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Not a ‘Green’ Gage: Author speaks

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Gage runs the L’Griffe, AKA the dragon shifter mafia on Earth. Since the human realm has no supernatural police, the L’Griffe do more than loan money or sell contraband. When it comes to dragon shifters, the L’Griffe are the law. And Gage isn’t the only sheriff in town, either. Other secret groups have their own gangs, including ghouls, demons, and everything in between. It’s an awkward balance, but it works. Until the demons consolidate into…
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“An action-packed series full of adventures, romance and fun! If you want a fantasy world with sexy times, this series is for you.” -Rosee Reads

Don’t miss the exciting conclusion to the Angelbound Offspring Series!

ANGELBOUND OFFSPRING
1. Maxon
2. Portia
3. Zinnia
4. Rhodes
5. Kaps
6. Mack
7. Huntress
8. Gage
* This is a completed series.

Perfect for teen and young adult readers who want their book series to deliver: badass world building, angels, demons, paranormal romance, fresh themes from contemporary fiction, LOL romantic comedy, gods and goddesses, dark fantasy, strong girls and women as heroines, themes about loners and outcasts, the best laughs in humorous literature, general coming of age whackery, and (most importantly) truly unusual epic fantasy.

Christine Speaks:

  • What’s your latest book?
    >>>I am currently on the launch tour for
    GAGE, Book 8 in my Angelbound Offspring series. Paranormal fun with dragons. Woot!
  • What about ‘snark’? is it good or bad?
    >>> Snark is a sign of a higher life form. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
  • Is it easy to write humour?
    >>>I love writing humor. Although, I recently learned that girls aren’t supposed to be funny. The things you miss by going to an all-girl’s school!
  •   if you could be an animal which animal would you be?
    >>>My spirit animal is Winston Churchill. First of all, the man is brilliant in his use of language. Second, he has grit. The guy waited for years until the world caught up with him about Hitler. Third, Churchill wore the kind of onesies that were popular with gas station attendants in the 1950’s… and made it work for him.
  • How many ‘packs’ should a hero have? Are 8 too many and what might a character lick off them? Why?
    >>>Damn, I am way behind on the packs thing. I’m more of a ‘v muscle going under the waistband of your jeans’ type of girl. Something to work toward!
  • What music inspires you? And which instrument is best for which scenes?
    >>>Lately, I’ve been listening to movie scores. If you want to write a kick-ass scene, play Gladiator!
  • Some academics etc claim that there are only 7 archetypal stories in all writing. Do you agree? If not, please explain and give examples of other story archetypes that you have used.
    >>>For me, it’s not about the archetypal story, it’s about the journey your character takes. In this sense, I love the awesome journeys couples take AFTER falling in love. There’s a lot to mine here and few pay attention!
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AUTHOR BIO:

Christina Bauer thinks that fantasy books are like bacon: they just make life better. All of which is why she writes romance novels that feature demons, dragons, wizards, witches, elves, elementals, and a bunch of random stuff that she brainstorms while riding the Boston T. Oh, and she includes lots of humor and kick-ass chicks, too. 

Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.

Be the first to know about new releases from Christina by signing up for her newsletter: http://tinyurl.com/CBupdates
 

Stalk Christina On Social Media – She Loves It!
Blog: http://monsterhousebooks.com/blog/category/christina
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorBauer/
Twitter: @CB_Bauer
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@christinacbbauer?lang=en
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/christina_cb_bauer/
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/christina-bauer-481b12139/
Web site: http://monsterhousebooks.com/authors/cbauer

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Woven? Book Blitz

DARKNESS SURROUNDED ME AS I OPENED MY eyes, its emptiness clinging to me like a second skin. A shiver rattled my bones as my feet hit the cold planks of my cottage’s hardwood floor. Smoothing my nightgown straight, I walked to my altar, ready for my next attempt.
It had been two days since my last dream, and all I could remember was that I didn’t want it to end. I tried to force myself back to sleep—back to him. Dark, sparkling eyes from beneath his hood were all I could remember before being ripped awake without warning. Now I was desperate to get back. There was something about him I needed to learn. Something magical calling to my witch’s soul.
My last batch of skullcap, rosemary, and mugwort sat cold in my mortar. This time, an added pinch of passionflower should stop my mental chatter. I needed to focus if I was going to make this work.
Three times before, I’d seen him shimmering in the distance, watching me from afar. The most recent dream I recalled was like a fairy tale. With glistening castles and lush forests surrounding me, it was full of mythical creatures who let me frolic alongside them without a care in the world. I spotted him standing behind a stone outbuilding, staring and monitoring my every move.
The dream before that took place in a desert where I lived a fabulous life as the close friend of an important sheik. There he’d been huddled behind a spice cart in the market, but I could still feel his eyes upon me.
Regardless of my dream’s location, my watcher was always there. Unfortunately, my last dream had been yanked away, leaving me with a complete void. Something had changed, and I was determined to find out what.

Hit Hard: Book Blitz
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Hit Hard: Book Blitz

I put all my strength into my next forehand. The ball torpedoed over the net, not even bothering to bounce within the court. Nope, that sucker was headed for the fences. If this was baseball, it’d be time to break out the peanuts and Cracker Jack.

Too bad this wasn’t baseball.

“Ahh!”

A figure in the distance went down, knees to the court. A crowd of students suddenly appeared, gasping and rushing over.

“You hit him!” someone shrieked.

My breath lodged in my throat. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I jogged over, terrified to breathe until I knew my accidental victim was okay.

Caleb directed a dirty scowl at me. “You really are the worst, Maxwell.”

I angled to see the fallen student. “I’m so sorry!”

“Oh, Maisie.” Nia mumbled, now beside me.

“I’m okay,” the guy on the ground said, attempting to stand despite the crowd. His head emerged, sun-bleached brown hair unkempt and curling over a tanned forehead. That perfectly shaggy hair some guys could get away with. He wasn’t a returning student. The face turning toward me could easily belong on a clothing website, the kind with ninety-dollar T-shirts with holes in them for a distressed look. Basically, he was very attractive.

A swath of blood streaked across that very attractive face.

That part was definitely my fault.

Sorry floated across my tongue, but my lips couldn’t form the word under the pressure of so many glaring classmates. Any hope of being an admired senior this year shriveled and burned like a tissue set aflame.

He accepted a clean towel and pressed it to his nose. “I expected I might not be welcome here, but your forehand really confirmed it.”

“Way to go, Maxwell,” Caleb said with a sneer. “You just nailed Shane Wagner in the face.”

Oh. Wait, what? “You’re … you’re—”

“Shane Wagner,” the bloody-faced model boy said through the towel.

Shane Wagner. The Shane Wagner. I just nailed the face of the number one-seeded player in junior boys’ tennis.

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Ice flows: Book Blitz

Ice Floe Excerpt: Chapter 6
We’ve been sitting on the ledge a while now, mostly staring at the view. I steal occasional glances at Tucker. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a force between us. Energy. A pulse. A magnet. Something. Every time I focus my thoughts elsewhere, he pulls me back in. It’s distracting. “You ready to head down?” he asks. “You might as well get started. I can’t climb down with all your equipment in the way.” “I have an extra harness. You should come down with me.” He reaches for his pack and stands up. I jump up to join him. “No way. I’m not hooking myself into that death trap.” “Glacia, come on. This cliff is super challenging, and it’s way more difficult to climb down than up,” he says, his voice growing louder. Here we go again. “I’ll be fine once you get your stuff out of the way.” I raise my volume to match his. “It’s not safe. I would feel horrible if I let you climb down and you got hurt.” “Let me?” “Not let you. It’s your choice.” “I choose NO.” He clenches his jaw tightly and grinds his teeth. I take a few steps back in preparation. There’s enough room up here to land a solid kick to the face. That should knock him out, then I’ll have to figure out a way to climb down his cat’s cradle setup. Tucker crosses one arm over his chest and raises a hand to cover his mouth. We glare at each other – at an impasse. “Let’s make a deal,” he offers. “You climb down with me using a harness and rope, and I’ll take you on a boat ride.” This catches my attention. “That’s right, I saw you light up when I mentioned my dad’s boat shop,” he continues with a cocky air. He’s more perceptive than I gave him credit for. Volatile and perceptive. A hefty combination. “Have you ever been on a boat?” he asks.
I shake my head. I would love to go on a boat. Tucker knows how to fix them and can teach me everything a trainer could, plus more. What am I thinking? This is crazy. I can’t go on a boat with a human. What excuse would I give if I got caught? I can’t pretend I’m seducing. Everyone knows that’s not high on my priority list, and you’re not supposed to seduce alone. Maybe I could say that I’m collecting information to share with the girls I teach… Hmm. That’s almost believable, given my dedication to the studio. Tucker can tell I’m on the fence about it and ups the ante. “I’ll teach you to drive the boat.” Unfair. Of course, I want to learn how to drive a boat. That’s a beyond useful skill in my back pocket. I peek down the cliff face to assess the reliability of Tucker’s wedge-rope system. Stupid. Like I know what I’m looking for. “Fine,” I agree. “We need to be hooked together, so if I die, you die.” “Seems reasonable.” “AND I get to drive the boat.” “Deal. Let’s see, today is Monday, and I already have plans tomorrow. Wednesday?” “What time?” “Eleven a.m. on the Ula pier.” “I’ll meet you there.” Tucker flips his pack around, unclips a belt, and offers it to me. “Do you know how to wear a harness?” I snatch it from him, compare it to his gear, and step into the leg holes. When I have it all clipped in, I throw my hands on my hips. “Now what?” I ask. Tucker leans in toward me, rope in hand, then pulls back and reconsiders. “That’s not quite right,” he says haltingly. “Can I fix your harness?” “I already agreed to this mess, didn’t I?” He rolls his eyes. “I think that’s a yes. Pull the harness up – it has to sit higher on your hips.” I follow his instructions, and he flops the rope over one arm. He moves in closer and bends down to reposition the harness. His fingers wrap around the loop against my leg as he pulls it up below my hip. My heart beats faster and my insides twists.
I evaluate the top of Tucker’s head in an effort to distinguish these sensations from other emotions. He secures the loop and raises his gaze to meet mine. “Is that too tight?” he asks. His hazel eyes penetrate mine. The edges are a deep brown that blend into a murky green with an amber starburst around the pupil. I shake my head and look away. I hope he can’t tell how disoriented this is making me. “Pull the tabs on your waist tighter,” he instructs. I cinch the waist while he rearranges the other loop on my leg. Why is this making me so agitated? He’s only fixing my gear so I don’t fall to my death. Tucker gathers the rope into his hand and reaches out to tie it to the front belt loop. As he does, his fingers brush my skin just below my belly button. A jolt of electricity shoots through my body. I take in a small gasp of air and hold my breath. He freezes, his fingers lingering on my stomach. Did he feel that too?

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Working Women: Book Blitz

Women can Engineer too!

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In part two of this extraordinary love story set in the hot, humid, summer of the wide-open mid-west, egos and emotions collide. Andy and Rooster find their romance in peril when job-related stress, injuries, and extraordinary weather conditions interfere with their relationship, both at work and at home.

Excerpt

Rooster forked a pork chop onto his plate and dug in, cutting off a big bite. He popped it in his mouth and watched Andy as he chewed.

She tried not to squirm, but he could see her discomfort. One of his brows quirked up.

Andy dished a helping of salad onto her plate, careful not to look up at him.

He cut another bite off his chop. Silence filled the room, tense and palpable, like the room was too small. Reaching for his glass, he caught her sneaking a peak at him.

After several gulps of water, he settled his glass back on the table, took his fork in one hand and his knife in the other, and waited. She was only demure when she knew she was in the wrong.

When she realized he wasn’t eating, her eyes met his. “What’s wrong?” she asked innocently. “Is the pork okay?”

“Why do you want to go to some gas station on the only night we don’t have to go to sleep at eight o-clock? You usually want to…” He intentionally let the sentence drop and waggled his eyebrows to make her blush. She was so cute when she was timid.

“We won’t need to stay late,” she backpedaled, “I was talking to Nick about it and—”

“Oh, here we go,” he interrupted. “This is about Nick isn’t it?”

She put her fork on the table. “What’s your problem with Nick?”

He shook his head. “You told him you’d invite that new coating girl, didn’t you?” He wasn’t asking, it was a statement.

Andy’s chin came up. “She happens to be the coating foreman.”

“Whatever,” he snorted, and went back to cutting his meat.

Andy grinned wickedly. “She could demand that you all address her as foreperson, you know.”

Rooster snorted at her dilutional comment.

Andy pursed her lips, knowing full well that the pipeline was still in the 1950s when it came to women’s rights. But she adjusted her train of thought and continued. “Why do you think this has anything to do with me talking to Nick?”

His chewing stopped and he gave her an oh please, look.

She cleared her throat and looked away, poking a bite of salad onto her fork. “Okay, her name may have come up.”

Rooster took another long drink of water.

“Would it kill us to be social?” Andy retorted. “We never go anywhere but work.”

 “We work eighty hours a week!”

“That’s beside the point,” she huffed, sticking the forkful of salad in her mouth.

“Is it?”

She chewed and swallowed. “You just don’t want to bother,” she said with a flounce.

“This is overcooked,” he muttered, sawing away at his pork chop. It was dry and chewy, he’d done a poor job of it.

Dinner continued in silence with both parties casting glances at the other, but neither one spoke. When they finished eating, they stood and carried their dishes to the sink. Rooster ran hot, soapy water as Andy scraped their scraps into the trash and returned to the table for the rest of the dishes.

Silence reigned, leaving only the sound of plates clinking and water running as Rooster washed and rinsed the dishes, and Andy dried. When the dishes were washed, he drained the water and watched as Andy put the last plate in the specially designed drawer. When she turned back to him, he took up the end of her dishtowel, pulling her to him. His hands circled her waist. “If you’d like me to take you out Saturday night, just say so.”

Andy didn’t meet his eye.

But Rooster knew her well, and still very much enjoyed her attitudes. He tilted her head up with an index finger under her chin. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Losing all track of thought, Andy fell under his spell. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted. She didn’t need to say anything, he knew he had her.

Leaning down, he teased kisses along her jaw, causing a moan to slip from her lips. Her arms came up to circle his neck and his kisses wandered to her cheek, then her mouth.

Eagerly, she kissed him back, deepening both the kiss and his desire. He scooped her up and carried her toward the bedroom.

Andy leaned into his shoulder, filled with anticipation. She nibbled at his neck, ran her fingers through his hair, and a dreamy smile settled over her face.

He placed her on the bed, certain that somewhere in that woman’s brain of hers, she was already wondering what she’d wear on their Saturday night date to the gas station. 

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AUTHOR BIO:

Kirsten is a dreamer with an eye for art and design. She worked in the engineering field, taught college, and consulted free lance. Due to health problems, she retired in 2012 to travel with her husband. They live and work full time in a 40′ travel trailer with their little dog Bingo. Besides writing romance novels, she enjoys selling art on Etsy and spoiling their three grandchildren.

As a writer, Kirsten’s goal is to create strong female characters who face challenging, painful, and sometimes comical situations. She believes that the best way to deal with struggle, is through friendship and women helping women. She knows good stories are based on interesting and relatable characters.

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https://kirstenfullmer.com/
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7922460.Kirsten_Fullmer

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