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  11:32:44 am, by

Review for Mummy's The Word




I'd like to share a great review for Mummy's The Word from

Tony-Paul says, "This is a delightful "mummy" novel where the guy in the linen bandages isn't the villain and its' a refreshing change."

You can read the full review at in the Livre Review Deux section.


  01:10:09 pm, by

Excerpt From Mummy's The Word

Here is an excerpt from my paranormal romance Mummy's The Word, now available in eBook and paperback from Double Dragon Publishing.



Skye Madison has been entrusted with settling her uncle’s estate, a creepy Victorian mansion filled with macabre relics. With only a few days off from her busy job, the task seems insurmountable. Especially when the house is rumored to be haunted. Even the normally level-headed Skye feels a strange presence in the place.

When her uncle’s lawyer introduces her to two collectors who might be interested in the property, it seems too good to be true. But the antiquities collectors seem a little too eager to acquire her uncle’s house.

Skye soon discovers what’s behind their interest in the property. The house contains a secret room, and not just any secret room, but one hiding an ancient burial tomb.

And a mummy who’s not as dead as he first seems.

Excerpt from Mummy’s The Word:

She stood on the banks of a wide river. The sun beat down on her with merciless ferocity. The humid air rippled with its light. The heat made her drowsy. Marshland stretched out on one side of the water. On the other long docks ran from the river back to the houses that lined the banks. It had a tranquil beauty to it. The Nile. But not as it was now, but as it had been...then. She wasn't sure how she knew this, but she knew it with certainty.

Glancing down she found herself covered only in a linen tunic. A golden torc ringed her neck. It warmed under her body heat and the constant beams of sunlight.

It's a dream. But no dream had ever felt so real. No dream had ever come with the feel of her sweat-dampened hair sticking to the back of her neck, or the searing heat of the sun on her face.

Skye turned away from the river and headed toward the house behind her. The tile felt cool beneath her bare feet as she crossed the threshold into the foyer and the sitting room beyond. He was here. She felt his presence as certain as she'd felt the sun.

She gazed at the doorway that led to the hall and sure enough, there he was. Not as she'd seen him last—the corpse lying on the dais in the tomb. Not as the disembodied ghost, but as a flesh and blood man. A man undeniably in his prime.

His kilt did nothing to conceal his muscular legs. His skin was bronzed from the sun, his head shaven. He'd shaved his chest as well, which highlighted his pectorals.

“Nef,” she breathed.

“Skye.” Not the raw voice his ghost had greeted her with in the chamber. Now it sounded deep, melodic even. A voice used to command or seduce. Or both.

“Where are we?”

“My summer home. I wanted you to see it as it was. As I remember it.”

“This is a dream, isn't it?”

He stepped up to her and cupped her chin in his hand. “Dreams are merely another form of reality.”

That shouldn’t make any sense to her, she thought, but in the dream it did. “Even realities from thousands of years ago?”

“I wish I could explain it to you.” He gazed deeply into her eyes with his black stare. “But that would be a sad waste of the time that we have.”

She didn't want to waste time. She wanted...things she hadn't even allowed herself to contemplate.

He stepped back from her and held out his hand. “Come.”


  11:27:56 am, by

Witch Island now on sale at Kindle!


My eBook Witch Island is currently on sale at Amazon Kindle. Not sure how long the sale will last, but as of today the price is $1.49!


  03:25:09 pm, by

A Darker Passion - Just Released!


I'm excited to announce that my paranormal romance A Darker Passion has just been released by Ellora's Cave Blush!

Here is a blurb and an excerpt:


For months Aimee has spotted a man, little more than a shadow, while tending to her city’s homeless. Tristan. A mysterious stranger who invades her dreams with gentle caresses and haunted eyes, but evades her in the flesh. Then he saves her life on a cold October night, and Aimee’s search for the enigmatic man intensifies.

Tristan, however, isn’t what he seems. Allowing Aimee into his life will either lead to his biggest heartbreak…or his greatest salvation.


Gentle hands smoothed her hair. Aimee sighed, turning her face toward that feathersoft caress. The wonderful touch glided lower, mapping the contours of her cheek, tracing the outline of her lips, leaving tendrils of desire flaming in its wake.


Warm lips brushed her forehead, lingering tenderly over the sore spot at her temple. Strong arms enveloped her, promising shelter, sanctuary. She snuggled deeper into that embrace of velvet steel.


“Help me,” she whispered.

“You’re safe,” said a deep, melodic voice beside her ear. “Rest now.” The words rumbled through his chest. Like listening to a lion purr, she thought dimly.

“Rest,” she repeated, sinking back into a mound of pillows. She nestled deep under the comforting weight of the duvet being pulled up around her chin.

Those silky lips again, this time against hers. A weightless yet enticing kiss. Then there was only silent air where his hot mouth had been. As if from far away, she heard the window being drawn up, the slap of the heavy drapery falling back into place. For a moment she wondered fuzzily about it, then sleep rose up in gentle waves to drag her under.

* * * * *

Sunlight splashed the room in amber. By the sun’s position in the sky, it had to be past noon. Aimee sat up gingerly. The left side of her face ached between temple and jaw. She rubbed at it, questing after the hazy half-thoughts that lingered just beyond comprehension’s reach.

The comforter fell away, revealing not her usual flannel nightshirt but the lacy bra and panties she’d put on yesterday. On the chair beside the bed, a pair of muddy jeans and an equally soiled kangaroo sweatshirt were folded neatly.

Knitting her eyebrows together, she tried to recall how she came to be so dirty. Memories of delightful sensation swirled through her mind like a tornado, obliterating all other thought.

Aimee… She could hear that dulcet voice as clearly as if he stood beside her still.

Safe, he’d said. And she believed him.

Who? she wondered desperately. Who said that?

Of one thing she was certain, something awful happened to her last night. Someone rescued her, brought her safely home. And then vanished as surely as the shadows.

Frowning, she wandered toward the round mirror above her dresser.

Sapphire eyes, still heavy from sleep, stared back at her. Her dark hair was hopelessly tangled, as though it had been tossed this way and that by the wind. Radiating out from her temple was a nasty-looking purple bruise.

Last night

The sun was a crimson memory by the time she reached the small park. Wind snatched at her hair with chill fingers. Grass, crisp with frost, crunched underfoot as she set out to search for the man she’d come to call “the phantom”.

For months she’d tracked this newcomer. After two years with the shelter’s outreach service, Aimee knew every character in the street community. Some accepted her offers of coffee and blankets grudgingly, others had become her friends. But none stirred her sympathy more than the dark man with the haunted eyes.

They circled on the periphery of each other’s territory. He steadfastly refused her efforts to make contact, fading into the darkness, leaving her to wonder if he was simply a trick of light and shade. Though she assured herself there were always going to be people who wouldn’t accept her help, when the mercury threatened to plummet to unseasonable depths, she took an extra blanket on her rounds and resolved to give him one more try.

As soon as she entered the deserted park, Aimee realized her mistake. She shouldn’t have come here alone so late. Sheltered from the bustle of the street, the park seemed to pause like an indrawn breath. Just a quick look, she promised herself.

Aimee peered into layers of darkness upon darkness, searching for him, sensing rather than seeing he was there.

From the shadows behind her, the sound of footsteps sent her whirling to face him.

“There you are,” she said, relieved. “I brought you a blanket, it’s going to be cold—”

Alas, not him at all. It took only a glimpse of the rough-looking pair who barred her path to understand the situation.

“I’m not carrying any money.”

They sauntered toward her regardless, army surplus boots eating up the ground as they approached. The zippers on their leather jackets jingled as they moved. A chilling thought occurred to her. What if it isn’t money they want?

Then she was running, falling, smacking her forehead against the park bench that seemed to rear up out of nowhere in the darkness.

Falling again into strong arms. A resonant voice murmured in her ear, asking her something…where she lived…got away with her purse…

“Sorry,” he said.

After that the memories didn’t make a lot of sense. The darkness, the sound of the window opening, the drapery fluttering in the wind.

And that touch, the velvet caress that promised so much more…


  10:30:21 am, by

Starcrossed - Now Available!


I'm happy to announce that my futuristic romance Starcrossed has just been released from MuseItUp Publishing.

Here is the blurb and an excerpt:



Cassie’s first assignment as a protocol officer seems easy enough until an error in translation and unwittingly gains her a fiancé. Unravelling the situation causes her to lose her job and places her at the center of a possible intergalactic incident. Her growing attraction to the young and handsome ambassador at the center of the controversy causes even greater complications, leaving Cassie torn between her head and her heart.


Excerpt from Starcrossed by Stephanie Bedwell-Grime

Cassiopeia stared up into the shocking blue eyes of the tall stranger and frantically searched her memory for the words to make everything all right. How had such a simple task gone so wrong?


Her first assignment as protocol officer had been to meet the Cetian ambassador and make arrangements for a visit by fifty delegates from his planet’s government. She’d navigated her way through the subtle nuances of the Cetian greeting. Buoyed by her success, she launched into the formality called the baring of faces. The ritual was designed to put the bargaining on fair terms, but as the diplomat’s scarf disappeared, she discovered he was not the dusty old bureaucrat she’d been expecting, but the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Lightly bronzed skin augmented high cheekbones. Waves of golden hair cascaded over his shoulders. Eyes of sapphire shone like jewels from that perfect face. A quick glimpse of his shrouded form told her that his body was as awe-inspiring as his face. It didn’t help that the young ambassador seemed to be giving her the same interested scrutiny.


Dazzled by his blinding smile, she promptly forgot her carefully memorized, leaving her to stumble through the conversation with little more finesse than a first year linguistics student. “Wait, please, I’ve never done this before.”


Somehow she’d mistaken the verb to accommodate for one with other connotations entirely. No wonder the ambassador was beaming at her, his eyes roving over her veiled body with great interest. Caught in the heat of his stare, she felt as though he was undressing her with a simple glance. Flustered, she compounded the error by mistaking the word for wait with a similar sounding word for mate. To which the Cetian responded with assurances of his gentleness and kind nature, as well as the affectionate behavior of the fifty male delegates who would be joining him on Epsilon Station.

“Wait!” Cassie repeated desperately. He moved to adjust his cloak, signaling the meeting was at an end. “Ambassador Zolan, there are many more specifics to be discussed.” Somehow, she had to find a way to straighten out what could rapidly become an intergalactic incident.



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