Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Winning Glory by Ann Gimpel!

Winning Glory

GenTech Rebellion, Book 1

Ann Gimpel


Dream Shadow Press

60K words


Release Date: 4/21/15


Genre: Military Romantic Suspense


The line between hunter and hunted thins, blurs, and finally shatters.


Series Backstory:


Sometime between the interminable wars in the Middle East and 9/11, the United States moved forward breeding a race of super humans. Clandestine labs formed, armed with eager scientists who’d always yearned to manipulate human DNA. At first the clones looked promising, growing to fighting size in as little as a dozen years, but V1 had design flaws.


Seven years ago, a rogue group turned on their creators, blew up the lab, and hit all the other breeding farms, freeing whomever they could find. In the intervening time, they’ve retreated to hidden compounds and created a society run by men. Women are kept on a tight leash because the men fear if they discover their innate power, they’d launch their own rebellion.  


Book Description:


Being a genetically altered human without a name grew old, so Glory named herself. Surrounded by a maze of unpleasant alternatives, she makes a bold choice and ends up a fugitive in the midst of a Minnesota winter. Once she’s on the run, she discovers how unprepared she is for life outside her protected compound.


CIA agent, Roy Kincaid, devoted his career to hunting super humans who staged a rebellion seven years before. He’s not making much headway, so he goes deep undercover. One blustery night, a striking woman staggers into the café where he’s catching a late meal. Part waif, part runway model, the half-frozen woman arrows straight into his heart.


Glory’s flat out of alternatives, but death in the storm might be preferable to telling the tall stranger looming over her anything. Sensing Roy is dangerous, she pushes into his head seeking clues and discovers he hunts those like her. Maybe she can fool him, just for tonight. Get a hot meal and dry motel room out of the deal. If she’s lucky, he’ll never find out she’s on the run from the same group he’s targeted for death. 


The thing she didn’t count on was falling in love.





…“Dessert, hon?” The waitress sidled back over to him, and Roy realized he was her only customer.

“Sure. What do you have?”

She rattled off a series of pies and cakes. He chose apple pie with a scoop of ice cream, and she left with his dinner plate. Roy slumped against the chair. He had to keep going. No choice. Not really. A good night’s sleep, coupled with the first adequate meal he’d had in a couple days might make a big difference in his attitude. At least he hoped they would.

He’d just begun on the pie, which had a surprisingly flaky crust, when a rush of cold air yanked his attention toward the door. A tall woman walked in. Long, dark hair caked with snow swirled around her, and she held her body tightly as if she were really cold. Roy glanced at her feet and was shocked to see a pair of tennis shoes with holes in them. Good God, had she been outside with such inadequate footwear? Didn’t she understand she could freeze to death? Even his stout boots didn’t do much to divert the cold. 

Keeping her gaze downcast, she made her way to the counter and sat.

“Coffee, hon?” The waitress asked. 

“How much is it?” the woman inquired.

“Two bucks.”

“Oh.” The woman’s shoulders drooped, and she swiveled the stool around, getting ready to go back out into the storm.

“No, you don’t.” The waitress’s voice sharpened. “I’ll stand you a coffee. You look about done in.”

The woman’s even features melted into what looked like relief before she turned back to face the counter. “Thank you. That’s really kind and I appreciate it. My wallet was stolen, and—”

“Never you mind.” The waitress patted the woman’s shoulder. “Bet you’re hungry too.” She poured hot coffee into a mug and handed it to the woman, who drew the steaming liquid to her lips.

“Maybe a little,” the woman ventured. She clasped the cup with fingers white from cold.

By now, Roy knew he was staring, but he couldn’t make himself turn away. There was something waiflike and alluring about the tall woman with long, black hair. Snow dripped off her, creating puddles around her stool. All she wore against the winter weather was a thick, gray sweater and worn jeans. No scarf. No gloves. No hat. He was close to certain her wallet hadn’t been stolen. She looked more like an abuse victim on the run to him. Maybe he could help her get to her intended destination, if it wasn’t too far out of his way.

He pushed his chair back and made his way to the counter. “Say—” he began, but she started and drew away as if she expected him to hit her.

I was right. Abuse victim for sure.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He kept his voice low, soothing. “Order whatever you want, and I’ll pay for it.”

She kept her gaze on her hands clutching the coffee cup. “I can’t let you do that, sir. I’m all right. Truly I am.”

Without waiting for an invitation, he took the stool next to hers and called to the waitress. “Bring her the same meal I just had.”

“You got it, hon,” rang from the direction of the kitchen.

“You are not all right,” Roy said. “You’re thin as a rail, and you were shivering when you came in here. In fact, you still are. I’ll bet your shoes are wet clear through.” When she didn’t respond, he ploughed on. “Let me help you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t want your kind of help. It always comes with strings.”

“Mine doesn’t.”

He pushed a little with his enhanced mental ability to get her to look at him. If she did, maybe she’d see truth in his eyes. A shudder ran down her thin frame, but she dragged her gaze upward reluctantly. Roy felt bad for forcing her, but he didn’t have time to soothe her wounded places, which he suspected ran deep.

Eyes a shade of green he’d never seen inspected him. Long, thick lashes framed those eyes, and they were set in a face with high cheekbones, a high forehead, and black eyebrows winging a track over porcelain skin.

“Who are you?” The words tore from him. He hadn’t meant to say them. She was nervous as a feral cat as it was.

She shook her head sadly. “No one. I’m no one. You’ll forget all about me when you leave here.”

Something shifted in his mind, but he fought it. Before he could determine if something real had just happened or if he were imagining things, the waitress showed up with the woman’s dinner.

“Here you go, hon. Hope medium’s okay for that steak?”

“Fine, thank you.” Before the words were out, the woman picked up the fork and knife and shoveled food into her mouth.

Roy congratulated himself on a good call. Even though she’d been reluctant to admit it, she really was starving. He had no idea what she’d do tomorrow or the next day, but it wasn’t his problem. While she ate, he observed her from the corner of his eyes. In addition to being hungry and underdressed, she looked young. Maybe twenty. He’d be surprised if she were much more than that.

He shook a mental finger at himself. The country was full of abused women running from the men who used them as punching bags before they raped them. It was one part of law enforcement work he’d never understood: why the women kept going back for more.

“There are safe houses for girls like you,” he said, and could’ve kicked himself. What the hell was wrong with his mouth tonight? He couldn’t seem to keep words on the other side of it.

She stopped chewing long enough to glance at him. “What’s a safe house?”

“A place where women like you can go so whoever’s after you can’t get to you.”

“What makes you think someone’s after me?” Color splotched across her white cheeks.

Roy took a deep breath. “I was a cop for a long time.”

Her entire body tightened, and he wondered if he’d been wrong about why she was out in the storm. “You said was.” She swiped a paper napkin over her lips. “Are you still?”

“No. Not anymore.”

She took another bite, clearly thinking about what he’d said. “These people you think are after me. Could they still find me in a safe house?”

He wanted to lie to her, but didn’t. “Sure. Anyone can find anybody with the Internet and all, but the people who run the safe houses won’t let anyone who might hurt you inside.”

She drew her arched brows together and drank some coffee. “I’d have to go outside sometime. Work. Earn my way.”

He nodded. Those things were all true. He scratched his head and pushed too-long hair out of his eyes. “Sometimes, when a man is really persistent, there are ways of setting you up with a different identity in a different part of the country.”

Interest lit her features, and she cut up the last of her steak. “Where would I go to have that happen?”

“I’m not sure, but we could check with local agencies in the morning.”

A blank expression washed over her face, as if someone had shut out a light. She shot him a look she might have given yesterday’s overripe trash. “Morning, huh? You’re just like all the rest of them, mister. Means I’d have to spend the night with you.”

Roy winced. He hadn’t been thinking. Of course she’d make that connection. “No.” He shook his head emphatically. “I’d buy you your own room for the night. You can clean up, get some sleep, and we’ll regroup in the morning after breakfast.”

She narrowed her eyes, and he felt himself drawn into their depths. “My own room with a locked door?”

He nodded solemnly, willing her to believe him. If he could just do one decent deed, it would make up for the last two weeks of beating his head into a brick wall. Maybe it would give him enough juice to keep hunting for the scientists who were a bunch of Houdini fuckers.

“Mmph.” She started on her potato, taking large bites. In between them, she said. “I’m trying to figure out your angle. If I’ve worked my way around to believing you won’t hurt me by the time I’m done eating, I’ll accept your offer.”

It was the best he was likely to get. Roy stood. “Fair enough. I’m going to finish my pie.” It was sitting in a pool of melted ice cream, but he didn’t mind. “If you’d care to accept my help, just stop by my table on your way out. If you walk past, I give you my word I won’t bother you.”

“Deal.” She said around a mouthful of food. Swallowing, she twisted to look at him. 

It felt as if she were staring straight through him, but Roy held his ground even after he identified a zing of power withdrawing from his mind. What the hell was she, anyway? When she returned to her dinner, he retreated to his pie, thoughts racing a mile a minute. What the fuck was he doing? If he were smart, he’d forget his offer, throw enough money on the table to cover both meals, and run like hell for his car.

There was something about the woman, though, an appeal that drew him, snared him, and wouldn’t leave him be. He ate mindlessly, not tasting the pie. He knew the feel of freak mind control. Was that it? Had he inadvertently stumbled onto one of them?

Impossible. They’re never by themselves, and whatever she examined me with didn’t feel quite right.

Plus, she didn’t resemble the ones he’d killed before. They had dark hair, but animal eyes. Amber, not green like hers. Of course they’d been men, but simple genetics argued they’d all look much the same if they came out of the same petri dishes. 

Were there other augmented humans beyond those he already knew about? The thought fascinated and chilled him at the same time.

He scraped his fork over the plate and realized it was empty. Slugging back long-since-cold coffee, he dug for his wallet and extracted what he was certain would cover dinner, laying bills on the table and placing his empty mug atop them. 

The woman looked almost done with her meal. What would she do?

What would he do if she walked by him and out the door? Would he be able to keep his promise and not go after her?…





About the Author: 


Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at heart. Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers many hours at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls, but her soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. Around the turn of the last century (that would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle moving to the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It was during long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who see the backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann prefers solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys, sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her fear for her life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip and sat down at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning. And, she learned a lot between writing that novel and its sequel.


Around that time, a friend of hers suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before that first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty regularly since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her tales often have a green twist.


In addition to writing, Ann enjoys wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her backpack to distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten percent of her pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a very long time. Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their family.










@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)


Romancing the Wolf Box Set w Giveaway!

Hi everyone!Thanks for stopping by for the Romancing the Wolf book blitz with Xpresso Book Tours. 

Romancing the Wolf
Book & Author Details:

Romancing the Wolf Boxed Set
Publication date: June 30th 2015
Genres: Adult, Romance

Sexy and we know it! They’re on the hunt after your heart. Discover 10 brand new passionate tales of friendship, desire, wolves, survival, and redemption. Escape to another world, another place, and another romance…
Warning: Contains wild heroes and heroines, tempestuous passion, old secrets, new discoveries, and pack ties binding them together. Sometimes love’s greatest challenge is romancing the wolf…



Individual giveaways:
I am giving away one (1) ebook of choice from any author in this set. Open internationally.

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Blitz-wide giveaway (INTL)
  • $25 Amazon Gift Card + ebooks from authors in this boxed set
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Monday, June 29, 2015

Gypsy's Wolf Anthology by Stormy Glenn w Giveaway!!

Gypsy's Wolf
Gypsy’s Wolf
Stormy Glenn, Lynn Hagen, Olivia Black,
Bellann Summer, Jess Buffett,
Alex Carreras, Leah Blake,
Cree Storm, Evelise Archer,
E. A. Reynolds, Aeryn Jaden,
Jane Wallace-Knight, Amara Lebel,
Jordan Ashton, Berengaria Brown,
Skye Michaels, Sydney Lain,
Rennie Leigh, Frey Ortega,
Andrew Jericho, Felicia Fern,
Grace Ryles, Hennessee Andrews,
Shea Balik, and Lyssa Samuels

Genre: Erotic MM Paranormal, Vampires, Werewolves Romance, Man Love

Publisher: Siren Publishing

Date of Publication: April 30th, 2015

ISBN: 978-1-63259-397-9

Number of pages: 186 pages
Word Count: 52,132

Cover Artist: Jess Buffett

Book Description:

One story, 25 authors, infinite possibilities...

Quad McDaniel’s life changed forever the night he was attacked by a wolf. Now, he turns furry every full moon. Avoiding red meat and anything that makes him aggressive is his prime goal in life. But when his convertible breaks down in some Podunk town, becoming the beast within is no longer a choice. It’s instinctive.

Gypsy Govanivinch just wants to live a quiet life in Trinity Valley, running his roadhouse tavern. He doesn’t need an overly aggressive shifter coming into his town and messing with his peaceful little world, no matter how gorgeous the man looked.

Life never asked Quad or Gypsy what they wanted. It simply gave them what they needed, whether they agreed or not. Fate brought them together but it’s up to Quad and Gypsy to stay alive long enough to appreciate what they’ve been given. And when others work to prevent that, fighting together might be the only chance they have of surviving.

Available at Bookstrand

100% of proceeds will be donated to charity


Quad McDaniel threw his cell phone into the passenger seat and banged his head repeatedly against the steering wheel of his black Mercedes SL600 Roadster convertible. He couldn’t believe that his brand new car had broken down. He had just bought the damn thing two days ago.
So much for the perfect car!
And now his cell phone wouldn’t get any reception. Could his day get any worse?
He climbed from his car, slamming the door closed hard behind him in frustration. Looking around, he couldn’t see much in the dark, except for some glowing lights off in the distance. Resigned to his fate, Quad locked the car door and began walking toward the light.
When he reached the parking lot, he gazed up at the tavern sign…GG’s Roadhouse. Well, damn, he was in redneck hell. The multitude of pickup trucks and motorcycles in the gravel parking lot should have told him this.
He heard loud music spill into the parking lot when a man dressed in tight jeans and a sleeveless flannel shirt walked outside. Quad knew his day wasn’t going to get any better when he watched the guy climb into his souped-up truck. He could only pray that there was a pay phone inside.
Like those exist anymore.
He walked into the two-story roadhouse, stopping briefly right inside the doorway to look around the interior. He was actually surprised at how nice the place seemed. The first floor of the large room seemed to be broken into different sections. To the right of him was a large wooden bar that ran almost the entire length of the east wall with several intimate tables near the far end.
Directly in front of him was a large wooden dance floor that went all the way to the far wall. The ceiling directly above the dance floor was two stories high with a wooden beamed ceiling and a large mirror that went from the first floor to the balcony on the second floor. To the front right corner of the dance floor was a DJ booth and karaoke setup. He could see several people dancing on the dance floor to the loud beat of the southern rock music playing.
Looking toward the second floor, he could see that it was in the shape of a square with the balcony overlooking the dance floor in the middle. There were also several tables and booths on the second floor, as well as pool tables. A few of those tables were being used by bikers and rednecks.
On each side of the dance floor on the back wall was a set of double doors leading out onto a wooden deck overlooking a clear blue lake. The second floor had double doors that he assumed led out to a balcony covering the deck.
Looking up the wide, wooden stairway to the left of the bar, he could see that directly above him must be the management offices, and below them, the restrooms. Just beyond the bathrooms, he could hear sounds coming from what he assumed was a working kitchen.
All in all, it was a pretty sweet setup. If this place were in his neighborhood, it would be an upper class restaurant. He could envision it with upscale clientele, waiters dressed in white shirts and ties, and a top class chef. It would make a lot of money. Too bad it was in the middle of nowhere, filled with rednecks and leather-clad bikers.
Quad strode toward the bar and took a seat at one of the vacant bar stools. He lifted his hand to signal the bartender and lost his train of thought. The sexiest man he'd ever laid eyes on stood at the other end of the bar.
He couldn’t have been more than five foot six and maybe a whopping one hundred and forty-five pounds. The stranger wasn’t a skinny bean poll like most of the twinks Quad knew. In fact, as far as he could tell, the bartender had lean muscle in all the right places. The man also had a seductive, wild beauty about him that called deeply to the primal alpha male in Quad.
Wisps of tendrils escaped the silken mass of long, braided snow-white hair and caressed the sides of his perfect high cheekbones. There was both a delicacy and a strength in his face. Pale green eyes were ringed by black lashes. His lips were full and rounded over even, white teeth, and smooth skin glowed with golden undertones.
Shapely thighs and a firm ass tapered into long straight legs. The man’s tight, faded blue jeans rode low on his hips. A ribbed, black tank top barely covered him from his collarbone down to just above his bellybutton. A thick, studded, black belt drew Quad’s attention to the man’s tight, flat muscular abdomen.
Quad’s tongue almost fell out of his mouth when he spotted the little piercing in the twink’s bellybutton, which was encircled with a sunburst type tattoo. Oh, man, would he love to nibble on that.
A Celtic tattoo encircled one of the man’s smooth, left arms. That made two tattoos that Quad could see. He wondered how many more the gorgeous little man had. He would give almost anything to go on a treasure hunt and find each and every one.
“What’ll it be, honey?” Mr. Sexy asked with a silky, southern accent. His voice alone could mesmerize Quad. It was sexy and smooth, like aged whiskey. He could listen to him talk all day long. Quad wondered briefly if the man would sound the same during sex.
“Hey, honey, you just going to stare at me all day, or you gonna order something?”
Quad just stared. He didn’t even blink when the little twink waved a hand in front of his face. He was too busy envisioning what he wanted to do to the man on any available flat surface.
“Honey, you okay?”

About the Authors:

25 of Siren Publishing’s hottest ManLove authors have come together to bring you a paranormal story with intrigue, wolf shifters, elves, magic, and a mating so sizzling hot, it took 25 authors just to write it.

Tour giveaway
Month-long giveaway
1- $20 Amazon gift card
2- 1 eBook copy of Gypsy’s Wolf

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Meet Renee N Meland and Burning Doors!

Burning Doors
The Extraction List Series
Book 2
Renee N. Meland

Genre: Science Fiction Thriller

Publisher: Limitless Publishing
Date of Publication: April 28th, 2015

ISBN: 9781680581119
ASIN: B00W7GV018

Number of pages: 164

Book Description:

Cain Foley committed his first murder before he could even drive a car…

Not that he would’ve had anywhere to drive to. When he was fifteen, America was one of the poorest countries in the world, and its’ citizens took their hatred of that fact out on each other through gangs and violence.

Children barely tall enough for carnival rides peppered the streets selling drugs (or themselves) so they could buy their next meal.

Every night on the news, Cain watched as an angelic blonde woman who lost her own child swore she’d end it…

She assaulted America’s televisions with praise for the Parental Morality Law: a set of rules that spells out exactly what it takes to be a parent in the eyes of the government, and the consequences of breaking those rules. He prayed every night that she’d come to rescue him before his father took off his belt again.

Before she could save him, Cain faced a fatal choice…

Fight back or die on the basement floor.

He chose life.

Now on the run, he finds himself being hunted by a police officer with his own special brand of torture. Before he can save even a handful of the children who have been swept up in the gang life, he must first cover up not one, but two murders. His father’s and one committed by a teenage madam who is either the love of his life, or his final undoing.

As he feels himself being pushed further and further to the edge, Cain realizes that surviving his father was just the beginning.

Available on Amazon  Kindle  Print


The first time I killed someone, it was an accident. Though I guess it was the kind of accident that happens when you squeeze your hands around someone’s neck for too long, or when you shove someone who is standing too close to the edge of a building. In my case, I accidentally killed my father when I beat him to death with a pipe.
He had set me up that night, I’m sure of it. I was always careful to leave the TV volume down so I wouldn’t be caught. But when I flipped the power on that night, the news roared. The woman I wanted to see was there, giving a speech like always, but her voice came out with the force of thunder. Sweat drenched my body when I heard the door to my parents’ upstairs bedroom fly open and hit the wall. The foundation shook and so did my limbs. I sat frozen in a seated position as I heard his footsteps. All I could focus on were his shiny patent leather shoes coming toward me. Even in the middle of the night, he took the time to slip them on.
I could smell him before I even saw his feet. He constantly stunk of mouthwash and old cologne; it was some putrid mix of sandalwood and beach vacations that we would never take. He cackled as he stepped toward me, so the minty air from his breath reached me before his hand did. I felt my head hit the floor before I felt the familiar sting in my cheek.
“You’re so stupid. You really think you’ll ever leave here? Where do you think you’re going to go, huh? You need me. She hasn’t come for you and she never will!” He kicked me in the side with his foot.
My stomach clenched from the impact.
I usually kept quiet when he hit me. At most, I would agree with whatever he was saying to stop him before he did real damage.
It never worked.
No matter what I said, or didn’t say, the blows would keep coming. My mother was always    conveniently upstairs, but no one can tell me she couldn’t hear the snap of his belt or the furniture rattle as he shoved me into it.
That night was different. Maybe it was watching the woman from the television, or maybe it was the way his smile stretched across his face as he struck me, I don’t know. But when he was finished and heading back upstairs, I spat towards him.
My cheeks burned as I did it. In fact, my whole body felt like it was on fire. But I’d be lying if I said I wished I could take it back. Even when he turned, eyes wide when he noticed the wad of saliva glistening on the concrete floor, I didn’t regret it one bit.
I may have even cracked a smile. 

Why The Extraction List Became a Series- Author Guest Post

Alright, I admit it. The Extraction List was never supposed to be a series. It was supposed to be one and done, move on to the next idea. I have a short attention span, so the plan was to delve into some reincarnation stories that were swirling around in my head after  I was finished with the book.
Then I met Riley Crane.
And Cain Foley.
And Jordyn Dailey.
I realized these people had a lot more story to tell, especially Cain, who ended up becoming my favorite character in the book (Sorry Riley, I still love you). I wanted to know what happened to Cain that made him become a Guide. Cain’s haunted-ness and ability to make quick and deadly decisions had to come from somewhere terribly dark and interesting.
So I let him tell me about it. And book 2 was born. Told from his perspective, the reader gets to take a walk down the darkened streets that were home to the chaos that was the beginning of the Parental Morality Law. You will see how the Guide system came to be, and what made Cain the twisted up badass that he is in book one. 
But in my adventure with book two, I met some more people that I just couldn’t let go. Their contribution to the overall story couldn’t possibly be over. Without giving away too much, those delightful little bastards weren’t done with me yet either.
And because I know that not letting these characters go is what’s best for the story overall, I decided it wasn’t.
That leaves book 3. It’s going to have a lot more punch to it if you read Cain’s book first. It’s a before-you-go-forward-you-must-see-where-you’ve-been kind of thing.  No, it’s not the ideal order of things, but hey, I’d rather tell the story MY way, even if that means having to get it read in a little bit of a weird order. I stand behind these books, and am confident enough to tell you that it will be worth it. So I hope you enjoy book one, and can’t wait to share with you the next step in the series!

The Extraction List (The Extraction List, #1)


About the Author:

Renee N. Meland is an avid writer and reader of speculative fiction. She and her husband reside in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. When she is not writing or being a devoted doggy-mom, she is gardening or learning a new recipe.

She is currently working on the rest of the books in The Extraction List Series. Other upcoming projects involve reincarnation, and a house filled with people who all have something to hide.

Twitter @reneenmeland