Posts Tagged ‘women’s fiction’

Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Flamingo Cafe organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Jackie Kang will award a $20 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Flamingo Cafe

by Jackie Kang

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Genre: Women’s Fiction

Synopsis

A storm is brewing off the coast of Florida, but chaos has already made landfall for four women of Palm Beach society. Abigail, a self-appointed Cuban princess and queen of the WAGs, suddenly finds herself penniless and on the streets. Claudia, a Greek entrepreneur and CEO of a prestigious international clothing line, is entering her golden years only to realize secrets can weigh you down. Cassy, a barista and owner of the Flamingo Cafe, is doing her best to recover from a tragic past. Meanwhile her best friend, Bri, also harbors a secret: a romantic tet-a-tet with Cassy’s brother Nick. Each woman has played her part in a society obsessed with appearances and secrecy for years. So, when Hurricane Odette blows through town, exposing those secrets, it’s no surprise their lives collide like a clap of thunder. Only one thing is certain: if they don’t work together, Mother Nature will teach them the hardest lessons of their lives.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

I make my way into the bathroom, intending to splash some water on my face, but as soon as I flip on the light, I am confronted with the little pink box I picked up earlier—and all that it represents.

The circle of life.

The result is one of nature’s most rudimentary phenomena. For a species to be born, create a genetic replica of themselves, and leave behind indisputable proof they existed in the first place.

I study these miracles daily, from phytoplankton to marine mammals. But if it’s the backbone of our species, why then do I feel nauseous at the mere vision of pink?

Never once, until this very moment, have I felt the elusive “biological clock” ticking inside me. And even now, I’m not confident it’s the ticking clock I’m feeling. But rather a certain pulsing inside my body as adrenaline is released by intense fear, not a maternal yearning.

I try to control my rapidly increasing heart rate while contemplating what a positive result would mean. It would mean the responsibility of keeping another human being alive. A tiny entity that would rely on me to feed, bathe, love, and keep it safe. It would mean any semblance of my independence would be gone. A baby would forever link me to an endless stream of car seats, baby food, diapers, play dates, homework, and after- school activities.

I step forward and place my hands on the counter, not daring to pick up the box. As I avoid the mirror in front of me and stare at the accusing piece of cardboard, I search my memory for a reason or some traumatic event to connect me to my lack of maternal instincts. It would be so much easier if I had some obvious explanation for not having the desire to replicate my genetic code. But try as I might, I can’t come up with a single justification.

I was blessed with a loving family. I’m a product of two well-adjusted, mature parents. High school teachers by profession, who were dedicated not just to each other but to me, their only daughter. Whose only crime was providing me with a comfortable life and encouraging my love for learning. There wasn’t a book I couldn’t ask for my parents wouldn’t get for me. They always told me, “knowledge is power,” and “science holds all the answers to what we humans seek to understand.” If only they could give me a book to answer my concerns now.

At least they had each other when they were raising me—working as a tag team, they passed the baton seamlessly between work and life. I’m not so sure Nick and I will be able to recreate that kind of baton passing. I try to imagine Nick as a father. Nick, as the father of my child.

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About Author Jackie Kang:

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When not spending her time creating make-believe people and places, Jackie Kang lives in Kirkland, WA with her very real family of 1 husband, 2 dogs, and 3 children. In her past life, Jackie has held jobs as a personal trainer, a spa manager, a dental assistant, and an office manager, but her true love is writing and sharing a well-crafted story. Jackie is a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association.

Author Links: Website / Facebook / Instagram 

Amazon

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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.

Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Choice organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Dora Farkas will award a $25 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Choice

by Dora Farkas

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Genre: Women’s Fiction

Synopsis

Val is a young Mexican-American quantum physicist and single mother struggling with an anxiety disorder and financial challenges. Her world is turned upside down when her ex-husband files for full custody of their three-year-old daughter to take her across the country where he was offered a job. The story unfolds as she decides either to stay put in Boston and meet job related deadlines or go on a holiday and visit her parents in Mexico.

Encouraged by her father, Val flies to Mexico with Maya, her service dog, and Daisy, her daughter, and she discovers a world of magic that will change her outlook on life forever. She also reconnects with her childhood friend, Mercedes, who gives her a glimmer of hope. Things, however, are not what they seem to be. As all areas of her life begin to fall apart, Val must explore the power of her intuition and make different choices to change the course of her and her daughter’s futures.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

It was magic that led me to Val. The day her mother, la señora María, came into our house, I felt something I had never felt before. This woman and her family needed me. I couldn’t explain why. But as soon as she stepped into the house, I ran up to her and started pawing at her shiny shoes. La señora Luz always wore sandals, but this lady had the most interesting shoes ever, with high heels and colors I didn’t even know existed. She petted all my siblings, but I kept pawing at her shoes until she lifted me and didn’t put me down until she got back to her own house.

Is it a coincidence that la señora María got me right before Val got sick? Not a chance. Like all of us, la señora María was guided by her intuition to get a puppy for her daughter just when Val needed someone the most. Val and I had only been together for a few weeks when Val got so ill that she couldn’t get out of bed except to walk me. If I hadn’t been there, who knows what would have happened? My being there helped her to get through the day until her doctor told her to train me as a psychiatric service dog. I can’t tell you how happy it made me to have a job!

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About Author Dora Farkas:

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Although Dora was born in Budapest, Hungary, she lived in Mexico for five years during her early childhood. Her connection to the Mexican language, history, and cooking inspired the cultural setting for her debut novel, “Choice.”

After getting her doctorate from MIT, she published her first book, “The Smart Way to Your Ph.D.” which paved the way for a six-figure consulting business while she was a stay-at-home mom with two daughters. She has given workshops about writing at MIT, Tufts, Boston University, the University of Connecticut, Ohio State University, the Scripps Research Institute, the University of Calgary, and the University of British Columbia.

Author Links: Website / Facebook

Purchase it HERE

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Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

a Rafflecopter giveaway

~~~~~

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.

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Today Rebekah L. Purdy, Rowan Prose Publishing, and Rockstar Book Tours
are revealing the cover for GREETING CARDS FOR EXES, her new women’s fiction book
which releases February 4, 2025!

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Check out the awesome cover and enter the giveaway!

 

On to the reveal! 

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 GREETING CARDS FOR EXES

Author: Rebekah L. Purdy

Pub. Date: February 4, 2025

Publisher: Rowan Prose Publishing

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Find it: Goodreadshttps://books2read.com/u/bQlRpD

 

Piper Mishner has spent the last year
trying to get over her ex, which is hard to do after he decides to move into
the apartment next to hers with his new fiancé. As if she needs the reminder of
how painful the breakup was. Not to mention, her job as a greeting card writer
is now at risk due to her cynicism about love.


“I’m bored with you and need a change.” The infamous words of Kerrie Holloway’s
ex-husband, who doesn’t seem to understand the concept of being an “ex” since
he wants her to pretend for their kids and family that they’re still together.
While dating others and living in the same house. She gets a job in sales at a
greeting card company, and is finally on the way to saving for her own place.


Maude Gilchrist has spent over fifty years married to the same man. A man who,
one day, just leaves. No goodbye. No explanation. He was just gone. Bitter and
alone, she decides to postpone retirement from the greeting card company.
Although writing sappy cards about love is the last thing she wants to do.


Through lunch hour talks, weekend getaways, and drunken brawls, the ladies of
All For You Greeting Cards Company help heal one another’s wounds and learn
there are more important things in life than having a man. There may be a
generational gap, but they all have the “ex-factor” in common. Everyone needs a
friend by their side. Someone to talk to, laugh with, complain to, watch your
back…and to go to jail with you. 

 

Fans of Ashley Poston, Colleen Hoover, Emily Henry, Christina
Lauren, Mia Sheridan, and Kristin Hannah will enjoy “Greeting Cards For
Exes” by Rebekah L. Purdy.

 

Enjoy this peek inside:

.

Chapter One

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PIPER

 

The familiar whir of Chicago
traffic sounded from below as I sat on my balcony, sipping a cup of coffee, and
watching the waves roll in off Lake Michigan. I could barely afford this
apartment, but it was worth every penny, just to feel this relaxed. It was my
one refuge from the world—from my bad memories of Minho dumping me. Although, I
guess dumping would’ve entailed actually talking to me about ending our
engagement.

.

But I found out the hard way. Even
now I couldn’t get rid of the image of Hani’s legs wrapped around him in OUR
car, in the alleyway next to the floral shop. There was nothing more final than
seeing Minho or as I liked to refer to him now, Man-Ho, screwing someone else
to bring things to an end…Although maybe he had some weird Valentine’s fetish.
First, he was with me, a greeting card writer, who came up with sweet words
that people couldn’t come up with themselves, and then a florist who pretty
much vomited roses, love, and all things Cupid would go crazy for.

.

With a groan, I shook my head
clearing those visions from my mind. I was not going to spend one more second
thinking of that asshat. My lids closed, and when I reopened them, I turned my
focus back on the shoreline across the street. Scents of the lake and nearby
restaurants wafted in the air, and I inhaled deeply, stretching my legs in
front of me. Nope. I’d specifically chosen this location because it was nowhere
near our old neighborhood. So, I didn’t have to go to the same eateries, or
shops, or see the same mutual friends. This was my safe zone.

.

I set my cup on the glass tabletop.
Nothing could ruin this day for me. Nothing. Not even my upcoming meeting at
work, which I still needed to come up with two new Valentine’s Day greeting
card ideas. These days it was harder to write about forever love. But if I
wanted to keep my job, I had to do it. Besides even I could BS my way through
some sappy thing or another.

.

Not that I absolutely needed this
job because my mom’s third husband, and my favorite stepdad of the six I’d had,
David, had set up a nice trust fund for me. However, I liked to earn my own
way. Not that I didn’t appreciate or spend the money he gave me, it was one of
the reasons I could afford this place.

.

“Hey honey, do you want to have
breakfast out on the balcony today? It’s nice out.” A familiar voice came from
the open door of the apartment next to mine.

.

No. No freaking way. This was not
happening. Maybe I’d just imagined it since I was thinking of him.

.

A moment later, I watched in horror
as Minho stepped onto the neighboring balcony holding a bowl of rice, with eggs
on top. Nope. Didn’t imagine it.

.

Oh God, I couldn’t let him see me
like this. I smoothed down my old nightgown, which had cartoon cats holding
coffee cups between their paws on it. Crap. What should I do? Without a second
thought, I dropped to my knees, then down into a full-blown military crawl, my
belly rubbing against the floor, as I used my elbows to propel myself forward
across the deck toward my French doors. The only thing worse than a domestic
enemy, was an asshole ex.

.

Why? Why? Why? Did God hate me? I
mean seriously, what were the damn odds of my ex moving into the apartment next
to mine, with his new fiancé?

.

“Piper? Is that you?” Minho called.

.

Damn it. I lowered my head and
pretended not to hear him, while I half-crawled, half-inch-wormed back toward
the door. However, as I reached for the handle, still lying on my stomach, the
stupid door wouldn’t budge. You’ve got to be shitting me. Raising my
arm, to shield my face, I pushed harder, until at last it slid open, sending me
flying inside.

.

Maybe he’d think it wasn’t me.
Maybe he’d believe he just had some weird neighbor lady who liked to slither
around on the floor of her deck. And she just happened to look a lot like me.

.

Sure. He’d definitely believe that.

.

Who was I kidding? Of course, he’d
know it was me, his parents picked these stupid pajamas out for me two
Christmases ago. Why didn’t I burn them with the rest of the stuff he and the
rest of the Song family gave me? And why in hell, did I wear my damn cat
pajamas today of all days? I could’ve easily opted for the sexy black lace
shorts and matching tank. How would he ever regret breaking up with me, when I
wore childish clothes and didn’t brush my hair before I decided to have coffee?
I collapsed on my gray hardwood floor, out of breath from playing leapfrog, and
leaned my cheek against wood. Yeah, probably not the most sanitary idea I’d
had. Just my luck, I’d breakout in acne or have a dust bunny lodge itself in my
throat and kill me.

.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Death by
dust bunny. That sounded nice. Perhaps this was a nightmare. Any moment, I’d
wake up and everything would be fine. No ex next door, no shattering of my
peaceful world.

.

The doorbell echoed through my
apartment. Frantic, I pulled myself up by the arm of the black leather couch.
No. He wouldn’t do this to me, would he? Actually, ring my doorbell?

.

Anyone else would’ve had to have
buzzed from the main lobby to be allowed up. Shaking, I moved toward the door
and stared through the peephole.

.

Sure enough, Minho stood there in
his gray suit pants, white dress shirt and matching gray tie, still looking hot
as ever. His dark hair had recently been cut and was styled perfectly as
always. His almond shaped eyes stared intently at the door. He reached for the
doorbell again, as if his persistence would make me open it. Damn, why couldn’t
he have gotten ugly in the past year? Like couldn’t God have made him lose all
his hair and teeth or given him man boobs or something?

.

Stepping away from the door, I
scurried back to my room. I wasn’t ready to face him today. So instead, I
hopped in the shower, hoping that when it was time to leave for work, he’d be
gone.

.

After the world’s longest shower
and enough steam in my bathroom to power a train engine, I finally got dressed,
packed my lunch, grabbed my work bag, and headed for the door.

.

Taking a deep breath, I poked my
head out, surveying the area for Minho. When I determined he wasn’t in sight, I
locked my apartment then headed down the hall to the elevator at the end.

.

The bell dinged as the elevator
reached my floor, doors opening to an empty car. Phew, at least I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. Then I glanced up to see Minho, holding a briefcase and hurrying down the hall.

.

“Piper. Hey, I thought that was
you, can you hold the door?” he said loudly.

.

I stared at him a brief moment, my
pulse raging in my ears like a too loud rock song at a concert. The doors
started to shut. Maybe I could’ve caught them in time, but I didn’t even try.

.

“Sorry,” I called out.

.

Then they closed, I let out a shaky
breath. I wasn’t ready for this yet. I didn’t want to see him or talk to him or
be around him. However, I also wasn’t going to be the one to move. This was
supposed to be my safe haven. My dream home. If he didn’t like that we were
neighbors, he could move. Or at least that’s what I told myself.

.

When I got to the complex lobby, I
rushed for the front door, waving to Felix, the doorman as I passed.

.

In an attempt to avoid Minho at all
costs, I sprinted down the sidewalk. Damn, I better not break an ankle. Heels
did not mix with track and field events. But it was desperation that kept me
going, even though my lungs and legs were telling me I was in no shape to be
running a marathon this morning.

.

“Hey, Piper,” someone called.

.

I kept moving. There’d be no
stopping until I got to All For You Greeting Cards.

.

“Piper, wait up. Is someone chasing you?”

.

My gaze shifted to find the
marketing director from work, Wooyoung riding up beside me, on his bike. His
work bag was strapped around his shoulder and chest.

.

I swallowed hard staring at him.
His dark hair was styled back off his face, his brown eyes, nearly hidden
behind a pair of black nerdy glasses. His navy-blue suit clung to what I
assumed was a well-defined body, since all the girls in the office claimed he
worked out all the time. Not that I was totally oblivious to how adorable he
was, but he just hadn’t really registered on my radar. I mean, sure he brought
me a coffee every day, but he did that for pretty much everyone. It wasn’t like
I was special or anything.

.

“Oh, hi,” I managed to say, as I
slowed down and tried to catch my breath. “No. Um—just trying to get in some
exercise before work.”

.

He quirked an eyebrow at me,
bringing his bike to a stop. “In heels?”

.

My cheeks warmed, and I swiped my
red hair out of my face and behind my ear. A nervous gesture. “Yeah, you should
try it some time. Really builds those leg muscles.”

.

His lips twitched at the corner.
“Yeah, I think I’ll pass. Heels aren’t really my thing.”

.

From behind me, I heard Minho
again. Crap. Couldn’t he take a hint? Taking a deep breath, I jumped onto the
pegs on the back of Wooyoung’s bike. “Go. Go. Go,” I said, tapping his back.

.

Wooyoung peered at me, but then
started peddling. Falling forward, I clasped onto his waist, praying I didn’t
fall off the back, or get a heel caught in the spokes or something. He sped
down the side of the street, me hanging on for dear life.

.

After a couple of blocks, he pulled
up in front of a coffee shop and parked his bike, while I hopped off.

.

“What was that about?” His gaze met mine.

.

“My ex—kind of long story…I’m just not ready to face him.”

.

He nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m pretty
sure we lost him. Are you fine with me making a coffee stop?”

.

“Yeah. No problem, it’s not like
you’re my taxi driver or something,” I said, following him into the small café.
The scent of coffee and baked goods enveloped me. Damn, I could really use a
Long John donut. But the question was, did I “need” it? Probably not.

.

Wooyoung went up to the counter and
the barista smiled at him. Her eyes lit up as she glanced between us. “Oh my
gosh, is this caramel, mocha, latte girl?”

.

Wooyoung chuckled, his face pinkening. “Yes.”

.

Her smile widened. “I get it now. Good choice.” She winked at him.

.

My gaze shifted between them. What in the heck were they talking about?

.

The barista set two cups on the
counter and took Wooyoung’s money from him, he then held out one of the cups to
me. “Your favorite, caramel, mocha latte.”

.

“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

.

“Nothing.” He fell in beside me as we made our way outside to the sidewalk again.

.

“Seriously, you get me one every day. It’s got to get expensive.”

.

He grinned. “Not a big deal,
besides, if it makes you smile then that’s all the payment I need.”

.

I nearly choked on my drink. “Is that a line or something?”

.

His face turned red, and he ran a
hand haphazardly through his hair. “No, I um…Hey, I’ll see you at work, okay?
Good luck with the rest of your jog.”

.

He hopped on his bike and raced off
ahead of me like someone had lit his butt cheeks on fire. What had gotten into
him?

.

When I arrived at the office,
Kerrie Holloway, one of our newest sales reps waved at me from next to the
potted baby rose bush in the lobby. Yes, the company owner’s Valentine’s Day
obsession knew no bounds. Kerrie adjusted her black skirt and smoothed down her
light blue flower-patterned shirt, that bulked out from beneath her dark suit
jacket. Her brown curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making her look
younger. “Good, you’re here. Mr. Dancy’s ready to start our meeting.”

.

“Our meeting?” I squeaked. “Crap. I
don’t have my cards done. I was gonna work on them this morning, and then Minho
showed up. I swear, it’s like he can’t stop ruining my life.”

.

“Wait. Back up.” Kerrie grabbed my
arm tugging me to a stop next to my office. “Minho stopped by?”

.

“It’s worse than that. I’m pretty sure he moved in next door.”

.

“And I thought my morning was bad—are you alright?”

.

Sucking in a deep breath, I glanced at her. “I’m not sure.”

.

“Ladies, let’s go, our meeting is
about to start.” Mr. Dancy poked his head out of our conference room. His brown
tweed jacket in need of a “this century” makeover.

.

This day was about to get even better, I was sure.

.

Shoving my office door open, I
tossed my bag inside, grabbed a binder and pen from my desk and headed into the
meeting.

.

I found a seat next to Kerrie and
across from Wooyoung, who wouldn’t even meet my eye. Mr. Dancy cleared his
throat, scouring the room and staring down the rest of my Valentine’s Day and
Sweetest Day card team. Carlos glowered out the window, while Maude, the oldest
living creature in the building took a sip of tea from her mug, leaving behind
a too pink colored lipstick print. Her white hair reminded me of a cotton ball,
while her horn-rimmed glasses perched on her nose like a librarian scowling at
patrons.

.

“Nice that you could all finally
join me. Our mandatory meetings are just that, mandatory. So, let’s get rolling
with your ideas for next year’s Valentine’s Day Cards. Carlos, why don’t we
start with your art and photos…”

.

Carlos stood, his normally sleek
look marred by wrinkled trousers, the same red shirt he’d worn yesterday, and a
face that appeared to have not been shaved recently.

.

“This is all I have.” Carlos lined
up photos and drawings of flames. “I call it the ‘Love is Hell’ collection. For
all those no-good bastards who dump their loved ones and move to Paris without
them.”

.

“Amen to that,” I said, raising my coffee in toast.

.

“Yes, nothing says love like hellish flames,” Mr. Dancy snapped. “Piper?”

.

I snorted. “Well, if you loved
Carlos’s art, then you’ll love my idea. How about something more
Anti-Valentine’s, like ‘Drunk Butt-Dial cards.’ You can make it where the buyer
can record their voice and tell their ex what they really think about them and
send it out. Put a little phone on the front, so when it opens, you hear it
dial, then ring, maybe even a scratch and sniff beer sticker or something to
make it more realistic,” I said.

.

Kerrie busted out laughing, then quickly covered her mouth.

.

Mr. Dancy turned a shade of red I’d
never seen before, something between the hellish flames Carlos had created and
the color of an overripe tomato about to explode. “What the hell has gotten
into you guys? This isn’t a joke. We need to have all our next seasons’ cards
ready to go. Maude, please tell me you have something so I can leave this
meeting feeling like at least one of our staff knows how to do their job and
not put our company under.”

.

Maude smiled. “Of course.” She slid
a small stack of papers over to him. “Here are a few of my ideas.”

.

Mr. Dancy collected the sheets and
read through them. He smiled. “Yes. I love these. Flowers. Love. Forever.
This—this is what you guys should be writing about and designing cards for.” He
tossed them down in front of me. “Maybe read up on it. I’m calling this meeting
to an end and warning you now, that you better come prepared next time.”

.

I stood ready to filter from the room with everyone else, but Mr. Dancy blocked my way.

.

“Not so fast Piper, sit.” He pointed at the chair I’d just vacated.

.

“Sir, look, I can explain everything…”

.

“Piper, listen. You are a very
talented writer, it’s one of the reasons I originally hired you—I know you’ve
had a really rough year, but you have to get back on top of things here,
otherwise, I’m afraid, I might have to find someone else. Someone who doesn’t
think the answer to Valentine’s Day is a beer scented sticker.”

.

I nodded. “I promise, I’ll have something to you soon.”

.

After he left, I stared out the
window at the sky. You have to get it
together girl. You can’t lose this job because Manho decided to break up with
you…you can’t let him win and see how unhappy you are.

If I didn’t have motivation before
to get over him. I sure did now. Cynical as I was, I’d find a way to create a
love themed card, even if I had to spend the next seventy-two hours watching
Rom/Com movies and eating a tub of chocolate ice cream.

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About Author Rebekah L. Purdy:

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Rebekah L. Purdy is an army veteran, born and raised in
Michigan. She works full time for the court system and, in her free time, she
writes YA stories across many genres, with more than 15 titles to date. She has
a large family, including furbabies. “Greeting Cards for Exes” is her
first women’s fiction book.

 

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads

 

 

 

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Giveaway contest ribbon promo label prize. Vector giveaway banner badge design template

.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

~~~~~

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.

Broken Fortune

by Aly Mennuti

 

Publication date: July 16th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Women’s Fiction

Broken Fortune explores the unraveling of a wealthy, blended family forced to reconsider their future together as their world falls apart around them.

Elizabeth Sunderland—a forty-three-year-old wife and mother of two teenagers—is the oldest of five children in a blended family that never quite blended. The only thing that has held them together is the iron will of their wealthy parents: Benjamin Sunderland, a venture capitalist, and Kate Bernard, a partner of a hedge fund. Together, Benjamin and Kate create and rule over a Manhattan dynasty of which their children each bear their own unique scars.

Elizabeth has been trying to keep the family together since she was ten years old, hoping to convince everyone they have more in common than just their fortune. This stance will be put to the ultimate test when Kate dies with one final request: that the family travel together to the island of St. John and spread her ashes in the ocean. However, Kate’s plan to fix the family will involve more than just a family trip to the sea.

As the hidden secrets and quiet betrayals built up over thirty years begin to ripple and crash like the ocean surrounding the sinking family, Elizabeth not only faces each of her sibling’s personal inflection points—moments that could lead to reconciliation or ruin—but she has to face her own demons that have laid dormant. What happens next will shock Elizabeth into recognizing a reality she had no idea existed.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“How much money did you get?” Paul drops in, trying not to seem as outright aggressive as my other siblings but still trying to ferret out the information.

“It was nothing,” I say, trying to shut this conversation down.

“Oh, it wasn’t nothing,” Benjamin says. “It was over five million dollars.”

Everyone at the table looks ready to either spill their drink, fall off their chair, or turn me upside down to try and shake the five million out of my pockets.

“Can I have some?” Winnie says, shifting her attention for the first time this evening from my father to me.

“No,” Benjamin says sternly to Winnie. “Your mother is giving that back.”

“What about,” Paul says, daring to get between Benjamin and his money, “if you give us all five million dollars, so Lizzie doesn’t feel so alone. I mean…I’m sure my mother left something for all of us and Lizzie’s just came through first.”

“No,” Benjamin says. “Lizzie won’t feel alone when I have it back. Because none of you are getting any extra money. Everything that was Kate’s is now mine. That’s what we decided. And upon my death—which should be noted, won’t be happening anytime soon—you will all receive the entire inheritance split into five.”

“Wait,” Paul says, clearly upset. “Wait. She’s our mother. Mine. I’m her son. I mean, no offense to your kids Benjamin, but me…and Julian, we should get something now. Not have to wait until you die. You’re not my father.”

Paul’s words visibly cut through Benjamin, like an unexpected knife in the back. Even I can’t help but wince on his behalf—considering he’s spent the last thirty-three years trying to convince Paul he’s a reasonable, viable father. Meanwhile, he’s made not one corresponding overture in my direction, relegating me to the status of just an afterthought that will always linger…

About Author Aly Mennuti:

Aly Mennuti has always had two passions: philanthropy and literature. She satisfies one of those by being an executive at an international nonprofit consulting firm and has helped a diverse range of high-profile clients reach their philanthropic goals. However, she’s always had a desire to express herself creatively and carve out her own role as a writer in a writing family. Finally, in her forties (and with two children hitting their teens and deciding Mom is really uncool and not needed to hang out with anymore) she has the time and headspace to tell her own stories. She lives in Washington, DC, with her husband, Nicholas Mennuti, a novelist and screenwriter, their two children, Charlie and Lilly, and their eccentric Goldendoodle, Barry.

Goodreads / Instagram / Twitter

 

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 When the present mirrors her past wounds, Laura begins to unravel.

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Mirrored Wounds

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by Rebecca Christo

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Genre: Contemporary Women’s Fiction, Psychological Mystery

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 Laura’s life was finally good. She’d freed herself from the clutches
of an abusive partner, left an unrewarding career as an interior
designer to follow her dreams of becoming a writer, and was finally
happy. And things were only getting better. Her very first novel had
struck a chord with readers and become a bestseller, but when the
murder she’d described in its pages suddenly gets played out in real
life, with her beloved husband as the victim, it is obvious to her
that she looks guilty, despite having an alibi that would have been
difficult to fake.

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As the investigation proceeds, with
little or no progress being made, bizarre happenings in the
security-protected home she’d shared with her husband have her
questioning her own sanity, despite the reassurance of her therapist.
Could she have murdered the first man to ever make her feel truly
loved and secure and then just … forgotten somehow? Surely not. But
as even more troubling events come to light, with no logical
explanation besides her own guilt, she finds herself questioning
everything she knows to be true … including her own innocence.

Amazon
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I sat back on my patio chair and closed my eyes towards the sun. The temperature had reached record breaking highs for September and I wanted to soak it all in. I took a sip of my iced coffee and dialed Cassie’s cell.

 

“Hey you!” She said in a cheery voice.

 

I smiled. Cassie was the manager of a new five- star hotel in the city and she was usually too busy to take personal calls, but she loved her job.  “Do you have a second to chat?”

 

“Surprisingly for a change, yes!” Cassie said. She worked non-stop, so our conversations were usually through text message.  It was nice to hear her voice.

 

“How are things Cas?” I asked.

 

“You, know.  Work keeps me so busy I barely have time for a social life, and when I do go out, all the guys I meet are assholes.” She said with a laugh. “How are you doing Laura?”

 

“So good.” I told her.  “Matt is back next week so I’m just enjoying this beautiful weather!”

 

Matt and I had been married for nine years now.  The day I left the city, he had met me at the new house to sign the lease and give me the keys. He was good-looking with a quirky smile.  I remember being incredibly self-conscience about the scar on my face, but he didn’t seem to notice.  He just chatted politely about the house and his renovation ideas like we had known each other for years.

 

“Awe, I’m so happy for you Laura” Cassie said, “we should all go away for the weekend soon.”

 

“I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to pry Amy away from her kids!” I said and we both laughed.

 

We had been planning a weekend away for a while but Amy and Sam had two kids now that were their entire lives.  After they got married, they had tried for years to get pregnant, and finally gave up on the idea. After they stopped trying, she got pregnant right away and had two boys back- to- back. Elliot is ten years old, and Oliver is nine and they are her everything. Amy was born to be a mother.

 

“I’m writing a book,” I told Cassie hesitantly “I’ve been working on it for a few months.”  This wasn’t the first time I had tried to write a book, and I was starting to feel like no one would take me seriously.  After I left the city, I had tried to write several books on interior design but I always ended up hating them and had never finished.  I enjoyed journaling everyday though, and I wanted something creative to focus on so a few months ago I had decided to start a fictional novel.

 

“Is it about……..what happened?” She asked hesitantly.  Paul Johnson was about to be released from jail.  Apparently, he had stabbed another inmate while serving his time and the judge had thrown the book at him.  During the trial, I had been contacted and asked to do a victim impact statement for court.  Now that he was finally being released, my therapist had suggested journaling my feelings about it as a coping mechanism but it was still difficult to think about even after all this time. The thought of him being out made me cringe.

 

“No, I’m still not ready to write about that nightmare,” I said “My book is fiction.” I told her, “you will love it because it’s about a woman who kills her husband.” I said giggling.

 

“Ha! I can’t wait to read it.” Cassie said, “Sounds fantastic!”

 

“I don’t know if it will be any good, but it will keep me busy while Matt is at work.” I chuckled.

 

I hadn’t worked since I left the city years ago, and Matt managed remote projects so he traveled for work.  He was often gone for weeks at a time. It was the only thing that I didn’t love about Matt. I hated being alone so much, but I was getting better at it. I no longer called him at work panicking if the house creaked or if I heard a noise outside.

 

When Matt asked me to marry him, I happily accepted the proposal and he immediately took a job working locally.  He insisted that if we were going to be a family, part of that meant him being home every night.  Initially, I loved the idea, but within a couple of months the spark disappeared from his eyes. He didn’t find his new job challenging and he often returned home at the end of the day in a bad mood. It didn’t take me long to see that he was unhappy with his new career choice, and I hated to see him sacrifice what he loved for our marriage.  The day I told him he should return to remote building projects I could see the relief in his eyes. I didn’t want him to ever have to choose between me and the career that he loved.

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Can you, for those who don’t know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author?

I have always wanted to be a writer.  It has been my dream to write a book for as long as I can remember. However, I have also always had an exaggerated list of excuses as to why I didn’t write a book.  Raising my three amazing children, a stressful career, and a hectic lifestyle always on the go.  When Covid shut a lot of the world down, I was still an essential worker in the health care field working insane shifts. When I approached my husband about taking a year off to finally write a book now that the kids are adults, he was completely on board and Mirrored Wounds was born.  I’ve learned so much about my writing style and the “behind the scenes” stuff that goes along with having a book published.  I’m currently working on my second book and I’m excited to share it soon!

 

What are some of your pet peeves?

My biggest pet peeves are when people say: “I seen that”, rude people, huggers, people that judge you based on what you’re doing when they’ve never done it themselves – it’s easier to criticize than do.

 

What are you passionate about these days?

My second book Jill and Jack.  It’s a story about a woman named Jill who is dealing with transitioning her father into a nursing home and cleaning out his brownstone in Brooklyn.  She discovers clues and solves an old mystery that contains many twists and turns.

 

Do you have a favorite movie?

The Great Gatsby

 

Describe yourself in five words or less!

– Creative

– Witty

– Introverted

– Book worm

– Sincere

 

What book do you think everyone should read?

Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, The Great Gatsby

 

A day in the life of an author?

I always set up my next scene at the end of my day for the next day when I’m writing.  I find this really helpful because it gives me the evening to consider the scene and really give some thought to how the character will react to whatever is about to take place.  It also gives ne something to look forward to the next morning.  Generally, I’m awake before my alarm and settled with a coffee in my office by seven am.  (Sometimes much earlier) my days don’t always look the same, but the ones that I am able to dedicate to writing are my favorite.

 

What is your writing Kryptonite?

I think my biggest Kryptonite when writing is having to stop to answer the phone or the doorbell or any other mild inconvenience while I’m on a roll.

 

If you could tell your writing self anything, what would it be?

Just keep writing – don’t give up!  It’s too easy to shelf a book because life gets busy.  Carve time away everyday for your passion.

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 Avid dog lover and Author Rebecca Christo was born in Toronto,
Ontario, where she developed an early love of both reading and
writing. Of particular interest to her was creating a story with
emotionally mature content that was still entertaining enough to be
read for fun on a relaxing vacation. She hopes she’s succeeded with
her very first published novel: Mirrored Wounds.

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When she’s not travelling with her husband, Darcy Christo, Rebecca
enjoys spending time with him, her children Ali, Brittany and
Maxwell, and her puppies (Lucy and Winston) in Wasaga Beach, Ontario
where she currently lives.

Website
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It started as a book club. It became a way to build a better life together.

 

Title: The Best Life Book Club

Author: Sheila Roberts

Publication Date: May 7, 2024

Pages: 368

Genre: Women’s Fiction/Romantic Comedy/ContemporaryRomance

Karissa Newcomb is ready for a new start in a new neighborhood, as far away as she can get from Seattle, where her husband cheated on her with the neighbor who was supposed to be her best friend. She and her nine-year-old daughter are moving on to the city of Gig Harbor on the bay in Puget Sound. She even has a new job as an assistant at a small publishing company right in Gig Harbor. Her new boss seems like a bit of a curmudgeon, but a job is a job, she loves to read, and the idea of possibly meeting writers sounds fabulous.

Soon she finds she’s not the only one in need of a refresh. Her new neighbors, Alice and Margot, are dealing with their own crises. Alice is still grieving her late husband and hasn’t been able to get behind the wheel of a car since a close call after his death. Margot is floundering after getting divorced and laid off in quick succession. They could all use a distraction, and a book club seems like just the ticket. Together, the three women, along with Alice’s grumpy older sister, Josie, embark on a literary journey that just might be the kick-start they need to begin building their best lives yet.

Buy Links:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | HarperCollins

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MY REVIEW

How could I resist a story that revolves around several women who start a book club. It quickly becomes more as friendships are forged and their stories unfold.

Karissa, along with her young daughter, is starting over after she discovers her husband is having an affair with her best friend. New town. New house. New job. And hopefully, new friends. The kind she can trust. Almost by accident, she discovers other women going through tough situations and the book club is formed.

This was my favorite part of the book. I enjoyed how each new character entered the story and learning what their circumstances were. You meet divorcees and widow’s of different ages dealing with things at different stages. As I continued reading their stories they really grew on me. I began to hope each would get a happy ending. Not my normal thing to mention in a review but, I had some favorites. The grouchy Josie with her tough exterior. And Gerald. His bark was worse than his bite. Maybe. They made me laugh.

Whether choosing this book for your own book club read or just for your own pleasure, I recommend you give it a try.

4 STARS

 

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Landing butt first in mud. How symbolic of Karissa Newcomb’s life. The old life. Not the new one, please, God.

She shouldn’t have crossed that corner of the lawn where the grass was sparse and slick in the pouring Northwest rain. Now here she was, wet and caked in mud. Like the cardboard box she’d dropped. At least the towels were still safely inside it. Something to be thankful for.

“See? There’s always a bright side somewhere,” her mother would say.

What was the bright side to Karissa’s marriage ending? There had to be one. It would be nice if she could find it before she turned thirty-five. It felt like a landmark birthday of sorts, but that was only a few months away though, so she wasn’t holding her breath.

Gig Harbor, Washington, a small maritime city, was a good place to start—close enough to Seattle for the obligatory bi-weekly child hand-off with the ex-husband, but far enough away that she wasn’t constantly having to look at the scene of the crime. Out of sight, out of mind. Someday, hopefully. Meanwhile, she needed to get up and get focused.

Brush the mud off your rear and get it in gear. That should be a bumper sticker.

She picked up her soggy box of towels and followed her brother Ethan and his friend Ike, who were making their way up her driveway, carrying her couch. Her eight-year-old daughter Macy was sitting on it, giggling.

The excitement of the new house had temporarily distracted Macy from the fact that she’d left behind her best friend. Who happened to be the daughter of Karissa’s former best friend. Like Karissa, Macy was going to have to find a new bestie.

Moving in the middle of February, in the middle of the school year, swimming through a deluge of icy rain wasn’t ideal, but that was how events had played out. The house in Seattle on which Karissa had lavished so much care had finally sold and now she had this house—a blue, two-story, Victorian-inspired one with three small bedrooms and a front porch. And a need for paint. The price had been right. Motivated sellers, the real estate agent had said. Karissa knew what that meant. She’d been a motivated seller, herself. Divorce had a way of motivating you. The house didn’t come with a water view like she’d originally dreamed of—water views were far outside her price point—but the neighborhood was pretty, and the street seemed quiet. She could hole up in her almost Victorian home and rebuild her life, the new start people expected you to make after your world collapsed.

“This is adorable,” her mother had gushed when she and Dad had made the trip to check out the house with Karissa and her Realtor.

Her parents were as enamored of Gig Harbor and its waterfront downtown as Karissa was. “I think Gig Harbor will be a perfect place to write the next chapter of your life,” Mom had told her.

“I hope I do a better job of writing this time around,” Karissa had muttered.

“It wasn’t you who messed up,” her dad had growled.

But maybe it was.

She jerked her mind away from that thought. She had a new house and a new job waiting for her. Between that and the spousal and child support her ex was paying she’d be okay financially. Certainly not rich, but okay. And she had free moving help. Look at all the good things she could focus on.

Inside the house, she followed one of the butcher-paper paths she’d made and set the box on the guest bathroom counter. Then she went back for the one with her clothes, brought that into the primary bedroom, which would be hers, and dug out a fresh pair of pants and panties. Think of this as peeling off all the bad parts from your past, she told herself as she ducked into the bathroom and stepped out of her pants.

It was hard peeling off the bad though. It stuck to you like dog poop on a shoe. There was always some little stinky bit that hung on. Like the memory of Mark walking out the door for the last time.

Dog poop, mud. She needed a new image to focus on. Rain. Rain washing away past sadness, bringing a rainbow and a promise of something better. Yes, that was a good image.

Her butt hurt.

Her cell phone rang, and she fished it out of her jacket pocket. “Hi, Mom,” she said, trying to sound the way a hopeful woman making a new start should sound.

“How’s it going?” Mom wanted to know.

“The guys are moving the furniture in now.”

“What’s the weather like there? It’s partly sunny up here.”

“It’s raining like crazy. I should have rented an ark instead of a moving van. I spent a fortune on plastic covering.”

“At least it’s not snow,” Mom said. “And the rain is what keeps everything so green.”

The Pacific Northwest was famous for its perpetual state of green and Seattle had been dubbed the Emerald City. Like Dorothy, Karissa had loved living in the Emerald City.

Until the witch showed up.

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About the Author

 

 

USA Today and Publishers Weekly best-selling author Sheila Roberts has written over fifty books under various names, ranging from romance and relationship fiction to self-improvement. Over three million of her novels have been sold and that number continues to climb. Her humor and heart have won her a legion of fans and her novels have been turned into movies for the Lifetime, Hallmark, and Great American Family channels. Sheila is also a popular speaker, and has been featured at women’s retreats, writers’ conferences, and banquets. When she’s not out dancing with her husband or hanging out with friends, she can be found writing about those things near and dear to women’s hearts: family, friends and chocolate.

Author Links

Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Instagram

 

 

Sponsored By:

 

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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Eat Dessert First tour banner.

Welcome to my stop on the blog tour for Eat Dessert First by Michelle Paris. Eat Dessert First is a heartwarming story of hope and learning to believe in yourself.

This blog tour is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours and the tour runs from 7 till 20 May. You can see the tour schedule here.

Eat Dessert First

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By Michelle Paris

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Genre: Women’s Fiction/ ChickLit
Age category: Adult
Release Date: 7 May, 2024

Synopsis:

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Baker Abbey Reilly has heard you have such a pretty face enough to know that it’s code for but an ugly body. At thirty-three, she has been particularly unlucky in love and convinced that no one will ever see beyond her plus-size. So she’s stunned when a handsome regular customer not only shows interest but asks her to dinner.

Let down and devastated when she learns her would-be beau is married, Abbey is resigned to live a lonely existence. Until a sweet encounter with a dreamy guy at a bachelorette party gives her hope that her luck in the romance department has changed. But his horrible ex-fiancee has different plans.

Can this big-hearted baker find the recipe for happiness and romance?

With light humor and loving insight, Michelle Paris weaves a delightful tale of learning to believe in yourself. Juggling elder parent care, tight finances, and deeply ingrained insecurities, Abbey Reilly will charm any reader fond of rooting for an underdog.

Eat Dessert First is a heartwarming story of hope. If you like relatable heroines, chasing a dream, and maintaining hope while searching for happiness, then you’ll adore Michelle Paris’s sweet story of fulfillment.

Links:
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Bookbub
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Kobo
Bookshop
Walmart

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Enjoy this peek inside:

CHAPTER 1

Abbey’s finger hovered over the little blue arrow on her phone—the point of no return. She read the text again.

How are you?!?! Been thinking of you. Then hastily added. Happy Valentine’s Day!! And immediately second-guessed the addition.

She had been plotting this day ever since New Year’s Eve, when Charlie broke up with her via text. So, this “make him want you back” text had to be just right.

Charlie was her last (okay, in truth only) long-term boyfriend. At thirty-three, Abbey was a late bloomer when it came to romance. But it had taken almost a decade for her to get up the courage to download a dating app. She set up her profile and loaded carefully cropped pictures only showing from the waist up. Within seconds, she got a match. He was a fitness model with glistening tanned six-pack abs and owned a business in Nigeria. They communicated back and forth for the better part of two weeks only using text because of the difference in time zones. And then, it all quickly fell apart when her fitness model crush asked her to text a photo of a hundred-dollar gift card with the pin numbers scratched off. Hmm. Really? Nudes she had expected and even planned for with dim lighting and a full-length, flesh-toned Spanx bodysuit. But she drew the line at his request for money.

Her boss, Caroline, explained, “Oh dear, I think you’ve been catfished. It happens to us all.” And Caroline should know. At seventy-ish (she never divulged her age but had mentioned she had thoroughly enjoyed Woodstock “back in the day”), Caroline had no trouble meeting men even if she did have trouble keeping them—not because they sent her breakup texts on New Year’s Eve, but because she liked them older—much older. She tended to date men well into their later years in life. She had buried four husbands and without deterrence was in hot pursuit of number five.

After Caroline’s lesson on catfish red flags, Abbey was more careful with the suitors who seemed too good to be true and limited her search to within a thirty-mile radius from her home near Baltimore. Three months later, she’d swiped right so often she got a callous on her thumb. Her response rate was in the .0001 range. She was ready to cancel her membership and assume she’d be the first Bumble subscriber to not get pollinated when a sandy-haired, pimply-faced computer tech named Charlie swiped right too.

It didn’t matter that they had nothing in common. He boasted he could recite every word of every episode of the original Star Trek—a television show she’d never seen. And he played a lot of video games. Sadly, his skills with the joystick did not translate into the bedroom.

Their romance lasted just a bit longer than her three-month Bumble subscription. His text to her on New Year’s Eve was short and to the point: I want to break up. He was never the best communicator, but there was no way to misinterpret this message. Her venture into the world of dating apps had taught her one thing: Charlie was the only man in a thirty-mile radius of Baltimore who swiped right on her. For that reason, she’d let her plan to make him want her back play out, no matter how humiliating a plan it was.

She reread her text to him and removed one exclamation point. Two gave the appearance that she was shouting. Oh, but one seemed desperate. She changed the exclamation point to a period and hit send. Then she returned her phone to her coat pocket and began walking the few blocks to the bakery.

A few steps later, she retrieved her phone to see if he’d responded. Nope. Not even the three jumping dots indicating he was sending a text. . . .

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Michelle Paris author picture

About Author Michelle Paris:

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Michelle Paris is an award-winning Maryland writer who writes about hope with humor. Eat Dessert First is her second novel that deals with a serious subject told with a mixture of heartfelt and comedic moments. Her debut novel, New Normal, loosely based on her own experience of being a young widow, received First Place in The BookFest Fall 2023 Awards and was a Finalist in The Independent Author Network Book Awards. Michelle’s personal story of overcoming grief was featured in the Wall Street Journal. And her essays about grief and mid-life dating have appeared in multiple editions of the Chicken Soup for the Soul and in other media outlets. She is a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association and the Maryland Writer’s Association. Currently, Michelle is enjoying chapter two of her life with her new husband, Kevin, who keeps her from being a cat lady but only on a technicality. For more information, please visit www.michelleparisauthor.com.

Author links:
Website
Twitter
Instagram
Amazon
Goodreads

 

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There is a tour wide giveaway for the blog tour of Eat Dessert First. One winner wins a paperback or hardcopy (winner’s choice) of Eat Dessert First, a $20 amazon gift card and a bag. Open international.

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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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BOOK DETAILS:

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Leave Everything You Know Behind by Ginny Fite

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Category: Adult Fiction, 228 pages
Genre:  Women’s Fiction
Publisher:  Sunbury Press
Release date:   January, 2024
Content Rating: PG-13 + M: issues of suicide, some strong language, death

BOOK DESCRIPTION:

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An unexpected friendship changes everything for two women facing the hardest challenges life can dish up.

Cranky, aging newspaper publisher Anne Canfield is determined to live forever, no matter what. Young, brilliant writer and teacher Indira Anand thinks she wants to die. But the winter morning Anne saves Indira Anand from drowning, everything changes.

​When Anne is diagnosed with incurable brain cancer and has only months to live, she must hurry to save her newspaper, heal her regrets, keep her secrets hidden, and protect her son from the truth before time runs out. Indira, thwarted by both the law and her distant husband but desperate to escape the pain she watched her grandmother endure, wavers about her decision. Out of options, Indira reaches out to Anne, and they make a pact to help each other. Now it’s just a question of time.

BUY THE BOOK:
Website ~ Sunbury ~ Amazon
Add to Goodreads
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Interview With Author Ginny Fite:
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There are many books out there about death and friendship. What makes yours different?

I was thinking about Beaches, Steel Magnolias, Terms of Endearment, and Me Before You when I began writing Leave Everything You Know Behind. What makes Leave different is that the two main characters are strangers from different generations, different cultures, and different life experiences. They are fated to meet when each most needs someone who will understand what they’re going through. Their pact gives Anne the pluck to deal with pressing issues before her inevitable death and provides Indira with the courage to live in spite of her dire prognosis.

How long have you been writing?

All my life. Professionally since my twenties as a reporter for several newspapers and magazines and later as a published poet and short story writer. I started writing my first novel in my early forties with no idea what I was doing. I’m not sure I have any better idea about how to do it now, but eight novels are out in the world and three more are on my computer waiting for a publisher.

Do you write every day?

Yes. Sometimes it’s drivel and I have to delete most of it the next day, but sometimes it’s gold. I don’t aim for a particular word count, but I like to feel like I’ve accomplished something as solid as a full sentence. Unlike the geniuses who write 8,000 words a week, I’m happy if I get 500 words a day I can keep.

Favorite travel spot?

I love the beach, almost any beach, but one with both mountains and the ocean is my favorite. I’m currently developing a novel in which the main character travels to Tofino in British Columbia. I’ve been there and remember it well, but I find myself spending hours gazing at photographs, losing myself in the sunsets over the Pacific Ocean.

What is your next project?

I’m working on a thriller with a female assassin as the main character. It’s very slow going. I have to research everything and resist my natural urge to dive deeply into her psyche. Also, I’ve never been an assassin, so there’s that problem. How does a human operate with no remorse? I want to make her more than a killer robot. The question is how to do that. And right now, except for blowing up the bad guys, I have no idea how it ends.

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MEET AUTHOR GINNY FITE:

Award-winning writer and journalist, Ginny Fite has been a journalist, a spokesperson for a governor and for a member of Congress, held posts in higher education institutions, and a robotics R&D company. Writing about ordinary people who grapple with extraordinary circumstances, her eight novels span the genres of mystery, thriller, adventure, and women’s fiction. 

Connect with the Author:  website  ~ facebook  ~ X ~ goodreads ~ bookbub

 
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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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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Return To Lerici organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Rachel Dacus will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Don’t forget to enter!

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Return To Lerici

by Rachel Dacus

 

 

Genre: Women’s Fiction

Synopsis

A suspenseful, uplifting story of second chances, family bonds, and redemption.

Sisters Elinor and Saffron rarely see eye-to-eye, but they agree that an unknown half-brother appearing in their lives can only spell trouble. The Greene sisters want to support their ailing mother, Betsy, as they gather in their cottage in Lerici, Italy. But they don’t want Betsy to keep searching for Baby Boy, the only name they have on faded adoption papers.

While the Greenes debate, Baby Boy finds them. A rough childhood has led Daniel to a life as a thief. When he learns of his connection to the wealthy Greenes, he decides to scam them. He goes to Italy and using a fake identity observes them at close range. Watching these people makes him ache for what he never had—a loving family.

Betsy is touched by the young man’s story and guesses their hidden connection. Discovering his true identity, she asks the family to help him. But Daniel’s shady past is catching up and putting the Greenes at risk. Should they bring their lost lamb into the fold—and can he claim his heritage if it endangers his family?

Enjoy this peek inside:

Elinor picked up the letter from the stack of today’s mail on the dining table. The return address was casella postale, a postal box with a number and no name. A clumsy advertisement? The lack of information made her curious enough to open it, though she knew it was going to be junk mail.

Dear Ms. Greene,

I know you have a lost relative, a half-brother your family abandoned. If you do not wish to have this dirty secret publicly revealed, you may send five hundred sixty-two euros by return mail, and nothing will ever be published. No scandal will ever happen if you pay me right now.

Yours sincerely,
A Well Wisher

Dread prickled through her scalp and dripped to her shoulders. She hunched them to shake it off. How wrong she’d been. This was no junk mail, it was aimed at her personally. There was a return address and a demand for money. A scam—but how would anyone know about Baby Boy? That was private, that was even sealed in a closed adoption. Betsy couldn’t find him with all her amateur sleuthing around.

Another chill ripped through her. This person must have hired a detective, but if so, why ask for so little? And why assume the family considered it a dark enough secret to pay to keep it concealed? Plenty of people had unplanned pregnancies that became children given up for adoption. Back in the days when Nathan was a professor at UC Berkeley, it wasn’t enough to pay to conceal, and certainly not an odd sum like this person was demanding.

Something smelled fishy. A “well wisher”? Seriously? And the phrase “by return mail” struck her as American. Yet the return address PO box was in Rome. It seemed more likely that a blackmail attempt would come from an American who had somehow discovered the existence of Baby Boy. Could it be from someone who had adopted the child and now wanted some sort of reimbursement? But the amount was ridiculously small. Blackmailers didn’t take the risk for so little. She knew that much from her addiction to crime dramas and mysteries.

This was one lame blackmailer, or … could it be from Baby Boy himself? Had he somehow found them?

About Author Rachel Dacus

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Rachel Dacus is the author of six novels, four time travel books in the Timegathering Series and two books of women’s fiction. She has also published four poetry collections. Rachel’s work has appeared widely in print and online, in journal that include Boulevard, Gargoyle, and Prairie Schooner. Her poetry is in the anthologies Fire and Rain: Ecopoetry of California and Radiant DisUnities: Real Ghazals in English. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.

Author Links: Website / Facebook / Instagram

Purchase Link: Amazon

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When All is Said and Done

by Christy Hayes

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Publication date: December 5th 2023
Genres: Women’s Fiction

A heartbreaking novel about the sacrifices we make for love.

After an unstable childhood, marriage isn’t just a promise to Dustin Carver, it’s his lifeline. He and Tegan grew up together, fell in love, and planned their perfect life. When the future they imagined gets derailed by her demanding law career, their marriage slowly slides off the rails.

Tegan can’t believe her husband took her threat of a separation seriously and walked away without a backward glance. Heartbroken and embarrassed, she covers for his absence with lies. Lies she tells herself about her career. Lies she tells her family about her marriage. And lies she’s yet to confess to her husband about a secret she kept while he was away. When Dustin finally returns, she’s running on fumes and her lies are about to be exposed.

Seven weeks in Key West licking his wounds and watching his best friend fall in love is enough to convince Dustin to come home and fight for his marriage. Saving their relationship means returning to therapy and facing a bitter truth neither wants to address. What if their childhood romance doesn’t have a happy-ever-after ending?

This emotional read told with brutal honesty begs the ultimate question for marriages far and wide. At the end of the day-at the end of our lives-what is worth fighting for, and when, if ever, should we walk away?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Dustin’s POV

He heard a noise from the kitchen, and his pulse picked up the beat. Was that the side door closing or the echoed rumble from his rebellious stomach? He stilled the strings with his palm and recognized the familiar sound of Tegan hanging her keys on the hook and shucking her shoes by the door. His heart lurched into his throat.

Dustin cursed himself for getting lost in the music and not preparing for her return. He should have been rehearsing speeches in his head or making dinner instead of mowing the lawn, adding a couple of towels to her burgeoning laundry pile, and playing around on the guitar. He propped the instrument against the couch and stood on unsteady legs.

A surging swell of love, swift and savage, swept over him as he looked at her, sent his heart thrashing against his chest. There she is—my center, my orbit—in living, breathing color. Tegan had her back turned and was flipping through the mail on the counter. Her hair was longer than normal, a dark curtain falling well past her sagging shoulders.

“Hi.”

She gasped and spun, clutching her chest with both hands, her eyes blinking furiously. Frozen in that position like a still photograph captured on film, she looked thin—too thin—and fragile as blown glass. “Dusty.”

His name from her lips, soft and scratchy, scorched his eviscerated heart. “Sorry to startle you. I … I figured you’d see my car.”

She seemed confused, shaking her head, squinting her eyes. “Your car?”

“In the garage …” He tried and failed to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He’d been gone for weeks, and she hadn’t moved a muscle in his direction. Hadn’t flashed a smile or inclined her head or opened her arms to make him feel welcome. And after everything they had to say to one another, they were talking about his car?

“I parked in the driveway,” she said.

Her guilty tone and the way she tucked her chin to her chest were another lash to his pride. How many times had he begged her to park her car in the garage? They lived in a nice neighborhood, but why invite crime by leaving her car parked out in the open and alert everyone to her patterns of coming and going?

She read the look on his face and offered a muttered, “I was tired, and the garage door has been giving me fits. I think it needs grease or something.”

Stop talking about the stupid garage! He wanted to scream at her, grab her arms and shake her, invade the personal space she protected with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. He wanted to do something, anything, to get a rise out of her and stop the inane garage discussion.

The way she looked—the way she looked at him like a racoon caught pillaging the trash—kept his voice even and his feet rooted firmly in place. Even in the muted light, she appeared ready to drop. He longed to go to her, wrap her in his arms, let her lean on him the way she always had when life kicked her in the tail. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not with everything at stake.

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About Author Christy Hayes

Christy Hayes writes romance and romantic women’s fiction. She is the proud mother of two grown children and lives outside Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and rescue dogs.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub

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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.