Philosophy is defined as a theory underlying or regarding a sphere of activity or thought. Well, my theory is if I can add at least 10 new books to my Wishlist and move at least 5 older Wishlist selections to my TBR list every month, then life is a ice cream sundae. And if I can find those 10 books from at least 5 new blogs each month then that's the cherry on top.


Well, I've made it almost 5 years now, so for better or worse, I continue on. I tend to blog in spurts as the urge to be creative erupts. As I don't have an artistic bone in my body, you will see very few changes in the layouts. Hey, I'm a reader not an artist like so many of the awesome bloggers I follow. I know you don't always have the time but if you stopped and looked, take a half a minute and say your piece. Recommend a book that you have enjoyed or hated for that matter. Thank you to all who visit.
Oh, and I moved my Google Friend Connect info and share this buttons to the top, as without our friends, who are we?

Monday, October 24, 2016

Spotlight Post for EAT, SLAY, LUZT by Jillian Stone

Book One
Jillian Stone
Genre:  Zombie Adventure Thriller  
Publisher: Jillian Stone
Date of Publication:  Oct 28, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-9963459-0-3
Number of pages:  259
Cover Artist: G. J. Stone

Survival tip #1: 
When you’re caught in the middle of the zombie apocalypse, get a badass partner. The zombie apocalypse is on, and Lizzy Davis is determined to survive any way she can. As a surgeon, she’s used to saving lives; not cutting into the basal ganglia to make sure the patient stays dead. When the refugee camp is overrun by zombie hordes, Lizzy manages to escape only to run into Black Hawk pilot Chris Oakley in the middle of the Syrian Desert. Lizzy and Chris fight off zombie attacks as they make their way toward a joint military air base northeast of Kirkuk. Just one problem, they’ll have to pass through the drone-patrolled DMZ— Dead Meat Zone. To get there, they form uneasy alliances with French-Arab commandos and a black ops interrogator who’s slowly rotting before their eyes. Along the way, Lizzy and Chris manage to find time for each other—the sizzling red-hot lovemaking kind of time. And who knows? They might have a chance at love if they live long enough.
Warning: Features red hot to erotic love scenes.

 Syrian Desert, Jordan 190 kilometers SE of Zaatari Refugee Camp

He rested the gun on his knee and pulled the bandana off his face. Jeezus, of course, he'd be dusty, grimy and great looking. “Water?” he croaked.  Z growls gurgled up from the rotten pool of stench surrounding us. Incapacitated biters crawled at the rate of about one meter per hour. But at this exact moment, the newly arrived armed stranger concerned me more than the undead.  I studied the man hunkered down in the sand. A male survivor in good health could be worse than a horde of zombies. Men raped women like me—more than once––then they ate all your food. Worst of all, they wouldn’t hesitate to pimp you out for a meal, ammo, or gasoline. Like I said, worse than a shitload of zombies. I scanned the raised bank that bordered the road. The silhouette of something lean, mean, and fast rested on a kickstand. The zombie slayer’s dust cloud-maker. And my ticket out of here. I unsnapped the plastic travel bottle from my utility belt and handed over the water. He didn’t drink. He guzzled.  “Hey, leave some for me.” He released the water bottle with a gasp. “Got more?” I narrowed my gaze. “Got food?” He hesitated long enough to be manufacturing a lie. “In the saddle bag on my bike.”“There’s a couple of gallons in the truck.” I nodded toward the transport vehicle behind me. “I’ll trade you a share of my water for a share of your food.”The ends of his mouth curled upward, and he ogled my thighs as high as the boy shorts allowed. Pretty sure he was thinking about a different kind of trade. I met his gaze and held it. “Deal?” His attention shifted to my truck. He could grab both gallons and make a run for it. I squinted. “Don’t even try it.” His cute lip curl turned cynical. “Awww. She doesn’t trust me.” He rose and took long strides toward the transport. Midway, he stopped to shoot a crawler in the back of the neck. One of the most annoying things about killing zombies is the having to kill them over and over.
Cursing under my breath, I raced ahead and beat him to the truck. I guarded the door and watched his simple, unhurried style. One by one he made sure the crawlers were dead. He removed his helmet and scratched his head. He was tall, a bit over six feet with nice hair––short and scruffy. Hard to tell exactly what shade of brown in the moonlight. He slung the M4 under his shoulder and approached the truck slowly. That gaze of his caused tingles in placesI didn’t want to think about right now.I did a quick evaluation of my situation. Out of gas in the middle of the Syrian desert––bad luck. Woke up to a pod of biters surrounding the truck––welcome to my bad town. Running into this zombie slayer? For now, it was safe to assume that every badass inch of his badass dick was trouble.
For a FREE two chapter read visit

Multi-published, national award-winning author, Jillian Stone is on a three year quest to write all the books (in different genres) she’s always wanted to write before she gets forever labeled as a historical romance writer. Jillian lives in Highland, California and is currently writing a shapeshifter tale WOLF, INTERRUPTED, which recently won the FF&P On The Far Side award in the paranormal category. 

Tour giveaway - Welcome to my hot pink zombie apocalypse!
10 EAT, SLAY, LUZT ebooks
 1 Hot Pink Kindle Fire HD 8

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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