BOOK BLAST: Love All by Liza Malloy #NewAdult #SportsRomance @GoddessFish

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Liza Malloy will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

College students Nate and Olivia are a perfect match on the courts—and in the sheets. Everywhere else, they’re polar opposites and sworn enemies. But as the chemistry builds, a figure from Olivia’s past unexpectedly pops back into her life and the couple realizes they have more in common than they thought. Are these star-crossed lovers doomed to repeat their parents’ mistakes, or can they build a life together once the final set is played?

This book is a standalone, steamy, new adult/college, sports romance, 77k words. Tropes include enemies to lovers, he falls first, and billionaire.

Read an Excerpt

God, she was enchanting. Even up close, even in this dim lighting, even after playing tennis… Olivia was pure perfection. Olivia licked her lips casually, drawing my eyes to her mouth. I needed to know if her lips were as soft as they looked, couldn’t help but wonder if she tasted as good as she smelled. But I didn’t dare try.

So instead, I just stared.

Olivia stared back at me with the same intensity. I hoped maybe she would make the first move and breach the six inches between us. Instead, she spoke.

“I’d love to know what you’re thinking right now.”

My heart beat faster. “I’m trying to guess if you’d slap me if I kissed you right now.”

Her perfect lips curved upwards into a grin she tried to hide. “What did you decide?”

I considered my next words, then spoke slowly. “I decided that you’ve had plenty of time to turn away.” I leaned forward, placed my hand on her cheek, and when she still didn’t move, I pressed my mouth to hers.

Before I could even panic that I’d done the wrong thing, she kissed me back. Her lips were velvety smooth against my own, and they parted willingly, welcoming my tongue into her warm mouth. She tasted sweet, like oranges and cinnamon.

Her hand brushed against my bicep, startling me at first, then egging me on as she pressed her fingers against me, practically squeezing the muscle. I reached to place my other hand around her arm, missing and inadvertently grazing the side of her breast before landing on her arm. Still, she didn’t slap me.

The kiss went on and on. Olivia sure didn’t kiss like the innocent girl she claimed to be, but I wasn’t about to complain, either. Her lips fit perfectly against mine, and I was positive that the rest of our bodies would fit just as well.

All of a sudden, all the court lights flashed on, flooding us in full light. We broke apart in an instant, leaving only our fingers entangled. We both gazed down, as though neither of us had realized we were holding hands, and then we each winced from the light.

About the Author:

Liza Malloy writes contemporary romance and women’s fiction. She’s a sucker for alpha males, bad boys, dimples, and muscles, and she can’t resist a man in uniform. Liza loves creating worlds where her heroine discovers her own strength and finds her Happily Ever After. When Liza isn’t reading or writing torrid love stories, she’s a practicing attorney. Her other passions include gummy bears, jelly beans, and the occasional marathon. She lives in the Midwest with her four daughters and her own Prince Charming.

Website
Newsletter List
Amazon Author Page
Goodreads
BookBub Author Page
LinkTree
Facebook
TikTok
Instagram
Pinterest

Amazon
BookBub

Liza Malloy will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

BOOK TOUR: Titanian Warrior by Victoria Saccenti #PNR #FantasyRomance @VictoriaSAuthor

 

Titanian Warrior

Titanian Chronicles 
Book Three
Victoria Saccenti
 
Genre: PNR/Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Essence Publishing
Date of Publication: January 31, 2023
ISBN: 9798987432211   
ASIN: B0BNZFHM28
Number of pages: app 245
Word Count: 82825
Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter
 
Tagline: One woman holds the key to his destiny—and his people’s salvation.
 
Book Description: 
 
Hagen drags himself to the gates of Hell, body and soul shredded by the bloodlust that consumes all the unmated of his kind. Awaiting the painful atonement that will buy him ten more years to find his eternal mate—or face oblivion. But Hades himself kicks him out with the bloodlust still prowling, unsatisfied, in his veins. 
 
Bargained away by her parents to Master O, a mysterious, cruel wizard, Faiza serves in his household, keeping her small magic a secret, plagued by wild, confusing visions of a strange, suffering man. Then the master brings home a wounded Titanian warrior whose touch sends ice, fire, and desire racing through her body. 
 
When she learns Master O plans to use Hagen as a weapon to conquer all races, she devises a desperate plan to free him—a plan that opens a portal to a world she’s never known. And a destiny entwined with danger that could destroy them all.
 
Amazon      iBooks      Nook     Kobo      Smashwords     Books2Read
 

Excerpt:

Shivalik Hills, Nepal

The towering pair of boulders stood as gatekeepers and markers of the way. A steep path snaked between them until farther down the hill, the road disappeared in thick fog. Leaning on the closest rock, Hagen steadied himself to catch his breath, then pushed on.

Bloodlust crippled his Titanian vision. Still, he stumbled, rolled, and crawled over jagged rocks and gnarled roots with single-minded determination to reach his appointed meeting place, the cavern at the base of the Shivaliks, and the sole entrance to Hades’s domain on the earthly plane. A perverse satisfaction filled him each time he
scraped and sliced his exposed skin, as this was only a precursor to the punishment he deserved. If he could shred his flesh to strips in anticipation as he had done with his clothes, so much the better.

Hagen advanced through the haze, seeking the deity’s promised signal. Images of his frenzy during the last skirmish prodded him. He strained past gore-filled images, and the effort paid off. There, deep within the haze, a faint red light marked the spot. Alecto had not forgotten. A hitched breath escaped his lungs as he stood and trod on a
more secure step.

As the haze dissipated, the cavern’s hungry mouth gaped before him. Healing and deliverance acquired through pain would soon be his. As he inched closer to the wavering light, he removed the last remaining strips of clothing. The offering had to be bare and unadulterated. Nothing but skin would satisfy the Fury, purify his spirit, and
postpone the horror of termination for another ten years—a mere blip in the lifespan
of a Titanian. And yet, a decade offered hope and an opportunity to continue
his search for true salvation: his eternal mate.

His brother Soren had been at the edge of obliteration when the universe revealed Maya’s symbol in his scrolls. He’d been given a Simurgh, no less, the most powerful of all phoenix mates. Soren’s joy and deliverance had pleased Hagen without reservation or a covetous thought. His brother had earned such a high reward.

But what about him? Was he unworthy of an eternal mate, of love, and companionship? He’d only wished for a small slice of heaven. His cousin Roald had found eternal happiness with Ginny. Staring at an endless existence of service and loneliness was a frightening prospect for a Titanian of any rank.

Hagen could never be the brilliant fighter Soren was, and had, on occasion, not followed every command to the letter. Nevertheless, he’d proven his mettle and unwavering loyalty to the Titanian cause in and out of combat. Many a night, he’d promised to change his unorthodox ways and toe the line, if only the universe would grant him a phoenix mate.

Alas no, he’d been denied time and again. After witnessing from the sidelines the mating ceremony and resulting Titanian bliss, frustration burned a hole in his chest. Before the emotion turned to bitterness, he’d escaped to his old daemon hunting grounds in Asia.

On his flight back, he realized that his cherished airplane and state-of-the-art electronic gadgets no longer satisfied or entertained him. Even that last bit of gratification had been taken from him. Because seeing happiness unfold for Soren and Roald had displayed in real time what mattered: the completion a mate brought to a
Titanian’s soul. The beaming couples had stepped up onto a new plane of
existence. After witnessing their ascendance, no fancy equipment could ever
fulfill him.

The hole in his chest turned black and cold.

Blood hunger, the deadly lust, awoke.

Visions tortured him. Rage drove him to living nightmares. He searched for minion hideouts and sought conflict at every turn. In the heat of these encounters, bloodlust blinded him to allies and friends who’d trusted him with their lives. Asian black bear and clouded leopard shifters had perished under his hands. While his bewildered, dying friends pleaded for their lives, he’d only seen minions. The red haze
controlled him, and he’d indulged the insatiable hunger to spill all blood.

The last clash had been the worst. Standing on a promontory, Hagen viewed an endless battlefield stained with red blood, green ooze, and mutilated remains. And as the mental fog cleared, horror captured his soul and he fell on his knees, begging the universe for help.
The chthonic deity, the implacable Alecto, heard and replied in his mind.

“Await my arrival at the place of atonement.”

Explanations had not been necessary. Hagen’s Titanian spirit, same as every supernatural in the earthly plane, knew the location of the terrible gate. In eras past, he’d avoided going near it. Now, stripped to his natural state, defeated and humbled, he entered the darkness with a bowed head and an anxious demeanor.

To his right, four stonelike posts, spread in a rectangular formation, jutted out of the rock wall. Hagen studied them, unsure of what to do.

“Step in. Face out and clasp the posts. Place your ankles outside each one,” the Fury instructed.

“Receive and accept the pain, Titanian. Do not flinch or resist. Show your contrition. Only then will the universe accept your offering.”

 

About the Author:

 
Award-winning, multi-genre author Victoria Saccenti writes romantic women’s fiction, contemporary romance, and paranormal romance. Not one for heart and flower stories, she explores the edgy twists and turns of human interaction, the many facets of love, and all possible happy endings.  After thirty years of traveling the world, she’s settled in Central Florida. She splits her busy schedule between family and her active muse at Essence Publishing. However, if she could convince her husband to sell their home, she would pack up her computer and move to Scotland, a land she adores. On a side note, in one form or another, Scotland appears in most of her stories.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

BOOK TOUR: Hell Holes Book IV – A Slave’s Revenge by Donald Firesmith #SciFi #Horror

A Slaves Revenge

Hell Holes Book 4

by Donald Firesmith

Genre: SciFi, Paranormal Horror

An epic story of love, loss, friendship, and survival under the most hellish of conditions, Hell Holes: A Slave’s Revenge is the award-winning prequel to the Hell Holes series of alien invasion novels.

After killing his father, alien demons teleport a fifteen-year-old boy, his mother, and his sister to Hell, a desert world in the Demonic Empire. With survival far from certain, they have just two choices: to live as useful slaves or die as demon food. As the boy becomes a man, he must decide just how much he must collaborate with his demon masters to survive. But can he live long enough to take his revenge and regain his freedom without losing his humanity and his very soul?

Winter 2022 Pinnacle Achievement Awards – Winner – Science Fiction Category
2021 Top Shelf Magazine Book Awards – Runner-up – Fiction/Fantasy Subcategory
July 2022 BooksShelf.com Book Awards – Finalist – Fiction Category
2021 The Wishing Shelf Book Awards – Finalist – Adult Category
ReadFree.ly – 50 Best Indie Books of 2021

**Only. .99 cents!!**

Amazon * Audiobook * Bookbub * Goodreads

EXCERPT

Prologue

My name is Paul Chapman. When I was just fifteen years old, a band of demonic aliens murdered my father and captured my mother, sister, and me. These vicious creatures — the source of humanity’s myths of devils, imps, and hellhounds — took us through a hidden portal to Hell, the nearest planet to Earth in their vast empire. I spent the next twenty-three years there as their slave.

I was rescued during the Armageddon War and became the only captive human to ever escape from Hell. Over the following months, members of the US military and various specialists spent countless hours interviewing and debriefing me to learn everything I knew about Hell and the demons. They provided a therapist to help me recover from my horrendous experiences and adjust to my new life back on Earth. She recommended I document my life as a slave. This book is my story: the autobiography of my life as a slave on Hell.

1 – The Hunt

My parents, Robert and Mary Chapman, met while first-year students at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. He studied wildlife biology while she studied anthropology, concentrating her studies on the history and culture of the native Inuit. Although they had grown up in the Lower 48, they fell in love with Alaska and decided to remain after graduating.

Dad had hoped to obtain a job as a wildlife biologist, but such jobs were rare and paid little. Mom had an even harder time finding suitable work. So, when my maternal grandfather died two years later, my parents decided to use her modest inheritance to buy a dry cabin and live a subsistence lifestyle. They would hunt caribou and moose, trap small game for furs and food, and fish for salmon during spawning season.

Mom and Dad eventually bought a cabin on the north shore of the Kobuk River. Only seven miles upstream of the tiny town of Kobuk, the house was close enough to make buying provisions easy. The town’s simple landing strip also made visiting relatives practical and would enable evacuation in case of a medical emergency.

Miles from their nearest neighbors, the cabin was also isolated enough to offer all the seclusion a family could ever want. Nestled between the nearby river and the Brooks Range a few miles to the north, my parents had found the home of their dreams.

My twin sister, Sarah, and I were born a few years later, and we grew up in some of the most beautiful land imaginable. The chores were many, the work was hard, but the rewards of freedom and the wilder-ness’s majesty made the hardships well worthwhile. I loved the life and couldn’t imagine ever leaving it.

This story begins when Sarah and I were fifteen. It was early August, and the Chinook salmon were running up the river to spawn. After breakfast, Mom and Sarah were going fishing. Dad and I had built a fish wheel, an ingenious tool that automatically catches the salmon. An underwater fence forces some of the fish towards the wheel that the river’s current turns. Baskets attached to the wheel’s rim scoop up the fish and dump them into a box. Mom and Sarah were going to carry the salmon back to the cabin, clean them, and hang them up over a fire in our smokehouse. Their work would ensure we would have plenty of smoked salmon to eat during the long Alaskan winter.

While they were fishing, Dad and I would hunt moose and check our traps for small game. We took our rifles and headed upriver away from town. We left our dog, Sergeant, behind so her barking would warn Mom and Sarah of any bear that might be attracted by the smell of our fish.

We started by checking our traps, but they were empty. Not a single one had been tripped. And we didn’t spot any small game even though we didn’t talk, and we walked carefully to avoid making any unnecessary noise.

When it was nearing lunchtime, we turned around and headed back to our cabin. This time, instead of following the river trail, we hiked up towards the nearby mountains forming the southern edge of the Brooks Range. As before, the area seemed completely devoid of animal life, which was pretty unusual. We’d typically see something, even if it was too far away or on the far side of the river.

About halfway home, we spotted the remains of a bull moose that had been recently killed. Because the bears were busy with the salmon, we initially thought it had been brought down by wolves. But it wasn’t. Enormous chunks of flesh had been removed in single bites, and the bites’ edges were too clean to have been made by wolves or bears.

It was strange that we couldn’t identify the tracks in the soft ground around the carcass. There were many large and small hoof prints, but they were shorter and rounder than moose and elk tracks.

Stranger still were the giant paw prints from the carnivore that had brought down the moose. Easily twice the length of wolf prints, they had only three toes, and the separate claw marks were much longer than wolf or even bear claws. Dad, the biologist, was stumped. The prints didn’t seem to belong to any Alaskan wild animal or to any animal for that matter. The only tracks he could think of that were even somewhat similar were those of ostriches, emus, and cassowaries. But the claw marks were too short for ostrich and emu tracks, and the cassowary only has one claw that long, not three.

“Dad, how about a really big dog?” I asked. “Maybe a Newfoundland had lost a toe.”

Dad shook his head. “Can’t be. See how the toes are arranged symmetrically? And besides, why would a dog have the same toe removed on each paw?”

“What about a dinosaur?” I suggested jokingly.

Dad actually considered it for a second before answering, “You know, it does look a little like a theropod footprint. It might have been a reasonable hypothesis if it weren’t for the little fact they’re all extinct except for the birds. No, this has to be a hoax. Someone’s trying to start a rumor about a strange beast roaming the Alaskan wilderness. Probably wants to draw tourists hoping to catch sight of the mythological creature.”

“But Dad, what about the bite marks?”

“My guess is that they used a curved knife to make them. Still, whoever did it did a good job. They had me going for a bit. Come on, let’s head home and tell the girls about our mysterious find.”

So, we hiked back to the cabin and had lunch with Mom and Sarah. They told us about the baskets of fish they had caught and cleaned. We told them about the moose kill we’d stumbled on, the strange tracks, and the huge bite marks. Mom agreed with Dad that it would probably turn out to be a hoax, but Sarah wasn’t sure what to think.

After lunch, Dad and I headed out again to see if we’d have any better luck hunting. We didn’t. The animals, both big and small, were still missing, and we were once more forced to come back empty-handed. I did, however, carry my camera with me and took some pictures of our find. For a laugh, I figured I would upload them onto Facebook the next time I was back in town where I could get internet service.

2 – Demons in the Dark

Sergeant, our three-year-old German Shepherd, woke me from a pleasant dream by barking her head off and scratching at the cabin door. I glanced at my alarm clock. It was just after three in the morning, and much too early for her to need to be let out to do her business. She was also far too excited for that to be the problem.

“What is it, girl?” Dad called. “Are the raccoons back again?”

Sergeant ignored him and continued barking.

I thought I heard a deep growl coming from outside my window. “I think it’s a bear, Dad.” I groggily dragged myself out of bed, stepped into my slippers, and headed downstairs.

Dad was already there, taking his hunting rifle down from its home over the fireplace. He checked it to ensure it was loaded while I pulled Sergeant back from the door.

Grizzlies occasionally break into empty cabins looking for an easy meal. Still, I’d never known one to bust into one that was occupied, and a dog could usually be counted on to keep them at bay. Besides, it was late summer when their food was plentiful.

“What is it, Robert?” Mom asked. She was halfway down the stairs with Sarah just behind her.

“Probably just a bear,” Dad answered.

We had a thick solid door with a strong lock, so I wasn’t too concerned. I just hoped that it wouldn’t break a window because I’d be the one Dad would send into town to buy the glass to replace it.

Boom! The door rattled as something massive struck it. Sergeant growled, jerked her collar out of my hands, and bounded to the door. She pawed at it, barking like mad.

I was just about to run forward and grab her when there was a deafening bang. Ripped right off its heavy hinges, the door flew across the room, knocking Sergeant sideways and narrowly missing me before crashing into the dinner table.

Dad raised his rifle and fired just as a huge, wolf-like creature charged into the room. The bullet struck it squarely in the middle of the chest, dropping the monster to the floor.

We all gawked at the nightmarish beast lying at Dad’s feet. We’d never seen or even imagined such an animal. Easily four times the size of a timber wolf, the beast had neither fur nor anything you could call skin. Its massive brick-red muscles and yellowish bones and tendons were clearly visible as were the finger-long fangs and large, triangular teeth in its gaping mouth. Its yellow eyes with horizontal pupils stared blankly up at us while it bled blood the color of crude oil.

“What the hell is that?” Dad exclaimed as a second such beast burst into the house and bounded over the body of the one he had shot. Before he could react, it sank its teeth into Dad’s neck and shook him like an orca shaking a seal.

Several things happened almost simultaneously. Mom and Sarah screamed. The gun flew out of Dad’s hands and slid past me into the kitchen. Sergeant whined and bolted out the door as I sprinted to retrieve Dad’s rifle.

Grabbing his gun, I started to turn back to face the monsters when someone yanked the rifle right out of my hands. No, not someone. Some thing!

A grotesque, little, ape-like monster no more than three-feet-tall stood in front of me holding Dad’s rifle in one hand and a sword to my neck with the other. The imp had short little horns and stared at me with yellow, goat-like eyes. Like the hellhound, it was totally naked and seemed to have no skin covering his heavily muscled body.

Perhaps those huge muscles were what made me feel certain he was male despite his lack of any obvious indicator of his sex. The imp grinned, flashed an impossibly wide mouth full of shark-like teeth, and shook his head. His intent was unmistakable.

Wresting my gaze away from the imp’s hideous face, I looked up to see a second, sword-carrying imp motioning for Mom and Sarah to come down from the stairs. They, however, were transfixed by the sight of the hellhound feasting on Dad’s body. The one he’d shot had staggered to its feet, the wound in its chest miraculously healing before our eyes. The hellhounds snarled and growled at each other as they bit off softball-sized chunks of flesh and swallowed them whole.

I was having a nightmare! The worst nightmare of my life. I was asleep. I had to be.

The imp in front of me poked my stomach with the tip of his sword. It hurt! What? It shouldn’t hurt. You don’t feel pain in dreams. I glanced down and saw a little circle of blood staining my pajamas.

I wasn’t dreaming! Two wolf-like monsters were eating my dad, and two diminutive demons with swords had taken over the house. I couldn’t imagine how things could get any worse, but they did.

The devil, who was completely naked like the imps, walked in through the open doorway. There he stood with his long swept-back horns, his cloven hooves, and his red naked body. The only things missing were a pitchfork and tail. Tall and far more muscular than any Olympic athlete, he looked around the room with yellow, goat-like eyes, just like those of the imps and hellhounds.

The devil pointed at my mother and sister and barked out a series of incomprehensible sounds. They had to be words in the demonic language of Hell. Several of the syllables were so weird and spoken so rapidly that they were difficult to grasp and impossible for any human to repeat.

The imp standing at the base of the stairs motioned with his sword for Mom and Sarah to come down. Then the devil said something else, and the imp in front of me motioned for me to join them. Mom and Sarah were crying, their shoulders shaking uncontrollably as they watched the hellhounds feasting on Dad’s body. We hugged, and I did my best to make them turn their backs on the horrific scene. But there was no way we could ignore the horrible sounds the hellhounds made as we waited to learn our fate.

To Hell and Back

Hell Holes Book 3

The beautiful young photojournalist, Aileen O’Shannon, is not who she seems. For centuries, she has been a demon hunter, a sorceress who has tracked and killed small bands of demons that occasionally crossed into our world. But that changed when she joined Dr. Jack Oswald’s expedition to study one of hundreds of huge holes that mysteriously appeared overnight in the frozen tundra north of the Arctic Circle. Instead of small sporadic incursions, hordes of demons now pour from these hell holes like water from a sieve. With bombing little more than a losing game of whack-a-mole, Earth’s armies are unable to destroy the portals. When Jack suggests a desperate plan, he is drafted to join Aileen and a team of other sorcerers and Army Rangers to travel to the demon homeworld. Once there, they will unleash a plague virus and set off a nuclear bomb to destroy the portal complex. It’s a suicide mission. But Aileen has given Jack’s wife her word to bring him back safely, and the demons have already killed three men under her protection. Just how far will Aileen go to avoid losing another?

**Only. .99 cents!!**

Amazon * Audiobook * Bookbub * Goodreads

Demons on the Dalton

Hell Holes Book 2

When hundreds of huge holes mysteriously appeared overnight in the frozen tundra north of the Arctic Circle, geologist Jack Oswald picked Angele Menendez, his climatologist wife, to determine if the record temperatures due to climate change was the cause. But the holes were not natural. They were unnatural portals for an invading army of demons. Together with Aileen O’Shannon, a 1,700-year-old sorceress demon-hunter, the three survivors of the research team sent to study the holes had only one chance: to flee down the dangerous Dalton Highway towards the relative safety of Fairbanks. However, the advancing horde of devils, imps, hellhounds, and gargoyles will stop at nothing to prevent their prey from escaping. It is a 350-mile race with simple rules. Win and live; lose and die…

**Only. .99 cents!!**

Amazon * Audiobook * Bookbub * Goodreads

What Lurks Below

Hell Holes Book 1

It’s August in Alaska, and geology professor Jack Oswald prepares for the new school year. But when hundreds of huge holes mysteriously appear overnight in the frozen tundra north of the Arctic Circle, Jack receives an unexpected phone call. An oil company exec hires Jack to investigate, and he picks his climatologist wife and two of their graduate students as his team. Uncharacteristically, Jack also lets Aileen O’Shannon, a bewitchingly beautiful young photojournalist, talk him into coming along as their photographer. When they arrive in the remote oil town of Deadhorse, the exec and a biologist to protect them from wild animals join the team. Their task: to assess the risk of more holes opening under the Trans-Alaska Pipeline and the wells and pipelines that feed it. But they discover a far worse danger lurks below. When it emerges, it threatens to shatter Jack’s unshakable faith in science. And destroy us all…

**Only. .99 cents!!**

Amazon * Audiobook * Bookbub * Goodreads

Donald Firesmith is a multi-award-winning author of speculative fiction including science fiction (alien invasion), fantasy (magical wands), horror, and modern urban paranormal novels and anthologies of short stories.

Prior to retiring to devote himself full-time to his novels, Donald Firesmith earned an international reputation as a distinguished engineer, authoring seven system/software engineering books based on his 40+ years spent developing large, complex software intensive systems.

He lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with his wife Becky, his daughter Sera, and varying numbers of dogs and cats.

Website* Facebook* Twitter* Bookbub* Amazon* Goodreads

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

$20 Amazon

a Rafflecopter giveaway

BOOK TOUR: A Kinder City by Peter Taylor-Gooby #SciFi #Dystopian @RRBookTours1

Welcome to the book tour for A Kinder City by Peter Taylor-Gooby. Read on for details and grab yourself a copy today! Outlook-r4mxwfty A Kinder City Publication Date: April 28, 2023 Genre: Eco Sci-Fi/ Sci-fi/ Dystopian What place for love in a city ruled by greed? Sarah, spirited and caring, is on her first trip outside her village. The city is dominated by the grim law of the market – the only relations permitted are between buyer and seller. Her gift of a wagonload of food to those who need it is a crime. David, a serious-minded police cadet who naively trusts in the law, arrests her and finds himself falling in love. Franklin, the richest man in Market World, puts a price on everything. His giant factories spew forth road beasts – the huge machines that devastate the lands beyond the City in pursuit of yet more wealth. How can David prove his love to Sarah? And how can they save her village and build a kinder city? A gripping and thought-provoking eco-sci-fi novel, set in a world a little bit like ours. Add to Goodreads

Excerpt

In an overheated semi-basement, seven storeys beneath the Council Chamber, David awaits Sarah’s Audit Hearing. The windows are horizontal slits high up the walls and the overhead strip-lights are still on, although it’s before 11.00 am and bright sunshine outside. The room is barely wide enough to hold the dais with the wooden table for the Assessor, her Recorder and the clerk, with the chair for the witness to the right and the dock for the defaulter to the left. He feels stifled and wonders if he suffers from asthma. He has found a seat at the back of the courtroom on an upright chair that grates when he moves. He shouldn’t be here. He crept in with the public through the main door, and was squeezed against a young man with inky fingers, a notebook, and furtive eyes. As soon as he sees the uniform the young man introduces himself as a TV reporter, but doesn’t give a channel. He slips his cuff back to show his wristband. ‘We pay for your stories. Do you think Franklin has the answer to lawlessness in the Old Town?’ David touches the insignia on his sleeve: ‘No comment.’ A group of young women and men in blue uniforms without badges fill the benches at the front of the room. David guesses they are cadets from the Academy. Not so long ago I was one of you, he thinks. A cadet whose hair seems unruly despite the regulation cut looks back at him and says something to the young woman next to him. She glances round and giggles. The Assessor enters at the door behind the bench, a spare black woman in a navy blue trouser suit with the badge of office – the Golden Balance – on her breast pocket. Her clerk follows her. Everyone rises with a scraping of chairs and David is forced back against the main door. The Assessor surveys the room through metal-rimmed spectacles, sighs, and sits down. ‘What have you got for us today?’ The clerk bows his head. He’s short, plump-faced and his hair needs combing. He reminds David of a pocket spaniel. ‘Long list, Madam. First case, Major Breach of the One Law. Conveying a cargo without contract. Intent to supply said cargo without payment.’ ‘Bring the defaulter to scrutiny.’ David is forced to stand as the main door opens and the Court-Serjeant enters, a square-shouldered older man in a gold-braided uniform who scowls at the Bench, the Assessor and the audience. He leads Sarah into the courtroom. She glances round the room, as if noting the details for when she tells her friends the story. The Serjeant grasps her arm and the clerk slaps his hand on the desk: ‘Proceed.’ She nods to him, picks the officer’s fingers from her arm with her other hand and strolls forward. ‘Take her to the dock.’ ‘Please. I’ll find my own way.’ The clerk snorts. ‘Silence.’ She takes her position to the left of the bench, the Serjeant behind her, and looks round. David feels she is searching him out. The journalist licks his biro and scribbles at his pad. The Assessor leans towards her. ‘You are Ms S.Cordell, known as Sarah. You are called to scrutiny for a serious Audit transgression. I have reviewed the evidence and am minded to order full compensation with costs. Have you anything to say?’ Sarah frowns, and for an instant David feels dizzy, as if everything is back to front. She is the judge and he stands accused in the dock. Then her face lights up. ‘Not really. I was taking some fruit and other produce from Coneystone in the wagon with Juno. We wanted to share it with our cousins and friends in the Old Town. First time I’ve done the trip, we had a great crop this year. These people,’ she waves a hand towards David, ‘him and his mates, jumped out on me, all dressed up like comedy policemen. Pity it was muddy, they kept falling over. He’ll do it now if you’re lucky.’ Someone sniggers and the Assessor fixes her gaze on the cadets. Sarah keeps talking. ‘It’s not funny. They scared Juno.’ ‘That’s of no importance. The question is: have you a valid contract?’ The Assessor pauses a moment, then raises her voice. ‘You have no contract, it’s idle to deny it. Answer a simple question: who pays you for the apples?’ ‘But it’s a good act, you really should see it. Then they frightened Juno and upset the applecart.’ Her face darkens. ‘So to speak. Then they took me here and kept me in and I’m worried about Juno. The apples will spoil. So will the blackberries.’ She turns to the court: ‘You haven’t seen where they’ve put Juno have you? Lovely beast, heavy horse, red ribbons in her mane. You wouldn’t miss her.’ The Assessor thrusts her face towards Sarah. ‘You will address the question. The longer you waste the court’s time, the more it will cost you.’ Sarah smooths her forehead with her hand. ‘Oh no, I’m sorry, didn’t I say? The apples and everything, they’re all presents. Brilliant harvest this year. You can have some.’ She looks round at all of them, smiling at her good fortune. The Assessor straightens her back. She glances at the clerk, who nods. ‘Thank you. Transfer of commodity at zero price: major breach.’ ‘I’m sorry? Would you like some apples? Don’t you want witnesses? Look, one of them’s over there.’ David colours and hunches down in his chair, but he can’t stop himself gazing at her. He feels as if everyone in the court is craning round to look at him. The clerk slaps the desk again. ‘Silence!’ Sarah raises an eyebrow but says nothing. The Assessor sighs. ‘Breach of the One Law. Full confession. Witnesses are unnecessary.’ David feels the tension flow out of his shoulders. Sarah shakes her head, her face comical. Her eyelid flutters. David can’t tell if she just winked at him. ‘I’m sorry?’ ‘The One Law directs that all transactions must be between willing buyer and willing seller at an agreed price. Law of the Market. You do not give people things that you could sell to them. There are no exceptions.’ ‘But….’ Sarah stops, her mouth open. ‘Be quiet. You have incurred substantial expenses.’ She gestures to the clerk, who reads out staccato from a thin strip of paper: ‘Deployment twelve Enforcers, 1 captain, 1 sergeant, 1 half-sergeant for 4 hours: 300 credits; Item: deduction for value of training exercise: minus 110 credits. Uniform cleaning: 10 credits. Accommodation, item: basic cell by one night: 200 credits; item: stabling and incidentals: 4 credits Security during accommodation: 50 credits Incidentals: toothpaste, soap, towel etc: 5 credits. Courtroom, third grade, by one hour, staffing and incidentals: 100 credits. Compensation: inconvenience of arrest to the detainee, standard rate 2 credits an hour by 18 hours: minus 36 credits. Item: proceeds, sale of 1 horse: minus 17 credits. Item: proceeds sale of cart and contents: minus 32 credits.’ David keeps his eyes on Sarah. She raises her eyebrows again and shrugs her shoulders. ‘Total 474 credits.’ ‘Thank you. Ms Cordell, your breach cost Market World 669 credits minus 110 credits value of training provided, 36 credits citizen compensation and 49 credits sale of confiscated items. Your civic recompense is set at 474 credits. Next case.’ Sarah stares at her. ‘You must be joking! What is a credit anyway?’ The Assessor blinks. ‘Next case.’ ‘But what about Juno?’ The clerk remarks to no-one ‘Additional court time may be purchased at 1.4 credits a minute.’ The Court-Serjeant seizes Sarah by the arm and hustles her towards the door. David rises and pulls his chair out of the way. She catches his eye as she passes and looks back at him and grimaces. It strikes him to the heart. He grips the door and stops it from shutting. The next case, a market trader accused of short weight, in a shabby suit with the jacket too tight under his shoulders, is brought in. A buzz of conversation rises from the cadets. The young man who stared back at David tilts his head towards the young woman next to him and whispers something that is terribly important to them both. He takes the young woman’s hand, ignoring the others. The Assessor glowers at them ‘Silence! Or I shall clear the court.’ The journalist flips to the next page, sucks at his pen and writes. David slips round the door and pulls it shut behind him. He leans against it for a full half-minute, his eyes closed. He knows that the staircase in front of him leads up to the main hall where fines are paid. He turns left and strides down the corridor towards the barracks block. Voices sound from the guard room and he dodges left again into a narrower corridor with raw concrete walls lit by unshaded light-bulbs, then up an iron spiral stair. He listens for foot-steps, then creeps across a metal landing as softly as if he were on a close surveillance exercise and it was Adam assessing him. He listens again, and passes through a side-door into the Process Room. He blinks in the daylight that streams in from tall windows overlooking City Square. His heart feels tight in his chest. He has never in his life done anything like this. He doesn’t know why he is doing it now. He is a fool. The duty Enforcer sits at the metal desk with the band-reader on it and the empty metal chair opposite, examining her finger nails. She slips something into her mouth. David clenches his fist, relaxes it and lets the door slam shut. The sound echoes across the room. She jerks upright and glances towards him, and pulls her jacket straight. He knows her, they did their basic training together. Six weeks of square-bashing with Curtis shouting at you. ‘Hi Jan. Your lucky day. I’m to take over.’ He didn’t plan that. Where did it come from? Jan frowns. ‘Who says? I’m here ‘til 18.00 hours.’ She chews at something. ‘Curtis. Extra duty – for yesterday.’ ‘I heard. Curtis doesn’t like you, does he?’ ‘Yeah, well. It’s a long story, I think he was a bit scared of the horse. Guess he likes you.’ ‘Sure he does.’ She studies his face. ‘Are you alright?’ ‘Yeah, well. I’ll be OK.’ ‘That bad, is it? You’ve got friends you know.’ ‘Sure… Thanks.’ She touches his hand. ‘All yours. I’m off.’ The side-door clicks to. David expels the air from his lungs and breathes in slowly to calm the throbbing in his head. He touches the band-reader in front of him. He’s used it a thousand times. You key in the amount, touch your wristband against the screen and it deducts or adds on the credits. No citizen in Market World is ever without a wristband. It’s fastened to your wrist at the citizenship ceremony when you pass eighteen and goes with you to the grave. You get lessons on it in “Lifeskills” at school. It only works if the buyer assents to the deal and that is infallible. Willing seller, willing buyer. As the signs in the street say: ‘You’re not dressed without it’, ‘No pay, no get’ and ‘You are your account’. He swallows and pushes the hair back off his forehead. The door is thrown open and the Serjeant enters, still gripping Sarah by the arm. He marches her up to the desk and releases her. He reminds David of an elderly bullfrog. ‘All yours. Watch her. She tried to chat up my deputy in the Guard Room.’ ‘I did not. I just said he had nice eyes for a comedian.’ She stares at David. ‘Nice to meet you again.’ She holds out her hand. David reaches out, then lays his hand palm-down on the desk. ‘The defaulter will maintain discipline,’ barks the Serjeant. ‘Sit.’ Sarah looks round her, pulls out the chair, sits and crosses her legs. David squares his shoulders. ‘Alright. I’ll take over from here.’ ‘The court placed Ms Cordell in my charge.’ The Serjeant keeps his hand on Sarah’s shoulder. ‘Until her debt is discharged. Which is now.’ He looks the Serjeant in the eye. After a pause the officer drops his hand and pulls on a leather glove. ‘Very well.’ The door slams behind him. David licks his lips and looks at Sarah and tries to smile. He has the script by heart, he learned it last night. ‘You understand that you must pay civic recompense as decided by the court. 474 credits. Touch your wristband to the reader.’ ‘Where’s Juno? I don’t care about the cart, but she’s not used to being away from me.’ ‘Your possessions will be auctioned to defray expenses. Just touch your wristband here. See that number? That’s your account: “Debit 474”. But you must have a wristband. It’s always issued at the citizenship ceremony when you leave school. You could buy that cartload ten times over with that many credits. Twenty times.’ He taps the reader. She grins at him. ‘We don’t bother with those things in the villages, waste of time.’ She starts to get up. ‘Let’s go and find Juno. I need to get on my way.’ ‘She’s OK, I sorted it. She’s being looked after.’ ‘Are you sure? What do you know about horses?’ ‘She’s OK.’ ‘Tell me about Juno.’ She rests her chin on her fingertips and fixes her eyes on him. He places his hands together on the table. ‘She’s a black Percheron. 18 hands.’ She nods and her cheeks dimple. ‘She’s being fed OK?’ ‘All the hay she wants – and crushed oats. And apples, but not too many. I tell you, she’s OK. Trust me. Now touch your wristband to the reader.’ She’s puzzled. Her brow furrows in tiny creases. ‘What wristband? I told you we don’t go in for them. My sister’ll plait you one out of wool. She’s only nine.’ ‘You really don’t understand do you? You are in Market World. You pay for everything, you have to. You’ve taken up the time of the court and the resources of the Enforcers. No-one is going to lock you up for free.’ She giggles and the tiny dints dimple her cheeks. She places her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry, but you just said…’ ‘I know. Everything is for sale here, you get nothing without paying for it. The One Law – law of the market. It’s what give s us a well-ordered society, why we’re so much better off than you are in the villages.’ ‘Sort of “All for One and One for All?” Free for All?’ ‘Sort of – but it works. Don’t you see it?’ He craves for her to understand, to see how his world is better, to want to be part of it. That’s why he’s here. For her. He will be her guide, her mentor, her friend and she will trust him. She shakes her head. ‘You really shouldn’t take these things so seriously. It doesn’t make you happy, does it?’ There’s a sharpness in her glance, as if it’s in her mind to say something else, but she continues: ‘Anyway, I don’t have a wristband.’ He shows her the numbers on the screen set into the black band on his left wrist. ‘There. See – all my credits: eight thousand seven hundred and fifty two, until I get paid. It’s all connected up to central computing – they keep the records. It’s how we do things.’ He feels a flush of pleasure at teaching her. She’s so confident and, at the same time, so wrong, so much in need of help and he can give it. His left leg trembles against the desk. He wills it to be calm. She folds her arms. ‘Yeah, I heard stories about that. But I told you, we don’t bother with that kind of stuff – it’s no fun.’ ‘Listen. In the past was the Great Hunger. Didn’t they tell you about it in school? Everything was terrible, people fought for food, children starved and warlords ruled the land. So many died they could no longer bury the dead.’ She shivers. ‘Sounds nasty.’ He finds it hard to concentrate. ‘Look out of that window.’ He points over City Square. ‘Can’t you see? Everyone going about their business. The shops, full of food and clothes and everything you need. The residence blocks where everybody lives.’ The words come more easily as he remembers the lesson. She mutters something to herself. ‘What’s that?’ ‘Don’t look as if they’re having much fun.’ ‘Clinics where you can buy medicine, schools and training colleges where you can pay for a degree, markets where citizens buy and sell at a fair price. Above them, the towers of the Entrepreneurs. And everywhere the Enforcers watching over us all, trusted by everyone, making sure we follow the rules.’ She peers out through the window. ‘They’re not happy. No-one’s smiling, nobody stops for a chat. Why aren’t there children playing? Or animals? And their clothes are so drab. Don’t you like to see trees?’ She spreads out her arms. ‘They’re so lovely this time of year.’ ‘Everyone’s busy, they’re going about their business. That’s what you do in Market World. Children are in school or training or working. No time to waste. We keep the beasts in their sheds and the trees in the park. What’s the profit in bright clothes?’ He watches her as if, at that moment, she matters more than anything to him. The thought comes to him: I am an Enforcer. She will understand, without the Enforcers there is no market, no Market World. I am worthy of respect. She needs to see Market World as it is, but he can’t let her go out there. She’ll be as lost as he would be in the forest. How desolate it would be, to be alone on those streets with no wristband and the night coming on. ‘When did you last eat?’ He has her full attention. ‘I don’t know.’ She pauses and tiny creases appear between her eyebrows. Her face clears. ‘I had some dried fish on the way. They wouldn’t give me breakfast back there, they kept saying didn’t I know “No pay, no get”. They didn’t like it when I asked if that was the chorus and could I sing along? I keep telling you, you people have no sense of humour.’ David stands and at the same time flips his left hand forward onto the reader without looking down, hears the click as it makes contact and checks the screen. “Account cleared”. She doesn’t notice. He’s in command for once like he’s in a novel. ‘Come on. We’ll find a café. You need someone to show you what Market World’s really like. And I’ll tell you my dream – why I’m an Enforcer.’ Her eyes light up and she rubs her hands together. ‘And I’ll tell you about how we live in the villages. And we’ll find Juno, won’t we?’ ‘Of course.’ She trusts him. He knows that she trusts him. He leads the way, through the lobby and the double doors, and down the flight of steps from the Halls of Justice into City Square. Happiness bubbles within him. She laughs, mouth open, the dimples in her cheeks each side of it. He remembers he’s on extra duty. He’ll deal with that later.

Amazon | Kobo | Booktopia | Waterstones

About the Author

PTG2
My novels deal with issues that matter – love, money, power and environmental disaster. I’ve worked on adventure playgrounds, in a social security office and as a teacher. I love walking, cycling, writing and talking to my children. In my day job I’m an academic but I believe that you can only truly understand the issues that matter to people through your feelings, your imagination and your compassion. That’s why I write novels. My first novel, “The Baby Auction” 2017, is a love story set in a fantasy world where the only rule is the law of the market. That someone should help another because they care for them simply doesn’t make sense to the citizens of Market World, any more that auctioning babies might to us. My second, “Ardent Justice” 2018, is a crime story set in the world of high finance and city fat-cats, where money rules, but greed can trip even the most successful. My third, “Blood Ties” 2020, is about the ties of love in a troubled family, and the bonds of debt that chain illegal immigrants to people-traffickers, and how they can be broken through self-sacrifice. My fourth, “A Kinder City” 2022, returns to Market World where the relentless pursuit of profit leads to environmental devastation. I hope you enjoy them. Peter Taylor-Gooby
Book Tour Organized By: R&R Button R&R Book Tours

BOOK TOUR: The Very Dead of Winter by Miles Watson #HistoricalFiction @RABTBookTours @themileswatson

A Sinner’s Cross Novel, Book 2

Historical Fiction

Date Published: 07-04-2022

Publisher: One Nine Books

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

On the eve of what will be known as The Battle of the Bulge, the survivors
of Sinner’s Cross are scattered all over Europe. Halleck, the tough Texan
who drives men like cattle, finds himself surrounded in the snow-blanketed
forests of the Eifel Mountains riding herd on greenhorn soldiers; Breese,
the phony hero with a chip on his shoulder the size of Rushmore, embarks on
a bloody mission of redemption behind enemy lines; Cramm, the one-eyed,
one-armed German staff officer, tries to balance duty against his lust for
vengeance against those who crippled him. Three men separated by war will
once again converge… in The Very Dead of Winter.

Winner of the Literary Titan Gold Medal and the Pinnacle Book Achievement
Award.

Excerpt

Walking with the careful, foot-weary step of convalescents or the elderly, the two men started through the rubble-choked streets for the Regimental command post. King patted all of his pockets for gum, a process that took perhaps a minute and involved the shifting around of his sling, bandolier, and several pineapple grenades, but he came up empty. “Sometimes I wish I smoked,” he said ruefully.

“Dirty habit. Never cottoned to it myself. Besides, a man who don’t smoke can always do a little horse-tradin’ with his ration.”

“And here I was, just giving those Chesterfields away like a sucker.” King fell silent for perhaps a minute. Another buzz bomb scudded overhead; both men screwed up their faces at the hideous noise of its engine, but neither raised their gaze. It required too much energy. When the sound of it had faded, the lieutenant said, “What the fuck are we doing here, Top?”

“In Europe? Well, I dunno about you, but I got this funny letter from the President sayin’ that I had to report to the courthouse so they could swear me in as a soldier, and next thing I knew—”

“Funny guy. You always joke after a battle?”

“It beats bawlin’.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“You handled yourself pretty good back there.” Better than I did, goddamn it.

“I got us ambushed.”

“You were just along for the ride, Lieutenant. The teedee captain in the lead tank was the one to blame, if anybody is; and he’s dead, so there ain’t no sense blamin’ him. But hell, if you got the need, blame the Krauts; they’re the ones’t killed him.”

“You see things real clearly, don’t you?”

“You want to say ‘simply’ you just come on out and say it. But for the record, I don’t see as how complicatin’ things helps anybody. A man’s got a problem, he goes to a buddy, or a preacher, or maybe his barkeep; he don’t go to his grandma’s sewin’ circle. One question needs one answer.”

“Now that is simple.”

“Simple ain’t necessarily bad, and it sure as hell ain’t necessarily wrong. There ain’t no maybe on a light switch.”

About the Author

Miles Watson is the x15 award-winning author of the CAGE LIFE and SINNER’S
CROSS book series as well as the short story collection DEVIL’S YOU KNOW. A
veteran of both Hollywood and law enforcement, his first and last passion is
writing, and he intends to publish in every genre before he cashes in his
chips.

Contact Links

Website

Twitter

Blog

Goodreads

Instagram

IMDB

 

Purchase Link

Amazon

 

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

RABT Book Tours & PR

BOOK TOUR: Sisters of Castle Leod by Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard #HistoricalFiction @EHBernardAuthor @cathiedunn

Sisters of Castle Leod: A Novel

by Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard

**Finalist in the 2022 American Writing Awards**

Millions are fans of Diana Gabaldon’s popular Outlander books and television series, but few know that Gabaldon’s fictional Castle Leoch was inspired by a real Scottish castle, Castle Leod. The two sisters who lived there at the turn of the twentieth century were among the most fascinating and talked-about women of their era. 

Lady Sibell Mackenzie is a spiritualist, a believer in reincarnation, and a popular author of mystical romances. Petite and proper, she values tradition and duty. Her younger sister Lady Constance, swimming champion and big game hunter, is a statuesque beauty who scandalizes British society with her public displays of Greek-style barefoot dancing. The differences between the sisters escalate into conflict after Sibell inherits their late father’s vast estates and the title 3rd Countess of Cromartie. But it is the birth of Sibell’s daughter that sets in motion a series of bizarre and tragic events, pitting sister against sister and propelling Sibell on a desperate mission to challenge the power of fate. 

Sisters of Castle Leod, by award-winning author Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard, is the emotionally charged story of two sisters torn apart by jealousy and superstition, and the impossible leap of faith that could finally bring them together.

Buy Links:

This title will be available on #KindleUnlimited.

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/3RzAJY

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sisters-Castle-Elizabeth-Hutchison-Bernard-ebook/dp/B0BG36NZK5/

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Sisters-Castle-Elizabeth-Hutchison-Bernard-ebook/dp/B0BG36NZK5/

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Sisters-Castle-Elizabeth-Hutchison-Bernard-ebook/dp/B0BG36NZK5/

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/Sisters-Castle-Elizabeth-Hutchison-Bernard-ebook/dp/B0BG36NZK5/

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sisters-of-castle-leod-elizabeth-hutchison-bernard/1142204809?ean=9781685130626

Excerpt

DAWN OF UNDERSTANDING

From across the street, we saw Constance exit her private car in front of the theater. Her outfit had a distinctly Japanese flair, a long, loose-fitting brown robe gathered at the waist with slits up each side. In a Bohemian way, she looked quite stylish. Half a dozen photographers surrounded her as she swept across the sidewalk to the entrance.

Edward and I remained in our taxi, watching a line forming outside the box office. Our seats had been reserved in advance. We planned to claim them at the last moment, after the lights had dimmed.

“This will be the first time you’ve seen Constance dance. Do you think your heart can take it?” I said, trying to lighten our otherwise somber mood. Neither of us was looking forward to confronting her after the show, but how else were we to find out anything? If, at first, I’d doubted that she and Austin could really be in such dire financial straits, I didn’t any longer. Selling that necklace, as I now felt sure she’d done, had to have been a last resort.

Edward patted my hand reassuringly. “If it’s too much for me, I’ll close my eyes and take a little snooze. But I don’t see why we have to sit through her performance. We could have arranged to speak to her afterwards.”

“You’re not in the least bit curious about her dancing? If one can look past her skimpy costume, I’m sure there’s much to appreciate.”

“Don’t you suppose the entire audience will be looking past her costume? That is what it’s designed for.”

I rolled my eyes. “Very amusing. Remember, we will not lecture her about propriety or anything of the sort. If we do, she’ll never open up to us. Our purpose is to see how we might assist her and Austin to get back on their feet.”

“First, we need to understand how their situation came about to start with. Constance had a tidy sum in her dowry when she married, and, to all appearances, Austin was a prosperous landowner.”

“Don’t we know plenty of people accustomed to being wealthy who’d rather die than admit they no longer are?”

“That’s not my point. I’m talking about the possibility of a deeper problem …”

“Such as?”

He grimaced slightly. “Lots of things can cause people to spend more money than they have. All I’m saying, Sibell, is that before you hand over any sizeable sum to bail them out, you’d better be sure they’re going to use it appropriately.”

He was right. Many a young nobleman had frittered away his fortune on some secret addiction. But how likely was Constance to admit the root of their problem if, indeed, it was something heinous? “Let’s not speculate. We’ll find out what we can and, hopefully, figure out the rest. And say nothing about the necklace. It would only make Constance feel we’d been spying on her. I know exactly how she’d react. Clam up in an instant, and we wouldn’t get another word out of her.”

“The necklace is another problem. We’ll need to solve that one ourselves. If that young fellow, Khoury, thinks he can manipulate us into paying twice what the piece is worth, he’s sorely mistaken.”

For a split second, I considered telling him everything. Asking him to accompany me to the jewelry store tomorrow so we could present a united front against Demetrius’s demands, whatever they might be. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, for fear he might sense what I wished not to admit even to myself. My attraction to Demetrius had not diminished with the years. Though I no longer questioned my devotion to Edward, how could I explain away this feeling that still haunted me? The belief that my soul was bound to another.

Whether or not I wanted it to be.

*

The intertwined melodies of two flutes signaled the velvet curtain’s rise, revealing a backdrop of lush woodland crowned by a glowing silver orb. A painted prop, yet the setting reminded me of home and how much I missed it. How I would have loved to pluck my sister from among the tall, faceless buildings of New York City and drop her onto the windswept moors of Ross-shire, where both of us belonged! I wished I could know if she regretted the decisions she’d made. Might she long to return to life the way it was, before she’d decided that her duty was to scandalize the civilized world?

Was she simply too stubborn to admit her mistake?

My sister’s sudden entrance onto the stage, pirouetting across the floor with her arms in a graceful arc above her head, elicited a collective gasp from the crowd. Though one couldn’t see everything through the gauzy film of her diaphanous robe, what could not be seen was easily imagined. A wave of whispered chatter was followed by a smattering of hoots and calls, the latter leaving little doubt as to why some members of the audience had come. Yes, Constance was beautiful, as perfect a womanly figure as nature had ever created. She continued her dance, whirling about the stage in a self-induced trance, veils flowing, bare feet flying, and I was mesmerized. But what I saw was surely different from everyone else. I was watching a soul take flight.

Unprepared for the plethora of emotions that flooded over me, what I felt most keenly was guilt. I should have listened, from the beginning, when she tried explaining herself to me—when she talked about beauty and what it means and how she wanted to teach others by example. But I’d brushed her off as brash and egotistical. Was her desire to dance so different from my desire to write? Despite critics who called my pagan-inspired tales shocking, I kept on. Writing had become one of the few things in life about which I was unwilling to compromise.

Wasn’t Constance entitled to feel the same about dancing?

Violins, like a rush of wind, swelled and died, and then out of the silence came again the plaintive melody of the flutes, beckoning the dancer along a woodland path. One by one, other instruments joined in and, as they did, her dance became more exuberant, her moves more daring. A gazelle-like leap, then spinning with arms outstretched, head thrown back, gazing at the multitude of stars in her imaginary sky. Round and round, faster and faster. I stared in wonderment. How could anyone do that and not become impossibly dizzy? But, of course, this was my sister, the consummate athlete. Master of every physical challenge. Champion of every sport she’d ever tried. My God, I was proud of her!

And then it happened.

Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard

A former touring musician/songwriter and public relations professional, Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard is the author of two Amazon bestsellers: THE BEAUTY DOCTOR, “a compelling historical novel steeped in mystery with strong elements of a medical thriller” (Readers’ Favorite, 5 stars), and TEMPTATION RAG: A NOVEL, a “resonant novel … about the birth and demise of ragtime … luxuriously crafted” (Publishers Weekly). Her books have been finalists for the Eric Hoffer Book Award, National Indie Excellence Awards, and Arizona Literary Contest; they have received 5-star ratings from Readers” Favorite, Book Readers Appreciation Group, and historical fiction Discovered Diamonds. Elizabeth and her family live near Phoenix, Arizona.

Social Media Links:

Website: www.EHBernard.com

Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/EHBernardAuthor

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EHBernardAuthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/EHBernardAuthor

Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/elizabeth-hutchison-bernard

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Elizabeth-Hutchison-Bernard/e/B072N681MZ?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1659992216&sr=8-1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16953486.Elizabeth_Hutchison_Bernard

BOOK TOUR: That Dickinson Girl by Joan Koster #HistoricalFiction @womenwewrite @cathiedunn

That Dickinson Girl

by Joan Koster

SHE IS GOING TO BE THE GREATEST ORATOR OF THE CIVIL WAR

Eighteen-year-old Anna Dickinson is nothing like the women around her, and she knows it. Gifted with a powerful voice, a razor-sharp wit, and unbounded energy, the diminutive curlyhead sets out to surpass the men of her day as she rails against slavery and pushes for women’s rights. Only two things can bring her downfall—the entangling love she has for her devoted companion, Julia, and an assassin’s bullet.

Forced to accompany the fiery young orator on her speaking tour of New England, Julia Pennington fights her growing attraction to the ever more popular celebrity. When a traitor sets out to assassinate Anna, Julia must risk her life to save her.

Loosely based on the life of forgotten orator, feminist, and lesbian, Anna Dickinson, That Dickinson Girl is the story of one woman’s rise to fame and fortune at the expense of love during the political and social turmoil of the American Civil War.

An earlier version of That Dickinson Girl was a finalist in the Mslexia Novel Competition.

Buy Links:

Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/That-Dickinson-Girl

Amazon US:   https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BKT7DJQ5

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/That-Dickinson-Girl-Novel-Forgotten-ebook/dp/B0BKT7DJQ5

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/That-Dickinson-Girl-Novel-Forgotten-ebook/dp/B0BKT7DJQ5

Amazon AU:  https://www.amazon.com.au/That-Dickinson-Girl-Novel-Forgotten-ebook/dp/B0BKT7DJQ5

Signed Paperback: https://joankoster.com/signed-copy-of-that-dickinson-girl

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/that-dickinson-girl-joan-koster/1142596073

iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/that-dickinson-girl/id6444222406

Kobo:  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/that-dickinson-girl

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Joan_Koster_That_Dickinson_Girl?id=8Z-YEAAAQBAJ

Excerpt

That Dickinson Girl by Joan Koster Chapter 27 Excerpt 3

Half an hour later, Anna gave her signature bow and released the shivers she’d stoppered inside. They’d survived another day.

“You shortened the speech,” Julia said, hastening to her with her shawl and coat.

Bah. Their minuscule brains couldn’t handle more.” Julia helped her into her coat. Anna buttoned it up. “I am getting tired of facing down these Copperhead snakes at every speech.” She glanced at Julia. The girl’s lips were blue with cold. “Let’s find you a nice warm fire.”

“There should be one at the hotel.” Julia tugged on her cape and draped Anna’s shawl over her shoulders.

Anna looped arms with her, and together they walked out of the church. On the threshold, they halted under the sheltering overhang. Rain still poured down. From the mountain of coal waste shadowing the town, a froth of gray black culm ran down the road and gathered around the step. Anna clamped her teeth together and slowly lifted her skirts.

“Wait.” A hand brushed her sleeve.

“Yes?” She turned and discovered a man shorter than herself peering up at her. Wrapped in a plaid cloth, he stood round-shouldered, his face a patchwork of leathery skin, gray eyes, and grizzled beard.

“Dear lady, I’d come to curse you, I did. I firmly believe a woman’s place is in the home. Well, but now I’ve aheard you, and I think surely God has sent you, an angel out of heaven, to fight for justice.”

He paused, his tongue sweeping over his lips, as if testing to see if the words were really his. “Ain’t an educated man. Ain’t seen the world. Spent my days in the dark well of the mine where thinking too hard puts you on the blacklist. But believe me; I never heard anyone speak like you did today. You’re not like those politicians. Heard you punch out at evil and wrong. Heard you agree that allowing the rich to pay their way out of the draft is unfair.”

He looked away, not at the town, but at the sky. “You should understand why we’re angry. The miners here, when they’re drafted, their little boys and their old, bent fathers must go into the mine to keep food on the table. But today, you’ve made me see a broader view—why we must win this war.”

He scowled. “But miss, I envy the slave and the soldier lucky to have your voice speaking out for them. So, I made a prayer back there to God.” He pointed back inside the church. “Someday … someday soon, when the war be done and over, you come back here and use that voice from the angels to fight for a better life for us miners. Will you please?”

“Justice is my mission. Worker’s rights, people’s rights, my cause.” Anna put a hand on either side of his head, bent over, and bestowed a kiss on his pate. She straightened up. “When I return, I will visit your—”

Splat.

Wood splintered behind her.

Anna spun around and slapped at her hair.

A look of horror flashed across the miner’s face. “Down.” He dropped to the ground and crawled back into the church.

“Get down,” Julia echoed and thrust Anna onto the muddy steps, covering her body with hers. “Someone shot at you.”

“No. Let me up.” Anna rolled out from under Julia’s weight and staggered to her feet. “I will not cower.”

Another shot passed over her head and struck the frame of the church door. Chips of molding flew up like startled birds. The noise reverberated off the clapboard houses that tipped up and down the street and echoed through the hills.

Her body went numb with the sound then rebounded like a soldier under fire, full of heat, primed to kill or to run. Anna squinted into the rain, searching for her attacker, aware that she and Julia stood exposed. She called out, her voice sharper than any saber, “Cowards! Hiding behind a gun. Come out and face me.” She spread her arms out wide and descended the steps. If they thought she would turn and flee, she’d never be allowed on the platform again. No one worshipped a victim. “Are you afraid of me? A girl?”

About the Author:

When she is not writing in her studio by the sea, Joan Koster lives with her historian husband and a coon cat named Cleo in an 1860s farmhouse stacked to the ceiling with books. In a life full of adventures, she has scaled mountains, chased sheep, and been abandoned on an island for longer than she wants to remember.

An award-winning author who loves mentoring writers, Joan blends her love of history, and romance, into historical novels about women who shouldn’t be forgotten and into romantic thrillers under the pen name, Zara West. She is the author of the award-winning romantic suspense series The Skin Quartet and the top-selling Write for Success series.

Joan blogs at JoanKoster.com, Women Words and Wisdom, American Civil War Voice, Zara West Romance, and Zara West’s Journal and teaches numerous online writing courses.

Social Media Links:

Website: https://joankoster.com

Amazon Author Page:  https://www.amazon.com/Joan-Bouza-Koster/e/B001HMM9VI

Newsletter Sign Up: https://www.joankoster.com/tidbits-newsletter-sign-up/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/joan-bouza-koster

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3989103.Joan_Bouza_Koster

Facebook: https://facebook.com/joankosterauthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/womenwewrite

Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/joankosterauthor

Instagram: https://instagram.com/joankosterauthor

ResearchGate: https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Joan-Koster

LinkedIn:  https://www.linkedin.com/in/joankosterauthor/   

YouTube:  https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7Vc5_q59l7Z4jPxE6MwYhg

GOODREADS book link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63126355-that-dickinson-girl

BOOK TOUR: Rocked in Time by Charles Degelman #LiteraryFiction #Politics @pumpupyourbook @CDegelman

Rocked in Time is set in the rebellion, love, and chaos of the 1960s and ‘70s and explores a world of resistance and celebrates those who dared to buck the system in those turbulent times…

By Charles Degelman

Book Blurb

Rocked in Time (Volume Three in
the Resistance Trilogy) slips behind the scenes of a blasphemous
theater company hell-bent on toppling America’s Vietnam-era
establishment with punch lines, pratfalls, and comic rebellion. Along
the way, our protagonist pursues a love for the stage, a passion for
resistance, and the intimate politics of sexual revolution amid the
tear-gassed campuses and burning cities of a nation at war with itself.

Release Date: October 18, 2022

Publisher: Harvard Square Editions

Soft Cover: 978-1941861882; 408 pages; $22.95

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3AhO7NW

Book Excerpt  

RATMAN MEETS THE 50-FOOT HINDU

The Emeryville flats used to stink of the tide. Dead fish, drying algae, bottles and cans, old tires lay scattered over a landscape of mud and sewage. Stick figures perched on the muddy edges of the East Bay, fanciful driftwood and tin creatures standing stork-legged in the mud, stick-flapping arms, wings, feathers, broken brooms, old flags, weathervanes, hubcaps, rusted saw blades, other detritus.

Celebrating America’s junk. Resistance. We drove together, my cousin Eric and I, in a VW bus weathered to a chalky blue. Across the flats, the Bay Bridge arched toward Angel Island and beyond, to the summer fog bank of San Francisco. We bounced into the Haight-Ashbury to check out a band my cousin had written to me about the previous winter. He called them the Jefferson Airplane and they were playing at a little club called The Matrix.

We were stoned on Mexican weed. I was reciting lines from Ratman Meets the 50-Foot Hindu, a play I had recently closed back in Harvard’s experimental, black box theater. I played a 50-foot Hindu who had journeyed to America to avenge the murder of the sacred cow. This zealot took his revenge by stomping his burger-munching victims to death with a set of hooves.

I’d picked up the fake Indian accent from the cultural ether without offense. White people had begun to stir, waking to the notion that civil rights were human rights and that racism was alive and well in America. When Ratman and the 50-foot Hindu walked the earth, India still seemed like a distant, overpopulated nation, shaped by British colonialism, its independence two decades old but still imbued with the nonviolence of Gandhi and the meditative power of the spinning wheel. The Maharishi hadn’t yet hustled The Beatles, India and Pakistan hadn’t yet become nuclear powers, Bangladesh hadn’t been flooded out by cyclones, and John and Yoko’s meditations hadn’t dispatched my generation on a simpleton’s goose chase.

So, my Hindu accent was still okay and my character diabolical, a complex being who, beyond his fierce and scheming interior, presented himself as an addled older gentleman whose faith had been defiled by America’s hamburger fetish. He was a man with a mission. But the 50-foot Hindu had proven to be no match for Ratman.

In the finale, the superhero and his diabolically tragic foe squared off in a revolving restaurant high above the city.

More…
 

About the Author

Charles Degelman is an award-winning author, performer, and producer living in Los Angeles. After graduating Harvard, Degelman left academia to become an antiwar activist, political theater artist, musician, communard, carpenter, hard-rock miner, and itinerant gypsy trucker. When the dust settled, he returned to his first love, writing.

A Bowl Full of Nails, set in the rural counterculture of the 1970s, collected a Bronze Medal from the 2015 Independent Publishers Book Awards and Gates of Eden, set during the anti-war movement of the 1960s, won an Independent Publishers book award.

Degelman’s screenplay Fifty-Second Street garnered an award from the Diane Thomas Competition, sponsored by UCLA/Dreamworks. A second screenplay, The Red Car, reached finalist status in Francis Ford Coppola’s American Zoetrope Screenplay Contest.

In addition, Degelman has written and produced documentary and educational films for TNT, Churchill Films, Pyramid Films, and Philips Interactive Media. He co-founded Indecent Exposure, a Los Angeles-based theater company dedicated to creating original, high-quality, socially relevant work for the stage. Degelman is on the faculty of California State University where he teaches writing in the Communication Studies Department.

His latest book is the historical fiction, Rocked in Time.

Website: https://www.charlesdegelman.org/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/CDegelman

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/charlesdegelman/

Sponsored By:

BOOK TOUR: Heart of Flame by Kate Schumacher  #FantasyBooks #TheAileryanFires @RRBookTours1

To celebrate the release of the second book in The Fires of Aileryan series, Heart of Flame, we are sharing both gorgeous books with you all! Read on for more info and treat yourself to an epic fantasy journey.

ebook-1600x2400[972]

Shadow of Fire

Publication Date: May 5th, 2022

Genre: Fantasy/ Multiple POV

Length: 370 pages

A potent power is about to be unleashed.

Forbidden and forged in flame.

Control over the elements is a gift from the Gods, but since the creation of the Rift, fire magic has been outlawed in Merawuld. The Rift is a source of mystery, fear, and, for some, a tempting source of power.

Ash is a fire caster who has spent years hiding her magic, but when her explosive powers reveal themselves she is imprisoned by the Mage Council. Ash’s powers are coveted by the High Mage, who seeks to use her as a pawn against not only his enemies, but his allies as well.

With the Bone Mother’s winter fast approaching, the fae Princess vows to fight against the corrupting influence of power, forming an alliance whose success rests on a human man’s desire for peace; a man who must decide if he will play the game he’s inherited or begin one of his own.

But in Aileryan, the Gods have their own plans. As the Mother of All turns the wheel of the year, the land is brought to the edge of war. Loyalty and courage will be sorely tested as paths intertwine and Fate plays her hand.

If Ash can’t learn to control her magic, the scheming of gods and mortals could spell doom for them all.

Add to Goodreads

Excerpt

Laeli jumped as the sound of steel striking steel cut through the night. She slipped into a crouch, buckling on her scabbard, sliding the twin swords against her back and crept to the opening of the cairn.

Bran shouted a single word. Run.

As wings of light fluttered across the dark pit of the sky, Laeli saw him, his lithe body ducking and weaving around a sword wielded by a tall man in a cloak of fur. Two dead men lay on the ground, Bran’s dagger protruding from a chest. As Laeli watched, Bran’s opponent crouched and swept his leg wide, catching Bran off guard. Her companion tumbled to the ground and, before he could get to his feet, a sword swung through the air in a precise arc.

Laeli stared in horror as Bran’s head was swiftly sliced from his body. Slowly, so slowly, it fell, toppling to the ground to bounce and roll away. Laeli’s dinner rose like a snake and she turned to the side and vomited.

The sky opened, and as veins of light cracked the black canvas of night, the man in furs looked up and saw her. His sword glinted as he approached, blood dripping hypnotically to the ground.

Bran’s blood; fae blood.

Without another thought, Laeli sprang from the cairn and sprinted for the safety of the forest. The trees reached for her, inviting her in; she bent her head and dove between their trunks, taking shelter in their branches, in the roots that snaked from the earth and the rocks and soft grass that spread across the forest floor. The sky ripped apart again, illuminating the trees, the forest bending and swaying in the fierce wind as the storm intensified.

She pushed on, running at a reckless pace that no human could match, until her lungs burned and she fell to her knees in a puddle of dirty water, her breath coming in pants that shook her to the bone. She was still a long way from the border, from safety.

Laeli took a deep breath, preparing to run again, but the point of a sword pressed into her spine.

‘Get up, Witch.’ The voice was low, husky, his breathing quick.

Available on Amazon

ebook-1600x2560 (1)

Heart of Flame

Publication Date: November 14th, 2022

Genre: Fantasy/ Multiple POV

Length: 536 pages

Fires that curse, fires that heal,
And all the while, so turns the wheel…

With the Queen of Merawuld confined to her bed and the city of Tyllcarric in the iron grasp of the High Mage, war is closing in on all horizons for Ash and Senan. Hellbent on eliminating any threats to the fae throne, Kiarda of Veshlir has raised an army to claim her prize — and she will not be stopped.

Meanwhile, across the border, change is afoot in Estilleon.

Thalion’s men are ready for rebellion, but when the first rush of power ends, he finds himself forced to toe the line between strength and brutality. By his side, Laeli is a stranger in the human world — caught between love and loyalty in a land that stifles her voice.

As conflict escalates across the land of Aileryan, those with power clash amidst a sea of ideals, dreams and greed, forcing the most battle-scarred to overcome their demons and prove they are a force to be reckoned with.

For that which has been dormant for so long is about to burst forth, and when the winter solstice arrives, all will be at the mercy of the Gods…

Add to Goodreads

Excerpt

Fires that curse, fires that heal,

And all the while, so turns the wheel…

With the Queen of Merawuld confined to her bed and the city of Tyllcarric in the iron grasp of the High Mage, war is closing in on all horizons for Ash and Senan. Hellbent on eliminating any threats to the fae throne, Kiarda of Veshlir has raised an army to claim her prize — and she will not be stopped.

Meanwhile, across the border, change is afoot in Estilleon.

Thalion’s men are ready for rebellion, but when the first rush of power ends, he finds himself forced to toe the line between strength and brutality. By his side, Laeli is a stranger in the human world — caught between love and loyalty in a land that stifles her voice.

As conflict escalates across the land of Aileryan, those with power clash amidst a sea of ideals, dreams and greed, forcing the most battle-scarred to overcome their demons and prove they are a force to be reckoned with.

For that which has been dormant for so long is about to burst forth, and when the winter solstice arrives, all will be at the mercy of the Gods…

Available on Amazon

About the Author

author pic2

KATE SCHUMACHER is a writer, mother and teacher. When she isn’t writing, she is reading her way through an ever-growing TBR pile. Kate has wanted to be an author since she was a child, and finds time to write in the in-between moments of life.

Kate completed a Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing and Journalism, and an Honours degree in Screenwriting, followed by a Graduate Diploma in Education.

She lives in Northern NSW, Australia, with her partner, two children and three very spoiled cats. Heart of Flame is the second book in The Fires of Aileryan series.

Follow her on Instagram and TikTok @kate.schumacher.writer or visit her website kateschumacherauthor.com

Book Tour Schedule

December 12th

R&R Book Tours (Kick-Off) http://rrbooktours.com

@alexis.reads__ (Review) https://instagram.com/alexis.reads__?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

@wanderingwitchreads (Review) https://www.tiktok.com/@wanderingwitchreads

@margiebythebookcase (Review) https://www.instagram.com/margiebythebookcase/

@dany.alvy (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/dany.alvy/

@elinasbookstagram (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/elinasbookstagram/

@latishaslowkeylife (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/latishaslowkeylife/

@writer_sarahalexis (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/writer_sarahalexis

December 13th

@amber.bunch_author (Review) https://www.instagram.com/amber.bunch_author/

@mels_booksandhooks (Review) https://www.instagram.com/mels_booksandhooks/

Breakeven Books (Spotlight) https://breakevenbooks.com

@abookworld___ (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/abookworld___/

Sadie’s Spotlight (Spotlight) http://sadiesspotlight.com/

Cocktails & Fairytales (Spotlight) https://www.facebook.com/CocktailsFairytales

December 14th

@mandioyster (Review) https://www.instagram.com/mandioyster/

@accio_mischief (Review) https://www.instagram.com/accio_mischief/

Bunny’s Reviews (Review) https://bookwormbunnyreviews.blogspot.com/

I Love Books & Stuff (Spotlight) https://ilovebooksandstuffblog.wordpress.com

I Smell Sheep (Spotlight) http://www.ismellsheep.com/

December 15th

@over.on.my.bookshelf (Review) https://www.instagram.com/over.on.my.bookshelf/?hl=en

Lady Hawkeye (Review) https://www.ladyhawkeye.com/

@kellyatx – https://www.instagram.com/kellyatx/

@better_0ff_read (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/better_0ff_read/

December 16th

@its_b.e.l.l.e (Review) https://www.instagram.com/its_b.e.l.l.e/

@booktreasuresau (Review) https://www.instagram.com/booktreasuresau/

@caffeinatedbibliophilia (Review) https://www.instagram.com/caffeinatedbibliophilia/

Lecari’s Live Journal (Spotlight) https://www.lecari.co.uk/

Liliyana Shadowlyn (Spotlight) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

Book Tour Organized By:

R&R Button

R&R Book Tours

BOOK TOUR: My Dead True Love by Kim Pierce #WomensLiterature

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. A randomly drawn winner will receive a $50 Amazon/BN GC. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

When a newspaper reporter’s fiancé dies abruptly, she questions how he could just cease to be.

Dogged by unbidden thoughts, odd coincidences and unexplained phenomena, Ann Stewart becomes obsessed with finding out what really happens after we die and whether her beloved Gregory is still out there. She finds her answer, which takes her and a close-knit coterie of women to the edge of the cosmos—and the core of their own hearts.

Based on a true story.

 
Enjoy an Excerpt

“It was definitely Gregory,” Connie declared, forcing herself to return to the vision. “As clear as if he were standing next to me. Smiling.”

“If you saw him”—and I still wasn’t believing—“did he see you? Did he see me?”

It made no sense, but I had to know more.

“I don’t know. I tried to un-see him. I really did,” she said, turning to me, something akin to terror twisting her face. “This ‘seeing’ is a part of me that triggers so much shame—and reactivates the trauma. Like shell shock.” Red mottling crept up Connie’s neck and onto her cheeks.

She saw him. The words slid off my brain as if she were speaking in tongues. What did that mean?

“Could it have been your imagination?” I offered wanly, not wanting that to be the case.

“Yes, I suppose it could.”

Neither of us believed it.

I waited.

“What would it mean for you to ‘see’ him?” I pressed.

Tell me. Even if it makes no sense.

“That there’s something wrong with me,” came her acrid reply. “Deeply, terribly wrong. At least that’s what my father would say. And a lot of other people who make judgments about what I can do.” She slammed the car into park a little too aggressively.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I said, getting out of the car.

Connie shut down.

“I need to go home for a while,” she said.

Tell. Me. More.

About the Author: Kim Pierce is a former Dallas Morning News writer and editor who completed the Writer’s Path fiction program at Southern Methodist University. My Dead True Love is her first novel, inspired by events surrounding the death of her fiancé in 1998. She lives in Dallas, Texas, with her partner and three cats.

Website

Buy the book at Amazon.

a Rafflecopter giveaway