Tue. Dec. 11th
A Bad Deal for the Whole Galaxy (The Salvagers #2) by Alex White
Broken Lands (Broken Lands #1) by Jonathan Maberry
Happy Reading!!
Tuesday, December 11, 2018
New Releases: 12/9-12/15
A Bad Deal for the Whole Galaxy (The Salvagers #2) by Alex White
Broken Lands (Broken Lands #1) by Jonathan Maberry
Monday, December 10, 2018
Deck the Halls w/ Books Holiday Extravaganza: Trial of a Warrior by Mary Morgan (@m_morganauthor, @RoxanneRhoads)
Modern-day Version of the Recipe for Damson TartsPLUM TARTS aka…DAMSON TARTS***
2 cups all purpose flour
3/4 cup finely chopped almonds
3/4 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed
12 tablespoons cold unsalted butter (1 1/2 sticks), cut into small pieces
1 egg yolk
2 pounds firm, ripe plums, pitted and quartered lengthwise
Preheat oven to 400 degrees
Combine the flour, almonds, and sugar in a large bowl. Add the butter and the egg yolk. Mix by hand or with an electric mixer, until crumbly.
Press 1 1/2 cups of the crumb mixture in an even layer into the bottom of a 9 1/2-inch springform or tart pan. Arrange the plums in the pan, skin side down to form a flower pattern; begin at the outside and work your way in.
Sprinkle the rest of the crumb mixture evenly over the plums. Bake the tart for 40 to 50 minutes, or until it’s lightly browned and the plum juices are bubbling. Remove from the oven and cool for 10 minutes. Remove from pan and transfer tart to flat plate.
Serve with a dollop of whipped cream.
***Damson: A small fruit with vibrant, dark blue skin and a strong sour flavor. Damsons are similar to plums. They have a large stone (pit) and are often juicy, but tend not to be eaten raw due to the tartness of their flesh.
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Trial of a WarriorLegends of the Fenian Warriors #3
BN
Amazon
"You met them in the Order of the Dragon Knights. Now, journey to the realm of the Fae and witness their legends!"
A warrior sentenced to die.
On trial for breaking a supreme Fae law, Fenian Warrior, Liam MacGregor has no regrets. He is prepared to accept his sentence—even if it means his death. However, freedom comes in an unexpected manner, and brings with it certain dangers as he travels through the Veil of Ages.
A princess honor-bound to remain hidden.
Princess Abela might be a priestess and the daughter of royalty, but that doesn't prevent her from doing the unimaginable. She sacrifices duty and honor to set free the man who captured her heart so many years ago. No matter the severity of his crimes, she cannot let Liam die.
A rescue that will bring about a war and divide a kingdom!
In their quest to secure a treaty to forestall Liam's death sentence, they must fight their desires for one another, as well as the Fenian Warriors sent to capture them.
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Award-winning Celtic paranormal romance author, Mary Morgan, resides in Northern California, with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to return.
Mary's passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. She spent far too much time daydreaming and was told quite often to remove her head from the clouds. It wasn't until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling--writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.
If you enjoy history, tortured heroes, and a wee bit of magic, then time-travel within the pages of her books.
Find Mary and her books
Mary's passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. She spent far too much time daydreaming and was told quite often to remove her head from the clouds. It wasn't until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling--writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.
If you enjoy history, tortured heroes, and a wee bit of magic, then time-travel within the pages of her books.
Find Mary and her books
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Sunday, December 9, 2018
Week in Review: 12/2-12/8
Books Received for Review
Circle of the Moon by Faith Hunter
Books I've Read
A Fistful of Charms by Kim Harrison (Re-Read)
For a Few Demons More by Kim Harrison (Re-Read)
The Outlaw Demon Wails by Kim Harrison (Re-Read)
Reviews Posted
No reviews this week...
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* New Releases for the week. Was there anything you were looking forward to reading?
* Monday- Deck the Halls w/ Books Holiday Extravaganza: A Magic Redemption by Tena Stetler ( @TenaStetler, @RoxanneRhoads )
* Wednesday- Guest Blog: Conversion by Maria Hammarblad (@mariahammarblad, @RoxanneRhoads)
* Thursday- Deck the Halls w/ Books Holiday Extravaganza: Gifted by Sharon Ashwood (@RowanAshArt, @RoxanneRhoads )
* Friday- Deck the Halls w/ Books Holiday Extravaganza: Black Dog: A Christmas Story by Victoria Danan (@vdanann, @RoxanneRhoads)
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* Did you know you can follow UFI on these other sites?
* Did you know you can follow UFI on these other sites?
You can also add me (as in Stacy) to your friends on these sites if you're on them.
* I love comments so if you see something you like (or not) please comment away and let me know.
Friday, December 7, 2018
Deck the Halls w/ Books Holiday Extravaganza: Black Dog: A Christmas Story by Victoria Danan (@vdanann, @RoxanneRhoads)
Black Dog: A Christmas StoryKnights of Black Swan #13
Amazon
Old dogs tell no tales.Excerpt:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Victoria Danann, brings a moving triumph-over-darkness story to the world of Black Swan.
The Hawking family is at home at the Northern Ireland farm and wolf-dog kennel for Yuletide when Blackie goes missing. Instead of a joyous celebration of family and friends, Ram's mate and elflings are beside themselves with fear and worry. As Song and Litha bring their respective paranormal abilities to aid in the search, the story takes a turn into the dark world of dogfighting and the abduction of adult male dogs matching the profile of fighters.
Black Swan rarely gets involved in the mundane affairs of the world because it's not their purpose, mission, or directive. But when Simon's office is drowned in messages from retired knights insisting that Blackie is unofficially one of them and that an exception must be made, he relents and orders available personnel to assist B Team with a rundown.
Blackie climbed the hill to his favorite spot. He didn’t trot or run, as he’d been known to do in his younger days. He ambled, telling himself that he could trot or run if he was so inclined. He just didn’t feel like it that minute.
The hill above the Laiken kennel and farm had the very best view of the surroundings. When he was there he could imagine himself to be protector of all he surveyed; his people, the land, the wolf dogs.
There’d been a light snow the day before, but the morning’s bright sun had melted a small clearing that formed a patch of bright green grass. Bright sun was unusual in northern Ireland at that time of year, but dogs don’t analyze changes in weather or atmospheric conditions. They simply accept what is and adapt as best they can. When the sun shines warm on old bones, they accept it.
After turning in a circle three times around the patch of green, Blackie sunk down into a sphinx pose and indulged himself in a satisfied sigh.
It’s impossible to know what dogs do or do not remember. Perhaps he had crystal clear memories of his adoption by The Order of the Black Swan and recalled every detail of every adversity and adventure. Perhaps there was a vague recollection of his history. Who can say?
He sat on the hill overseeing his farm. Perhaps old dogs do what old people do. They divide their reveries between recollection and remorse. Because even the best of us, human or dog, could have done things better. If there was an exception to that, it would be Blackie. Because he had never failed to give his whole heart and effort to any given task in any given moment. Surely dogs as smart as Blackie are like humans, recalling this corner of a moment or that fragment of a song at odd and inexplicable times.
To Helm, Blackie was as constant as was the idea of his father, Sir Rammel Aelshelm Hawking, Black Swan Knight Emeritus and Prince of Ireland, and his mother, Lady Elora Laiken, Black Swan Knight Emeritus, former Princess of Britannia, Stagsnare Dimension.
Perhaps his earliest memory was a black muzzle shoved between the bars of his baby bed resting on the sheet-covered mattress, intelligent brown eyes full of light and staring at him intently like he was the most precious thing in the universe. At fourteen he’d never confronted the prospect of surviving Blackie. He’d never considered it and simply couldn’t imagine the world without the big black dog.
The hill above the Laiken kennel and farm had the very best view of the surroundings. When he was there he could imagine himself to be protector of all he surveyed; his people, the land, the wolf dogs.
There’d been a light snow the day before, but the morning’s bright sun had melted a small clearing that formed a patch of bright green grass. Bright sun was unusual in northern Ireland at that time of year, but dogs don’t analyze changes in weather or atmospheric conditions. They simply accept what is and adapt as best they can. When the sun shines warm on old bones, they accept it.
After turning in a circle three times around the patch of green, Blackie sunk down into a sphinx pose and indulged himself in a satisfied sigh.
It’s impossible to know what dogs do or do not remember. Perhaps he had crystal clear memories of his adoption by The Order of the Black Swan and recalled every detail of every adversity and adventure. Perhaps there was a vague recollection of his history. Who can say?
He sat on the hill overseeing his farm. Perhaps old dogs do what old people do. They divide their reveries between recollection and remorse. Because even the best of us, human or dog, could have done things better. If there was an exception to that, it would be Blackie. Because he had never failed to give his whole heart and effort to any given task in any given moment. Surely dogs as smart as Blackie are like humans, recalling this corner of a moment or that fragment of a song at odd and inexplicable times.
To Helm, Blackie was as constant as was the idea of his father, Sir Rammel Aelshelm Hawking, Black Swan Knight Emeritus and Prince of Ireland, and his mother, Lady Elora Laiken, Black Swan Knight Emeritus, former Princess of Britannia, Stagsnare Dimension.
Perhaps his earliest memory was a black muzzle shoved between the bars of his baby bed resting on the sheet-covered mattress, intelligent brown eyes full of light and staring at him intently like he was the most precious thing in the universe. At fourteen he’d never confronted the prospect of surviving Blackie. He’d never considered it and simply couldn’t imagine the world without the big black dog.
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OVER ONE MILLION BOOKS SOLD
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author.
Knights of Black Swan - BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES (2013, 2014, 2015, 2016)
A Summoner's Tale - BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE NOVEL (2013)
Moonlight - BEST VAMPIRE/SHIFTER NOVEL (2013)
Solomon's Sieve - BEST VAMPIRE NOVEL (2014)
Falcon - BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE NOVEL (2016)
Simon Says - BEST SCIFI/FANTASY ROMANCE NOVEL (2017)
D.I.T. - BEST SCIFI/FANTASY ROMANCE SERIES (2017)
In addition to the brave and beautiful vampire hunting knights, Victoria writes other paranormal romances that often touch on scifi/fantasy along with contemporary bikers for those who love it when the bad boys are soooooo good.
Find Victoria and her books
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Thursday, December 6, 2018
Deck the Halls w/ Books Holiday Extravaganza: Gifted by Sharon Ashwood (@RowanAshArt, @RoxanneRhoads )
Gifted: The Dark Forgotten The Dark Forgotten #4
Amazon
Who says the holiday season is just for humans?
For all the holly-jolly times, family gatherings are complex no matter who—or what—you are. When you’re hunting for the latest “it” toy to stuff a stocking, it doesn’t matter if you’re alive or Undead, fanged or furry—you’re just as desperate to be the cool dad. And then there are the family grumps who never send cards, the ones who eat all the good candy, and those who drool and dig up the neighbor’s yard.
No, the Yuletide Season isn’t for the faint of heart—and sometimes it’s downright demonic—but holiday miracles make it all worthwhile. Chance encounters and unexpected forgiveness remind us that joy doesn’t come in a gift-wrapped box.
This novella from the Dark Forgotten world catches up with favorite characters for a fresh take on the holidays. Those visiting the world for the first time will understand why Chicago Tribune called it “simply superb.”
Grab this book and return to the world of the Dark Forgotten. Santa Claws is waiting!
“Don’t you want to go see Santa Claws?” Errata Jones asked in her husky, teasing voice.
“Meh,” Perry Baker replied, still grumpy at the prospect of crowds and gift-giving decisions. Plus, it was cold, gray, and rainy—a typical December day in the Pacific Northwest.
“Where’s your boundless holiday spirit?” She turned into the parking lot outside the Fairview Sports and Recreation Center. It was the final day of the Yuletide Holiday Market, an arts and crafts event by and for the local supernatural community. “Counting today, there’s only three shopping days till Christmas.”
“I really hope you’re not going to make me sit on Santa’s knee.”
“I don’t think so, darling. That would be weird, even for us.”
Errata swung her Jaguar coupe into the last parking space, beating out a massive pickup by a whisker. The truck made a sound like a startled dinosaur as it lurched to a stop on the frosty pavement. Turning off the Jaguar’s ignition, Errata smoothed her chin-length, jet-black hair, then glanced in the rear-view mirror, looking pleased with herself. Perry twisted in his seat to see the pickup driver turn a Christmassy scarlet and lurch off.
Perry willed his heart to resume its normal rhythm. Errata was a werecougar, and there were reasons cats shouldn’t drive. Werewolves like him were another matter. Wolves appreciated order, including stop signs. Cats did things because they could—like pester him into going to this stupid craft fair.
That’s what he got for befriending a feline. He cast her a sidelong look, taking in her high cheekbones and smooth, golden skin. It was all he could do not to reach over and stroke her hair, but that would be crossing a boundary. She’d made it clear from the start that cats walked alone.
Errata finished preening and gave him an arch look. “Shouldn’t you be shopping for your human, what’s-her-name?”
Perry released his seatbelt. “Her name is Tiffani. With an i.”
“Tiffani. Of course it is.” Errata patted his cheek with a pitying look. “Come on. First fifty guests get a goodie bag.”
“She’s fun,” Perry said, sounding defensive even to himself.
“Humans generally are,” she said agreeably. “You should buy her something really nice.”
“Men don’t shop before December 23rd,” he protested as he got out of the car.
“Friends don’t let friends give their sweethearts, even ones named Tiffani with an i, gift cards.”
“But gift cards make sense.”
Errata flung the end of her scarf over her shoulder with a flick of one gloved hand. “Be grateful you have me to watch over you.” She clicked the locks and swept toward the entrance of the building, leaving Perry to catch up.
“Cats,” he grumbled. “What do you want for Yule?”
“Not a gift card.”
“Meh,” Perry Baker replied, still grumpy at the prospect of crowds and gift-giving decisions. Plus, it was cold, gray, and rainy—a typical December day in the Pacific Northwest.
“Where’s your boundless holiday spirit?” She turned into the parking lot outside the Fairview Sports and Recreation Center. It was the final day of the Yuletide Holiday Market, an arts and crafts event by and for the local supernatural community. “Counting today, there’s only three shopping days till Christmas.”
“I really hope you’re not going to make me sit on Santa’s knee.”
“I don’t think so, darling. That would be weird, even for us.”
Errata swung her Jaguar coupe into the last parking space, beating out a massive pickup by a whisker. The truck made a sound like a startled dinosaur as it lurched to a stop on the frosty pavement. Turning off the Jaguar’s ignition, Errata smoothed her chin-length, jet-black hair, then glanced in the rear-view mirror, looking pleased with herself. Perry twisted in his seat to see the pickup driver turn a Christmassy scarlet and lurch off.
Perry willed his heart to resume its normal rhythm. Errata was a werecougar, and there were reasons cats shouldn’t drive. Werewolves like him were another matter. Wolves appreciated order, including stop signs. Cats did things because they could—like pester him into going to this stupid craft fair.
That’s what he got for befriending a feline. He cast her a sidelong look, taking in her high cheekbones and smooth, golden skin. It was all he could do not to reach over and stroke her hair, but that would be crossing a boundary. She’d made it clear from the start that cats walked alone.
Errata finished preening and gave him an arch look. “Shouldn’t you be shopping for your human, what’s-her-name?”
Perry released his seatbelt. “Her name is Tiffani. With an i.”
“Tiffani. Of course it is.” Errata patted his cheek with a pitying look. “Come on. First fifty guests get a goodie bag.”
“She’s fun,” Perry said, sounding defensive even to himself.
“Humans generally are,” she said agreeably. “You should buy her something really nice.”
“Men don’t shop before December 23rd,” he protested as he got out of the car.
“Friends don’t let friends give their sweethearts, even ones named Tiffani with an i, gift cards.”
“But gift cards make sense.”
Errata flung the end of her scarf over her shoulder with a flick of one gloved hand. “Be grateful you have me to watch over you.” She clicked the locks and swept toward the entrance of the building, leaving Perry to catch up.
“Cats,” he grumbled. “What do you want for Yule?”
“Not a gift card.”
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Sharon is a winner of the RITA® Award for Paranormal Romance. She lives in the Pacific Northwest and is owned by the Demon Lord of Kitty Badness.
Find Sharon and her books
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Wednesday, December 5, 2018
Guest Blog: Conversion by Maria Hammarblad (@mariahammarblad, @RoxanneRhoads)
I want to start with a big Thank You for welcoming me to the blog. It's a pleasure to be here!
Most of my books are science fiction romances, and from time to time, people ask why my aliens and people on other worlds seem so human. In "Conversion" they seem human because they are - they left Earth a long time ago and colonized other worlds. But even in my other books, most aliens resemble humans.
I find it interesting to imagine what life on other worlds might look like. If there is life out there, it probably doesn't resemble us at all. I mean, life takes on so many shapes on our planet alone, and it would develop along quite different lines on another world. It's easy to assume life would take on our physical build with arms, legs, a head, a mouth, and eyes, because it's what we're used to. In reality, it could be anything.
Luckily, I'm not a scientist. As a writer, I can take creative license and make things up. I'd like to think love can be indifferent to species, but romantic love and physical attraction is rooted in basic needs. That doesn't sound sexy at all, but I still think romantic love requires a certain biological compatibility to make it feasible. If the hero resembled a gigantic stapler with tentacles, the heroine would be more likely to fall for the human comic sidekick.
Thus, my aliens are conveniently shaped like us, attractive, and share our basic DNA. Life as a writer is wonderful - if I can imagine it, it can happen.
😊 Maria
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Besides novels, she also writes award-winning screenplays, enjoys photography, and works with animal rescue organizations.
Find Maria and her books
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ConversionKindle Paperback
Rhodesia runs through the forest, hunted by creatures wearing the faces of people she loves. They plead to her to wait in the voices of her family, and the sound sends chills down her back. What is worse? Succumbing, and becoming a mindless drone with the others, or perishing in the forest, alone?Excerpt:
Roy Planter is a man with a mission, and he has no intention of staying on a plague-ridden planet where more humans turn into mindless drones every day. Being stuck in a city, grouped with a sword-wielding stick insect of a man and a busty blonde with a too vivid sense of humor are only temporary setbacks. He's leaving, first chance he gets. At least that's what he thinks until Rhodesia arrives.
Caring for someone won't make his life easier, but can he really turn his back and leave her behind?
How could such a small building have so many stairs?
A soft shuffling noise caught Rhodesia’s attention. It was too stealthy to be anyone she knew.
Had the Nats made it in here? They could have been waiting.
Alone and unarmed. Great.
She jogged down the corridor as quietly as she could. Maybe they wouldn’t see her if she got around the corner.
Planter stepped out of the shadows, surprising her. She almost yelped and gave them away.
He slammed an arm around her waist and pulled her into a small closet. She had to press herself against him to fit in the nook, but at the moment physical closeness came second to brewing panic.
Were they close?
How would it feel to be assimilated?
Would anything of her own self remain?
Her imagination painted out a process of melting, her mind losing cohesion, memories and identity vanishing, and becoming a part of a new whole; the whole of the machine.
“Shh.”
He pulled her closer, clearly trying to get her attention, and she realized she was breathing with noisy puffs of air. Planter hushed her again and she buried her face against his chest to quiet her panting.
He might not like having her close, but he’d just have to live with it.
A soft shuffling noise caught Rhodesia’s attention. It was too stealthy to be anyone she knew.
Had the Nats made it in here? They could have been waiting.
Alone and unarmed. Great.
She jogged down the corridor as quietly as she could. Maybe they wouldn’t see her if she got around the corner.
Planter stepped out of the shadows, surprising her. She almost yelped and gave them away.
He slammed an arm around her waist and pulled her into a small closet. She had to press herself against him to fit in the nook, but at the moment physical closeness came second to brewing panic.
Were they close?
How would it feel to be assimilated?
Would anything of her own self remain?
Her imagination painted out a process of melting, her mind losing cohesion, memories and identity vanishing, and becoming a part of a new whole; the whole of the machine.
“Shh.”
He pulled her closer, clearly trying to get her attention, and she realized she was breathing with noisy puffs of air. Planter hushed her again and she buried her face against his chest to quiet her panting.
He might not like having her close, but he’d just have to live with it.
Tuesday, December 4, 2018
New Releases: 12/2-12/8
Tue. Dec. 4th
All the Wandering Light (Even the Darkest Stars #2) by Heather Fawcett
The Darkest Captive (Lords of the Underworld #14.5) by Gena Showalter
Fire and Heist by Sarah Beth Durst
Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2) by Nora Roberts
Once a King (Clash of Kingdoms #3) by Erin Summerill
Queen of Air and Darkness (The Dark Artifices #3) by Cassandra Clare
The Shattered Sun (Bound Gods #3) by Rachel Dunne
Soulbinder (Spellslinger #4) by Sebastien de Castell
Splendor and Spark (Shimmer and Burn #2) by Mary Taranta
Valiant by Merrie Destefano
Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2) by Nora Roberts
Once a King (Clash of Kingdoms #3) by Erin Summerill
Queen of Air and Darkness (The Dark Artifices #3) by Cassandra Clare
The Shattered Sun (Bound Gods #3) by Rachel Dunne
Soulbinder (Spellslinger #4) by Sebastien de Castell
Splendor and Spark (Shimmer and Burn #2) by Mary Taranta
Valiant by Merrie Destefano
Happy Reading!!
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