Hell or Highwater
Love Is in the Air
Gluttony and other Hungers
Wicked Dreams
Wrath and other Troubles
The Sinner and the Scholar
The Sheikh's Fake Fiancée
Bought at Auction
Be My Baby
Wraith's Revenge
Outback Hope: The Farmer
One Wolf Next Door
Sloth an other Delights
Outback Dust: The Drifter
Nero: A Scifi Alien Romance
Wolf Mate
Fae's Wolf
A Crown of Cruel Lies
A Clever Christmas
Holiday Kisses

Tuesday, 28 February 2012

Good News Day!

Welcome to this week's good news....


Kylie Griffin
We continue this week with another great review for Vengeance Born at Heart to Heart: The B&N Romance Blog. It's a recommended read and here is a snippet:

"It’s wonderful to find a new voice in romance, and author Kylie Griffin has a great voice. Her new paranormal/fantasy romance, Vengeance Born, is the start of an exciting new series. With a terrific mythology, clever world building and fully developed characters, this one has all the makings of a series that will become an addiction."

Congratulations, Kylie!

Join us next week for some more good news...

Monday, 27 February 2012

Magic Thursday Winner

The winner of Imogene's Starline is:



Please email Imogene at  imogenenixauthor @ gmail.com  (no spaces) with your details.

Thank you to all who commented.

Sunday, 26 February 2012

Weekly Overview


Mon 27 Feb
Winner of Imogene's Starline announced

Tues 28

Thurs 1 Mar
MAGIC THURSDAY: Nicole Murphy 

(where we've been)





  • Welcome to our latest DarkSider member, Louise Cusack! 

 Have a great week everyone!

Thursday, 23 February 2012

Magic Thursday: Editing - Why I both love it and hate it.

It sounds painful doesn’t it? Many authors talk about heading into their “cave” for the editing process and knowing that next week I will once more retreat into mine for The Star of Ishtar, it rather made it an excellent topic for today’s Magic Thursday. I thought I would share some experiences in editing with the super Samantha. (I am sure she won’t mind – ‘cause she wonderful!)

I received my first contract with Secret Cravings and I remember I sat there thinking, “This is it. I’ve finally got a publisher.” On some level, I knew the manuscript needed editing before it was publishable, but I thought, “It’s pretty good”. Nothing could have prepared me for the process itself though. Thankfully, my lovely editor was great. She got me started with a list of words I needed to be aware of. In no particular order, here they are:

were, weren't, was, wasn't, be, been & being

Now they seem so innocuous, just little words we use every day. Right? As she pointed out to me, they are passive and not so good in a novel. Cool, that all made sense - I think. I remember telling myself, “I can do this with ease”, until she explained the rule. I needed to limit their use to no more than three altogether in one page (now I can only talk of my experiences here – other publishers may have other rules where this is concerned). She did say this is not including dialogue (phew!). Now that blew my socks off. I would never have expected that. So for several days I highlighted those words, rewriting sentences (hoping they still made sense) and pulled those words out.

It took days! All done and now I can sit back and feel somewhat smug. Unh unh! Nope – how wrong was I? That was just the beginning.

My next round of edits arrived via email. I remember opening that first message and thinking, how was I ever going to get finished in the set period and do the story justice. Page after page filled with comments. It was hard, thinking of the months of work interspersed with comments and suggestions my CP made, but Samantha encouraged me to work page by page.

Some things were easy to fix, she read the story and made suggestions about things that were unfinished – what happened to... and who is… comments flowed. The great thing about that editing process was even though we emailed back and forth using track changes, I was encouraged to explain why I had made certain decisions in the balloons. The editor knew what I was thinking and my motivations, and I understood her queries because we formed a positive relationship. I remember discussing one character: Jemma (who you will meet in Starfire), and what had occurred to her in the Starline. Her questions as to what happened to her were valid. She wanted to know the result of the actions but I needed to explain to her why I wasn’t going to tell the readers what happened to her just yet. That it was the catalyst for the second book.

I sent back the last edits around ten days after we started and thought to myself that was it. Done. Ha ha (Famous last thoughts there). I thought I was done and dusted until I received an email from the Senior Editor. More queries, questions and things that needed consideration - immediately. I sat down and went through it all again. At the end, I sent it all back, so sure that this time that was it. Nope.

The Publisher this time emailed through with queries and requests. This time, I printed it all out (again), sat at the table with a highlighter, pen in hand, and re-read for like the gazillionth time through the manuscript. Finally, I emailed the few changes, listing them in the email with the corrected proof.

Finally, that was the editing process done. I did learn some very valuable things though. I thought I would share them with you and for anyone who is reading this and about to embark on their first ever round of edits.
  • If like me, you are using new or made up words – double-check their spelling every time. For me Barsha and Arturian (not to be confused with Arthurian) were words that seemed to turn up in every spell check and step of the process.
  • Finish your edits on time - especially once you commit to that period. Editors do appreciate when you have sick kids, etc but they also appreciate your commitment to work with them and the time frame so that the book release in its set slot.
  • Don't be afraid to say no. Just have a really good and valid reason to say it. If she/he wants you to put the heroine in a purple dress… well, unless that same heroine is supposed to be still wearing the purple dress the next day, but you somehow managed to make it green at the beginning of the scene… you can say no. Okay, so maybe that was a lame explanation, but at the end of the day, it is still your story. They just want to help you make it the best you possibly can.
  • Expect to be sick of looking at your manuscript. You are going to be reading it and re-reading it and then some more before you are done.
  • Have highlighters on hand. You may even find a helpful when reading through your work.
Now as a thank you for reading my thoughts and experiences, I wanted to share an excerpt from Starline:

Eyes sore and weary from watching information on the changes and major events since her own time had passed, Mellissa reached out and turned off the screen. Amazing. So much had occurred, and to think, I have a chance to be part of it. She shook her head. But so much she needed to learn. Could she manage to do that? What a question to ponder, she thought.

Inside the cramped cubicle of a Security Officer protecting her from prying eyes, she recapped in her mind the wonders she had seen. Interstellar travel—a huge technological leap there alone, she thought, and the change in the governmental systems—so much to learn about. Meeting new species and forming alliances, not to mention colonizing other planets and even inter-species marriages. How amazing was that? In her time, they still carried on talk fests about the feasibility of “some day” considering travel to the stars.

She grinned. And here she was, Mellissa Davis, in space and travelling toward a future she couldn’t possibly have imagined. “George and Eliza would love this,” she muttered to herself.
“Who are George and Eliza?” McCord peered at her, making her jump at the sound of his voice. She had missed the thud of boots on the flooring during her musings.

Mellissa gulped, wishing the floor would open and engulf her. How could she explain without him thinking less of her, not to mention her characters? George, a rough tough space Captain, and his protégée and maybe sometime lover, Eliza? Was it really something you could just blurt out? “Umm, they are characters in a book,” she said.

“A book? Of course, they were still huge in your time. In ours, only the rich have them. The rest have bookpads.” He smiled. “Who was it by? I might be able to access a copy for you.”

Her discomfort deepened. “Umm, I was writing it.” Her cheeks grew rosy.

“Really? Wow. What kind of book is it?” He looked at her, and she was sure his interest seemed genuine. She cringed at the thought of telling him it was a romance. After all, wasn’t it maiden aunts that wrote this sort of stuff anyway? Let alone read them.

Uh oh, she knew what to expect, she thought to herself. “Umm, it was a Sci Fi Romance.”

He looked at her. “You know, some of the most enduring books from your time are romances. Fancy that.” He grinned, and she could feel the air clear a little. She still felt embarrassed, but not as much as she had.

“Yeah, in my time, romance writers are sort of, well, you know, the bottom of the pack…gaining ground though. We actually have whole associations dedicated to reading romance.” She grimaced up at his face in embarrassment. What must he think of me? I’m some kind of old spinster? But wasn’t that what I was on the road to becoming? an insidious little voice in the back of her head quietly asked. Thinking how she wished her character, George, could be half as sexy as Duvall McCord, she had to mentally remind herself that here stood a real rough-and-tumble Captain and not some figment of her imagination.

“Well, there is definitely a career waiting for you as a writer of romance.” He grinned. “Come on and I’ll grab you a coffee, and you can give me the lowdown on your characters…was it George and Eliza?”

She hopped up quickly and followed him to the mess. Really, it seemed funny how quickly she had settled into ship life, she mused. “So, do you believe in romance yourself?” he asked, and he seemed just as surprised as she did by the question.

“Romance? Yes, absolutely.” Her enthusiastic answer surprised him. It radiated clearly on his face, the way it screwed up slightly. “That’s why I own a bookstore and am writing a novel.”

“Hmm, yes, but did you live alone?” His query zeroed in on a spot she didn’t really like to explore. “I mean, is there a man in your life?”

His gaze zeroed in on her again. She hoped, in fact had prayed, that there was more to the question, and then reminded herself it couldn’t be real. Her imagination still looked for the possibility of a relationship that didn’t and couldn’t exist.

“Not really. I mean, my man is really George at the moment. It’s kinda hard to explain.” She floundered a little, looking for the right words. “The way I grew up, in an orphanage, I never really got to see how families worked together, and I guess it kind of made it harder for me to work out what it looked like, so I guess…” He looked at her strangely.

“Orphanage? I was a fosterling. The Gentry’s fostered me. They were great.” His face softened. “Really good people. It must have been hard with no one in your corner. And they gave me a fabulous sister.” Gently his hand extended toward her chin and raised it until her eyes looked into his. “Really hard for you though…” The words dropped to a trailing whisper as he leaned toward her.

Her eyes fluttered closed as the distance between them melted away. She knew he was going to kiss her. Knew it probably wasn’t a good or even wise decision, but she needed to find out if he tasted as good as he looked.

“Captain, Miss Davis,” Elara called, interrupting the moment. “I see you think it is time for coffee too. Wonderful!” Then she looked again, the realization clear on her face that she had walked in on something. Then Elara seemed to mutter to herself and headed for the mess hall door.

The moment broken, they looked at each other. A wry grin on his face softened the years and hardness from his features somehow. He turned, motioning her toward the door and the coffee that lay within. It didn’t make her feel any better though. She had nearly made a mistake. A big one. Hadn’t she?

To WIN a copy of Starline, please share one of your editing experiences.

Wednesday, 22 February 2012

A Bite Of...Illusion

 Today for our fortnightly "A Bite Of..." , I'm very happy to introduce, Dy Loveday with a chapter of her book ILLUSION.


Can you, in five words describe your novel Illusion?

Illusion is a fantasy romance about warlocks, witches and illegal magic.

What inspired you to write it?

The scene in the Aeneid when Dido, Queen of Carthage, falls on the sword stayed with me for years after reading it at school. It annoyed me because I always thought Aeneas was a louse for leaving Dido behind. She should have tossed him on a funeral pyre instead. The backstory for Illusion was based on historical records of child sacrifice in Carthage and the repudiated god, Molokh. I matched it with my interest in alchemy and Illusion was born.

And without further ado... here’s the excerpt!


May a violent wind rise against the King who breaks this binding, tearing him asunder and dragging him into immortal darkness. His God will not accept his offerings; his flesh shall be fire, his children belong nowhere, his doctrine carry disease and murder. He shall eat off the table of the dead, marking 5,000 years behind the Gates of Mithra.

The Curse of the False God, 3,200 BC

Cuneiform on clay stelae, Holy District, Balkaith.

Chapter 1

All in a Day’s Work

All Maya had to do was get through her last shift without losing control. Her leg jiggled restlessly on the loading dock as she scanned the brick façade of the alchemagical factory.

Chains rattled and a rusted door lifted with a groan, releasing the smell of liquorice and death. Standing in the middle of the entrance was her boss, Jhara the mage. Behind him, pistons whooshed and cranked in the cavernous space, and men shouted at a crate swinging above their heads.

Jhara didn’t quite fit the image of an owner of a sweatshop, with his blond cropped hair, pointy teeth and pressed business suits.

"Evening," she said over her shoulder, as she fast-trotted past Jhara, toward her workstation on the other side of the factory. She skirted a bin filled with twigs and branches, and dodged a conveyer belt overflowing with myrtle branches.

A murky shadow darted across the floor and stretched over the conveyer belt. A cold chill raced over her skin. She shivered, but kept her stride. The belt cranked, undulating. It shuddered and morphed into a long snake that lifted its triangular head and watched her progress with flat black eyes. Grey interlocking plates covered its skin and steam billowed from its mouth.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Jeezus. Not again.

"Wait.” Jhara’s hand clamped on her shoulder and turned her around.

“Looks like a busy night. I’d best get on with it,” she said, through gritted teeth. She’d just swallowed a spell to stop the hallucinations, but the snake didn’t seem to care, and was chugging closer.

"Just a word." His voice lowered to a rasp. “I’ve located amanita mushrooms. Trent is drying them out.” Trent was Jhara’s human foreman, and a more fawning idiot she’d never met.

“I’m happy for you. And it has something to do with me because?”

“Don’t play games.” Sweat slicked his forehead and a bead rolled down his hairline. “I know you want them.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” She forced her lips into a tight smile. The serpent flicked its tail and rattled. 
"I’ve got more active ingredients in my office. With your name on them." Jhara gestured to a glass cage on the mezzanine level.
Her body itched as if spiders tried to burrow beneath her skin. She swallowed past a lump in her throat and glanced at a corridor leading to the ladies bathroom. 
“I don’t think so.”

The snake blasted flame from its mouth and she ducked beneath a stream of sulphurous smoke. It hissed and she sucked in a sharp breath, realizing the snake’s rattle sounded like Latin.

Trent sidled up to Jhara with a crystal pendulum in his hand and stared at Maya with a raised brow. “Sir, would you look at this?”

Jhara turned and launched a cracking blow at the foreman’s head. The young man reeled and staggered, grabbing the bin for support.

 “I said, don’t interrupt me,” Jhara roared.

Maya backed away. She hurried down the narrow corridor and pushed through a door marked ‘Bathroom’. Crouching, she checked beneath the stalls.

They were empty. Her back itched as if those damn spiders were holding a square dance on her spine. She pulled her spell box from her pocket and rifled through the contents with a trembling hand. She placed a blue paper-thin square on her tongue and dry swallowed. Her leg jittered like a hyperactive engine. Maybe she should skip out the back entrance? Getting paid in spells by a mage with a God complex wasn’t her smartest idea.

A wash of relaxation hit her muscle and she wobbled on unsteady feet. She flipped her wrists and held them beneath the nanofilter, exhaling as cold water splashed over skin that seemed too flimsy to contain the veins beneath.

The door swung wide, banging off the wall. Jhara stalked into the bathroom.

There was a burst of air and a white flash. One moment he was standing six feet away, and the next right beside her. He unbuttoned his jacket and she caught a whiff of ozone.

"Alone at last," he said, in a guttural tone.

 “Get out,” Maya snarled into the mirror.

Jhara's skin rippled, distorting like a surrealist painting. His whole face bulged and stretched. Then his hard expression broke into a pasted on smile, while a cold grey flooded his iris. He smiled, showing blunt teeth.

"Not after I went to so much trouble finding you." His body broadened and his face distorted, morphing into a full face with eyes lined in black kohl.

She straightened her spine. "You’re not Jhara. Who are you?”

"So short-lived; your kind are easily extinguished. It's been a long time since I've spoken to a human. You can be entertaining. I'm Magister Oxyhiayal."

“What’s a high-ranking official from the House of Horus want with me?” Maya reached behind her, searching for a weapon, backing up until her hand brushed the cold towel rack bolted to the wall.

Oxyhiayal tilted his head, surveying her from head to toe. He topped her by ten inches, and must outweigh her by a hundred pounds. He waved his hand, and a new cloak covered him. A lead-colored headdress with an exposed metal hexahedron beaten into the crown appeared on his head, while an ink half-mask rose to the surface of his skin. He carried far more command than Jhara even fantasized about. Pentagrams and shooting stars burned like hot coals on the black cloak. The mage smelled strongly of some type of smoky leaf—hawthorn maybe. She had a talent for scents and this one she'd remember.

"I had to visit, myself, just to see what the fuss is all about. You're not what I expected. Without much effort you'd fit in my pocket. I could take you out whenever I wanted to play."

He clicked his fingers and his armband flashed as the overhead light struck the jewels. A roll of parchment floated between them. "Naughty girl. Sticking your nose in mage business.” He tsked and drifted closer, his silver-toed boots floating above the floor. An onyx ankh now hung from the platinum chain around his neck, and heavy earrings dangled from his stretched lobes.

She flicked a glance at the door and he huffed, nodding his head at her fist.

A flash of blue fire rushed around her hand and up her arm. She yelped and dropped the spellbox. It clattered to the floor. She brushed her palm over the back of her painting hand and gripped it tight, scanning the skin for burns.
"I see you are a spell-user. Are you a mage-whore, addicted to something you'll never create? If so, we can keep you well stocked. Horus has far greater formulae than anything Jhara could produce." The spell box collapsed with a loud crunch.

The change in air pressure caused her ears to pop.

Her head whirled as she looked up into his eyes, as if she plummeted through a cold wasteland. His pupils glittered and she took a step back. Shame washed her cheeks with a red glow. For a moment she was tempted, really tempted to give in and let him have what he wanted. A few decent charms would help keep the madness away for a while.

He raised a brow. "This is yours." He held up one of her handmade scrolls.

It unrolled to reveal a charcoal landscape she'd drawn from her visions: a city with tall spires, backlit by four moons. One of her crayons slid out of his cloak, along with the musty smell of mineral pigments.

She nodded although it was more a muscular jerk. "Where did you get it?" Surely she’d know if Horus had purchased her pictures? She clenched her fists and bit down on the inside of her cheek. A few spells weren’t worth losing her self-respect.

The scroll rolled together with a snap and tucked itself inside his cloak. "In Jhara's safe. If the House of Anu is interested in art, then so are we. And what a surprise to find a scene that no human should know about." He clucked his tongue. "Where did you see this image? Did Jhara have a hand in this?"

"Jhara’s never helped anyone."

He smiled. “Of course, the search for immortality brings few friends. Draw for me."

Her face must have shown her refusal because his lashes fluttered.

"Come now. I insist. Show me what you can do, sweet one." He inclined his head toward the mirror. “You can’t lie.”

A white ripple of magic cascaded over her body, jerking her forward involuntarily toward the glass. Her head whipped back so fast her neck cracked.

The bastard. Her boot heels squealed on the tiles as she was dragged to the mirror and she pin wheeled, overbalancing and almost falling over. She gripped the sink with her hand and the black crayon snapped in two. She stared at Oxyhiayal in the mirror. One look at his smiling face and she knew any reasoning was out of the question.
"No bargains," he said. "Quickly now. Before you collapse like your box of tricks." His voice was mild as he flicked his gaze over her body.

She shuddered, placing the jagged end of the crayon on the mirror, and sketched a rough picture of a castle. On the top of a rampant stood a heavily framed soldier. If someone had asked her, she wouldn't have been able to explain. There was no knight-errant waiting to save her—only her own defenses. Then why had she drawn the picture?

Grow up, Maya. The flush blotching her neck reflected back in the mirror and she licked her dry lips.

She turned to Oxyhiayal. "Happy now?" Her voice trembled.

The waves of compulsion ended so abruptly, it was like a mental slap. She leaned her stomach against the cold sink in a boneless slump.

The stark lines of the picture cast back at them. Oxyhiayal's face lit up as he floated over to the mirror and touched the drawing with two fingers.

"Of all the Gods. How could you know?" He sighed.

She couldn't see the attraction herself. The creation was brutal and raw, thick wedges and squiggles that were jagged and ill-formed.

The air-pressure shifted, prickling the hairs on her nape. Smoke coiled over the ramparts, the thin trails wafting and bleeding into the surface, like dark blood on litmus paper. A spreading darkness filled the sky above the warrior. The shape formed a triangular face with tiny yellow pupils. In horror she watched horns appear—flowing back from a high forehead. The creature's eyes narrowed, tracking over her face, crafty and malevolent, before the pattern descended into the glass leaving spectral black stains on the mirror. The mirror rippled as if water washed over the surface, and she held onto the sink with white knuckled fists. The room darkened as a light bulb popped, showering glass over the floor. Another light flickered, casting writhing shadows over the mirror.

Sweat slid down her neck into her t-shirt and she quarter-turned to bolt.

Oxyhiayal seemed oblivious—too busy touching the mirror. The warrior, no, it was a soldier, grew. He expanded in size, much larger than the original drawing now fully composed. Black vines wrapped around his arms. She leaned away and sucked in a breath.

Light flashed, and the picture bulged as if the warrior projected out of the flat landscape. His shadowy form sharpened and his coat rustled. He turned his head. Black eyes examined her, roving over her face as if memorizing the details.

Holy freaking hell. She opened her mouth to let loose a full throttled scream.

He threw something at her, just as a crash of thunder hit the atmosphere. She jumped back, falling over her own feet and landing with a thump on her backside. She stared up at the mirror, now leaning on an odd angle, too close to her face. She put out a hand to push it back and her hand sank into the glass, disappearing to the wrist. Silvery cold liquid tugged at her fingers and she hollered just as something lifted her off the floor.

Bang. She fell, as if in slow motion, landing with a thump.

The thunder faded and the warrior flattened, becoming one-dimensional lines. No horns or over sized warriors. Perspiration ran down her spine and she put her hand on her thumping heart. She scrabbled to her feet, backing away and stared down at herself. Had the soldier tossed something? There was no evidence on her body. But it had looked like black stars. A sense of unreality washed over her. She looked down at her blackened fingers and trembling hands.

"Gods." Oxyhiayal was staring at the glass, his head thrown back and eyes wide in disbelief.

Grabbing the chance, she lurched forward and round-housed him in the stomach.

He exhaled in a loud oomph of pain and agony speared across his face as it contorted into a misshapen mess. His eyes bulged and his face purpled with effort. He fell against the counter and it cracked, peeling away from the tiled wall. The basin dangled from an exposed pipe, gushing a fountain of water over the mirror. Jhara must have realized he had a moment to regain control because the mage's torso twisted and flailed against the counter like a bug caught on the head of a pin. He spun, cracking his spine against the mirror. It shattered, slivers raining onto the floor, one large hunk containing the warrior hanging from the frame.

Jhara's head lifted and his icy eyes glared back at her. She tugged the sleeves of her sweater up her arms and flicked a quick glimpse at the door.

If you loved Dy's exerpt - you can find here here:




http://buildinginadelaide.blogspot.com (not so much about writing)

Thanks for sharing, Dy!

Tuesday, 21 February 2012

Good News Day!

Welcome to this week's good news....


Maree  Anderson
The YA story, Freaks of Greenfield High has finalled in the YA category of the Gulf Coast RWA Chapter of the Silken Sands Self-Published Star contest.  That's freakily good news!


Imogene Nix
The Star of Ishtar, a novella in the Warriors of Elector series, has a cover.  Seriously sizzling!

Christina Ashcroft (aka Christina Phillips)
Check out the cover of Archangel of Mercy. It's due out in December. Oh, mercy, me!


Kylie Griffin
It's raining great reviews for Kylie's Vengeance Born. Here are snippets:

4 stars from A New Kind of Ordinary
"Kylie Griffin has created compelling characters and put them in a world that is protected by ultra-powerful Light Blade warriors and is on the brink of war with blood-sucking demons. It's a truly unique blend of paranormal romance and pure fantasy with enough elements of each to delight fans of either genre. I'm definitely hooked and can't wait for the next installment, Alliance Forged, which is due out in July."

"The writing is so powerful and strong that the book moves very quickly despite the fact that not a lot happens in it. The characters are realistic and when I look at the secondary characters, I see them as a part of Annika and Kalan's world, not as just "sequel fodder".
I really loved this book and can't wait til the next installment, Alliance Forged, is published. "

"Griffin's characters are multifaceted and the supporting cast holds the promise of more stories to come. It was truly heartwarming how Kalan realized the depth of his feelings for Annika and saw her as more than a half-breed demon, but as a courageous woman he would gladly share his life with. The plot was exciting as the author enticingly reveals secrets and he truth changes Kalan and Annika’s future forever. Absolutely wonderful!"

All About Romance
"Vengeance Born is the first in a new series and from a wonderful new author. I know that the two sequels have been added to the list of books that I am anxiously awaiting. This series has such strong potential!. What a wonderful debut novel!"

 4 paws from Rabid Reads
"Vengeance Born has a nice balance of action and romance but it is at its core a love story. Depending on what your genre of choice is, this book may or may not be for you. I for one enjoyed it and the big reveal made at the ending helped to further stoke the flame. Alliance Forged is due out in July and I’ll be among one of the first in line to read it. "
Phew, way to go, Kylie!


Lilliana Rose
The poem,  Ghosts, has appeared in In Daily in the Poet's Corner. You can read this gem here!

Monday, 20 February 2012

Magic Thursday Winner

Thank you to everyone who commented.

After throwing all the names of those who commented onto the floor in front of Splat (my cat), she pawed the winner's slip across the lino floor and I was just in time to save it from going under the refrigerator.

So, the winner of the signed copy of VENGEANCE BORN is Serix!

Email me - kyliegriffin71 (at) optusnet (dot) com (dot) au - and I can arrange to send your prize to you. Happy reading!

Sunday, 19 February 2012

Weekly Overview


Tues 21

Wed 22
A BITE OF... with Dy Loveday

Thurs 23
MAGIC THURSDAY: Imogene Nix with a giveaway of Starline

(where we've been)






  • Want to know who is a DarkSider? See the list on the sidebar, and for more information you can find many of the DarkSider bios on the bios page.

 Have a great week everyone!

check out all our books on our dsdu-books shelf:
DarkSide DownUnder's book lists (dsdu-books shelf)