#BewitchingBookTours Guest Post: Icy Passage by Ann Gimpel (@AnnGimpel)

Icy Passage


Ann Gimpel

Genre: Supernatural thriller romance
Publisher: Ann Gimpel
Date of Publication: February 29, 2016
Number of pages: 309
Word Count: 110K
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde

Available at the following retailers:
Amazon     BN     Kobo     OmniLit

Review: Love a Highland Dragon by Ann Gimpel

To Love a Highland Dragon

Book Title
Dragon Lore, Book 1
Ann Gimpel

Genre: Urban Fantasy/Romance
Publisher: Taliesin

Date of Publication: September 4, 2013

Number of pages: 241
Word Count: 71,000

Cover Artist: James Caldwell

Available at the following retailers:
Amazon     BN     Kobo     ARe

A modern day psychiatrist and a dragon shifter stranded in time can’t escape their destiny, no matter how unlikely it seems.

In a cave deep beneath Inverness, a dragon shifter stirs and wakens. The cave is the same and his hoard intact, yet Lachlan senses something amiss. Taking his human form, he ventures above ground with ancient memories flooding him. But nothing is the same. His castle has been replaced by ungainly row houses. Men aren’t wearing plaids and women scarcely wear anything at all.

In Inverness for a year on a psychiatry fellowship, Dr. Maggie Hibbins watches an oddly dressed man pick his way out of a heather and gorse thicket. Even though it runs counter to her better judgment, she teases him about his strange attire. He looks so lost—and so unbelievably handsome —she takes him to a pub for a meal, to a barbershop, and then home. Along the way the hard-to-accept truth sinks in: he has to be a refugee from another era.

Never a risk-taker, Maggie’s carefully constructed life is about to change forever. Swept up in an ancient prophecy that links her to Lachlan and his dragon, she must push the edges of the impossible to save both the present and her heart.

Excerpt: 

Chapter One Kheladin listened to the rush of blood as his multi-chambered heart pumped. After eons of nothingness, it was a welcome sound. A cool, sandy floor pressed against his scaled haunches. One whirling eye flickered open, followed by the other. Where am I? He peered around himself and blew out a sigh, followed by steam, smoke, and fire. Thanks be to Dewi— Kheladin invoked the blood-red Celtic dragon goddess— I am still in my cave. It smelled right, but I wasna certain. He rotated his serpent’s head atop his long, sinuous neck. Vertebrae cracked. Kheladin lowered his head and scanned the place he and Lachlan, his human bond mate, had barricaded themselves into. It might have only been days ago, but somehow, it didn’t seem like days, or even months or a few years. His body felt rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in centuries. How long did I sleep? He shook his head. Copper scales flew everywhere, clanking against a pile that had formed around him. More than anything, the glittery heap reinforced his belief that he’d been asleep for a very long time. Dragons shed their scales annually. From the looks of the pile circling his body, he’d gone through hundreds of molt cycles. But how? The last thing he remembered was retreating to the cave far beneath Lachlan’s castle and working with the mage to construct strong wards. Had the black wyvern grown so powerful he’d been able to force his magic into the very heart of Kheladin’s fortress? If that is true— If we were really his prisoner, why did I finally waken? Is Lachlan still within me? Stop! I have to take things one at a time. He returned his gaze to the nooks and crannies of his spacious cave. He’d have to take inventory, but it appeared his treasure hadn’t been disturbed. Kheladin blew a plume of steam upward, followed by an experimental gout of fire. The black wyvern, his sworn enemy since before the Crusades, may have bested him, but he hadn’t gotten his slimy talons on any of Kheladin’s gold or jewels. He shook out his back feet and shuffled to the pool at one end of the cave where he dipped his snout and drank deeply. The water didn’t taste quite right. It wasn’t poisoned, but it held an undercurrent of metals that had never been there before. Kheladin rolled the liquid around in his mouth. He didn’t recognize much of what he tasted. The flavors are not familiar because I have been asleep for so long. Aye, that must be it. Part of his mind recoiled; he suspected he was deluding himself. “We’re awake.” Lachlan’s voice hummed in the dragon’s mind. “Aye, that we are.” “How long did we sleep?” “I doona know.” Water streamed down the dragon’s snout and neck. He knew what would come next; he didn’t have to wait long. “Let us shift. We think better in my body.” Lachlan urged Kheladin to cede ascendency. “Ye only think that is true.” Kheladin pushed back. “I was figuring things out afore ye woke.” “Aye, I’m certain ye were, but…” But what? “Och aye, my brain is thick and fuzzy, as if I havena used it for a verra long time.” “Mine feels the same.” The bond allowed only one form at a time. Since they were in Kheladin’s body, he still had the upper hand; the dragon didn’t think Lachlan was strong enough to force a shift without his help. There’d been a time when he could have but not now. Was it safe to venture above ground? Kheladin recalled the last day he’d seen the sun. After a vicious battle in the great room of Lachlan’s castle, they’d retreated to his cave and taken their dragon form as a final resort. Rhukon, the black wyvern, had pretended he wanted peace. He’d come with an envoy that had turned out to be a retinue of heavily armed men… Both he and Lachlan had expected Rhukon to follow them underground. Kheladin’s last thought before nothingness descended had been amazement their enemy hadn’t pursued them. Hmph. He did come after us but with magic. Magic strong enough to penetrate our wards. “Aye, and I was just thinking the same thing,” Lachlan sniped in a vexed tone. “We trusted him,” Kheladin snarled. “More the fools we were. We should have known.” Despite drinking, his throat was still raw. He sucked more water down and fought rising anger at himself for being gullible. Even if Lachlan hadn’t known better, he should have. His stomach cramped from hunger. Kheladin debated the wisdom of making his way through the warren of tunnels leading to the surface in dragon form. There had always been far more humans than dragons. Mayhap it would be wiser to accede to Lachlan’s wishes before they crept from their underground lair to rejoin the world of men. “Grand idea.” Lachlan’s response was instantaneous, as was his first stab at shifting. It took half a dozen attempts. Kheladin was far weaker than he’d imagined and Lachlan so feeble he was almost an impediment. Finally, once a shower of scales cleared, Lachlan’s emaciated body stood barefoot and naked in the cave. * Lacking the sharp night vision he enjoyed as a dragon, because his magic was so diminished, he kindled a mage light and glanced down at himself. Ribs pressed against his flesh, and a full beard extended halfway down his chest. Turning his head to both sides, he saw shoulder blades so sharp he was surprised they didn’t puncture his skin. Tawny hair fell in tangles past his waist. The only thing he couldn’t see was his eyes. Absent a glass, he was certain they were the same crystal-clear emerald color they’d always been. Lachlan stumbled across the cave to a chest where he kept clothing. Dragons didn’t need such silly accoutrements; humans did. He sucked in a harsh breath. The wooden chest was falling to ruin. He tilted the lid against a wall; it canted to one side. Many of his clothes had moldered into unusable rags, but items toward the bottom had fared better. He found a cream-colored linen shirt with long, flowing sleeves, a black and green plaid embroidered with the insignia of his house—a dragon in flight—and soft, deerskin boots that laced to his knees. He slid the shirt over his head and wrapped the plaid around himself, taking care to wind the tartan so its telltale insignia was hidden in its folds. Who knew if the black wyvern—or his agents—lurked near the mouth of the cave? Lachlan bent to lace his boots. A crimson cloak with only a few moth holes completed his outfit. He finger-combed his hair and smoothed his unruly beard. “Good God, but I must look a fright,” he muttered. “Mayhap I can sneak into my castle and set things aright afore anyone sees me. Surely whichever of my kinsmen are inhabiting the castle will be glad the master of the house has finally returned.” Lachlan worked on bolstering a confidence he was far from feeling. He’d nearly made it to the end of the cave, where a rock-strewn path led upward, when he doubled back to get a sword and scabbard—just in case things weren’t as sanguine as he hoped. He located a thigh sheath and a short dagger as well, fumbling to attach them beneath his kilt. Underway once again, he hadn’t made it very far along the upward-sloping tunnel that ended at a well-hidden opening not far from the postern gate of his castle, when he ran into rocks littering the way. He worked his way around progressively larger boulders until he came to a huge one that totally blocked the tunnel. Lachlan stared at it in disbelief. When had that happened? In all the time he’d been using these passageways, they’d never been blocked by rock fall. If he weren’t so weak, summoning magic to shove the rock over enough to allow him to pass wouldn’t be a problem. As it was, simply walking uphill proved a challenge. He pinched the bridge of his nose between a grimy thumb and forefinger. His mage light weakened. If I can’t even keep a light going, how in the goddess’ name will I be able to move that rock? Lachlan hunkered next to the boulder and let his light die while he ran possibilities through his head. His stomach growled and clenched in hunger. Had he come through however much time had passed to die like a dog of starvation in his own cave? “No, by God.” He slammed a fist against the boulder. The air sizzled. Magic. The rock was illusion. Not real. Counter spell. I need the counter spell. Maybe I don’t. He stood, took a deep breath, and walked into the huge rock. The air did more than sizzle; it flamed. If he’d been human, it would have burned him, but dragons were impervious to fire, as were dragon shifters. Lachlan waltzed through the rock, cursing Rhukon as he went. Five more boulders blocked his tunnel, each more charged with magic than the last. Finally, sweating and cursing, he rounded the last curve; the air ahead lightened. He wanted to throw himself on the ground and screech his triumph. Not a good idea. “Let me out. Ye have no idea what we’ll find.” Kheladin’s voice in his mind was welcome but the idea wasn’t. “Ye are right. Because we have no idea what is out there, we stay in my skin until we are certain. We can hide in this form far more easily than we can in yours.” “Since when did we begin hiding?” The dragon sounded outraged. “Our magic is weak.” Lachlan adopted a placating tone. “’Tis prudent to be cautious until it fully recovers.” “No dragon would ever say such a thing.” Deep, fiery frustration rolled off Kheladin. Steam belched from Lachlan’s mouth. “Stop that,” he hissed, but his mind voice was all but obliterated by wry dragon laughter. “Why? I find it amusing that ye think an eight foot tall dragon with elegant copper scales and handsome, green eyes would be difficult to sequester. A hesitation. “And infuriating that we need to conceal ourselves at all. Need I remind you we’re warriors?” “Quite taken with yourself, eh?” Lachlan sidestepped the issue of hiding; he didn’t want to discuss it further and risk being goaded into something unwise. Kheladin chuckled and pushed more steam through Lachlan’s mouth, punctuated by a few flames. Lost in a sudden rush of memories, Lachlan slowed his pace. As a mage, he would have lived hundreds of years, but bonded to a dragon, he’d live forever. In preparation, he’d studied long years with Aether, a wizard and dragon shifter himself. Along the way, Lachlan had forsaken much—a wife and bairns, for starters, for what woman would put up with a husband who was so rarely at home?—to bond with a dragon, forming their partnership. Once Lachlan’s magic was finally strong enough, there’d been the niggling problem of locating that special dragon willing to join its life with his. Because the bond conferred immortality on both the dragon and their human partner, dragons were notoriously picky. After all, dragon and mage would be welded through eternity. The magic could be undone, but the price was high: mages were stripped of power and their dragon mates lost much of theirs, too, as the bond unraveled. Lachlan had hunted for over a hundred years before finding Kheladin. The pairing had been instantaneous on both sides. He’d just settled in with his dragon, and was about to hunt down a wife to grace his castle, when the black wyvern had attacked. “What are ye waiting for?” Kheladin sounded testy. “Daydreaming is a worthless pursuit. My grandmother is two thousand years old, and she moves faster than you.” Lachlan snorted. He didn’t bother to explain there wasn’t much point in jumping through the opening in the gorse and thistle bushes and right into Rhukon’s arms. An unusual whirring filled the air, like the noisiest beehive he’d ever heard. His heart sped up, but the sound receded. “What the hell was that?” he muttered and made his way closer to the world outside his cave. Finally at the end of the tunnel, Lachlan stepped to the opening, shoved some overgrown bushes out of the way, and peered through. What he saw was so unbelievable, he squeezed his eyes tight shut, opened them, and looked again. Unfortunately, nothing had changed. Worse, an ungainly, shiny cylinder roared past, making the same whirring noise he’d puzzled over moments before. He fell backward into the cave, breath harsh in his throat, and landed on his rump. Not only was the postern gate no longer there, neither was his castle. A long, unattractive row of attached structures stood in its stead. “Holy godhead. What do I do now?” “We go out there and find something to eat,” the dragon growled. Lachlan gritted his teeth together. Kheladin had a good point. It was hard to think on an empty stomach. “Here I was worried about Rhukon. At least I understood him. I fear whatever lies in wait for us will require all our skill.” “Ye were never a coward. It is why I allowed the bond. Get moving.” The dragon’s words settled him. Ashamed of his indecisiveness, Lachlan got to his feet, brushed dirt off his plaid, and worked his way through the bushes hiding the cave’s entrance. As he untangled stickers from the finely spun wool of his cloak and his plaid, he gawked at a very different world from the one he’d left. There wasn’t a field—or an animal—in sight. Roadways paved with something other than dirt and stones were punctuated by structures so numerous, they made him dizzy. The hideous incursion onto his lands stretched in every direction. Lachlan balled his hands into fists. He’d find out what had happened, by God. When he did, he’d make whoever had erected all those abominations take them down. An occasional person walked by in the distance. They shocked him even more than the buildings and roads. For starters, the males weren’t wearing plaids, so there was no way to tell their clan. Females were immodestly covered. Many sported bare legs and breeks so tight he saw the separation between their ass cheeks. Lachlan’s groin stirred, cock hardening. Were the lassies no longer engaging in modesty or subterfuge and simply asking to be fucked? Or was this some new garb that befit a new era? He detached the last thorn, finally clear of the thicket of sticker bushes. Where could he find a market with vendors? Did market day even still exist in this strange environment? “Holy crap! A kilt, and an old-fashioned one at that. Tad bit early in the day for a costume ball, isn’t it?” A rich female voice laced with amusement, sounded behind him. Lachlan spun, hands raised to call magic. He stopped dead once his gaze settled on a lass nearly as tall as himself, which meant she was close to six feet. She turned so she faced him squarely. Bare legs emerged from torn fabric that stopped just south of her female parts. Full breasts strained against scraps of material attached to strings tied around her neck and back. Her feet were encased in a few straps of leather. Long, blonde hair eddied around her, the color of sheaves of summer wheat. His cock jumped to attention. His hands itched to make a grab for her breasts or her ass. She had an amazing ass: round and high and tight. What was expected of him? The lass was dressed in such a way as to invite him to simply tear what passed for breeks aside and enter her. Had times changed so drastically that women provoked men into public sex? He glanced about, half expecting to see couples having it off with one another willy-nilly. “Well,” she urged. “Cat got your tongue?” She placed her hands on her hips. The motion stretched the tiny bits of flowered fabric that barely covered her nipples still further. Lachlan bowed formally, straightened, and waited for her to hold out a hand for him to kiss. “I am Lachlan Moncrieffe, my lady. It is a pleasure to—” She erupted into laughter—and didn’t hold out her hand. “I’m Maggie,” she managed between gouts of mirth. “What are you? A throwback to medieval times? You can drop the Sir Galahad routine.” Lachlan felt his face heat. “I fear I do not understand the cause of your merriment … my lady.” Maggie rolled her midnight blue eyes. “Oh, brother. Did you escape from a mental hospital? Nah, you’d be in pajamas then, not those fancy duds.” She dropped her hands to her sides and started to walk past him. “No. Wait. Please, wait.” Lachlan cringed at the whining tone in his voice. The dragon was correct that the Moncrieffe was a proud house. They bowed to no one. She eyed him askance. “What?” “I am a stranger in this town.” He winced at the lie. Once upon a time, he’d been master of these lands. Apparently that time had long since passed. “I am footsore and hungry. Where might I find victuals and ale?” Her eyes widened. Finely arched blonde brows drew together over a straight nose dotted by a few freckles. “Victuals and ale,” she repeated disbelievingly. “Aye. Food and drink, in the common vernacular.” “Oh, I understood you well enough,” Maggie murmured. “Your words, anyway. Your accent’s a bit off.” His stomach growled again, embarrassingly loud. “Guess you weren’t kidding about being hungry.” She eyed him appraisingly. “Do you have any money?” Money. Too late he thought of the piles of gold coins and priceless gems lying on the floor of Kheladin’s cave. In the world he’d left, his word had been as good as his gold. He opened his mouth, but she waved him to silence. “I’ll stand you for a pint and some fish and chips. You can treat me next time.” He heard her mutter, “Yeah right,” under her breath as she curled a hand around his arm and tugged. “Come on. I have a couple of hours and then I’ve got to go to work. I’m due in at three today.” Lachlan trotted along next to her. She let go of him like he was a viper when he tried to close a hand over the one she’d laid so casually on his person. He cleared his throat and wondered what he could safely ask that wouldn’t give his secrets away. He could scarcely believe this alien landscape was Scotland, but if he asked what country they were in, or what year it was, she’d think him mad. He wondered if the black wyvern had used some diabolical dark magic to transport his cave to another locale, and then thought better of it. Even Rhukon wasn’t that powerful. “In here.” She pointed to a door beneath a flashing sigil. He gawked at it. One minute it was red, the next blue, the next green, illuminating the word Open. What manner of magic was this? “Don’t tell me you have temporal lobe epilepsy.” She stared at him. “It’s only a neon sign. It doesn’t bite. Move on through the door. There’s food on the other side,” she added slyly. Feeling like a rube, Lachlan searched for a latch, didn’t find one, and pushed his shoulder against the door. It opened, and he held it with a hand so Maggie could enter first. “After you, my lady,” he murmured. “Stop that.” She spoke into his ear as she went past. “No more my ladies. Got it?” “I think so.” He followed her into a low ceilinged room lined with wooden planks. It was the first thing that looked familiar. Parts of it, anyway. Men—kilt-less men—sat at the bar, hefting glasses and chatting. The tables were empty. “What’ll it be, Mags?” a man with a towel tied around his waist called from behind the bar. “Couple of pints and two of today’s special. Come to think of it,” she eyed Lachlan, “make that three of the special.” “May I inquire just what the special is?” Lachlan asked, thinking he might want to order something different. Maggie waved a hand at a black board suspended over the bar. “You can read?” “Of course.” He resented the inference he might be uneducated but swallowed back harsh words. “Excellent. Then move.” She shoved her body into his in a distressingly familiar way for such a communal location. Not that he wouldn’t have enjoyed the contact if they were alone and he were free to take advantage of it… “All the way to the back,” she hissed into his ear. “That way if you slip up, no one will hear.” He bristled. Lachlan Moncrieffe did not sit in the back of any establishment. He was always given a choice table near the center of things. He opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. She scooped an armful of flattened scrolls off the bar before following him to the back of the room. Once there, she dumped them onto the table between them. He wanted to ask what they were but decided he should pretend to know. He turned the top sheaf of papers toward him and scanned the close-spaced print. Many of the words were unfamiliar, but what leapt off the page was The Inverness Courier and presumably the current date: June 10, 2012. It had been 1683 when Rhukon had chivied him into the dragon’s cave. Three-hundred twenty-nine years, give or take a month or two. At least he was still in Inverness—for all the good it did him. “You look as if you just saw a ghost.” Maggie spoke quietly. “No. I am quite fine. Thank you for inquiring … my, er…” His voice trailed off. “Good.” She nodded approvingly. “You’re learning.” The bartender slapped two mugs of ale on the scarred wooden table. “On your tab, Mags?” he asked. She nodded. “Except you owe me so much, you’ll never catch up.” Lachlan took a sip of what turned out to be weak ale. It wasn’t half bad but could have stood an infusion of bitters. He puzzled over what Maggie meant. Why would the barkeep owe her? His nostrils flared. She must work at the establishment—probably as a damsel of ill repute from the looks of her. Mayhap, she hadn’t been paid her share of whatever she earned in quite some time. Protectiveness flared deep inside him. Maggie should not have to earn her way lying on her back. He’d see to it she had a more seemly position. Aye, once I find my way around this bizarre new world. Money wouldn’t be a problem, but changing four-hundred-year-old gold coins into today’s tender might be. Surely there were still banks that might accomplish something like that. One thing at a time, he reminded himself. “So.” She skewered him with her blue gaze—Norse eyes if he’d ever seen a set—and took a sip from her mug. “What did you see in the newspaper that upset you so much?” “Nothing.” He tried for an offhand tone. “Bullshit,” she said succinctly. “I’m a doctor. A psychiatrist. I read people’s faces quite well, and you look as if you’re perilously close to going into shock on me.”

Review: 

This is the first book in the Dragon Lore series by Ann Gimpel.  I discovered Ms. Gimpel during a book tour for one of her other book.  I enjoyed it so much I signed up for another one and I wasn't disappointed.  Plus its about a dragon shifter.  What's not to like?

This story actually opens from the point of view of the dragon. Kheladin has just awakened in his cave and doesn't know what is going on. The last thing he remembered was retreating to his lair and working with his bonded mage Lachlan, to create a stronghold against the black wyvern, their sworn enemy.  By the amount of scales he had shed, it looked like he had been down there for at least a hundred years, but that couldn't possibly be correct. They decide to make their way to the surface and try and find out what has gone happened while they slept.

What they find is a time changed dramatically from their own. 330 years have passed and all they know is long gone.  The very first person they run into is Maggie, a psychiatrist doing a fellowship in Scotland. Maggie is also from a long line of witches, and though she has magic, she has learned only the most basic of spells and embraces science and healing. Luckily for Kheladin & Lachlan, she recognizes some of the paranormal aspects of Lachlan and agrees to help him.

There were many things I liked about the book. Maggie is a great female character. She has taken charge of her life and forged her own path, even when that meant standing up to centuries of traditions in her family. The Lachlan/Kheladin combination is a 1-2 punch of alpha man and beast. I enjoyed the fresh take on dragons and their lore. The addition of a trio of Celtic gods and Maggie's hardass aunt and grandmother contrast nicely with the protagonists and their separate goals. With a gang of bad guys, there promises to be plenty of action and intrigue to go around.  My biggest complaint was the ending.  It felt a little abrupt. It felt more like the end of a chapter, not the end of the book.  Overall though, it was a good read and a nice start to a new series. I am going with 3 stars on Goodreads.

Book Tour Info: 
Don't forget to check out the other stops on the Book Tour:

September 18:
Melissa MacKinnon

October 1:
Nicky Peacock Author - Review

October 2:
Wicca Witch 4 Book Blog - Review

October 9:
Books Books and More Books - Guest Post

October 10:
Victoria's Gossip - Review

October 11:
Melissa Stevens

October 15:
Musings of Mistress of the Dark Path - Review

October 16:
Musings From An Addicted Reader - Review

October 17:
Paranormal Romance Fans for Life - Guest Post

A Bibliophiles Thoughts on Books - Review

October 18:
Diane’s Book Blog - Interview

October 19:
Mythical Books

October 20:
Sharing Links and Wisdom - Guest Post & Review

October 22:
Share My Destiny - Review

October 22:
Musings and Ramblings - Review

October 23:
BookwormBridgette's World - Interview

October 25:
Fangs, Wands & Fairy Dust - Review

October 28:
Book Whispers - Interview & Review

October 29:
happy tails and tales - Review

October 30:
Book Bliss - Guest Post & Review

October 31:
Ramblings of a Book Lunatic - Review

Author Bio:

Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at heart. Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers many hours at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls, but her soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. Around the turn of the last century (that would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle moving to the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It was during long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who see the backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann prefers her solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys, sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her fear for her life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip and sat down at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning. And, she learned a lot between writing that novel and its sequel.

Around that time, a friend of hers suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before that first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty regularly since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her tales often have a green twist.

In addition to writing, Ann enjoys wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her backpack to distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten percent of her pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a very long time. Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their family.

To connect with the author online:

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page

Review & Interview: Miranda's Mate by Ann Gimpel

Miranda's Mate

Miranda's Mate
The Company Store, Book 1
Ann Gimpel

Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books

Date of Publication: ugust 4, 2013

Number of pages: 140
Word Count: ~49,000

Available at the following retailers:
Amazon     BN     Kobo     ARe     Publisher

As an agent for an international security firm, Miranda has her hands full. Between secretly lusting after her boss, Garen, and making sure the dirty little secret about her double life as a wolf shifter remains hidden, she’s still a virgin at nearly thirty.

Sent to eliminate the head of a human trafficking organization in Amsterdam, she barely escapes with her life. Injured, frightened, and under attack the second her private jet lands in the U.S., she doesn’t know where to turn.

Garen’s been watching Miranda just as surreptitiously as she’s been eying him. Unfortunately, the fact that she works for him is a showstopper. Plus, Garen has a few secrets of his own that have kept him single. He’s frantic once he discovers his oldest friend is besotted with Miranda, too. When she insists on heading up a covert operation, he’s worried sick, but can’t come up with a plausible reason to stop her.

Miranda’s life is on the line. Will Garen risk exposure to save her?

Excerpt: 

What could they possibly have to say to one another beyond him apologizing for being swept off his feet by her lithe body and firm curves? No way could he tell her he truly cared about her. Not in light of the revulsion he’d seen mirrored in her face as she stammered through her regrets. She was obviously appalled by what she considered a weakness.

Garen picked up his headset and settled it into place before walking into the cockpit. He wasn’t certain just what he’d say to Lars. No way he’d be able to hide the lingering scent of sex. He latched the door and sat heavily. For a time neither of them said anything. Garen almost started to believe he could escape a conversation he’d assumed would be inevitable.

“I do not like to pry, but I could smell sex even through door.” Lars glanced at Garen with a knowing grin on his face. “How was she?”

Garen gritted his teeth. “Hot, passionate, delectable.” He inhaled, the air almost painful in his lungs. “But she doesn’t care about me. Said I caught her at a weak moment. Apologized all over the place and said it would never happen again.”

“Hmph. Well, it would be untrue if I said I were sorry.” Lars flicked the front of his pants. “Imagining the two of you fucking got me going. I will need to take care of myself before I escort the fair fraulein anywhere.” A hesitation. “I do not suppose there is any possibility the three of us could—”

“No.” Something about the vehemence in Garen’s tone earned him a penetrating look from Lars.

“Your airplane, my friend. I will be back.”

“Miranda couldn’t wait to get away from me. She might not be done in the head.”

“If she is not, I will wait. Unless you wish to watch me.”

“In a pig’s eye. Go.” Garen waved both hands at Lars. “It’s a good thing we’re friends. My tolerance for perverts is pretty limited.”

“You know you love me.” Lars blew a kiss and exited the cockpit.

Interview: 

Today, we welcome Ann Gimpel to Musings and Ramblings. Let's all give her a big Geeky welcome!

Thanks so much for inviting me. It’s a pleasure to be on your blog.

I have some questions for you that are writer specific as well as some fun stuff so that we can really get to know the real you. *grin* Plus we will finish things off with round of Think Fast. Ready to begin?

Writing Specific
1. Tell us something about yourself that's not in your bio.

Erk! That’s sort of like a group exercise I used to conduct where I instructed participants to tell about themselves without mentioning their families or what they did for a living. Okay, here goes. I’m a perfectionist. No, really, I am. I have a hard time finally letting go of a manuscript and deciding that even if I found one more typo, it isn’t worth the time/effort since I’ve already read through it a dozen times.

2. What do you like to do when you are not writing?

I like backpacking, mountaineering, skiing, running, and just about anything that gets me outside. I also like to cook.

3. How did you choose the genres you write in?

That’s easy. They’re the same ones I like to read.

4. Is there any particular author or book that has influenced you or your writing?

Diana Gabaldon and KM Moning’s Highlander Series. I liked her Fever Series, too, but mostly the first five books.

5. What has been the toughest criticism given to you as an author? What has been the best compliment?

Toughest criticism was that my descriptions were, um, too descriptive. I’ve had to learn pacing and building/holding tension as I write. Best compliments have come from fans who write to tell me how much they love something I’ve written.

Fun Stuff
6. If you could have dinner with anyone, past or present, fictional or real, who would it be and why?

The Dalai Lama because I find him inspirational. He’s just so wise and has lived through so much.

7. You are going to be stranded on a deserted island and bring 3 luxury items. What would they be?

Laptop, solar charger, coffee

8. Pick two celebrities to be your parents. Who are they and why?

Um, celebrities generally make terrible parents because they’re so ego-centric. If I had to pick a pair, though, it would probably be Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward because they were less impacted by the Hollywood scene than their peers.

9. What would we find in your refrigerator right now?

Lots of fresh fruit and veggies. Leftover beef fajitas, eggs, milk, cream, yogurt (yup, love my dairy). There’s also a home-baked cherry pie on the counter from yesterday.

10. If someone wrote a biography about you, what do you think the title should be?

Where do you get these questions??? That’s a hard one, probably for the same reasons social media is tough for me. Maybe a good title would be “Determined,” or else “I can do this.” I have a stubborn streak that goes along with the perfectionism.

Think Fast
Summer or Winter? Winter
Coffee or Tea? Tea
Cake or Pie? Pie
Car or Truck? Truck
Print or Electronic? Electronic
Thanks for coming by and spending some time with us. Any final words of wisdom to pass along?

Thanks again for having me. ‘Fraid I’m fresh out of wisdom at the moment. You did a pretty thorough job of making me think!

Review: 

This is the first book in The Company Store series by Ann Gimpel.  It is also the first book that I have read by this author, but I guarantee it won't be the last.  I liked the way the author slowly brought us into the secret shifter world.  We were given information as we needed it, not just given an info dump.  It made the story more about who the characters are and not what the characters are. And who are they? They are secret agent types that work for an international security company that sends them on missions all over the world. They are also a man and woman who have to learn to trust one another and themselves.

We meet Miranda as she is returning to the states after a mission to take out the head of an international human trafficking organization in Amsterdam.  Miranda takes a few minutes to fantasize about Garen, her boss and founder/chairman of The Company.  She knows that they are fruitless dreams, because Garen has a reputation of barely acknowledging employees until they reached full operative status.  Miranda is still just a junior grade agent and has a ways to go.  After she factors in being a lycan, her dreams burst as they always do.

When Miranda and her pilot Lars land at JFK, they find out that human trafficking organization known as the International Success Ltd has already beaten them there and killed her new pilot.  It seems they have already figured out who she really was and how to track her down. Miranda and Lars are forced to lie low in a safe house until alternate transport is arranged.

Meanwhile Garen, is having a mild freak out.  Miranda was the best choice for taking out Derek Roulan, the head of ISL, due to her being the most exotic and seductive female agent. But against his own company policies and personal agenda, Garen was interested in Miranda. In The Company, only those with supernatural abilities make it to full operative status and learn about each other. Garen had tried many ways and times to figure out if Miranda was one of them, but each time she managed to block him. He knows that until he knows for sure, he can't even think of showing an interest in her. But he also can't get her out of his mind and worrying about her is tying him up in knots.  When he finds out that Miranda and Lars are together, his jealousy is almost more than he can bear.

I liked that this story was a good mix of action, romance and intrigue all mixed with the paranormal world. Miranda is a strong, kick ass female, an ex-Green Beret.  She fights for what she believes in and is side by side with the guys kicking bad guy butt.  Garen is an Alpha in every sense of the word, but he doesn't treat Miranda like a moron or a child.  He respects her abilities, and although he wants to hide her away and protect her, he knows that she can do a good job of protecting herself. I am going with 3 stars on Goodreads and keeping a look out for book 2 in the series.

Book Tour Info: 
Don't forget to check out the other stops on the Book Tour:

August 8:
Whit's Book World - Review

August 14:
Books Books and More Books

August 15:
Kelly P's Blog

August 17:
BookwormBridgette's World - Interview

August 21:
The Eternal Scribe - Review

August 29:
Romance with Flavor - Review

September 3:
Share My Destiny

September 4:
Faerie Tale Books - Review

September 5:
Cloey's Book Reviews and Other Stuff

September 6:
Ebook escapes - Interview & Review
Literal Hotties Naughty Book Reviews - Review

September 10:
Books & Tales
Sapphyria's Book Reviews

September 13:
Melissa Stevens

September 16:
Froggarita's Bookcase - Interview
A Bibliophiles Thoughts on Books - Review

September 17 Interview
Musings and Ramblings

September 17:
Larissa and Friends' Bookish Life

September 18:
Victoria's Gossip - Interview & Review
Words of Wisdom from The Scarf Princess - Review

September 19:
Reviewing in Chaos

September 24:
Sun Mountain Reviews - Review

September 25:
Let’s Start Saving Now - Review
Book Worm & More

September 27:
Rose & Beps Blog

September 29:
Dalene’s Book Reviews - Review

September 30:
The Official Blog of A.C. James - Review

Author Bio:

Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at heart. Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers many hours at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls, but her soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. Around the turn of the last century (that would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle moving to the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It was during long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who see the backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann prefers her solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys, sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her fear for her life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip and sat down at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning. And, she learned a lot between writing that novel and its sequel.

Around that time, a friend of hers suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before that first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty regularly since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her tales often have a green twist.

In addition to writing, Ann enjoys wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her backpack to distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten percent of her pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a very long time. Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their family.

To connect with the author online:

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page