Friday, November 17, 2017

Let me introduce you to my author friends

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just in time for the holidays. 
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"I paint with my pen, and write with my paintbrush"




“Forging legends one universe at a time.”



USA Today bestselling author of romantic suspense with attitude



“Addictive, award-winning fiction. You'll fall in love with the characters and love to hate the villains.”



“Escape with a book by Angela Ford.”



"What would you do if you could see other people's dreams?"



“”



“I create twists and turns that leave you breathless.”





"Life is too short to never cross the genre line."

"It's never too late to live happily ever after."


"There is no second chance at first love."






Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Freezing when the stairs creaked beneath his weight

Sergei shut down the throwaway he’d purchased at a gas station in Seattle. The last thing he needed was a trace on his messages. He imagined the frustrated anger on Martin’s face when he read the e-mail sent to the sheriff’s office in that little shithole town of his. A whistled sigh of satisfaction slid past his lips. He glanced at the children asleep on the bed. Unlike Chenglei, he meant them no harm. They would be safe enough with him. Unless Martin didn’t fulfill his demands, then all bets were off. He tossed another log into the potbelly stove and lifted his hands to the warmth.
Driving country roads for what seemed like hours in the dark, the deserted cabin had suddenly risen out of the landscape as if calling to him. The overgrown drive and porch full of fallen leaves told him it was probably a summer getaway. He’d locked the kids in the trunk, ignoring the pleading sobs. Then, gun in hand, he checked the area, freezing when the stairs creaked beneath his weight. When nothing moved within, he did a quick search by the light on his phone. The window was layered with musty smelling dust and showed a single room, bed in the corner, wooden table and chairs, and the stove. He’d found the key under the flowerpot, and opened the creaky door. On a small countertop with a single sink, he found a kerosene lantern and matches. His nose crinkled with the pungent aroma as he pumped the lamp, then lit the wick.
To ward off the chilly fall night, he’d started a small fire in the stove. They were far enough away he felt reasonably safe, at least until daybreak when the search would move to high gear. Next he went back to the kids. Guilt grabbed hold when he opened the lid on their terrified faces. To combat it, he said, “Unless you want to stay here in the dark, do as I say.”

Excerpt from The Rebel's Redemption by Jacquie Biggar
Included in Love in Times of War


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Love in Times of War
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Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Simply could not put this one down

I simply love the enthusiasm in this latest review of my WWII Spy thriller, Marriage before Death:

on November 13, 2017
I simply could not put this one down and pretty much read it on one setting. It is the story of Lenny and Natasha during WWII. At times Natasha was Rochelle a girl on a propaganda poster with a red beret. She was so full of life and living, as fiery as her red hair. I love how the book ends with Lenny still in love with is girl and watching over he, even as he warns her not to touch the hot pastry. He says, "Because of the warmth that wraps around us, this--right here, right now--is a life worth living." As the dig in with forks eating the caramelized tart, Lenny realizes some parts of her life will forever remain a mystery and has some loose ends, but his Natasha will always be his girl, the girl he loved, and he'll always be the man she loved. A beautiful WWII love story amongst all the fighting.

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Friday, November 10, 2017

Angelina flung her arms around Joshua

Joshua was very impressed with what Lucy and Richard had done to the lodge over the last twenty four hours; it looked incredible. There was a Norwegian Spruce Christmas tree taking pride of place on the porch. The front door was framed by 7ft strings of warm-white LED-lights with a beautiful holly wreath positioned in the centre of the wooden door. Angelina observed the smoke coming from the chimney and flung her arms around Joshua. “I cannot believe you have done all this for me. You’re amazing. Thank you so much. I really am speechless.”
“Well, I figured as we would not get to spend our first Christmas together, I thought it was only fair to bring it forward!” Joshua took Angelina by the hand and led her up the creaky wooden steps. He unlocked the thick wooden door and stood aside to let Angelina walk in first.
As they entered, Angelina gasped. “Oh wow! This is so beautiful, Joshua.”
Joshua closed the door behind them and Angelina walked around the lodge with her mouth agape. The log fire was burning and the heat warmed up the lodge. There was a smaller Christmas tree to the left of the fire and two presents already wrapped, sitting pretty and just begging to be opened. Joshua went straight to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of chilled champagne and grabbed two glasses before turning to Angelina. 
“I wanted it to be special. I hope it’s not too much for you? I just wanted to make sure you miss me while I’m away!”
Angelina turned to Joshua, “This is perfect. Oddly enough, I was thinking earlier how much I was going to miss not spending Christmas with you… I love it. All of it. You’ve made me feel like the luckiest woman in the world! Now, are you going to crack open that champagne?” 

Excerpt from Broken Wings by D.G. Torrens
Included in Love in Times of War


Love Romance? Give yourself the best Christmas gift:
Love in Times of War
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Marriage before Death: the audiobook is here! Take a listen

Doing the happy dance! The audiobook edition of my WWII spy thriller Marriage before Death, narrated by Don Warrick, has just been released! 
This is volume V of my series, Still Life with Memories, but like the previous volumes it can be read as a standalone novel. 
In designing the cover I was inspired by Lenny’s impression of the girl with the red beret: “a slender girl whose hair was covered. It was tucked into a red beret, which was tilted, a bit whimsically, over her head.”  Because this cover depicts a later scene in the story, some of her hair has slinked out of her beret. 
In another scene, where he is about to be selected to die, he describes her coming into the selection court. “I had never known her to paint her lips and was astonished at how brightly they were outlined, how red. Oh, how seductive she looked! How different from the girl I used to know!” 
In the background is a dark forest, into which she has parachuted shortly before D-Day. A faint, subtle texture of branches appears also inside the word Death in the title. The forest is where she meets with bands of French Resistance Fighters, and where she promises to “make the sky rain weapons” for them.
Here is an excerpt:


Her smack set me back on my heels. My sweetheart had always kept her emotions in check. She never shouted, let alone raised her hand on anyone. This was not only vulgar, it was far beneath her! Even for a diva, this was much too theatrical! Why was she behaving with such blatant lack of restraint?
I got the answer at once and hoped no one else did. Quicker than anyone could take note, she placed something, a little soft thing into my hand. My fingers clasped it of their own, before I realized what she was doing. 
The next second—to distract the others—she threw the glass she was holding, threw it at my feet with a dramatic, spectacular flair. There was an awful noise as it hit the floor and broke to pieces, shards pinging against the floor.
Without uttering a sound I gave her a look, begging her to leave. Rochelle—no, Natasha—gave one to me, begging me to play along. 
Out loud she said, “Oh how I hate you! I hate you now more than I ever loved you!”
At that, the SS officer burst out  laughing. It lasted quite a while, or so it seemed to me, and by the time it finally ended, a cruel smile was left across his face, stretching from one pointy ear to the other. 
Ach,” he hissed. “What a woman! Cold one minute—hot the next!”
Rochelle hung her eyes on me one more time. 
“At the very least,” she implored, “you should say you are sorry, so sorry to have left me in such a difficult situation!”
The SS officer cut in. 
“Didn’t I tell you?” he asked her. “His kind, they have no morals! Worse than animals is what they are.”
She turned away and went back to his side. From there she said, in a tone of regret, “Right you are. I was naive, up to now, to hope for anything different from him.”
Over her sorrow, the SS officer went on to say, “How could you ever let yourself be seduced by such a man?”
She shook her head. “How silly of me! How foolish it is to hope! I was sure he would confirm to everyone here his desire to marry me.”
To which the SS officer said, “Now, mademoiselle, you have learned your lesson.”
She gave him a tearful smile, but then could not help crying out to me, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t you get it? I’m expecting your child!”
At that I had a change of heart. Why? First, because I was moved to tears by her plea, no matter if it was a fake one or not; and second, because what had I got to lose? 
So I uttered, “Forgive me, Rochelle.” 
“What?” she asked. “What did you say?”
“Forgive me,” I said, with a catch in my throat. “If I were a free man I would gladly keep my promise to you.”
A triumphant smile played on her red lips. Yet, for just a moment, she was silent.
I thought she might make peace with me, now that I relented. Instead, she turned to the SS officer.
“Herr Müller,” she said. “I’m not here to beg for mercy for this man.”
In surprise, “You’re not?” he asked, raising a thick eyebrow. 
And from the other side of the table, his French collaborator echoed, “You’re not?”
My face was still burning, still stinging from that slap of hers. I bit my lips to overcome the pain. If I could muster the nerve to speak up once more, I would ask her the very same thing. 
Really? You’re not?
“No,” she stressed.
The toothbrush mustache under Herr Müller’s nose started to twitch. Perhaps he was becoming suspicious of her. 
“I thought,” he said, “that you had a big favor to ask of me.”
And she said, “I do.”
And he said, “Well? What is it, then?”
“For the sake of my family,” said Rochelle, “for the pride of my father, for my own honor, and for the future of this baby, I cannot be an unwed mother! I’d rather die!”
Becoming somewhat impatient, “Ach!” he said. “You should have thought of that earlier, before you got involved with the likes of him.”
It was then that she said, “I promise, Herr Müller, giving me what I ask for is sure to give you the greatest pleasure, because it is just what this man deserves.”
“Which is what?”
“Marriage before death.”

To listen to this excerpt--used for the five-minute voice clip--click the image and click the Play icon.



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Volume V: Marriage before Death
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