tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88801516954605751482024-03-19T00:30:30.942-04:00Gale StanleyWake Up Your Wild SideGale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.comBlogger190125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-54648355869901598402024-03-19T00:30:00.001-04:002024-03-19T00:30:00.141-04:00Ghost by Dana Cask #mc #romance @changelingpress<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/dana-cask-ghost-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/53af58f793274f6fac8e26249f9eea2f" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dade4f9248f54349a9d649493a309245" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dade4f9248f54349a9d649493a309245" width="263" /></span></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">(Shiva’s Road MC)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Motorcycle Club Romance, Interracial & Multicultural</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> March 22, 2024</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/208823284-ghost-shiva-s-road-mc-1"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a>
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost -- Against my better judgment, I went to Chicago to meet my father.
Instead I find a sexy siren who’s fighting a daily struggle to
survive. I claim her for my own the first chance I get, but that’s
when our troubles really start. She won’t leave without my sister
Rachel, her best friend, and I’m a long way from home and my brothers.
When the bad guys attack, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them
both.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Simone -- I need a way out. When Ghost arrives, I take a chance and ask him
for help. But he’s the son of the man who sells my body. I don’t
know how far I can trust him. My life and Rachel’s hang in the
balance. Ghost says he wants me by his side forever. I’m trusting him
with our lives, but can I trust him with my heart?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/d5df0de401414cb7843fca587730c09d" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="402" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/d5df0de401414cb7843fca587730c09d" width="480" /></a>
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>EXCERPT</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Ghost</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“This place is something else,” Beowulf said over the sound of
their idling bikes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost didn’t respond, knowing his best friend didn’t expect him
to. He just stared at the place his mother had called home for the last
twenty-five years. The McMansion and surrounding grounds presented a vulgar
display of wealth against the suburban Chicago backdrop. The pink granite
drive wound around the two-story house, lit by spotlights in the center of
the immaculately manicured lawn. In bright sunlight, he’d no doubt
need darker shades to withstand the glare of the mica-flecked walls and
white shutters. He’d known about the setup from the intel Bytes had
gathered on his father before they left the compound in Central Ohio, but
seeing it in person shocked the man who had grown up dirt poor in a
single-wide trailer on the Mescalero Apache Tribe Reservation.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Name,” snapped a male voice from a box built into the brick
column to the left of the wrought black iron gate.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Lucas Blackfoot,” Ghost replied. His voice sounded rusty, even
to his own ears.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You were told to come alone.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost shrugged, sure the security cameras would pick up his response.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">After a long pause, the voice instructed, “Park your motorcycles in
the open garage bay. You will be met at the interior door. Do not enter
without an escort or you will be shot.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Friendly type, your Pops.” Wulf chuckled.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost let his unease out by revving his old Harley. The Knucklehead
vibrated the ground as the gate with a stylized W in the center pulled back
to allow them entrance. They followed the drive to the right of the house,
moving at a slow pace on the loose gravel, and found the place they were to
leave their bikes without issue.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Almost as soon as they swung their legs over the fenders, a door at the far
end of the far end of the garage opened. A limo occupied one bay. Midlife
crisis cars sat in the remaining two, each of which probably cost more than
Ghost had seen during his entire childhood.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A large, bald man in a black suit he couldn’t button over his flabby
stomach -- a security drudge so stereotypical as to be laughable -- motioned
them to come closer.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“What do you wanna bet he gets handsy?” Wulf said loud enough
to be overheard.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost grunted. This was gonna suck. He had planned to get in and out as
quickly as possible, having minimal interaction with his sperm donor.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Which one of you is Blackfoot?” the guard asked as they
approached.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Like that wasn’t obvious. Even a toddler could tell the black-haired
Native American from the Nordic blond. “I am,” Ghost
replied.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Your… companion… can wait here.” The guard put a
wealth of innuendo into the word companion, still trying to get a rise out
of him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.” Ghost didn’t make a threatening move, but he
wasn’t going into this house alone. He’d never spoken to Donald
P. Willard, never went looking for his parents after his mother left the
Reservation when he was eight. His father should be happy he’d only
brought his best friend for backup. No way in hell would he allow himself to
be separated from Wulf this early in the game.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You come alone, or you don’t come at all.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Fine,” said Wulf, “We’ll be home in our beds by
morning then.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The dumbass reached out to grab Ghost by the arm. “I said
--”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost grabbed the guard’s hand by the thumb and bent it back. When
the man tried to twist out of his grip, Ghost held on long enough to make
sure the man knew Ghost was choosing to release him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Another man, this one a little older and in better shape than the first,
appeared in the doorway. “Problem?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“He doesn’t want to come quietly, boss,” Dumbass
said.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Let him bring his little friend if it makes him feel better,”
the new arrival replied. “I’m sure they won’t cause any
trouble. Right, boys?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“We’re housebroken,” Wulf assured him. “Can’t
say the same for your team though. Need a lesson in manners.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Boss” stared at them for a few beats, then turned on his heel
and walked back into the house. His lapdog followed, leaving Ghost and Wulf
to take up the rear. As soon as they cleared the doorway, another man came
up behind them, closing the door and walking practically on their heels.
They moved through the mostly dark house in that formation until they
reached a closed door with soft light spilling through around the
cracks.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A knock on the door received a curt, “Enter.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A hand on his back pushed Ghost ahead of Wulf into the room. No less
opulent than the rest of the house, the study had dark built-in shelves at
the back wall and thick, velvet green drapes bracketing the floor-to-ceiling
windows along the side. Donald P. Willard sat behind a polished walnut desk.
A Tiffany desk lamp illuminated Donald’s thick features and extremely
short-cropped, graying hair. His hands were laced together in front of him,
resting over a sizeable belly straining the buttons on his tailored shirt.
His blue suit jacket hung on the back of his leather executive chair. The
picture of a prominent light-skinned black businessman, surrounding himself
with obvious signs of wealth and opulence. Ghost was pretty sure it was all
a front, meant to impress.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Son, please have a seat. The rest of you are dismissed,”
Donald said.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The three bodyguards tried to grab Wulf to remove him bodily from the room,
but he evaded their grasps and sat down on the green leather sofa which
rested against a creamy damask wallpaper. “I think I’ll stay. I
like it here,” Wulf said mildly.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“This is a private conversation between my son and myself. Please do
us the courtesy of letting us have this family moment,” Donald
replied.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Wulf looked to Ghost, who gave him a slight nod. Beowulf could take care of
himself, and it didn’t seem like anyone was going to talk in front of
his friend.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Come on, boys. Show me the kitchen. I could use a snack after the
long ride.” Wulf jumped up from the couch and led the way out into the
hall.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Once they were alone and the door shut, Donald gave Ghost an appraising
glance. “You look like your mother.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost knew what he meant. His father’s African American heritage
didn’t show much in Ghost’s features. There didn’t seem
much point in replying so Ghost didn’t bother.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Donald sighed. “Have a seat, son. We have a lot to talk
about.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost sat in one of the chairs in front of Donald’s desk that matched
the leather sofa. It was as uncomfortable as it looked. Still, he said
nothing. He’d learned a long time ago prolonged silence had a way of
getting people to start rambling just to fill the void.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I have to say, your existence came as quite a shock to me. In all
the years I’ve been married to Caroline, she never once mentioned you.
Do you know why?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Has she ever contacted you since she left the
Reservation?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’ve always wanted a son to carry on my legacy. Surely, she
would have known I’d have welcomed you with open arms.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost shrugged. His mother had signed over custody of him to his
grandfather when she left, giving no explanation. His memories of her were
happy, but dim. He couldn’t say why his mother did what she did, and
wouldn’t tell this man even if he did know. He owed this man
nothing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Did she tell you anything about me before she left? Anything at
all?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.” Ghost knew he sounded like a broken record but really
what was there to say? He’d received word of his mother’s death
from a lawyer, closely followed by a summons from Donald P. Willard to
discuss her “affairs.” Ghost already regretted his decision to
come here and couldn’t wait to get the fuck out.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Man of few words, eh? I can respect that. Too many people
don’t stand by their word these days. I’m not one of those. Old
school to the core, just like my daddy.” He probably practiced his
“trust me” smile in the mirror. Ghost wasn’t falling for
it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why am I here?” He knew why, but he wanted to see how the
other man would spin it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I wanted to meet you, talk to you. I am your father, after
all.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are you sure?” Ghost was. Bytes had done the research.
Donald’s name wasn’t listed on his birth certificate, but his
mother had left a letter with his grandfather. The old man never said a
word, but the document had been among his things given to the tribal leaders
upon his death. An old friend read it to him over the phone. His father had
been a high roller at one of the casinos on tribal land. His mother worked
there and caught his eye. Eventually they started a relationship. She got
pregnant. Eight years later, she left the Reservation to be his wife.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Of course, I am. Your mother was faithful to me, even before we
married. Or are you trying to tell me you know otherwise?” The thought
seemed to anger him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well then, there you are. You’re my son. And I’d like to
think we could have a good relationship now that we know about each
other.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost almost said no again, just to see what the other man would do, but
managed to stop himself. Instead, he changed tracks. “Your letter
promised legal action if I didn’t show. That’s not very…
fatherly.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“That was before I got to know you. My security team did a little
digging. Can’t blame a man for wanting to get to know all about a son
he suddenly finds out about, can you? And now I know you’ve served
your country well, but you’ve fallen on hard times. That motorcycle
club you’re with, well, I’d like to see my son socializing with
a better class of people. I can and will help you there.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.” The word came out fast and emphatic. Shiva’s Road
MC was his family now. Not this man.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“OK, OK, I can see I’m moving too fast for you. A habit in my
business. You don’t make money letting grass grow under your
feet!”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Donald’s business, according to Bytes, barely paid the mortgage on
this eyesore these days. Donald’s father had been a solid contractor
for large scale buildings in downtown Chicago. But cutting corners to
underbid other contractors, shoddy supplies, and other bad business
practices had given the family business a bad name. Donald scrambled to
cover his monthly debts and if he didn’t hire better lawyers,
he’d be facing jail time. Then there was the little matter of his
gambling debts…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Instead of replying right away, Ghost let his attention drift around the
office. There were business books, decanters containing various kinds of
alcohol with the usual glasses, and several framed pictures. One of the
pictures caught his eye. Two young women were laughing with their arms
around each other in front of a fountain. One had black hair, dusky skin and
a more than passing resemblance to Donald. She must be Rachael, his
half-sister.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The other woman -- he didn’t recognize her -- was nothing less than
stunning. Platinum-blonde hair surrounded her tanned face in a halo as the
sunshine poured down on her, seeming to illuminate her from within. The red
top she wore hugged her more-than-a-handful breasts and rode up enough to
show a strip of her belly. The matching skirt flared out from curvy hips
that begged to be gripped with his large hands and held onto for a wild
ride. Though he couldn’t tell the exact color of her eyes from the
photograph, they seemed to sparkle with mischief. And her full lips, painted
the same red as her shirt, were a form of temptation all their own. He
wanted to lick and suck and taste every inch of her. His cock came to life
behind his zipper as he studied the image. He’d never had such a
visceral reaction to a woman, let alone one he’d seen only in a
picture, in his life.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Every book is a mystery to Dana. Whether it’s writing one or reading
one, she delves into the who, what, when, where and why with a thirst for
knowledge. Getting to know the characters and following their journey as it
unfolds gives her a thrill she hasn’t been able to duplicate in any
other activity. She’s been known to devour as many as three books in a
day, and would write until her fingers bled if her muses allowed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Although Dana is just getting started on her publishing career, please join
her on Facebook and Goodreads, and visit her website often as her MC
collection grows to see what Dana has in store for her readers next!</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.danacask.com/">Author’s Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61553651656438">Author on Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-36891126540673496862024-03-19T00:00:00.001-04:002024-03-19T00:00:00.139-04:00Once We Were Witches by Laura Daleo #supernatural #fiction #giveaway<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/laura-daleo-once-we-were-witches-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/947fca38d3dc4a60af75d9ad3f782739" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/35f6b6ae742442039fbb6108881deb1a" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/35f6b6ae742442039fbb6108881deb1a" width="267" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Immortal Kiss Series, Book 4</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Supernatural Fiction</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">03-08-2024</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/209634671-once-we-were-witches"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The mysterious world of witchcraft, murder, and mystery thrusts Raven
Sagestone into an adventure whose main goal is to unlock the secrets of her
powers. To do this, she teams up with Brandon Cass, an outsider with
knowledge of the supernatural world. Raven is introduced to Eve, a psychic
who reads destinies. Despite this, Raven is protected by a strong magic
barrier, preventing Eve from seeing her. Brandon and Raven search for the
truth at Bloodthirst, a vampire club. Visiting The Council's haven with
Margarete and Caleb is Raven's chance to find answers to the questions that
have plagued her.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Excerpt</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Chapter 1</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A breaking news alert flashed on the TV screen as I bit into my
bagel.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">As the reporter stood by, the camera panned over to the lifeless body of a
young woman hanging from a tree branch. “Witch” was carved into
her gray, blood-stained forehead. He sighed and hung his head. “A
seventh victim has been added to the list.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I shoved my bagel aside as a sick feeling gripped my stomach. My heart
ached as I stared at the girl’s lifeless face. How could someone be so
cruel and sadistic? This was not just a random act of cruelty. And where
were the police in all of this?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My mom walked in, grabbed the remote, and shut off the TV.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I was watching that.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“There’s no need to watch some sicko murder young women.
Life’s too short to fixate on people like that.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m not fixated,” I clarified. “I’m
concerned. There’s a difference. That’s seven girls now. Each
with the word ‘witch’ carved into their foreheads. What are the
police doing? Nothing?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She blew me off. “Investigations take time. The police are doing
everything they can. Your dad and I see a lot of accidents at the hospital.
Sadly, crime is a real thing. But you,” she kissed my forehead,
“don’t need to worry about that. Your focus should be on college
and the class you need to get to.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Mom was wrong. I had to worry. The creep pursued young women, specifically
witches, a trait I shared and kept to myself. While my parents were
blue-eyed and blonde-haired, I had pitch-black hair and brown eyes, and I
also had strange birthmarks covering my forearms. It might seem like I have
a tragic story, but I believe everything happens for a reason. Maybe I was
destined to be abandoned outside the hospital where my adoptive parents
worked. As they headed home after a long shift, they heard a faint cry near
the emergency entrance. Rushing to investigate, they found me abandoned on
the front steps, bundled in a pink blanket. As fate would have it, they
immediately took me in and showered me with love.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">As a baby, a toddler, a teen, and now at 19, a college student, they never
saw me as anything but sweet, curious, sulky, and smart. They had no idea
what I was hiding, the power I perfected, the spells I practiced, the magic
I shed. In their eyes, I was like them. I knew I was someone beyond their
comprehension, someone powerful. But who was I? Who were my birth parents
who should have taught me how to use the gifts given to me at birth? The
only information I had about my past came from visions—an image of a
dark figure dropping me outside the hospital. There were no records of my
birth, my parents, a location—as if I never existed. Bringing my
questions to my adoptive parents wouldn’t do any good. They’d
kept these secrets hidden from me. In spite of me knowing the real truth, my
adoptive parents provided a birth certificate, giving me the name, Raven
Sagestone. I love them, but I want answers. I wanted to know the truth, and
it was clear it wouldn’t come from them. This was something I had to
figure out for myself.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I put on my cropped denim jacket, kissed my mom on the cheek, and hit up
Uber on my cell. My driver’s tests were a total disaster. I failed
every time. It creeped me out when the instructors stared at me with their
beady eyes. So…my driver’s license was out, and Uber was in.
Having someone else do all the driving was a much better plan, for now
anyway.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Forty minutes before class, the Uber driver dropped me off in front of the
massive steps leading up to entrance of Granite Bay University. It was one
of the oldest schools in Jodence, like something straight out of a
fairytale. Its structure was reminiscent of a castle, with its towering
columns, decorative arched windows, and cone-shaped roof; yet modern-day
people dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers surrounded the ancient
building—me being one of them.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In the past fourteen weeks, my daily agenda had consisted of visiting the
library before class and researching its extensive collection of witchcraft,
magic, and supernatural books. One of those books was certain to contain the
answers to my birthright. I absorbed every word I came across about
soul-bending, mental conjuring, healing rituals, protection rituals, binding
magic, and the lore of fire, water, and air. One of the most fascinating
things I discovered was the witch’s mark. It has likely been around
for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. However, between the 15th and 18th
centuries, it had a much darker history than it does now. Witches were often
burned, hanged, drowned, and tortured, and those with red hair and extra
fingers and toes were often suspected of witchcraft. Witch hunters used
moles, birthmarks, scars, and extra digits to identify witches. It was a
myth that a particular god or bloodline was associated with the presence of
a mole cluster or rose-colored mark. My arms were covered in black symbols
like ancient ink, and neither a cluster nor a mark applied to me. Thank
goodness I wasn’t born back then.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">With my arms full of books, I walked beneath the library’s massive
brick archways, combing its numerous aisles for books I hadn’t read.
When I rounded the corner, I tripped over a guy sitting on the floor. My
books flew through the air and landed with a thud. I groaned as I hit the
ground, hoping I had not damaged my books. The guy on the floor, on the
other hand, quickly sprang up and apologized profusely.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">His hands steadied me as he blurted, “Whoa, sorry.” He helped
me gather my books and ensured I was okay. An adorable smile swept along his
lips as he brushed sandy-brown hair out of his hazel-colored eyes. He was
probably one of those guys unaware of how cute he was, but cute or not,
he’d parked his ass in the middle of the aisle, causing me to
trip.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“What the hell, dude? There are tables to sit at and
read.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yeah, I see your point,” he grinned, revealing dimpled cheeks
as he flipped through the books. “So you’re into witches? Or
maybe it’s research for a paper about what’s going now right
now?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Does it matter?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He squished his eyebrows together and tilted his head to the side.
“Do you know my sister?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Huh?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Never mind.” He tucked the books under his arm and bobbed his
chin toward the tables. “Here, let me help you. It’s the least I
can do.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">With a smile, I accepted his offer. “Thank you.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He arranged the books on the table before shoving his hands into his
pockets. Then he stood there, studying me.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Stare much?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Has anyone told you, you’re difficult?” He didn’t
wait for me to respond. “But hey, I apologize for staring.” He
spread his fingers and moved them in a circular motion over my face.
“You remind me of someone, Eve. She’s got the same dark hair,
ivory skin, and red lip look.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I shrugged. “I don’t know anyone named Eve.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hmph.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> The sound of a distant scream sent chills down my spine. My eyes
darted around, searching for the source. “Did you hear
that?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“That was definitely a scream.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Students leapt from their seats, hurling books onto the floor as their
gazes swept the room. Librarians abandoned their posts and spilled into the
aisles. Panicked voices shouted, “Who screamed?” “What
happened?” Me and the guy were thrown into madness by a stampede of
people charging to the exits and pushing us out of the building and onto the
library’s steps.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The echo of my thumping heart filled my ears as I tried to figure out what
was happening around me. The once orderly campus had become a chaotic mess
as hundreds of people rushed by, pushing and shoving, their faces filled
with panic. As I fought my way through the crowd, I couldn’t help but
wonder where everyone was going and what had happened to cause such
chaos.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“There!” the guy pointed toward the sculpture of the
university’s tower in the courtyard.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I gasped as my eyes landed on the bodies. Three girls hung from the white
tower with their necks bound together, now covered in blood. As I looked at
their lifeless eyes and saw the word “witch” carved across their
foreheads, a chill ran down my spine. An eerie, tragic, and horrific scene
surrounded the stained white tower. As students and teachers huddled
together, whispering in disbelief, a shrill of sirens echoed in the
distance, intensifying panic and fear. Police authorities were under
pressure to find those responsible for these horrific acts.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Damn, three this time,” he uttered with shock.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I couldn’t speak. My throat swelled with a huge sob as I slowly shook
my head.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The police rushed in, their footsteps pounding the sidewalk as they raced
toward the tower. Their faces were determined as they cautiously approached
the cordoned-off area. They quickly pulled out their clipboards and
meticulously documented the evidence, taking photographs of the area.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">An officer, wearing an exasperated expression, yelled. “Get back!
This is a crime scene.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I flinched, staggered backward, before firmly planting my feet on the
ground. I wasn’t going anywhere. This was my battle. I needed answers.
Those poor girls needed answers too. My eyes grew wide as I demanded,
“Why don’t you find this sick creep before we all die?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The guy’s gaze burned into my flesh as he snapped his head toward me.
“What are you doing?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The officer thrust his shoulders back and barked out, “You need to
step back.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are you trying to get arrested?” the guy whispered in my ear.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Just as his words entered my head, I overheard someone say,
“They’re ice cold; not a drop of blood in them.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My eyes locked on the authoritative policeman. “Blood? Is that new?
Were the other girls drained of blood too?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A pair of squinted eyes glared at me. “You can retreat or go downtown
and think about your actions in a jail cell.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Omgeez, man up much?” the guy said as he grabbed my arm and
hurried me away. “You need to calm down.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I tore my gaze away from the dead girls and locked it on him.
“Don’t tell me what to do. You don’t know anything about
me. I want answers for those girls.” And myself, I privately declared.
“It seems nobody is fighting for them.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“It might seem that way on the surface, but I’m sure
they’re doing everything they can to help.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I wish I could believe that, but dead bodies keep showing
up…” My voice cracked as the sob squeezing my throat broke
free. My shoulders quivered, and I buried my face in my hands.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and softened his voice.
“They’ll catch ’em. It’ll be okay.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Sniffling, I sighed, “I can’t concentrate. I can’t be in
class.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“We can walk to The Grind, get a coffee, and just relax.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I nodded and then hung my head as he led me away from the gruesome scene of
dead girls.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/efef8a600898422e8fb2b1934b362a8b" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/efef8a600898422e8fb2b1934b362a8b" width="213" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">LAURA DALEO is a multi-genre author, specializing in Dark Fantasy, Urban
Fantasy, Supernatural/Paranormal fiction, Science Fiction, and Young Adult
Fiction. Immortal Kiss, her best-known vampire series, explores the Egyptian
pantheon that gave rise to vampires. Currently, she is working on her eighth
book, I am Wolf, an urban fantasy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A native of San Diego, California, Laura now lives in Tucson, Arizona with
her two dogs, Rose and Cooper.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.lauradaleobooks.com/">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLauraDaleo">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/AutLauraDaleo">Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13162897.Laura_Daleo">Goodreads</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/lauraddaleo/">Pinterest</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/author_laura_daleo/?hl=en">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/laura-daleo">BookBub</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Preorder Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CXJQD8XS">Amazon Kindle</a> - on sale for $0.99</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1736610325">Amazon paperback</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href=" https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/once-we-were-witches-laura-daleo/1145019024?ean=9781736610336">Barnes & Noble - ebook</a> - on sale for $0.99</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/once-we-were-witches-laura-daleo/1145019024?ean=9781736610329">Barnes & Noble</a> <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/once-we-were-witches-laura-daleo/1145019024?ean=9781736610329">- paperback</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/once-we-were-witches-3">Kobo - ebook</a></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;"> - on sale for
$0.99</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-30242677158025081082024-03-13T00:30:00.001-04:002024-03-13T00:30:00.134-04:00DARKER by A.K. Nevermore #MCromance<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/a-k-nevermore-darker-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/5cc551efc9d742f7990129065f4d014e" width="500" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dbf6b67f61c44cd8b3dfbe82df148726" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="453" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dbf6b67f61c44cd8b3dfbe82df148726" width="298" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Maw of Mayhem MC, Book 2</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Paranormal, Motorcycle Club Romance</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> March 15, 2024</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/208457158-darker-maw-of-mayhem-mc-2"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>So much for sanctuary.</i> Kit Parson doesn’t feel any safer than she was
before she first stepped into the Maw of Mayhem, and things are going from
bad to worse. Something big is definitely going down in the paranormal
community… and inside Kit. Now that her inner beast has awoken, all
it wants is out. The only thing Kit wants is Grim, but he’s got issues
of his own.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Fingered for a crime he didn’t commit and injured by the
witch’s spell, his cat Darke has control of their form. He
doesn’t play well with others, and tensions with the crew are at an
all-time high.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">With the witches’ elite assassins on their trail, can Darke and the
crew put aside their differences to keep Kit safe and get back to the MC?
And as the clock ticks toward the vote with Grim’s reputation in
shambles, will there be an MC to go back to?</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/64ac56b4eacd40f0be91b7d08a2adf5f" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="473" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/64ac56b4eacd40f0be91b7d08a2adf5f" width="564" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>EXCERPT</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Shades of the past tore through the consciousness Darke shared with his
man, threatening to swallow Grim whole. He fought against their poisoned
bite, but the witch’s spell had weakened the big cat’s
skin-brother and freed the memories from their fetters. They lashed at Grim
with inky black tentacles of torment. His agonized screams rose within the
crescendoing squall, raging through their split psyche. A growl welled in
Darke’s chest, ruff bristling at their assault.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">-- <i>Mine! </i>-- he snarled, lunging into the fray. Sharp claws and teeth rent
the shadowed memories of the bad time from his man, scattering them back
into the depths of their mind. Grim was his. Him. A self separate, yet one.
His skin-brother. Darke nuzzled him close, tongue rasping over Grim’s
flickering light.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">-- <i>heal </i>--</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Kit… his man whimpered, curling into a ball. His light dimmed,
giving up control of their form to the big cat.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">-- <i>ours </i>-- Darke rumbled, shifting their body and sending Grim what
strength he could. Fur sprouted, limbs cracking and reforming. Two legs
became four, and a tawny gray mountain lion lay sprawled on the bed where
the others had lain his man to recover.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Within, his skin-brother’s light strengthened, its low glow holding
steady.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Darke ran a paw over his face, licking at his pad. He sneezed at the scent
of old blood, the room thick with the patina of its tang and the decaying
musk of the undead. A low growl rumbled in his chest, his pupils dilating to
take in the room’s blend of muted color.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Heavy furniture dominated the space, its angles stark amidst the gloom.
Tendrils of scent threaded through the room, age and linseed seeping from
the wood to twine with the rest of the civilized rot assaulting his nose. He
pushed off the bed, padding across the thick carpet. His shadow grayed the
fingers of scant moonlight streaming in from long, amber-tinted
windows.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Darke paused, his lip curling over his canines, disdainfully eyeing the
city spread out below him before turning his face to the bulbous moon.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Had Grim’s female changed and released her animal?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Clay’s cat had promised Darke a mate. Teased him with her scent,
captured within the weft of the afghan on Grim’s bed. The desperate
longing it evoked proved the connection. The tip of Darke’s tail
twitched. He’d trusted it would be so. Waited for so long. Too long.
Kit’s scent matched the afghan’s. That meant the beast within
her was his.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Darke chuffed his frustration. Sensing his mate without being able to claim
her was torture. He paced the breadth of the room, eyes narrowed at the
heavy oaken door leading out. Beyond it, faint voices pricked at his ears.
Part of his skin-brother’s pride was near. His crew. Darke growled at
the snippets of the MC’s inner cats’ near-unintelligible
murmuring punctuating the two-legged babble. That he could understand the
crew’s stupid yapping better than his own brethren’s yowls
irked.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A pang of loneliness shot through Darke’s chest. He missed Clay. When
his father’s inner lion had spoken, his deep rumble was clarion. The
lynxes out there? Yowls and hissing. Darke could pick out maybe one hard-won
word in six, and they couldn’t understand him at all. It had been the
same with his littermates, Grapple and Shiv, leaving Darke to rely on
instinct when forced to interact.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It got him into trouble. Lynxes were shady and the two-leggers lied. Said
things they didn’t mean, then hurt you. Clay had been different, but
he was dead while his murderer walked free.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Reaper.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Darke shivered, ears flicking back, remembering the bad time. The man who
called himself their uncle needed to die, and Grapple and Shiv with
him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Darke’s temper spiked, his tail swishing. Keenly feeling the loss
locked within his mind again, in this stinking place of undead. His
skin-brother shared his sorrow at their father’s murder, but not
Darke’s isolation.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And now Grim had left him, too.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Darke shouldered through another door into a smaller room lined with tile.
It smelled faintly of excrement and strongly of fabricated pine, the water
in the bowl stale and chemical-laced. Darke shook droplets from his maw and
chuffed his distaste, returning to the window.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Soft footfalls approached from the beyond the oaken door.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Darke slunk into the deep shadow of an armoire as the heavy slab canted
open, then closed. Kit limped to the center of the room, favoring a leg. Her
arm was splinted, the opposite hand bandaged in gauze. A ruddy stain marred
its whiteness. She wrapped her damaged limbs around herself with a low sob,
the scent of fresh blood perfuming the air as she moved. Darke’s
nostrils flared at that thread of wrongness twining within the delicate
tendrils of citrus, cinnamon, and female musk.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">His mate was presenting as wounded prey.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Darke bit back the growl building in his chest, fury pounding through his
temples. His claws extended and retracted from the carpet’s thick
pile. Healthy, she’d be a tempting prize for any predator.
Injured… He was going to kill --</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">No. Darke’s ears flattened against his skull. His man would think
before spilling blood.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But Grim thought too much.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Kit scanned the room, then dashed a hand across her face, stumbling to the
bed. Her feet froze at its foot, head snapping toward the bathroom, then
away. Another low sob eked from her throat, and Darke’s ruff stood on
end. He would destroy them. Destroy them all. Starting with those who had
failed to protect --</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">-- <i>Hey! Boy Vengeance! You really just gonna let her think her think
he’s gone?</i> --</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Darke jumped, fur bristling at the syrupy censure. He backed deeper into
the shadows, eyes wide and pulse pounding.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">-- <i>Aww. Here puss, puss, puss… I don’t bite</i> --</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">His lip curled over a canine, and a female’s mocking laughter flitted
through his mind as clearly as the gravelly chuckle of Clay’s beast
had. Darke’s heart leaped, his ears pricking forward, saliva pooling
in his maw.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He could understand her.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The beast inside Kit, his promised mate -- when she spoke, her words were
clear, and she wanted to play.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives
up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a
certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when
she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up
camo Chucks. Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to
become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time. AK pays
the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She
belongs to the Authors Guild, is an RWA chapter board member, volunteers for
far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion,
sleeps.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://aknevermore.com/">Author’s website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/AkNevermore">Author on Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/aknevermore/">Author on Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@ak.nevermore">Author on TikTok</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/AK-Nevermore/author/B0CHPKSN1B">Follow AK Nevermore on Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> @changelingpress</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/mq9NP8"><b>Pre-Order Today</b></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-88147798702165866062024-03-12T00:30:00.001-04:002024-03-12T00:30:00.263-04:00Oaky With a Hint of Murder by Dawn Brotherton #CozyMystery<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/dawn-brotherton-oaky-with-a-hint-of-murder-release-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/03f61e767fc0420585dbefa32ffb0850" width="500" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/247699eafebb446b8a161cf75d938168" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/247699eafebb446b8a161cf75d938168" width="302" /></a><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;">Eastover Treasures, Book 2</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Cozy Mystery</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Date to be Published: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">12 Mar 2024</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Publisher: </b>Blue Dragon Publishing, LLC</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/204191032-oaky-with-a-hint-of-murder"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Aury and Scott travel to the Finger Lakes in New York’s wine country
to get to the bottom of the mysterious happenings at the Songscape Winery.
Disturbed furniture and curious noises are one thing, but when a customer
winds up dead, it’s time to dig into the details and see what
ferments.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Is there any truth to the Native American legends that cluster near Seneca
Lake? Is the warrior’s disapproval of wineries growing legs?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Aury will need to pour over the clues to unearth the mystery before the
winery’s reputation is crushed. With the annual wine festival just
around the corner, Aury harvests more than she bargained for when the killer
tries to bottle her up for good.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/1e3347200ec644258d1a2efa931bc4b4" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/1e3347200ec644258d1a2efa931bc4b4" width="214" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Dawn Brotherton is an award-winning author of nineteen books and featured
speaker at writing and publishing seminars. When it comes to exceptional
writing, she draws on her experience as a colonel retired from the US Air
Force as well as a softball coach and Girl Scout leader. Her variety of
interests has led to a range of genres including mystery, romance, young
adult fantasy, middle grade sports, picture book, and nonfiction. When she
isn’t using her words, Dawn is in her craft room in Williamsburg, VA,
quilting, painting, or taking online classes. Her affection for travel and
all-things-crafty keeps her imagination in high gear for the next Eastover
Treasure Mystery.</span></p>
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-61409219951550173552024-03-11T00:30:00.001-04:002024-03-11T00:30:00.243-04:00Picasso's Lovers by Jeanne Mackin #HistoricalFiction #Giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2024/02/book-blast-picassos-lovers-by-jeanne.html" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2vrhednamOVZcQy9rkThVajUkZWAo1SDQGYYGu-1J7iRs-f-nvfE6kyJTU7HT_bZmJMm2B8pkRDqHiJsWMucF3xpMuXhdDc4PEtxTVE3xakY4mhNFqrfsEfGBrqtNU0wclSpxLlR9MZNoO2yLKmCnn_kn9aW98K0xh49Z2rsuA-pozhwCXAGA3aOCiGs/s400/TourBanner_Picassos%20lovers.gif" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by <a href="http://www.goddessfish.com">Goddess Fish Promotions</a>. Jeanne Mackin will award a randomly drawn winner a $25 Amazon/BN GC. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.<br /><br />
<blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi71t_6GzOSX8BhEndfPdV5TjWP2lr9x-NmzRUeAPGE6WbPsuzUYU7vJ9DGdRnaPyoGuR37GF9ZRzCQVLwa9RUd2eTpyVNPlqKgwNnOCkft1z660A1Vb_nI2CVq-QQIbiXU1Qr__EczUlSCxENzFnpGhH9wJRYPTw5D0ql7ZGkqwM2_K_eeNp7jPC4DW8/s2397/BookCover_picasso%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; display: block; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2397" data-original-width="1546" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi71t_6GzOSX8BhEndfPdV5TjWP2lr9x-NmzRUeAPGE6WbPsuzUYU7vJ9DGdRnaPyoGuR37GF9ZRzCQVLwa9RUd2eTpyVNPlqKgwNnOCkft1z660A1Vb_nI2CVq-QQIbiXU1Qr__EczUlSCxENzFnpGhH9wJRYPTw5D0ql7ZGkqwM2_K_eeNp7jPC4DW8/w129-h200/BookCover_picasso%20cover.jpg" width="129" /></a></div><br><br><br><br><br>You know Pablo Picasso. Now meet the women behind the masterpieces. The women of Picasso's life are glamorous and elusive, existing in the shadow of his fame - until, in the 1950's, aspiring journalist Alana Olsen determines to bring one into the light and discovers a past complicated by secrets and intrique.</blockquote><br /><br /><br><br>
<b>Read an Excerpt</b> <br /><br />
Gazes from Pablo Picasso are like brushstrokes. Some are long, lingering, full of texture and pigment. Some are short, shallow, even accidental. His gaze on me now falls somewhere between the two. <br><br>
Once, his gaze would have found enough for an entire painting. He would have seen flesh, and the bone and muscle under the flesh, the question or certainty of the eyes. He would have seen past, present, and future and painted them in a way that made time irrelevant. <br><br>
Yes, that was how he pained me. Everything and at once, all the angles and geometry of the body, and he made of me something eternal and always beautiful. That is what an artists can do for a woman. When most men looked at me, all I saw in their faces was desire, the urge to possess. When Pablo looked at me, his face filled with wonder waiting to be translated to lines and brushstrokes. <br><br>
Spring. The second year of the Great War. I wasn’t twenty yet, and had returned from cold, starving Moscow, where a loaf of bread coast as much as a silk dress…Back to Paris for me! <br><br>
When Pablo first saw me, I was sitting on the rim of the Wallace Fountain in Place Emile, face turned up to the sun like a basking cat, enjoying the fine day and wondering what adventure I might find…It was early summer. I had stolen a bunch of cherries at Les Halles and a roll, but my stomach rattled. <br><br>
<b>About the Author:</b> <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnbzKZ6rjT7-Xb7KxEpsd6b527QQ8nmGZTf5M8RcQpZ0DcMytHCQRq4OgomC09_LmCfnHzBFea6-J-Wp0bIVovEmaQiLWI10Ux2J3utCDOi4-rZZVlDZ7z9HbZDnEh2m9VmexRisDSJP0A4wmLCTd_ChgAeOLtDhyC9FF1S1RvD6w1Q2Lk8BHV1jKebfg/s2219/author%20image.jpg" style="clear: left; display: block; float: left; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2219" data-original-width="1791" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnbzKZ6rjT7-Xb7KxEpsd6b527QQ8nmGZTf5M8RcQpZ0DcMytHCQRq4OgomC09_LmCfnHzBFea6-J-Wp0bIVovEmaQiLWI10Ux2J3utCDOi4-rZZVlDZ7z9HbZDnEh2m9VmexRisDSJP0A4wmLCTd_ChgAeOLtDhyC9FF1S1RvD6w1Q2Lk8BHV1jKebfg/s320/author%20image.jpg" /></a></div>Jeanne Mackin is the author of several historical novels, including The Last Collection, which has been translated into five languages, and The Beautiful American, which won a CNY award for fiction. She has taught in the MFA Creative Writing program at Goddard College and won journalism awards, and is currently at work on her next novel.<br /><br />
Website: <a href="http://www.jeannemackin.com">http://www.jeannemackin.com</a><br />
Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/JeanneMackinAuthor">https://www.facebook.com/JeanneMackinAuthor</a><br />
Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/JeanneMackin1">http://www.twitter.com/JeanneMackin1</a><br />
Instagram: <a href="http://www.instagram.com/JeanneMackinAuthor">http://www.instagram.com/JeanneMackinAuthor</a><br /><br />
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Picassos-Lovers-Jeanne-Mackin-ebook/dp/B0C3C2J4FH/ref=sr_1_1<br /><br />
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-10152192543625457412024-03-08T00:30:00.011-05:002024-03-08T00:30:00.281-05:00Point of Beginning [The Gentlemen's Club 1] by Gale Stanley #GayRomance #MFRW<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCi9i1Q2R0FRcVESjF00r_BXpMaRJqCHMJ9fUfktt1ZsniagJ_mnD6cWDWtmenf7DzVVtJC9GcyQaaEw4ufsb2SAiQg9aWuRP2a792Tqvp2KQJynQ8bqCOgvXwgauZcSnijLm5rieh2L1yUvREK1GFZq-A34hgSrT62lYcpoGKjpOtA95SaRKfQONSC3t/s300/gs-tgc-pointofbeginning3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="200" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCi9i1Q2R0FRcVESjF00r_BXpMaRJqCHMJ9fUfktt1ZsniagJ_mnD6cWDWtmenf7DzVVtJC9GcyQaaEw4ufsb2SAiQg9aWuRP2a792Tqvp2KQJynQ8bqCOgvXwgauZcSnijLm5rieh2L1yUvREK1GFZq-A34hgSrT62lYcpoGKjpOtA95SaRKfQONSC3t/w262-h393/gs-tgc-pointofbeginning3.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Welcome to the March Steam Hop! If you’d like to heat up your
winter a bit, you’re in the right place. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The MFRW Steam blog hop is a monthly event that showcases
authors in the Marketing for Romance Writers community who write more explicit
stories.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Today I'm sharing a spicy excerpt from POINT OF BEGINNING. Enjoy! Then when you’re done with my steamy snippet, follow
the links at the end of this post to sample more spicy excerpts.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Blurb:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111; font-size: 14px;">Geeky CAD technician Jack Monroe is bi-curious, but after he falls head over heels for a certain curly-haired construction surveyor, he's ready to admit he's gay. Too bad Alex James is straight and has a girlfriend who keeps him on a short leash. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111; font-size: 14px;">Jack is determined to meet other gay men, but after a few dates from hell, he's ready to give up. Then he meets Richard Caldwell, part owner of the exclusive Gentlemen's Club where wealthy members can make their dreams come true. Richard takes Jack under his wing and offers him a chance to act out his fantasy with an Alex lookalike. Nobody can replace Alex, but knowing the real thing is off-limits, Jack accepts the offer. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #0f1111; font-size: 14px;">When the real deal shows up, Jack is convinced that Alex is only there for the money. But sometimes dreams do come true.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Buy Link: <b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Beginning-Gentlemens-Publishing-Allure-ManLove-ebook/dp/B00C2BWPKI">https://www.amazon.com/Beginning-Gentlemens-Publishing-Allure-ManLove-ebook/dp/B00C2BWPKI</a></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipc8eUu_jwvPIq2U9I31nwPA6QPJqMmoOJbu2RXBornSfrKrlOdPB1DtnxjeyRin7-eCxYPC7xpOxKo4Dm5YMaKBrcDV-_s_98-EbL-Ma6lC3nyjMns51syPyYa-QjDFls12_l28TlaQaDqJ5hCL92gvSwyN5eP-GURgparwn9444dT6QFWmOO6Tnl8Mbs/s600/POB%20Teaser%201%20(600%20x%20400).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipc8eUu_jwvPIq2U9I31nwPA6QPJqMmoOJbu2RXBornSfrKrlOdPB1DtnxjeyRin7-eCxYPC7xpOxKo4Dm5YMaKBrcDV-_s_98-EbL-Ma6lC3nyjMns51syPyYa-QjDFls12_l28TlaQaDqJ5hCL92gvSwyN5eP-GURgparwn9444dT6QFWmOO6Tnl8Mbs/w386-h257/POB%20Teaser%201%20(600%20x%20400).jpg" width="386" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Verdana",sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Excerpt:</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Jack suddenly felt shy undressing in front of another man. It was just easier if he didn’t have to watch Alex watching him.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“What are you thinking?” The voice behind Jack was low and husky.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">But before Jack could reply, hands reached around his waist and held him close, close enough that Jack could feel the warmth of a hard furry chest against his back. Jack swore he could feel the erratic thump of Alex’s heart, and the other man’s barely controlled passion scared the shit out of him. Jack hadn’t been this anxious in the bathroom at the Canopy Club. But that had been a stranger sucking him off. This was <i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Alex</i>!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Searching fingers released his zipper, and a warm palm slid inside the fly of his slacks. A hand fisted his cock and stroked, nudging the swollen head at every pass.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Jack groaned.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">The feeling of another guy’s big, calloused hand around his cock did crazy, wonderful things to Jack’s flesh. Knowing who belonged to that hand made it even better. Alex’s thumb rubbed circles over the leaking head. Then Alex lifted his thumb to Jack’s mouth and brushed a bit of pre-cum over his lips. It was a taste of what was coming, and it made Jack anxious for more. He gripped the waistband of his jeans, and Alex helped him shimmy out of them and his briefs.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“Turn around and look at me, Jackson.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Jack did as he was told, and Alex stepped back. Slowly and seductively, Alex’s gaze slid downward, stopping at Jack’s leaking prick before traveling back up. “Tell me you want me, Jackson.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Jack had never been good at expressing his feelings. Words didn’t come easy. “You know I do.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“I need to hear you say it. I need to know you want me and not some anonymous stripper. Because if it’s not like that, we can stop right now.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Pure desperation helped Jack force the words out. “I want you, Alex,” he heard himself say. “It’s always been you. I didn’t think I could have you.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“You make me so fucking hot,” Alex said hoarsely. He pulled Jackson into his arms. “I’m not sure I could stop if you wanted me to.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Alex grabbed the hair at Jack’s nape and kissed him hard, pushing his tongue deep into the man’s mouth. Jack returned the kiss, his mouth wide open, his body rubbing against Alex. Alex felt so fucking good. Jack melted against his warm body, making them both shudder. It was hot as hell.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Panting, Alex suddenly pulled back. “Want to suck you.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><i style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Oh, God.</span></span></i><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;"> Jack wanted that, too. But even more, he wanted Alex’s cock in his mouth. He wanted to know that he could bring pleasure to Alex. What Jack lacked in experience, he’d make up for with enthusiasm.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">He averted his eyes. “Alex?”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“What, baby?”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“Me, too.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“Tell me.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“I want to suck you, too,” Jack croaked helplessly.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“Fuck, yes.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Alex looked like the director of a porn movie as he lay on his back and told Jack where he wanted him. Jack would have laughed if he hadn’t been so hot and so embarrassed. He climbed on the bed, and facing Alex’s feet, he straddled his head. Alex stared up at Jack’s cock and licked his lips.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“Want to make you come so hard you see stars.” Alex growled. He gripped Jack’s thighs, urging him down.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Jack crawled over him until they were both in a mouth-to-genitals position. Jack slid his hands over Alex’s thighs. The coarse hair bristled under his palms. Alex’s penis stood straight up and wagged like a metronome in front of Jack’s face. He’d never been this up close and personal with another man’s cock. Fascinated, he compared it to his own. Maybe a little longer… Jack traced a finger over the bulging veins and heard a quick intake of breath behind him.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">The tip of Jack’s cock brushed against Alex’s lips, and Alex swirled his tongue around the head.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "Titillium Web", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16pt; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span face="inherit !important" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit;">“Oh, God,” Jack moaned as he did the same to Alex and was rewarded with appreciative grunts and groans.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Then Jack’s cock was bathed in wet heat as Alex licked his shaft from top to bottom. Determined to please his lover, Jack did the same for Alex. A few swipes of his tongue, and instinctively he wanted more. His mouth closed around the purple head, and Jack let it slide over his tongue. It seemed like such an intimate act, having another man’s dick in his mouth. Jack relaxed his jaw and slid his lips up and down the shaft, swiping the head with his tongue on every pass. God, he hoped Alex was enjoying this as much as he was.</span> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Happy Reading!</o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>Buy Link: <b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Beginning-Gentlemens-Publishing-Allure-ManLove-ebook/dp/B00C2BWPKI">https://www.amazon.com/Beginning-Gentlemens-Publishing-Allure-ManLove-ebook/dp/B00C2BWPKI</a></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><br /></b></p>
<!--start LinkyTools script--><script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=313550" type="text/javascript"></script><!--end LinkyTools script-->Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-64783982149804324032024-03-07T00:30:00.001-05:002024-03-07T00:30:00.149-05:00The Desk from Hoboken by ML Condike ~ A Genealogy Mystery Series<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024tours/ml-condike-the-desk-from-hoboken-virtual-book-tour"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/d7b7efe4d7a74274ad0c24a2e92dcdcd" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/9b6c7dbcecfd4167b1f826bf20b7db88" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="454" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/9b6c7dbcecfd4167b1f826bf20b7db88" width="284" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">A Genealogy Mystery Series</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Mystery</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 107%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Date Published: </span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">March 5, 2024</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher: </b>Harbor Lane Books, LLC.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/198809766-the-desk-from-hoboken"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In a bid to heal from the grief of a personal loss, forensic genealogist,
RaeJean Hunter, takes on a straightforward case —identify human
remains found on a nearby college campus, believed to be the 180-year-old
remains of Mary Rogers, a woman who died mysteriously in 1841 and was
believed to have been buried in the nearby cemetery that had washed away. It
should be simple enough, a project to get her back in the game.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Unfortunately, it quickly becomes anything but. In fact, it becomes
downright dangerous.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Someone doesn't want RaeJean to investigate the puzzling death of the woman
whose death inspired Edgar Allan Poe's "The Mystery of Marie
Roget." As she follows clues through four states and discovers living
family members who both help and hinder her search, she quickly realizes
that the secrets of Mary Rogers' demise were never meant to be
exposed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">What lengths will someone go to keep the truth buried in the past? As
threats escalate and RaeJean and her family's lives become endangered, she's
forced to follow every lead and use every skill she has to find the answers
she needs before it's too late. Using DNA from two famous New England
families, historical data, modern genealogical techniques, and a little
guidance from a seemingly mystical antique desk, RaeJean takes on the cold
case despite being given every reason to abandon it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">After all, what truths have been hidden for 180 years that would be worth
bribery, kidnapping, and even murder?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">RaeJean Hunter is about to find out.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/2697ec4a0d5d492fb938da83defcef8d" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/2697ec4a0d5d492fb938da83defcef8d" width="544" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/e9490766a95e483eb15c68cf624ed8c3" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/e9490766a95e483eb15c68cf624ed8c3" width="235" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">ML Condike has published short stories in anthologies that include Strange
& Sweet, (2019), Tall Tales and Timeless Stories, (2022), Malice in
Dallas, Metroplex Mysteries, Volume 1 (2022), and won first place in the
fifteenth annual Writer’s Digest Popular Fiction Awards, Mystery/Crime
category (2019), and 2nd Place in the Tennessee Williams Short Story
Contest, Key West Art & Historical Society (2022).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She’s an associate member of Mystery Writers of America Florida
Chapter, Sisters in Crime National, Sisters in Crime North Dallas
(Treasurer), Granbury Writers’ Bloc, and Key West Writers Guild.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">As the result of her study of genealogy for her debut novel The Desk from
Hoboken, she researched her own family and she discovered she had a direct
bloodline to a Patriot. So, most recently she has been inducted into the
Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR).</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://mlcondike.com">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/mlcondike">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/mlcondike/">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/mary-lou-condike-b16117187/">LinkedIn</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Follow the Publisher on Pinterest, Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> -
@harborlanebooks</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CHN8G37X/">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-desk-from-hoboken-ml-condike/1144049222">Barnes and Noble</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=Og7WEAAAQBAJ">Google Play</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-desk-from-hoboken">Kobo</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-desk-from-hoboken/id6465449961">iBooks</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1447629/">Smashwords</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://books2read.com/The-Desk-from-Hoboken">Books2Read</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="408264011848" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/408264011848/" id="rcwidget_f6pznzk6" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-75950690963104175742024-03-05T00:30:00.001-05:002024-03-05T00:30:00.139-05:00The Spinster, the Rebel & the Governor by Charlene Bell Dietz #Historical #Fiction<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLy1i2zlUty511MzMOoLB3tpJo_WeWXzyNhkY_qP0RQG0vTbK8AesViuPanfDITQGSWnswg6_kj7QGA1AXIFnDL8SeGkKjYaHX2O20wWSv00ak1WlYRfCNSwsquCeoVs6kViFdDSD7V_aOL0_Gv6DcG9AV0LeGmszKRRi2G07RES8iZby5dcRE_Mxxu28/s1200/TourBanner_The%20Spinster,%20the%20Rebel,%20the%20Governor.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="1200" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLy1i2zlUty511MzMOoLB3tpJo_WeWXzyNhkY_qP0RQG0vTbK8AesViuPanfDITQGSWnswg6_kj7QGA1AXIFnDL8SeGkKjYaHX2O20wWSv00ak1WlYRfCNSwsquCeoVs6kViFdDSD7V_aOL0_Gv6DcG9AV0LeGmszKRRi2G07RES8iZby5dcRE_Mxxu28/w436-h244/TourBanner_The%20Spinster,%20the%20Rebel,%20the%20Governor.gif" width="436" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">BLURB:</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;">Move over Susan B.
Anthony. There’s an unsung woman asking for the vote 224 years before you, and
murderous rebels and bigoted gentlemen can’t prevent spinster Lady Margaret
Brent from wielding her power to defend Maryland settlers from plunder and
obliteration.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;">Lady Margaret Brent,
compelled to right wrongs, risks her life by illegally educating English women,
placing her family at risk. She fights to have a voice, yet her father and
brothers exclude her from discussions. Worried the kings’ men may know of her illegal
activities, she flees to the New World where she can enjoy religious tolerance
and own land, believing she will be allowed a voice. Once in Maryland, she
presents cases in provincial court where she’s hired as the first American
woman attorney, but there she uncovers perilous actions, prompting her to build
a fort to shield those within from being murdered. Can Margaret Brent’s
integrity and ingenuity protect Maryland from being destroyed?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv5zleJw5Fe0AbPrT7QiEgQVWTLzJsz-6Pm3_0x3KDFK5R2MajZZ2yj84Q66PoIoo4YIrYVWVJVCjR4iDSwSRqmLStvloG5484pz-vY4Wn2vLA5u4jsO1od61sciq7xoiEccjEcO0KuR6P0vzC5UN3Ulg9PTeug8wtosy-4QSyT-dgSF1VH_G-4y50Lbcb/s2700/BookCover_SpinsterRebelGovernor2ndEd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv5zleJw5Fe0AbPrT7QiEgQVWTLzJsz-6Pm3_0x3KDFK5R2MajZZ2yj84Q66PoIoo4YIrYVWVJVCjR4iDSwSRqmLStvloG5484pz-vY4Wn2vLA5u4jsO1od61sciq7xoiEccjEcO0KuR6P0vzC5UN3Ulg9PTeug8wtosy-4QSyT-dgSF1VH_G-4y50Lbcb/s320/BookCover_SpinsterRebelGovernor2ndEd.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Excerpt
Three:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Their cousin Cecil, the second Lord Baltimore, addressed the
men. “I’ve spoken of colonization before. You’ve listened politely, but your
loyalties remain with your king and England. I understand, as do mine.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Then you’ve no need to speak more of this.” Edward said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“But I do.” Cecil narrowed his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Richard said, “You forgot something rather important, my
friend.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Cecil hesitated.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You must consider the king’s act that restrains the
popishly bred from going beyond the seas and the punishments for those who
assist.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Giles looked up from the map. “Popish—the hell. King Charles
can’t even bring himself to say Catholic.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Silly. Everyone but those of us who are says ‘popish.’”
Margaret now waited for her father to reprimand her, but he said nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“A serious point, my friend. Dangerous times, indeed,” said
Cecil. “King Charles’s wrath increases and will come down on those who refuse
to conform to the Church of England.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fulke shut his eyes a moment before saying, “You’re a kind
gentleman, sir. But if you pursue this, you will certainly lose everything you
and your father have acquired. Even your mentioning this to us puts you in
jeopardy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Every second of every day puts us all in jeopardy. Today
and the weeks forward, your family may suffer destruction beyond your
imagination.” He took several paces then stopped and studied each of the men.
“Please, friends, decide to take my offer. It takes time and special
negotiations to arrange a safe passage for you. Remember, a most disagreeable
mood has overtaken England concerning passengers who refuse to take the oath of
allegiance and acknowledge the king’s supremacy. We need to be clever so as not
to be entrapped.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A tap on the door stopped the conversation. Mary glanced at
her father, then rose, and opened it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pursell stood waiting to be acknowledged.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yes?” said Richard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Sir, supper will be served within the hour, and also
there’s a man at the back door. He’s asked to speak with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Cecil, good friend,
will you join us in a late supper?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“It’s past time for me to be on my way to Ilmington. Please
consider what we’ve discussed. I’ll send word where we may engage in a private
meeting.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Pursell,” Richard said, “have Dary see Lord Calvert’s
carriage and horse are brought forth.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Lord Calvert strode to the table. He placed with great care
what must have been his cherished map on top and slid the stack into a
burgundy, embossed leather folio. Gathering his cape and hat and in good cheer,
bowed his farewell. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Her father squinted at his servant. “Tell me, what brings
this fellow to our door at this hour?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“He says his name is John Coates, sir. It seems a young girl
saw Lady Margaret talking with his son earlier this afternoon. His son has gone
missing, and the sheriff has found a dead man.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK1ormawRmb6oXyiYdhbVtcR_dect-eLdS_WqpsJj9fcfoPktb16ueVEfqgCBgttW-FNs_zYcmo6jsH3ohhblgLEmzBoBm_lDYXdSxyQCAWB_jBEZElC2N2ZolTzyAewY_KEshK4Ops5qm3bOvDbTM6JyoHR-r3Zmrk7sx42FBXDMn0nJiuSANONJ_saLT/s2121/author%20image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2121" data-original-width="1740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK1ormawRmb6oXyiYdhbVtcR_dect-eLdS_WqpsJj9fcfoPktb16ueVEfqgCBgttW-FNs_zYcmo6jsH3ohhblgLEmzBoBm_lDYXdSxyQCAWB_jBEZElC2N2ZolTzyAewY_KEshK4Ops5qm3bOvDbTM6JyoHR-r3Zmrk7sx42FBXDMn0nJiuSANONJ_saLT/s320/author%20image.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">AUTHOR Bio and Links:</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">Charlene
Bell Dietz lives in the central mountains of New Mexico. She taught
kindergarten through high school, served as a school administrator, and an
adjunct instructor for the College of Santa Fe. After retirement she traveled
the United States providing instruction for school staff and administrators.
Her writing includes published articles, children’s stories, short stories, and
mystery and historical novels<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">Email:
chardietzpen@gmail.com<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">Website:
<a href="https://inkydancestudios.com/">https://inkydancestudios.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Char Bell Dietz @CharBellDietz<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">Purchase:
http://apbooks.net/srg.html</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: red;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: red;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: red;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">The
author will award a randomly chosen winner a $25 Amazon/BN gift card.<o:p></o:p></span></p><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;"></span><p></p>
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="28e4345f4821" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f4821/" id="rcwidget_zih3ubfv" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-22929511562545862892024-03-05T00:15:00.001-05:002024-03-05T00:15:00.141-05:00Lemon by Marteeka Karland #mc #suspense @changelingpress<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/marteeka-karland-lemon-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/5d4f0b8d57d34622ba37b0d7ccc78da7" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/80c283642b1c48a29a1f65307a30b608" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="444" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/80c283642b1c48a29a1f65307a30b608" width="292" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Grim Road MC, Book 2</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> March 8, 2024</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/207591482-lemon-grim-road-mc-2"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Lemon: I’m settling in at Grim Road in my role as vice president. The
men test me, but it’s all in good fun. I think I enjoy it as much as
they do. Then, out of nowhere, things go horribly sideways. I realize how
much weaker I am physically than everyone else in the club. That weakness
can be a horrible liability. Yeah. Things are going great. Until they
aren’t. I may have bitten off more than I can chew…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Rocket: My little sourpuss is a force to be reckoned with. She takes
everything dished out to her and gives it back in spades. She’s my VP,
but she’s also my old lady. Sometimes, I need to take care of her.
More importantly, she has to let me. That fact is never more apparent than
when a small team of roughnecks think she’s a woman from another club.
They soon find out the error of their ways, but at what cost to Lemon?
It’s time for the president of Grim Road MC to take charge. And
there’s gonna be hell to pay.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/50a64fc76fc148e4bfbcf3e80498352d" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="458" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/50a64fc76fc148e4bfbcf3e80498352d" width="458" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Excerpt</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Lemon</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I made it a whole month at Grim Road MC before Falcon threatened to cut off
my dick and feed it to me. I think he forgot I was a girl or something
because I’m as docile as they come. Yep. Passive even!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">OK. I’m lying. I liked busting Falcon’s balls just ‘cause
I could. The guys had made me vice president of Grim Road right after Rocket
brought me to the compound. Since then, we’ve all been working on our
trust issues. And by “we,” I mean the men of Grim. I got that
they all had secrets. I got that everyone had things they didn’t want
anyone else to know. Even then, you tell your family. Because it was your
family who would always have your back. Grim Road was family. Rocket’s
family. My family.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Except for Falcon. But he was a work in progress.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I swear to God, Rocket. If you don’t do something about that
little hellion, I may shoot her.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Now, Falcon. You know it’s not nice to threaten to shoot your
vice president.” I just loved taunting him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Next time Rocket calls church, I’m askin’ for your
fuckin’ patch.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I sighed, trying to fight back a smile before I ruined my indifference.
“Are you still sore about your bike? ‘Cause it was totally for a
good cause. Saved Rocket’s life.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You know what the fuck this is about, woman!” Falcon’s
hair was wild and sticking out all over the damned place. Looked like
he’d been trying to pull his hair out by the roots. Over and over. And
over.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I even had the thing fixed for you. Only took a couple weeks in the
body shop, and they assured me it would be good as new. Not a scratch to be
seen.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You had them paint it pink!” He had his arms out like he was
going to lunge and choke me to death the second he got the chance, but I
wasn’t worried. First, Falcon was all bark and no bite. At least he
was with me. Remember the family part? Second, he knew Rocket would feed him
to the sharks in very small pieces if he even looked at me cross-eyed.
“Not only did you crash my fuckin’ bike through a door<i>
intentionally</i>, you disrespected it even more by painting it <i>pink</i>!” He
practically roared the last word. And I was pretty sure there was spit
flying from his lips. Which was just gross. Fucker.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Tell you what. I’ll apologize to your bike. I’ll even
volunteer to ride beside you when you take her for a test
drive.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No way in fuck I’m ridin’ that abomination in public.
I’m surprised Knox let the fuckin’ thing in the compound at
all.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Knox chose that moment to enter the common room. “Knox didn’t
know what was gonna roll out of that Goddamned trailer or he <i>wouldn’t</i>
have let it in,” he commented.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I grinned, looking over my shoulder at Knox and popped my gum like a bimbo.
“Hey, Knox. Havin’ a good afternoon?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Was until that fuckin’ bike showed up.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Awesome! Now. Forget all that. It’s not
important.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not important? How the fuck is you having my bike painted pink not
fuckin’ important?” Yeah. Falcon was in a bit of a snit. But
fuck him. If he wanted to be the best patched member of Grim Road -- after
me, of course -- he needed to learn that there was a method to my madness.
And there was one very huge wrong in this place that needed to be righted. I
figured one month was long enough for everyone involved to start their
penance.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Because it was sacrificed for the greater good. This is one of those
times, Falcon.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“What the everlovin’ Christ are you talking about,
Lemon?” Falcon sounded equal parts pissed and resigned.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m talking about Gina.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">That got everyone’s attention. And quit the bitching.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“She good?” Falcon was immediately sober, all his anger at me
evaporating in the space of a word.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“She’s learning to be. In case you hadn’t noticed,
she’s been leaving her house more and more. Had supper in the common
room last night.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yeah. I noticed.” Falcon glanced at Leather, who ducked his
head, shaking it slightly as if he wanted to deny what had happened.
“A few of us made sure she had what she needed.” Falcon gave a
sigh. “I apologized, too. Took several tries before she finally opened
her door. Not that I blame her. She say why she ain’t left? Surely she
knows she can. Right?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“She knows,” Rocket leaned back on the couch where we sat. He
draped an arm over my shoulder, and I snuggled against him shamelessly. Not
only did it feel good to have his arm around me, but it reinforced my claim
to any club girls in the building. “This is her home now. I promised
to keep her safe, even from men inside my own club.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“So she trusts you,” Falcon nodded. “I guess that’s
something.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I snorted. “Nah. She don’t trust Rocket.” My man gave me
the side eye, but flashed a cocky grin too. Like he was proud of me. But,
honestly, what man with me wouldn’t be proud, right? “She trusts
me.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">When Falcon looked to Rocket to confirm, Rocket just smirked. “She
ain’t lyin’, my friend. Gina believes in Lemon. Believes Lemon
can keep her safe. Ain’t gonna lie and say I’m not disappointed
a woman under the club’s protection doesn’t fully trust me, but
I suppose that’s just one of many reasons I have Lemon in my
life.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Damned straight, baby.” I leaned in and brushed a kiss over
Rocket’s lower lip. “See me, love me, motherfuckers.” That
got a laugh from everyone, including Falcon.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Seems like you’ve got that situation under
control.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I totally do, Falcon. Which is why I had your Harley painted
pink.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Not… seeing how the two go together.” Poor Falcon. He
was really having a hard time. He seemed to have even forgotten he was
supposed to be pissed about the paint job on his bike. This was why I liked
keeping him off-balance. It was so much fucking fun to watch. I knew I
shouldn’t enjoy myself at Falcon’s expense. This was actually
serious stuff. But, honestly, I just couldn’t help myself.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Because, Gina happens to be fond of the color pink. In fact, she
told me that, if she knew how to ride a motorcycle, she’d save
everything she could to buy her a pink bike. Now, me personally?” I
shook my head. “Don’t see the appeal. However, if Gina likes it,
I think we all owe her way the fuck more than one stupid pink
motorcycle.” I pointed at Falcon. “You ever want to graduate to
officer’s training camp?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Officer… what?” Falcon jerked his head back like
I’d slapped him. Which, I mean, I won’t lie and say I
didn’t want to. Not because he deserved it, but because he thought he
deserved it. And I just plain thought beating up on Falcon was fucking fun.
But, not in this instance. Much.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well, yeah. You don’t think every officer in this club will be
around forever, do you? Or even want to stay an officer. There will be a
time when your services may be needed in that capacity, though why,
I’m not sure. You’re just as big a dumb fuck today as you were
the day I met you.” I looked him up and down like I was judging him
and finding him lacking. “Gonna take longer than I first thought with
this one,” I muttered.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Falcon took a threatening step toward me, but Rocket growled at him. The
younger man glanced from me to Rocket before slinking back that fucking
threatening step. I smirked.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“One of these days, Lemon,” he growled.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yep. One of these days I’ll hand you your balls, and
you’ll probably just stand there wondering what the fuck just
happened. You know. Like you’re doing right now.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Christ.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Pretty sure Christ had little to do with it,” Leather
muttered. “Satan? Yeah. Possibly.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I waved them both away. “Satan has a restraining order out on me. He
had nothing to do with it either.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Knox barked out a laugh before moving from the doorway. “Give it up,
guys. You’re never gonna get one over on that woman.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Whose bright idea was it to make her vice president anyway?”
Falcon was back to looking all surly again.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’d be me.” Bear, the second biggest man I’d
ever seen in my life moved into the room, crossing from the back to the
front in his even, confident gate. He didn’t pause but passed by
Falcon and smacked him on the back of the head before heading out the front
door to the parking lot.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ow, Bear! What the fuck?” Falcon looked ready to do murder,
but I wanted to laugh. God, I loved it here! There was so much glorious
mayhem! And, being vice president, I got to cause as much as I wanted and no
one said anything. Occasionally, Rocket would pull me back, but most of the
time, he let nature take its course.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Best get on your bike and go find Gina. Give her a few rides, make
her comfortable with everyone here and maybe Lemon will let you paint your
bike black again,” advised Bear.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Finally!” I threw up my hands in exasperation. “Someone
who understands.” I looked up at Rocket. “You should make him
your vice president. Oh, wait…” I grinned.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Falcon mumbled, but Leather actually nodded his head, his face relaxing a
little, and I knew he got it. “We should all take a turn, Falcon. I
know it’s your bike and all, but if she likes pink Harleys, then I
think we should all take her ridin’. Show her we’ll do anything
to earn her trust.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I tilted my head at Leather. “You just went up several notches in my
esteem. Maybe we can put you in charge of sensitivity training.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Lemon,” Rocket sighed. “They’re doing what you
wanted. Let them work it out.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“They don’t seem to be able to, though Leather got the right
idea. Kudos to you!” I grinned at Leather. “See if you can get
the other dumbasses who don’t want to admit they did anything wrong to
fall in line. You do, I’ll give you a cookie.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Surprisingly, Leather grinned. “Yes, madam vice president.” He
sketched me a two-finger salute and sauntered outside. Falcon gave a
dramatic sigh and followed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“He’s not a bad guy, you know.” Rocket leaned down to
murmur next to my ear.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yep. I know. I just like fuckin’ with him. Besides, Gina needs
this. And I think the guys do too.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“They do. I’m glad you recognize that. Of course, I’m
pretty sure none of them would have voted you in as VP if they hadn’t
known you’d have good instincts with us.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“How’m I doin’?” I gave him a cheeky grin.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double
life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated
housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes
pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited,
vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a
blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her
writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning
delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying
conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband
with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for
preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts
(which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with
Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her
website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you
with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph
events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/experiencethemagicmk">Author on Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> @changelingpress</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 107%;"><b><a href="https://books2read.com/u/bw9NG0">Pre-Order Today</a></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-51332454304686460762024-03-05T00:00:00.001-05:002024-03-05T00:00:00.130-05:00The Berman Murders by Doug Kari #TrueCrime<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/doug-kari-the-berman-murders-release-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/28ed485a9d6f42f999cf71d934f4c648" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/8764a1085bb04a7887ba89c406689347" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/8764a1085bb04a7887ba89c406689347" width="267" /></a>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Unraveling the Mojave Desert's Most Mysterious Unsolved Crime</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>True Crime</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">March 5th 2024</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher: </b>Rowman & Littlefield</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/190129902-the-berman-murders"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">At daybreak on January 6, 1986, a couple on a camping trip in the Mojave
Desert set out for a stroll and never returned. The local sheriff’s
office eventually discovered that Barry and Louise Berman had been murdered.
As years passed and the double homicide remained unsolved, the Berman case
spawned speculation and conjecture. Despite extensive investigation by local
and federal authorities, to date there’s never been an arrest made in
the case – let alone a conviction. But this doesn’t mean the
crime is unsolvable.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">After years of investigation, research, and interviews, Kari was able to
link the Berman murders to a Cambodian sex crimes and trafficking case
involving a former Marine. This is the first book to tell the full story of
the Berman murders and uncover the likely suspect.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 107%;">Author Contact Links</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/DougKariAuthor">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/Journada">Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/dougkari/">LinkedIn</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/dougkariauthor/">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Berman-Murders-Unraveling-Mysterious-Unsolved/dp/1538186381/">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-berman-murders-doug-kari/1143786995">Barnes and Noble</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-15905673839786764002024-03-02T00:30:00.001-05:002024-03-02T00:30:00.144-05:00OUT NOW—Not That Kind of Witch, A Brand-new M/F Steamy Contemporary Romance by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #contemporaryromance <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2j6EosWChqcspKirnYsUucJ_LO7cWkxVl1UyIHBaYQhNIwQACdp3uqYa5kDPni5X4G8k5RPdrbobh4HuhX1cW8Gexo2PoAdE0fdwPTF2TUAJ14JOer-RIcNI0DW8V_upbztT2hLdPDqYzgMsUznmvnxDd8ub6Xi-V5UNu-e79VQIbXAefuCRmR0Q1CSm4/s2700/NotThatKindofWitch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2j6EosWChqcspKirnYsUucJ_LO7cWkxVl1UyIHBaYQhNIwQACdp3uqYa5kDPni5X4G8k5RPdrbobh4HuhX1cW8Gexo2PoAdE0fdwPTF2TUAJ14JOer-RIcNI0DW8V_upbztT2hLdPDqYzgMsUznmvnxDd8ub6Xi-V5UNu-e79VQIbXAefuCRmR0Q1CSm4/s320/NotThatKindofWitch.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The latest release from Lucy Felthouse, <i>Not That
Kind of Witch </i>is a M/F steamy contemporary romance filled with fun and
steam, which also tackles some serious topics. So if you’re looking for a hefty
dollop of realism in your romance, then check this one out!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Blurb:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Can Willow let go of her
fears and begin living her life again, or will her issues get the better of
her?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Willow Green is having a
hard time of it. Losing her job at the beginning of the pandemic and her
elderly grandmother’s ‘clinically vulnerable’ status have resulted in her
becoming housebound. While her entrepreneurial, hard-working spirit and the
knowledge passed down through generations of green witches in her family mean
she has solved her employment problem, her fear of going out, of allowing the
dreaded virus into the house she shares with her grandmother, is far from
resolved. In fact, it seems worse than ever.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">That is, until Joe Lane
comes along. The handsome care worker turned delivery driver does Willow a
favour, gaining her attention and reluctant admiration. He’s got plenty of
baggage of his own, but he also has the skills and temperament to help her with
her problem—and he really seems to care.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The question is, will she
let him get close enough to try?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Available in eBook and
paperback formats: </span></b><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://books2read.com/ntkow"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">https://books2read.com/ntkow</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Add to BookBub:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/books/not-that-kind-of-witch-a-contemporary-steamy-romance-novel-by-lucy-felthouse"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">https://www.bookbub.com/books/not-that-kind-of-witch-a-contemporary-steamy-romance-novel-by-lucy-felthouse</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Add to Goodreads: </span></b><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/203844879-not-that-kind-of-witch"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/203844879-not-that-kind-of-witch</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSc0nkJ0WgEY2w0L7zQg2X9Hg0NwXMmT2wSg4wBiev_GHkRT4wyzzI75kKtRUJqWnbfVhpoAXDX4UioWwNp-nFkxeDA5XJKOaLioKcTdPOLnWHmHvOnCqPLK44odx_okRonVDYxEUENh6e8pF8vSoukz95K8MWRoEYOoJER4Ya_9RCsL63R6MzUgLYn4M/s1200/BookBrushImage11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1200" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSc0nkJ0WgEY2w0L7zQg2X9Hg0NwXMmT2wSg4wBiev_GHkRT4wyzzI75kKtRUJqWnbfVhpoAXDX4UioWwNp-nFkxeDA5XJKOaLioKcTdPOLnWHmHvOnCqPLK44odx_okRonVDYxEUENh6e8pF8vSoukz95K8MWRoEYOoJER4Ya_9RCsL63R6MzUgLYn4M/s320/BookBrushImage11.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Excerpt:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Willow Green had just
stepped into the kitchen from the back garden when there came an almighty
hammering on the front door. Panic and irritation flared in equal measure and
she dumped her loaded wicker basket on the huge farmhouse-style table before
hurrying through the house towards the source of the noise.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Another hammering. The
irritation started to outweigh the panic. Whoever was there was in danger of
waking the dead, never mind disturbing mostly-deaf Grandma Annie, whom Willow
had left happily knitting in the conservatory with a cup of tea on the table at
her side before she’d headed out to the garden.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Willow cast her gaze to
the ceiling and grunted with frustration. The whole <i>point </i>of installing
the smart doorbell and having it set to only<i> </i>sound an alert on her phone
had been to prevent Grandma being tempted to get out of her chair and make her
way to the door, putting her at risk of a trip or fall along the way, or
placing her in a vulnerable position with a complete stranger. The added bonus
being, Willow could be at the furthest reaches of the garden, and her phone
would cleverly let her know someone was at the front door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Had this person not seen
the sign? Smack dab in the middle of the door: <i>Please use doorbell. </i>With
an arrow pointing to it. Couldn’t they read?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Then she remembered. The
last time this happened, which had been a while ago, prior to getting the
doorbell camera in the first place, it had been kids at the door. Kids who,
once she’d opened up, backed off down the path and began flinging jibes and questions
at her from what they considered a safe distance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Hey, witch.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Been out flying on your
broomstick?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">What’s bubbling in your
cauldron?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">You gonna turn us into
toads?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Did your ancestors get
burned at the stake?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Where’s your black cat?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her heart sank. She
sighed and prepared herself for more of the same. It was unlikely, after all,
they’d have come up with something new or more original—despite the astonishing
wealth of information the human race had at its fingertips these days. Perhaps
they hadn’t bothered to look, to educate themselves, or simply thought it was
fun to torment a forty-year-old woman who’d never harm anything or anyone—not
even if it <i>was </i>possible to turn people into toads. Though, admittedly,
if she were a lesser woman, she’d be sorely tempted to throw out a few fake
incantations to scare them, make them think she’d cursed them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Maybe she should. Yes, it
was stooping to their level, but if it stopped them coming back…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">No. I’m not going there. </span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
briefly considered not answering the door at all. She could access the doorbell
speaker and tell them to clear off from the safety and comfort of her hallway,
but she didn’t want them to think she was weak, or frightened. That’d just
enhance the thrill for them, encourage them to harass her more often. <i>Not
happening. Not on my watch. I don’t have time for that kind of idiocy.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She shook her head,
unlocked the door and yanked it open, her annoyance already spilling forth.
Generally speaking, she was an incredibly placid person, and slow to anger. But
she didn’t want these kids to think this house was an easy target. She’d kept the
previous incident from Grandma, not wanting to worry her, and had hoped the
addition of the doorbell camera might deter them from returning. “Have you
horrible toerags seriously got nothing better to do? You should be ashamed of
yourselves, pestering people like this! I’ve a mind to contact your parents—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She stopped dead as the
door swung wide enough to provide a view of who was on the other side of it.
Not kids—horrible or otherwise—but a man. With a large cardboard box at his
feet, bearing a familiar logo. <i>Uh-oh.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A glance past him to the
gravel lane leading to her house confirmed her fears. A white Transit van sat
there.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; tab-stops: 248.1pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
cringed and forced her gaze back to the man. A navy-blue T-shirt bearing the
delivery company’s logo was stretched over his muscular biceps and chunky
abdomen—a dad bod, she supposed it’d be classed as, though she didn’t really
agree with the terminology—as well as a pair of tan shorts and some beat-up
looking trainers. He was tall, well over six feet, and she had to crane her
neck to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry. The last time someone hammered on my door
like that, it was a bunch of kids shouting abuse. I thought you were them. If
you’d just rung the doorbell, like the sign…”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The frown that appeared
on the man’s face as she spoke made her shift her attention to her right, a
sinking feeling taking over. Where there should have been a sign attached to
the centre of the door, were now only six evenly-spaced blobs of Blu-Tak.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Heat flared into her
cheeks, and she let out a groan and closed her eyes momentarily. “Well, there <i>was
</i>a sign. It’s obviously fallen off. I had no idea. Or I wouldn’t have… never
mind. I’m really sorry. And now I’m waffling.” She gave a pained smile, her
face threatening to burst into flames. “Anyway. You have a parcel for me?” Her
voice went so high at the end she was surprised she hadn’t summoned the
neighbourhood dogs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">To his credit, the man
simply shrugged. “No worries. I’ve been called worse. You’re…” he consulted the
screen of the smartphone in his hand, “Willow Green?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Given the circumstances,
she let the slight waver of amusement in his voice at her name slide. “Yes,”
she replied resignedly. “That’s me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Great. It’s a tracked
parcel, so I need to take a photo to prove I’ve delivered it…”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Okay. Go ahead.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He tapped his phone
screen a few times, then lifted the device and stepped back, presumably
ensuring he got the right angle so his image would contain both the parcel and
her feet inside the open doorway. Pressed the button. “Got it. Thanks. Do you
want me to bring it in for you? It’s pretty heavy.” He pocketed the phone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“No,” she said quickly,
recoiling as he approached and made to pick up the box. “I mean, no <i>thank
you. </i>I’m fine. I need to find the sign before I go indoors, anyway. Don’t
want to shout at any more undeserving delivery drivers, do I?” The chuckle she
let out sounded forced, even to her own ears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Guess not.” He backed
off and clasped his chin, then stroked his thick beard, more grey than
black—the colour of his thick, plentiful hair, which had only a dusting of grey
at the temples. He glanced at the doorbell and wrinkled his nose. “Should’ve
spotted that, really. Especially when no one answered after I knocked a few
times. The Blu-Tak should have provided a clue that maybe there was a sign
there, and I could have put two and two together. I’m sorry. Such an idiot.
Won’t make that mistake again though, will I?” Despite the weakness of his
smile, it transformed his face enough that Willow’s stomach flipped. <i>Goodness,
he’s handsome.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Available in eBook and
paperback formats: </span></b><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://books2read.com/ntkow"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">https://books2read.com/ntkow</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Add to BookBub:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/books/not-that-kind-of-witch-a-contemporary-steamy-romance-novel-by-lucy-felthouse"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">https://www.bookbub.com/books/not-that-kind-of-witch-a-contemporary-steamy-romance-novel-by-lucy-felthouse</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Add to Goodreads: </span></b><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/203844879-not-that-kind-of-witch"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/203844879-not-that-kind-of-witch</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">
<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQth2MN68MfhpcRuWBwMR7OaX0rSHXxibpYDGmTu8qU52ArfO-algkZEBXYu4kPpNCgb80hZYvFIXNn8xP351wXHdC4IAYCB6cDYkavtEZ-lqpZiF9j08za5z7h0rpU0wlAElGH8BDtWQiQIoMj9I6S4nrLnjNbvKOVTOQO3bysqrLzG3sUIjVJXZOQn4/s1080/BookBrushImage614.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQth2MN68MfhpcRuWBwMR7OaX0rSHXxibpYDGmTu8qU52ArfO-algkZEBXYu4kPpNCgb80hZYvFIXNn8xP351wXHdC4IAYCB6cDYkavtEZ-lqpZiF9j08za5z7h0rpU0wlAElGH8BDtWQiQIoMj9I6S4nrLnjNbvKOVTOQO3bysqrLzG3sUIjVJXZOQn4/s320/BookBrushImage614.png" width="320" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in;"><a name="_Hlk512591156"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Author
Bio:<o:p></o:p></span></b></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk512591156;"><a name="_Hlk511898234"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic
romance novels <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stately Pleasures </i>(named
in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never
Heard Of), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eyes Wide Open </i>(winner of
the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight,</i> <i>Curve
Appeal, </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Heiress’s Harem </i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">and </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Dreadnoughts </i>series<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. </i>Including
novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 175 publications to her name.
Find out more about her and her writing at </span></a></span><a href="http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/linktree"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk512591156;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk511898234;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/linktree</span></span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk512591156;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk511898234;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5KdxFBSsc-_dLqwm9mXT9Nugn3MheQ4XmeHpqpb-PdZPWPbIO5JrvVej_f_l1y_ogAj4RVpzQxnJZSQCkymrXyLjr2Vpo4gMFZmoakfpzfqJa8TlQayEGrAexywsbsxudjKt4-kNCIm2Ou0VMuSJsVh4Cz26lrzmciDIyt5a2nb1XpkRSUpgvh5WdIum/s940/WMS%20Release%20Blitz%20Button.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5KdxFBSsc-_dLqwm9mXT9Nugn3MheQ4XmeHpqpb-PdZPWPbIO5JrvVej_f_l1y_ogAj4RVpzQxnJZSQCkymrXyLjr2Vpo4gMFZmoakfpzfqJa8TlQayEGrAexywsbsxudjKt4-kNCIm2Ou0VMuSJsVh4Cz26lrzmciDIyt5a2nb1XpkRSUpgvh5WdIum/s320/WMS%20Release%20Blitz%20Button.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><o:p><br /></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: 8.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Release blitz organised by </span></b><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.writermarketing.co.uk/"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Writer
Marketing Services</span></b></a></span><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-6240921645378057782024-02-29T00:30:00.001-05:002024-02-29T00:30:00.131-05:00Brake Check by Gitte Tamar #horror #PsychologicalThriller<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/gitte-tamar-brake-check-book-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/eee8f85cd53f493b9a0303002b708a4a" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/0ad0e528c71f44d5be09158f251e561b" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="444" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/0ad0e528c71f44d5be09158f251e561b" width="278" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Horror, psychological thriller, dark fantasy, occult, fiction</b></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> February 18, 2024</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/201102819-brake-check"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>When winning turns deadly…</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It's 1972. On a scorching summer day in North Carolina, the sight of Rut,
the father of her child, cheating with the next-door neighbor, sends
pregnant Loretta into labor. Amidst the chaos, she promises that her baby
boy, Rich Richardson, will not follow in his father's footsteps as a loser,
but become something much greater - a professional race car driver. Loretta
leaves the hospital's entrance, filled with anticipation of a fresh start
and dreams of her baby's prosperous future. However, the fairytale life she
had sold herself quickly takes a dark turn, when she is left with no choice
but to go back home to the child's waiting father. Driven by a sense of
entitlement to fame and fortune, her impulsive decisions forever change her
and her son's fate.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Are you ready to face the horrors that await?</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Get your copy today and uncover the rollercoaster of frightening evil that
lurks beneath a young man’s life of fame.</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/6cda4979729f4f4999a218e02afb0349" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/6cda4979729f4f4999a218e02afb0349" width="250" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Brigitte, "Gitte," Tamar was born in a small rural Oregon town.
Growing up, she was enthralled by scary tales featuring poetic tones and
consistently gravitated towards writing darkened narratives. In the
different storylines, Brigitte explores the harsh realities of social issues
faced by today's generations. This includes the dark outcomes brought on by
peer pressure, addiction, homelessness, mental illness, childhood trauma,
and abuse. She feels it is essential to share narratives that refrain from
sugarcoating the topics society tends to shy away from.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.brigittetamar.com">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/brigittetamar">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/brigittetamar">Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/brigittetamar">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/gittetamar">TikTok</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/@gittetamar">YouTube</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22065458.Gitte_Tamar">Goodreads</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/gitte-tamar">Bookbub</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://bookbuzz.net/horror-brake-check-by-gitte-tamar/">BookBuzz</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/49rXryq">Amazon</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-5142239950241184822024-02-27T00:30:00.001-05:002024-02-27T00:30:00.235-05:00Cressida's Betrayal by Mikala Ash #Steampunk @ChangelingPress<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/mikala-ash-cressidas-betrayal-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/c984e126ece9499fa23cacae49533c4c" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dce338941acc4d20b466551ba8f726e8" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dce338941acc4d20b466551ba8f726e8" width="263" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">A Steam and Spells Steampunk Adventure</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Empire of the Sky, Book 2</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Steampunk Romance</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> March 1, 2024</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher: </b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Changeling Press LLC</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/206108615-cressida-s-betrayal-empire-of-the-sky-2"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Things are going well for Cressida. Egged on by Marjorie, the spirit who
has taken shelter in her mind, Jacob proposes marriage as they flee the moon
and its goblin king. However bigger things are at stake, and their mission
to save all of humanity is jeopardized by mistrust and magical chicanery.
Sexual energy flares as the danger to the empire overflows in an orgy of
lust and violence. Can Jacob and Cressida’s love survive?</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>EXCERPT</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Copyright ©2024 Mikala Ash</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>December 1865 -- Earthbound</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Making love in the absence of gravity is a pleasure experienced by few. In
this regard my beloved fiancé Jacob and I, and of course Marjorie,
made full use of the three-day journey from the moon. Whenever the mood to
clicket like a pair of foxes took us -- as it often did -- we’d strap
ourselves into our cocoon -- the Lunarians’ term for the soft woollen
bag designed to keep slumbering space travellers from drifting about -- and
had at it with unbridled enthusiasm.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We were not the only ones. The dozen or so “marionettes” -- as
Jacob termed the human bodies possessed by the spirits of goblins -- also
took every opportunity to experience the joy of sex. In their natural form,
the small leathery-winged creatures, which resembled the ugly statues of
gargoyles, were denied by their nervous systems the ability to derive
pleasure from copulation. For them, the act of coitus was simply a
procreational chore, and so the ecstasy of sexual intercourse that the human
body provided was to them as addictive as laudanum is to opium eaters.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Thus, the mid-section of the ship presented a scene straight from a
nightmare. Cocoons bolted to the metal wall jostled their neighbours as they
twisted and bucked like angry caterpillars. The contortions were accompanied
by a discordant symphony of grunts, groans, and ultimate cries of climactic
release.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I blush to recall that Jacob and I were no different. I was in seventh
heaven with his cock relentlessly sliding, piston-like, in and out of my
accommodating quim, causing my heart to gallop and my breathing to quicken
into ragged gasps. I wasn’t alone, of course. Marjorie was enjoying it
as well, albeit deep inside my head.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Oh, his cock is so very hard, </i>she bellowed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She didn’t have to tell me that. I could feel every inch of his rigid
shaft stretch my tight fleshly sheath. Having a ghost possess me had added a
new dimension to the constant monologue people conduct with themselves in
their heads. Marjorie knew my thoughts before I could even express them to
myself, and she had access to all my memories as well. The most amazing fact
of her residency in my mind was that she could “feel” everything
I did, from stubbing my toe to the ecstasy of sexual climax, and everything
in-between.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Marjorie could also massage my body from the inside, as it were,
stimulating my nipples and nub, and creating the sensations that Jacob would
make with lips, tongue, fingers, and cock. She was thoroughly enjoying her
demise, making liberal use of this ability, and wasn’t a passive
member of our unconventional ménage which united the living and the
dead.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>I’m not dead</i>, she would protest.<i> Just misplaced, and very grateful I
found you.</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Murdered while she was a virgin, Marjorie’s spirit had, for some
unknown reason, been irresistibly drawn to me, and had possessed my body to
alert Jacob and I that her corpse had been stolen from her grave.
Marjorie’s body was now possessed by a goblin who named herself
Esther. One of our goals once on Earth was to return Marjorie to her
rightful home. We were confident that I could perform the swap, as I had
successfully done the same for Jacob in the chamber of the dead on the
moon.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">That Esther was writhing in ecstasy in the cocoon next to us, being
ploughed enthusiastically by her so-called husband Warrick, both angered and
intrigued her. He’s fucking her now, she said bitterly. I wonder what
his cock feels like.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ugh!” I groaned, as much in disgust on her behalf as from the
jolt of Jacob’s thrust. A half dozen followed, and my rising
excitement was reflected in the increasing cadence of my whimpers and
moans.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Jacob paused, his body tensed, but not from imminent climax.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“What is it?” I asked.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Something’s changed. I’ll have a look.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Now that we were not wholly engaged in pleasure, I noticed that the
previously muffled grunts and groans were no longer stifled, but clear as a
bell. I lifted Jacob’s arm so I could see out of our woollen shell.
The agitated caterpillars, not content to remain in their cocoons, had
erupted like butterflies from their chrysalides. With no gravity to keep
them to the floor they twisted and tumbled through the air until the space
became a mass of undulating human flesh. Jacob and I remained inside our
woollen bag. The thought of intimacy with stolen bodies repelled us.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I shuddered at the memory of fucking the king of the Lunarians, Mon Ilson,
and his concubine Gloria, but that had been in the cause of buying time and
favour till our escape. I had only suffered the act by imagining I was
making love to Jacob and Marjorie.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My memory of that awkward situation was suddenly interrupted by our cocoon
being ripped open, and before I could react, Jacob and I were separated by
gentle but insistent hands. In an instant Esther was kissing Jacob full on
the mouth.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development
consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by
night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is
concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags
of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/mikala.ash.9">Author on Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/ash_mikala">Author on Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b> </b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/mdYqJZ"><b>Preorder Today</b></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-57209551111061668372024-02-26T00:30:00.001-05:002024-02-26T00:30:00.138-05:00HAPPY HARRY: A MAGICAL GOLDEN by Barbara Lampert #DogMemoir #Giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2024/02/book-blast-happy-harry-magical-golden.html" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YZign4csTM_OcW1EF7F2NmPMKqbdtBpcOtAQsWUbHDd0OSSjJd2qlsEZPuqBarPoL2wUxQBAYd1NqkHxYDyRQwm1thS-0CTOeq4e69ZJ2QKuawEcBKeVAIKKb_mwiATsfNf_f4gNOm_7lSWLT74_jOk2T4g8tREifBKpqv-Kh20amUoWQC87BRPhgLE/s400/TourBanner_Happy%20Harry%20.gif" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by <a href="http://www.goddessfish.com">Goddess Fish Promotions</a>. The author will award a $30 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.<br /><br />
<blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsI2ZVnRahhy8ThYshlcD1B1mDg0anMTLb-aShwh7YhwjEVUlxfs4il_C68WSZ_J8PfxhhdEcg4aq9kSSi0rZTF8FuM7kkeKveyy9jlJ12gobtmm53dQJOxrKbsyGJFGefZoR8oJTTM2Z3z8DhzVZdXaFGOZMWL4a54S_bCK-7x9T0bGLvtBl6kXDwJ0o/s3200/BookCover_Happy%20Harry.jpg" style="clear: left; display: block; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3200" data-original-width="2100" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsI2ZVnRahhy8ThYshlcD1B1mDg0anMTLb-aShwh7YhwjEVUlxfs4il_C68WSZ_J8PfxhhdEcg4aq9kSSi0rZTF8FuM7kkeKveyy9jlJ12gobtmm53dQJOxrKbsyGJFGefZoR8oJTTM2Z3z8DhzVZdXaFGOZMWL4a54S_bCK-7x9T0bGLvtBl6kXDwJ0o/s320/BookCover_Happy%20Harry.jpg" /></a></div>In her dog memoir Happy Harry: A Magical Golden, psychotherapist Barbara Lampert, a lifelong dog lover, tells the story of her beloved Golden Retriever, Harry. Like her first dog memoir, Harry's story comes from her mostly uncensored daily journal and takes place in Malibu, California. <br /><br />
Harry was a genuinely free spirit - wild, and very wolf-like. Did all this contribute to his being exceptionally happy? Perhaps.<br /><br />
Harry was not only the happiest being Barbara's ever known, happy to the very core of him, but also the bravest. More than once in his life, Harry had to face true adversity, and each time, Barbara would look at him in wonder, not fully understanding how a being could be so brave and at the same time continue to be so happy.<br /><br />
Harry literally pranced through life, with a joyous attitude that made being around him like magic. Barbara fell in love with Harry. And as you immerse yourself in Harry's story, it's likely you will too! Happy Harry is unforgettable!</blockquote><br /><br />
<b>Read an Excerpt</b><br /><br />
I call Harry my calendar dog. Exquisite face. That’s what drew me to him when he was nine weeks old. Sounds superficial, but I thought his face was extraordinary. And this sounds superficial too, but I’d hoped his face would stay as gorgeous when he grew up. Well, it has. But you know, no matter what he turned out to look like, I knew I would love him tremendously. What’s inside Harry is amazing!<br /><br />
Harry is the happiest dog I’ve ever known. Genuinely happy, from the core of him. Mostly with a ball game. Harry can’t wait for the moment when he can go out to play.<br /><br />
The first few years with Harry were insane. He was a maniac, wouldn’t listen. Particularly when he was out of the house on a walk or at the big field at the nearby school. We tried every kind of leash and harness. We enlisted a dog trainer. Nothing worked. But little by little, he’s getting better. Still pays scant attention when we’re out of the house, but at least I don’t have the feeling he would run away. Though he’s never off leash when we’re out. Never!<br /><br />
Those first years were so chaotic with him that I was resigning myself to the possibility he might be a sociopath, because he seemed to not care about rules, listening, or consequences. I needed to accept him as he was. But now, at six, Harry has become incredibly devoted and loyal. Our wild wolf has settled into his pack.<br /><br />
I’m at work right now and can’t wait to get home and see Harry. Give him lots of kisses, get his over-the top joyful greeting with a soft toy in his mouth. Seeing Harry brimming with enthusiasm makes me so happy! I love him so much!<br /><br />
Harry’s adapting… But more than that, he’s still so joyful. His abundance of happy energy is so wonderful to be around. He’s still putting stuffed toy rabbits and balls in his mouth, particularly when he’s really happy. Still comes to me with even more enthusiasm and his head held even higher than usual when I say, “Hey Harry.” I love saying that to him, and Harry seems to love hearing it. I only use the “Hey” with Harry. It’s special, just for him. Something I started saying to him a few years ago. To me, it’s a way of emphasizing how cool Harry is. Yes, Harry is really cool, in the true sense of the word. Unafraid, carefree. Still.<br /><br />
Dogs are such special beings. I swear a big reason they were put on this earth is to teach us how to be.<br /><br />
<b>About the Author:</b> <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_QSv3OltVyztjL8HCA7UW4rK3pL7NwP9ldZXrjvSFQY-X8SZjQO6toggjrz8ka4bdJY9Lu76kwyomkgZ6xZWQdD7Z-dRrCUgQlgkoPBa6OghPBiOIYJ4CHPlcldcz8Nc-BKef-SFAUJsqVrPYHkRbWN1QD2bECZXQS3BsyV51XDDd14tKoVadOduUe04/s1312/Author%20Image.jpg" style="clear: left; display: block; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1137" data-original-width="1312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_QSv3OltVyztjL8HCA7UW4rK3pL7NwP9ldZXrjvSFQY-X8SZjQO6toggjrz8ka4bdJY9Lu76kwyomkgZ6xZWQdD7Z-dRrCUgQlgkoPBa6OghPBiOIYJ4CHPlcldcz8Nc-BKef-SFAUJsqVrPYHkRbWN1QD2bECZXQS3BsyV51XDDd14tKoVadOduUe04/s320/Author%20Image.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>My passion is dogs! I’ve had dogs most of my life and hope to have at least one by my side always. Dog energy is the best! <br /><br />
I’m the author of two dog memoirs: Happy Harry: A Magical Golden and before that Charlie: A Love Story. Each about one of my Golden Retrievers. (I told you dogs are my passion!)<br /><br />
I’m a psychotherapist, licensed for over thirty years, specializing in relationships. <br /><br />
I was a flight attendant for nine years. And taught sociology at several universities. I have two master’s degrees and a doctorate.<br /><br />
Gardening is another love – not as much as dogs, but right up there! I see my garden as a work of art and garden as much as possible in my free time. I love being in nature.<br /><br />
I live in Malibu, California with my husband David and, you guessed it, our two wonderful Golden Retrievers, Oliver and Henry.<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.happyharryamagicalgolden.com/happy-harry-a-magical-golden">https://www.happyharryamagicalgolden.com/happy-harry-a-magical-golden</a><br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CMTXK538">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CMTXK538</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/barbara.lampert.50/">https://www.facebook.com/barbara.lampert.50/</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/barbaralampertauthor">https://www.facebook.com/barbaralampertauthor</a><br />
<a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@barbara.lampert5">https://www.tiktok.com/@barbara.lampert5</a><br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/barbaralampert1">https://www.instagram.com/barbaralampert1/</a><br />
<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/drbarbaralampert/">https://www.pinterest.com/drbarbaralampert/</a><br /><br />
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-75284186549765504752024-02-15T00:30:00.001-05:002024-02-15T00:30:00.137-05:00Release Blitz: False Haven by Rebecca Rook #YA #Horror<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/rebecca-rook-false-haven-release-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/f95e738fc32d4c4b888e06ce32b71b29" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/64b174257fe34f23b7d00b2c653c2ed4" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/64b174257fe34f23b7d00b2c653c2ed4" width="259" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Young Adult Horror</span></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 107%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Date Published: </span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">02-13-2024</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher:</b> Hellebore House</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/202341235-false-haven"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Seventeen-year-old Vivienne Barston’s life has fallen apart.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">With her mother recently dead, her father disappears into his grief –
leaving Viv to deal with her sadness and anger alone. Viv turns to
destructive behaviors like petty vandalism, but after a disturbing stint in
a juvenile detention center frightens her, Viv agrees to a court mandated
service opportunity designed to expunge her record. The deal: work for six
weeks with a trail conservation crew in the rural woods of southern Oregon,
and she’ll be free with a clean slate.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She knows it’s her last chance to fix her life.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">When Viv arrives at the small town of Hard Luck, Oregon, she meets her
motley crewmates, all with troubles of their own. The unusual group travels
to Grafton Stake, a remote and derelict former asylum with a haunted
history–and now Viv must face the ghosts of the past while fighting
for her future.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/79597fdbace1480284f0ac8faa6d5e56" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="289" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/79597fdbace1480284f0ac8faa6d5e56" width="289" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Rebecca Rook is a hard of hearing person who designs tabletop games,
manages a little free library dedicated to sequential art and comics, and
lives in the Pacific Northwest with two wonderful dogs. The author of The
Penance of Valentine Cash, she writes young adult fiction in the fantasy,
thriller, and horror genres.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.byrebeccarook.com/">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/45848659.Rebecca_Rook">Goodreads</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/byrebeccarook">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3SV3upm">Amazon</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-43479976978344989342024-02-14T00:30:00.001-05:002024-02-14T00:30:00.144-05:00Valentine's Day Book Blast #Giveaway @RabtBookTours<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024valentinesdayblast/home" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="407" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/c7e0f526f544461a816aa42f96886524" width="543" /></a></div><p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>WELCOME TO THE VALENTINE'S DAY BOOK BLAST!</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Click on any of the below book covers to be taken to the page that has more
information on the novel as well as the Buy Links!</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Before you leave, don't forget to enter the Giveaway!!!</span>
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-41005384631630853742024-02-13T00:30:00.001-05:002024-02-13T00:30:00.175-05:00Teaser Tuesday: Taken by the Satyr by Megan Slayer @changelingpress #Paranormal #Fiction<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/megan-slayer-taken-by-the-satyr-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/0acda8885ea0492f854161b249ba0af9" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/70663de596ae4caf99194ec037df692c" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="435" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/70663de596ae4caf99194ec037df692c" width="286" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">(Taken 5): A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novella</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Paranormal Women's Fiction / Urban Fantasy</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date to be Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> February 16, 2024</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher: </b>Changeling Press, LLC</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/205369342-taken-by-the-satyr-taken-5"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Preston, son of Hermes, has a secret. He’s been cursed to live as a
satyr -- a monster with a dubious job he hates. He knows love is not in his
future. Can’t be.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Then he meets Lulu -- the daughter of a witch and Elf. A woman unsure of
her place in the world. Luna has come back to Eerie to hide and heal, but a
chance meeting with sorcerers and being thrown together with Preston changes
everything. Love may be possible if only Luna can open her heart and change
Preston’s mind.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>EXCERPT</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Copyright ©2024 Megan Slayer</i></b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Back to the old homestead. Lulu snorted and pulled onto the dirt road
leading to the witch enclave. She wasn’t a witch herself. Hell, she
wasn’t even sure what she was -- the daughter of a witch and an elf.
Did that make her a Wilf? An Elch? She had magic, but she wasn’t good
with spells. She couldn’t bake for shit and refused to live in a
tree.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She drove the mucky path passing for a street to the house she’d
grown up in. When she’d left for college, she’d been so
wide-eyed and excited. So ready to embrace the world.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Then Tom happened. He’d consumed her life. He made her feel things.
Showed her there was more to life, but most of it wasn’t good. He
needed control.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, he did.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Being a sorcerer, he lived for control.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Every time she looked back on her last few years, she winced. She’d
been so naive. She’d let him do all the things he’d done because
she thought she loved him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He’d never loved her.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But that didn’t matter now. She’d broken free from his control,
and he’d moved on to his next victim.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She stopped in her parents’ driveway, but her thoughts clogged her
mind. She’d considered his next girlfriend a victim. God. What a piece
of work Tom was!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">That didn’t matter. She’d come home. She’d gone back to
what she knew so she could heal her heart.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She left the car and strode over to the barn. Poofs of colored smoke shot
from the chimney. Her mother must be creating.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She spied the plants in the field. Her father had finally got the crops out
on time. Good for him. A smile pulled at her lips. At least someone had
their life going in the right direction.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She’d figure hers out soon enough.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She diverted from the barn and made her way over to the field. She breathed
in the clean scent of the crops. Eerie was a hot mess at times, but it was
also the place for paranormals to be themselves. It was a safe place.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She’d thought she needed a place to run away to, but not when home
called. It wasn’t like she had a lost love back home. She’d
never had a boyfriend when she’d been in Eerie. She hadn’t been
enough of a paranormal -- not looking like an elf or witch. She’d been
too normal and teased for her appearance. Being different hadn’t
bothered her, though. She shook her head. She’d pulled herself up and
grown. She wasn’t the same girl who’d left town.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You made it.” Daff, her father, bounded up to her. “Got
a lot to move in?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m not moving in, Daddy.” She’d found an
apartment on March Avenue, above a bakery. Sue her for liking the
smells.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I didn’t think you would be, but I cleaned up the second floor
just in case.” He wiped his hands on a towel hanging from his pocket.
“What are you planning to do?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m living in the Towers. Fourth floor. I’ll get the
keys this evening. It’s furnished so I don’t have to move
anything but my clothes.” She’d worked out a deal with Marina,
her second cousin, to get the last furnished unit.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good. I’m glad.” Her father hesitated. “Are you
having a roommate?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are you sure? A witch alone?” Her father shook his head.
“We have room.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You do, but I need to do this on my own.” She hugged him.
“But I appreciate the concern. I’m only a call
away.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I know,” her father said. “Got a job yet?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“At Linc’s.” She wasn’t sure working at a bar was
smart, but it was a job.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“The bar?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“In the restaurant. I head there next.” She stepped back.
“Just wanted to see you and Mom. I can use all the anchors I can
get.” She needed them.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re always welcome here.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I know. Is Mom around?” She hadn’t seen her and her
mother tended to be the center of attention.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“She’s mixing spells with Grinella.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She should’ve guessed. “She spends a lot of time there with
her.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“She does.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Sadness tinged his voice and she hesitated. “To the exclusion of
you?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“A bit.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Daddy.” She wasn’t sure what to do to help him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“She needs to find herself, so I’m letting her.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“But you’re unhappy.” She would be, too.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I am, but I’ll be here for her.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“What do you want? For you? Not for Mom?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He stared at her. “I never thought about it.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I know.” She sat beside him on the fence. “What do you
want?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“To farm. To have my animals and work the land. To feel the earth in
my hands. To be loved,” he said. “All those things.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Then that’s what you should do. All of those things. Have you
told Mom you don’t feel loved?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“She’s never home and when she is, she’s drifting.
It’s like I can’t reach her.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You need to try and tell her.” She hugged him. “I
didn’t tell Reuben how I felt and it made life miserable. It
would’ve changed so much and might have kept me from dating
Tom.” Might have made her life better.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I will.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You need to.” She sighed. “I’ll check on you, but
I need to get to work.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Go ahead. I’ll be okay.” He nodded. “It’ll
always be okay.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re sure?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I am.” He offered a sad smile. “Go. Get your life
going.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I will.” She hesitated before heading to her car. She wanted
to be there for her dad. To help him have the best. For both him and her
mother. She loved them and they did love each other, but they weren’t
good at communicating. Right now, they seemed pulled apart. Sort of like her
situation with Reuben. He’d felt abandoned and used that feeling to
walk away. He claimed he had to find his happiness. He hadn’t cared
that she was confused by her own feelings and overwhelmed. He didn’t
care that she wasn’t sure how to deal with stress, but he wanted what
he wanted when he wanted it, and if someone argued, they were wrong. Not
him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She’d been wrong often. But she hadn’t told him how she’d
felt.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She slid behind the wheel, then left the farm. Dust swirled in her wake.
Gravel crunched under her tires. A sense of freedom washed over her. She was
her own woman. No Tom or Reuben to stand in her way. A single lady. And it
was time she found her own happy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Not at a bar, but that was a job. She drove across Eerie, passing the
woods, the lake with light sparkling on the water and so peaceful.
She’d never been much of a nature lover, but she appreciated the
solitude and ability to get lost in the woods to center herself.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She continued to the east end of town. Most residents hated the east end
because of the rough crowd that tended to frequent the area. The bars and
dance halls were there. So was the bail bondsman’s office.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She parked in the lot behind the bar in the staff area. The hotel stood
behind the bar and seemed to groan in the late afternoon sun. She
didn’t know many of the vehicles, but she hadn’t worked there
yet. She hadn’t met the gang. Being hired the day before made knowing
people difficult. She left her car and locked it, then ventured into the
building.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hi.” A blond man with a dirty T-shirt stood by the kitchen
sink. “First day?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“It is.” She recognized the man. The satyr. She thought his
name was Stav. Or something like that. “You’re here
today?” She’d been warned against him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Always.” He grinned and dried his hands. “My brother
owns the bar. I’m sure Lance hired you.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“He did.” The easy conversation reassured her. “He
mentioned his baby brother.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good or bad?” A wicked glimmer filled his eyes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“A little bit of both.”</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author
of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing
since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary
and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her
works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her
characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s
been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best
Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the
bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as
well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but
football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends
of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Author Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/wendizwaduk.meganslayer/">Author on Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/MeganSlayer">Author on Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/wendizwaduk/">Author on Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher on Facebook, Twitter & Instagram: @changelingpress</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/3JLDAe "><b>Pre-Order Today</b></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-67398684212124980292024-02-10T00:30:00.001-05:002024-02-10T00:30:00.136-05:00Everybody Loves Polar Bears by LoLo Paige #romance #giveaway<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/lolo-paige-everybody-loves-polar-bears-book-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/043848e0e7c94384a019798eb4e44c0c" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/eba0d74ea9a14dc49e0603e1412a6fcc" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="433" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/eba0d74ea9a14dc49e0603e1412a6fcc" width="272" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Book 1 of the Polar Paired Series</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Romance Enemies to Lovers</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> December 19, 2023</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher:</b> Avoca Press</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/204130149-everybody-loves-polar-bears"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Expect the unexpected when it comes to love under the Aurora skies.</i></b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>In the frosty mayhem of the Alaskan film set for Everybody Loves Polar
Bears</b>, accident-prone Macy Applegate catapults herself into a hilarious
array of mishaps better suited for a blooper reel. As Macy dreams of
stardom, she reluctantly works with Nick Westwood, the grumpiest and most
arrogant assistant director this side of the Arctic Circle—a man who
irritates her more than a stuck zipper in a sub-zero wind chill.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Beneath Nick's stoic exterior lies a mysterious secret</b>, and the only thing
more challenging than Alaska's winter is these two trying to get along for
longer than a commercial break. Macy is a walking disaster in matters of the
heart, and Nick is fed up with shallow relationships. But fate has a
penchant for mischief when Nick transforms from Macy’s nemesis to her
off-screen hero, chipping away at the permafrost around her heart. Should
she give this guy a chance or continue wishing on the magical aurora
borealis for perfect love?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>In this hilarious romantic comedy, where polar bears play supporting roles
and love takes center stage</b>, Macy and Nick navigate a situation as
unpredictable as Macy's on-set blunders. If you swooned through The Proposal
and chuckled at The Hating Game…and if you have a soft spot for polar
bears…get ready for laughter in this heartwarming tale of unexpected
love!</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Enemies to lovers</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Celebrity romance</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Grumpy sunshine</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Strong woman, alpha male</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Forced proximity</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Polar bear love</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Snowbound Alaskan cabin</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Northern lights</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>Polar plunges</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/9baf1417f51b4305b136e82b7aeb9db0" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/9baf1417f51b4305b136e82b7aeb9db0" width="235" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">LoLo Paige is an award-winning author in both romantic comedy and romantic
suspense. She’s been honored with several awards, including an RWA
chapter award for her romantic comedy, Hello Spain, Goodbye Heart. Irish
Thunder and Everybody Loves Polar Bears are her recent rom-coms published in
2024. Her romantic suspense books have topped Amazon bestseller lists in the
U.S., Canada, and Australia, and Publishers Weekly has featured her books in
their Booklife section. Her second book, Alaska Inferno, was a finalist for
best indie romance in the 2022 Kindle Book Review Awards.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.lolopaige.com">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/LoLoPaigewildlandfire">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/LoloPaigeAuthor">Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/204130149-everybody-loves-polar-bears">Goodreads</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/simenson64/">Pinterest</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/lolopaige/">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/lolo-paige">Bookbub</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">TIKTOK @lolopaigeauthor</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3SpCH2L">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/everybody-loves-polar-bears-lolo-paige/1144515470?ean=2940179311850">Barnes and Noble</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/everybody-loves-polar-bears">Kobo</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1496794">Smashwords</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://books.apple.com/us/book/everybody-loves-polar-bears/id6474687742">iBooks</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="408264011838" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/408264011838/" id="rcwidget_1on8hb8z" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a> <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-70787852256524927262024-02-08T00:30:00.002-05:002024-02-08T00:30:00.247-05:00The Legend of Rachel Petersen by J.T. Baroni #Supernatural #Fiction<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024tours/james-baroni-the-legend-of-rachel-petersen-virtual-book-tour"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/85a15e380b5744c4993f68e84b7d9793" width="500" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/05def34cdfe24470b2fe00975841d487" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/05def34cdfe24470b2fe00975841d487" width="249" /></a>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Supernatural</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Date Published:</b> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">06-10-2023</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Publisher:</b> Sky Publishing</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/182112912-the-legend-of-rachel-petersen"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Outraged when The Post Gazette overlooks him for a promotion, 43-year-old
Sportswriter Christian Kane quits the Paper and moves to the country to
write fiction. Inspiration flows from a grave he stumbles upon in the woods.
He pens The Legend of Rachel Petersen, a fascinating story revolving around
the dead twelve-year-old girl who was laid to rest beneath the weathered
tombstone in 1863. His book climbs the Best Seller lists; then Hollywood
adapts it into a blockbuster movie. Kane becomes rich and famous; but then!
Does an enraged Rachel become more than a figment of the writer’s
imagination and rise from her grave, seeking revenge on him for slandering
her name?</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/04efcb828d58407c80b97f898ced5d26" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/04efcb828d58407c80b97f898ced5d26" width="542" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/096058627b984cac9aedf0178c582ef1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/096058627b984cac9aedf0178c582ef1" width="269" /></a>
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 115%;">(J.T. Baroni, pictured with the tombstone that inspired the story)</span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Living in Western Pennsylvania all my life, I’ve been an avid
Whitetail hunter since old enough to tote a rifle, which is also about as
long as I’ve had a fondness for word games and literature.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">While hunting one year, I actually did stumble upon a weathered tombstone
in the middle of the woods.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">While waiting patiently for that big buck to cross my path, I had plenty of
time to ponder the dead girl's fate, which I was then driven to write.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Eerily enough, this is the premise of The Legend of Rachel Petersen, my
first novel published in 2012, which I recently revised.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">A newly retired transformer repairman, I refer to Johnstown, Pennsylvania,
a small town outside of Pittsburgh, as home.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">My wife Becky and I share our abode with two retrievers - Piper, and
Remmy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/cc9322100340451587310070e437f65c" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/cc9322100340451587310070e437f65c" width="279" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/thelegendofrachelpetersenbook">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/182112912-the-legend-of-rachel-petersen">Goodreads</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Purchase Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Legend-Rachel-Petersen-Revised-ebook/dp/B0C7YBD9JR">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-legend-of-rachel-petersen-jt-baroni/1107747868">Barnes and Noble</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-legend-of-rachel-petersen-revised-edition">Kobo</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1406264?ref=">Smashwords</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/mVeZdM">Books2Read</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Audiobook available at Apple Books</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-81667528953196213312024-02-06T01:00:00.001-05:002024-02-06T01:00:00.131-05:00I SURVIVED by Celisha J #Memoir #Giveaway<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityNpRWoy9x9m8OFMlVcD0fjuEKe9JuYCyKR3Dz_4uIbiuZtQh7Y851GEgTrF9mpP706RjoQxP0OBNV_CcjzMS0nnMkoYTiURGmOSrjDAKHN_LO6Wb_0YQC6mJ98phGn0M9_ggiLPU715zAfoeXjPT3VcNwJ1Utf8sNUvcvmfQuO1FKkyochba_f9aOgZb/s1200/TourBanner_I%20survived.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="1200" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityNpRWoy9x9m8OFMlVcD0fjuEKe9JuYCyKR3Dz_4uIbiuZtQh7Y851GEgTrF9mpP706RjoQxP0OBNV_CcjzMS0nnMkoYTiURGmOSrjDAKHN_LO6Wb_0YQC6mJ98phGn0M9_ggiLPU715zAfoeXjPT3VcNwJ1Utf8sNUvcvmfQuO1FKkyochba_f9aOgZb/w472-h264/TourBanner_I%20survived.gif" width="472" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">BLURB:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;">In
“I Survived” the author’s journey through a life marked by hardship, pain and
resilience. From the devastating loss of a mother at a young age to abusive
relationships and a harrowing escape, this gripping memoir unveils the story of
survival, redemption, and the enduring strength of the human spirit. With
unwavering determination, the author overcomes the shadows of her past to forge
a path toward self-discovery, healing, and hope.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I
Survived is an inspiring testament to the power of resilience and the
unwavering belief that no matter the obstacles, one can triumph over adversity
and ultimately thrive.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCraawJ7TTz_DobAfZroKEv8Mj6UBpiMwli6t1aJ72sZEI-6fU31-ViesbmAcVNiyhE2LhXzKgnerIWl70xlpcwA9pR9stogAsaT-6RCHXHv2HARoqdSg-ns6aQIlezcKvUj666oZXQOse9BOYfB5oRWtAr8WU8uZsnBHdOwp95Rw9MgiUP7I-nf-jKZj/s1500/BookCover_I%20Survived.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="971" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCraawJ7TTz_DobAfZroKEv8Mj6UBpiMwli6t1aJ72sZEI-6fU31-ViesbmAcVNiyhE2LhXzKgnerIWl70xlpcwA9pR9stogAsaT-6RCHXHv2HARoqdSg-ns6aQIlezcKvUj666oZXQOse9BOYfB5oRWtAr8WU8uZsnBHdOwp95Rw9MgiUP7I-nf-jKZj/s320/BookCover_I%20Survived.jpg" width="207" /></a></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><br /></span></b><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Excerpt
Three:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We always thought my grandma was crazy because of how she
treated us. For example, I remember a time my grandma whipped me. She had the
switch in one hand and a gun in the other (no lie). It was a revolver. I know
this because I had seen it before in her small travel case. She told me if I
moved, she was going to shoot me. Judging from our history, I wasn’t going to
test her. She was whipping my butt, and I was screaming for my little brother
and sister to help me, call the police, and do something, but they wouldn’t
move. They were crying on the front porch like they were the one it was
happening to, but little did I know that my grandmother told them they would be
next if they move off the porch. We all were scared. I think what hurt me more
was not the whipping itself (yeah, the hits hurt) but her calling people
bragging about what she did, and telling people that if I had moved, she was
really going to shoot me—the nerve of her.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> </span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCenYiNNVRHuB7G2jeHrhxWibz7VG9usglZLgiBSYopSUTzJKmzTqCK8VfwzF1e_zBxTShegBj_CipscfnPanHZ9MO1aKw0yC09Ci_b8nIgsK7aiCi9QkjS6i9HFgiTvmsi1-VNHuUBrTy1yuMxEGJ0RiXd6FLwnRAsmPxr4Ot12T_KWpKOEjMIqMIu-k/s1200/author%20image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCenYiNNVRHuB7G2jeHrhxWibz7VG9usglZLgiBSYopSUTzJKmzTqCK8VfwzF1e_zBxTShegBj_CipscfnPanHZ9MO1aKw0yC09Ci_b8nIgsK7aiCi9QkjS6i9HFgiTvmsi1-VNHuUBrTy1yuMxEGJ0RiXd6FLwnRAsmPxr4Ot12T_KWpKOEjMIqMIu-k/s320/author%20image.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></b></div><b style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /> </span></b><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> </span></b><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif">AUTHOR Bio and Links:</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> </span>Born in Michigan now living in Atlanta Celisha J. is an Actress
and Author all in one, landing a role in a movie and a lead role on a TV
Series.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> </span>She currently has a book entitled “I Survived”. It is a chilling
story about her life from losing her mom at an early age and all the things
that she has endured in her life, that should have broken her but she uses her
pain as motivation to continue on her journey to following her dreams of being
an actress, author and motivational speaker. She is currently pursuing more
roles in acting.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Website: <a href="http://www.Celishaj.com">http://www.Celishaj.com</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">Instagram: <a href="http://www.instagram.com/Celishaj_">http://www.instagram.com/Celishaj_</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Celishajtheactress">https://www.facebook.com/Celishajtheactress</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">Amazon Author Page: <a href="http://amazon.com/author/celishaj " target="_blank">http://amazon.com/author/celishaj <o:p></o:p></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Available on Kindle Unlimited: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/I-SURVIVED-Celisha-J-ebook/dp/B0CL9K719D">https://www.amazon.com/I-SURVIVED-Celisha-J-ebook/dp/B0CL9K719D</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> </span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a name="_GoBack"></a><br /></p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Qzi7NXoPXbs?si=CkY2RcoNW7I63sRZ" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>
<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif">GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">One
randomly drawn winner will win a $25 Amazon/BN gift card.</span></p><br /></div>
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Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-72512887202826249492024-02-06T00:30:00.001-05:002024-02-06T00:30:00.342-05:00ROCKET by Marteeka Karland #MCromance @changelingpress<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/marteeka-karland-rocket-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/b0ab3b57e7684432a688c72bd0db4631" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/988d44cfa6904bea8da01b4b3e427afc" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/988d44cfa6904bea8da01b4b3e427afc" width="263" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Grim Road MC, Book 1</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Motorcycle Club Romance</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Date to be Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> 2/9/24</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Publisher:</b> Changeling Press</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/205043700-rocket-grim-road-mc-1"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Rocket: My life pretty much took a hard left a year ago when I first met
Lemon. She’s wise beyond her years and as abrasive and sarcastic as
they come. The second she busts my VP’s balls -- literally -- I know
I’d never be able to forget her. A year later I’m still
infatuated with the vicious woman. When she runs off to charge hell with a
water pistol, I’m right behind her wondering how we’re gonna get
out of this one alive. But I have a smile on my face and a determination to
give this woman anything she wants. Even if it means some things in my club
are going to have to change.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Lemon: Look. This is supposed to be all about how Rocket caught my eye and
I decided I wanted him but there were obstacles and…
phfffffff… Forget all that. What you need to know is when people are
stupid, they need a kick in the… Crap. I’m not supposed to
swear here. Grrrrr! Anyway, this is where I come in. Grim Road needs fixing.
I’m not exactly qualified to do club… garbage, but Rocket?
Yeah. I might have decided I’ll keep him, so… I’m great
at whipping people into shape. Grim Road, meet Lemon. See me, love me,
MF’ers.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Rocket: Just pass me the beer and popcorn…</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>WARNING: Rocket includes scenes of graphic violence and adult situations
including that may be triggers for some readers. There’s also a
protective hero, a determined heroine, and eventual happy ending. No
cheating, as always.</i></b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/e1e9925d787047aba400c20b341e6dc0" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/e1e9925d787047aba400c20b341e6dc0" width="474" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Excerpt</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Copyright Marteeka Karland</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I looked around, making sure I had a handle on our surroundings. If things
went south, our best bet was to get back in the truck and do our best to get
the hell outta Dodge. I had no idea if the thing was bulletproof -- knowing
the Iron Tzars, there was every possibility it was -- but we’d have to
keep our heads down and book it as hard as we could. If I ran over someone
in the process? Fuck ‘em.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Get that look off your face, girl.” Rocket stepped closer to
us, his gaze focused squarely on me. “We ain’t gonna pounce on
you. You’re here to let Scarlet get anything she wants that she left
behind, and to talk to Sunshine and Rainbow.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“We’re here to take Sunshine and Rainbow with us,” I
snapped before anyone could say anything else. “Not leavin’
‘em here.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“You will if they don’t want to go.” Rocket didn’t
raise his voice or even look angry. His features were mild. Reasonable
even.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Scarlet’s their guardian now. They’ll go where she
says.” I stuck my chin up. I thought I heard Mars groan, but I
didn’t dare take my gaze from Rocket to make sure.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“They’re old enough to make up their minds what they want to
do. If they don’t want to leave Grim Road, I’ll look after
them.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Not on your fuckin’ life.” I bared my teeth at Rocket
who looked amused. Which just pissed me the fuck off. “How ‘bout
I wipe that smug grin off your fuckin’ face.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">That got a couple chuckles from the members of Grim Road nearby.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“That one’s askin’ for a whoopin’, Prez. You gonna
teach her some manners?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yep.” Rocket crossed his muscled arms over his massive chest.
He wore jeans and a leather cut without a shirt under it so he showed off a
lot of muscle and tattooed skin. “Just not now. She ain’t old
enough.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Like fuck you are.” I took a step toward Rocket, fully
intending to give him more of what I’d given him last night but Mars
held out his arm to prevent me from going around him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Just calm down, Lemon. He’s baiting you.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Lemon?” Bear barked out a laugh. “Her name’s
Lemon.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“You got a problem with that, fuckwit?” I ignored Mars. I knew
they were baiting me. Of all of Scarlet’s protectors, I was the weak
link and they were testing my boundaries and how far they could push
me.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“I got a problem with your mouth. Maybe there’s somethin’
else you could do with it.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Bear,” Rocket growled, his facial expression changing like
someone had flipped a switch. “She’s underage.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yeah?” I plowed on, ignoring Rocket. “Try it. See what
body part you lose, you freak.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Bear leaned forward in my direction but didn’t actually commit to
taking the full step. Then he pointed at me. “Your day’s comin,
lil’ bit.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I sneered, looking the big man up and down like a princess eyeing a filthy
peasant who’d been mucking out the pig barn. “Not from
you.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Can we please get a move on?” Brick actually raised his voice.
That was new. Usually, he just growled or snarled and everyone jumped to do
his bidding. Well, everyone except Serelda. He never used his growly voice
with her.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sure. Soon as the Neanderthal gets the fuck outta the way.” I
gave Bear a cheerful wave.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Glad that one’s leavin’,” he muttered as he
stepped back. “Someone needs to teach her some manners.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“I only use manners with people who earn that respect from
me.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Which is to say no one.” I thought that was Smoke, but the man
didn’t know me that well. OK, so maybe he did. ‘Cause yeah.
Manners were for pussies.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">International bestselling author Marteeka Karland leads a double life as an
erotic romance writer by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day.
Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in
spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable
heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful
ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are
speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight
entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that
elicit a sigh from her readers.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband
with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for
preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts
(which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with
Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her
website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you
with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph
events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/experiencethemagicmk">Author on Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://books2read.com/RocketFB "><b>Pre-Order Today</b></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-57539583008298958222024-02-04T17:26:00.003-05:002024-02-04T17:26:22.752-05:00Mr. Penny-Farthing by Eric Avedissian #supernatural #romance<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024tours/eric-avedissian-mr-penny-farthing-virtual-book-tour"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/9b3d567010bb461e9e14b21535c84606" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/00d4bfab3e104d57be924e64831db420" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="447" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/00d4bfab3e104d57be924e64831db420" width="298" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Martyr's Vow Series, Book 2</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Horror/Supernatural/Romance</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> 12-15-2023</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Publisher: </b>Shadow Spark Publishing</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/202109321-mr-penny-farthing"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">All Armand wants is to share his life with his girlfriend Vonnie. But money
is tight, their relationship is fizzling, and not even a monster-hunting
side gig is paying off.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">When a mysterious drifter named Mr. Penny-Farthing blows into town on his
antique high-wheeler, Armand thinks his troubles are over. Penny-Farthing
offers Armand and Vonnie enough money to cover their expenses with one
condition: they must find and return the soul of a serial killer who escaped
Hell.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Completing Penny-Farthing’s contract won’t be easy when demons
appear all over the city and bodies start piling up. Overwhelmed and pushed
to the brink, Armand realizes his greatest fear isn’t demons or
shadowy murderers: it’s losing Vonnie forever. Can Armand stop a
killer and keep the woman he loves, or will Hell take everything from
him?</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>Nail-biting and visceral, Mr. Penny-Farthing is a high-octane horror story
about escaping your comfort zone while fighting for love.</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/efd4ec58b20449e8bb96e741237fe3d9" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/efd4ec58b20449e8bb96e741237fe3d9" width="518" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/b88b86b818ac4a35a3ff8e0a54909a4d" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/b88b86b818ac4a35a3ff8e0a54909a4d" width="230" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Eric Avedissian is an adjunct professor and speculative fiction author. His
work includes the novels Accursed Son, Midnight at Bat Hollow, and the
role-playing game Ravaged Earth. His short stories appear in various
anthologies, including Across the Universe, Great Wars, and Three Time
Travelers Walk Into…. He lives in New Jersey with his wife and a
ridiculous number of books. When not chained to his writing desk, he hikes
the Pinelands and wastes too much time on social media. Visit him online at
www.ericavedissian.com.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.ericavedissian.com">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Twitter @angryreporter</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/943512.Eric_Avedissian">Goodreads</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/ericavedissian/">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Purchase Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mr-Penny-Farthing-Martyrs-Vow-Book-ebook/dp/B0CN95M4M5/">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="408264011820" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/408264011820/" id="rcwidget_zdfma0sd" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a> <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
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</div>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-19496880981928398662024-02-01T17:45:00.002-05:002024-02-01T17:56:48.760-05:00'Tis the Season is up for Cover of the Month at @allauthor <p>They say not to judge a book by its cover but I need you to do just that. If you liked the cover of my book, <strong>'Tis the Season (Passages 1): A Contemporary Hanukkah Romance</strong>, please vote for it for the Cover of the Month contest on AllAuthor.com! </p>
<p>I’m getting closer to clinch the "Cover of the Month" contest on AllAuthor! I’d need as much support from you guys. Please take a short moment to vote for my book cover here:</p><p>
<a href="https://allauthor.com/cover-of-the-month/17215/" rel="dofollow"><img height="821" src="https://allauthor.com/book/big/20240130191147.jpg" width="541" /> Click to Vote!</a></p>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-28048879721412695842024-01-30T00:30:00.001-05:002024-01-30T00:30:00.136-05:00GRIMDARKE by AK Nevermore #Shifter #Romance @changelingpress<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/ak-nevermore-grimdarke-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/9715d658e5cd46488e250c077842c6ff" width="500" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/664db0b4132d4bfda3a8f525c38876e1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/664db0b4132d4bfda3a8f525c38876e1" width="297" /></a>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Maw of Mayhem MC, Book 1</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Shifter Romance</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Date to be Published: </span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">February 2, 2024</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Publisher:</b> Changeling Press
</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/204566725-grimdarke"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Out of options and on the run after her psychotic father’s released
from prison, Kit Parson heads to the only place she might be safe from him,
the Maw of Mayhem MC. The unexpected move buys her time, but also puts her
at risk. Surrounded by shifters, her inner cat begs to be released, and
after witnessing a brutal attack on her mother as a child, she refuses to
let the monster out. Totally doable, provided no bodily fluids are ever
exchanged.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">That takes the MC’s hot-as-hell VP, Grimdarke James, officially off
the table. Mourning the recent murder of the club’s alpha and
struggling to control his inner cat, the tattooed Viking god is on thin ice.
If he goes feral again, he’ll be put down. Which makes his cat’s
insistence that Kit belongs to him problematic, upsetting the delicate
balance of the MC’s internal politics, and the woman blackmailing
Grim.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">But when Kit’s father catches up with her, Grim has no choice but to
trust his cat, and Kit can’t deny their chemistry. Can they hold on to
each other when everything is trying to tear them apart? After a gruesome
triple murder propels them deeper into the paranormal world, they find
themselves with unlikely allies, even as their enemies threaten to destroy
everything they hold dear.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Excerpt</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Copyright ©2024 AK Nevermore</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Upstate New York in the fall was beautiful, and it made Kit want to
puke.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">She gripped the steering wheel tighter, her sweaty palms slicking the
leather, and glanced in her rearview, then at her phone’s GPS. No
service -- again. Damn it. This was not where she wanted to be…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Wait. Signs for a trailhead were coming up. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus.
She pulled onto the shoulder, staring blankly at the plexi-covered map
tacked onto the tiny shelter in front of the car. Woodbine Swamp Trail.
Shit. She’d missed the turn-off for the house. Ugh! How could
everything in this shit town look the same and so frickin’ different
all at once?!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Fifteen years will do that, genius.</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Her forehead dropped to the steering wheel, bumping it thrice. Stupid.
Stupid. Stupid. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t --</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Goddamnit, girl, grow a pair!</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Enough. Wasn’t like she had a choice. She pushed back in her seat and
slapped the car in reverse, hoping like hell there wasn’t anything
behind her. Frickin’ hatchback was stuffed to the gills with the sad
remains of her life, and she wasn’t up for losing any more of
it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Kit dashed away a tear. And whose fault was that?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">She just had to blow shit up. Couldn’t duck her head and keep
punching numbers, because <i>lay low </i>was too big of a fucking ask. Nope, fuck
overtime at the accounting firm, had to go out there and twerk her ass at
the club, knowing full well that milkshake wasn’t gonna bring anything
but trouble to her yard.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Her mind leapt to that tall drink of golden Viking god pissing in a sink,
covered in tattoos and oozing temptation. Yup. Case in point, and as much as
it shocked the shit out of her, she’d been into him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>So </i>fucking into him, like, wanted him into her.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Not happening.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">She bit at a cuticle, trying to ignore the very real possibility she was
about to deliver herself to his doorstep, and the fact that her panties had
just soaked clean through.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Son of a </i>-- Chanté would quip something about chickens coming home
to roost, but they weren’t even Kit’s damned chickens. And why
the fuck chickens? Woman was NYC born and raised, you’d think
she’d have useless witticisms about pigeons.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Damn, though. He was fiiine…</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Stop it.</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">You’d think she’d be more concerned about the shifter shadowing
her for the past two weeks… the one whose face starred in her
nightmares. Reaper hadn’t approached her, but his message was clear,
and like a fucking cat, he’d been playing with her.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">… Run, little mouse…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Kit’s teeth clenched at the memory of her father’s gravelly
twang. She put the car in gear and kept driving in the wrong direction. Away
from the house, toward the last damned place she wanted to go, and the only
place she had left. Two weeks of couch surfing and shitty motels had made
that abundantly clear, and her flat fucking broke.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Back to the scene of the crime, the one place she hoped like hell he
didn’t have the balls to go back to.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Motorcycles rumbled in the distance and her gut threatened to rebel, cold
sweat pebbling her skin. She licked the anxiety from her lips.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">The rumble grew, and a moment later a stream of leather and exhaust whipped
by her as a convoy of bikes sped past, heading back toward civilization. A
manic giggle burbled from her throat, and she took a slow --</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Shit! Gas pedal, girl, you gotta keep your shit together…</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Focus. Drive to the damned compound. One more mile.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>… And keep it together. Hah! Fat fucking chance.</i> She blew out a
breath, her temples thudding with the beginnings of a migraine. Goddamn.
After all those years of praying to be out from under Claymore James’s
thumb… this had not been part of the fantasy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Getting shit-faced, twerking on his grave, and then setting the MC’s
compound on fire, yes. Pulling up to the chain-link gate and asking to see
Mud Knuckle?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Nope. Can’t say that’d made the list, but here she was.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>I mean really, Mud Knuckle? </i>Kit sighed, rubbing a temple. If she needed any
further confirmation her life had officially gone to shit:
Ta-frickin’-da.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">One of the dopey-looking prospects manning the gate eyed her, pursing his
lips. The scraggly little pornstache he was rocking made his mouth look like
a porcupine’s asshole.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Moron leaned in her window. “Ain’t no muddy knuckles
here.” He snickered, shooting his zit-infested buddy a look.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Kit sighed. Great, they were gonna fuck with he</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Nah,” Zits said, ambling closer to leer. “But I
ain’t opposed to rectifyin’ that situation.” He grinned,
making a lewd gesture.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Whoo. Ten points for originality there, son. She rolled her eyes and
unbuckled her seatbelt. It was showtime. The two high school rejects
scrambled back, wide-eyed when she threw open the door and got out, leaving
the hoodie she’d permanently borrowed from Chanté on the seat.
Fuck, it was hypothermia cold.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“What? I thought we was ‘wreck-t-fyin’ that
sits-e-ate-shon,’” she finger quoted, mimicking his dipshit
twang and cocking a hip.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Pornstache’s throat bobbed, taking in her tight tee and yoga pants.
God, men were pigs. Pathetic, predictable pigs. Flash them braless DDs, and
their brains shorted out faster than a hairdryer in a bathtub. Add the fact
that her nipples were hard enough to cut glass, and the poor boys
didn’t stand a chance.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Uh, yeah.” Pornstache tugged on his cut and cleared the squeak
from his throat. Slack-jawed, Zits smacked his shoulder, earning himself a
glare. “I mean, hell yeah. We’re down, baby.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Kit arched her back, stretching. Damn, that felt good after five hours
behind the wheel. Pornstache groaned like he was about to wreck-t-fy in his
pants. She sauntered over and ran a finger down his sternum.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Then how ‘bout you boys open the gate so I can move my car out
of the way and get down to business.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Zits moved so fast he just about face-planted rushing to unlatch the big
chain-link section on wheels blocking the compound’s access road.
He’d pulled it halfway across the pavement by the time Kit got back
into her car. Pornstache shook his head like a dog, blinking as the door
clunked shut, and he stumbled over to help his buddy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Suckers.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Kit almost felt bad as she drove past, waggling her fingers.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Okay, no, she didn’t. She wriggled back into the hoodie, one hand on
the wheel and shivering. Her stomach churned as she drove around the last
bend to the chapter house, half expecting the entire club to be out there
waiting for her. The woods opened up --</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And the lot was empty.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Of frickin’ course it was empty. The funeral was today. Now. She
could still make it. Wasn’t that why she’d blown out of the city
so fast? To spit on Claymore’s grave like she’d told
Chanté she was going to? Get some kind of fucked-up closure?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Yeah, has nothing to do with the fact you’re being stalked by a
psycho.</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Kit bit back a sob, coasting the last few hundred feet to a stop in front
of the long, two-storied building. It was ugly. A dark, cinderblock gray,
squatting against a barren hillside. She bit her lip, eyes flicking to the
last window on the left, waiting for the shitty mini blinds to part.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">They didn’t. Wouldn’t.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Dead. Everything looked fucking dead. Probably because it was.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Fuck this shit. She jerked up the emergency brake and killed the engine.
Slammed the door open, then shut. Stomped across the half-frozen muddy lot,
odd bits of gravel and glass crunching beneath her boots. Eyes fixed on the
burnt-out jaws scored into the surface of the MC’s chapter house door,
she approached the belly of the beast -- and stepped into the Maw of
Mayhem.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives
up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a
certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when
she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up
camo Chucks.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated,
she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">She pays the bills editing, wielding a wicked hot pink pen and writing a
column on SFF. She also belongs to the Authors Guild, is a chapter treasurer
for the RWA, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion,
sleeps.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://aknevermore.com/">Author’s Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/AkNevermore">Author on Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/aknevermore/">Author on Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href=" https://twitter.com/AkNevermore">Author on Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/43914174.A_K_Nevermore">Follow AK Nevermore at Goodreads</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
@changelingpress</span></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://books2read.com/u/3RPkBY"><b>Pre-Order Today</b></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880151695460575148.post-38539937469957891292024-01-29T00:30:00.001-05:002024-01-29T00:30:00.146-05:00Threads of a Needle by DG Zitting #SciFi #Thriller<br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/17d76b0ba1284e04af38f21173f0e238" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="703" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/17d76b0ba1284e04af38f21173f0e238" width="469" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">A Mind-Bending Sci-Fi Journey through Dimensional Probabilities</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Fiction, Sci-Fi/Adventure, Futuristic, Thriller</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Date Published:</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> January 30, 2024</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Publisher: </b>Elite Online Publishing</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/204120151-threads-of-a-needle"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>Immerse yourself in a near-future world on the brink of transformation in
"Threads of a Needle." Follow Hope Valencia, a skilled PT-SOF
agent for the League of Consciousness, as she embarks on a daring mission
transcending the boundaries of time and space.</i></b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Advanced neurological technologies, now under the control of a dominant
media conglomerate, manipulate humanity's belief systems, deviating from
their original intent to advance human progress. At the heart of this
narrative are Hope's parents, Dr. Gabriel Valencia, neurotechnologist, and
Ella Valencia, whose monumental discovery of Trans-Dimensional Probability
Threads unites consciousness with the physical realm, revealing a vast
expanse of probable realities. This groundbreaking revelation paves the way
for the Quantum Thought Dynamics-AI Protocol (QTD-AI), a technology that
enables the digitization and manipulation of human thought processes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Embark on a journey with Hope that challenges traditional understanding,
unravels the very fabric of reality, and unveils hidden truths.
"Threads of a Needle" not only narrates an enthralling tale but
also invites you to reflect on the malleability of reality and the
influential power of your beliefs, thoughts, and emotions in shaping the
world around you. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">DG Zitting is a seasoned entrepreneur with a career spanning over three
decades in real estate finance and financial technology. He has successfully
led national business firms to significant achievements.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Beyond his thriving professional journey, Zitting's insatiable curiosity
spans various domains, including science, technology, philosophy,
psychology, and non-denominational spirituality. This lifelong quest for
knowledge has unveiled profound insights into the greater reality of the
world and universe.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">What sets Zitting apart is his ability to translate this wisdom into both
his personal life and business ventures, yielding resounding success. As a
co-founder and leader of firms employing over two thousand individuals and
achieving billions in sales volume objectives, Zitting attributes his
accomplishments to transformative insights gained along his remarkable
journey.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">By infusing his knowledge into every facet of life, including business,
family, friendships, hobbies, and passions, Zitting has created a distinct
advantage in navigating life's intricate game. He has also established the
B</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria Math", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">∈</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">E+T=R Life Strategy (BETR), recognizing the pivotal role of beliefs</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">conscious and subconscious</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">in shaping reality. This philosophy is elegantly summarized in his symbolic
equation, B</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria Math", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">∈</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">E+T=R, where Beliefs, Emotions, and Thoughts align to shape the probable
thread of Reality, empowering others to choose the reality they wish to
experience.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://betrlife.com/">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> <br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Gale Stanleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05204257353139908750noreply@blogger.com0