Running From Dust
by Jess Whitby
Genre: Psychological Paranormal Thriller
"I could not put this book down." 5 Stars - Goodreads Reviewer
"An attention grabbing psychological thriller." 5 Stars - Goodreads Reviewer
Jude Craig is a level-headed teacher in a Yorkshire secondary school. Within a matter of days her professional and personal life is shattered by a series of strange events in her house. What starts with the sound of papers fluttering to the floor quickly escalates to her discovering that someone has been in the house whilst she is sleeping.
When Jude is driven out of her job and home she is forced to discover whether she is being haunted, stalked by a pupil, or the terrifying possibility that she is losing her mind.
Jess Whitby lives in Yorkshire, England. She studied Communication Studies at University and then went on to train and work as a Youth Worker. She now works as a Therapist in Yorkshire. When she isn't working she is busy either writing her next novel or eating her favourite food : chips and gravy!
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My Journey to Publication
My journey to publication evolved over time, but it wasn’t until almost ten years ago that I became serious. I already had the equivalent of about 200,000 words on my computer, and after achieving a degree in Creative Writing from New York University, I was able to convert all those words into something worth reading.
The professors at NYU gave me the tools I needed to make my dream come true, and believe me, I had a lot to learn. Punctuation, Pesky run-on sentences and the Power of show don’t tell. I still have problems with commas as my editor with gladly tell you, but overall, my writing improved greatly. (I know, I really didn’t need that adverb.)
Armed with all the tools I needed, I converted those words into three books, which became my Paradise Series. I read that entering contests was an excellent way to get noticed, so I entered at least three a month and was pleasantly surprised when I became a finalist in many of them.
I would highly recommend entering contests as most have agents and editors as judges and even if they don’t request your work, you will get critiques. Some of my most valuable critiques have come from contest judges. Entering contests is what brought me to Soul Mate Publishing. Cheryl Yeko was a judge, liked my work, and offered me a contract for my Paradise Series with the first, Beyond Paradise, published December 12, 2018.
I have always considered reading a luxury and writing a necessity.
Tides of Time
Beauregard and the Beast
The Body Painter
Slamming my book closed, I heave out another huge, exasperated sigh. Ever since our first meeting four years ago, we have this unknowingly-provocative-on-Wolfe’s-part-game we play exchanging cornball pick-up lines. After Wolfe playfully teased me with one the first time I met him, I decided I wasn’t going to stand there like some star-struck little fangirl when he taunted me. So, I honed my cheese whiz pick-up line skills and gave them right back to him.
“Hey, D! Guess what I’m wearing?” I quip, standing up on the blanket as he walks toward me. His wry grin morphs to a wide-eyed, shocked expression before it’s quickly replaced by his usual indifferent smug look.
“W…what are you wearing?”
“The smile you gave me.” I hold my arms out in a ta-da position as I deliver the corny line.
“Holy shit, Pip. When did you grow tits?” He smirks while shoving his board into an upright position in the sand
“Right about the time you were away at school learning to be an even bigger ass.” I tilt my head and smirk right back at him.
“Real nice. You kiss your mother with that mouth?” He pulls the elastic from around his man bun and flops down on his back on the blanket next to me, stretching his arms over his head. His chest muscles ripple causing my heart muscle to undulate like a series of corduroy ocean swells. I clench my gaping mouth closed and swallow the gasp I refuse to let him hear.
Ugh. The present man candy dominating my panorama is too much. As I lay on my side on the blanket facing Wolfe, my hip pressing into the soft sand, my thoughts drift to him. My body temperature soars, not from the blazing sun or the warm baked sand, and not even from the steamy sex scene I was reading. It’s the red-hot images smoldering through my mind—all the things I’d like to be doing with him, which have me panting.
A Road More Traveled
Diana woke screaming, covered in blood, and found him laying dead by her side.
Her pink nightie was soaked through, sticky, and the room reeked of rust. Frozen in terror she stared at two wounds in the back of his head, each pouring blood. Her head pounded, and her vision was blurry. Was this even real? The warm, sap-substance all over her told her it was. The night before was a giant blank zone in her head, except for the gun. Had she fired it? She vaguely remembered the boom, how it shook in her hand, and acrid smell of gunpowder. A hangover from hell gripped her like a wicked vice, pressing the back of her neck and squeezing painfully.
She tried to get up, tried to run, but her legs dumped her by the side of the bed instead. The blood curdling scream she expelled scared even her. Did that come from her?
Scrambling in the dark for her cell phone on the nightstand, she finally grasped it and pulled it to the floor with her. Dialing 911, she barely waited for an answer before she screamed into the phone, “I’ve killed him! I’ve killed him!”
“Wake up, Diana!”
“No, no, no,” Diana murmured to the phantom telling her wake up, as she thrashed to and fro in the bed. He grasped her waist, pulling her toward him, and hissed in her ear again. “Wake up, please, baby, wake up!”
Diana’s eyes flew open and she lay stiff in his arms.
“George!” She screamed.
Her hands were curled by her sides and her legs straight out, and she couldn’t move. Her chest heaved, and she felt strangled all over again, just like every time he’d wrapped his hands right around her neck. As The remnants of that night slowly subsided, she sunk back into the mattress, this soft, deep one, and realized she wasn’t home.
Nor was it George beside her.
“Diana,” Justin’s voice pled with her again, “Di, please talk to me. You had a nightmare.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she liked her lips and tried to control her breathing, counting to eight, holding for four, then exhaling for eight more, just like her therapist had taught her. Justin ran his hands down her arms, her waist, her thighs, and it calmed her.
For the first time, her breathing slowed, and she came back to reality much faster.
She finally turned on her side and looked at him, searching his face. “Justin,” she whispered.
Title: Cowboy Up Author: Michelle Beattie
Genre: Contemporary Western Romance
Release Date: August 20, 2019
Cover Designer: The Killion Group
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.
International Bestselling Author Michelle Beattie first found her love of romance in romantic comedies such as Romancing the Stone and Valley Girl (yes, she realizes that dates her). It wasn't until after high school when she worked for a car rental company and had too much time on her hands that she started reading romances. Historicals were her go-to and she raided many bookstores looking for historical western romances. Eventually she started thinking "what if" and "I'd have done that differently" and quietly started writing her own. More than a dozen books later, Michelle has published in both digital and print platforms and her works have been translated in more than 4 languages. Michelle is a mother of two very strong, independent daughters. She is a certified member of the Master Bowler's of Alberta and loves coaching and passing on her love for 5 pin bowling. Besides bowling herself in a weekly league, she also likes to golf in the summer, play games, and read. Michelle lives in a solar-powered house in Central Alberta with her husband of almost 25 years, youngest daughter, and the cutest dog ever.
Exploring her mouth lazily, he used ample time to sweep his tongue over her inner cheeks, tasting her.
His faint peppermint flavor mingled with an essence belonging to him alone, fresh and inviting. Musk enhanced his subtly spicy fragrance, each scent potently masculine.
She slumped against him even though she shouldn’t cave this soon or ever. This fantasy was on her terms, not his. She was no man’s plaything or afterthought and had better remember as much.
With as much will as she could muster, she pushed his tongue from her mouth and turned her face away.
His rough breaths skimmed her temple. He cupped her breast.
Her blood thickened. Rarely had anything thrilled her as much as his confident and assured caress…perfected during his countless other conquests.
That brought her back to reality fast. She twisted to break his hold on her.
“Hmm.” The sound vibrated in his chest. “Still being defiant, are we?”
She gave him a look. “What do you think?”
He stroked her chin. Even her teeth tingled. Lightly, he brushed his lips over hers. “Not enjoying yourself?”
For too long, she’d wished for this moment.