L.L. Hunter is the author of over 20 published works, including The Legend of the Archangel Series and The Eden Chronicles. She has studied everything from veterinary nursing, forensic science, and dramatic arts, but has always known her true calling was to be an author. She has been writing since her teens - everything from fan fiction, to song lyrics, to plays and musicals. When not working on her next paranormal romance, she can be found at home in Australia, reading somewhere comfortable with one or both of her “fur babies.”
All the things that represent a spectacular fall in Crimson Cove, named after the sight one sees when the trees all turn red in the crisp autumn air.
When school starts and the events of the summer no one is likely to forget haven't been solved, the five girls decide to take matters into their own hands.
But the problem with lifting stones to find the secrets hidden under them is that you never can tell just what lies beneath.
For the five unlikely friends, what lies beneath involves each and every one of them.
And as the story twists and turns, they start to see they are each connected to the murder and the disappearance still rocking the small sea side community.
Don't miss the exciting second book in The Crimson Cove Mysteries.
I am the mother of two beautiful girls who are growing up so fast, the wife of a cute guy in a uniform (my own personal hero), and a writer.
My family will tell you it doesn't exactly fall into that order. Especially around dinner time when I "Cook" from a takeout menu with my face plastered to my computer. I also have two cats who I adore more than I should, like more than people I know, and a dog. He is a beagle who is naughty but just so darned cute. He gives you that little beagle face and then steals your slice of pizza.
I have a busy mind and even busier fingers. I can write fast and keep track of a large cast, but I can't remember why I'm at the grocery store. I try to write lists but they always end up being notes for books or indie bands. I LOVE INDIE MUSIC! I talk to myself in the car and sing too loud for my skill level. The invention of Bluetooth has made talking in the car less awkward but if you hear me singing, run. I love writing. I love my characters like they are my friends and I am telling their version of the truth.
My worst flaw is the horrid English accent which I read everything with. If I read aloud it comes too. I'm not English, so I can't even do the accent which makes it awkward for anyone who is nearby.
My favourite authors are Robert Jordan and Jane Austen and Robert Mccammon and Jim Crace. I think Stephen King and Dean Koontz have the most unique imaginations. I have the hardest time not LOVING Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger. I know all the serial killers have a copy but I adored that novel. It made me feel a thousand different things and one of them was more alive. (And not in the least bit serial killer-ish) When I grow up I want to be James Patterson or Nora Roberts. I aspire to be like them, always trying to hone my skills and work harder. My genres are all over the map. I have Paranormal Romance, Contemporary Romance, Science Fiction, Erotica (under Sophie Starr my porn name so my mom doesn't know), Thrillers, and even some Romantic Comedies.
If you would like to reach me for whatever reason, please visit me at my facebook page -facebook.com/TaraBrownAuthor. You can also email me at tarabrownauthor@hotmail.com
Thanks for checking me out and I hope you got lost in something I wrote or it made you so HAPPY/SAD/BLISSFUL/TURNED ON/ANGRY/EXCITED/FRIGHTENED/HORRIFIED/MAD that you couldn't believe it.
The list of what is coming out this year is not completed. I will keep my Facebook page as up to date as I can. Here is a short breakdown of my genres and pen names.
TARA BROWN- My main page and essentially my brand. Books published under Tara Brown will be adult and mostly suspense and romance. The Lonely and Single Lady Spy Series are among those. Not intended for young readers, at all. 18 and over.
AE WATSON - My pen name for Young Adult books. Born, HERE, The Seventh Day, White Girl Problems, etc. This is my page that is safe for YA readers of a mature reading level.
ERIN LEIGH - Adult Romance and Chick Lit. 18 and over recommended reading level.
TL BROWN - Adult Paranormal, Science Fiction, and Fantasy. NOT FOR YOUNG READERS AT ALL!!
SOPHIE STARR - Adult Only Erotica. NOT FOR YOUNG READERS AT ALL!!!!!!!!
Hope you have a great day and of course, happy reading! Remember to read at your comfort level. Not all books published by me, Tara Brown, are suited for everyone.
The noise of the creaking stairs, the ones I had just crept up, sounded like it echoed in my ears. Someone had followed us here. “Jake,” I whispered, hoping he was messing around. If he was, I would be angry. I lifted one leg after the other and slipped my high heels off, holding them both so I could tiptoe through the half-constructed mansion without making noise. Jake didn't answer, but the footsteps had stopped from the moment I whispered. The scary movie marathon we’d had before Rachel died flashed through my head, bringing ideas and memories with it. I tiptoed around the corner, brushing my Frankenstein’s bride dress on the rough edge where the unfinished walls met. The drywall scraped against me, making me wince as I hurried along the corridor to the back deck. Whoever was in the house with me was either moving silently too or they were standing still, listening. Either way, I had a terrible feeling this wasn't a game. That meant one thing: Jake was injured or hiding. And I was alone. My heart raced, my eyes burned from not blinking—fearful I would miss something—and my mouth was as dry as a mouthful of popcorn. The floor creaked. I froze. “Sierra,” someone whispered into the dark. My skin crawled when I realized it wasn't Jake. It wasn't his whisper. I’d heard that enough times, always in the dark, to know it wasn't him. “Sierra, don't be scared.” It sounded like something it couldn't be, but I didn't believe. I stayed perfectly still, waiting for the moment I needed to run to the back deck and jump down onto the sandy beach. What had the girls in the horror movies done wrong? What could I avoid? My mind raced, remembering the runners always got caught. They always got stabbed. Usually in the back. The thought of it made my skin burn where I imagined the knife would slice. The hiders always got caught. They were the ones breathing too loudly or hiding in stupid places. “Sierra, I won’t hurt you if you come to me.” I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second and waited for the answer, the right choice, to pop into my head. A dog barked, making me jump and open my eyes. The sound was joined by the creaking of the floorboards again. With gentle breaths and controlled movements I crept along the hallway, entering the spot where the kitchen or master bedroom would likely go. The house was freshly sealed with windows and doors, but it was still in the drywall stage with plywood floors. The massive back deck was through the white French doors, facing the beach and open ocean. The moon offered light, enough to make shadows move with me. I hurried to an alcove I assumed would one day be a nook for a breakfast bar or maybe the ensuite soaker tub. I pressed my back against the wall and stared at the bright white French doors. If I could make it to them, I was free. If only I had my cell phone, I could call the police or Jake or Vincent. Someone would come and help me. Even Ashton might answer. But that wasn't an option. I scolded myself for my weakness in me and forced my focus to be on the doors. They were my answer. They were my hope. As I exhaled and plotted my moment to run and everything I would do from that point on, the floor creaked in the hallway behind me. It was now or never. Live or die. I took one more breath and pushed off from the wall…
Blurb:Walker Callaghan doesn't know what happened to her. One minute she was living her teenage life in suburban Chicago...and the next minute, she was in a strange place and in a brand new school with absolutely no homework, no rules, and no consequences. Walker Callaghan, 17, is dead. She doesn't go to heaven or hell. She lands at The Academy, a middle realm where teenagers have one thing in common: They were the morning announcement at their high schools because they died young. These high school kids are now caught in a strange “in-between” zone where life hasn’t changed very much. In fact, this special teen limbo looks a lot like life in a quaint Michigan town complete with jocks, popular girls and cliques. "There are even cheerleaders in death," Walker observes. It's not a coincidence that the music teacher is a guy named Kurt who "used to have this band." The drama teacher, Heath, is crush worthy because back in his life, he starred in some superhero movie. Principal King explains the rules -- there are none. Why? You can't die twice. There is no homework. No tests. No SATS. You're just there to learn because the human brain isn't fully formed until you're 24. By the way, you can't get hurt physically, so race your Harley off that hillside. But falling in love is the most dangerous thing you can do ...because no one knows how long you'll stay in this realm or what's next. "Losing someone you love would be like dying twice," Walker says. * * * * * * Walker Callaghan has just arrived at the Academy after a tragic car accident. “Is this heaven or is this high school?” she asks. She finds out her new life is a bit of both as she falls in love with tat-covered, bad boy Daniel Reid who is about to break the only sacred rule of this place. He's looking for a portal to return back to the living realm. He needs just one hour to retrieve his younger brother who strangely never arrived at The Academy. Bobby is an Earth Bound Spirit, stuck at a plane crash site that took both of their lives as their rich father piloted his private jet nose-first into a cornfield on Christmas Eve. Walker loves Daniel and risks it all to go with him. Have they learned enough to outsmart dangerous forces while transporting a young child with them? Can their love survive the fragmented evil parts of themselves that are now hunting them down as they try to find a way back to the middle? At the Academy, you learn the lessons of an after-lifetime.
CL GABER is the author of ASCENDERS, the first book in the ASCENDERS saga. She's also the co-author of the YA book JEX MALONE and the sequel due in 2016. Muggletnet.com, the world's largest Harry Potter site, did a rare review of a non-Potter book and called Ascenders, "a book we wish we could read over and over again." Book 2 in the Ascenders Saga will be published in spring, 2015. A trailer for the book series contains original music by Roger O'Donnell of the iconic rock band The Cure and was produced by Orian Williams ("Control," "Shadow of a Vampire.").
As Cindy Pearlman (her maiden name), Cindy is a well known senior entertainment journalist for the New York Times Syndicate, with stories appearing worldwide, and the Chicago Sun Times. A pop culture expert, her work has appeared in Entertainment Weekly, People, TV Guide, Elle and National Geographic, and many other publications. Cindy has co-written over 40 books for actors, musicians, athletes and wellness experts including several New York Times best sellers. She is the author of her own film anthology book "You Gotta See This." A native of Chicago, Cindy lives outside of Las Vegas. Author Links: Amazon * Facebook * Goodreads * Twitter * Web
I was there. And then I was gone. My mother gave me no notice that we were relocating.
Suddenly, we had just moved without all that annoying planning and packing. Somehow my clothes were thrown into boxes with shoes that were missing mates. Someone had packed my books and CDs, and had even reached under my bed into that secret hiding place I counted on to protect my treasures; like the iPod loaded with the best and worst of everything from Nirvana to the Stones, plus my lucky green rabbit’s foot—because you just never knew when you would need a little extra luck.
My mother must have remembered the family photo album because there it was on our brand-new living room coffee table that I passed on the way to my very own bedroom and a bed I had never slept in a day in my life.
It was strange because we could barely afford to pay the rent each month, let alone buy something as nice as a hand-carved oak table imported from someplace far, far away. When I had looked, the tag didn’t say from where. It was just imported.
It was one of those times when you go from A to Z so fast that you hardly remember any of the in-between. Or as I—Walker Callaghan—senior at Kennedy High School in suburban Chicago and news editor of the school paper the Charger liked to say, “Maybe it’s not about the happy ending. Maybe it’s about the story.”
Flopping onto my new, handsome, four-poster bed with lovely little tulips carved into the wood, I thought it was so unlike my mother, the master planner, to do something this off-the-cuff. My mother was a woman who made a battle plan to go to the local 7-Eleven for almost-expiration-date milk. Even weirder was the fact that we had moved farther away than anyone imagined. A lot farther.
“So run this by me one more time, Mom,” I shouted. “I must have been heavily medicated or feeling really sorry for myself. We moved? You pulled the trigger. Bang-bang—relocation?”
I didn’t give her time to answer.
“A new school in my senior year of high school?” I called out to her on a murky, cold winter morning on Burning Tree Court.
Even though I was letting the heat escape and Mom had always said we didn’t live to “support Commonwealth Edison,” our old electric company, I still opened my bedroom window wide and found that the air drifting in was stun-your-senses Arctic cold. It smelled green and fresh outside and those dense marshmallow patches of white fluff in the sky could only mean serious snow because they were roasted dark on the bottom.
I tried to shiver, but couldn’t. I was perfectly warm despite the window and the fact that I was wearing faded jeans and a well- washed blue cotton tank that read: Normal People Scare Me.
In true dramatic fashion, I couldn’t resist needling the one 12
person responsible for our fate, our new house, and everything in it that was unknown and strange. “Mom, new school. Senior year. I’ll have no friends here. Are you trying to kill me?”
Without knowing how or why, I was now enrolled in this elite- sounding new school called the Academy, which sounded quite upscale and serious to a girl whose educational pursuits consisted of a generic public-school education outside of a big melting-pot city, where you were either rich (if you were lucky) or you were normal (if you were like everybody else). Our family worked hard at being desperately normal.
“Great, it will be a bunch of rich, stuck-up snobs who will hate me—and cheerleaders. There are always cheerleaders. They’re like cockroaches. You can’t get rid of them,” I concluded, yelling from my new room to hers, which was somewhere down a hallway that I had never really navigated before.
“I hear it’s quite fancy,” Mom called from her room. “A Callaghan going to a private school. Imagine.”
I didn’t have to imagine it as I was living it. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time, but when I had asked that question, Madeleine Callaghan, my mom, the mover and shaker in my life, had cringed and then cried hard into a brand-new washcloth she didn’t recognize—the thick kind we could never afford. The weeper was the one who had given me the odd-for-a-girl first name, which was her maiden name before she married my father, steel worker Sam Callaghan. We weren’t just blue-collar, but faded blue-collar from clothes that had far too many seasons of washings. In our family, the rule was “Don’t throw it out unless it’s dead-dead.”
Running my finger along the smooth wood of my expensive new dresser with the intoxicating just-cut-tree smell, I ducked down on the ground to read the label on the bottom. Imported from R-19877. Really? Did we win the lottery? And what was with the secret spy code?
“Honey, please, I’m begging you,” Mom answered after appearing in my doorway. “For once, let’s not do the Diane Sawyer investigation act. I can’t do twenty rounds of questions. Not today.” Her voice sounded thick like she had a cold, so I closed the window.
“There is no need to insult Diane who probably doesn’t even have a dresser this nice,” I replied.
“Walker, let me make you some breakfast,” Mom said. “Everything is always better after a little oatmeal and orange juice. You’ll see.”
2.
Back home in suburban Chicago, Principal Amanda Stevens was toying with the loudspeaker at Kennedy High School. It was time to make an announcement that drifted across her desk once or twice a year (every year)—and it always pulled her heart right out of her chest. She couldn’t dwell on herself, but had to think of her students. Many of them knew this girl from her work on the school newspaper. What would she say about her? Principal Stevens went through the usual lines in her head: It was a terrible shame. A waste. A tragedy. It was all those sentiments that meant nothing really because they were just words.
This was a heart ripper—dead at seventeen. Good night, Irene.
Ms. S knew that she better just do it. So she clicked the on button on the PA system, took a deep breath, and said what needed to be said. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“I regret to tell the student body that we lost one of our own last night. Walker Callaghan, a well-respected senior and news editor of the Charger, has died.”
She released the on button and grabbed for a bottle of extra- strength aspirin, wishing there was something stronger. Then she clicked the PA back on again. “Of course, counselors are available,” she added.
Blurb: The war between Hell and Earth is about to commence.
But first, Chase must save the girl he loves.
Hell should have killed Chase Winters when it had the chance. Now, it’s too late. He is coming for them—all of them. And he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. Angel. Chase will be damned before he lets Hell take the only thing that matters in his life.
Angel Morgan is as feisty as ever—more so. She is embracing the darker side of being other than human. The line between good and bad has blurred, and even if Chase can find a way to bring her back, that kind of betrayal leaves nasty scars.
In the most sensual and action-packed installment yet, the world is crumbling down around them, and the stakes are higher than ever. They must do whatever it takes to rid Earth of demons. One thing is clear. Their love will either save them or destroy them all. No matter the outcome, lives will never be the same
Award-winning and Bestselling author J.L. Weil writes Teen & New Adult Paranormal Romances about spunky, smart mouth girls who always wind up in dire situations. For every sassy girl, there is an equally mouthwatering, overprotective guy. Of course there is lots of kissing. And stuff.
Most of her books are for ages 16+. They usually have what she considers the good stuff - sexual content (oh yeah) and swearing. You have been warned ;)
An admitted addict to Love Pink clothes, raspberry mochas from Starbucks, (yum!) and Jensen Ackles (double yum!). She loves gushing about books and Supernatural with her readers.
Deep down, I knew everything wasn’t hunky-dory. She wasn’t magically better, but how convenient the mind worked to get what it really wanted.
And oh, I wanted her.
There was no denying that every fiber of my body wanted this. It had been weeks since my lips had touched hers, and the hunger came on swift and strong. I ached inside. Ached for the physical touch of her skin, of her soft, berry-flavored lips.
Using my tongue, I parted her lips and plunged, deepening the kiss. A thousand fires ignited inside me, joining into one flame I couldn’t contain. I was drowning in the sweetest fire. My hands inched under her shirt, splaying over her lower back. The world didn’t seem so screwed up when Angel was kissing my brains out. It was the greatest buzz.
She pulled back just slightly, her eyes capturing mine, and then she cupped the back of my neck, reclaiming the distance. Damn. She kissed me in a way that put all others to shame. It would have made the Angel I loved blush. There was nothing innocent or sweet as she nipped my lower lip, and I swore I tasted blood.
Her breathy moan nearly undid me, yet it was the wiggling of her hips that sent me over the edge. Our hearts sped up. I totally took the kiss there, throwing every worry and fear into it. It was then I felt the sudden change in her, but I was powerless to pull away. My demon was screaming, “Yes, yes, yes!” He loved the darker side of Angel, and it was tearing me in two. The struggle between my demon and me was the hardest I’d ever had to deal with.
I gripped her hips and pushed back. Her eyes. They were dark in the shadowy light, but the glimmer of red was undeniable.
Eric Gaylord returns to his home town for a respite after a tragic loss, but when his spitfire mother takes on an unknown woman as a business partner, he is forced to face the nightmare he’d left behind or risk losing the one woman who could heal his heart.
Ciara Knight writes with a ‘Little Edge and a Lot of Heart’ with her contemporary and paranormal romance books. Her most recent #1 Amazon bestselling series, Sweetwater County, has topped the charts and received acclaimed reviews. Her international best-seller, Pendulum scored 4 stars from RT Book Reviews, accolades from InD’Tale Magazine and Night Owl Top Pick. Her young adult paranormal series, Battle for Souls, received 5 stars from Paranormal Romance Guild and Night Owl’s Top Pick, among other praises.
Eric’s pulse raced at the black and blue mark, shaped like fingers, which Lisa attempted to cover. Clenching his teeth, he averted his gaze. Based on the size of the marks, a man had done it. Was she attacked? A boyfriend? Perhaps that was why she came to Sweetwater, to hide from an abusive husband. He reached out for a muffin, discreetly scanning her left hand. No wedding ring. Not even a tan line.
This was none of his business. Mom had decided to take on this venture, as insane as it was. Starting a business with a woman that she’d never met outside of cyberspace.
His mother had been right about one thing, though. Lisa Mortan was beautiful. Stuffing another muffin into his mouth, he concentrated on the warm, butter-nutty flavor and forced the thought of Lisa and her light floral fragrance from his mind.
“Thanks so much for helping unpack all of our merchandise,” Lisa said, her voice soft yet not wimpy or chirpy.
“My pleasure. It’s kept Mom busy…which is a good thing. The idle hands of an energetic woman, particularly when it’s your mother, are dangerous,” he teased.
His mother brought the coffee pot to the table. “Lisa just arrived from New York. Seeing as how she’s new in town, perhaps we could all get together for dinner and get to know each other better.”
“I need to return to the office.” Eric stood and nodded to Lisa, attempting to ignore her full lips, and big bright eyes. She pushed from the table to stand as well and her coat fell open, revealing the longest legs he’d ever seen. The heels she wore only accentuated every inch of them. Straight chestnut colored hair completed the look, shining under the Halogen pot lights he’d installed last week. “It was a pleasure, but I’m afraid I have a client meeting tonight. Don’t let Mom work you too hard.”
His mother narrowed her eyes with that go-ahead-and-run-away-coward look she’d perfected. Of course, even he had to admit she was right, but it didn’t matter. The last thing he wanted was a woman in his life. Not after what happened with his last girlfriend.
“I’ll walk you out,” his mother offered.
He thought about dissuading her, but she wouldn’t listen anyway. With one last glance at the beauty standing in the middle of the kitchen, he bolted, with a promise to bury himself in work and stay away from Lisa Mortan.
“I told you she was beautiful,” his mother whispered.
“Cultured, long legs, smart, and don’t forget educated. Yes, I’ve heard it all. A few times. It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested,” Eric barked. He didn’t mean to be rude, but Judy Gaylord needed a firm hand or she’d take over quick.
“I’m just saying.” His mother shrugged in a careless gesture.
Eric halted at the front door, clutching the handle. “Don’t. I’m not ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”
His mother’s small hand rested between his shoulder blades. “It’s been almost two years. It’s time to let her go.”
“No. I-I can’t.” He turned the knob.
“It wasn’t your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself.”
“Yes, it was. I ignored the woman I claimed to love, and when she needed me most, I wasn’t there.”
Judy stepped to his side. “You didn’t know about the baby.”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s dead. The baby’s dead. There’s nothing else to talk about.” Eric shoved the door open. “I have to go.”
