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Shannon hasn’t had much attention from her husband lately. When a lover’s note arrives with lingerie she takes the forbidden plunge and meets him for drinks at a hotel.
His note had instructed her to wear a more risqué attire than she normally would be comfortable in. She was taking a chance though, so she might as well go all the way.
When she arrives, it is obvious he means to have more than just drinks with her. With a key to the room, ready for some hot erotic sex, Shannon decides to enter the realm of pleasures she has been missing with her spouse.

About the Author
Leigh Meadows hails from Inverness, Scotland. As a wee lass she enjoyed roaming the Highlands and exploring the wilderness. A chance encounter with a knight in shining armor led her on a merry chase around the world. Leigh now plants her roots in Southern Florida with her three cats, a garden, and one slightly tarnished yet still valiant knight.
Her first publication with us was SECRET TRYST . It was one of our finalist entries in our November 2014 contest. She is currently working on her first novel, due out late 2015.

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Based on a true story, a new novel from Diamante Lavendar. Joan Eastman was born like any other girl. However her life would prove to be a life of great pain… Growing up, she was treated differently by family members, powerless to defend herself against their sexual and psychological abuse. Feeling she had been dealt a wicked hand by the “powers that be”, she spiraled into substance abuse and troubled relationships. She became a victim of addiction and self-hatred. Not giving up, she becomes aware of a greater spiritual being that protects her and she begins to heal. Then she finds herself pregnant. She learns to understand nothing is hopeless; that with a changed view and self discovery, there is real hope in every situation, no matter how difficult. As she and her husband look forward to the birth of their child, she writes in her diary as a way of expelling all of the evil memories. On bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy, she endures tests and tribulations that at first she couldn’t begin to understand. But no matter how high the hurdles in Joan’s life are, she doesn’t look back, and pulls the pieces of her life together…for herself and her unborn child. This inspirational story speaks of Joan’s gradual self acceptance and healing of her body, mind and spirit. It speaks of the possibilities of the future and the fulfillment of the dream of love and family. And it speaks of jumping the hurdles in life without looking back, no matter how high those hurdles may be. Buy Breaking the Silence now to experience this inspirational story of self discovery and healing following a past of sexual abuse, addiction, and troubled relationships.

Targeted Age Group:: 20-50

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I am very close with the subject of this story. I saw how the pain inflicted upon this woman affected her life. It was heartbreaking and I wanted to help her and others in situations similar to hers. Many times, victims of this type of abuse feel as though things will never change. They feel victimized throughout their lives, helpless to overcome what has harmed them. I wanted to write this book to let other victims know that it is not hopeless, that they can heal despite the traumas that they have endured.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
The characters and situations are based on true events. I changed the names and places to keep the situation anonymous but everything in Breaking The Silence is based on actual events.

Book Sample
From the age of two, I took on the identity as the “black sheep”. Soon everyone began to see me that way. I began to act like the “black sheep” too. The trauma I was enduring made me feel like I was crazy. That is how I know about the seduction of negativity. It has a way of compounding to the point of destruction. Unfortunately, I was lead on that path for many years before God reintroduced Himself to me. My family had begun to label me as “anxious,” “moody” and “withdrawn” when i was eight years old.

“Well, there’s my little worry wart!” my father said as he walked past me sitting at the kitchen table in the farmhouse. I felt the familiar veil of shame engulf me. “Worry wart” had become one of my nicknames. I was always worrying about something. There was something horribly wrong with me.

Dad grabbed food out of the refrigerator and sat down at the table. “It’s really nice out. Why don’t you go outside and play?”

“I don’t feel like it,” I said.

“Then go play a game. Keep your mind busy!”

I went to the living room to find a game. I knew I was moping, but I didn’t care. As I was sorting through the games, I heard my mother enter the kitchen.

“Is Joanie outside?” she asked.

“No. She’s looking for a game,” my father answered.

“I wish she would socialize more. She always sticks to herself,” my mother said.

“I know. She worries too much. We have to start pushing her to be more outgoing,” he replied.

As I listened, I thought about how I was happiest when I was alone. I knew no one would hurt me if I was alone. I decided that was how I was always going to be. I had already begun to think of myself as different from other people because of what was happening to me. I had convinced myself I was unlike everyone else and I had to “stick to myself”. Not only to avoid being hurt, but also because I was “damaged goods”. My life was a winding road. I was shown the negative in order to greatly appreciate the positive once I chose to embrace it. This is how the seed of insanity began to wind itself into my mind. My parents didn’t understand. How would anyone ever understand me?

*********************************************************************

Life Lesson:

Feeling completely alone with no one to understand is
one of the worst feelings in the world. Luckily, when I
came to know God, I knew I had never been alone.

*************************************************************************

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The year is 1871. A mysterious force stalks the Wild West, killing settlers and even the toughest outlaws. Soldier-turned-bandit Jack Stark is given a choice: Hunt down whatever’s out there, or face the noose. The chase will take him from dangerous mining towns and snowy wastelands to ancient caves that hold the most terrible secrets… and eventually into the middle of one of the biggest disasters in U.S. history. As Stark soon learns, it’s not just his life at stake: the country’s future rests on his ability to shoot fast and think faster.

Targeted Age Group:: Adult

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I’ve always loved old Westerns, especially the novels of Cormac McCarthy and the films of Sam Peckinpah. I’ve also loved werewolves — they’re big, fast, powerful, and loaded up with sharp teeth. “Cowboy Werewolf Massacre” combines those loves. It originally started life as a screenplay, but they’re not making a whole lot of Westerns (much less Western-Horrors) anymore, so I decided to turn it into a novel, which worked out better, because it allowed me to layer in additional characterization.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Jack Stark is a Union soldier turned outlaw, so he’s very much the embodiment of the best and worst of men who lived in that era. His friend John is much more of a vagabond and an all-out criminal, but charming in his way. Emily is tougher than everybody else combined. I borrowed a lot of archetypes for these three main characters, but I tried to give them additional “flips” in order to break out of the usual cliches. The villains represent the corruption and decadence of that era (late 1870s).

Book Sample
CHAPTER 3

Three men worked their way at speed through the trees, on foot, leading horses heavy with supplies and rifles. They were, in order:

Monsieur Tramp, a gray and broken-down gent in his fifth decade, dressed in an expensive suit that had definitely seen better days.

Cormac, a young punk with two very big pistols strapped to his waist, and a bowler hat very precariously holding position on his head. With Cormac, people very quickly learned to never call him “Kid,” even though he looked roughly fifteen years old.

At their head, Jack Stark, lean and wiry and mean, with an air of command: the type who leads soldiers into battle with dry wit and a lot of courage. Stark paused to check the snow every few yards; in the silvery light of the moon, he could see the tracks heading west, already half-buried by the falling snow.

“He’s close,” Stark said.

“How in damnation did Billy’s fat ass get that far ahead?” Cormac grumbled.

Based on his expression, Stark clearly assumed the worst had happened to dear Billy. “Be ready,” he told them.

Monsieur Tramp piped up: “How do you know this is our man, and not some trapper or…”

Stark pointed to a bare footprint. “See how that middle toe’s missing?”

“It’s night,” the Tramp said. “I can’t see nothing.”

“Well, if you could, you’d see the middle toe’s missing. The middle toe I cut off, back in the day.” He laughed, sourly. “Doesn’t seem to have affected his speed any.”

At that moment they spied, a few yards away, a dark lump against the snow: Billy, naked, torn open from neck to crotch, his blood already crystallizing in the sub-zero wind.

Stark knelt down and picked up Billy’s shotgun. Broke it open to find both shells still in the breach. Setting the weapon aside, he began probing the dead man’s wounds.

“What did this?” Monsieur Tramp asked. “A bear?”

“This was no bear,” Stark said.

“Our man?” Cormac asked.

Stark plucked a long, dark, bristling tuft of hair from a wound, brought it close to his eyes. “I’d say so, yes.”

“What kind of man rips another one open?” the Tramp asked. “It ain’t civilized.”

“I’d say it’s time you tell us exactly who we’re hunting here,” Cormac snarled.

“All you need to know is that he’s very dangerous, and very fast, and you’re being well paid to help me bring him back,” Stark said, rising, the shotgun cradled in the crook of his arm.

“Dead or alive.”

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