by Sarah | Jul 10, 2014 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Saturday Spotlight, Writing
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We’re spreading the word about the fabulous ebook price of Tortured Souls by Amazon Bestselling Author, Kimber Leigh Wheaton. Only $0.99 through July 20th!!!
Tortured Souls
(The Orion Circle #1)
Kimber Leigh Wheaton
YA Paranormal Romance
June 29th 2014 by Sea Dragon Press
Kindle Edition, 227 pages
Sometimes Rest in Peace isn’t an option
Kacie Ramsey sees ghosts—and it’s ruining her life. Her mother left, her father blames her, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t keep the ghosts away. Now a new power has emerged. Nightly visions of grisly murders and a relentless predator draw her to the brink of insanity.
When the phantom appears at a party, Kacie’s longtime crush, Logan, saves her. He invites her to join the Orion Circle, a group of supernatural hunters with chapters in schools all over the country. Through the Circle, Kacie learns to embrace her spiritual powers, and for the first time in her life she feels in control rather than a victim.
But the Foxblood Demon will not give up so easily. A demented serial killer in life who trapped the souls of the thirteen children he murdered, imprisoning them within the walls of his mansion. Now in death, he plots his return while drawing power from the pure souls of the children. He recognizes something in Kacie he’s never seen before—a medium powerful enough to provide a vessel for his tainted soul.
Kacie can’t ignore the tortured souls of the children crying out to her every night. With Logan at her side, she will fight the Foxblood Demon. But can they banish this powerful phantom, or will Kacie lose not only her body, but her eternal soul to the monster.
Purchase from: Amazon
Excerpt from Chapter One ~ Something Wicked
Deafening music shakes the walls, vibrates the floor, and pounds a rhythmic beat in my skull. Gyrating bodies turn every bit of space into a dance floor. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and my heart races. Strobe lights flash, teens dance with wild abandon. Shrieking laughter bubbles around me.
“Gotta take a leak!” my dance partner shouts over the music.
He races off, weaving through the thick wall of bodies. Mike or Mick or something—I didn’t catch the name he yelled when he asked me to dance. Doesn’t matter, he wasn’t my type at all. I mean, the guy guzzled beer while dancing. After grabbing a diet soda from a nearby cooler, I’m about to search for my friends when a dark feeling washes over me. My feet refuse to move, and I stand rooted in place.
The once loud music is now hollow in my ears. I gasp for breath, choking on the lack of air around me. Tiny hairs on the nape of my neck rise to attention. Something wicked is behind me. I know I’m the only one here who feels a difference in air pressure. An oppressive weight presses against my skin, making me feel as though I’m underwater. I blink a few times, watching the people around me continue their manic dancing—oblivious to the bogeyman that just entered the room.
Afraid to turn around, I stand my ground, sipping my soda. I pretend I’m unaware of the shuffling noises behind me, sounds I shouldn’t be able to hear over the blaring music. Swaying my hips, I hum along with the music, trying to ignore the ominous presence crushing me.
Whatever it is, I can’t let it know I sense it. Evil pours off it in waves, blanketing the entire room. I close my eyes, willing the creature to go away, return to whatever mausoleum or grave it calls home. Malevolent spirits feed on fear. I must control mine at all costs.
When I open my eyes, I’m gazing into the face of an angel. Not literally, but he may as well be in my book. Logan glances behind me, and I know he sees the spirit. He doesn’t gasp or scream or faint dead away. His golden eyes narrow as though he’s in a staring contest with the specter.
“You’re not welcome here,” Logan says to the presence behind me. He meets my gaze again. “You know it’s there.”
It’s not a question but a statement. I nod, a weak bob of my head, unsure whether this intimate moment with my dream guy is a good thing or not. Meeting over a nasty phantom is not my idea of romantic. And yet I can’t stop staring at the way his blue t-shirt hugs his broad shoulders and chest—how his light brown hair curls around his earlobes. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. For six weeks I’ve wanted out of the friendship box with Logan, but I was hoping for girlfriend, not crazy girl.
“Kassandra,” a voice rasps behind me.
Kimber Leigh Wheaton is a YA/NA author with a soft spot for sweet romance. She is married to her soul mate, has a teenage son, and shares her home with three dogs, four cats, and lots of dragons. No, she doesn’t live on a farm, she just loves animals. Kimber Leigh is addicted to romance, videogames, superheroes, villains, and chocolate—not necessarily in that order. (If she has to choose, she’ll take a chocolate covered superhero!) She currently lives in San Antonio, TX but has been somewhat a rolling stone in life, having resided in several different cities and states.
Website * Blog * Goodreads * Facebook * One Upon a YA Book FB * Twitter * Pinterest
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by Sarah | Mar 28, 2014 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Saturday Spotlight, Writing
Shadows of the Past
Publish date: 4th December 2012
Publisher: Wild Child Publishing
Genre: paranormal/light romance/light horror.
| [amazon_link id=”B00AK2D9I8″ target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | Wild Child Publishing |
Blurb
Anne’s relationship with her boyfriend Neil has disintegrated. After a two-year separation, they pack for a week vacation in hopes of reconciling. But fate has other plans for them.
The discovery of a bejeweled cross and ancient human bones opens a door to a new and frightening world–one where the ghost of a medieval nun named Genevieve will not let Anne rest. This new world threatens not only to ruin Anne and Neil’s vacation but to end all hopes of reconciliation as Anne feels compelled to help free Genevieve’s soul from its torment.
Can Anne save her relationship and help Genevieve find her eternal rest?
A touching, compelling story of tragedy, loss and the power of endless love and good magic.
The twists and turns in this paranormal tale keep the reader guessing up to the end and weave themselves together into a quest to rekindle love.
Excerpt
“Come, we should leave at once,” she said and glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Something terrible happened after you left for town. I think the Abbess found out about us. Our meeting in Uncle Ryan’s cabin is no longer a secret. We have been overheard. For all I know someone spies on us even as we speak. I think the Abbess, or one of her ‘friends,’ is hovering somewhere nearby and listening to every word.”
Andrew pulled Genevieve to his chest. “Do you regret you’ve come with me?”
Passion smothered Genevieve’s doubt and guilt. “Never,” she answered, aware of her body’s response to his touch, and she succumbed to his embrace.
Calming the gnawing unease in her mind and the thought of Sister Dominica guessing she was the dough of a sinner, Genevieve repeated, “Never.”
With her eyes closed and their bodies touching she became, for the very first time, simply a woman. She melted in his embrace in spite of the invisible vicious threat breathing around them. Aware they might never be alone again, she fought hard to silence the voice of conscience berating her.
“Oh, God. Please forgive me,” Andrew muttered under his breath when he bowed his head to kiss her. Their lips met in a passionate first kiss.
Genevieve’s spirits fell and her heart skipped a beat when, a couple of seconds later, she opened her eyes and her gaze fell on a knot strangers.
… . . .
Tears welled in Anne’s eyes, blurring her vision. She couldn’t explain them, or the sudden sadness seeping into her heart. This should’ve been a moment of happiness or, at least, contentment. She was with Neil again, and the outcome of their trip together should, very likely, bring their reconciliation. Why then did she seem detached from where she stood?
Anne shivered. Why the deep feeling of having seen this place, this forest before? And why the eerie sensation of being present here only in the body, while her mind was far away?
Away from the forest.
Away from Neil, the man who’d betrayed her trust and her love.
An onrush of sensations unfamiliar to her followed. Dizziness and a malevolent feeling of unreality suffocated her.
Anne edged cautiously closer to the rim of the bare cliff. Her foot tapped the edge. It seemed solid. She stared into the darkness of the abyss at her feet. It echoed the shadows in her heart. An unusual curiosity took hold of her. Should she step ahead? What was down there? Other human bones? Another mystery? The presence of evil, creeping up and enveloping her, became almost palpable. The vines of fog folded around her, dragging her to the depth. Her throat turned dry, and she gasped for air.
Megan’s face contorted, the voice no longer pleasant. A hoarse gurgle, spluttering distorted words, “Yes, come… I’m waiting… I’ve been waiting for you for such a long time…”
Carmen’s links:
http://shadowspastmystery.blogspot.ro/
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Carmen-Stefanescu-Books/499245716760283
Twitter @Carmen_Books
by Sarah | Mar 24, 2014 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Saturday Spotlight, Writing
Like all of us here, I love romance, but like happiness, romance can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people. As I get older I feel more comfortable with examinging my need for romance and what I like when I like it, and particularly how my needs for romance change. I loved Valantines Day when I was young, for example, but my opinion on that has changed somewhat, and I’d prefer something more spontaneous at this end of a long term marriage.
However, and this is the difficulty with romance, discussing your romantic needs seems antithetical to receiving them. Seeing hubby walk through the door with a huge bunch of roses is completely different to getting a bunch after telling him I’d like him to bring flowers home more often. Romance can be a delicate thing and nuances, attitudes and circumstances can completely alter the same gesture. I don’t expect my husband to just know what I need in any area of my life, and at the same time, the most romantic moments for me, are when I’ve done nothing to solicit his romantic action.
So, part of romance, is learning how to receive what he is offering as well as getting what I want. My husband likes to make me mix tapes of music he is listening to. We don’t always share the same tastes, but I love those music collections, because I feel as though I have been invited into his secret world, as if he is reaching out to me and bringing me close. They’ve also become a map of our marriage, as we tend to play his latest gift for a solid week or so after he gives it. If a new partner asked me what I like romantically, music mixes might not be at the top of the list, but when they come from my husband, my heart bursts with joy.
So, in the spirit of trying to communicate what our best romantic gestures are, I thought this Top Ten Tuesday on Sarah’s Story Lines will be a ten favourite romantic gestures, in the hope you might make your own, and start the conversation in a gentle way that wakes us up to the romance we need, as well as the romance that might already be all around us.
10. Public declarations of love.
Like everyone, I get insecure every now and then. I love it when my husband, rather than enjoy my insecurity, seeks to reassure me by telling a pretty woman who is trying to flirt with him, how much he loves me, or reaching for me to introduce me to her. These petty rivalries exist (sometimes) between women, and I love it when my husband chooses me, over and over again, above all other women.
9. Saving for a romantic holiday.
I’m a traditionalist in this department. I love Paris, Rome, London and New York. When we decide we’re going to go to one of these cities, and we plan it, get excited, gather resources and set up a fund account, I get so excited and every little moment is like a huge romantic gesture. (We’ve only done this twice, but I’m hoping there will soon be a third.)
8. Long slow deep kisses.
Especially when either of us walk though the door at the end of the day. No further explanation required.
7. Food and Wine gifts
He doesn’t do it all the time, but one of hubby’s romantic gestures I’ve come to love and appreciate, is when he is home late, he brings something to contribute to dinner, like a bottle of wine, a loaf of excellent sour dough, or two delicate pastries. It’s his little way of acknowledging I work too and I had to steer our ship alone today.
6. Looking at our Wedding Photos Together.
This is one I asked for, but he now knows that we do it each year on our anniversary. We snuggle up in bed and go through the wedding album. He focusses and engages with me and we talk about the year we’ve just had. I love these moments, and they end up being the best part of every one of our anniversaries.
5. Booking a beautiful restaurant for no reason
Confession time. I’m still working on this one. For some reason I am always the one who suggests the restaurant and the night out. But I’ll get there! I have to think of a way to let him know this is something I would like, without feeling like I forced him.
4. Sitting and Chatting about our day
This one he does quite a lot. If he comes home and I am cooking, he opens the wine he bought and we sip and chat. He doesn’t run off somewhere else, and I am always so grateful for that. We both work hard, so we have a lot to chat about in our day. It’s never dull and we both feel a close part of it all when we do settle down to eat or get on with something else.
3. Note and Pics
For some reason, my hubby likes to leave me photos. I’m still not completely sure what this is about, but he will change my desktop or photocopy images and leave them around for me. Sometimes they are funny, sometimes they are just something nice he saw. I have grown to love these little cartoons, jokes and other images, even though I confess, sometimes I wonder where his head is at.
2. Buying me a book or Journal.
Being a writer books and journals are my very favourite gift. This is one I taught my husband, but he’s really good at it now. He just keeps an eye out and about once a month or so there is a new journal and about every two months, he pops home with a book for me. The best thing is, they’re not always books I would choose, but I try to read every single one. It’s my way of saying thanks.
1. Mixed tape.
This has to be my number one, because my digital mixed tapes are such a big gift.
What are some of your favourite romantic gestures?
Barbra Novac is a writer of erotic romance, and erotica. Spellbound is her new book, coming out in April 2013.
Blurb:
When struggling film maker Connie Berringer goes to her local to drown her financial sorrows in cheap wine, mysterious stranger Jack Sinclair offers to buy her a drink claiming she’s beautiful. She begrudgingly accepts to ease her wallet, but is too smart to be fooled by the line. When the drink arrives, it’s not a beer, but a fifty-thousand dollar bottle of Grange Hermitage. Connie’s interest in Jack Sinclair dramatically changes, only to find he’s vanished.
Over the next few days Jack will turn up at the most unexpected moments rapidly becoming a crucial part of Connie’s world, and soon, an exciting adventure in the bedroom. Connie discovers a self in Jack’s arms she never knew, including the depths of passion she is capable of and the lengths Jack will go to stimulate that passion. Jack sees something in Connie he wants, but his search for it in the past will come back to haunt him, resurfacing as a threat to the new relationship he’s found.
Sophisticated, erotic, witty and tantalising, Spellbound reaches into the broad sweep of the soul from the suspenseful drama of a homage to Hitchcock to the slow ticklish thrill of a completely romantic romance.
You can find our more about Barbra Novac at www.barbranovac.com or www.barbrawrites.com
by Sarah | Mar 14, 2014 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Saturday Spotlight, Writing
| [amazon_link id=”B00IO93SGM” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | BN | ARe | Kobo |
Blurb:
Katharine Cavanaugh, the Countess of Stirling, has always lived according to the expectations of her heritage. American mercenary Matthew Thatcher has spent his life running away from every expectation he has for himself. But when their latest mission from the British War Office goes wrong, trapping them behind enemy lines, they must decide if they dare to realize the greatest expectation of all: the expectation of love.
*~*
Excerpt:
Naples, Italy
April 1815
Sunlight struck him full in the face as he emerged from the grated door of their prison and into the bustling streets of a port city on the Mediterranean Sea. As soon as his feet hit the cobblestone, he dodged to the left, tucking Kate behind him as a cart laden with crates of olives passed just in front of the toes of his boots.
Kate pressed against his back, her heart beating a tattoo into the muscles there. He felt a corresponding ripple in other parts of his body and swallowed to focus on the task at hand. They needed to get away from the prison and the authorities that had brought them there. They needed to find a place to hide until they could regain their composure and perhaps find some suitable clothes for Kate, even if she did make a fetching bar wench.
“Get in the cart.”
Thatcher looked quickly to his right at the cart that had just passed them as if the voice had come from the olives themselves. But knowing that could not be right, he looked up to the bench. A small, squat man, thick through the middle and thin at the limbs hovered like a forgotten presence on the worn bench of the rickety cart. Surely, it was him who had spoken the words, for in the bustle around them, no other person was close enough to utter such words with such clarity for Thatcher to hear.
And the man had spoken in English.
Thatcher turned long enough to scoop Kate into his arms, and together, he launched them into the back of the cart, landing precariously between the rows of olive crates. The cart lurched forward before his body settled onto the boards of the cart, and Kate’s unbelievable warmth came to rest against the full length of his body. He let out a rush of air that had nothing to do with escape and possible pursuit. It was a rush of pure male lust that exited his lungs and with it, his last hope of keeping his hands off of the woman who now lay sprawled across his body.
She struggled against him, likely trying to gain purchase and find a space for herself where there was none in the cart. Thatcher stilled her with his hands a little too far down on her hips, the tattered skirts of her costume having ridden up to her knees, trapping her legs between his. Her head came up, and he stared into hazel eyes, murky with a mystery he could not wait to solve.
“Better relax, my friend. I think we’re going for a ride,” he said, letting his hands slip just a little more down her hips.
And that was when he saw it. The flash of responding desire in those hazel depths that brought a corresponding flicker from his own awareness.
She wanted him.
She may not know that she wanted him, but there, pressed against each other between crates of olives in a cart that was likely to collapse before safely rescuing them away from their captors, driven by a man they did not know and could possibly have nefarious connections, Matthew Thatcher knew that a lusty bar wench wanted him. And not just any lusty bar wench.
Katharine Cavanaugh, the Countess of Stirling.
And for the first time in days, he smiled.
*~*
Bio:
In the second grade, Jessie began a story about a duck and a lost ring. Two harrowing pages of wide ruled notebook paper later, the ring was found. And Jessie has been writing ever since.
Armed with the firm belief that women in the Regency era could be truly awesome heroines, Jessie began telling their stories in her Spy Series, a thrilling ride in historical espionage that showcases human faults and triumphs and most importantly, love.
Jessie makes her home in the great state of New Hampshire where she lives with her husband and a very opinionated Basset Hound. For more, visit jessieclever.com.
by Sarah | Mar 7, 2014 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Saturday Spotlight, Writing
| [amazon_link id=”B00CJ11K8O” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | Jupiter Garden Press | Kobo | BN | Smashwords | ARe |
Lily Fain’s life as a horror novelist isn’t perfect, but it suits her, even if she has written off true love in exchange for her fictional world of monsters. Then her imagined world comes to life when she discovers she has a stalker who isn’t the average fan, but a real vampire who wants her dead.
Griffyd Fychan is a vampire-killer who is seven feet of lithe muscles, quick reflexes, and an explosion of ferocity that strikes terror in those he hunts, even those he rescues. But when the slayer steps between Lily and her vampire stalker, Griffyd’s instincts not only compel him to protect her from their mutual enemy, but to bond with her, as well.
The problem? Griffyd isn’t human–he belongs within the pages of Lily’s horror novels.
Faced with the menacing vampire-killer’s affections, will Lily retreat in fear to her author’s life? Or will she surrender to her dark passion for Griffyd, whose bonding to her could alter her in ways neither one could have ever foreseen?
*~*
EXCERPT:
Griffyd couldn’t stand it any longer. He had been spying on the human woman while she slept, and had found himself inching closer to where she lay, snuggled comfortably in his bed. Yet one of her arms escaped her cocoon, where it draped over the edge of the mattress as if beckoning him, inviting him to run one of his fingers along the soft skin of her inner wrist.
He felt a purr flutter up through his chest, which surprised him. He had never purred before, and the sensation of it thrilled him, flurried his heart rate. As did the sight he drank in with his obsidian eyes.
His faemne had curled up like a little nestling and had burrowed deeper into the downy folds of his bed. Yes, he liked the sight of that a lot. She looked so peaceful buried in amongst his bedding, so utterly at home, that it sped his breathing so that his chest clenched.
Damn him for what he had the undeniable urge to do. Running his finger along her tender, forbidden skin only heightened his need to touch. He wanted to feel more of her, he desired to feel the weight of her body in his arms, upon his stomach; he desperately wanted to snuffle the dip of her neck where it met her collarbone.
Griffyd the vampire-killer, the monster he knew she thought him to be, got up off his knees and slipped himself beneath her sleeping form to cradle her like she was but a fragile fawn.
And squeezed his eyes shut against the bliss of it.
Min modlufu, he purred.
If she woke at that moment, he would never forgive himself this moment of weakness, and for a breathless second he thought she had. But she only squirmed herself tighter against him, nuzzling her face along his chest, then sighed, and he felt her grow heavier as she drifted deeper into unconsciousness.
Gaestlufe–my soul’s love.
He couldn’t part with her, had to find a way to make her see him beyond the fangs, the horns, the claws. They were weapons, yes, but he could be gentle, he could be gentled. If he could help her to see all of him, perhaps then she would not be so frightened, would understand that the violence in his life took up only a part.
Which encroached with the coming twilight. He could leave her now, knowing she rested safely in his lair, that her wound had grown no worse, nor had she from the toxins entering through it. Her human body would take a while to heal, but he counted on that, hoped she would not prove to be too healthy in that respect. Selfish, yes, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed time.
And for once in the long centuries of his life, he didn’t think he had enough of it.
| [amazon_link id=”B00CJ11K8O” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | Jupiter Garden Press | Kobo | BN | Smashwords | ARe |
by Sarah | Feb 21, 2014 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Saturday Spotlight, Writing
| [amazon_link id=”B00DV0XJ9U” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | Crimson Romance | BN | iTunes |
Viking Fire Blurb: In 856 CE, Ireland is a land of myth, magic, and blood. Viking raiders have fought the Irish for over half a century. Rival Irish clans promise only betrayal and carnage.
Kaireen, daughter of Laird Liannon, is suddenly forced into an arranged marriage with her sworn enemy, a Viking. She refuses to submit. With no mention of love, only land and the protection of her clan, she endeavors to get her betrothed banished from her country. Will love find its way around her stubborn heart?
Bram, the Viking, finds himself without future or inheritance as a younger son in his family. A marriage to the Laird’s daughter would grant him land if he swears fidelity and if his men will fight along with the Liannons against any foe—Irish or Viking. However, the Laird’s feisty daughter only holds animosity for him and his kind. Is marriage worth the battle scars of such a relentless opponent?
With the blame for a rival laird’s death treacherously set against the Liannons, Kaireen and Bram must find a way to lay aside their differences as an unforeseen darkness sends death snapping at their heels.
*~*~*
Viking Fire Excerpt
Chapter One Ireland 856 CE
“I renounce Father for this.” Kaireen threw the elderberry gown. Dressed only in her
leine, she glared at the new gown on the stone floor.
“Shame on you and your children for speaking such.” Her handmaid, Elva, gathered the damask and then dusted off the rushes. “It’s a wonder one of the clim has not scolded you from your hearth for such talk.” She wore her white hair twisted in a chignon, underneath a linen head cloth. Strands of white hair poked out the sides of her covering.
“No, curse Father for a fool.” She plopped on her bed and a goose feather floated away. With a huff, she leaned against the oak headboard. Red curtains puffed like a robin’s chest around oak poles supporting her wooden canopy.
Her bare feet brushed against the stone floor. Why was she not born plain like her two older sisters? Already they had married and expected their second bairns by spring. Well, at least so far she had enjoyed twenty years of freedom. Neither of her sisters had had matrimonial dreams of love matches. Both were arranged marriages.
“You know your da arranged a marriage within a season.” Elva smirked.
Kaireen shook her head. “To another land holder,” and waved a hand in disgust, “not t-this heathen. Twice they raided our land in the last month alone. Many a raid has come from them. Now father wants me as wife to one of them?” She clenched her fists. “No, I will not marry this Viking.”
Elva smiled, reminding Kaireen of the rumors of her handmaid’s uncanny foresight.
Whispers of Elva making strange things happen and often blamed as the cause of Kaireen’s stubborn refusal to behave as a laird’s daughter should.
“You’ve not seen him yet.” Elva wiggled her brows.
“So?” Kaireen shrugged. “I would like to never see him.”
“Well then, would you not like to know if you have a handsome husband or not?” She waited for her response, but Kaireen scowled at her. Elva chuckled. “I would rather get a good look at him now than the morning after.”
Kaireen’s ears heated. “I am not marrying.” She shook her head for emphasis. “So there will be no morning, nor night, nor wedding.”
“If he is handsome, I may fight you for him.” Elva smiled, deepening the wrinkles around her eyes.
“Welcome to him either way.” Kaireen laughed.
*~*
Andrea’s Bio: Growing up in Houston, Texas, Andrea has always created characters and stories. But it wasn’t until she was in her late twenties that she started writing novels.
What happened that ignited the writing flame in her fingers? Divorced, and disillusioned by love songs and stories. They exaggerate. She thought. Love and Romance are not like that in the real world. Then she met her husband and realized, yes love and romance are exactly like the songs and stories say. She is now a happy wife, and a mom to three kids (two boys and a girl).
Andrea writes paranormal and historical romance. When not writing or reading, one may find Andrea dancing in Zumba.
She believes in the power of change and counting each moment as a blessing. But most importantly, she believes in love.
Viking Fire Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/m1bPZ3nUyzs
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AndreaRCooper.author
Twitter: @AndreaRCooper
Author Website: www.AndreaRCooper.com
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6934877.Andrea_R_Cooper
Blog: http://andrearcooperauthorblog.wordpress.com/
