Friday, 12 April 2013

Raven McAllan is here!

Hey everyone! Please give a very warm welcome to Raven McAllan, who's hear to talk to you about the excitement of being published, and her latest release, "Rian's Return"!


You never lose the thrill, the heart-stopping, pulse jumping, squeal and high five feeling when a book is published. It doesn't matter if it's your first or thirty-first. It's still a fabulous moment. One to hold to yourself; savor and then shout and share with the world.
Because you've done it. Something lots of people say they will. But don't.
Write a book, take a deep breath and share it. Your baby, your creation and you’ve put it into the world to be cried over laughed at praised and yes, torn to pieces.
It's a strange feeling to see your name in print, and then read your words, all tidy and well perfect. (I'm ignoring the errors we all miss and see as soon as it's published) To see a cover made especially for you, and read your dedications. To read it through the eyes of a reader not the writer. And at the end think… This is mine!
I'm going to do hat again today, because Rian's Return is out from Breathless Press…

Four men or two couples. Sam, Rian, Ed and Ali. Could they work it all out?

Sam knew it was time to move on. Ed seemed the very person to help him.
Would they manage to overcome the obstacle in their way? Namely Rian.
Rian is devastated. Just because he'd sent a Dear John email—or should that be a Dear Sam—did Sam have to accept it?
Ali couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the one guy he'd lusted after all those years earlier, walking along the street in the rain. Could he persuade Rian it was time to move on and get his reward for doing the right thing?

“Rian? Rian Dahnaan, is that really you?” He turned and looked at the owner of the voice. “Ali Meershum? What the hell are you doing here?” A tall, dark-haired man got out of the car and made his way toward him. “A degree. Plus soaking you, it seems. Sorry, man.” Rian found himself enveloped in a strong pair of arms and hugged tightly.
Wow. A surge of electricity sped down his spine, and into his groin. Whoa, Rian, be careful. “No problem,” he said faintly, once he was loose and able to speak normally. “Just one more shitty thing to add to my already shitty day.”
Ali looked at him curiously, before all but pushing him into the car and then moving to the driver’s seat.
“Seatbelt.” Ali secured his, before setting the vehicle in motion. Rian fastened his own belt and pondered on this turn of events.
“Where are you staying?”
“I don’t know; a hotel, I guess. Can you recommend one?” He shook his head, scattering raindrops all over himself, the upholstery, and Ali.
He saw Ali looking at him briefly as the car turned a corner. “Conferences on all week. All the hotels are full. I’ve got an apartment, though, and it’s got plenty of space. If you fancy, you can stay with me. I decided it would be better to have my own place while I studied.”:
Rian looked at his old friend. How did I never notice how well he filled his clothes? Probably because at eighteen he hadn’t been quite so well-endowed. Or wore his jeans to enhance it so well. Phew! Down, boy, you’ve no chance there. He probably has some rich heiress tucked away. And you’re supposed to be in love with Sam, remember? So why did he feel like something momentous was about to happen?
“If you don’t mind, that would be great, just until I decide what to do next. But aren’t you a bit old to be taking a degree? Besides, I thought you already had one?”
Ali brushed that comment aside. “I’ve got a straightforward business degree, yes, but it isn’t from here and not as prestigious as the one I’m doing now. Individual Studies is something few people are able to do; it’s incredibly demanding. The competition for the course was tremendous. Besides, I need to show people, especially my father, that being gay does not render me impotent in any way, especially in the business world.”
Rian was sideswiped. Double whammy. Oh shit. That’s Sam’s department; this could be complicated. And Ali’s gay? All those years ago, and I never knew.
Ali looked at him, his concern obvious. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re homophobic?”
That made Rian laugh.
“No, I’m not homophobic.” He smiled. “So, er, you’re gay? And out?” He could feel the tension in himself as he waited anxiously for Ali’s answer. “You, um, have a partner?”
Ali shook his head.
“Gay, Yes. Out, sometimes. Partner, nope. How about you, you married or anything?”
He doesn’t know, Rian thought bemused. He really does not have a clue. Bugger. There I was, hoping that hug might mean something. He realized Ali was still waiting for him to answer.
“Oh, er, not married. I thought it might happen, but the bloke I was seeing didn’t wait for me. But then, in all fairness—not that I feel much like being fair—I had told him months before it was over.”
“Man, that’s bad. You would have thought that—Hold on...’Bloke’? As in male? As in...?”

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Raven's Bio

Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
Her very understanding, and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)

Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Trust Your Instincts with Michaela Rhua and The Blood Bar Chronicles!

Hello all! Today I have a very special guest at the Darkside who's here to talk to you about her part in "The Blood Bar Chronicles, Book 3 — The Enforcers". Please give a very warm welcome to Michaela Rhua, and join her near the Supernatural hub in Scotland's beautiful capital, Edinburgh!

Trust Your Instincts.

Hi Arya. Thank you for having me over today.

I was reading through this:
Number 12 – a quote by Ann Vandemeer hit home, 'Trust your instincts. They're usually right'.

As a developing writer stories do not always go where you thought they might. Characters take a different road and twists occur where you least expect them to. It is at those times when you have to trust your instincts and go with the flow. Often the stories work out better and feel more complete.

Logan saw Kyla and knew he was not going to let her get away. He grabbed her and took her to safety. He trusted his instincts, followed through and found his pot of gold. Kyla was his mate and there was no way she was getting away, even if it meant holding her captive.

Before I go I will leave you with the blurb for the Anthology and a little taste.

The Enforcers: The Blood Bar Chronicles, Book 3.
When the Wicked Ladies of Fiction meet up in a Scottish bar they don’t expect a night filled with danger, lust and hot supernatural men…
Logan's Captive by Michaela Rhua.
One visit to The Blood Bar and life will never be the same. Fed up with her life, Kyla looks forward to meeting up with her friends. Only events take an unexpected turn and Kyla is rescued by Logan, who seems determined to keep her captive.
Logan didn't come to Scotland looking for a mate. But the scent of this sexy woman calls to his wolf and he knows he has to claim her. The only problem is she is human or so she thinks.


She opened her eyes, hearing him, but not listening. Her hands reached out on their own accord, and her fingertips brushed his chest, gliding over his nipples and travelling down. Her brain fought the instinct to touch, yet her body ached to touch him.
"Oh God, you're killing me here!" Logan growled.
"Am I?" Kyla spoke through a drunken haze.
He grabbed her wrist before she was able to touch his erection that was so obvious. "Stop; you don't know what's going on," he ground out, shaking her shoulders gently.
"Logan, kiss me, touch me, please," Kyla begged as she rose onto her knees.
Her free hand moved from his chest to his neck, pulling him forward. Eyes focused on his lips, she parted her own as he came so close their breath intermingled. The air around her seemed hot and heavy. She felt his broad hand move around her waist as he brought her to him, chest to chest. She lifted her chin, just as his lips captured her in a kiss that sent all her senses wild. His lips gentle at first, teasing, but as she groaned into him she heard him growl. He increased the pressure, crushing him to her. His other hand fisted her hair so he could lock her to him. Kyla was lost, completely.

Buy Links:
Breathless Press
All Romance Ebooks

Michaela Rhua
Michaela Rhua always dreamed of writing but this never happened until she met the lovely group of ladies known as UCW. Their passion for writing and encouragement inspired her to see if she could do it too. Now she is multi published and loves writing!
She has teenage children and a husband, who also keep her busy. However, it is whilst travelling into work that she has time to create her characters and imagine other places in which they exist as her world skims by the window. Conversations overheard often lead to the birth of new ideas that she scribbles down in her trusty notebook.

You can visit Michaela here:

Tuesday, 2 April 2013

Today's the day! "Vintage Ink — Every Second Counts" is available now!

I'm still a little in shock.

Pinch it real?

No, this—in many ways—is not something entirely new to me, yet it is still a first. "Vintage Ink — Every Second Counts" is available from Evernight Publishing. My first solo release.

Writing this story wasn't only a breeze but immensely enjoyable. Being set in Phoenix, Arizona—where I spent all of my teen years—I felt very connected to the setting and the kind of people you come across. Not to mention the entire story is set around a tattoo shop, something I'm quite familiar with. :)

But it was actually the dialogue and characters that I had the most fun with. Once created, the people came to life and I was merely there to document it all. I'm a panster at the best of times but I literally wrote this story with 100% trust in my protagonists and their friends.

So, without further is a sneak peak of "Every Second Counts", the first in hopefully a long Series.

Faye "Lux" Prescott has one passion in her life, her thriving tattoo business in the heart of Phoenix, Arizona. Creating art and working with her friends for a living — who has time or need for a man in her life?
All that changes when Brody Cameron walks into "Vintage Ink". The enigmatic stranger is booked for an impressive tattoo and Faye finds herself falling head over heels in lust — or is that love?
Brody's life has been tough, however, and when he reveals his secrets, can Faye help him move forward, or is their budding relationship doomed before it has even begun?


"Check this out, though." Jackson placed a sheet of paper on her keyboard.

Faye glanced for a second, lost in the week's totals, when the design caught her attention. Black and white charcoal, grotesquely detailed in typical Jackson style, was a black beast with a fatal wound in its stomach, entrails and all.
"Fenrir. From Nor—"
"Norse Mythology, I know." Faye interrupted him. She dropped her glasses to the desk and studied the drawing closer. "Who's getting it?"
"Some guy called Brody. He wants it across the base of his back and around his ribs. I hope he's got a good threshold for pain, because that ain't gonna feel too good."
"Worth every second. You're making me wish I had room left, Jack. This is fucking incredible!"
"Thanks, Lux. What 'bout you? Anything exciting? Haven't you got that chick with the octopus and the huge ti—"
"Don't be an asshole, and no, she's not in until Saturday. I have a floral chest piece this morning and the start of a nautical sleeve in the afternoon."
"You ink nautical in your sleep, Luxy, baby. Anyone would've expected you to have fucked off to sea with some sailor, by now."
"Not in a million years, my friend. I have a business to run." Faye placed her glasses back on when Jackson continued to talk. Her patience was wearing thin, quick.
"I meant before now."
Faye dropped the papers and lifted her gaze, peering above the thick frames of her glasses at him. "What, per say, do you mean by that, my dearest Jackson? Are you implying that I'm a sad singleton who should be shacked up by now? With a doting and hard-working husband and a circle of children running riot around my freshly cleaned, cookie-cutter house? Do you actually remember who you're talking to?"
Jackson took his sketches from the desk and with his free hand brushed his unkempt, brown hair away from his face. She had noticed that he never seemed to know how to take her outbursts, even in their twelfth year of friendship. "I only meant that you should get laid every now and then. Sex is healthy, you know."
"Yeah, you would know."
"What can I say? The ladies love a tattooed, bearded, sexy beast such as myself."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. Now get back to work before I fire your sexy ass."
"Yes ma'am!" He saluted and bowed, before retreating to his station.
Faye shuffled the papers endlessly and after realizing what she was doing, she tried to concentrate on the work at hand. But she couldn't get past the first line and must've read it over a dozen times. Asshole…fucking jerk! What's with men and word vomit? Sex is healthy…so what? I exercise, eat right, and masturbate when the mood's right. What's so wrong with that?
Another knock to the glass door sent the papers in Faye's hands flying in a mad whirlwind around her head. She squealed and the chair she sat on rolled when her body jerked. Her back slammed into the corner of the desk. "Argh, shit!"
Her eyes darted to the door, to see who had caught her nerves at the wrong moment, and her heart fell to her stomach.
"Hey, it's Brody. He's here to check out the sketch before his appointment."
Maybe Jackson had a point, after all…