Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Spring - the start of new beginnings and a day to say good bye.


Spring. The start of new beginnings and a day to say good bye.
Victoria Adams is retiring her blog.
This is my 1153rd blog post. (Although if you check my states - it isn't because I've been deleting old posts)
I will miss blogging - but it was kind of like talking to myself most of the time.

In the beginning - blogs were lively places - people commented - dialogues ensued.
Blog hops happened on a monthly basis.
Then readers got greedy. They only wanted free books, swag and the grand prize.
They didn't care about our babies. The books we slaved over.
That's why we were here. To promote our books.
Writers stopped handing out the freebies and readers stopped stopping by and commenting.
A sad commentary on modern life.

Soon I will complete the erasure of Victoria from the internet - as best I can. Getting that footprint off is difficult.
I started in February - closing accts to sites that I hadn't visited in 6 years and forgot I was even a member of. Thank heavens for a well organized password book.
I'll delete the last of these posts. Close my Google+, Twitter and FB accts. Leave my Yahoo groups and anything I may have forgotten.

It was a pleasure and a privilege to invite and host so many fabulous authors. Best of luck to all authors and future authors. May your books sell well.

Respectfully,


Victoria Adams


Monday, March 20, 2017

From the DI Matthew Adams series - Sins of the Father by Sheryl Browne #thriller



SINS OF THE FATHER
BY SHERYL BROWNE


Genre: Thriller
Series: DI Matthew Adams #2
Release Date: 28th Feb 2017
Publisher: Choc Lit (Death by Choc Lit)
A roller-coaster of a read which you won’t want to put down! Former Police DCI Stuart Gibbon

What if you’d been accused of one of the worst crimes imaginable?
Detective Inspector Matthew Adams is slowly picking up the pieces from a case that nearly cost him the lives of his entire family and his own sanity too. On the surface, he seems to be moving on, but he drinks to forget and when he closes his eyes, the nightmares still come.
But the past is the past or is it? Because the evil Patrick Sullivan might be out of the picture, but there’s somebody who is just as intent on making Matthew’s life hell, and they’re doing it in the cruellest way possible.
When Matthew finds himself accused of a horrific and violent crime, will his family stand by him? And will he even be around to help when his new enemy goes after them as well?

EXCERPT
Matthew woke abruptly, hurtled from sleep by a nightmare he thought would never end. Sweat saturating his face, pooling in the hollow of his neck, he pulled himself upright and squinted against the thin trickle of sunlight filtering through the slatted blinds at the window. His first thought was that he had a hangover the size of an airdrome. His second, that they had no blinds at their bedroom window.
Easing his legs over the edge of the bed, a wheeze rattling his chest and nausea gripping his stomach as the room revolved in sick-making revolutions around him, his gaze went instinctively to the bedside table. His inhaler was there, the blue curative he carried with him, lined up neatly alongside his phone. Disorientated, Matthew blinked hard. His vision was blurred. His memory? Where the bloody hell was he?
A hotel room. Functional, he registered. Scanning his surroundings, he noted the fire instructions pinned to the door, the ancient fire extinguisher on the wall, the dusty circa nineteen eighties carpet. A shithole. Matthew closed his eyes and swallowed against the acrid taste in the back of his throat, then almost had a heart attack as his phone rang, loud and shrill, screeching through his brain like an express train. Scrambling around his mind for some recollection of what had happened the night before, he came up with nothing that was tangible, his tenuous thoughts seeming to slip away, like sea filtering ineffectually through sand. He had a few grainy, grey memories: Jasmine, the apartment, tastefully decorated. The painting, abstract colours intermingling. Coffee. Dripping. Shoes, clacking, like the ominous slow tick of a clock. One shoe. A stiletto. Connor …? Had he been there? Here? Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, tried desperately to remember. Natalie? Christ, no.
His phone rang again, sharp, insistent. Becky, it had to be, and Matthew had no clue what to say to her. Attempting to control his escalating panic, to regulate his breathing, he let it ring and reached for his inhaler instead … and then stopped dead.
Seeing the crimson stains on his hand, Matthew’s heart somersaulted in his chest.
Dried blood, he registered, trying hard not to let the panic, now gripping his gut like a vice, cancel out logical thought. Old blood. His? How old?
Bringing both palms shakily to his face, he examined them. They were ingrained with the stuff. He flipped them over. His knuckles were bruised. Right hand. Sweet Jesus, what had he done? Disentangling himself from the duvet, Matthew scrambled to his feet, then quelling the nausea now clawing its way up his windpipe, he checked himself over. Deep wheals ran vertically down his chest. Four. Matthew swallowed hard. Checked his limbs. Found scratches on his arms. His neck, too. He could feel those, raw and sore.
His pulse rate ratcheting up, he yanked the duvet back. More blood. Too much. Stark against the grey-white of the sheets. Trying desperately to keep a lid on his emotions, he turned, stumbling towards the bathroom, where he leaned over the toilet and vomited the sparse contents of his stomach.
Standing unsteadily, Matthew clutched the sink hard for support. Deep gouges on his cheek, he noted through the mirror, then flinched as a flashback hit him head on: Jasmine, smiling, her eyes, flat and emotionless. Her fingernails trailing down his face, his torso. Her touch had been light. She’d inflicted no damage. So how? Who? Natalie? A fresh image assaulted him, Natalie lying next to him. On top of him. Had he? No! His gaze straying to the wall behind him, Matthew’s legs almost gave way. There were blood spatters on the tiles. Perspiring profusely, he dragged an arm over his forehead. Irregular, splattered all over the walls. Christ, this couldn’t be happening.
A terrifying scenario unfurling in his head, Matthew willed himself to turn to the bath. His hand visibly shaking, cold trepidation snaking the length of his spine, he steeled himself to reach for the mould-stained shower curtain, hesitated, and drew it back.
A tap dripped, slowly, steadily. Each drip echoing distortedly around the room, sounding like a nail being driven into his coffin. He registered the watery trickle of blood washing over the carcass of a spider wedged in the plughole.
No body.
Wilting with relief, Matthew turned away. Taking several slow breaths, he grabbed a towel from the rail, whilst simultaneously reaching for the sink tap, and then stopped, his head screaming, his instincts colliding. If he cleaned himself up, he’d be destroying evidence. If he ran … Matthew stared hard at himself in the mirror. More images assailed him, disjointed memories. Surreal, foggy recollections. He’d been here with two women. Jasmine and Natalie. Matthew knew that much. Thought he did. And every indication was that one of those women had been badly injured, or worse, possibly by him. If he was going to call this in, and terrified though he was, his conscience told him he had to, he couldn’t wash. He needed to. The smell in the room was cloying. A woman’s scent. It was all over him.
He had to call Becky. Trying to keep calm, to not give into his urge to run from the room and keep running, Matthew headed back to the bedroom, where his phone had been ringing constantly. Whatever had happened, she needed to hear it from him first. He needed to tell her … Tell her what? Something’s happened, but I don’t know what? I think I’ve been set-up but I have no idea why? I might have had sex with someone but it wasn’t intentional?
Consensual.
No! Disbelieving, Matthew gulped back an immediate deep sense of shame.


BUY LINKS



ABOUT SHERYL BROWNE

Heartache, humour, love, loss & betrayal, Sheryl Browne brings you edgy, sexy, heart-wrenching fiction. A member of the Crime Writers’ Association, Romantic Novelists’ Association and shortlisted for the Best Romantic e-book Love Stories Award 2015, Sheryl has several books published and two short stories in Birmingham City University anthologies, where she completed her MA in Creative Writing.
Recommended to the publisher by the WH Smith Travel fiction buyer, Sheryl’s contemporary fiction comes to you from award winning Choc Lit.

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Sunday, March 19, 2017

One last visit to Weekend Writing Warriors for Victoria Adams #8sunday #flashfiction

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors on Victoria's Pages of Romance.


Spread the word. Twitter hashtag #8sunday. 



This is it. My last appearance here and my last blog hop. I am combining my 2 pen names into one and shutting down this blog. Life got too complicated being 2 authors.

From my very quirky little flash fiction romance - Red Tulip - here is today's snippet.



As I looked at my fiancé, a movement behind him caught my gaze. Standing beneath the branches of the old oak, was the man in the long overcoat and next to him was a woman in a long formal gown. I recognized her from the painting in Shamus's library. They smiled at each other then turned their faces and smiled at me. I slightly bowed my head and returned a small smile. They interlinked arms then faded into nothingness
Separating from the group and still clutching my flower, I walked to the spot where they'd stood. I stood quietly, staring at the ground. Shamus stopped beside me. "Everything okay?" His voice was tinged with concern.
"Everything is perfect. And always will be."





Blurb - Darcy O'Calahann, a junior gardener from a small mid-western town, is trying to make her way in the big city.
Shamus McTavis is a wealthy bachelor with a mysterious family past.
Are Darcy's eyes playing tricks on her? Is she losing her mind? Or is there really a Red Tulip tying her and Shamus together?








What’s up and coming on Victoria’s Pages of Romance
20- Author Spotlight – Sheryl Browne -  Sins of the Father
21- Author Spotlight – Victoria Adams – Blog closing