Book Promo Feature – Special Offers by ML Ryan

Indie Book Promo is happy to welcome ML Ryan to the blog! She is here to share about her book, Special Offers. If this book sounds like something that you would be interested in reading, please find buy links below and pick up a copy or two.

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Special-Offers-2014-CoverMeet Hailey – possessed by a magical being from a parallel dimension who was previously trapped in her Kindle.

Hailey Parrish is quick-witted, irreverent, and hasn’t had a date in three years. She only wanted an eBook reader because her collection of paperbacks threatened to take over her small living space. Little did she know that the “special offers” that prompted the purchase included much more than a reduced price in exchange for a few ads. The device came pre-loaded with the essence of Sebastian Kess, an erudite womanizer with magical abilities from a parallel dimension. When she inadvertently releases him and he inhabits her body, she finally has a man inside her, just not in the way she imagined. And soon her predicament introduces her to yet another supernatural, the handsome could-be-the-man-of-her-dreams Alex Sunderland. Can Alex and Hailey find a way to return Sebastian to his own body and stay one step ahead of the criminals who want to keep him where he is?

Special Offers, the first book of the Coursodon Dimension Series, combines paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and a healthy dose of quirky humor.

Winner of a 2014 IndieBrag Medallion

Special Offers is available from Amazon, B&N, Kobo, iTunes, Smashwords

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ML Ryan

Scientist by day, paranormal romance-urban fantasy author by night, M.L. Ryan has many stories rolling around in her head, and she finally decided to write some of them. She prefers literature that isn’t saddled with excruciating symbolism, ponderous dialogue or worldly implications. She also doesn’t like plots so reliant on love at first sight that it makes her feel like her head might implode. She lives in Tucson, Arizona with her husband and teenage son, four cats, a Curly Coated Retriever and an adopted desert tortoise.

ML can be found:

Website  |  Twitter  |  Facebook   |  Goodreads  |  

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The bartender, a muscular, dreadlocked, redhead with colorful tattoos covering almost every inch of visible flesh, gave me a small wave as both greeting and indication that he was busy and would be with me shortly. Wyatt had been the regular bartender at O’Reilly’s for as long as I had been going there. He mixed fine drinks, was usually pleasant, and didn’t like to make small talk. If not for the fact that he was married and a rabid Arizona State fan, he might have been the perfect guy for me.
While I waited for Wyatt to take my order, I swung around on the stool and glanced about the room, searching for anyone I might know so I could hang with them instead of at the bar. No such luck. Someone slipped into the empty seat next to me and, from over my right shoulder, I heard “Hey, how’s the knees?”
I turned back and was caught in the cornflower blue gaze of No Sweat Bastard. And he looked even better in the tight black t-shirt and black jeans he was wearing than he did this morning. The outfit accentuated his sinewy, athletic physique, while giving him a look of confident masculinity. Yum.
“I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair down,” NSB remarked. “It looks good this way.”
As my bad luck would have it, Wyatt picked that moment to come by and ask what we wanted.
“You having your usual?” Wyatt drawled as he started to grab a bottle of Patron. He knew me well. The only alcohol I ever drank was tequila—in either a margarita or straight. I heard someone say “No. Glen Fiddich, rocks,” and realized that it was me.
I wanted to immediately right the obvious wrong that was my drink order, but I was too embarrassed to admit I had misordered in front of NSB. I thought I noticed a flash of unease on his face when I asked for the scotch, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. He probably thought I was trying to seem exotic or something, ordering single-malt. Great, I fretted—now I was doubly self-conscious.
“I’ll have the same,” he directed toward Wyatt. To me, he said, “I never introduced myself this morning. I’m Alex. Alex Sunderland.”
“Hailey Parrish”. Not wanting the conversation to stall, the only thing I could come up with next was, “Wow. What are the odds that we would run into each other twice in one day?”
He unleashed one of those spectacular smiles my way and said, laughing, “Astronomical, I would think.”
Just then, my purse started to vibrate. When I went out some place crowded, I liked to use one of those little cross-body bags instead of the behemoth I usually carried. That way, I was forced to limit myself to the essentials—phone, driver’s license, lip-gloss, some cash, and a credit card—and I never had to worry about misplacing it in the throng. I excused myself, and turned away slightly as I grabbed the phone. It was Rachel.
“Hailey, I’m really sorry, but Harrison has some sort of stomach bug and he’s currently curled in the fetal position on the bathroom floor moaning, ‘kill me’, over and over.”
Ew. “That sounds awful. Does he need to go to urgent care?”
“No,” she continued, “but you know men; they’re such babies when they are sick. Obviously, we are going to have to beg off tonight. Are you already at the bar?”
“Yeah, I got here early,” I yelled. Even with my finger pressed into my other ear, I could barely make out what she was saying with all the raucous bar noise. “Too bad Harrison’s sick. Tell him I hope he feels better.”
“I’m sure he will be by tomorrow. But I feel terrible that you are there by yourself.”
“No problem,” I assured her. No problem, indeed, I thought as I glanced at Alex, who was paying for both the drinks that Wyatt had just delivered. “Hey, it’s really noisy in here, so I’m having a hard time hearing you. I’m fine, though. I’ll just talk to you tomorrow.”
I ended the call and set the phone on the bar. I wasn’t particularly unhappy that they weren’t coming. After all, Alex was easy on the eyes and Rachel would be so proud of me for talking to him instead of making an excuse to hide in the ladies’ room. Besides, there was something about him that felt very familiar, like I had known him for a long time. Astounding as it seemed, I actually felt comfortable sitting with him.
As I turned to face him, he raised his glass towards me and I did the same with mine. We saluted each other with scotch and I took a sip. God, this stuff really is wretched, I thought, but somehow I felt compelled to keep drinking. And not just to keep up the pretense of having ordered something I actually liked. It was the weirdest feeling—wanting to both spit it out yet, at the same time, longing for the next mouthful. It occurred to me that maybe that’s how all scotch drinkers feel. Because truly, the stuff tasted like turpentine.
Throughout the evening, the conversation encompassed the usual get-to-know you banter. I got the important information without too much digging; he was single and an insurance adjuster from Portland, Oregon in town for two weeks for some specialized training. He seemed sincere, but really, he could be from Salt Lake City and unemployed with ten kids for all I really knew. Not wanting to get into a complicated dialogue about my unusual career path, I just said I worked at a local dairy. That was my go-to angle when I wasn’t in the mood to get into the specifics.
We ordered another round, which I paid for, and then switched to non-alcoholic choices—ice tea for me, sparkling water for him. He had a relaxed way about him that belied his obvious intellect and he shifted effortlessly between topics ranging from popular culture to global economies.
Too bad he doesn’t live around here, I lamented. It figured that I meet a guy that I might actually like, and he’s only here for two weeks. No sense letting this go much further, I reasoned. I certainly wasn’t up for a one-nighter, or even, best-case scenario, a fourteen-nighter.
It was getting late, it had been a long day, and I wanted to drive home soon—before I risked falling asleep at the wheel. I rooted in my bag and found some bills to leave on the bar for Wyatt’s well-deserved tip. Then I downed the last of my tea and turned to look at Alex.
“This has been fun,” I began, “but I really should be getting home. Hope your training goes well. Maybe we’ll run into each other again at the River Park.”
As I started to get off the bar stool, a peculiar sensation coursed through me, as if I was suddenly exerting a great deal of energy. My expression must have communicated the discomfort, because Alex frowned and asked if I was okay. When I didn’t immediately respond, he reached over and took my hands in his, concern etched across his handsome face.
Suddenly, I felt an electrical zap—similar to what I had encountered days before—when first synching the Kindle. I might have been able to rationalize it as some hackneyed romantic sign had the next two events not occurred in rapid succession. First, I inexplicably uttered one long, unrecognizable sound…then I heard the voice.

Author Interview with Larry Weiner, author of Paradise Rot

Indie Book Promo is happy to have Larry Weiner on the blog today! He’s here to answer some of our questions and to share about his book, Paradise Rot. If this book sounds like something that would interest you, please find a buy link below and pick up a copy or two.

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IBP – How would you describe your book in 20 words or less without using the blurb?

Larry – Kyle Brightman is an innocent dropped into a Caribbean resort with jungle assassins, a paralyzed talking Chihuahua, a former Haliburton mercenary, and plastic surgery-addicted zombies, all set to the greatest hits of the 70’s.

 

IBP – Where would you live if you could live anywhere in the world?

Larry – So I already live in a beautiful place, an island off the coast of Seattle. However, my dream location would actually be a series of locations around the world. I would own various studios, we’re talking maybe 400-600 square feet, in various locales such as Tangier, Paris, Reykjavik, etc.… I’d stay at these locations with my family, then rent out the studios the rest of the year. We’d all move around the globe like gypsies having adventures.

 

IBP – Did you always had in mind to be a writer or it just happened?

Larry – I’d always wanted to be a writer since high school when I wrote lyrics for the various bands I played bass in. The lyrics would usually be political or about society’s ills because seventeen. In college I studied film with an emphasis on screenwriting. While living in LA I wrote spec scripts for anybody who would cut a check, thus I amassed a lot of bounced checks. At that time I’d also written two novels, the second a mystery with the awesome title, “If Refrigerators Explode, Why Can’t I?” Both novels went unpublished. Then, I got married and realized I needed to make a living so I became an advertising copywriter until I learned advertising art directors made about 10k more, so I became an art director and remained so for 15 years. I was known as a “literary art director” which meant I coerced copywriters into using my headlines. It was during these ad years that I developed a keen sense of compact storytelling. Who would buy this toothpaste? What was their motivation? How could I make the toothpaste desirable? This eventually led to my quitting advertising to write again because I still had a bit of my soul intact and I didn’t give a shit who bought toothpaste.

 

IBP – Do you have a day job?

Larry –  I wrote while I worked as a freelance art director. Then I met my second wife who had a 4 year-old (I had an 11 year-old) and she had an insanely busy job as a family doctor so she said to me one day, “How about you quit freelancing and stay at home with the kids and run the house?” After picking myself up off the floor I said yes, not knowing that childcare and house tending was far more work than even the longest day in advertising. With my new day job a few things worked out in my favor: no commute time, not having to get dressed, no annoying boss whose jokes I had to pretend to laugh at, no clients to crush my soul. On the things that worked against me: after making lunches, dropping kids off, grocery shopping, laundry, house cleaning, more laundry, playdate drop offs, after school camps, homework, more laundry I found that I had a couple hours left in my day to write. Plus I couldn’t drink at work, a major reason to go into advertising in the first place.

 

IBP – What’s your favorite part of writing a book?

Larry – Dialogue. Dialogue. Dialogue. Coming from a screenwriting background and being a huge movie buff, I find that dialogue gives insight to character and their personality. I’m a chronic eavesdropper and always take note of the different inflections and word choices people use to communicate with each other. I’ve also learned to abolish adverbs and keep it to a simple, “He said/she said.” Often I don’t even include that to keep the continuity of the scene flowing.

 

IBP – Did you know the title before you started writing?

Larry –  I had the title, “Paradise Rot” floating around in my head for two years. It came to me during a freelance art direction gig for a resort that shall remain nameless (Lake Chelan). I was also wondering about fish out of water stories ala Hitchcock and wondered what it would be like to live somewhere considered paradise, such as the Caribbean, and hate it.

 

IBP – How did you come up with your premise for your books?

Larry – I’d always been a fan of the protagonist being thrust into dangerous situations. Fiction and film are littered with such a conceit and at the time I had re-watched “North by Northwest,” and “Shaun of the Dead.” I though to myself, “Wouldn’t it be fun to run a character through the wringer both mentally and physically?” I always found it both frightening and funny whenever a character was put through the paces even though they were just minding their own business living there quiet little life. I was influence by Kurt Vonnegut, Carl Hiassen, Hunter S Thompson, Christopher Moore – all writers who wrote about pain and suffering to comic effect.

 

IBP – Which genres do you prefer to read?

Larry – I’m beholden to no genre. I usually read something to fit my mood. I just finished reading “Damned” and “Doomed” by Chuck Palahnuik and then went on to read “Command and Control: Nuclear Weapons, the Damascus Accident, and the Illusion of Safety,” by Eric Schlosser. I also just finished reading “Martian,” by Andy Weir. All excellent reads.

 

IBP – Where can your fans find you ?

www.larrynweiner.com

@LarryNWeiner

https://www.facebook.com/larrynweiner

amazon: http://amzn.to/1GwDPrl

 

IBP – What’s your favorite vacation spot?

Larry –  anywhere with room service.

 

IBP – How many more books can we expect in this series?

Larry – PARADISE ROT is the first of a trilogy. The second novel is “ONCE AGAIN, WITH BLOOD” and the final is “HINDU SEX ALIENS.” ONCE AGAIN, WITH BLOOD is available on Amazon while “HINDU SEX ALIENS” is in the proofing stage.

 

My next novel has nothing to do with the supernatural.

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PR-THUMBNAIL-CREATESPACEKyle Brightman—late of the advertising industry and soon-to-be-late of the 5th floor psych ward—has a job offer he can’t refuse. A new resort in the Caribbean is looking for an art director. Kyle soon finds himself on the Isle of St. Agrippina working alongside a beautiful copywriter with an icy handshake. Questions arise: Why does the resort management team sport spray-on tans in the Bahamas? How can the resort offer such cheap vacation packages? What does one do with vats of Astroglide? To get the answers, Kyle must first navigate a series of wildly unpredictable events with a cast of even more wildly unpredictable characters, including a seductress jungle assassin, her partially paralyzed talking Chihuahua, an Ivy League Rastafarian seaplane captain, Kyle’s ex-psych ward roommate, a former Haliburton mercenary, and a French tavern owner with a fondness for goats, all set to the greatest hits of the 70’s. Pablo Cruise never felt so right.

Paradise Rot is available from Amazon

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10528174_10203249605614504_2023473464_nLarry Weiner is the author of PARADISE ROT (BOOK ONE) and ONCE AGAIN, WITH BLOOD (BOOK TWO). Larry earned a degree in film from CSULA and was an award-winning art director. And then he got the hell out of Dodge (advertising) and decided he was better at fiction for the greater good (entertainment) than fiction to make people buy shit they don’t need (advertising). He’d written two novels and a ton of scripts in his 20’s but doesn’t really count them as over 20 years passed since writing Paradise Rot. So really, let’s call Paradise Rot the first novel. He lives on an island in the Pacific Northwest with his wife, two kids and a gaggle of animals.

Larry can be found:

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter

 

 

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