Hey guys! Welcome to today's tour stop! Sorry its late up, had exams today! Anw, Yesterday's Heroes is the first book in the Boomer series. It looks amazing and I certainly can't wait to read it! :)
Yesterday's Heroes
Aurora “Rory” Graystone
Codename: Halo
Abilities: Superior reflexes, I.Q. and aptitude for calculating probabilities
Mission: Find missing teammates
Rory knows she’s being watched, and she’s not about to let the hunter catch her in his trap. She’ll confront her stalker, a man she suspects is involved in the disappearances of other superheroes--if she can ignore the sensual heat that fills her every time he’s near…
Michael Hunter
Codename: Hard Target
Abilities: Expert tracker and sniper
Mission: Kill Rory Graystone
One of five desperate men sent back in time to save the future, Michael believes eliminating Rory is the key to his mission. But even as he takes aim, a split second of doubt causes him to miss his shot.
Drawn together by passion, and on a collision course with fate, can Rory and Michael work together to change the future? Or have they set in motion the horrific history the time-travelers are trying to prevent?
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Also available on Audio
Also available on Audio
Heather Long
Heather Long lives in Texas with her family and their menagerie of animals. As a child, Heather skipped picture books and enjoyed the Harlequin romance novels by Penny Jordan and Nora Roberts that her grandmother read to her. Heather believes that laughter is as important to life as breathing and that the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus are very real. In the meanwhile, she is hard at work on her next novel.
Time for a short excerpt!
He missed.
He never missed.
Michael stared at the sidewalk swarming with citizens and shopping debris. His bullet had hit one of the shopping bags, turning it into scraps of leather, metallic buckle bits and paper drifting in the air.
How the hell had he missed?
Michael allowed himself the twenty seconds it took him to collapse the rifle back into his bag to analyze. But it was twenty seconds too long.
Her slender, lithe body appeared over the roof’s edge and landed, one knee and one foot down for balance. Power coiled through her body’s compact musculature. Intelligence shimmered in her violet eyes. Danger sheathed her like a halo.
She was absolutely magnificent.
“Going somewhere?” Her voice undulated, low and husky, the sardonic notes pinging his nervous system as though they were played on a too-tightly-strung guitar.
“Unfortunately, no.” A flick of his wrist dropped the small-caliber weapon into his hand, but the woman rolled, twisting and turning through the air as she avoided his bullets.
Incomprehension tangled with irritation. He never missed.
Until today.
Twice in as many encounters.
“Tsk, tsk. Didn’t your mother teach you not to play with guns? If you’re going to shoot at something, hit it. Otherwise, what’s the point?” The come-hither voice was close and the liquid heat in her tone tormented his cock. He narrowly jerked his head back, avoiding her fist whiffing the air just millimeters from his nose. But he had no time to savor his victory as her arm completed the arc, punching down on the crook of his elbow.
Nerves screaming, he released the gun and jerked himself to the right to avoid the blow of her leg lashing out at his knee. He struck back, unsurprised that she avoided the strike. She used her forearm to send it wide and swiveled so that his own mass and velocity sent him flying over her shoulder.
An unexpected grin turned up the corners of his mouth. Despite her slighter frame and fragile appearance, the she-vixen offered him a challenge.
God she’s fast.
He slammed against the rooftop and rebounded to his feet, pivoting to face her. Gone was the sweet white t-shirt that hugged her breasts. In its place was an almost-white body suit that lingered like a lover on every curve. A rainbow swath of color wrapped around her right thigh, cut up across her hip and over her abdomen to blaze a trail of treasure to her left breast. The Kevlar-based polymer shimmered in the morning sun.
It was both practical and erotic.
Deep within his brain, the microchip he’d thought dead flared to life. Data scrolled across his internal eye, a mechanized voice reciting the information
Target acquired: Codename Halo.
Abilities: Superior reflexes, high I.Q. and an uncanny knack for discerning the possibilities
Suggested defense: Unknown
Suggested offense: Unknown
Computers were not meant to be sarcastic, but the advice carried the weight of dry humor that Michael associated with the programmer it imitated.
“Got a name big boy?” Her words were a provocative tease and his body tingled in response.
Her voice spawned a physiological side effect on his anatomy. It must have a correlation with her ability, but the chip remained silent on the matter. Her second attack came in a flurry of kicks and palm strikes.
Michael could take a man down with three moves or less. She was slender, slighter in build, and he should be able to snap her in two. Instead, he blocked, evaded and turned her blows until he was able to capture a wrist and spin her back against his chest, his arms coming down to cage her. She turned her palms down, her suggestive little ass rubbing his crotch as she tried to break the hold.
Using his size and associated muscle mass, he bent with her, his fists shackling her wrists, his knuckles brushing her firm breasts. She twisted her hips, going for the side spin. Michael moved with her, boxing her tighter to his body. The motion brought the rich, velvet of her hair to his nose. He drew in a lungful of her scent. The tart lemon was a top note, but beneath the citrus was a distinctively musky, feminine scent.
Blood surged into his cock and she stilled as his arousal pressed solidly against her backside. The teasing curve of her body was soft against his hardness, filling his mind with erotic images and the desire to determine just how the sexy little body suit came off.
Had any battle been more fun?
Or more exciting?
“Done?” He touched his lips to her ear, stealing the smallest taste of her flesh. Her tender skin tasted of schnapps and cool malt, both decadent and sweet.
“Nope.”
He never missed.
Michael stared at the sidewalk swarming with citizens and shopping debris. His bullet had hit one of the shopping bags, turning it into scraps of leather, metallic buckle bits and paper drifting in the air.
How the hell had he missed?
Michael allowed himself the twenty seconds it took him to collapse the rifle back into his bag to analyze. But it was twenty seconds too long.
Her slender, lithe body appeared over the roof’s edge and landed, one knee and one foot down for balance. Power coiled through her body’s compact musculature. Intelligence shimmered in her violet eyes. Danger sheathed her like a halo.
She was absolutely magnificent.
“Going somewhere?” Her voice undulated, low and husky, the sardonic notes pinging his nervous system as though they were played on a too-tightly-strung guitar.
“Unfortunately, no.” A flick of his wrist dropped the small-caliber weapon into his hand, but the woman rolled, twisting and turning through the air as she avoided his bullets.
Incomprehension tangled with irritation. He never missed.
Until today.
Twice in as many encounters.
“Tsk, tsk. Didn’t your mother teach you not to play with guns? If you’re going to shoot at something, hit it. Otherwise, what’s the point?” The come-hither voice was close and the liquid heat in her tone tormented his cock. He narrowly jerked his head back, avoiding her fist whiffing the air just millimeters from his nose. But he had no time to savor his victory as her arm completed the arc, punching down on the crook of his elbow.
Nerves screaming, he released the gun and jerked himself to the right to avoid the blow of her leg lashing out at his knee. He struck back, unsurprised that she avoided the strike. She used her forearm to send it wide and swiveled so that his own mass and velocity sent him flying over her shoulder.
An unexpected grin turned up the corners of his mouth. Despite her slighter frame and fragile appearance, the she-vixen offered him a challenge.
God she’s fast.
He slammed against the rooftop and rebounded to his feet, pivoting to face her. Gone was the sweet white t-shirt that hugged her breasts. In its place was an almost-white body suit that lingered like a lover on every curve. A rainbow swath of color wrapped around her right thigh, cut up across her hip and over her abdomen to blaze a trail of treasure to her left breast. The Kevlar-based polymer shimmered in the morning sun.
It was both practical and erotic.
Deep within his brain, the microchip he’d thought dead flared to life. Data scrolled across his internal eye, a mechanized voice reciting the information
Target acquired: Codename Halo.
Abilities: Superior reflexes, high I.Q. and an uncanny knack for discerning the possibilities
Suggested defense: Unknown
Suggested offense: Unknown
Computers were not meant to be sarcastic, but the advice carried the weight of dry humor that Michael associated with the programmer it imitated.
“Got a name big boy?” Her words were a provocative tease and his body tingled in response.
Her voice spawned a physiological side effect on his anatomy. It must have a correlation with her ability, but the chip remained silent on the matter. Her second attack came in a flurry of kicks and palm strikes.
Michael could take a man down with three moves or less. She was slender, slighter in build, and he should be able to snap her in two. Instead, he blocked, evaded and turned her blows until he was able to capture a wrist and spin her back against his chest, his arms coming down to cage her. She turned her palms down, her suggestive little ass rubbing his crotch as she tried to break the hold.
Using his size and associated muscle mass, he bent with her, his fists shackling her wrists, his knuckles brushing her firm breasts. She twisted her hips, going for the side spin. Michael moved with her, boxing her tighter to his body. The motion brought the rich, velvet of her hair to his nose. He drew in a lungful of her scent. The tart lemon was a top note, but beneath the citrus was a distinctively musky, feminine scent.
Blood surged into his cock and she stilled as his arousal pressed solidly against her backside. The teasing curve of her body was soft against his hardness, filling his mind with erotic images and the desire to determine just how the sexy little body suit came off.
Had any battle been more fun?
Or more exciting?
“Done?” He touched his lips to her ear, stealing the smallest taste of her flesh. Her tender skin tasted of schnapps and cool malt, both decadent and sweet.
“Nope.”
And now, let's welcome Heather to the blog! :)
The Past: The Undiscovered Country
In Yesterday's Heroes, Michael, Drake, Simon, Garrett and Rex have traveled back in time to a distant past to prevent their own future from occurring. The past may be an undiscovered country, but they don't want to just explore this new place, they want to create a whole new world—an alternate history. The best kind—the kind that produces the people they loved (in Rex's case) and not the enemies they hated (everyone's).
So how do you do that? How do you find those key moments in time and identify what must be changed? I admit to being a huge geek where comics are concerned and an even bigger geek about history. The best way to build an alternate history is to have all your facts straight. You have to be able to look at the past and see what moments were inevitable and what weren't. For example, the argument can be made that following World War I, the penalties exacted on the country of Germany were so severe and so brutal that the nation was desperate for a leader to re-enforce their national identity, to make them proud again and to give them back a sense of personal honor.
But what if that leader had been a John F. Kennedy instead of an Adolf Hitler? Does the man who steps into that role matter so much? Was it Hitler's intense hate and racism and inadequacies that drove the German people into madness with him, the root? Or was it another symptom of the cause?
For the Boomers, history is a tapestry of events that they know, that were reported and recorded and they must work off the information in their microchips—but how much of our history is accurate? What things slip through the cracks? Consider for a moment the election four years ago (and no, this isn't an open invitation to discuss politics). The 2008 election was different in many ways because of a tight primary for the Democrats. They fielded two strong candidates and at any point—the nomination could have gone to one or the other…how different would our world be today if it was Hillary Clinton who snagged the nomination? Or a step further, if she were not Secretary of State and took the vice-presidential nomination?
History is built on the paving stones of events. Each event adds a new stone to the road. Sometimes they are smooth and fit together neatly. Sometimes they are bumpy and rock in the road—they cause bouncing for traffic going over them or trip the unwary traveler…it's those bumps—those uneasy rocks that provide the most torque—and I could argue that it is those rocks that set into motion chains of events that are inevitable.
For example, Christopher Columbus "discovered" America because navigators began to understand the trade winds and they went east to west and he followed them. Arguably, even if Columbus never made the trip—someone else would have. So his 'bump' in the road to history doesn't have the ripple effect it might otherwise.
So for the Boomers, each choice and decision they make either firms up the path to their future or distorts it—but can they distort it enough to make it completely different? Or are they just buying time—and delaying the inevitable? It's the tangled web at the center of their journey to this undiscovered country: their past.
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So yep, that's about it for today! Thanks for visiting:)
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