Archive for the ‘Excerpt’ Category

 

Time Travel Swap

by Connie Lacy

 

Publication date: February 26th 2025
Genres: Adult, Romance, Time-Travel

A unique time travel romance

With her star rising and her rock band about to hit the big time, Carly Munro is infuriated to find herself whisked thirty years into the future. Her band needs her. So does her guitarist boyfriend – her partner in the band. But the doorway that transported her to 2054 seems to be a one-way street.

A guy named Ian takes her in and becomes her ally as she tries find her way home. They discover her trip through time may have been more than just a random accident of nature. There’s something suspicious about how it all went down. Stuck in the future, she can’t help feeling that her life has been stolen.

When Carly and Ian develop feelings for one another, it comes as bad news since she has no intention of giving up the music career she worked so hard to build.

To her ears, the pop music of 2054 sounds like it’s straight off an Artificial Intelligence production line. Which is one more reason she’s determined to find her way home so she can reclaim her life in a time when “real” music is valued.

“A compelling read for anyone who enjoys a well-told tale of personal growth and timebending adventures.” – Readers’ Favorite 5-star review

“The novel explores themes of love, loss, and the quest for identity, all while keeping readers hooked with its intriguing plot twists and vibrant characters.” – Donadee’s Corner 5-star review

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

From Chapter 1

A sigh near her right ear made her flinch. Could there be an old steam radiator behind the wall making those sounds? No time now to investigate.

She turned off the lights, opened the door and backed into the hallway, key in hand. Sensing movement close behind her, she spun around once again. No one there. Yet the prickly sensation lingered as though someone was watching her.

“Natalie?”

There, a few feet away, a tall slender man had just exited a door she’d never seen before. In chino shorts and a polo shirt, he looked like he was heading out for a round of golf.

“You’re not Natalie,” he said, his head tilting to the side – a human question mark.

He studied her as she studied him. He was a good-looking Asian-American guy with dark hair – a little spiky on top – and large, inquisitive eyes. More European than Asian, she decided.

He pulled his door to, triggering a soft buzz and a click as the door locked.

“You must be Natalie’s younger sister? A niece?”

She had no clue what he was talking about or why he was standing beside a door that didn’t exist yesterday. What the hell!

Squinting in the bright light, she was baffled to find the hallway transformed. The antique ceiling globes were gone, replaced by modern light fixtures. The deep green walls were now pale cream and the wainscoting had been removed. Plus, the hallway was longer now with eight doors instead of four.

“I didn’t know she had company,” he said, as though trying not to alarm her. “I live here in one eleven.” He gestured at the door from which he’d emerged. “The name is Ian.”

She glanced from his door to hers, discovering the heavy wooden door to her apartment had been replaced with a smooth white door. No beveled panels, no woodgrains.

Was this a virtual reality projection? If so, it was the most realistic VR she’d ever seen. Must be Hawke’s idea of a prank. She would kill him later. Pranks were not welcome on what could be the most important day of her life. Right now she had to get going.

She gripped her key, ready to lock the door and be on her way. But the doorknob no longer had a keyhole.

The man moved closer. He seemed so real! This was like an amazing hologram. Where was the projector?

Touching the door, it was the same as the door her eyes were seeing – smooth and featureless. And the doorknob definitely had no keyhole.

“There’s a keypad,” the man said, pointing.

She couldn’t resist touching his arm, but yanked her hand away like she’d burned her finger. Not virtual reality.

His expression turned wary, as if he was standing too close to a buffalo in Yellowstone Park that was about to gore him.

So if this wasn’t a virtual reality gag, then where was she? And how did she get here? This was not the converted mansion she lived in.

“I don’t have time for this!” she cried.

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About Author Connie Lacy:

Connie Lacy writes fast-paced novels about gutsy young women struggling with moral dilemmas and life-changing decisions, all while falling in love. She writes speculative fiction, time travel and historical fiction.

She worked for many years as a radio news anchor and reporter. It’s not surprising that many of her books feature journalists. Some of her books have themes of social justice and women’s rights.

She loves beautiful old trees, sparkling rivers and learning about the history of our forebears, recent and ancient. She’s also fascinated by the idea of time travel.

She and her husband live in Atlanta, Georgia, USA.

Website / Goodreads / TikTok / Facebook / Instagram / Newsletter

 

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PINEAPPLE EASTER EGG
by Amy Vansant
April 10, 2025 Book Blast

 

 

Synopsis:
PINEAPPLE PORT MYSTERY SERIES

 

NOW OPTIONED FOR TELEVISION!

Every book can be read as a standalone mystery – hop in anywhere in the series! USA Today, Amazon All-Star and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Amy Vansant has her Pineapple Port crew on an egg-cellent adventures near and far! Easter eggs surround the body. One of them has a note. Charlotte teams up with Sheriff Frank to solve a cryptic murder in a do-or-dye situation… Too bad she won’t have help. Uncle Seamus and Bob accompany Declan to his charity swim in Tampa, Florida, only to find themselves in pursuit of a stolen life-sized Jimmy Buffett cutout. Darla and Mariska travel to the center of Florida to meet Mariska’s newly found cousin at an art festival, where a man with a crush on Mariska bobs up in the lake and she’s thrown in jail as a murder suspect. It’s up to Darla and some very familiar locals to hatch a plan, solve the crime, and clear Mariska. It’s all very egg-citing!

A super fun and unique mystery full of hidden “Easter eggs” for you to spot! Famous actors anagram names, Jimmy Buffet song references – find them all!

 

Book Details:

Genre: Cozy Mystery, Classic Mystery

Publication Date: April 9, 2025 Number of Pages: 350 Series: Pineapple Port Mystery Series, 24 

Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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Chapter One
Coby Karola stood over his sink, cleaning a dinner plate, when he heard something strike the window near his kitchen table. The noise was sharp. Loud. Too loud to be a bird. “What the heck was that?” he said to no one, moving to the back door. He cupped his hands around his face to peer out the window, but it was too dark to see. He dried his hands on his pants and flipped the back porch light on. Nothing seemed amiss until his attention fell on the center of his unmowed lawn. Unnaturally bright specks of color scattered across an area about the size of a round picnic table—yellow, pink, purple… Grumbling to himself, Coby opened the door. From the small landing, he saw the color blobs were equally round. Maybe a little oblong. Sort of like… Eggs? It was April… Easter eggs? Shaking his head, he walked out and bent to pick up one. It was plastic—the typical cheap, hollow plastic eggs people hid candy in this time of year. Kids. It was almost Easter. This stunt had to be kids thinking they were funny. This time of year, the residents’ grandkids visited Florida for spring break. Every spring was a nightmare of blaring speakers on golf carts wheeling around the neighborhood. Coby shook the plastic egg and then cracked open a purple one. There was nothing inside. He picked up another to find it empty as well. He snorted. If someone was going to take the time to scatter eggs around his yard, at least they could throw in a chocolate or two. In the hopes of finding something, he kept at it, twisting one egg after the next. Distracted by curiosity, he never heard the stranger running up behind him. The one with the hammer. But then, that was the point.

Chapter Two

Charlotte padded into the kitchen to start the morning coffee, her oversized sleep shirt tapping her knees as she walked. It was still a little strange to wake up in Declan’s house. She’d given up thinking she’d ever live anywhere but Pineapple Port, the fifty-five-plus community where she’d grown up, but here she was—a whole three miles away in her husband’s house. She didn’t mind. Marriage was pretty cool. Who knew? She had a new pattern at Declan’s house, and it felt more and more like home every day. Her soft-coated wheaten terrier, Abby, approached and sat, waiting to be taken for her morning walk. The dog had figured out her patterns faster than her mommy, but to be fair, all her patterns revolved around treats, so things were pretty straightforward for her. Charlotte suspected Abby liked it better at Declan’s house. Declan had a pool and a fenced back yard, and the terrier could romp whenever she wanted—no waiting for official walks. Charlotte was pretty fond of that new aspect of their lives as well— Hold on. Charlotte stopped as something flashed in her peripheral vision. She glanced at the back slider doors in time to see a shadow pass the full-length shade. Something outside was moving. Something big. It didn’t look like a stray cat passing by. It was bigger and more person-shaped. She knew Declan was in the bedroom, so that ruled him out. She heard splashing and cocked her head. Someone’s in Declan’s pool? The splashing made her feel better. Thieves and killers didn’t usually take a quick swim before breaking into a house. Goofball kids stealing a swim? Probably. It was that time of year when grandkids came to Florida. People on vacation sometimes acted like vacation spots didn’t carry the same rules or consequences as back home. That’s when they ended up with kids in the pool and golf carts planted in mailbox posts. Abby heard the intruder splashing and offered her opinion in the form of a deep-chested boof—that pre-full-bark noise all dogs made before completely losing their minds. The dog jogged to the door and entered the lowered shade from the side to peek outside. Abby’s bark alone would probably scare away the kids—but she didn’t bark. Instead, her little nub of tail wagged. Charlotte stood behind her failing guard dog but couldn’t see anyone from her angle. Whoever was in the pool had stopped at the far end, out of sight, but she heard someone say, “Whoo! Cold!” She left Abby and hustled to the bedroom to wake up her husband. “Declan,” she hissed, shaking him. He cracked one eye open. “Hm?” “There’s someone in the pool.” “What?” Declan sat up, alarmed but clearly still half asleep. It didn’t look like his mind would be joining them for another minute or so. The man slept like the dead. Must be nice. “There’s someone in our pool,” she repeated. “In the pool? The cleaning guy?” “It’s Friday. It’s not the cleaning guy. He was yesterday,” she said, slipping into her robe. Declan checked his watch and grunted. He stood and stretched. His eyes focused on her. It looked like his brain had caught up to the rest of him. “There you are,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. Abby barked twice, and Declan strode toward the living room in the sweat shorts he usually wore to bed without bothering to get dressed. Now, he was all business. Whoever was out there was lucky the man hadn’t had his coffee yet. Charlotte followed. Declan grabbed a controller from the sofa table, opened the automatic curtains, and watched in stunned silence as someone stroked their way to the edge of his pool. “Why would someone steal a swim at four in the morning?” asked Charlotte. Declan switched on the back porch light as the swimmer grabbed the side and bobbed up for air. Noticing the lights and open blinds, he pulled the goggles over his bushy gray eyebrows and squinted at them from the water. He waved. “Is that Bob?” asked Declan. “I think it is,” said Charlotte. “I should probably call Mariska and tell her her husband’s loose.” Declan glanced over his shoulder at her. “This is what I was afraid of. Your crazy has followed you from Pineapple Port.” She smirked and smacked his arm. “You knew what you were signing up for. No takebacks.” Declan had experienced plenty of Pineapple Port insanity during their dating years. She, on the other hand, had never known anything else. She was young when she moved into the retirement community to live with her grandmother after her mother died. When her grandmother also passed, the community let her stay, though she was far from the minimum fifty-five years old. By the time she met Declan, she’d gotten so used to the crazy that she’d stopped noticing it—until she saw it through his eyes. Turns out, life was strange growing up as a retirement community’s young mascot. Mariska and Bob the Morning Swimmer had served as her foster parents and lived across the street from her in Pineapple Port— though, apparently, now Bob lived in their pool. Declan opened the slider, and Abby shot out, tail-wagging hello to the familiar man in the pool. “Whatcha doin’, Bob?” asked Declan. “I’m getting a quick swim in before we go,” said Bob, patting Abby while she licked the water off his arm. Declan scowled. “Before we go?” Charlotte put her knuckles against her lips. Oh no. She saw where this was heading. I think I messed up. “I’m coming with you to the charity swim in Tampa,” said Bob. Charlotte nodded. Yep, I messed up. Declan turned to look at her. The whites of his eyes flashed, signaling either annoyance or panic. Probably both. “Hey sweetheart, did you tell Bob I was going to a charity swim in Tampa today?” he asked in a sing-song voice. His frozen smile answered her question. Annoyed. Definitely annoyed. She winced. “I might have mentioned it to Mariska.” Her husband let out a slow, steady breath. She’d seen him do that move a few times before. One or more of the Pineapple Portians were usually nearby when it happened. Or, Declan’s Uncle Seamus—but a Seamus Sigh came with extra teeth gritting. He was the only thing crazier than the residents of Pineapple Port. “I’m guessing you’d like to carpool there with me?” he asked Bob. He’d given in fast. Like her, he’d figured out it was always easier to just accept the crazy was happening. “That be great,” said Bob. “We should grab some breakfast here first.” “Sure, the pool always comes with a complimentary breakfast.” Declan turned. “Maybe you could start on that, darling?” She stuck her tongue out at him and moved to the kitchen to scoop extra coffee into the machine. It was official—she’d been swept into the nuttery. She should have run away the second she saw it was Bob and not a killer taking a quick dip, pre-murder spree. She turned on the stove and found a pan. “Ask Bob what he wants—” “Eggs!” called Bob, lowering his goggles back over his eyes. “And bacon. And toast. And orange juice!” Declan nodded and left Abby outside to run around the pool, chasing Bob back and forth as he swam. He’d almost shut the door when Bob popped up again. “Coffee!” he yelped. Declan signaled he’d heard and turned to Charlotte. “What have you done?” he asked. She laughed. “I’m sorry. It never occurred to me he’d want to go with you. He hasn’t been into swimming for years.” “I suspect it has more to do with the beach bunnies in Tampa than the swimming,” said Declan. She snorted a laugh. “You said beach bunnies—you’ve been hanging out with the oldies too long.” He smirked. “Well, whose fault is that? I’m just glad it wasn’t Seamus—” “Top o’ the mornin’ to ye,” said Seamus as he burst through the front door. *** Excerpt from Pineapple Easter Egg by Amy Vansant. Copyright 2025 by Amy Vansant. Reproduced with permission from Amy Vansant. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Amy Vansant:
 

USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Amy Vansant has written over 40 books, including the fun, thrilling Shee McQueen series, the rollicking, twisty Pineapple Port Mysteries, and the action-packed Kilty urban fantasies. Throw in a couple of romances and a YA fantasy for her nieces… Amy specializes in fun, exciting reads with plenty of laughs and action — she tried to write serious books, but they always ended up full of jokes, so she gave up. Amy lives in Jupiter, Florida, with her muse/husband and a goony Bordoodle named Archer.

Catch Up With Amy Vansant:

AmyVansant.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads – @AmyVansant BookBub – @AmyVansant Instagram – @TheAmyVansant Threads – @TheAmyVansant X – @AmyVansant Facebook – @TheAmyVansant BlueSky – @amyvansant.bsky.social YouTube – @AmyVansant

 

 

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Lost and Stolen Gods

by Debbie Cassidy

 

(Labyrinth of Gods, #1)
Publication date: April 4th 2025
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance

Gods aren’t born, they’re made.

I should have died the same night that a monster murdered my grandmother, but I was saved, stolen from my world, and thrown into a realm ravaged by an endless war between ancient gods called Asura.

I’m told that I’m a demigod, that there are others like me, brought to this world to replenish their dwindling numbers. They want us to prove we’re worthy of ascension and fight alongside them.

But I don’t give a damn about their war. All I want is vengeance on the monster that killed my only family. A monster from their world. And if the only way to kill it is to become a god, then I’m all in.

But the path of ascension is paved with dangerous tests, culminating in a lethal trial called the labyrinth of gods.

Only an ancient fire elemental has the power to help me survive it.

His wicked mouth sets my pulse racing, and his dark threats turn my blood to ice. Charismatic and terrifying, he attracts and repels me in equal measure, and I have no doubt he’d snap my neck in a heartbeat if freed from the magical bonds that compel him to aid me.

He hopes to be my undoing, and if I’m not careful I may not make it to the labyrinth alive.

To claim the vengeance that I desire I’ll need to protect my body and shield my mind, but most of all I’ll need to guard my heart.

Enter an Otherworldly realm filled with gods, monsters, and mystical beings. Opposites attract and love and conflict collide, in this forced proximity romance.

Goodreads / Amazon

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About Author Debbie Cassidy:

Debbie Cassidy lives in England, Bedfordshire, with her three kids and very supportive husband. Coffee and chocolate biscuits are her writing fuels of choice, and she is still working on getting that perfect tower of solitude built in her back garden. Obsessed with building new worlds and reading about them, she spends her spare time daydreaming and conversing with the characters in her head – in a totally non psychotic way of course. She writes Urban Fantasy, Fantasy and Reverse Harem Fantasy. All her books contain plenty of action, romance and twisty plots.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

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THE ORGAN BROKER
by Deven Greene
March 31 – April 25, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
A devoted wife and mother faces the unimaginable as her life crumbles.

Crystal Rigler seems to have a perfect marriage. Derek, her handsome and charismatic husband, and their adult daughter, Cordelia, are her whole world. In addition to her already busy life, Crystal supports the volunteer organization she and Derek started: STOP (Stop Transplants of Organs from Prisoners). STOP aims to end a new government policy of harvesting organs from executed prisoners. They learn that these organs are not distributed by the national transplant list, established to allocate organs fairly. Instead, a shadowy figure known as Broker Al pulls the strings. He expedites the execution of young and healthy prisoners and sells their organs at a high price to the rich and well-connected. After Crystal learns a disturbing secret, events are set in motion that will potentially dismantle STOP, change her life, and cost her everything. Unless she is willing to do the unthinkable… .

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Praise for The Organ Broker:

The Organ Broker by Deven Greene was intricate and captivated my attention from the first page. The story was fast-paced with not a single dull moment.” ~ Readers’ Favorite

“If you enjoy moral dilemmas, complex characters, and a plot that feels uncomfortably plausible, this book will leave you thinking long after the ending.” ~ Literary Titan

“…electrifyingly intense… Introspective and entertaining, The Organ Broker navigates the delicate balance between principles and priorities.” ~ Indies Today

The Organ Broker … teeters between thriller, novel, a story of medical and social challenge, and more. It stands out from others about organ harvesting simply because it evolves a complex plot that engages characters and readers in a moral and ethical dance spiced with intrigue and the unexpected.” ~ D. Donovan, Sr. Reviewer, Midwest Book Review

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THE ORGAN BROKER Trailer:

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Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Suspense

Published by: Panthera Publishing Publication Date: April 2025 Number of Pages: 321 ISBN: 9781964620060 (ISBN10: 1964620066)

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Google Books | Apple Books | Kobo | Goodreads

Enjoy this peek inside:
Chapter 1

The East Texas sun was hotter than usual for September, the few clouds high above providing no relief. A half-hour earlier, overcome by heat and exhaustion, Crystal had let her sign reading “Save Kwami” slip to the ground. Standing near the front of the crowd, Crystal pushed up the visor on her baseball cap to get a better look at her surroundings. She was pleased with the impressive turnout which she estimated to be close to one thousand people. It was the largest they’d ever had. Most of the other protestors continue to hold their placards high, displaying myriad slogans such as “Justice for Kwami,” “Let Kwami Live,” “Impeach Gov. Percy,” and the most popular, “STOP.” She took a deep breath and lifted her sign again, fighting the pain in her fingers as she held it as high as she could.

The crowd of protestors was comprised of a cross-section of the community— young, old, couples, families, Black, White, Hispanic, and Asian. A colorful array of baseball caps, bucket hats, visors, straw hats, and cowboy hats protected most of the heads from the constant flood of the sun’s rays. The makeshift podium and public address system were rudimentary, and there was the usual milling around often seen in large gatherings, but the audience, for the most part, was paying attention to the pudgy young man with a man bun speaking to them. At times, the crowd burst out in synchronous claps and hoots of approval. The assembly was peaceful, with only a few skirmishes breaking out at the edges where police stood watch. Still thirsty after having finished her bottle of water, Crystal let her mind wander as the speaker droned on about the immorality of what was about to take place. Her clothes clung to her sweaty body, and despite wearing sunglasses with polarized lenses, the bright sun hurt her eyes. Looking down, she swatted away a bug that landed on her arm. Uncomfortable and impatient, she was eagerly awaiting the next speaker. Finally, the man at the podium looked up and announced, “And now, the man you’ve all been waiting to hear, the leader of our organization, Mr. Derek Rigler.” The mood of the crowd changed, and participants started chanting “STOP” in unison as they raised and lowered their signs. A tall, muscular man with tan skin and wavy blond hair, took to the stage next to the previous speaker and scanned the crowd with his magnetic blue eyes. Crystal looked up and smiled. His handsome, chiseled features gave him the look of a confident leader. Although he was nearly fifty years old, he looked at least ten years younger. He hasn’t lost the ability to attract attention whenever he enters a room. Derek took his place on the podium and held out his arms as if to give a benediction. After almost a full minute of roaring applause, he raised and lowered his hands several times to quiet the crowd. Crystal looked around, energized by the enthusiasm bubbling over. She noted more press vans set up around the perimeter than in the previous protest. Their organization, STOP, was gaining traction. She wondered if Derek had picked her out of the crowd. If she were taller, he’d probably see her—she wasn’t far from the front—but she imagined her five-foot two-inch frame made her visage difficult to identify in the sea of people. From what she could glean, Derek hadn’t spotted her. After all, she was just another brunette under a baseball cap, surrounded by many others. Even so, Crystal smiled widely, wondering if anyone nearby recognized her. After all, she was notable as Derek’s wife and the mother of his child, Cordelia. As Derek started his familiar diatribe against the Texas death penalty laws, Crystal tried to lock eyes with him, but his eyes never found her. Instead, he focused on members of the audience near and far, concentrating his gaze on one person for several seconds before moving on to the next pair of waiting eyes. Crystal recognized the usual arguments against the event that was scheduled to take place momentarily—the uneven death penalty sentencing, the ugliness of exacting revenge, and the irreversibility of the punishment once meted out. The speech was powerful, and she agreed with everything Derek said. She could recite the words by heart, not only because she had heard them during Derek’s practice sessions, but because she had written them herself. Every time the crowd reacted with hollers and claps, she felt taller, each breath a bit more satisfying. She’d been to over six of these rallies in the past year, each protesting the execution of a prisoner found guilty of a crime deemed fitting for capital punishment. The death penalty had never sat well with Crystal, but over the past two years, the practice had escalated, with four more executions scheduled over the next six months in Texas alone. Not only was the ultimate punishment meted out more often, but the evidence leading to convictions was frequently less convincing. She’d made up her mind to do something to stop the injustice and had established STOP almost a year earlier. A small, grass-roots collection of like-minded people, it was taking hold, thanks to her speech writing, community outreach, and organizational skills, bolstered by her husband’s charisma. He was the face of the organization. Derek’s address was interrupted by a loud commotion as the officers stationed around the perimeter began to forcefully clear a path through the protestors to the entryway of the large building looming behind the speaker. Despite shouting and resistance from the crowd, with the most passionate demonstrators being handcuffed and dragged away, the police were able to open a wide berth. “We are nearing the time,” Derek shouted above the commotion, “the time when our brother Kwami will be taken from us in an act that can only be described as state-sponsored murder. Let all those who have participated in this mockery of justice one day pay for their crimes, and let all those who directly benefit from this violent act realize the wrong they have participated in.” A police transport moved through the clearing in the crowd as demonstrators chanted “Kwami, Kwami” in unison. Although the windows of the vehicle were covered, all knew who was inside—Kwami McKinney, sentenced to be executed that day. The van didn’t stop until it was a mere five feet from the door to the building. A massive construction of cement and glass six stories high, the structure dwarfed the trees and other buildings nearby. Derek was silent as he turned to watch the Black prisoner, his head shaved, exit the van’s side door. Dressed in an orange jumpsuit accessorized with ankle and wrist shackles, Kwami was escorted by two armed guards, each holding onto one of his arms. Two more prison officers took up the rear. As the party of five walked towards the glass doors of the building, a Black woman around fifty years old ran towards them screaming. She was forcibly stopped by police, who grabbed onto her arms long before she could interfere. Everyone there knew the woman was Sally McKinney, Kwami’s mother. She yelled and cried hysterically, flailing against those restraining her as her son was led through the automated doors that opened before him and the guards. They disappeared inside the structure as the glass doors shut. People in the crowd yelled and cried, drowning out Ms. McKinney’s wails. Frustrated tears filled Crystal’s eyes; their protest had done nothing to dissuade the authorities from carrying out their sentence. She hadn’t expected the proceedings to be halted, but held onto a glimmer of hope until now, irrational as it was. She looked to Derek for comfort, hoping they might finally lock gazes and convey their sadness to each other, but Crystal’s thoughts were interrupted by a female acquaintance. “Fantastic speech,” the woman said. “I can’t disagree,” Crystal answered, buoyed momentarily by the woman’s words. “You must be very proud, being his wife. He’s so handsome, and brilliant to boot. You two are the perfect couple. I’d sure like to be a fly on the wall at your dinner table to hear about all his great ideas.” The words stung slightly, as Crystal chuckled politely. She was accustomed to being thought of as a mere appendage of her charismatic husband, but, she’d tried to convince herself that a successful protest, with Derek delivering a resounding speech, was all that was important. She didn’t need the admiration of others like he did. “Our dinners aren’t as interesting as you might think. Mostly, we talk about how we’re going to pay our bills.” Members of the press, who until now had been scattered amongst the protestors while taking notes and silently recording videos, were now talking and interviewing people on camera. The crowd thinned, but Crystal didn’t want to leave. She’d have liked to remain until she knew Kwami had taken his last breath, but that moment was hours away. She listened as a nearby male telecaster spoke into a camera. “Emotions are again high as another execution is about to take place. While many people feel that the crimes Kwami McKinney was convicted of, armed robbery and hostage-taking, justify the death sentence, some feel the punishment is too severe for the crimes the prisoner was convicted of. Still others believe he is innocent of the charges against him.” The reporter turned to a middle-aged female bystander and asked, “What do you think of today’s events? Do you think justice is being carried out today?” After posing the question, he shoved the microphone close to the woman’s mouth. “This is a travesty of justice,” she answered. “The real criminal was wearing a ski mask during the robbery, and escaped capture immediately following the crime. That was made clear during the trial. We also learned that Mr. McKinney was picked out in a lineup by two unreliable witnesses days later. There was a boatload of evidence that the so-called witnesses had drug charges against them dropped shortly after identifying Mr. McKinney. What kind of justice is that?” The telecaster quickly turned to the camera and continued his reporting. “Despite the controversy, Kwami McKinney is still scheduled to be executed here and now at New Lake Hospital. While we are happy for the families of the six unnamed individuals who will be the recipients of much-needed organs, many are questioning the legality and morality of what is now becoming a common method of organ procurement. The objections are being led by the organization STOP, which stands for Stop Transplants of Organs from Prisoners.” *** Excerpt from The Organ Broker by Deven Greene. Copyright 2025 by Deven Greene. Reproduced with permission from Deven Greene. All rights reserved.

 

 

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About Author Deven Greene:
 

Deven Greene lives in Northern California, where she enjoys writing fiction, most of which involves science or medicine. She has degrees in biochemistry (PhD) and medicine (MD), and practiced pathology for over twenty years.

She has previously published the The Erica Rosen MD Trilogy (Unnatural, Unwitting, and Unforeseen), and Ties That Kill, as well as several short stories.

Catch Up With Deven Greene:

www.DevenGreene.com Subscribe to Deven’s Blog Amazon Author Profile Goodreads BookBub @Deven_G1 Facebook @DevenGreeneFiction

 

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Eva is Waiting

by Romola Farr

 

Publication date: February 14th 2025
Genres: Adult, Historical, Thriller

Following the death of her mother, Lily is sent to a remote girls’ boarding school, tearing her away from all the excitement of London in the Swingin’ Sixties. Bereft, she develops a relationship with Rainer, the husband of Sylvia, the headmistress.

One day, Bella, the school Collie, goes missing whilst playing on the shore below sheer cliffs. Despite a rising tide, Lily is determined to find the beautiful dog and discovers her trapped between rocks in a cave. Deepening water swirls around them as her fingertips dig into the sand and touch the smooth surface of what she believes to be an animal skull. From that moment on, she is haunted by a young girl pleading for help.

Lily speaks to her headmistress and learns that eleven years previously a pupil went missing. Eva was a refugee from Hungary, and it was assumed by the police that she had run away.

Forced to stay on at school during the Christmas holiday, Lily is caught between those who know what really happened and wish to silence her, and her determination to end Eva’s wait for justice.

But is history about to repeat itself?

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

‘Don’t you have a heater?’ Lily was lying naked on a worn chaise longue with a gossamer thin veil artistically draped over her.

‘Heat burns out creativity.’ Rainer was sitting on a stool with a large pad on his lap, drawing Lily with a stub of pencil.

‘Am I to freeze my nether regions just for a sketch? I thought I deserved oils.’

‘First, liebling, I make sure I have all the correct proportions in pencil before I commence with charcoal, unless you want to have große Brüste und fette Oberschenkel.’

‘I think I’ve been inoculated against that!’

‘You are very funny.’

‘My mother told me I have a queer sense of humour.’

Rainer got up from the stool and placed the pad and pencil on the seat. He looked at Lily and she felt a surge. Since that amazing night, she had acted upon many urges alone in her room, then had knelt by her bed to pray for forgiveness. In her former school, Miss Rooney had made it clear that self-gratification was against the teachings of Christ.

‘As for adultery and fornication,’ Miss Rooney had said, ‘they are an abomination and will send you straight to hell.’ She had slammed the palm of her hand down on her thigh as she paced about and eyed the young girls seated before her. Young girls who had yet to experience their first period and were still reading books by Enid Blyton.

Well, Lily thought, hell it shall be because she was hooked on the greatest drug of all and despite her belief in God, she would rather face His wrath than become a dried-up old prune like Miss Rooney.

Rainer knelt in front of her, and she felt his warm tobacco breath… so intoxicating. ‘You are beautiful,’ he said.

‘Make love to me,’ she whispered.

‘An artist sleeping with his model is a cliché, is it not?’

‘Call it the Spark effect.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Muriel Spark… she wrote The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. It’s a novella set in a girls’ school. If they ever make it into a film, I want to play Sandy.’

‘Sandy?’

‘She’s the smartest girl in the Brodie set and has an affair with the art master.’

‘Who is very handsome, no doubt.’

‘Of course. Unfortunately, Sandy ends their affair and becomes a Roman Catholic nun.’

He chuckled. ‘Is that your destiny?’

She shrugged. ‘Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be.’ She let the veil slip, exposing a youthful breast. ‘My fate is in your hands.’

He repositioned the veil and stepped back.

She forced a smile. ‘So, it’s a nunnery for me then?’

He looked at her. ‘I cannot imagine loving anyone more than I do you.’

‘What about Sylvia?’

‘She saved my life and has given me a future out of reach of the Russian bear.’

Lily wrapped the gauze tightly around her and stood. ‘I’d better go.’

‘Please stay. I owe Sylvia, but I want you.’ He pushed her gently down onto the chaise longue and knelt before her.

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About Author Romola Farr:

Romola Farr first trod the boards on the West End stage aged sixteen and continued to work for the next eighteen years in theatre, TV and film – and as a photographic model. A trip to Hollywood led to the sale of her first screenplay and a successful change of direction as a screenwriter and playwright. Bridge To Eternity was her debut novel, and Breaking through the Shadows and Where the Water Flows are standalone sequels. All are set in the fictional town of Hawksmead.

Romola Farr is a nom de plume.

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Love & the Divorce Lawyer by Barbara Newhart Banner

LOVE & THE DIVORCE LAWYER
by Barbara Newhart
March 24 – April 18, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
If you love mystery, with a hint of humor and romance, you’ll want to read Love & the Divorce Lawyer

Josephina Jensen, a feisty, justice-seeking divorce lawyer, reluctantly returns to the courtroom after a four-year absence, to help a woman collect an award worth several million dollars from her unscrupulous ex-husband. This decision forces her to cross swords with the brilliant, infuriating, yet ever-so-charming attorney, Richard Diamond, and the ex-husband who will stop at nothing to prevent the dismantling of his empire. Little does anyone know that someone from Josephina’s past is also at work, intent on taking care of unfinished business by stopping her permanently.

Praise for Love & the Divorce Lawyer:

“From its slam-bang opening to its unexpected yet inevitable conclusion, Love and the Divorce Lawyer is a twisty, suspenseful, romantic legal thriller. Author Newhart’s legal background serves her well as she leads the reader through the fascinating strategies that high-end practitioners of family law employ to protect and reap the best possible benefits for their clients. But it is the mystery of who is sending increasingly ominous threats to Attorney Josie Jensen that drives the action of the novel. Filled with complex and genuine characters with understandable but conflicting motives, Newhart masterfully creates tension scene after scene. Attorney Jensen’s growing attraction to her opponent in an important divorce case unfolds naturally as she anticipates her crafty adversary’s next move and what she must do to counter it, all the while finding herself drawn to him on a personal level. Superbly written and expertly plotted, Love and the Divorce Lawyer is a winner.” ~ Brian Anderson, author of Yule Tide and the Lyle Dahms Mysteries

“Josie Jensen is back. Four years ago, a client’s bullet shattered her pelvis and nearly ended her legal career. Now, against her better judgment, she’s reluctantly agreed to represent Amy Castle, a woman entangled in a bitter financial battle with her ex-husband. But the case isn’t as simple as it seems. Josie’s ongoing divorce is a constant reminder of the pain she’s endured, and her physical limitations make the courtroom a challenging arena. To complicate matters, she’s locked in a legal duel with Richard Diamond, a brilliant and undeniably attractive attorney. Danger lurks around every corner as Josie digs deeper into the case. A near-miss on the road, a sinister floral delivery, and a persistent sense of being followed signal that her troubles are far from over. Barbara Newhart has crafted a complex cast of characters and a captivating narrative that will keep you on the edge of your seat. This is one for the keeper shelves. 5 out of 5 stars” ~ Kate Damon author of Jury Duty is Murder

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, with a hint of humor, romance, and family

Published by: The Wild Rose Press Publication Date: December 11, 2024 Number of Pages: 276 ISBN: 978-1-5092-5925-0

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | The Wild Rose Press | Waterstones

Enjoy this peek inside:
Chapter One
Anne Compton, Almost Four Years Ago

Anne placed the empty gun carefully on the table, then folded her hands next to it. Moments earlier, to prevent the judge from granting their divorce, she fired it at her husband. She and Peter had shared such wonderful dreams of their lives together. But that was a long time ago—before he broke their vows. For that, there could be no forgiveness. And yet, he escaped his sentence.

All because of her interfering lawyer.

Anne peered down at the floor at Attorney Josephina Jensen, the woman she hired to prevent the divorce, and who had failed her. To add to her treachery, Jensen stepped in front of the bullets meant for Peter. Now, the divorce would go forward, thrusting Anne with him into eternal damnation for his sins. In the hallway outside, footsteps pounded the marble floors. The courtroom’s double doors burst open, shattering glass and splitting wood. Anne met the panicked eyes of her former fiancé, followed by the first responders. She smiled as a single tear dropped to her cheek.

Chapter Two

Present Day, Josie Jensen, Thursday Afternoon
“Face it, Josephina Jensen. You’re a divorce lawyer.” “No, brother dear,” the almost forty-one-year-old corrected as she twirled the stem of her wine glass on the bar. “I have a shattered pelvis and an assortment of scars from a couple bullet wounds to prove I was a divorce lawyer.” She held her cane up in the air. “I am now a law school professor.” Reaching for his beer mug, Dan Jensen flashed his perfect bachelor-of-the-year grin. “I’ve got a great case for you. The divorce part is over. Judge Myers awarded the wife six million, plus a few million more in assets that are all in the husband’s name.” “Let me guess,” Josie interrupted, concentrating on opening the package of oyster crackers that arrived with her fish chowder. “The husband refuses to authorize the transfers.” “Correct. All you have to do is help the wife, now the ex-wife, collect.” Out of patience, Josie yanked the cellophane hard, spewing the contents in all directions. “Oh, good grief.” Dan swallowed a forkful of baked scrod and rice pilaf as she retrieved the crackers. “The couple has a chain of high-end grocery stores. They made a ton of money over the years. Plus, the stores are still operating.” When Josie didn’t respond, he stilled her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. “You got this. You’re a bloodhound when it comes to cases like this. It’s easy money for you.” She glowered at him over her gold-rimmed glasses. “I remember you flying around the house in superhero costumes.” She removed her hand. “Those gorgeous eyes and that infamous charm get you nowhere with me.” Deadpan serious now, Dan leaned in close, speaking fast. “The wife is Amy Castle. She’s a cousin on my mom’s side. Two years ago, I referred her to Barry Woodward because you were still recovering from your injuries. Barry did a fantastic job on the divorce. Sadly, he also put the moves on Amy, and they had an affair.” Dan shook his head. “Really poor form. She learned over the weekend that he was married, and she fired him. So, would you please help her?” Josie sat back and tackled one piece of information at a time. First, their family tree. She and Dan shared the same father but had different mothers. Yes, that could result in unknown cousins. Next, she considered the aforementioned lawyer. “Isn’t Barry on his third wife?” Dan resumed eating. “The fourth. She knows about the affair too. It’s a disaster.” Josie balanced a piece of salmon on her soup spoon. “So, I’d really be doing this for you, right? To help ease your guilt over referring a family member to a brilliant, sex-addicted lawyer with commitment issues?” He tilted his head. “Well, yes. And for Amy, an innocent victim of love, taken advantage of by her now ex-husband and deceived by her lover.” When Josie didn’t respond, he added, “She’ll pay you a hundred thousand dollars, upfront, and you can bill her a c-note an hour. There’s plenty more after that if you need it.” As if on automatic pilot, Josie’s mind started listing each step of the process needed to hang the ex-husband. Then the sane, less greedy side of her brain kicked in. Stop. You don’t do that kind of work anymore. Dan squeezed her hand again. “Please?” Her resolve wavered. This not-so-humble, lawyer-of-the-year-type guy who just offered her a case other lawyers would beg for, was her life-long best friend and confidant. He also rarely said please. Twice. She pushed aside the chowder and swiveled in the bar stool to face him. “I hate you.” His broad smile beamed. “You love me.” He picked up his cell. “Can I call her? She’s waiting in the parking lot to meet with you.” Josie grabbed his hand. “I’m making no promises.” “Agreed. Just speak with her.” She scratched the scar on her chest. “Who’s representing the ex-husband?” Dan’s cheeks and neck blotched red. “Oh yeah. About that.” He rose and tossed a bunch of bills on the bar. Warning bells erupted in Josie’s brain. She grabbed the hem of his designer suit jacket. “Daniel Gabriel Jensen. Who is it?” “Um, do you remember Richard Diamond?”

Chapter Three

Richard Diamond, Thursday Afternoon
“Mr. Castle is holding on line two.” “Thank you, Dana.” Attorney Richard Diamond ended the intercom connection and drained a bottle of water. Divorce caused even the most reasonable people to act unreasonably. And yet, Richard suspected his client, Malcolm Castle, displayed his “unique” form of unreasonableness long before his divorce commenced. To date, he held the record for the longest divorce case in the county, and the pandemic had nothing to do with the delay. Richard didn’t need to review Castle’s file to recall the judge’s final decision when he granted the divorce. With millions of dollars up for grabs, Mr. Castle was ordered to transfer six of them in investments, plus a beach cottage, a boat, and a car, to his former wife within thirty days. And here they were, a hundred days or so later, and no transfers. Richard wondered if his client intended to break the record for this post judgment phase of the divorce as well. Was Richard ruffled? Not at all. Malcolm already paid him close to two million in legal fees for the divorce. And he said he would commit to spending another two million for Richard to run circles around his ex-wife and her lawyer in order to hold on to his fortune until the last possible moment. And then, only then, would he direct Richard to make a deal. He was not going to pay anything close to six million and it was up to Richard to make sure of it. Richard inhaled a deep breath and held it for five seconds. Then he released a slow exhale. It had been a long day, and it was about to get longer. After another second, he pushed the phone’s button for line two. “This is Attorney Diamond. How may I help you?” “Hey there, Dickie Baby. It’s me, Mal. I hear Amy’s getting a new lawyer. A broad this time. She must have figured out, with some help, that this last one, who she was screwing, Wood something or other, was married. She gave him the boot Tuesday night.” Richard never asked why or how his client always had up-to-date details about his ex-wife’s life. He didn’t want to know. Malcolm Castle may be slick, but more important, his skewed beliefs about how the world should operate, including his marriage and his divorce, created the type of no-holds-barred challenge that Richard relished. And Malcolm, along with Richard’s other character-flawed clients, often expressed many prejudices, but they were not stupid. They ignored Richard’s dark skin because of the favorable results he produced. As for being Jewish, the topic never came up. Black Jews were not common in this country. Black Jewish lawyers of Ethiopian descent were even less common. Richard gave his well-appointed office an appreciative glance. Mal wouldn’t pay his ex-wife, but he always paid his legal bills without question or delay. And the instant he didn’t, Richard would fire him. “What’s the lawyer’s name?” he asked, disappointed that Barry Woodward couldn’t keep his pants zipped, or at least avoid getting caught. There were few other lawyers left in the state who could handle a case of this magnitude. Like him, they treated the law as a game. The goal was to define the rules in each case, then be the best at figuring out how to enforce them or bend them. Which strategy depended on whose side you were on and how much money your client was willing to pay you. “Some fat bimbo named Josephina Jensen,” Castle answered. “I already checked her out. She teaches at the damned law school. She quit going to court a couple years ago after her wacko client, the wife, mind you, got a gun into the courthouse. Jensen tried to stop her from shooting it off and she got hit pretty bad. If she represents Amy, it will be her first time back in court, in the same building. With all that emotional garbage and you in my corner, I doubt she’ll last a week. What do you think?” Castle kept talking as Richard’s memory replayed the nightmarish scenes that came to be known as the Compton Catastrophe around Hartford’s Hall of Justice. He’d been down the hall when he heard the shots. “Hey, Dickie, answer my question,” Castle demanded, drawing Richard back to the present. Richard typed Jensen’s name into the attorney directory located on the state’s judicial website, confirming what he already suspected. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Malcolm.” He noted the calendar hanging on the wall and changed topics. “Are you all set for next Thursday?” “You mean when I become unavailable?” Richard cleared his throat. “Court starts at ten. It is my obligation to tell you to be there and on time.” “Consider me told. Just be sure to cover my ass at all costs.” “Consider your ass covered, Malcolm.” Richard hung up and jotted down the time spent during the call and its content. Next, he returned his attention to Josephina Jensen. Holding his chin between his forefinger and thumb, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He recalled her body, wrapped in a white sheet and packed onto a gurney with an oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth. Two silent paramedics, ignoring the media’s flashing cameras and shouted questions, wheeled the stretcher out of the courthouse and down the ramp near the steps. They lifted her into the waiting ambulance and raced off, lights and sirens blaring at full blast. The image, along with one other, never left Richard’s mind. Over time, they had faded, but now they reemerged fresh as the day they happened. Could Castle be right? Was she back?

Chapter Four

Josie
“Sit back down,” Josie insisted, tugging at Dan’s jacket. The waiter returned just as her brother reclaimed his bar stool, interrupting the rant Josie was about to launch. “Shall I wrap your meal, madam?” She looked at her barely eaten chowder and sandwich. “Do you want it?” she asked Dan. He crinkled his nose. “After you played with it for the past half hour? No thanks.” When the waiter left, Josie reduced her voice to a near-threatening level. “Richard Diamond is a monster, Daniel. Thirteen years ago, he roasted us alive in that Masterson case. Do you remember what happened when the judge read his decision, after that awful eight-day trial? Our client burst out of the courtroom and howled through the halls like a mama orangutang searching for her missing babies. And what did Diamond do? He stood there in his thousand-dollar suit, preening like a peacock, his feathers spread in full bloom.” Straight faced, Dan pretended to study the dessert menu. “It’s not that we lost. The judge just didn’t give our client everything she wanted, the way she wanted it. Over time, the parents settled down and worked things out. And keep in mind, the playing field between you and Diamond is even now. You can take him. In fact, consider it your opportunity for payback.” “We lost, Daniel,” Josie spat back. “And I don’t want payback. I haven’t handled a divorce case or any case for almost four years, and I don’t want to, ever again.” She hated that her voice started to crack mid-sentence. Dan clutched her forearm and sought her tear-filled eyes. “Stop letting Anne Compton ruin your life. You’re an amazing lawyer and Amy needs you.” Josie darted her attention to the nautical paraphernalia covering the bar’s walls. Even if he was right, she didn’t want to do it. “I doubt very much Richard Diamond has mellowed over the years. He’s like a clump of Roquefort cheese, its blue and green moldy disgustingness growing more and more pungent over time.” Dan laughed. “That just makes it more challenging.” Picturing Diamond in his element, Josie curled her upper lip. “He only represents wealthy, evil, greedy husbands and vengeful, spoiled, gold-digging wives. Their divorce proceedings last for years and always end with a trial. And for the rare times he loses, he files an appeal. There’s no end.” “I agree.” He hugged her. “That’s why Amy’s divorce took so long.” “And you want me to join that circus?” He showed her his calendar on his phone. “Did I mention the contempt hearing against the ex-husband is scheduled for next Thursday?” Josie straightened. “Are you listening to me at all? You act like we’re discussing a sale on one of your fancy suits.” She tapped her watch. “Luke and I are leaving for the Bahamas at eleven-fifty tonight. It’s his birthday present to me. We won’t be back until late Monday night.” Dan’s grin and his eyes widened. “Then you’d better get started.” Before she could stop him, he sent a text. “I’m not doing it, Dan. I’m not stepping one foot into any courtroom with that fiend.” Ignoring her, he stood and drained his beer mug. “You’re gonna love Amy.” “I’m only agreeing to talk with her, Daniel.” He waved. “There she is.” Josie followed his gaze to the bar’s entrance. A pretty, well-endowed and well-dressed older brunette stood in the doorway. With a worried smile, she waved back. Perfect. Just perfect. *** Excerpt from Love & the Divorce Lawyer by Barbara Newhart. Copyright 2025 by Barbara Newhart. Reproduced with permission from Barbara Newhart. All rights reserved.

 

 

About Author Barbara Newhart:

Barbara Newhart enjoys reading and writing stories that contain at least a sprinkle of romance, tossed into a great mystery or thriller where the characters dodge and weave their way through this crazy adventure we call life. In addition to Love & the Divorce Lawyer, Barbara has written Legally Yours and Finally Yours as Kimberly Whitmore.

Catch Up With Barbara Newhart:
www.BarbaraNewhart.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads Instagram – @barbara.newhart.mysteries

 

Tour Participants:

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A not-always-sentimental vacation to the ’50s, ’60s, ‘and
’70s. Bring your swimsuit.

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Downeyoshun

by Art Young

Genre: Recent Historical Family Fiction

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Sally Osterhoff is a
genius. When she grows up, she wants to be a mathematician, a teacher, and a
carpenter; and she plans to swim in the 1968 and 1972 Olympics. 

 

Her mother has other ideas, and will emotionally and
physically abuse Sally to fit them. After all, she only wants what is best for
her child. But between her father trying his best, the family next door who
practically adopts her, and her Aunt & Uncle down in Ocean City where she
spends her summers, Sally just might have the support and love she needs to
make all of her dreams come true.

Set against the backdrop of the Civil Rights struggles, the
Vietnam War, and the early Feminist movement, the story explores the power of
found family, and how unconditional love can come from the least expected
places. Downeyoshun is a not-always-sentimental vacation to the ’50s, ’60s, and
’70s. Bring your swimsuit.

Praise about
the book:

“Arthur Young will introduce you to a special world, East
Baltimore, and its vacation spot, Ocean City, with his
warm Downeyoshun.  Not that life is perfect – not all mothers are
kind, and the VietNam war casts a shadow. But you’ll feel as if you’ve met new
friends as you follow his characters through the challenges of growing up. In
his skillful telling, the fabric of a family and a neighborhood comes to life.
You may even find yourself becoming a Baltimore Hon!”

–Pamela Zerba, Contributor Atheists
in America
, Writer, Creative York Contest Winner

 

“Be prepared to fall in love with one of the most
endearing literary characters of the century thus far. Ultimately, this is a
book about family, the one you’re stuck with and the one you make. By the end,
Sally will feel like part of yours. You will thoroughly enjoy your trip
Downeyoshun.”

-Robert Akridge, Writer

Amazon * B&N * Bookshop.org * Bookbub * Goodreads

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Chapter 2 “Marie”

For the first day of school, Mother laid out the clothes I would wear: a yellow and white dress, black Mary Janes, white anklet socks with tiny flowers, and added what looked like a small briefcase in a gray and white plaid. “What’s that for?” I whispered.

“That”, Mother said, ” is for carrying your schoolbooks and your lunch. It has your name inside here.” She raised the flap. “Do not lose it or let it get it dirty.”

“Yes, Mother”, I whispered.

“Look at me”, she commanded. “You will speak to no one except your teacher. And all that she needs to know is your name. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“You will especially not speak to that child next door if she is there. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mother.”

I really hoped Marie would be there.

After breakfast, Mother pulled me along down several blocks until we got to school. She stopped at the office to get directions to the classroom and marched me past a row of other kids and their mothers and through the door. Marie and her mother were at the front of the line. A smiling woman at a large desk said “We’re not quite ready -”

Mother ignored her. “I am Mrs. Osterhoff. This is Sally Osterhoff. You will see to it that she stays clean and neat and away from the other children, especially that child just outside the door.”

The teacher looked confused and annoyed. “Don’t they get along?”

Mother stared at the teacher. “I do not want them to ‘get along’ at all. Keep them apart. I will return at 3 o’clock.”

“Just a moment, Mrs. …?” The teacher did not look happy.

“Mrs. Osterhoff.”

“Mrs. Osterhoff. All the children in this class will learn together and play together – NO EXCEPTIONS.” She caught Mother in mid-word. “They will also learn common politeness, if they haven’t learned it at home.” Mother’s jaw was clenched. “One last thing, Mrs. Osterhoff: Kindergarten is half-day. You will be here at 11:45 to pick up your daughter.”

I recognized the look Mother was giving the teacher, but the teacher ignored it as if it wasn’t there, and walked past Mother, opened the door, and smiled. “And good morning to you, Mrs. Osterhoff.”

An alarm bell rang and made me jump. The other kids and their mothers came in, and Mother fought against the tide and left. The teacher walked over to Marie and her mother. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Harris, and you are?”

“Carmella Giametti. And this is Marie.” Marie smiled over to me and wiggled her fingers in a wave. I smiled back.

“Well, now, it looks like these two would like to sit together, don’t you think?” asked Mrs. Harris.

Miss Carmella laughed. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.” She patted Marie on the shoulder. “Go say hi to her.”

Marie rushed over, grabbed my hand, and shook it. “Hi Sal!”

“Hi Marie.”

“I got an uncle named Sal”, she told me.

“It’s really Sally. Mother didn’t let me finish.”

Mrs. Harris clapped her hands together and we all looked at her. “Now, everyone choose a desk to sit at, and then it will be time for all the Mommies to go home until lunchtime.” One boy started to cry and grabbed his mother. She turned pink and rolled her eyes.

After the mothers had left, I looked around me. I had never been with other kids before except Billy. Some were neatly dressed; others were a little rumpled. Two of them were very busy picking their noses. We were all quiet, and waiting to see what would happen next.

 

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Art Young is a Baltimore-born U.S. Navy / Vietnam / Agent
Orange veteran and cancer survivor. He was once a carny in a traveling gadget
show, and has worked as a fire-extinguishing-system installer and serviceman, a
brewery’s route delivery salesman, flexographic press operator, licensed
boiler-plant engineer, and a storyteller. He much prefers the last.

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

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Someone—or something—wants Kellen out of town . . .

Kellen Brand’s inheritance comes as a monumental shock—

a rundown farm she doesn’t want and one paroled Watcher all her own.

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Cowboy Watch

The Watchers Book 1

by Petie McCarty

Genre: Paranormal Small-Town Romantic Suspense

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The Watchers Series—

Fallen angels cast out of heaven by the archangel Michael for coercing
with Satan to gain control. Some of these turncoats—duped late in the game by
Satan’s lies—doubled back to seek redemption for their unwitting
betrayal.  Offered parole in exchange for penance,
these Watchers are given the toughest bodyguard missions with little
leeway for success.
One last chance.
These are their stories . . .

Someone—or something—wants Kellen out of town . . .

Kellen Brand’s inheritance comes as a monumental shock—a rundown farm she
doesn’t want and one paroled Watcher all her own. Kellen’s
eccentric mother believed Watchers to be fallen angels seeking
penance by guarding individuals who had lost their way. Seriously? A Watcher?
Only her mother  . . .

Since Kellen vows no sane woman would choose to live in
Riverside, she’s on a mission to dump the old farm fast and to the first buyer
who comes along. Unfortunately for her, the only buyer is a
resort developer, spurned by a townful of objectors and one handsome cowboy—her
neighbor, Luke Thornton. Luke must block Kellen’s farm sale or risk exposure of
his own family’s secrets. He can ill afford his immediate and compelling attraction
to his new neighbor.

Someone is watching Kellen, but not who she thinks. Someone
deadly and intent on scaring her out of town. Or worse. Luke has a
hellish choice to make—step in and rescue Kellen from her threats, or to
protect his family, stand by and watch . . .

.

**On Sale for Only $1.99 for a limited time!**

Amazon
* Bookbub
* Goodreads

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“Vera tells me she told you about the haunted cemetery,” Gerald called to her, as the front door jingled again.

“She did,” Kellen called back and placed a few candles in her basket.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” said a familiar voice from behind her.

If it was possible for a voice to leer, this one did. She slowly turned. “I don’t need any protection, Sheriff.”

Reilly maneuvered way too close for her liking and cornered her between the last two rows of shelves. “You never know what to expect here in West Virginia, right?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and his rat eyes glittered like two black aggies.

A wave of apprehension chilled her skin. The evil eyes of the mean boy who threw dirt clods had changed to the leering eyes of a much larger and quite fearsome man. The mean boy was now the sheriff. If he threw dirt clods, who would she call?

He edged closer.

She stepped back and bumped into the last row of shelves. She felt just like the jackrabbit her dog once cornered in the barn.

“I can look out for you while you’re here, Kellen. Special-like.”

The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel the lower shelf jabbing into the back of her calves.

He took one more step. His sour breath invaded her space and she wanted to gag. Like David, she let this man get to her.

“Real special.”

She could hear Gerald talking to a customer. No help there.

Reilly reached a hand toward her face, and a fist snagged the sheriff’s wrist.

“She doesn’t need any protection,” a deep voice growled. “She has plenty.”

Luke Thornton had an iron grip on Reilly’s wrist, his knuckles white with the effort. Reilly tried to glare him into submission, but the steel-like glint in Thornton’s eyes forced the sheriff to blink. Thornton tossed off the wrist but stood his ground, edging a shoulder between Kellen and her assailant. For a brief instant, Kellen forgot how maddening Thornton was. She wanted to grab him and kiss him for saving her from the foul-breathed sheriff.

“Watch yourself, Thornton,” Reilly growled. “I run this county.”

“Not all of it, you don’t.”

Kellen took deep breaths to slow her racing heart. She blinked, and the sheriff was gone. Luke stood so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and that certainly didn’t quiet her pulse. She stared into his dark-chocolate eyes and held on to the breath she’d been so desperate to suck down only moments before.

“Are you all right?”

Was that worry in his eyes? For her? Oh, good heavens—she was still staring. He was asking her something. What was it? Oh yeah, was she all right?

She nodded.

Words were too much at the moment. Too many emotions. Panic at Reilly accosting her again after all these years and then discovering her knight in shining armor. Luke’s focused gaze had her heart fluttering and from more than fear. She couldn’t manage to release the air in her lungs.

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Petie spent a large part of her career working at Walt
Disney World—”The  Most Magical
Place on Earth”—where she enjoyed working in the land of fairy tales by
day and creating her own romantic fairy tales by night, including her
new series, The Cinderella Romances. She eventually said good-bye to
her “day” job to write her stories full-time.

These days Petie spends her time writing new Cinderella
series tales, her new The Watchers series, sequels to her regency
time-travel series, Lords in Time, and more contemporary romance standalones to
go along with her two previous releases—Any Fin For Love and Ambush
in the Everglades
.

Petie shares her home on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee
with her horticulturist husband and an opinionated Nanday conure named Sassy
who will make a cameo appearance in the upcoming Book 2 of The Watchers series,
Christmas Watch.

Website * Facebook * X * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon
* Goodreads

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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Petie McCarty (US only)

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Poseidon’s Daughters: Reckoning

by Reign Reeves Pearson

 

(Poseidon’s Daughters, #1)
Publication date: March 21st 2025
Genres: Adult, Science Fiction, Thriller

They trained her to be a weapon. Now, she’s turning the blade on them.Eirianwen was Poseidon’s crowning achievement—until she walked away from everything. She’s evaded them for years, carving out a life in the shadows, leaving behind the bloodstained world they forced her into. Now, the past she’s been running from has finally caught up. A storm-wracked night. A breach in her sanctuary. Someone is watching. Someone is waiting. And this time, they don’t just want her dead—they want her to doubt herself. They want the world to believe she’s lost her mind.

They’ve been watching her. Manipulating her. Preparing for her downfall.

Now, the elite organization that built her is coming to collect. Not to kill—to control. They don’t need to break her. They just need to make sure no one believes her when she starts screaming.They want her to understand that her escape, her freedom, was all an illusion.

Erased. Discredited. Untouchable.

But Eirianwen has spent her whole life surviving. And when the walls start closing in, she doesn’t run. She hunts.

Poseidon wants her desperate. Unraveling. Helpless.

They’re about to learn just how dangerous she can be.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Eirianwen ripped out the earpiece and slammed it onto the desk. Panic swirled at the edges of her mind, but she forced it down. Now wasn’t the time. She grabbed a larger bag from under the desk, slung it over her shoulder, and stormed out. In the closet, she set the bag aside, pressing a hidden panel on the side of her bed. A drawer slid open, revealing her arsenal. Her hands shook as she armed herself, snapping a knife into its sheath and loading a handgun with quick, practiced movements. Now, to find them. Moving swiftly, she ran through the house, slipping out the back door and straight into the storm-charged air. Sullivan’s workshop. If she was going to do this right, she’d need a shovel. She yanked open the heavy wooden door, eyes darting over the mess inside.Where the fuck is it? Why is this place always such a goddamn disaster?

A glint of metal under the workbench caught her eye. She crouched, snatched up a spade, and bolted back outside. The rain had started in earnest, cold drops slicing through the thick humidity. She sprinted to where the trackers last pinged, her boots sinking slightly into the softening earth, almost tripping thanks to a low spot. Looking back at the spot, it was all wrong. She knew something was buried there.

Gripping the shovel tightly, she drove it into the ground. The soil gave easily…far too easily. The clay should have been a nightmare to dig through. Someone had already done the work for her. Within moments, her blade hit something solid, and dread curled in her stomach. She dropped to her knees, clawing at the loose earth with bare hands until the objects were free. Her breath hitched. Six trackers. All of them. Cold, useless, and buried like a mockery of her own paranoia. Eirianwen sat back on her heels, mud caking her fingers as she stared at the pile in her hands. Someone knew.

Her cheeks burned hot, but the rest of her body felt frozen. Tears welled, spilling silently down her face as the questions flooded in. Why? Why would Sullivan do this? Had he done this? He wouldn’t put the kids in danger—would he? Where were they? How long had he planned this? Her stomach twisted. Then, her phone buzzed—a single notification. Hands trembling, she wiped her palms on her pants and yanked it from her pocket. Wi-Fi restored—a new alert. Someone had just crossed the perimeter.

“It better be Sullivan and the kids.”

Eirianwen exhaled sharply, swiping at the sweat and tears streaking her face. Standing, she brushed the dirt from her clothes as best she could, shoving the useless trackers deep into her pocket. She locked her phone and steadied herself. If the kids were with Sullivan, she needed to stay calm. Normal. They couldn’t see the weapons strapped under her clothing. At least the incoming storm gave her an excuse to rush them inside. She’d get them safe first—then she’d deal with Sullivan. She turned toward the tree line, heart pounding in her throat. The property was massive, and she had built the house at its farthest edge. Finally, headlights cut through the gloom. A vehicle emerged. Not Sullivan’s truck. A cold, electric jolt shot down her spine. Every instinct screamed at her.

No one came out here. No one. She had made sure of it. For years, she had meticulously crafted the illusion of a perfectly ordinary life. She knew everyone in town—just enough to avoid suspicion, but never enough to invite curiosity. A delicate balance of friendly but distant. She never gave anyone a reason to visit. She didn’t even use their real address! She picked up all of their mail and deliveries in town. So who the hell thought they had the right to pull up to her house? The SUV slowed to a stop, tires crunching against the gravel. The doors swung open in near unison, and two men stepped out. Sheriff Ford. Deputy Pines. Ford adjusted his jacket, his gaze steady, unreadable. Pines lingered a step behind, eyes sharp, scanning. Ford closed the gap between them and gave Eirianwen a curt nod.

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About Author Reign Reeves Pearson:

Reign Reeves Pearson is a writer, storyteller, and chaos enthusiast based in Houston, where she lives with her husband, four kids, and three cats who may or may not be plotting world domination. She thrives on Kopiko, rainy days, and an endless love for Final Fantasy VII and Dungeons & Dragons.

She’s been writing for as long as she can remember. But in 2019, a health scare forced her to take a hard look at her life, and the answer was clear: writing wasn’t just something she did. It was what she was meant to do.

Her debut novel and series, Poseidon’s Daughters: Reckoning, is her first and only planned adventure into sci-fi. Going forward, expect Southern Gothic chills, cosmic nightmares, and nostalgic ‘90s horror—all infused with her signature mix of heart, humor, and a touch of the macabre.

When she’s not writing, she’s probably dreaming up elaborate D&D campaigns, getting emotionally wrecked by Final Fantasy VII (again), or staring dramatically out a window while it rains.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram

 

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

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For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.

 

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Sometimes the road to a fresh start has a few detours.

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Lines We Shouldn’t Cross

The Innocence Series Book 1

by Harper Reynolds

Genre: Contemporary Romance

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When they
first meet, sparks fly…but not the romantic kind…

Ella Westhoff is a marketing genius. But romance? Not her strong suit. So,
while she’s prepared to return to her small hometown and help her grandmother
successfully reopen her B&B, she will not fall for the grumpy landscaper on
the job—the one who so thoroughly annoyed her at first sight. That was the
plan, anyway…

Cooper Daniels isn’t cut out for love, either. His bitter divorce certainly
taught him that. One-night stands are all he’s willing to commit to these days.
Which means that even though he enjoys bantering with the brilliant Ella, he
knows he can’t be the kind of guy she deserves. No matter how much she makes
him wish he could be…

Somewhere between fresh starts and past hurts, business and pleasure, Ella and
Cooper might be able to claim a happily ever after. But only if they’re willing
to cross some lines along the way…

Lines We Shouldn’t Cross, book 1 in the Innocence series, is a sweet and
spicy, emotional contemporary romance. Download today and get ready to fall for
Ella and Cooper.

 

**Releases
March 20th!! Get it for On Sale for a limited time!**

Amazon
*
Apple * Kobo * Smashwords * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

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Ella

 

This, this… guy! I stalk out of the dining room, fuming.

Of all the people for Pippa to rent the carriage house to, it had to be him. And now he’s living right next door, invading my sanctuary, the space I’ve always considered mine.

Why did he have to ruin my hope of living in the carriage house? There must be plenty of places available for rent in town. I sigh, trying to let my frustration go because bitching and moaning won’t change a thing.

I’d spent countless sleepovers there with my best friend, trading secrets, and dreams. Later, losing myself in romance novels, I’d imagined my own epic love story. Yeah, well, that had been a big naïve fantasy. Most guys turn out to be jerks—like my ex—not some swoon-worthy hero who sets my body ablaze while cherishing my soul. That kind of guy only exists between the pages.

Now, another real-life example of an arrogant jerk stands right there in the dining room, pouring wine as if he owns the place. His broad frame fills the space like a quintessential guy’s guy. His large hands tell a different story. Hands that could build barn walls or something, not pouring wine with unexpected gentleness. Strength and softness, wrapped in those sexy, veiny forearms. If he’d be anyone else, I’d be hopelessly flustered.

Fine, the man’s hot enough to melt steel, but that’s where my appreciation ends. His charm could strip paint of wood, and it’s just about as healthy to be around. He might have fooled Pippa, but not me. And now we’re supposed to work together? Fricking perfect.

In the kitchen, I muster a smile. “Need a hand?” The lasagna’s rich scent fills the room, promising comfort.

Pippa, beaming as though she’s crafted a culinary masterpiece, hands me a tray bearing the night’s first course. In the center, a mason jar filled with her homemade ranch dressing takes the spotlight amid the salad greens and a basket of still-warm bread.

“Could you bring this in?”

Her warm smile tells me she’s missed me and is happy I’m home.

“Of course.” I won’t rain on her parade, so I nod and smile. One quick taste of the creamy dressing first, then the breadbasket joins the greens as I steady myself to face Mr. Arrogance Next Door.

“Thanks, darling.” Pippa smiles. “I’ll be right there.”

Yes, please, I pray silently. I don’t care to be alone for even one minute with that infuriating man. I let out an inaudible sigh, part frustration, part resignation.

“Alright,” I say, forcing a cheery tone. With no excuse to dodge McCocky, I carry the tray out of the kitchen.

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.

I write the
kind of romance novels that blend sweet and spicy into something deliciously
real – stories that’ll warm your heart one minute and make you reach for a fan
the next. My characters are flawed souls who stumble their way to love with
enough emotional baggage to fill a cargo plane, but they’re worth every messy
moment.

Life handed
me my own romance novel when I fell for an American military man while living
in Germany. Now I’m living my happily-ever-after in a cozy Kentucky town, where
my European roots tangle perfectly with Southern charm. You’ll find me powered
by excessive amounts of coffee, testing ice cream flavors (strictly for
research purposes), and soaking up cuddles from my golden retrievers, Dakota
and Tucker.

 

Website * Facebook * Instagram * TikTok * Amazon

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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.

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

For a list of my reviews go HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways go HERE.