Archive for the ‘Excerpt’ Category

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We’re happy to have Deborah Ann Davis, author of the new adult novel, Fairly
Safe, here with us today! Please leave a comment to let her know you stopped
by!

Title: FAIRLY SAFE
Author: Deborah Ann Davis
Publisher: D&D Universe
Pages: 356
Genre: New Adult Romance

Fairly Safe (Love of Fairs Book 2) by [Davis, Deborah Ann]

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Synopsis
When Mistaken Identity collides with Secret Identity, who wins?
JACOB HAS COME A LONG WAY FOR AN ORPHANED FOSTER KID.
He has a mentor, a great job, and has finally fallen in love. Granted, she
mistook him for a stalker when they met, but every relationship has its little
problems. Unfortunately, for the past few years, as the object of his affection
pops in and out of his life, she has refused to share any personal info, like
where she’s from, or her real name. Regardless, Jacob is ready to take their
relationship to the next level. Now, if only he can locate her so he can tell
her.
CASEY’S FAMILY IS IN THE WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM. Safety
has to be their only priority. Their cover has been blown before, so Casey
knows at any given time they could be forced to disappear again. Obviously, a
shy young man with hopeful eyes cannot possibly be added to the mix. You cannot
build a relationship like that. Now, if only she can stop thinking about him.
JACOB’S AND CASEY’S WORLDS UNEXPECTEDLY COLLIDE when
Jacob inadvertently helps hide her family. Exposed to their 24-7 vigilance,
Jacob realizes he must come up with a plan to keep them out of harm’s way,
because this time if Casey disappears, she will be taking with her Jacob’s
heart, and his hopes of finally having a family of his own.
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For More Information
  • Fairly Safe is available at Amazon.
  • Discuss this book at PUYB
    Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.

 

Book Excerpt:

Wipeout!
Jacob Kent stepped out of his car as he scanned
the fair on the other side of the parking lot, his heart pounding. As with many
country fairs, the parking lot was no more than an abused pasture. This one was
about the size of two football fields. Fair employees decked in bright yellow
directed the early trickle of cars to their temporary berths. Jacob ignored
them, choosing instead a parking spot near the exit. Anticipating the possible
need for a quick getaway outweighed a pimply teen’s futile attempts to redirect
him.
He regarded the rides twirling and
spinning above and around the strolling families. Despite the morning sun, the
lights flashed merrily, beckoning to all. At
11 a.m. it wasn’t crowded, but he knew that would soon change.
Locking his car, he slowly picked his way through the beaten grass, combing all
directions for a clue the girls were there. As the unmistakable sound of
carnival music floated toward him on the warm summer breeze, he reviewed
his plan.
First, he would walk through the fair to
familiarize himself with the layout they had printed out. Then he would adjust

~~~~~

their escape route to where he parked the car. After assessing the grounds, he
would plant himself somewhere along the concourse, and watch the crowd. That’s
how he had always found Casey in the past, and that’s how he was going to find
her again.

A voice came over the loudspeaker, momentarily
dimming the carnival noise. “Would the owner of a red ford truck, license plate
AIP537, please return to your vehicle? Your lights are on.”
Jacob tensed. Was that some kind of clue? He
looked over the parking lot. No, he could see the lights of the red truck from
here. He smiled ruefully to himself.
Get a grip, Kent, he thought as he
watched a portly balding man march exasperatedly toward the truck.
He sighed. Intellectually, he had to
acknowledge they might have pieced together a bunch of randomly forgotten items
into a fantastical story, but emotionally, he couldn’t help but believe the
items served an ultimate purpose. If The Herd was here, he was going to find
them. He also knew if he wasn’t careful, he could spend the entire day jumping
at shadows and following dead ends.
Like that little commotion over by the edge
of the fair.
To his over-active
imagination, that game of tag could look like a child trying to escape from the
evil clutches of—
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, WIPEOUT!” sang out over the
loudspeaker.
His head jerked up. As the pounding drums
from the familiar song drowned out the carnival music, all doubt was erased.
The loudspeaker was sending out a warning. His eyes darted back toward the
commotion he had noticed. That was no game of tag. That was a child trying to
escape a man in hot pursuit. Jacob couldn’t be positive at this
distance, but it sure looked like Robin.
With his heart in his throat, he broke
into a run, zigzagging between cars, trying to intercept the fleeing child as
it headed toward the side of the parking lot. In this surreal moment, the same
song they had used for obstacle course training was being piped out like
background music to a scene in a movie. But this scene was real, where a real
menace was gaining. Caught in his own nightmare, Jacob was watching Robin run
for her life, and he was not close enough to help.
As the predator and prey crossed the area
between the fair and the parking lot, the longer legs of the adult closed the
gap between them, but once they reached the cars, the advantage became hers.
Robin’s small size and training put some distance between them as she dodged
around vehicles. However, her constant change of direction made it difficult
for Jacob to maintain a course of interception.
Watching Robin’s progress, Jacob realized she
was trying to head back toward the fair. Silently applauding Robin’s decision
to get closer to other people who could help her, Jacob altered his course
accordingly.
So did Robin’s pursuer.
Suddenly, her stalker eliminated the space
between them by clambering up and over two pickup trucks, and landing an arm’s
length away. Skidding, Robin veered around another vehicle with the man on her
tail. As Jacob frantically tried to reach her, a brunette Sam suddenly popped
out from behind a car and neatly took the man out with one magnificent sweep of
a skateboard to the head.
Where did she come from? A stunned Jacob skidded to a stop, gasping for breath, his
chest burning.
With a quick high-five, the sisters raced back
to the fair. Jacob tried in vain to get their attention, but he hadn’t quite recovered
enough breath to formulate sounds louder than gasps. He shook his head as he
tried to calm the burning in his lungs. He was a wreck, but they were able to run
off.
And I was going to save them? He weakly chuckled. What was I thinking?
Sobering, he trotted over to the man who
was staggering to his feet. With rage marshalling all of his strength, Jacob
drew back and smashed his fist into the man’s face. The unexpected pain in his
fist was nothing compared to the satisfaction of watching Robin’s former threat
drop like an anchor.
Shaking the pain out of his hand, Jacob aimed a
vindictive kick at the ribs of his girls’ attacker. Any qualms he might
ordinarily have about hitting a man when he’s down were nonexistent when it
came to someone threatening his family.
Satisfied the man was no longer a danger,
he took off in the direction he had seen his girls disappear, trying to
calm the fear rising in his chest. He doubted this man had come alone. The
girls probably knew that, too, and would be hiding. How was he going to find
them before their pursuers did?
The light glinting off the speaker perched atop
a telephone pole caught his eye. Jacob skidded to a stop and stared at it. Of
course.
When Robin had been trying to escape, that speaker had been
blasting out WipeOut, but now he only heard carnival music. With a grin,
Jacob decided it was time to stop believing in coincidences. Someone at the
fair must be helping them. If he found that person, he’d be able to find the
fugitives.
About the Author
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DEBORAH ANN DAVIS has
been writing since she was assigned to keep a Journal in her 5th grade
English class. She began to look around for writing inspiration. Lo and
behold, she found her world was full of funny stories just waiting to be told.
As she grew older, occasionally she could manipulate one into
some school assignment, but it never occurred to her to pursue writing,
not even when she discovered her flare for telling stories at college parties.
After a string of college majors, she realized she could
have a captive audience EVERY DAY in the public school system. As it turns out,
teenagers love to laugh, and what could be more entertaining than Biology,
Earth Science, and Environmental Science? Then there’s the added bonus
that once kids know you like to laugh, they want to make
you laugh.
Go figure.
In addition to Writing, she is also an Educational Speaker
and a Certified Personal Trainer. She taught for 25+ years,
although somewhere in the middle of all that educating, she stepped out of
teaching for 6 years to do the Mommy Thing, and run the office for their family
construction company.
Even though they had followed separate paths, Deborah
reunited with, and married her childhood sweetheart, twelve years after their
first kiss.  Together they coached their daughter’s AAU Basketball
Team, which swept States two years in a row. (Yay!) Then, for several years
their daughter and their money went to college.
They currently reside on a lovely lake in Connecticut. She enjoys dabbling with living a sustainable life,
writing novels for her Love of Fairs series, dancing, playing outside,
and laughing really hard every day. She promotes increasing the amount of
movement throughout your day via Wiggle Writer posts on Merry
Meddling
, her blog at www.DeborahAnnDavis.com. Follow her @DeborahAnnDavis.
Remember, you can do anything if you set your mind to
it— including becoming an author at any age— but it’s way more fun if you are
grinning back when the Universe smiles down on you.
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For More Information
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Just take a gander at that cover art! Isn’t is awesome?

This is one for your Halloween reading list folks.

Enjoy the blurb and exclusive excerpt.

And don’t forget to enter the giveaway!

The Grotesques

by Tia Reed

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Genre: Urban Fantasy

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Synopsis

Discredited journalist Ella Jerome isn’t thrilled about working at Adelaide’s fanciful tabloid The Informer. So when zoologist Adam Lowell seeks her help in finding his missing cousin, she’s cynical of his claim a monster lurks near the Church of the Resurrection. The trouble is, solving the gruesome case could be her best shot at restoring her shredded reputation.

 

With her old instincts resurfacing, Ella combs the Port for clues. Experience tells her the only monsters are the human variety, and the bloodied stonemason certainly raises her suspicions. But when her investigation turns up everything from petrified remains to the headless carving of a dragon, the truth threatens to steal both her sanity and the man she’s falling for.

 

After all, gargoyles can’t be anything other than harmless stone. Or can they?

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Enjoy this exclusive excerpt

Ella cleaned the supermarket shelf of the wilting bunches of basil. For good measure, she went into the next aisle and added ten tubs of pesto to the shopping basket.

“Got enough there, dear? ’Coz the delivery truck’s due out back,” the checkout operator said.

“Really?” Ella was about to ask if she would check but the girl was eyeing her like she was out of her mind. “It’s a Halloween thing,” she said and hurried off.

Back at the car, she passed the bag to Doer.

“Has this herb got some addictive properties I don’t know about?” the drug dealer asked, taking a deep sniff of the sweet aroma and eyeing the two full bags on the back seat.

“I’ll tell you on the way. Just don’t eat it all,” Ella said as he tore off a leaf and popped it in his mouth. “Do you think we have enough?”

“Now that depends on how many clients you got to supply.”

“Four.” She pulled out into the traffic. “Let me know if you see a supermarket.” A few bottles of the dried herb would not go astray.

“I think we’ve got enough. Start talking,” Doer said.

She chose her words.

“What are you not telling me?” he said.

“The crazy stuff that will get me certified.”

“Spill it. Nobody’s going to take my word you need to be in a loony bin and nothing you say is about to stop me going into that church.”

That she knew, which was why she had asked him along, because nothing on the planet, not even her growing feelings for Adam, was going to drag her back to the church alone. She gave him all the facts. No interpretation. Objective journalism at its best.

~~~~~

AUTHOR Tia Reed

Tia Reed loves nothing better than burying her nose in a story of her own imagining, cuddling her bossy cat and rescuing chewed pillows from her hyperactive dog. She takes every opportunity to do all three when she is not teaching English as a second language. Her other hobbies usually take a back seat but include trying to tame her beast of a garden, hiking and travelling. The latter has thrown her many interesting, sometimes hair-raising experiences, which she loves twisting into stories. She was born in Malta, but lives in Adelaide, Australia.

Goodreads / Tyche Books / Facebook

Buy Links

Amazon / B&N / Smashwords

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The Surrendered
Case Maynard
Published by: Blaze Publishing
Publication date: September 20th 2016
Genres: Dystopian, Young Adult

After a financial collapse devastates the United States, the new government imposes a tax on the nation’s most valuable resource—the children.

Surrendered at age ten—after her parents could no longer afford her exorbitant fees—Vee Delancourt has spent six hard years at the Mills, alongside her twin, Oliver. With just a year to freedom, they do what they can to stay off the Master’s radar. But when Vee discovers unspeakable things happening to the younger girls in service, she has no choice but to take a stand—a decision that lands her on the run and outside the fence for the first time since the System robbed her of her liberty.

Vee knows the Master will stop at nothing to prove he holds ultimate authority over the Surrendered. But when he makes a threat that goes beyond what even she considers possible, she accepts the aid of an unlikely group of allies. Problem is, with opposing factions gunning for the one thing that might save them all, Vee must find a way to turn oppression and desperation into hope and determination—or risk failing all the children and the brother she left behind.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

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First Chapter of Surrendered by Author Case Maynard

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZY_tGuxPLyI&feature=youtu.be

EXCERPT

A sinking feeling washes over me. “We’re going to Meadowood.”

He responds without opening his eyes, “I want answers.”

I start to argue that this will be a fool’s errand, but in truth, I want the same answers he does. “Do you think the man who rescued Oliver was with the Southies?”

“I don’t know who else it could’ve been.” He sits up and stretches. “It must’ve been them, and I want to know why they changed the plan without informing us. The Master and his Regulators got to the rooftop very quickly after I fired that shot. I have to wonder if someone told them we were there.”

“You think the Southies took Oliver to get the combination and then set the Regulators on us? Why would they do that?”

He rubs his face. “It doesn’t make any sense. But something’s not adding up.”

I ponder this, thinking about my brother’s strange plea. “I know you think I’m insane, but I can’t help but feel like Oliver knew someone was going to take him; I swear it felt like he was speaking to me when he said not to interfere. But that doesn’t make any sense, either. He’s been behind the fence for years.”

Cason yawns and tries to shake off the effects of the Papaver. “I don’t think you’re crazy; his message did seem odd for someone who was about to hang for a crime he didn’t commit. I don’t know, but hopefully he’ll be at Meadowood and you can ask him yourself.”

My mood elevates as I realize I may only be hours away from a reunion with my brother. The pain in my arm forgotten, I try to concentrate only on this knowledge, confident we’ll have our answers soon enough. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for earlier. You could’ve just turned me over to the Master and walked away, but you didn’t. I’m grateful for that.”

I feel a little embarrassed as soon as the words leave my mouth. Normally I’m not one to share my feelings, but the Papaver Flower makes me breathless and lightheaded and loosens my tongue.

He reaches for me, careful not to jostle my splinted wrist, and pulls my face to his. “I’m probably going to ruin that sentiment by telling you the Master would never have let me go anyway, but know this—” he runs the pad of his thumb along my lower lip and meets my eyes “—if everyone else in the entire world leaves you to fend for yourself, if your father, your mother, your brother disappoint you, if God himself decides you aren’t worthy . . . you’ll still be able to count on me. I’ve got your back, Vera.”

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Author Bio:

With over 20 years’ experience in the legal and medical fields, Case Maynard decided to trade in her briefs and reports to write the stories that have been floating around in her head since childhood. She lives with her two teenagers and husband in South Georgia, while maintaining a long-distance liaison with her oldest daughter and partner in crime in Alaska. When not writing, she enjoys reading as often as possible, binge watching anything good on Netflix, and all things NCAA football (Go Noles!). You can learn more about Case and her stories on her website.

Website / Facebook / Twitter

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Is that cover something or what! So rich in color and so chilling at the same time. Perfect for the story contained inside the pages.

Check out my review. You might have found your next mystery suspense read!

Title: Touching Death
Author: Becky Johnson
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 209
Genre: Mystery/Suspense

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My Review

I’m huge on character driven stories and really enjoy a strong female protagonist. I got that in Touching Death, along with a fun mystery.

Rachel is down but not out for the count. Her rich boyfriend dumped her for some arm candy, and the creep stole her money, even though he’s got plenty of his own. She’s living in a box, a tiny flat, with a mattress on the floor and empty cupboards and fridge. She does have all of those designer clothes though. They come in handy for working as curator at the museum.

The author has a great character in Rachel. She doesn’t whine about her predicament. She’s not vindictive towards her ex, much. And she keeps her financial woes close to the vest. It was sad yet uplifting to meet such a wonderful character. Did I mention her sense of humor? She has plenty of that too.

It’s finally here, the biggest night of Rachel’s life. She set up the main exhibit for the museum and poured her heart and soul into it. Things don’t go as planned at the opening event. She stumbles upon a dead body, and it mysteriously disappears by the time she leads the police to its location.

Now she has a big red target on her back, and not much help forthcoming from the doubtful police. She’s going to have to use her “woowoo” to solve the case, or she might be put on display as: dead girl here.

 Rachel’s touch/know gift, her ability to touch objects and sense things, ramps up the suspense. There are some pretty dark scenes she’s witness to. I think the author gave this book a great title to represent her story.

There’s the potential for some romance too. I like how the author had her character’s become friends, with room for their relationship to develop into something more.

If you like a good paranormal mystery with some suspense and a touch of romance, I “sense” you’ll enjoy Touching Death.

4 Stars

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Synopsis

Rachel Angeletti knows things. She always has. With one touch she sees secrets, emotions, lies. Her gift helps her to be the best museum curator in Chicago. It also makes her personal relationships difficult.
Her life is complicated enough when a run in with her ex and an unanticipated vision sends her reeling. One touch and she sees death. One touch and she is thrown into the midst of killer’s dark fantasy. Now Rachel is in a fight for her life against a killer she knows too little about.
With danger stalking her around every turn Rachel is in a thrilling race against the clock. Can she catch a killer before he catches her?
Touching Death will take you on a riveting, page-turning, journey into the mind of a killer and the heart of a survivor.

For More Information:

  • Touching Death is available at Amazon.
  • Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.

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Book Excerpt

I was eleven the first time I saw someone die.

It was hot. The kind of hot where your shirt sticks to your back and every breath feels thick and heavy. The waistband of my plaid, pleated school uniform was itchy. It was always itchy, but in Chicago in early September with the temperature in the nineties, I could barely stand it.

“Look,” my best friend April gave my arm a sharp and eager tug, “I can’t believe he’s talking to her.”

I looked across the museum where she was pointing. Jonathan Adams. With his dark hair and blue eyes he was the cutest guy in our class. He was talking to Carol, the prettiest girl in our class and our sworn enemy. April had such an intense crush on Jonathan. She had already named their children and when we played the name game she always wanted to get him.

While April plotted revenge on her arch nemesis, I looked across the Ancients room in The Chicago Museum of Anthropology and Archeology to where Billy Masters stood by a glass display case. His hair was unruly and stuck up in odd peaks from his forehead in complete disregard of the rules. His white, button-down shirt hung out over his waistband. Technically, he was wearing the school tie; he just wore it tied around his belt loop, a bright red flag of rebellion. I never wanted to admit it, but when I daydreamed and played the name game, I was always looking for Billy Masters.

Our class slowly moved through the large room. My teacher, Ms. Daniels, stood at the front of our group lecturing on the Egyptian Empire. With her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun, her stockings sagging around her skinny legs, and her soft and squeaky voice the lecture didn’t keep my attention. Her high-pitched voice faded to the background as I gazed at the surrounding exhibits. They were all so beautiful and fascinating. My imagination ran wild with stories and images. I imagined hands cupping a bowl or pulling a comb through a child’s hair. In my mind’s eye a thousand stories and possibilities ran wild.

We walked through the center aisle of a room, clustered with pottery and remnants of houses. I felt the strangest urge, the almost all consuming desire to touch. My fingertips itched. The power of it drew me. The crumbled edges of the pottery bowl almost begged me to touch them. Only a velvet rope and a few feet separated me from that tantalizing edge.

One touch. No one will know.

I didn’t even realize I’d stepped forward until the velvet rope stopped me from going any further. Vaguely, I heard my teacher discussing social structure and family groups, but the pounding of my own heart overpowered all other noise.

Rachel, the past whispered, “come. See. Life and death.”

I reached my hand out and my fingers brushed the edge of the bowl.

Laughter.

Raised voices.

Yelling.

Screams.

Crying.

The images bombarded me — a woman sat in front of a fire pit making dinner for her family. A dispute nearby grabbed her attention. Two men were fighting. The crowd surged and pulsed with the energy of the fight. Screamed words sounded foreign to my ears, but the emotion made perfect sense — fear, anger, uncertainty.

Only the woman with the bowl saw the little boy standing too close to the fighters. Only the woman with the bowl saw the danger. She screamed his name. Her screams went unheard in the din. The crowd moved with the fight, their bodies cutting off her view.

The bowl was clutched tight in her fingers as she struggled forward, pushing people aside. It grew eerily quiet. The crowd slowed, then paused responding to a different energy. Shoulders and heads slumped as they parted before her. The little boy was on the ground. A bloody rock lay near him. She dropped the bowl as she surged forward, screaming.

I awoke on the ground in front the display my face wet and my throat raw with the echo of the screams still ringing in my ears.

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Author Becky Johnson

 becky-johnson

Books are Becky Johnson’s passion and always have been. She used to get in trouble in school for reading during class!
Becky has Master’s degrees in social work and history, and for her day job she is a social worker. In her writing she tries to answer a question that is important to both social work and history: Why? She always wants to know why people do the things they do or feel the way they feel.
When not reading or writing she enjoys yoga, photography, cooking, and makes a pretty mean chili!

Her latest book is the mystery/suspense, Touching Death.

For More Information:

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Check out my list of reviews HERE.

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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I love my cozies and have some fun ones to share today.

Fun titles and colorful, whimsical covers!

Check them out.

And don’t forget to enter the giveaway!

Murder At The Mansion

A Kelly Jackson Mystery

by Janet Finsilver

29612306

Genre: Cozy Mystery

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Synopsis

Fortunes, fineries, and foul play . . .

It’s whale-watching season in Redwood Cove, and B&B manager Kelly Jackson’s battening down the hatches for the tourist rush at Redwood Heights—a Victorian-style estate owned by her boss. And due to recent jewelry thefts, her duties include keeping track of the many dust-covered artifacts spread throughout the property. But when Kelly finds Sylvia Porter’s lifeless body, menial tasks don’t seem so terrible.

Enlisting the help of a ragtag group of brainy retirees, aka the “Silver Sentinels,” Kelly’s on the hunt for clues hidden behind the mansion’s glamorous façade and for a killer who may want to make history of her next!

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Excerpt

“Welcome, everyone. My name is Lily Wilson, and I’ll be leading the tour today. If you have questions, please don’t hesitate to ask them. There’s a sign-in sheet on the check-in counter. We’ll be starting at one o’clock, which is in five minutes.” She turned in my direction and said, “I’d like to introduce the manager of one of Resorts International properties, Kelly Jackson. She’s in charge of Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast.”

The members of the group smiled an acknowledgment. A short man in a denim shirt and khaki pants raised his hand. Lily smiled at him and asked, “Is there something you’d like to know?”

He pointed to the entrance to the parlor. “What is that shield above the doorway?”

“Redwood Heights was built by Reginald Brandon. That’s the family coat of arms,” Lily said. “There is an official Brandon crest on file. However, Mr. Brandon wanted to design his own to reflect life in the West. On his shield he chose to put the silhouettes of two rearing stallions, symbols of strength. Rifles instead of swords crossed over the top of them—the weapons of that era. Tall redwood trees filled in the area behind them and were the source of his wealth. You can see his motto for loyalty and honor on the banner.”

I enjoyed her explanation. It added another dimension to an object that had just been an interesting piece.

A tall woman with a long brown braid down her back pointed to a picture. “Is this Mr. and Mrs. Brandon?”

“Yes, that picture is of the Brandons,” Lily replied. “The woman in the picture is the second Mrs. Brandon. As with many wealthy families and historic estates, there are questionable stories in their past. Redwood Heights is no different.”

“How so?” asked the woman.

“We don’t have any pictures of the first Mrs. Brandon. She was the belle of glittering New York high society who found herself in remote Redwood Cove. She disappeared not long after arriving. Some say she ran off with a lover. Rumors cropped up that she took a sizeable amount of Brandon’s money, changed her name, and left to enjoy San Francisco’s growing attractions.”

The cadence of Lily’s voice took the story beyond a runaway wife. Her tilted head and arched eyebrow led you down a path of mystery and intrigue. The visitors moved a little closer.

Lily leaned toward them and whispered, “Some say she never left at all.” Her words lingered in the dead silence.

Everyone was still—frozen in that past time. Goose bumps popped up on my arms. Someone coughed, and the spell was broken.

“After a time, Brandon married again. They had no children and, alas, the house went to a distant cousin.”

I’d been mesmerized by the tale. Snapping out of it, I looked around. Sylvia still wasn’t there.

“The tour will meet in the parlor. Restrooms are down the hallway to your right,” Lily instructed the group.

I walked up the carpeted stairs to the second floor, running my hand over the smooth oak railing. It had taken hundreds of polishings to develop the fine patina and rich glow.

Sylvia’s room was the first door at the top of the staircase. I knocked quietly. When there was no response, I knocked harder. She must really be a sound sleeper. I tried the door, but it was locked. I rushed downstairs, retrieved her room key, and glanced at my watch. If Sylvia hurried, she’d still have time to make the start of the tour. Arriving back at her door, I knocked again.

“Mrs. Porter, it’s Kelly. The tour is starting in a couple of minutes.” I got no response, so I unlocked the door and peeked in. Sylvia was sitting in front of her dressing table, her back to me.

I opened the door a little farther. “Mrs. Porter?” I stepped inside the room. In the filtered light from the curtained windows, Sylvia’s image reflected in the mirror. Her eyes were closed, and her head rested on her shoulder. She must have dozed off before making it into bed for a nap.

My attention was drawn to a brooch on the left side of Sylvia’s blouse as I approached her. I hadn’t noticed it before. It was a lovely piece—a large egg-shaped pearl surrounded by a burst of red.

I touched Sylvia’s shoulder. No response.

“Mrs. Porter?” I gently shook her.

Sylvia’s head rolled forward and hung down. Her dangling hair covered the side of her face.

I gasped, and my heart began to pound. I looked more closely at her. The burst of red wasn’t part of a pin—it was blood.

~~~~~

Author Janet Finsilver

Lyrical Cozy murder author

Janet Finsilver and her husband live in the San Francisco Bay Area. She loves animals and has two dogs—Kylie, a Rhodesian ridgeback, and Ellie, a boxer/coonhound mix. Janet enjoys horseback riding, snow skiing, and cooking. She is currently working on her next Redwood Cove mystery.

Website / Kensington Books / Facebook / Twitter

Buy links:

TEA CUPS AND CARNAGE: amazonkindleAppleGoogle, KoboNook
MURDER AT THE MANSION: amazonkindleAppleGoogle, KoboNook

~~~~~

Tea Cups And Carnage

A Tourist Trap Mystery

by Lynn Cahoon

Lyrical Cozy tea cover

Genre: Cozy Mystery

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Synopsis

The quaint coastal town of South Cove, California, is all abuzz about the opening of a new specialty shop, Tea Hee. But as Coffee, Books, and More owner Jill Gardner is about to find out, there’s nothing cozy about murder . . .

Shop owner Kathi Corbin says she came to South Cove to get away from her estranged family. But is she telling the truth? And did a sinister someone from her past follow her to South Cove? When a woman claiming to be Kathi’s sister starts making waves and a dead body is found in a local motel, Jill must step in to clear Kathi’s name–without getting herself in hot water.

~~~~~

Excerpt

Limping home, I saw Greg’s truck parked at City Hall. I went in through the side door that took me to the police station. Amy kept going, heading home to shower before returning to her job as city hall receptionist.

Greg stood by Esmeralda’s desk and raised his eyebrows when he saw me. “Rough workout? I’m glad I was too busy to go today.”

“Oh, you’ll get yours. Don’t think demon trainer didn’t notice you were gone.”

“Okay. So why are you here?” He pushed a curl back out of my face. “Too far to walk home after the workout?”

“You’re just mean, you know that right?” I sank into the couch. It did feel amazing just to veg for a second or two. Okay, so Greg could have been right about my real motives for the impromptu visit. “Actually, I wanted to know about your call-out last night. I’m assuming this was a murder and not an old guy dying in his sleep.”

“And you deduced that from?” He watched me closely.

Shrugging, I sank deeper into the cushions. No wonder Greg didn’t mind sleeping in his office every so often. The couch was amazing. “No one blabbed, if you’re thinking of blaming Toby. You didn’t call, and you’re still wearing last night’s clothes.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. I guess I’m more transparent than I thought. We don’t know much about the murder, except the guy checked in a few days ago under a false name. Of course, the motel doesn’t ask for any verification or even a credit card. Cash only out there.”

“So he’s not a local.” For some reason, this made me feel better. Sure, it was sad someone had died, but people died all the time. I just didn’t want it to be one of my friends.

“Not that I can tell. But I think it’s the biker who’s been racing up and down Main Street. He fits the description.” Greg shrugged and grinned. “And, there’s a bike parked outside his room. Yep, I’m a trained investigator, I notice these things.”

“Big guy?” I thought about how the elderly woman had almost been smashed by the rider just a few days ago.

“Nope. He’s tall, maybe six feet, but if he weighs more than a hundred fifty soaking wet I’ll buy you dinner.” Greg groaned as he stood and walked across the room to his desk. He pulled me to standing. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?” Now that I was upright, my stomach growled reminding me I hadn’t eaten all day. I dug into my tote and pulled out a protein bar.

“Trick me into telling you more than I should.” He pointed to the door. “Out of here. I’ve got work to do.”

I took a bite of my protein bar as I walked out. Pausing at the door, I turned back to look at him. He was already typing into some document. “I take it I won’t see you for dinner?”

“Not tonight. But I’ll be over on Sunday at the latest.” He paused. “Are you working the festival that day?”

“Just the morning shift. We’re closing the main store and only running the food truck that day.” I adjusted the strap on my tote, feeling the weight on my screaming shoulder blade. I walked out of the office and wondered how bad the murder had been. Just because it was a stranger that lay in the morgue, didn’t mean someone from South Cove hadn’t been involved or known the guy.

Or why else would he have been here?

~~~~~

Author Lynn Cahoon

Lyrical Cozy tea author

New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Lynn Cahoon is an Idaho expat. She grew up living the small town life she now loves to write about. Currently, she’s living with her husband and two fur babies in a small historic town on the banks of the Mississippi river where her imagination tends to wander. Guidebook to Murder, Book 1 of the Tourist Trap series, won the 2015 Reader’s Crown award for Mystery Fiction. Visit her at www.lynncahoon.com.

Kensington Books / Twitter / Facebook / Website

TEA CUPS AND CARNAGE: amazonkindleAppleGoogle, KoboNook
MURDER AT THE MANSION: amazonkindleAppleGoogle, KoboNook

~~~~~

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Pork banner

Be honest! Would you buy this book just because of the wicked cover art?! I sure would.

But, never fear, after you read the synopsis and exclusive excerpt, you will want it all the more!

Check out Pork.

And don’t forget to enter the giveaway!

Pork

by R S Anthony

Pork cover

Genre: Contemporary Suspense Thriller

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Synopsis

High school is torture for Steven Walthurst, and home isn’t a whole lot better. The only place that offers respite is an abandoned tree house at the edge of town. But something lurks in the nearby woods, and the long line of elm trees has a clear message for Steven: keep out.

Then one day, Steven finds a little girl lying unconscious, perilously close to the woods. As the two get to know one another, Steven experiences real friendship for the first time—and gets closer than ever to knowing the darkness that skulks between the trees.

He dedicates himself to keeping his new friend safe, but the tranquility of their fragile hidden world doesn’t last long. When an act of cruelty pushes Steven to his limits, his secrets—and those of the dark woods—come close to unraveling, threatening to destroy the one thing making his teenage life bearable. Can Steven save everything he’s built from crumbling under the pressure?

~~~~~

Enjoy The Exclusive Excerpt

“Hello, Mrs. Walthurst,” Sandy said when she saw Steven’s momma on the couch. She thought his momma looked a little tired, but Steven knew she was drunk. At least she was fully clothed in a decent nightie and sitting upright instead of half-naked in a drunken stupor.

“Hello,” his momma replied with a pleasant expression. “How are you, child?”

“This is my friend from school. Her name is Sandy,” Steven said.

His momma rose from the couch and walked over to them with a big smile.“Oh, what a beautiful name, Sandy!” His momma’s voice was high. “And what beautiful hair you have. Fiery,” she said, taking Sandy’s braid in her hand. “Tell me, what’s your favorite color?” he heard his momma ask Sandy just before he rushed into the kitchen.

He decided to make peanut butter sandwiches and slapped the pieces of bread together as quickly as possible before stumbling back into the living room. His momma was still talking to an impressed Sandy on the only other chair in the room.

“And then all the noblemen in the city came to visit Princess Atillia before she was taken by the dragon for a hundred years as promised,” Steven’s momma finished a story he’d never heard before.

“Let’s go, Sandy,” he said, desperate to get her out of the house. His momma’s mood could shift any moment now.

“Where are you two going?” His momma turned her attention to Steven.

“We’re going to study in the library,” Steven lied. Sandy stared at him.

“So you’ve been spending all your time with Sandy?”

“No. Sandy’s only joining me for today,” he said, reaching for Sandy’s hand.

“Well, you two should go on, then. Don’t let this old woman jabber on at you.” She smiled at Sandy, and Sandy returned it kindly. “I’ll see you later, son. Sandy, you have to come again another time and I’ll tell you what happened to Princess Atillia.”

“You mean there’s more?”

“Of course there is, dear. She can’t die in the dragon’s dungeon, can she? She’s a princess.” His momma made the grand gesture of a noblewoman and Sandy smiled.

~~~~~

Author Rosemary Anthony

Pork author

Rosemary Anthony writes suspense fiction with a twist. She has a Bachelor’s degree in Management from the University of Science Malaysia and recently made the jump from writing official documents to writing fiction novels. Blessed with 17 nephews and nieces, she finds the world of young adults to be a thrilling source of inspiration for her books.

Rosemary lives in a small town in Malaysia and travels as often as possible to broaden her cultural horizon. You can find out more about her books, giveaways, and new releases on:

 

Facebook / Instagram / Twitter / Goodreads

Her debut fiction Pork can be found on:

Amazon

NOTE: “Pork” will be free on Amazon June 21-23, 2016

 

What others are saying:

“Stay with this new author. She’s impressive.” – G. Harp

“The plot is elaborate leading to an unexpected twist in the end which I loved. It is a very good read– you won’t be disappointed!” – D. Mantzari

“…makes for an entertaining read, just prepare yourself to have a few WTF moments while enjoying the experience…” – Book Mafia Blog

“The author has a lovely writing style with clear, sparse prose that allows the story to breathe. Bit by bit each character plays a part in unraveling the mystery…” – The Welshbird

~~~~~

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Nighthawk banner

I have such a wonderful post to share with you today.

Author Jeremy Flagg is here with a fun interview.

I have his science fiction/dystopian book, Nighthawks to show you.

And a thrilling excerpt.

Plus a giveaway. So don’t forget to enter!

~~~~~

An interview with Jeremy Flagg

Can you describe your dream home?

My dream home would be a cabin in the woods. I grew up in Northern Maine and I have always wanted to go back when I’m ready to retire. I figure I could build a cabin, live a simple life and try very hard to stay off the grid. There’s something romantic about it. I love the idea of seclusion and being able to sit with my thoughts and just pick apart the universe. The only thing I would need is wifi, without that I wouldn’t be able to look up how to plant a garden or watch repeats of House.

If we were to come to your house for a meal, what would you give us to eat?

It would most likely be steak tips on the grill. If I have the time, I love firing it up and marinating some tips for dinner. However, with my writing schedule, I’m noticing more and more often I’ve been eating out again. I need to curb that, I enjoy cooking and it gives me a break from the laptop. It also doesn’t hurt that I look dashing in an apron!

Tell us about the absolute BEST fan letter you have received.

My Suburban Zombie High series is largely inspired by the outlandish students I deal with as a teacher. There are times when I can’t resist talking about with them. Last summer I received a message from one of my students who showed a picture of her reading my book. I was flattered she was reading it and looked forward to what she had to say. She revealed to me she had gotten permission from her English teacher to use it as her optional summer reading. I had to admit I was amused with her exuberance, but I was extremely flattered that she would pick my novel as her optional summer reading. Still to this day, I’m not quite sure how her teacher felt about the whole zombies eating all the teachers in a school. This could be why he avoids me at staff meetings.

If there was a piece of research you could do in person, what would it be?

Part of Children of Nostradamus takes place in a radiation riddled post-apocalyptic Boston. Since I can’t visit that, there are some scenes in the sequel novel I’m working on now that would take me into the abandoned subway tunnels below Boston. Otherwise, the book has parts that happen in a warehouse in New York City and I’d love to see it in person. Right now, I’m making a lot of assumptions based on what I saw on the subway, so it would be awesome to see it up close and let my senses soak it up.

Who designed the book cover for the book you are touring?

This book jacket was designed by the lovely folks over at http://www.derangeddoctordesign.com. I was nervous at first since I work in graphic design and have a fairly high standard of design. Designers are notoriously egotistical, but I was happy to see my fears were quickly set aside. They listened to my notes on the cover from liking grunge, to being inspired by dark horror, and my love of typography. When I saw the preliminary cover I was nervous to give a critique but they were beyond professional. We batted around some ideas and they quickly turned my ideas into a great book cover. I’m very pleased with how they collaborated, definitely somebody I hope to work again with in the future.

~~~~~

Nighthawks

Children Of Nostradamus #1

by Jeremy Flagg

Nighthawks cover

Genre: Sci-Fi / Dystopian

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Synopsis

Twenty-six-year-old painter Conthan Cowan takes art to a shocking frontier…

 

His debut exhibit features the transformation of his high school friend, Sarah, as she went from a shy, soft-spoken girl to a Child of Nostradamus—an individual gifted with extraordinary abilities. Living in a society where the Children of Nostradamus are captured by the government, Conthan’s exhibit draws attention from officials and protesters alike.

 

A government psychic may be dead, but that doesn’t stop her from manipulating the future…

 

The deceased White House aide is only remembered for her failed assassination attempt on the president decades before Conthan was born. Foreseeing her own death, she scribed letters to bring together specific Children of Nostradamus on a mission that will change the world.

 

On the night of the gallery exhibition, Conthan receives one of those letters…

 

Whispers from the past direct him to visit Sarah, the subject of his paintings, who like many Children of Nostradamus, is being detained in a government research facility. It’s there he finds himself aligned with a rogue group of Children on a mission to prevent a dark future.

 

As a dark future unfolds, there’s only one hope to stop the destruction of the world…

 

The Children of Nostradamus.

~~~~~

Excerpt

Conthan Cowan,

As you ponder the situation laid out in front of you, it is clear that things will never be the same. Before you are many decisions, but alas, beyond this point I cannot see nor predict your future.

You are an element that seems to defy the strands of probability. I fear that before you lies a path that will test the fortitude of your soul. I wish I could give you more than a simple direction. I have done everything in my power to see you safe to this point. I wish I could tell you that somewhere on the other side of the darkness will be you, standing triumphant. However, I cannot. For that, I am sorry. What I can do is start you on your hero’s journey.

Go to Sarah.

With Regards,

Eleanor P. Valentine

~~~~~

Author Jeremy Flagg

Nighthawks author

I’m high school graphic design and marketing teacher, at a large suburban high school in Massachusetts. Working as a high school educator and observing the outlandish world of adolescence was the inspiration for my first young adult novel, “Suburban Zombie High.”

My inspiration for writing stems from being a youth who struggled with reading in school. While I found school assigned novels incredibly difficult to digest, I devoured comics and later fantasy novels. Their influences can be seen in the tall tales I spin.

I took the long route to becoming a writer. For a brief time, I majored in Creative Writing but exchanged one passion for another as I switched to  Art and Design. My passion for reading about superheroes, fantastical worlds, and panic-stricken situations would become the foundation of my writing career.

I participated in my first NaNoWriMo in 2006 and continue to write an entire novel every November. Now I am the NaNoWriMo Municipal Liaison to the Massachusetts Metrowest Region. I also belong the New England Horror Writer’s Association and to a weekly writing group, the Metrowest Writers.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / LinkedIn / Instagram

Amazon / B&N

~~~~~

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For a list of my reviews go HERE

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Sister Dear banner

A Domestic Suspense To Die For! Well, if that doesn’t grab you, I’m sure the excerpt will.

Come on in and check out Sister Dear by Laura McNeill.

~~~

Title: Sister Dear
Author: Laura McNeill
Publisher: HarperCollins/Thomas Nelson
Pages: 336
Genre: Domestic Suspense

Sister Dear cover

Synopsis

All Allie Marshall wants is a fresh start. But when dark secrets refuse to stay buried, will her chance at a new life be shattered forever?

Convicted of a crime she didn’t commit, Allie watched a decade of her life vanish. Now, out on parole, Allie is determined to clear her name and reconnect with the daughter she barely knows.

But Allie’s return to Brunswick, Georgia, sends earthquakes through the small, coastal community. Even her daughter Caroline, now a teenager, challenges Allie’s claims of innocence.

Refusing defeat, a stronger, smarter Allie launches a campaign for the truth, digging deep into the past. Her investigation threatens her parole status, her own safety, and the already-fragile bond with her family. What Allie uncovers is far worse than she imagined. Her own sister has been hiding a dark secret—one that holds the key to Allie’s freedom.

For More Information

Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads

~~~~~

Book Excerpt:

In her final minutes as an inmate at Arrendale State Prison, Allie Marshall’s body pulsed with tension. Eyes averted, managing any movements with robotic precision, she remained on guard.

Only moments to go.

A sliver of time. Not even a quarter hour. An unremarkable measurement, when held up against the billion other moments in any person’s natural life. But after a decade inside, those last twelve minutes seemed the longest span in all of eternity.

To her right, rows of monitors blinked and recorded everything across the sprawling campus in Habersham County. Though the angles differed, the subject never changed: women in identical tan-collared shirts and shapeless pants. Inmates on work detail, in the cafeteria, in dormitories.

A corrections officer sat nearby, her pale-blue eyes scanning the screens. To this worker, to all of them, Allie was GDC ID, followed by ten numbers. Nothing more. Inside the thick metal bars, Allie’s life was suspended, a delicate fossil in amber.

Until now. Ten more minutes.

Her reflection stared back, unblinking, in the shatterproof glass window near the door. Green eyes flecked with gold, dark-blonde hair tucked in a loose ponytail, barely visible brackets at the corners of her lips.

Maybe, Allie thought, she’d forgotten how to smile and laugh. Happiness seemed unreachable, as if the feeling itself existed on the summit of an ice-tipped mountain shrouded by storm clouds. Indeed, the rush of pure, unadulterated joy belonged only to those with freedom. Allie’s memories of it—her daughter’s birth, Caroline’s first smile, first steps—were fleeting and distant.

Instead, the perpetual motion of prison, the waking, sleeping, and sameness, all blended together, like a silent black-and-white movie on a continuous loop.

Until the news of her parole.

At first, the concept of liberty seemed impossible—a hand trying to catch and hold vapor. The judge had sentenced Allie to sixteen years, and she fully anticipated serving each and every one of them. She didn’t believe she’d be granted an early release—she couldn’t—until she stepped beyond the walls and barbed wire and chain-link fence, barriers that kept her from everyone and everything she’d ever loved.

Allie focused on breathing, stretching her lungs, exhaling to slow her pulse. Her own belongings, a decade old, lay nearby. Keys that wouldn’t open doors. A watch with a dead battery. A light khaki jacket with a photo of then five-year-old Caroline tucked in the pocket, one pair of broken-in Levis, and a white cotton shirt. Gingerly, with her fingertips, she reached for the clothing, then gripped the bundle tight to her chest.

A second guard motioned for Allie to change quickly in a holding room. With the door shut, she pulled the shapeless prison garb over her head and picked up the shirt. The material, cool and light, brushed against her skin like gauze. Allie shivered.

For ten years, all she’d known was the rasp of her standard-issue navy jacket, the scrape of her worn white tennis shoes along the sidewalk.

Back in Brunswick, Allie had filled her closet with easy summer shifts and crisp linen pants. Now her body was different too—the soft curves had dissolved, leaving lean muscle behind. The jeans hung loosely around her waist and hips. The top billowed out in waves from her shoulders.

Nothing would fit, she reminded herself. Not much in her past life would.

And that was all right.

When she walked out of Lee Arrendale State Prison, home to thousands of female inmates, Allie didn’t want reminders. No indigo tattoo inked down her back or neck. No numbers or symbols etched into her arms or fingers. The only external validation of time served was a faint scar that traced her eyebrow.

The real proof of her internment lay underneath it all. Below the seashell white of Allie’s skin, hidden in blood, tendons, and muscle, the experience indelibly marked on her soul. An imprint made by incident, mistake, and tragedy.

Evidence, and lack of it.

“I’m innocent,” she’d insisted to everyone who would listen. Her lawyers fought hard, rallied a few times, but in the end, the jury convicted her. Voluntary manslaughter.

A year later, Allie’s appeal failed. Then money ran out. Her father turned his attention back to his veterinary practice after his cardiologist warned the stress of another trial might kill him. Her mother did her best to minimize worry while Emma, her tempestuous and fun-loving sister, assumed the role of doting aunt and guardian to Caroline.

And there was Ben. Sweet, thoughtful Ben. The man who’d wanted to marry her, who said he would love her always. Even after her arrest, he’d promised to wait for her if the worst happened. Allie couldn’t live with herself if he’d sacrificed everything—his rising political career, his reputation, and his life for a decade or more. She’d broken it off, knowing it would wound him terribly. When he’d finally left, when she saw him for the last time, it was as if the very core of her being had been torn away, leaving a vast, gaping emptiness she couldn’t fill, despite how hard she tried. Allie closed her eyes. She’s convinced herself it was the logical thing, what made sense. She had done her best to forget him. It hadn’t worked in the least.

The days and months blurred. Entire seasons dissolved, shapeless and gray, like the ink of fine calligraphy smeared by the rain.

The squawk of the prison intercom barely registered in Allie’s brain. Sharp insults and threats were routine, eruptions of violence expected. Even along the brown scrub grass and wooden benches of the prison yard, there was no escape. Allie always tried to disappear—pressing her body close to the concrete walls, becoming a chameleon against the barren landscape.

The women in Arrendale weren’t afraid of punishment; most had nothing left. Some bonded with other inmates for favors; others paid for protection with cigarettes, food, and stamps. For those prisoners who had lost everything; inmates with little hope of parole, life was almost unthinkable.

Clutching her hands in her lap to keep from shaking, Allie watched as a woman collapsed in the cafeteria, stabbed in the jugular with a plastic fork. The next week, a fellow inmate in her dormitory was choked to death, purple fingerprints visible on the woman’s throat when the guards discovered her body. Allie was haunted with grief for weeks after a young girl, only four years older than Caroline, tried to hang herself with a scrap of fabric.

Despite it all, despite the desperation that seemed to permeate the very air she breathed, Allie had survived.

In another few minutes, her younger sister, Emma, would arrive, as bus service didn’t run from Alto to Brunswick. Tomorrow she’d meet her parole officer at noon. And like every parolee, she would receive a check, courtesy of the Georgia Department of Corrections, enough to buy shampoo, a bar of soap, and a comb for her hair.

Allie blinked up at the clock, almost afraid the time might start going backward. She forced her eyes away, squeezed them shut. If she tried hard enough, her mind formed a picture of her grown daughter’s face. In her daydreams, she’d imagined their reunion a million times, rehearsed every possible scenario. She worried about the right words to say, how to act, and whether it was all right to cry. The enormity of it was impossible to contain, like holding back the ocean with a single fingertip.

All that mattered now was seeing Caroline.

The buzzer sounded long and loud; its vibration shook the floor. The burly guard sighed and lumbered to her boot-clad feet. She stood inches from Allie’s shoulder, her breath hot and rank from a half-eaten roast beef sandwich.

Locks clicked and keys rattled. The barrier, with its heavy bars, groaned under its own weight. An inch at a time, the metal gate heaved open. Soon, there would be nothing but empty space standing between Allie and the rest of the world.

She felt a nudge.

In that moment, Allie heard four words, precious and sweet.

“You’re free to go.”

~~~~~

Author Laura McNeil

Laura McNeil

Laura McNeil is a writer, mom, travel enthusiast, and coffee drinker. In her former life, she was a television news anchor for CBS News affiliates in New York and Alabama. Laura holds a master’s degree in journalism from The Ohio State University and is completing a Ph.D. in Instructional Leadership at the University of Alabama. When she’s not writing and doing homework, she enjoys running, yoga, and spending time at the beach. She lives in Northern Alabama with her family.

Her latest book is the domestic suspense, Sister Dear.

For More Information

~~~~~

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Witch of the Cards Banner TOUR 851 x 315

Witch of the Cards

by Catherine Stine

29416179

 

Genre: paranormal historical suspense

Publisher: Konjur Road Press

Date of Publication: March 16, 2016

ISBN 13: 978-0-9848282-6-5

ISBN-10: 0-9848282-6-5

ISBN 13: 978-0-9848282-7-2

ISBN 10: 0-9848282-7-3

Number of pages: 265

Word Count: 76K

Cover Artist: Mae I Designs

.

 

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Book Description:

 

Fiera was born a sea witch with no inkling of her power. And now it might be too late.

Witch of the Cards is historical, supernatural romantic suspense set in 1932 on the Jersey shore. Twenty-two year-old Fiera has recently left the Brooklyn orphanage where she was raised, and works in Manhattan as a nanny. She gets a lucky break when her boss pays for her short vacation in Asbury Park. One evening, Fiera and her new friend Dulcie wander down the boardwalk and into Peter Dune’s Tarot & Séance, where they attend a card reading.

Fiera has always had an unsettling ability to know things before they happen and sense people’s hidden agendas. She longs to either find out the origin of her powers or else banish them because as is, they make her feel crazy. When, during the reading, her energies somehow bond with Peter Dune’s and form an undeniable ethereal force, a chain of revelations and dangerous events begin to unspool. For one, Fiera finds out she is a witch from a powerful sea clan, but that someone is out to stop her blossoming power forever. And though she is falling in love with Peter, he also has a secret side. He’s no card reader, but a private detective working to expose mediums. Despite this terrible betrayal, Fiera must make the choice to save Peter from a tragic Morro Cruise boat fire, or let him perish with his fellow investigators. Told in alternating viewpoints, we hear Fiera and Peter each struggle against their deep attraction. Secrets, lies, even murder, lace this dark fantasy.

Witch of the Cards teaser 3

 

Enjoy the Excerpt

The absinthe put me in a dreamy state. Added to the mix was the sensual comfort of sitting next to Peter, who served as a buffer between Alyse and me.

Somewhere in the room, a chorus of faint voices floated around, high and sweet. Or was the sound merely in my head? How could it be? Peter asked me a question, but it took three repetitions for me to understand him over the low-slung jazz notes infused with the chorus of invisible soprano cherubs singing at me.

“Have you always had a talent for the unseen?” I heard him ask.

“Whatever do you mean? It was you who saw things that weren’t there.” I had to right myself because I found myself swooning so much I nearly fell into Peter’s lap.

“But it was you who eked it out of me.”

“Little old me?” I giggled.

“Yes, you,” Alyse agreed. “I was there, too. You have some strange talent. Can you describe how it works? You must be aware of it.”

Everything was turning light and frothy like a magical cake icing. The barkeep was chatting up the fellows at his counter, the card players exhaled in cheery gusts of laughter, and the waitresses flounced around like so many sunny meadow flowers. I didn’t see the harm. “I do sense things. Always have.”

“What kind of things?” Peter and Alyse asked in tandem. Their unexpected accord matched the soprano voices singing harmoniously in and around my head.

I giggled again. “Do you hear them?”

“Hear what?” Peter looked around, spooked.

“Children, little voices.”

Alyse’s brows creased. “What are they saying?”

“They’re singing.” But the entire mood of the room had changed in an instant. Their radiant energy soured. The children of the ether weren’t singing any more. They were starting to weep, over something very sad.

Over me.

How did I know this? No idea. A hard frost shot through my bones. I took a big gulp of the absinthe. Perhaps it would block out the voices, the wailing of innocents.

“What is it?” Peter took my hand. His concerned touch cut through the horrible, chilling ache and melted me. “What’s the matter, Fiera?” His face paled, and right then, I knew he heard them too. “They’re crying, aren’t they?” he whispered in my ear, tickling my soft lobe. “Crying over you.”

“Yes.” I leaned on him, letting the voices cry for me.

We hugged and I swear I felt his sudden, hot tears melt through the shoulder fabric of my dress. It was infinitely sad, infinitely tender.

The invisible cherubs whirring inside my head took translucent form and slipped out of me. They soared around the room like hardscrabble angels, flitting past Dulcie as she danced; sliding, their soft baby feet gliding over the long bar counter, and right through the man with the hookah. He glanced up for a moment as if he, too, felt the supernatural breeze. Then he bowed his head back down and took a pensive draw on his smoking device. Eyes closed, I saw green paisleys and floating leaves, the rushing of a cold stream bubbling under me, which filled me with terror. I came to with a gasp.

“What is it?” Alyse asked. How could I tell her of this suffering, shot through with spectacular floating objects, and my strange, sudden affinity with Mr. Dune?

“I see children weeping,” I admitted. “They’ve been hurt.”

“How?” Her voice grew anxious.

I silently asked them. “They’re babies. They can’t say.”

When I looked over at Peter, it was obvious he was in the same deep trance he’d been in when we first met. His eyes were glazed as if whatever he was experiencing was far from this basement speakeasy. “What is it? What do you see?” I whispered.

“They’re fading. They’re dying. They’re being—”

“Snap out of it, Mr. Dune.” Alyse gave him a stern shaking. “You’ve had too much absinthe.”

 “It’s not that!” I insisted.

“Then tell me what it is, Fiera,” she said.

“It’s a vision. Of something real from long ago.”

“How long ago?”

“As long ago as there is a long ago.” I sounded ridiculous. Alyse Bone was right. The absinthe was crazy making. Or was it the taffy? I leaned into Peter’s limp shoulder, reached over and shook him, too, but with more patience than Alyse had.

His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at me with that same calm as when he awoke after the séance. As before, his expression was clear of emotion, blissfully unaware of what he’d whispered to me minutes ago.

“Well, there you are,” he slurred. “You look positively ravishing. Dance?”

“Thanks, don’t mind if I do.” I bumbled to my feet.

“You two really drank the coffin varnish.” Alyse gave an unbecoming snort as she rose and drifted away.

Perhaps I was too far-gone, but I didn’t care. Peter and I danced and danced. The speakeasy filled with the overflow from the convention hall dance—young lovers, bootleggers with wide ties and cigars, older women with twinkling earrings and heavy bosoms, even a prostitute or two. They wore too much rouge and sat brazenly up at the bar with the gin rummies.

This time, I couldn’t say whether I stepped on Mr. Dune’s polished wingtips. He probably couldn’t be sure if he knocked his bony legs into mine. We had more nips of absinthe, and I wolfed down another green-swirl taffy. Before I knew it, I was leaning provocatively against Peter and laughing like a wild banshee.

I remember gaping up at him to see his black hair all disheveled and him indistinctly mumbling. And thinking that he was the most gorgeous human being I’d ever seen. I remember Peter and I howling at the crescent moon over the ocean, and the shocked sideways glance of the hotel proprietor as we stumbled in.

I recall pulling out the Tarot, and laying them out on my rug. I recall babbling at him—about a witch and a swindler and a boat. I can still picture his expression of shocked surprise.

And I remember Peter’s lips branding my forehead—how could I ever forget that—while shocks of his lush black hair dangled deliciously on my burning cheeks. The last thing I recall before things went dark was kicking off my shoes.

 

About Author Catherine Stine:

Catherine Stine

 

Catherine Stine’s novels span the range from futuristic to supernatural to contemporary. Her YA sci-fi thrillers Fireseed One and Ruby’s Fire are Amazon bestsellers and indie award winners. Her YA, Dorianna won Best Horror Book in the Kindle Hub Awards. Heart in a Box, her contemporary YA was an Amazon Hot New Release in Teen and Alternative Family for over eight weeks. She also writes romance as Kitsy Clare. Her Art of Love series includes Model Position and Private Internship. Book three, Girl and the Gamer, launches this summer. She suspects her love of dark fantasy came from her father reading Edgar Allen Poe to her as a child, and her love of contemporary fiction comes from being a jubilant realist. To unwind she loves to watch “bad” reality TV and travel to offbeat places.

 

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One $40 gift card, two hand-painted heart-boxes (by Catherine) with secret treasure inside, one signed paperback of Dorianna by Catherine Stine, one signed paperback of Witch of the Cards by Catherine Stine, one brand new collector Tarot deck along with an envelope full of special swag!

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Has she already fallen prey to the vicious stranger hunting her?

 

Publication Date: Jan 26, 2016
Genre: Psychological Thriller/Crime Fiction

Life turns from barely tolerable to complete hell when Maddy Eastin’s impulsive plan to win back the attention of her absentee father backfires. Word of her scheme spreads through her high school, but when mockery escalates to cyberbullying, Maddy and her failed stunt become headline news. But the worst is yet to come…

A disturbed man is fighting the overwhelming urge to surrender to his true nature—a moral code molded by a sadistic father who taught him that a girl needs proper training to become the perfect subservient woman. As he watches Maddy on the evening news, his already fractured psyche completely splinters. She’s the girl he’s been waiting for.

When Maddy disappears, she’s labeled a runaway even though her mother believes it was foul play. Will the two detectives investigating Maddy’s disappearance find her before it’s too late? Or has she already fallen prey to the vicious stranger hunting her?

This psychological thriller unfolds through the viewpoints of five deeply flawed characters. Each is on their own emotionally charged journey that ultimately intersects in a collision course of devastating consequences.

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Enjoy this Excerpt

Lily unlocked the craft store’s two front doors, then stood aside to allow a couple of impatient women to enter.

Gotta get your early morning scrapbooking fix, don’t you, ladies?

She forced the biting retort to stay firmly in her mind. Outwardly, she smiled, greeting the women, who were already racing down the center aisle.

When did I become so bitter?

Lily had always thought of herself as a pleasant person, the type to consider another person’s feelings over her own. She believed she was the sort of friend others wanted in their corner. One who would roll up her sleeves and jump in during the tough times. So how was it that she could deal with other people’s problems so well, yet completely fall apart during the rough patches in her own life?

It seemed to her that having single-mom status thrust upon her had been the tipping point. She didn’t know how other women did it. There was no time to grieve over a spouse walking out when every waking moment was either spent trying to earn enough income to keep their whole house of cards from crashing down or being an emotional cheerleader for Maddy in order to get her through.

When Tom had still been part of the family, at least there had been someone else to pass the baton to once in a while. He may have travelled a lot with his job, but whenever he was home, he and Maddy were always together. Those were the times Lily could take a break. Take time for herself, to recharge and in turn have something to offer back to her family. Lily had been running on empty for so long now, she had nothing left to give.

At least I don’t have to listen to someone constantly belittle me anymore.

She was glad for that, but still felt sad when she thought about no longer having a man in her life who loved her. She didn’t know which was worse—Tom’s stinging verbal attacks or being alone.

            What would happen if I just sat in the middle of this store and refused to move?

Lily cracked a smile as she pictured herself plopping down on the floor in full tantrum mode.

Maddy got to do it, why can’t I?

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Kelly Miller grew up shivering in Illinois but now enjoys the year-round sunshine in Tampa, FL. Her debut novel, “Dead Like Me,” won second place in the best mystery category of the 2011 FWA Royal Palm Literary Awards competition. It was also named a semi-finalist in the mystery category of The Kindle Book Review’s 2013 Best Indie Books Awards competition. The Detective Kate Springer series continues with the second book, “Deadly Fantasies.” In Kelly’s newest book, “Splintered” which is a 2015 Kindle Scout winner, she introduces her readers to a whole new cast of characters. Visit www.kellymillerauthor.com to get a glimpse into the inner workings of her writing life.

 

 

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What did you think of that excerpt? Sound like something you’d enjoy?

I love psychological thrillers. Getting into peoples minds. Reading about what makes them tick.

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Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew!

For a list of my reviews go HERE

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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