Cover Reveal ~ First Encounters by Charming Man!

Photo banner, 851 x 315 featuring a sensual couple in B&W with the cover of First Encounters, an upcoming release by Charming Man, author.

Book Title: First Encounters

Author: Charming Man (aka A. S. Wilkins)

Genre: A Romantic-Erotic Story Collection

Synopsis

First Encounters offers a male insight into the realms of sensual romance, exploring the thought provoking world of liaisons between strangers.

On a hot summer’s night, a man awakes from a peaceful slumber, roused by a mysterious beauty appearing at his bedside. Is she real or merely a Night Vision?

Escaping the stresses of daily life to indulge in a little rest and recuperation, a weary businessman man unexpectedly engages a gorgeous exhibitionist in a voyeuristic Beach Encounter.

A chance meeting at a busy airport sees a young entrepreneur in the company of a seductive stranger for the duration of his flight to New York. She has a sexy secret to tell, but only if he shares one first; a Mid Air Collusion he’s unlikely to forget in a hurry.

Headmaster Peter Thompson is faced with a predicament when he summons a troubled sixth form student to discuss her latest misdemeanour. Refusing to accept her fate, Ariana takes control of the situation the only way she knows how.

While island hopping around the Cyclades, a backpacker is lured off the beaten track by a sexy local girl he meets on his travels. Was the need to satisfy his curiosity a good idea or A Greek Tragedy waiting to happen?

A college student embarks on a road trip, but didn’t envisage making the journey with a sexy hitch-hiker in tow. Two strangers find themselves thrown together in a slow-burning, tortuous tale of boy meets girl, set to the sounds of the new wave era. Will it be the end of the line when he reaches his destination or will The Hitcher lead him down another path?

Charming Man’s journey starts here; dare you join him?

About Charming Man

Photo of author A. S. Wilkins, also known as Charming ManCharming Man, aka author A. S. Wilkins explores the thought-provoking world of sensual romance through themes such as encounters between strangers, sexual fantasies, illicit relationships, voyeurism and more.

A S Wilkins has been writing sensual romance for over fifteen years. It all started quite by accident, following the tragic death of his wife in 1998, when he was left with two small children to bring up alone, as well as manage his own software consultancy.

While still in a state of shock and running on auto-pilot, he settled into a daily routine of dropping the kids off at day care, fulfilling his nine to five obligations, collecting the kids in the evening, feeding them, bathing them and putting them to bed with a night-time story, before collapsing in front of the television and crying into a large glass of red.

He had neither the opportunity nor desire to meet anyone new, yet he craved companionship. Posing as Charming Man, after the name of his favourite song by his favourite band The Smiths, he began to trawl online chat rooms, striking up conversations with anonymous individuals who may or may not have been who they said they were; it made little difference to him.

A S Wilkins wears his heart on his sleeve, and it soon became apparent he was able to engage openly with people from all walks of life, be they male or female; but mostly female it has to be said. Many of his early conversations on the net were innocent in content; he would pour his heart out to anyone who would listen, and in return he would provide a shoulder to those who were equally going through difficult times. He found the process very therapeutic and saved him a fortune in counselling!

Before too long, these intimate exchanges left him wanting more, such is the nature of making a new acquaintance. However, charming by name and charming by nature, he chose never to cross the line until encouraged to do so by others. This led to many a cat and mouse war of words with many a like-minded soul, which both intrigued and excited him. It was during this time he wrote his first short story, Night Vision, detailing his longing for the next love to enter his life.

The more he chatted, the more he became obsessed with the notion of sexual encounters between strangers. Still not in a position to embark on a new relationship in the real world, he continued to engage women in cyberspace, and together they would contrive a variety of scenarios from the respective comfort of their laptops. Many of these scenarios were later to become short stories; Beach Encounter, Mid Air Collusion, Ariana, A Greek Tragedy and The Hitcher, to name a few.

Fast forward several years and A S Wilkins has found happiness once more, having settled down north of London with a new partner and their combined family of four children. The release of Fifty Shades of Grey in March 2012 prompted him to dust off his short stories for his partner to read. She was impressed and managed to persuade him to publish them. Shortly after, charmingman.com was born.

Writing as Charming Man, A S Wilkins is always on the lookout for the next encounter to write about. When two individuals make eye contact across a room or on a crowded train, and a connection is made, this is often the green light that sets his imagination on fire. A knowing look is all it can take; a word might never be spoken. However, the minute an affinity is perceived, a scenario is hatched in his head, which is then honed over the coming days and weeks into a believable idea for a story.

And this final point is key; whereas it’s true to say that many of his works are clearly fantasies, it’s important to him that these fantasies are believable. The idea of a twenty-seven year old billionaire meeting a twenty-one year old virgin just doesn’t cut it for Charming Man.

Find out more about Charming Man by visiting his website at charmingman.com.

Other Stalker Links

Website
Twitter @charmingxman
Facebook Author Page
Amazon Author Page
Goodreads Profile

Email – mail@charmingman.com

A photo of a couple on a balcony, featuring a statement by Charming Man about why he is passionate about

just Jack by K.L. Shandwick!

Being Lily Parnell’s best friend was effortless for Jack. Growing up together, Jack loved Lily and was fiercely protective of her and for most of his life all he wanted was to make her happy. When she was happy he was happy, except Lily lived a world away from him now and Jack missed her dreadfully. As far as Jack was concerned there had never been a time in their lives where they hadn’t shared everything. In recent years Lily’s ambitions took her overseas and even with an ocean between them, Jack still managed to support his best friend. One day things changed everything between them and their relationship began to shift. Lily was carving her own life and after observing a scene involving her, it made Jack take a close look at his own. Feeling confused, Jack decided to take a difficult decision never realising the potential fallout from doing something he felt was the right thing at the time. With his life laid bare Jack and as a simple, uncomplicated guy he thought he had things finally figured out. Women loved Jack and they came and went in his life apart from Lily. She was always there, until one day she wasn’t. Jack felt betrayed and abandoned by the one person who he thought he could rely on no matter what. During his journey from that moment on Jack faced more separation and loss than he could ever have imagined how would it shape him both as a man and can he forgive her?
Excerpt:-
Rick cracked the door open and padded through it hacking a cough and reaching for the mini-bar. “Mornin’ Lothario.” He croaked in my direction without making eye contact, reading the labels.
Chuckling loudly, there was just no way I was going to live down that after party Mark was talking about, but when I took in the sight of him I couldn’t help but throw a come-back at him.
Did your mother send you that get up, or are the pyjamas supposed to turn the women in your room off enough to leave?”
Rick looked down and smirked at the wine coloured paisley patterned silk pyjama bottoms he was wearing.
Waving his hand at the chair for me to sit down he pulled a glass and poured himself a miniature of gin and a small bottle of tonic water into it. “Long story.”
“Can’t wait.” My hurried comment was followed up with a wide grin as I settled back in the chair with one leg crossed over the other, my ankle resting on my knee.
“Allergy. I’ve got a rash from the starch on the hotel sheets the other night.”
As soon as he said that I knew he was going to regret it and I could see from the startled look on his face he’d been caught off guard and didn’t mean to be so open about it. He knew he’d walked right into something that I’d use against him, even if I was managing to keep my face straight.
“A rash?” I couldn’t keep the humour out of my voice, and there was even the hint of a breakthrough giggle in those two words.
Rick stared pointedly at me as if to say, “Laugh and tear you a new one,” but my sense of humour just overrode any potential fall-out consequences he may have been planning.
“That’s a bit like saying I got pregnant from the sheets, Rick. Don’t you think you’re more likely to have caught something from one of the women in your bed than the sheets? Or don’t you want to believe that just in case you get pussy-fright?
Rick threw the lid of the gin bottle at me and it bounced off my forehead but by that time I was chuckling loudly. “Laugh all you want, I’m allergic to starch. So they got me these from the hotel store because I needed something to make sure I was protected in bed. It was fucking murder trying to play with the itch in my pants the night before last.”
“Most guys wear condoms for protection, Rick not theatrical pyjamas.”
Rick was being deadly serious but the more he spoke the more uncontrollable my laughing became until he stood up and pulled them down to show me the red welts on his legs, his dick at eye level with me. Just as he did this, the door opened and the two girls he had in his bed came through the door.
Turning my head to look at them, I was still stifling a grin. Rick was true to form and had two classic groupies for his sleepover, skinny girls with big tits, no bras, dyed blonde hair with black roots dressed in the usual rock-chick attire of leather mini-skirts, fishnet stockings and tight dark brown and cream t-shirts with the ‘Cobham Street’ motif on them.
“Sorry ladies, I was just about to part-take would either of you like to join me?”
My quip was out before I’d even thought about it. Hell, I was probably going to be sacked after this, but I grinned widely and Rick smacked me around the head, making me cry out— partly in surprise, partly out of pain.
“You’re such a smart ass Jack Cunningham.” Pivoting the top half if his body in their direction he gestured at me with his hand, his pyjamas still at his ankles. “I was just showing him my rash.”
Laughing raucously I stared helplessly at Rick taking in his pathetic form with the patterned material draped around his feet and his dick dangling in front of him. As soon as I knew he felt the need to explain what was happening all of my professionalism suddenly deserted me and I was struggling to catch my breath, let alone stop laughing. The skinnier one of the girls gave a loud snort, then her resolve was gone and she joined in laughing, but I think she was laughing because mine was so infectious more than anything else.
Rick continued protesting his innocence when suddenly the second girl who had been standing staring deadpan erupted in the oddest hee-haw laugh I’ve ever heard in my life. The look on Rick’s face was a picture as he gawped in disbelief with his jaw open taking in all of us laughing hysterically at his expense. I was sure he was going react badly, but even at that I just couldn’t get it together at all.
Rick bent down and pulled his pyjamas up, which I found even funnier for no particular reason and this set off a fresh bout of laughter. Striding over to open the door, Rick waved a finger in the direction of the two women and Jed made short work of evacuating them from the scene. All I could do was watch helplessly because I couldn’t get my laughing fit under control, and I was sure I was going to be next to be thrown out, but probably via the roof terrace.
Closing the door again, Rick bent forward, his hands on his knees and he suddenly cracked up with laughter. “Jack fucking Cunningham, I should bury my size eleven up your ass for what just happened there, and I don’t understand why I can’t…I fucking love you, dude. You have no idea what a breath of fresh air you are in a world full of ‘yes men’. How the fuck have you been?”
KLShandwick just Jack 2015©
K. L. Shandwick lives on the outskirts of London. She started writing after a challenge by a friend when she commented on a book she read. The result of this was “The Everything Trilogy.” Her background has been mainly in the health and social care sector in the U.K. She is still currently a freelance or self- employed professional in this field. Her books tend to focus on the relationships of the main characters. Writing is a form of escapism for her and she is just as excited to find out where her characters take her as she is when she reads another author’s work.
Get in touch with me!!

What happened to Amazon?!

Christa Simpson

This post is my refection on how the e-book market has been changing, based on my own experiences and those of my fellow authors—both new and established.

Warning: I’m going to be straight with you.

IT’S A JUNGLE OUT THERE!

It’s no surprise that the book market has become saturated with new titles within the last few years. It seems like writing has become a contagious disease and the act of self-publishing is the antidote. Now, not only do I have to compete with the big guys—by big guys, I mean traditionally published authors with a full support staff: editors, designers, public relations, advertising, extended distribution, street teams, Goodreads groups, dedicated bloggers and other authors in the company, who all show a preference to sharing each other within their imprint, but I have to stand up against a throng of my fellow indies just to maintain my fan base.

Beautiful Lady With Abyssinian Cat

View original post 1,530 more words

All That Lies Broken by Lindsey Forrest!!!!

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Title: All That Lies Broken

Series: Ashmore’s Folly, Book 2

Author: Lindsey Forrest

Genre(s): adult contemporary fiction, women’s literature, romance, mystery-suspense

Length: 190,000 words.

Release Date: June 23, 2015

 

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From the ashes of great tragedy rises a great love…

After fourteen years, Laura and Richard now stand face to face, equals, at the same place in their lives.

She is no longer that girl, separated by time and violence from the only man she has ever loved. He no longer stands alone, a young man devastated by betrayal and his own terrible folly.

But the world is not so easily forgotten. Even as Richard begins to dismantle the past that blocks his future, he struggles to open his heart to the last love of his life. Laura chafes against her place on the edge of his life, wanting so much more, no longer willing to settle for less.

“I won’t be the woman you can’t admit to.”

Enemies challenge the life they are struggling to build together. An estranged wife seeks to smash the man she hates so fiercely. A younger brother rages against the man who bested him in life and in death.

“Something always gets broken….”

Secrets unravel. A world begins to shatter when a reporter stumbles across Laura’s secret. Then a sliver of bone resurfaces in a place of great sorrow, and a ghost of a girl rises from the past….

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Please read All Who Are Lost first! Some trilogies can be read out of order — this isn’t one of them. This is not a standalone story; it picks up the day after All Who Are Lost ends.

The e-book of All Who Are Lost is ON SALE for only $0.99 through June 30, 2015! Click here!

Oh, and this one also ends on a cliffhanger! Rest assured, I am all about the HEA, and I am halfway through writing the third book. Look for it in early 2016.

Need more information? Check out the full cast of characters, family trees, and maps, QR codes and links to back-story timelines and other supplemental material on www.ashmoresfolly.com!

 

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Attractive young woman outdoor

Diana was late again. Lucy had told her to meet at the coffee shop at 7:15; Tom had gone in early to prepare for a deposition, so he couldn’t catch her talking with her sister. Diana had promised to be there with bells on, hinting mysteriously at some juicy gossip.

But, as usual, even though Lucy had called and left a reminder on voice mail, Diana couldn’t be bothered to show up on time. Lucy had skimmed the paper, reviewed her schedule, made notes on a contract she was revising, and read the next chapter in her mystery – and Diana still hadn’t waltzed in the door.

The customer in the next booth was drinking such strong coffee that Lucy was starting to feel sick. Sick was good, she reminded herself. The waistband on her skirt digging into her skin was good. Crying over Titanic with Julie Saturday night was good. But the coffee – if Diana didn’t get here soon, her anxiety was going to ensure that the coffee was not good.

Five minutes before the deadline she’d given herself for leaving, Diana came rushing in.

“I know I’m late, Luce, I’m sorry.” How many times had she heard this in her life? Diana looked flushed this morning, but not as hung over as usual for Monday, and she slid into the booth with more energy than Lucy had seen her exhibit in a long time. “How are you doing this morning? Things okay? You sounded so secretive last night—”

Lucy reached out, took her sister’s hand, and shoved Diana’s jacket sleeve away from her wrist.

Silence between them. She must have sliced herself up royally; the bandage covered more area than the last time. Well, that explained Richard’s cryptic requirement for the negotiations. He’d known already that Diana had tried to kill herself again, so this must have happened before he’d left with his mystery woman on Friday night.

She stared at her sister. Diana stared back until her lashes flickered, and she pulled her hand away and reached for a menu.

“What happened?” Lucy couldn’t believe how calm her voice was. She felt anything but calm. Richard had known. Tom must have known. Certainly Diana had known! And not one of them had bothered to tell her. She was getting tired of everyone sheltering her as if she were made of glass. Diana was her problem to deal with. “When?”

“Friday,” muttered Diana. “Will it make you sick if I get fried eggs?”

“Yes,” said Lucy. “When Friday?”

Diana was studying the menu religiously. “I’m thinking pancakes then, or waffles. Those shouldn’t bother you. And OJ instead of coffee—”

Lucy jerked the menu away from her. “Forget food, Di. What happened?”

“Oh, honestly!” Diana yanked the menu back. “Stop obsessing about it! Friday, okay? I was at Daddy’s with Laurie, and—”

Lucy felt herself about to become seriously unglued. “What do you mean, Laurie? What was she doing over there?”

“Waffles and OJ,” Diana said to the waitress. “And a side of bacon and biscuits. Thanks.” She made a production of putting the menu back in its holder while Lucy sat there fuming. Then she settled back against the seat, clasped her hands in front of her, and gave Lucy a look that promised to be open and honest and was anything but. “She came over to help me clean. Oh, did I tell you, we found those checks you’ve been looking for?”

_______________

Closeup portrait of handsome mid-adult man looking at camera.

Inside, the cool air brushed their faces. Laura pushed the subpoena towards Richard and set a late-night dinner out for Max before her cat could deposit the rest of his fur on Richard’s suit. He worked beside her, setting the kettle on for her tea, measuring the ground beans into the coffee maker, pulling down mugs from the cupboard. How comfortable it felt, the two of them, working side by side, performing these small domestic tasks – no, she wasn’t going to succumb to what-might-have-been. The subpoena had been a rude awakening. Eleven years of separation or not, Richard still had a wife with an interest in his past and a desire for revenge.

And she not only knew about that past now, but she had the most compelling evidence of all in her daughter.

She heard herself say, “I don’t have any papers. Why does Di think I do?”

Richard carried his coffee over to the trestle table and held out a chair for her. “Actually,” he said when she sat down, “you may have something and you don’t know it.”

“I don’t have anything,” said Laura. “If you’re thinking about those tapes—” Francie’s foray into the world of erotic fiction. She shuddered. “All her stuff is in storage. I can’t imagine those tapes would be good after all these years.”

“Not the tapes.” He shook his head. “I got rid of those years ago. No, what you may have is a burgundy book with gold lettering on the front – it’s her flight log, and I signed and dated every lesson as her instructor. It completely slipped my mind until I was filling out my flight log yesterday. I’m certain she took it with her. No one ever mentioned it. Did you see something like that?” He looked at her and exhaled. “Yes, I see you did.”

She’d seen that book every weekend during the final spring of Francie’s life. “Cam signed it when he gave her lessons in ’91. I know exactly where it is.” From the look on his face, that was not welcome news. “But it’s okay, really it is! It’s in storage with the rest of her stuff.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Richard said flatly. “Read the wording. If it’s in your control—”

She touched his arm. “But it’s not, that’s just it! After—” she took a breath and plunged ahead as his eyes shadowed— “after Francie died, I was sick for a while, so Cam had his admin pack up her stuff and rent a storage space. I never had the key. He always kept it in his desk drawer. Everything is probably still there – I’m certain he never gave it another thought.”

He drew a breath and said patiently, “You don’t understand. You’re his heir, so I assume you inherited the furniture. That’s what this whole brouhaha about the piano is about, isn’t it? That means the desk, and its drawers, and its contents, belong to you. So, yes, you do control it.” She started to speak, and he overrode her. “Listen, Laura, I’m no lawyer, but I’ve dealt with subpoenas for years. Architects get dragged into lawsuits all the time. You may be a thousand miles away, but the desk and its contents are still in your control.”

“But that’s it, Richard!” She smiled triumphantly. “I wrote an email tonight giving Mark the desk. I thought it was his all along. It belonged to their father at the bank. How was I to know? I haven’t thought about that key for years. Mark wrote me this plaintive email about how I could take every stick of furniture and would I please let him keep that one thing – why are you laughing?”

“Oh, God.” He covered his eyes with his hand. “I can just imagine Kevin Stone’s reaction to the timing of your transfer of that desk. Well, here’s the good news. On the face of it – my signing that flight log was no more incriminating than your husband signing it. It links her to me, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re not going to testify.”

He acted as if he had a magic wand to make it all disappear. “Lucy said she couldn’t help me, since she’s your lawyer. So she’s going to talk to a friend of hers and see if he’ll represent me.”

He nodded. “She told me. It’s fine that you’re getting a lawyer, but I promise you that you won’t need one.”

Laura was getting tired of those words. “You keep saying that. How can you make this go away?”

Richard reached into his briefcase, pulled out a blue-backed sheaf of papers, and put it in her hands.

“I filed for divorce this afternoon,” he said. “Diana was served at the Tavern this evening.”

If he’d meant to knock the breath out of her, he succeeded. She stared at him in shock. She must have imagined his words; he hadn’t said what she thought she’d heard. He hadn’t stepped off the precipice so abruptly; he hadn’t tossed away eighteen years of marriage – miserable years, but, still, eighteen – for her. He hadn’t decided to cut the love of his life out of his life for her.

But he had. He’d laid the petition in her hands in the same way that Max liked to bring her his dead bug trophies. Maybe, she thought hysterically, he wanted her to pat him on the head and tell him what a good boy he was.

He was divorcing Diana.

“Why?” she whispered.

He paused for a moment. “It’s time.”

She nodded, dazed, and looked down at the petition. Richard Patrick Ashmore, Complainant, vs. Diana Renée Abbott Ashmore, Defendant…. Plain words on a paper. Eighteen years of marriage, the end of the fairy tale, right here in her hand. She bit her lip and felt tears bathing her eyes. Stupid to cry, she hadn’t even cried when the FedEx package had arrived in London with Cam’s divorce petition, but no fairy tale had ended there. No Prince Charming had danced with his Sleeping Beauty at City Hall in San Francisco.

She paged through the petition, unseeing. He said nothing, he justified nothing. He merely waited while she absorbed the reality that in her hands lay the end of one dream and – no, she wouldn’t think it, wouldn’t wonder if it could be the beginning of another. This was a tragedy. Two people who’d been in love beyond all thought were finally admitting that their love had come up short, that they hadn’t well lost the world for each other.

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Buying Links: Book 2

Amazon Kindle Store ($2.99)

Amazon.com (paperback)

Buying Links: Book 1

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Kindle Version

Paperback from Amazon.com

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Lindsey_Forrest

Lindsey Forrest, a lead writer/editor for an international information company, writes about income tax but prefers to dream of heroes and heroines and grand romance. With the publication of her trilogy, she checks off the top entry on her bucket list. She lives in north Texas with her family and cat and has a five-year plan for becoming a full-time novelist and editor of indie fiction. When she isn’t working or writing, she amuses herself with reading, needlepointing, tramping around historical sites and houses, and outbidding everyone who gets in her way on Ebay.

Visit Lindsey’s web site at www.lindseyforrest.com. You can also learn more about the Ashmore’s Folly Trilogy at www.ashmoresfolly.com.

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Scrupulous by Kristina Canady ~ Coming Soon!

Official Cover
Title: Scrupulous
An Affliction of Falling Novel
Author: Kristina Canady

Book to be released August 1, Pre-Order Available now!

Gavin Banner with preorder

PRE_ORDER SALE LINK: This book will have a pre order sale for only $1.99!
http://www.amazon.com/Scrupulous-Affliction-Falling-Novel-Book-ebook/dp/B00ZV0AOC8/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1434601659&sr=8-5&keywords=Kristina+Canady
Author Links:
Twitter @KristinaCanady
http://www.KristinaCanady.com
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GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7103526.Kristina_Canady
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Photographer:
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Book Blurb:
Sorcha
Some men just can’t accept that a woman can be perfectly content without them. I mean, come on; a girl can get laid anytime she wants, it’s not like it’s hard. And lord knows, I have no interest in a relationship, there is no time for that drama-filled nonsense. Pursuing my passion in life is all that I have time for. Selfish and short sighted? Perhaps, but I know what I want out of life and have no problem going after it. Life is a string of decisions, constructed and manifested by us. I own mine and don’t apologize for it either.
Gavin
Defined by my past, I hadn’t ever considered love as an option for someone like me. That is, until I spotted that sweet little brunette from across the crowded room. It was magnetic, and as much as she tried to resist, I was going to have her. Come heaven or high water, she would be mine.

All Who Are Lost, by Lindsey Forrest!

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Title: All Who Are Lost

Series: Ashmore’s Folly, Book 1

Author: Lindsey Forrest

Genre(s): adult contemporary fiction, women’s literature, romance

To celebrate the upcoming release of All That Lies Broken, Book 2 in her Ashmore’s Folly series, author Lindsey Forrest has put book #1, All Who Are Lost, on sale at an absolutely unbelievable price! This is a reading experience that should NOT be missed! The sale begins Monday, June 15th and will end on June 30th. See what you’ve been missing!

Synopsis

Three women.

Three sisters growing up in the shadow of their father’s obsessive drive to recapture his lost muse, the woman he threw into the cold Irish sea.

One man.

The scion of a great family estate in Virginia, falling in love with the wrong sister, blind to the ice at her core.

Too many betrayals.

A girl, rejected and ignored by the man she loved, choosing to walk away forever.

A man living a life of regret and sacrifice, trying to atone for a New Year’s Eve kiss that wrecked his marriage.

A fragile wife, lost in her own lies, unable to halt the devastation she set in motion with one vicious lie.

A woman haunted by a moment of blood and violence, when she reached out and took a man who didn’t belong to her.

One last chance.

On a clear summer day, Laura St. Bride’s life changes in smoke and flame. Even as the fires of grief rage on, a man reaches out from the past and tells her to come home.

Can she truly go home again?
Can sisters, bred to be bitter rivals from birth, learn to forgive the sins of the past?
Can a family, once smashed apart, find peace and rebirth?

What do you do
when the love of your life
is the last person you should love?

Can a man and a woman cast aside the violence of their past
and reach out for the last love of their lives?


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Excerpt

In his life, Richard Ashmore had made three mistakes with women. Not that three was so unusual; no man reached his thirties without suffering the particular pain that women could inflict and without inflicting it in return. He was luckier than most men, perhaps, for he had erred early and grievously, and caution had been driven into him like a bullet. He carried with him permanent reminders of his follies: a marriage gone disastrously wrong, the painful conscience that he had not always been the upright man his daughter loved, a shoulder that ached in cold weather.

Ah, Diana, unattainable once attained, a monumental mistake made in all the first flush of adolescent desire and pride. Too young to marry, too blindly in love to recognize the ice behind her eyes, he had turned a deaf ear to his father’s warning that his princess was hollow at her core.

Francie, silver-quick smile and hungry eyes, and his own need for the warmth of a woman’s arms. The dangerous combination of a magnum of champagne on New Year’s Eve and three years of exile from his marriage bed had erupted into a springtime of madness. The gods had demanded their due: a marriage wrecked beyond salvage, a family foundered, two young women cast adrift.

And the third…. Oh, but even now, all these years later, he stood before her picture, and he still did not understand. She watched him from the poster, more animated in flat gray and white than he had ever known her. But he knew those eyes. He knew how they adored him, how they burned in fever and desire, how they haunted odd moments of the day and dark pockets of the night.

Diana. Francie. Laura the Cat.

He supposed he had a special weakness for shuttered eyes that invited a man in with promises implied and unkept, for wild autumn hair spread gloriously across a pillow, for tall, elegant figures and clear, sweet voices and beguiling, destructive ways. They all three had this and more in common, and why not? They were sisters, after all.

I know you’re out there somewhere….

She stared out across a crowded London square, unknowing, unseeing, the serenity of her face captured in the flat surface of the theatrical poster. The light noon rain ran down in small diagonal rivers across her, crinkling the smooth plain of her forehead and the gentle cut of her jaw. She wept, large, abandoned tears that warred with the lovely turn of her mouth.

The Great Cat, they called her.

Many of those who had come to Leicester Square, hunting for half-price theater tickets, gravitated to her, beckoned by her eyes, lured on by the legend of mist and mystery that surrounded her. A few balked at the price of “An Intimate Evening with Cat Courtney.” Others realized to their sorrow that they had conflicting tickets, meals planned with in-laws, flights to catch. Three nights only, announced the poster, and this, unfortunately, was the last night.

She smiled out at them all, oblivious to their concerns, uncaring of the rain wetting her face.

The American tourist who came walking into the square, his daughter by his side, did not notice her at first. The rain had stopped for a few minutes, and other matters engaged him: folding up a handy umbrella, glancing at his watch, reading a guide book over his daughter’s shoulder. For one minute longer, he remained merely a tourist on a much-needed vacation. For one minute longer, the Great Cat never crossed his mind.

But the Great Cat could wait, and for this man she would wait forever.

She had left him a decade before, both of them reeling from the blood of their folly, in a deserted cottage on a desolate shore on the other side of the world. Had she eyes to see, she would know him instantly.

Eventually, respite ended. Eventually, Richard Ashmore lifted his head, his eyes scanning across the theatrical posters, in search of an evening’s entertainment suitable for a young girl. The titles made little impression – Les Miserables, The Graduate, Noises Off – until he saw her and everything around her blurred into oblivion.

He knew her too, instantly.

Laura.

His worst mistake.

Buying Link

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About the Author

Lindsey_Forrest

Lindsey Forrest, a lead writer/editor for an international information company, writes about income tax but prefers to dream of heroes and heroines and grand romance. With the publication of her trilogy, she checks off the top entry on her bucket list. She lives in north Texas with her family and cat and has a five-year plan for becoming a full-time novelist and editor of indie fiction. When she isn’t working or writing, she amuses herself with reading, needlepointing, tramping around historical sites and houses, and outbidding everyone who gets in her way on Ebay.

Visit Lindsey’s web site at www.lindseyforrest.com. You can also learn more about the Ashmore’s Folly Trilogy at www.ashmoresfolly.com.

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5-Star Amazon Reviews…

“I read the reviews for this book and expected a good read but nothing prepared me for the intensity of emotions that the author brought to life in this deeply rooted saga.
With the stories of three families intertwined we see how one person’s hope is another’s hate. How one person’s loss is another’s passion and how life creates good and bad moments in the blink of an eye. This is a haunting read and the author draws you in to the lives of the characters while adding layer after layer of family dreams, hopes, desires and despair. Prepare to feel the joy as well as the agony of characters throughout this read. The story is solidly written and leaves you wanting more so I’m glad this is just the first book and can hardly wait for what may be coming next…”

“WOW!!!! I just finished “All Who Are Lost” by Lindsey Forrest. I LOVED it! I am an avid reader, but this is not my usual genre. Or SO I THOUGHT! This book spans multiple genre’s ( romance, drama, mystery & intrigue, and even historical)! There are so many twists and turns to the story, and so many individual stories with twists and turns it literally made my head spin and I had a hard time putting it down.It is the 1st of a trilogy, and I can not wait for book 2! I think this is a Hallmark mini series prospect! I absolutely highly recommend this book!”

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10 Inspiring Facts for Indie Authors

Nicholas C. Rossis

I found this wonderful post on Wise Ink Creative Publishing and am sharing. As always, there’s been some editing to add my thoughts, but you can read the original post on the Wise Ink‘s website.

10 Inspiring Facts for Indie Authors

If I had a dime for each time one of you has told me you’re going through a rough patch with your writing, I’d probably be able to get Michelangelo to illustrate my book covers (yes, I’d also have enough to build a time machine). It’s probably even harder for Indie authors, as we have to do everything ourselves. So, I thought you might appreciate these statistics that should bring a smile back on your face.

  • Self-published books accounted for 31% of all e-book sales in the Kindle Store in 2014.
  • Indie books account for 31% of e-books. However,
  • 40% of all e-book revenue is going to indie…

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Many lovely creatures were stirring…A blog of complete madness.

Love this! Kinky….

ChristianGreyPOV

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the Redroom

Not even an insanely fucked up creature like me was stirring, or spanking, or even flogging anyone…until I heard a big BOOM!

I jumped out of my warm bed to see about the commotion, and to my sweet surprise, I find a sea of ladies filling the Redroom, moving me to some strange unknown emotion.

“What the fuck is going on here, ladies?” I ask. But to my disapproval they all ignore me, and one tosses me a bright shiny flask.

Wall to wall submissives now fill the once empty room, and I glance down to find my X-Cross on the floor, and now understand the boom.

“Who is responsible for this?” I ask in a demanding tone, but am once again ignored, but I think I heard a moan. “Lils? Why do I have the feeling that you are…

View original post 409 more words