Tag: excerpt
Painting the Lines Blog Tour – Excerpt Post
Today we have the blog tour for Ashley R. King’s PAINTING THE LINES! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!
Title: Painting the Lines
Author: Ashley R. King
Genre: Sports Romance
About Painting the Lines:
Amalie Warner wants another shot to prove that she can be a successful writer. After hitting the bestseller’s list nine years ago, she’s lost her spark. Feeling pressure from her father to leave her writing behind and to work for her family’s lucrative hotel business, she’s desperate to find inspiration for her next big idea, something that challenges and excites her, something real. Enter Julian Smoke, a failed tennis player making a dream run for the US Open. After a chance meeting at a bar, Amalie hates him instantly. He’s cocky and arrogant, but Amalie knows his story could be her big break. Could he be more? Everyone knows that in tennis, love means zero, but these two are about to change that. Perfect for fans of The Hating Game and Wimbledon.
Grab Your Copy Today:
Amazon | Apple iBooks | BN | Kobo
About the Author:
Ashley R. King is a middle school English teacher whose love of the written word began when her mom took her to the public library, letting her check out stacks of books taller than she was. She’s the least athletic person you’ll ever meet, but that doesn’t decrease her love for her favorite sport, tennis. She loves swoony romances and is addicted to sweet tea. When she’s not teaching or writing happily ever afters, she can be found snuggled up with a book, travelling, or quoting obscure lines from her favorite movies and tv shows. She lives in a small town in Georgia with her favorite person in the world—her husband, and their sweet and chatty spoiled cat, Cleo.Connect with Ashley:
Website | Email | Instagram | Twitter | Facebook
Excerpt
Julian grabbed the donuts and pointed the remote at the TV, turning Parks and Recreation back on. “Can we start from the beginning? I’ve never watched this show.”
“What?” Amalie gaped at him. “Never?”
He shook his head and bit into a donut. “Never.”
“Then yes, we can totally watch from the beginning.”
They sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as hilarity unfolded onscreen. But at some point, Amalie’s eyes grew heavy, and before she knew it, she was startled awake by the feel of a gently calloused hand running up her arm.
When she opened her eyes, Julian stared back at her, his beautiful face mere inches from her own. She was nestled against his side, held against his body in an even more intimate way than before. The backs of his fingers played along her jawbone, and she couldn’t help but inhale the scent of his cologne that lingered on his wrists.
She had to be dreaming.
But then Julian leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to her cheek. The warmth of his lips seared her skin and heated her from within. She closed her eyes, hardly able to think. If she just turned her head, their mouths would meet, and it would be over. Any restraint she’d had before would be no more than a memory.
Her heart pounded like a drum as desire stirred through her like a living thing. She ran her hand up his arm and twisted her fingers in the fabric of his shirt.
Julian pulled back, staring her in the eyes again. “It’s almost midnight, princess. I couldn’t let Valentine’s Day pass without you getting a kiss. Even if it was from a jerk like me.”
The corner of his mouth curled, and she tried desperately to mirror the action, her mind swirling back to the reality that this night wasn’t going to go any further, which was for the best. She knew that, even if her body hated her for it.
Julian slipped from her grasp, grabbed his tie, and slipped on his shoes. He snatched one last donut, then Amalie walked him to the door. Even still she ached to feel him against her one more time, which seemed wild now that she was waking up.
“See you tomorrow, princess,” he said, “and Happy Valentine’s Day.” He leaned forward in the doorway, kissing her on top of her head. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.” He winked and gestured with his donut, and then he was gone.
Amalie pressed a hand to her chest to steady her fluttering heart, thinking he’d given her more than he knew, and it terrified her.
HOW TO LIVE LIFE ON THE EDGE Blog Tour: Excerpt & Giveaway
I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the HOW TO LIVE LIFE ON THE
EDGE by Sarah Lynn Scheerger Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About the Book:
Title: HOW TO LIVE LIFE ON
THE EDGE
Author: Sarah Lynn Scheerger
Pub. Date: August 4, 2020
Publisher: Lerner/Carolrhoda
Formats: Hardcover, eBook
Pages: 312
Eighteen-year-old Cayenne barely
remembers her mother, who died of breast cancer when Cayenne was four. The
women in her family have a history of dying young. Cayenne figures she’ll meet
the same fate, so she might as well enjoy life now, engaging in death-defying
risks like dodging trains and jumping off cliffs with her boyfriend.
When Cayenne receives a series of video
messages her mother made for her before dying, she isn’t sure she wants them.
Her aunt Tee has been her true mother figure. But then Aunt Tee tests positive
for a BRCA gene mutation–the one that doomed Cayenne’s mom–and decides to get
a mastectomy to reduce her chances of developing cancer. As Cayenne helps her
aunt prepare for the surgery, she finds herself drawn to her mother’s messages,
with their musings on life, love, and perseverance. For the first time, Cayenne
starts to question what it truly means to live life to the fullest, even when
death might be written into her DNA.
How to Live on the Edge_Sample Chapter by Jaime Arnold on Scribd
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About Sarah:
Sarah Lynn (Scheerger) works as a clinical social worker with
at-risk youth, helping them figure out who they are and who they want to be.
She also provides counseling to adults and couples. She lives in southern
California with her husband and children. Sarah started out writing under her
first and middle name (Sarah Lynn) because she thought having a pen name seemed
mysterious and cool. However, over time she’s transitioned to writing under her
real name as well (both Sarah Scheerger and Sarah Lynn Scheerger). Sarah loves
reading, watching movies, and spending time with her family and friends.
Giveaway
Details:
3
winners will receive a finished copy of HOW TO LIVE LIFE ON THE EDGE, US Only.
Tour Schedule:
Week One:
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7/27/2020
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Review
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7/28/2020
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Review
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7/29/2020
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Review
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7/30/2020
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Review
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7/31/2020
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Interview
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Week Two:
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8/3/2020
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Review
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8/4/2020
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Review
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8/5/2020
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Review
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8/6/2020
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Review
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8/7/2020
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Interview
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Week Three:
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8/10/2020
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Review
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8/11/2020
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Review
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8/12/2020
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Excerpt
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8/13/2020
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Review
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8/14/2020
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Excerpt
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Week Four:
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8/17/2020
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Excerpt
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8/18/2020
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Review
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8/19/2020
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Review
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8/20/2020
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Review
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8/21/2020
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Excerpt
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Week Five:
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8/24/2020
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Review
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8/25/2020
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Excerpt
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8/26/2020
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Excerpt
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8/27/2020
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Review
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8/28/2020
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Review
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THIS IS MY AMERICA Blog Tour: Excerpt & Giveaway
I am
thrilled to be hosting a spot on the THIS IS MY AMERICA by Kim Johnson Blog
Tour hosted by Rockstar Book
Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About the
Book:
Title: THIS
IS MY AMERICA
Author: Kim
Johnson
Pub.
Date: July 28, 2020
Publisher: Random
House Books for Young Readers
Formats: Hardcover,
eBook, audiobook
Pages: 416
Dear
Martin meets Just Mercy in this unflinching yet uplifting YA novel
that explores the racist injustices in the American justice system.
Every week,
seventeen-year-old Tracy Beaumont writes letters to Innocence X, asking the
organization to help her father, an innocent Black man on death row. After
seven years, Tracy is running out of time–her dad has only 267 days left. Then
the unthinkable happens. The police arrive in the night, and Tracy’s older
brother, Jamal, goes from being a bright, promising track star to a
“thug” on the run, accused of killing a white girl. Determined to
save her brother, Tracy investigates what really happened between Jamal and
Angela down at the Pike. But will Tracy and her family survive the uncovering
of the skeletons of their Texas town’s racist history that still haunt the
present?
Fans of Nic
Stone, Tiffany D. Jackson, and Jason Reynolds won’t want to miss this
provocative and gripping debut.
The Fast and the Furious
I’m jolted awake by the shuffle of someone in the hallway. I rub my eyes, then realize what it is. Our upstairs toilet runs, especially at night when someone doesn’t give it a good flush. The sound won’t stop, so I force myself up.
I can’t help but run my fingers along the grooves of the walls, knowing Daddy’s the one that put them up. Every ding or repair is unchanged, like he left it. The only thing different in the house is my room. I’ve painted my walls a rotation of colors, hoping one of them would soothe away my bad dreams. Shake up the house enough to look different, but in the dark, I can see it like it was before.
“Hurry up,” I whisper at the bathroom door, so I don’t wake Mama.
Corinne doesn’t answer. When I notice the door is open a sliver, I push it, blink with the bright light blinding me for a second.
Jamal’s splashing water on his face. His eyes are shut as he wrings his hands together over the sink. I rub my eyes because it looks like red water swirling down the drain.
“Damn, Jamal. What happened to you?”
“Shit.” Jamal jumps back, grabbing a towel. His hands are all jittery as cleans up his face, then bunches the towel into a ball.
I watch the last bit of pink-colored water disappear down the drain.
“Why you always in my business?” Jamal pushes past me, and I’m taken aback at his response. He sounds like he got caught, but I’d already known he’d be in late.
“What’d I catch you doing?” I hit his shoulder playing around, and he flinches. He’s scared. But of what?
“Jamal. You okay?”
I touch his neck to get the rest of what’s on him off, then I make a face when I realize it’s blood. There’s a long scratch across his neck.
“What happened?” I flick the water on and wash up. “You okay?”
I watch him hard because nothing about this fits his late-night routine. I can’t tell if he’s coming or going. I move to ask another question, but Jamal’s already heading off to his room. He gives me a look like I better keep my promise and not dare wake Mama, then shuts his door.
I lie down and listen for movement. The air is thick and hot. There’s heaviness in the atmosphere, like so many nights when the past takes over the present. I try and tell my brain it’s just the wave of an old smell, a phrase someone says that can put me on high alert. I’ve never been able to get over what happened enough to live fully in the now, always rush back to the night Daddy was taken from us. A moment that won’t erase.
My sense of déjà vu is heightened by the sound of a vehicle riding down our quarter-mile gravel driveway. I listen more closely, and my heartbeat picks up, throbbing when I recognize there must be two or three cars driving way too fast for our road. A minute later, a knock at the door jolts me.
I run down the hallway to the stairs.
“Get back to your room.” Mama’s already at the front door. She waves me away.
“Who is it?” I mean to whisper, but I’m yelling.
She looks through the peephole and rests her face on the door. I see the lights flash blue and red before she confirms it.
“Police,” Mama whispers.
She doesn’t need to say more. Something awful has happened.
Corinne meets me at the stairs in her rainbow pajamas. She clutches her thin arms around me.
“What is it, Tracy?”
“Everything is fine. Go back to bed,” I say, although I’m holding her as tight as she is me.
I want to let her go, but I’m frozen. My heart is beating in my throat, pounding, thrumming out through my ears.
Over my shoulder, I glance at Jamal’s room. There’s no way he’s asleep so fast.
Inside I’m tangled up, searching for a reason why they’re here. If I was standing by Jamal, we could look at each other without saying a word. Just know it’s them that’s wrong, not us. But something went down with Jamal, and whatever it was, I sense I should let him be.
I leave Corinne and make my way downstairs. My Know Your Rights training kicking in.
Mama waves me back, but I don’t stop. I’m concerned it’s gotta be about Daddy.
He’s hurt.
Worse.
“What’s happening?” Corinne calls from the stairs. Her eyes scrunch up like if she thinks real hard, she’ll figure what’s going on all by herself without having to ask.
I look up one more time at Jamal’s door, but it stays shut. Doubt hits me. He must’ve been on his way out when I saw him. He’s going to trip when he gets home.
“Things are fine,” I say. “I’m sure of it.”
I take deep breaths, swallowing up the panic that’s racing to my brain. I try and push down the memories of the time they came for Daddy. Thank God Corinne wasn’t born yet. She didn’t have to see him dragged by his neck through the house by police. I screamed nonstop when Jamal opened the door and the cops pushed him aside. They rushed Daddy, threw him on the ground, and shoved a knee in his back.
Daddy told me he wanted to lie still, but your body does the opposite. Survival. Someone’s holding you down, you want to ask why, yell out in pain. They beat his head down, expecting with each punch he was supposed to take it in silence. Each cry he made, they hit him harder until he shut his mouth and they cuffed him.
Mama was stuck between fighting for Daddy, holding on to her pregnant belly, and keeping me calm. My scream ricocheted in the background as they read his rights, accusing him of murdering Mr. and Mrs. Davidson.
Corinne never held that memory, but I know she feels it in everything we breathe. It’s in the polite nods across the street we have to make, the way our family turns down our music when there are others around. Say yes ma’am and no sir. Leave our jackets and backpacks in the car when we go shopping.
It’s in the way I carry myself that tells our story now. I can’t risk being accused of anything. Because if something goes wrong or missing, I know it’s in the back of someone’s mind that maybe I had something to do with it. And it’s in the way that the voice of the strongest woman I know stumbles when saying, “Hello, Officer” as she walks through the visitation gates to see Daddy.
Only recently has it been cemented in my mind and made clear, that acting civil, being deferential, doesn’t matter. It’s like Mama has always said, Black lives don’t matter enough to them. That evidence is live and in color, on every news channel in America.
I’m snapped back to the present as they yell, “Police. Open up.”
Mama goes for the door.
“Mama, no,” I say. “Not until we see they have a warrant.”
“Baby, no. This ain’t a workshop. This is real life. Look at Corinne.”
Corinne is shaking, terrified on the steps.
Mama pushes me behind her, then cinches her robe’s belt and loosens the chain lock, before cracking the door open. A flood of blue-and-red lights stream through the house, and then a bright white flashes in Mama’s face. She steps back and blocks the light with her hand. When she does this, she’s shoved back by the sheriff, John Brighton, pushing the door open more, gun drawn. His face is stern, red-fleshed around his neck, and his steel-colored hair flicking over his eyes. If I didn’t know better, he’s frightened.
We should be the ones afraid, not him.
“We’re here to take in Jamal Beaumont, ma’am.” He flashes a warrant up.
I suck in my teeth. All my training to review the warrant slips my mind as fear snakes up my legs and freezes me from moving. I look up to Jamal’s room. Behind my shoulder, his door slowly opens to a crack. I’m reminded of his odd behavior. Jamal must’ve got into a fight. I look to Corinne, praying she won’t cry out for Jamal on the stairs.
With my arms folded, I finally settle my list of what I should be doing as I make eye contact with Jamal. I only see a sliver of him, but it’s like I can read his mind. That thing that siblings always have ingrained in their DNA—never rat on each other—lips sealed. The blood I saw tonight will never be mentioned. They wouldn’t wait for his side of the story.
I step in front of Mama, making sure to only keep the door ajar. Mama digs her nails into my skin accidently. It helps me focus on staying silent. If I’m calm, Mama will be also.
“Let me review the warrant, please.” I take the warrant from the Sheriff Brighton’s hand, but I’m not fully reading it. I’m stalling.
The house creaks as Jamal scuffles around in his room. The rusty glide of his bedroom window opening sends prickles down my spine. Mostly sounds I’ve gotten used to when he comes home by curfew, only to scoot out the window to stay out later. I’m not sure if I’m thinking it, but I swear there’s another thump outside.
In my head, I imagine seeing Jamal jumping off the roof and sprinting away. I keep my face stone-cold. Because no matter what my brother might’ve done, I’m not gonna let them take him away from us.
With each delayed moment, it’s another second for Jamal to escape. I will him to get to the river trail and up through the hills, running the route he takes every day to train during track season. He knows every nook and cranny in the dark because we’ve played hide-and-seek in the woods for years, and my brother is a master at it. I pray the sheriff doesn’t have tracking dogs and Jamal can cut through the woods to the other side of the highway and catch a bus.
“It’s late, Sheriff,” Mama says behind me. “Come back tomorrow.”
“Get your boy.” Sheriff Brighton looks like an older version of his son, Chris, a white man with strawberry-blond hair, just shorter but matching body type with more fluff than muscle. His voice has the same sharp bite to it.
Behind the sheriff, a squad full of cars are parked outside our house. Some cops posted by the cars, others putting protective gear on.
“What the hell,” I whisper under my breath.
Mama’s back is as rigid as a board as Corinne joins us in the entryway. I don’t know what to do, because the warrant looks legit. I want to run to Corinne, to be by her side and block them from Jamal, but I know it won’t make a difference. Corinne’s weight pulls on me. I know it’s more important to keep her away. Keep her safe.
“I said, get your boy,” the sheriff says.
A few more officers draw in closer to the door, like they’re about to rush our entryway.
“Almost done,” I say. “It’s our right to verify a warrant.”
I wonder what it’s like to be someone who’d feel safe in their presence. I try to trick my mind, pretend we called them. It helps me settle more, and I give Mama a squeeze hoping I can do the same for her. But it doesn’t last long, because the word boy keeps running in my head. A bitter taste flushes in my mouth, the way that it drawls out like just another slur in coded language.
The officers, guns drawn, spread to each entrance of the house.
Mama’s struck with fear, with grief, and it’s like she gave them permission from that moment and it didn’t matter I was planning on reading this warrant over a thousand times. Mama removes the chain lock and opens the door wider. They flood past us, scattering through the house and up the stairs before she can say she’ll bring him down.
As they make their way upstairs, I pray that God led him into the woods and Jamal is doing what he knows best, using his God-given legs to run.
About Kim:
KIM JOHNSON held leadership positions in social
justice organizations as a teen and in college. She’s now a college
administrator who maintains civic engagement throughout the community while
also mentoring Black student activists and leaders. She is also the graduate
advisor and member of an historically Black sorority. This Is My America is her
debut novel and explores racial injustice against innocent Black men who are
criminally sentenced and the families left behind to pick up the pieces. She
holds degrees from the University of Oregon and the University of Maryland,
College Park.
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Pinterest | Goodreads
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Pinterest | Goodreads
Giveaway Details:
3 winners will receive a finished copy
of THIS IS MY AMERICA, US Only.
Tour Schedule:
Week One:
|
7/13/2020
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Excerpt
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7/14/2020
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Review
|
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7/15/2020
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Excerpt
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7/16/2020
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Review
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7/17/2020
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Review
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Week Two:
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7/20/2020
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Review
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7/21/2020
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Review
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7/22/2020
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Review
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7/23/2020
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Review
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7/24/2020
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Review
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Week Three:
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7/27/2020
|
Review
|
|
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7/28/2020
|
Excerpt
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7/29/2020
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Review
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7/30/2020
|
Review
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7/31/2020
|
Review
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Week Four:
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8/3/2020
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Review
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8/4/2020
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Excerpt
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8/5/2020
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Excerpt
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8/6/2020
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Review
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8/7/2020
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Review
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EXTREME Blog Tour: Excerpt & Giveaway
I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the EXTREME by Joan
Gelfand Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About the Book:
Title: EXTREME
Authors: Joan Gelfand
Pub. Date: July 14, 2020
Publisher: Blue Light Press
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 282
Hope Ellson is from the wrong side of
the tracks, but her genius transcends class. When Hope joins FearToShred, a
Silicon Valley extreme gaming startup, Hope’s mission is to groom the scrappy
company for prime time. Enter Doug Wiser, her very married ex. While the two
work in tandem, nefarious forces are at work behind the scenes. Adding to the
excitement of this thriller are the stars and heroes of surfing and
skateboarding. With a keen eye on women in tech, business ethics and dangerous
stunts, “Extreme” will leave you breathless.
Winner of the Cervena Barva and Chaffin
Fiction Awards, Joan’s work has appeared in The Huffington Post, Vanity Fair,
Rattle, Pank! The Meridien Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, The Los Angeles
Review of Books, Chicken Soup for the Soul and over 200 literary journals,
blogs and magazines.
A member of the National Book Critics
Circle, Joan has worked for California Poets in the Schools, Poetry Out Loud,
Chiat/Day Advertising and other Bay Area companies. She currently coaches writers
and teaches in the San Francisco Bay Area.
With a poet’s sensibility and a novelist’s instinct
for plot, Joan Gelfand has produced a whip‑smart
page‑turner of a book, complete with startup fever,
romantic intrigue, and a cast of sympathetic ‑‑
and not so sympathetic ‑‑
characters. Read Extreme and you’ll have a better sense of what really goes on
in Silicon Valley, far better than TV shows like Silicon Valley could ever
provide.” – Katie Hafner, Author,
New York Times and Wall Street Journal columnist.
EXCERPT
1 After fruitless circling of the Purple, Coral, and Lime parking lots, Hope surrenders. She drives underground, winding four levels down into the bowels of Palo Alto’s small Civic Center garage. She surrenders, but not before considering several vacant red, blue, and yellow spots, as tempting to her as any gooey dessert. Employees only, Electric vehicles only, and Disabled sat empty as a tossed Starbucks cup. It was tempting. But not today. Anything can happen in the five minutes it takes to run into CVS, including a beat cop under pressure to get his numbers up. When did parking in downtown Palo Alto at three P.M. become an Olympic event? Did the student population at Stanford just increase by a factor of ten? WTF? Leaving the underground lot, Hope steps into daylight as harsh as the brightness after a matinee; a brutal transition from fantasy to reality. Today is very real. Today, Hope’s fantasies are about work, even if FearToShred is its own movie. Today there are questions to answer: Does the young company have legs? Why did Arthur turn down an eighty million dollar offer to sell it to Datex, his former company? FearToShred hasn’t gone public yet. That’s a good thing for her as a potential employee, but a fact which had blocked Hope from getting the boatload of intelligence she wanted for the interview. Crunchbase was little help. She could call around, but sleuthing would sound an alarm that she’s leaving Manuserve. Hope squints. The sun is bright, but that’s nothing new; the sun has been bright all year. She slips on Ray Bans, as integral to her outfit as her Apple watch or Blahniks. All of California has been steamy, smoky, and stuck in an endless summer. Is it November? August? January? Who can tell? University Avenue and the surrounding roads are an obstacle course rife with a nonstop parade of joggers, cyclists, and mothers and nannies pushing baby strollers. The fires have been creepy. Hope’s yard has deteriorated to a dusty grey; her showers are bullet short. One dry winter has turned into three. The water company’s banned watering of lawns; abusers are ridiculed on the front pages of the press. Northern California blames Southern California. Tony golf courses of the wealthy are under civic scrutiny. All while California’s economy shoots into the stratosphere. With Google and Facebook gobbling up tech veterans, startups were desperate for talent. Which was why Hope wasn’t surprised when Arthur called. Though never as successful as she may have hoped to be, her name was one of the ones raised when recruiters, hiring managers, and CEO’s played the “who’s innovating” game at meetings and cocktail parties. While Hope had been hiding out at Manuserve, collecting a fat paycheck and doing banal B2B, her reputation was still out there, reaching far and wide. What she and Doug had pulled off at Topia had been the stuff of urban legend. Topia was one of the very first companies to break through from geeky to a global audience. Yes, Arthur knew who she was even if she’d been heads down the past year. Despite the severe lack of rain, today the world was fresh and new. Gardenia and jasmine scent the air; the breeze whispers ‘possibility.’ Through the glass doors and up the wide aisle at CVS, Hope heads for the cosmetics to suss out a chintzy replacement lipstick for the MAC she accidentally left on her desk. A wall of options waits like a chorus line of Vegas dancers. Hope checks her watch: thirteen minutes to pick out a shade that says, ‘serious, smart, perky.’ She assesses the check-out line – decent. Two cashiers, one auto pay, and only a few customers standing in line. Hope sets her phone alarm for ten minutes. Five foot eight, Hope weighed in this morning at 136; not her best weight ever but she’s been busy. A thick lock of auburn hair stretches midway down her back. Her legs are long and slim. She woke up feeling good in her skin. A sexy wake-up call from James in bed this morning didn’t hurt. She’ll get back to 129, her fighting weight, soon. Lipsticks. Maybelline, Cover Girl. Hope frets. Her go-to shade is Diva by MAC, but CVS doesn’t carry the upmarket brand. Firecracker. Too wild. Ruby Woo. Milf. Hot Passion. Not for work. Ah, wait. Monte Carlo. Rich. Smart looking. She rubs a sample on the back of her hand. Possible. With a clean Q-tip she swipes her lips. Deep. But wait. There’s American Doll. Looks like Diva’s poor sister. Same shade, cheaper packaging. She wipes off the Monte Carlo with a moistened towel from a handy dispenser, swipes a fresh Q-tip. With a hint of Monte Carlo adhered to her lip she creates an impromptu blend of the two shades. Perfect. Pursing her lips in the small makeup mirror mounted on the wall, wondering if her cheeks have flushed or if it’s the lighting, she catches sight of Doug Wiser. Hope swings her hair in front of her face, kneels down low to fumble with her Coach slouch bag. She’s searching for her credit card when his warm hand alights on her shoulder. “Hope!” Hope looks up guiltily, her head uncomfortably level with Doug’s crotch. Unfolding herself to full height, the single button on her pencil skirt pops. Doug throws his arms around her in a cozy bear hug. This is Doug? Doug Wiser? In skinny jeans and Nikes? This is Doug, clean shaven, bed hair and cheekbones? This is Doug in CVS at 3:10 P.M. holding a pregnancy kit and a bottle of vitamins? This is Doug who asked Hope (kindly) not to call because he ‘was lost?’ A whirligig of thoughts spin. Her phone alarm buzzes. How is she? She’s tense. And worse, she’s ruffled by running smack into her ex in CVS a half an hour before an interview. “I’m great!” Hope half smiles. “I’m just on my way—I’m late actually!” Hope nervously juggles the two lipsticks. Doug’s gaze lingers on her torso, taking in the whole of her. When her eyes finally meet his, he’s looking at her the way a parent looks at a child accomplishing a new feat—a climb up the monkey bars, a ball caught. Or was that condescension? He, calm. She, frazzled. “Go. We’ll talk later.” “Totally,” Hope promises, proffering a fingertip touch to Doug’s exposed forearm. “Sorry to rush off.” At the check-out counter, she grabs a package of safety pins. It’s been over a year. She’s missed him. She thinks about Doug almost every day. Ahead of her on the line, a small woman with dark glasses holds the leash of a service dog, a beautiful short-haired golden that reminds her of Gracie, the first and last dog she owned. She peeks in her makeup mirror, checking the aisle behind her. He’s gone. Hope exits the automatic doors, hurries toward High Street. Did she really just crash into Doug in CVS holding a pregnancy test? In all of her fantasies, in all the past year of secret dreams and fears, the last place she would meet Doug Wiser was in the lipstick aisle of the University Avenue CVS. Now, she’s got to rock that interview. Her nerves are jangled, and her button is popped. She suddenly tumbles a notch from Ninja-warrior Hope down to disheveled working woman. She checks her Apple watch—3:25 P.M. Slipping into Philz, Hope orders a green tea and scoots into the restroom to replace the popped button with a safety pin. Perfunctorily repaired, she snags a tiny table. Creating lists, a habit she developed in college when she was juggling a late shift at Oscar’s Burgers at night, parts modeling when she got the gigs, five classes, and an endless parade of reading and homework assignments, calms her. It’s a habit she’s never bothered to break. She taps out a list of questions on her tablet: Arthur rejected an eighty million offer from Datex. Why? Was there a back-up offer? Was he hoping to create more value? Was Arthur passionate about FTS, or was he just in it for the money? She scratches out the last question; too forward. At 3:35, her pre-Doug equilibrium nominally restored, Hope walks the two blocks to High and Homer. Past Serenity Yoga, Brew News Beer pub, Bucca di Beppo, and the Party Store: Yes, she really did just see Doug for the first time in a year. But it wasn’t a reunion, was it? Reunions are planned. Hope erases the interlude like she’d erased the lipstick on the back of her hand. Halfway across High Street, her iPhone rings. “Doll?” “James?” “That was sweet this morning. You good?” “Yes. Listen, I’m running late,” Hope’s stomach churns. “Catch you later?” “No prob. See you tonight?” “Yes. No. I’m not sure. I’ll call.” “Hope . . . we have that dinner tonight. Remember? John’s out from New York?” “Yup.” Three forty-six. She hadn’t told James about the interview because she did not want to listen to a lecture on the fallibility of startups. Outside FearToShred’s frosted glass doors, she sneaks a peek in her tiny makeup mirror. Gone is the high cheek color of this morning; she looks pale, spooked.
1 After fruitless circling of the Purple, Coral, and Lime parking lots, Hope surrenders. She drives underground, winding four levels down into the bowels of Palo Alto’s small Civic Center garage. She surrenders, but not before considering several vacant red, blue, and yellow spots, as tempting to her as any gooey dessert. Employees only, Electric vehicles only, and Disabled sat empty as a tossed Starbucks cup. It was tempting. But not today. Anything can happen in the five minutes it takes to run into CVS, including a beat cop under pressure to get his numbers up. When did parking in downtown Palo Alto at three P.M. become an Olympic event? Did the student population at Stanford just increase by a factor of ten? WTF? Leaving the underground lot, Hope steps into daylight as harsh as the brightness after a matinee; a brutal transition from fantasy to reality. Today is very real. Today, Hope’s fantasies are about work, even if FearToShred is its own movie. Today there are questions to answer: Does the young company have legs? Why did Arthur turn down an eighty million dollar offer to sell it to Datex, his former company? FearToShred hasn’t gone public yet. That’s a good thing for her as a potential employee, but a fact which had blocked Hope from getting the boatload of intelligence she wanted for the interview. Crunchbase was little help. She could call around, but sleuthing would sound an alarm that she’s leaving Manuserve. Hope squints. The sun is bright, but that’s nothing new; the sun has been bright all year. She slips on Ray Bans, as integral to her outfit as her Apple watch or Blahniks. All of California has been steamy, smoky, and stuck in an endless summer. Is it November? August? January? Who can tell? University Avenue and the surrounding roads are an obstacle course rife with a nonstop parade of joggers, cyclists, and mothers and nannies pushing baby strollers. The fires have been creepy. Hope’s yard has deteriorated to a dusty grey; her showers are bullet short. One dry winter has turned into three. The water company’s banned watering of lawns; abusers are ridiculed on the front pages of the press. Northern California blames Southern California. Tony golf courses of the wealthy are under civic scrutiny. All while California’s economy shoots into the stratosphere. With Google and Facebook gobbling up tech veterans, startups were desperate for talent. Which was why Hope wasn’t surprised when Arthur called. Though never as successful as she may have hoped to be, her name was one of the ones raised when recruiters, hiring managers, and CEO’s played the “who’s innovating” game at meetings and cocktail parties. While Hope had been hiding out at Manuserve, collecting a fat paycheck and doing banal B2B, her reputation was still out there, reaching far and wide. What she and Doug had pulled off at Topia had been the stuff of urban legend. Topia was one of the very first companies to break through from geeky to a global audience. Yes, Arthur knew who she was even if she’d been heads down the past year. Despite the severe lack of rain, today the world was fresh and new. Gardenia and jasmine scent the air; the breeze whispers ‘possibility.’ Through the glass doors and up the wide aisle at CVS, Hope heads for the cosmetics to suss out a chintzy replacement lipstick for the MAC she accidentally left on her desk. A wall of options waits like a chorus line of Vegas dancers. Hope checks her watch: thirteen minutes to pick out a shade that says, ‘serious, smart, perky.’ She assesses the check-out line – decent. Two cashiers, one auto pay, and only a few customers standing in line. Hope sets her phone alarm for ten minutes. Five foot eight, Hope weighed in this morning at 136; not her best weight ever but she’s been busy. A thick lock of auburn hair stretches midway down her back. Her legs are long and slim. She woke up feeling good in her skin. A sexy wake-up call from James in bed this morning didn’t hurt. She’ll get back to 129, her fighting weight, soon. Lipsticks. Maybelline, Cover Girl. Hope frets. Her go-to shade is Diva by MAC, but CVS doesn’t carry the upmarket brand. Firecracker. Too wild. Ruby Woo. Milf. Hot Passion. Not for work. Ah, wait. Monte Carlo. Rich. Smart looking. She rubs a sample on the back of her hand. Possible. With a clean Q-tip she swipes her lips. Deep. But wait. There’s American Doll. Looks like Diva’s poor sister. Same shade, cheaper packaging. She wipes off the Monte Carlo with a moistened towel from a handy dispenser, swipes a fresh Q-tip. With a hint of Monte Carlo adhered to her lip she creates an impromptu blend of the two shades. Perfect. Pursing her lips in the small makeup mirror mounted on the wall, wondering if her cheeks have flushed or if it’s the lighting, she catches sight of Doug Wiser. Hope swings her hair in front of her face, kneels down low to fumble with her Coach slouch bag. She’s searching for her credit card when his warm hand alights on her shoulder. “Hope!” Hope looks up guiltily, her head uncomfortably level with Doug’s crotch. Unfolding herself to full height, the single button on her pencil skirt pops. Doug throws his arms around her in a cozy bear hug. This is Doug? Doug Wiser? In skinny jeans and Nikes? This is Doug, clean shaven, bed hair and cheekbones? This is Doug in CVS at 3:10 P.M. holding a pregnancy kit and a bottle of vitamins? This is Doug who asked Hope (kindly) not to call because he ‘was lost?’ A whirligig of thoughts spin. Her phone alarm buzzes. How is she? She’s tense. And worse, she’s ruffled by running smack into her ex in CVS a half an hour before an interview. “I’m great!” Hope half smiles. “I’m just on my way—I’m late actually!” Hope nervously juggles the two lipsticks. Doug’s gaze lingers on her torso, taking in the whole of her. When her eyes finally meet his, he’s looking at her the way a parent looks at a child accomplishing a new feat—a climb up the monkey bars, a ball caught. Or was that condescension? He, calm. She, frazzled. “Go. We’ll talk later.” “Totally,” Hope promises, proffering a fingertip touch to Doug’s exposed forearm. “Sorry to rush off.” At the check-out counter, she grabs a package of safety pins. It’s been over a year. She’s missed him. She thinks about Doug almost every day. Ahead of her on the line, a small woman with dark glasses holds the leash of a service dog, a beautiful short-haired golden that reminds her of Gracie, the first and last dog she owned. She peeks in her makeup mirror, checking the aisle behind her. He’s gone. Hope exits the automatic doors, hurries toward High Street. Did she really just crash into Doug in CVS holding a pregnancy test? In all of her fantasies, in all the past year of secret dreams and fears, the last place she would meet Doug Wiser was in the lipstick aisle of the University Avenue CVS. Now, she’s got to rock that interview. Her nerves are jangled, and her button is popped. She suddenly tumbles a notch from Ninja-warrior Hope down to disheveled working woman. She checks her Apple watch—3:25 P.M. Slipping into Philz, Hope orders a green tea and scoots into the restroom to replace the popped button with a safety pin. Perfunctorily repaired, she snags a tiny table. Creating lists, a habit she developed in college when she was juggling a late shift at Oscar’s Burgers at night, parts modeling when she got the gigs, five classes, and an endless parade of reading and homework assignments, calms her. It’s a habit she’s never bothered to break. She taps out a list of questions on her tablet: Arthur rejected an eighty million offer from Datex. Why? Was there a back-up offer? Was he hoping to create more value? Was Arthur passionate about FTS, or was he just in it for the money? She scratches out the last question; too forward. At 3:35, her pre-Doug equilibrium nominally restored, Hope walks the two blocks to High and Homer. Past Serenity Yoga, Brew News Beer pub, Bucca di Beppo, and the Party Store: Yes, she really did just see Doug for the first time in a year. But it wasn’t a reunion, was it? Reunions are planned. Hope erases the interlude like she’d erased the lipstick on the back of her hand. Halfway across High Street, her iPhone rings. “Doll?” “James?” “That was sweet this morning. You good?” “Yes. Listen, I’m running late,” Hope’s stomach churns. “Catch you later?” “No prob. See you tonight?” “Yes. No. I’m not sure. I’ll call.” “Hope . . . we have that dinner tonight. Remember? John’s out from New York?” “Yup.” Three forty-six. She hadn’t told James about the interview because she did not want to listen to a lecture on the fallibility of startups. Outside FearToShred’s frosted glass doors, she sneaks a peek in her tiny makeup mirror. Gone is the high cheek color of this morning; she looks pale, spooked.
About Joan:
Joan Gelfand’s reviews, stories
and poetry have appeared in national and international literary journals and
magazines including the Los Angeles Review of Books, Rattle, Prairie Schooner,
Kalliope, The Toronto Review, newversenews.com, The Sycamore Review and
RiverSedge. Joan’s work has also appeared in “Chicken Soup for the Soul: Dreams
and the Unexplainable” and “Chicken Soup for the Soul: Dreams and Premonitions”
Chair of the Women’s National
Book Association National Writing Contest, a member of the National Book
Critics Circle and a juror for the Northern California Book Awards, Joan blogs
for the Huffington Post and coaches writers. She is the recipient of over
twenty writing awards, nominations and prizes.
“The Ferlinghetti School of
Poetics,” a poetry film based on Joan’s poem was featured at the 4th Annual
Video Poetry Festival in Athens, Greece, the Meraki Film Festival in Madrid and
won Certificate of Merit in a juried art show at the International Association
for the Study of Dreams.
Joan has been teaching at book
festivals and writer’s conferences on “You Can Be a Winning Writer” for the
past ten years. She coaches writers around the country.
She lives in San Francisco with
her husband, Adam Hertz and two beatnik kitties – Jack Kerouac and Lawrence
Ferlinghetti.
Giveaway
Details:
1
winner will receive a $10 Amazon GC, International.
Tour Schedule:
Week One:
|
7/6/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
7/7/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
7/8/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
7/9/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
7/10/2020
|
Excerpt
|
Week Two:
|
7/13/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
7/14/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
7/15/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
7/16/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
7/17/2020
|
Review
|
Week Three:
|
7/20/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
7/21/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
7/22/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
7/23/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
7/24/2020
|
Excerpt
|
FORBIDDEN DESIRE Blog Tour: Excerpt and Giveaway
I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the FORBIDDEN DESIRE by Robin
Lovett Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar
Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About the Book:
Title: FORBIDDEN DESIRE (Planet
of Desire #4)
Author: Robin Lovett
Pub. Date: July 13, 2020
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
(Scorched)
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 150
Being a sex goddess should be my dream
come true—as much sex as I want, with magic powers to heal people, too. Until I
realize the enormously strong human I desire most is completely off-limits. My
people will put me in prison if I’m caught with a human.
But one encounter together leaves me
panting for more. So I kidnap him and take him to an alien sex retreat. I soon
discover not only is my big strong human a virgin, his bio-engineering might
have made him the largest person I’ve ever seen, but also it made him unable to
feel any sensation on his skin.
We’ve got three days to try to heal him
with my sex powers before I risk someone discovering us. Then I find out his
biggest secret…
The Fellamana judges handing me my winner’s trophy stare at me like I’ve asked for a moon. They look at my finger as I point to Graven and then back at me and shake their heads in panic.
“No, Niva. He’s human. You can’t—”
“He’s my prize. I claim him,” I declare in Fellamana loud enough for everyone in the stadium to hear. It became so clear to me when I realized all the other acts of the sex games had humans in them, how odd it was that of my seven, I had only Fellamana.
It had to be obvious to the audience as well—the humans and the Fellamana.
The judges look toward the council members sitting in the stands as though for help, and the council members sit stunned and staring at me.
As their sex goddess, I outrank them in every other way. They answer to me. I may be young and less than a month into my power, but as the sole possessor of the power on this planet, I am the goddess, the supreme being, the divine made manifest, according to the beliefs of our people.
My wishes are to be obeyed.
I turn to the stagehands, the ones who’ve been orchestrating the event tonight. I point to Graven once more. “Please bring him up to the stage.” They hesitate, but as I stare at them with authority, they do as I say.
Graven’s expression is severe, and his already tangled aura becomes a mess of anxiety. I worry for a moment he’ll refuse, that he’ll put up a fight. He’s so large, no one could possibly move him anywhere he didn’t want to go.
But he appears unable to disobey my request. He lets them lead him up the stairs, and he comes to the edge of the stage. He pauses there and comes no closer. We all wait to see what he’ll do.
The hush in the audience, at least from the Fellamana, has also to do with what they see.
Graven’s aura looks painful. It’s hard to see it and not feel his pain. His emotions, if healthy, would visibly flow freely all around him in waves of orange and red—fear and desire. But instead, there are small flickers of orange and red; it’s clear fear and desire are what he would like to experience, but they don’t flow freely. They stop and start in fits and spurts, as though his aura is broken. As though his heart is broken. As though he’s forgotten how to have feelings purely, uninhibited. As though he is blocked by numbness—depression.
I turn my eyes to the crowd. “This is the only prize I want. To heal this human.” With my sex powers.
About Robin:
ROBIN LOVETT enjoys
trips to alien worlds to avoid earthly things, like day jobs and
housework. When not reading romance with her cat, she’s busy writing sexy
books, which may or may not involve anti-heroes, aliens, or both,
but almost always enemies-to-lovers. She’s a big fan of her husband
who regards writing romance as far more important than practical things, like
paychecks. Her favorite surprise in the world, or the universe, was
finding out by some miracle other people want to read the same kind
stories she loves to write.
In a past life, Robin worked as a
professional opera singer who grew tired of playing dying heroines and took up
writing Happily-Ever-After instead.
Her ultra hot sci-fi
erotic series releases through Entangled Publishing’s Scorched line
in 2018. Her first contemporary dark thriller series released summer 2017
through St. Martin’s Press Swerve, Stranger:
A Dark Stalker Romance, Deceiver:
A Dark Revenge Romance and Keeper:
A Dark Captive Romance.
She can be happily reached on Twitter @LovettRomance and on Facebook. You can also follow her on Pinterest or Instagram or at her author pages
on Amazon, Goodreads, or BookBub.
For the writers, check out her
weekly posts on #RWChat, a
Twitter chat for romance writers every Sunday evening. She also writes a
monthly romance writing column on diyMFA.com and was a contributor to the former Heroes & Heartbreakers blog.
She is represented by Rachel Brooks of BookEnds Literary Agency.
Giveaway
Details:
1
winner will receive a $15 Amazon Gift Card, International.
Tour
Schedule:
|
7/13/2020
|
BookHounds
|
Excerpt
|
|
7/13/2020
|
Jaime’s
World
|
Excerpt
|
|
7/14/2020
|
Jazzy
Book Reviews
|
Excerpt
|
|
7/14/2020
|
A Dream
Within A Dream
|
Excerpt
|
|
7/15/2020
|
A
Gingerly Review
|
Excerpt
|
|
7/15/2020
|
Two
Chicks on Books
|
Excerpt
|
|
7/16/2020
|
The
Eclectic Review
|
Review
|
|
7/16/2020
|
Reese’s
Reviews
|
Review
|
|
7/17/2020
|
bookriot
|
Review
|
|
7/17/2020
|
Jotted
by Jena
|
Excerpt
|
VAN HELSING ACADEMY Blog Tour: Excerpt and Giveaway
I am thrilled to be hosting
a spot on the VAN HELSING ACADEMY by Stacey O’Neale Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours.
Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About the Book:
Title: VAN HELSING ACADEMY (Supernatural Rehab #1)
Author: Stacey O’Neale
Pub. Date: April 28, 2020
Publisher: Phoenix Reign Publishing
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 264
Welcome to the Van
Helsing Academy: a rehabilitation center for vampires, shifters, and witches
who don’t like to follow the rules.
Mina can’t remember anything about the night she was
attacked. All she knows is what she’s been told: she got separated from her
team during a mission and turned up two months later covered in cuts and
bruises alongside two dead vampires.
After being blamed for their deaths, she is sentenced
to three years at the supernatural rehabilitation center, the Van Helsing
Academy.
As Mina searches for answers, lies are slowly
unraveled and alliances forged. Soon she will uncover a secret plot that
threatens to destroy her family legacy and ignite a war between the
supernatural factions.
Van Helsing Academy is
the first book in a new YA paranormal romance series. No harem. Perfect for
fans of Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead, Hex Hall by Rachel Hawkins, and
Mythos Academy by Jennifer Estep.
INSERT YOUR POST HERE!
About Stacey:
Award-winning author, Stacey
O’Neale, lives in Annapolis, Maryland. When she’s not writing, she spends her
time fangirling over books, blogging, watching fantasy television shows,
cheering for the Baltimore Ravens, and hanging out with her husband and
daughter.
Her career in publishing started as
a blogger-turned-publicist for Entangled Publishing. Stacey writes young adult
fantasy and adult paranormal romance. Her books always include swoon-worthy
heroes, snarky heroines, and lots of kissing.
Stacey loves hearing from readers.
Follow her on Twitter @StaceyONeale, look for her on Facebook, Instagram,
Pinterest, and Tumblr. You can also visit her blog at staceyoneale.com/.
Website | Twitter
| Facebook
| Instagram | Tumblr | Pinterest | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page
| Book Bub
Giveaway Details:
1
winner will win a $10 Amazon Gift Card, INTERNATIONAL.
Tour Schedule:
Week One:
|
4/27/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
4/28/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
4/29/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
4/30/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
5/1/2020
|
Review
|
Week Two:
|
5/4/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
5/5/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
5/6/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
5/7/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
5/8/2020
|
Review
|
Week Three:
|
5/11/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
5/12/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
5/13/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
5/14/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
5/15/2020
|
Review
|
Week Four:
|
5/18/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
5/19/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
5/20/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
5/21/2020
|
Review
|
|
|
5/22/2020
|
Review
|
Week Five:
|
5/25/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
5/26/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
5/27/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
5/28/2020
|
Excerpt
|
|
|
5/29/2020
|
Review
|
Excerpt:
As he turned to leave, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “There was one more thing I wanted to tell you.”
“What?”
He closed the distance between us and spoke low enough that only I could hear him. “Alphas can smell emotions too.”
With my hands on my hips, I replied, “Please don’t say you can smell guilt on me because we both know that’s bullshit.”
“It’s not guilt,” he corrected. “Since the moment I approached you, all I can smell is lust. It wraps around you like a second skin.”
My cheeks burned, and I prayed it was too dark for anyone to notice. “You think I’m attracted to you,” I scoffed. “Not a chance.”
A couple of the pack members chuckled, and I sneered at them. “I never said you were attracted specifically to me,” Sacha smirked. “But, I do find it interesting that you came to that conclusion on your own.”
QUEEN TO ASHES: Excerpt and Giveaway
I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the QUEEN
TO ASHES by Mallory McCartney Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my
post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About the book:
Title: QUEEN
TO ASHES (Black Dawn #2)
Author: Mallory McCartney
Pub. Date: April 21, 2020
Publisher: MM Books
Formats: Hardcover,
Paperback, eBook
Pages: 350
Read for FREE with KU!
“You lived your entire life feeling like
half of you was missing. Fight for the missing part. Fight for this.”
Emory Fae has abandoned everything she thought
she knew about her previous life on Earth. Stepping up to her role as Queen of
Kiero she makes a startling sacrifice- feigning her allegiances to Adair
Stratton, the man who murdered her parents and casted Kiero into ruin. Emory’s
memories slowly piece together, and she soon realizes the Mad King may not be
all he seems– and the man who was once best friend, may be fighting beneath
the surface.
With the King’s attention on her, can she buy
Black Dawn Rebellion enough time to recuperate their forces? And when the times
comes, will she be able to kill Adair, ending his tyranny and rising herself as
the rightful Queen? Fighting to hide her secret, Emory navigates the brutal
trials of the Mad King, trying not to lose herself in the process.
Sequel to Heir of Lies, now a bestselling
series, the sparks are ignited, as Emory learns the cost of freedom, and her
heritage. Will the rebels unite in time? A sinister force has spread across the
land, stripping everyone bare- their betrayals, their secrets, their
intentions. But above all, what will their decisions cost? By refusing to give
in to the darkness, will Emory rise as Queen?
About Book 1:
Title: HEIR OF LIES (Black Dawn #1)
Author: Mallory McCartney
Pub. Date: April 21, 2020
Publisher: MM Books
Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook
Pages: 397
Find it: Goodreads,
Amazon, Kindle, Amazon
Canada, B&N,
TBD,
Bookshop.org
Read for FREE with KU!
“Hope was a dangerous
thing. It could consume every dream and make them take flight, becoming wild
daydreams in one’s heart and mind. Or hope could incinerate everything you
thought you knew, burning you down to your core, leaving you raw and exposed
for the world.”
Emory Fae has only
known one thing—life at The Academy, a school for those who have special
abilities. Following in her parents’ footsteps, the pressure to uphold their
dream falls on her and one of her best friends—Adair Stratton. An outcast and
feared by most, Adair longs to break away from the expectations dictating his
future. With whispers of dark magic spreading across Kiero, Adair starts to
doubt The Academy is all it seems.
An unexpected visit
ignites new tensions as the roguish king from across the Black Sea, Tadeas
Maher of the Shattered Isles, and his heir, Marquis Maher, sail to Kiero.
Notorious for their pirating and wrath, for the first time in years, they
demand the Faes listen to their proposition for a new treaty. Caught in the
middle of politics, Adair and Emory, with the help of their best friends Brokk
and Memphis, search for the one thing that matters the most—the truth.
Their world is tipped
upside down as unlikely alliances are made, and war ravages Kiero. Through the
throes of betrayal, lies, hidden magic, and love, Adair is faced with a life
changing decision. Will he fight or bow to the darkness within?
But, Adair’s decision
will change the course of Kiero forever, setting in motion irreversible
destinies for everyone at The Academy as Emory Fae rises as heir.
Heir of Lies is the
first book in the bestselling Black Dawn series.
The Black Dawn series is re- releasing and “Heir
of Lies” (book one) is coming April 21 2020! This edition will have an
exclusive map and bonus content!
INSERT YOUR POST HERE!
About Mallory:
Mallory McCartney
currently lives in Sarnia, Ontario with her husband and their three dachshunds
Link, Lola and Leonard. When she isn’t working on her next novel or reading,
she can be found day dreaming about fantasy worlds and hiking. Other favorite
pastimes involve reorganizing perpetually overflowing bookshelves and seeking
out new coffee and dessert shops.
Giveaway Details:
One lucky winner will receive a $10
Amazon Gift Card, International.
Tour
Schedule:
Week
One:
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4/20/2020
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Excerpt
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4/21/2020
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Excerpt
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4/22/2020
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Excerpt
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4/23/2020
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Excerpt
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4/24/2020
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Excerpt
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Week
Two:
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4/27/2020
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Excerpt
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4/28/2020
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Excerpt
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4/28/2020
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Review
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4/29/2020
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Review
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4/30/2020
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Review
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5/1/2020
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Excerpt
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Week
Three:
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5/4/2020
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Excerpt
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5/5/2020
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Review
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5/6/2020
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Excerpt
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5/7/2020
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Excerpt
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5/8/2020
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Excerpt
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Week
Four:
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5/11/2020
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Review
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5/12/2020
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Excerpt
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5/13/2020
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Excerpt
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5/14/2020
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Review
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5/15/2020
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Review
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EXCERPT
Adair Stratton tugged his button-down jacket tighter around him, trying to block the wind from his lookout post. The vastness of the sky was consuming, a strange energy clinging on the night air. The churning dark clouds cast a purplish hue, bleeding with the softness created from the moon. The stars shone between the pockets, obscuring the scene and making it beautiful. Far below him, the Ruined City lay in its grave, quiet and still, the broken buildings reminding him of splintered bones. The once thriving capital of Kiero—Sarthaven—was nothing more than a whispered memory to him now. His gaze wandered to the edge of the Draken Mountain range, the wildness of the Noctis woods flourishing, the purple hues of the trees pulsing like gems. It had taken years to build his kingdom, shackling Kiero in fear. The people that now lived in the Draken Mountains valued their lives and were loyal to him. Sighing, the darkness in his veins was smothered ever so slightly as he breathed in the crisp air. In this brief and flickering moment of clarity, his mind wandered to the girl who was locked in the cells of his kingdom, waiting for him: Emory Fae, the Princess of Kiero. Popping his collar up, he scowled. Under the blanket of night, he could trace back to the man he used to be when Emory had known him-an echo of his humanity. Thinking of her, he could see the splaying of memories come back to life all around him, of his friends, of the Academy. And it was in these sparse moments of lucidity, he allowed himself to remember, relishing it, pushing back that yearning for destruction, pushing back the voices, trying to lock them away. And like every other night, he lost. The wind howled, making the edges of his coat and pants tug upward, his hair standing on end from the sudden chill. His heart raced as the smooth voices filled his consciousness. “Adair, this kingdom is yours. Make her bow, make her bleed… make her pay for what she has done.” He closed his eyes for a beat, digging his fingernails into his palms. “Why do you wait? You know what you want. What you have always wanted.” Images were thrown at him; so quick and enthralling, they swept his breath away: The inky crown, embedded with roses and thorns, lay delicately on top of Emory’s ebony hair. Memphis Carter, the once commander of the Black Dawn Rebellion, bowed, pleading for his life as Adair smirked above him. His darkness had whisked away any trace of rebellion and Emory was by his side as they watched the world continue to burn until it was only them. Always for them. Adair snarled, then said, “Leave me alone.” Their snickers bounced around him, their whispers tugging at his heart. “Do not falter now, our Mad King. You have come so far, achieved so much. The binds your father tried to keep you in, you broke. The ones the Academy kept you in, you turned to ash.
“We are a team. We know the desires of your soul, how you revel in watching the world shudder in your reign. You have always been more. A reckoning force that no one can stop. Can never stop.” He became still, his muscles taut. Opening his eyes, his gaze fell a thousand miles away, to where the Academy had stood. Where a boy that once wanted to explore the world and not shackle it had lived. He knew both were dead. Ice coursed through his body, spreading through his core faster than he could register. His pulse slowed, the roaring emotions he felt slowing as well. Darkness encased him, pulling him down, down, down: Locking him away, roaring, snarling, and clawing at him. A slow exhale escaped from between his dry lips, and as he stood, every movement was precise, a predatory grace. Flicking his gaze below him once more, instead of the dark beauty that he was met with earlier, the world around him was bleeding. Dark, black blood gushed from the mountainside, thickly caking the field and the Ruined City. Echoes of screams filled the air, and Adair was reminded of his bloodshed, of his control and power. “Do not disappoint us, our King.” The corners of his lips tugged upward as he whispered to the wind, “I won’t.”
LAST CHANCE ACADEMY Blog Tour: Excerpt and Giveaway
I am thrilled to be hosting
a spot on the LAST CHANCE ACADEMY by Alex Lidell Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours.
Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About the Book:
Title: LAST CHANCE ACADEMY :
Shifter Fae Vampire Reform School Romance (Immortals of Talonswood Book 1)
Author: Alex Lidell
Pub. Date: May 1, 2020
Publisher: Danger Bearing Press
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 400
Foster girl. Trash. That’s all I am to the world. And that’s fine.
After surviving New Jersey’s foster system, I can survive anything. Even taking
a dangerous job from a tall, gorgeous stranger so I can keep my little sister
safe—a job that goes very, very wrong.
Suddenly I’m facing a brutal choice: a decade in jail or four
years as a ward of Talonswood Reform Academy—a place with an all too perfect
correction record. A place that makes bootcamp look like a spa.
But Talonswood and its cruel cadets are far more than they seem,
and so are the four men who rule it. Ellis. Asher. Reese. Cassis. Powerful,
impossibly beautiful men who ignite a wildfire inside me—and who will stop at
nothing to make my life a living hell.
But it turns out I’m more than I seem, too. And I’m not going down
without a fight.
LAST CHANCE ACADEMY is a full length dark reverse harem paranormal
romance. This is the first of four books in Immortals of Talonswood, a new
series from Amazon’s top-100 author Alex Lidell. With hot shifter-fae,
delicious vampires, one lone witch, Talonswood isn’t your normal reform
school.
INSERT YOUR POST HERE!
About Alex:
Alex Lidell is the Amazon Breakout
Novel Awards finalist author of THE CADET OF TILDOR (Penguin, 2013) and Amazon
top 100 author and KDP-all star winner for POWER OF FIVE and LERA OF LUNOS
(Danger Bearing Press, 2018). She is an avid horseback rider, a (bad) hockey
player, and an ice-cream addict. Born in Russia, Alex learned English in
elementary school, where a thoughtful librarian placed a copy of Tamora
Pierce’s ALANNA in Alex’s hands. In addition to becoming the first English book
Alex read for fun, ALANNA started Alex’s life long love for fantasy books with
strong heroines. Alex lives in Washington, DC.
Join Alex’s newsletter for news, bonus content and sneak peeks: www.subscribepage.com/TIDES
Join Alex’s newsletter for news, bonus content and sneak peeks: www.subscribepage.com/TIDES
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Facebook
Group | Goodreads
| Amazon Author Page | Book Bub
| Instagram
Giveaway Details:
1
winner will win a $10 Amazon Gift Card, INTERNATIONAL.
Tour Schedule:
Week One:
4/27/2020
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Excerpt
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4/27/2020
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Excerpt
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4/28/2020
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Review
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4/28/2020
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Excerpt
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4/29/2020
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Review
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4/29/2020
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Excerpt
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4/30/2020
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Review
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4/30/2020
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Excerpt
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5/1/2020
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Review
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5/1/2020
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Excerpt
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Week Two:
5/4/2020
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Review
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5/4/2020
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Review
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5/5/2020
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Review
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5/5/2020
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Excerpt
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5/6/2020
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Review
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5/6/2020
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Excerpt
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5/7/2020
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Excerpt
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5/7/2020
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Review
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5/8/2020
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Excerpt
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5/8/2020
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Review
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Excerpt:
“Is that how vamps make themselves feel good about compelling girls into their beds?” I ask, my drink suddenly tasting sour. “‘She wanted it, otherwise my compulsion wouldn’t have worked.’”
“I wouldn’t know,” Cassis answers, stepping close enough to me that I smell his spicy perfume, his powerful body spilling like liquid night through my space. Reaching out with his finger, Cassis traces a blunt, neatly trimmed nail along my jaw, and I feel myself dampening from the unspoken suggestion alone. The tip of his tongue flickers over his teeth, and he brings his lips so close to my ear that his breath tickles my skin. “I’ve never had a female not wanting to bed me.”
“Cassis.” Ellis’s hard voice breaks between us as the male strides over with Asher, Reese following warily a few steps behind. Reese’s eyes flick to me for a moment before settling somewhere in the air above Cassis’s head. In a black suit with his dark hair slicked into a tight bun, hands clasped behind his back, he looks like a very dangerous, very expensive bodyguard. “Have you paid your respects to Count Victor yet? I think there might be a ring to be kissed or something similarly enticing.”
“Oh, I’ve plenty of enticing ideas,” Cassis says, dropping one hand casually on my hip while Ellis crosses his arms over his chest. “Few of them involving Victor, though.”
The air between the males seems to thicken.
Exchanging a quick glance with Asher, Reese steps forward. The kind of step that would send mere mortals crawling under the closest bed. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” “Many,” Cassis assures him.
THE SWEENEY SISTERS blog tour: Guest Post
The Sweeney Sisters
by Lian Dolan
Publisher: William Morrow
Release Date: April 28th 2020
Genre: Fiction, Contemporary
Synopsis:
An accomplished storyteller returns with her biggest, boldest, most entertaining novel yet—a hilarious, heartfelt story about books, love, sisterhood, and the surprises we discover in our DNA that combines the wit of Jonathan Tropper with the heart of Susan Wiggs.
Maggie, Eliza, and Tricia Sweeney grew up as a happy threesome in the idyllic seaside town of Southport, Connecticut. But their mother’s death from cancer fifteen years ago tarnished their golden-hued memories, and the sisters drifted apart. Their one touchstone is their father, Bill Sweeney, an internationally famous literary lion and college professor universally adored by critics, publishers, and book lovers. When Bill dies unexpectedly one cool June night, his shell-shocked daughters return to their childhood home. They aren’t quite sure what the future holds without their larger-than-life father, but they do know how to throw an Irish wake to honor a man of his stature.
But as guests pay their respects and reminisce, one stranger, emboldened by whiskey, has crashed the party. It turns out that she too is a Sweeney sister.
When Washington, DC based journalist Serena Tucker had her DNA tested on a whim a few weeks earlier, she learned she had a 50% genetic match with a childhood neighbor—Maggie Sweeney of Southport, Connecticut. It seems Serena’s chilly WASP mother, Birdie, had a history with Bill Sweeney—one that has remained totally secret until now.
Once the shock wears off, questions abound. What does this mean for William’s literary legacy? Where is the unfinished memoir he’s stashed away, and what will it reveal? And how will a fourth Sweeney sister—a blond among redheads—fit into their story?
By turns revealing, insightful, and uproarious, The Sweeney Sisters is equal parts cautionary tale and celebration—a festive and heartfelt look at what truly makes a family.
BOOK LINKS
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/45169233-the-sweeney-sisters
Amazon: https://amzn.to/39oiL7V
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-sweeney-sisters-lian-dolan/1131258501?ean=9780062909046
iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-sweeney-sisters/id1474607149
Bookdepository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Sweeney-Sisters-Lian-Dolan/9780062909046?ref=grid-view&qid=1585346594534&sr=1-1
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ww/en/ebook/the-sweeney-sisters-1
Google Play Books: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Lian_Dolan_The_Sweeney_Sisters?id=W_6lDwAAQBAJ
AUTHOR INFORMATION
Lian Dolan is a writer and talker. She’s the author of two Los Angeles Times best-selling novels, Helen of Pasadena and Elizabeth the First Wife published by Prospect Park Books. Her next novel, The Sweeney Sisters, will be published in 2020 by William Morrow. She’s a regular humor columnist for Pasadena Magazine and has previously written monthly columns for O, The Oprah Magazine and Working Mother Magazine. She’s also written for TV, radio and websites.
Lian is the producer and host of Satellite Sisters, the award-winning talk show she created with her four real sisters. On Satellite Sisters, she’s interviewed everyone from Nora Ephron to Madeleine Albright to Big Bird. Satellite Sisters began life as a syndicated radio show and is now a top-rated podcast for women. The recent book by the Satellite Sisters, You’re the Best: A Celebration of Friendship, is popular with book clubs.
A popular speaker who combines humor and heart, Lian has appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show, CBS Sunday Morning and The Today Show and many local TV stations. She’s been a featured speaker at the LA Times Festival of Books, the Santa Barbara Celebrity Authors Lunch, the Literary Guild of Orange County Festival of Women Authors and dozens of other events at libraries, book stores, schools and women’s organizations across the country. In 2020, she’ll be on the faculty of the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop.
Lian graduated from Pomona College with a degree in Classics. She lives in Pasadena, California with her husband, two sons and a big German shepherd.
AUTHOR LINKS
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/258052.Lian_Dolan
Website: https://www.liandolan.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/liandolan
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/liandolanauthor/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/liandolan/
A Gingerly Review 