Friday, October 18, 2019

Carnivora ~ a dark new thriller by Lea Bronsen #crime #mystery

Hi, and thank you for having me on your blog!

I’ve always been fascinated by dark psychological thrillers that mess with your mind and keep you on the edge of your seat. I toyed with the genre writing my debut novel Wild Hearted, but labeled it a crime drama. Its sequel, Carnivora, evolved over six years to become a full-blown hold-your-breath thriller that deals with grave issues such as kidnapping, child sex trafficking, and self-harm.

Telling five parallel stories with as many voices, it gives you the perspectives of a police informant, a hunted gangster, a mad avenger, an inconsolable girlfriend, and a psychotic kidnapper. I pull no punches weaving these stories, so be prepared for a dark, gritty, and graphic read – a little dirty on the erotic side – that I hope will play with your strings and stick with you for a long time.

Please note that this is part 1 of Carnivora and I am currently working on parts 2 and 3, so if those cliffhangers at the end are killing you, be patient. The continuation is right around the corner!






Blurb


Fight evil with evil.

TOMOR
Crime lord Tomor is serving a life sentence behind bars. Without warning, he’s abducted by mysterious men. A sick manhunt is on, with people around him dying like flies. He will need all his street flair and gangster skills to prevent his loved ones from ending up on the death list.


LUZ
Luz grieves the loss of her lover while striving to take care of their baby. The last thing she needs is to fall for the new neighbor.


DAVID
A year after he betrayed his adoptive father and sent him to jail, David is slowly rebuilding his life. Then everything falls apart again: he learns that Tomor has escaped, and his police connections lead him to a child sex trafficking ring involving cold, powerful men.


The cops are in over their heads with “Project Carnivora” … Perhaps the only one who can help bust the pedophile predators is an equally vicious devil: Tomor, the country’s most hunted criminal.



Available from

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See photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest






Excerpt


“Time to change your bandage again,” the nurse mutters, voice cool, and pulls my orange-colored sleeve up to the elbow.

She unrolls the long strip of bandage from my wrist and tugs at one corner of the gauze plastered on my wound. It sticks as if glued to the freshly grown skin, and instead of removing the gauze carefully, she tears if off hard, discharging pain through my arm, wrist-to-shoulder.

I open my eyes and lift my head off the pillow. “What the fuck are ya doing, trying to reopen the wound or something?”

“Like you care.” She stops pulling and glares, gauze between her fingers. “I can see who you are inside. You’re playing tough, aren’t you, bad guy? But you can’t fool me.”

“Shut up.” I lay down again, huffing, and stare at the white ceiling above me with its rows of long neon lights.

“You’re a good man.”

I glance back. “I said, shut the fuck up.”

Her eyes shine. She rips off the remaining gauze, ignoring my grunt of pain, and throws it in a bin. “Look.”

No fuck.

“Look at it,” she insists, voice low and demanding.

No. I know what I’ve done, and I can imagine what it looks like. A six centimeter-long deep, reddish, scratched-up ridge along my artery. Layers of skin, fat, meat, and whatnot must be visible and sweating a pinkish liquid from the reborn pores. I don’t need to see it.

I guess the girl wants me to be so horrified, I’ll never attempt suicide again. That’s right. She wants to shock me into acceptance.

You gotta be fucking kidding me, little thing.

She shakes her head. “I don’t understand why they gave you the life sentence.”

“You mean they shoulda given me the chair?”

Instead of responding to my sarcasm, she pivots to look up at the clock and widens her eyes as if realizing she forgot an appointment. Face tense, she returns to her work, applies some cool, gel-like liquid on the wound, and bandages it with quick routine moves.

What’s up with her? In my three days in this woman’s company, I’ve noted the things that make her tick. Maybe she’s upset because I’m leaving the infirmary soon. Earlier, she said she didn’t know when I’d be ready to go back to my cell. She probably knows now, but doesn’t want to tell me.

The door opens. She jumps.

A uniformed guard pokes his head in, checks the small room, and exits.

She seems frozen in place, features tense. Staring ahead and taking deep breaths as if trying to regain composure.

I cock my head a little. “What’s going on? They gonna transfer me?”

She visibly swallows and fixes her gaze on some point on the wall.

I snicker. “Are you sad ‘cause I’m leaving?”

Ha, I can be so ugly, when the girl clearly likes me.

As she sits there avoiding me, I take the time to check out her tits, and drink in the amazing sight of their pressing against her green blouse with each breath. She doesn’t have a name tag. Come to think of it, none of the personnel do. Evidently, so the inmates can’t identify their ‘caretakers’, and should they by some miracle leave the premises, track them down.

I nod to her blouse. “What’s your name?”

She twists back to me, brows raised, before shaking her head. “I can’t tell you that.”

“C’mon, I’ll never see you again.” I grin, then add with an ironic snicker, teasing her, “They’ll never let me slash my wrists, or hang myself.”

She looks away and busies herself collecting the medical stuff, throwing a quick, almost invisible glance to the door. What the hell is making her so nervous?

Coldness fills my chest. Something’s up.

“Come on, Babe,” I coax with my most gentle, sensual voice, wanting to buy time. “Tell me your name.”

“Why?” she whispers, fidgeting with the roll of bandage.

“’Cause I want a name to your pretty face when I jack off in my cell.”


Watch the trailer here: https://youtu.be/DpCaU_5qheQ

About the author



Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.

Meet Lea Bronsen on


Thursday, October 17, 2019

Miss Felicity's Dilemma by Eileen Dreyer #Regency #Romance #Giveaway @GoddessFish



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.



ALL SHE WANTS IS HER OWN HOME



Miss Felicity Chambers is the new teacher of piano and deportment at Miss Manville’s Academy for Superior Girls. There is no reason a duke should contact her. There is certainly no reason she should marry his son. But that is evidently what the duke wants. Felicity should be delighted. But the orphaned schoolteacher has long since stopped believing in fairy tales. If only the duke’s son weren’t so compelling…



ALL HE WANTS IS THIS HOME



Lord Flint Bracken knows just what is behind the duke’s command, and it isn’t an attempt to secure a happily-ever-after for his son. The proposal is one of the duke’s schemes. Flint has no choice but to cooperate, though, or he risks more than his home. He risks national security. So court a penniless schoolteacher he must. He should be furious. But Felicity Chambers isn’t at all what he expected. She might very well be what he wants…


Read an Excerpt



It wasn't until she heard the door close that she breathed a sigh of relief. Time to escape from under the bed.



“Aren’t you growing cramped under there?” Lord Flint suddenly asked.



Felicity’s eyes flew open to find an upside-down face where the boots had been. Her heart dropped like a stone.



“Not at all,” she said, proud at how composed she sounded. “I am quite petite. But you really should have someone sweep under here. The dust balls are the size of wolfhounds.”



He reached a hand under the bed. For a moment Felicity just stared at it, unable to move. Even in the shadows it was a beautiful hand, with long, elegant fingers and a strong wrist. And she noticed beautiful hands. She was also, after all, the substitute art teacher for Miss Manners Academy for Superior Girls.



“I'm getting a crick in my neck,” Lord Flint growled, wiggling his fingers.



Felicity gave up and took hold. And gasped. It felt as if she'd been rubbing her stockinged feet on the carpet on a cold winter’s day and gotten a shock. She had heard of such a thing, of course, in every Minerva Press novel she had ever secreted under her pillow. But she had always thought it a literary device. A myth.



That was no myth tingling up her arm.



Before she had a chance to do more than stare at the offending member, Lord Flint grasped her tightly and pulled her out from under the bed. She came out in a tangle of arms and legs, dragging dust after her.



How mortifying, she thought, brushing madly at her sensible gray kerseymere skirts.



“Er....”



She looked up and forgot what she was going to say. She forgot her name.



He was beautiful. Tall and lean and russet-haired, with eyes the color of spring leaves and a humorous cant to his mouth. Chiseled features, square shoulders, slim hips. Hard and sharp as quartz.



Suddenly his name wasn’t so funny.


About the Author:

New York Times Bestselling, award-winning author Eileen Dreyer has published 40 novels and 10 short stories under her name and that of her evil twin, Kathleen Korbel in contemporary romance, paranormal romance, historical romance, romantic suspense, mystery and medical forensic suspense. A proud member of RWA's Hall of FAME, she also has numerous awards from RT BookLovers and an Anthony nomination for mystery. She is now focusing on what she calls historic romantic adventure in her DRAKE'S RAKES series. A native of St. Louis, she still lives there with her family. She has animals but refuses to subject them to the limelight.



http://eileendreyer.com/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/eileen-dreyer

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19012.Eileen_Dreyer

https://www.amazon.com/Eileen-Dreyer/e/B000AQ3F2O/

https://www.facebook.com/EileenDreyer/

https://twitter.com/eileendreyer?lang=en

https://www.instagram.com/eileendreyerauthor/



Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Miss-Felicitys-Dilemma-Drakes-Rakes-ebook/dp/B07WWJSFJW

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/miss-felicitys-dilemma-eileen-dreyer/1133345594?ean=2940163616749

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/miss-felicity-s-dilemma

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/miss-felicitys-dilemma/id1478890709



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Tuesday, October 15, 2019

Out Now!—Hard Pressed by Queenie Black (@queenieblackwr1) #newrelease #BDSM #EroticRomance @EvernightPub




Blurb:
Master Lucien has one night at Club Hard.
One night…to show bodyguard Rose Dainty that he can be the Dom she needs,
One night…to show her that submitting to him doesn’t make her weak, that true submission requires strength and trust.
Will pushing Rose to her limits prove to her she can trust him with her body and heart, and can she let go of her deepest fears long enough to enjoy her surrender?
They both have everything to prove and everything to lose.
Buy Links:

*****

Author bio:
I’ve always loved writing and I won my first prize for a short story when I was still at primary school. I’m an avid reader of romance and erotic romance and can usually be found with my nose in a book. The dynamics and sheer variety of human relationships fascinate me, and this is what I like to explore in my writing. I live in North Yorkshire with my husband and cat where I enjoy running and Tai Chi.

social media links:




Excerpt:

I mounted the six shallow steps and faced the double front doors. Twin carriage lights cast a soft gleam over the brass plaque with its discrete lettering:

Club Hard

Private Members Only

I desperately wanted to run back down the steps, leap into my car, and drive home, but if I did, nothing would change, and I’d go back to dividing my time between working out, Candy Crush Saga, and the occasional night out with my friends. I might miss out on learning something about myself, something that could make a difference in my sex life. Worse, I might miss a chance at love.

I stayed, my feet rooted to the floor, but the insides of my hands were so damp, my finger slipped on the brass bell, setting off a short, discordant jangling. I winced as I rang it again properly this time. That certainly wouldn’t endear me to anyone.

Shifting from foot to foot, trying to keep the blood circulating in my toes, I looked around. Behind me, the gravel drive snaked away to a discreet carpark, and trees and shrubs created shadows within shadows. Autumn had finally reached London and in this exclusive part of it, crisp, clean air and earthy leaf mulch replaced the smell of fast food and exhaust.

I shifted again, starting to get irritated. If you were going to demand a woman wear nothing but a skirt that barely covered her butt, and a top that was little more than a bit of elastic bandage—on me it was ridiculous, if I sneezed, I’d pop out over the top—then you should damn well open the door promptly. Now, despite wearing my warmest coat over the absurd ensemble, there was a distinct draught zipping under my hem and freezing my exposed butt cheeks.

I lifted my finger to stab the bell again, and the door swung open.

Bloody hell. A real butler. I was no stranger to mansions with staff. Working as a bodyguard meant I saw the inside of a lot of wealthy homes, but so far, a liveried butler was a new one to me.

“Can I help you?”

I cleared my throat, wondering if there was any etiquette for addressing a butler, aware that my finger was still lurking in the vicinity of his eye. “Umm, I’m, ah, it’s Ms. Dainty. To see Mr. Dufort. I’m expected.”

He waved me through into a large marble-floored hall with a fire burning at one side. A wide, elegant staircase at the back curved away to the upper floors.

“I’ll inform Mr. Dufort that you’re here, if you’d like to take a seat.” He indicated a collection of sofas and easy chairs huddled as if for warmth around the fireplace. I made a beeline for the heat.

“May I take your coat?”

I crossed my arms tightly. No way was I exposing my scantily clad self. “Ah, thanks, but I’m a bit cold.”

“I see my guest has arrived, Henry.”

I turned away from the fire to see Lucien Dufort crossing the hall toward me. The floor seemed to drop a few inches and I had to grab the back of a chair to steady myself as his delicious, rich chocolate voice with its faint French accent wound around me, setting my heart hammering.

A tall, elegant man, he moved toward me with predatory intent, covering the floor in loose, confident strides, but it was his eyes that held my gaze, dark eyes, sharp with intelligence and power. He wasn’t a handsome man. His narrow-bladed Gallic nose, inherited from his mother, was slightly overlarge for that, but his lips were sensual, and the mix of tenderness and lust in his expression as he looked at me sent electric tingles charging down my spine.

“Rose, welcome to Club Hard.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his tongue flickering into the little hollow between my two smallest fingers, mimicking the act of sex. Normally, that would be an instant turn-off, but when Lucien did it, everything inside me melted. I tugged my hand free and shoved it into my coat pocket. This was bad. We hadn’t even started yet and my hormones were doing a happy dance.

“Your coat, ma petite.”

I undid the buttons reluctantly and he stripped it off my shoulders, giving it to Henry before indicating my feet. “Barefoot, please.”

I obeyed, steadying myself with one hand on Lucien’s forearm. I could have rested it there all day, enjoying the feel of thick bone and the flex of hard muscles, but I quickly unzipped my boots and gave them to Henry, who took them as solemnly as if I was handing him the crown jewels for safekeeping. He disappeared, taking my things with him, and I stood shivering, waiting for Lucien to say or do something. I shouldn’t have felt vulnerable. I fought with this amount of flesh on display, so it shouldn’t have bothered me, yet insecurity and apprehension crept hand-in-hand up my spine. “Lucien?”

He cupped my chin, his palm warm and sure, his thumb stroking my cheekbone in a gesture I found calming. “Tonight, you will address me as Monsieur, or Sir.” His words sank deep inside me, reaching a place I wasn’t aware existed. A place I didn’t want to believe existed. I stepped back, dislodging his hand.

Lucien’s cheek creased in amusement. “So, ma belle perle, the challenge begins. Are you ready?”



Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Sunday, October 13, 2019

The Alpha's Demiwolf (Utopia 1) #Paranormal #Romance @ChangelingPress




Author: Gale Stanley
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Art: Bryan Keller
BIN: 009067-02934
Genres: Paranormal, Romance, New Adult, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance, Voyeurism and Exhibitionism, Werewolves

Blurb:

Kya: I’m a demiwolf -- half wolf, half human, and both species despise my weird mix of genes. Despite the fact I strip for a living, I’ve hung on to my virginity for twenty-two years. Until I got knocked up by a big, bad wolf. Now, I’m going to bring another demiwolf into the world, but his father will never know.

Levi: I’m all wolf, and Alpha of my pack, committed to keeping our bloodlines pure. Then on the night of my bachelor party, I hooked up with a stripper. I just wanted to teach the demiwolf a lesson, but the sex set me on fire. My wolf claimed her and now I can’t get her out of my head. But what if she won’t accept me?

Get a new release discount at Changeling Press: https://www.changelingpress.com/the-alpha-s-demiwolf-utopia-1-b-2934

Or buy at your favorite retailer:


Universal Link: mybook.to/Demiwolf






Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

The Alpha's Demiwolf (Utopia 1)
Gale Stanley
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Gale Stanley

Kya
I cringed when I saw the billboard proclaiming, Girls! Girls! Girls! It was a tacky way to get attention, and I hated it. Averting my eyes, I turned the corner, pulled into the lot, and parked my old pickup behind the club. It was my first night at Show ’n Tails, and a definite step down from my old job, but I’d been fired and needed a gig ASAP.
The incident wasn’t my fault. There were two of us on the stage and Brandi was so sloshed she invaded my space and fell on her ass. As if that wasn’t enough, she accused me of tripping her. Well, one thing led to another and we both got canned. Another girl told me that Show ’n Tails was hiring and I went for an audition. The manager was an asshat, but he doesn’t ask too many questions. I like to keep a low profile.

This isn’t the life I wanted, but taking off my clothes pays the bills, and I won’t apologize for trying to earn a living. At least I’m not selling my body, just the illusion of sex. A lot of girls up their game, but not me. My virginity is the last piece of self-respect I own and I won’t give it up to some creep for any amount of money.

The heavy backdoor slammed shut and locked behind me and the manager shot me a dirty look. “Hey, Kya. You’re late.”

“Sorry, it won’t happen again. And my name is Raven when I’m working.”

Marty’s lip curled in a sneer. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You better get dressed. I mean undressed.” He snickered.

I ignored his disrespectful ass, and walked over to the dressing room. A row of dented lockers lined one wall. A wide counter with a lighted mirror behind it ran the length of the opposite wall. Everything stunk from sweat and cheap perfume. The long vanity was cluttered with makeup and no one made room for the new girl, so I started changing next to my locker. When a spot at the mirror opened up, I grabbed it and started working on my wild black curls.

Marty stuck his head in the door. “Hey, fresh meat, you’re on next.”

I knew he meant me. I was the newest girl there. Half of me cringed, the half that’s wolf. The half I keep hidden. Or is it a quarter of me I keep hidden? I guess it depends on how you look at it. A full-blooded wolf-shifter is already half human, although they’ll never admit to it. My father was a wolf, but my mother was human.
Does that mean I’m… Oh, fuck the fractions. No matter how you look at it, I’m a demiwolf.

But I look human. I checked my body in the mirror. Yep, a hot as hell human female stared back at me. Tacky, but sexy. Nothing says stripper like stiletto platform heels and a thong that shows off a girl’s booty. I slipped on a white, halter mini-dress with a drape-neck, an open back, and a side slit. Then I ran my hands through my curls and gave my lips one last swipe of purple-plum gloss.

It’s so much easier to call myself human and blend in with the majority. The humans are clueless. They know we exist, but they believe we keep to our own side of the tracks. The wolves are a different story. They can smell my lupine pheromones, but they don’t want me. I’m not pure. Fuck ‘em. At least I can make a living among the humans. Stripping might be a trashy job, but it pays for the life I’m trying to live. It’s not the life I want, but it’s all I’ve got. I used to dream about being accepted by my father’s people. Fat chance. They wouldn’t even accept him because he had a human lover and a half-breed kid.

My parents never married, but they lived together -- sometimes. When my father was around, I was daddy’s girl. But all too often, he would disappear as if he had no family. My mother would drink and tell me that he liked to hang out with his own kind in places where we weren’t accepted. When he came back from his trips, he’d act cold and resentful, but it wouldn’t last long. Eventually, he’d tell me he loved me and everything would be okay again. I thought nothing would keep us apart for good. I was wrong.
One day he didn’t come back. We found out he was killed in a bar fight. One of his so-called friends called me a mongrel and Dad died defending me. My mother cried and cried. She said this was why they never wanted kids. So I was what… an accident?

I couldn’t blame them. Not really. Life was hard enough without being born with this weird mix of genes. I hated myself, too. I wished I’d never been born. At least I could make things easier for my mother. As soon as I finished school, I left home and never looked back.

While waiting to go on, I thought about my routine -- floor work, then pole dancing, then back on the floor. I’m not nervous anymore about being naked in front of a roomful of men. I was at first, but now I focus on my moves. I’ve been scorned and dehumanized all my life, so I like to emphasize something I can do well -- dance.

I peeked through the curtain and watched Candy finish her routine. There’s a mirror behind the stage and a pole in the center. Chairs surrounded the stage for customers who wanted direct contact with the dancers. I watched one of the men put a bill in his mouth. Candy shoved her breasts in his face and used them to grab the money. There were hoots and hollers and more men waved bills at her. She collected all of her tips, then picked up her clothes, and ran off the stage.
The DJ, sitting in an alcove nearby, introduced me. “Next up is a beautiful lady who’s new here. You’re gonna see her naked for the first time tonight.”

Well, it’s not a complete lie. It’s my first time naked on this stage.

“Give Raven a nice warm welcome.”

My heartbeat skyrocketed as I stepped through the curtains and climbed the three steps to the stage. The opening bars of my music started up and I began to move.

* * *

Levi
My anticipation ran high. I’m always excited to see new talent. Samson made a joke about the taste of fresh meat and we all laughed, then I looked up at the stage and my eyes practically popped out of my head, like in one of those old cartoons. The new girl… what’s her name? Raven. She took my breath away. Her curvy shape and that thick black mane had me salivating. From what I could see, everything looked natural, and she had the best set of legs in the club.

“That is one hot piece of ass.” Samson stood up. “I need a closer look.”
Samson walked over to the stage and we all followed. Raven smiled in our direction and my heart took a leap. Her white mini dress emphasized all that golden skin, but it was her eyes that really stood out. Almond in shape and color, they seemed to be staring directly at me.



Author Bio and Links

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.
Some things never change.




Happy Reading!

Saturday, October 12, 2019

Missing the Crown Jewels by Valerie J. Clarizio #Romance #Suspense ~ #99cent Bookbub Feature




Missing the Crown Jewels by Valerie J. Clarizio
A Chandler County Novel

$.99 Bookbub Feature date: 10/12/19
(sale will run from 10/7/19 through 10/21/19)

Genre:  Contemporary Romance/Romantic Suspense
Publisher:  VJC Books

ISBN: 9781386822585
ASIN: B06WRN6N8Y

Buy Links:

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/mqz5EQ


Contemporary Romance, Romantic Suspense, Steamy, Military, Horses, Horse Ranch

 



Sometimes it takes a bit of chaos to sort out one's life.

Blurb:
After a devastating divorce, Peyton Crown is finally surfacing from a dark hole of despair. She finds herself hoping for a new life with Mason ‘Storm’ Starr, her brother’s best friend.

Storm’s intent is simple: hide in the quiet confines of his best friend’s family horse ranch in Kentucky. The perfect place to sort out his life after walking away from the Army, and fight his internal demons. His solitude is interrupted by his buddy’s little sister. The chemistry between them is off the charts, and he willing surrenders the battle.

The Crown family begins receiving threats, just weeks before the Kentucky Derby. The overprotective men in Peyton’s life vow to keep 24/7 tabs on her and the family’s prize horse—Prince Bourbonville—a hopeful for the next Triple Crown. Circumstances arise that threaten to keep Peyton and Prince away from the derby, but Storm and her brother Coach are determined they’ll attend, no matter the sacrifice.



About the Author:
Valerie Clarizio is a USA Today Bestselling author who lives in romantic Door County Wisconsin with her husband and extremely spoiled cat. She loves to read, write, and spend time at her cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

She’s lived her life surrounded by men, three brothers, a husband, and a male Siamese cat who required his own instruction manual. Keeping up with all the men in her life has turned her into an outdoors enthusiast, of which her favorite activity is hiking in national parks. While out on the trails, she has plenty of time to conjure up irresistible characters and unique storylines for her next romantic suspense or sweet contemporary romance novel.

Author’s Social Media links


Friday, October 11, 2019

Book Blast: The Gumbeaux Sistahs by Jax Frey #humor #fiction #giveaway @GoddessFish



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jax Frey will award a randomly drawn winner a $25 Amazon/BN GC and will award a second randomly drawn winner a print copy of the book (US only). Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.



Five Southern women wage a hilarious war against the ageism problems of one of their deep-in-trouble sisters using their improbable friendships, evil-genius schemes, oh-so-numerous cocktails, and a shared passion for good gumbo.



When southern artist, Judith Lafferty, loses her long-time, prestigious museum job to a much younger man, she finds herself devastated, alone in her sixties, and on the brink of financial disaster. Enter the incomparable Gumbeaux Sistahs, who deliver day-old coffee to her front door as a ploy, then go on to kidnap her, feed her excellent gumbo, and come up with outrageous solutions to her problems. Their motives are just good excuses to drink wine, have a great time, argue over whose mother makes the best gumbo, and, most of all, help a sister out. Ageism, dangerous boyfriends, deep loneliness, and any other challenges that can face the over fifty crowd don't stand a chance against these five resourceful ladies. The Gumbeaux Sistahs is a heart-warming, smart story of friendship and unexpected shenanigans that you do not want to miss.


Read an Excerpt



At 3 p.m., she found herself in the living room, feet-up on the coffee table, sweaty, dirty and exhausted. Then the doorbell rang. In her mind she could hear her kids saying to her, “Don’t kill whoever it is, Mom, it’s probably just the mail lady delivering the mail as she does every day. You need the mail, Mom. Please don’t hurt the nice lady.”



She chuckled in spite of herself, and went to greet the mail lady, who had seen Judith looking this bad a time or two before from doing chores around the house. So Judith was not worried about her appearance when she swung open the front door. Before she could get it completely open, a hand carrying a coffee cup appeared around the corner, and came dangerously close to poking her in the eye.



“Hello, dear,” came a cheerful voice from the other side of the door. “You forgot your coffee yesterday, so we decided to bring it to you.”



Judith peered around the coffee cup and the door, and was completely shocked to find the four women from the coffee house yesterday, standing on her front steps. Stunned, she sputtered, “What the . . . ?”



“Special delivery!” yelled Lola, with a huge grin on her freckled face.



“You followed me home?” said a stunned Judith, in shock and embarrassment over her appearance. She did not want to be rude, but this was above and beyond weird. She thought, “Have they been stalking me? That’s so creepy!” She deeply regretted opening the door.



“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Dawn sarcastically, checking her phone as she talked. “Nobody has time for stalking anymore. Now we just follow people around. That’s different, right?”



“What?” thought Judith. She found herself wondering who the heck these women really were. They looked harmless enough, but she was suddenly filled with doubt, and a little bit of fear.



Helen gave Dawn an exasperated look and explained, “Don’t mind her, Judith. She’s teasing. We didn’t follow you. We know where you live. Lola lives right across the street, remember?”



Lola added with a smirk, “Don’t tell me you forgot that already.”



“No, I didn’t — sorry.” Judith took hold of the cup, and was surprised to find that it was cold and kind of used-looking. A thought occurred to her and she asked, astonished, “Wait — is this actually the same coffee from yesterday?”



“Yes, dear,” said Bea, smiling brightly, “We took good care of it for you.”


About the Author:

Born in New Orleans, Jax Frey came into this world, whooping and hollering, with a sense of love and celebration of Louisiana culture, food, family and fun. Translating that celebration into her writing and onto canvas is her true calling. Her colorful art depicts everything-Louisiana from her dancing Gumbeaux Sistahs paintings to her popular line of original Mini paintings. Because over 25,000 of the mini paintings have been created and sold into art collections worldwide, Jax holds a world’s record for The Most Original Acrylic Paintings on Canvas by One Artist.



Jax is also the co-founder of the Women of Infinite Possibilities, an empowering women’s organization started in Covington, LA, where Jax lives today with her loveable, tornado-of-a-pug named Lucy. The Gumbeaux Sistahs is her debut novel.



Email: jaxfreyart@gmail.com

For more information please visit – http://www.gumbeauxsistahs.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Gumbeaux-Sistahs-a-novel-435766546973087/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jax.frey.3

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/gumbeauxsistahs/

Jax’s art can be seen at: http://www.artbyjax.com




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Wednesday, October 9, 2019

Wait by Rebecca Brewster #SpiritualGrowth #Giveaway @GoddessFish



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rebecca Brewster Stevenson will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.



What are you waiting for?


Everyone has endured the endless traffic light, the queue that goes nowhere, the elevator music piped through the phone line. But what of those periods in your life when everything seems on hold? When you can't do the next thing in your professional or personal life because you can't get to it?


Waiting—be it for health, a life partner, a child, a job—can be an agony. The persistently unrealized goal feels like an endless road. And hope's constant deferment can be exhausting. A firm answer against the thing you're hoping for—"no"—might be easier than this constant lack of closure. It might be easier to give it up.



But what if waiting means to be something else? Waiting doesn't have to mean idleness. Our prolonged state of need might teach us to look beyond the desired goal to something infinitely better. We find lessons on this throughout the Bible and, if we are paying attention, in our own lives.



Rather than fostering frustration, periods of waiting might have great truths to tell us. It might show us that hope is worthwhile. Waiting might even be a gift in and of itself.


Read an Excerpt



If you have asked God for something, and he has not said "yes," or "no," if you are among the loved ones enduring his seeming silence because he has asked you to wait, if you are standing on a proverbial sideline or platform somewhere, then I am asking you to shift your gaze. Don't look at the game. Don't squint at the stick. And don't think for a minute that, just because I ask you to shift your gaze, that the thing you are gazing at--the thing you want and are waiting for--is bad. It's not. But there is something to be gleaned from the sideline itself--and this is what we must attend to. You are on the outside, looking in. But look around you. Everyone is on the outside, and this has been true from almost the very beginning.


About the Author:

Rebecca Brewster Stevenson is a native of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She has a master's degree from Duke University and has lived in Durham, North Carolina for over 20 years with her husband and three children.



Before dedicating herself to writing full time, Rebecca worked with Trinity School of Durham and Chapel Hill to develop the curriculum for their humanities department; she also worked as an English teacher at public and private middle and high schools in Durham and Pittsburgh.
Rebecca's debut novel Healing Maddie Brees was published in 2016 to literary acclaim. Her beautifully crafted personal essays on her blog "Small Hours" have earned her a strong audience of readers who enjoy her explorations of themes relating to family, marriage, faith, writing, language, literature, and film.



"Rebecca Brewster Stevenson's writing is consistently powerful, complex, honest, and hopeful" (Andy Crouch, author, Culture Making and The Tech-Wise Family). Rebecca's writing has also been called "exquisite" (Stephen Chbosky), "thought-provoking" (Barbara Claypole White), and "gorgeous" (Kirkus Reviews).



Website: https://rebeccabrewsterstevenson.com

Blog: https://rebeccabrewsterstevenson.com/blog/

Light Messages: https://www.lightmessages.com/rebecca-brewster-stevenson

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/RebeccaBrewsterStevenson

Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/rebeccabrewsterstevenson

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/rbstevenson1



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Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Ropin' the Moon by Deborah Camp #Western #Romance #Giveaway @GoddessFish



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Deborah Camp will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.



He had tumbleweed in his blood, moving from one town to the next. Traveling to where there was trouble, Dalton Moon was hired to tame wild places with a fast draw and an iron will. Lacy Tyrell knew that Dalton wouldn’t be around long and she shouldn’t be tempted by him. But like the moon, his pull on her was a natural, powerful force that she was helpless to resist.


Read an Excerpt:




“You could come with me, Lacy. Nothing’s keeping you here.” The words tumbled out before his brain had time to process them, but they felt right. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.



“Are you dangling a carrot in front of me with no intention of ever allowing me to take a bite of it? If you are, I might just slap your face.”



Dalton caught her wrists in his and grinned, not the least bit bothered by her threat. He couldn’t blame her for doubting him. “I’m not dangling anything. What would stop you from coming with me when I leave Far Creek? Would you even consider it?”



Pink color pooled in her cheeks. She stared at his shirt button, refusing to meet his eyes when she whispered, “Perhaps.”



The world paused, suspended by her one-word answer. “Perhaps?” he repeated, needing to be sure that’s what he’d heard.



Her shoulders bobbed. “It depends on if you ask me the right question before you ask me to leave Far Creek with you.” Now her gaze slid up and she peered at him through the curtain of her sable lashes.



His breath whistled down his throat. The right question? Oh, hell. What did he say to that? Was he ready to ask that of her? Was he even worthy of asking her? Before he could say another word, she made a sound of impatience and ripped from his loosened grasp. With a flounce of petticoats and the lash of her thick braid across his chin, she was gone.



Dalton stood in the dark alley, breathing heavily as if he’d just chased down a cougar – a cougar that smelled like strawberries and talcum powder. He breathed in her scent and closed his eyes, feeling vulnerable, stripped bare. She owned him. Lacy, with her golden hair and blue-sky eyes, had lassoed and hobbled him.


About the Author:

Whatever type of romance you love to read, Deborah Camp writes it. From sweet to sexy, contemporary to historical



Author of more than 50 romances, both contemporary and historical, Deborah received the very first Janet Dailey Award (given to a romance novel that best addressed a social problem). My Wild Rose deals with battered women and children in 1800s with Carrie Nation as a character in the novel. Solitary Horseman also won the In d’tale Magazine’s Rone Award. Deborah loves writing stories that are centered on brave women and honorable men.



Deborah’s books have been praised by reviewers, bloggers, and readers who love complex characters and clever plotting. She always mixes in a bit of humor and a lot of heart.



She’s been a full-time writer since graduating from the University of Tulsa. Her first novel was published in the late 1970s and her books have been published by Jove, New American Library, Harlequin, Silhouette, Avon, and Amazon. She was inducted into the Oklahoma Authors Hall of Fame and she’s a charter member of the Romance Writers of America. She’s also a member of the Author’s Guild.



Communicating with readers and other writers is something she enjoys, so don't be shy about visiting her online.



Be sure to join her Happy Campers Super Cool Reader Group on her website to receive a copy of one of her romances novels free and participate in it on Goodreads, too.



WEBSITE: http://www.deborah-camp.com

EMAIL: deborahcampauthor@yahoo.com

FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/officialdeborahcamp

PINTEREST: http://www.pinterest.com/debbycamp44/

BLOG: http://www.deborahcampwritersdesk.blogspot.com

TWITTER: http://www.twitter.com/authordebcamp

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/198990



Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07XQPJMV8?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420



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