* COMING SOON*Anna Brookes, AKA 15, held the title of the girl with the golden aim. Through dedication and training she quickly rose to be the best assassin in the world. But no amount of preparation could guard her heart against falling in love. Anna’s armor was severely crumpled when she met Ben Pearson, the one man that managed to get under her skin and stay there. When Katsu Vang, a powerful player in the Yakuza, became a threat to Ben, Anna did the one thing she knew best–she went into assassin mode and fought the problem at the source. Katsu Vang proved to be an admirable adversary that even Anna couldn’t take down on her own. Because of her undercover intel work, Anna became a target for Katsu. She was sold into the sex trade and continuously injected with heroin until her body was hopelessly addicted. Ben Pearson was hiding behind his own mask, which finally dropped as his true identity was revealed to Anna in HiT for Freedom. Ophelia is Ben’s right hand at the job he held as a front. Ophelia has her own vendetta and wants her mother’s killer brought to justice. Katsu has vanished but his power still poses an imminent threat to all concerned. Anna Brookes is the common link between all the players… The one woman that can put all the pieces together… And the one woman that can tear everything down.
Series must be read in order:
HiT for Freedom
HiT to Live
Anna Brookes In Training (companion novella)
Buy them from Amazon NOW!
I don't do 'normal'. I've found that the more I write, the more I like being different to other authors. I write in first person, and I love to challenge a reader. I take the normal and switch it around. For me, I really enjoy getting a reaction from a reader. So if I can evoke an emotion (regardless of if it's the emotion the reader wants) then I figure that I've done my job as an author I want to be. I really quite revel in taking people out of their comfort zones and pushing them to read something different. My genre of writing is, well quite frankly, where ever my mind goes. I won't label myself because I don't like sticking to one genre. My goal with writing is just to take people away from whatever is going on in their lives, even if it's only for a split second. I'm a go with the flow sort of person and don't really take a course of action to get where I am going. I live in the moment and don't usually worry about tomorrow because whatever life is due to bring me, I'll be happy to accept. I love my family and friends and will help anyway I can if someone needs it. I really don't like people that are nasty just because they can be, I don't believe that's necessary, I mean life's hard enough as it is! I hope you enjoy my books, I've had a hoot writing them. There's more to come..... Til next time. M xx
To Hell and Back
A Leigha Taylor NOVEL
July 21, 2014
COVER DESIGN BY:
Toski Covey Photography - Custom Design
Brielle Douglas is the girl who always keeps her head down; she stays quiet, does her school work, and never socializes. Sometimes, though, it's the quiet ones who have the most they wish they could say.
Brielle's life has been a living hell since she lost her mother to cancer five years ago. Her abusive, alcoholic father keeps her under tight rule, and her only goal is to graduate, move on, and never look back.
When Brielle meets gorgeous ex-TV star Carson Malone, she sees it as a one-time meeting, a chance encounter, a memory to cherish. But, when her home life goes from bad to horrific, Carson steps in to help pick up the pieces.
Learning how to trust and to be free isn't easy, but, with Carson by her side, Brie has a chance. If only the Devil from her past stays in Hell where he belongs.
About the AuthorLeigha Taylor is a stay-at-home-mom. She has three beautiful little girls who, along with her husband of eleven years, are the loves of her life.
From the time she was two and a half, Leigha has loved books. An early reader, she devoured every book she could get her hands on, never daring to dream that one day she would publish her own!
Leigha also has a great love for music of all kinds. She has a passion for singing and almost never stops; she can often be heard belting out show tunes, Disney songs and anything else she just can't get out of her head!
You can find more of everything Leigha Taylor on her facebook page:
and her website:
M.R. Joseph is a best selling author who chose to use Silver Lining Events for her Cover Reveal Party and for her Release Day Party scheduled for June 27th beginning at 9 p.m. EST. The event on Facebook is sure to be fun and very exciting. So, as part of the package for Joseph, I'm featuring her on my blog. In her own words, I'm going to let her tell you about herself and her books!
“If opposites attract, then I am nothing. Because you, you are everything.”
There’s no easy road traveled to such an intense sentiment, one I never dreamt I’d feel….
But I also never planned on Cannon Blackwell climbing aboard my tour bus.
S.E.Hall resides in Arkansas with her husband of 18 years and 4 beautiful daughters. When not in the stands watching her ladies play softball, she enjoys reading and writing. She's also being clutch at Baggo, when it's warm outside!
“I can’t let a stranger on the bus with Bubs. What if he’s a mass murderer?” What if he’s not as pretty on the inside as he is on the outside?
“Ah, Mama Bear, run him through all the tests. You’re careful. And he might say we’re crazy and tell us to fuck off. Let’s ask before we worry about it.”
Biding my time, I chew on the inside of my cheek and look back, confirming Conner’s still tossing the Frisbee happily, Rhett watching him. “You asking or am I?” I sigh, hopefully masking the foreign tingle of anticipation working its way up my battered spine.
“He’s hetero, I can tell from here. I say we send in,” he flicks a finger back and forth between my boobs, “the big guns.”
“Don’t lick your lips!” I shove him, mouth agape. “You’re like my brother. That’s illegal in at least forty states, and gross.”
“You didn’t think it was gross when—”
“Enough.” I slap my hand over his mouth hastily. “I’ll go, but you stay right here and watch, closely. He makes a move for a weapon, dial 911 as you run to rescue me.”
“On it.” He grins at me, full of victory, a hint of his earlier teasing still lingering in his expression.
Girding my loins, I think, do women have loins and can they be girded or is that only a guy thing? Summoning my courage, I move with slow, hesitant steps in the miraculous unknown’s direction, reminding myself with each one that it’s for the boys, the band, the overall goal of staying the hell out of Sutton. And it is, but I’m kidding myself if I don’t admit I wouldn’t be this anxious if I was walking up to an ugly man. Or even a kinda good-looking man. Shallow much, Liz? Nah, I have no control over biological response.
Almost there now, his head lifts and turns at my approach, connecting eyes as sable brown as thick molasses to my own. He was tummy-turning enough far away. Up close, he’s better than photoshopped, a clear-cut case for Guinness Genetics. His lips are full, much plumper than my own, and he has a strong nose and jawline, both very masculine, the latter covered in a dark scruff. His hair is the same rich chestnut as his eyes, not too short, but definitely not too long. “Just fucked” hair (isn’t that what they call it?) be damned. He’s got “just fucked her and she had to hold on” locks, unruly in the most intricate fashion. The black boots at the end of long, thick legs are scuffed, faded jeans worn, well, and the long sleeved black thermal he’s wearing? Oh, he wears it, or rather, every muscle in his torso holds it up flawlessly.
Bottom line—he’s easy to look at.
“Are you a deranged serial killer and/or rapist?”
I like to open subtly.
“No, are you?” His timbre is deep and gravely, sending my vagina subliminal messages. Something along the lines of “yup, you want it.” With a voice like that, I’m praying he isn’t a chain smoker. To fuzz this perfect picture with the stench of an ever-present cloud of smoke would be one helluva slap in the face of the Almighty creator.
“No,” I answer too defensively, this instant, highly unusual attraction frying my staple “too cool to care” attitude that, up until right now, I’d like to think I pull off fabulously. “You any good?” I lean and point to the instrument on his back, brows bowed in questioning antagonism.
“Define good,” he deadpans, head down as he pulls the guitar off his back and puts it back in its case.
“Not left-handed.” He shrugs as he straightens back up and captures my gaze.
He laughs, treating me to one seriously enlightening sound, accompanied by the sexiest blindingly white smile. “Then no, not even close to good.”
Damn, I should’ve gone with a mediocre guitarist! Now I’ve backed myself into a corner, Stranger Danger not giving me anything in the form of segue. Struggling, I shove my hands in my back pockets and rock nervously back and forth on my heels, forced to come up with another revealing yet seemingly aloof question.
“Why do you ask?” he rescues me.
“Our band.” I toss my head back toward the bus. “We need a bassist. And since you’re hitchhiking, I thought maybe—”
He drops down from his perch on the top edge of the bench and stands, well over six feet of sinister sex appeal stretching out before my eager eyes. “Do you know what a hitchhiker is?”
“What?” I shake my head to clear it and take a step back. “Yes, of course.”
“You sure about that?” He eats up the steps I’d retreated, placing his body close enough to mine that I can literally feel the battle of push and pull between us. “‘Cause where I come from, hitchhikers stand at the road, where you can see them. It increases their chances of actually landing a ride.” His left eyebrow curves up at one end and that same eye, I swear it, twinkles at me. “Seeing as how I’m sitting at the back of a desolate rest stop, I’m either the worst hitchhiker in history,” another step closer, “or you’re labeling me with the wrong tag.”
I check my phone for the tenth time. It’s almost 2 am, surely they’re asleep and I can sneak to my own bed. Sleeping with Conner isn’t as fun as you might think, unless you think being caged with a wild animal sounds like a party.
As quietly as possible, I slink out of the bed and through his door, pulling it closed; halfway there. Sending up a silent prayer I don’t meet any open, awake eyes, I turn, relieved at the lack of spectators, and scurry to my bed. After sharing my song tonight, I need some time to pass before I look them in the eyes—those lyrics, the tremor in my voice as I sang—I’m not ready for questions or commentary.
Of course I didn’t pull off the covert bed switch undetected. This bus—40 x 8 feet—might as well be a shoebox. I draw back the curtain, squinting my eyes against the dimness.
“Hey,” Cannon greets me with a whisper and grin from his bed, curtain also pulled open.
Giving him back the smile I can’t contain, I finger wave. Has he been waiting up for me? Was I secretly hoping he’d still be awake? Do I want to know either answer or what it says about me? What planet am I living on that this is now an issue?
“Here.” He scoots to the edge of his bunk and hands across…an earbud? Eyeing him curiously, I turn on my side, facing his way, and put it in my ear. “Shhh.” He puts a finger over his lips then winks and slips the other bud in his own ear, only breaking eye contact for a split second to tap the phone screen, then reconnecting in the muted light.
“Hello, Lizzie,” his voice sounds in my ear and as my eyes pop in surprise. He once again does the “shhh” thing, nodding to me to just listen. “I thought about playing you ‘You Are So Beautiful,’ but surely you already know that. This, you may not.”
There’s a brief pause, then music starts… It’s “Have a Little Faith in Me.”
I know I whimper aloud, but I force my eyes to stay on his no matter how badly I want to hide them and the building tears. Through the entire song, I stare and he stares back, mouthing the words every once in a while. With the closing notes, his voice returns.
“Not too corny, I hope. Just…think about it. Sweet dreams, Lizzie.”
Apparently picking up on the fact I’ve been rendered incapable of functioning, he reaches over and gently removes the earbud, taps the end of my nose with his fingertip, then closes my curtain for me.
I’ll have the corny with a side of corny please.
Dr. Turner Brooks may be the professional brother, but he's also the adrenaline junkie. When he meets Annabelle, a girl scared to death of veering from the path she’s paved for herself, all he wants to do is push her out of that comfort zone.
Annabelle has already lost too much. She wants to stay focused on her new nursing job and away from unnecessary risks. Turner Brooks is exactly that – an unnecessary risk. She’s heard the rumors about him flying around the hospital, describing him as a “womanizer” or “sex god.” Yeah, she doesn’t need that.
Still, Turner tries to teach her that life is full of risks worth taking. As they grow closer and she begins to let go, the unexpected happens.
Will they be able to recover from that surprising fastball or could this be the final strike out?
Stacy Borel currently resides in southeast Texas with her husband and two kids. She grew up as a military brat and has lived everywhere from California, Alaska, Azores Portugal, and Hawaii. She loves traveling and seeing new places, so being a military spouse is perfect for her. Stacy enjoys the adventure of moving every 2-4yrs. It's refreshing to experience a new place.
Stacy is a self proclaimed reading addict and Facebook addict. If she's not doing one of those two things, she can be found writing, or playing with her kids. Some of her hobbies are listening to new music, going fishing, being active outdoors, and she always loves spending time with her out of state family.
Stacy discovered Indie Authors in early 2012 after reading Fifty Shades of Grey, and there began her passionate love affair with books. She always wrote stories and journals growing up, but she decided in December 2012 to really dip her toes in the water with a romance novel. She now has three full length novels under her belt, and a whole new series for the 2014 year.