Book Blast: Revealing Nicola by Sam Cheever

I’m so honored to have Revealing Nicola highlighted on the Romance Under Fire blog today!

Romance Under Fire

1-b078f2221d6ec0463539f01708b9e727Feather Stone

I’m so thrilled to have been asked to participate in Sam Cheever’s book blast. It’s exciting to meet an author of Sam’s famous reputation. The most difficult part will be picking out a few of her many published novels. No doubt, she is going to be one of my favorite authors.
Revealing Nicola by Sam Cheever Tour Banner

Revealing Nicola

by Sam Cheever

February 21, 2017 Book Blast

Revealing Nicola by Sam Cheever


She has to overcome a lifetime of secrets…the shock of discovery.

He must protect a treasure that has turned passion to hate… reason to incoherence.

Poisoned by danger, intrigue, lust, and greed…their very survival is in the balance.

Can they endure the conspiracy and find love? And if they do…will it be enough?

Book Details:

Genre:Romantic Suspense, Thriller
Published by: Electric Prose Publications
Publication Date: February 7, 2017
Number of Pages: 183
ISBN: 978-1-63587-971-1
Series: La Fortuna DeVitis #1
Purchase Links:Amazon 🔗 | Barnes &…

View original post 1,639 more words

Freezer Bernie – New Cozy Mystery Release from Sam Cheever


3 Winter chickens against a cadre of thugs? Yeah, the bad guys are definitely in trouble!

When a dead guy turns up in the freezer of Flo and Agnes’s favorite Italian restaurant, the ladies quickly discover the corpse had connections to one of their friends. Celia Angonetti’s husband owns Gioppino’s Italian Restaurant, as well as the gun lying next the frozen body with bullet holes in his chest. What he doesn’t own, according to Celia, is responsibility for the kill. Against their better judgement, the ladies get pulled into the mystery of how the dead guy got dead in the freezer…why he’d been killed with Massimo Angonetti’s gun…and how Celia came to the unlikely conclusion that her thug of a hubby was innocent of the crime. Some might think it was an impossible task.

Some probably haven’t met Flo and Agnes.

5 stars

Flo rounded a long, stainless steel counter and found Celia and Agnes staring down at something on the floor. Expecting to see a man’s body, she blinked in surprise at the long sheets of brown paper with blood seeping out from underneath. “Is that butcher paper?” she asked softly.

Celia looked up, her mouth puckered worriedly. “It was all I could think of to cover him with.” She shrugged, her frown deepening.

Flo stopped beside Agnes and stared down at the paper, willing it to rise and fall in breaths that wouldn’t come judging by the amount of blood on the floor. “Do you know who he is?”

Celia didn’t respond. Flo glanced quickly up. “Celia?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “His name’s Bernie. He sold Mass a car last week.”

Agnes wandered away from the corpse and stepped into the freezer, eyeing the series of holes in the door. “Why would Mass kill a car salesman?”

Celia snorted. “Why wouldn’t he?” She shook her head. “Besides, he didn’t kill this man, Agnes. Mass wouldn’t kill anybody.”

Flo’s eyebrows climbed north but she didn’t say anything. From what she’d heard about Massimo Angonetti’s temperament and business dealings, he had no trouble at all killing things.

Agnes shrugged, stepping more deeply into the freezer.

Watching her friend’s movements, Flo felt the need to give a warning. “Don’t touch anything Agnes, the police will be fingerprinting everything.”

Agnes’s head popped around the door. “Even the gelato?”

Flo shook her head. “How did he die?”

Celia twitched a hand toward the butcher paper. “You should uncover him and look.”

Flo’s mouth came open. “Whatever for?”

“To look for clues of course.”

Flo shook her head. “I’d have no idea what to look for.”

Celia sobbed.

Flo immediately felt bad. “Okay. Don’t cry. I’ll see what I can…um…see.” Flo carefully lifted the paper and peeked underneath. The man’s face was a strange blue color and his eyes were wide. They were cloudy from death and Flo shuddered. His mouth was open wide as if he’d been shouting something when he died.

“There’s no foam around his mouth.”

Agnes’s heavy footsteps came from inside the freezer. “You and your foaming mouth.”

Flo didn’t look up. “No petechial hemorrhaging.”

Agnes snorted.

“Petechial what?” Celia asked.

Warming to her examination, Flo peeled the paper back more. It stuck to his chest and she grimaced as she realized it was glued to his shirt by drying blood. “Broken blood vessels in the eyes from strangulation.”

“Ah,” Celia said. “See, Flo, I knew you were the right person to call. You know all about this stuff.”

Agnes snorted out a laugh. “She knows those two things and that’s all.”

Flo glanced angrily at her friend. “Says the person not helping…” Her voice trailed off in horror. “Please tell me you’re not eating gelato at the crime scene?”

Agnes looked down at the small carton of lemon gelato. Then she shrugged, sticking the flat, wooden spoon back into the frozen dessert. “Flo, I’m not eating gelato at the crime scene.”

Celia looked horrified. “How can you possibly eat with a dead body right in front of you?”

Agnes shrugged again. “I have a very strong constitution.”

“Yeah,” Flo stood, “that’s one way to refer to it.” She looked at Celia. “Do you have the weapon he…erm…the killer used?”

“No,” she said much too quickly.

Flo crossed her arms. “Celia.”

Celia flushed guiltily, then folded like yesterday’s laundry underneath Flo’s substitute school teacher glare. “Okay.” She marched over to a big, stainless steel pot on the stove and pulled off the lid, reaching inside.

“Wait!” Agnes screamed, starting forward as Celia jumped and her arm hit the side of the pot, sending it clanging to the floor. A big, black gun flew out of the pot and skidded toward the body, landing right next to Bernie as if the killer had dropped it there.

Flo’s heart was pounding in her chest. “Good Lord in Heaven, Agnes. What are you screaming about?”

Agnes strode over to the gun and inserted the wooden spoon under the trigger, pulling it off the floor with a grin. “No fingerprints. Pretty smart, huh?” A glob of gelato fell off the spoon and landed on the body.

“Very smart, fool. If only you hadn’t thrown your stolen gelato at poor Bernie in the process.”

Celia and Agnes looked where Flo was looking and Agnes frowned.

The shiny glob of frozen sweetness was perched on Bernie’s bloody shirt, in the vicinity of the three tightly packed bullet holes.

“Oh my,” Celia said. “Should we try to clean it out?”

Agnes took a giant step backward, which put her back inside the walk-in freezer. “I’m not touching him.”

Glaring at her friend, Flo nodded curtly. “The last time you touched a corpse he ended up with a broken wrist and a lampshade on his head.”


Barnes & Noble:




Bubba’s Back in the Continuing Adventures of Miss Chance meets Miss Fortune



Trouble carves a spot out of the Bayou and threatens to sink Swamp Team 3 plus 1 into its murky depths.

Bubba―a.k.a. Felonius Chance―calls Felicity when one of the Brothers at the monastery goes missing. The monks believe Brother Mike was pulled into the Bayou by Aristotle, their pet gator. But Felonius doesn’t believe Brother Mike was killed by the gator. He thinks his friend got on the wrong side of a whole different kind of predator. And he’s hoping Felly and the intrepid Cal–with the help of Swamp Team 3–can find him before he ends up feeding the fishes in the muddy waters of the Bayou.


Mary Magdalene stood guard over the choir dais, her benevolent gaze focused down on the singers and her hands outstretched as if to say, “What? No Jazz?”

Ida Belle stopped underneath the intricately carved figurine, which hung from the wall between two round-topped windows filled with multi-colored glass. She reached up and ran a finger lovingly over Mary’s hem, her expression rapt. “I remember when they requisitioned this. Of course Celia was in charge of the committee.” Ida Belle shook her head. “I don’t know where she got the money to hire Charlie Spift. We would have killed to have one of his pieces at the Baptist church.”

“I take it he’s expensive?” I asked.

“He’s world famous for his religious statuary,” Gertie agreed. “He even has pieces at the Vatican.”

My eyes widened. “Really? Is this a local guy?”

“He supposedly lives outside of Mudbug,” Ida Belle confirmed. “But nobody’s exactly sure where. He’s kind of a recluse.” She frowned. “I’m not sure what we’re looking for but, whatever it is I sure don’t see it from down here.”

I climbed up onto a pew and did a quick, visual scan over the seven foot tall figurine. “I can’t see much either.”

“Hold on,” Gertie said. She strode away from us, toward the choir dais, heading for the podium that stood in front of the elevated rows of chairs.

“What are you doing?” Fortune asked.

Gertie grabbed the podium and started tugging it. “Help me move this, will you?”

Fortune and I went to help Gertie with the heavy wood podium, carrying it to a spot just beneath the figurine.

“Now what?” Ida Belle asked, looking skeptical.

“I’ll go up.” Fortune lifted her skirts, exposing yoga pants and white sneakers She climbed up onto the end of a pew, stretched a leg toward the podium, and stepped onto its tilted top. Fortune wavered there, the starched butterfly on her head waving its wings as the podium wobbled beneath her.

“I don’t know if that’s going to hold,” I said.

Fortune glared down at me. “I haven’t gained that much weight since coming to Sinful.”

Shrugging, I grabbed one of her flailing hands and Ida Belle grabbed the other. With our steadying grip Fortune was able to swing her other leg up and put her weight on the wobbly lectern.

Fortune stilled as the wood creaked ominously. But it held and, a beat later she was running her hands over the figurine and wrenching around to peer behind it. “Nothing. Wait…there’s a piece of paper stuck to the back.” She slipped two fingers past Mary’s virginal behind and grimaced. “It’s really stuck on there. I’ve almost got it…”

The front door slammed shut and we all jerked guiltily. I whipped around as Celia’s shrill voice called out and inadvertently tugged Fortune off balance. She started to go down but Ida Belle grabbed hold of Fortune’s habit with both hands and Gertie threw herself forward to grab Fortune’s leg.


The glass in the stained glass windows rattled under Celia’s dulcet tones. I jerked my head around as Fortune gasped. Her habit was breaking away at the seams and she was slowly falling toward me. In desperation, I reached up and pressed my hands against her side, shoving with all my strength. For a beat she seemed to steady, but then the podium began to tilt and her eyes widened as it started to roll out from under her feet.

Fast, heavy footsteps sounded in the foyer. “Sisters? Where are you?”

The podium crashed sideways, toppling Gertie to the ground. Ida Belle barely jumped out of the way in time and I fell forward as Fortune leapt straight up, her weight disappearing.

I sprawled over the fallen lectern, eliciting a deep grunt of pain from Gertie as I smashed it into her ribs. Rolling to my back, I rubbed my stomach and looked up into a pair of flailing sneakers.

Fortune had both arms wrapped around Mother Mary’s skirts and was slipping. Judging by the look on Ida Belle’s face, she and I realized at the same exact moment that Fortune’s trajectory would drop her directly onto Ida Belle’s head.

I reached out and grabbed Ida Belle’s wrist, yanking her sideways. Adrenaline had me tugging too hard and both of us went down, landing in a pile of starch and skirts between two pews.

Above us, something groaned and Mary wrenched downward.

The door to the nave slammed open.

Fortune expelled air like a punctured balloon and let go of the figurine, hitting the ground and rolling as Celia burst into the room like a virus filled sneeze.


We all hugged the ground and prayed she didn’t spot us. Squashed beneath me, Ida Belle was breathing fast and hard. I tried to take some of my weight off her and she pulled air into her lungs. Turning my head, I could just make out Gertie’s strange red shoes twitching beneath the podium. Unbidden, the munchkin song from the Wizard of Oz filtered through my brain and got stuck there. Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch! Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.

“Hello?” Muffled footsteps pounded up the aisle, drumming against my bones as Celia thundered toward us.

Closing my eyes, I said a prayer, hoping my temporary sistah status would buy me a break from the big guy I pretty much ignored for the rest of the year. I glanced at Ida Belle and realized her lips were moving. She was either gasping her last breath or saying her own set of prayers. I shoved against the floor to ensure I wasn’t killing her, confident that Ida Belle’s prayers would be better received than mine. Hopefully if mine tanked hers would buy us a break from the tsunami heading our way.

Mother Mary groaned softly above us, her hem skewing slightly sideways. In a moment of horrifying clarity I realized she was coming down and Fortune and Gertie were sprawled directly beneath her.

I had to do something or my friends would be killed by the virgin Mary. My mind raced. My eyes danced from Gertie’s twitching red shoes to the aisle, where Celia had grown suspiciously quiet after Mary groaned.
Ida Belle must have read my intentions in my face. She grabbed my arm and gave a little shake of her head, frowning.

I jerked my head toward Mary, whose hem had twitched another notch lower.

Suddenly Celia shrieked.

We all jumped and I scampered backward as footsteps once again pounded down the aisle.

I shoved to my feet and looked toward the door, my mouth opening to give Celia a line of bull pucky to distract her. But all I saw was Celia’s wide backside disappearing through the door her arms flailing over her head. She was screaming Carter’s name at dolphin pitch.

buy button

Slow Burner – Contemporary Romantic Suspense by Sam Cheever


A love that burns slowly burns longest, creating the greatest heat.

Though they haven’t seen each other for fifteen years, Duncan Yves has never forgotten Hilda Bennet, or the feelings of love and protection she engendered in him when they were kids. So when she becomes the target of a madman who kills with fire and calls his deadly work Art, it seems perfectly natural for Duncan to try to protect her. Unfortunately, he soon learns that protecting Hilda just might bring the past crashing back down on both of them.

Hilda was just a girl when she last saw Duncan, and her childish dreams of living with him behind a picket fence were squashed when he went away. But when they finally find each other again, the past that separated them all those years earlier still seems determined to keep them apart.

Can they nurture the embers of a love that was forged in childhood into the full-fledged inferno it seems destined to be? Or will the destruction of yesterday’s fire finally smother that blossoming flame, and leave their love in ashes?


Hilda Bennet swallowed down a cry of alarm, her hand tightening on the blanket she clutched against her chest.

The sexy fireman she’d been talking to raised his arm, waving a greeting to the man strolling toward them across the yard. The man’s serious green gaze was locked on hers, his square jaw flexed as the wide mouth tightened. A mouth she knew would have just the tiniest overbite, a sexy trait that made her want to nibble his upper lip.

She’d know that rolling gate anywhere. The broad shoulders, long, long legs, and fringe of dark brown hair across his forehead that always made him look like he’d just rolled out of bed.
She realized with a start that he probably had just climbed out of bed, and dueling sensations of lust and guilt formed a knot beneath her ribs.

“Here’s the fire investigator I told you about,” the fireman said. “He’ll get to the bottom of this, Miss. Don’t worry.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze skating guiltily away from the approaching man. Hilda clamped down on an irrational desire to make a run for it. Surely after all these years she had nothing to fear from Duncan Yves. Surely he’d lost his almost supernatural power over her.

But as he came within a few feet of where she stood, his sexy, green eyes narrowing slightly as if he’d just recognized her, Hilda realized the power he had over her hadn’t waned in the years since they’d last seen each other. In fact, she realized as he stopped in front of her, his delicious scent heating the air between them, that the years might as well have never happened.

Because she was still just as in love with him as she’d ever been.

“Ash.” Duncan’s deep voice rolled down her spine like hot oil, making her stomach clench with need.

“Dunc, this is Ms. Bennet. She was in the home when it went up in flames.”

Duncan smiled and her heart stopped beating. “Miss Bennet.” Her throat clamped down and she suddenly couldn’t swallow.

She waited for him to recognize her, torn between hoping he did and being mortified at the thought that he might. “Mr. Yves.”

He blinked. “You know me?”

Panic drew blood from her face and she felt momentarily faint. She’d screwed up…given too much away. He hadn’t given her his last name, yet she’d known it. Her thoughts flew, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. She shook her head, staring helplessly at him. If only he’d give some sign he knew her… Finally, his friend the fireman saved her.

“I told her I’d called the best fire investigator in the city.” The fireman clasped hands with Duncan. “Thanks for coming out at this ungodly hour on your day off, man.”

Duncan nodded, his gaze sliding over her. She could almost see his thoughts turning as he catalogued her condition… the soot covering her hair and skin…the skimpy nightgown beneath the borrowed blanket. “Is there someplace I can take you, Ms. Bennet? Family? Friends? We can talk about what happened along the way.”

She panicked at the thought of being alone with him in a car. Or anywhere. “Don’t you need to go over the scene?”

His smile was cool, detached. She realized with disappointment that he didn’t know who she was. “I’ll walk the perimeter before we go, but I can’t go inside until things have cooled down a bit.”

“Oh.” She cast around for an excuse not to go with him. “I…uh…”


He turned away and Hilda breathed a sigh of relief.
A beefy man in a police uniform strode toward them, his gaze sliding a little too comfortably over her. Duncan threw a set of keys toward Ash. “I have some clean sweats in my backseat. Can you make sure Ms. Bennet gets them? I’m sure she’s freezing.” He scoured a sizzling look over her bare feet and legs and the knot of need coiling in her lower belly tightened further.
She watched him move away, drawn toward her ravaged home by the other man, who was talking and gesticulating as they walked.

She was so caught up in watching his taut, round behind move away from her that the fact his friend was talking to her didn’t register until he placed a hand on her arm. Hilda jumped, blinking rapidly.

Ash lifted his hand, smiling at her like she was a terrified kitten in a tree. “Sorry to startle you. Let’s go get you some clothes. You’re starting to turn blue.”

She wanted to argue. The idea of wrapping herself in Duncan’s clothes…his scent…was almost more than she could bear on top of the night’s traumatic events. Unfortunately, Ash wasn’t wrong. She was so cold her skin had taken on a bluish hue and she knew all too well that shock was a danger. So she nodded and let herself be pulled toward the big, black truck on the street. But she couldn’t stop herself from glancing back in the direction Duncan had gone. Just to get one last look at him.


Barnes & Noble:




Bedeviled & Bah Humbug


Based in the Bedeviled & Beyond world, this fun collection of Christmas short stories will put a smile on your face and turn every day into a Hell-i-day!

#1. Astra Takes out the Grinch: Astra’s been conscripted to deal with a hairy, green demon who’s stealing presents and creating havoc. The Big Guy has grown increasingly tired of the Grinch’s antics and, this Christmas, has called out the big guns.

#2. Astra gets a Lump of Coal – Thumps an Elf: Astra is forced to spend Christmas in Satan’s backyard, helping the angels figure out how the green dragons are escaping Hell to terrorize the human realm on Earth. But in true Astra form, she figures out much more than that!

#3. The Year the Grinch Stole Santa: Astra is determined to take Christmas off so she’s been ignoring the nearly constant calls from the North Pole to help them find Santa, who’s disappeared just days before Christmas. But Astra learns the hard way that Santa’s minions will not be ignored!

#4. An Elvish Catastrophe: Astra and Darma are Christmas shopping at the mall when a pack of ninja elves invade the place and demand the execution of all faux Santas. Talk about little man syndrome…these ninjas have it in spades!


Where was that green demon? The information I’d gotten told me he should be there. I wondered if I’d somehow missed him while I was enjoying my brief moment of heat with Dialle.
As if on cue, a woman screamed inside the building next door.

I ran inside and took the stairs toward the upper floors at a dead run. Crashing through a door on the third floor, I landed, feet planted wide in a battle stance and knives drawn expectantly, in somebody’s living room. I winced as the shrieking, which had continued unabated as I’d rushed to the rescue, increased when she caught sight of me.

At first I thought I’d found my Grinch. The creature who stood on an ugly yellow couch a few feet away had a lumpy, green face and clutched a ratty red bathrobe around its extensive middle with one hand, while brandishing a large, glass ashtray with the other.

The brown eyes staring at me from the midst of the green slime were filled with terror.
“What?” I yelled, trying to figure out what she was shrieking about.

Her shrieking increased and she lifted the ashtray higher, flourishing it threateningly in my direction.

I realized she’d transferred her terror from whatever had originally sent her into hysterics, to the leather clad halfling standing in front of her brandishing knives. I slipped the knives back into their sheaths and showed her my empty hands. “I’m here to help. What’s wrong? Why are you screaming?”

She slammed her lips closed and the terrified brown orbs swung toward the Christmas tree. “It’s over there.”

I stared at the scrawny tree filled with ornaments and colorful lights. I could easily see between the overburdened branches and I didn’t see a large green guy wearing bad velvet standing behind it. Peering carefully around the space, I came up with nothing.

“I don’t see anybody.”

“It’s not a body. It’s a rat.”

“Arrrgghhh!” I shrieked and leapt up onto a nearby table. The woman screamed too and climbed higher on the couch, onto its well-worn back. The couch rocked backward for a terrifying moment and then slammed back onto its stubby front legs as she adjusted her weight.

“A rat! Are you kidding me!” I shrieked in a less than manly way.

“Lady, would I kid about something like that?”

Hissing emerged from the greenery and the lower branches of the tree rustled. “What’s it doing down there?”

She shook her head and a glop of green shit flew sideways, plopping wetly onto the glass topped table beside the couch. “I think my cousin Arnie must have given me a cheese ball again. He gives me the damn things every year and they taste like a dog’s butt.”

More rustling was followed by the sound of ripping as the wrapping around the cheese ball apparently gave way under nasty rodent teeth. “Next time just throw cousin Arnie’s gift out as soon as he hands it to you. It isn’t worth this.”

“Amen Sistah.” Another green glob flew off her face as she nodded.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to step down off the table. Deciding close combat was not an option given the extremely disgusting nature of my opponent, I left my knives in their sheathes and pulled my power forward, using it to create a protective bubble as I moved toward the tree.

My heart pounded hard in my chest. Sweat popped out all over my body, running in a cold trickle between my shoulder blades and making my palms sloppy with damp. I scrubbed my hands on my sweater and tried to get my panicked breathing under control.

In case you haven’t already figured it out…I’m not a fan of rats. Give me a slathering pack of gargoyles any day, or a worm-like supra demon in the ear. Give me a half dead fish demon stinking up a pool. Just don’t put a dammed rat within ten miles of me. “Happy frunkin’ Christmas, Astra.” I muttered to myself.

I scooted slowly closer, trying not to move my feet too much while gaining on the cheese ball feasting rat under the tree. I was on the down low…keeping it chill…lying in the proverbial weeds. “I can handle this.” I murmured. “I’ll just send a teensy, tiny, rat sized jolt into the nasty thing and fry it.”



Without warning, the rat jumped out of the tree and pinged off my shield. I panicked and shot everything I had into the nasty, disease-ridden thing. A giant ball of fire roared from my fingers, flew sizzling toward the ugly, brown creature lying dazed at my feet, and disintegrated it into a small pile of grey ashes in the blink of an eye.

Unfortunately it didn’t stop there. The carpet beneath the rat sparked into flame and, with a terrible whoosh, spread outward toward the scrawny tree. The fire hit the bottom of the tree and hovered as the green faced woman and I watched, open mouthed in horror, and then ignited like a giant fire starter log and went up in hungry flames that consumed the spindly thing in about two seconds.

The fire ball would have taken the curtains behind the tree too, but by that point the apartment’s inhabitant had shaken herself out of her horrified trance and run to get her fire extinguisher. She doused the curtains and the carpet around the tree and reduced the fire to a wet, smoking mess that formed a perfect circle beneath the cremated Christmas tree.

I stared at the spot for a few minutes, unsure what to say. Finally I decided there was nothing I could say that would make things better so I turned around and headed toward the door.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

I stopped with my hand on the knob of the door, which was ripped off its hinges and hung at an odd angle from the frame. I cleared my throat and tried, “Um, my work here is done?”

I didn’t think she’d bought it.


Barnes & Noble:



All Hoale-ows Eve by Declan Sands


A Hoaley Addictive Halloween!

Adam and the gang are just out for a fun night of trick or treating when a dirty devil plows into Mink and leaves a surprise in his candy bag. Next thing they know, Mink’s in jail and they’re hunting for an international jewel thief named Monkey. Will the trail of tricks end in treats for everyone involved? Or will they all end up with egg on their faces and TP on their shoes? There’s only one way to find out!


Mink stumbled over his cape and nearly pitched face first into a water-filled ditch at the side of the road. Clinking like the tin man, Delf grabbed hold of Mink’s pitchfork and kept him almost upright. His overflowing bag of candy tipped dangerously, causing Mink to shriek in a decidedly unmanly way.

Adam lifted the patch off his right eye and peered out from underneath it. “Avast ye, matey. Ye’re ballast appears to be unbalanced.” The sound-activated parrot on Adam’s shoulder squawked, causing Maddy to jump and shriek. “Good god, Ads!” I swear I’m gonna pinch that parrot’s head off before the night’s over.”

Mink slammed the bulging bag against his chest, turning a fiery red face in Adam’s direction. “You’d better watch the talk about my ballast, Ads.” He grinned widely, his teeth nearly glowing white against the cherry red of his face. “Delfie likes my ballast, don’t you honeybuns?”

The giant, red-haired knight of the round, or square, table, Adam wasn’t entirely sure, lifted a creaky arm and shoved the hunk of metal covering his handsome face upward. “You’re lucky if I can find your ballast wearing this outfit,” he groused.

“I think you might have enough candy Minks.” Adam lifted his own, much less bulky bag. “You have easily four times what the rest of us do.”

Dressed as Wonder Woman, Maddy adjusted her fake boobs and cocked a padded hip, her mink-brown pageboy dancing under a sparkling gold lame headband. “That’s because everybody can tell we’re adults and they all think he’s a child.”

Mink frowned in her direction, looking a little scary since he had horns and a pitchfork. “I beg your pardon. They’re more generous with me because I’m so damn loveable. You…” he swung an accusing finger over his three friends. “You’re all cranky. Nobody wants to give candy to a bunch of sour pusses.”

Adam gave up on the patch and tugged it up to his forehead. “Sorry to burst your bubble Suzie Sunshine, but they’re shoving candy into your bag as fast as they can because Delf’s always standing behind you looking like he’s going to run them through with his staff.”

Mink’s eyebrows danced and he twirled an invisible mustache between his fingertips, using his best Groucho Marx voice, “I’d like him to run me through with that staff, yuk, yuk.”

Delf’s armor shimmied and Adam decided he was either having a seizure or he was laughing. There was no way to know for sure because his handsome mug was completely obscured by metal.

“Whatever. Wonder Woman’s feet are tired. I’m heading back to the bar.”

Mink crossed his arms over his chest, looking demonic until he stabbed himself in the cheek with his pitchfork. “Ow! Spoil sport.”

Delf clanked. “She’s right, gumdrop, we’ve been out here for hours. I think you’ve done enough damage.”
Sighing, Mink nodded. “Okay, but don’t come running to me when you run out of candy. You’re not getting any of mine.”

Turning toward the flashing neon sign of the distant bar where they’d started the night’s adventure, Adam threw an arm over Maddy’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I’m really glad you’re back, Mads. I’ve missed you.”

She lay her head on his shoulder, sighing. “Me too.”

The sidewalks were full ahead of them and some of the celebrants were getting a little rowdy. The crowd shifted suddenly, somebody giving a little scream as they were shoved aside.

“Hey, you poked me with that thing!” a woman shouted.

Mink chuckled. “That’s what he said.”

Delf clanked in response.

A wiry figure dressed all in red shoved free of the crowd, running down the street right at them. He kept looking over his shoulder as more shouts rose up behind him.

“What’s going on?” Maddy asked.

Adam shook his head. “Looks like somebody got too much into the spirit of his costume.”

The devil running toward them looked enough like Mink that Maddy and Adam both turned to make sure he was still behind them.

“Minks, looks like one of your people is up to no good.”

Mink opened his mouth to respond just as the devil runner stepped off the sidewalk and seemed to stumble, pitching forward and slamming into Mink. The two devils went down in a pile of horns and pitchforks and there was some unattractive rolling around and grunting.

Delf was concerned enough to tug off his helmet. “Hey, watch out.” He reached an enormous paw toward the topmost devil and hesitated. It was nearly impossible to tell which one was Mink.

Adam waded in, grabbing hold of the devil on the top and pulling him carefully to his feet. “When he was looking into the guy’s face he could easily tell it wasn’t Mink. The newcomer’s face was slender with high cheek bones and his lips were plumper than Mink’s. “Are you okay?”

The guy nodded, sending a quick look over his shoulder.

“Look what you did to my candy!” Mink was scrambling around picking up candy from the wet, dirty street. “It’s gonna be ruined!” he whined.

“Here let me help.” The other devil dropped to his knees and grabbed Mink’s bag, shoving handfuls of candy back into it. “I’m so sorry, man.”

The invading devil dropped the last handful of candy into the bag and pressed it toward Mink, pushing to his feet. “I gotta go. Sorry about the mishap.” He took off running, disappearing into an alley just as four guys in suits with guns drawn shoved free of the melee in front of the bar and pounded toward them.

“Oh crap,” Adam said. He pointed toward the alley. “He went that-a-way…”

The big guys pushed Delf aside and he stumbled backward, sounding like a tin roof in a hail storm. One of the men tackled Mink to the ground, clamping cuffs on him before Adam’s parrot could shriek, “Avast ye, maties” into the chilly night.

Barnes & Noble:

Kobo Books:



Yesterday’s Ghosts, Cozy Paranormal Mystery


The ghosts of the past rarely remain there. Not when the future holds so much possibility for them.

When a local man turns up dead at the Apple Blossom Festival ball, Anna and Pratt discover the man had been writing a tell all book that outed the sins of a good portion of Crocker’s residents. So when the local cops set out to find the killer, it makes sense to enlist the help of ex big city detective Pratt Davies. Pratt’s new in town and therefore one of the few who should be unaffected by the book and able to deal subjectively with the myriad suspects surrounding the murder. But Pratt and Anna quickly learn nobody’s beyond this particular gossip’s range. In fact, it’s possible Pratt’s on the suspect list himself. Along with just about everybody else in Crocker!


Anna sat behind the counter of Yesterday’s Antiques and watched her two favorite men bicker over the positioning of a new settee she’d asked them to place in the store. Actually, one favorite man and one favorite ghost, though Josselin Zebediah had a life force nearly as big as hers. He just didn’t have a corporeal body to go with it.

Pratt Davies, her sexy assistant in the antiques store, shoved the settee a few inches closer to the wall and turned it away from the deadly rays of the sun. At well over six feet, with dark brown hair that he wore military short, golden brown eyes, thick lashes, a strong nose, a broad jaw, and full lips, Pratt wasn’t hard at all to look at and Anna found his presence in her store a daily distraction that she enjoyed very much.

His nemesis had long, muscular legs and broad shoulders, dark blond hair under a well-worn cowboy hat and intense dark blue eyes. “That ain’t right, Puke,” Joss told him heatedly. “It looks like a doggery for certain.”

“Well, that’s too bad, spook. The sun’s bad for the wood and the fabric. You’re just gonna have to live with it.”

The light fixture above their heads flickered and Anna thought about stepping into the fight. But then Bones, the resident mouse catcher and equal opportunity hater, jumped up onto the settee and spit at both of them before settling into a perfect, orange spiral dead center in the seat.

“Well don’t that just cap the climax,” Joss muttered grumpily.

Pratt glared down at the cranky feline. “Don’t think I won’t move this thing with your fat butt on it, cat.”

The two shared a smile at Pratt’s threat and, just like that, the uneasy truce they’d been attempting to keep since they’d met a few days earlier dropped back into place.
“You should go home and get ready for the ball, Pratt.” Anna closed the record book she’d been pretending to peruse while she watched them bicker and looked up just in time to see him grimace.

Joss shoved his hat back on his head, grinning smugly. “Why so grum, Puke? You got them fancy duds and all.”

Pratt threw Joss a glare and headed toward Anna with a scowl on his handsome face. “I can’t believe you’re making me go to this thing.”

Anna pressed her lips together to hold back a grin. “It’s business, Pratt.” She grabbed the garment bag he’d draped over the counter earlier. “Besides, I don’t know what you’re worried about, you’re going to look very handsome in this suit.” She handed the bag to him and smiled. “I picked it out just for you.”

“If that’s an attempt to make me feel guilty for grousing…” his glower softened as he shook his head. “It’s working. Dammit.”

Anna laughed. “Good. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Besides, you might even have fun.”

He hooked a finger through the hanger and dropped the bag over his shoulder. “You can start making it up to me by saving me at least one dance tonight.”

Anna’s belly warmed with pleasure at the thought. “Deal. That’s an easy promise.”
They shared a smile that ended when Bones flew straight up from the settee, hissing and twisting around to smack the air where Joss had been a moment earlier. All his orange fur stood on end like somebody had stuck his tail into a light socket.

“Stop torturing Bones!” Anna shouted.

Above their heads, the ceiling light flickered as Joss showed his displeasure.

Despite Joss’s jealousy, Anna couldn’t help the smile that slipped across her face as she watched Pratt leave. Their recent battle with an angry spirit and an even angrier killer had brought all the feelings they’d been dancing around to the surface and, for the first time since Pratt had arrived at Yesterday’s Antiques, Anna almost believed they had a chance at something good together.

Unfortunately, the feeling wasn’t shared by the other inhabitants of her little shop. Namely one cowboy and one saloon girl from the early 1800s.

Said saloon girl popped into view a moment later as Anna was counting the day’s receipts.

Anna felt the cool wash of air across her neck and looked around. “Hey, Bess. I haven’t seen you all day. What have you been up to?”

The cranky specter frowned. “I reckon that’s none o’ your concern.”

Anna simply nodded. She was looking forward to the evenings events too much to let Bess’s churlish temperament ruin her day. “Did you happen to see Joss in the attic? He left in a tizzy and I need to talk to him.”

When Bess didn’t respond, Anna turned to find her staring toward the ceiling with a speculative expression. “Bess? Is something wrong?”

The ghost shrugged. “Some folks is just offish, is all.”

Anna closed the drawer to the antique cash register and turned to Bess. “Joss is a bit cranky because Pratt and I…well…” Anna felt her face heat and busied herself tucking cash into a money bag. “Just try to be nice to him. He’ll happy up soon enough.”

Bess looked at her like she’d lost her mind and then, made a disgusted sound with her lips. “It ain’t no great shakes to a curly wolf like Joss that the puke’s got designs on you.” She shook her head. “’Sides, Jossy and me got bigger problems right now.”
She popped away, leaving Anna more confused than she’d started. Shaking her head, Anna locked the front door and turned the Open sign to Closed.

She headed into the back room to grab the antique ball gown she’d found for the ball at the Bickershaw Museum. She couldn’t wait to get home and try it on.

Barnes & Noble:

Kobo Books:



Bedeviled & Beguiled by Sam Cheever – Sexy Sci fi Paranormal Romance!


Astra Q Phelps is on the side of the good guys in the war between good and evil. Unfortunately for her, the bad guys have been making inroads on her soul. And when a particularly dark and sexy dark worlder fixes his heated gaze on Astra, the lighter side of her nature quickly finds itself kicked to the curb by her slut-monkey side. But Astra doesn’t have time to deal with her love life. She’s in the middle of a war between two dark factions…a war that just might mean the end of the human population…and it seems the fate of the world rests uneasily on her shoulders. It’s a lot of pressure to put on one feisty halfling…but Astra Q Phelps is definitely…erm…certainly…ahh…possibly up to the challenge.


Dialle dropped his head to kiss me before I could bolt away. Despite my discomfort at kissing Dialle in front of Emo, my heart took up the beat that was playing itself out in my lower regions. Heat, sharp and molten ran through my body at the touch of his lips and I closed my eyes and leaned into him before I realized what I was doing. When I opened my eyes a moment later we were standing in Dialle’s chambers and Emo wasn’t.

I also became aware that Dialle had climbed up my shirt and was making himself very familiar with the geography of a part of my body that is not considered a public access area by the Astra Q. Phelps dating committee of one (that’s me). I cursed and pushed his hands away just as the door crashed back against the wall and spat Gerch at us.

“My Prince. I’m sorry to…interrupt…” I glared at him and saw just the tiniest tipping up of one side of his wide, craggy lips. “But the king has requested your presence in his rooms.”

I grinned. Saved again. Dialle cursed. “Tell him to go to Heaven.”

Gerch’s lips twitched but, soldier-like, he managed to hold the smile in check. “My Prince, do you think that’s wise?”

Dialle’s answering glare very nearly succeeded in banishing his Captain’s smile into the shadows, never to be seen again. Gerch lowered his head and body in the tiniest bow. “As you wish.” But he didn’t leave the room.

Dialle cursed again and paced away from me. I found his response to his father’s summons singularly interesting. Despite my extreme weariness I couldn’t help the spark of interest that gave me new energy. It might be fun to meet Dialle the First if he could make my Dialle so deliciously nervous and pissed off.

After a minute Dialle’s gaze shot toward the waiting Gerch and he sighed. “Oh hell! All right, Gerch. Wait outside the door for a minute while Astra and I finish our…business.”

Yikes! That so wasn’t what I had in mind. My eyes went round and my mouth opened to argue but I didn’t get the chance. Dialle was on me like bristle hairs on an elephant before I could say, diddley squat.

My traitorous body melted against him almost as soon as his lips met mine. My world suddenly became a small bubble of musky heat and shared air that caused my limbs to tighten with need even as they turned to warm, flexible rubber.

Dialle’s eyes, blue again, burned into me as he pulled those incredibly soft lips from mine and trailed his hot, red tongue across my lips. I gasped. I could have sworn the touch sizzled against my tender, swollen lips. “I’m damned.” I said on a need-charged sigh.


All Romance eBooks:

Barnes & Noble:

Kobo Books:


Google Play:

Website page:


 USA Today Bestselling Author Sam Cheever writes romantic paranormal/fantasy and mystery/suspense, creating stories that celebrate the joy of love in all its forms. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 50+ books and has been writing for over a decade under several noms de plume.

If you haven’t already connected, Sam would love it if you Liked/Followed her wherever you enjoy hanging out online. Here are her online haunts:

Newsletter: Subscribe to my newsletter and win a free copy of the fun and sexy Honeybun Fever Box Set
Amazon Author Page:

NEW RELEASE – Honeybun One and Done

Giveaway Background


For a limited time there’s a link to a giveaway for a Kindle Paperwhite eReader inside each copy of Honeybun One and Done! Get your copy today and play to WIN!


He’s a ONE and DONE kind of guy. Can she live long enough to find out if she’s the ONE?

Percy Honeybun and his honey, Brita Muldane just can’t catch a break. They’ve danced around their relationship for years, unable to find a way to make it work. But their lives are intertwined through family and friends and they’re just as unable to break completely away from each other. Maybe what they need is a life changing event to help them break through. Or maybe the life-shattering event they suddenly find themselves in, will end up breaking them instead.

“Dust off the edge of your seat because that’s exactly where you will be while enjoying this thrill ride called Honeybun One and Done. If you are new to the Honeybuns, you are in for a treat. Although you do not need to read all of them to enjoy this one, I highly recommend it.” ~Barbara Miller – Reader


She looked at the dead man’s name badge and swore. Brita thought she was looking at the uni who was supposed to have been at the front desk.

She moved to the window and looked outside, seeing the rusty metal fire escape hugging the wall a few feet down.

The killer had used the fire escape.

She left the bathroom and hurried toward the stairs, Moxie bouncing at her heels. She’d heard voices on her way upstairs so she knew that somebody was in the bullpen. First she needed to warn them, though she thought the killer was long gone. And second she needed to start a manhunt for whoever killed the Sarge and Brent Madris, the young uniformed cop in the bathroom. Madris had left behind a wife and two small kids. Rage flared at the thought. Brita would find whoever killed the two cops and she would make sure they paid for it.

Moxie ran to the bullpen door and stopped, yipping with excitement. Brita scooped her up and pushed the door open.

The stench hit her first. Feces, urine, and fear.

The first cop was draped over the copy machine, the whir and click of the copier a constant accompaniment to the flash of light each time the machine took another copy of whatever Detective Red Gordyn was lying on. Pieces of copy paper floated from the tray and scattered like flower petals across the already littered floor.

Alarm flashed through Brita, sending her senses into overdrive. The copier’s constant drudgery sharpened until it was like the roar of a train in her mind, each click at the end of the copy cycle twanging across her nerves like the cocking of a loaded pistol.

She searched for a pulse, finding one that was very faint. She would call for an ambulance but first she needed to finish securing the scene.

She settled Moxie onto the floor by her feet. “Heel,” she ordered in a harsh whisper. The doxie trembled, her frilly tail drooping on the floor behind her. Even Moxie’s overblown sense of adventure seemed to be outraged by the carnage in the station.

Brita crouched low and moved quickly past the first row of desks. She peered under each scarred wooden desk before moving on to the next and then the next. She found the second body lying face down between two desks. His desk chair was overturned behind him, the rusted wheel still spinning. She felt for a pulse on Detective Bill Bris’s throat but knew it was no use.

His slightly bulging brown eyes stared sightlessly ahead, a trail of blood coating the bridge of his pug nose from the hole between his eyes.

She found no more bodies and, by the time she reached the door to the interview rooms at the back, she was finally able to breathe.

Brita started to dial nine-one-one. As her finger hovered over the last digit, Moxie suddenly shot sideways with a growl and Brita turned. The little dog yelped.


Movement to her left. A blur of motion. Then Brita’s head snapped sideways and pain shattered outward, bringing her to her knees on the hard, dirty carpet.

She never felt her face hitting the floor.






Kobo Books:

Google Play:


Author Giveaways by Sam Cheever

Nearing the Season of giving, this seems a good post to read? #:0)

Excerpts from Emilia

by Sam Cheever

Some authors like to give stuff away and some don’t. I personally know one author who refuses to give away copies of her books and just gives bookmarks and trading cards away at conferences. No bling for her. She’s not alone. Promotional items cost money, giving away books takes sales out of an author’s pocket. But what about the old business adage, you have to spend money to make it? Does it apply to creative businesses as much as traditional ones? I think it does.

Nobody can chart a direct affect from a promotional item to a book sale. It isn’t possible to identify a monetary result, because it’s not a direct transaction. It really isn’t even monetary. It’s emotional.

People love getting free stuff. They especially love getting clever and useful free stuff. And when they get something they really like they generally remember the person…

View original post 618 more words