Saturday, April 5, 2014

Blog Tour for The Chosen by Kristin Clark


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clip_image002Title: The Chosen
Author: Kristin Clark
Genre: Fantasy / Urban Paranormal
Audience: Young Adult
Formats: E-book, Paperback
Publisher: Anchor Group
Cover By: Katie Cowen
Editor: Melissa Ringsted and Christine Lairson
Pages: 248
ISBN-10: 0615957870
ISBN-13: 978-0615957876
Date Published: January 21, 2014

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Chloe Caledone is a typical High School Senior counting the days until graduation when she can finally escape her boring small town life and experience the world.  She has purposefully managed to go through life unnoticed, and has only seen the world through other’s eyes.  On her eighteenth birthday, Chloe, awakes to a complete surprise, unaware that she has been Chosen and is the Descendant of the most powerful bloodline in history. Chloe will now embark on her true life’s destiny turning her world upside down with secrets, lies, danger, and an unanticipated love triangle, while she and five other Descendants of the original Chosen, fight to destroy a dark and powerful immortal.


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Drake got up from the table and walked over to me, putting my face between his hands as he always did. I looked sternly into his eyes.
            “Chloe, I love you more than life itself. I will do everything in my power to get your life back to normal, but you have to trust me. I can’t tell you just yet. It is better this way, I promise. I will leave you alone so you can try to gather back some of your normal life again. There is no place for me in your world. I want you to be happy and safe. I promise I will make it better for you from a distance. This will all be over soon, and then you can get on with your normal, teenage life.” He was adamant; I could see that. I didn’t want to let him go, but I couldn’t handle anymore than I already had.
            “Why can’t you just tell me what you know? How can you say you love me but want to leave? I want you – all of you. Please don’t do this. We belong together. I know it, and you know it.” I was crying on the outside and screaming on the inside. Why wouldn’t he fight for me?
            “You deserve so much more than I can give you right now. Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Drake wouldn’t look at me in the eyes anymore.
I knew him well enough to know that meant he didn’t want this. It was hurting him and killing me. I did have feelings for Ethan, but they didn’t compare to the burning flame that was inside of me for Drake.
            “Look at me, please. We can make this work; I know we can. When this is all over, we can be together and be a normal couple.” I grabbed his face and pulled it toward me. “Promise me you’ll come back for me. I don’t care what it is you have to go and do, just promise me, Drake. Say you’ll come back.” I couldn’t talk behind the tears anymore. I closed my eyes and prayed through all the tears. He kissed me on my forehead and lifted me up to face him.
            “Chloe, if it is at all possible, I will come back for you. You know that. If I don’t, it is because I am not able to.” The look in his eyes when he said that sent chills through me and turned my stomach upside down. I knew what he meant now. He had been trying to tell me all along. If he couldn’t, it’d be because he was not able to. If he was not able to, that means he was not alive. I burst into tears in his arms. “I want you to live a long and happy life without me. I would prefer it to be with me, but you can go on without me. I always told you I would never let you get hurt. I will die for you, if there is no other way. If it means you are safe and protected, than that is what I will do.” His bravery was unbelievable. “Chloe I will destroy Aden. I won’t stop till it is finished.”
            “I won’t let you die for me.” I watched his expression change from pure menace to upset and slowly back to the kind, caring Drake I had known.
            “It has to be this way. Please just stay here where you are safe. Don’t go out there and do anything that could get you killed. I promise it will be over soon.” He kissed me.
            “I love you,” I whispered.
            “I love you more than you could ever know.”
With that kiss, we said good-bye. I memorized his face and burned it into my memory. I felt that would be the last I saw of him. The feeling in my heart told me so, but it wasn’t him that wasn’t coming back; it was I.
cleo biodrake bioethan bioheather bionathan bioolivia bio

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(Chapter 1 – Chloe driving to school and first sees the other Chosen)
(Chapter 2 when Chloe meets Drake for the first time)
(Chapter 2-3 Chloe on her way home and has run in with Aden and the other Chosen find her and take her home.)
(Chapter 3, Chloe’s dream)
(Chapter 4 – Chloe enters library and reads her passage for first time)
(Chapter 6 end – Chloe and Drake scene in woods till end of chapter)
(Chapter 7 – ride to the airport)
(Chapter 9 – Chloe and Drake in the hotel)
(Chapter 9 - On their way to find Ethan)
(Chapter 10 - Driving back from battle to get Ethan)
(Chapter 11 – Drake and Ethan fight at hotel/drake and chloe together)
(Chapter 13 – Drake and Chloe taking a walk and then talking in the woods)
(Chapter 17 - Ethan kisses Chloe)
(Chapter 18 – Dance/Drake leaves Chloe – beginning of 19)
(Chapter 20)
(Chapter 21- End)

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  1x $10 Amazon Gift Card
5 x E-books of The Chosen by Kristin Clark

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clip_image009Kristin is a country girl from Texas currently residing in Smithsburg, Maryland with her three beautiful daughters and a spoiled rotten dog.  She holds a degree in Paralegal Studies and has been a Paralegal for seven years. She is currently pursuing her degree in Nursing and Healthcare Management at University of Maryland.  She sticks by her favorite teams in her favorite three sports, Orioles, Redskins, and the Caps. She is an avid reader who considers herself old school, preferring a paperback over e-book version.   As a Pices with a passion for writing, she loves to escape reality and dive into her characters world. The Chosen is her first novel in The Chosen Trilogy published by Anchor Group and she has several other novels in progress.
Tour Schedule - One Week Blog Tour for The Chosen by Kristin Clark from March 31 to April 6
March 31
That Bites-Book Talk Reviews - Spotlight with Excerpt and Character Bio's
Sweets Books - Spotlight with Excerpt
Bookworm for Kids - Review
April 1
Bajgajka Loves Books And Giveaways - Book Soundtrack
Love N. Books - Review, Dream Cast
April 2
Once Upon a YA Book - Character Bio's
2 Girls & A Book - Spotlight with Excerpt, Review and Author Interview
Karen Swart - Spotlight with Excerpt, Dream Cast, and Author Interview
MHZ Book Reviews and Giveaways - Spotlight with Excerpt, Review
April 3
Pretty Little Pages - Spotlight with Excerpt, Dream Cast
Eclipse Reviews - Spotlight with Excerpt, Character Interview and Book Soundtrack
April 4
Platypire Reviews - Spotlight with Excerpt
Our New Generation for Reading - Spotlight with Excerpt
April 5
Bibliophile Mystery - Spotlight with Excerpt
Kim's Book Blog - Spotlight with Excerpt
Eye Candy Bookstore - Spotlight with Excerpt
April 6
Becca Anne's Book Reviews - Review and Character Bio's
Vampy and Racey - Spotlight with Excerpt
Bound 2 Escape - Spotlight with Excerpt
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The Doorman and City Solipsism Book Blitz

Book Blitz Banner The Doorman Cover
Alex seems to have it all: a great penthouse apartment, a lovely girlfriend, and a prestigious Wall Street job. But below the surface he is sure of nothing but his angst-ridden doubts. And when he realizes that his doorman may be God, or sent by God, he will question things like never before.
This novelette is a story of New York doormen, tormented love, empty office life, and the theological questions that arise in response to the horrors of evil.
City Solipsism Cover 
Have you ever been on a train, bus, metro/subway -- or any other shared space with strangers -- and started to wonder what that person right next to you is thinking? Did you ever start to think or hope that maybe your temporary neighbor was somehow sharing your thoughts and/or desires? Ever sensed some sort of romantic connection or sexual tension and wished you could get into the individual's head, to know for sure?
"City Solipsism" will take you on a journey into the mind of one commuter on a New York City subway car, riding next to and thinking about a person standing awkwardly close...The man and woman are total strangers but their proximity is almost intimate, as their hands share the same metal subway pole...
NOTE: Readers seeking the over-top-hilarity of "Sex in the Title" should know that "City Solipsism" is written in a very different style. Rather than a comedic series of misadventures in New York, this short story takes more of a philosophical and psychological walk through the mind of one New Yorker observing and speculating about another.
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Zack Love graduated from Harvard College, where he tried to create a bachelor’s degree in Women. With the bachelor portion of that degree in hand, he settled in New York City but – to afford renting his bed-sized studio – found himself flirting mostly with a computer screen and stacks of documents. Determined not to die a corporate drone, Zack decided to sacrifice sleep for screenwriting, an active social life, and Internet startups offering temporary billion-dollar fantasies.
To feed his steady diet of NYC nightlife, he regularly crashed VIP parties in the early 2000s and twice bumped into his burgeoning crush, a Hollywood starlet. But – much to Zack’s surprise – neither of those awkward conversations led to marriage with the A-list actress. Zack eventually consoled himself by imagining fiascoes far worse than those involving his celebrity crush. In the process, he dreamed up a motley gang of five men inspired by some of his college friends and quirky work colleagues. And thus was born Sex in the Title. But the novel is not autobiographical: Zack never had his third leg attacked by any mammal (nor by any plant, for that matter). In fact, keeping his member safe has been one of Zack’s lifelong goals – and one of the few that he’s managed to accomplish.
During my first year at 777 Fifth Avenue, I came to realize that Lenny had never made a false prediction or failed to supply the correct answer to a question, no matter what the subject. He wasn't just a handyman who could fix a twitching toilet or stubborn sink; he could look at his watch while taking you down in the elevator and accurately estimate the number of minutes before a downpour would start or a cab would show up outside. He could tell you the corner where the scent of fresh lox and bagels mixed just right with the scent of the neighboring Laundromat; he knew the best place to buy your curtains or cut your hair or get your suits dry-cleaned; and he knew every phone number you needed, like the yellow pages on two short legs. He was a pipe-smoking almanac, energetically rattling off any fact about the world. "Bhutan's current population? Let me see," he would say, looking up for a moment before launching into his usual light-speed speech, "2,047,453. But seven more were just born yesterday, so it's at 2,047,460 now." Of course, I couldn't verify such a preposterously precise claim, but he was always right about everything else, so I was inclined to believe him. He could tend to any wound or malady, as though he had perfectly mastered the Oxford Handbook of Clinical Medicine, and his advice always seemed more effective than any doctor recommendation I obtained. And despite the swiftness of his incessant chatter, there wasn't a word he uttered without gentle passion and infectious enthusiasm. And so he would engage you in some topic you never imagined could interest you for more than a polite minute - the history of vacuum cleaners, or the different flavors of ice cream in China, or the intricate ways of the delicate blue ball turning third in line from the sun. The elevator ride would be over but you'd still be listening until someone else called the elevator or Lenny jokingly reminded you that you had originally entered the elevator with a look of great purpose. Mercifully enough, Lenny always kept it brief in the mornings, knowing that I had to be at work by 8:30 a.m.
At one point, I began to think that I had a divine doorman. Lenny was the most unlikely incarnation of God I could imagine, and yet I kept drifting irresistibly towards this absurd conclusion. Despite my staunchly atheistic inclinations, I couldn't explain Lenny any other way. But eventually I came to my senses and realized that he was just one of those game show freaks with an encyclopedic memory. That didn't make him God, did it? Would God proclaim so regularly how much he likes Patsy's Pizza?
The pages of my calendar flip by faster each year as the bewildering march of time presses forward through alarm clock blues, dinners at the office, and "free time" planned away - in the same way - month after month. As I stand on the same subway platform, waiting for the same local train, I think to myself how youth is marked by a breathtaking novelty that diminishes with each year of age – until life becomes a delusive struggle to break routines, escape the ordinary, and rediscover the joy of discovery.
"What does it take now - as a 'grown-up'- to make a month memorable?" I wonder. "How do you make treading the treadmill feel like trailblazing a trail? What would make this morning any more remarkable than any other morning?"
And then I notice someone who doesn't look quite so beleaguered by it all. She's a woman in her early-twenties with features that hail from either Italy or Spain - I can't be sure because it's been about six years since I played my guitar for coins across Europe (and even then, I wasn't great at differentiating Italians from Spaniards).
Summer sticks to her skirt sumptuously, in the shiny gray fabric hanging loosely from her curves. Her chestnut eyes, apparently hidden from strangers; her simple but graceful face, unpainted by Madison Avenue; and her straight black hair, parted down the middle without ego, all suggest a minimalist - almost pastoral - beauty that is oddly discordant with her fashionable attire, comfortable indifference to the crowds, and quasi-attentive perusal of the Time magazine unfolded over her hand.
I don't know her name and I'm sure that I've never seen her before, but there is something familiar about her. She seems to have this schizophrenically interested or curious look that reminds me of the female shoppers I once observed in a busy Florentine marketplace. The young Italian women in that spice-filled outdoor market, buying their extra virgin olive oil and red ripe tomatoes, seemed flirtatious in their enjoyment of the young men eyeing them, yet guardedly guilt-ridden about any deviations from a properly Catholic day of shopping. And here in our subway car, the way in which this bucolic belle's eyes occasionally seem undecided between the text of her magazine and the people standing around her makes me wonder how those Florentine shoppers would look if their daily routine were transformed from an outdoor Tuscan shopping spree to an indoor New York subway ride. Would they all look at the magazines in their hands more or less than this woman two feet away from me does?
At the risk of fetishizing an unsuspecting subway rider, I'm going to call her "Florence." The name of that city evokes in me so many magical memories that I'll call her "Florence" even though the vestiges of my origin-detection skills insist that her roots might actually be Spanish. Calling her "Madrid" just wouldn't sound as good, and admitting my uncertainty by calling her "Southern Europe" would sound even worse. So she'll be Florence for now.
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Special Agent Francesca Release Day Blitz by Mimi Barbour 4/5/14

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An introvert, Special Agent Francesca moves to Las Vegas to escape her powerful, domineering mother. On arrival, multiple obstacles challenge her. She needs to approach a father she’s never met, a man who doesn’t even know she exists. Then she must play the role of a loving fiancĂ©e with a stranger. One who makes her question every unexpected emotion he provokes. Craving the chance for real undercover work, she grabs the opportunity to be involved in cleaning up gang corruption in a nasty neighborhood. When she poses as the new owner of a hotel, the deadly-dangerous situation ramps up and she’s forced to fight her way from one conflict to the next.
Sean Collins, Psychiatrist and LVPD Profiler, has never known anyone like Francesca Donovan. From first sight, he believes her to be a screwball but her beauty and maddening personality attracts him. Despite her prickly disposition, which gets them into a load of trouble, her rotten driving skills and her constant battles, he’s hooked. Once he’s roped into a mock engagement with her, his desire to make it real takes precedence over everything else in his world.
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Special Agent Cover
A wet tongue licking her nose woke Francesca from a lovely dream in which she was making out with Sean. A hot, sexy and knowing lover, he’d almost taken her to the ultimate peak. Hating to let go of the fragile threads to her fantasy, Francesca had no choice. The tongue had turned into tiny teeth and they were nipping at her chin.
She gathered the puppy into her arms and soothed him with caresses. Then she looked at the body lying way over on the far side of the mattress. Sean’s back was turned to her and she listened to his breathing.
“You’re awake.”
The man rolled over to face her. “Sweetie has been crying since I put you to bed and crawled in myself. He wouldn’t shut up, until I finally picked him up and put him beside you.”
Francesca spat out the strand of her hair caught between her lips. She gathered the unruly mass, twisted it and pushed it away from her face. The pillows lifted her high enough to read the clock and she noted it wasn’t yet morning. Rousing slowly, she realised she still wore her sundress and her cover was a throw blanket from the closet.
Embarrassment took over. Despite the fact that she hated to apologise, Francesca didn’t hesitate when it became necessary. “I’m sorry for passing out. I don’t drink very often. I can’t seem to hold my liquor very well.”
Turning her way, he bent his arm and put his head on his hand. “You can’t hold your liquor at all. I’m surprised what came out of your mouth before you slid out of the chair.”
Terror took hold. She laid her head down on the puffy pillow and stared into the darkness. “What did I say?”
“Mostly about how you always wanted a puppy but the Snow Queen wouldn’t let you have one. Then you ranted about how children need mommies and daddies, and it was a crime against nature if a mommy didn’t even tell a daddy there was going to be a baby.”
“Not all. You went into detail about how mommies should love their babies more than anything else in the whole wide, wide wor—”
“Stop! I get it. I was deplorable and boring.”
“No, your pain tore my heart out, and all I wanted to do was beat Mommy with a stick and kiss you better.” He slid close to her, lifted the now sleepy puppy over to his side and took her in his arms. “What were you dreaming about?”
Shyly, she let her finger trace his perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
“Lady, once I put you to bed, I thought nothing could keep me awake tonight. Then I heard your moaning. It nearly had me crawlin’ the walls.”
She chuckled low, hiding her glee since the joke was on him. “I can’t tell you.” No way would she admit that they had been having hot sex in her dream, and the sounds had been in appreciation for what his hands had been doing.
“So…did my performance satisfy you?” He kissed her cheek, then pulled back to wait.
Feeling her eyes widen before she could curb the move, she asked, “How did you know?”
“You called my name. Then you moaned. Then you laughed and moaned again. I’ve been lying here worried about that laugh.”
She rose to kiss his cheek in the same way he’d put his lips to hers. “Are you that insecure?”
“Not usually. But then women don’t normally laugh when I make love to them.”
“Let me assure you, I wasn’t laughing at your performance.” Another kiss followed, and this time she moved closer to his lips.
“Please tell me it had nothing to do with the size of any body parts.” Faked horror made her laugh softly.
As if that sound brought back memories, he reacted. Not waiting for her reply, he swooped in, the naked warmth of his arms and chest surrounding her. Once again she fell under a spell as his kiss reignited the earlier flames.
Soft tongue, yielding lips and a sucking rhythm guaranteed her investiture in his caresses, to the point where every thought fled and only emotion survived. Shivery and loving the sensation, Francesca engaged in giving as well as taking. Her arms circled his neck, and she filtered her fingers through his hair and then then stroked his back.
Pulling her blanket aside, Sean leaned back long enough to lower the tiny straps on the sundress now twined around her waist and upper thighs. “Here, let’s get that off of you.”
She helped him and loved the grin that lit his face when he saw her naked breasts. His eyes zeroed in on hers and the sultry gleam caught her in its strength. She found herself being pulled in, swirling, her pulse now crazy and her breath uneven. Unable to deal with such intensity, she lowered her lashes and arched her body.
Trailing his lips from her mouth, to her neck, up near her ears and back down over her breast-mounds, he licked and softly bit her hungry skin. Nearing the outer side of her breast he hit the one spot on her body that tickled. Her giggle stopped him. Full of devilment, he leaned back. “So that’s what made you laugh?”
Biting her lips to stop the merriment, she nodded. “It tickles.”
Movement to her left caught her attention and she shifted. While the puppy growled his dislike of their activities, he began to circle. Then he squatted and let loose.
“No, stop!” Lunging, Francesca tried to get to him, but having Sean’s body partially covering hers left her no wiggle room.
Sean’s face landed on her chest and the moan that rumbled through his body made had her start laughing again. “Macho-man’s just a baby.”
Sean got out of the bed and slid on his pants. Then he lifted the shivery pup and placed him on top of the towel bed he’d made for him earlier. Dawn was breaking and the room was light enough for them to be able to make out the larger than expected wet stain.
Francesca couldn’t stop herself. “The puddle’s on your side, Sean. Kinda looks suspicious don’t you think?” Typically, teasing didn’t come easy to her. But with this man, it seemed to fit. When he smirked, worry emerged and made her listen.
“Sorry, sweetheart. The room’s registered to only one person. You!”


Author of The Vicarage Bench Series, Angels with Attitude Series, Vegas Series, Elvis Series and the brand new sizzling romantic suspense series called Undercover FBI. Mimi lives on the East coast of Vancouver Island and writes her romances with tongue in cheek and a mad glint in her eye. “If I can steal a booklover’s attention away from their every-day grind, absorb them into a fantasy love story, and make them care about the ending, then I’ve done my job.”
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