Book Review: THE MYTHOLOGY OF GRIMM: The Fairy Tale and Folklore Roots of the Popular TV Show by Nathan Robert Brown

The Mythology of Grimm: The Fairy Tale and Folklore Roots of the Popular TV Show

by Nathan Robert Brown

Paperback: 368 pages

Berkley Trade (September 30, 2014)

Since its debut in 2011, the hit television show Grimm on NBC has been described as “cop drama—with a twist…a dark and fantastical project about a world in which characters inspired by Grimms’ Fairy Tales exist” (The Oregonian). The show captured the hearts of fans as homicide Detective Nick Burkhardt of the Portland Police and his partner, Detective Hank Griffin, fight to keep the balance between humanity and mythological creatures of the world.

This Fall, author and mythologist, Nathan Robert Brown brings you THE MYTHOLOGY OF GRIMM: The Fairy Tale and Folklore Roots of the Popular TV Show (Berkley Trade Paperback; $16.00; September 30, 2014) to offer fans a deeper insight into the mythological and folklore roots of their favorite show. Brown takes each episode of Grimm as a launching point to talk about the fairy tale that inspired it, from The Big Bad Wolf to Sleeping Beauty, and explores the history and folkloric traditions that come into play during Nick’s incredible investigations.

The book will appeal to fans of Grimm, especially with the fourth premiering this October. But readers who are looking for an accessible guide to fairy tales and folklore will also love the wealth of interesting and little-known facts about some of the world’s best-loved stories (along with some you’ve never heard of!).

Confession! I've never seen an episode of Grimm...I know, right? But I've always wanted too because I have a love of the dark side of fairy tales. What drew me to this book was the added historical background information the author includes about all the things that appear in the TV show.

If you are a history buff or trivia pursuer you are going to love this info packed book of all things Grimm and fairy tale. First you get the history of Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm's lives. I've never read up on these two so it was all new to me. Along with a bit about Charles Perrault (French version of the Grimm brothers and also who we know as Mother Goose) and Joseph Jacobs (English version of the Grimm brothers).

The author then covers all the weapons used in the TV series and gives a detailed background on the actual weapons the TV versions were based on. Most of the book then focuses on the actual fairy tales used in the TV show. First there is a retelling of the fairy tale such as Little Red Riding-hood. Then you get history and information about key elements in the fairy tale and then it is compared to the TV show episode about that particular tale.

This book is information overload, but the good kind for those who love it. You don't have to watch the TV show to appreciate this book. Just the love of fairy tale history.

5 "Grimm" Sheep

SharonStogner

About the Author:
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Nathan Robert Brown is an author and mythologist from Texas. He has done extensive research in world mythology, folklore, urban legends, ancient civilizations, and world religions, and is an expert on universal themes in myth, religion, and mysticism. Nathan is also a public speaker and a pro-bono demonology consultant. He is the author of many books, including The Mythology of Supernatural: The Signs and Symbols Behind the Popular TV Show, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to World Mythology, and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to the Paranormal.

Spotlight: The Purest of the Breed (The Community Series #2) by Tracy Tappan+ giveaway

The Purest of the Breed (The Community Series #2)

by Tracy Tappan

Genre: Paranormal Romance
324 pages
Publisher: B. Reed Publishing (Indie)

Plagued by enemies from above and below ground, a group of Vârcolac warriors fight a desperate battle to keep their secret town safe from invasion

A different place to find her dreams…

The night Marissa Bonaventure is saved from vicious kidnappers by special operative, Dev Nichita, her life is changed in ways she never could have imagined. Brought to the safety of an underground “research institute,” she’s offered a hefty sum of money to stay on and work for a year, money that will allow her to fulfill her lifelong dream of owning a restaurant. But the surreal events that unfold in the strange community of Ţărână soon make her wonder if all is what it seems. When the shocking truth about Dev is exposed, Marissa faces an impossible decision. She loves Dev deeply, but committing to a Vârcolac is a forever proposition, and the only way she can be with Dev will require her to throw away her one chance to redeem a miserable past.

The man he wants to be…

The night Dev Nichita rescues Marissa from the claws of the Om Rău demon race, he knows she’s meant to be his mate. Lying to her about his true nature feels wrong, but he needs time to make her fall in love with him before he reveals that he’s a different breed of human being. When that secret finally comes out, their relationship is shattered in ways Dev hadn’t predicted. A 100-year-old betrayal rises up to endanger their future together—devastating every member of his family—and Dev’s own angry withdrawal becomes a nearly insurmountable obstacle. Then the Topside Om Rău enemy threatens a catastrophic breach of the hidden community, and Dev must call upon all his power as he races against the clock to save the most important people in his life.

** THE PUREST OF THE BREED is a dark paranormal romance. It contains profanity and strong adult situations.

Goodreads link to book: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22444972-the-purest-of-the-breed

EXCERPT

June, 2:36 a.m.

Marissa Bonaventure sat bolt upright in bed. Wood cracked and splintered, a door banged, furniture scraped. She gulped for air, her heart galloping in her chest. A hovering silence followed. She waited, the thundering of her heart trying to outrun her fast breathing, but there was only silence. Okay, Jesus… She squeezed her lids tight then peeled them open again. Only a nightmare. She blinked groggily at the dim numbers on her digital clock—2:36 a.m.—her mind slowly registering that she’d only been asleep for about an hour. She’d worked late cooking at Bleu Boheme restaurant tonight, some lactose intolerant asshole endlessly chewing her ear off about all of the cheese on the menu. Well, yes, sir, this is a French restaurant, after all, and generally— 

A gruff voice growled a command, and then her roommate, Lila, started screaming. Holy frick! Not a nightmare. 

There were men in her apartment!

Coming fully awake on a searing blast of adrenaline, Marissa vaulted for the cordless phone on her nightstand. Her wildly groping fingers knocked the receiver out of its holder and sent it skidding across the thin synthetic carpet. “Oh, God, crap.” She threw herself after the phone, and crashed off her mattress, the sheets tangled around her legs. Air drove from her lungs. “Crap,” she gasped again. “Crap.” Darts of pain shot through her elbow. 

The report of heavy boots in the hallway vibrated through the floor beneath her, the footsteps thundering toward her bedroom. Panic shot through her stomach and clawed up her spine. She stretched one arm toward the phone by her hamper, scooting her body across the floor like an epileptic caterpillar trapped in its cocoon.

The door slammed open.

She jerked to a sitting position, her heart lurching to a dead halt. A broad-shouldered shadow loomed into her doorway, the light from her digital clock offering only a vague impression of dark, baggy clothing, the cut of a hard jaw…and the most sinister eyes she’d ever seen in her life. A scream launched up her throat but stuck there, unable to make it past the strangulation of terror gripping her larynx.

“In here!” the intruder shouted down the hall, his head turning to reveal what looked like stripes of gangrene on his jaw. No…a black flame tattoo.

Another man entered, and her mouth sagged. And she thought Gangrene Face’s shoulders had been broad. The man who’d just shoved into her room was twice as big, his shoulders size Incredible Hulk, and a hundred times scarier. She saw him clearly as the lights from a Navy helicopter on its weary way home to NAS North Island raked through her organza curtains like a prison searchlight. A body clothed in a black leather jacket and dark cargo pants was revealed, along with the man’s shaved head, sporting tattoos—same black flames as Gangrene—climbing from above his ears to the top of his bald head. He looked like an Aryan Nation sociopath, brutal and violent and…what could he possibly want with her?

He stalked toward her, and her stomach iced. She scuttled sideways against the wall like a crab, her teeth set in a grimace, her eyes darting toward her bedroom window. Only a few feet away, but…five floors down equaled lots of bone breakage on the streets of San Diego. 

“She must be the bit o’ skirt we’re lookin’ for,” Gangrene told Hulk in a British accent which really didn’t fit this scenario.

Hulk drew up right in front of her, six-feet-umpteen-inches of darkness, chilling, ruthless power emanating from him. 

She kicked violently at the jail of her sheets and found a scream, finally, belting it out as loud as she could. 

“Shut your gob,” Hulk snarled.

Like a genie being commanded into its bottle, her voice obeyed immediately and rammed back down her throat. Yes, yes, upsetting a man like this is an extremely bad idea. 

He reached for her. 

She pressed backward so hard, she wondered the drywall didn’t crack against her spine.

Grabbing her shoulders, Hulk jerked her out of the wrap of her sheets and onto her feet, the violence of the gesture jolting a cry past her lips. With a bruising grip still on her upper arm, Hulk hauled her at a stumbling pace from her bedroom into the hallway.

“Please,” she gasped, hot tears spilling down her face. “What do you want from me?”

They passed her roommate’s bedroom, and Marissa glimpsed Lila peeking out from behind the door, a bed sheet wrapped toga-style around her body. Not such a good night to get caught sleeping in the nude.

Lila’s lips trembled. “Oh, Marissa,” she breathed.

Her roommate’s you’re doomed tone turned Marissa’s legs to pudding, just, squish, down she went onto her knees.

Hulk made a guttural sound of impatience and yanked her to her feet again.

“P-please,” she stammered. “D-Don’t hurt me, please.” She pulled against his hold, but it was like trying to stop a Kodiak bear. Her feet skidded along the length of the hallway, carpet burning the soles of her feet. 

“Cow,” Hulk snarled. So much for not upsetting the man. He tossed her over his shoulder, the chains on his biker jacket biting into her skin through the thin fabric of her pajamas. The rounded position of her back pulled painfully at her spine, and she choked on her next breath. The fragility of her body, something she usually so successfully ignored, roared dead-center into her consciousness. Panic greyed the sides of her vision at the feel of hard, solid muscles beneath her. This man was massive. He could do anything to her, anything, and she’d be utterly helpless to stop him.

“Lila!” Marissa screamed, more tears dripping off her nose. “Call 911!”

“Oh, shit!” Lila lurched out from behind her door.

With a careless backhand, Hulk swatted Lila across the mouth, the blow, shockingly, lifting Lila off her feet and rocketing her all the way back onto her bed. She thumped onto her mattress with a frightened cry, her makeshift toga breezing above her waist and her legs flinging wide, giving everyone a full-on shot of her muff.

Gangrene leered at the sight. “Hang about, Mürk. I want to give this one a stuffin’.”

“There’s no time,” Hulk—apparently, Mürk—retorted. “We’ve got to leg it, Tëer, everyone else is at the warehouse by now.”

Tëer grumbled something foul, but tramped out of the apartment along with Mürk, thankfully for Lila’s virtue, and got into the elevator. 

Fingers tangled into the back of Mürk’s jacket, Marissa prayed for some late night partier to come home conveniently now and find her upended on this behemoth’s shoulder. She filled her lungs with a potential scream just in case, but no such luck. The parking lot was equally Judgment Day deserted and dark. The scratching together of palm fronds in a mild June breeze was the only sound besides the clomp of both men’s heavy boots on the asphalt. 

They stopped at a rusted-out blue Honda Civic, one headlight-eyeball dangling from the front by wiry veins, and then screech, metallic hinges wailed for oil as Mürk hauled open the trunk. He flung Marissa off his shoulder with all the care he’d show a dead body, and—the trunk! 

She fastened cat claws into his T-shirt and clambered back up his body. “No!”

He peeled her off and thrust her toward the dark opening again. 

She crammed her foot against the edge of the trunk, the metal sharp and cold against her bare flesh. “Don’t put me in there!”

With a growl, he folded her into a ball and slammed her inside. 

Ribs met spare tire in a dizzying blast of pain. Her spine throbbed. She wheezed a breath and shoved upright, ignoring the pinpricks of light sparkling across the field of her vision. 

With a palm on her shoulder, Mürk rammed her back down. “Bloody hell,” he hissed. 

“Not in the trunk!” She opened her mouth to yell for— He stuffed a ball gag into it, then flipped her onto her stomach. The stench of brake fluid assaulted her nostrils; a lug wrench ground into her cheek. Liquid fear clutched her lower belly as Mürk secured the strap of the ball gag tight against the back of her head, then bound her wrists.

She bucked and flailed, whipping herself back over. She gnashed on her ball gag and tried to scream around it. Not in a trunk!

“Stop throwin’ a benny, you split arse.” Mürk’s gaze was tundra cold, black as the end of the world.

She sobbed in panic, her nostrils pinching and releasing, pinching and releasing. She couldn’t breathe! She kicked her legs up.

“You keep givin’ me trouble, ducky, and I’ll sock you in the turnip so many times you’ll never find your way back from ugly, savvy?” His voice was deep and dark like first generation Hell, but also incongruously laced with that touch of British culture. He braced a hand on the open lid of the trunk, his Guns & Roses T-shirt hiking up to reveal a peek of gnarled scar on his belly. Somebody had tried to gut this maniac jerk? Shocking! 

The trunk lid started to come down…

She shook her head wildly at him, trying to scream again, her chest and throat tightening.

He slammed the lid shut, interring her in black. She thrashed her head from side to side, her heartbeat erratic, her eyes bugging and rolling as she tried to see anything…anything...

About the Author:

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Amazon: Author page
The Character Couch website 
Tracy is the award-winning author of gritty romance, her books spanning genres across paranormal (The Community series), military suspense (The Wings of Gold series), and Historical (The Baron’s War trilogy). During nearly twenty-five years spent as a military wife, she lived all over the United States and in Europe, enjoying seven years overseas in the diplomatic community, first in Rome then in Madrid, until she settled back in San Diego. Tracy holds a master’s degree in Marriage, Family, and Child Counseling, and has used this background to create a fan-based website called The Character Couch, where romance’s favorite couples are brought into a fun session with therapist, Regan Malloy. Her debut paranormal novel, THE BLOODLINE WAR, is a Bronze Medal winner for romance of the prestigious Independent Publishers Book Award (IPPY).

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Comic Review: Edgar Allan Poe’s Spirits of the Dead HC

Edgar Allan Poe’s Spirits of the Dead HC
Richard Corben

Artist: Richard Corben

Cover Artist: Richard Corben
Genre: Horror
Publication Date:October 01, 2014

Dark Horse Comics

Format:FC, 216 pages

Price:$24.99

ISBN-10:1-61655-356-1

ISBN-13:978-1-61655-356-2
This is the complete collection of Edgar Allan Poe classics adapted by master horror comics artist and Eisner Hall of Fame inductee Richard Corben.Collects all DHP stories, The Conqueror Worm, The Fall of the House of Usher #1–#2, The Raven and the Red Death, Morella and the Murders in the Rue Morgue and more.

“Richard Corben’s art. Man, the guy just gets better and better. There is no plateau.”—Comics Bulletin

Thy soul shall find itself alone

’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone—
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

The comic begins though, with an introduction by M. Thomas Inge, the Blackwell Professor of Humanities at Randolph-Macon College in Ashland, Virginia. He talks about how without Poe and his fellow writers, there might not have been comics and graphic novels. For those early comic artists turned for inspiration, or outright piracy, to the popular short fiction of such authors as O. Henry, Stephen Crane, Ambrose Bierce, or Guy de Maupassant. Mr. Inge goes on to say that over three hundred adaptations of Poe’s stories and poems appeared in comic books and graphic novels from 1943 to the present. But only one spent most of his life adapting Poe’s works to comic form. That is Richard Corben. And Mr. Corben does justice to the works within this graphic novel. He uses a figure not unlike the Cryptkeeper Mag the Hag, to introduce each piece, and sometimes even taking part.

The opening piece is the poem, “Spirits of the Dead.” It begins with the poem itself, then we are lured into the comic adaption by Richard Corben. The story is about a man looking for his ladylove, finds her, and proceeds to tell her about his nightmare, where family members do not recognize him. Though I guessed right at the beginning how this tale would end, it still left a chill.

There are those that I enjoyed more than others. One is “The Masque of the Red Death,” where a king and noblemen and women discovering partying while the poor die from the Red Death, doesn't mean that they too will survive the plague. 

“The Fall of the House of Usher” is another great retelling of this macabre story. A man visits a friend, whose own madness about his sister brings down the house, literally. “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” shows us how Poe is the grandfather of the mystery tale, and Corben stays faithful to the storyline. I also enjoyed “The Conqueror Worm,” where in the end; the conqueror worm gets us all. And last but never least, “The Raven.” Here the bird is more than a spirit haunting a man, maybe even his own guilt over the death of a loved one, but turned into the instrument of his death.

Poe’s works are meant to be done in graphic form, and Richard Corben superbly proves it with this collection. The colors and the adaptation he has done of these marvelous tales bring to life, all the dark madness of Poe’s nightmares and visions. 

I give Edgar Allan Poe’s Spirits of the Dead five sheep.

Pamela Kinney

Kallysten talks about Shades of Pink (volume 2) Charity Anthology

For Breast Cancer Awareness Month, 22 authors have allied for 1 cause: fundraising for research. Their gift to everyone who makes a donation? A romance anthology (ebook) titled Shades of Pink (volume 2), totaling almost 150.000 words / about 400 pages as a PDF.

During all of October, we’ll post teasers for the stories, interviews of the authors and blog posts. Find them all on Kallysten’s blog, along with a FAQ, and of course the link where you can donate and help this worthy cause.

How Benedict Cumberbatch tickled my muse pink...

by Kallysten

When I started thinking about what I'd write for this year's Shades of Pink anthology, I had just finished working on Anterograde, which is set in my Demons Age series. I was still fully immersed in that world, in the not-completely-apocalyptic-but-close feeling created by the nightly attacks of ferocious demons that come in and invade Earth from another dimension, and by the endless war waged against those demons by human and vampire fighters.

So, I had a world to play in, but what game should it be, this time? I've explored the beginning of the demon invasion and its end, written stories about what the fighters do on the frontline and what they do in their bedrooms, and Anterograde itself wasn't about fighters per se but about the doctors who patch them up. So, who would I talk about this time? What would my characters do?

And that was when I watched this...

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQgL7iuhL4I)

I have to confess having a (very slight) crush on actor Benedict Cumberbatch. Very slight, really. Minuscule. It's okay, Dear Hubby knows and gave his absolution. (It helps that he's a fan of Sherlock, too.)

So, I watched Benedict (and Louise Brealey) read letters written during the war by a soldier and his lover, and my muse said, "This! This is what we're writing!"

"What?" said I, perplexed. "We're writing a story about Benedict? It's kinda iffy to write fiction based on a real person..."

"No, no, not him, there are no words to describe the colors of his eyes anyway. No, we're writing about THE LETTERS!"

Of course! Letters exchanged by lovers during a time of war! I'd never written a story based on letters, but I'd read a handful, and I'd always thought that maybe, some day...

Well, this was the day. I already had my war. One character would be a fighter on the frontline, and the other would be safe at home and writing to them. This was as much as I knew when I opened a new file and typed, 'Dear soldier,' but soon I learned more about Samuel and Angel... just as they learned about each other.

The only issue I had while writing 'No Crayons On The Frontline' was to keep the story within the 10.000 words limit, so I might have to revisit Samuel and Angel sooner or later.

And if you'd like to know a tiny bit more about them, here is their first exchange of letters, the beginning of my contribution to the Shades of Pink anthology.

~~~Excerpt~~~

Dear soldier,

Only two words in, and here I am, confronting a feeling of oddness as it occurs to me I don’t know to whom I should address this letter. I have written few letters in my life – and by letter, I mean actual letters, the kind where one puts ink and thoughts onto paper to share with another person – and every one of those actual letters went to someone I knew beforehand, someone whose face I could picture, someone who I was sure would be able to hear my voice when they read my words, who would know when I was trying to be humorous or understand references to a shared past. And so, I find it difficult to write to you today without knowing your name or age or even whether you like long missives or will already be bored by the time you reach this point.

All I know about you, really, is that you are serving on the front line of the demon invasion. You protect me, along with everyone inside our city, and for this, for the danger you choose to face night after night, for the wounds you may have suffered, for the grief you may have experienced upon losing comrades, you have my sincere and heartfelt thanks.

It seems far from enough; I can only give you words on a page and not even a handshake to remind you that those you fight for are living beings made of flesh and bones rather than the abstract concept you might have in mind. That is, unless you fight for someone specific, for members of your family or friends, and it’s their image you keep in mind every time you raise your weapon on the battlefield. Either way, please believe that there is at least one person who, tonight, will send their best wishes toward the battlefield in the hope that you will remain safe.

Warm regards,

Dr. W. S. Sherridan

* * *

Dear Dr. Sherridan,

First, let me thank you your letter. While we (soldiers on the front line) do not fight every single night as you may believe, it certainly feels like we do. Even when there is no attack underway, we’re always aware that every moment of calm is only a brief respite in the storm. And while we don’t need or expect thanks, it’s great to know we are appreciated for what we do by those we try so hard to keep safe. Myself as well as all the soldiers in my unit who were lucky enough to be handed a letter were quite happy to receive them.

Receiving letters was even more special because they came in the day after the end of a long, bloody fight against demons. I’m not sure how much people in the city are told about the siege, I’m not even sure whether this letter will be read and possibly censored before it reaches you, but let’s just say that this was one of the most brutal demon attacks that I’ve seen. I escaped my turn outside the walls unscathed, but many others were less lucky. It was a sad day in the camp, but the letters and the reminder they gave us that we’re not fighting in vain made it easier to continue. As you pointed out in your letter, we’re fighting for very real people, made of flesh and blood like we are. People who sometimes pick up a pen to write a few words for us.

But I have the same strange feeling you had when you first wrote to me: I don’t know who I am writing to either. Your words and handwriting alone tell me that your letter is different from those my men were sharing with each other, in which misspellings, cute questions and unsteady handwriting give away that the writers are children. I knew you were an adult right away, and your signature only confirmed it. But that same signature told me very little. No first name, two initials, a last name… and those two small letters, a badge of pride to all those who earn them. Here I am, writing a letter to a doctor, wondering why he (she? ) participated in a letters program involving elementary school children. That is a puzzle, and while I have a couple of theories, I would be pleased if you would reply and tell me.

Until then, I will continue making up lists of what those initials might mean. My first thought for W was William, for reasons that will become clear when you read my signature. Am I anywhere close?

Regards from the front line,

Lieutenant Angel Williams

Cover Reveal: On the Growl Boxset + giveaway

BOOK TITLE: On the Growl

AUTHOR NAMES:

Celia Kyle, Lynn Red, Jessica Sims, Flora Dare and Marina Maddix

PUBLICATION DATE: October 13, 2014 

ISBN: 9781941122068

GENRE(s): 

BBW, Boxed Sets, Coming Soon,Heterosexual, 

Menage & More, Paranormal

From a pack of your favorite NYT and USAT best-selling paranormal romance authors comes a collection of ALL NEW novellas that will make you howl, scratch and bite... and leave you roaring for more!

Love comes in all shapes and sizes. No surprise there, right? Passionate, wild, hungry, dripping, salty, sweaty, steamy; falling in love is the best thing in the world.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a bunny with curves, a brand new werewolf without much clue what’s happening, a feisty wolverine shifter, a fun-loving house cat or a were-tigress with a short temper for obnoxious men, there’s a big, protective, incredible alpha for everyone... or in some cases, two of them!

Except... sometimes, it gets complicated. Mysterious and magical resorts, dangerous rogue wolves, dentists that get just a little too excited and start growing hair in funny places, a couple of bears who might be terrorists, and a tiger with a bad attitude?

Gulp. Things could get REAL complicated.

In places where the only rules are Pack rules; in towns where shifters and witch doctors rub shoulders; on exotic vacations where only eagles dare, and on planes where a wolverine shifter is sandwiched between two of the sexiest bears she’s ever imagined, you’ll never have more fun, or get more steamy, seductive, incredible paranormal romance in ONE PLACE at ONE LOW PRICE.

From our pack to yours, enjoy these incredible novellas, and keep howling for the moon!

* Waking Up Were by Celia Kyle *
What’s a gal to do when a dog bite isn’t a dog bite and her boss makes her want to howl at the moon? Keep him.

* Bear Your Teeth by Lynn Red *
A slightly clutzy rabbit-shifter and a big, bad bear of a dentist will take you along on a steamy, hilarious ride you’ll never forget!

* Tiger by the Tail by Jessica Sims *Were-tiger Adrian Merino is determined to see the newest shifter on the block, Mandy, become his mate. But it’s got to be her idea first…

* Bears Repeating by Flora Dare *
It takes double the werebears to handle one cranky wolverine in this menage romance.

* To Screech His Own by Marina Maddix *
It may be against the rules, but when a hot eagle shifter lands at an exclusive resort, one employee really wants to ruffle his feathers. What’s a curvy kitty to do?
Connect with the Authors:

Celia Kyle
Website: http://celiakyle.com
Facebook: http://facebook.com/authorceliakyle
Twitter: http://twitter.com/celiakyle
Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/celiakyle
Newsletter: http://celiakyle.com/getnews/

Lynn Red
Website: http://www.lynnred.com
Facebook: http://facebook.com/lynn.red.romance
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7351754.Lynn_Red
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/G1q2X

Jessica Sims
Website: http://www.jessica-sims.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJessicaClare
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/_JessicaClare
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4720629.Jessica_Sims
Newsletter: http://jessica-sims.com/newsletter/

Flora Dare
Website: http://www.floradare.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/FloraDareWrites
Twitter: https://twitter.com/FloraDare
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/FloraDare
Newsletter: http://www.floradare.com/news/

Marina Maddix
Website: http://www.marinamaddix.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorMarinaMaddix
Twitter: https://twitter.com/marinamaddix
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/MarinaMaddix
Newsletter: http://list.marinamaddix.com

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