Heather Brewer giveaway

Hey all,

So I have this poster I got signed by the lovely Heather Brewer a while ago and now I want to give it to one of you! Since it's just a poster, I will be giving some awesome swag with it.

To enter:
-US only
-by December 4th
-be a follower
-Answer bloody and sweet vampire boyfriend/girlfriend or clean and overly emotional vampire boyfriend/girlfriend and why.

Author Spotlight:Traci Slatton

5 Things to Know About Author Traci Slatton


1. I love sitcoms. I may write novels about love and loss, death and communion, and the ultimate nature of life and the divine, but I love to laugh. I grew up on M*A*S*H* and it's still one of the funniest, best-written TV shows ever. 3rd Rock from the Sun, featuring aliens in search of their own humanity, can make me laugh until I cross my legs and cry. Of late, I am charmed by Modern Family, Raising Hope, and Community. The new show Whitney offers a sparkling take on the age-old -- and unwinnable -- war between the sexes. Comedy, when it gets it right, is perfection.

2. I live to write, but every page is agony.

3. I have terrible taste in music. Really bad. Pathetic. We must all feel sorry for my husband. I grew up listening to Barry Manilow. I've done my best to educate myself musically, and I sent all my kids to piano lessons so they have a more sophisticated musical palate, but pop music makes me happy. Bad pop music.

4. I would like to speak several more languages. My French and Italian are rusty and stilted, and I'd love to dust them off and make them shine. I'd also like to learn Sanskrit, Greek, and Klingon. Live long and prosper!

5. I carry my passport around in my purse because I always think: "Today could be the day I fly off to Rome . . . or to St. Petersburg . . . or to Tahiti . . . " Travel is manna for the imagination and I have an unquenchable optimism that today could be the day heaven rains its grace on me!



As chaos descends on a crippled Earth, survivors are tormented by strange psychic gifts. In this time of apocalyptic despair, love is put to the test. One woman with mysterious healing power guides seven children to safety. Charismatic Arthur offers her a haven. Slowly Emma falls for him. But at the moment of their sweetest love, his devastating secret is revealed, and they are lost to each other.


Author Bio
Traci L. Slatton, author of Fallen, is a graduate of Yale and Columbia, and she also attended the Barbara Brennan School of Healing. She lives in Manhattan with her husband, sculptor Sabin Howard, whose classical figures and love for Renaissance Italy inspired her historical novel Immortal and her contemporary vampire art history mystery The Botticelli Affair. Fallen is the first in a romantic trilogy set during the end times.

For more information please visit http://www.tracilslatton.com and follow the author on Facebook and Twitter

REVIEW COMING SOON!

Blog Tour:Women in Lust

Lust is urgent, overpowering, and potent. While in real life readers may not always act every time desire calls, in fiction, they can abandon the safety of propriety to seek out lust and sex wherever they find them. The characters in Women in Lust may vary in the objects of their lust, and how they go about acting on it, but what connects them is that pure impulse for a lover. Sometimes he is someone she knows well, a boyfriend or a husband; in other stories, he is a stranger, and is desirable precisely because he represents the unknown. Whether watching a lover playing guitar, going out for a smoke or simply engaging in a chance encounter, these women seize the opportunities presented to them, and savor the lovers who teach them about themselves, helping open them up to new sensual possibilities.

Interested in this lusty anthology? Go HERE to read more!


Excerpt:

Something to Ruin
Amelia Thornton

I could feel the soft scratchiness of the grass tickling my cheek as my face pressed closer to the ground, my eyes adjusting to focus on the depth of green and the pair of tiny ladybugs delicately crawling along in front of me. I had never quite noticed before just how vividly red they could be, like little droplets of blood against towers of emerald, and I wondered why it took having my face crushed into the earth to really appreciate nature like this.
I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was still there, calmly positioned on the comforting softness of the picnic blanket, surveying the sight of my bottom presented to him, my knees tucked neatly beneath my torso, arms stretched out in front of me. I had done as he’d asked and worn “something to ruin,” meaning a plain white sundress with a cornflower-blue print I’d picked up from the secondhand shop. “Something to ruin” always meant trouble.
“Come here, Susie.”
Gingerly, I picked myself up from the ground, dusting off my hands and smoothing out the fabric of my dress, smiling up at him as I did so. He smiled back at me, motioning for me to join him, watching me eagerly bounce over to the blanket and curl up next to him, planting a kiss on his cheek as I did so. The sun was already warm on my pale skin, and all around us stretched fields of faded green, dotted with clusters of yellow wildflowers and the smell of summer, under a never-ending canopy of blue sky and hazy heat. We had bought an old wicker hamper especially for the occasion of a picnic, but in typical English fashion had been faced with nothing but rain and clouds for all of the months of June and July, and now at last had the opportunity to make use of it. Carefully, I unpacked the plates and glasses, laid out potato salad and pork pies and all of the other things that never tasted quite right unless eaten outdoors, then served him a plate of all his favorite things.
I knew he was watching me, though, looking at me in the way that makes me feel both slightly anxious and overwhelmingly loved at the same time. I knew he was planning something. Sure enough, just as I was about to take a big bite of cold chicken, he laid his hand gently on my arm and shook his head.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
Hesitatingly, I obeyed him, placing the chicken back on my plate, folding my arms neatly in place, wondering what he would be thinking of, what he would want from me now. He knows how difficult I find it to do as I am told, much as I adore the feelings that come with it. Whether not speaking unless spoken to or keeping still until he moves me, it always seems so much more frustratingly difficult to do something myself that could much better be aided by wrist cuffs, blindfolds and gags. But at the same time, that is why being with him excites me so much: the sheer, simplistic beauty of submitting to him without all of those things, without anything that makes my job any easier, without having any excuse to not give myself and my obedience completely and purely. He knows that.

Sounds like something you'd be interested in? Buy it now!
http://www.amazon.com/Women-Lust-Rachel-Kramer-Bussel/dp/1573447242/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1317733782&sr=1-5