Book Blitz: Light Tripper by Jo-Anne Tomlinson

Light Tripper
Jo-Anne Tomlinson
Publication date: October 23rd 2018
Genres: Cyberpunk, Science Fiction

In the 23rd century, bounty hunter, Sal Tripp is a girl with simple needs.

A decent replicated meal, a bullet-free head and keeping her ability to manipulate kinetic energy under wraps.

No easy task when your home is Morpheus, a sleazy band of planets populated by the scum of the outer systems or when your father is the infamous Morgan Tripp, a once proud pilot in the Planetary Alliance, now reduced to a drug addicted, has-been who owes credits to every gangster in the galaxy.

The upside? Light Tripper, their derelict ship. For Sal it is freedom and adventure, and when they get their hands on a new jump drive, it might even get them to Earth, which Sal has heard is beautiful and green.

That is until the day Light Tripper’s thrusters kick the bucket, delivering them right into the hands of the system’s most ruthless crime boss and crossing their path with a hardened soldier who knows far more about Sal and Morgan than he should. Then they find themselves face-to-face with the Planetary Alliance, who may not be the humble saviours the galaxy takes them for.

It’s up to Sal to clean up Morgan’s mess one more time and not get herself killed in the process. But with her powers evolving and the truths of her past threatening to undo her future, just who can Sal trust in a system where it’s every scumbag for themselves?

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BOOK TRAILER:

 

Author Bio:

Jo-Anne Tomlinson was born and bred in the mystical land of New Zealand.
No, she wasn’t in Lord of the Rings. No, she doesn’t know that guy, Steve. Yes, she has seen a kiwi and they are both powerful and majestic.

As well as writing, Jo-Anne is an inventor, currently designing a sophisticated robot that will spit out a completed manuscript based on a very vague synopsis. Unfortunately, as she hasn’t even mastered the TV remote, progress is slow.

When not writing or reading, you’ll find her playing video games, watching terrible movies and eavesdropping on people who argue in malls. Lastly, she doesn’t mind if you call her Jo.

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Release Day: Vampires by Esther E. Schmidt

“Vampires” Death by Reaper MC #2

Title: “Vampires”
Series: Death by Reaper MC
Author: Esther E. Schmidt
Cover Design: Esther E. Schmidt
Cover model: Scott Holliday
Photographer: Reggie Deanching of RplusMphoto.com
Release Day: October 23, 2018

Buy Links:
books2read.com/Vampires

Add to Goodreads:
goodreads.com/book/show/42185399-vampires

Being kidnapped and unexpectedly thrust into the paranormal world she didn’t even know existed has overwhelmed Tessera. Even more, because her savior is the President of the Death by Reaper MC, Vampire Charter, who claimed her as his eternal mate.

Between protecting his mate from his own wrath and trying to balance his MC duties, Jagger is fighting a battle bigger than the fight between good and evil. Finding a solution for the stack of danger that keeps growing might involve teaming up with a new enemy who is reluctant to join forces. With a threat of an apocalypse in the near future, there is no option other than to surrender to the truth more paranormal lives are needed to keep the rest of the world living.

Evil hides in the inevitable to rectify redemption. Dive into book two of Death by Reaper MC and submit to the reality crawling into the darkness might be the only good this world has to offer.

Vampires can be read as a standalone. For a greater reading experience, recommended reading order:
books2read.com/Hellhounds
books2read.com/Vampires

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Promo Blitz: F**k You, Your Honor by Craig Chambers

 

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Literary Fiction, Satire
Date Published: June 2017
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Publisher: Black Letter Editions
F*ck You, Your Honor is a satirical literary novel about a low-end attorney and real estate broker who is ordered by a judge to write a book to save his law license.
Attorney Darwyn “Wyn” VanWye is down on his luck. He squats in a foreclosed government-owned HUD home and conducts his law practice over his smart phone from a sports bar.
While attempting to reconcile with Amalia, his Argentine ex-wife, so his excessive alimony payments can be terminated, Judge Solomon arbitrarily sanctions him for misconduct. Instead of a fine or jail time, the judge sentences him to write a sixty-five thousand word book about the “dignity and integrity” of the legal system. Wyn believes the judge is out to get him.
After resisting the order, F*ck You, Your Honor is the book Wyn writes to hopefully save his law license. Will he succeed in placating the judge and winning back his ex-wife?
The book is loosely inspired by an article in the Wall Street Journal about a pharmaceutical executive who was sentenced by a Federal judge to write a book to show penance for lying to the Federal Trade Commission. The executive wrote the book, but instead of writing the reflective work the judge ordered, he denounced the unfairness of the legal system.
What if a lawyer was ordered to write a book like this? His first instinct would be to try to argue his way out of it.
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Excerpt
 29
Another day, I met a new prospective client at The Overtime who wanted to retain me to file for a divorce. I was talking to Cora who was busy with the lunch crowd when the prospect arrived thirty minutes early. I hate clients who are too punctual; it shows they are controlling. It’s rude. Here am I busy working on another case, and a prospective client comes in, and I feel the pressure of her waiting for me across The Overtime. But I immediately forgave her as soon as I saw her.
I must say, if ever I was tempted to start a sexual relationship with a client, this would be the one. After the case was over, of course. I could easily see myself ridding my new client of her soon-to-be ex-husband, and, maybe months later, after enough time had passed… my thoughts wandered off for a second and then wandered back to the case. Although she was probably in her late thirties, she had aged well; beautiful lips, a sensual curved neck. She had a rich, Southern drawl.
As I introduced myself, she let out this warm vibe. I made her fill out the questionnaire while she waited. Questions about the date and history of the marriage, names and addresses, the number of children, any instances of domestic violence. All based on statutes and precedent that I would need to file her case.
I noticed by her questionnaire she lived in a prestigious area of overpriced bungalows and Tudors that surrounded a big park near downtown. The park had a lake and a boathouse. Amalia and I used to go down there some afternoons in the summers for picnics and free concerts. I think part of my attraction to her, however, subconsciously, she reminded me of Amalia.
I never really thought that I had a type. I guess I do. I never liked the competitive career women, and just as important, they never liked me.
This woman was warm and kind. She was of Spanish or Mexican origin, but unlike Amalia, she had been totally Americanized. She spoke perfect English, ate bland food at The Overtime, though she dressed flamboyantly. She worked as a branch manager in a bank. She complained about the inflated prices of real estate and the ridiculous number of Starbucks. On street corners. In grocery stores. In strip malls. Being a banker, I guess she did the math, and $6 a cup is a lot for a cup of coffee.
She confided her husband had not touched her in a year. Unbelievable! I wanted to leap out of my chair and kiss her. I hadn’t touched Amalia in over a year, either.
The first thing I did, I asked her if she and her husband could reconcile. There’s a ninety-one day waiting period for a divorce, to give the couple time to cool off, maybe go to counseling.
If the parties went through a divorce, I could make thousands of dollars. If the couple can’t get along in the divorce, and both get lawyers, a couple can blow through their life savings. If the parties reconcile, the divorce is either dismissed or never filed, and I earn, well, nothing. Amalia called this “chewing my paw.”
I thought again about my divorce. Some of the arguments with Amalia were just silly.
One time, we fought over a banana. I had left a banana on the kitchen counter the night before court to pack with my exhibit books. I usually brought a snack to help me through a whole day trial. Some judges allowed you to bring food into the courtroom to eat on the breaks; others didn’t. Without even telling me, she ate the last banana.
I have to admit, at the time, I was furious.
Another time, she packed me a lunch, put it in my briefcase, and took out my notebook with all my notes for a hearing. I appeared in court, totally unprepared. Sabotaged by Amalia. Lucky for me the case was continued. We went round and round as to who was at fault on this one.
My arguments with Amalia were passionate; never violent. They almost always ended in laughter. For a few years, we had a dog, Knuckles, though the dog eventually died. One day we took him to the vet. She wrote the dog’s name down on a form at the vet’s office: ‘Nuckles’. I informed her the word began with a silent K. The word didn’t register with her, and she had a hard time believing me. I can still hear her making the K sound, trying to pronounce it, trying to make sense of the word.
The English language mystified her. The next time she wrote out a grocery list, along with the milk and some more bananas, she asked me to pick up a package of ‘knoodles’.
I may not be the best one to give a guy marital advice, but still, here goes: Sleep with your wife from time to time. Be nice to her. Otherwise, keep your penis in your pants. These, along with financial difficulties, are the main causes of a divorce.
I explained the essence of a dissolution of marriage, showing off my knowledge with citations of statutes and case law. The first step after a divorce is filed—the parties exchange financial statements and supply the supporting documentation. I call this making the pie. Once you make the pie, you divide the pie, calculating how to fairly distribute the personal property, the assets and debts between the parties. Every asset is taken into account. From the smallest savings bond to the parties’ coin collection, each coin valued and divided coin by coin. The court will even divide the porn.
A divorce works like this: most lawyers review the financial documents, and based on the factors in the statute, calculate what their client is reasonably entitled to. Then they double it. So they will stay employed.
The most accurate definition of a divorce I copied from a well-respected, influential, and prestigious legal journal.
“A divorce is a domestic legal proceeding which takes a highly dysfunctional family, and legally divides it into two highly dysfunctional families.” That was the best definition I ever heard.
I gave her advice about the fundamentals of a divorce. There were statutes about temporary orders, how child support was calculated, parenting time was determined, alimony figured, property, pensions, and debts divided. Hopefully, there’s not much to fight about. If there are no children, thank God. That’s where people fight the most. They also fight about money, until they see how much money they will have to spend to fight about the money. First, a couple doesn’t need to agree to get a divorce. That hardly makes sense. If a couple cannot agree on who will pay the sewer bill, they cannot agree on the divorce. Second, if one party says the marriage is broken, it’s broken. End of story. Agreements of the parties or other court orders are enforced through contempt proceedings, which is an allegation of a deliberate violation of a court order under Rule 107. There are two types of contempt: punitive and remedial.
Remedial contempt is when the judge is mad enough at a party for violating a court order, he or she can put you in jail until you comply. Punitive contempt is when a judge is real mad, he or she can simply put you in jail. (Amazing, though, how a deadbeat dad who owes back child support, has no money, no job, no savings, and no prospects—through some miracle of math or accounting is able to purge a remedial contempt by coughing up ten thousand dollars after spending only one night in jail.)
The smartest thing any divorcing couple can do is sit down and work out a compromise. Settle some of the divorce or all of it ahead of getting the lawyers involved. Write it on a napkin and sign it. It doesn’t matter what form it is in.
A guy usually knows he has to share the assets of the marriage with his wife, especially if the wife is a housewife. A woman thinks differently. She doesn’t like to share. All of the assets are hers; all of the debts are his. That was the story of my divorce.
I gave my prospective client some good advice: “Empty all the bank accounts,” I suggested. “If you don’t, your husband certainly will. Once he finds out you are thinking about filing the divorce.”
This was sound legal reasoning. Before a divorce is filed, there are no court orders in place to protect the assets so the court can divide them fairly. One parent can run off with the children. Or abscond with all the assets and gamble them away in Las Vegas. Once the divorce is filed or if the money disappears in contemplation of the divorce, you will have to fully account for yourself and your finances.
About the Author

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In his junior year in college, Craig Chambers attended the University of Leeds in England. He did not attend a single class, traveled around Europe instead. He came back and took the final exams, only to be disappointed that he got a 1 in English. He later learned that “First Honors” was the highest grade.
In the ‘80s he became a real estate broker while he worked on developing his writing style. Chambers attended law school in the ‘90’s because he observed a real estate closing where the lawyer messed up the deal, but still charged a fee of $1,000. He figured he could mess up a real estate deal for a lot less than that. His literary satire on the legal system, F*ck You, Your Honor, was released in June, 2017. He resides in Littleton, CO.
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Book Blitz: A Heritage of Death by Alexa Padgett

A Heritage of Death
Alexa Padgett
(A Reverend Cici Gurule Mystery, #2)
Publication date: October 23rd 2018
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Thriller

An unconventional pastor. A brutal murder. To solve the case, one reverend will look for help from beyond the grave…

Reverend Cecelia “Cici” Gurule dreams of a bruised and bloodied woman who looks alarmingly like Cici. She’d like to pretend the dream is a nightmare and nothing more, but there are too many coincidences in her waking life to write it off. Like the baby that turns up on her porch–a baby that disappeared weeks before.

Cici and Detective Sam Chastain race to find the woman, but the killer finds her first. As the trail grows cold, Cici’s only chance to solve the mystery before she becomes the next target may be a clue left by her ghostly twin.

A Heritage of Death is the second novel in a compelling female sleuth mystery series for fans of Ruth Ware and Gilly MacMillan. If you like convention-shattering heroines, vivid Southwest settings, and a touch of the paranormal, then you’ll love Alexa Padgett’s twisty mystery.

Buy A Heritage of Death and hold on tight for a white-knuckle thrill ride today!

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

She opened the door that connected to the kitchen to find both her dogs waiting, tails wagging, for her. While she hugged and pet them, she talked about her day.

“Ready for a walk?” she asked.

Strolling through the streets, Cici passed a few of her neighbors and waved. The heat stuck to her skin, coating her in sweat and an unwelcome, oppressive blanket.

She watched Mona frisk around, her plumed tail wagging. Rodolfo stayed close to her side, his pace sedate, his tongue already lolling. Poor boy. Recovering from near-death took time.

She leaned over and pet his ears.

“I’m so thankful you’re still with me,” she said. He turned his face up toward hers, brown eyes sharp, tongue sliding to the back of his mouth as his canine grin spread.

She walked toward the park at the end of the street, planning to let Rodolfo sit by the side of the cottonwoods while she and Mona attempted some fetch. Mona refused to drop the ball once she collected it, instead darting to and fro, and having a delightful doggy game of tag.

Not Cici’s favorite game but Mona lived for it. They transitioned into the park area and Cici grabbed the ball from her pocket.

She threw it just as a thick wave of dizziness slammed her, causing her to shut her eyes. A strange tugging sensation rippled over her, one she’d felt before. Cici shook her head, trying to force the vision out of her mind.

“No. I don’t like that,” she murmured. “Don’t do that to me, Aci. It’s awful.”

Her sister didn’t listen—not that Cici expected her to.

Cici continued to fight, but Anna Carmen tugged at her consciousness. Come. See. You don’t have much time.

“Aci?” Cici asked, her heart aching at the sound of her twin’s voice, even if it was just in her head—in this nightmare. She succumbed to her sister’s voice, desperate for a deeper, a stronger, connection to her twin.

But her sister was gone, and Cici was back in Grace’s head, how she knew this, she couldn’t say. Just that she knew she was Grace Bruin and she was scared.

***

Becky finally appeared. As soon as Cici, no she was Grace . . . .As soon as she, Grace received the text, she forwarded it to Becky. She snuck out of the police building, her heart hurting for Henry, for herself, but she couldn’t let her baby suffer.

“There were lights in the cabin. And an old SUV. I think.” Becky swallowed, eyes wide in the dark. “I think it’s the sheriff.”

Grace’s heart plummeted. “Take Isabel. Get out of here.”

“I can’t leave you here!”

“You don’t have a choice. Please, Becky. Please.”

“Where can I take her?” Becky asked. “There was a Taos police car here earlier. What if all the police are involved?”

“They might be.” Grace bit her lip, tugging Isabel tighter to her chest. “Go to Santa Fe. To Reverend Gurule. She’ll figure it out. What to tell Henry and everything. Yeah. Go to her.”

“No, Gracie. I’m not leaving you here.” Large tears tumbled down Becky’s cheeks. “I’m the one who wanted to look into this. I’m the reason you’re here.”

“We don’t have time to argue,” Grace said, her voice urgent. “He’ll come back soon. He checks in often.”

“Has he . . .” Becky gulped. “Has he hurt you?”

Grace held out her daughter again. “Save her for me,” she said, her throat clogged with emotion.

“I don’t have a car seat.”

“My car does. It’s out there, right? There’s a key under the driver’s side front tire. In one of those little magnetic boxes. Henry made me get one. He was worried about those stories—you know, babies dying in hot cars.”

“Okay.” Becky sniffled.

Grace pulled the sleeping baby closer to her and kissed her daughter’s soft, sweet face. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Grace . . .”

Grace turned her face away. Tears dripped from her quivering chin. “Go!”

Becky picked up the baby and clattered up the stairs. She turned once and looked back, her eyes wide with fear.

Grace almost called her back as the fear of darkness overwhelmed her.

What would he do to her once he realized the baby was gone? That someone else knew his secret?

Grace opened her mouth, about to plead with Becky to take her, too.

Becky disappeared. The wooden doors slammed.

And the wait for the inevitable pain began.

Author Bio:

With a degree in international marketing and a varied career path that includes content management for a web firm, marketing direction for a high-profile sports agency, and a two-year stint with a renowned literary agency, award-winning author Alexa Padgett has returned to her first love: writing fiction.

Alexa spent a good part of her youth traveling. From Budapest to Belize, Calgary to Coober Pedy, she soaked in the myriad smells, sounds, and feels of these gorgeous places, wishing she could live in them all—at least for a while. And she does in her books.

She lives in New Mexico with her husband, children, and Great Pyrenees pup, Ash. When not writing, schlepping, or volunteering, she can be found in her tiny kitchen, channeling her inner Barefoot Contessa.

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Book Blitz: Sun Scorched by Jen Crane

Sunscorched
Jen Crane
(Subterranean Series, #1)
Publication date: October 23rd 2018
Genres: Dystopian, Fantasy, Young Adult

Death at daylight. Danger at dark.

Life can’t possibly get more treacherous than a violent sun allergy in a solar-blighted world. At least that’s what seventeen-year-old Nori Chisholm thought before news of an impending sunscorch delivered her death sentence.

Desperate to survive the scorch, she’s forced to shelter underground and discovers a secret subterranean world where life is hard, and so are the people. Betrayed and left for dead by the man who pledged to help her, Nori is sold to a gritty pit fighting ring. There she makes a friend—and plenty of enemies.

Speeding by motorcycle through the underground world, Nori makes a shocking discovery that shatters everything she thought she knew. Can she use the knowledge to save what’s left of the world?

Winner of the Rosemary Award for excellence in young adult fiction, Sunscorched is a tale of survival and self-discovery at breakneck speed. Fans of Bella Forrest and Marie Lu, who crave dangerous heroes and dark secrets, will love the Sunscorched world.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

A trail of blood disappeared beyond the door of the small foyer. The man Nori rescued lay face-up, the knot near his temple swelling fast. His leg oozed blood, the scarlet pool closing in on the tiny corner of space Nori occupied. When she found the wound—and the gaping tear in his leather riding pants—dread settled in her gut. The bleeding would have to be stopped if he was going to survive, which meant she had to do it.

Nori groaned and scrubbed her eyes, then set to work. She sifted through her backpack for something to tie around his wound, finding both a pocketknife and the thick, sun-blocking canvas she always kept nearby. She ripped a long strip of the fabric and wrapped it several times around the man’s injured thigh.

“Probably a good thing you can’t feel this,” she said to his unconscious form and, catching another look at the knot on his head, grimaced. “You’re gonna have a pretty bad headache, too.”

After tying the two ends together, Nori sat back to admire her work. Blood had soaked through most of the bandage, but it wasn’t seeping onto the floor anymore, at least.

Mom and Dad are probably freaking out by now, Nori thought. Curled in the corner of the foyer farthest from the man, she sat with arms wrapped around bent knees. The man outside hadn’t made a sound. Maybe he hadn’t seen her. Maybe he’d left. Or maybe he was waiting just outside the door.

Nori rocked back and forth, forehead pressed to her knees. Finally, she let out a long breath and stretched her legs. She was leaving. She’d saved the stranger. Twice. He was hidden in the foyer, and when he came to, he could find his own way back to safety.

Bracing herself on the wall to stand, she kept as far as possible from the unconscious body between her and the door. Stretching over him to reach the door, she extended one leg, straddling him only a moment until she lifted the other to join it. But as she raised her back foot, the front one was knocked from under her, sending her roughly down onto her butt. She yelped and looked wildly around, scurrying back to the foyer wall. Hands in front of her face, she prepared to defend herself as best she could.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. His voice was deep, but not threatening. “Where are we?”

Nori flattened her palms to the wall, pushing herself against it to stand again. She didn’t answer.

The steely eyes from the alley focused on her face. He surveyed her hair, her shoes, and her clothes before finding her eyes.

“What did you throw?” he asked.

The question caught her off guard. “Wh-what?”

“What did you throw? To distract him?”

“A book.”

“A book?”

Nori nodded as she edged toward the door—and the street.

“What were you doing with a book?” he asked.

“Reading,” she said, pinning him with a look that seriously doubted his intelligence.

Dark eyebrows lowered over narrowed eyes. “In the dark?”

Nori bit the inside of her cheek. “Of course not,” she said. She’d been running in the dark, not reading, though she often did. But he didn’t have to know that. “It was in my backpack from earlier today.”

He squinted, as if he didn’t quite believe her. “What happened to your face?”

She reflexively touched the pink patches, a fresh new layer where sun-damaged skin had peeled away. The pink was fading, but not entirely healed.
“Sunburn,” she said. “Stayed out too long.”

“That happen a lot?”

“What business is it of yours?” she snapped. “And you can say ‘thanks for saving me’ anytime.”

His eyes shot down for a moment before he lifted them to meet her gaze. “Thank you.” His voice was quieter, sincere. “I know you put your own life at risk. Thank you for saving me.”

“Twice,” she said. “I saved you twice. Once with the book, and the other by hauling you in here when you were unconscious to bandage your leg. Technically, I guess that’s three times.”

“All right.” His lips twitched. “I owe you one. Or three.” As if he hadn’t noticed it before, he looked down at his thigh and then back to Nori. “First time to make a tourniquet?”

She lifted her head. “You were bleeding all over the floor. I did the best I could with what I had. What happened to you, anyway? You must’ve lost a lot of blood to pass out like that.”

“I tried to clear a chain-link fence, but my leg caught.”

Nori looked at the bandage again, but quickly averted her eyes from the exposed skin of his thigh. She cleared her throat. “Why was he chasing you?”

He shrugged.

“You’re not going to tell me?” she asked.

He shook his head, all nonchalance.

“Fine.” Nori huffed a breath. “What’s your name?”

“Cooper.”

“That your first name?” She asked and extended her arm toward the door handle, making sure she could escape if necessary.

“It’s what people call me,” he said. “What’s yours?”

She didn’t answer as manners battled with self-preservation in her brain.

“Oh, come on,” he goaded. “You can’t ask to see mine and not show me yours.”

“Nori,” she said quick and low. The concession pained her.

“That your first name?” he shot back.

She scowled, and he threw up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay. I’m just messing with you. Anyway, thanks again for the help, Dory.”

“It’s Nori.”

Cooper nodded, an amused smirk tightening his lips. “Thanks, Nori.” He rose slowly, hopping on one foot at first, and reached for his backpack in the corner. As he slipped it over a shoulder, he stopped and caught her gaze again. “Why’d you help me—three times? You didn’t have to.”

“I did have to,” she said. The answer came easily. “You were in trouble, and I could help. No brainer.”

“Kindness is not so common as you think,” he said lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes as if trying to get a better read on her. “How long have you been like this?”

“Like what?”

“You burn easy. And you can see well in the dark, right?”

“I’ve been this way my whole life.” The answer was smooth, and without thought. Nori gasped and balled her fists when she realized what she’d revealed. Her condition wasn’t a secret, though it was a mystery. But she didn’t like a stranger knowing so much about her. And she hated that he’d gotten her to talk so easily. Her teeth creaked under the pressure of her jaws.

“Anyone else up here like you?” Cooper closed the distance between them and searched her eyes for an answer. “You know anyone else who burns like you do? Who can see better in the dark?”

She shook her head, blinking in incomprehension. “How do you… What do you mean? What do you know about it?”

“You should go,” he said and pushed open the door.

“No.” Nori pulled the door shut, her heart thundering in her chest. “Tell me how you knew to ask those questions. Do you know someone else like me?”

Cooper let out a long breath, his wary gaze never leaving hers. “It’ll be light soon,” he finally said. “If you want to make it home in time, you’ll already have to run like hell.”

He turned to open the door again, but Nori stopped him. “Wait.” She fumbled for something to say. “Do you live around here?” She threw on her own backpack, wishing to know something about the man who knew so much about her.

“Right under your nose,” he said, and with one last nod, ran from the foyer, into the dark alley, and out of sight with no noticeable limp.

As Nori watched him go the shadows changed, and her heart seized. The sun was on the rise. “Stupid,” she told herself, racing home on shaky legs. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Author Bio:

Though she grew up on a working cattle ranch, it’s fantasy and sci-fi that shine Jen Crane’s saddle. Her latest novel, Sunscorched, received a Rosemary Award for excellence in young adult fiction.

Jen has a master’s degree and solid work histories in government and non-profit administration. But just in the nick of time she pronounced life *too real* for nonfiction. She lives in The South and creates endearing characters and alternate realms filled with adventure, magic, and love.

Book 2 in Jen’s fantasy romance series, Descended of Dragons, was selected by iTunes/iBooks as “Our Pick” in fantasy/sci-fi.

**Sign up for Jen’s newsletter to get release updates and freebies: bit.ly/Jen_Crane_Newsletter**

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Release Blitz: All Shook Up by Ashley Bostock

Title: All Shook Up (Irresistible Billionaires Book 2)
Author: Ashley Bostock
Genre:
Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 23, 2018
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

Billionaire CEO Cole Carrington knew the only way to check the seemingly downward spiral of his lingerie store was to go undercover. If it was being mismanaged he’d be able to get to the bottom of it. What he wasn’t expecting was to run into Jillian Winters, the gorgeous woman he’d evicted months ago from the same location.

When Jillian Winters gets evicted from the building she rented, she’s forced to shut down her five-star lingerie store. Unable to have the proper funds to relocate into an equally swank location in Downtown Denver, Jillian is certain her managing skills aren’t what she believed them to be. Still sulking weeks later, Jillian’s pesky sister helps her get a new job—same location,new lingerie store—owned by the handsome stranger who evicted her.

Unforeseen circumstances force Jillian into the management position where she realizes she’ll have the chance to learn from her previous mistakes. But she’s taken aback when a competitor offers Jillian part of her dream again—half owner of a lingerie store. Jillian must decide where she wants to be: working at her hot boss’s upscale lingerie store and helping him succeed. Or working toward her ultimate goal of being an owner again—even if that means taking a step down from the five-star norm she’s used to.

Especially when she realizes that dealing with Cole Carrington on a day to day basis isn’t as difficult as she first thought it might be.

 

Ashley Bostock was born and raised in Colorado where she currently resides with her husband, two children and her animals. She loves reading, writing, and music and is always trying to find more time in the day to incorporate all three.

Seeking an outlet and pursuing her life-long passion for writing, she began composing her first novel in 2013. She has traveled all over the world, but still has an extensive list of places she would love to visit. Anywhere near a sky-blue ocean will always be at the top of that list.

She carries a Bachelor’s Degree in History with a concentration in Elementary Education from Metropolitan State College of Denver. While she loves children, she now fears teaching, which probably has something to do with being a stay-at-home mom.

She is mostly active on Instagram, but feel free to follow her at any or all of her social media pages!

 

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Review: How To Marry A Cowboy by Carolyn Brown

How to Marry a Cowboy (Cowboys & Brides, #4)How to Marry a Cowboy by Carolyn Brown
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Rancher Mason Harper finds a beautiful woman in a wedding dress on his porch. His precocious daughters decide she is their new mother. Mason isn’t sure about Annie but hires her as a nanny to his children. With tow determined little girls Mason finds himself falling for Annie and wondering if they can have a happily ever after.

There was a lot more to the story but the two girls steal the show. They were hilarious and their antics had me laughing out loud. Great read, if you are looking to put a smile on your face this is the book to pick up.

View all my reviews

Blog Tour: Ben by Anne L. Parks

Title: Ben (The 13, Book 4)
Author: Anne L. Parks
Genre: Military Romance/ Thriller/ Suspense

Release Date: October 16, 2018
Cover Designer: Buoni Amici Press
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

They say you can’t escape your past. Especially when it takes you hostage. When Mia Rowland is taken hostage, nothing will stand in Ben Wells’ way. Not his career as a Navy SEAL. Not even his life.

Mia Rowland wants nothing more than to start her life with the man she loves. But when terrorists kidnap her as she testifies against a US Senator, her dreams of “happily ever after” are, once again, jeopardized.

Ben Wells is anxious to propose to the woman who has stolen his heart. However, his hopes for a lifetime of love and happiness with Mia are put on hold as he embarks on a desperate mission to rescue her—from an enemy he never saw coming.

Ben and Mia are on a perilous race to reclaim their future—before catastrophe separates them forever.

 

Ben sat on the end of the aisle and watched one of his new best friends get married. He was happy for Mason, but he also couldn’t seem to swallow the bit of jealousy lodged in his throat. This should be Mia and him standing at the alter, vowing to share their lives forever.

Mia…God, how he missed that woman. The closer it got to her wrapping up her testimony against Senator William Hutton, and finally being released from protective custody, the more Ben grew antsy.

She was probably in court now. Was she nervous? He had wanted to be there, to support her. But she loved Mason and had insisted that one of them be at his wedding. Since she had other obligations she couldn’t get out of…she made him promise he would represent both of them.

Ever since she had discovered that Hutton’s charitable foundation had been a front for money laundering to fund the RRA, Ben, Mason, and Lance had been there to protect her. Mason and Lance had been the ones to care for her while Ben was recovering from a gunshot wound he received rescuing Mia from being beaten to death in an RRA compound in Colombia.

Mason barely waited for the officiant to announce he could kiss the bride before wrapping Jess up in a tight embrace and kissing her deeply. The room filled with hoots and howls of support, and a few playful admonitions of “get a room.”

Ben’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, hoping it was a phone call from Mia. Instead the Newport office number lit up the screen.

“Wells,” he said as he answered the call.

“Humps,” Ryan Flaherty greeted him using Ben’s call sign. Flaherty was Riley’s computer specialist and one of two assistants she had.

But what the hell was he calling Ben for? Was he trying to get Lance or Riley?

“I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible—there was an active shooter at the federal courthouse in DC.”

Ben’s scalp prickled. He stood and walked to the back of the room, his emotions heightened. Mia’s fine…there’s nothing wrong.

Ben closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where?”

“Inside the courtroom where Hutton’s trial is being heard.”

The one where Mia was supposed to be testifying at that moment. A chill moved down his spine and intensified the quiver in his gut.

“There were apparently at least four men with guns. No one knows for sure how they got in with weapons, but all indications are that it was an inside job.”

Cold fear washed over Ben. “Mia?”

“I can’t get confirmation on her whereabouts, but everyone has been cleared from the courthouse and the wounded taken to the hospital. I’ve checked her name against the people admitted for treatment. Ben…it’s not looking good.”

Ben cleared his throat, the fireball of fear dropped into his gut. “Maybe she’s still inside the courtroom.”

Flaherty exhaled. “The only ones left in the building are all dead.”

Born and raised in the Rocky Mountains, Anne L. Parks has spent the last 28 years moving all over the United States. Married to the Navy – well a Commander in the Navy – Parks has lived in various locales throughout the United States. She currently resides in the Washington D.C area. When not writing, she spends her time reading, doing yoga, mountain biking, and keeping track of four kids and a very spoiled rescue German Shepherd. And drinking wine.

Author of nine novels (Tri-Stone Trilogy, Return To Me series, and Strangers) and four novellas that have been published in anthologies, she loves to create stories with mystery, plenty of twists and turns, and loaded with suspense.

With a military husband, it was only a matter of time before she broke into the military romantic suspense genre, where she feels right at home amongst highly trained, somewhat jaded, ready to take out terrorists alpha males and the strong, brave women who love them. Parks first military romance, MIA, went to #1 on Amazon’s Kindle World. Thirteen more books will be released in her new series The 13. Two other series are being planned.

 

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Book Blitz: If She Were Blind by Laney Wylde

If She Were Blind
Laney Wylde
(The After Twelve, #1)
Published by: Crimson Tree Publishing
Publication date: October 22nd 2018
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance, Thriller

Not everyone can get justice the traditional way—that’s where Estlyn Collins comes in. A young lawyer in Santa Monica, her “legal” service, After Twelve, works outside the courtroom to tip the scales when the justice system has failed.

For a price.

Thanks to her powerful underground network, Estlyn’s success rate is stellar, and her inbox stays filled with inquires from the desperate and vengeful. But when one of those names is a ghost from her past seeking vengeance against her, she’s shaken to her core. Off balance and scared to be alone, she makes an impulsive move for a guy. He’s a complication she doesn’t have time for, but it turns out he may also be an unlikely—if unwitting—asset.

Treading the rapidly thinning line between personal and professional, Estlyn pursues her target while outrunning the one on her own back—only to find she may be running into a lot more than she bargained for.

IF SHE WERE BLIND is the first book in the engaging New Adult series AFTER TWELVE by author Laney Wylde. Perfect for fans of the television shows REVENGE, SCANDAL, and VERONICA MARS, the AFTER TWELVE Series is a gritty social-issue drama that delivers steamy romance, intrigue, and the most bittersweet revenge plots. Estlyn’s determination to right every wrong is sure to quench your thirst for justice, yet leave you wanting more.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

I glance past Dean’s shoulder as a man close to my dad’s age takes nervous steps closer and closer to Dean. Once he’s in his space, he taps his back. Dean whips around to face him. “Excuse me, are you Dean Martinez?”

His eyes are full of suspicion as he studies the stranger. “Um, why?”

“It’s Dwayne. We’ve been chatting on Match.com and are supposed to meet up here at seven.”

Dean’s shoulders slouch and his expression turns sympathetic. “Sweetie, you’ve been catfished.”

“Been what?”

“I’m Dean, but I’m not on any dating site.”

“Really? Because,” the older gentleman displays Dean’s dating profile on his phone for him, “you’re right here.”

Dean grabs the phone and starts scrolling through the profile. “‘Male seeking male, any race or religion, age fifty-five and older.’ Seriously? ‘I love me a sweaty old gay with that curly salt-and-pepper chest hair. The longer and curlier the better. I want it poking above those top shirt buttons. Oh, yeah, let it blow in the wind while we drive down PCH in your Lincoln sedan with the windows cracked. In search of someone I can raise a family of hypoallergenic, small breed dogs with, someone who doesn’t have all their original joints. I’m so over all these sexy twinks who just want me for my hot bod. Looking for a real man to settle down with, preferably in a gay-friendly, fifty-five and older community.’”

I can’t help but give Dean’s blind date a once over. The poor guy is buttoning the second to top button over his ungroomed, grey chest hair as Dean reads. His upper lip looks like the outside of a cold drink on a summer day. Dean gives him back the phone and drops his forehead into his hand. “Cal, did you let Estlyn go to the library?”

“Um…”

He glares at me then chastises, “Cal?”

“Yes?” How was I supposed to know she’d use a computer to catfish unsuspecting old gays?

He turns to the humiliated older gentleman with confident compassion. “Sorry, hon. My friend set you up. Best of luck to finding a man half your age to raise that family of dogs with.”

 

Author Bio:

Laney Wylde is enamored with all things southern California–the traffic, smog, surprise earthquakes, and nonindigenous palm trees. Consequently, it’s the landscape her strong and sometimes lovable female leads paint their stories on. Her New Adult novels Never Touched and the After Twelve series are bright with provocative themes, steamy romance, and inappropriately timed humor.
When Laney isn’t writing, she’s singing Taylor Swift with her little boy or asking her husband not to tell her about his work as a surgical resident while she’s eating. She daydreams about using her math degree to get into law school, then realizes that would be too much work and that she should just play pretend court on paper instead. While she loves a good book, nothing beats 30 Rock with a bag of popcorn and M&Ms.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

 

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Promo Blitz and Giveaway: Where Triples Go To Die by Phil Hutcheon

 

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Sports Fiction 
Date Published: October 2017
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Publisher: Inkwater Press
In irreverent, laugh-out-loud style, Where Triples Go to Die illuminates the messy intersection of sports, race, and romance in contemporary college life. Black superstar Juke Jackson and white counselor Malcolm Wade, each facing relationship crises at home, forge a bond at school as Wade guides Jackson’s quest to join the legion of African Americans who transformed our national pastime. An array of intervening campus issues—date rape, unplanned pregnancy, revenge porn, academic integrity violations, and the aftershocks of war among them—will keep even readers unfamiliar with The Infield Fly Rule turning the pages to find out what happens next.
Praise for “Where Triples Go to Die”
“Phil Hutcheon illuminates the messy intersection of sports, race, and romance in contemporary college life. Black superstar Juke Jackson and white counselor Malcom Wade, each facing a relationship crisis at home, forge a bond at school as Wade guides Jackson’s quest to join the legion of African Americans who transformed our national pastime. An array of intervening campus issues, including sexual assault, unplanned pregnancy, revenge porn, academic integrity violations, and the aftershocks of war, will keep even readers unfamiliar with The Infield Fly Rule turning the pages to find out what happens next. A deftly written and inherently compelling novel by an author with a genuine flair for crafting memorably irreverent characters embedded in a narrative driven story of humor and pathos from first page to last, Where Triples Go To Die will linger in the mind and memory of the reader long after the book itself has been finished and setback up on the shelf.”Midwest Book Review
“Where Triples Go To Die by Phil Hutcheon masterfully intertwines the lives of two men from different racial and socioeconomic backgrounds who are in different phases of life but are connected through their love of baseball. The humorous novel is filled with sex and scandal alongside the much more serious topics of suicide, alcoholism, and race. Julius “Juke” Jackson is on the verge of suicide after a terrible play in his final baseball game and his live-in girlfriend’s decision to move in with someone else. Malcolm Wade, the college counselor,happens to pass by at the right moment to find Jackson on the verge of a suicide attempt and talks him down. Wade, who has his own relationship issues,works tirelessly to help Jackson through his personal issues. The journey for the two men begins here. The quick-paced novel never loses momentum, as new characters and elements are added into the mix. Hutcheon’s writing style is down to earth, and he has a way of making the reader feel a connection with each of the characters and wonder what could possibly happen next. In addition to the everyday realities, Hutcheon also uses the book as a way to explore African Americans’ role in baseball, both past and present. Readers will also be impressed with the historical references and quotes throughout the novel. Hutcheon does not cease to engage the reader in this intelligent and well-written sports novel.”Manhattan Book Review
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Excerpt
Allenby mentioned a news report that Alex Rodriguez might be retiring from the Yankees at the end of the season and giving up his quest to break the home run record.
“Don’t get me started on that,” Wade said. “When he passed Mays on the list, I was hoping Brad Pitt would be there to greet him at home plate with the blade from Inglourious Basterds, carve an asterisk into his forehead.”
Wade was still convinced that the home run breaking Babe Ruth’s historic mark had been hit by the wrong man. He said now, as more than once before, “Put Aaron in a damn wind tunnel for most of his home games instead of those popgun parks in Milwaukee and Atlanta, then subtract sixty or so homers for two years of military service Willie did and Hank didn’t, they probably come out about even. Can you imagine how many homers Mays would have hit if he played his home games where Aaron did?”
“America didn’t love Hank the way we loved Willie,” Allenby conceded. “But if you really want to play the what if game, just imagine if Mays had signed with the Dodgers instead of the Giants.”
Wade stopped his hotdog halfway to his mouth. “Please, I’m trying to eat something here.”
“Unthinkable, I know, but . . . think about it: if Willie signs with the Dodgers, joins that team with Robinson and Campanella and Newcombe, and then later Koufax, Drysdale, Wills, Gilliam, he goes to at least ten World Series: the three he took the Giants to—two of them were tied pennant races that went to playoffs with the Dodgers anyway—plus six the Dodgers went to during his career, not counting the Army years, and one more year when they tied with the Braves—plus however many more his being on that team might have led to.”
Willie Mays Baseball Card
As much as it hurt to think about it, it was a good point; Wade had to admit it. “And gets to hang out with Sinatra in Hollywood instead of having rocks tossed at his house in San Francisco.”
Allenby continued: “Giants fans always remember that Marichal got hurt in the World Series in ’62, pitched in only one game, and that cost them the championship. But they forget who else got hurt that year.”
“Koufax.” Wade had not forgotten. “You had to remind me, didn’t you?”
Allenby shrugged. “You think that regular season ends in a tie if Sandy is himself in August and September?”
Wade nodded bitterly. “That was the only World Series Willie got to in San Francisco, and they didn’t win.”
Allenby shrugged again. “You worry too much about what Mays didn’t do. You ought to be satisfied with what he did: I know I don’t have to tell you.”
Wade ran down the list: a pennant at twenty, a championship at twenty-three, 660 home runs, a batting title, league-leader in stolen bases four years in a row, two MVPs more than a decade apart, a dozen straight Gold Gloves dating from the honor’s origin, fifteen wins in his last eighteen appearances in the All-Star Game back when it still meant something, when the AL barely acknowledged the existence of black players. Kept his team in the race pretty much year-in and year-out for twenty years. Made what is still the most iconic catch in the annals of a game going on a hundred and fifty years. And taught multiple generations, of every color, how to play the game with joy. Not a bad resumé.
“He’s got nothing to apologize for,” Allenby said, “and you can stop apologizing for him or wondering what could have been. Forget the what ifs. Celebrate what the man did, who he is, not what he might have done or been.”
And thank God he didn’t sign with the Dodgers. “Of course you’re right,” Wade said. “I just wish he had taken a crack at managing. He could have been the one to break that barrier, too. All that knowledge of the game, all that love for it, he could have passed so much more of himself on.”
“I suspect he found his own ways to pass it on,” Allenby said, “and not just to guys on the Giants. Remember Andruw Jones giving Willie credit for a big jump in his home runs after he spent some time with him?”
Some men spend their lives waiting for the Messiah; Wade had spent most of his waiting for the next Willie Mays. He remembered Andruw Jones, but he couldn’t forget Bobby Bonds, George Foster, Garry Maddox, Gary Matthews, Chili Davis—the whole legion of fast, powerful outfielders the Giants had signed, drafted, and developed in Willie’s image—and then lost in free agency or traded away, usually for next to nothing in return, just as they had traded him. Some hurts would never heal.
About the Author

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Phil Hutcheon grew up in Redwood City, California, where his youth baseball teammates included Dick Sharon, later of the Detroit Tigers and San Diego Padres. With his father he attended games at Seals Stadium and Candlestick Park in San Francisco during the heyday of Willie Mays. He earned a bachelor’s degree from University of the Pacific and a PhD from Rice University. He teaches composition and film at Delta College. He has also taught at Pacific and at Menlo College. Where Triples Go to Die is his third novel.
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