Content:There is no explicit content in any of the books.
Blind Dating by Kerry Taylor
A Romantic Comedy
When mid-forties, divorced, single-mother-of-three, Kimberly, realizes her own mother has more of a life than she does, she decides to do something about it.
Encouraged by success stories from people at work, she joins a dating chat room, ICQ, which starts to rock her world.
All of a sudden she’s a swinging single, online, with extreme dates, a little dirty talk, and a sense of her new, sexy self— until that fateful moment when her long-time chat-room buddy, LonelySingle, wants to meet. "Are you trying to find a man on Facelook?" her Mom questions, after years of being told it is Facebook!
What if he doesn’t like her? What if she doesn’t like him? These are the thoughts, inside her head. Until they meet and realise, that they have been friends offline aswell as online! What happens next? A light-hearted, romantic comedy about a single mom finding true love, which was right before her eyes.
‘I am his wife, he no longer respects, touches or loves me.’
Lisa cries to herself at night. After 15 years of marriage, she cannot accept their fate: a life with no children. She wallows in paranoia as Mark works late and continues his career as a travelling salesman. Her accusations of him cheating on her result in their first major fight which leads to a trail of events that spiral out of Lisa's control.
Will Lisa manage to keep her tenuous grip on her marriage, her life and ultimately reality?
A novel about one woman’s struggle to carry on when her worst nightmare turns into reality.
Heather and Kelly are two single best friends who live and do everything together. When someone points out that the only other women who have a similar lifestyle are either lesbians or sisters, they decide it is time to move on and get married. How will they choose? Vowing to find their husbands together as well, they embark on a journey, equal parts hunt and madcap dating adventure, to find their dream husbands. With opposite tastes and ideas, will they be able to find husbands together? Searching for a man with money or searching for a man to love—who will find their husband first? And more importantly, is there a happy ending?
Formats: Paperback (only at Amazon), Kindle, Nook, Smashwords
The book is suitable for all audiences.
Huck Jones, the son of the admiral of the Soaker fleet, has a legacy to live up to. Haunted by the distorted memories of his mother's untimely death, he must face his demons and the man who raised him as he strives to take the courageous step forward into manhood. When he's transferred to the worst-performing ship in the fleet, everything he believes is called into question when he meets a lowly brown-skinned bilge rat girl. Huck walks a deadly rope...
Meanwhile, Sadie, destined to be a Rider in the Stormer army, seeks to avenge her brother's death at the hands of the Soakers. Trained hard by her mother, an experienced Rider, Sadie knows strength and determination more than most. Her father, a Man of Wisdom, has shown his cowardice more times than she can count. As her world and family fall apart, she must cast aside her anger and focus on the wisdom she's always brushed off as foolishness.
Amidst everything, a Plague ravages all, discriminating against no one.
When four worlds collide, lines will be drawn, sides will be chosen, victory will be sought. Death will be wrought. The mysteries of the Cure for the deadly Plague will be uncovered. Who will survive? And what will those who do learn about themselves and the ones they love?
When the weight of Gard’s heavy hands lifts from the crown of my head, I look up and the war leader nods. I stand to cheers and thunder from stomping feet, stride toward the stables, invincible, where a horse is being led toward me.
With a sleek, black hide, long, black mane, and fierce brown eyes, she’s everything I always imagined she would be. Stamping her feet, pulling at the ropes, snorting heavy plumes of breath out of her flaring nostrils, she’s unbroken.
It takes four strong men, Riders, to control her, and even then, she’s uncontrollable. Wild. Hungry. Mine.
As I approach, I notice a mar on the complete darkness of her coloring: A single patch of white sits high on her nose, almost between her ears, shaped like a butterfly. White wings.
Can she fly?
I’m still admiring her wild and untamed perfection, wondering where she was found, how hard it was for the Horse Whisperers to lure her close enough to capture her, whether she put up a fight, when one of the ropes are thrust into my hands.
Thankfully, I have enough sense to grab it firmly, to hold on, to remember the words my mother taught me, let them flow freely through my mind. I am yours, you are mine, we are one. A warrior and a steed become a Rider. Fight with me even as I fight with you. Separate, our strength is breakable, matched by many; combined, our power is above all, unstoppable.
The words roll over and over in my mind as I take the second rope, walking my hands up the thick strands, feeling them burn my palms as the horse bucks and strains against the bonds that are so foreign to a creature that has known only complete freedom while roaming wild on the plains.
Freedom is an illusion. I’m surprised to hear my father’s words in my head while I’m so focused on approaching my horse. I shake my head and resume my chant, this time out loud, first as a whisper and then louder and louder as I get closer and closer. The horse isn’t calmed by my words, but I know she hears them, because she’s completely focused on me now, and I’m oblivious to the ceremony that continues behind me.
Passion. The name occurs to me just like my mother said it would, right when one of the Riders are thrown down when the horse charges sharply to one side. “Passion,” I say, and she stands perfectly still, matching the intensity of my gaze. “Sadie.” She snorts, as if my name is but a cricket under the stomp of her grand feet. And so it is.
I shouldn’t be this close, not at the first meeting. My mother told me, but it takes Passion to teach me.
She seems calm since I spoke her name. Her head even bows a little, and my mother said a wild horse will never do that. Already, our bond is special. I reach forward to rub the white butterfly on her nose.
Her drooping eyes suddenly flash with anger and her head bucks as she leaps forward, butting me, throwing me backward, nearly stomping on my leg as I skid across the grass.
David Estes was born in El Paso, Texas but moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania when he was very young. He grew up in Pittsburgh and then went to Penn State for college. Eventually he moved to Sydney, Australia where he met his wife and soul mate, Adele, who he’s now been happily married to for more than two years. A reader all his life, David began writing novels for the children's and YA markets in 2010, and has completed 14 novels, 12 of which have been published. In June of 2012, David became a fulltime writer and is now travelling the world with Adele while he writes books, and she writes and takes photographs. David gleans inspiration from all sorts of crazy places, like watching random people do entertaining things, dreams (which he jots copious notes about immediately after waking up), and even from thin air sometimes! David’s a writer with OCD, a love of dancing and singing (but only when no one is looking or listening), a mad-skilled ping-pong player, an obsessive Goodreads group member, and prefers writing at the swimming pool to writing at a table. He loves responding to e-mails, Facebook messages, Tweets, blog comments, and Goodreads comments from his readers, all of whom he considers to be his friends.
At sixteen, Bay-Lee Bishop is not a typical girl. The last thing she wants is to be popular, but flying under the radar is nearly impossible when you’re the tallest kid in the eleventh grade. She works hard to maintain a steady C point average, never raises her hand in class, and avoids extra-curricular activity of any kind. The other students would be shocked to learn she’s living under an alias, relocating at her uncle’s whim, and hiding from monsters who want her dead because she’s Van Helsing’s daughter.
Life is weird. Then everything changes. A reaper uses her closet to cross over from the Spirit Realm right before her father whisks her away to a new school. This is the school she was born for, the school where she will learn to hunt and kill monsters, but it isn’t what she imagined. Students hate her, her mentor refuses to help her, and wraiths are murdering hunters on their birthdays. She is laser-focused on training. Love is not an option for her. Try telling that to her heart.
The knowledge she was no longer alone in bed should have scared the crap out of Bay-Lee and normally it would have, but she was still floating on the fragments of a blissful dream. The soft whisper of a lover’s hands surfaced with her consciousness. She’d been dreaming about being in love, the kind that inspired people to die for each other, the Romeo and Juliet sort of love. Beyond that nothing seemed real to her.
An odd smell pierced the veil of sleep, and she wrinkled her nose. Jack Daniels? The next thing to grab her attention was the feel of a hard body crowding her on the narrow mattress. Warm breath lightly blew a trail down her face from forehead to mouth like the soft wings of a butterfly brushing against her skin. Fingers slid up one arm to curve around her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered, and she smiled up at the gorgeous stranger. Fantasy wove a complicated tapestry with reality, and she decided she was still dreaming. The dark-haired boy’s gaze settled on her lips. She could practically read his mind. He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Still living on the leftover residue of an imagined love, she was going to allow it. A tingling sense of anticipation had her nearly breathless already. She closed her eyes again, mentally preparing for the kiss. She waited. The bed creaked as he leaned in to give her what she desired most. His hot breath teased her lips, and the smell of whiskey intoxicated her. She clenched her hands into tight fists, grabbing and holding bunched up bedding, silently willing him to hurry before she came to her senses. Outside of this moment nothing existed, not school, not her boyfriend, not the troubling circumstances that forced her to constantly move from state to state, nothing. When her lips remained cool and untouched, she opened her eyes to find the boy staring down at her with pure contempt. A menacing light emanated from his eyes. He parted his lips on a soft growl, reminding her of a werewolf, and her blood turned to ice. “You ruined my life,” he whispered in a semi-harsh tone, accusing. Wide awake now, facts hit her like an avalanche. A stranger was in her bed, her gun was in the dresser, and he was big enough to overpower her. Feeling vulnerable made her sick to her stomach. It also filled her with unquenchable anger. How dare this stupid boy invade her bedroom, her bed, and threaten her! Speaking in a firm tone without the slightest quiver, she asked, “How did you get in here?” He rolled off the mattress, no hurry, while she pulled the sheet higher to hide the bunny pajamas. They were ridiculous, sky blue with fluffy scampering white rabbits. Knowing her hair was a mess, she automatically reached up to smooth it down. At the last second she stayed her hand. Why should she care if he thought she was pretty? “Did Connor let you in?” Her uncle wasn’t known for having the greatest judgment in the world. The intruder grinned and took a two steps back until beams of moonlight exposed the left side of his body. Tall and muscular, the guy was built better than any of the boys at school. If she had to guess, she would say he was between eighteen and twenty-two. Utterly masculine, he also had a lot of features girls would be envious of, long lashes, thick hair, and beautiful eyes. They were the most amazing shade of green, like a place deep in the forest after a violent thunderstorm. He grinned as if hearing her thoughts. “I thought it was every teen girl’s secret fantasy to have me in her bedroom. Was I wrong?” It was then she recognized him, Tyler Beck, lead singer for the notorious band Bad-Rock. There was a celebrity in her bedroom. Gulp! For a moment she forgot to breathe. How was it even possible? Why would a rock star come to her home in the middle of the night? She had to be dreaming. He picked the CD collection off the edge of the white wicker dresser and carelessly leafed through them, lips twisted in disgust. A few of the CDs wound up on the floor. She blinked. “Am I... dreaming?” “No.” The grin changed to a smirk. “I break into the homes of random girls all the time... just to talk. Being a rock star doesn’t keep me busy enough.” He raised an eyebrow and held up the next CD in the shortening stack. “Seriously? I wouldn’t listen to this if someone had a gun to my head.” He flicked it to the floor. “Your taste in music sucks.” Although the CDs in his hands were a mixture of Country and Jazz, she loved Classic Rock like her dad. The discs didn’t belong to her. Nothing in the ridiculous girlie neon orange and pink room did with the exception of a few sentimental items she dragged from place to place, but she wasn’t going to explain her way of life to this intruder. If she wanted to bare her soul, she’d see a psychiatrist. Knowing it was a dream didn’t make her feel any better about him going through what he thought were her personal belongings. “Why did you kill those people?” she asked out of curiosity. An image of dead bodies on a night club floor surfaced in her mind. It took effort not to shudder. “What did they ever do to you?” He laughed, throaty and deep, sexy. The sound dried the inside of her mouth and she clenched her teeth, feeling betrayed by her own body. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t felt this way about a guy before. Why now? Why this murderer? “What did they do to me?” he repeated her question. “Nothing.” Then he pointed a finger at her. “You, on the other hand, ruined my life.” “Stop saying that. I don’t even know you. Before you killed those people I wasn’t aware we were on the same planet.” “Ouch.” He placed a hand over his heart as if she’d wounded him. “So you aren’t one of my many adoring fans, huh?” He put what was left of her CD collection on the dresser and reached for the tiny television, flipping it on without seeking permission. An old sit-com with a noisy family brought the square screen to life. “No, I am not a fan. I don’t follow you on Twitter or turn the volume up when one of your dumb songs comes on the radio. I never think about you. Why are you in my head now?” “You tell me. It’s your—” “Dream. I know. You don’t have to keep saying it. I get it already.” “Until this dream ends, what do you want to do?” His hungry gaze locked on her face, and he bit his lower lip as if he was once again thinking about kissing her. Close to panicking now, she froze. The kisses she shared with Gavin were brief and passionless and always for the benefit of those watching. What would it feel like to kiss someone she actually wanted? Her skin burned from just looking at the guy. The chemistry between them had the potential to blow the roof off the house. If he touched her, she’d probably spontaneously combust. Tyler Beck, the hottest rock singer on the planet, the boy every girl fantasized about stared at her with desire in his eyes. He planted a knee on the bed near her foot. His hand landed next to her upper thigh. The other knee and hand joined them on the mattress. Slowly he crawled up her body, careful not to touch her until he was once again hovering over her mouth. In a husky whisper he repeated, “What do you want to do? Talk? Fight? Make out?” The challenging tone sent a chill through her, a bad sort of chill. Doubts surfaced. What if this wasn’t a dream? Maybe a monster had crossed over from the Spirit Realm in a Tyler Beck disguise to kill her. She needed to do something quick. If she died, it would be her own fault for being so stupid. Her hand slid under the pink pillow behind her head to grab the ancient dagger she slept on. Gripping it hard, she prepared to attack. Something in her eyes tipped him off. Before she could bury the blade deep in his chest, he leaped off the bed without warning, flying backwards. He stumbled and hit the wall near the dresser. A picture of a girl sitting in a garden rocked sideways before falling off the nail. “Another time then,” he mumbled before disappearing. Bay-Lee blinked at the empty space where his body had been. A shaky laugh escaped her open mouth. She was dreaming. There wasn’t a monster out there that could vanish into thin air. Relaxed now, she collapsed on the mattress, breathing through her mouth. Something was seriously wrong with her, having a hot dream about a psycho rock star. Maybe she should seek therapy.
Born and raised in California, I fell in love with writing while reading The Outsiders. Then I fell in love with Stephen King's writing style. I enjoy reading many types of books, but YA Paranormal is my favorite. I used to write for Harlequin under a different name. So that's my background. Exciting, no?