Friday, November 27, 2015


Every week we bring you an exciting hot book cover from 
one of New York's Leading Romance Authors.

Congrats to Jean on her exciting football series, First & Ten.
Here's a look at her sexy heroes.

by Jean C. Joachim

Has Griff found the woman of his dreams in Lauren?
Will she deny her love and hide the truth to avoid facing another tragedy?

by Jean C. Joachim

All Buddy wanted was one more day with the only woman he couldn't forget. But, after five years, would she even remember him?

by Jean C. Joachim

Can a woman be a success in the front office and the bedroom, too?

by Jean C. Joachim

Will Devon keep repeating his mistake from the past, and lose the love of his life? Or will he confess the truth?

Friday, November 20, 2015


Every week we bring you an exciting hot book cover from 
one of New York's Leading Romance Authors.

RWA/NYC congratulates member Rebecca Brooks 
on the release of her new book!

by Rebecca Brooks
Entangled Publishing 
Release November 16, 2015

One week of adventure might just lead to love…
Julia Evans has always put others ahead of herself—but with New Year’s approaching, she buys a round trip ticket to Brazil. For one week, she can put her needs first. She can meet a stranger in the hotel pool at midnight and dance all night on the beach.  
Screenwriter Blake Williams has to keep moving before Oz’s latest scandal catches up to him. But the dark-haired beauty with a backpack and an adventurous streak is messing with his plans. When the week is up, Julia and Blake will have to decide if they’re jumping into the biggest adventure of all or playing it safe.

Friday, November 13, 2015


Every week we bring you an exciting hot book cover from 
one of New York's Leading Romance Authors.

Double XX Series
by Xyla Turner


"This is a game, but it is very much a business."

“Good evening, Officers,” Shawn yelled over the music. “Nice of you to join us today.”
Two police men stroll into the luxury hotel room. The taller one was on the heavy side with a beer gut that clearly explained how he handled the stress. The shorter one was a little thin, but had the eyes of a rookie yet displayed a keen sharpness that only came from a professional.

The suite had marble floors, tables and countertops, which was only fit for a king. When the Washington RedSkins come into town, it was always at the _________ Hotel. The organization paid well and mostly for discretion, so if the cops were at our location that meant something really bad happened or was about to happen.  Players, women, agents and the like were all over the suite. Since it was registered under Shawn Mighty, the police officers were looking at him.

Unfortunately, Shawn had an extremely drunk and maybe on some sort of narcotics else girl over his shoulder and was half way up the stairs. The worst part was that the same girl was under-aged. This was bad and it was damn near impossible for him to spin this in his favor.

“Shawn Mighty, a word.” The tall officer motioned for him to meet him near the door.

The music was shut off and people moved further inside the suite, so they could still see and hear, but not be too close to the action.

He descended from the steps with the girl still on his shoulder and asked, “What can I do you for?”

“We are looking for a,” the taller cop looked to the shorter one.

“Uh, Elaine Culter.”

“Yes, Elaine Culter. She reportedly came to this party, she’s about 5’7, brown hair, brown eyes.”

The shorter officer chimed in and said, “Kind of like the one on your shoulder.”

The tall cop walked around Shawn and asked, “What’s your name darling?”

The enebirated woman murmured something inaudible.

“Do you know her?” The shorter one asked Shawn.

“No, I don’t. She had a little too much to drink, so I was going to put her in a room upstairs.”

“Well, if this is Elaine Culter, she’s 16 and has no business being at your party, let alone in your room.” The older cop spewed.

“I agree, officer. I did not card everyone’s date when they brought them to this party, but I will make sure that if there is anyone under the age of 18 here, you are free to take them away. I have 99 problems and a child ain’t one.”

There was some snickering from the other players that were behind him. The officers did not find it amusing, but the tall one yelled, “If you are under the age of 18, get your asses out of here, before we bring the fake id card detector around. You have five seconds.”

To Shawn’s surprise, three girls stepped forward and scrambled out. One of young women, who did not look anything like 25, came back and said, “My friend Elaine is 16 and he has her.”

Her trembling finger was pointing to Shawn with the girl still over his shoulder.

“We’ll take her from her,” the shorter cop said.

Shawn lifted her off of him and gave him to the shorter police officer. The taller one patted him on the back and said, “You lucked out man. That’s a senator’s daughter and he was looking for blood. I’ll be sure to let him know she went untouched. Not sure who brought her, but he’ll be happy to know that someone was looking out for her.”

“Yeah, do that.” Shawn relaxed.

“You have a good night,” The shorter one called back as they left.

Shawn could hear the sobbing girls outside the suite, but he was thankful that he just dodged a bullet. He also knew he needed to slow down, because that type of heat could be career ending. Tonight would not be the night for that, so he turned around and yelled, “Hit the musssiiiccc!”  ♥

Learn more about Xyla and the Double XX Series at

Friday, November 6, 2015



Every week we bring you an exciting hot book cover from 
one of New York's Leading Romance Authors.

Congratulations to Falguni on her new book.
We are thankful that she shared her excerpt with us.  

by Falguni Kothari

Lord Karna is saddled with the task of honing six delinquent godlings into demon hunters like himself—divine warriors duty-bound to rid the Human Realm of all evil asuras or demons. He is further flabbergasted to learn that one of the six is his own hitherto unknown offspring.  Torn between his heavenly duties and earthy desires, can Lord Karna vanquish the Stone Demon this time around? Or will his flesh and blood—his own child—pay the ultimate price?



The Himalayan Mountains.
Five thousand years ago.
Absolute darkness shrouded the Human Realm, and had for three days and three nights. Some believed the occurrence was prophetic, like the prolonged amavasya or new moon night that had heralded the Great Kuru War two thousand years ago. The war had given birth to the dark Age of Kali, the age of asura. In contrast, hope was ripe that this event would trigger the Age of Light. But the Bard wasn’t here to succumb to superstition.

The first day without the sun’s light had spread confusion and chaos across the realm. The second day had brought desperation in the breasts of humans and fear in the belly of Celestials. The third day—today—was a feast for the asuras. Death lay everywhere.

The human world burned without its sun. How soon before the Heavens went up in flames?

The Bard’s troubled eyes reread the last line. Then he deliberately scratched it off, lifting his long, pointed talon from the parchment made of dry palm leaf. With a sigh, he rested his aching hand on his trembling thigh. He would spare a moment to ease his body, and his mind from the strain of observation and due recordkeeping. If he didn’t, he’d forget his duty as Witness of the Cosmos, and begin to question fate.

Despite the fire that crackled close to his right knee, and the feathered form of his upper body, he was cold. An icy wind had settled around the Pinnacle of Pinnacles, where he sat cross-legged on a seat made of rock and snow. He’d chosen this perch because it gave him an impartial view of the events happening in the world. He was the Bard, entrusted with keeping the Canons of the Age of Kali, just as the Soul Warrior was entrusted with keeping the Human Realm safe from asuras. Would they both fail in their duty today?

The Bard shook off the heavy despair the darkness had brought into the world. He mustn’t judge. He shouldn’t question. He would sharpen the talon on his forefinger, dip it into the vessel of ink kept warm by the fire, and write this tale. That was all he could do. Be the witness to history.

So he raised his feathered hand and began to write again while his eyes, sparked with power, knowledge and magic, saw clearly events unfolding from great distances. A thousand kilometers to his right, Indra, the God of War and Thunder, fought the Dragon. Indra did not fare well. But that didn’t concern the Bard as much as the clash between the Soul Warrior and the Stone Demon. Over and over, his eagle eyes were drawn to the duel taking place in the heart of the world, not only because it was a magnificent battle to behold, for it was, but because its outcome would decide mankind’s destiny.

The Soul Warrior was more than a great warrior. Karna was a great soul. Fair, honorable, brave and resilient, he was the perfect protector of the Human Realm. Of course, there were other reasons he’d been chosen to fill the office of Soul Warrior—there always were when Gods and demons were involved. But Karna’s existence was a testament to righteous action and if anyone could bring back the day, it would be him.

But how did one vanquish stone, the Bard wondered?

Avarice and cruelty, two nefarious desires, had made Vrtra and Vala attack the Human Realm. Three days ago the Dragon had swallowed the Seven Rivers in the north, and the Stone Demon had imprisoned the Sun God, his daughter, and all the cattle of the region in his cave.

The Bard paused his writing as a thin vein of lightning winked across the skies, but without the accompanying roar. Indra’s strength waned. His thunderbolt hadn’t left Vrtra screaming in pain this time. The Bard spared a moment’s attention on the duel, just enough to note that the Maruts, the Celestial Storm-gods, waited in the clouds to rescue their god-king in case of a calamity. Indra would survive even in defeat. Of that, the Bard was sure.

But Karna had no one at his back. His might and god-powers had depleted without the sun’s healing warmth and light. His divine astras, weapons, had not slowed the Stone Demon down, at all. Only the conviction that he could not fail his godsire, his sister, and the innocents under his protection drove him now. His birth family had once abandoned him to his fate, but he would not abandon them to theirs—such was the greatness of Karna.

The Bard crossed out the last observation. No questions. No judgment. No praise, either. The canons would be free of all emotion. He wasn’t here to embellish history or glorify the history-makers, as some bards were wont to do.

It wasn’t embellishment to write that the foothills of Cedi were drenched in the Soul Warrior’s blood. Or observe the gushing wounds on his body, despite his armor, that would make the hardiest of warriors bellow in agony, but not him. It wasn’t embellishment to write that the Heavens were empty for the Celestials had come to Earth to watch the battle, firelight cupped in their palms to light the warrior’s way.

The Naga, the Serpent People, also looked on, hissing from the mouth of the portal that led to their underground realm beneath the hills. The Serpent King will not choose a side. Vrtra and Vala were half Naga, after all. All across the Human Realm, demons roamed free, taking advantage of the darkness and preying on human flesh and human souls. It was a terrible moment in history. The asuras had the upper hand in the eponymous age of Demon Kali.

Vala did not have arms and half a leg, but still he came at Karna. He had an ace up his sleeve. There were plenty of creatures about, an entire mountain close at hand. He began to chant the spell of soul transference. It was the darkest of all magic, the possession of another’s soul. Soon, he would be whole again and stronger than before.
Battered and bleeding, the Soul Warrior veered away from the Stone Demon. He leapt over boulders and charred vegetation. The onlookers called him a coward. Had he forfeit the duel? Has he forsaken mankind?

Karna dove for Manav-astra, the spear of mankind, he’d thrown aside yesterday after his bow, Vijaya, had shattered under repeated use. In one smooth motion, he rolled, picked up the astra, coming up in the spear-thrower’s stretch. His tattered lower garment billowed about him as a gust of wind shot through the air. His muscled torso glistened with blood and sweat, tightened as he pulled the arm holding the spear back.

He meant to throw Manav-astra at Vala. A futile attempt, to be sure? As long as Vala was made of stone, broken or not, his body was impregnable. Karna should have waited for Vala to transfer his soul to an onlooker. Then Karna should have vanquished the possessed creature.

Taunting laughter reverberated through the foothills of Cedi. Vala had reached the same conclusion. The Celestials looked at each other in angry silence, unable to interfere. A dwanda-yuddha duel was fought between two opponents of equal size and strength alone. The humans hadn’t stopped screaming in three days, the din simply background noise now.

The Bard scribbled the observations onto the parchment in no particular order. He wished he was a painter, for surely this was a picture worth a thousand words.

The demon hobbled toward the warrior, who stood still as stone with his arm drawn taught behind him. Then finally, with a roaring chant the Soul Warrior shifted his weight from his back leg to his front and let fly Manav-astra at the Stone Demon with all his remaining might.

Karna didn’t wait to see the ramifications of his action. And there were plenty to come. He ran into the mountain cave to free Vala’s hostages. Within moments the rock face rent in half, and bright streams of light speared through the terrible darkness. A new day had dawned on the Human Realm after three days of perpetual night.

The sun’s power was too bright, too full of hope. Yet, the Bard looked on pensively, wondering if the Soul Warrior knew this wasn’t a victory. It was merely a reprieve.♥

For more information on Falguni and her books, visit

Wednesday, November 4, 2015


I love to write. As a child in school, I used to write notes and stories about my friends dating the guys they liked in 6th grade. So my notes were pretty long. I had learned how to write these love story notes - young adult fiction - because as a voracious reader I would steal my older sister's Harlequins. These were books I had no business reading at that age.

In high school, I won a poetry contest and was published in a book with thousands of others, at age sixteen. My writing future seemed bright. I went on to study creative writing in college but as I got older the writing seemed to get pushed aside. The coffin was sealed when a professor told me that I didn't have a knack for writing. It wasn't his fault. He was a children's book professor and though I used to write young adult as a child about my peers, I was an adult now and wanted to write about grownups. I was just in the wrong genre. I didn't know that at the time and a stable job and income seemed like a better path. I travelled the world trying to find that elusive passion for something else. Education came close but never quite hit the mark.

So, one day, I'm sitting at my desk as an education administrator and a question comes into my mind. 

         "If I died tomorrow, what would I regret?"
         "Not publishing a book," I answered myself. 

I was struck with a flurry of emotions. Panic was first. I thought back to grad school, where miraculously with my course load and job, would just write love stories. I wrote a short little 85,000-word story that I used to read and enjoy. I even thought of publishing it at one point.

Sitting at my desk I remembered that novel, but that professor's voice popped into my head and encouraged inaction. Then I wondered which would feel worse: inaction or having finally published that bucket list book?

I started researching. I had no connections so I started researching publishers, agents, how to write query letter, how to promote. I sent my novel out and the rejections started to come in. Uh oh! The doubt started to surface, again. "Can I write? Am I any good? Is the universe telling me that I'm on the wrong path?"

After 8 months I decided to self-publish. I did a bit of research and found Author House. I should have researched more, edited better but imperfectly perfect was the end result. This was 2005 and the self-publishing industry was very different. I could afford a super tiny marketing plan, but there was no big splash in the papers, blog tour or fanfare. The book, SINGLE BY CHOICE?, had a small cult following and nothing more.

Failure right? Not at all! Why? Well, because I made progress toward a goal and planted seeds of possibilities. So what did I do after that? Nothing. Actually, I was in a bad five-year relationship and drowned emotionally and creatively in corporate job, you know, the stuff that makes good books!

In March 2013, I transitioned out of that corporate job to pursue my dream of being a full time writer and pursuing my entrepreneurial dreams. Another big risk but I am finally working toward my dreams and goals with tenacity and that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't taken a chance and self-published, even when traditional publishing for my book seemed bleak. So, here are & things I learned which are not tips I have for you:

1.    Write (create), Write (edit), Write (research)

2.    Have a goal and write it down. Decide what kind of writer you want to be (ex. indie, hybrid, traditional). Know WHY you want this. It will drive you toward your goals.

3.    Read and Research - This applies to your book, your genre and the industry. Try to become as good and consistent at this as possible.

4.    Market yourself. Join groups, build relationships, find an accountability partner, find critique partners.

5.    Practice total wellness. Eat well, exercise and meditate

6.    Don't give up! Someone wants to read what you have written. FIND THEM!♥

Jennifer Welsh continues to write and work toward her ideal dream of being a hybrid author. If you have questions and/or would love to connect with her, please email her at or via

Monday, November 2, 2015


I enjoy getting lost in a novel, spending hours zoning out of the real world as I formulate plots in my head. Then there are the time I spend days locked in my apartment, creating my fictional world and developing my characters. However, once the novel is completed, I know I cannot simply put a book out then sit in the corner and expect it to take off.

In order to get people interested in my book, I have to interact with potential readers. This requires me socialize, either through social media or by leaving the comfort of my home and venturing into the real world.

As president of RWA/NYC, I have to speak at each chapter meeting as well as deliver an opening address at the Romance Festival and the Golden Apple Awards. However, speaking in front of a group is one of my least favorite activities.

While I do not suffer from crippling stage fright, I get nervous before addressing a group. I fear I will stumble over my words, say something ridiculous, or simply fall on my face as I head towards the stage.

Despite the “what if’s” that ran through my mind, I recently forced myself to step outside my comfort zone. In September, I rented a slot at the RWA/NYC table at the Brooklyn Book Festival, where I spent two hours encouraging strangers to stop by our table. And, while I did not sell a single book that day, I proved to myself that I could talk to strangers without becoming tonguetied.

A few weeks later, I read at Lady Jane’s Salon. The days leading up to my first public reading were nerve-racking. I spent hours searching for just the right passage, knowing that based on my selection, people would either give my work a chance or never touch anything I write. But, thanks to the words of encouragement from members of RWA/NYC I got through the evening.

While I wish I could say it gets easier with each event, I will most likely be nervous whenever I do a reading or sit on a panel. However, I can say each experience gives me a chance to learn something new.♥

Thanks to the support and encouragement of the members of RWA/NYC, Ursula’s debut novel, SWEET JAZZ, was published in September 2014. As President of RWA/NYC, Ursula wants to offer the same encouragement and guidance to other RWA members.  Visit her at 

Friday, October 30, 2015


Every week we bring you an exciting hot book cover from 
one of New York's Leading Romance Authors.

Congrats to Michael on his book's debut November 1st!

by Michael J. Molloy
Gypsy Shadow Publishing