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CHAMPAGNE BOOKS
JULY RELEASES:
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Bad Ice
By Sandra Cormier
Women's Fiction
ISBN: 9781897445167
229 pages
$6.00
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Blurb:
When hockey fan Christina Mackey prevents a murder attempt aimed at her
idol Jason Petersen, the hockey scene she'd always worshiped from the
outside suddenly surrounds her. She's not sure she wants to be part of that
world - too much testosterone - but her attraction for Jason is too strong.
Jason is shocked to discover his girlfriend Sheila is behind the attempt on
his life and quickly breaks off their relationship. But vengeance has no
greater weapon than a woman scorned. As Jason's feelings grow toward the
widow who saved him, his past threatens not only their happiness, but
Christina's innocent daughter as well.
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Short Excerpt: |
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"I can't find my orange puck!" Her plaintive call drifted
through the thickening flurry.
"It's over there." Jason waved to the far end of the pond where a flash of
orange peeked through the swirl of flakes. "Hurry up, Pumpkin." He loaded
the net and sticks in the back of the truck and dug around in the cargo area
for their boots.
A deep, loud cracking sound reverberated across the ravine, quickly followed
by Mishayla's scream.
At first, Christina thought a gun had gone off. Instinctively, she flinched
and looked wildly around for her daughter. The noise of splashing confirmed
her next fear. She spun toward the noise and bolted across the pond with
quick, sure strides.
Jason's urgent voice cut through the thudding panic in her head. "Get down!"
he commanded. "Get on your stomach before you break through!" She threw
herself on her stomach and crawled closer to the hole in the ice.
"I don't see her!" She plunged her arms into the black, icy water and
without hesitation, swung her skates over the edge and slid into the hole.
Jason's voice was high and urgent as he yelled, "Chrissie, no!" She took a
deep breath anyway and submerged her body. Her skate blades sank in the
muddy bottom of the pond—it must have been about shoulder deep for her but
too deep for Mishayla.
The water quickly penetrated her clothing and was so cold her skin felt as
if it was on fire. An incredible urge to gasp took hold but she fought it.
She opened her eyes as wide as she could in the gloom, waving her arms
slowly in front of her. Something hard hit her fingers—Mishayla's
helmet—then something soft—her jacket. Freezing fingers refused to close, so
she enclosed her arms around her daughter, gathering her close to her body.
She bent her protesting knees and pushed upward. Her head abruptly made
contact with the underside of the ice. She winced and cried out. When she
opened her eyes again, she saw the bubbles from her silent shout race to the
surface and spread out against the ice. She must have misjudged her
position. Running out of air, she followed the crawling bubbles with her
fingers until she found the opening. A hand grasped her wrist and pulled.
She broke through the surface, gasping with the cold. Her blurry,
ice-encrusted vision slowly cleared until she saw Jason's panic-stricken
face looking at her.
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Forgotten Children
By Michael Davis
Suspense/Thriller
ISBN:
9781897445006
276 pages
$6.00 |
Blurb:
Life in the small rural town of Lawton, VA is everything you can imagine:
wonderful people, beautiful vistas, and a peaceful environment to raise your
family, except for one thing. The greed and vanity of a few men has exacted
a heavy toll on the community, and those whose lives have been forever
affected have no idea.
No one knows, except Sara. In her subconscious mind, the nightmares that
invade her sleep show the confusing truth and feed her fears. But she never
verbalizes the haunting images to her husband, until the true sinister
nature of the clandestine EW operation is revealed and the couple is forced
to struggle for their lives.
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Short Excerpt: |
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Mark placed his hand on Don's shoulder "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. There
was no way we could have known this would happen."
"The point is, I should have. For the sake of a story I put her life at
risk. I just ignored the consequences. Now she's gone, forever. I swear
Mark; I never imagined this could happen...I swear."
"It wasn't your fault."
Don looked up, first gazing down at the parking lot, then facing Mark. "They
can't get away with this. We can't let them. We have to do something, now."
"We will. I promise you, they won't get away with it, but we have to be
smart about what we do. They've got too much political and financial power.
Now that they have their fingers in the newspaper, they will try to stop the
story from being released. We have to get credible evidence so that if they
do step in, we're ready to go to the Feds.
I have a friend who works for the FBI in DC. Once we get the photos
developed, we'll write up what we know, and attempt to get it published
locally. If we're forced to go elsewhere, I'll take it to him, but we need
to get Digger involved, give him a copy of everything we have. He's the only
one in the local government we can trust anymore. He can still help us, as
long as he understands his chain of command has been compromised, he can be
our eyes within the PD. Once we show him the photos of the commissioner
taking a payoff, and these pictures, he'll have to believe us. He'll just
have to."
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The Dark Lighthouse
By Jane Toombs
Romantic Suspense
ISBN: 9781897445273
146 pages
$6.00 |
Blurb:
Both love and danger confront P. I. Lisa Womack on the
Northern California coast as she searches for her dead father's past. She's
attracted to the man living in the Keeper's cottage at the lighthouse, but
why does Mark Trenton seem to know her, when she's never met him before? And
how can she trust him when she knows he's hiding secrets?
As their relationship heats up, Lisa becomes convinced someone is trying to
stop her from learning anything about her father's past. Who? Mark has told
her he thinks someone is watching her—truth? Or his cover-up?
Neither of them have any idea that her worst danger comes from her own past
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Short Excerpt: |
Lisa Womack walked briskly along the midnight-deserted street, shoulder bag
swinging, heels clicking on the cement sidewalk, the sound echoing from the
blank-faced apartment buildings. She'd fastened her long hair into a coil at
her nape and wore a belted gabardine coat. Just common sense here in
Manhattan not to leave loose hair or clothes that could be easily grabbed
onto.
When she saw the dark trees of New York's Central Park a block ahead, she
slowed her pace.
Lisa heard a car approaching from behind her. Being careful, she walked
faster, being careful to look neither right nor left. The car, almost even
with her now, matched her quickened pace. She glanced from the corner of her
eye at the steps leading up to the glass doors of an apartment house to her
right, measuring the distance in her mind.
In case the car brought danger.
"Ms!" The brusque voice came from the car.
Lisa looked toward the sound, letting out her breath in a sigh of relief
when she saw the blue uniformed officer in a police squad car.
"Ms.," the patrolman said again. She had an impression of dark eyes
scrutinizing her from a hawk-nosed face.
She slowed to a stop, turning toward the car and forcing a smile.
"I wouldn't walk here alone if I were you." The officer nodded to the dark
trees less than a block away. "Not this near the park. Not after what's
happened these last couple of months."
Paula knew only too well what he meant. Four young women had been attacked
in this section of the park since March and three of them had been raped and
beaten. One so badly she died. Only the fortuitous arrival of a mounted
patrolman had saved the fourth. Despite an intensive manhunt, the assailant
was still at large.
"You could call a cab from the lobby of the Hudson Co-op," the officer
suggested. "It's around the corner to your right."
"Thank you," Lisa told him.
The radio in the squad car crackled. The driver listened, grunted, then
revved the motor, screeched into a U- turn and roared away with his lights
flashing. For a moment Lisa stood looking after the receding lights of the
squad car before she turned and walked on,
As she neared the next cross street a cab eased around the corner and swung
in her direction, a roaming gypsy prowling for business. The cab slowed, the
driver glancing hopefully in Lisa's direction. When she shook her head he
accelerated past her, leaving a wake of exhaust fumes to foul the cool May
night.
From the street corner across from the park she looked to her right where
the canopy of the Hudson Co-op extended over the sidewalk from the entrance
of the converted nineteenth century mansion to Central Park West. A
uniformed security guard stood vigil at the top of the steps with his hands
clasped behind him.
After a moment's hesitation, Lisa straightened her shoulders and, raising
her chin determinedly, crossed the street. As she stepped onto the far curb
she heard a man's voice calling to her. Startled, she whirled around. The
doorman, a square-faced man no older than she, had left his post and was
waving to her from beneath the end of the canopy. "Lady, you ain't going
into that park." It was more of a statement than a question.
"It's shorter this way," she told him.
He shook his head and, even from this distance she saw the concern on his
face. She could well imagine what he was thinking: Why was such a vulnerable
young woman here alone at this time of night? And why was she taking the
risk of entering the dark and forbidding park?
"You from out of town, lady?" he asked.
Lisa almost smiled, knowing that, to a New Yorker, visitors were capable of
untold acts of foolishness. She shook her head. "I live in the Village."
He turned from her with a shrug, the gesture saying he'd done his best so
nobody could blame him for what might happen.
A path curved ahead of Lisa into the park, the way shrouded in darkness
despite the feeble rays from a globed light a hundred feet ahead. Lisa
walked purposefully past a bench but couldn't help glancing at the headline
on a discarded Post that was all too clear even in the midnight gloom: NO
CLUES IN PARK RAPIST HUNT.
No, she wouldn't think about the assailant who might be lurking in the park.
Hiding in the midnight shadows of the trees. Waiting. Waiting for her. She
refused to give in to the unease crawling along her spine, chilling her body
with icy fingers of apprehension.
She shut away her fear as best she could and walked on. The glow from the
great city surrounding the park reflected palely from clouds hovering
overhead in the moonless sky but the light failed to penetrate to the path
where Lisa walked beneath the over-reaching branches of trees and shrubs.
This was an alien, rural world.
At least it was alien to her. She was a city person, much as her father had
been. She loved the excitement of crowds, the pushing and shoving, the
flowing masses of men and women rushing here and there. She reveled in the
city's sounds, the strident clamor of taxi horns, the shouts of street
vendors, the rumble of the subways. She enjoyed breathing the aromas of the
metropolis, the sharp scents of food from the restaurants, even the fumes
from the thousands of cars, trucks and buses.
Only when the wind came off the Atlantic and the tang of the eastern sea
swept up the skyscraper-walled canyons did she feel an unease. It was then
the haunting memory returned and again she saw the white blur of the
lighthouse through the twilight fog while her father worked frantically to
restart the boat's outboard motor. Beneath a glowering sky, the sea around
them roiled into white-capped turmoil.
Lisa shook her head, impatient with herself. The past was over and done
with. Pay attention to the here and now. The park wasn't really alien, it
was a part of the city, a place where she'd played as a child, skating in
the winter, riding along the bridle paths, feeding the pigeons. During the
day. The only time she'd been here nights was sitting on the grass with many
other New Yorkers at open air concerts during the summers. She'd never rowed
on the lake, though, boats didn't appeal to her.
Tonight, though, was different. The path ahead of her darkened and she saw
the next lamp was out. A low hill rose to her left, trees loomed on her
right. Refusing to alter her steady pace, she walked on with the only sound
in the warm night the distant murmur of city traffic. In the hush she became
aware of the throbbing beat of her heart and the rasp of her breathing.
She heard footsteps behind her.
Was it the faint echo of her own steps? No, the sound of the footsteps
didn't quite match hers, failing by a heartbeat every few paces, to
anticipate or follow hers..
When Lisa hesitated for an instant, the sound of footfalls behind her pulsed
plainly through the silence of the night. Fear uncoiled in her stomach.
Someone was following her! She walked faster and veered onto a path to her
left. The steps followed. She turned once more, to the right this time,
increasing her pace until she was almost running.
From behind came a man's gloating laugh. Her breath caught in her throat.
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Tides of Maryna's Love
By Donica Covey
Paranormal Romance
ISBN:
9781897445129
166 pages
$6.00
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Blurb:
"Single Witch Seeks Lonely Mortal"
Maryna Duile has challenged her sisters to a find-the-mortal contest. She
places an ad in the local paper, but when there are no immediate replies she
heads for Olympus and an afternoon with her close friend Eros.
River Braddock is a marine mammal biologist and he's just discovered a new
species of dolphin. What he doesn't know is that this is no ordinary
dolphin, but Triton, chaperone to Maryna during her stay on earth.
Maryna's first meeting with River is anything but stellar, but the more she
thinks of him, the more she needs him and the more she blunders her spells.
Once she gets into the flow will she win his heart or be all washed up?
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Short Excerpt:
He ignored the irritated frown and handed her the rose. "I'm River Braddock,
I read an ad in the paper and I thought it might be nice to meet the woman
with such a great sense of humor."
She studied him closely. "We've met before."
He shook his head. "No, you met the scientist and you got off to a bad
start. I'm River Braddock, the man, and I'd like to meet you."
She took the rose and sniffed. Finally, she smiled lightly. "Come in."
"Thank you." As he stepped inside the grand entryway, he was amazed at the
opulence. "Nice place you have here."
"Thank you. We could step out onto the patio, I was just finishing my
breakfast."
For the first time he noticed her clothes. The aqua blue of the sheer robe
matched the color of her stunning eyes. Through the material he spied lace
straps. The belt was loosely tied and when she moved the top opened slightly
revealing perfect porcelain skin and just a tantalizing hint of her breast.
He cleared his throat roughly and tried to force his attention elsewhere.
"Sorry if I disturbed you."
"Not to worry. As I said, I was finishing up."
Jerking his gaze away, he scanned the room as they passed through and
followed her back out into the sunshine to sit at the table. The blue of the
ocean spread out as far as he could see. "This view is amazing."
"I know. Its one reason I chose to come here. Won't you sit?"
He nodded and sat across the white table from her. "So how has the response
to your ad been?"
"I was just thinking about that. Seems no one is interested in meeting a
witch."
"You mean there's been no response at all?"
She shook her head. "None. A friend suggested I should've put my photo in
with the ad."
"Now that would've been a mistake."
She seemed to get annoyed. "Why?"
"Because they would've been beating down the door and you'd never get any
peace."
Her smile was so brilliant it made a funny ache inside his chest. "Thank
you. River, the man is ever so much nicer than River the 'ist'."
There it was again. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why is that you call me an 'ist'?"
She felt her cheeks pink and hoped he didn't notice. "You're an 'ist'. A
friend of mine and I were discussing men and were trying to come up with
different occupations involving the water element. Included in our list
were, ichthyologists, marine biologists, and so forth. Anyway, there are so
many scientific titles I just call all of them 'ists'."
Her smile was so sweet he couldn't help but return it. "Makes sense." It
didn't, but things were going so smoothly he didn't want to spoil it. "You
mentioned a daily swim. Have you gone this morning?"
"Not yet." She angled her head to study him. "This wouldn't be a trick to
try and get close to Triton, would it?"
"No. I've taken the day off. I'm just a man today, not an 'ist'."
Her laughter tinkled like a bell and infected him to join in.
"I'll be back down in a minute I have to go and change."
He watched her cute rear end wiggle up the steps, then he wandered around
the patio. No matter where he stood, he could see the ocean. This was truly
a beautiful spot. It must be nice to be the idle rich, to have nothing to do
all day but sit and stare at the ocean.
He heard the click of shoes on the tiles as she returned. Her black hair
hung around her shoulders; there was a soft wave that framed her
heart-shaped face. Her eyes were luminescent. He looked at her and wondered
if all her clothes were the same shade. This time she was wearing a bikini
in aqua. A little ruffled skirt was tied around her tiny waist.
"Ready?"
"Definitely." He followed her lead off the back patio and out onto the white
sand. She lay the towels down and slipped off her shoes. He watched as she
untied the skirt, revealing her perfect shaped legs. A peculiar feeling
stole over him. His tongue thickened and he couldn't tear his eyes away from
her. She stepped into the gentle waves and turned to look at him, her
delicate hand shading her eyes. She was a water nymph come to life.
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