"A room without books is like a body without a soul." - Cicero

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Ellora's Cave Publishing - What Every Writer and Reader Should Know!

Meet Tina Engler AKA Jaid Black - founder of Ellora's Cave. This picture was posted on her Facebook account as a reply to all of the contracted authors who have tried to contact her regarding unpaid royalties.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but to me, this one is only worth two: Fuck You. Tina Engler is saying "fuck you" to all of the EC authors who put their time, energy, blood, sweat, and tears into writing their stories - stories that they are NOT getting paid for. She's saying "fuck you" to all the EC editors who took the time to read these stories and correct any grammatical errors or storyline inconsistencies, who helped polish and make these works of fiction the best they could possibly be and then were let go without getting paid for their services. She's saying "fuck you" to all the EC artists who wracked their brains trying to mesh their artistic view with the author's vision of what the cover of their book should look like; who were then let go without being paid. Tina Engler is saying "fuck you" to all the readers who are unaware of what is going on behind the scenes. Those who, in an effort to support their favorite authors, unintentionally end up buying books that were written, edited, and illustrated by hard working and talented folks who will NEVER see a CENT of what you paid for it. Instead, it'll go into Tina Engler's pocket where she'll spend it on her fancy house, or fancy car, or her expensive shopping sprees. All the while these same authors, cover artists, and editors, who are the ones that actually did the work and deserve the money, are struggling to pay their RENT. They're getting shut off notices from utilities and eviction notices from their landlords but Tina Engler couldn't care less.

She refuses to pay that which she owes. She refuses to return the rights of all of those books back to the authors. Instead, she's just going about her day - she still has the Ellora's Cave site up and running, is still collecting money from purchases, and is still going ahead with her Romanticon event. Why? Because money is still coming in. Because she hides behind the power of Ellora's Cave. Because she thinks she can bully all of her victims into keeping quiet by threatening to sue them.

Thankfully, some of the authors are still taking a stand and speaking out against the injustice. Authors such as Cat Grant, Avril Ashton, and India Masters have mentioned their ongoing stress about lack of payment and the piss-poor excuses they get if they're lucky enough to get a reply.

This blog post is written to make people aware of what is going on. This is a time where the reading/writing community needs to band together and spread the word. Stop funding this thieving con artist! Let every one know that Ellora's Cave and its founders are trash. Share this blog post, or any similar posts by one of the EC authors. Or write your own post! It doesn't matter how the word gets around, as long as it gets around. STOP BUYING BOOKS PUBLISHED BY ELLORA'S CAVE.

If you want more dirty details about Ellora's Cave and all that is going on, read this post by Dear Author. She really dug deep and it is very informative!

And in an effort to make sure people spread the word (or at least share this post), I am going to give away one of Cat Grant's NON EC books, well three to be exact, The Courtland Chronicles Books One - Three boxed set Kindle edition. This will also serve as a way to support the author and make sure she gets paid for her work.

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Monday, September 22, 2014

Blog Tour: Unbearable by Cynthia St. Aubin

Title: Unbearable (#4)

Series: The Case Files of Dr. Matilda Schmidt, Paranormal Psychologist

Author: Cynthia St. Aubin

Genre: Paranormal Romance/Humor/Contemporary/Mystery


When you can't grin and bear it...

Paranormal Psychologist, Matilda Schmidt is sick of secrets. But when her troubled mother falls into dangerous hands, she must enlist the help of the two men who may be hiding the most: the hot-bodied demigod who's suddenly tight-lipped about his current client, and the delicious hit man who's been concealing much more than a gun in his pocket.

Faced with the destruction of her tidy life at the paws of three rowdy werebears, and protected only by an immortal egg on the edge, Matilda will have to come riding to her own rescue, or risk a life that's anything but happily ever after.




“What are you wearing?” Crixus’s voice was clear and unsullied by sleep—a direct contrast to my own, which hovered right at the edge of ‘do not operate heavy machinery.’ He had answered on the second ring, a good sign he wasn’t plowing Goldilocks like a spring field, or so I told myself.

            “My raincoat and galoshes. But I’m taking them off as we speak.” My cell phone, thankfully, like the bed I settled onto cross-legged—had remained mostly dry.

            “Anything under the raincoat?”

            “Save it,” I said. “I need your magic.”

            “Now you’re talking.” The smile in his voice was as radiant as the sun reaching gilded fingers into the gray dawn.

            “Not that kind of magic. So far tonight, my apartment has been home to three bears, eight firemen, and one immortal egg. I’m in no mood.” Twice now, I had depended upon Crixus to undo the damage wrought upon my apartment and office by his retinue of squirrely supernatural guests. It was the one power the demigod possessed I wouldn’t mind stealing for myself.

That, and the spontaneous orgasms.

            “And you didn’t invite me?”

            “Since when did you need an invitation?” Crixus’s propensity to pop into my life at his leisure had been a contention of mine since we first met. My office, my car, even my bedroom, he invaded with the carefree indifference of a child hopping rides at the amusement park. And still, he managed to be frequently unavailable when I needed him.

            “If I could be there, I would.” His voice lacked its usual cocktail of arrogance and caprice. He almost sounded earnest


Cynthia St. Aubin wrote her first play at age eight and made her brothers perform it for the admission price of gum wrappers. A steal, considering she provided the wrappers in advance. Though her early work debuted to mixed reviews, she never quite gave up on the writing thing, even while earning a mostly useless master's degree in art history and taking her turn as a cube monkey in the corporate warren.

Because the voices in her head kept talking to her, and they discourage drinking at work, she started writing instead. When she's not standing in front of the fridge eating cheese, she's hard at work figuring out which mythological, art historical, or paranormal friends to play with next. She lives in Colorado with the love of her life and three surly cats.

Find out more about Cynthia St. Aubin here:

Follow me: https://twitter.com/CynthiaStAubin
Visit me: http://www.cynthiastaubin.com/
Email me: cynthiastaubin@gmail.com

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