Giveaway - Promote Pacifically You

Help us to promote Christie A.C. Gucker's latest release, "Pacifically You," on Twitter and receive an opportunity to win a signed copy of the print book!!

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Call for Submissions - 12 Days of Solstice

PWP would like to acquire 12 novellas with Christmas/Winter/Holiday themes to be released in eBook format on the 12 days leading up to the Winter Solstice (December 21, 2013), one per day.

All genres of fiction welcome, but no BDSM please.

Word count must be 10 to 30k.

All submissions must be received on or before October 1, 2013.
Celebrate the 12 days of Solstice with Pagan Writers Press.

Please use our submissions manager to submit your stories for consideration!


Giveaway - Pacifically You


I threw my bags on deck and jumped up. Although the ship was big, sleeping quarters would be tight with only one main cabin. I headed down to make sure I claimed my bunk. Jason lived on the PY, so his was the largest bed. That left four small bunks, and I wanted to grab the top one. I guess I liked it on top. I made myself giggle again.

Once I marked my territory with my things, I rushed back up to the deck to watch them load my shiny new toy and make sure all the baitfish and chum I had ordered were in check.

“Please tell me that’s not our food for this trip?” the geeky weatherman whispered under his breath as he watched Tad and Jason load all my bait.

“Don’t worry. Tad can make anything taste great, right, Tad?” I chided.

“Lizzy, if he leaves before we set sail, this expedition isn’t happening. Remember who’s funding you. No, Doc Logan, this is for Lizzy’s beasties. They’ll come from miles around for a taste of what she has to offer.” Jason and Tad exchanged smiles and continued their task.

Chase’s Adam’s apple moved with a large gulp. He side-eyed me with a peculiar look on his face, so I shot him a devilish grin and winked at him. His Adam’s apple saluted me again.

When all our goodies were on board, Jason and Tad set sail. I sat on the bow enjoying the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. I took deep breaths of the salt air and let it cleanse my soul. This is where I felt most at home and at peace, on the open ocean doing what I loved best.

I glanced over at the geek who was a beautiful shade of green and slightly doubled over. Great. He was seasick. I knew I had to help him get it under control or this trip wasn’t going to be a bit of fun.

“You okay, Doc? Look at the horizon or something that isn’t moving. Just stare at something that takes your mind off the movement. You’ll be fine, I promise. Do you get seasick often? Maybe this wasn’t the best idea for you, if being on a boat isn’t your thing.”

“I’ll be fine. Really. This always happens. It’s been awhile, so my head just needs to get used to it. Get my sea legs, so to speak. Or sea head? No, no that sounds all wrong.” He shook his head and I saw his eyes settle on my chest, and his complexion went from green to a lovely shade of red.

“Okay, if my buoys make it better, by all means, have at ‘em.”

He cleared his throat and raised his eyes to mine and stared at me through his round glasses.

“I’m so sorry. They were the first things I saw that weren’t moving. It worked. I’m feeling better now. Thank you.” And his face turned a much deeper hue of red.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of face time with them since we’re in such close quarters,” I said as I jumped down and put them right back in his line of view. I patted his cheek placatingly and headed over to Jason for some hang time.


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Available at Amazon, B&N, All Romance eBooks, and Smashwords. Also available in print at Amazon and CreateSpace.


Giveaway - Fire Driven


Terrwyn lay on the flat of her back looking up at the glowing full moon that had risen high in the night sky. Her breath rasped in and out in foggy bursts as the icy salt water lapped at her boot covered feet. She knew she needed to move and make her way inland to build a fire. But she couldn’t.

Not yet, she thought. Just let me lie here a moment longer.

She had spent more than two days rowing and drifting in the waters between her homeland and where she lay now. Her eyes were gritty and her lids heavy from lack of sleep. Her stomach felt hollow from having to ration the little food she carried and the drinking water she had brought had been washed into the sea the first day. Terrwyn sucked the insides of her cheeks in an attempt to generate enough saliva to help ease the dryness of her throat. The chill wetness of her journey hung about her so tightly, that it was hard to move. She flexed her fingers and dug into the cold sand under her palms as she forced her breathing to slow and her thoughts to steady.

Ireland, she thought wistfully, letting the wet grains squish through her fingers. Ireland... the land across the water, and the home of Brighid.

She smiled as she thought of the Goddess. The image of the auburn-haired deity gave her a spark of energy, and she pushed herself into a sitting position. Squinting to see into the moon splashed waves, Terrwyn watched as her small boat drifted back out into the currents.

I won’t be needing it anyway, she thought without regret.

There was no way that she would be going back home. With the help of the moon, stars, and currents, she had made it across the water to Ireland. Terrwyn had arrived in the place to which her father had vehemently refused to send her. He had bellowed and turned red when Terrwyn first told him about the dreams. He refused to believe the Brighid of old was speaking to her, calling her to come and be one of the Guardians of her Flame. He swore the Goddess no longer existed and her Flame now belonged to a Christian Saint. He insisted Terrwyn was being selfish and lying in order to avoid what was planned for her… shirking her duties and responsibilities as a daughter of his house. With the approach of her twentieth birthday, she was to be married to whoever would take her. After all, it wasn’t right for a girl her age to be unmarried. A good Welsh woman should have had at least two children running about her ankles by her twentieth birthday.

“Who’ll be marrying old Master Bowen now, father?” She laughed into the moonlit filled sky. “Not I… not this girl!”


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Giveaway - Heart of the Storm


It was good to be home despite the storm, because the last two weeks had been a bitch!

I’d been working for Ross/Young Oil Corporation as their Chief Marine Geologist for the last two years. What started off as a match made in heaven sadly deteriorated into a bickering, quarrelsome nightmare as the months went by. But hey, that was my job.

The oil rig circuit of the North Sea offers one of the harshest settings in the world. And the working environment for the more than one hundred souls usually found aboard the combined drilling and production platforms, presents some of the most perpetually hazardous conditions you’ll ever find.

Drawing extremely flammable fluids and gases out of the earth is perilous enough under the best of circumstances. But when you deliberately set light to it and begin a process of separating the highly poisonous hydrogen sulfide gas away from the extracted petroleum, well, you’re asking for trouble. Especially when you insist on conducting those procedures during storms that produce hurricane force winds with waves in excess of two hundred feet!

Talk about work involving a high pucker factor.

But it’s a multi-trillion dollar industry. The proportionally few number of deaths each year are always considered worth the risk of keeping that precious black gold flowing. And the risk was becoming ever more present. For as each year passed, companies drilled ever deeper into the earth to find what they craved.

As a workaholic, I’d operated out of the Geiger Four rig, one hundred and ten miles northeast of the Shetland Isles. She was a brand new design when it came to combined platforms. Capable of reaching over twenty thousand feet down into late Jurassic strata, she was the deepest working seaborne rig in existence.

Simply put, my job involved assessing the stability of local plate tectonics, and the impact drilling procedures would have on the existing local biosphere. I also had to calculate what to do to avoid obvious dangers. I would then make recommendations as to the best way operations could be conducted to reduce hazards, and minimize the harm inflicted on local flora and fauna.

I was one of the most highly, qualified experts in my field. My views and standards ensured I was always a royal pain in the ass.

But I’d never apologize for that. To me, the environment and safety were of paramount importance, and short cuts were a vulgarity never to be practiced in my presence.

It was a major factor as to why Ross/Young and I had fallen out.

The latest platform was cutting too deeply, too quickly.

Although the strata in that area had been relatively stable for millions of years and had formed a sizeable sedimentary crust, you still had to be careful piercing pockets of highly pressurized gas and oil. Especially one the size of the Geiger Four!

During my initial survey, I had assessed she would be capable of producing in excess of one hundred thousand barrels of oil daily, for the next twenty-five to thirty years. A colossal amount!

But she was deep. The highest pockets lay at nearly eighteen thousand feet. Too deep for my liking, with too much pressure potential to be safe. And much too risky when you considered the tenuous foothold nature had managed to gain in such an extreme environment.


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Giveaway - Stealing Polina


You wouldn’t think it from looking at me—a glimpse of a thousand dollar business suit, a whiff of French cologne, and a flash of a platinum credit card—but honestly, sometimes my life is hell. I deal with idiots on a daily basis—those thickheaded simpletons of the underbelly who don’t truly appreciate the care that goes into crafting a beautiful Cuban cigar—and it taxes and wears me down.

Some days I think, I’ll quit. I could easily sell my share of the family business for a couple billion dollars and move far, far away. I could easily damn myself, turn myself into the authorities for conducting shady deals for fifteen plus years. I do have a conscience somewhere deep down, although my brothers joke that I sold that a long time ago. I could right the wrongs of all my past deals, take the wealth away from the mob and bestow it back to the people, where it technically belongs—like some kind of urban Robin Hood.

I could do all of these things, if I cared to. Yet at the end of the day when I’m unwinding in my monstrous office with a glass of brandy and tying up the strings of a particularly satisfying business deal, I realize I don’t want to. Why should I stop getting what I want? Why should I stop luxuriating in the fact that I am a chosen one, a god of the skyscrapers? Yes, the path to success may be hell, but I know I’ll always get what I want in the end.

I am the youngest of three well-off brothers, spoiled from birth. Upon my father’s passing my brothers, Zach and Patrick, and I were bequeathed the entirety of his company. Cronus Industries—what a gift to behold! Cronus, which has been in my family for generations, has now expanded to owning the majority of the city. And its bounds seem to be limitless!

Being the oldest and favorite, Zach was given the largest share of my father’s legacy. Honestly, the whole “bigwig executive” routine works for him. Zach has the office with the best view. Zach has the penthouse. He’s married to Hera, an absolute stunner, and he’s fooling around with multiple gorgeous women. He plays the part well, with his blond hair, tan skin, and a megawatt-caliber smile of a two-bit game show host. He’s lightning quick with a witty comeback, and reporters love him. Zach physically represents the company, assuring that Cronus Industries is always presented in a positive light.

When Patrick took over his division of Cronus Industries, I was almost certain he had gotten the short straw in the deal. However, as the world plummeted blindly into a new millennium—the Y2K bug had scared the daylights out of the poor plebian masses—everyone seemed to grasp onto the idea of uniting in camaraderie, and the international division of our father’s company began to show promise. Under Patrick’s watchful gaze from his yacht, Neptune—he rarely conducts business from his office on land—our father’s dream has become a reality. One family can truly begin to “run” the world and its oceans.


Enter to win one of three copies of "Stealing Polina" by Danielle Villano.
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Giveaway - From Dusk 'Til Dawn


The late afternoon sun slanted through the high windows of the silent Thraya, setting motes of dust aglow like tiny stars as they floated through the air and settled on the silken and velvet cushions and draperies. The single occupant of the enormous room ignored the finery around him. He shook his dark hair back off his shoulders, focusing on the book settled on his folded legs. He read in silence, the quiet broken only by an occasional faintly musical jingle. The source of the sound was the reader himself, as he shifted to turn pages, moving one hand forward and tucking the other behind his back with the ease of long practice. His movements made the jeweled chains that bound his wrists sparkle in the sunlight, casting blood-red shadows across the pages as he returned his palms to his thighs, fingertips just resting on the edges of the large tome.

From somewhere overhead, a deep gong sounded. The reader looked up, his expression one of mild surprise. He took hold of the volume in both hands as he unfolded his legs and stood, his long silken loincloth fluttering down around his knees as he moved. He set the book down and turned away from the couch in time to see the heavy doors swing open, revealing an armored woman and a man carrying a tray.

“Lyander, I’m sorry I’m so late,” the man called as the guard pulled the door closed behind him. He moved toward a table, revealing a pronounced limp as he walked. He set the tray down on the table and started setting up the meal. “I hope you’re not too hungry?”

“Starved,” Lyander answered, smiling and coming over to the table. “I was starting to think I’d mislaid my days again and it was a fast day. Delan, what is happening out there? I could hear shouting from the garden when I went out to feed the birds, but nothing was clear and I don’t like to stay out there for very long.”

“Ah, never you mind it, Holiness.” Delan turned and leaned against the table. “It’s nothing. Some upstart warlady, the Holy Mother says.”

“A warlady marching against the Temple?” Lyander gasped. “Is she insane? Eldest Sister will take her apart!”

“So the Holy Mother says. So the Warrior grant. Eat now, while it’s still hot. Then perhaps we’ll see to other things...” Delan smiled, reaching out to brush his fingers over Lyander’s cheek. “There’s time before the sunset meditations.”


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Cover Reveals - Heart of the Storm and Fire Driven

Ishtar Press, the romance imprint of Pagan Writers Press, is very pleased to release the second two of seven covers for titles in the "For the Love of the Gods" novella series.

Heart of the Storm

Andrew P. Weston
Love has eluded James Foster for many years. But that’s not surprising, for his work as a marine geologist regularly takes him around the world. A highly principled man, he is passionate for the truth and for the environment, but such endeavors leave little time for a private life.

After blowing the whistle on his former employer’s outrageous work practices, which would have endangered the staff and the ecosystem they were operating in, James finds himself without a job and with his reputation in tatters. Forced into isolation, he is hounded by his former employer and the press.

His passion for what is right draws the attention of a mysterious woman. Someone—it appears—with her own agenda!

Will she help him survive the coming storm or ensure he goes under?

Fire Driven

Tracy Palmer

“Terrwyn... Terrwyn? Come to me, my love. You must come now!”

When the Goddess Brighid calls upon her favorite mortal, who is Terrwyn to not obey? Leaving behind everything she has ever known, she travels from her homeland to the Emerald Isle of Eire, where the Tuatha de Danan and the newly arrived Christian religion fight for dominance.

Terrwyn’s feelings and beliefs, which are deemed wrong and considered evil by the invading authorities, take her on a quest for understanding and true love. In the face of discrimination, condemnation, and violence, can she hold tight to her faith long enough to prove her loyalty to Brighid?

Both titles will release from Ishtar Press on Friday, August 23rd.


Cover Reveals - From Dusk 'Til Dawn and Stealing Polina

Ishtar Press, the romance imprint of Pagan Writers Press, is very pleased to release the first two of seven covers for titles in the "For the Love of the Gods" novella series.

From Dusk 'Til Dawn

Elizabeth Schechter

When Delan stumbled into the Temple, he wasn't expecting to be welcomed as a Temple servant. He wasn't expecting his only duty to be to serve Lyander, cloistered son of the High Priestess. He wasn't expecting to fall in love.

And he wasn't expecting that he was going to have to choose: love, or saving the world.

Stealing Polina

Danielle Villano

H is a businessman who will go to any lengths to get what he wants—no matter the consequence. When Polina, a new company intern, captures his attention, H will do whatever it takes to claim her as his own. Will the dazzling big city become the perfect backdrop for seduction, or will Polina fight against her boss’s dark desires?

Revisit the classic myth of Hades and Persephone, with a contemporary spin, in Stealing Polina.

Both titles will release from Ishtar Press on Friday, August 16th.


Excerpt - Pacifically You by Christie A.C. Gucker

We pulled into the marina and I directed the driver towards the slip where Jason's boat was. I could see Tad up on deck working the headstay. He turned, saw me, immediately called for Jason, and came running in my direction.

"Lizzy! Oh shit, babe! You look amazing," he stated as he picked me up off the ground and whirled me around.

"This is going to be some hell of a trip," came from behind me in Jason's smooth, calm voice.

"Jason! Tad! Can you believe this is happening?" We formed a tight huddle and jumped into a three-way chest bump.

"Lizzy wins," Tad mused.

"Lizzy always wins. She has the biggest chest!" Jason affirmed as he affectionately messed up my hair.

"Enough. Let’s get my gear on board. Did she arrive yet?" I questioned, waiting impatiently for a reply. I watched as Tad and Jason looked back and forth between each other, trying to hold back their smiles. "Come on! Tell me, is she here yet?"

"She just got to the main area of the marina. They're bringing her back as we speak," Jason finally told me.

I actually squealed like a little girl and hugged Jason, which prompted Tad to get in on the action. We were interrupted by throat clearing. We all turned and looked at the gawky man standing in front of us.

He was wearing nice, pleated khaki pants and a windbreaker. He donned a baseball cap with a strange symbol on it, and huge nerd glasses peered out from underneath the brim.

"Excuse me. I don't mean to break up your little love fest, but I'm trying to locate a Dr. Lizbeth Drake? Oh, or the vessel Pacifically You. Can any of you help me locate one if not both of those two things?"

We all just kind of stood there gaping at him. I heard Tad stifle a giggle before he answered him.

"Well, one of those two things is right behind you," he answered while finally letting go of his chuckle. The strange man turned to look at Jason's boat.

"The other is right here," Jason chimed in, pushing me forward right into the geek. Apparently I was chest-bumping him, too. The man cleared his throat again, while fixing his glasses, which had gone askew during our bump.

"You're Dr. Drake?"

"Were you expecting something different?" I expressed, giving him a huge goofy grin. He promptly held his hand out to me.

"I'm Dr. Chase Logan."

Please join us as we prepare for the release of this amazing story at the Release Party for Pacifically You!