Thursday, July 31, 2014

New Series Out Now! The Three Mrs. Monroes~Bernadette Marie

Genre: Contemporary Romance
Amelia Book one of The Three Mrs. Monroes
Release Date: July 31, 2014
Digital ISBN-10: 1631120387 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-038-1
Print ISBN-10: 1631120395 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-039-8
Purchase link :

From loss breeds new opportunity.
Amelia Monroe had felt the sharp pain from the loss of a soldier before—Adam Monroe’s death didn’t have that same effect.
Sam Jackson had one job—deliver Adam Monroe’s revised will. Even he couldn’t have anticipated that he’d be entangled in the web of lies his client had woven.
Doing what is right had been inbred in Amelia. She’d planned to say her goodbyes and start fresh. Staying in Adam’s small town with his other lies, that wasn’t part of her plan.

About the Author:
Bestselling Author Bernadette Marie is known for building families readers want to be part of. Her series The Keller Family has graced bestseller charts since its release in 2011, along with her other series and single title books. The married mother of five sons promises Happily Ever After always…and says she can write it, because she lives it.
When not writing, Bernadette Marie is shuffling her sons to their many events—mostly hockey—and enjoying the beautiful views of the Colorado Rocky Mountains from her front step. She is also an accomplished martial artist with a second degree black belt in Tang Soo Do.
A chronic entrepreneur, Bernadette Marie opened her own publishing house in 2011, 5 Prince Publishing, so that she could publish the books she liked to write and help make the dreams of other aspiring authors come true too.
How to reach Bernadette Marie
@writesromance on Twitter

Excerpt of Amelia:
Chapter One
God she was miserable
Amelia Monroe rolled up the window on her Ford Blazer as she turned down the dirt road which led to the small church. She’d only been to Parson’s Gulch, Oklahoma once, and she certainly hadn’t been privy to its back roads.
No, her husband Adam didn’t want anything to do with the small town—and now she knew why.
She pulled into the lot of the small church and her heart began to race and a pain in her chest forced her to suck in a deep breath. She’d filed for divorce three months ago. Adam Monroe had lied to her for two years. There had been so much more to him and she’d failed to see it.
Now she sat in her truck, the heat suffocating her, as she watched his other wife and their two children climb from the black limousine and walk into the church.
The bastard had been married, with a family, long before he and Amelia had met. That was the end of her marriage. In that moment, she’d even contemplated killing him, but that wasn’t how she did things—she was just angry.
Amelia Monroe had been raised to think calmly and use her words to fight, not her hands—though she could. She was plenty capable of killing the man. She was a trained martial artist. There were hundreds of ways she could have taken him down.
There had been no need to do that though. A land mine in Iraq had ended his life.
She sucked back tears as she thought about it. Damn it, he might have been a bastard, but she’d loved him. His death wasn’t what she’d wanted—not really anyway.
She’d just wanted him to suffer for his lies and his deceptions. She didn’t want him to be taken from his children—now that she knew he had them.
But here she was at the funeral of her husband and she’d opted to not be singled out. There would be no front pew in the church. She didn’t want a flag or a limo. It would be better off if no one knew she was here.
She’d made the trek for peace of mind and, well, he was her husband. The fact that the attorney wanted to meet with her and Adam’s other wife after the funeral also had pushed her to attend. After all, there was a lot to sort out.
Well, Amelia wasn’t one to run. She’d hold her chin high and she’d face the woman Adam had lied to first. The children were only four and two. She wouldn’t do anything to upset them. There wasn’t a need for it. Besides, she knew one thing that the other woman didn’t. The day was only going to get worse.
In the front pew of the church sat Adam’s first wife, her children and what Amelia would assume were her parents. On the other side were his parents.
She’d never met them, but she recognized them from pictures. In fact, only until five months ago she was under the impression they were both dead.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she sat down in the back pew of the church.
A man in a gray tailored suit stood at the end of the pew. “Are you Amelia?”
She held her breath. This wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want anyone to know who she was. With a slow nod she acknowledged that she was indeed Amelia.
“Sam Jackson, Adam’s attorney.”
The man extended his hand and she shook it. The tension in her shoulders began to slide away. At least this man carried as many secrets with him as she did.
“Do you mind if I sit with you? I don’t know anyone else.”
Amelia moved over and Sam sat down next to her. “You don’t know Vivian?” she whispered and nodded toward Adam’s other wife.
“No. My business with Adam was mostly done in Oklahoma City. I never met his wife. Wives.” He gritted his teeth. “Sorry.”
Amelia clasped her hands in her lap. “Not as sorry as I am.”
The small church had filled. The mourners were obviously from the community and had probably known Adam since he was a child. Many had gone to the front and hugged his mother and Vivian. The children, one on each side, stayed close to her.
As the pastor spoke to the congregation, Amelia’s eyes were glued to the casket draped with an American flag. She hadn’t seen Adam in months. The last time they’d spoken, they’d fought. She’d told him she’d wanted a divorce and he argued with her over it. He said it had all been a big mistake, but she knew that was a lie.
Oh, she’d hoped he’d pay for what he did. This, however, wasn’t what she’d had in mind.
She lowered her head and wiped her hand across her forehead.
Sam bent his head down. “Are you alright?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. It’s just a bit warm in here.”
The funeral was almost over when another woman walked through the door. She looked frazzled as if she’d taken that first dirt road and not the second, which Amelia had been warned about.
She’d been crying—a lot. Sam nodded to Amelia to scoot down and then signaled to the woman to sit next to him. She finally did so.
Amelia looked over at the woman who now was sobbing uncontrollably. She’d like to have cried over him like that too. Wasn’t the widow of a man supposed to be in the front row of the church? Wasn’t the widow of a U.S. solider supposed to know that she’d married an honorable man? Wasn’t…
She let out a long breath as the pastor walked toward Adam’s other wife and gave her a hug.
There was no reason to cause a scene. Sam was Adam’s attorney. He was the only reason Amelia had made the trip. Obviously, Adam thought enough to have left her something and that’s why she was here.
She wasn’t one to point fingers and make others mad, that was why she’d asked for a divorce. She wasn’t the kind of woman to show up on Vivian Monroe’s doorstep and tell her that her husband of ten years had been married to her for two years. What good would that have done for his children?
Amelia watched as Vivian’s daughter clung to her and her other daughter was held by her grandfather. Anger was quickly creeping into the areas that mourning hadn’t filled. How could Adam have done this to his children?
The pall bearers stood as the pastor began to walk down the aisle. They carried the casket in a procession and his wife, children, and family followed.
As Vivian reached the back of the church she turned her head and gave Amelia a very knowing glance. One that said you don’t belong here.
Sam touched her arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I wish you wouldn’t have asked me to be here.”
“I appreciate it,” he said as the woman next to him began to sob even harder.
Sam turned to her. “Ma’am, are you going to be okay?”
The woman, with her blonde curls bouncing every time she tried to suck in a breath, shook her head. “Was that his wife? His other wife?”
Amelia felt a pain shoot through her chest. She leaned across, in front of Sam as the other mourners left the church, and looked the woman in her bloodshot eyes.
“Are you Penelope?” she asked through gritted teeth and the woman slowly nodded.
Amelia sat back against the pew as the church emptied out and crossed her arms over her chest.
The first Mrs. Monroe had escorted her husband out of the church.
The second Mrs. Monroe was hidden in the back, as if she hadn’t existed.
And the third Mrs. Monroe had walked in late.

Monday, July 28, 2014

Cover Reveal-Book 2 in The Three Mrs. Monroes Series-Penelope

Some men keep secrets…Adam Monroe kept three.

Genre Contemporary Romance:
Penelope Book two of The Three Mrs. Monroes
Release Date: July 31, 2014
Digital ISBN-10: 1631120409 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-040-4
Print ISBN-10: 1631120417 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-041-1

From loss breeds new life.
Penelope Monroe married on impulse and her heart had been broken by Adam Monroe’s lies. Pregnant she wonders how she will survive, alone, with her baby.
Brock Romero held Adam Monroe when he died in combat. Now released from the Army he makes it his priority to find Adam’s wife and share with her his last words.

On the verge of making the same mistake twice, Penelope must trust her heart—especially when new lies are uncovered.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

This just looks suspenseful. Can't wait to read it.

Available from 5 Prince Publishing
Genre: Fiction, Romance, Suspense
Release Date: July 24, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-060-2   ISBN 10: 1631120603
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-061-9      ISBN 10: 1631120611

Purchase link :

Lilac Lane
Ella and her son survived her ex-husband's drunken wrath. They are starting a new life in a new town, Stutter Creek. She's even met a real man. A gentle wild life biologist named Chet Boone. But now, her ex has been released from prison early. Is that him driving past their new house late at night? Is he the one causing the strange sounds and flickering lights? Can they survive a second round with a madman?

About the Author:
Ann lives in Texas with her handsome hubby and several rescue pets.  Return to Stutter Creek is the second book in this Romantic Suspense series, the first being the aptly named, Stutter Creek. Ann’s first book with 5 Prince Publishing was All For Love, a heartbreaking story of ill-fated romance. She is also the author of The Phantom Series.  Book One is Stevie-girl and the Phantom Pilot, Book Two is Stevie-girl and the Phantom Student, and Book Three is Stevie-girl and the Phantom of Crybaby Bridge.  Ann has also published short fiction in the anthologies Timeless (paranormal love stories) and Tales of Terror (horror) as well as a speculative short story, Chems. Her current work-in-progress is a full-length horror novel.  When she isn’t writing, Ann is reading. Her to-be-read list has grown so large it has taken on a life of its own. She calls it Herman.

Public contact information
Twitter: @ann_swann

Excerpt of Lilac Lane:
Chapter One

“I really like it, don’t you?” Ella asked.
Nick, her ten-year-old son, looked up at her. “It’s okay, I guess.” His expression said more than his words.
Ella hugged him to her side. “It will be all right,” she said. “Stutter Creek isn’t that far from Albuquerque. It’s just a little resort town. Skiing in the winter, camping and fishing in the summer. It backs right up to the National Park, you know. That’s why it’s such a tourist town.”
Nick didn’t say anything.
“Don’t worry,” she rattled on. “We’ll be going to visit Nana all the time, and I’m hoping she’ll come to visit us a lot, too. We’ll even fix up the spare bedroom just for her.”
She ruffled his dark hair and climbed the porch steps of their new rental. It was a quaint old house that had seen better days, but the realtor assured her that all the important stuff, like plumbing and wiring, had been recently updated. It was only the exterior that needed a little TLC. “Well, that we can do,” Ella had replied. “I’ve painted a few houses in my time. My dad was a carpenter. One of my greatest joys was helping him finish out the houses he built.” Maybe if we paint it we can get a break on the rent, she thought. But she didn’t say anything. They had more than enough to worry about at the moment.
“I don’t see why we had to move anyway,” Nick pouted, interrupting her reverie. He trudged up the steps behind his mom.
He’d been very brave the whole time they were packing and moving, but now that they were here, it had suddenly become real.
Ella felt her spirits slump. “I know, sweetie, I wish we could have stayed put, too. But this little diner—they call it The Drugstore—just beckoned me.” She glanced down and smoothed the hair she’d just tousled. She never came right out and told him they moved specifically to hide from his stepfather. She just tried to make it sound like one big adventure. “We could never have bought anything like this back home. The prices here are half what they are in the city. And there is only one other eating establishment in the whole town—if you don’t count the convenience store—and I don’t.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I hope you understand. I just didn’t want to keep waiting tables forever. I want more, for me and for you.”
Nick shrugged and plopped the box he was carrying on the sofa. Fortunately it held only books.
He’s just a child, she thought. Am I doing the right thing? She remembered the bright red handprint on his cheek the day she’d left him in Anson’s care. It was the day she’d been called into work unexpectedly. Up until then, her mom had always kept Nick. When Anson tried to tell her Nick had been disrespectful, thus giving him cause for a face-slap, she’d become so distraught he wound up shoving her across the kitchen. When she told him to leave, he’d simply laughed and shoved her again. This time, her face hit the doorframe. Then he went back to the bedroom and packed her suitcase. But Ella was no one’s victim. She called the police and had him arrested. She never slapped her child, she certainly wasn’t going to stand idly by and let someone else do it. When the officers arrived, Anson was convinced he could talk his way out of going to jail.
“The boy’s just worthless,” he’d told the senior officer. “He ain’t mine, you know. Takes after his mother. Or maybe his old man; who knows? That worthless piece never even claimed him. Now I see why. Too bad I didn’t know this before I took them in and gave them a home.” He was talking to the gray-haired cop as if they were sharing confidences over coffee. He seemed to think every man felt the way he did. Ella assumed it was the beer talking. Once he got started drinking, things usually got ugly. But this was the first time they’d gotten physical.
She remembered standing in the doorway with Nick safely ensconced behind her. “Does he need to see a doctor?” the younger officer asked.
Glancing back at Nick, the red handprint standing out on his face like day-glo under black light, Ella shook her head. “No, he’ll be okay as long as we get away from that madman.” Her eyes were crusty where she’d accidentally wiped blood from her cheek into her lashes.
“I’ll need you to come to the station and file an official report. But first, the hospital for an x-ray.” The officer nodded toward her swelling cheek. “I’m no doctor, but I think you’ve got a fracture there.”
Tears spilled from her eyes when he said that. They mixed with the smear of blood and left red trails down her face. “I feel so stupid,” she said. “How could I have let this happen?”
The officer was kind. “You didn’t let it happen, and you didn’t cause it. You’re going to follow through and get him put away.” He hesitated as if gauging his next words carefully. “And you won’t back out when it comes time to testify. You won’t go back to him and make all this night’s work be for nothing, right?”
Ella looked at him as if he were crazy. “Of course I won’t go back to him. I’m not that stupid.”
“You’d be surprised how often it happens,” the officer replied. “You would be surprised.”
The paramedics came, but Ella insisted she could drive herself to the hospital. She didn’t want to start off her single life with a huge ambulance bill hanging over her head.
As she took her keys from her purse, she saw the senior officer snap the cuffs on Anson.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he yelled in between curse words. “I’ll sue the whole department. I’ll have your fucking job! What’s your badge number? It ain’t no crime to swat a smart mouth kid. Especially not one as worthless as that punk.” When he said that, he turned and looked right at her and Nick.
They’d been trying to get out of the house without having to confront him.
“Worthless,” he bellowed, struggling against the cuffs. His face turned the exact shade of an overripe plum, eyes bugging out as if they would leap on Nick and Ella and finish the beating. “Both of ‘em. Not worth shit!” He lunged forward, catching the officer off balance.
“Hey!” The gray-haired cop leapt on Anson’s back and took him to the floor.
“I’ll kill ‘em,” Anson was screeching. “They’ll be sorry they did this to me!”
The younger officer shielded Ella and Nick and hurried them outside. “A woman from Children’s Services will meet you at the hospital to look after him and take your story.”
That terrified Ella. “Let me call my mother. She’ll meet us there, too. She’ll help us. I know she will. Please, don’t let anyone take my boy.”
The paramedic patted her hand. “Settle down,” he’d said. “No one’s going to take your boy.”
But Ella wasn’t listening.
She was pressing her mother’s picture icon on her cell phone.

Ella swept the painful memories to the back of her mind and crossed into the kitchen where she deposited her own box full of dishes and various utensils. “As soon as we get the rest of these boxes unloaded, we’ll go to The Drugstore, then explore a bit.”
The movers had done all the heavy work, but Ella hadn’t trusted them with her grandmother’s china. She also had several more boxes in the Jeep that contained photos and artwork taken from the walls of their old house. It had been a cramped ride to their new home, but now that they were here, in the mountains, Ella was thankful they had the Wrangler. The roads were beautiful but steep. Even the driveway leading up to the house was narrow and uneven.
We’ll rent for a while, she thought. And if it doesn’t work out, we can always go back to Nana’s house. The thought stuck in her craw, though. Not only did she hate the thought of going back to mama, but Anson had made such ugly threats when she had him arrested, she was afraid to be anywhere near him, even if he was in the county jail. It was obvious how much he had grown to despise both her and Nick. He blamed her for every bad thing that had happened—even though he was the one who hurt them.
Her hand went to her cheekbone. There was a permanent indentation there; small, hardly noticeable, but what would it have looked like the next time she did something that displeased him? And what would Nick look like the next time he “swatted” him? How long before it escalated to closed fist rather than open-handed slap?
She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for someone so mean and hateful. Of course, he hadn’t been either of those things in the beginning. She recalled all the news stories of wives who had married men who turned out to be psychopaths in disguise. When the wife disappeared, the authorities almost always looked at the husband first. One woman disappeared right off the cruise ship while they were on their honeymoon. Another disappeared when she discovered her husband had been lying about being a med student. Her body was later found in the local landfill. And what about that poor pregnant woman whose husband sunk her body in the ocean? She had been eight months pregnant.
It’s hard to really know someone, Ella thought. Especially when they seek to deceive.
“Is that the doorbell?” It was the first time she’d heard it from inside the house. Her first inclination was to call out, “Come on in!” but her second thought was to yell at Nick not to answer it. She compromised by hurrying toward the door. “Just a minute, I’m coming!”
When she rounded the corner between the kitchen and the living room, she could see a woman standing outside the door.
She opened the screen. “Hello?”
The woman held out her hand. “Norma,” she said. “From next door, well, you know, down the road.” She grinned and indicated the direction with a wave of her hand. All the houses in this area were set back from the road at the end of their own stumpy, humpy driveways. Each one occupied several acres separated from each other by tall pines and junipers.
“Nice to meet you.” Ella took the proffered hand.
Norma swept streaky gray hair off her forehead and smiled. “Saw you two unloading boxes and thought I’d stop by and offer to help. My husband is a long-haul trucker, hardly ever home. So I know how welcome an extra pair of hands can be.”
Ella returned the woman’s grin even though she wondered how Norma could possibly know it was just the two of them. How does she know I don’t have a husband lurking around somewhere?
“Hope you don’t think I’m too forward,” Norma said, as if she’d read Ella’s thoughts. “Your realtor is my second cousin. She told me to check in on you guys and make sure you were getting settled.” She held up a small brown bag that Ella hadn’t even noticed hanging from her arm. “Brownies,” she said.
Ella laughed and stepped aside so she could come in. “Nick will love those. Thank you so much. And trust me, we’d welcome another set of hands if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
Norma passed the bag to Ella and patted her arm. “Just point me in the right direction.”
Ella called Nick to come in and meet their new neighbor, and then she showed him the brownies.
“Pleased to meet you,” Nick said politely. “Do you have any kids?”
Norma shook her head. “Sorry, buddy. My only daughter is grown and gone. She hasn’t even blessed me with grandchildren yet.”
Nick’s face fell.
“But don’t you worry.” Her voice was sympathetic. “We’ve got a wonderful little school here in Stutter Creek. You’ll make lots of friends. Besides,” her face grew thoughtful. “I’ve got a godson who is just a bit younger than you. His name is Danny and he just turned eight.” She glanced at Ella. “I’ll be glad to introduce the two of them—well, all of you, of course, when you’re ready. Beth and John are excellent parents. In fact, Beth is a teacher at Stutter Creek Elementary.”
Ella shot her a look of thanks, then led the way to the kitchen. “Nick is in fifth grade,” she said. “What grade does Beth teach?”
Norma clucked her tongue. “Can you believe she teaches fifth grade? Will wonders never cease?”
“That is wonderful,” Ella replied. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
She waved a hand toward the kitchen. “We haven’t bought any groceries yet.” She opened the bag containing the homemade brownies. “But as soon as we finish unloading the Jeep, I’ll run to town and get some milk to go with these.”
“Couldn’t I have just one,” Nick wheedled, obviously won over by the cook. “I don’t have to have milk.”
Ella smiled. She’d thought that would be his response. He was just like her when it came to chocolate. “Of course you may.” She handed him a still-warm square and pinched off a little taste for herself. “Sit at the table, kiddo,” she instructed. “I have no idea where the napkins are. Hmmm, these are delicious.”
Nick sat at the table and sunk his teeth into the first moist bite.
Together, the two women backtracked to the Jeep and began carrying in the rest of the boxes.
It was easy to put the cartons in the appropriate rooms. Ella’s mom had insisted on labeling each one with a giant Sharpie while helping them pack up the house back in Albuquerque. “Half the work is done in the preparation,” she’d said. Ella hated to admit it, but it had made unloading things a lot easier. Even the movers had commented on it.
When the boxes were stowed away, just waiting to be unpacked, Norma insisted it was time for her to go. But she invited them to come over for a visit. “Just stop by anytime,” she said. “It’s the first one on your right when you head back toward town.”
“Can we drop you there on our way to the grocery store?” Ella glanced out the front window. “I don’t see your car.”
Norma shook her head, gray-streaked curls bouncing. “I walked. It’s my greatest pleasure, walking these hilly roads. Good for my heart and my hips.” She winked at Ella. “Besides, it’s only a mile.”
Ella gave her a brief hug. “I’m in awe,” she said. “Once we get things all figured out, maybe I’ll just join you sometime.”
“I’d love that,” Norma replied. “And Nicky, too. We’ve got lots of wildlife in these old woods. And I know a trail that goes straight from my house to yours.”
Nick’s eyes lit up. “I’d like to see that. We lived in town before.”
“Well, that’s a date then. The first chance you get, you two stop by and we’ll go exploring.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Ella said.
Norma walked down the porch steps then turned and gave a little wave. Just past the edge of the drive, she headed into the woods. Ella could see the beginning of the trail—in another moment, Norma was invisible.
Wow. Guess the woods are thicker than I thought. That gave her a moment’s pause. Finding such a bargain for rent seemed ideal yesterday, but now she wasn’t so sure. Yep. We definitely have to explore that trail. Face the unknown. Otherwise, I’ll be imagining all sorts of things lurking there. Anson’s face popped into her head. But not him, she thought. He’s in jail. And when he does get out, he has no way of finding us.
Grabbing her purse and keys, she swept away tendrils of brunette hair that had escaped her ponytail.
“Remind me to pick up the ingredients for a caramel pie,” she told Nick as they drove into town. “I’ll make one for Norma to thank her for coming over and helping us get settled.”
“And for the brownies,” Nick added, patting his midsection comically. “I liked her. I can’t wait to check out that trail. You think we could camp out in the woods behind the house? Please?”
Ella laughed. “I’ll bet we can before it gets too cold. But I guess we’d need a tent, right?”
Nick laughed, too. “And sleeping bags, and a lantern, you know to see by, and—”
Ella rolled her eyes. “And more money to buy all this stuff!”
She pointed to a neat white house with butter colored trim on the right side of the road. The house sat back behind a lush garden of fall mums, bright purple kale, and shiny green holly bushes graced with tiny red berries. “Must be Norma’s house,” Ella said. “Wonder how long it takes her to walk a mile anyhow?”
Nick shrugged. “I’ll bet I could run to her house and back in no time!”
“I’ll bet you could,” Ella replied. “I’ll bet you could.”

Monday, July 21, 2014

Cover Reveal~~Bridge of Hope~Lisa J Hobman

Genre: FICTION / Romance / Contemporary
Release Date: August 21, 2014
Digital ISBN 10:163112062X ISBN 13:978-1-63112-062-6
Print ISBN-10:1631120638 ISBN-13:978-1-63112-063-3

Love is like a snowflake; beautiful but fleeting in its presence…
I’ve been in love. But I’ve also been lied to, betrayed by those closest to me and I’ve suffered loss. Sadly it’s those last three things that stick with me the most. The only real constants in my life are music, Angus my dog and Rhiannon; my guitar.
But things changed when she walked into my place of work. All blue eyes, curves and a warmth that could melt even my hardened heart. I was taken over by feelings that I didn’t expect so soon. Guilt plagued me and I took my anger out on her.
On Mallory.
But I fell fast and hard and there was nothing I could do to stop it. When she too became the victim of heartbreak I was the only one who understood her pain but I was the last person she wanted help from.

Would I ever convince her that we could be friends? And would I ever accept that she couldn’t love me back?

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Book two to Crisis of Identity. On my MUST READ pile.

Available from 5 Prince Publishing 
Genre: Fiction, Romance, Suspense
Release Date: July 17, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-047-3   ISBN 10: 1-631120-47-6
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-048-0      ISBN 10: 1-631120-48-4

Purchase link :

Crisis of Serenity
Tess Copeland lives a quiet life in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Thanks to the government’s witness protection program, she enjoys the freedom of never having to glance over her shoulder to see if someone is following her. Life has become safe, serene...and boring. Her heart longs for something more than just existing...until a ghost from her past shatters her serenity.

Once upon a time, Tess was caught between the FBI and the men the feds were trying to take down. Jake Coleman is the U.S. Marshal who extracted her from the jam she was in with the FBI, a man she could have fallen for...hard...if she had let herself. It’s been a year since she last saw Jake, and in all the months that have passed, he’s never tried to find her. The longer he keeps his distance, the more she wonders why his absence hurts so much.

When a stranger comes to town searching for her, all of Tess’ old fears are resurrected. Asking Jake for help with her current crisis might lure him into a dangerous trap involving murder, kidnapping, and revenge. When Jake and Tess come face-to-face with the past, they will have to use all their wits to survive.

About the Author:
Denise is a Southern girl. She has lived in Louisiana all her life, and yes, she has a drawl. She has a wonderful husband and two incredible children, who not only endure her writing moods, but also encourage her to indulge her writing passion. Besides writing romantic suspense, she enjoys traveling, reading, and scrapbooking.

Accounting is a skill she learned to earn a little money to support her writing habit. She wrote he first story when she was a teen, seventeen handwritten pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she had read. She’s been writing off and on ever since, and with more than a few full-length manuscripts already completed, she has no desire to slow down.

Public contact information

Excerpt of Crisis of Serenity
serenity-n.-the state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled

Chapter One

It was seven a.m. and Sadie’s Pancake Kitchen had just hit its peak occupancy. Morning rush was prime time, but the pace never slowed from the time the restaurant opened to the time the last customer waddled out the door at night. Sadie’s served breakfast all day, every day.
As soon as I walked in the door around six, Wendy, the hostess, didn’t waste any time assigning me a section on the top floor. She did it on purpose because I had once complained about the trip up and down the stairs. When I worked the top, I had to climb those stinking stairs fifteen jillion times a shift. The owner, whose name was Helen, not Sadie, kept telling us she was going to install an upstairs kitchen or a food service elevator. Yeah, right. Wendy told me to suck it up and do my job, as if she were my boss. I called her Princess behind her back one day and the rest of the wait staff picked up the nickname. The nasty wench obviously held a grudge.
After I cleaned the coffee maker and set a fresh pot to brew, I wrapped my apron around my waist and stuck a pencil behind my ear. Once I entered the dining room, routine set in. What do you want to drink? What will you have today? Can I refresh your coffee? Is there anything else I can get you? Slap the check on the table.
I’d never been a waitress before, but I found I wasn’t half bad at waiting tables. Sadie’s wasn’t the best job I’d ever had, at least not since the feds decided my life would be so much better if I was placed in their questionable witness protection program, but the steady paycheck served my purpose. The waitressing gig kept my wallet fed. No extras. Just subsistence. That’s all I asked. All I needed. Anything more might bring unwanted attention to my existence. After all, the FBI wanted certain individuals to think I had disappeared from the face of the planet so the bad guys would stop searching for me. Because I had dared to testify against Bennie the Goon in federal court, something that didn’t ensure a long life, I had to cooperate with the feds. I liked living and I liked living on the outside. I don’t do well in prison.
Life in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, had settled into a comfortable pattern. Get up at five. Take my niece to daycare. Bum a ride to work. Roll silverware. Brew coffee. Clean teapots. Wait tables until my shift was over at three. Catch the trolley. Pick up my niece from daycare. Go home. Feed the kid. Stuff a few bites of food into my mouth. Soak my feet. Put Joyce to bed. Watch TV. Pass out. Rinse and repeat.
Some of the patrons at Sadie’s were tourists, but quite a few locals breakfasted there several times a week, some every morning. After a few months, faces, and then names had blended into my daily grind. The monotony of the ordinary promised me safety and few surprises. For the first time in years, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder every second and wondering who was stalking me. The sameness of my days appealed to me, better than the life I’d led after I escaped from the Illinois corrections system and the Fugitive Task Force began looking for me. There was never a dull moment as a fugitive. By the time I came out of hiding, the FBI had taken an interest in my case and coerced me into rolling on Bennie. That’s when the feds immersed me in the witness protection system.
I sighed, set Jim Owens’ cup in front of him, and poured coffee from the fresh pot I’d just made. He smiled at me, revealing a perfectly straight set of ultra-white teeth. He had one of those symmetrical faces that cameras love. Why was the guy a cop instead of a movie star? For the first time since I met him, I smiled back. Just because I felt like it.
After a year of living—no, more like hiding out—in Gatlinburg, my stomach had stopped churning every time a member of law enforcement spoke to me. Sadie’s was a popular cop hangout early in the morning. If I had known, I would have taken the job at the souvenir store down the street, despite the fact the owner of that fine establishment couldn’t keep his eyes off my assets. Where his eyes roamed, his hands were likely to soon follow. I didn’t need that grief.
The ticket booth position my handler had obtained for me at Zombiemania when I first arrived in Gatlinburg went away when the attraction went out of business. After that, I found employment on my own. I figured I could do a better job hunt than the federal agent that couldn’t care less if I survived or not.
So I was settled in Tennessee, at least for a while. I gulped down my distrust every single day and served Gatlinburg’s finest their breakfast, even though I had certainly had my fill of cops. This particular patrol officer seemed nice, but I swore I’d never trust a cop again. Ever.
“Thanks.” Jim flashed his gorgeous smile. “How are you today, Tess?” His eyes gleamed with expectation.
“Good. You want the usual?” I asked him the same question every Friday at seven a.m. He always sat at his favorite table. The one that offered the best view of Parkway. Jim was predictable. I liked that in a man. My ex-boyfriend Trevor was anything but.
“Hmmm. Let’s see… Yeah.” His order never varied. Four buttermilk pancakes. Four crispy pieces of bacon. Two eggs—over easy.
A shiver of dread snaked along my backbone. My head snapped up and I peered through the window. A thin ribbon of sidewalk separated the two-story-high plate glass from the roadway. The clink of silverware and restaurant grade china clattered against the background noise of cars stopping and starting. I wiped my bangs from my eyes and studied the flow of traffic on the street below. Two lines crept bumper-to-bumper in view of the restaurant, a small percentage of cars making it through the green light in one cycle. Stoplight #6 was always busy. A patrol unit had stopped at the signal. The officer turned his head my way. Our eyes met and held, and then my heart skipped a few beats. What was he doing here in Gatlinburg? I thought I had left him behind in Colorado.
Nothing on earth could have dragged me away from his stare. Life as I knew it had changed, and my monotonous existence didn’t feel so safe anymore. The uncontrollable urge to escape overtook me…again. I had always been good at running.
“I was thinking…” Jim’s voice drifted in and out of my consciousness.
“Tess, are you all right? You went pale all of a sudden.”
“I’m okay.” I turned my attention back to him. “I’ll put your order in.”
I left before he could hint that he wanted to take me out. He was predictable about that as well. Today wasn’t a good day. There might never be a good time—not with a ghost from my past invading my newly acquired contentment.

Monday, July 7, 2014

Cover Reveal~A Painted Room

Genre: Fiction, Family Life
Release Date: August 7, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-055-8 ISBN 10: 1631120557

Print ISBN 13:978-1-63112-056-5 ISBN 10: 1631120565

A Painted Room
The best day in a parent’s life turns into the worst.For expectant parents, the origins of a new life are usually accompanied by excitement, anticipation and just a touch of anxiety about the future. There are classes to attend, prams to buy, and of course, the baby's room has to be painted.
This description fits Gary and Melinda quite nicely - except Gary hasn't painted the baby's room yet. He finally gets around to starting the job, but Melinda's water breaks before he finishes the first coat.
From there, the situation rapidly deteriorates. Their baby, Justin, is born via caesarean. Shortly after the birth Justin experiences breathing difficulties and is transferred to intensive care a few hours later.
The story follows Gary over a tumultuous few days as Justin undergoes emergency treatment. Gary and Melinda quickly discover that when a baby's life is on the line, it doesn't really matter whether or not you have a painted room.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Book 2 of The Broken Line Series Now Available

Available from 5 Prince Publishing
Genre: Fiction, Alternative History, Romance, Historical, Family Saga
Release Date: July 3, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-058-9   ISBN 10: 1631120581
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-059-6      ISBN 10: 163112059X
Purchase link :

The Porcelain Child
With less than a decade of stable rule behind them, Lord Protector Richard Seymour has passed away leaving the country once again in turmoil. With her connection to the old regimes, seemingly on all sides thanks to her mother, Adela, Mary might find herself pulled into the heat of battle whether she wants it or not.

Book 2 of The Broken Line Series, The Porcelain Child picks up with the next generation thrown into the mix.

About Jessica Dall
Jessica Dall finished her first novel at age 15 and been writing ever since. She is the author of such novels as Grey Areas and The Bleeding Crowd, the Broken Line Series, and a number of short stories which have appeared in both literary magazines and anthologies. When not writing, she works as a freelance editor and creative writing teacher in Washington, DC.

How to contact Jessica Dall
Twitter: @JessicaDall

Excerpt of the Porcelain Child

Chapter One

The porcelain a little chipped, Mary still recognized the woman in the miniature. There were enough pictures of her around, after all. Mary supposed she shouldn’t be surprised to find it amongst the small box they had sent her of Richard Seymour’s affects—even as the parliamentarian he was. Queen Adela wasn’t a symbol of monarchy, after all. Even after everything, she was still the romantic heroine.
And Mary supposed it likewise wasn’t surprising the surviving Seymours had sent it to her. Mary hadn’t received much from Richard Seymour’s estate—she hadn’t expected to—but it seemed to be the logical conclusion for someone going through Richard’s things to send a picture of Adela Tilden to her daughter. Mary couldn’t imagine the remaining Seymours would have much love for Queen Adela themselves.
It was likely they would send it to Aberfirth or use it for target practice.
Touching the gold filigree around the little portrait, Mary finally set it down. Of all the portraits Mary had seen, this one didn’t look the least familiar. Adela couldn’t have been much more than fifteen in it. A rare portrait from before her short reign as queen, when she had been baron’s daughter living so far north she was barely on the map. Still, looking down and off to the side, as if the viewer were below her interest, the picture still seemed bizarrely fitting—as though she already considered herself the viewer’s better, far before she had the right to.
The door opened, then slammed shut. William rested back against it, breathing heavily.
Mary frowned, attempting to recover from her thoughts. “What…?”
Motioning for her silence, William winced as someone knocked. He looked at her, mouthed, Help me.
Giving him a suspicious looked, Mary moved forward all the same, letting him hide behind the dark wood as she pulled the door open.
Mr. Johnson, red-faced and soaking wet, looked up at her, puffing. “Where is he?”
Mary blinked, could feel William tense through the door. “Who?”
Him,” the tutor seethed. “Lord Kedington. I heard him come this way.”
“He must have gone further down the hall, then.” Mary glanced out the door as though looking where William might have gone. “I haven’t seen him.”
Mr. Johnson didn’t move, hands clenched. A head shorter than her and red as a beet, he still somehow remained intimidating. Even while dripping on the hardwood.
Mary looked at him, unmoving, daring him to call her a liar.
Mr. Johnson didn’t answer.
“If you’re wanting to catch him, sir, you should likely keep looking,” Mary finished.
Another tense breath, and Mr. Johnson bowed shallowly at the waist, stalking off as his wet shoes squeaked after him.
Waiting a moment, Mary finally shut the door, looking at the smiling man still pressed against the wall. She crossed her arms. “Aren’t you getting a little old for these pranks, Will?”
“It wasn’t meant to be a prank.” The smile grew. “Just a happy coincidence.”
Mary sat at her desk, shaking her head. “I doubt Mr. Johnson will believe you.”
William shrugged, seeming less than bothered as he moved to the box on the bed. “This the Seymour stuff they sent you?”
Mary looked at it silently, allowing William to change the topic.
Peering over the side, William pursed his lips slightly. “Not much, is it?”
“More than I was expecting, honestly,” Mary answered. “You know what the rest of the Seymours think of me.”
William just nodded, poking through the few things left in the box. “Should I assume you aren’t planning on going to the funeral?”
Mary frowned, watching him closely at the change of tone. He hadn’t asked what he’d meant. She shook her head. “If my mother can’t be bothered to come back from abroad at all in light of recent events, I see no reason why I should make the effort go to Carby.”
“He’s your father.”
Mary snorted.
“And who knows,” William continued over her justified skepticism. “It might be exciting. Getting out of Aberfirth for a bit? Seeing Carby?”
“I really can’t think of a place I’d rather not see, Will,” Mary droned, picking up the miniature before he could argue. She tossed it to him. “He had that apparently.”
William caught it easily, eyebrows rising as he looked at it. “Very nice.”
Mary frowned deeply. “Could you please refrain from salivating over my mother while I’m still in the room?”
“I wasn’t salivating.” He smiled, tossing it back to her before he sat. “It’s just a nice picture. One of her queen portraits?”
“Not one I recognize at least.” Mary set it down without looking. “Do you find it strange that he had it?”
“Well.” William took a moment, shrugged. “Your mother is a beautiful woman.”
Mary made a face, standing to pick up the box.
William caught her wrist. “Don’t give me that look, May.”
She just flicked her eyes over him, pulling herself free before she moved the box to the ground. A well placed kick and it slid out of sight.
He watched her carefully. Took his time before speaking. “They’ve asked me to go.”
She looked back up, a low level of panic starting deep in her chest though she wasn’t sure why. “They who? Go where?”
“Who, parliament,” he said, running a hand through his short blond hair. “Where, the funeral.”
Mary pulled her eyebrows together. “Why? You’re no one important.”
He laughed. “Thanks, May.”
“It’s hardly a bad thing.” Mary pressed her lips tightly together.
He took her hand, swinging to face her. “I’d like you to come with me.”
“To Carby?”
He nodded, his blue eyes drilling into her.
Her grey ones looked back. “Are you feverish?”
The smile returned. “Carby can’t really be as bad as you think, May.”
“I can’t get within thirty miles of the place without someone trying to draw me into a royalist plot. I would think especially now.” Mary glanced at the window, the rolling green hills of Aberfirth seeming to be a false shield from everything else waiting out there. “Anyway, I haven’t gotten marching orders from my mother yet. If she thought there were any benefit in me going she would have already ordered me there. This is Adela Tilden we’re talking about.”
William nodded, glancing out the window himself as if checking she didn’t see anything before he looked back at her. “When was the last time you heard from her?”
Mary shook her head. “Years? What has there been for her to write about?”
“I would think there’s plenty lately.”
“She’s probably still figuring out her next move. His death was recent enough.” Mary sighed, brushed it away. “I don’t have her mind. Don’t ask me to try to understand her actions.”
“I still think you would have made a great queen, May.” William smiled.
Mary’s stomach clenched, her face turning deadly serious. “Don’t even joke like that.”
William’s eyes stayed on her, but he didn’t argue. Fair and tall as he was, Mary had to admit William had grown into a handsome man from the gangly ten year old that had shown up to stay eight years ago. She froze, the nature of the thought registering, making heat rise to her cheeks.
“You are beautiful, you know that, May?” his voice cut in before she could recover.
Mary’s body tensed, the odd sense he had read her mind too jarring.
“Don’t look so shocked.” He rested back on his hands, easy smile unsettlingly handsome now that she thought about it. “You are your mother’s daughter, after all.”
“And I would give anything that I weren’t.” She rubbed the side of her face quickly, dropping her eyes.
His eyes stayed on her another moment before he stood, holding her chin.
She looked up, breath catching in her throat as he held her eyes.
“You still have this house, May. You still have your life. I don’t think you have weathered everything too poorly, all things considered. Many lost much more.”
There was enough to set her head right again. Mary’s jaw locked as she pulled back. “Thank you, Will, but I hardly need you to remind me.”
He touched her hair gently, pushing a dark auburn strand behind her ear. “Please come, May? You can’t spend your entire life afraid out here.”
Mary shook her head. “You shouldn’t go at all, Will. Not now.”
William looked at her another moment, finally sighed. “I have to. Anyway, you’re Mary Seymour. I imagine people would leave you alone at Richard Seymour’s funeral.”
“Not when they believe I’d be Mary Claybourne had the old king not lost his head.”
“Seymour claimed you as legitimate,” William argued.
“Words.” Mary slipped away from him, sitting on the bed. “Oaths and proclamations and edicts. They’re all just words. People hold them cheap these days.”
“I don’t know if I’d say that.” William turned to face her.
Mary looked down at her hands, back up. “Do they know who will be the new lord protector?”
William cocked an eyebrow but let her change the topic. “I think they’re still discussing it.”
“So there’s no one in charge?”
“Well, parliament is.” William laughed. “They won’t allow the country to enter a state of anarchy just because one man died.”
“We’ll see,” Mary mumbled.
He shook his head, good natured as ever. “No one wants another war, May.”
“Every royalist who lost the last one does,” she returned, face serious.
“We aren’t going to war.”
“Are you certain of that?” She held his eyes.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Would you like to place a bet?”
Her frown only deepened. “This isn’t funny, Will.”
William sat next to her, placing an arm around her shoulder before he kissed her forehead. “You’re always so serious, May.”
“Life is serious.” She didn’t look at him.
“It can also be fun,” he said.
“So you always think,” she said, knot still tight in the pit of her stomach.