cornered the market in apostrophes and alternative words/phrasings. So my two biggest aims were to cut the word count to under 100K, and smooth out the writing until I disappeared and the only thing left was the Cinderella story of Dara and Loren and the *cough* demon that brought them together.


Now, there are limits to my multi-tasking. I miss stuff if I try to do everything at once as I go through a manuscript. So I have to do multiple passes, forcusing on ONE type of edit at a time. I basically have it broken down to 10 steps:

  • Step One: Reformatting – from PDF to Word, deleting all the old Samhain headers/footers
  • Step Two: Teaching Word spellcheck its new vocabulary so it quit freaking out over my fantasy-world proper nouns
  • Step Three: Tedious apostrophe search, replacing them with whole words
  • Step Four: Find & Replace – searching out modernisms/archaicisms, swapping out fake words & real ones, leaving just enough of them in dialogue to maintain the fantasy flavor while eliminating from the narrative itself
  • Step Five: Activate passive verbs & use contractions where possible (yes for humans, no for elves)
  • Step Six: Cut adverbs, excessive adjectives & unnecessary dialogue tags
  • Step Seven: Cut & Tighten, removing the fat until word count goal achieved (In Duality’s case, to 98K – I cut 10%/10K from it)
  • Step Eight: Recheck punctuation & italics
  • Step Nine: Check appearance – “white space” and “orphans”
  • Step Ten: Reread as a reader, rechecking for smoothness and readability, noting (& fixing) anything that still stops or distracts


Rinse and repeat with each of the other 6 books. (I’m working through Hedda’s Sword now.)

Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 6, 2017

Arabian Horses & Romance Writing

So…huh? What does the one have to do with the other?

Something you should know about me: I grew up in the Wisconsin Arabian Horse Association, and worked a lot of weekend horse shows at State Fair Park in West Allis (Milwaukee). Watched a lot of judging!


WisRWA Fab Five Contest

Now that I’m a published romance writer who also judges writing contests – the WisRWA Fab 5 deadline is right around the corner – I’ve been noticing some similarities I thought I’d share.



First off, Arabians in halter get judged on five main things: type, conformation, soundness, balance and quality. An Arab has to look like an Arab. Watch “13th Warrior” with Antonio Banderas. Did that little gray mare look anything like the other war horses? Nope, but she was nimble and agile and ran circles around them!



Unfortunately, many halter show horses never get trained to ride or drive, but they have to be built and able to. Conformation and soundness – they had to be able to traipse through the desert on next to nothing for weeks on end and still be able to carry a rider into battle at the end. And the all elusive “quality” – that fire and presence and grace that makes one individual stand out in a good lineup.

Now, there are no perfect horses. One has great legs but straight shoulders, another a great topline but crooked legs, etc. What we look for is balance in the whole, everything working together in an attractive, useful package with spark. I liked that the judges were always from out of town. They didn’t know the people, the farms, or the horses’ pedigrees. They didn’t know the back stories, the rivalries, the politics. They judged “THAT horse, on THAT day.” Period.



Where am I going with this? Romance writing is a lot like that. A romance has to have “type” – it has to BE a romance, rocky relationship leads to HEA. (My apologies to the Women’s Fiction and Romantic Elements writers out there. Give “type” less weight and go with the other qualities.) No matter what sub-genre you’re in, it’s still a romance theme.





“Conformation and Soundness” – Story Structure. Grammar and punctuation. Active verb tenses. Multi-sensory description. POV. GMC. Plot. Here’s where writers have the advantage, because these things can be learned, practiced and improved. Some people are better at something than others, we all have weak spots we need to work on.


“Balance” is the story as a whole. Three-dimensional characters. Logical plot with winding story progression. Believable problems, interesting twists, sympathetic characters, good world-building. Does the story draw you along?


And that elusive unmistakable “quality” – voice. It’s like a distinctive flavor you either love or hate. It’s what gives pubbed writers their readers, why readers tend to own every book by so-and-so and can’t wait for the next one to come out.

This is what writing contest divas can struggle with. If you have three judges, and two love your voice but one hates it, you final, because most contests toss the low score. If one judge loves it but two hate it, you go home with some interesting and valuable critiques. If you’re entering contests for the feedback, great. You can learn a lot from them. If you’re entering a contest for the final judge, to land on that particular agent’s/editor’s desk, it’s a roll of the dice.


You want the overall balance of type and conformation to rise to the top, and then make it to the one editor that recognizes quality, loves your voice, and buys your book. (And the next one. And the next one.)


Hone your craft, and have faith. You know you’ve got a good story, and you’ve worked hard to make it a great book, the best it can be. Believe in yourself, and have persistence. Horses or books, quality is quality – it will be recognized and rewarded someday, by someone. Just keep writing!




Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 6, 2017

Thoughts on Characterization

Put on your character like a shroud. When you write in that character, you ARE that character, at almost a microscopic level. You find out everything about that character, like someone in witness protection or an undercover cop. You know that person so well, you ARE that person. 24/7/365. Almost to the point when a phone call comes in at work you answer “Good morning, this is Maleta, your avenging assassin nun. How may I help you today?” (Hedda’s Sword reference)
(No I’ve never done that.)
My goal is to get first-person close with third person voice.
The rule I try to stick by is:
Who has the most to fear/risk/lose in that scene? (The highest stakes?) THAT’s who the scene should showcase, so the reader can feel the tension and drama. Even-keeled safe characters are good for secondary supporters, but hero/heroine should need/change/grow. As mentioned regarding love scenes, the above applies to love scenes, also. The scene itself should be in the least secure’s POV, so the scene is a revelation—either makes things better…or worse. And then immediately switch to the other character for the aftermath.
Character “Voice”
Again, it’s unrelenting. You have to BE the character, every single moment. Now you know why multiple POVs can be so tricky. You have to totally change yourself, your background, your way of thinking, moving, reacting.
Watch Viggo Mortenson first as a dedicated dad in a postapocolyptic nightmare world in The Road, then a Navy SEAL instructor in G.I. Jane, then as a humble cowboy in Hidalgo and finally as a reluctant king but able warrior in LOTR. Same actor, four different characters & worlds.
Mixing It Up
Characters need to be consistent, and true to themselves, their own inner moral compass. But part of the fun is surprising the reader. Force the character to do the unexpected. Set up a scenario where a character has to do something they never thought they would – an HONEST character lies to protect someone else, etc. It also adds depth. BY taking the first answer that comes to you and throwing it out, you can add a twist that’s unexpected:
Say you have your soldier of fortune fall in love with your kindergarten teacher. But how different those POVs would be. They would even look at the red in a sunset differently. The teacher might think of the roses in her garden, the soldier would probably think “blood.” Or maybe not. Maybe the soldier thinks of the roses in his grandmother’s garden, and how much he misses her. Would she be proud of him or disappointed in him?
Unexpected twists like this add depth to your character, make him less stock cutout and more real-person. Give your hard, edgy character moments of softness. Give a soft, timid character a moment of strength.
Thoughts on Characterization In General
People are a product of their world—part genetics, part environment. We are born blank slates, with equal potential. Then we are molded into what we ultimately become. By people, circumstance, experience, training and choices. Our viewpoints, how we see the world around us, is colored by who and what we are. Children see the world differently than adults. A kindergarten teacher is going to view the world very differently than a soldier of fortune.
The best characters are as three-dimensional as real people, with the triviality stripped away. They are the best and the worst of the human race—sometimes in the same package. They have their own viewpoints, their own voice, that reflects who and what they are. They have strengths and weaknesses, beliefs and prejudices, assumptions and fears. For me characterization is interdependent on world-building, because the reader can only understand the characters if they can view the world around them.
Culture (Art/Music/Literature)
Education & Training
Society & Family Placement/Position
Rewards & Punishments
Remember in the movie “City Slickers” when they were looking for that “one thing” Curly swore made the whole world make sense, but how it was different for each person?
And for Liam Neeson in the movie “Rob Roy” it was “honor”? Explaining “honor” to his sons. “Honor” was what he lived and (almost) died by. He expected others to live by the same code he did, and thus was hugely disappointed. But he was as straight and true a character as ever existed on screen. Because that single word, “honor” was soul-deep, ever-present.
Find ONE WORD to describe each of your characters. Tattoo it on their forehead. Never let them take it off. You’ll be surprised how that becomes a lens which colors EVERYTHING they view!
It’s just a way of always being able to check yourself on character consistency:
“But would a man of HONOR DO that?”
“But would an HONEST person SAY that?”
It doesn’t have to be “good”—lack of trust is a stellar trait that would affect everything she does. In my Hedda’s Sword, Maleta (the avenging assassin nun) is a rape survivor. The hero Cianan was only good for one thing—helping free her country, preferably from a great distance… That can totally work, because it definitely sets up a great character growth arc!
A character who’s aware of their trait can reflect on it, maybe even poke fun of themselves over it in quiet moments. A character who ISN’T aware would never think or discuss it, but would convey to the other characters and the reader through actions that the other characters could comment on and the reader would say “Of course, they’re ___”
Like a protector who always steps in front of a bully or a “bossy” who always tells people what to do.
It can also be darker, like a “heroic” who always picks the most dangerous rescues b/c he thinks he should have died instead of his friend, and is either unconsciously trying to prove himself worthy of life or, conversely, NOT worthy of life and is unconsciously trying to DIE but the fates have other ideas and won’t let him.
In my first romance Duality I got called out on naming a dance. I originally used the word “waltz” which has a very definitive Earth-history beginning. Since my world was pure high fantasy, I had my editor tell me to rename my dance. I renamed it “arelle” and she was happy. “Waltz” would have taken the reader right out of the fantasy.
Not good. Easy fix.
Then I made Dara unable to dance and have to learn. She was raised a peasant, a healer—they had no time for frivolity. When she learned Loren was a PRINCE, she worried about gowns, dances, what fork to use at dinner. Royalty and peasantry do not move in the same circles or use the same trappings.
Things never brought up in Cinderella. Things that WERE brought up in Princess Diaries 1 & 2. Because if your character wouldn’t know—don’t have them know. Have them learn. Have them worry about screwing up—and have them make mistakes. Let the reader relate to the humanity of your character.
Everyone has their own way of developing characters. I’m not here to tell you WHAT to think or do or change anyone’s methodology. I’m just here to share my thoughts and suggestions for digging deeper, on ways to make your characters MORE human, for a closer reader connection. What works for me.
Things to consider:
How do your characters FIRST come into being? What draws YOU to them?
How do you know what makes them tick? What weird/unique quirks do they have?
How did they become their profession? Why did they choose to do what they do?
How did they wind up in the setting you put them in? Did they choose it or were they forced there by circumstance?
What do they: Know? Want? Need? Fear? Learn?
Why is their “other half” perfect for them? How do they challenge/push/grow?
What do you love about them? Hate about them?
What needs to change in order for them to have a HEA with each other?
My Personal Characterization Reference Library
I’m a total writing book junkie. And on my keeper shelf I have the following references for characterization that have come in handy:
I’ve got 3 books on characterization I swear by:
  • 45 MASTER CHARACTERS: Mythic Models for Creating Original Characters
  • by Victoria Lynn Schmidt
  • The Writer’s Digest Sourcebook for BUILDING BELIEVABLE CHARACTERS
  • by Marc McCutcheon
  • WHAT WOULD YOUR CHARACTER DO? Personality Quizzes for Analyzing Your
  • Characters
  • by Eric Maisel, Ph.D. & Ann Maisel
I also recommend: (LUV this one!)
  •  the RANDOM HOUSE WORD MENU (ISBN 0435414411) for getting
  • various vocabulary and terminology right. – all different professions & hobbies listed, to sound more like an insider
  •  And I have A WORLD OF BABY NAMES by TERESA NORMAN that I use in order to
  • get “related” names correct – cultural distinctness.
Adding to the list (from others’ recommendations):
  • Bullies, Bastards,& Bitches: How to Write the Bad Guys of Fiction by Jessica Page
  • Morrell
  • Understanding the Enneagram by Don Richard Riso.
  • Believable Characters: Creating with Enneagrams by Laurie Schnebly
Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 3, 2017


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Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 2, 2017

The 6 Senses – The SIXTH Sense

All of the other senses are observing or interacting with the external.  The sixth sense is purely internal.  First become of aware of yourself, and then expand outward.  Become familiar with the “norm”, and then look for “different.”  If you’re walking through the woods, and all of a sudden the birds and animals fall silent, that’s a problem.  Something’s changed in their perception of what-should- be.  They might be reacting to you.  They might be reacting to the big bear behind you.  Maybe you should notice the big bear behind you.

Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 2, 2017

The 6 Senses – TOUCH

The sense of touch is the most intimate of all, because you cannot do it at a distance.  It requires proactive movement by someone, reaching out to explore and embrace their world. 
CelebrationThis is not a lecture on sexual touching – for that I highly recommend Mary Buckham’s Sexual Tension class, using the 12 Steps to Intimacy.  This is just touching in general, textures, temperatures.
Think how babies explore their world – they pick up everything and try to put it in their mouths.  They’ve got the right idea.  Watch the kids on a field trip to a nature class,  examining feathers and pine cones and snake skin – sometimes shed, sometimes with the snake still inside.  The difference between an iguana and a salamander.  When my daughter was just over a year old we went to Maine.  Remember that rocky beach?  (We went in July, not in November.)  That baby sat there playing with the rocks for a good half-hour.  She’d pick up one, pass it back and forth, turning it over and over.  She didn’t go for color, she went with texture.  She put the smooth ones down right away – too boring.  She liked the rough, bumpy ones, and would trace the edges from every angle and giggle to herself.
ChandraThere have been studies about how beneficial pet ownership is.  Stroking something furry can lower blood pressure, especially (for me, at least) if it purrs.  That’s why pet therapy is such a success.  Read up on a dog named Skeezer, and what a difference she made in the lives of some REALLY messed-up kids.
Remember Linus?  Most kids have a favorite blanket they keep for years.  Whenever they get stressed-out, out comes the blanket.   When our son Joshua was born he got a fuzzy white blanket with balloons on it.  Once when my mom in Racine babysat for him, we picked him up but forgot the blanket.  He screamed and screamed.  Nothing worked.  Slow first-time parents that we were, we were halfway to Milwaukee before we thought “blanket”.  Turned around, drove all the way back to mom’s, woke her up, got the blanket.  He conked out right off.  Joshua is nine now and still has it.  It’s a nearly transparent white rag now, can’t even see the balloons anymore, but don’t even suggest throwing it away!
Okay, so kids have blankets, but don’t be too quick to laugh.  I’ll bet everyone here has a favorite sweater or old pair of jeans.  How many of us whine about how we can’t wait to “break in” that new pair of shoes?  How many of us have an expensive new outfit we never wear because it’s just not comfortable?
My Pretty New OfficeI love reading books.  I love their smell, the sound of the pages turning, the way they feel in my hand.  Joshua made these fantabulous little bowls in pottery class – l love every little dent and ripple.  Tami made a pink clay elephant I have on my desk at work.  Very stress-relieving.  (Who can be stressed out playing with a pink elephant?  When that colonel’s wife is hollering at me on the phone I just pick up Tami’s elephant and say “yes ma’am.”)   I have a soapstone candle-holder that’s my favorite.  I love the smooth, slippery feel.  I have a small carved wooden box on my computer desk where I keep my business cards.  I love tracing the carvings on it, the feel of every leaf edge and raised petal.  I love standing under a really hot shower, and big fluffy towels afterward.
Go on – be a kid again.  Explore your world with the sense of touch.  A fun game we play at home is blindfold someone, hand them something and see it they can guess what it is by touch alone.
Size shape weight texture form substance temperature
Soft hard smooth rough bumpy scratchy sharp dull solid liquid hot warm cold frozen
Living or not, natural or artificial
Think of struggling across blowing sand dunes, your feet sliding with every step.  Think of squelching through mud, it sucking at your shoes with every step.  Ever lose a shoe in mud, stepping out of it and hitting the cold wet with your bare foot?
Gardeners know what the feel of dirt is like.  Walk barefoot in the grass, on the beach.  Feel the bark of the tree, the shape of leaves, the texture of flower petals.  Even a bowl of mixed nuts – each is different – try the blindfold test on them.  Popcorn.  Chips.  Can you feel the difference between merino, cashmere and angora?  Feel the difference between Egyptian cotton sheets and the ones on sale at Walmart.
Now imagine your character doing the same thing.  The first time I played with a pet raccoon, I was surprised at how soft their paws were, how much like hands.  Give the characters preconceived notions and then surprise them.  I remember reading a Battlestar Galactica book when I was young (the old series, not the new – when Starbuck was a GUY).  They were riding unicorns.  Now do you think “smooth, satiny, white” when you think “unicorn”?  These were black, and their coats were harsh and wiry.  And I thought “Wow, that’s different!  COOL!”
Think of your skin.  Parts that see the sun all the time are rougher, drier, more weathered.  Parts that don’t see the sun so much (or ever) are smoother and paler.  Compare a rancher’s hands to an executive’s.  Think of the kind of man who gets a manicure.  The type of woman who doesn’t.
Moonwitched72webIn MOONWITCHED, Chapter 2:
 The goods-laden camels of the Theressan slavers’ caravan halted, grumbling, on the eastbound trade road. Their cloaked and veiled handlers, monsters masquerading as men, herded them into the golden tall-grass for tonight’s camp. A dozen captive women stumbled into the negligible shade of a stunted, twisted tarja tree.
A salty tear trickled down Mari’s sunburnt cheek as she collapsed, exhausted, on the hard-baked ground a bit apart from the others. She reached up to erase her show of weakness afore one of her amoral captors noticed. Her fingers came away streaked with gritty mud. She frowned at her broken nails. Powdery red dust clung to all, stained her tattered blue gown like dried blood. Mari wrinkled her nose in self-disgust at the combined stench of old sweat and old fear. Oh, for a bath. I smell worse than those foul-tempered camels.
How had it come to this? Bands of men, ordered to capture innocent, free women for sport? For sale? And the one who did the ordering—the shadowy head demon who’d taken control of this land. Emandu, who’d sent Kotar, the rightful boy-king, fleeing for his young life.
She fingered the cool stones and crystals encircling the copper band about her right wrist. Her captors had not yet taken it from her. The minor unseeing ward still held, made others dismiss it as inconsequential. A square green peridot set in iron for earth, a jagged quartz set in gold for fire, a round aquamarine set in a point-down triangle of silver for water and an arrowhead of mica set in tin for air. The heavy cuff bound, stored and focused whatever elemental energy she drew in ’til she had need of its magic and called it forth. But the need here far surpassed her earth-healing powers.
Fear wore on her, the sharpness dulled over the course of three days under the burning sun to a constant bone-deep ache. Nightmares of bloodshed and atrocities haunted her slumber. She licked her chapped lips. The brutes rationed their drinking water, but tears and sweat gave hope she wasn’t dehydrated yet.
Flannel shirts.  Satin sheets.  Granite countertops.  Steaming hot bubble baths.  Brushing your hair.  Typing on a keyboard.  Hugging a child.  Petting a cat.  Warming your hands under a horse’s mane.  Opportunities to mention, describe and revel in touch are all around you.  Put them on your pages.  Characters do not live in a bubble.  Have them embrace their world.  Clothing, their environment, animals, each other.  See what works for you.
Posted by: reneewildes1 | February 1, 2017

The 6 Senses – SMELL & TASTE

Smell and taste are so intertwined as to be virtually inseparable.  If you don’t believe me, plug your nose and eat a taco.  Or jambalaya.  Doesn’t taste anything like what you thought or remembered, does it?  Halfway through, unplug your nose and take another bite.  Wow, what a difference!  I had a roommate with a defective sense of smell; he overseasoned everything.  He could eat Habanero peppers straight.  His bloody marys were brown! 

Breathe through your nose.  Then breathe through your mouth.  What’s the difference?  Describe it.
Smell and taste are probably the most neglected senses in fiction.  They truly are sensual, they enrich your world-building by adding depth.  Like sound, they’re vital to transforming your reader from an observer to an active participant.   Don’t just list them like an inventory, tear them apart, put them on, roll around in them, revel in them.

Say you’re going down a tunnel.  Is it dry and dusty or damp and mildewy?  Is the dust laced with minerals that stings your nose and puts a tang under your tongue?  Copper’s good for that.  Iron, too – like in blood. 
You’re walking along a beach.  Is that body of water fresh or salt?  Don’t tell the reader which it is – have your character scent it on the breeze. 
You’re walking through a field.  Do you just smell the loamy scent of dark rich earth or is it mixed with manure or a chemical fertilizer?
horse-family-tamitoddWalk into a stable.  Inhale warm horse and wood, metal and leather, urine and ammonia and manure.  Straw bedding will smell different than peat moss or wood shavings.  Pine shavings smell different than cedar.  Smell the hay – grass hay has a crisper, sharper edge than the sweetness of a leafier plant like clover or alfalfa.  Try the oats – dry dusty smell but a sweet, almost nutty, taste.   Nuances.

Walk through the forest.  Has it just rained?  Is it about to?  Describe it.  A springtime forest differs from an autumn forest, a conifer forest from a deciduous forest, the taiga from a rainforest or jungle.  What can you smell?  Nuances.
Don’t just say “She smelled smoke.”  Wood smoke?  Pipe smoke?  Cigarette smoke?  Burning plastic or rubber?  Gasoline or oil?  Charcoal?  BIG difference.
Don’t just say “Candles were burning.”  Beeswax or soy or tallow?  If they’re scented, WHAT scent? 

A MomentPeople have a scent, as well.  Deodorant, fabric softener, soap and shampoo aside, each person is unique.  Just ask a bloodhound.  Scents can either attract or repel.  It’s a big component of “chemistry.”  Ever go out with someone, only to discover there was “no chemistry”, “no spark”?   Then you meet someone else, and WHAM!  And that scent can change.  Sweat can change.  Are they sweating from the sun or exertion, from fear or arousal?  How pheromones work isn’t important to the average writer, just be aware that they do.  Smell can be an incredible memory trigger.  A friend of mine finds English Leather incredibly sexy, because an old boyfriend used to wear it.  Old Spice has the opposite effect on me – my grandfather used to wear it.

Taste comes in four basics – salty, sour, sweet, and bitter.  Next time you eat, slow down and focus on your meal.  The warm yeasty smell of bread, that first bite of hot buttered crust.  Crumbled bleu cheese or feta cheese on the fresh spinach salad, maybe fresh ground pepper.  Taste the basil and oregano in the tomato sauce, the sage and onion in the stuffing.  Apple-smoked ham differs from maple-smoked from honey-cured.  You can mix flavors, too.  I make a wicked pork or chicken, simply simmered in chicken broth and orange juice.  (Lime juice is great, too.)  Savor a recipe that calls for
Madeira or Burgundy.  Specify the type of mushrooms in the stroganoff.  Don’t be afraid to have your character revel in rich egg custard or smooth buttery caramel.  Pay attention to flavors, smells, textures.  Crisp celery or mushy porridge and everything in-between.
Rievers Heart72smIn RIEVER’S HEART, Chapter 6:
Aryk carried his mug of yeast-scented ale to the corner table, where a round loaf of black bread and a generous pat of butter sat midtable. Verdeen followed, watching with approval as he sat in the corner looking outward.
“Two orders of shepherd’s pie, a bowl of pork stew and another ale and hot, spiced cider,” Aryk told the slender brunette server in a stained, low-cut bodice. She nodded and sashayed away, flounced black skirts swaying. He reached for the butter.
Verdeen slapped the back of his hand with the flat of her knife. “Wait.” She tore a chunk of bread from the loaf, slathered it with butter and took a bite. She chewed slowly, rolling it around in her mouth. No fire, no tingle, no hint of numbness or bitterness. She swallowed. “You want to find out the hard way the cook’s favorite seasoning is bitteralm, be my guest.”
Aryk growled. “Poison’s dishonorable—a coward’s tool.”
“Dead’s still dead. You die, Beloq wins. ’Tis one truth you must never lose sight of.”
Aryk’s gaze was level, measuring. “You’re a taster.”
She nodded. “Amongst other things. Never assume things are as they seem.”
“There’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“You’ve no idea.” A glint in his eye warned her he might enjoy finding out. She swallowed hard at the lingering shimmers of heat. “I’m to help keep you alive. This is part of it. You eat and drink naught afore me. Understand?”
“I drank two ales afore you.” His tone was one of humoring her.
“You were at the bar. You watched him pour them.” Aryk nodded. “Then you’re probably safe. ’Tis what’s prepared where you can’t see bears scrutiny.”
Valkyn joined them with an ale, his face flushed but composed. He caught her gaze and grinned. “You left afore it got interesting.”
Aryk frowned and growled at his second. The serving wench brought their drinks and food. Verdeen took a swig of Aryk’s ale, but her whole face screwed up at the bitter flavor as she swished and swallowed. “Pgah, wretched stuff.” She took a drink of cider to wash the taste of it away. “You sure you want to drink it?”
Valkyn laughed. “Puts hair on your chest.”
“The last thing a woman wants is a hairy chest.” Verdeen tested both pies, deemed them harmless and delicious. She slid Aryk’s across the table to him. “You’re right. ’Tis wonderful.” Tender shredded lamb in rich gravy, with potatoes, turnips, peas, carrots and celery, seasoned with onion and herbs, topped with mashed potatoes under a bubbling crown of melted cheese.
“Times like this I wish pigs could survive on Isadorikja,” Aryk mourned.
“They’d freeze.” Valkyn tore off a chunk of bread. “Our home’s not for the weak.”
Verdeen had the sinking feeling Valkyn didn’t refer just to pigs.
They finished their meals in silence. The server brought another round of drinks and a hot bubbling dish of sliced pears baked in honey and sweet spices. Verdeen swooned at the taste. ’Twas the most amazing thing she’d eaten in ages. She curled her arms around the bowl. “You can’t touch it. Have to save you from yourself and keep this dish all to myself.”
Aryk smacked her with his spoon. “Hand it over, greedy wench.” He slid his mug over to her. “Here. Put some more hair on your chest.”
Eew. How cruel to hand her ale after honeyed pears.
Now try it for yourself.  Your characters are sitting down to a meal.  A gourmet meal in a five-star restaurant or a trout over a campfire, doesn’t matter.  Make it come alive with smells, textures, flavors.  Revel in it.

The trick is layering.  What’s the first smell to hit them when they walk into a room or outside?  When you take a bite of something, what’s the first flavor?  Then what surfaces after a bit?  The trick of threes works well.  Read a wine bottle.  You have the initial bouquet, the prominent notes, and the finish.  Keep that in mind when you try your hand at this description.
Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 31, 2017

The 6 Senses – SOUND

Imagine how flat a world with no sound would be.
No laughter, no music, no dogs barking or bird songs or night crickets or frogs. Imagine lightning but no thunder. A volcano or earthquake or tidal wave without the roar. The white foam of surf pounding on the rocks without the crash. Rain getting things wet but no pitter-patter on the roof. Snow turning things white without the hiss.
How would you know the water was hot enough without the kettle screeching?
How would you know you approached the rattlesnake without the rattle to warn you?
Now imagine a story with no sound. Inconceivable! Yet this is one sense that is often overlooked or underworked.
Just for fun, go sit in your backyard, close your eyes, and LISTEN. Can you hear the wind rustling through the tree branches, birds chirping, cars driving by, the kid on the skateboard, the neighbor hammering on his latest wood-working project?
Come back inside. Close your eyes when you climb the stairs. Do the stairs creak? Open a cupboard door. Do the hinges squeak? Are you cursed with a washer or dryer that’s slightly unbalanced and dances around and thumps while it works? Do you have a faucet that constantly drip-drip-drips? Can you hear the hum of the refrigerator? The computer?
paladinImagine horseback riding. Listen to the clop of hooves, the ringing of metal shoes on stone or pavement, the creak of your leather saddle, the horse snorting and blowing, the buzzing of flies, the hiss of a swishing tail striking your legs. Imagine the crunch of an apple or a carrot.
Imagine your character walking through a fresh-air market or a fair or the zoo on a breezy day. What kinds or animals are there? Can you identify them by their calls alone? Imagine the awnings flapping in the breeze, the hawkers calling out their wares.
Listen to the voices. Smooth tenor or rich baritone or deep bass? Light and high-pitched or low and sultry? Nasal? Whiney? Twangy? Do they wheeze or drawl or hiss? Listen for regional dialect, cadence. Do the voices start out slow and speed up as they get more excited/agitated? Do they start out lower and get higher as they get more excited/agitated? Do they murmur, or whisper?
new carIs your cat purring or hissing? Is your dog whining or growling? Does the engine run smoothly or is it sputtering or missing? Does your character prefer classical or jazz or rock?
Sounds add depth, add richness, add realism. They put your reader RIGHT THERE. Sound comes in layers. Close your eyes. What do you hear first? What’s the loudest? Now “filter” that out. What do you hear next? What else?
I’m sitting on my bed with my laptop. I can hear the pop & sizzle of hamburger browning on the stove in the kitchen (my husband’s making tacos for supper). One of the cats is meowing and scratching at the closet door where we keep the cat food. My Chow Chow Abby just strolled past the bedroom door – the tags on her collar jingle, then clank against the metal water bowl as she starts lapping up a drink.  My wash machine just finished filling—there was hissing, then a thunk, now it’s agitating—I can tell by the tap dance on the floor. (I have one of THOSE machines.) The blower for the heat just kicked on.
Some Fiction Books That Feature SOUND Examples
In Mercedes Lackey’s “Arrows of the Queen” Talia explains how she used to room in the attic and knew how to dress for the day by listening for the sound of snow/hail/rain hitting the roof.
Terry Brooks’ “Sword of Shannara” is chock-full, for three specific examples stand out:
·         When they go through the “Corridor of Winds” and they’re nearly driven insane by the screams of the Banshees
·         When Allanon summons the shade of Bremen and all the other dead souls start shrieking as Bremen appears
·         When they have to get past the gnome clan gathering, and all the drums and chanting to the gods going on, when Hendel has the play decoy so everyone else can get through the pass
The final battle scene in Serenity (I have the novelization)—between the crash of the ship and the battle w/the Reavers – screams, growls, tearing metal and gunfire
In AC Crispin’s “Starbridge” there’s the static of the alien transmissions, the whoosh when the airlocks deploy, the dry snapping when someone’s arm breaks in a fight, the “you’re out of O2” klaxons
The world is FULL of sounds. Your books should be, too—even if the surrounding silence is so profound your characters can hear themselves breathing and their hearts beating…
You don’t need a lot.  For example, in HEDDA’S SWORD Chapter 4:

HeddasSword72LG            Maleta cursed her decision to flee the paladin at the Broken Blade.  What had come over her?  She had no logical reason to bolt and every reason to stay.  Where was her head?  She’d used up most of her supplies, but declined restocking at Nerthus’ Abbey.  She preferred traveling light and swift to being overburdened with gear.  But hunting had been poor, and now she paid for that decision. 
            She crouched down under the bare tangled branches of a winterberry bush and drew a knife.  The berries were long gone, but the inner bark was undisturbed.  Not very nutritious, but it was good for killing hunger pangs.  At least for a while.  She scraped away a couple of strips and surveyed the fog-shrouded gulch below her.
            Typical of the land itself, the veil was both blessing and curse.  While she could slide through unseen, so could her quarry.  The Wolf had chosen well, forsaking the safer high ground for the cover of the mists.  In the spring, hiding in such a low-lying area was an invitation to disaster, with the rains and flash-floods.  But late in the fall, with perpetual fog, it was perfect.
            Maleta chewed one of the strips of bark.  Her mouth puckered.  Grimacing at the bitter taste, she drew her sword and eased her way down the steep rocky embankment.  The constant dampness kept fallen leaves from crackling underfoot, but she couldn’t avoid sending small pebbles tumbling with every step
            North or south?  She crouched in the leaves and looked both ways.  North.  The slight breeze whispered at her back.  There’d be no way to scent a campfire or cooking food until she was on top of it, but there was nothing she could do about that.  She couldn’t depend on sight or scent.  Sound and sensing would have to do. 
            He was nearby, she could feel it.  She headed up the gulch.  Step.  Stop.  Scan.  Minutes felt like hours; with the cloud cover overhead and the mists swirling around her, there was no way to mark the passage of time.
            Something moved ahead.  The mist saved her as an arrow hissed past just off to the right.  She dropped to a crouch and froze, silent, watching but not seeing.  Her heart pounded, making her dizzy.  She strained to listen for the slightest sound, a clue to his whereabouts.
            A twig snapped somewhere in front of her.  Maleta glanced around.  There was no cover save the fog.  She gripped the pommel of her sword tighter and held her breath, listening for the angle of the person’s approach.
            A shadow coalesced out of the mists, taking on the proportions of a man in dark leathers.  Her ears caught the merest jingle of chain-mail.  She tensed.  When he was close enough for Maleta to judge his height by the thatch of gray hair atop his head, she charged.  She swung her sword low, hoping to take his legs out from under him.
            He must have heard her blade, because his own was there to block her crippling blow.  Lightning-fast, he spun and swung at her neck, showing no mercy at her gender.  She dropped, rolled and thrust up toward his belly.  He turned; his chain-mail deflected the blow aimed at the vulnerable spot just below his breastplate.  The black wolf on that breastplate mocked her.
            It was a strange fight, silent save for harsh breathing and the ring of clashing weapons, a desperate dance of death in the fog.  But his age caught up with him; his parries slowed a fraction.  Maleta began forcing him back toward his own camp.  He rushed and feigned, trying to get past her, but she held her ground.  Pressing, always forward, to the edge of his encampment.  The spitted carcass of a coney rested over a sliver of a fire crackling in the center.
            When the heel of his boot caught on a stray rock, his ankle turned.  He buckled afore her.  She knocked his blade aside and laid the burning edge of Hedda’s Sword against his throat.  The need to kill him choked her.
            She felt The Wolf shudder at the touch of the consecrated Goddess-metal, as all his sins rushed back to haunt him.  His eyes widened at her setting-sun breastplate shimmering in the firelight.  The knowledge of his imminent execution was in his murky green eyes as he looked up at her from the frozen ground, but his voice was matter-of-fact when he spoke.  “Fact I’m not dead yet means ye need answers, Hedda’s Own.”
            “You killed my parents!” Maleta burst out, glaring down at the scarred, silver-haired man.  She stopped, appalled at herself.  What had she just said?  That wasn’t Hedda’s script!
            Overhead, thunder rumbled.
Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 30, 2017

The 6 Senses – SIGHT

It was a dark and stormy night . . .
She had blonde hair and blue eyes.
He was big and hunky.
He walked toward her.
They rode horses to the beach.
They saw a bird.
What’s wrong with this picture????
What picture????
Exactly.  Whether hopelessly clichéd, hopelessly ho-hum, or hopelessly vague, these are NOT exactly the stuff of legends.  Snoopy aside, once you get past wondering what the heck they’re DOING on a beach on a dark and stormy night, you can’t see a thing.  Even if he was a Navy SEAL and she was a bioweapons expert with a Ph.D. in virology, and they were on that beach to intercept an illegal, deadly virus shipment that would destroy the world, with description like that, would you stick around to find out what happened?  Me neither.
Is it a rocky beach in Maine in November, with howling winds and snow blowing sideways (in which case it SUCKS to be them) or a black sand beach in Hawaii in the middle of a thunderstorm, with lightning and thunder, in May?
Are her eyes blue or are they cornflower blue or turquoise?  Round?  Deep-set?
Is her hair blonde or gold or platinum?  Long, short, straight, curly?  Blowing sideways so you can’t see her eyes?  (Remember the dark and stormy night!)
Does “big” mean tall and broad-shouldered, or really rotund?  Does “hunky” imply “tall dark and handsome” or a tawny Viking god?
Are they riding a horse or a red mare or a sorrel Arabian mare with a white star?
Is that a bird or an eagle or a juvenile bald eagle?
The whole trick to description is to be specific and use correct terminology.  Really, it’s just that simple.  Try to use more exact, less common words.  Why say green when you can say chartreuse?  Why say black when you can use obsidian or sable?
What do you SEE?   What does your POV character see when they look around?  What do they notice?  What do they know?
  An ornithologist or forest ranger might be able to identify a juvenile bald eagle, but a city girl on her first camping trip might just see a big brown bird and that would be okay.  She might be able to differentiate Marburg from Ebola, but she’s never seen an eagle before.  She might be able to spot an adult bald eagle and identify the white head and tail, unless she’s been living under a rock or never left the lab, but a still-brown juvenile?
 Would your Navy SEAL have a machine gun and a handgun or a Heckler & Koch MP5 and a Heckler & Koch P9S?  Would he have a knife or a dive knife or an Aqualung Master Dive Knife?  Where would it be strapped?  How does he hold it in a fight?
Description is entirely dependent on character POV. YOU are not observing & reporting, your CHARACTER is. So you have to use terminology that the CHARACTER would know/use, garnered from their own unique life experience & vocabulary. An academic Ph.D. would certainly speak differently from someone who never finished high school. A scientist would describe things differently than an artist. They see things through a different lens, they can only use words they’re comfortable/familiar with.
People are a product of their world—part genetics, part environment. We are born blank slates, with equal potential. Then we are molded into what we ultimately become. By people, circumstance, experience, training and choices. Our viewpoints, how we see the world around us, is colored by who and what we are. Children see the world differently than adults. A kindergarten teacher is going to view the world very differently than a soldier of fortune.
The best characters are as three-dimensional as real people, with the triviality stripped away. They are the best and the worst of the human race—sometimes in the same package. They have their own viewpoints, their own voice, that reflects who and what they are. They have strengths and weaknesses, beliefs and prejudices, assumptions and fears. For me characterization is interdependent on world-building, because the reader can only understand the characters if they can view the world around them.
Culture (Art/Music/Literature)
Education & Training
Society & Family Placement/Position
Rewards & Punishments
Your character is a product of her world. Once you’ve built it, once you’ve established her history parameters, you are locked in. You have to stay consistent. It’s unrelenting. You can never step out of character for a single second or you’ll lose your reader. The minute your health-nut stops at McDonald’s for a Big Mac or your nun blows her stack and cusses, you’re done for.
But it’s more subtle than that. Every profession has its own vocabulary—and way of looking at things. A spelunker (caver) knows the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite. Military personnel using the word amphibious are not referring to frogs. Horse people referring to frogs are not talking about small amphibians that hop.
I write fantasy romance.  In my first novel, DUALITY, my hero, an empathic elven prince named Loren, and his white war mare Hani’ena, are riding through a swamp looking for Queen Moira, who managed to escape when the villains took over her castle.  Now think about how boring “Loren searched the swamp for Queen Moira” would be.  Here’s the scene in Chapter 9, in Reader’s Digest form:
            Hani`ena tossed her head.  Insects crawled into her ears, her eyes, her nostrils, but a full body shake would send Loren headfirst into the muck.  She snapped her tail.  Green slime clung to the long hairs and splattered against her sides.
            As Hani`ena approached the monolithic half-circle of fallen stones, Loren straightened with caution and reverence.  The sun was nearly gone, and this was the fourth ruin they’d explored in half as many days.
            The swamp made it impossible to track their quarry.  The stench of decaying plants and swamp gas hung in the air, the maddening whine of insects a constant distraction.  Reduced to prudent sensing, he saw no sign of Moira at the first two Circles.  He was impressed she had managed to elude him so far.
            To her credit, Hani`ena never put a foot wrong even though there was no way to see what the knee-deep pools of murky water hid.  As to her mood, however, her snapping tail and pinned-back ears were all the clues he needed.  Necessary the trip might be, but she was out of her element and not enjoying the experience.  All that soft, sucking wetness was not good for her hooves.  They needed dry country as soon as possible.
            Loren eyed the lengthening shadows and drew his sword.  Layers of moss hung like a shroud from a twisted cypress tree.  The stone circle loomed ahead in the deepening twilight as Hani`ena splashed forward.
Note the mixture of body motion and posture, descriptive words, and specificity.  Normally I absolutely abhor “description in a mirror” scenes to describe characters, I would rather have characters describe each other, but I broke my own rule in Chapter 8 of HEDDA’S SWORD, after Maleta is punished by her goddess Hedda for giving in to her human emotions.  I think it works.  See what you think:
            Cianan was the first through the door; he froze.  Worried cobalt eyes widened with palpable shock.  “Lord and Lady, what has She done to you?”
            Mother Kitta shoved him aside to take a look for herself.  “Hedda’s will be done,” she whispered.  Her voice trembled.
            Her face expressionless, Sister Reva just stared, horror in her eyes.
            “What’s wrong with you people?” Maleta asked, irritation giving way to trepidation.  She was so cold!  All she wanted to do was lie down under a dozen blankets afore a roaring fire.  She reached up with icy hands to feel her face, her hair.  “I’ve still but one head,” she reported.
            “There is a mirror out here in the hall.”  Cianan held the door open.  “You had best take a look at what your Goddess considers ‘fair punishment’.”  There was a harshness to his voice, a bitter twist to his mouth.
            Maleta stepped out into the well-lit hallway.  She stared with growing horror at the reflection in the mirror.  A stranger with her eyes stared back at her.  A pale stranger, pale as death, with colorless eyes and silver-frosted hair.  Her entire body appeared to shimmer with winter frost.  Fear gripped her; an icy fist closed around her heart until it stuttered, leaving her gasping.  Then the ice took hold, and the fear receded.  All she felt was a distant cold.  No warmth at all.  There was no fear after the shock, no sorrow.  As if the lock on her body extended to her heart, to her very soul.
Picture a scene from your own book as a movie with no sound, all you have are the images.  Whether an outdoor café in Paris, a camping trip in a mountain forest, on a beach at sunset, entering a creepy old (haunted?) house, a day at the Kentucky Derby, or a trip to the doctor’s office.  What’s the weather, time of year, lighting?  What kind of animal, vegetable, or mineral?  With or without people?  Remember to BE SPECIFIC.  This is entirely visual, people.
Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 27, 2017

New Review for RIEVER’S HEART

Rievers Heart72smCustomer Review

4.0 out of 5 stars An interesting mix of romance and politics, January 25, 2017
This review is from: Riever’s Heart: Guardians of Light, Book 5 (Kindle Edition)
Riever’s Heart was a step into a fantasy world which kept me happily entranced for several hours. Although I don’t usually read M/F romance, I thoroughly enjoyed this story. This is a tale of unexpected romance and political manoeuvring as Daq Aryk seeks to unite six fractious clans into a peaceful nation.
This is book 5 of a series, and as I haven’t read the previous books I was concerned I would be lost, but the world-building was comprehensive, and various races and clans of people were interesting and different enough that they didn’t blur into one. Riever’s Heart has a smooth and in-depth narrative, stepping up the intensity for the romance and battle scenes.
I cut my teeth on fantasy as a teenager and I feel the author has a deft hand as a fantasy writer. I enjoyed the story of the clans and their interactions with each other and the outside world as much as the burgeoning romance between Aryk and Verdeen. I’m not an M/F reader but the interaction between the couple and the secondary characters kept me interested.
Although I didn’t feel there was anything highly original in the plot, the twist was
Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 27, 2017

New Review for DUALITY

Cindy’s Reviews > Duality

11929346  *****

Cindy‘s review

Jan 25, 2017
it was amazing


A guilty pleasure that satisfyingly fed my imagination. Duality starts off by dragging you into a bloody coup. Dara is a mystery, and is loyal to her people. She’s also a fighter–fearing no one. She will protect and heal all who cross her path, even a stranger.

Her gifts lead to those who need her and that is how she finds Loren. A visitor to her world who had come to help the king, becoming gravely injured.

The chemistry between Dara and Loren was instant. I enjoyed journeying with them as they fought the enemy while their romance bloomed.

The author has painted a world of adventure and fantasy that immediately pulls you in, and doesn’t let go. In fact, I stayed up to 3 in the morning finishing it.

I am definitely a fan!
Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 22, 2017

PIROSKA: Daughters of the Guardians 3

THE PROPHECY (from Riever’s Heart):

Rievers Heart72smAryk stumbled back from Tzigana’s bed. Horror chilled his very bones. His recurring nightmare had come to pass. Joro lay dead in a pool of his own blood. A raven-haired woman with the mark of the Hand stood over him, blood dripping from the sword in her hand. His sword. His blood. The very sword Aryk now carried, which Joro stood to inherit. The sword which would one day lead Joro to his death, at her hand—this tiny babe lying in her mother’s arms.
The future he’d determined to thwart by seeing to it Joro never picked up a sword. The wars must cease afore Joro turned six. That future started here. Now. With the birth of her.
“Piroska.” He all but hissed the name. The inflection gave it the weight of a curse.
Verdeen shot him a startled glance. Wolf’s face darkened as the queen’s arms tightened around her daughter, enough to draw a mewled protest. “What’s wrong?” Verdeen grabbed Aryk’s arm. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Nay.” Valkyn’s voice shook. “A witch.”
“Aye,” Tzigana retorted. “The most powerful eya in ten generations.”
“Every night I prayed this day to never come.” Aryk clenched his fists. “That she’d never be born.”
Wolf’s entire body tensed as Tzigana hissed, “Take it back, you riever bastard.”
“I’ll not. She kills my son,” Aryk raged. “I’ve seen it, night after night. Him lying gutted at her feet like a fish, killed by his own sword. The Hand of Destiny mocks me with seeing her living face—one brown eye, one green eye and the red Hand that wields my son’s doom. All I seek to prevent—negated by your witch-daughter’s birth. Your joy heralds my greatest sorrow. I can’t share in it.”

PIROSKA – Heroine…or Villainess?

piroska: Shamaran princess

one brown eye and one green eye—a red birthmark in the shape of a hand on her right cheekbone

the most powerful eye (witch) in ten generations, with the power to summon lightning

destined to kill Joro with his own sword???


daughter of Shamaru queen Tzigana and Shamari king Berend/”Wolf”

Piroska's mother - Queen Tzigana from HEDDA'S SWORD & RIEVER'S HEART (Anna from Van Helsing - the gorgeous Kate Beckinsale): Piroska's father - Von Berend, "Wolf" from HEDDA'S SWORD & RIEVER'S HEART (Rutger Hauer from Ladyhawke):


She comes from the blending of two different worlds –

Shamaru woman's costume: the travelling gypsy native Shamaru

Shamaru horses & wagon:

& the more recent immigrant Shamari, stationary builders of stoneRavenscroft Castle in Shamar:

Piroska was born in the cliffside castle of Ravenscroft, the ancestral home of Von Berend, the Wolf

Ever has she been forbidden to visit Isadorykja, the Isle of Ice, the village of Svaaldur at the foot of Widowmaker Mountain – by decree of Daq Aryk, the Isadorykjan king

son of Daq Aryk and the Isadorykjan woman Dagmar,

Joro's father - Aryk from RIEVER'S HEART (Stelios from 300 - played by Michael Fassbender): Dagmar - Joro's Mother:


Joro is a proud, able warrior to rival his legendary father

Trained as a daq, his father’s heir, he chafes at the restrictions place on him, to never set foot in the land of Shamar, by the mutual decree of Daq Aryk and Von Berend (two men bent of thwarting the prophecy by never having Piroska & Joro meet)


Bur the Destiny Hand can’t be thwarted…or circumvented…

Enter the seeress Jana (Tzigana’s cousin):

“The sword you carry—the sword of a daq, of a king,” Jana continued. “He will one day carry it, wield it. The kingship as well as the sword.”

“But she kills him.” Aryk glared down at her.

She rolled her eyes and glared back, her exasperated expression clearly relaying she thought him a simpleton. “A witch has no need of a sword to do her slaying. Not an eya with the power to summon lightning. Aye, you saw the warrior Joro die. But did the man die with the warrior? When is a sword more than a sword? When is a man more than a warrior?”

Let the chess match begin!

Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 22, 2017

ELYRIA: Daughters of the Guardians 2

ELYRIA - daughter of Dara & Loren  1/2 Elven, 1/4 Human, 1/4 Dragon (molly c quinn 2014): ELYRIA, half-elven/quarter-human/quarter-dragon princess of Cymry (capital city Poshnari-Unai)

worships the Lady of Light

shares her mother’s abhorrence of demons

yearns to do something productive with her life besides be a pampered princess of the realm


daughter of Queen Dara (half-human/half-dragon fire mage & healer) &                           elven King Loren (empath, former Lady’s Champion & Right Hand) from                    DUALITY (Guardians of Light Book 1)

Elyria's mom - Queen Dara (Dinah Meyer in Dragonheart - LOVE that movie!):

Elyria's dad - King Loren (Haldir from LOTR):





guarded by & bonded to MYSTI, a fey mist tiger from the Shadowlands AND Aurelian (elven shadow ranger) & his war mare Lanakea

Mysti, Elyria's mist tiger companion:

Aurelian (Verdeen's best friend in Riever's Heart) - Elyria's bodyguard (elven shadow ranger): Aurelian's war mare, Lanakea:







When a messenger arrives from the distant shores of Goba-Din Ashelu, on the far side of the Shadowlands, proposing an alliance and cultural exchange, Elyria proposes to go as her parents’ ambassador. They gate to the port of Ban-Khala, where they board the Banshee’s Fury, captained by the charismatic Stepak, bound for the distant, exotic city of Bur-Ganan.

Stepek's ship, Banshee's Fury: Stepek - djinn prince (aidan turner Kili):


djinn capitol city of Bur-Ganan:





But someone has other plans for Elyria. When the Banshee’s Fury is attacked, Aurelian & Mysti are gravely wounded. Stepak spirits Elyria to safety with the help of the giant Roc, Nur.

giant roc - djinn battle mount (golden eagle) large enough to carry people: Um, yeah - dunno where (yet), but yeah...:

Elyria and Stepak have to find out who wants the alliance to fail. News of Elyria’s death would start a war between elf and djinn. When Elyria discovers her simple sea-captain is in fact the disinherited grandson of the Djinn King Salah. Salah’s daughter Ariana was taken by an incubus demon – Stepak is half djinn…and half demon.

Won’t Queen Dara welcome HIM as a son-in-law – provided Elyria & Stepak can survive long enough to return to Cymry?


Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 21, 2017

BRAECA: Daughters of the Guardians 1

Story Notes Development:

BRAECA, half-human/half-selkie

warrior/scout & weather-witch

selkie allure manifests through singing

affinity for crows

hates/fears the sea (& dragons)


daughter of Finora (selkie princess) & Trystan (were Wolf warrior of Badger clan)

from LYCAN TIDES (Guardians of Light, Book 3)

Finora in LYCAN TIDES - Braeca's Mom  (I absolutely adored Karina Lombard in KULL The Conqueror): Trystan from LYCAN TIDES -  Braeca's Stepfather (Mads Mikkelsen's Tristan in King Arthur):







older sister of Ioain (half-human/half-selkie) – shamanic archaeologist, obsessed with studying the past

IOAIN - Braeca's younger brother (ioan gruffudd):

When Ioain locates ancient cave paintings, he insists on going to study them. Braeca reluctantly accompanies him to stand guard (and make sure he eats & sleeps)Prehistoric cave painting- 35,000 years ago.  -Animals were important for very basic reasons in this time period. They were used for food, clothes, tools, and most interactions between them and humans remained primal.  -Depicted as flat, basic earth tones, usually through daily life scenes, such as the hunters above.:







Meanwhile, in a land far/far away, (the Negasa mountain range of Theressa) an earthquake destroys the home caverns of the warlike Shani (dark elves, AKA drow). They have to find a new home territory, and migrate into the caves of the Dragon’s Back Mountains (border of Arcadia & Shamar). FLYN is sent to scout ahead with the 5 warriors of his “Hand” – and they come across the cave where Ioain & Braeca are working.

FLYN: (I ❤ this picture!)

FLYN of the White River Shani (dark elf/drow)     Rhys (prince) & warrior, armed with a knife made from a basilisk’s tear, a blade which steals the life forces of slain enemies to heal himself (designed by his necromancer/shaman brother Emek)

second-born son of Abba All-Father & captive high elf female named Dumia (sister to Hilorian)

the basilisk-tear knives can be focused in a ritual to summon & reanimate their victims and force them to fight on the side of the Shani, in the name of Akeru, the God of Death. Lich/zombies, an abomination to the Lady of Light…

Basilisk mythology describes this "king of serpents" as a reptilian creature with sometimes rooster-like qualities who is famous for its ability to kill with a single glance.  Like its bird-lizard cousin, the Cockatrice, basilisks are said to be born from a union of serpents and roosters.:







Unbeknownst to Abba, Dumia has been secretly influencing Flyn to work for benefit of all the Shani people, not just his own power. He is wary of the topsiders, but decides to find out more about them before committing to heading an invasion force…

Can Braeca finish what Dumia started, and turn this Bad Boy to the Light? Will Flyn turn traitor against his father and help the humans prepare for the coming apocalypse?


Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 20, 2017

New Beginnings, New Series

With all the recent upheavals in my little corner of the publishing world, namely the almost-demise & drastic downsizing of Samhain Publishing, I’ve struggled to keep my identity & writing focus. I know I’m not alone. A lot of my writing friends have gone Indie with varying rates of success, since the market is GLUTTED. Everyone has a book out these days, and it’s hard to find the gold in all the dross. Amazon has gotten way too big for its britches, and isn’t always the easiest waters to navigate. Not everyone can afford to go Indie, though. I’m one of them, which is why I left my books up at Samhain when so many others were pulling the books whose contracts had expired. The Guardians of Light are Samhain books. Period. An interlocking series of 7 titles:


But where to go from here? I did a brief sojourn into the world of writing Science Fiction Romance…UGH! The less said about THAT the better! (LOL) I adore watching science fiction TV shows & movies, I love reading sci fi. Can’t write it to save my soul, though. Turns out trite. Flatter than flat. I’ve been hanging out with Joseph Campbell & Mercedes Lackey for too long to turn my back on my strong suit: Fantasy Romance.

But there are 7 books in the Guardians of Light series already. Enough. What to do next? Well, what happens when hot couples get their happily-ever-afters and time passes? The Next Generation, so to speak. So, I’ve been solidifying the Daughters of the Guardians trilogy idea into 3 different book ideas:

Braeca (daughter of Finora & Bran – Lycan Tides)

Piroska (daughter of Tzigana & Berend – born in Riever’s Heart) – destined to join with Joro (Dagmar & Aryk’s son from Riever’s Heart – Birgit’s younger half-brother)

Elyria (daughter of Dara & Loren from Duality) – featured in Riever’s Heart & God of Fyre Mountain

but maybe add a couple of others to make it an official series:

Birgit (daughter of Erlynda & Aryk, niece of Valkyn – Riever’s Heart) and

Jana (Tzigana’s younger cousin – featured in Hedda’s Sword & Riever’s Heart)

Siobhan (Braeca’s younger half sister, daughter of Finora & Trystan)


But what about the boys? If I were to do a Sons of the Guardians, who would I have to work with?

 Ioain (Braeca’s younger brother)

Alvar (son of Moira & Hengist – Dara’s half-brother)

Antal (Piroska’s twin brother)

Valkyn’s sons – Einar,  Helje, Broder, & Gjord (mentioned in Moonwitched)

Mari’s & Dax’s son (conceived in God of Fyre Mountain), named Chonan

Working new stories in the old, familiar world of the Guardians – with one or two travel-abroad variations just to keep things interesting…

Are there any characters YOU want to see featured/more of???

Posted by: reneewildes1 | August 11, 2015



He was bred for war. Her magic is only for peace. Together they must fight for love.

Guardians of Light, Book 7

Weapons stolen, comrades dead, ship burned and sunk, Valkyn is rotting in Lord Zurvan’s grim dungeon, wondering if he will ever again see his sons. Rescue comes from an unexpected source—the human witch Zurvan sent to patch him up between beatings.

Mari can’t bring herself to let Valkyn die, never mind that the fearsome northern riever is the scourge of her homeland. Yet in him she finds an ally who could help restore the rightful boy king to the throne. And a man who reminds her body there’s life after widowhood.

Their first kiss unleashes pent-up passion she thought was long buried, clouding all the reasons they shouldn’t get involved. But the blood on Valkyn’s hands is anathema to Mari’s magic. If she dares open herself to him fully, he could destroy her.

Valkyn knows his heart has already surrendered to hers. When this quest is over, the real quest will be convincing her that polar opposites not only attract, they belong together—forever.

Product Warnings

Contains a witch who abhors violence teaming up with a war-hardened riever who has never known peace. Complicated by a savage warlord, a boy king in hiding, an embittered selkie prince who’s lost his skin, and hot love scenes that show a lot of it.


Posted by: reneewildes1 | December 4, 2013

Review: Isca

Isca by Ceri Bladen
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is NOT a historical romance. This is a historical fiction with romantic elements, so don’t go in with preconceived expectations. The author isn’t a formal historian, but like me an author who loves history & historical research – and it shows. The world-building and cultural references are solid and stellar. The characters were multi-dimensional and their interactions were lively and true. Whenever you have a diverse tapestry, and characters from two sides of a conflict – Romans and Britons – there’s lots of potential for headbutting and misunderstandings and tunnel vision. And it holds true here. Briton heroine and Roman hero, in post-Boudica Britain. The locals have no love for the occupation, and the Romans are far from their own homes and families. Nice to see both sides of that coin fleshed out – had sympathy for both parties.

That being said, I had some issues with parts of this book. I wasn’t sure of the heroine’s age. Sometimes she was babysitting her younger siblings, which indicated she was younger, since that was a task for older children, not a woman. Then she was off with the warriors and falling in love, which led me to believe she was grown – but then why was she stuck babysitting? The dating in the book’s opening and closing chapters conflicted – I couldn’t follow the timeline or keep track of her aging progression. There was a single scene with a mysterious villain that came late and seemed totally out of left field, since it was never fully developed. And the book could have used a good editor. There are grammar and punctuation issues, and some POV slips that could have been addressed prior to publication for a cleaner product.

Overall, I enjoyed the story. I love the time period and Celtic culture, and this book had vivid setting and characters. It’s nice to see an writer put her heart and soul into a project, and am curious the check out other works by this author.

View all my reviews

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