Saturday, 17 March 2018

Three new Authors from Class Act Books

Class Act Books really have their act together!

Pardon the pun but I couldn't resist. This has been a fun series with some talented authors that Class Act have been willing to share on the Scribbler. They are currently open for submissions - see below**  Take a few minutes and check them out.

Class Act Books is a royalty-paying publisher of electronic and trade paperback novels and novellas, with the goal of providing quality fiction at a reasonable price in all media: paperback (available exclusively on the publisher's website), Kindle, pdf, Mobi, and eBook.

After coming under new ownership in 2013, the publishing commitment was changed from only romance to all genres and they now feature Westerns, Adventure, SciFi, M/M, and Horror among their titles. Class Act Books offers standalone novels as well as series, and features award-winning authors. Titles are available on the website as well as Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords. They are also featured on the UK, French, German, Japanese and Italian versions of

**Class Act Books is currently open for manuscript submissions and are looking for finished and proofed novels or series in the genres of western, romance, and mystery/suspense, to be published in e-book and paperback. More information on manuscript submission can be found on their website at:



Linda Nightingale is a native-born South Carolinian who has lived in England and Canada, and now resides in Texas.  Before turning to writing, she bred, trained and showed Andalusian horses for thirteen years. 
In 2012, her novel, Gemini Rising, was voted Best Mainstream Novel in the Preditors & Editors Readers Poll. Her vampire romance, Cardinal Desires won the Georgia Romance Writers Magnolia Award in 2013, and that was followed by her science fiction romance, Love for Sale, being awarded Best SF/Fantasy novel of 2015 by the Paranormal Romance Guild’s Reviewer’s Choice, and also voted one of the Top Ten Romance Novels of 2015 by the Preditors & Editors Readers Poll for that year.
Four by Moonlight is her first novel for Class Act Books.


Find out more about Linda at:

Twitter: @LNightingale


An anthology of love in the moonlight…in the paranormal universe.

Gypsy Ribbons – A moonlight ride on the moors and meeting a notorious highwayman will forever change Lady Virginia Darby’s life.

Star Angel – Lucy was stuck in a rut and in an Idaho potato patch. She’d seen him in the corner of her eye—a fleeting glimpse of beauty—now he stood before her in the flesh.

The Night Before Doomsday – All his brothers had succumbed to lust, but Azazel resisted temptation until the wrong woman came along.

The Gate Keeper’s Cottage – Newlywed Meggie Richelieu’s mysterious, phantom lover may be more than anyone, except the plantation housekeeper, suspects.

Excerpt from “Gypsy Ribbons”:

Red eyes watched from the grate as she slipped into the cold, empty bed. Simon should have been there to warm her rather than the dying fire. Not pursuing a dangerous dream. Too angry, too miserable to weep, she tossed and turned. The relief of sleep eluded her.

An icy breath whispered through the room. Tory snuggled deeper beneath the goose down covers. Had the weather made up its mind? Was Simon riding in ice and snow? She imagined white flakes in Goliath’s long black mane and on the highwayman’s plush velvet cloak. Poor darling, he would be cold. Tory slowly drifted to sleep unrelated thoughts scrolling in her mind. A soft sound snapped her wide awake. She sat bolt upright, tugging the covers over the breasts.  The room was iceberg cold.  The ghost.

“Not Simon.” She held her breath, ears stained for the horrifying, otherworldly whisper, a warning of imminent death. The sound came again, closer. A slow footstep creeping over the old oaken floor. Tonight, the ghost of Darby Manor wandered its dim corridors.

“No. No.” Tory squeezed her eyes closed and prayed, forgetting she didn’t believe in ghosts.

The footsteps halted. Tory’s heart stopped. She started to cover her ears, refusing to hear. The ghost breathed that heartbreaking sigh at her door.

Shuddering, she slid back under the layers of down. The warmth had no effect on her shivers. She folded into a fetal position.  I’m no longer alone.  Fear chilled her anew.  Though she couldn’t see clearly in the dim light, she knew her breath puffed white clouds in the frigid air. Dread sank its wicked claws into her racing heart.


Buy Links: 
Publisher's website at 




Sherry lives in a mid-sized Southern Wisconsin with her husband of 46 years, Bob, whom she deems a saint for putting up with a crazy writer. 
With three children, seven grandchildren, more book signings than she can sometimes handle, she puts out four to five books a year and loves writing in her hot pink office.

Find more information about Sherry at:


Blurb: When Lissa Adams flew to Chicago to be with her father, she never thought she’d become involved in a vendetta between a mob family, the Chicago police force, and her cousin, Detective Paul Bastion.

Paul Bastion was in seclusion until his uncle suffered a heart attack. Once he came back to Chicago to be with his family, he knew he’d also be testifying against Antonio Vargas.

When Paul is kidnapped and Lissa badly beaten, he knows he’s living his last hours. The cost of his return is freedom for the drug lord. Even if Vargas is freed, Paul knows he’ll lose his life.



The parking garage for the hospital seemed to be deserted. Lissa was glad she was with Paul. Going to places like this by herself usually creeped her out.

Since their parking pass had been stamped, there would be no charge, allowing them to leave the parking area without having to pay. After they cleared the tollbooth, she gasped with shock as someone grabbed her from behind and put a knife to her neck.

She trembled as she heard the voice in the seat behind her.

“Just do as we say, Bastion, and the little lady won’t get hurt.”

Lissa blamed herself for what was going on. If she hadn’t been with Paul, he might have been more careful about getting into his car even though it was locked. He always prided himself on his ‘cop sense’. It was entirely possible the events of the last two days had made him careless.

“Everything is going to be alright,” Paul said.

She knew he was trying to put her at ease.

“Cut the chatter Bastion. Just drive,” the man in the back seat ordered.

Lissa could feel the cold blade of the knife pressing against her throat as Paul followed the instructions on where to drive. She watched the familiar streets give way to the countryside, and at last Paul was instructed to pull off onto a side road leading to a wayside by the lake.

In front of her, she saw a black SUV parked crossways the road so they couldn’t see the license plate.

“Now get out,” the man holding the knife ordered.

Paul glanced at her but was silent, his lips drawn into a hard straight line as he got out of the car and was met by two men wearing ski masks. It was then the knife was removed and duct tape was placed over her eyes.

“What do you want with us?” she pleaded

“Shut up, bitch, and get out of the car.”

 Unable to see, she felt the cold air as the door was opened and someone roughly pulled her outside.

“You will go with us, Bastion, but not before you see what happens to your girlfriend.”

“She’s not…”

Lissa heard the thud of a punch being delivered to Paul’s midsection, at least that’s what she thought it was. She had little time to contemplate that as she was thrown against the car and her own beating began. One of the men hit her with what she could only guess was his fist, and she heard the bone in her nose break. Stunned, she could feel blood pouring over her lip before another punch, this time to her jaw, produced a pain like none she’d felt, even in childbirth.

 Her last conscious memory was of Paul shouting, “Nooooo…”


Buy Links:




Michael D. Smith was raised in the Northeast and the Chicago area, before moving to Texas to attend Rice University, where he began developing as a writer and visual artist.  In addition to exhibiting and selling paintings and drawings, he’s completed fifteen novels.  

Smith’s writing in both mainstream and science fiction genres uses humor to investigate psychological themes.  On his blog, he explores art and writing processes, and his web site contains further examples of his writing and art. He is currently Technology Librarian for McKinney Public Library in McKinney, Texas.

CommWealth is his first novel published by Class Act Books.

Find out more about Michael at: 
Website: ,,



Blurb: for CommWealth:


The CommWealth system, has created a society in which there is no legal claim to any kind of private property. Any object from your house to the clothes you’re wearing can be demanded by anyone, to be enjoyed for thirty days before someone else can request it. As actors in the Forensic Squad theatrical troupe attempt to adapt to this chaos, their breaking of the Four Rules sustaining the system, as several members navigate betrayals, double agents, and murder to find themselves leading a suicidal revolution. 

Rule One - You are free to enjoy the chosen object for thirty days. During this period no other person may request it.

Rule Two - The requestor is untouchable for thirty days by the person asked. Attempts at retaliation, such as demanding unusually large quantities from the original requestor after the thirty-day period, carry stiff penalties.

Rule Three - Once you ask somebody for something, you can never ask him or her for anything else again.

Rule Four - You can never ask for the same thing back from the person who got it from you, not even after his or her thirty days of enjoyment.


Allan shivered at the reflection of his black overcoat and his striding legs on the wet sidewalk. Up ahead someone with a DreamPiston Electronics bag opened a shiny red Porsche glistening with thousands of water beads.

“Okay,” Allan said, “I’ll take your car here.”

The mustached little twerp looked up. “Ahhh, crap...”

“C’mon, don’t give me any trouble. Gimme the key.”

“Look, it’s raining. And I just got these MP3 players and the new Fappy tablet—”

“Not my problem. Fork the damn key over.”

“Look, my umbrella’s in the car—can I just get my umbrella so my stuff—”

“Forget it. The umbrella’s part of the car as far as I’m concerned. Anything in the car. Besides, I just lost my umbrella a couple blocks back. I’m soaked.”

“C’mon, I just got this car the other day!”

 “Don’t hand me that. The sticker on the plate says you got it a month and a half ago. You’re overdue, buddy. Now hand me the key.”

“Got trouble there?” A bright blue City of Linstar police car idled in the rain. “Got a Hoarder there?” a huge officer grinned.

“Uh, no... not at all...” said the twerp. “I just—I just can’t find the key—”

“Yeah, right—you just unlocked the damn car with it,” Allan said, turning to the policeman. “He is giving me a lot of crap about it.”

“C’mon, sir, you know better than that.” The officer’s name tag read BARCLAY.

“Dammit!” the twerp snarled. He separated the Porsche key off his key ring, thrust it at Allan, then spun around and fastened on a man coming down the sidewalk. “Give me that umbrella! Right now!”

The man grunted,surrendered his umbrella to the twerp, who grabbed it and hoisted it above his DreamPiston bag.

“We really got the Christmas spirit here, don’t we?” Barclay said.

“Really,” Allan said. “Some people...” He examined the Porsche key in the rain. “Thanks for your help, officer.”

“Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t really necessary. People are basically good, you know. Give ’em time to adjust and all, that’s what I say.”

The twerp leapt into traffic with his new umbrella and his bag, waving his free arm. A little green car skidded to a halt. The twerp ran to the window and pounded on it. “Give me this car! Right now!”

“Jesus...” Allan said. “What a bastard!”

Barclay was out of his patrol car in a second, hand on his hand on his holster. “Sir, that’s not the right way to go about it. We need to be respectful. That’s the CommWealth way.”
CommWealth is available at: 





Thank you dear readers for visiting the Scribbler. Watch for some new and exciting authors in the coming weeks. As well as new work by myself from my Work in Progress which is an historical fiction of the Alexander Family beginning in 1911 when Dominic Alexander is only eleven years old in Scotland and has to leave his family home.

Wall of War is available on and


She strides off indignantly along the path that leads out of the park, her husband obediently tagging along.  When they reach the sidewalk, Drake points at them. “Go with them, Elijah, keep your eyes open. I’ll stay and watch for Theresa”
Elijah moves to Drake’s side.
“I’m not even Catholic, think I’ll stick out?”
Drake looks at his friend to see if he is serious. Seeing the smirk on his face, Drake eyes the man up and down.
“Not as much as the bloused fatigues and polished boots will, and that vest makes you look like a Unabomber. Maybe you should sit in the back. No, I wouldn’t worry about not being Catholic if I were you.”



  1. Hi, Allan, thanks for posting info about my novel CommwWealth. I'm in good company with Linda and Sherry!


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