Thursday, September 29, 2022

Book Blitz: Call to a Nightmare by Jim Lester #mystery @rabtbooktours


Mystery, Thriller

Published Date: August, 2022


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It was the Roaring Twenties, the Jazz Age, the era of Model T Fords, bootleggers and G-men. Spiritualism was all the rage. Everyone wanted to talk to the dead. Except Dr. Alex Gabriel, who thought talking to the dead was ridiculous. Until he met Savannah Bishop, the country's most unique medium. Using Savannah's contacts with the World Beyond, Dr. Gabriel and Miss Bishop set out to solve a series of brutal murders that range from the glitz of Hollywood to the backwoods of Arkansas and eventually to the bohemian Left Bank of Paris and finally to pre-Nazi Berlin.

About the Author

Jim Lester holds a PhD in history an dis the author of the historical novel, The Blind Boxer and a successful mystery novel called Deadline: New York about the early years of the paperback book industry. He is also the author of four young adult novels and a non-fiction book entitled Hoop Crazy: College Basketball in the 1950s.


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Tuesday, September 27, 2022

Forever Askole by Gail Koger #SciFi #romance #giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Gail Koger will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

My name is Ella McAllister, I’m a psychic witch and a healer. My life is kinda nuts. Not only do I have the Coletti hunters chasing me, but now I also have a very determined Askole High Commander after me. Why? I shot his ship down and it crash landed, and it blew up. Yep, itty-bitty pieces everywhere. My bad, but his ship was a dead ringer for a Rodan Marauder, and it was my civic duty to blow the enemy spacecraft out of the sky. Wasn’t it? Any hoo, I healed his owies and boogied.

I thought that was the end of it, but oh no. For some unknown reason, Sariel, the Askole High Commander, decided I would make him the perfect mate. As if. I think the blow to his head made him completely bonkers.

Sariel informed me the mating dance had begun and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The idiot had obviously never dealt with a witch before. I didn’t have the time to play games with him, so I did a little abracadabra alakazam and ran.

Sigh. The persistent Askole found me. Now I have a decision to make. Keep running or surrender to the High Commander. He is a damn good kisser.

Would the mating dance bring two lonely souls together? Who knew?

Read an Excerpt:

“He was your lover?” Sariel queried in disbelief.

I cringed with embarrassment. “Briefly. I fell for his lies and didn’t see his true nature until he tried to sell me to the hunters.”

“I will never betray you or lie to you,” Sariel stated.

“So, you keep saying, but I’m not looking for a mate nor do I need one.”

Sariel’s tentacles stood out from his head. “A lie. Your loneliness drove you to bed a traitor.”

Ouch! “Okay, fine. I’m lonely, but…”




“Mating with you,” I enunciated clearly.

“As a warrior, you can challenge me to combat to stop the mating dance.” Sariel’s rather toothy grin was alarming. “Do you dare duel with me?”

In hand-to-hand combat I wouldn’t last ten seconds. “How about I teach you a little-known fact?”

Sariel’s helmet formed over his head, and he asked warily, “What would that be?”

“Never mess with a witch. It doesn’t end well.” I shouted my power word, “Sufflamine!” A thunderous cracking boom rent the air. A second later, a shockwave of energy hit Sariel and flung him out into the ocean.

He hit with a big splash and sank beneath the surface. “Excellent tactical move.”

Seriously? He sounded almost proud of me. “Stay away from me or next time I won’t be so gentle.”

“There is no where you can run that I cannot find you,” Sariel replied.

About the Author:
I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for the Glendale Police Department and to keep from going totally bonkers – I mean people have no idea what a real emergency is. Take this for example: I answered, “9-1-1 emergency, what’s your emergency?” And this hysterical woman yelled, “My bird is in a tree.” Sometimes I really couldn’t help myself, so I said, “Birds have a tendency to do that, ma’am.” The woman screeched, “No! You don’t understand. My pet parakeet is in the tree. I’ve just got to get him down.” Like I said, not a clue. “I’m sorry ma’am but we don’t get birds out of trees.” The woman then cried, “But… What about my husband? He’s up there, too.” See what I had to deal with? To keep from hitting myself repeatedly in the head with my phone I took up writing.



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CHASE by Marteeka Karland #MCromance @changelingpress @rabtbooktours


Bones MC

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Action & Adventure

Date Published: 09/30/2022


Cotton: When I avenged my sister’s murder, I knew the consequences. I didn’t expect anything less than prison. I got it. In spades. I survived ten years of hell. I was just fifteen when I was sent away but I never regretted taking the law into my own hands. But the father of the man I killed is now a judge, and the ten years I gave the state might not be enough.

I thought I could disappear into the little Kentucky town and keep my head down and keep my nose clean. What could be so hard about that? But I'm on parole and everything is stacked against me. When the only place that will hire me happens to be a biker bar, staying out of trouble might be too much for me to manage. Then Chase steamrolls into my life and I know I have much more than my freedom to lose. This man has the power to tear out my heart.

Chase: I’ve spent the better part of my life in the shadows. Before Bones MC, my team worked for some shady people -- as assassins. I thought I was sacrificing for the greater good. Turns out I was just one more bad guy working for more bad guys. I can’t seem to atone for the sins of my past. No matter what I do, those demons still haunt me.

The second I spot Cotton, everything changes. Everything about the girl screams “battered woman,” but she’s more than that. There is death in her eyes. She’s killed, but she’s not a killer. No matter what, no matter who comes after her, I will protect her till my last breath. Because she is my only salvation. She’s my woman.


All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2022 Marteeka Karland

“Let me go. Now.” That was another thing I’d learned in prison. You put up or shut up. Once I’d set a boundary, I had to follow through or this would never end. And this guy would get what he wanted.

He squeezed my arm harder, this time standing and pulling me against him. “You’ll get under that fuckin’ table and suck my fuckin’ dick like the good little whore you are, or I’ll carry you outa here and we’ll all have a fuckin’ go.”

His buddies laughed and clinked beer bottles like it was one big party. There was no way I could keep these guys from doing whatever they wanted unless someone came to my rescue. Which this guy had obviously planned for. It was a dark corner fairly close to the door. All he had to do was get me outside before anyone noticed. Assuming anyone cared. But I had the feeling the guys from Bones might take exception to anyone outside their territory taking an employee out of their bar. That’s the way it was in prison. Bones may not claim me as one of their own, but they would absolutely not allow another gang to disrupt their business or mess with their employees. At least, that’s what I was counting on.

The second the words were out of his mouth, my hand shot between his legs and grabbed his crotch. I squeezed his balls as hard as I could, thankful he’d grabbed my left arm and not my right. He gave a strangled cry and doubled over, letting go of my arm, trying to pry my fingers loose but unable to do more than weakly tug at my wrist. I squeezed just that little bit tighter, putting every ounce of strength I had into hanging on and tugging with a sharp jerk. The big guy fell to his knees and I let go, stepping back quickly. I gripped my heavy serving tray in both hands, bringing it back like I was readying myself to hit him with it even as I continued to back away.

I bumped into someone and a big palm landed on my shoulder. I thought I was in big trouble, but the hand pulled me back gently, and a huge guy stepped in front of me, putting himself between me and the three men at the table.

“There a problem here?”

“Yeah, there’s a fuckin’ problem! Bitch threw herself at me then tried to back out. Tried to crush my fuckin’ balls for no fuckin’ reason!”

“In my experience, women like Cotton don’t put their hands on men like you willingly.” Oh, my God! Could this night get any worse? The man who’d come to my rescue was Chase Dutton. I knew he was a member of Bones, but I tried to stay away from him as much as I could. It was no secret his brother was a police officer and the last thing I wanted was to have another set of eyes on me. I had no idea why Pops and Cain had hired me, but I didn’t want any complications in case they changed their mind.

“Why, you son of a bitch!”

The big guy lunged at Chase, but Chase simply caught him by the throat, pulling a gun and bringing it to the man’s temple in one smooth move. The second the barrel touched his head, Chase cocked it.

“No one touches the servers. Especially when they don’t want it.”

“But she --” He was cut off when Chase brought the butt of the gun down on his head once before putting the barrel back to his temple. The guy’s knees threatened to buckle, but he kept his footing. Barely.

“Don’t matter if she did. When you touched her, she changed her mind. That’s all that counts. So you and your buddies here are all gonna fuckin’ leave the bar. Now. Don’t come back.”

“You can’t throw us out!” One of his buddies had stood but made no move to get help. In fact, he had his hands up and backed up a couple steps, belying his statement.

“He can,” Pops said, coming up behind me. Again, he moved me gently out of the way, putting himself between me and the three men. “So can I. We both say to get the fuck out.”

The bar had quietened near us, but the other side seemed oblivious. I looked around to see a couple at my tables raising nearly empty glasses or bottles wanting refills. I desperately wanted to duck my head and just go on about my job, but I had no idea what was expected of me.

“You good, Cotton?” Chase asked, not looking back at me but still eyeing the men who’d yet to leave.

“Yes,” I said softly. Automatically. My arm hurt, but I wasn’t about to draw more attention to myself. “May I go back to work?”

He glanced at me then and I quickly looked away. Chase Dutton was the sexiest man I’d ever seen. And a man I had no business even looking at. He also seemed to hate me on sight. Cain and Pops both assured me they would keep my incarceration to themselves, and I didn’t want to take a chance on anyone else finding out. Which Chase likely had. Things always changed when anyone found out. People I thought were friends suddenly wanted nothing to do with me. I couldn’t really blame them, but it hurt that no one thought me important enough to find out my side of the story. I’d kind of been crushing on Chase from a distance, and to have him affirm that I wasn’t worth befriending -- even though I already knew that’s what he thought -- would hurt worse than when it had happened before. Because I was stupid to let my emotions get the better of me like this.

“What?” Chase glanced back at me, then snapped, “No you can’t go back to work! Get your ass to the office! I’ll talk to you after I’ve taken out the trash over here.”


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We Blend by Willa Drew #NewAdult #Romance @rabtbooktours


New Adult Romance

Release Date: September 27, 2022

Publisher: Moving Words Publishing

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Stage name. Secret plans. Real love.

Escaping the shadow of my famous rockstar step-father… and the paparazzi, is how I find myself microphone-in-hand at a bar off campus wearing a disguise and my heart on my sleeve.

I just want to sing. I need melodies like I need air to breathe. Music isn’t just some hobby: it’s my everything. And from the moment Wil steps on that stage next to me, I know my life won’t ever be the same.

Our connection is instant. We want each other almost as much as we want the money. He’s in the States on scholarship, and I’m trying to make my way in the industry. We forge an alliance, not knowing the secrets we both keep.

Even tangled in a duet of lies, we make sense . . . we blend. Together, we could have it all. Or lose our hearts.


“No. He’s not my boyfriend. Who has time for that?” Why am I telling him I’m single? Need to focus. “I hired him to play the guitar for me.” I raise my splinted fingers and shove them in front of Wil’s face. “See?”

“Well, that clears that.”

If I expected sympathy from this dude, I didn’t get it.

“I don’t do the girlfriend thing either. Not planning on starting it now.” He licks his lips like I might be his next meal. “Jeremiah might have difficulty standing up, so playing an instrument is bloody unlikely.”

“Dammit.” I know the guy is right.

We both turn to regard the hoodie-clad Jeremiah, currently staring into his half-empty beer glass as if the golden liquid has the answers to every mystery in life.

“What did you say your name was?” Wil’s molten stare focuses on my eyes then my mouth, as if he were ready to catch whatever tumbles out next. And I wish I were here for fun. Hot, kiss-worthy fun.

“El. El Vella.” My voice sounds raspier than normal.

His eyes flash back to mine. Something switches in them. He re-surveys me, and his demeanor changes. The relaxed flirty vibe drops as fast as the last note of Dad’s latest hit. He loses his smile, the fire in his eyes gone, and for reasons I can’t understand, I miss it already.

Wil leans in like he’s going to kiss me, his fiery breath tickling my ear instead. Is this his signature move? Is he going to ask me out? Would I say yes? Goosebumps run down my arms, and my heart rises to my throat.

“I know who you are.”


About the Author

Willa Drew is not one, but two writers of fun, flirty fiction full of feels.

Lovers of emotional scenes (don’t tell anyone: someone always cries as we write them), dramatic scenarios (don’t blame us, the characters insisted) and the best the world has to offer like eclairs and butter tarts (don’t ask us to share, but we’ll point you to the recipes).

Our young adult and new adult romances have every flavor. Angst? Check.

Secrets? Of course. Risk taking? You bet. Expect slow burns, heart flutters, soul mates, first loves, and swoon worthy kisses.


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Saturday, September 24, 2022

NEW RELEASE: Sapphic Seduction Vol 2 by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #lesbianerotica #anthology



If you enjoy short, steamy tales of women getting together, then check out this collection from the pen of award-winning author Lucy Felthouse.

From Sapphic fun at the seaside to showing off by the pool, clearing out an old shed to getting the hots for musicians, and even a spot of voyeurism, this book has F/F goodness in spades. There’s something for everyone, and will have you eager to turn just one more page.

Enjoy fifteen titillating tales, over 50,000 words of lesbian lusciousness.

Please note: The stories in this anthology have been previously published.


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Caroline and Della walked up to the shed door, paused, and exchanged a nervous glance.

Taking a deep breath, Caroline straightened her spine and pushed back her shoulders. “Come on, Dell, we’re almost there. This is the last big job we’ve got to do. Then we can move on to the fun stuff. Like decorating and building furniture.”

“I know,” Della replied, eyeing the wooden storage space with distaste, “but it’s also the most terrifying. We haven’t got a clue what’s in there. Could be dead bodies or rotting body parts for all we know.”

Rolling her eyes, Caroline replied, “It is the most terrifying, but you might be letting your imagination run away with you a bit. I don’t think the old boy was a serial killer, somehow. He was ninety, for Christ’s sake!”

“He wasn’t always ninety. He was our age once.”

“True, but if he’d been hiding bodies or body parts in his shed for decades, someone would have noticed. The smell, for starters. And flies. Rats.”

Grimacing, Della said, “Guess we’ll soon find out.”

Caroline twisted the key in the lock, then opened the shed door with a sense of trepidation. Unlike her girlfriend, she wasn’t expecting anything sinister to be lurking in the gloom. More a whole bunch of stuff they wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. They’d bought the property—their first, after renting for years—from the family of the old boy who had recently passed away. None of the family was local, so they’d offered a hefty discount on the house to compensate Caroline and Della for cleaning it out.

It hadn’t been all bad—they’d made a tidy sum from selling some of the stuff they didn’t want; including antique and handmade furniture, collectibles, and a considerable book and DVD collection. The latter, as well as piles of old photographs, which they’d forwarded on to the family, had given them a real insight into Ted’s life and the type of person he was. Which was why Caroline wasn’t worried about finding anything nefarious in the shed. He had been a nice bloke, by all accounts, fond of his family, his friends, and his work. Carpentry had been his vocation, not just his career—hence the handmade furniture they’d sold on. So, Caroline’s common sense was telling her the scariest thing they were likely to find was spiders.

She reached inside to undo the bolts holding the other door closed. After a little wrestling, but not too much, she pulled them free. It seemed old Ted had maintained the shed right up until his declining physical health had made it impossible. It must have driven him crazy to not be able to do all the things he used to. She flung both doors wide to let the light flood in and stood back.

Gazing into the cavernous space, both girls were silent for several long moments. Then Caroline turned to Della with a grin. “Well then, should we get started?”

Wide eyed, Della looked back at her. “Where the hell do we start? What is all this stuff?”

“God knows.” Caroline squinted at the piles of chaos. “Carpentry tools, at a guess. And, er, decorating stuff, and… just stuff. Normal shed stuff, see? Nothing dead or decaying in sight. It’s just a little bit dusty and very untidy. Looks like he was a hoarder. We may as well do what we did with the rest of the house—empty everything out and sort through it as we go. Figure out what we want to keep—if anything—what needs throwing away, and what we might be able to sell.”

“Not sure we’ll get much interest in ‘thingymajigs’ on eBay.” She pointed at a metal contraption with a circular blade. “I mean, what the fuck is that thing?”

Caroline stuck her tongue out at Della and stepped into the shed. “Don’t be so defeatist. Come on! The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish.”

Reluctantly, Della joined her girlfriend. “Okay, let’s get going.”

An hour and a half later, they stopped for a tea break. “Fucking hell,” Caroline said, blowing on the surface of her tea, then taking a sip as she surveyed the three piles—keep, sell, dump—they’d created. “There seems to be a ton of stuff out here, and yet looking in there,” she jerked her head towards the shed, “it looks as though we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“It’s like the fucking TARDIS in there, isn’t it?” Della replied, shoving at a plastic paint tray with the toe of her shoe.

“Hmm…” Caroline regarded the insanity, then gave a wry smile. “But it’ll be worth it in the end, though. The shed itself seems sturdy enough, so we’ll have plenty of storage space for any tools we keep, plus any gardening paraphernalia we buy…” She tailed off, letting her words sink in. Given they’d only ever rented flats, gardening hadn’t been high on the agenda, and Della had often lamented the lack of having a green space of their own.

Narrowing her eyes, Della took a couple of gulps of her drink. “Yeah… I suppose you’re right. We’ll need a lawnmower, and a strimmer, a spade, a hoe—”

“We’ve already got a ‘ho’,” Caroline quipped, wiggling her eyebrows theatrically and pointing at Della.

“Hey,” Della exclaimed, punching Caroline playfully on the arm. “Bitch. That’s not very nice.”

Chuckling, Caroline shrugged. “What can I say? I’m not very nice.”


Smirking at each other over the rims of their mugs, the pair finished their drinks in silence.

“Done?” Della asked, holding out her hand. “I’ll stick these in the kitchen.”

Caroline passed her empty mug to Della. “Thanks. Right, I’m going back in…”

Picking her way across the clear part of the floor, Caroline looked around, wondering what she should tackle next. Just then, she spotted a wooden stool with a coil of rope sitting on top of it.

All thoughts of clearing out the shed flew from her mind as a grin crept onto her face. She had a much better idea.


Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances CafĂ©’s Best MĂ©nage Book 2015 award), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her and her writing at  


Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.


Thursday, September 22, 2022

Release Blitz: The Outlaw Gillis Kerg by Mike Murphey #SciFi @Rabtbooktours

Physics, Lust and Greed Series, Book 4


Date Published: 09-22-2022

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

In the mid-21st Century, a top-secret consortium of corporations and governments have made time travel possible, only to realize that intruding on the past has been a terrible mistake.

At the program’s outset, a thousand scientists, engineers and support staff were confined to a subterranean complex where a corporate contributor specializing in artificial intelligence equipped apartments with Happy Home Companion software.

Time traveler Marta Hamilton had little enough tolerance for other people intruding in her life, much less a software Dear Abby, so Marta bullies her Happy Home Companion into silence.

At last convinced of the grave dangers time travel represents, government overseers suspend operations. Only the Happy Home Companions remain.

Marta and fellow traveler Marshall Grissom hope they can finally leave the past behind, but when a federal judge is murdered, they understand their vulnerability to horrible manipulations by future counterparts.

Marta and Marshall return to the Arizona desert where they confront a Happy Home Companion cult of vengeance, the outlaw Gillis Kerg, and an evangelical zealot waging a war on science.


About the Author

Mike Murphey is a native of eastern New Mexico and spent almost thirty years as an award-winning newspaper journalist in the Southwest and Pacific Northwest. His debut novel, Section Roads, has been recognized by Indie Reader Discovery Awards, Reader Views Reviewers Choice Awards, The IAN Book of the Year Awards, the Somerset Contemporary Fiction Awards, and the Independent Publishers Book Awards. His novel, The Conman has been recognized by the International Book Awards, the eLit Awards and the Manhattan Book Awards. His award-winning Physics, Lust and Greed Series includes Taking Time,  Wasting Time, Killing Time and  The Outlaw Gillis Kerg. “We Never Knew Just What It Was… The Story of the Chad Mitchell Trio” is his first non-fiction work. Mike loves fiction, cats, baseball and sailing. He splits his time between Spokane, Washington, and Phoenix, Arizona.


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Saturday, September 17, 2022

Out Now! First Born Sons by Vincent Traughber Meis #LGBTQ+ #giveaway

First Born Sons - Vincent Traughber Meis

Vincent Traughber Meis has a new LGBTQ+ contemporary literary book out (gay, trans FTM, bi, gender fluid): First Born Sons. And there’s a giveaway.

A group of coastal California residents battle wildfires, racism, and their own demons in five distinct narratives set in late 2019 and 2020.

The book is populated by a cast of diverse LGBTQ+ individuals who struggle to find love, comfort, and fulfillment. As the novel progresses, characters interact across the separate narratives and are brought together for a birthday and a disastrous Black Lives Matter demonstration.

A man returning to the horrors that made him leave Mississippi, a blind gay man flirting with love, an FTM transgender starting hormone therapy, a woman struggling to protect her sons from her husband’s surge to right-wing politics, and a teenager with two gay dads searching for his Black surrogate mom paint a disturbing tableau of modern-day America.

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First Born Sons meme

1 Fire
August 2020

Each step took him closer to safety, one uncertain foot in front of the other, his biceps straining as he shifted the heavy load in his arms. On either side of the unpaved road he traversed, thick groves of redwoods towered above him and the forest air wrinkled with dust and heat and smoke, causing his useless eyes behind dark glasses to burn. But his legs knew the way, knew the number of steps to the nearest house. If the neighbors weren’t there, he would have to make it all the way to the main road and hope for a passing car to pick him up.

A gust of hot wind rushed through the trees, and he heard the snap of a branch, followed by a thump on the ground. He picked up his pace, his breathing growing heavier, sweat trickling down his sides. He shifted the load again and hugged the equipment to his chest, things he couldn’t leave behind, the tools of his trade, his work, his life.

A few minutes earlier he had been in a groove at the desk in front of the window, headphones on, crafting a set for an upcoming Zoom dance party called Apocalypse. Making a killer set was essential for people unable to go out, afraid of the virus, surrounded by wildfires, and bored with political discourse. They longed to dance, move their bodies, get their sexy on even if it was in a little Zoom window. With outlets of entertainment shut down, people spent excess income on pricey headphones and ear buds. He took that into account as his fingers danced over the knobs and levers, adjusting everything by sound and feel, pumping up the bass to shake their brains, rattle their hearts imprisoned in ribcages of discontent.

His goal was to make them feel something, and he hunted for songs allowing extreme panning, mixes that bounced the sounds back and forth from ear to ear, playing with space and width as the music traveled through their heads. Getting them on their feet and shaking their asses made him happy, gave him a reason to go on when the darkness around him pressed in.

The odor of burning, pungent and slightly sweet, had wafted in the open window, filled his nostrils, and snapped him out of the trance he fell into when manipulating pitch, timbre, texture, volume, and duration, pushing one up, another down. He removed the headphones and through the lingering pulsation in his ears heard the incessant chirp notifications from his phone. Five messages. They all told him the same thing. The fires were getting close. Get out. He unplugged his headphones and the controller from his laptop, gathered everything in his arms, felt his way to the door, and negotiated the steps to the ground.

A car approached, still a couple of hundred yards away, and his panic subsided. As it was the last house on the road, someone had to be coming for him. He breathed easier, and the playlist returned to his head, the order and choice of songs. The gravel crunched under his feet to the beat of the extended dance mix version he had found of the R.E.M. song, “It’s the End of the World as We Know It,” a trite but obvious choice for the set. The car got closer. He tilted his head. Though his ears recognized most of the cars that came down the road, this one was different, heavier.

The vehicle stopped. Two doors opened, and the sounds of unfriendly steps, the vibration of danger ground toward him. Two men, he guessed. His spine tingled with the all-overs as Granny used to say.

“Stop right there!” a man shouted. “Put your shit on the ground and raise your hands.”

The command brought a brutal end to the tunes in Lamar’s head like a needle scratching across a record. “What? Who are you?” Lamar continued his trudge forward.

The two cops turned to each other with confused expressions. The older officer with a thick mustache that hid his upper lip on a round face and a rookie who looked as if he spent way too much time admiring his blond good looks in front of the mirror at the gym unsnapped their holsters and put their hands on their guns. The senior cop growled, “I said stop. On your knees.”

Lamar’s spirit tumbled into a muddy hole of fear. It had been four years since he had nearly lost his life, attacked by men with guns and robbed of his laptop with all his stored music. This time his files were backed up, but he wasn’t about to lose the couple of thousand dollars’ worth of equipment in his arms without a fight.

“I don’t know who you are.” A murder of crows cawed a bitter song high in the trees above them. They could see what he couldn’t, looking down on the classic scenario of a Black man facing the police with their guns drawn, barking orders that made no sense.

“Stop where you are. Are you deaf?”

The birds cawed panic and flew away.

“No, but he’s blind,” said a voice from behind the officers. The younger one swirled around and pointed his gun at a man walking up the road. Byron’s long hair blew wild in the wind and his beard was thick from not shaving since the beginning of the shutdown. He liked to joke that he now looked like the Unabomber. When Lamar hadn’t responded to his call, he had rushed out of the house in a dirty T-shirt and sweats and jumped in his car, a disheveled cavalry to the rescue.

Author Bio

Vincent Traughber Meis grew up in Decatur, Illinois where he got his start writing plays for his younger sisters to act in for a neighborhood audience. He graduated from Tulane University in New Orleans and worked for many years as an English as a Second Language (ESL) teacher in the San Francisco Bay Area, Spain, Saudi Arabia and Mexico, publishing many academic articles in his field.

As result of his extensive travels and time abroad he published a number of pieces, mostly travel articles, but also a few poems and book reviews, in publications such as, The Advocate, LA Weekly, In Style, and Our World in the 1980’s and 90’s. He finally arrived at his true writing love: novels and short stories.

Five of his six published novels are set at least partially in foreign countries and his book of short stories focuses on countries around the world. Several of his novels have won Rainbow Awards, and his most recent novel, The Mayor of Oak Street was awarded a Reader Views Silver Award. He has published short stories in a number of collections and has achieved Finalist status in a few short fiction contests.

When he’s not writing, he works in the garden and travels with his husband. He lives in San Leandro, California.

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Thursday, September 15, 2022

I've been interviewed! Gale Stanley #interview at @allauthor

Gale Stanley latest interview by AllAuthor 

Reader, writer, and blogger, Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book. She always enjoyed making up stories. Her target audience is anyone who enjoys a sexy love story with a good plot. Her novels are written with such force that has the reader completely soaked in. She loves spending time with family and friends. Read full interview...

Tuesday, September 13, 2022

Fate Do Us Part by Brandy Truly #YA #RomanticSuspense #rabtbooktours


YA, Urban, Romantic Suspense

Date Published: 08-02-2022

To have or not to hold, from this day forth. How our story ends, teeters in the balance, yet to be told. The door to my darkest secret was unlocked. Through many struggles I learned that Justin is the key. But if a tragic death occurs when you're supposed to say, "I do", is fate telling me that we are doomed. After all, isn't our relationship a forbidden romance that's not meant to be? Doubt, despair, and a devastating reality; only God knows if it will be till fate do us part.


Kindle Vella Title

Dive into the first 3 episodes of Fate Do Us Part for Free on Kindle Vella

Episode 1. - The Rising Tides

Episode 2. - Hit and Run

Episode 3. - Perception of Palms



The tremors begin lightly. Nothing concerning at first, but then they increase more and more by the minute. Justin is sitting next to me, and his head snaps in my direction. He’s not a fan of flying. “Just turbulence,” I relay to him. He nods, although the creases on his forehead linger.


          The plane jerks violently, causing me and many other people to gasp. After another sharp jolt, Justin grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. I must admit, my concern is growing. I’ve flown less than a handful of times in my life and have never experienced turbulence this intense.


          The pilot comes on overhead. “Everyone, please be seated and fasten your seatbelts. We’ve entered a storm, and we need to fly above it.”


          The flight attendants stop serving drinks and snacks, returning quickly toward the front to buckle in.


          One man decides not to listen. “I gotta take a leak,” he says, continuing to the restroom.


          The plane takes a nosedive. This rapid movement startles me. We’re supposed to fly above the storm—not dive down. The guy who refused to sit regrets his decision. He’s flung over a seat onto another passenger. The person he’s on top of makes their unhappiness known, using a few choice words. Unfortunately, the man can’t move much with the gravity shift.


          The plane levels out for a spell, only to yank swiftly downward again. My heart is pounding. Is the plane struggling through the storm, or it is malfunctioning?


          At this point, I’m holding onto Justin’s hand as tightly as he’s clinging onto mine. Flying is supposed to be safe. Planes rarely crash. With the way the plane is shaking, I’m having a hard time convincing myself with the statistics.


          Other passengers’ worry begins to show. “What’s happening?” a man asks.


          “Are we going to crash?” a lady gasps.


          “Are we going to die!” another woman shouts.


          “It’s going to be rough for few minutes while I maneuver through the storm,” the pilot says overhead, trying to keep everyone calm.


          With the plane on its chaotic course, his words aren’t reassuring. The plane jerks more intently, causing several people to scream. The hardhead who didn’t buckle up is holding onto the person he fell on top of for dear life. I think they’re too frightened to complain. Mixed emotions echo around me. Some passengers are swearing, others are freaking out. We’re all terrified now.


          Justin and I glance at each other, of one accord. I can understand the meaning in his eyes without words. No matter the outcome—we’re in this to together. To have and to hold, through sickness and in health. That’s what we are here for.


          The plane attempts to move upward, then it jolts viciously downward like a roller coaster plummeting over the peak. My stomach shoots to my mouth—suspended in mid-air.


          At this point, I close my eyes and start to pray silently. I ask for forgiveness of my sins. I beg for this not to be the end, because my life is only beginning. If it’s the end—I pray for it to be quick.


          I don’t care what anyone says—prayer works. The plane rises higher and higher. Finally, it crests the storm. The turbulence ceases and it’s like we’re in the calm of the eye. The pilot announces that we’ve cleared the terrible weather and apologizes for the scare. Everyone cheers—relief is circulating through the air.


          My chest begins to feel lighter with each passing breath. I glance out the window in wonder. Where we are, the sky is filled with fluffy, white clouds. Below us, I see lightening flashing with grizzly, opaque clouds. It’s eerie watching the storm from above as it manifests. Thankfully, we’re no longer inside it.


          Justin finally releases my hand. “That was a close call.”


          “Yeah, it was scary. But we always make it through together.”


          “Till death do us part.”

About the Author

B. Truly has wanted to be an author since she was fifteen years old. She is grateful to have accomplished this dream. B. Truly has very vivid dreams and a wild imagination. She likes to read, watch tons of TV shows, and movies. She’s addicted to romance and gets a thrill out of suspense and sci-fi. She writes young adult, new adult, and adult romance, sci-fi, dystopian, paranormal, and urban genres.

B. Truly likes to explore conflicted plots of romance with thrilling twists. She also loves creating impossible situations for her characters to grow from and try to overcome. 

B. Truly has three wonderful children, and a husband who defines the person that she is today. She works full-time as an Ultrasound technologist in Houston, Texas.

Contact Links








Purchase Link

Episode 1: The Rising Tides

Episode: Hit & Run

Episode 3: Perception of Palms

RABT Book Tours & PR

Friday, September 9, 2022

The Wild Rose and the Sea Raven by Jennifer Ivy Walker #fantasy #giveaway




In this dark fairy tale adaptation of a medieval French legend, Issylte must flee the wicked queen, finding shelter with a fairy witch who teaches her the verdant magic of the forest. Fate leads her to the otherworldly realm of the Lady of the Lake and the Elves of Avalon, where she must choose between her life as a healer or fight to save her ravaged kingdom. Tristan of Lyonesse is a Knight of the Round Table who must overcome the horrors of his past and defend his king or lose everything. When he becomes a warrior of the Tribe of Dana, a gift of Druidic magic might hold the key he seeks. Haunted and hunted. Entwined by fate. Can their passion and power prevail?

Excerpt Three:


“Every tree, plant, flower and herb has an essence. A spirit. A life force.” She gestured to the verdant forest all around.


Issylte raised her eyes to the lush canopy of trees overhead, the blue sky peeking through the fluffy clouds. She inhaled deeply, the green notes of pine mingling with the rich scent of earth and the tangy fragrance of blossoms in the early summer breeze.


“The essence of the forest can be beneficial. Benevolent. Essential for healing.” She picked up a sprig of red clover and handed it to Issylte with a knowing smile. “Yet others are harmful and deadly.” Maiwenn gestured to the alluring deep purple flowers before them.


Issylte’s breath caught in wonder. She sensed an aura. A tingle in her veins.


Maiwenn’s chestnut eyes bore deeply into hers. “Have you ever felt the thrum of the forest in your veins?”


Issylte nodded, her eyes wide with discovery and delight. She held Maiwenn’s gaze, nearly breathless with anticipation.


“That, Églantine, is power.” Maiwenn’s eyes were deep brown, like the nourishing earth of the Hazelwood Forest.


“You, my dear princess, are a forest fairy. Like me.”


With a quick intake of breath, Issylte placed her hands over her mouth in wonder.


“The Goddess has blessed us both with a divine gift. The ability to sense the essence of a plant. To wield its power. The warm, soothing aura of a beneficial herb. The icy sting of a poison.”



AUTHOR Bio and Links:


Enthralled with legends of medieval knights and ladies, dark fairy tales and fantasies about Druids, wizards and magic, Jennifer Ivy Walker always dreamed of becoming a writer. She fell in love with French in junior high school, continuing her study of the language throughout college, eventually becoming a high school teacher and college professor of French.


As a high school teacher, she took her students every year to the annual French competition, where they performed a play she had written, "Yseult la Belle et Tristan la BĂȘte"--an imaginative blend of the medieval French legend of "Tristan et Yseult" and the fairy tale "Beauty and the Beast", enhanced with fantasy elements of a Celtic fairy and a wicked witch.


Her debut novel, "The Wild Rose and the Sea Raven"--the first of a trilogy-- is a blend of her love for medieval legends, the romantic French language, and paranormal fantasy. It is a retelling of the medieval French romance of "Tristan et Yseult", interwoven with Arthurian myth, dark fairy tales from the enchanted Forest of Brocéliande, and otherworldy elements such as Avalonian Elves, Druids, forest fairies and magic.


Explore her realm of Medieval French Fantasy. She hopes her novels will enchant you.






Amazon link:

Barnes and Noble:






Jennifer Ivy Walker will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.



a Rafflecopter giveaway