Sunday, December 17, 2017


Kindle readers & Amazon gift cards!

Thursday, December 14, 2017


Genre: Anthology/Romance/Fantasy
A collection of stories about the magic of romance at Christmas time.


Authors: Christine Young, C. L. Kraemer, Genie Gabriel

December 14
Goddess Fish Review Tour begins! ~

December 15
Join Amber Angel on the Rogue's Angels' blog ~

December 16
Join Amber Angel on the Rogue's Angels' blog ~
December 18
$400 Kindle Book Review giveaway starts and continues through December 31

December 21
Goddess Fish Review Tour stop ~

December 22
Join Allana Angel on the Rogue's Angels' blog ~

December 23
Join Allana Angel on the Rogue's Angels' blog ~
December 31
Last day to enter for a chance to win $400 Kindle giveaway!

January 4
Goddess Fish Review Tour stop 

January 11
Goddess Fish Review Tour stop

Tuesday, December 12, 2017


During this tour, the author will be giving away
 a digital copy of Beware the Bones 
to one randomly drawn commenter.
Lowell Strudemeyer had a death wish. 
Then, he runs head-on into the 
bad attitude of Jasmine Chandler. 
Now he has a project.


#paranormal romance, #spirit possession, #spirit animal, #Olmecs, #archaeology, #alcoholic

Becoming concerned that the trip may have been wasted time, she backed away and thought, now what?
The only thing left to do was walk around to the back of the house and check there. But before she could take a single step the front door swung open with a jerk and whoosh. There, swaying side to side, was a man who appeared drunk, just past middle age, sporting a scruffy five or six-day growth of salt and pepper whiskers, red eyes framed in dark circles and thick shoulder length unruly silver hair. Sort of a James Brolin meets W. C. Fields look. But that silly smile is Clark Gable for sure.
Straightening to a formal posture, “I’m here to see Mister Strudemeyer. Is he in?”
The man grinned and swayed.
This guy may have broken into the Strudemeyer home and, maybe, even harmed the doctor. She took a tentative backward step.
“I’m sho shorry. The doctor is dead.” He dropped his head with a pitiful sad look.
She took another step back becoming out-right scared. “When...did he die?”
“A few sheconds after I told the hospital board I was retiring.” He snickered, blowing spit from between pursed lips. He stabbed the air with an emphatic finger. “I am a phoenix. From Doctor Strudemeyer’s ashes rose Mishter Strudemeyer.”
Jasmine flushed with anger. “Doctor...Mister Strudemeyer—”
“Call me Lowell.”
Ignoring the request, “Mister Strudemeyer, I’m here as a representative of the archaeology department from the University of Southern California. I have a release form—”
“What’s your name, darlin’?”
“My name is Jasmine Chandler and I prefer you not call me darling.” Like most men, he was rude, arrogant and, on top of that, soused. Suddenly, it occurred to her, an angry response might jeopardize getting his signature. Taking measured breaths, she closed her eyes and recomposed. “Look, all I need is for you to sign this release form. “Would you please read it and—”
“Jasmine is shuch a beautiful name.” He stared off into space over her head and leaned against the door jamb. “Jasmine...shuch a shweet smellin’ flower.” He sucked in a large breath, as if smelling the blossom.
“Mister Strudemeyer, please. I need you to hear and understand what I’m saying.”
He shook a finger at her. “Do you know what shmells better than jasmine, though? Shwee’pea...the most divine of all fragrances.”
“’re trying to say sweetpea.” Like it or not, she was drawn into an unwanted conversation. She folded her arms in the first challenge to his less-than-courteous attitude.
“That’s what I shaid. Shwee’pea.” With a finger that seemed to float unattached, he pointed toward the unkempt mass of blossoms around the fountain. “If you don’t believe me go shmell for yourself.”
She glanced back. “I just came from over there and I know what it smells like. I’ll not be sniffing it again.” She took an aggressive step forward to press her cause but his liquored breath hit her in the face before she could speak. “Maybe the stench of the fountain wasn’t so bad after all,” she muttered twisting her head to the side and returning to her beginning spot on the porch. “Mister Strudemeyer, I’ve driven over an hour to get here for a simple signature. Would you please extend me the courtesy of just one minute to explain why we need it?”
Swimming eyes that couldn’t focus was all she saw. He probably didn’t comprehend the question.
Jasmine’s rosy cheeks darkened. She bristled, moving closer to losing control. Lack of alternatives propelled a worsening attitude.
The drunkard responded out of synch. “May I call you Shwee’pea?” He leaned his head against the door jamb in a mock show of adoration.
Inevitably, it happened. She redlined and hit that point of no return, barreling toward an angry explosion.
“No sir! You sure as hell may not call me Sweetpea, or darlin’, or—or any other pet name that tumbles out of that liquored-up brain! My name is Jasmine Chandler and you, sir, are a drunken, arrogant ass!” She leaned in and got in his face. “Care for me to repeat that? You’re a drunken arrogant ass!”

A lifelong Texan, Daniel Lance Wright is a freelance fiction writer and novelist born in Lubbock, Texas now residing in Clifton, Texas. He lives with Rickie, his wife of 46 years, has two children, and four grandchildren. Having spent the first nineteen years of his life on a cotton farm on the South Plains of Texas and the next thirty-two in the television industry, he has seen the world from two distinctly different angles. Daniel has received recognition for writing skills from The Oklahoma Writers Federation in 2005, 2006, 2010, and 2011; from Art Affair in 2008; from Frontiers in Writing in 2004; from Canis Latran of Weatherford College in 2011; and from The Indie Excellence Book Awards in 2013.

Twitter handle:


"I don't think this can be improved on. It is about as perfect as I could have hoped for." 
--Daniel Lance Wright

Tuesday, December 5, 2017


Genre: Anthology/Romance/Fantasy
A collection of stories about the magic of romance at Christmas time.


Authors: Christine Young, C. L. Kraemer, Genie Gabriel

The authors will give away a copy of their previous anthologies--
A Valentine's Anthology, 
A St. Patrick's Day Tale, 
and A May Day Anthology--
to three randomly drawn commenters during this blog tour.


Twelve Days to Love
Christine Young

Near New Orleans October 2,1867

“Sam! Close the shutters on the back landing. I’ll get the front. Hurry. There’s a storm coming.” Calanthe Durand felt the small hairs on the back of her neck rise and shivers run down her spine. A big storm was on its way, probably a hurricane. Energy and fear poured through her like the pounding rain and flooding that accompanied high winds. Closing the house to the storm was imperative.

Cali took a moment to smile. She’d heard Sam grunt. He didn’t talk much, but she wouldn’t have survived the war or these last two years without Sam and his daughter Daisy. Both sides, the North and the South, had occupied their home. Daisy and Sam were family, the only family she had. She’d do whatever was necessary to protect them. Even with emancipation, life wasn’t easy for blacks in the south.

“I’ve got them, Miss Cali.” Daisy rushed past her and out the door. Wind whipped her hair and tugged at her dress. Branches torn from trees landed on the porch.

Cali followed, the storm swirling around her, her hair beating against her face. Her breath was ragged, and fast as her heart thundered. She pushed and tugged at her skirt, trying to detangle the fabric from her legs. “Get inside!” The tempest raging around them swallowed her voice.

“Not until we’re finished here.” Daisy fastened a shutter before moving on to the next one.

They worked together to protect the windows from the storm on the raised porch which stood five feet off the ground as wind howled around the eaves. A steady rain poured from the black sky, and lightning slashed the darkness.

Cali pushed dripping strands of hair that had slipped from her chignon away from her face. “I’ll light the candles. It could get dark here pretty fast.”

“Horses and livestock are safe for now.” Sam stepped beside her. “Hope it’s not a big one.”

“Hello up there. Hello, bonjour, anyone home?”

Hearing the voice from below, Cali left the protection of the house to lean over the porch railing. Below her a man stood, with cupped hands to his mouth and a dead gator slung over one shoulder a quiver filled with arrows on the other. “Hello. Can I get shelter from the hurricane?”

“Don’t know if it’s a hurricane.” Terrified of unknown men, Cali didn’t want to do the charitable thing. She pursed her lips, thinking, but all that came to surface was memories of troops commandeering her home. Good lord but she’d had to hollow out a bedpost to hide her jewelry. The soldiers had taken everything they could see. Sometimes she felt as if the war had ripped her soul from her body.

“Maybe not a hurricane. Could be just a bad storm, but I don’t want to be on the swamp right now. The water’s rising.” A loud roar and a thunderclap followed his pause. Behind him an old Cyprus tree crashed to the ground, uprooted by the wind.

“You can take shelter in the stable.” Cali watched his back stiffen, while she swallowed hard, but she wasn’t about to back down. The stable was good enough for some wandering man who she owed nothing. Besides, there was a tack room with a bed. No one slept there anymore, but she kept it clean and the moss in the mattress was fresh. Daisy had rolled it out two days ago. Yet a small niggling in the back of her head kept telling her this wasn’t a traveling man but one of means. He was a man she should treat as a gentleman. She’d been taught better but the war had changed all that and the lessons she learned were not served to her with a silver spoon.
“Much obliged.” He nodded before turning toward the barn. His natural swagger and broad shoulders sent a different kind of sensation through her. Warmth swept inside, swirling within and heating her frozen heart. For a moment he looked back, a strange expression on his well-chiseled face.

Boots and Blades
C.L. Kraemer

High Desert, Central Oregon

Killian stared at the rise of rock from the desert floor. The emerging sun tricked the sky into revealing pink and blue streamers across the horizon exposing the severe lines of craggy mountains. Pine trees scented the air, and the slightest hint of sage tickled his nose.

“Where are they disappearing to? They’re much too young to be running away.”

“Master Killian?”

The young man turned his blue gray eyes from the mountain to answer. “Yes, Ms. Luna. What can I do for you?”

“Are you sitting out here at this early hour worrying about the young ones?” Luna’s black hair was braided down her back and she sported a shawl bright with her clan’s colors. She handed the young man a steaming cup of coffee. “I hope you don’t mind black. I’ve yet to milk the goat.”

Killian flashed her a seldom seen smile. “Ms. Luna, you make the best coffee in the desert. Black is fine.”

Taking up a spot next to him on the porch, she turned her attention to the mountains admiring the soft colors of rose and tan springing to life in the morning sun. “What is it that haunts you so?”

“The illogicality of it all.”

“Aye, I figured that. It is indeed illogical. The children are too responsible to leave unannounced, yet they are snatched from their beds in the middle of the night with no clues.”

Killian sipped the wicked black brew and allowed the liquid to spike his taste buds. The brilliant light of a new day was caressing the landscape and warming the air. “The kinders disappearing are not inclined to run off. They are the eldest and most reliable. These missings make no sense. They don’t happen in the same area or at the same time. They’re completely arbitrary and being so—random—has given me pause to find a method. If I were to discover a pattern, the recovery would be simpler.”

Luna watched the anguish distort his handsome young face. His blue eyes clouded to a dark grey when he spoke of the missing children, and his normally full mouth stretched to a tight slash across his face.

“I don’t wish to sound cruel, but none of these are young ones of your own family. Why take their absence to heart?”

Killian relaxed his scowl a bit, and a smile began to touch his lips. “Because it is they who will be the leaders of our clans in but a few short years. I had hoped to retire my sword someday to warm my boots by a fire. Having a mate and young ones around isn’t such a bad idea.”

He automatically sipped his dark brew. It would indeed be nice to warm my feet by a fire with a mate and children. The problem being I’ve found no person who makes me think in such terms.

“Well, I must admit, Master Killian, I never would have thought you to be the settling type.” She picked up his cup, returning from the kitchen minutes later with fresh coffee in the container.

“Neither had I, Ms. Luna, neither had I, however, aside from our missing young ones, there has been no conflict between the clans, nor have the Others tried to interfere in our affairs in a very long time. It is a good thing for many but for me, what good is a warrior without a war?”

Luna could only agree with his forlorn assessment; what good, indeed, was a warrior without a war? “Maybe a solution will arrive in the near future. You never know.”

Killian shrugged his shoulders. Who knew indeed?

Christmas Pawsibilities
Genie Gabriel

“The cloaking device is activated.” Horace pointed to the drone’s monitor that showed a gaping hole in the roof of Agnes’ barn next door, but nothing in the barn other than goats and hay.

"Quickly! Let's get into the barn while Fletcher is inside the house." Aunt Maddie led the way, with Daphne, Ryan and Dori quick-stepping behind her. 

When Maddie explained who they were, the aliens huddled in a whispered conference, then ushered them into the space craft where their Canine Queen lay in her chamber in obvious distress. 

"Humans are not usually allowed to be present at this most sacred of events. However, we are a simple exploring vessel without a doctor. When the main ship was threatened by GIG, we slipped away with our Canine Queen. It is not her time, but the stress of the past few weeks…" 

Another alien added, "Since the Queen's physician is not with us, one of your females will take on that role."

Maddie, Daphne and Dori looked at each other. "We're not doctors."

"But all females have the healer's touch."

Maddie looked at Daphne, who looked at Dori.

"In my elfenchaun form, I have the healing touch," Dori said. 

"Then you will attend our Queen." The alien leader seemed relieved. 

~ * ~

"So, where is this alien craft?" 

Fletcher had never completely trusted Commander Viktor Atrocitor. Since he had taken command of Geeks in Green two years ago, the atmosphere at the agency had become cold and suspicious, like the man himself. He seemed carved from six and a half feet of granite, blocky and scowling.

"It has disappeared." Fletcher knew this statement would draw Atrocitor's ire and disdain, but what was the use of denying the obvious?

"Fool! Can you do nothing right?" Atrocitor turned to the GIG agents waiting at a wary distance. "Search the neighborhood. Someone must have seen something or is hiding them."

While Atrocitor berated Fletcher, other GIG agents spread throughout the neighborhood, offending pretty much everyone by demanding they stay in their houses while their property was overrun and searched. 

After two hours of fruitless searching, Commander Atrocitor called a halt. "If you want to save your career and this town, you will bring me these aliens within twenty-four hours."

As Fletcher watched the caravan of GIG vehicles disappear down the road out of Watermark, he felt like a six-year-old kid again. Bullied and humiliated for his belief that beings from distant galaxies simply wanted to explore and build alliances. They weren’t like aliens in movies who wanted to destroy humanity.

That's why Fletcher started working at Geeks in Green. He thought he found other humans like himself who believed alliances with aliens could benefit everyone. Now he was starting to believe the rumors about Commander Atrocitor being heartless and determined to eliminate aliens were true. How could he know for sure?

His thoughts were interrupted when Agnes staggered out the back door toward the barn. "Who's disturbing my goats?"

With her hair disheveled and her clothes askew, she did indeed look as if she had spent a raucous night of partying—the after-effects of being zapped by a ray gun. 

Laycee and Fletcher followed Agnes into the barn, where the space craft was once again visible. Now the hatch was open, with guards standing on either side pointing ray guns at Agnes, Laycee and Fletcher.

"Holy extraterrestrial!" 

With a sizzle of purple, one of the alien guards fired his gun and Fletcher crumpled to the ground.

"Why did you do that?" Ryan hustled out of the space craft.

"He is of GIG," one of the guards stated. "He is a danger to our Queen."

"Is he dead?" Ryan knelt over Fletcher's inert body.

"Simply stunned. We will revive him when the danger to our Queen is gone." The two guards loaded Fletcher onto a transport board, which levitated and moved inside the space craft. 

"Your mouth isn't moving but I can hear your words." Laycee's shocked whisper matched the stunned expression in her eyes. 

"Our Canine Queen is birthing and is not to be disturbed." This time the alien's mouth moved as he spoke, and he looked like any other human except for a twinkle of star light in his eyes. “Weren’t you getting milk for the royal puppies?”

”Yes.” Ryan refocused his attention on this task, determined to ignore Laycee’s presence. What was she doing here anyway? "Agnes, do you have milk from your goats?"

"My goats don't much like to be milked."  

"Surely it can't be that difficult," Ryan said.

Agnes lifted an eyebrow. "You're welcome to try. I'll get a clean bucket."

Determined to get milk for the Queen's puppies, Ryan began stalking one of the goats.

"I think it should be a female," Laycee said.

Ryan felt like a first grader again. "I knew that."

Laycee coughed behind her hand to cover her laughter. "There's a girl goat on top of the space ship." 

Ryan looked up the curved, smooth surface. "Maybe there's another girl somewhere easier to reach." 

He stepped around the space ship and over the boards broken when the craft crashed through the roof. "There's a girl! Help me get her into a stall."


While Ryan circled around the nanny goat one way, Laycee closed in on her from the other side. The little goat narrowed her eyes at the humans and, when they were within a couple feet of her, she let out a bleat and ran between Ryan's legs. Startled, he stumbled and dropped to one knee. 

"Watch out!" Laycee's shout made Ryan turn in time to see an irritated male goat charging toward him.


Christie L. Kraemer
A traveler for most of her life, C. L. Kraemer has settled in the Northwest with her husband and two cats. When not creating a new world or entity, she likes riding next to her husband on their Harleys.

Genie Gabriel
Fur against my face and the soft smell of a dog curled protectively around me existed before my first memories of this life. So began my journey of being more in tune with animals than with people. I went through the expected motions of marriage, kids, divorce, and career, but usually out of step with most of the human population. This proved to be an advantage in developing an independence and a curiosity about things most people don’t even consider. A minor health issue led to energy healing and becoming a master level Reiki practitioner. Working at the local animal shelter flipped on the switch to communicating with animals. Each dog I adopted showed miraculous changes most people couldn’t believe. As a writer, I explored the mysteries of why people behave as they do, and also became fascinated by science, especially quantum physics. But perhaps my favorite way of writing stories is to ask the question, “What if?” and dive into those imagined worlds—surrounded by my beloved furbabies, of course!

Christine Young
Born in Medford, Oregon, novelist Christine Young has lived in Oregon all of her life. After graduating from Oregon State University with a BS in science, she spent another year at Southern Oregon State University working on her teaching certificate, and a few years later received her Master's degree in secondary education and counseling. Now the long, hot days of summer provide the perfect setting for creating romance. She sold her first book, Dakota's Bride, the summer of 1998 and her second book, My Angel to Kensington. Her teaching and writing careers have intertwined with raising three children.  Christine's newest venture is the creation of Rogue Phoenix Press. Christine is the founder, editor and co-owner with her husband. They live in Salem, Oregon.



Saturday, December 2, 2017


December 2, 2018

AUTHORAMA booksigning
with 40 authors including 
Christine Young, C.L. Kraemer, Genie Gabriel 
at Salem Public Library, 585 Liberty SE, Salem, OR 97301, 1-4PM

You can also join Sable Angel
on the Rogue's Angels' blog ~

Friday, December 1, 2017


December 1

RPP Blog Tour ~ David Cairns ~
RPP Blog Tour ~ RPP BLOG ~
Join Sable Angel on the Rogue's Angels' blog ~


I feel a cover design binge coming on!

So I want to clear out older pre-made covers 
to make room on my web site for newer ones. 
To do that, I've decided to run 
Five-Dollar Friday specials. 

Every Friday, I'll post a pre-made cover 
that can be purchased for $5. 
After that, it's gone and will be removed
from my Designs by Ms. G web site. 

At this time of year, 
of course I'll be featuring holiday covers
 for the next few weeks. 
And here's today's 

If you wish to buy this cover,
just leave a comment
and I'll contact you
about the title and author name
to go on this cover!

Thursday, November 30, 2017


The first three novellas of 
are now available as a boxed set--
either digital or print--
and I'm giving away five copies of each!
If you prefer digital copies, enter for a chance to win on <
If you'd rather have a print book, enter for a chance to win at Goodreads <>

A new Christmas anthology
will be released December 1, 2017 
that will include the fourth novella of 
Aunt Maddie's Doggone Misadventures!

Friday, November 24, 2017


I feel a cover design binge coming on!

So I want to clear out older pre-made covers 
to make room on my web site for newer ones. 
To do that, I've decided to run 
Five-Dollar Friday specials. 

Every Friday, I'll post a pre-made cover 
that can be purchased for $5. 
After that, it's gone and will be removed
from my Designs by Ms. G web site. 

At this time of year, 
of course I'll be featuring holiday covers
 for the next few weeks. 
And here's today's 

If you wish to buy this cover,
just leave a comment
and I'll contact you
about the title and author name
to go on this cover!

Friday, November 17, 2017


I feel a cover design binge coming on!

So I want to clear out older pre-made covers 
to make room on my web site for newer ones. 
To do that, I've decided to run 
Five-Dollar Friday specials. 

Every Friday, I'll post a pre-made cover 
that can be purchased for $5. 
After that, it's gone and will be removed
from my Designs by Ms. G web site. 

At this time of year, 
of course I'll be featuring holiday covers
 for the next few weeks. 
And here's today's 

If you wish to buy this cover,
just leave a comment
and I'll contact you!

Wednesday, November 15, 2017


to a randomly drawn commenter during this blog tour.

Angus has battled an obsession with sex throughout his adult life. Although outwardly a model husband and father with a respectable life and a well-paying job, he has a shameful secret life which he has become highly skilled at hiding.

Cassy is married to Angus and has no idea about his secret life. In fact, with her own worries she has been pulling away from him, emotionally and physically which is making his behaviour worse. Although she does not know it, Cassy is fanning the flames of an inferno which threatens to destroy their marriage.

Lovesickness: the eternal bane of humanity, the inescapable affliction which we simultaneously crave and fear. For Angus and Cassy, already in the thirteenth year of their marriage, the painful journey to true happiness has only just began.

Amazon, Barnes and Noble

Heavy metal lover and cricket tragic, D.A. Cairns lives in Darwin in Australia’s Northern Territory, where he works as an English language teacher and writes stories in his very limited spare time. He has had over fifty short stories published (but who’s counting, right?) He blogs at Square pegs and has authored four novels, Devolution, Loathe Your Neighbor, Ashmore Grief, and A Muddy Red River which is also available from Rogue Phoenix Press.

"It's great. Thanks for bringing my vision to life. I love it."
--D.A. Cairns