tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-187400362024-03-15T21:09:46.066-04:00Roxanne RhoadsWelcome to Roxanne's Realm, the home of author, book publicist, mixed media crafter, and lover of all things spooky- Roxanne Rhoads. Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08727784602361446818noreply@blogger.comBlogger3875125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-70697568578953737292024-03-14T13:09:00.001-04:002024-03-14T13:09:09.662-04:00Haunted Hotels of Michigan Book Tour<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8PLKjM-_-9aTMDOsh9j7tnQsm0_oIhrRnytipF7VuRwn_UmuDqat5sNTxwGWFmo7FltYVWUy-2dAVkbCdIG4Vjeo0QA_Fnfw8aUul9kqkCCGSEWKPfD15v69ZjsfIkW4zbHiJNiFAw-8iQs3wBOI99ookC4YZGuOZ7VA4rORc2VtzBPihjPR2CQ/s2245/Haunted%20Hotels%20Book%20Tour%20Poster.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2245" data-original-width="1587" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8PLKjM-_-9aTMDOsh9j7tnQsm0_oIhrRnytipF7VuRwn_UmuDqat5sNTxwGWFmo7FltYVWUy-2dAVkbCdIG4Vjeo0QA_Fnfw8aUul9kqkCCGSEWKPfD15v69ZjsfIkW4zbHiJNiFAw-8iQs3wBOI99ookC4YZGuOZ7VA4rORc2VtzBPihjPR2CQ/w452-h640/Haunted%20Hotels%20Book%20Tour%20Poster.png" width="452" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-30938178046422862602024-03-11T03:30:00.013-04:002024-03-11T03:30:00.149-04:00Author Interview- Storm's Convergence by Valerie Storm #YAFantasy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ThH0Ol1m5At03zQkcot8fSxEkdZuCjLFTeem7c8VmoY6H93F9gzZ6kJuKhimEKxD0syEEbcnQIJbeKv2tU41B78Ecsj9OXoMr5yFyDC6ao4bDtSKMr5WoW6pCTNwKnv0wdV1TBq02KEjZoSoOMtCkRX8Ata2BxuVRMrfdL11R69lxyoqPFc2RlTtjotD/s820/Sroem%20Convergence%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ThH0Ol1m5At03zQkcot8fSxEkdZuCjLFTeem7c8VmoY6H93F9gzZ6kJuKhimEKxD0syEEbcnQIJbeKv2tU41B78Ecsj9OXoMr5yFyDC6ao4bDtSKMr5WoW6pCTNwKnv0wdV1TBq02KEjZoSoOMtCkRX8Ata2BxuVRMrfdL11R69lxyoqPFc2RlTtjotD/w400-h153/Sroem%20Convergence%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b>What inspired you to become an author?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I started writing fanfic of video games when I was about ten years old. The love of creating my own world with characters I admired, combined with being a voracious reader, set me on this path.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b>How did you come up with the title for your latest book?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Storm’s Convergence was actually a last-minute change suggested by my publisher, when I told her I wasn’t certain how I felt about the title. I wanted something about storms, but that implied there were many of them coming together.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b>Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The biggest lesson I want readers to gather from Demon Storm, but specifically Storm’s Convergence, is to learn to trust those who love you, as well as yourself. The world is hard and dark, and we can’t make it through alone.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b>What books/authors have influenced your life?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Many, many books. Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, the Magic Circle series, the Elemental Trilogy…the biggest for the Demon Storm series (and thus my life) as a whole was probably Sara Wolf’s Bring Me Their Hearts.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b>Can you share a little of your current work with us?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I’m currently working on an anthology story that will present in Shadow Spark Publishing’s Cozyish! I’m also going through basic edits for Demon Storm’s book 6, The Storm Breaks.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b>Who designed the cover of your latest book?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">My covers are all drawn by Ginka on Twitter (@Ginkahederling). For Storm’s Convergence, I had Azshure (@Azshure13) sketch the concept and Ginka did the rest!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b>Do you have any advice for other writers?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Don’t stop writing, no matter what anyone says to you. Follow YOUR passion, and the rest will follow. I would have given up so many times if I didn’t believe in myself or love the story I want to tell.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: georgia;"><b>Just for fun - if you could have one paranormal ability, what would it be?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I would choose telekinesis! The idea of being able to move things with a thought sounds so amazing.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutUoDQFSvIwrhyphenhyphen1sJm4efv2mbfdvBVGwWQ_LxcnuzSMsgsnqmNWH49UcX_NAyZ4waz8dBiBY9nhKiDSrJB38nXZKHC87ByGtSROGGy20NGrXuaFAbxRuPkCyzC1RGPQNAKrPOCTWY0RdHRx4YGCATZAMXnIooX8vK-DyPNoFVIs0qUNOpaoVMANv2OCKj/s2560/Convergence%20eBook.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutUoDQFSvIwrhyphenhyphen1sJm4efv2mbfdvBVGwWQ_LxcnuzSMsgsnqmNWH49UcX_NAyZ4waz8dBiBY9nhKiDSrJB38nXZKHC87ByGtSROGGy20NGrXuaFAbxRuPkCyzC1RGPQNAKrPOCTWY0RdHRx4YGCATZAMXnIooX8vK-DyPNoFVIs0qUNOpaoVMANv2OCKj/s320/Convergence%20eBook.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Storm's Convergence</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Demon Storm </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Book 5</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Valerie Storm</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Young Adult Fantasy</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: 2/13/24</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: @Ginkahederling</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div>ASIN: B0CRYQJRN1</div><div>Number of pages: 313</div><div>Word Count: 78962</div><div><br /></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: <i>The Fire Witch ruined Kari's life once before</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i> Now she's back</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i> And she's not alone</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">The calm can only last so long.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Now a member of Freehaven's Council, Kari tries to put her past behind her and settle down in her new home with her ever-present Lord and love, Ari.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cracks in her mind, parting gifts from the heart eater, make planning the upcoming Spring Festival a struggle, but Kari is determined to do her best, even after Guine departs the town.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">When a mysterious child appears at the festival and marks Kari, all semblance of normalcy is banished.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">A triple threat from her past awaits beyond the walls of Freehaven and options are thin. Not willing to spill any more blood, Kari takes it upon herself to stop them—with Ari by her side.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CRYQJRN1">Amazon</a></span></b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span><span style="font-family: times;">
</span><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"></span></b></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Excerpt:</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The girl grabbed the neckline of her shirt and jerked her closer with
too much ease. Kari stiffened as the girl’s cheek touched hers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Funny wolf demon, hiding in this wretched town.” Her voice was low and
cruelly amused. Kari tensed, prepared to jerk free and throw a fist, but the
girl hissed, “Ah, no, don’t move. There are many innocents here, though I would
not call demons innocent. I know you would not want them hurt.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She suddenly realized the closeness of so many villagers, as if she’d
been ripped out of reality and dropped harshly back into it again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Kari bit back a growl. “Who are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She knew, though, before the small girl laughed. The boastful yet
righteous arrogance of someone who believed truly and wholly in her cause—it
could be no one else.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I feel your defeat. You’ve answered your own question.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Kari’s throat was dry. “Ri…Riniko. What are you doing here? Why—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Since you’ve yet to heed our warning, I’m here to play a little game.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Kari!” Ari called.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Riniko’s small hands tightened. “Tell him to leave. We’re busy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She hesitated. Ari yelled for her again, and now she envisioned him
pushing through the crowds, looking for where she’d gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“It’s fine,” she yelled back. “I…I’m helping someone. I’ll catch up!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Riniko’s grip didn’t loosen. “Your boy is insistent.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Kari turned her head with some difficulty, given Riniko’s grip. The
little witch traded, wrapping her arms around Kari’s neck with a giggle that
cracked against her eardrums.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Visible between passersby, Ari made his way to them. His brows raised
at the sight of the girl around her neck.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Who is…”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Kari smiled, big and wide, and prayed he didn’t notice her trembling
lips. “She’s lost. I’m part of the Council, so she came to me. Go back to Rathik
and Essie, I’ll catch up.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Ari saw something in her face; his eyes constricted, his jaw pulsing,
uncertain of what to do.<br />
Please walk away, Ari. It’ll be okay this time. I promise.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">When she did not say anything more, he relented. “Alright. Meet us over
there, okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Kari nodded, jostling Riniko. Ari glanced between them, then jogged
off.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Riniko giggled again, quieter this time. “Good.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Kari grabbed her around the waist and yanked her off. There was
something insanely surreal about holding a small child in her hands, a child
whose eyes burned with unmatched cruelty and fire. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What do you want?” she snarled.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Riniko wrapped too-small fingers around Kari’s wrists and met her eye
with a cool, even gaze.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You know what we want. I’m only here to set the fire of action a
little higher for you.”<br />
Her palms, pressed against Kari’s skin, warmed. Kari’s eyes widened, and she
struggled with the instinct to fling the small child away.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“We do not want to burn this entire village to the ground. Despite the
way these villagers associate with demons, they are still good, innocent
people. The demons can be excused as long as they remain thusly. But you
cannot. You must come and face your fate.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Her arms were burning; Kari bit back a scream. “I keep telling you, I
don’t want to hurt anyone! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Tell that to those poor people in the east. They probably thought you
didn’t want to kill them. But now they’re very, very dead.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Kari staggered back. There were fewer villagers out now, less to see
this odd pair, but Kari dreaded what Riniko would do if even one was drawn to
them. She inched away from the square, edging toward an alley between two
buildings.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Isn’t it enough that I died once? What more can you want?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Riniko laughed. “Oh, yes, but Zina got cold feet. Superstition, I
guess. She couldn’t let it die with you. No, she believed it would go on,
despite having no body. So here you are, her little pet wolf demon, but she
won’t be here to save you a second time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Cold feet? Let it die with her?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The burning on her arms increased, snapping her attention back to
Riniko’s young-girl face.<br />
“I’ll come to you,” Kari croaked. “Does that make you happy? I’ll leave and
find you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Riniko’s eyes lit up, though she did not remove her hands. The heat
continued to rise until Kari thought she could smell her flesh cooking.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Oh, do you promise?” Riniko asked, her voice girlish, sickeningly
sweet. “Pretty please?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Please stop,” Kari whispered between her teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Little hands lifted, releasing her from the agony of fire. Kari
trembled, then froze as those hands touched her cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“It was easy to infiltrate this place, Kari. It would be even easier,
now, to set it all ablaze. You remember my previous work.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Kari’s hands around Riniko’s waist shook with the effort to not squeeze
her into pieces. “You’re the monster, witch,” she snarled.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“It takes a monster to slay one,” Riniko responded. “Remember that if
you decide to hesitate any longer. I’m tired of waiting for this final show. My
sisters have both seen that I was right and now it’s time to end this.” Riniko
raised her hands. “Put me down.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Shaking profusely, Kari set Riniko on the ground, where the little
witch-girl brushed off her plain, brown dress. She fluffed her hair, then
raised a finger to her lips.</span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Remember your promise,” she said, then spun and skipped away into the
darkness.</span></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
<!--[endif]--></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5C1RZIq7G7Uth5kizh6q_k1Njb4VGqh3puqrD46MoxUn_DdeVqVf1kj0zou7mW9pMO9AylRdNBLymhxPZQiVV_5fGlANCccXjmpI7EJDMI_-6jzxI6j1-awcqby6Rwsv4X7mHnGDO0HfvK3kZP_NfstIkWcYHsb4QIsTQcq6Qwv4lXFl-CQaiftV4cBp0/s1050/Jen+Author+Photo.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="750" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5C1RZIq7G7Uth5kizh6q_k1Njb4VGqh3puqrD46MoxUn_DdeVqVf1kj0zou7mW9pMO9AylRdNBLymhxPZQiVV_5fGlANCccXjmpI7EJDMI_-6jzxI6j1-awcqby6Rwsv4X7mHnGDO0HfvK3kZP_NfstIkWcYHsb4QIsTQcq6Qwv4lXFl-CQaiftV4cBp0/w143-h200/Jen+Author+Photo.png" width="143" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Valerie Storm was raised in Tucson, Arizona. Growing up, she fell in love with everything fantasy. When she wasn’t playing video games, she was writing. By age ten, she began to write her own stories as a way to escape reality. When these stories became a full-length series, she considered the path to sharing with other children & children-at/heart looking for a place to call home.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Blog <a href="https://rantsofawriter.home.blog/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://rantsofawriter.home.blog/ </a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/valerie_storm">https://twitter.com/valerie_storm</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tumblr <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/valeriestorm">https://www.tumblr.com/valeriestorm</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Pinterest <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/valeriestorm3135/">https://www.pinterest.com/valeriestorm3135/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram <a href="https://www.instagram.com/valeriestorm_author/">https://www.instagram.com/valeriestorm_author/</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Newsletter Sign-Up <a href="https://mailchi.mp/038f1013a6c2/valerie-storm">https://mailchi.mp/038f1013a6c2/valerie-storm</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100082414584775">https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100082414584775</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIM3ocNF0AKh0ANsslU9P1xz3U5cxyKuK6GoFch9KIjvdDgOYGcI2BAKQCuKPczOX74AC9tmuwvp_E2tU7ny0bF3OTAxohFk3LEJrlnwJbl8R7PW57RTohxjb3MH_HYEKNUxHWTimfUwxtMxmCC3pxKtyZjwK9tlOSP9GFfyNdCHHwIqDLr84uTPjpyEm7/s1080/Storms%20Convergence%20Instagram%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIM3ocNF0AKh0ANsslU9P1xz3U5cxyKuK6GoFch9KIjvdDgOYGcI2BAKQCuKPczOX74AC9tmuwvp_E2tU7ny0bF3OTAxohFk3LEJrlnwJbl8R7PW57RTohxjb3MH_HYEKNUxHWTimfUwxtMxmCC3pxKtyZjwK9tlOSP9GFfyNdCHHwIqDLr84uTPjpyEm7/s320/Storms%20Convergence%20Instagram%20.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2216" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2216/" id="rcwidget_067jg09g" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-75581340189788480862024-03-06T17:17:00.003-05:002024-03-06T17:17:59.110-05:00I Have a Pre-Order Link for Haunted Hotels of Michigan - Coming August 12, 2024<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCyeIQ-0kxZXndfTz3fNI-mrlBubVMvTCJT0ANXwQhkaUIQMoAWliEdu_2C2qxtpCC923c61LSHjz4wx8rXk1WvxvqNKdmTXGkZF14XRGNYmiFFPwOAtwbuyv44iWNBqNn85M11UNAHhA4ExSnShyuD_QI0noKBkFXLe7fWw4CyBdVTvJ13ZkCw/s1563/Release%20Date%20Haunted%20Hotels.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1563" data-original-width="1563" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCyeIQ-0kxZXndfTz3fNI-mrlBubVMvTCJT0ANXwQhkaUIQMoAWliEdu_2C2qxtpCC923c61LSHjz4wx8rXk1WvxvqNKdmTXGkZF14XRGNYmiFFPwOAtwbuyv44iWNBqNn85M11UNAHhA4ExSnShyuD_QI0noKBkFXLe7fWw4CyBdVTvJ13ZkCw/s320/Release%20Date%20Haunted%20Hotels.png" width="320" /></a></div><p>From captivating tales of lingering lumber barons to lovelorn ladies and chilling stories of murder, Michigan's hotels hold secrets that will send shivers down the spine.</p><p>Ghostly apparitions and mysterious whispers have terrified guests for years at Petoskey's Terrace Inn and The House of Ludington in Escanaba, while eerie occurrences and disembodied voices wake guests in the night at Kalamazoo's Henderson Castle Inn. Once named America's Most Haunted City, Mackinac Island has enough ghosts to keep visitors sleepless for a lifetime.</p><p>Embark on a spine-chilling journey through the Mitten State with Haunted Flint author Roxanne Rhoads as she unveils the spooky history of Michigan's most haunted hotels and inns.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3Touz4p">https://amzn.to/3Touz4p</a></p><p><br /></p><div><br /></div>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-42131158371104736102024-02-23T04:00:00.013-05:002024-02-23T04:00:00.156-05:00A Sword of Blood and Roses by Jessica Ash<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivOMoDygtWg_TMwTB7B9iObaeJYkDx_-CPqtORqFYRB_kdsBWrdJ1IxAukHWwh4uhvJA2PhZ7eGpjzcAInUdUwpAmOdAoovXi9WIxHW_MAUE32m599Fv36tBs5W0mHcabBoHfNnhkf-EzgWZlE2u37xDtSWS5pYmQRt0WYqKp7a_EiRMXHeKQlVyUgmEKm/s820/Blood%20and%20Roses%20Banner%20%20(1).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivOMoDygtWg_TMwTB7B9iObaeJYkDx_-CPqtORqFYRB_kdsBWrdJ1IxAukHWwh4uhvJA2PhZ7eGpjzcAInUdUwpAmOdAoovXi9WIxHW_MAUE32m599Fv36tBs5W0mHcabBoHfNnhkf-EzgWZlE2u37xDtSWS5pYmQRt0WYqKp7a_EiRMXHeKQlVyUgmEKm/w400-h153/Blood%20and%20Roses%20Banner%20%20(1).png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipuoO9QJLHCQnPwACFBLSxCYFAV5aBp9gqY7U5GTag_-eeStjorhvKv5E-TbKo8DHVCN04eCR02k6wMXEF_y77ruuhhsZ8ROFSKEUx6ehMYAbyDFIRRhalejyzrxH_BAbECSRs0Zi0gexfeUgyo5gvsM-I-WTBH-EjULQEpCHgetHgZz-dJ08Jx1HIsMVV/s600/cover_md.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipuoO9QJLHCQnPwACFBLSxCYFAV5aBp9gqY7U5GTag_-eeStjorhvKv5E-TbKo8DHVCN04eCR02k6wMXEF_y77ruuhhsZ8ROFSKEUx6ehMYAbyDFIRRhalejyzrxH_BAbECSRs0Zi0gexfeUgyo5gvsM-I-WTBH-EjULQEpCHgetHgZz-dJ08Jx1HIsMVV/w213-h320/cover_md.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>A Sword of Blood and Roses</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Hunted by the Faerie Queen </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Book One</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Jessica Ash</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Dark Fantasy Romance</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: June 30, 2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: 9798201496227 </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: B0B1XQTX28 </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 322</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: 85,000</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Firda Graphic</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: When the Queen of the Fae is after you, sometimes your best bet is falling in love with the enemy.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Enemies to Lovers Dark Fantasy Romance...</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">He was supposed to kill me...Now I'm his prisoner.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">I was supposed to hate him...Now I'm falling in love.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">But neither love nor magic can save me. And Now time is running out.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">When the Queen of the Fae is after you sometimes your best bet is falling in love with the enemy, even when he's your kidnapper…</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Read all five books in Kindle Unlimited. Discover enemies to lovers romance like you've never read before.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://geni.us/roses"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amazon</span></a></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span><blockquote>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Excerpt</b>:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Riding into the dry-as-bones mountains on the back of the
puca, Logan’s anger seared bitter in his chest. It rolled off him in waves,
pulling thunder down from the sky. He toyed idly with the storm letting his
anger draw the danger of the lightning to him as he seethed.<br />
Fifteen years away from his hounds. Fifteen years of Solanum’s running wild,
the puca causing havoc wherever he went. Fifteen years of Logan’s life eaten
away in the hole of the queen’s dungeons.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">And now he was to kill witches for the queen—a fact that
rubbed him raw.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Humans were amusing companions, why create trouble?
Irritated with the brief flare of morality, he smothered it with brutal force.
It didn’t fucking matter what he wanted. It never had.<br />
Lightning cracked. The eerily silent hounds of the Dark Hunt tightened around
him, their tense glances and snapping teeth reflections of his flaring
emotions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He had no room for second thoughts tonight. The Black Queen
had given him no reason why she needed these witches killed, but if he
satisfied her it might give him his freedom. At the very least it would give
him some space. Maybe some time to figure out a way to stay out of the
dungeons. And time to figure out how to truly extricate himself from her bloody
dominion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Because no matter what she had promised him, he knew, there
was no way she would simply let him go. Not after the way he had betrayed her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Solanum tossed his head and bucked. “Quit squeezing my
ribs.” Lurid green faery flames leapt from his hooves, igniting short-lived
cold fires in the dry Wyoming brush.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Cease, horse,” Logan said, squeezing his legs a little
more. Punching Solanum’s buttons felt good, really good. Just like his wrath at
the queen felt good. Justified.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The puca tossed his long mane into Logan’s eyes. “Lay off,
or you’ll be eating dirt,” he snarled, nostrils flaring red in the dimming
light.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Solanum’s irritation put a hard smile on Logan’s lips. He
tightened his legs and drove the puca harder down the hill through the brewing
storm.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">A hound pushed in too close. Solanum’s hoof lashed out,
connecting with a solid thud. The hound’s yipe sounded inside Logan’s head as
he regained his balance, cursing the hound’s behavior and the puca’s
intolerance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He was back. The hounds would get used to him again. And
Solanum too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Thunder crashed in the sky, following him down into the
shadowed hills as he approached the witches’ lair. Nostrils burning from the
ozone, nerves tingling, he distracted himself with the dark moist wind,
manipulating it to blow through the dry autumn brush like a child's tantrum.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He laughed, the spiteful wind stealing away the dark sound
as cracks of thunder echoed off the mountains. He let the anger simmer and the
lightning moved further away. He wasn’t free yet, and he wasn’t suicidal. What
he was, was trapped. And it pissed him off, the frustration riding him like a
hag.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">What could he do when the queen changed her mind and refused
to release him from her service? What if the bitch thought she could use him
then put him back into her dungeons Underhill, calling him to her side like a
lapdog? He needed a way to show her there would be repercussions. He needed
leverage.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">In the distance, thunder rumbled. They tipped over the edge
of the valley in search of the witch. A wavering glow of candles shone above
the last few rocks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Almost there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The telltale traces of a spell raised the hair on the back
of his neck. He extended his Gift to perceive what he couldn’t yet see. A
labyrinth set by a single inexperienced witch. His lips twitched. As protection
it might have worked, had the Faery Queen sent her regular henchman. Unluckily
for the witch, the queen had unleashed him. The Dark Huntsman.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He would kill the wench, and be done with this thing between
himself and the queen of the Tuatha De Danann. And when the queen refused to
release him? He’d deal with that when the time came.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The wind carried the hot dry smell of sage mixed with the
smell of fear and musky female. He inhaled the raw flavor of the witch, the
taste of her fear and anger and power, slid down his throat, easing his rage.<br />
The anxious hounds shifted around him, sensing the proximity of their prey.
Solanum rounded the rock.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">And there she was.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The sight of her rocked him back like a blow, almost
knocking him to the ground. And he realized—despite the stasis, fifteen years
had been too long a time to be without a woman.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Glimmers of power limned her naked body and the silver blade
of the athame that gleamed between her breasts. Her legs were spread slightly
apart, tensed for battle. Long black hair crackled and lifted with static. Her
expressive face was poised on the edge of dilemma, her body caught between the
need to hold the spell and the need for action.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He paused to let the feel of power and woman roll through
him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Unexpected.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Green, almond-shaped eyes widened. Her stance firmed, her
shoulders pulled back, and her full breasts rose, nipples tightened with cold
or fear. Something wild and raw he hadn’t felt in a hundred years stabbed low
in his gut.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">His agenda changed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The queen wanted to kill the witch. Why? His plan of
placating the queen suddenly seemed weak. She’d never let him go without
leverage, and here was leverage standing naked and lovely before him. He had a
new plan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Screw the queen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">***<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Thunder boomed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Trina glanced up the valley. The dying light made it
impossible for her to see much more than the silhouette of a horse and rider
barreling through the boulders and uneven terrain, tearing down the rocky
hillside at an impossible speed. But no barrel racer would endanger their mount
careening down the mountain in a thunderstorm. Or ride a horse the color of the
absence of light with freakish red eyes. Only something truly inhuman would
light up her inner sight with that particular eerie blue glow.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The acid in her stomach rose into her throat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">An elven lord.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Oh fuck! I’m screwed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She swallowed the fear down. Her trap, her best effort, all
her hard work. Dumb. Stupid.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Pathetic. None of it would hold an elven lord—a full adult
fae whose power would make her trap look like an art project. She wished she
could hide the evidence, like a small child wiping up the crumbs of stolen
cookies.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Horse and rider skidded and slowed in a shower of
ricocheting rocks. The enormous red hounds flowed out, surrounding the
labyrinth as the cloaked rider and his dark mount advanced.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She held still, athame at the ready in sweaty hands,
prepared to bolt if she had the chance. Her eyes flicked from the approaching
rider, distracted by the lesser threat of the huge, sharp-toothed,
yellow-eyed hounds encircling the labyrinth like silent sharks waiting
for the command to take their prey.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Damn shame to kill you, witch.” His voice was smooth,
well-aged whiskey with a hint of brogue.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"> “Then don’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What will you give me instead? A life requires a powerful
exchange. And I was sent for your death.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Trina tried to keep her face even and not reveal her panic.
She had nothing he could want.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Anything of true power that a fae like this one might
consider valuable, was safely out of reach and driving down the road in the
van. Gone. Along with any reinforcements.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“How about honesty?” She offered in desperation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Funny girl.” The dark presence leaned forward, his
impatient mount’s feet shifting on the gravel.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The nervous sweat on her back grew cold.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Although I would enjoy taking the time,” his voice carried
easily over the wind and thunder, “we shouldn't stand here bargaining. The
queen awaits my report.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The lord’s level tone distracted her and she was unprepared
when the horse moved. The pair crashed effortlessly into the labyrinth, cutting
a destroying swath across the short, brushy sage and heading for her at the
center. Spectacular violent explosions burst into cascades of colored lights,
as if her carefully constructed wards were merely firecrackers, instead of huge
magical grenades.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The overwhelming smell of crushed sage rose, and she swore
the evil-eyed horse laughed. She reached inside for what was left of her power,
losing her grip on it when he leaned over and grabbed her arm. With no apparent
effort, he hoisted her up.<br />
She scrabbled for a handhold in an effort to not fly over the horse into the
waiting sea of teeth and dogs. She tangled one hand in the long black mane and
held tight to her slippery knife with the other.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Strong arms wrapped in leather tightened around her, forcing
her upright, her toes dangling sidesaddle. Everything happening too fast. She
barely had a grip in the long black mane when the creature flexed under her and
they flew over the candles.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The flames blew out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">They landed on the other side of the labyrinth in a hard
jolt. She slipped.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">If I fall, I could run.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Before the thought had been and gone, her grip on the mane
loosened. She slid to the side. Hot breath and the scrape of teeth on her ankle
warned her, just in time. She yanked her foot out of range of the snapping
jaws, and lost her balance. Making an instinctive grab for the mane with her right
hand—she dropped the knife.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Her kidnapper growled and tightened his grip on her stomach.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She gasped for her voice. “Put me down!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I either kill you or
take you with me.” The sparkling black blade of his laughter cut deep into her
soul.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Accelerating faster and faster, they wove in and out of the
treacherous rocks in a mad, blurring rush up the side of the valley. If she
fell off now and hit a rock, she’d be roadkill. She anchored both hands firmly
in the mane and leaned back into the solid chest of her attacker.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">They raced on, licks of green fire lighting up the hill
behind them. A deep maw of black within purple mist formed ahead, transforming
the familiar landscape into a horror. The knowledge of where they headed
slammed inside her brain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Trina’s heart sped into a sharp staccato.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Words of denial formed in her constricted throat, gone long
before she had a chance to know what they were.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Don’t make me go.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">They rocketed to the top of the valley, the piranha hounds
schooling tightly around them as they raced to the looming mouth of the portal.
Steely muscles bunched and flexed under her.</span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Launching into the air, they flew into the mix of fog
and darkness encased in the sound of her scream.</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: georgia; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><b style="font-family: georgia;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcTHUpRtdfu748ztBM4t3mY1v49uZNvdGY31B-ciCnWuhfCp4b862hoxwzLx_BopStFpEn6neeofWVGY2aNhTIpZoyyetI2YK-jEnhpqU7r_Ymrw6MS7kP72-aAmwBMx0LMrpmGjn-Aup_yIjiOxYmplXVYe3zRlHTngv7_Joxa4OPofufgTrlMU_2zDAw/s1600/Logo%20square%20no%205_Jessica%20Ash.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcTHUpRtdfu748ztBM4t3mY1v49uZNvdGY31B-ciCnWuhfCp4b862hoxwzLx_BopStFpEn6neeofWVGY2aNhTIpZoyyetI2YK-jEnhpqU7r_Ymrw6MS7kP72-aAmwBMx0LMrpmGjn-Aup_yIjiOxYmplXVYe3zRlHTngv7_Joxa4OPofufgTrlMU_2zDAw/w200-h200/Logo%20square%20no%205_Jessica%20Ash.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Jessica Ash loves dragons, magic, and romance, and is lucky enough to write about all three while consuming boatloads of chocolate. Her favorite fantasy is taking a luxury cruise up the Rhine where she could stare at the castles along the water and dream of faery. She writes dark fae fantasy romance where evil queens are on the hunt and strong heroes and heroines fall in love.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Website: <a href="https://jessicaashbooks.com">https://jessicaashbooks.com</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tik-tok: <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@authorjash">https://www.tiktok.com/@authorjash</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Bookbub: <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/jessica-ash " rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://www.bookbub.com/profile/jessica-ash </a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jessicaashromance">https://www.facebook.com/jessicaashromance</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/151835998-jessica-ash">https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/151835998-jessica-ash</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amazon: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Jessica-Ash/author/B0B2BHJ7R9">https://www.amazon.com/stores/Jessica-Ash/author/B0B2BHJ7R9</a> </span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGP5MuSYmyyY4I47cx6_DhPmC4Rs_gHRltGqadZu_9w0N2YqIwFqdShaWCCuVV3L9chSNkRmExRwUQHWM1Die3sD4Ql-FaRYPgt_HxygINxFPswYGWGVsw7GtAoyyZMMqMF5n5gP4Ytrjy5iC0YXCQfbNSjeMcQ225M2rhPiJAj7NLvd-7ICDZB-evZRP8/s1080/Blood%20and%20Roses%20Instagram%20Post.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGP5MuSYmyyY4I47cx6_DhPmC4Rs_gHRltGqadZu_9w0N2YqIwFqdShaWCCuVV3L9chSNkRmExRwUQHWM1Die3sD4Ql-FaRYPgt_HxygINxFPswYGWGVsw7GtAoyyZMMqMF5n5gP4Ytrjy5iC0YXCQfbNSjeMcQ225M2rhPiJAj7NLvd-7ICDZB-evZRP8/s320/Blood%20and%20Roses%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2215" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2215/" id="rcwidget_5qw4s13w" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-34387319121920617522024-02-23T03:00:00.004-05:002024-02-23T03:00:00.248-05:00Guest Blog - Aestrangel the Fallen by Maria DeVivo #DarkUrbanFantasy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_gCfJ1oGeeKD8e1QYIvzkw8nANJYPOkUHNCZrDskIHG5Ug7xAo0A7mXcQqP9JJJFZ2A6V36lKkG4B0lgzukD7W_AO_RGcI3hrYz28WPhZbZsS1Ww6UfwghVKsIYBU8zGe8P_rp7tDTgcdGp5IMq51HnCMgqCis6gRUjqAeS3I4hl2yHMMXsSnfNKEETa1/s820/_Aestrangel%20%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_gCfJ1oGeeKD8e1QYIvzkw8nANJYPOkUHNCZrDskIHG5Ug7xAo0A7mXcQqP9JJJFZ2A6V36lKkG4B0lgzukD7W_AO_RGcI3hrYz28WPhZbZsS1Ww6UfwghVKsIYBU8zGe8P_rp7tDTgcdGp5IMq51HnCMgqCis6gRUjqAeS3I4hl2yHMMXsSnfNKEETa1/w400-h153/_Aestrangel%20%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Since I started writing professionally in 2010, I’ve had to be very disciplined in my writing routine. I came to the realization pretty fast that I have to be structured and hold myself accountable or else it just isn’t going to get done. Setting a routine is a very personal thing and what works for me might not work for others, but I stress that it is vital to have some sort of regiment. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As a teacher, I always knew that I would set aside summers to write. Teach 10 months, write for 2. Put out 1 book a year. Seemed like the perfect plan. But when 2022 rolled around and I signed a major contract with 4 Horsemen Publications, I knew the heat was on when I committed to writing two books a year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, here’s what I do, in its simplest form: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In the summer, I write three days a week. I start around 9am with a cup of coffee and write until I pump out 3,000 words. Some days I can knock it out in a few hours, some days I get super distracted, and it takes a little longer. But always 3k. That’s my accountability threshold. 3k is roughly a complete chapter in most of my worlds. At that pace, I finish a novel with some time to spare to enjoy the rest of the summer. Ahhh, the teacher-life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>During the school year, I write three days a week. But this time around, I commit to 1,000 words a night (so roughly a chapter a week). Depending on my “distractability”-factor, I can get this done in as little as an hour, or as long as two. This allows me time to be mom and wife and decompress after a long day of teaching middle school. At that pace, I can complete a novel in 5-6 months.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Bottom line is this… write. If you want it bad enough, figure out a routine that works for you and WRITE. Books ain’t go’ne write themselves, ya know? If you’re making the attempt, progress will be made. Stick to something that is consistent. Research counts, too. Notes count, too. On days that I’m not actively writing, I’m researching or jotting notes, so if you’re working on SOMETHING, you’re still working. Everyone’s process is going to look different, but at the end of the day, having a defined process is going to make the flow and construction of your work come to fruition in a much smoother way. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UACRwXQ6clOhxbbyYLXcoAVRnOxaSw6FcOn31FkWSyptUlsPxhq6RvNV5z8KLEFMMJ2Ltuhc91U5-xjZ0QYufUMM7wYk_KyaPVp-m3jC4r4cP0mUl7RhNj7Tybz0vzZE3QHsP1XuSWJrD5QvfnQv1sAYgxWjVKHPd5YMuqc3AC910TNSBi7ENUXrZX9g/s2400/1.%20Aestrangel%20the%20Fallen.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UACRwXQ6clOhxbbyYLXcoAVRnOxaSw6FcOn31FkWSyptUlsPxhq6RvNV5z8KLEFMMJ2Ltuhc91U5-xjZ0QYufUMM7wYk_KyaPVp-m3jC4r4cP0mUl7RhNj7Tybz0vzZE3QHsP1XuSWJrD5QvfnQv1sAYgxWjVKHPd5YMuqc3AC910TNSBi7ENUXrZX9g/s320/1.%20Aestrangel%20the%20Fallen.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Aestrangel the Fallen </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>The Aestrangel Trinity </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Part 1</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Maria DeVivo</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Dark Urban Fantasy</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: 4 Horsemen Publications</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: September 2023</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: 1644509261</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 240</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: 63K</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: Hell hath no fury like an angel scorned!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Aestra, favorite teenaged angel of The Lord, has been sent to Earth to ensure that high school senior, Jake Parker, pursues the correct path. He is teetering between two options that may seem innocuous, but only one will lead him to positively impact the lives of millions of humans.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">But what happens when the heart chooses love over responsibility? For Aestra, one fateful night will set into motion a chain of events unforeseen by even her infallible Creator.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>
<b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><a href="https://amzn.to/4blfIyA">Amazon</a> <a href="https://books2read.com/aestrangel01">Books2Read</a></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div></b></div><div><span><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family: times;"><b></b></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Excerpt</b><br />
<b><i><br />
From Chapter One: Learning the Ways</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">They tell me I should be dreaming by now, that the images and scenarios
should be well-embedded into my brand-new subconsciousness, but for me, all
there has been is color. No. That’s not right. When I close my brand-new eyes,
all that consumes me are the shifting shades of grays and blacks, and I’m not
sure if this is something I should be worried about or not. I’ve been in this
human simulation environment for quite some time now, and I’m guessing that
part of my “humanness” hasn’t kicked in yet. But I’ve heard the others talking
and describing their dreams, and I’m getting anxious for my first one. Revalia,
the closest thing I have to what humans call a “best friend,” has told me the
fabulous tales of her dreams. She says sometimes she doesn’t even want to wake
up. She says the images and sounds and smells are so overpowering, so
overwhelming, that when she wakes up, she desperately longs to go back to that
dreamy, lazy place between the conscious and unconscious mind. I wish I knew
what she was talking about. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I know my lack of dreams worries Camael. He has told me many times the
human experience is multi-pronged and multi-faceted, and in order for me to
complete my calling, I must be immersed in the most basic of human functions.
There’s no other way for me to complete my mission because there’s no other way
for me to be a “believable” Guardian to the human I am assigned. And if I don’t
complete my mission successfully, I will never move up the ranks and become a
Guardian Angel. Camael is in a higher order of angels than I am—the Dominions.
He’s my mentor, and it’s his job to prepare me for the journey that I’m about
to embark upon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Yes, I’m an angel—we all are: Camael, Revalia, the others, and me. But,
my rank right now is that of angel—the lowest rung on the ladder. My goal is to
move up to Guardian, and hopefully beyond. It’s the natural progression for my
kind, and I’m excited to serve the Creator (or God, as the humans refer to Him)
and all of His glorious wonders.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">There is no time—not the way humans divide time up at least. I’ve
always existed, yet there are others and elders who were here in Ilarium before
I was created, and since I’ve been given the ability to communicate in human
language, it seems hard for me to put into words all the thoughts and feelings
that I had before. Before, there was just love and peace and a willingness to
serve and please, but now there is an actual lexicon, a vocabulary of tens of
thousands of words, that I’m still trying to figure out how to effectively
communicate and verbalize what’s in my heart. Never having had a heart before,
it takes some getting used to.</span></p></blockquote><blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">We angels who are preparing for our callings have been thrust into a human-like
world in order to become accustomed to the actual life of a human. The Powers
That Be have replicated the physical world and have created buildings and
structures for us, given us languages, infused us with feelings, and given us
body shapes all in preparation for our descent to Earth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">While angels are neither male nor female, I have the body of a woman
now, and I will be assigned female attributes from here forward. I rather do
like the contour of the female form, I always have, and perhaps my partiality
towards women is what prompted the Creator to put me in a woman’s body. My
wings are more defined too; they are heavy on my shoulders with the feathered
tips almost irritating the backs of my arms and legs. As the human notion of
time becomes more ingrained into our routine, the weight of my wings becomes
more and more cumbersome. Camael has said that the awareness of our wings was
important so when we lose them on our descent, the shock wouldn’t be so bad. I
don’t know; I’m still trying to understand all my teachings. Like how we’re
going to be given a set of human memories specific to us and our assignment,
yet have all the knowledge of our angelic lives. The thought of blending the
two perplexes me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">This
leads me to right now. This time. This place. The unfamiliarity of it all.
Camael says this is a school, and the human I am assigned to help goes to one.
I know this. I’ve seen them, the humans. I’ve watched them from up high, but
actually being in a school—the four white walls and chairs called desks filed
in rows with children sitting at them—is quite an adjustment. I sit in the
front of a single aisle. We’re in alphabetical order, and I’m Aestra, so that
means I’m first in the row. Revalia is a few desks behind me. I turn my head to
try to catch her attention, but she’s staring out the window, deep in what
Camael calls a “daydream.” I look at her a few seconds longer hoping my gaze
can break her trance, but she’s too far gone, mesmerized in her human thoughts.
The one disadvantage to being in this human shape is we angels can no longer
feel the thoughts and emotions of others without speaking them. If I had been
free from this woman body, I would have been able to read Revalia’s mind, but
then again, if we weren’t in these human forms, Revalia wouldn’t be having such
thoughts as hypnotizing daydreams…</span></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">
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<!--[endif]--></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BfIoTYZiZfbWU0aGrTKS3mZh_DRwzma6lmHRrMX35hh4Mmqj8DaSVnGRuHclKyn_IB8CHlXlUFbJbcf639Besso9pAkRi0LH_hf7EB81b0qqcR7BJt_zAtES9ddjci1pW3AvLp9yw_gKW_B5RNGzZViduelFJKExzZW6-J1wU5R29okPmpTwF75_HQxg/s3688/new2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3688" data-original-width="2500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BfIoTYZiZfbWU0aGrTKS3mZh_DRwzma6lmHRrMX35hh4Mmqj8DaSVnGRuHclKyn_IB8CHlXlUFbJbcf639Besso9pAkRi0LH_hf7EB81b0qqcR7BJt_zAtES9ddjci1pW3AvLp9yw_gKW_B5RNGzZViduelFJKExzZW6-J1wU5R29okPmpTwF75_HQxg/w136-h200/new2.jpg" width="136" /></a></div>About the Author: </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Maria is the Author of the Amazon bestselling and award-winning series The Coal Elf Chronicles, the YA psychological horror series The Altered Experience, and the NA Urban Fantasy series The Aestrangel Trinity. When not writing about dark fantasy and horror, she teaches Language Arts and Journalism to middle school students in Florida. A lover of all things dark and demented, she takes pleasure in warping the comfort factor in her readers’ minds. Just when you think you’ve reached a safe space in her stories, she snaps you back into her twisted reality.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Link Tree: <a href="https://linktr.ee/mariadevivo">https://linktr.ee/mariadevivo</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Newsletter: <a href="https://bit.ly/3OrcyPT " rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://bit.ly/3OrcyPT </a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Website: <a href="https://www.mariadevivo.com">https://www.mariadevivo.com</a>/ </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">TikTok: <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@authormariadevivo">https://www.tiktok.com/@authormariadevivo</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/authordevivo">https://www.instagram.com/authordevivo</a>/</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/mariadevivoauthor">https://www.facebook.com/mariadevivoauthor</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Youtube: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/c/MariaDeVivo">https://www.youtube.com/c/MariaDeVivo</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amazon: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Maria-DeVivo/e/B00CIAYHKY">https://www.amazon.com/Maria-DeVivo/e/B00CIAYHKY</a>/</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3127SkvnVdmzIecGN5l3fj9vRAdPAJyO5yADqEAihzgCn9xZNHYs_BUDUK9swAvIQX2gcBT9Ypr5DTUYzw2a_tSnhQjOFvKuVG5_b4c8xZDtE3Mn55ePX0L_CjVlNoSyRS5bQ7XQgPhsOxUu-uRQEgaQXQ0E8uSaNydfEBjBqkhMmoEP6O3fjQO-GgvLh/s1080/_Aestrangel%20%20Instagram%20Post.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3127SkvnVdmzIecGN5l3fj9vRAdPAJyO5yADqEAihzgCn9xZNHYs_BUDUK9swAvIQX2gcBT9Ypr5DTUYzw2a_tSnhQjOFvKuVG5_b4c8xZDtE3Mn55ePX0L_CjVlNoSyRS5bQ7XQgPhsOxUu-uRQEgaQXQ0E8uSaNydfEBjBqkhMmoEP6O3fjQO-GgvLh/s320/_Aestrangel%20%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-27784172059965162712024-02-19T03:00:00.001-05:002024-02-19T03:00:00.137-05:00False Haven by Rebecca Rook #YAHorror<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DatwD3KJE_lMLbglGxrhQ21ytjuZekfUCjOoY8gUYtpkDn6Bq6WAVBK3VbXNXYZLxiP2xw9LiwL22mTUjxhB2DL0WO9luKO1WQdMabAoZ41YADS5unVQv82pZPzyVK-LYvG3a1U8Lg3yQKAQIQ-2i9p-4Zy6WW07VYBVD2CZzp0SSJsqYJlt3vsEs4Dj/s820/False%20Haven%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DatwD3KJE_lMLbglGxrhQ21ytjuZekfUCjOoY8gUYtpkDn6Bq6WAVBK3VbXNXYZLxiP2xw9LiwL22mTUjxhB2DL0WO9luKO1WQdMabAoZ41YADS5unVQv82pZPzyVK-LYvG3a1U8Lg3yQKAQIQ-2i9p-4Zy6WW07VYBVD2CZzp0SSJsqYJlt3vsEs4Dj/w400-h153/False%20Haven%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFo0wb9woHNeKoY0VWB8_0oW97IrgUVn5z8rZcPHNk3vK6foQabUHSUpHFZ4Z5UFrPffP1Di-gdaam92U7_YGXqi0KCRYsx8pczF98sUX5Ybhkz5B_XAqSQCNbikQhW4oYhMiCq7hzDETTLQZRTpZYiyC96WqFcAQ6PsMK3gCPT1d3mrK8CIzzZnO4AxAX/s1500/FH%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="970" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFo0wb9woHNeKoY0VWB8_0oW97IrgUVn5z8rZcPHNk3vK6foQabUHSUpHFZ4Z5UFrPffP1Di-gdaam92U7_YGXqi0KCRYsx8pczF98sUX5Ybhkz5B_XAqSQCNbikQhW4oYhMiCq7hzDETTLQZRTpZYiyC96WqFcAQ6PsMK3gCPT1d3mrK8CIzzZnO4AxAX/s320/FH%20Cover.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>False Haven</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Rebecca Rook</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Young Adult Horror</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: Hellebore House</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: February 13, 2024</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: Print: 979-8-9894253-2-7 </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: e-book: 979-8-9894253-3-4</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: B0CNDX3SBY</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 250</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: 60,000</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Paper & Sage Designs</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: Her last chance may end her life.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Seventeen-year-old Vivienne Barston’s life has fallen apart.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">With her mother recently dead, her father disappears into his grief – leaving Viv to deal with her sadness and anger alone. To cope, Viv turns to destructive behaviors like petty vandalism, and after a disturbing stint in a juvenile detention center frightens her, Viv agrees to a court mandated service opportunity designed to expunge her record. The deal: work for six weeks with a trail conservation crew in the rural woods of southern Oregon, and she’ll be free with a clean slate.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">She knows it’s her last chance to fix her life.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">When Viv arrives at the small town of Hard Luck, Oregon, she meets her motley crewmates, all with troubles of their own. The unusual group travels to Grafton Stake, a remote and derelict former asylum with a haunted history–and now Viv must face the ghosts of the past while fighting for her future.</span></div><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><a href="https://amzn.to/3UitADA">Amazon</a></b><o:p></o:p></span></p></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b></b></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Excerpt:</b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Five
faces looked up at her entrance: two girls and three guys. They sat around a
conference table in office chairs that were sleek, professional, and out of
place in the rustic lodge. An open box of cheap pastries rested at the center of
the table, surrounded by water bottles, sodas, and napkins. A pile of hiker’s
backpacks rested in the corner of the room. Viv cast the others a quick glance,
then placed her pack next to the pile. She picked a chair at the end of the
table, closest to the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Viv
found five pairs of eyes studying her. She felt grubby after a long day on
public transportation and tried not to squirm under the scrutiny.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What’s
your name?” one of the girls demanded.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Viv.”
She didn’t inquire about their names. None of them were there to make friends. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The
girl who had demanded Viv’s name opened her mouth to say more but was
interrupted by the arrival of a woman in her thirties with thin black hair
pulled into a low ponytail, nut-brown skin, and a stocky, muscular build. The
woman walked with authority and purpose, her shoulders back and her head
upright, and when she came to a stop at the head of the conference table, she
cast an assessing gaze over Viv. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You
must be Vivienne.” It wasn’t a question. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Viv
nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Welcome.”
The woman didn’t smile. “I’m Helen Whiteaker, and I run this program. You will
report to me for the duration of your time here.” Helen’s dark eyes held a
steel promise of order.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Viv
found herself sitting up a bit straighter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Helen
swept a glance around the room. “We’re all here, so let’s start.” She then eyed
the pastries in the center of the table. “I’d eat those if I were you. Our
meals over the next six weeks won’t be spectacular.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">One
of the boys reached for a Danish. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">This
seemed to satisfy Helen. “Welcome to the Conservation Corps for Teens. Let’s
discuss what you’re here to work on for the next six weeks. At the direction of
the Bureau of Land Management and the local county council, we’ll be providing
the grunt labor for the demolition and cleanup of Grafton Stake, a local
institution with several old buildings. We will also build a trail system,
campsites, and recreational day sites around the area. The goal of our work is
to help create a park-like setting for a future campground and visitor’s center.”<br />
Helen paused. “Does anyone have questions?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">No
one responded. The boy with the Danish ate loudly, without closing his mouth.
Viv winced at the sight, then looked away. The squelching noise turned her
stomach.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Helen
eyed Danish Boy with a flicker of amusement in her eyes before continuing. “We
have a tight schedule and will need to work fast. We work eight hours a day,
every Monday through Friday, with lunches and breaks. Weekends will be spent at
the campsite, or in town for short durations.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Helen
paused again and looked around the conference room with her eyebrows raised.
When no one said anything, she sighed. “I’m going to be blunt: none of you are
here because you want to be here.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Viv
felt the impact of the words like a dash of cold water across the face. She saw
the others react, too, shifting uncomfortably in their seats or staring at the
floor or the ceiling.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Helen
stared at the table. “For various legal and privacy reasons, I do not know the
specifics of why you are here, but I will not tolerate any insubordination or
disruption on my team. If you misbehave, I will ship you home without a second
chance. This is a job. You will be paid a stipend at the end of the six
weeks—or a prorated amount for the time you’ve spent in this program. I expect professional
behavior from each of you, towards me and towards each other.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">That
means no sex, no drugs, no shit talking, and no fights.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The
conference room was still. Viv’s stomach roiled with anxiety. She almost
admired how efficiently Helen had asserted control over the group.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Really?” Helen cast a skeptical glance around the
room. “No questions at all?”</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><b style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br />
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<!--[endif]--></span></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6j1wvHMWGJMVNZAHm5gHCXfl-s_dSRYQ85_7y7FExT65LHNZyBAt1LoeF0EvYs0bJkmO7yuiuGnVWCdAQWmxxiK5r4p6ocFCHqa-PHiILRa08HiY_YSPcA1fnz5xY-bXZjmlmh_xaZjaKZX5gBtCBhIVP2Vzlnh7paowWW5VE-sq5isBtQJ0-EpgM5CFt/s400/Writer%20Headshot.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6j1wvHMWGJMVNZAHm5gHCXfl-s_dSRYQ85_7y7FExT65LHNZyBAt1LoeF0EvYs0bJkmO7yuiuGnVWCdAQWmxxiK5r4p6ocFCHqa-PHiILRa08HiY_YSPcA1fnz5xY-bXZjmlmh_xaZjaKZX5gBtCBhIVP2Vzlnh7paowWW5VE-sq5isBtQJ0-EpgM5CFt/w200-h200/Writer%20Headshot.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Rebecca Rook is a hard of hearing person who designs tabletop games, manages a little free library dedicated to sequential art and comics, and lives in the Pacific Northwest with two wonderful dogs. A 2021-2022 Hugo House Fellow in Seattle, WA, she also attended the 2021 Tin House YA Fiction Workshop in Portland, OR. Prior to this, she completed the wonderful Yearlong Workshop for Young Adult and Middle Grade Fiction at Hugo House. She writes young adult fiction in the fantasy, thriller, and horror genres.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Website: <a href="https://www.byrebeccarook.com/">https://www.byrebeccarook.com/</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/byrebeccarook">https://www.instagram.com/byrebeccarook</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amazon: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0CM1GVVY2">https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0CM1GVVY2</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/45848659.Rebecca_Rook">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/45848659.Rebecca_Rook</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6x1Zgf4lUpCquJknJMnxTVkemC3Tq4-V8wOjpXcKC8LPjAiQr-2X3fv6XJzDwIThsMoAAQIBm1_7CkNNpVzEaA1MckhF7etoTL06G0wPyCY9ZA67VAZpJvXHOC_nJ7VdC6llJlK3ctChBF6BxBupRHzVocBkwXWVRqo7diBTWd48fqG9Eq5dN_5p0SuQG/s1080/False%20Haven%20Instagram%20Post.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6x1Zgf4lUpCquJknJMnxTVkemC3Tq4-V8wOjpXcKC8LPjAiQr-2X3fv6XJzDwIThsMoAAQIBm1_7CkNNpVzEaA1MckhF7etoTL06G0wPyCY9ZA67VAZpJvXHOC_nJ7VdC6llJlK3ctChBF6BxBupRHzVocBkwXWVRqo7diBTWd48fqG9Eq5dN_5p0SuQG/s320/False%20Haven%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b></span></div><div><br /></div></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2217" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2217/" id="rcwidget_k2vkiqx5" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-2617773915216891212024-02-16T11:59:00.003-05:002024-02-16T11:59:22.314-05:00Free Book Friday - Ausome Parenting: The Guide to Endless Love, Emotional Support, and Acceptance for Your Autistic Child<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i> <span style="font-size: large;">Free Book Friday February 16, 2024</span></i></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiwH3jn2FZZyBQYI6sWXLeyoCZWzoonIkftR6ACAG_4NTZQMe-QR7P0e9SJdWQYinW5KNFwgOyvPySPmXw175xrvpWyReZzlnPVm-gxCiNi20KjkX_M_r3OUsZTwNbZXGokVD7KSAfddzTtsHpd-Fy37AeXE8SKiaFUX60sU6ryo2MFTbLBgz_Cl75af-y/s1920/Ausome%20%20Free%20Book%20Friday%20(1).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiwH3jn2FZZyBQYI6sWXLeyoCZWzoonIkftR6ACAG_4NTZQMe-QR7P0e9SJdWQYinW5KNFwgOyvPySPmXw175xrvpWyReZzlnPVm-gxCiNi20KjkX_M_r3OUsZTwNbZXGokVD7KSAfddzTtsHpd-Fy37AeXE8SKiaFUX60sU6ryo2MFTbLBgz_Cl75af-y/w400-h225/Ausome%20%20Free%20Book%20Friday%20(1).png" width="400" /></span></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5pyfeD5GlPhXW_LBnwPRxJcXsKdPUjgrkf6ORq8-ruD54nS3sTQhRtvavafSM7wKWOvT4gHAl9psTuKyWXHvYGlllfIMsVVzN_pocXd2DPJu8lFDRgfU5SLL88UcDHJadQyUab17IFjuGUlsHXJxjfsNA5uuumfjxafOuSZB2aY0sCaGaZcnrzC5lC51I/s2700/Ausome%20parenting_cover4_v4%20(1).jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5pyfeD5GlPhXW_LBnwPRxJcXsKdPUjgrkf6ORq8-ruD54nS3sTQhRtvavafSM7wKWOvT4gHAl9psTuKyWXHvYGlllfIMsVVzN_pocXd2DPJu8lFDRgfU5SLL88UcDHJadQyUab17IFjuGUlsHXJxjfsNA5uuumfjxafOuSZB2aY0sCaGaZcnrzC5lC51I/s320/Ausome%20parenting_cover4_v4%20(1).jpg" width="213" /></a></span></b></div><b><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ausome Parenting: The Guide to Endless Love, Emotional Support, and Acceptance for Your Autistic Child</span></b><p></p><p><b><span style="font-family: georgia;">Natalie Loveson</span></b></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: B0CSFRB4JS</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: Ausome Parenting</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publication Date: January 31, 2024</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Do you feel overwhelmed and alone in raising your autistic child? Are you seeking solutions and empowerment on this journey?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">As a fellow autism parent, I understand those sleepless nights spent worrying about the future. I know the heartache when your child struggles with bullies or meltdowns. But I also recognize your child’s unique strengths and capabilities.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In “Ausome Parenting,” I invite you to join me in shifting the narrative. This is not a story of hardship, but of hope. Of forging a profound connection with your wonderful child. Of nurturing their growth in an environment of unconditional love and acceptance.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">With research-backed strategies and wisdom from my own journey, I provide a practical roadmap so you can:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Deeply understand autism and embrace your child’s neurodiversity</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Identify early red flags and signs of autism with actionable checklists</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Uncover your child’s strengths and nurture their self-esteem</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Advocate for your child’s needs at school and in your community</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Build an empowering support network as a family</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">•<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And above all, foster a life of belonging, compassion, and limitless potential for your child</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">This book acknowledges the realities, yet shines a light on possibilities. My goal is to equip you with resilience, optimism, and practical tools so you can help your child thrive.</span></p><p><a href="https://amzn.to/42FhIhe"><span style="font-family: georgia;">https://amzn.to/42FhIhe</span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">#Autism #AutisticChild #AutismParenting #ParentingAutisticChildren #ParentingHelp #RaisingAutisticKids #Parenting #SelfHelp #Ausome #Ausomeparenting #FreeBook #FreeRead #FreeBookFriday</span></p><div><br /></div>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-48486341137402369432024-02-14T03:30:00.001-05:002024-02-14T03:30:00.128-05:00Soul Masters: The Hunting Grounds by K.R. Gastreich #PNR<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6WTNoGZq7qm-JfxXs4K0T_UBcRnZy2eKX_m3auVlPIMrJEhmIyeVuQ-b_ul_Cy630vUt3GcxETG2w76-YyvePA3byCRv4vvyljJhRk1sOUGXMuJkIilwc3dg5cM4hy4pdghUn6rHQQ6lFCQ6auGqngwxhs0sYd7jr4xvWwUGhjJKX-0qIvYQMougioMG/s820/soul%20masters%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6WTNoGZq7qm-JfxXs4K0T_UBcRnZy2eKX_m3auVlPIMrJEhmIyeVuQ-b_ul_Cy630vUt3GcxETG2w76-YyvePA3byCRv4vvyljJhRk1sOUGXMuJkIilwc3dg5cM4hy4pdghUn6rHQQ6lFCQ6auGqngwxhs0sYd7jr4xvWwUGhjJKX-0qIvYQMougioMG/w400-h153/soul%20masters%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaAdupnn8JJNkuQv33LsqjL-w01XEtUpwVMZmEfphE_EDoxFK8tUKTQqzmfa5QBtR0e_MWq6hiy5gknBikXrYaGds02xVonHmhuC1DoQnGfHfUgN-mwzk0U0rpDgSj7KBWWHoVfGrkbZzEwTHDy3lsoYA6ZiEde4bTArnTycpUTfivsE1pF1lqTchzP456/s2252/SoulMastersTheHuntingGrounds_w17960_ib.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaAdupnn8JJNkuQv33LsqjL-w01XEtUpwVMZmEfphE_EDoxFK8tUKTQqzmfa5QBtR0e_MWq6hiy5gknBikXrYaGds02xVonHmhuC1DoQnGfHfUgN-mwzk0U0rpDgSj7KBWWHoVfGrkbZzEwTHDy3lsoYA6ZiEde4bTArnTycpUTfivsE1pF1lqTchzP456/s320/SoulMastersTheHuntingGrounds_w17960_ib.jpg" width="199" /></a></div>Soul Masters: The Hunting Grounds</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Soul Masters</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Book One</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>K.R. Gastreich</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Paranormal Romance</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: The Wild Rose Press</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: February 7, 2024</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: 978-1509253302</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: B0CP6GMWRK</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 320</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: 90k</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Kristian Norris</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: He wants to claim her soul. But can she capture his heart?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">On a hike through the forest, Mayela stumbles into a terrifying world where immortals hunt souls. To survive she secures protection from a Soul Master. When he demands payment, Mayela fights back. But how can she fight the desire consuming her heart?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Every soul Nathan claims expands the power of his realm. In Mayela, he finds a rare gift that could guarantee his place among the Soul Masters. All he must do is secure her allegiance without losing his heart. And Nathan has no heart to lose. Or does he? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">With eternity at stake, Mayela and Nathan ignite a transcendent passion that breaks all the rules. Among the Soul Masters, a malevolent force awakens. The final hunt is on…</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://amzn.to/48n624N">Amazon</a> <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/soul-masters-kr-gastreich/1144418170">BN</a> <a href="https://bookshop.org/p/books/soul-masters-the-hunting-grounds-k-r-gastreich/20925562?ean=9781509253302">Bookshop</a></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Excerpt:</span></b><b> </b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">Then
everything froze. Joni, the customers, the cars outside. All movement simply
stopped. The chime on the front door sounded. My throat went dry. Somehow, I
knew what was happening. I knew who had arrived, though I didn’t understand how
or why.<br />
Twisting around, I peered over the rim of the booth. Standing in the doorway
was the man from my hallucinations, a creature of the dark plains. Tall and
slim, broad-shouldered, dark in aspect. That same man had beheaded a snake in
my kitchen. Not my kitchen, I reminded myself. The illusion of my kitchen, part
of the same hallucination of an impossible world. The Hunting Grounds, he’d
called it. Where we go to hunt souls.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">My
mind spun with the impossibility of what I was seeing. He couldn’t be real.
Yet here he was, in Joni’s shop. Except, he looked different. His hair
was peppered gray instead of black. His skin seemed a shade darker. Or maybe
lighter? It was like wrapping my head around a mirage, trying to remember what
he looked like in my nightmares. But the simple force of his presence, the
quiet luminescence of his spirit, was unmistakable. That was him.<br />
Without so much as a glance in my direction, the man stepped into the shop and
started toward the counter. Everything stirred at once. Several people looked
his way. Joni let go a long, low whistle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">“Well,
I’ll be!” she exclaimed. "We haven’t had anyone that drop-dead gorgeous walk
in here since…Well, ever!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">She
kept staring, mouth agape, as he ordered coffee. Then her face lit up, and she
jumped into action, wiping down the table next to me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">“I’ve
got an idea,” she said. “I think you should go for him.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">“What?”
I croaked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">“He’s
totally your style.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">“I
don’t date men in suits.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">“What
are you talking about?” She laughed. “Look at him! It’s fate. I can feel it.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">“Joni
–”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">“Sir!”
She called. “Sir, we’ve got an empty table right over here. Next to the
windows.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">Holy
crap! I sank deeper into my seat. “I’m serious, Joni! Send him somewhere else.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">“Straighten
up, beautiful.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Give it a shot. What’ve you got
to lose?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">Then
she was gone. I cast about frantically for an escape, but there was no back
exit from the booth. Unless I wanted to crash through the window. Could I do that?
Crash through the window?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">Yeah,
I could do that. But I’d have to leave my insects behind, and –<br />
And there he was, taking the table next to me. His chair scraped against the
floor. His clothes rustled as he settled in. Minutes passed while my heart
pounded inside my chest. I kept my face turned, pretended to stare out the
window, wondered whether it would hurt to feel the glass shatter against my
skin.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">Idle
talk filled the coffee shop. Customers came and went, orders were taken, steam
forced through frothing milk.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: times;">Still
the man said nothing.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">I snuck a glance in his direction. Damn, he was
handsome. Heart stoppingly so. Desire tugged at my gut, a strangely familiar
sense of attraction, as if we’d known each other before this moment. As if I’d
been bound to him in a time before memory.</span></span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">
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<!--[endif]--></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9F_96SYhjeuQH3tG76IgL7Q1ZL6aX82lUVcsx-Q9pFU8a9KwPAEPijZlJeEgwIJ8KuYU0myM24KjmIioTkr0_jIDAhL03SCKB99katBe_voFCg8TinBhYFiBKeV5gjRQeHjxK7W9Gsgr-MTKVX4siHSLBydT6JvoTdvIdRWmo5HFQXm29lA_1na2Qfvaj/s2100/5x7_300dpi_Karin_244A0694.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9F_96SYhjeuQH3tG76IgL7Q1ZL6aX82lUVcsx-Q9pFU8a9KwPAEPijZlJeEgwIJ8KuYU0myM24KjmIioTkr0_jIDAhL03SCKB99katBe_voFCg8TinBhYFiBKeV5gjRQeHjxK7W9Gsgr-MTKVX4siHSLBydT6JvoTdvIdRWmo5HFQXm29lA_1na2Qfvaj/w143-h200/5x7_300dpi_Karin_244A0694.jpg" width="143" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">K.R. Gastreich is a recipient of the OZMA Award for fantasy fiction and the Andrews Forest Writer’s Residency, as well as a winner of the Women on Writing Flash Fiction Contest. Her fantasy novels feature high-stakes romance, gripping battles, and darkly lyrical prose. In addition to Soul Masters and The Silver Web trilogy, she has published short stories in Zahir, Adventures for the Average Woman, 69 Flavors of Paranoia, and World Jumping.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">A proud native of the American Midwest, K.R. Gastreich lived for many years in Texas and then in Latin America before returning to the Kansas City Metro where she grew up. When not writing she enjoys hiking, camping, studying dance, and spending time with her family.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">To learn about new releases and other events, visit K.R. Gastreich’s website at krgastreich.com, or follow her on Instagram @EolynChronicles.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Website: <a href="https://www.krgastreich.com">https://www.krgastreich.com</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Linktree: <a href="https://linktr.ee/EolynChronicles">https://linktr.ee/EolynChronicles</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063135194840">https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063135194840</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4431702.K_R_Gastreich">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4431702.K_R_Gastreich</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjneKRhoLUUYFdqwOjkfAf1Ixk2_oDnvrcX3afyFwLgfdKen9-jXj5eK20hKTJq10gmYO-Xums4aRQrLo3jSuWbXrS5oN6Oeq8KgajjVC8Lf6i7Cq302nF7V5biIcYn76PwTpbTI1Fvvmi3XGQSCTKKr5ggqh_TqAM4Yfi3nL6zLt0cGCqDUK7APPItcMcZ/s1080/soul%20masters%20Instagram%20Post.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjneKRhoLUUYFdqwOjkfAf1Ixk2_oDnvrcX3afyFwLgfdKen9-jXj5eK20hKTJq10gmYO-Xums4aRQrLo3jSuWbXrS5oN6Oeq8KgajjVC8Lf6i7Cq302nF7V5biIcYn76PwTpbTI1Fvvmi3XGQSCTKKr5ggqh_TqAM4Yfi3nL6zLt0cGCqDUK7APPItcMcZ/s320/soul%20masters%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-1086587481094491082024-02-12T03:30:00.001-05:002024-02-12T03:30:00.145-05:00Hollywood by Connor Coyne #LGBTQ+ #LitFic #MagicalRealism<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimWzLsPnto_wjcqhfI5hPEGhRvtjnaBAglMGeIMSu844Fv2GUG22De3tjjqRWsKQHLzYttKWWATV23tVCqFiQCtexXy_yf3XISVNe9Y6CLaymBvjtsyaoeh-BMEB4XtPfsJ8BbTn6XxGsSKxPOo5msyckVmeKcrBSfgOncOMpoyipkBFw70fHm-z1C5jpF/s820/Hollywood%20Banner%20.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimWzLsPnto_wjcqhfI5hPEGhRvtjnaBAglMGeIMSu844Fv2GUG22De3tjjqRWsKQHLzYttKWWATV23tVCqFiQCtexXy_yf3XISVNe9Y6CLaymBvjtsyaoeh-BMEB4XtPfsJ8BbTn6XxGsSKxPOo5msyckVmeKcrBSfgOncOMpoyipkBFw70fHm-z1C5jpF/w400-h153/Hollywood%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOIi266AjLpvSp8VAXmcTkT5H_OxMMsN49aci8xYt8psy1qOjKJokksSK1bKvi42j88lV8Wz5ctM90J6E1vZxe6DyvuHyjoj6NkB3TJCpE_85BtZpgjNPM0KdNm57HyYa4rxZAuYnO3znFEDOZnyjzZYdCd-n1JV-fuywtRlp-PRPaQ5_EnyYifhsBjUzS/s2136/hollywood.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2136" data-original-width="1454" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOIi266AjLpvSp8VAXmcTkT5H_OxMMsN49aci8xYt8psy1qOjKJokksSK1bKvi42j88lV8Wz5ctM90J6E1vZxe6DyvuHyjoj6NkB3TJCpE_85BtZpgjNPM0KdNm57HyYa4rxZAuYnO3znFEDOZnyjzZYdCd-n1JV-fuywtRlp-PRPaQ5_EnyYifhsBjUzS/s320/hollywood.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>Hollywood</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Connor Coyne</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: LGBTQ+, Literary, Magical Realism</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: Lethe Press</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: Feb. 3, 2024</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: 9781590215944</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: B0CP6PG3J1</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 97</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: About 24,000</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Inkspiral</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: A new American myth for readers who enjoy a bit of madness in their weird fiction.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Anxious Ophelia steps off the elevated train in the big city, hoping to start a new life with her summer hookup, far from her dissolving family and all of the traumas of industrial Rockville. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Over the course of the next few hours Ophelia will lose her roommate, her money, and eventually, her sense of sanity when she sees a mile-long shark out on the lake, unwitnessed by anyone else, but obviously there, because if it wasn't how did she get so soaked? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ophelia cannot go back to who she was before sighting the beast, and the friends and opportunities she discovers all proceed from what and how she acts on that first, fierce, drunken night.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://amzn.to/3TRFqV5">Amazon</a> <a href="https://www.lethepressbooks.com/store/p699/hollywood.html">Lethe Press</a></b></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><b>
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<!--[endif]--></b></span></span></div><div><span><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b></b></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Excerpt:</b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">One August afternoon, in the midst of the hottest years ever recorded,
with the nation crashing through wars, the stock market climbing like Icarus
toward the sun, and the City funneling its poor people inland as it closed and
demolished the last of the projects, Ophelia got off the Red Line elevated
train at the Thorndale stop, squinted in the sunlight, and kicked her foot
against the platform to free a stone from her sandal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Home at last?” she asked herself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She certainly hoped so. There was so much here, and all of it
everywhere: dozens of dark smears from murdered bubble-gum on each sidewalk
square, hundreds of quartz-bright sidewalk squares lassoing each block, and
thousands of glowing, sweltering blocks throughout the City with its millions
of people.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">To the west, between the tracks and Broadway, Ophelia made out a video
store, a laundromat, and an internet café, all noisy with activity at four in
the afternoon. To the east, between the tracks and the lake, she saw a canyon
of tenement apartments—mostly brick, fronted with stoic windows, several
stories high—going out for three blocks before the real high rises rose from
the beach, blue and white and glass and concrete, almost unimaginably tall.
Their heights arrowed sunlight back toward Ophelia, hitting her from all sides.
And here, too, she saw people coming and going in the glow of late summer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Please,” she said. “Let this be my home.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">But who was going to answer her? Not the smartly dressed Black men
talking in low voices, laughing softly, leaning out over the tracks to look for
the next train. Not the old Polish woman in the headscarf murmuring her rosary
to herself. Not the train attendant patrolling the platform. Or the sun, the
steel high-rises, the brick tenements, the video store, or the laundromat.<br />
Since nobody would answer Ophelia, she descended the stairs, passed through the
station, and went out into the City.<br />
<br />
* * * * *<br />
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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Five minutes later, Ophelia stood in the lobby of her new apartment
building, buzzing for the super to come down and give her the keys. The
building stood near the corner of Kenmore and Ardmore, just one block from
Sheridan Road and the lake. At eight stories high, it was the tallest of its
neighbors, though still dwarfed by the towers just a block away. A white stucco
lobby. Moll carpet. Plastic plants standing in shell-shaped alcoves cut into
the wall. Nothing fancy, but with a breeze coursing down the hall from an open
fire escape, Ophelia’s new home felt luxurious.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The super arrived and eyed her new tenant suspiciously. Ophelia wasn’t
tall, but she was so skinny, especially about her face, that it created an
illusion of height. When she looked in the mirror, her prominent cheekbones
reminded her sometimes of a skull and sometimes of a praying mantis. Ophelia
was white, pale even, with fine brown hair that wisped gently about her
shoulders. She generally considered herself a fairly okay-looking person,
whatever her other defects might be. Still, she knew wrinkles and exhaustion
were about the corners of her eyes. Anyone could see this. Everyone noticed.
She was only in her early 20s but seldom got carded for alcohol.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The super frowned but must have decided Ophelia was harmless because
the woman hit the button in the wall, and the elevator dinged in reply. The
super pulled open the accordion gate, and as they rose through the building,
Ophelia watched each floor sinking out of view. She tried to ignore the stench
of stale piss. They got off at the seventh door. The woman fumbled with the
keys, swearing under her breath in some Slavic language, and opened the door to
Ophelia’s apartment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She’d seen Tasia’s pictures, but they didn’t do justice to the place.
The hallway opened into a long white living room with a white carpet and a bay
window looking out to the east. Slivers of blue water peeked in from between
the lakeside towers. An arch to the left led into a slender kitchen, all
Formica and old appliances, while another hall exited the back of the living
room, passing the first bedroom and the bathroom and ending at a second bedroom
with plenty of closets and built-in shelves along the way. Ophelia spotted a
cockroach crawling across the stovetop and another in the back bedroom. Still,
there was something so happy and fierce about the light and the skylike
linearity of the lake that hope welled up in her chest anyway. This was fine.
No, glorious! She’d deal with the roaches later. Maybe after Tasia arrived.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">As Ophelia carried out her inspection, the super stood in the living
room with her hands on her hips, waiting, but there wasn’t much else for
Ophelia to do: everything had already been settled.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Several months ago, she had told Tasia that she was going to off
herself before the end of summer if she didn’t get out of Rockville. “Let’s
move to the City,” Tasia had said. “Get jobs. Get a cheap apartment. Hit the
beach. Hit the good stuff.” The joke came up several times before the friends
realized that they took the idea seriously. Even though Tasia’d gotten her
Associates from the community college, she seemed stuck in dead-end cashier’s
jobs and was dying of boredom. Rockville was killing her slowly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">And killing me quickly, Ophelia thought. She’d only been half kidding
about surviving the summer. So, before she knew it, the two were creating
profiles on Monster.com, Googling neighborhoods, and emailing old friends from
high school who had moved to the City. Tasia drove out one weekend, picked up
some job applications, toured the apartment on Kenmore, and signed the lease.
She’d gotten in on a special promo: no security deposit required. Ophelia had
faxed her signature. They were in.<br />
But if Tasia had set the whole thing up, she also needed another week to tie up
the last loose ends at Spencer’s Gifts. “My manager got caught stealing
inventory,” she’d said. “They want to promote me. I haven’t broken the news to
them yet.” So, Tasia stayed behind while Ophelia went ahead with her sleeping
bag and a backpack full of cleaning supplies. To get the new place ready. To
make it homey.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Ophelia thought back to the 4th of July weekend when she’d lain in
Tasia’s bed with Tasia on top of her and Rockville’s fireworks bursting out the
windows. The taste of shandy on Tasia’s lips and her sturdy weight pressed
down. How all the wretchedness and sorrow of all those years had collapsed that
one drunken night. So ... were they friends now? Roommates? Lovers?
Friends-with-benefits? With all the planning for their big move, this was one
thing they hadn’t discussed. Ophelia wasn’t sure if it complicated things or
simplified them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Okay?” asked the super.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Thanks,” said Ophelia. “It’s wonderful.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">As if on cue, a dull thudding sound—four-to-the-floor with the bass
bass bass—started thrumming down from the apartment overhead. The eighth-floor
penthouse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Uhhhhh,” groaned the super. “They never stop.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She let herself out, leaving Ophelia with the music.<br />
<br />
* * * * *</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">It took Ophelia only a short time to unpack. She chose the second bedroom,
near the back. It didn’t have a view of the lake, but it got more sun, and she
could see the long sweep of high-rises following the shore and rising toward
their downtown crescendo. Since she didn’t have a dresser or bed, Ophelia
stacked her clothes in neat piles along the wall, unrolled her sleeping bag in
the middle of the floor, and crushed a cockroach with her shoe before it could
scurry for cover. Then, with the music still thudding overhead, she shouldered
her backpack and left the building.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Ophelia found a supermarket just past the Thorndale stop on the other
side of the tracks and spent the next half-hour in a reverie, pushing a
shopping cart up and down each aisle and wondering what the next month held in
store. I could apply to be a cashier here, she thought. I could apply to be a
teller at that bank across the street. I wonder if I could apply to work for
the El trains. I’ll need to make money somewhere! She didn’t worry a whole lot
about what she did or didn’t need to buy. She had a crisp hundred in her
wallet—a parting gift from her grandpa and some keychain pepper spray—but this
was just the first of many shopping trips. Right now, she just needed to make
it through the next week. She bought some Bisquick, some eggs, and milk.
Instant coffee. Bananas and apples. Bread and peanut butter. A dollar box of
cookies. A six-pack of cheap beer. Paper plates and plastic forks. A tall can
of Raid. A small pillow. It ate up half of her money, but it was enough. She
was halfway home before realizing she had nothing to cook the pancakes in or
boil water for coffee. I can go back tomorrow, she thought. The peanut butter
and beer will keep me going for tonight.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">When Ophelia made it back, the sun was lower in the sky, and shadows
covered the streets below. The thudding upstairs continued. She set her keys
and phone on the counter, massaged her sore arms, and noticed that she’d missed
a call from Tasia.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Tasia?” she said when her friend answered.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Tasia gasped. “I didn’t think you’d call back so quick!” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Why wouldn’t I call back quick? I was carrying groceries. What’s up?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I’m bursting! I’m bursting! I can’t lie! I can’t come to the City with
you!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I was going to turn down the manager job, O, but that was before they
made the offer. I didn’t know it came with such a huge raise. They’re gonna pay
me twelve an hour. That’s, like, twice what I make now! No way I will get a job
in the City that pays that much. And you know how expensive it is there ...
have you seen the gas prices yet?! We didn’t think this through, O. I can’t
move now. It would be crazy. I mean, it would be fucking stupid. I mean, I’m gonna
get fucking health care!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Slow down, Taze. We have been planning this for months!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I know, I know, I’m so sorry, it was my mistake too. It was just a
dream, you know? It was a silly dream. A summer thing.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“But our names are on the lease!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“No security deposit, remember? So, we’re out that first month, but
I’ll make that up in like a month. Maybe two. Point is, I’ll make it up quick!
You could get out. It was my fuckup. I signed the lease. We just walk away.
Hey, I’m the manager here now. I can hire you. Think how fun that’ll be. We can
work at the mall together. Lunch at the food court. You know you love them
burritos!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Ophelia’s heart was sinking. It was already in the basement laundry
room, and maybe it wouldn’t settle until it reached the bottom of the lake.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I don’t know, Taze,” she said. “I was ... I was really excited about
this. For us. I ... went shopping.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Oh, shit. How much money do you spend on us, O? It’s okay, I can pay
you back. Now I’m, like, rolling in money! Compared to what I have been. You’ll
come back to Rockville, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Ophelia looked helplessly out the window. A seagull sailed down the
street, caught between cool breezes from the lake and the warmer currents
wafting off the brick buildings.<br />
“I don’t know, Taze. I don’t know anything right now. You shocked me. I mean,
you surprised me.” She took another long pause. “I have to think about it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I understand. I’m sooo sorry to just drop this. But I’d be crazy not
to, you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I know. I get it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Call me when you make up your mind. I’d love to hook you up.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Would you love to hook up?! Ophelia cried out in her brain. What does
this mean? What did that mean? What does anything mean?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you soon.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Hey, nothing else, we’re paid up through the end of September. Take a
vacation in the City before you come back!”<br />
<br />
* * * * *<br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">It wasn’t anything, Ophelia thought. It couldn’t have been much. She
was drunk, and I guess I was desperate.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Am desperate.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Ophelia went into the kitchen and took another look at the food she had
bought. She probably had enough money left over for a pot and a pan, but she
wasn’t sure that would leave enough for public transit, and if she wanted to
get a job, she’d need some train fare. She decided that she could boil water
for coffee in a pan, leaving her enough to take the train downtown for a week.
That’s ridiculous, she thought. Who lives like this? If I go back home, I’ve
got a sure thing at the mall. I can go back to Grandpa and Grandma’s. Maybe
save up. Maybe try again in a year. Or two. Maybe Tasia and I get a thing going
... if she wasn’t just drunk. If she really meant it. A car on the street below
started honking. The honking continued, and Ophelia realized the driver was
waiting for someone to come out of another apartment. She was drunk. She didn’t
mean it. There’s no way I can stay here, and there’s nothing for me to go back
to there, either.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Between the thudding bass and the car honking, Ophelia was starting to
get a headache.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She wanted to bang against the ceiling with a broom but didn’t have
one. She opened a beer with the bathroom towel bar, using the trick her brother
had taught her. She shotgunned the beer, then had a second and a third, and
then she was halfway done, so she went to the bathroom for a pee and drank the
rest of the beers on the toilet. By then, she was getting dizzy, but at least
drunkenness was a temporary relief. The honking had finally stopped, but the bass
thudded on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Ophelia went into her bedroom and shut the door, thinking it might
muffle the sound, but it didn’t. An elevated train of alcohol slammed into her
skull. She giggled sadly and reeled. Ophelia knew she was just as drunk as
she’d been when she’d tumbled into bed with Tasia, but she was all alone this
time. The walls and windows swirled around her, the bile danced in her stomach,
and her ears popped like fireworks.</span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Shut up!” Ophelia said and fell asleep.</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhib8mahqI__jajICtyBbYSvuMIOS_Y8S3cr1NhYmQKwy6nZahfJKNjnio1-97QmrQsZKSXaHuc769UTwSBmXFULmxZlQtUaSF63aJXHsKFG6nn9ciKVZE6fSc9dq18ihQ2_8Yuo0oWMuG-6IErQG6mdHrpcsaufT4mcj_0azMsOGqbsPxd5IA6ePS3Agw1/s1200/ccoyne%20authorphoto.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1200" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhib8mahqI__jajICtyBbYSvuMIOS_Y8S3cr1NhYmQKwy6nZahfJKNjnio1-97QmrQsZKSXaHuc769UTwSBmXFULmxZlQtUaSF63aJXHsKFG6nn9ciKVZE6fSc9dq18ihQ2_8Yuo0oWMuG-6IErQG6mdHrpcsaufT4mcj_0azMsOGqbsPxd5IA6ePS3Agw1/w200-h160/ccoyne%20authorphoto.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Connor Coyne (he/him) is a writer living and working in Flint, Michigan.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Connor has published several novels and a short story collection, and his work has been featured in Vox.com, Belt Magazine, and elsewhere. He is the director of the Flint-based Gothic Funk Press and is facilitator for the Gloria Coles Flint Public Library‘s writing workshops.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Connor is a graduate of the University of Chicago and holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the New School. Today, he lives with his wife and two daughters in Flint’s College Cultural Neighborhood (aka the East Village), less than a mile from the house where he grew up.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Web: <a href="http://connorcoyne.com">http://connorcoyne.com</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Blog: <a href="http://connorcoyne.com/blog">http://connorcoyne.com/blog</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Newsletter: <a href="https://connorcoyne.substack.com/">https://connorcoyne.substack.com/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/connorcoyne">https://www.facebook.com/connorcoyne</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">TikTok: <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@blueskiesfalling">https://www.tiktok.com/@blueskiesfalling</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/connorryancoyne/">https://www.instagram.com/connorryancoyne/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4218298.Connor_Coyne">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4218298.Connor_Coyne</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeAXmosUj7afsexSgw7xvFv62DPa_SSO9ZL6FdPdPkpNBI9Q15_yObWiCk-MPPyOQ7lpZQfcR7mnM5WQIvtoD1uKpye8TnjC8OgMjxyUzFOskEGrqZTiZzz35sFBeapUqELXcyL2hZfmC5vVUi9B35h5aKy_X7OPOnwpYiY_P_6Clk29hBybiF0DFhV-Jv/s1080/Hollywood%20Banner%20%20(Instagram%20Post).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeAXmosUj7afsexSgw7xvFv62DPa_SSO9ZL6FdPdPkpNBI9Q15_yObWiCk-MPPyOQ7lpZQfcR7mnM5WQIvtoD1uKpye8TnjC8OgMjxyUzFOskEGrqZTiZzz35sFBeapUqELXcyL2hZfmC5vVUi9B35h5aKy_X7OPOnwpYiY_P_6Clk29hBybiF0DFhV-Jv/s320/Hollywood%20Banner%20%20(Instagram%20Post).png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-23538123738994676902024-02-05T01:30:00.000-05:002024-02-05T10:46:02.444-05:00Clearlake by Stanislava Buevich #MiddleGradeHorror #MiddleGradeMystery<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgit1BzSmVQRNKDirucmbA1CZfjxO1H_Y3nOVH0dzAm-iTjg5mpzPoLjRLuXULzIjH4loScnB3XwrNFsqw2o3HLd2fB_uk7inq87wGMs9zlI3q2045T5WT0IdHyFkQ3P4srUJtw2bMZPX5vlmI5hY4nW_nhsjB0Jv24IdYT34ND1YKoQ5NRh5iIMXFGAXn7/s820/Clearlake%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgit1BzSmVQRNKDirucmbA1CZfjxO1H_Y3nOVH0dzAm-iTjg5mpzPoLjRLuXULzIjH4loScnB3XwrNFsqw2o3HLd2fB_uk7inq87wGMs9zlI3q2045T5WT0IdHyFkQ3P4srUJtw2bMZPX5vlmI5hY4nW_nhsjB0Jv24IdYT34ND1YKoQ5NRh5iIMXFGAXn7/w400-h153/Clearlake%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mfjyZcVC7TV_G58Q1EoqZ7VRqB-o4994Ed_Hvts3P4Q5xuE4bhM2tRD-QmPW20jHTlUOpx4lOWbdHymCHoDiA5au4O_er-0Ch3uK9l-oo56yJ-3H7aXL0b2bus3bs3cimddLRTJgnOpur-6J6zVZtNOIWffdSK7cVd_4Cfajqj2KxH2ghA7vi5yiUi7k/s2560/Clearlake_ebook.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mfjyZcVC7TV_G58Q1EoqZ7VRqB-o4994Ed_Hvts3P4Q5xuE4bhM2tRD-QmPW20jHTlUOpx4lOWbdHymCHoDiA5au4O_er-0Ch3uK9l-oo56yJ-3H7aXL0b2bus3bs3cimddLRTJgnOpur-6J6zVZtNOIWffdSK7cVd_4Cfajqj2KxH2ghA7vi5yiUi7k/s320/Clearlake_ebook.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Clearlake </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Stanislava Buevich</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Upper Middle Grade/Teen Mystery Horror</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: December 1, 2023</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: B0CMQHGC24</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: B0CMP432S1</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 245</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: 73K</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Sabina Kencana </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: Don’t go into Room 214 </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Hi, I'm Moon and this is my story. It all started with a terrible cold. When the lady in purple promised my mother that Clearlake Institute would be able to cure me without the use of modern medicine, my mom was hooked.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">There was nothing I could do, or say, that could’ve changed her mind. She was determined from the moment we set foot on a remote island far, far away from everyone else, until the moment we were separated, and I was trapped in a creepy, gothic hospital."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Clearlake Institute was hiding something!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Deep beneath the shadows, something sinister was brewing - darkened halls, strange doctors, ghastly nurses that watch your every move, and children who are sent into Room 217 never to return.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Aided by the other children she meets at the institute, Moon Rains embarks on a perilous, suspenseful adventure to uncover the secrets of the Clearlake Institute.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Now, the race against time begins. Will Moon and her friends make it out before it’s too late? Or will Clearlake claim them as its next set of victims?</span></div><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />
<b><a href="https://amzn.to/47sgDKl">Amazon</a> <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Clearlake-Stanislava-Buevich-ebook/dp/B0CMP432S1">AmazonUK</a><br /></b></span></p></div><div><span>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b></b></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Excerpt</b> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">There will come a time when you wonder, how did a girl like me end up
in a place like Clearlake and mortal danger? Well, it all started with a
terrible cold. At first, it was just a blocked nose. Then a sore throat,
nothing major. About a week later, I got a temperature. And the blocked nose
got worse. Much worse. I lost all sense of smell and the ability to breathe.
Snot kept trickling down from my nostril to my top lip, and I had to
persistently wipe it off with my sleeve or taste the said snot. I had a
headache. A constant, nagging, relentless headache as if a woodpecker was
incessantly pecking above the bridge of my nose. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I was thirteen at the time and missed so many days of school that my
mother got fined by the government. Now, I know what you’re thinking - any
responsible parent would have taken their offspring to a GP if the wretched
illness hadn’t gone away within a week. Well, not my mother. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">My mother didn’t trust Western Medicine, you see, particularly vaccines
and antibiotics. As far as she was concerned, those two were the source of all
evil. I count myself incredibly lucky that, so far, I have managed to avoid
catching something particularly nasty like Rubella, Mumps, or Measles. I’ve never
had anything more severe than a cold, in fact. And while most colds went away
without intervention, other than a honey, lemon and gin concoction (which was
surprisingly effective, never mind that I was far too young to take it), this
cold proved to be something else entirely. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">About a week in, my mother marched into my room early in the morning.
Loud, insistent stomps woke me up from a hazy, feverish dream. She touched my
forehead with the tips of her fingers and raised her eyebrow, nodding as if
everything was going according to plan. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Well, I think I know what will finally do the trick,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I rolled my eyes. Well, not actually. Not on the outside. The outside
she could see. I rolled my eyes on the inside, imagining them going so far
inside their sockets that all that was left were the white bits. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Beetroot!” she exclaimed, her voice chiming like a Christmas bell. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Beetroot?” I yawned, and a few tears seeped out of the corners of my
eyes. I wasn’t sure if the yawn caused it or the ever-escalating feeling of
utter desperation. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“A few drops of beetroot juice inside your nose three times a day, and
you will be good as new. I promise.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She made similar promises a lot. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“If you stick a clove of garlic in each nostril overnight, in the
morning… Poof. Cured. Gone. I promise.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Breathing over a pot with hot potatoes and a duvet over your head will
open up the sinuses and unleash the phlegm. All of the gunk will stream out.
You’ll see. I promise.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“If you do a wee in a little pot and then take some of that wee with a
little pipette that I’ve got here for you and…” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“NO!”</span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I drew the line at urotherapy, as it was apparently called, and it did
take quite a bit of courage to stand up to my mother. She fussed and fretted
but couldn’t get me to administer urine into my nose.</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: georgia; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 14pt;"></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKq7bG_Yck0O9unq2i3slbRIR7HThywo7UH1gRO_qaLZPbO3qzpvc9MHi-FUtR1w3n1p12PbLuq-U1JmEWxVANaNFQRfJksTgxEAFNqPiLh9NzTrFXCTTsI5kUlgapYUYuStLvBaxdgxPJIfBc0JPd4MUe3-q3bzpTgVEseGavoq6vWhvEtpikDAt_lxqy/s628/1157714_10100269934163600_1541197981_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="628" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKq7bG_Yck0O9unq2i3slbRIR7HThywo7UH1gRO_qaLZPbO3qzpvc9MHi-FUtR1w3n1p12PbLuq-U1JmEWxVANaNFQRfJksTgxEAFNqPiLh9NzTrFXCTTsI5kUlgapYUYuStLvBaxdgxPJIfBc0JPd4MUe3-q3bzpTgVEseGavoq6vWhvEtpikDAt_lxqy/w200-h176/1157714_10100269934163600_1541197981_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Stacy Buevich is a British writer and a film director with many award winning short films. She started writing novels during lockdown (wait did that really happen?), beginning with a magical mystery Maya Fairy, that she wrote for her daughter. Since then she has written several more and not planning to stop</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.stacywritesbooks.com/">https://www.stacywritesbooks.com/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0BN5WHQRZ/about">https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0BN5WHQRZ/about</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/201587543-clearlake">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/201587543-clearlake</a></span></div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlcIG_7w3MXiifrjrwNWzMQzGnrod-VwyXGdjYDX1-kRUJjiWIXAFVfYMKak1GOhE9QCbzM36lLSOJalP6MBTIgnWRMKZcwYU2CXDfUF3NWgCoV4owJTvmo6SfMwrynrOxs_YykXq3w05QZ0ypgysCNiW_YU0ueAfKxLhSyUJsxqLQK_zLw98SvEhQthd/s1080/Clearlake%20Instagram%20Post.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlcIG_7w3MXiifrjrwNWzMQzGnrod-VwyXGdjYDX1-kRUJjiWIXAFVfYMKak1GOhE9QCbzM36lLSOJalP6MBTIgnWRMKZcwYU2CXDfUF3NWgCoV4owJTvmo6SfMwrynrOxs_YykXq3w05QZ0ypgysCNiW_YU0ueAfKxLhSyUJsxqLQK_zLw98SvEhQthd/s320/Clearlake%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;"><b>Book Trailer:</b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/VQxsysbOnPA?si=7iX3EWXdG13LHrdz"><b>https://youtu.be/VQxsysbOnPA?si=7iX3EWXdG13LHrdz</b></a></p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/VQxsysbOnPA?si=eUABU8QADCYouo_p" title="YouTube video player" width="450"></iframe></div>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-20131497983236462062024-01-31T18:06:00.000-05:002024-01-31T18:06:02.060-05:00Witching on a Star by Roxanne Rhoads #Spicy #PNR #ParanormalRomance<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><b style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;"><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: georgia;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhtKyjVFjKD2e89-AXNiojgL-I7WU14J4EzjntPOwPHmaMxI73hA3cHYVyt7SNacXZPF8Hh_0n8-Uz5vq-NCX0VdW2iSmVcsJN8ly6SrgdMGL0Y_Xu7eC9fVL1LLc9QBozEJykRF918zMFR5WUqzE0eGSr2CFYkDe9LaE7WFL8Su5rPwxJR8MdZg/s2560/Witching%20on%20a%20Star%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhtKyjVFjKD2e89-AXNiojgL-I7WU14J4EzjntPOwPHmaMxI73hA3cHYVyt7SNacXZPF8Hh_0n8-Uz5vq-NCX0VdW2iSmVcsJN8ly6SrgdMGL0Y_Xu7eC9fVL1LLc9QBozEJykRF918zMFR5WUqzE0eGSr2CFYkDe9LaE7WFL8Su5rPwxJR8MdZg/w200-h320/Witching%20on%20a%20Star%20Cover.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Witching on a Star</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Roxanne Rhoads</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Paranormal Romance</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div>ASIN: B0CTLWYYQ4</div><div>Publisher: Bewitching Books </div><div>Publication Date: February 6, 2024</div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Logan surprises Rhoslyn with a proposal of marriage a wish come true for the fiery witch. With trembling excitement, she accepts the beautiful ring he offers, unaware of the heartbreak she is about to feel.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Once the ring slips onto her finger, chaos ensues. Someone has imbued the ring with malevolent magic that cast shadows of doubt over Logan's intentions. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Logan enlists the help of his friend Grim and his sire Anton so they can solve the mystery of who wants to keep him and Rhoslyn apart.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Secrets unravel as the line between love and betrayal blurs. The past has come back to haunt Logan causing his relationship with Rhoslyn to spiral into a nightmarish dance.</span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i>Previously published in <a href="https://amzn.to/3Sc6jRe" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Kindle Vella episodes 1-10</a></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-size: small;">Warning: Spicy PNR Heat Level: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3Uua478" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Amazon</a> <a href="https://books2read.com/u/4XYK67" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><span>Books2Read</span></a></span></b></div><div><br /></div><script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-61802711088850929552024-01-31T11:30:00.006-05:002024-01-31T11:37:13.377-05:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawGvNQo9m893HYL-LLl5EqHBsL6_GacWfo3lc5VT5SPnAIkmsda2Lp29edpdK3_8Vw6PUPwSysJs6c9bj-W6ccPU5FpjHFv1eYJNRSXs1lZKzUmmYVdgcsOZsgKH2yxCRFSmB24_olGb3UakkNOJZyuoYeZk14nzu19SmpBRMPrXcYKBpFnU_Vg/s6250/Roxanne%20Books%20Instagram%20Post%20(1920%20x%201080%20px).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3409" data-original-width="6250" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawGvNQo9m893HYL-LLl5EqHBsL6_GacWfo3lc5VT5SPnAIkmsda2Lp29edpdK3_8Vw6PUPwSysJs6c9bj-W6ccPU5FpjHFv1eYJNRSXs1lZKzUmmYVdgcsOZsgKH2yxCRFSmB24_olGb3UakkNOJZyuoYeZk14nzu19SmpBRMPrXcYKBpFnU_Vg/w400-h219/Roxanne%20Books%20Instagram%20Post%20(1920%20x%201080%20px).jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-91841831771721473442024-01-24T18:47:00.001-05:002024-01-24T18:47:09.111-05:00Join Me Thursday Jan 25 at Queen's Provisions in Flint<form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" target="_top">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbbq6TzUddIje3o4m4VunaBL7cBK98wfEJqb1_Fpsv29HSrZbeVDlGK_PGVIfx10lMR_3ch0vs5BhX03gIbGYyMk28rFF3_tHX5if6TSQC4MokIjmTVOn90aeCYE-X3YVWGy4QVzJgRP4RylEEmCbsyZACiqBXH421ZE7Cx3uk-UlcYujvpCrOQ/s1920/Gothic%20Funk%20Salon.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbbq6TzUddIje3o4m4VunaBL7cBK98wfEJqb1_Fpsv29HSrZbeVDlGK_PGVIfx10lMR_3ch0vs5BhX03gIbGYyMk28rFF3_tHX5if6TSQC4MokIjmTVOn90aeCYE-X3YVWGy4QVzJgRP4RylEEmCbsyZACiqBXH421ZE7Cx3uk-UlcYujvpCrOQ/w400-h225/Gothic%20Funk%20Salon.png" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Gothic Funk Salon returns, live and in person at Queens’ Provisions! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">January 2024 readers include Melodie Bolt, Kim Matthon, and Roxanne Rhoads. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Join us for a night of urban fantasy and paranormal horror and history! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">$10 admission includes a glass of house wine or non-alcoholic beverage, and a chance to win a prize (author books and gift certificate)!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>Gothic Funk Press Flint Salon</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>Thursday, Jan. 25 6:00 pm</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>Queens' Provisions</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>421 Garland St., Flint </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I will have copies of <i><b>Haunted Flint</b></i> and <b><i>Ghosts and Legends of Genesee & Lapeer Counties</i></b> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">available for purchase. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>
Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-80614909652955008072024-01-24T01:00:00.001-05:002024-01-24T01:00:00.251-05:00“Huzza!” Toasting a New Nation, 1760-1815 by Timothy Symington #History #RevolutionaryWar #AmericanRevolution<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQw5PaPLZ1mqcvcTCmzx5tGd4qRk1-bhpJ2iUZ8Xt2O0BHAWWsHLHEHyc7V6o83EJgx7AsoLQmcNkuvmBYse6LbsoDjZn594o4pkxKP1VorRXLpM9zuBJEZUF9B0D_SQpdN3yvDjQxOioS2aDDeUbDhzQWWUXXb7wH9TC16D1eR7HYAQfIcFCcIwN7kzfl/s820/Huzza%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQw5PaPLZ1mqcvcTCmzx5tGd4qRk1-bhpJ2iUZ8Xt2O0BHAWWsHLHEHyc7V6o83EJgx7AsoLQmcNkuvmBYse6LbsoDjZn594o4pkxKP1VorRXLpM9zuBJEZUF9B0D_SQpdN3yvDjQxOioS2aDDeUbDhzQWWUXXb7wH9TC16D1eR7HYAQfIcFCcIwN7kzfl/w400-h153/Huzza%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><div><br /><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSbZ6gvMbBdt5B8VTFGE8g87Jf6gk7vn_me0_OMZDymSUUMPCy5gMvwyII85j9NFs4HXibwGerr4y1bPfZ8zm-YJwRAz6HB85AThNQQa2faSgMvtYHmRiL15n7RipqckWwqXRgumFXErYiUlLOBfVqO0AxvxsoNKQHDrMUgKm6mxfV414DBCHv-LhGls5K/s2700/Symington_978-1-4766-9315-6%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSbZ6gvMbBdt5B8VTFGE8g87Jf6gk7vn_me0_OMZDymSUUMPCy5gMvwyII85j9NFs4HXibwGerr4y1bPfZ8zm-YJwRAz6HB85AThNQQa2faSgMvtYHmRiL15n7RipqckWwqXRgumFXErYiUlLOBfVqO0AxvxsoNKQHDrMUgKm6mxfV414DBCHv-LhGls5K/s320/Symington_978-1-4766-9315-6%20Cover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>“Huzza!” Toasting a New Nation, 1760-1815</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Timothy Symington</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Nonfiction/History</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: McFarland Books</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: September 29, 2023</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: 978-1-4766-9315-6 Print</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: 978-1-4766-5056-2 ebook</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: BOCK62JP5L</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 273</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: 125,000. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: Drinking toasts to the American Revolution and beyond!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">During the early years of the United States, toasts captured popular sentiments regarding people and events. Sometimes they were used to spread national ideology and partisan political views. They could even be “weaponized” against political opponents, such as during the bitter election between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson in 1800. “Huzza!” Toasting a New Nation, 1760-1815 is a retelling of the familiar historical narrative, but toasts are used to tell the story of the events and people between the American Revolution and the War of 1812.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><a href="https://amzn.to/48lxI9G">Amazon</a> <a href="https://mcfarlandbooks.com/product/huzza/">Mcfarland Books</a></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b></b></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Excerpt:</b><br />
Israel Putnam of Connecticut, who led the rebels at Bunker
Hill in June, was one of the first to be singled out for honors when the war
began. The Connecticut Gazette printed toasts from a July 25 dinner in London
attended by the Freeholders of Middlesex. General Putnam was toasted “and all
those American Heroes, who, like men, nobly prefer death to slavery and
chains.” Sons of Liberty leader Dr. Joseph Warren, who was killed on the
battlefield, received the following toast from the Field Officers of the Sixth
Brigade in Cambridge: “Immortal Honor to that Patriot and Hero Doctor Joseph
Warren, and the Brave American troops, who fought the Battle of Charlestown on
the 17th of June 1775.” This list of toasts, appearing in the August 21, 1775,
issue of the Boston Gazette, or Country Journal started with a toast to the
Continental Congress instead of to the British monarch. The officers raised
their glasses instead to all the colonies, the Stamp Act riots, Lexington and
Concord, and an end to the “present unhappy Disputes.” Dr. Warren would be a
consistently toasted figure into the early 1800s. <br />
George Washington replaced George III as the main recipient
of toasts, becoming the most toasted individual in the new nation. The King was
now the enemy. Even English supporters of colonial rights, such as John Wilkes
and Edmund Burke, were replaced by American military heroes. English support
for the rights of the colonists, however, had not disappeared. The Virginia
Gazette printed toasts the London Association made in October 1775. Association
members wished for “axes and halters, at public expence, to all those who
attempt to trample on the liberties of their fellow subjects, either in Great
Britain or America,” and that “kings remember that they were made for their
subjects, and not their subjects for them.” <br />
The former British corset-maker Thomas Paine brilliantly
explained why the colonists should no longer rely on the King to protect their
liberties. His pamphlet, Common Sense, demanded that Americans free themselves
of Britain’s control. Paine wrote that “One of the strongest natural proofs of
the folly of hereditary right in Kings, is that nature disapproves it, otherwise
she would not so frequently turn it into ridicule, by giving mankind an Ass for
a Lion.” His words reached everyone in the colonies, and so he and his work
were toasted: “May the INDEPENDENT principles of COMMON SENSE be confirmed
throughout the United Colonies.” <br />
Most colonies had already taken Paine’s advice to heart and
declared themselves to be independent states. Members of the Virginia
convention calling for a resolution for national independence gave toasts in
May: “The American independent states” and “The Grand Congress of the United
States, and their respected legislatures.” Washington attended a feast at the
Queen’s Head Tavern in New York City, where toasts were given to the
Continental Congress and the American army, and to the memory of General
Richard Montgomery, killed in the disastrous invasion of Quebec in December
1775. The final toast was “to ‘Civil and religious liberty to all
mankind’—mankind, that is, except Tories.” Tories, the conservative supporters
of the Crown, received extra abuse in the Patriots’ toasts: “Sore Eyes to all
Tories, and a Chestnut Burr for an Eye Stone.”</span></blockquote><br />
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<!--[endif]--><b style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p></o:p></b><p></p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlz5SpTq2Q__lTiFTMzymDfuaGEkcikJMdoO8lFLoDnP06e2n35vrq-2W6Liby_fjhr0vp5i5GYEOMyhfqHnCykfH1Z4yiAGp0DlNWgu-TMbnc2A_8SMVRTY73Fka1hjhpoXeVL4L3MC7t9b2CAhfZVGSKL8dMhfNf7baiPkvE5OKld_jKTiCnRMhV72zW/s2370/IMG_0139.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2370" data-original-width="2113" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlz5SpTq2Q__lTiFTMzymDfuaGEkcikJMdoO8lFLoDnP06e2n35vrq-2W6Liby_fjhr0vp5i5GYEOMyhfqHnCykfH1Z4yiAGp0DlNWgu-TMbnc2A_8SMVRTY73Fka1hjhpoXeVL4L3MC7t9b2CAhfZVGSKL8dMhfNf7baiPkvE5OKld_jKTiCnRMhV72zW/w178-h200/IMG_0139.jpg" width="178" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Timothy Symington received his Bachelor of Arts degree in History from Saint Anselm College and his Master of Arts degree in American History from Adams State University. A former educator, he now contributes to the Journal of the American Revolution. “Huzza!” Toasting a New Nation, 1760-1815 is his first book.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/ToastFab4">https://twitter.com/ToastFab4</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/tim.symington/">https://www.instagram.com/tim.symington/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">YouTube: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@Toastmaster-yu9eq">https://www.youtube.com/@Toastmaster-yu9eq</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1iKE5bz-QmzcIn_dZF9bu1Ll61J5ybPB96eIshXGzrRVFYh5iw666ufm_FnDGJcUii_mOd93Lc79iM0rIaeB4RRC16J96AyuCvOOthb3Vm_YSuTmHwFN6iJB7O_fvkki7kk13mrdthIRje46dz7AaB3GXtwHBg6tg_QJTMjaq6x1oPGq4jMw6Jve0dy0V/s1080/Huzza%20Instagram%20Post.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1iKE5bz-QmzcIn_dZF9bu1Ll61J5ybPB96eIshXGzrRVFYh5iw666ufm_FnDGJcUii_mOd93Lc79iM0rIaeB4RRC16J96AyuCvOOthb3Vm_YSuTmHwFN6iJB7O_fvkki7kk13mrdthIRje46dz7AaB3GXtwHBg6tg_QJTMjaq6x1oPGq4jMw6Jve0dy0V/s320/Huzza%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-67518172231884795532024-01-22T05:30:00.013-05:002024-01-22T05:30:00.185-05:00Interview - Mamacadabra by Carrie Monroe O’Keefe #Memoir #BlendedFamily #StepParent<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBeJ7pnE30jKkg285HVFjVFyHC1K8PDNNFg5aMKTMUt8TcwBtITsCd77LMqoncALGs5sERxl4At5ldY6PCyk8JI3gYK-KNqDgnH45uPYascm-Y7FdorG5LyqG2Ea5-u476Awx2LcnnO7ZYU3FcbG3BsCI7qtBsJce88sm7DnFP_xDNl1iaLkeQvBquP36W/s820/Mama%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBeJ7pnE30jKkg285HVFjVFyHC1K8PDNNFg5aMKTMUt8TcwBtITsCd77LMqoncALGs5sERxl4At5ldY6PCyk8JI3gYK-KNqDgnH45uPYascm-Y7FdorG5LyqG2Ea5-u476Awx2LcnnO7ZYU3FcbG3BsCI7qtBsJce88sm7DnFP_xDNl1iaLkeQvBquP36W/w400-h153/Mama%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>What inspired you to become an author?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I started writing in 2012 as a way of processing my new role as a stepmom and wife. I looked for books to help me navigate and just couldn’t find anything that resonated with me. I started blogging and the reception I got was amazing and, surprisingly, not just from other people in my particular situation. I found the writing to be really therapeutic and I found the connections I was making through the blog to be so empowering. At the time I’d been exploring MBA programs and I switched focus and instead applied to MFA programs. I’ve wanted to write ever since.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Do you have a specific writing style?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I tend to write like I speak. People who know me tell me they can hear my voice through my writing. I write as though I’m talking with friends over a glass of wine, or coffee.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Do you write in different genres?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yes, I self-published a middle grade book in 2019. This is my first nonfiction book and I am looking at publishing my second nonfiction book this upcoming fall. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>If yes which is your favorite genre to write?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I think it depends what is going on in my life. I wrote my middle grade book at a time that was particularly challenging personally. I didn’t feel like writing about the hard things after spending a full day dealing with the hard things. So during that time, middle grade was far more fun to write. Right now I’m enjoying writing nonfiction but I know there is more fiction in me! Just not this year, probably.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>How did you come up with the title for your latest book?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">It is the name of my blog. I love the word abracadabra. And I became an instant mom when I started dating my husband. I came up with Mamacadabra with the idea that POOF! I was suddenly this mom plopped into an existing family.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Do you title the book first or wait until after it’s complete?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I actually changed the name of the book last minute. Originally, it was called The Year of What If. In the book, I look at different parts of my life and try to reframe or change my perspective. I was at a FedEx office on a random day, and when I was leaving I saw a book on their shelves that had a very similar title. It felt too similar so I changed the title to align with my blog title.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Is there a message in your book that you want readers to grasp?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I think I was really trying to be this perfect mom, wife, and it was not going well for me. What I did was try to reframe my thinking to help me feel better about myself and my situation. I think if there is a message it’s that man – life is tricky and we’re all doing the best we can – and you’re probably doing way better than you think you are!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Is there a genre(s) that you’d like to write that you haven’t tackled yet?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yes – I am a little obsessed with Christmas and I have many Christmas books in me. They have been swimming in my brain for years and I just haven’t been in a place to put them to paper. But let me assure you, Christmas books are in my future!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>If this book is part of a series…what is the next book? Any details you can share?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Not a series per se, but I am working on my next nonfiction project which is once again about me, my family, and my friends. I’m looking at how we view the idea of home. Both in our own brains and bodies, and our physical surroundings and who we choose to spend our time with. I am really excited about this project and hope people will be able to relate!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>What book are you reading now?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I love the Her Royal Spyness series by Rhys Bowen. They are fun books I can listen to and enjoy while driving or walking the dog. I’m currently reading the most recent in the series “The Proof of the Pudding.” </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">For me the biggest challenge is sitting down to do it. I have kids, a dog with lots of energy who needs long frequent walks, a husband with whom I like to spend time, a full-time job, we’re building a house, and frankly – even though writing feeds my soul and makes me better – sitting my ass down in the chair to do it is a struggle. That said, I’m also better when busy, so even if I had no job and less responsibilities I’m not sure I’d find making the time any easier.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Who designed the cover of your latest book?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am lucky to work with a book coach who just happens to also design covers! Her name is Leah Kent and she is amazing. I had a good idea of what I wanted for this cover and she made it come to life!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Do you have any advice for other writers?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I think it’s the same advice I try to give myself when I’m paralyzed by fear and/or not making the time to actually do the writing. We have to just do it. I know, I know, will anybody like the work? Will they hate it? Will they write scathing reviews? Will I become a laughing stock? Is my writing any good? Listen – I don’t know the answers – but I do know that I need to be writing to feel like an active participant in the life I’m supposed to be living. We have to just make the time and do it and not worry about the end result. There will always be readers with whom our work will resonate and, even if it’s just a couple of people, isn’t that worth it?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I love to box (I bought a boxing bag for my house during COVID – great stress reliever!), shop, run, and to go out to dinner with friends and drink wine.</span></div><div><br /></div></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQWBymUxZi5Le-_O2hMA5k6i36JcqyIQO3XUCDUZk8CMzJA8s-L3Ck0gWVG6n2UtsqLDeyPMacEtaa17ncVsvkVWPg3dPiRCFWQBq4cpzv0a5oZq6jz9tfPBKVU8CVMKKM5iYg76AQDgdI67L7BYShnv0dwpsGDQwPx5at_U2frh7Zru9C4guvEhvzcpU/s3750/MamacadabraBookCover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3750" data-original-width="2566" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQWBymUxZi5Le-_O2hMA5k6i36JcqyIQO3XUCDUZk8CMzJA8s-L3Ck0gWVG6n2UtsqLDeyPMacEtaa17ncVsvkVWPg3dPiRCFWQBq4cpzv0a5oZq6jz9tfPBKVU8CVMKKM5iYg76AQDgdI67L7BYShnv0dwpsGDQwPx5at_U2frh7Zru9C4guvEhvzcpU/s320/MamacadabraBookCover.jpg" width="219" /></a></div>Mamacadabra</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Carrie Monroe O’Keefe</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Nonfiction / Memoir / Parenting / Blended Family / Stepparent</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: Mamacadabra Press</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: 11/22/2023</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: 978-1733629935</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: 1733629939</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 200</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Leah Kent</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: Poof! You’re a mom now!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Starting her third year of marriage, Carrie Monroe O'Keefe had already been on the roller coaster of extreme highs and lows of a newly blended family. Thinking she could do a better job of navigating marriage, step-motherhood, working full time, and all of the things, she embarked on a year of "what if."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Settling into her role as wife and mom, she tried to find ways to do things better, see things differently, and reframe her thinking to create a better home for her family and to feel more at home herself. With humor, unwavering honesty, vulnerability, and sarcasm, Carrie finds her way through the year and to her true self.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3NBR56t">Amazon</a>
<a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/book/1144367657?ean=9781733629935">BN</a> <a href="https://bookshop.org/p/books/mamacadabra-poof-you-re-a-mom-now-carrie-monroe-o-keefe/20888592?ean=9781733629935">Bookshop</a><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Excerpt
From Chapter: This House is Not a Home (Currently)</span></b></div><span style="font-family: times;"><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">It’s a bright Saturday morning and I’m looking around my kitchen wondering
when, exactly, I let it get THIS bad. The dishwasher has been run, but nobody
has bothered to unload it, resulting in piles of dirty dishes in and around the
sink. There are empty cereal boxes lined up, I assume, so I can cut out the Box
Tops for Education labels…because I’m the only one who can what…use scissors?
Break down the boxes for recycling? Throw away the empty bag inside the boxes
that once held cereal?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Speaking of recycling, there’s a bag of recycling on a stool waiting to be
taken out on our “next trip” out of the house. It’s been there for three days
and we have, in fact, left the house several times in those three days.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The clincher, though, is the kitchen table. Our puppy has a best friend that
lives next door. He comes over to our back deck door and barks for Sullivan to
come out to play. They wrestle, run around, investigate, bark at each other,
bark at passersby, lay down to rest, and then start over. When they’re out and
I’m working or writing, I bring my laptop up to the kitchen table so I can
check on the dogs from time to time.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At this very moment, I’m sitting at my kitchen table and surrounding my laptop
are:</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> One little girl’s black shoe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> One little girl’s gold shoe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> One little girl’s pink slipper.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> The Nancy Drew book we’re currently reading.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Large bag of colored pencils.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Pair of my husband’s dirty socks.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Empty napkin holder on its side.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> The art project brought home by my littlest little
girl.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Pad of paper with my work notes scribbled on it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Three place mats (one was a casualty of yesterday’s
juice fiasco).</div><div style="text-align: left;"> One black marker.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Work documents of my husband’s.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> A partially completed drawing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">My kitchen table isn’t even big! How, or perhaps a better question is WHY, is
there so much sh*t sitting on it?!! And does anybody else find it a teensy bit
disconcerting that there are two shoes, a slipper, and dirty socks on the table
at which we EAT OUR MEALS? Anyone???</div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If I told you about the kitchen counter, you’d have a nervous breakdown, which
I’m on the verge of, but I’m trying to hold it together. Here’s the deal. We do
not have the little girls this weekend, so we should be able to get everything
organized, cleaned, and put away, but there’s more…</div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My husband is in school. He was in school last night and again this morning.
Also, have I mentioned he has a small business on the side that he’s owned
since he was 18 years old? After he bolts from school today, we’ll be
frantically preparing for his trade show tomorrow. Any ‘free’ time otherwise
used for sanity-saving-house-organization will instead be spent on
trade-show-preparation-in-hopes-of-finding-new-clients. Ugh.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Our dog is even looking at me with disgust. Yeah…YOU’RE one to talk, Sullivan…I
believe that pile of firewood on our back deck is YOUR doing. It looks like the
frigging Blair Witch Project out there.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I take issue with a disastrous house for many reasons.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> A – When it’s disastrous as it is now, I feel totally out
of sorts and stressed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> B - It wouldn’t be like this if some people didn’t refuse
to put dishes in the dishwasher, unload the dishwasher, hang-up their coats,
put away their shoes, and so on, and so on, and so on.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> C - We don’t have the square footage to allow for unusable
space…and as far as I’m concerned, this kitchen is NOT USABLE.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> D - It’s FREEZING outside which keeps us INSIDE this war
zone of a house.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> E - I believe our home is supposed to feel safe, and cozy,
and comfortable, and lovely, you know, as opposed to chaotic, dirty, cluttered,
and filled to the brim with crap people haven’t put away.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Therefore, on a day I technically could have slept in, I’ve been up since 6:30
trying to get this house back in order. I’d rather be sleepy from a late night
and an early morning than be CRAZY because the house is so awful. For me,
sleepy is less dangerous than crazy.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Which brings me to the real question: is this my gig from now on? Husband in
school, swamped at work, busy with small business, little girls here half the
time, so while they’re willing and eager to do chores, it only happens every
other weekend, leaving me to take this on and be sure this house is in fact a
home and I AM in fact sane? No, seriously…REALLY?</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Chalk this up to a question for which I did NOT want the answer.</div></span><p></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"></div><p></p></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjto-Q3QA0-FmnuN98MmNCeDLgbsH8N3DjJTEWP4tPO5j1xNujfs1pGpmiDUE3-zjgmCSx9nhQlFmYIzbsAbbX82bq5yqudGLOAjgKfl7JFUGKhIVn-aL85hie2_jfQZtkv5RT9yyJSUVovwQ5Sml2-8sMGpNl1oTA-sYz8_sA9HM6WRjKE8ojBhbfOVU8o/s1078/CMOAuthorPhoto.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1078" data-original-width="882" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjto-Q3QA0-FmnuN98MmNCeDLgbsH8N3DjJTEWP4tPO5j1xNujfs1pGpmiDUE3-zjgmCSx9nhQlFmYIzbsAbbX82bq5yqudGLOAjgKfl7JFUGKhIVn-aL85hie2_jfQZtkv5RT9yyJSUVovwQ5Sml2-8sMGpNl1oTA-sYz8_sA9HM6WRjKE8ojBhbfOVU8o/w164-h200/CMOAuthorPhoto.jpg" width="164" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Carrie Monroe O’Keefe started blogging about her life by sharing stories of marriage, stepmotherhood, and how to navigate it all on mamacadabra.com in 2012. People said they loved reading the posts, so she kept writing. In addition to blogging, she released her middle-grade fiction book, The Whole Truth, in 2019. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Carrie lives outside of Minneapolis with her husband, two daughters, and dog Finlay. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Website: <a href="https://mamacadabra.com">https://mamacadabra.com</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/cmonroeokeefe">https://twitter.com/cmonroeokeefe</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">TikTok: <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@monroeokeefe">https://www.tiktok.com/@monroeokeefe</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/mamacadabra">https://www.facebook.com/mamacadabra</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/cmonroeokeefe/">https://www.facebook.com/cmonroeokeefe/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/monroeokeefe">https://www.instagram.com/monroeokeefe</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">LinkedIn: <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/carriemonroeokeefe/">https://www.linkedin.com/in/carriemonroeokeefe/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18816687.Carrie_Monroe_O_Keefe">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18816687.Carrie_Monroe_O_Keefe</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8tTvcoS_LSRPdQ-zWsr4seYKoYVSML_46x_dWd_88j661d9LuKA82ulu_8N3jTetzHUSOgnV7OuwGgcrzNRxDxor0VPKjfCGTu2Ql_sM_xf3eCOzcEjcS6LZ645UzGn7NtS9Mwk4nF_FnSsc7Y6g5Es09G7P9oM18sMVlJK_q7Lnifu436uo0MWFVY2u/s1080/Mama%20Instagram%20Post.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8tTvcoS_LSRPdQ-zWsr4seYKoYVSML_46x_dWd_88j661d9LuKA82ulu_8N3jTetzHUSOgnV7OuwGgcrzNRxDxor0VPKjfCGTu2Ql_sM_xf3eCOzcEjcS6LZ645UzGn7NtS9Mwk4nF_FnSsc7Y6g5Es09G7P9oM18sMVlJK_q7Lnifu436uo0MWFVY2u/s320/Mama%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-28370966052978407482024-01-22T04:00:00.000-05:002024-01-22T10:58:32.319-05:00Her Name Was Lola by Karen Janowsky<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BpF41mErENhHv53NZ7heIPV8HdtWcnv-2Kt7IC9FdM9W5mFx9jBKc0SUsFAeXNNTnmR-yPvdDVZPTLr7MK83PBCQ06soumDHHU94GLPRMVa_clx9nWTOc_UwpnM8pLPlcwulCFPHFY-SlQCTy5jBMKc87PoGTW8kgv6k9jXiRsmmxAp738pzjwU8gpRJ/s820/Lola%20%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BpF41mErENhHv53NZ7heIPV8HdtWcnv-2Kt7IC9FdM9W5mFx9jBKc0SUsFAeXNNTnmR-yPvdDVZPTLr7MK83PBCQ06soumDHHU94GLPRMVa_clx9nWTOc_UwpnM8pLPlcwulCFPHFY-SlQCTy5jBMKc87PoGTW8kgv6k9jXiRsmmxAp738pzjwU8gpRJ/w400-h153/Lola%20%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBw2cpm47DmTThKXi1PYSnXXFYGsOhEYtHPUARehcUbYq-2A5l_sllYETYWT4oF_RK9FUGakA1y72Il3kxNn8yRlVRc5wIHv-RquVcH7QuFWOZDzEmExsqrQkYgrCl1luSYxqk7g_8F2iww9nE0kwcmI8dczHTIvJD35HK99HdPeCHxwuTyXid2OukbZSE/s900/HERNAMEWASLOLA.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBw2cpm47DmTThKXi1PYSnXXFYGsOhEYtHPUARehcUbYq-2A5l_sllYETYWT4oF_RK9FUGakA1y72Il3kxNn8yRlVRc5wIHv-RquVcH7QuFWOZDzEmExsqrQkYgrCl1luSYxqk7g_8F2iww9nE0kwcmI8dczHTIvJD35HK99HdPeCHxwuTyXid2OukbZSE/s320/HERNAMEWASLOLA.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Her Name Was Lola</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Karen Janowsky</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Contemporary Romance</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: eXtasy Books</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: 12/22/23</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: 978-1-4874-4027-5</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 300 </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: 8,859</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Martine Jardin</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: Sometimes you have to lose your heart to gain your dream.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Lover of fairy tales Lola Nelsson learned at an early age that darker truths lay behind their bright facades. At twenty-two, she still hopes for her fairy tale to come true before she graduates college. But she hasn’t met her prince yet and she doesn’t know how to navigate the real world. Then a handsome man at a conference catches her eye. She’s sure he’s out of her league, but tries to get his attention anyway. And she’s successful… until she isn’t.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Only one thing matters to Professor Vance Anderson—gaining tenure. Known as Dr. Casanova on campus, he’s a true love ‘em and leave ’em kind of guy. For now though, he’s sworn off the distraction of women. When he spots a beauty of a different sort at a conference, he can’t stop thinking about her. But when she accepts his invitation to his room, his insecurities kick in. Everything goes well… until it doesn’t.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">The night ends disastrously, and it’s all over. Until Lola and Vance wind up in a working relationship, making it impossible to avoid one another. The situation can only end in one of two ways. They’ll either end up madly in love or they’ll want to kill each other. Before they can discover their real feelings, they need to learn to trust themselves. Only time will tell if their fairy tale is sweet or dark.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3v7sccE">Amazon</a> <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/books/her-name-was-lola-by-karen-janowsky">Google
Books </a> <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/books/her-name-was-lola-by-karen-janowsky">Bookbub</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/203868179-her-name-was-lola">Goodreads</a> </span></b></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">
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<!--[endif]--></span></b></span></div><div><span><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"></span></b></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Excerpt:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">From behind Lola, a pleasant, male alto
voice said, “Hi, I’m Vance.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She turned around and found her
five-foot-four self face-to-solid-chest with GQ. Taking a step backward and
sure she’d turned pale, she looked up at him. The peeling name badge on his
lapel said, M. Vance, but his last name was hidden by a shadow. “Oh, hi. I’m
Lola.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Vance held a shot glass in each hand.
He was smiling, lips pulled back a little too much, as if he was unsure of
himself. “Your friend told me I was being very obvious about staring at you and
to go introduce myself. She said to give you this.” He handed her a whiskey. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">His eyes were the color of freshly mown
grass with silver flecks of dew at sunrise. When they locked on hers, her hands
began to sweat, making the glass slip through her palm when she took it from
him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She grabbed it with the other hand at
the last second. “Oh. Okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He clinked his glass against hers,
downed the shot, then smiled at her again. His upper lip had a minutely askew
cherub’s bow.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Knocking hers back as well, Lola did
her best not to react to the five-alarm fire scorching through her esophagus.
She was reasonably sure smoke was about to billow from her nose and ears. Then
that warm, melty feeling crept in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Okay, Naomi. Here goes. “To be honest,
I was watching you too.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Were you now?” He arched his eyebrows.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Silently thanking Naomi, Lola asked,
“So, are you a visiting speaker?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I’m attending. I teach at Jewett
College. You?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I’m at Jewett also. Library science
department.” Hopefully he wouldn’t ask what she did there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She’d tell him the rest later…if they
hit it off.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">His fingers lingered over hers as he
took the drink glass from her hand. “Another?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">One was her usual limit, and balancing
on heels after two was inadvisable. “Yes, please.” She let him guide her
through the crowd surrounding the bar. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He offered her an empty barstool and
stood next to it as he waved at the bartender. “How long have you been at the
college? I don’t recognize you.” He lowered his eyes and raised them to her
again, offering an uncertain smile as he smoothed his hand over his thigh.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Looking down, she noticed her
topped-off glass. “I’m going into my fourth year.” Lola swirled her fresh drink
and watched the amber liquid make slow, wavy circles. She saw a chip in her
pale pink nail polish and fought the urge to tuck it into her palm. “What about
you? Where do you work?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“In the English Department.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">GQ—or probably Dr. GQ—Vance—shivered a
little when he slid his hand toward hers until their fingertips were
millimeters apart. A tiny static spark jumped between them and they both
chuckled. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lola drank half of the shot. “What do
you teach?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Comparative and European literature.
My specialty is fairy tales.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I’ve been obsessed with fairy
tales—the real ones, not the kids’ ones—for as long as I can remember.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Vance leaned against the bar. “Same.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">A new song began, and they listened as
he played with his tie for a few moments. “After watching you in action, I’m
not sure I can keep up, but feel like a dance?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lola blinked then nodded. The rest of
the room bobbed slightly with her head. She slid off the stool, and he rested
his hand on the small of her back as they wound through the crowd. Heat
radiated through the thin fabric of her dress.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He took her hand in his. They were
about five paces from the dance floor when a man caught her shoulder, causing
her and Vance to stumble backward. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You’re not gonna pass by without a
hello, are you?” The tall, thin man had brown roots and blond tips. His hand was
sweaty and his words slurred.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Vance looked at her. “Do you know him?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Sobering, she shook her head, grateful that
the world didn’t move with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The man sidled closer and squeezed her
shoulder more tightly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Letting go of her hand, Vance took a
step toward him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lola tugged her shoulder away and
pulled a hair stick from her updo. Stepping closer, she waved the tapered end
at the stranger. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He gasped and stepped backward, letting
go of her shoulder. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Leave me alone.” She kept her voice as
quiet and stern as she could. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The man muttered, “Slut,” as he
retreated.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lola replaced the stick through what
was left of her updo.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Vance licked along his teeth. “You’re already
full of surprises.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The night’s cool dampness draped around
the crowded dance floor, covering them like an airy shawl as they found their
way to an open space. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Remind me never, ever to upset you.”
He spread his fingers over her mid-back and held her hand to his chest. His
heart beat against her palm as he held it there, his hand cool and dry.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">They looked at each other and smiled.
He said “ever.” As in future tense. As in "long term." I should
probably let him know I’m a student now. That could wait a few minutes more. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She inhaled a mix of tangerines,
leather, and something else—ginger, maybe—that she could almost taste as his
scent hovered between them. She moved closer, and their hips touched.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">There was an unmistakable twitch
against her. She was sure it was a trick of the lights that made him appear to
blush.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">This might happen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He took a half-step back, face pink
against the white lights that outlined him. She imagined using her finger
as a silver gel pen around his jaw, under his cheekbones, and across his
forehead, illuminating his face. He brought his hand farther down her back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She raised her voice over the music.
“So, what’s your favorite fairy tale?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He lowered his head closer to hers.
Their mouths were centimeters from each other. “What?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She asked again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He said something.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She tilted her head up. “Didn’t catch
that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Chuckling, he leaned in until his mouth
was close to her ear. Cupping it, he repeated,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“It’s hard to talk here. Do you want to
go somewhere quieter?” The whiskey on his breath had mellowed to spiced
caramel, and his voice melted through her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The imaginary talking mice scampering
under her skin morphed into butterflies. “Okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Holding her hand, Vance led her into
the lobby. Her heart thumped like a scared rabbit’s as he threaded his fingers
between hers. She glanced toward the quieter, emptier bar, but he kept going
straight toward the elevator bank.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Grimm, Andersen, or Perrault?” Vance
winked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lola bit her lip and released it. “Why do
you ask?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Vance seemed to stare at her mouth.
Narrowing his eyes, he stopped and gave her a closed-mouthed smile. “Good to
know whether you’re into physical pain, mental torture, or happy endings.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What?” Lola froze as her jaw dropped.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Vance tilted his head back and laughed.
“I’m kidding.” He headed toward the elevators again, but Lola couldn’t move. He
stumbled back. “I’m harmless. I promise.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She glanced around the vast lobby, checking
for security officers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I didn’t mean to upset or scare you.”
Leaning in, he lifted the back of her hand to his lips, then smiled that same
smile that had dissolved her into a puddle the first time she’d laid eyes on
him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“All right.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He led her into an empty elevator.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">This is happening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Inside, he let go of her hand and took
a step back. “Is it okay to go up to my room? I should’ve asked first.” He gave
that earlier, uncertain smile, revealing a tiny dimple in his right cheek and
lighter green bands surrounding his irises.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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</w:wrap></span></v:imagedata></v:shape><span style="font-family: times;">“That sounds perfect, Vance.” Lola’s mouth and
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in her life, she was going to say, “Yes.”<br />
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<!--[endif]--></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb26tpHAhN2gobPcqbuHdzw05WB4eUa4DXfu9u6I33y1h3pycu4m0FqYVUMAoKnHf11-PW7Jq2EPF4ieXfEmvrqzvudQu0OmQW3oOQOC2scHQdVfkl0b6USwOUYT1hOej6ltKR6UyDdM_zbGXVysgT1yD3n9Q8E_hrqAldOcRavCLZFXkE223KAmGalUGO/s900/Headshot%20Karen%202%20reduced%20size.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb26tpHAhN2gobPcqbuHdzw05WB4eUa4DXfu9u6I33y1h3pycu4m0FqYVUMAoKnHf11-PW7Jq2EPF4ieXfEmvrqzvudQu0OmQW3oOQOC2scHQdVfkl0b6USwOUYT1hOej6ltKR6UyDdM_zbGXVysgT1yD3n9Q8E_hrqAldOcRavCLZFXkE223KAmGalUGO/w133-h200/Headshot%20Karen%202%20reduced%20size.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Karen wanted to be an author and/or Wonder Woman when she grew up. One of those jobs was already taken, though. She lives with her husband, son, and six cats in Maryland, where she works as an English professor. Karen received her MA in literature and creative writing from Florida State University. When she isn't writing, she can often be found sitting at a friend's dining room table drinking wine and playing RPGs, hanging out at the local Indian restaurant with her bestie, or curled up in bed with a few cats, listening to the rain and either reading a book or watching a BBC mystery.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Website and blog: <a href="https://karenjanowsky.com">https://karenjanowsky.com</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Newsletter Signup: <a href="https://subscribepage.io/GhxCTK">https://subscribepage.io/GhxCTK</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amazon: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B07QTB7FHS">https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B07QTB7FHS</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Bookbub: <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/karen-janowsky">https://www.bookbub.com/authors/karen-janowsky</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/authorkarenjanowsky/">https://www.instagram.com/authorkarenjanowsky/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063337293596">https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063337293596</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17253893.Karen_Janowsky">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17253893.Karen_Janowsky</a></span></div><div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3pTiOR8Fzqs9dlV-Z1wYgB_dJhFfQ1O0x-BVol-7yHghQoxYtkYvohsnZEbSFn2GqUIm9wbBtFg8M8L0bew4pERd7HwCF1mXT3M_kB_XcCXyPij5tVBQzHQBjXXqqnBfWK7dAfK7HJn2crCFj8PPqaf-Jmfe-nMjGMTdXaiA333o1IKbwGuizv9lkrkfO/s1080/Lola%20%20Instagram%20Post.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3pTiOR8Fzqs9dlV-Z1wYgB_dJhFfQ1O0x-BVol-7yHghQoxYtkYvohsnZEbSFn2GqUIm9wbBtFg8M8L0bew4pERd7HwCF1mXT3M_kB_XcCXyPij5tVBQzHQBjXXqqnBfWK7dAfK7HJn2crCFj8PPqaf-Jmfe-nMjGMTdXaiA333o1IKbwGuizv9lkrkfO/s320/Lola%20%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2214" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2214/" id="rcwidget_88lvsifc" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-52095166455784878102024-01-15T01:30:00.001-05:002024-01-15T01:30:00.164-05:00Walk-Ins Welcome by Sue C Dugan<div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwL7LYy_EYPDc7flLPTmONZda_yRYzbGaLou2qKBpp_L8EuCCPfq4J7u3yjCfjCibWOZ1OJ4nyhgVhOHjoJoHr7o8fHmvqN8UBwso7yQkqa-DkLLHwrLeI5phFUM9UVfrM3HCUbxPcpf2vMVIC7Q3omJ8DJQ_B7Qjf3iriUOv8HWZkO43Y8DYzbwWDXBC5/s820/Walk%20Ins%20Welcome%20%20%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwL7LYy_EYPDc7flLPTmONZda_yRYzbGaLou2qKBpp_L8EuCCPfq4J7u3yjCfjCibWOZ1OJ4nyhgVhOHjoJoHr7o8fHmvqN8UBwso7yQkqa-DkLLHwrLeI5phFUM9UVfrM3HCUbxPcpf2vMVIC7Q3omJ8DJQ_B7Qjf3iriUOv8HWZkO43Y8DYzbwWDXBC5/w400-h153/Walk%20Ins%20Welcome%20%20%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq67lQIqms2XvdW3hRRXqgG-Fv0Q39iZKsJYMM2kykQhXHpUh4UtMvj0tnlB85JsvmyFNfuOUkKAPCB8ObVR77fctWS35AC5f_UfSHA_-oVPMBEzSvVDhGCyPrMAXUzMOM1Y6LaO-BALhF7usi6jQhtwgCxICFk8HG4tn89mvmlsy170z8fTzAwGEuocjn/s322/JPEG%20image.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="322" data-original-width="206" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq67lQIqms2XvdW3hRRXqgG-Fv0Q39iZKsJYMM2kykQhXHpUh4UtMvj0tnlB85JsvmyFNfuOUkKAPCB8ObVR77fctWS35AC5f_UfSHA_-oVPMBEzSvVDhGCyPrMAXUzMOM1Y6LaO-BALhF7usi6jQhtwgCxICFk8HG4tn89mvmlsy170z8fTzAwGEuocjn/s320/JPEG%20image.jpeg" width="205" /></a></div>Walk-Ins Welcome</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Sue C Dugan</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Paranormal Romance</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: The Wild Rose Press</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: May 24, 2023</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN:978-1-5092-4908-4</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages:336</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: 73,299</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Kim Mendoza</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: True love repeats itself in unexpected ways</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Adult education teacher, Alison Larkin has a second chance at love after her husband is killed in a car accident. Her new love interest comes in the form of a 20-year old student called HB, whose reputation as a bad boy and poor student has everyone questioning her attraction to him. Alison finds him to be nothing like his reputation as a drug-dealer and trouble maker. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Although HB has few high school credits to his name, he is flying through the coursework in adult education. Alison learns she and HB share a memory of a dramatic rescue at a local amusement park. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">HB has a secret he has yet to discover, but when he does, he must convince Alison to give him another chance at love.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://amzn.to/4173ghd"><b>Amazon</b></a><b> </b><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Sue%20c%20dugan"><b>BN</b></a><b> </b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/122796175"><b>Goodreads</b></a></span></div></div><div><span><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b></b></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Excerpt </b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She put the flowers
on the coffee table and moved her hand toward the sofa. He sat, and she did
too. “Didn’t you have something you want to talk to me about?”<br />
Momentarily, he couldn’t remember what it was.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Did you forget?” She
gave him an encouraging smile. “So much has happened. It seems like ages ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Then it came rushing
back to him—Dr. Sims—the things he remembered and the yearbook pictures. He sat
with his hands clasped and his head down, thinking. Was now the time to tell
her? He jerked his head up. “I’m not sure this is a good time to tell you what
I know.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She frowned. “That
sounds serious.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“It is and a bit
weird too.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She leaned forward
and clasped her hands together. “Why don’t you tell me, and I’ll decide how
serious it is.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">HB shifted on the
couch, trying to find a comfortable position. Finding none, he straightened and
looked at her. “You know I felt like a different person when I came out of my
coma?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Alison nodded but
remained quiet.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“And I wrote about
the rescue at Cedar Springs?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She remained stock
still.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I started adding one
plus one, and I came up with something bizarre out there.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Clearing her throat,
Alison finally said, “You’re scaring me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He noisily let out
his breath. “I’ve been seeing a counselor, and he told me about one of his
patients, Ashton.” HB paused and rearranged his thoughts. “I talked to Ashton,
who told me he had tried to kill himself but failed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Oh, no!” Alison
cried. “Please don’t tell me you want to kill yourself!” She leaned forward and
tried to grasp his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“No, I want to live
again!” He let her touch his fingers before pulling back. Although
contemplating suicide might be easier than telling Alison he was her dead
husband—Robert.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Anyway,” HB
swallowed, “Ashton told me about soul walk-ins.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What did you say?”
Alison asked, alarm creasing her brow. “Wait!” She jumped up and hurried down
the hallway while he waited. He moved his forefinger over his thumb, wondering
what would make her leave like that.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">She returned with a
small book, sat, and clutched it to her chest as if protecting it. Then,
slowly, she eased the book onto her lap and opened it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He murmured the
title. “Communicating with the Dead… So you believe in that?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I don’t know what I
believe. But this book mentions walk-in souls and—”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I think I have
Robert’s soul in my body,” he exclaimed before he could change his mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">HB didn’t mean to
interrupt her, but it just happened. He couldn’t help it. He watched as<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Alison’s eyes rolled
back, and she slumped over.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: times;">“Alison?” He patted her hand and then her cheeks until
her eyes fluttered open. <br />
“How…” She looked confused. “Why?
What?” She fell back on the couch. “I don’t believe it,” she said with a shake
of her head, and her features turned stony. “I think you should leave.”<br />
“What?” HB cried. “No! No. I’m
sorry!” Tears immediately filled his eyes. “I knew it was a bad time.” <br />
“What a cruel and mean joke to play
on me after what I’ve gone through!” Her eyes flashed with anger, something he
couldn’t pinpoint.<br />
“I’ll let myself out.” He jumped up.
He’d blown it with Alison, and she didn’t want to believe him. And he might not
have a chance to convince her.</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span><br />
<br /></p></span></div><div><span><b><span style="font-family: georgia;">About the Author </span></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sue writes five-star LitPick novels that keep readers of all ages turning pages long into the night. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, attending author events, or walking her dogs. She’s has two children and five grandchildren. Snack wise, Sue is a salty-type gal, but wouldn’t say no to an occasional chocolate kiss or two! She isn’t sure she’s a reincarnated novelist, but if she was, she’d want to be Jane Austen, Mary Shelley, or Emily Brontë. When her novels are run through author comparison sites, she gets Anne Rice through Mark Twain—quite a wide spread which makes for interesting reading (Tom Sawyer was a Vampire?). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/dugan_sue/ " rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://twitter.com/dugan_sue/ </a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Website: <a href="https://www.duganthewriteway.com/">https://www.duganthewriteway.com/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/suecdugan">https://www.facebook.com/suecdugan</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">LinkedIn: <a href="http://linkedin.com/in/sue-dugan-b59253123">http://linkedin.com/in/sue-dugan-b59253123</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram: <a href="ttps://www.instagram.com/scduganauthor/ " rel="nofollow">https://www.instagram.com/scduganauthor/ </a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">TikTok: <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@user5606276508505 " rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://www.tiktok.com/@user5606276508505 </a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRShxDwBtS7kHq6flfWUO96MWmvBVGIquzlUONroDnJCVmu4VyYiZ6mD_tvl9MIO4PqDuUlNVsf2yS5qsp4dmh4dmEs0yfvmBviPP2-_2vFkH2TSs30-Rx4t9Fof2MoGA9C5l86K1AW_E2A8pH6Quj8RwkjYduNQA7U5VT0i_8ZDNlDDy1f2bXIa3bUXU/s1080/Walk%20Ins%20Welcome%20%20%20Instagram%20Post.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRShxDwBtS7kHq6flfWUO96MWmvBVGIquzlUONroDnJCVmu4VyYiZ6mD_tvl9MIO4PqDuUlNVsf2yS5qsp4dmh4dmEs0yfvmBviPP2-_2vFkH2TSs30-Rx4t9Fof2MoGA9C5l86K1AW_E2A8pH6Quj8RwkjYduNQA7U5VT0i_8ZDNlDDy1f2bXIa3bUXU/s320/Walk%20Ins%20Welcome%20%20%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2213" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2213/" id="rcwidget_ssj1mjjd" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-85695417900597868072023-12-21T04:00:00.001-05:002023-12-21T04:00:00.139-05:00The Bridge to Magic by Alex Thornbury - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aRjTcQD4VMj6MHtQNzFxHoZzQt07B2ZVL34cPXiErl64w6lhKE-ayM8jHusmU1yhY9cAAJVz9mnzjFGr_w4EQzsgCOIeAc94SRRJ7kui0oivpTUx4OR1fsSAASVEkps-MZmuTRpcB491U-eRQ6bbuAvW4NqJ4p_ZnJpnoxqhfU8KuT7FLIPp8qSmZhA/s820/The%20Bridge%20to%20Magic%20Deck%20the%20Halls%20Banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aRjTcQD4VMj6MHtQNzFxHoZzQt07B2ZVL34cPXiErl64w6lhKE-ayM8jHusmU1yhY9cAAJVz9mnzjFGr_w4EQzsgCOIeAc94SRRJ7kui0oivpTUx4OR1fsSAASVEkps-MZmuTRpcB491U-eRQ6bbuAvW4NqJ4p_ZnJpnoxqhfU8KuT7FLIPp8qSmZhA/w400-h153/The%20Bridge%20to%20Magic%20Deck%20the%20Halls%20Banner.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg419J9wa8Tzp2DozbqHvnrtpq_fWUJrZPLUa-bLX3WjwArMFx-wUsgI1fcbw9f5nK-aVJLxiqGuVJhxs7pEfziZ1v26zJ4OFUBQbu9l-wd9oudseIJ48PRGMuI9H6rdo5-zH1NUSvpVQTzAsiQfD0GePpTwP3LAEGIKs2EFTav4jdHaqO17f7OMQ/s2480/Holiday%20Flash%20Fiction.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="2480" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg419J9wa8Tzp2DozbqHvnrtpq_fWUJrZPLUa-bLX3WjwArMFx-wUsgI1fcbw9f5nK-aVJLxiqGuVJhxs7pEfziZ1v26zJ4OFUBQbu9l-wd9oudseIJ48PRGMuI9H6rdo5-zH1NUSvpVQTzAsiQfD0GePpTwP3LAEGIKs2EFTav4jdHaqO17f7OMQ/w400-h84/Holiday%20Flash%20Fiction.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div><span><h1 style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: windowtext;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: small;"></span></span></b></h1><blockquote><h1 style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: windowtext;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: small;">The Frost of Winter Solstice – by Alex Thornbury</span></span></b></h1>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Our village was the last to
stand against the invasion of the godly folk from the southern kingdoms. With
their strange magic of the cross and prayer, they had pushed back the Spirit’s
Veil to our border and cleansed the lands of beings that visited humanity
through ages past. And it fell to our warriors to hold back the godly folk from
destroying the last of that which was sacred. The Veil was the only way our
long-dead ancestors could return and bring their stories to our fireside. And
it was through these stories that we kept the history of our lands alive.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Winter Solstice of my
twelfth year started like any other. Come sunset, the Veil would once again
part, and would not close again until sunrise. It was to be a long night and
the favourite with our family. We spent the day readying the cottage for
visitors; sweeping, stocking the fire and keeping it bright and hot, as the
visitors were prone to chills. Though they did not eat the food we offered, we
still prepared a feast as much as we could in our poverty. Mother decorated
everything to hide the meagre affair. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">After sunset, my sister and I,
scrubbed clean and dressed in our finest dresses, joined our parents by the
fireplace. They stood side by side in front of Grandma’s favourite chair,
holding hands and smiling. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">‘Come children, look who is
here,’ Mother exclaimed, forgetting in her excitement that we had not the adult
eyes to see the beings from beyond the Veil. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">‘It’s grandma,’ Father
clarified. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">So we went to stand beside our
parents, looking down at the empty chair, feeling both chilled and yet secretly
foolish. Only a handful of nights each year did the invisible visitors arrive.
As I grew older, it was hard not to imagine this must be some game the adults
played with their children, each solstice, Spring’s Rise and Eve of Souls.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">‘Aye, they have grown since you
saw them last summer,’ Mother said to the empty chair. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And we were made to sit on the
floor by the fire, as mother and father took their seats at the feat-laden
table. Grandma then told us stories, which our parents repeated, for we had not
the adult ears to hear the voices of the beings from beyond the Veil. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As the night deepened, the fire
flickered suddenly and turned icy blue and cold. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Our parents fell abruptly silent
and stared at each other with a flash of fright. Then, with strained faces,
they turned to me, and I knew what it meant. Only, I had never truly believed
that this night would come for me. Surely this was just a game the adults
played. We were meant to smile and eat the cakes and listen to the wise tales.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">‘Frost has come,’ Father said
gravely, looking at me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I shook my head in denial. No, I
never believed in Frost. That was his name, the changer who opened the eyes of
children when they reached the cusp of adulthood. Except, not everyone survived
the change. Else, some returned with Frost’s bite upon their toes and fingers.
Like Ordur, the baker’s son, who now had only eight fingers left. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Both mother and father rose, for
Frost was outside, waiting for me. They led me to the door, dressed as I was
for the warm fireplace and not the snow-covered landscape beyond warm walls. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The cold hit me instantly,
cutting and laced with threat. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">‘Walk to the white tree where
Frost is waiting,’ said Mother with a treble to her voice, and closed the door
behind me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Barefooted, I began the walk to
the edge of the forest. It was dark, save for the moonlit snow, and the chill
in the air was fierce. As I drew closer to the white tree, the air grew colder
and colder, until my blood threatened to turn to ice. No one was around. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">At the tree, I stopped. A part
of me still denied that any of this was real. Surely, I just needed to turn
around and return home, for I could no longer feel my legs or arms, and every
breath I drew was shards of glass. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sharp pain exploded in my eyes,
and I cried out, closing them tight. Something warm trickled down my cheeks. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Another jarring pain hit my
ears, and I fell to my knees. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I forced myself to open my eyes
and saw drops of dark blood in the sparkling snow, and … large, furry paws. I
followed the furry legs up and I saw him, beneath the tree, looming high above
me. The creature was made of ice, with horns and fur and sharp, black teeth. In
his thick hands, he clasped two needle-like icicles. Blood dripped from the
tips. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He looked at me and I at him.
Then he turned around and walked away into the forest. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I returned home, weeping tears
and blood. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Mother wrapped me in a blanket
and comforted me with kind words. But it was Grandma’s voice I recognised from
long ago that soothed me. ‘Bring the wee lass to the fire and give her the hot
apple wine with extra sugar. She’ll be right in no time.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In the chair sat Grandma, her
form faint and glowing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">‘Come over here, lass, and sit
next to your sister where I can see you better. Now, where was I? Oh aye, I
remember. I was a wee bit younger than you when Frost came for me. It was the
winter after the great fire that swept through the forest when the old fool
Baerran the Wise offended the Firelord …’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And the rest of the night I
listened to my grandma’s old stories, whilst my parents repeated them for my
younger sister. And I hoped our warriors would keep the godly folk away from
our lands. </span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXBPRRmhSvo-WUWtF2cVulBX3EaHLJrpIjBG2DoEjAhg8SBgLhxmuA3taLLaDmOS7zJ5rnYDbZtS8zpYAQ5kGdYN9LDmm14CB5VfwlGuMeIHslxTTCxP8mhf22-oRTYGxuEv6ZH2I5jqwcOpiuXR1RdNgLTQit2MnwdbA-P64bg_MgpePR1_ZzeJoeLHNk/s2992/The_Bridge_to_Magic_BOOK_COVER_AT.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2992" data-original-width="2043" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXBPRRmhSvo-WUWtF2cVulBX3EaHLJrpIjBG2DoEjAhg8SBgLhxmuA3taLLaDmOS7zJ5rnYDbZtS8zpYAQ5kGdYN9LDmm14CB5VfwlGuMeIHslxTTCxP8mhf22-oRTYGxuEv6ZH2I5jqwcOpiuXR1RdNgLTQit2MnwdbA-P64bg_MgpePR1_ZzeJoeLHNk/s320/The_Bridge_to_Magic_BOOK_COVER_AT.JPG" width="219" /></a></div>The Bridge to Magic</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b>The Sundered Web </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b>Book One</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b>Alex Thornbury</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Genre: Fantasy</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Publisher: Shadow Lore Publishing</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Date of Publication: 21st February 2023</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">ISBN: 978-0-6454970-0-7</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">ASIN: B0B9GCXY5K</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Number of pages: 369</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Word Count: 105,000</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Cover Artist: Alejandro Colucci</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Tagline: When only the wrong paths remain, do you walk or get left behind? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Book Description:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">An award-winning debut for lovers of traditional fantasy and the readers who crave the dark, disturbing and original.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Men thought they had won the war against magic, when a demi-god had sundered their realm and banished magic and its keepers to the deadlands. But then another terror was born. Nothing can survive the approaching Blight. Terren, the last refuge of mankind, now stands alone in its path. Only the bridge across the great chasm offers any hope of escape... for some.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Elika has long feared the bridge to the Deadlands. It had taken her parents, and the lives of more poor fools than she could count. What's there for them anyway on the other side but more suffering and death? Though the gods had abandoned them, the king and his priests will stop the Blight. They just need to destroy every echo of magic, the source of the Blight. Then she discovers that the biggest echo of magic is hiding inside her, and through her it seeks to enact the will of its own.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Accused of being a mage, she is hunted and hated. Many doubt her loyalties. Her gang turns against her. The one man she thought she could trust and love, abandons her. Everything she knew about her past shatters, as long-buried secrets about her true birth emerge. Worse still, she may not even be human. She must race to find a way to purge herself from magic's hold. But as time runs out for the city and her magic only grows in power, can she sacrifice herself to save the last of humanity and all that she loves?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center;"><b><span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B9GCXY5K">Amazon</a> <a href="https://books.apple.com/us/book/id6445461662">Apple</a> <a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-bridge-to-magic">Kobo</a> <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-bridge-to-magic-alex-thornbury/1142013986?ean=2940185577028">BN</a></span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhEkh_w5upuv_j28ySKl3lReF_xovKHMAFJ2gvMeBpevBQ8w8eoYvbPV4qVYyikFvcLJXVRPPpNig5yRpuGtWfR_ibfpXWv8j9AIirD4i-vOxRBeoX2doAxE4mapmCIojTsS5LCZs8iN_IIRaFXW6LlQ2jQSsC_tbRP9DMj3br2PwmEI4eIREwr_9nWQ/s2480/Holiday%20banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div></span></div><blockquote><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhEkh_w5upuv_j28ySKl3lReF_xovKHMAFJ2gvMeBpevBQ8w8eoYvbPV4qVYyikFvcLJXVRPPpNig5yRpuGtWfR_ibfpXWv8j9AIirD4i-vOxRBeoX2doAxE4mapmCIojTsS5LCZs8iN_IIRaFXW6LlQ2jQSsC_tbRP9DMj3br2PwmEI4eIREwr_9nWQ/s2480/Holiday%20banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="2480" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhEkh_w5upuv_j28ySKl3lReF_xovKHMAFJ2gvMeBpevBQ8w8eoYvbPV4qVYyikFvcLJXVRPPpNig5yRpuGtWfR_ibfpXWv8j9AIirD4i-vOxRBeoX2doAxE4mapmCIojTsS5LCZs8iN_IIRaFXW6LlQ2jQSsC_tbRP9DMj3br2PwmEI4eIREwr_9nWQ/w400-h84/Holiday%20banner.png" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style=";">There
was a time before the bridge was forged, but those stories had been mostly
forgotten. The dark history of that bygone age was now buried in the archives
of the priests. Only the echoes of it remained on the tongues of minstrels and
drunks. Elika had heard them all and each tale seemed more terrible and
unimaginable than the other.</span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style=";">Those
were dismal times of endless wars—men against magic, magic against men. The
time when even the storms and rains were at the mercy of magic and its fickle
moods. It might snow in the summer, or the hot winds might carry sand upon
them, burying entire cities. Honest travelers feared to ride through the
forest, lest the trees attacked them. A farmer might wake up to find his river
flowing the wrong way or dried up altogether. Those days were gone and might
have been forgotten, but for this stark reminder before Elika’s eyes.</span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style=";">And
who had not stood before the dark bridge in their last moments, facing that
choice they all must one day make?</span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style=";">Like
that hoary, old codger in the ale-stained uniform of the city’s Blue Guard who
had stood before the bridge for nigh on an hour; unsteady on his legs, his sour
breath steaming in the crisp, winter night, drinking deeply of the cheap gin,
which was as likely to kill him by morning as what he now faced. He took a long
swig out of his bottle as he braced himself for the unknown fate ahead.</span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style=";">Elika
sat huddled in the doorway of an abandoned house, watching him, needing to know
whether he would reach the other side or die crossing. Her ears filled with the
howling winds rising from the great chasm, and she did not need to imagine what
he was thinking, staring as he did at the monstrous bridge and the lifeless
bank beyond, for she was thinking the same—surely it is better than what
remains at our back. Better than what approaches.</span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";"><span style="font-family: times;">She
clutched the cloak tighter around herself against the biting gust of wind
trying to rip it from her. She had scavenged the woolen cloak some days ago
from a dead beggar, and it still smelled of his mustiness. She pulled up her
knees to her chest and clamped her icy hands under her arms.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style=";"><span style="font-family: times;">The
stone wall was cold at her back. Her breath steamed. She waited and watched the
old guard take another wobbly step toward the bridge, seeking courage in his
gin-dulled mind. He took another gulp, stared at the empty bottle in surprise,
then threw it aside with a foul curse. The bottle hit the frozen ground and
rolled off the edge of their world into the chasm, to fall for eternity in that
endless darkness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p></span></div><div><span><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5oPkx6Q1ccaBctAue2IX-kh69e_nejq3b8f9imapqMfn1ZCPGmw2Amm0KlBcQC6W6aF9rlFp4_sH3Psjd6ySSCe0g4KGoQsEaRxZ5UnIpyMQr3mu3P7MOABMNgJhBO4NHebWrCE9IEvfcxp-6d8q6qB6EVYEepTDOPwiq9c9nDwTkhb6IeXRSOvwvNqhR/s4739/AlexThornbury.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div></b></span></div></blockquote><div><span><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5oPkx6Q1ccaBctAue2IX-kh69e_nejq3b8f9imapqMfn1ZCPGmw2Amm0KlBcQC6W6aF9rlFp4_sH3Psjd6ySSCe0g4KGoQsEaRxZ5UnIpyMQr3mu3P7MOABMNgJhBO4NHebWrCE9IEvfcxp-6d8q6qB6EVYEepTDOPwiq9c9nDwTkhb6IeXRSOvwvNqhR/s4739/AlexThornbury.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3164" data-original-width="4739" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5oPkx6Q1ccaBctAue2IX-kh69e_nejq3b8f9imapqMfn1ZCPGmw2Amm0KlBcQC6W6aF9rlFp4_sH3Psjd6ySSCe0g4KGoQsEaRxZ5UnIpyMQr3mu3P7MOABMNgJhBO4NHebWrCE9IEvfcxp-6d8q6qB6EVYEepTDOPwiq9c9nDwTkhb6IeXRSOvwvNqhR/w200-h134/AlexThornbury.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">About the Author: </span></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Alex Thornbury is an award-winning author. She grew up in Cheshire UK, and developed deep love of history and fantasy thanks to the many castles she visited as a child. Though she grew up to be an Alchemist by trade, she never stopped fantasising about other worlds, dragons and epic battles.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Website or Blog: <a href="https://alexthornbury.com/">https://alexthornbury.com/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Bookbub: <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alex-thornbury">https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alex-thornbury</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/author.alexthornbury">https://www.facebook.com/author.alexthornbury</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/alexthornbury.author/">https://www.instagram.com/alexthornbury.author/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Newsletter: <a href="https://alexthornbury.com/subscribe-to-my-newsletter/">https://alexthornbury.com/subscribe-to-my-newsletter/</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22845843.Alex_Thornbury">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22845843.Alex_Thornbury</a> </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wgVhXHn5nTsgIbX8yoaRM_OaphlL9N8OkwZB3fwvVqTbBNOrmCs2zuK5CBrrstf6sks642iZ1i0-_eFtHJjTG1Ip9D9TAZRHD-r3rgeiXwOQeGj6F-uL9GIzcuWedLdrCA_BLgWLQtfZikukllfusE92FEEcCSt3nYUraIeHZgv-9OVnApICNS_DYltv/s1080/Deck%20the%20Halls%20Insta%20%20(3).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wgVhXHn5nTsgIbX8yoaRM_OaphlL9N8OkwZB3fwvVqTbBNOrmCs2zuK5CBrrstf6sks642iZ1i0-_eFtHJjTG1Ip9D9TAZRHD-r3rgeiXwOQeGj6F-uL9GIzcuWedLdrCA_BLgWLQtfZikukllfusE92FEEcCSt3nYUraIeHZgv-9OVnApICNS_DYltv/s320/Deck%20the%20Halls%20Insta%20%20(3).png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgON0s0QvL_NCZHLLDmRgGEY1MX-PAr5OdfZjdyiFfty2vzbbfKGNWcyqJL2BzCa1ocGbFp-FtYkMetSCjDC1-6dX3uiGlMQztTLjXojrN3V5P_-Nd2YQ3JRAwKDjpvYnAiFX5LEifm1rR59C5i3CowM__ndzyRiyuYDO6NFljaUodXtDB-F1UgBTK0PuYG/s2304/Giveaway.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgON0s0QvL_NCZHLLDmRgGEY1MX-PAr5OdfZjdyiFfty2vzbbfKGNWcyqJL2BzCa1ocGbFp-FtYkMetSCjDC1-6dX3uiGlMQztTLjXojrN3V5P_-Nd2YQ3JRAwKDjpvYnAiFX5LEifm1rR59C5i3CowM__ndzyRiyuYDO6NFljaUodXtDB-F1UgBTK0PuYG/w300-h400/Giveaway.png" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2207" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2207/" id="rcwidget_1mtrdrw7" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-38757434347972709802023-12-19T01:30:00.001-05:002023-12-19T01:30:00.167-05:00Bah Humbug Mate by Delta James - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUfT3DWRkPOsBu-bcQQenHlyXHLb_YwTR_jN8LYNL-CwVLNmQDCPZCYPUPZ1ARndTONHObjuL_PNiudwcvqzL2Poh7SCE2b_xtyen8qLWEjNl7uIHVniKQ81awxv9Kr7_cZ2Ukd6jrcK3KkxgQNkQmq-n0Y9FtpFPBeSZpbVtga6mNScynMqy-RQ3-BjU/s820/Bah%20Humbug%20Deck%20the%20Halls%20Banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUfT3DWRkPOsBu-bcQQenHlyXHLb_YwTR_jN8LYNL-CwVLNmQDCPZCYPUPZ1ARndTONHObjuL_PNiudwcvqzL2Poh7SCE2b_xtyen8qLWEjNl7uIHVniKQ81awxv9Kr7_cZ2Ukd6jrcK3KkxgQNkQmq-n0Y9FtpFPBeSZpbVtga6mNScynMqy-RQ3-BjU/w400-h153/Bah%20Humbug%20Deck%20the%20Halls%20Banner.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9droh-dyeXK3V8xOFS02a1lPiH42F8l8BltF-hpBhbfJ6HLqqpYlmcHOwPmV9ChZ_n4q2zH4bYyH6Ch3YWHm7tb-eJXsNuKeeWczZfS_gfxQ-hA2rBbd8EamaVf0IuCkhQ6sJbWfqryUG4TwfT6fMuLNPBkVA8i4EbPahPzfgMsBcz4F5Iwtwg/s2480/Holiday%20Recipe.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="2480" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9droh-dyeXK3V8xOFS02a1lPiH42F8l8BltF-hpBhbfJ6HLqqpYlmcHOwPmV9ChZ_n4q2zH4bYyH6Ch3YWHm7tb-eJXsNuKeeWczZfS_gfxQ-hA2rBbd8EamaVf0IuCkhQ6sJbWfqryUG4TwfT6fMuLNPBkVA8i4EbPahPzfgMsBcz4F5Iwtwg/w400-h84/Holiday%20Recipe.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Pecan Shortbread Cookies<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><b><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Heat
Oven to 325 degrees F</span></i></b><span style="font-family: georgia; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><b><i><u><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ingredients:<o:p></o:p></span></u></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;">2
cups butter<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;">1/2
cup sugar<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;">1
cup powdered sugar<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;">1
teaspoon vanilla (I use a skoosh more)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;">2
eggs<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;">1
teaspoon salt<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;">1
teaspoon baking powder<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;">1
teaspoon cream of tartar<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;">1-1/2
cups chopped pecans (closer to 1-3/4 cups)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;">4
cups flour<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i><u>Directions:</u></i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: georgia;">·<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Cream butter,
sugars and vanilla until light and fluffy<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: georgia;">·<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Beat in eggs<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: georgia;">·<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Set aside<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: georgia;">·<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Combine
remaining ingredients and add to butter mixture<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: georgia;">·<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Mix well<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: georgia;">·<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Roll into 1 inch
balls OR use cookie scoop to place on cookie sheet<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: georgia;">·<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Flatten with a
glass or cookie press, dipped in sugar<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: georgia;">·<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Bake 8-15
minutes depending on your oven and desired texture—chewy or crisp<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: georgia;">·<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Place on cooling
rack<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: georgia;">·<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Cookies are
fragile; store in air-tight containers<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEasy5f5IM0JNeU0PY7eqSuN5W-XQ-MWk-_Kzoh_cdCRyIVJdW18skfwdzxfzTl7KR5_u_2D-OTQTDPTOgkW3PWvSK2CLaqEvd5fSz-FMmOq38dc3l9K7iLt497ftbIfVMebSmg8T2ow5b23zqXjr4uqW0A8PB3s1mxuSfpCGlNR-KGte-Wxz2GZcWnGeX/s2700/bah%20humbug%20mate%20high%20res.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEasy5f5IM0JNeU0PY7eqSuN5W-XQ-MWk-_Kzoh_cdCRyIVJdW18skfwdzxfzTl7KR5_u_2D-OTQTDPTOgkW3PWvSK2CLaqEvd5fSz-FMmOq38dc3l9K7iLt497ftbIfVMebSmg8T2ow5b23zqXjr4uqW0A8PB3s1mxuSfpCGlNR-KGte-Wxz2GZcWnGeX/s320/bah%20humbug%20mate%20high%20res.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Bah Humbug Mate</b></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Mystic River Shifters </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Book Seven</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Delta James</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Paranormal Romance</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: 11/22/23:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: B0CGY63Z4K</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Wicked Smart Designs</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Will a charade under the mistletoe lead to a real love story?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Dash Samuels, a grumpy reindeer shifter, is faced with an ultimatum: marry by Christmas Day or lose his cherished family inheritance. The holidays are his least favorite time of the year and now he needs to find a mate? Panicked, he devises a plan to hire a woman to play his fake fiancée, until the inheritance is secured. But what he never anticipated was the whirlwind of emotions that would follow.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Noel Brooks, a spirited dreamer struggling to make ends meet, agrees to Dash's unconventional proposition out of necessity. The holidays are her favorite time of the year. As they embark on a charade filled with misunderstandings, holiday traditions, and undeniable chemistry, their carefully constructed façade begins to crumble, revealing the cracks in their hearts.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Dash needs to get from a grumpy humbug to a believer if he is going to catch his fated mate before it is too late.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Bah Humbug Mate is an enchanting story that reminds us that sometimes, the greatest gifts come wrapped in unexpected packages – and that true love is the ultimate holiday miracle.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CGY63Z4K"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amazon</span></a></b></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">
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<!--[endif]--></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJGlKIVf8eawUC1RH-LGOn1TX-gS-48BevJ7BthIFrUCehvtVoZcmHT4CzB2dP1TYOouL2bU6WowugABoN5dJ0SAUZBjqd8G_7VXDRt-CqD-GlKj2jjpOkiQ362Hr4MaOvyKFrABCr3aFF6iNFvS43miC5retGpTWDPnkptMcPowEIbERSs260X-LuZ8/s2480/Holiday%20banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="2480" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJGlKIVf8eawUC1RH-LGOn1TX-gS-48BevJ7BthIFrUCehvtVoZcmHT4CzB2dP1TYOouL2bU6WowugABoN5dJ0SAUZBjqd8G_7VXDRt-CqD-GlKj2jjpOkiQ362Hr4MaOvyKFrABCr3aFF6iNFvS43miC5retGpTWDPnkptMcPowEIbERSs260X-LuZ8/w400-h84/Holiday%20banner.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></div><blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Bah Humbug Mate Excerpt</span></b></div><span style="font-family: times;"><b><div style="text-align: left;"><b>A Mystic River Shifters Holiday Novella</b></div></b><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What
do you mean I need to be mated by the winter holiday? Are you kidding me?” Dash
said as he paced back and forth in the attorney’s office.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Look,
Dash, I didn’t write the damn will. Well, I guess technically I did, but your
grandmother was very particular. She was very angry you left the herd. So, if
you want to inherit what I agree is rightfully yours, you need to be married by
the holiday deadline.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Which
is?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“December
24.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You
aren’t serious.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I’m
afraid I am. Your grandmother took these kinds of things seriously.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“For
heaven’s sake, Blitz, where the hell am I supposed to find a comely, female
reindeer-shifter in the next…” he glanced at the calendar on the wall
“twenty-three days?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Honestly,
I don’t know, and there are provisions that will have you tied to this girl for
at least ten years.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dash
plopped down in the chair. “A decade? I have to spend a decade with some girl I
don’t even know?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You
know lots of girls,” said Blitzen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“And
none of them I’d want to marry.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Dude,
for that kind of fortune, I’d marry Godzilla.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Do
you have her number?”</span></span></div><p></p></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></div>
<br /><p></p></div></div><div><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvTUOD_94lSaCf11NOwdAXD7lpRmvAtU259p7ZJWXT4ZZS6-qfd3fqo0YwesCXAzS5_qGJBc2g2ToJekwMycMcD1C7WNUpr1YE2y-0s29jjSu5MRzrUZGzdoZ8Kqkb_n9o6qMjCeGaioVinq140it-zN5PIssQrzfHA6FCmQ9ZEf_U37F6i0XFqy65qeTT/s1310/delta%20head%20shot.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1310" data-original-width="1310" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvTUOD_94lSaCf11NOwdAXD7lpRmvAtU259p7ZJWXT4ZZS6-qfd3fqo0YwesCXAzS5_qGJBc2g2ToJekwMycMcD1C7WNUpr1YE2y-0s29jjSu5MRzrUZGzdoZ8Kqkb_n9o6qMjCeGaioVinq140it-zN5PIssQrzfHA6FCmQ9ZEf_U37F6i0XFqy65qeTT/w200-h200/delta%20head%20shot.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>About the Author:</span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Delta James is a USA Today bestselling paranormal and contemporary romantic suspense author, whose goal is to captivate readers with stories about complex, curvy heroines and the dominant alpha males who adore them. For Delta, romance is more than just a love story; it’s a journey with challenges and thrills along the way. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">After creating a second chapter for herself that was dramatically different than the first, Delta now resides in Florida where she relaxes on warm summer evenings with her loveable pack of basset hounds as they watch the birds, squirrels and lizards. When not crafting fast-paced tales, she enjoys horseback riding, walks on the beach, and white-water rafting. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Her readers mean the world to her, and Delta tries to interact personally to as many messages as she can. If you’d like to chat or discuss books, you can find Delta on Instagram, Facebook, and in her private reader group </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Website - <a href="https://www.deltajames.com/">https://www.deltajames.com/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">TikTok - <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@authordeltajames">https://www.tiktok.com/@authordeltajames</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook - <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DeltaJamesAuthor/">https://www.facebook.com/DeltaJamesAuthor/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Bookbub - <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/delta-james">https://www.bookbub.com/authors/delta-james</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram - <a href="https://www.instagram.com/deltajamesauthor/ " rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://www.instagram.com/deltajamesauthor/ </a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Newsletter <a href="https://www.subscribepage.com/welcometothepack">https://www.subscribepage.com/welcometothepack</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook group - <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/348982795738444/">https://www.facebook.com/groups/348982795738444/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Goodreads - <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18197022.Delta_James">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18197022.Delta_James</a></span><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"> </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>
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Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-13620374820950880212023-12-14T01:30:00.001-05:002023-12-14T01:30:00.143-05:00Release Day Blitz - Slither by Nikki Rae #ReleaseDay #BookBirthday<div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjPN-53Jq930PoqGdYMz44IHtEnUcA0DeMlVaL0oJRLXy98g1X8NjpIISfs4oYa5_Zqw48yAFaMzavHN8j_suFSOWOe8y2mQ6C1GvPMp0nctC8qPgBLiHsZVlXYNTeFHVAULMGp1-GQQ0LGHjdFIZYIXdSMA9bnSzv62yY2LOXXzMIQWTU1VSkPyFCrpQz/s820/Slither%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjPN-53Jq930PoqGdYMz44IHtEnUcA0DeMlVaL0oJRLXy98g1X8NjpIISfs4oYa5_Zqw48yAFaMzavHN8j_suFSOWOe8y2mQ6C1GvPMp0nctC8qPgBLiHsZVlXYNTeFHVAULMGp1-GQQ0LGHjdFIZYIXdSMA9bnSzv62yY2LOXXzMIQWTU1VSkPyFCrpQz/w400-h153/Slither%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlXzlqv6DHQi01jofJL71ay3KKCG58p18Fr0F-dLvNaf5_I5kRIwLTfcw42AkBktzNMIFJwH8Dkg9NF154d1N_DgHw9dukN5Kra2RIzE69KwDZRSr_rxcmXYQmr3PBhqsJRmwyX-gmCL5P_H1fNEoLpk-Ieis_cMhFznv37Xm6NvGtZFzWnB131svLoj_/s2560/Slither%20ecover.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlXzlqv6DHQi01jofJL71ay3KKCG58p18Fr0F-dLvNaf5_I5kRIwLTfcw42AkBktzNMIFJwH8Dkg9NF154d1N_DgHw9dukN5Kra2RIzE69KwDZRSr_rxcmXYQmr3PBhqsJRmwyX-gmCL5P_H1fNEoLpk-Ieis_cMhFznv37Xm6NvGtZFzWnB131svLoj_/s320/Slither%20ecover.png" width="200" /></a></div>Slither</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>The Shadow and Ink Series </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Book Two</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Nikki Rae</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Dark Paranormal Monster Romance</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: Nikki Rae</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: December 14, 2023</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: B0CNSFBY1V</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 340</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: 98,921</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Nikki Rae</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: Some cycles repeat for a reason, but is this one worth fulfilling?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Plunged into darkness after an eerie ritual, Corbin finds herself torn between the reality of her life with her mother and the nights she spends with Six. Even though she wakes alone every morning, the nights they spend together are worth it. Suspicion and unease surround her, drawing Jordan closer and closer while Six disappears deeper into the shadows.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Obsessed, Corbin sketches only him. As his monstrous image becomes clearer, etched in ink and gold, the pair and Jordan are enticed into a sensual world meant to feed him.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Six is reluctantly forthcoming with information about his origins and the mystical connection between the three of them. He has no control and little concern for the human world he affects with his mere presence—even when no one can stop the consequences.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0CNSFBY1V"><b>Amazon</b></a><b><br />
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<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></b></span></p></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b></b></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Excerpt <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You’re here.” I wasn’t sure whether it
was for my comfort or his, but I was relieved nonetheless.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Yesss. I heard it directly in my ear. I
smelled fire on him. Leaves, earth, and flames. Alwaysss.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">A breeze wafted through my hair,
tickling my shoulder. His presence calmed me, and I felt like for the first
time all day, I wasn’t holding my breath. I wasn’t waiting to hear or see him.
I wasn’t constantly anticipating when and in what way Six would appear because
he didn’t need to. He was with me as much as any other vital organ.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">In the span of one summer, I had gone
from hearing his disembodied voice and believing I had lost my mind to
accepting that all of it was true. Now when I thought of us together, it made
no sense how we had ever been apart. Why I would try to push him away, defy
some ancient law of nature?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Can you come closer?” I whispered,
staring straight ahead, out the window. “I won’t look.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I sat on the edge of my bed and it
wasn’t long before I felt the mattress sink in on either side of me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">A soft breeze moved the curtain. A car
drove down the street. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I kept my promise and didn’t direct my
gaze anywhere but the sky outside my window. I could feel him parting my hair,
strands swaying on their own until I felt his mouth against the back of my neck
again. From the corner of my eye, I watched the shadows grow into lengths of
multiple arms that pulled me toward him, completely supporting my weight. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I am right here, my love. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Bands of scales wrapped around my
middle, draped themselves over each thigh. Little by little, my head inched
upward so all I could see was the pink canopy above my bed. I felt the trace of
claw marks just beneath my chin, the strong hand around my throat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Are you pleased with your gifts, little
one?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I nodded against him, surprised even
now at how solid he felt behind me. “Thank you, Six.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I have so much more to give you, he
cooed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Before I could stop anything, I fell
backwards, into a stain shaped like him. Legs splayed open, my arms were also
restrained above my head, but he surrounded me at the same time. The darkness
was weighted, warm. I wasn’t afraid to let it creep across my field of vision and
obscure everything in sight.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">So many ways I could please you, my
flower. My lace of light.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Warmth traveled up my back, throughout
my chest and down into my belly. His tone left no question as to what he might
mean, so I decided to feed into it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Show me, then.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">It came out more of a challenge than
I’d intended, but I liked how it sounded. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">An echo of whispers met me and I
realized it was laughter. Always demanding your proof.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
</span><br />
<b>About the Author:</b></p></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA36FzzJyracIEd3exxye6JXvb8Ni0gRokcEm7qPOqx1TAUXF6bOmUDEsFixs7fUz6ZzWJdCQhdrPNgPy4w6_JfMFHbCLIe5zRxvv5uescKnl-QrPCc5NWgz2pVPaNf_J9KsERU4zQoi8lrFcHVQxrUb6FVEKgchnCWyGDvRowDyKbtC2GYds2O6U1zqA4/s1080/Nikki%20Rae%20Author%20Photo.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="854" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA36FzzJyracIEd3exxye6JXvb8Ni0gRokcEm7qPOqx1TAUXF6bOmUDEsFixs7fUz6ZzWJdCQhdrPNgPy4w6_JfMFHbCLIe5zRxvv5uescKnl-QrPCc5NWgz2pVPaNf_J9KsERU4zQoi8lrFcHVQxrUb6FVEKgchnCWyGDvRowDyKbtC2GYds2O6U1zqA4/w158-h200/Nikki%20Rae%20Author%20Photo.jpg" width="158" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Nikki Rae is the head editor of Metamorphosis Editing Services and a writer who lives in New Jersey. She is an independent author and has appeared numerously on Amazon Best Seller lists. She is the author of The Sunshine Series and concentrates on making her imaginary characters as real as possible. She writes mainly dark, scary, romantic tales, but she'll try anything once. When she is not writing, reading, or thinking, you can find her spending time with animals, drawing in a quiet corner, or studying people. Closely.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Newsletter: <a href="https://bit.ly/3uAW40A" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://bit.ly/3uAW40A </a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Patreon: <a href="https://www.patreon.com/Nikkirae">https://www.patreon.com/Nikkirae</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tiktok: <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@nikkiraeauthor">https://www.tiktok.com/@nikkiraeauthor</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/nikkiraeauthor/">https://www.instagram.com/nikkiraeauthor/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Nikki Rae Readers: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/1608190742758480">https://www.facebook.com/groups/1608190742758480</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/1608190742758480/user/100063628450351">https://www.facebook.com/groups/1608190742758480/user/100063628450351</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbt4htVlUg_ifntV_Uw1jN7LY_BtvCqW1t0iFf3pvVV31xz8XZUfURH3Ofu8Mg2b0Cl4onbEHVP4rt4R3_o04hBbR8VLkygtvsRH7hDZi-D5zcuB2FbH2TbfulVrcp_MokQnNyvYcXb4mm6NGsO2rYx73LOyXg-nQC2YdzeKiBmYoNhZIks9g9kImNPA/s1080/Slither%20Instagram%20.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbt4htVlUg_ifntV_Uw1jN7LY_BtvCqW1t0iFf3pvVV31xz8XZUfURH3Ofu8Mg2b0Cl4onbEHVP4rt4R3_o04hBbR8VLkygtvsRH7hDZi-D5zcuB2FbH2TbfulVrcp_MokQnNyvYcXb4mm6NGsO2rYx73LOyXg-nQC2YdzeKiBmYoNhZIks9g9kImNPA/s320/Slither%20Instagram%20.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2212" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2212/" id="rcwidget_bvdx5e5n" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-68169532476744602282023-12-13T03:30:00.001-05:002023-12-13T03:30:00.145-05:00Cover Reveal Abandon Station by V. G. Harrison #ScienceFiction <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqfY7oKlpxrhFSMqaHW8dYfwpGw26WnV1QnaiJuLIhYtQDz020OsXu78Www57mwMLDVeV_Vm6E9us00cUajt7BPqe0DllG9XCATQ7mb2BLBjNHTg8R-jF7f66fPCyxK-ysJsskdPTvoZF_y5ONQEtJ-J-8Llh4XjLNJddhz9pvDIiU5mH3N8OCuRDkTjc/s820/Cover%20Reveal%20%20abandon%20station.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqfY7oKlpxrhFSMqaHW8dYfwpGw26WnV1QnaiJuLIhYtQDz020OsXu78Www57mwMLDVeV_Vm6E9us00cUajt7BPqe0DllG9XCATQ7mb2BLBjNHTg8R-jF7f66fPCyxK-ysJsskdPTvoZF_y5ONQEtJ-J-8Llh4XjLNJddhz9pvDIiU5mH3N8OCuRDkTjc/w400-h153/Cover%20Reveal%20%20abandon%20station.png" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYjOQmhFI9cBP1F87gdoAOZV3_P6GDFdUtSu3bOJaXIQw3MVE_AVGCK7pcwonjN2_BmtpgQEWRlz6i3BukijGk9_sGCUPlE21UhjQPD3Dg590S5XaQLZzDeHarQ-4RyvRivQjE5fHsxXvNsRjBr8EIQtLJY-gL4QZX1W-d52EAp1YJIXd6MPqsDqSB0Qi/s2399/abandon%20station%20bc.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2399" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYjOQmhFI9cBP1F87gdoAOZV3_P6GDFdUtSu3bOJaXIQw3MVE_AVGCK7pcwonjN2_BmtpgQEWRlz6i3BukijGk9_sGCUPlE21UhjQPD3Dg590S5XaQLZzDeHarQ-4RyvRivQjE5fHsxXvNsRjBr8EIQtLJY-gL4QZX1W-d52EAp1YJIXd6MPqsDqSB0Qi/s320/abandon%20station%20bc.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Abandon Station</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b>The Dyson Bridge Series, </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b>Book One</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b>V. G. Harrison</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Genre: Science Fiction</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Publisher: Mocha Memoirs Press</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Date of Publication: 1/31/2024</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Number of pages: 84</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Word Count: 22,000</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Cover Artist: Maya Preisler</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Tagline: Some planets just aren't worth saving.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Book Description:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">An explosion rocks the Bridgeway Space Station. Mechanical Engineer Meridia Vail and her crew wake to find themselves on an alternate Earth where the technology is decades behind theirs, and so are the politics. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">When she realizes their space station survived the interdimensional transport to an alternate space and time, she and her crew have only one mission. Get back to the Bridgeway so they can return to their real home.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Time is running out. If the metabolic changes that come with their teleported space station don’t kill them, the politics and secret agendas will. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Returning home makes sense, but that’s assuming there’s a home to return to. When Meridia learns the Bridgeway’s decaying orbit threatens to annihilate the planet, the Earthers will be more than happy to take their chances by destroying the greatest technological marvel of all time.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">With members of Meridia’s international crew scattered across the planet and being detained, she must escape her “caretakers”, if she and her people ever have a chance at saving the one thing that might be able to save everyone.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><a href="https://mochamemoirspress.com/">https://mochamemoirspress.com/</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><p class="normalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"></span></b></p><blockquote><p class="normalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">Excerpt<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The door opened. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I sat up and reached for the light.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Don’t,” a familiar voice said. “They don’t know I’m here
and I want to keep it that way.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Who doesn’t know you’re here?” I asked as panic swept
across me. “Who are you and what do you want?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“It’s me, Meridia. It’s Julio.” The older man appeared in
the light reflecting from the TV. He looked every gray-hair of his age, but
there was something about his eyes that weren’t right. His entire visage seemed
worn and weathered beyond his fifty-nine years. He continued toward my bed with
sweat dripping from his short, gray curls. “We have to get out of here. They
want to use us.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Use us for what?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Don’t you hear them talking? They want to suck the
information out of our brains. They’re going to attach us to machines that will
take the wormhole knowledge out of us, then use that information to build
bigger weapons. They won’t rest until they’ve brought the rest of the world to
their knees.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Oh boy.</i> I jumped out of bed and hurried toward him to grab his
arms. “Calm down, Julio. These people don’t want to hurt us. They want our
knowledge, so it would hurt them to hurt us.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“No,” he said, shaking his head. His gaze pleading. “You’re
wrong. I’ve seen the machines. They do it round after round after round. You
had your first tests today, didn’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Julio it was just—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">He tore away from me. “Don’t you get it? The wormhole is <i>ours</i>. We created it. It belongs to us.
Not them.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">This wasn’t the same Julio Ferrera I knew. A fusion
physicist who was already on his way to greatness even before he joined the
astronaut program, he was our Chief of Scientific Research and an accomplished
Air Force Major. This guy in front of me was a lunatic who needed more care
than they could ever hope to give him here. Seeing my friend and colleague like
this wrenched my heart. I wanted to hug the fear out of him but knew it
wouldn’t make any difference. He needed more help than I could give him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Relax, okay?” I started toward the small desk where there
was a phone. “I’m going to call someone to help you. Maybe they can give you
something to help you sleep.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Julio tackled me to the floor. “You have to listen to me,
damn it! Listen! They’ve hidden away more Americans than just us, so they can
experiment on them more. Some of them are still up there on the Bridgeway just
waiting at the beck and call. Leave them frozen until they’re needed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I squirmed away from him enough to grab the leg of a small
side table. I smashed it across his upper back and head. Dazed, his grip
loosened. I wiggled my legs out from underneath him, but he charged again, grabbing
the back of my nightshirt. Threads tore as he dragged me down again. This time,
he clawed his way on top of me and got his hands around my throat. He squeezed
hard like he wanted to snap my neck in half, yelling for me to listen to him. I
punched and clawed at his arms, fighting and kicking. Anything to free myself
as a burning sensation heated up my lungs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You’re one of them!” He shouted, his eyes crazed. “They got
to you. You can’t tell them anything—I won’t let you!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">My bedroom door slammed open. Several people ran into my
bedroom and wrestled him off me. I rolled onto my side and grabbed my neck,
struggling to suck air into my writhing lungs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="normalCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The orderlies threw Julio on my bed where a man wearing a
pair of black slacks sedated him. Dr. Tommen knelt on the floor next to me, but
I waved him away. I didn’t want anyone touching me. For all I knew, they did
this to him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</blockquote><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br />
<!--[endif]--></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Amazon best-selling author, V.G. Harrison, enjoys creating smart heroines who are more comfortable dealing with things like Fine-structure constant and quantum entanglement than the fallout from their conflict. She loves to write stories that leave her audience so engaged they can't sleep at night, thinking about the possibilities. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">V.G. holds a Bachelors in Biomedical Engineering and a Masters in Information Technology. When she's not writing, she's an IT manager for a healthcare information systems company. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Her ever-growing list of hobbies include astronomy, attending comic cons, keeping an eye on the cryptocurrency and stock markets, hydroponics gardening, hiking, and connecting with her daughter, A.J., on a cool level. Building Lego sets at night with milk and cookies on the side come in handy for that. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.vgharrison.com" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">www.vgharrison.com </a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><a href="https://www.vgharrison.com/blog-1">https://www.vgharrison.com/blog-1</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsyxPEstBdzoitEdN2TnbxZ7Xf2uNpd3Iu0se4LL-SpalyG0CpgWYvSt1QFjZCBD-h8jmLsBPYH4FPMy9zLo6PjvnnXtxQPCwO8KMTk7XRFzrcsv91PElasKQjSZBNlPbUegRyGrfpVMW0cW0zFDZRK6rWvay3JjE0rYnGy1-rEMCV8tseA2Dsgj6a11P_/s1080/Cover%20Reveal%20%20abandon%20station%20Instagram%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsyxPEstBdzoitEdN2TnbxZ7Xf2uNpd3Iu0se4LL-SpalyG0CpgWYvSt1QFjZCBD-h8jmLsBPYH4FPMy9zLo6PjvnnXtxQPCwO8KMTk7XRFzrcsv91PElasKQjSZBNlPbUegRyGrfpVMW0cW0zFDZRK6rWvay3JjE0rYnGy1-rEMCV8tseA2Dsgj6a11P_/s320/Cover%20Reveal%20%20abandon%20station%20Instagram%20.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2211" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2211/" id="rcwidget_rb22x7km" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-67939862559009142302023-12-13T01:30:00.000-05:002023-12-13T01:30:00.152-05:00Spooky Writer’s Planner by Loren Rhoads and Emerian Rich - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirN-jFYPRoWJTFGY99OkZNt-EU-w_v-0ru9UJb3PctyUDsBZMMTc-Z8PtkdEd3MixJgrTa1PMoJ5IZFDjubmXCTcuH_mj8mL8DVUwtkIqdu__thrW7enj7gibvuxcEs8E_SfPYQ6d3RFkJ8Pmkc-tfgKTynNfcsqbYnYkcafQsPdPm0LshGHM9Eqhmf1yq/s820/Spooky%20Planner%20Deck%20the%20Halls%20Banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirN-jFYPRoWJTFGY99OkZNt-EU-w_v-0ru9UJb3PctyUDsBZMMTc-Z8PtkdEd3MixJgrTa1PMoJ5IZFDjubmXCTcuH_mj8mL8DVUwtkIqdu__thrW7enj7gibvuxcEs8E_SfPYQ6d3RFkJ8Pmkc-tfgKTynNfcsqbYnYkcafQsPdPm0LshGHM9Eqhmf1yq/w400-h153/Spooky%20Planner%20Deck%20the%20Halls%20Banner.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVD7v5OK5tF1SkVJeLkLKdO1-IxLGroUptSehwl5opyL2EjB9m-Zk8p779c5Hn6gSsqrFJ83gZQZ2Tihi9oJOO_Adp44VPycF_bqeVOTEq8l18g1mBaIEHUtSnaaPIWUlkjP6xu1-VpGyTV4mY2qU_SAvX9FfXm0XSXrcoqZzPl0m5DuLiZ2IapsW2fY/s2480/Holiday%20Feature.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="2480" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVD7v5OK5tF1SkVJeLkLKdO1-IxLGroUptSehwl5opyL2EjB9m-Zk8p779c5Hn6gSsqrFJ83gZQZ2Tihi9oJOO_Adp44VPycF_bqeVOTEq8l18g1mBaIEHUtSnaaPIWUlkjP6xu1-VpGyTV4mY2qU_SAvX9FfXm0XSXrcoqZzPl0m5DuLiZ2IapsW2fY/w400-h84/Holiday%20Feature.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b>10 Tricks for Writing During the Holidays</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>by Loren Rhoads</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes, especially around the holidays, it’s hard to find time to do the creative work you want to do. I’ve used a bunch of tricks to carve out time to write. I hope these will inspire you.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>1. Make a list. </b>Whether it’s topics you want to explore or scenes that need to be written, it’s easier to begin writing when you have a prompt.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>2. Set an alarm.</b> Promise yourself that you will settle down to write as soon as the alarm goes off. Giving yourself the anticipation of writing time can be inspirational.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>3. Set a timer. </b>Anyone can write for 15 minutes. There’s something about the tiniest amount of time pressure that tricks your brain into thinking it’s on a deadline. Start a timer on your computer, phone, or in the kitchen. You might find yourself pounding out the words to beat the bell. If the words are really flowing, you can always add a second 15-minute sprint.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>4. Make a date with a friend.</b> Whether you sit down together in a cafe or meet online for a video chat, it really helps to know that someone else is working alongside you. The key is to find someone who will write, rather than chat.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>5. Put your headphones on. </b>Many writers make a playlist that they listen to only when they work on a particular project. Listening to the same music every time you write can train your brain to provide inspiration on command.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>6. Write somewhere else.</b> If you normally write at a desk, try moving to the sofa or the kitchen table or sitting in bed. The simple act of shifting to new surroundings can shake loose the words.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>7. Try a different writing tool. </b>Do you usually write on a laptop? Try writing by hand in a notebook or attach a keyboard to your phone. Some writers swear by word processing keyboards like AlphaSmart or FreeWrite, which only allow you to see a small amount of the text you’re working on. That way you're forced to move forward, rather than editing what you've already done.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>8. Write first thing in the morning. </b>It’s tempting to start the day by checking email or scrolling social media, but what might you come up with if you listened to your own thoughts first thing in the morning?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>9. Write last thing at night. </b>Take a notebook to bed and draft one more scene before you turn out the light. Do the words feel different as you’re settling in for the night? Maybe your subconscious can solve a writing problem for you in your dreams.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>10. Chart your progress. </b>Whether you put a check on the calendar, color in a box on a habit-tracking chart, or note your word count in your planner, record the days you write. It’s addictive to see your progress.</div><div><br /></div><div>What other tricks have you found for getting the work done? Make your own list, so you'll have some tools to use next time you feel at a loss for words.</div><div style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></div></span></div><div><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ430Prg0b_X04bzp014Vs3D4CzpMhcmkiyAPse7A4PAj6xdrz9Urt1xB17vx1P40Bwz-n14RVRTD-M4pK3kdchgQRYCgrEEOAWNIgpjd_p_vc0oPRHtPLKq9_Wm8r_NmJVL-Q7LwCuCEAZfCcLEgP7n4Mj9yynBDGQBC38PJjoqf-5q46v15x6kViHAm6/s1084/Rhoads%20Spooky%20Planner%20cover.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1084" data-original-width="872" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ430Prg0b_X04bzp014Vs3D4CzpMhcmkiyAPse7A4PAj6xdrz9Urt1xB17vx1P40Bwz-n14RVRTD-M4pK3kdchgQRYCgrEEOAWNIgpjd_p_vc0oPRHtPLKq9_Wm8r_NmJVL-Q7LwCuCEAZfCcLEgP7n4Mj9yynBDGQBC38PJjoqf-5q46v15x6kViHAm6/s320/Rhoads%20Spooky%20Planner%20cover.png" width="257" /></a></div>Spooky Writer’s Planner</span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-family: georgia;">Loren Rhoads and Emerian Rich</span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: nonfiction planner</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: HorrorAddicts.net</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: November 2020</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: 9798560168698</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 361</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Emerian Rich</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: Get organized this year!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Are you a horror author who wants to take your career to the next level? Do you write dark fantasy, paranormal romance, spooky poetry, or morbid nonfiction? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Would you like to advance farther in the direction of your dreams?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Spooky Writer's Planner includes:</span></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: georgia;">13 months of monthly and weekly calendars</span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;">Monthly goal and recap sheets</span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;">Weekly check-ins and note pages</span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;">Writing challenges, prompts, and brainstorming pages</span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;">Trackers for submissions, pitches, and contacts </span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;">Marketing, newsletter, and blog planners</span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;">Check-off sheets for website maintenance, social media updates, and expenses</span></li></ul></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;">Available in Digital and Print</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Trailer: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkAATjLixjE">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkAATjLixjE</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">See An Excerpt Here: <a href="https://dl.bookfunnel.com/noi4i2rset">https://dl.bookfunnel.com/noi4i2rset</a></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh_FJqJCoKO0Z3uza0x7c2w9USIB3wJEfFxn9vMQhjrIO4sWPq1CehhlQRXfHvdEbur-E6nq27b5fUj73hmegArmX2K32rVnUoUIs9tuC8rvqExdifnft5NQtCRvpG9KTSc2IPLO0OD7Ur5iwZklarzA74AcAbhZMPdnOfO1t2b-U6mu97ZdHwcDeUMw/s1280/Rhoads%20SWP%20sample%20pages%201.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh_FJqJCoKO0Z3uza0x7c2w9USIB3wJEfFxn9vMQhjrIO4sWPq1CehhlQRXfHvdEbur-E6nq27b5fUj73hmegArmX2K32rVnUoUIs9tuC8rvqExdifnft5NQtCRvpG9KTSc2IPLO0OD7Ur5iwZklarzA74AcAbhZMPdnOfO1t2b-U6mu97ZdHwcDeUMw/w400-h225/Rhoads%20SWP%20sample%20pages%201.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The quick-download
version gives you a digital copy so you can print the pages you need and print
multiples of those you'll use the most. Create your own Frankenstein's Monster
of a planner! These black & white pages are designed to be printed on 8.5 x
11-inch paper. Put them in a three-ring binder or bind them with disks or a
spiral, your choice. Use it year after year after one purchase! <br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/920797923/spooky-writers-planner">Available
from Etsy</a><br /></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Spooky Writer's
Planner is perfect-bound with a glossy cover, printed on high-quality 8.5 x
11-inch paper. Everything you need is included in one handy book that you can
grab and go!</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><a href="https://amzn.to/3S36qQs">Available
from Amazon</a></b><br />
<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5D4NISla-3mzA0bUZ8DLY3TkquHR7s4W38OQq0fU-_-InSzRqezA1vodACU0j8KQBCi5HQNgYehGO5gUY_x-XFrCrCg9Z9HuFWAD3xAQ6M30fW-LGw-LajRB-2-uO1yW9VI7zEJZHBB2XPyG0yjkyNLt-pxMaUySyWDfRHxdTPugki2nYiHb2cyGBg90Y/s1280/Rhoads%20Headshot.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="852" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5D4NISla-3mzA0bUZ8DLY3TkquHR7s4W38OQq0fU-_-InSzRqezA1vodACU0j8KQBCi5HQNgYehGO5gUY_x-XFrCrCg9Z9HuFWAD3xAQ6M30fW-LGw-LajRB-2-uO1yW9VI7zEJZHBB2XPyG0yjkyNLt-pxMaUySyWDfRHxdTPugki2nYiHb2cyGBg90Y/s320/Rhoads%20Headshot.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Loren Rhoads writes dark fantasy, horror, and science fiction, sometimes all at once. She’s the author or editor of 18 books, including 199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die and Unsafe Words. She serves as a writing mentor for the Horror Writers Association. She has taught workshops on reading your work in public and submitting proposals and pitches to publishers. Find out more about her work at LorenRhoads.com </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Blog: </span><a href="https://lorenrhoads.com/blog/" style="font-family: georgia;">https://lorenrhoads.com/blog/</a></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/morbidloren">https://twitter.com/morbidloren</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/morbidloren">https://www.instagram.com/morbidloren</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Newsletter: <a href="https://mailchi.mp/aa9545b2ccf4/lorenrhoads">https://mailchi.mp/aa9545b2ccf4/lorenrhoads</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LorenRhoadsAuthor/ " rel="nofollow" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/LorenRhoadsAuthor/ </a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Bluesky: <a href="https://bsky.app/profile/morbidloren.bsky.social">https://bsky.app/profile/morbidloren.bsky.social</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amazon: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Loren-Rhoads/e/B002P905PE/">https://www.amazon.com/Loren-Rhoads/e/B002P905PE/</a> </span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-RNHTIoFKk2FiJqadD1VlNO1HBz89x8mShghfl2Dd3wHAOXOfaeA9dDwZJYui34a4rR77r7-1dBLGdhpUKo9cUgtQ-GwpzqdnibRqDMiwIlW-JXUp7s8S8eyzEwTHc_RaGLncEAVY4NPm0mei6M0EBtsIeGp-O6wIqn1jmtrO5tcE0HpE4OsHFjXOA2zI/s1080/Deck%20the%20Halls%20Insta%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-RNHTIoFKk2FiJqadD1VlNO1HBz89x8mShghfl2Dd3wHAOXOfaeA9dDwZJYui34a4rR77r7-1dBLGdhpUKo9cUgtQ-GwpzqdnibRqDMiwIlW-JXUp7s8S8eyzEwTHc_RaGLncEAVY4NPm0mei6M0EBtsIeGp-O6wIqn1jmtrO5tcE0HpE4OsHFjXOA2zI/s320/Deck%20the%20Halls%20Insta%20.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_VoW0Kd_VnDqCgkMkUFEYm03IxkkquSmK-ZHZJZGEt9anAPrjLCYilQiOCV2ZG0UJzcILEUdpgUQIGtfQOpKWMd_-lOtb9MCfLgswfUBTgzgHwi3yyidSUgW1B7hLFYnE9ZGLID5o7QNyWUC9rPt_MQ4zSlB8sLl7AH_8MKrBrb2UFYR9hAgd6l3qYNum/s2304/Giveaway.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_VoW0Kd_VnDqCgkMkUFEYm03IxkkquSmK-ZHZJZGEt9anAPrjLCYilQiOCV2ZG0UJzcILEUdpgUQIGtfQOpKWMd_-lOtb9MCfLgswfUBTgzgHwi3yyidSUgW1B7hLFYnE9ZGLID5o7QNyWUC9rPt_MQ4zSlB8sLl7AH_8MKrBrb2UFYR9hAgd6l3qYNum/w300-h400/Giveaway.png" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2207" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2207/" id="rcwidget_1mtrdrw7" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-51893761802687204382023-12-07T05:30:00.001-05:002023-12-07T05:30:00.139-05:00Dreamscape by J.N. Sheats<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCS5kfzyAcAp1mJRGpqnGAhT29L0rHg6K0Xi0xtsSEKyZ6SGJoAXcDim6EYT7428814r9XAaeAMepgnDMPev-9zXASU-07ufzojZ2aEwodhtj0SY3undKWK1FFiIMfR8H-I9GsozxxNWgFnwdNs2iKmxIC1MVf3fXxy4mvmgsHqw_MUrz-OmUZpjIcmYJB/s820/Dreamscape%20Tour%20Banner%20(1).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCS5kfzyAcAp1mJRGpqnGAhT29L0rHg6K0Xi0xtsSEKyZ6SGJoAXcDim6EYT7428814r9XAaeAMepgnDMPev-9zXASU-07ufzojZ2aEwodhtj0SY3undKWK1FFiIMfR8H-I9GsozxxNWgFnwdNs2iKmxIC1MVf3fXxy4mvmgsHqw_MUrz-OmUZpjIcmYJB/w400-h153/Dreamscape%20Tour%20Banner%20(1).png" width="400" /></a></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcHAMPt5MHmU4GVVUPtqpggrodO0dv5TUSwq23CJLi_pofR9zRnkwCZ9AjhtItE-KLAvIJDR4KxdIIgaJytW3evWGblgmGl1MlSjCf-9mHfOHIJPZJSLx9q0DR8RnNNttYw7J35z1lLGpp9ymbkqjkgRgPr1hSHbIOJcp4e9qBzpm3H3TXUXChcbj4Sur/s2625/Dreamscape_ebookcover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2625" data-original-width="1622" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcHAMPt5MHmU4GVVUPtqpggrodO0dv5TUSwq23CJLi_pofR9zRnkwCZ9AjhtItE-KLAvIJDR4KxdIIgaJytW3evWGblgmGl1MlSjCf-9mHfOHIJPZJSLx9q0DR8RnNNttYw7J35z1lLGpp9ymbkqjkgRgPr1hSHbIOJcp4e9qBzpm3H3TXUXChcbj4Sur/s320/Dreamscape_ebookcover.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>Dreamscape</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>JJ Morris Series </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Book 2</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>J.N. Sheats</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Mystery/Horror/Paranormal Romance</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: J.N. Sheats</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: 12/05/2023</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: B0CKB8Q4HZ </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: J Edward Neill </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: Supernatural meets Witches of East End in a twisted dream.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Now a college student, Joey is finding college life comfortable. But studies prove to be more difficult than facing down a horde of black dogs. Struggling with her average life now that the supernatural world has been opened before her, Joey is constantly distracted. Pulled between wanting the standard life of a college student, and the allure of the paranormal. Unfortunately, Portstown has been quiet since the “Great Hunt” of last year, that is until a random fire on campus occurs, and people start going missing.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Disregarded as a student prank, Joey brushes the incident off until she catches Gwen looking into it. Why would one of the guardians from the mysterious Warner family be looking into a silly student prank?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">More questions arise when fires start popping up all over campus, and Joey’s dreams turn violent under the control of the Dream Conductor with their twisted intentions. Gathering the group back together Joey must figure out what is happening to the missing people, who is starting the mysterious fires on campus, and what does the Dream Conductor want all while conquering finals. Will Joey pass this semester or will she fall into her deepest fantasies?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CKB8Q4HZ"><b><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Amazon</span></b></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy6jqLCBonY7eB-h2gKDjyoi6yxGroGQaRt5VwYQsaRBlx0AubcBklt_MPWkhhp5jsoGTBBRF6k5rcWLF2lp8CFeqOjTfBwrtLn2JOFNR_C3PFxUTwGScbgUoZYMr7Gl9lIjxqmvQYNvB43UDTJZKVWDW7wxU83buG5ga2UmqCD-Hn32SAfDpbSgLK-CQ/s851/DreamscapeBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="851" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy6jqLCBonY7eB-h2gKDjyoi6yxGroGQaRt5VwYQsaRBlx0AubcBklt_MPWkhhp5jsoGTBBRF6k5rcWLF2lp8CFeqOjTfBwrtLn2JOFNR_C3PFxUTwGScbgUoZYMr7Gl9lIjxqmvQYNvB43UDTJZKVWDW7wxU83buG5ga2UmqCD-Hn32SAfDpbSgLK-CQ/w400-h148/DreamscapeBanner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></div><blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">Excerpt:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">In the history of insane ideas, this was high on the list as I stood at the edge of the cemetery looking out over a sea of headstones. This was the last thing I wanted to face down, but I had to know if I was right about the fire. If I was then someone was in trouble. I heard it in the dream, someone calling out for help. Then again I heard a lot of people calling for help the other night in my dreams, still I had an anxious feeling about this fire.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">I tried calling the police and the firehouse, but I couldn’t get a word out. I didn’t want to send them to the chapel if there was no fire. What if the fire wasn’t going to be for awhile? Like the other night. It took hours for the fire to happen after I woke from my nightmare. The time before that it was within moments. Which was it going to be this time? They could come, find nothing and leave. Then the fire starts and they respond too late. Too late for what, Joey?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was a building, an old building. So what if it burned down, there would be no harm done and there were no houses in danger around it. Who cared if the crappy little chapel disappeared, but that cry for help nagged at me.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">The idea of calling Gwen crossed my mind, I even stood there with my finger hovering over her number, but what was I going to say? “There is going to be fire because I said so”? I couldn’t explain how I knew where the fire was going to happen, I simply knew. Deep in my subconscious somewhere I knew without a doubt the chapel was going to burn, and the longer I waited the stronger the feeling grew. Instead of making the call I settled on checking out the chapel for myself first. If I found nothing then fine, I would go back home and call it a bad dream. If I did find something, well I had my phone with me. I could call Gwen right there. I simply had to make it through the graveyard. At night.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">Daring a step forward I took a deep breath and shored up what courage I had. Inside I prayed I didn’t run into any black dogs, or fire demons, if those were a thing. Taking another step I let out the breath and ventured another step. One right after another I made my way across the graveyard toward the chapel half a mile away. I could have avoided the graveyard and walked up to the sidewalk parallel to the cemetery, but this was the fastest way to the chapel. In the back of my mind it felt like time was running out, so through the graveyard it was.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">Shadows danced off of the gravestones as I walked, making me flinch from time to time. Once or twice I let out a little yelp as the breeze picked up and shifted the long grass that needed to be mowed. It didn’t help that it felt like someone was watching me. The little hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, and the smolder of eyes on me chilled my blood. Coming to a stop short of the chapel I stood near one of the mausoleums and looked at the chapel more carefully. I mean, running in when it could burst into flames at any moment wasn’t the best idea. So I took time to study the outside.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">The windows were dark, no light came from within. Outside it was quiet, dead quiet aside from the winter wind blowing. Dry and arctic, but refreshing against my heated skin. I stood there studying the lines of the old chapel and the curling paint chips that were flapping against the wind. Everything looked normal and fine, quiet and still.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Meow!” Jinx yelled next to my ear on the mausoleum. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What the hell, in heaven.” I gasped, jumping away and feeling my heart in my throat.</span></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaaNwLHtZuiH9rO7j1pdti4eneXUVtNgMD13B_-CFmxarjuB-Ac_SDaoAuMaHshsg2G3SQsb1AhNBbaESB6_wddR2I_-OJbEfiyK-AEgOdEpBQdgtCpj6xu-Tg9f5Q9UuGDWju5EaCGq4oq60VWlcD4HRmCrTfkCbXLYKdxEnXzHKGtu5dgOghyphenhyphenHj4e9CB/s1194/author_pic.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1194" data-original-width="922" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaaNwLHtZuiH9rO7j1pdti4eneXUVtNgMD13B_-CFmxarjuB-Ac_SDaoAuMaHshsg2G3SQsb1AhNBbaESB6_wddR2I_-OJbEfiyK-AEgOdEpBQdgtCpj6xu-Tg9f5Q9UuGDWju5EaCGq4oq60VWlcD4HRmCrTfkCbXLYKdxEnXzHKGtu5dgOghyphenhyphenHj4e9CB/w154-h200/author_pic.jpg" width="154" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">J.N. Sheats is an artist turned author. Living in Maryland with six wild cats, and her husband, J.N. spends her days designing book covers and teasers for other authors. At night she is at the mercy of her demanding characters, and their wild fantasies.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Dark Paranormal Fantasy is her preferred genre of writing, but anything is game. Maybe even a lovely romance novel or two in the near future.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">When not writing, designing, or drawing, J.N. spends her time doing a host of other activities. Including: gardening, jewelry making, cooking, and watching far too much television.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Author Website: <a href="http://www.authorjnsheats.wordpress.com">www.authorjnsheats.wordpress.com</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Blog: <a href="http://insidetheinsanitycm.blogspot.com/">http://insidetheinsanitycm.blogspot.com/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/jsheatsart">www.facebook.com/jsheatsart</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/author/jnsheats">www.amazon.com/author/jnsheats</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/jnsheats">https://twitter.com/jnsheats</a></span></div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPvzTr9WMpRLEhKRC6vx4z_5079TYKRc9N1RGZZzIxiTHvGE1vwg4b4CAmevQmgJZL1rFkB9s0gzShiBZ13rrXZnLg6oeLYTz5MjGbp0ekK0Y7eRp7dv6asqEq4u6act3v8QRP2KgqX8qeIk2kr9hL4GFwQjGAQxdfPzpA4b9ydgI-xB0dCgynKSzfuYIF/s1080/Dreamscape%20Instagram%20Post.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPvzTr9WMpRLEhKRC6vx4z_5079TYKRc9N1RGZZzIxiTHvGE1vwg4b4CAmevQmgJZL1rFkB9s0gzShiBZ13rrXZnLg6oeLYTz5MjGbp0ekK0Y7eRp7dv6asqEq4u6act3v8QRP2KgqX8qeIk2kr9hL4GFwQjGAQxdfPzpA4b9ydgI-xB0dCgynKSzfuYIF/s320/Dreamscape%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2209" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2209/" id="rcwidget_c4vv2qkm" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-44126371438497180882023-12-06T01:00:00.001-05:002023-12-06T01:00:00.136-05:00The Rogue Mage by Alex Thornbury<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-y8q9_BiLBGOS_-ZyakvkHzcVyBiVP9KvKsMi6Uy-Ftu8n9hoALxx3gjU5bA0OinOeDUHW-dS_ivDF2S_B0fkQsDhmj38poN4fITAyQySY5yssQRfcGboDzD6xZNhqtRu9BTlI5TNVW89kYwfr3tKpIb3kIG0PbLGTbMDDZG-Tx65QJMR66qJnQAYlVVP/s820/_Rogue%20Mage%20Tour%20%20Banner%20.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-y8q9_BiLBGOS_-ZyakvkHzcVyBiVP9KvKsMi6Uy-Ftu8n9hoALxx3gjU5bA0OinOeDUHW-dS_ivDF2S_B0fkQsDhmj38poN4fITAyQySY5yssQRfcGboDzD6xZNhqtRu9BTlI5TNVW89kYwfr3tKpIb3kIG0PbLGTbMDDZG-Tx65QJMR66qJnQAYlVVP/w400-h153/_Rogue%20Mage%20Tour%20%20Banner%20.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_xVbbYEWUSGpy9E_kNUrgG07WxaWIiy1QsSGYoVhyD1PNtNc26tZyzCQPo0bov5eu77l1og3YPxLHDOy2-s94r96GgNnaof1101Pns5CF1Q4WvhD16U3nkSZOahq-VX4g2Ao1DTupWREnciU_dRf6D_tQlqj2tpds2kuxSCGqjCoTUHDZECXFXm4tI2N/s3264/The_Rogue_Mage_eBOOK_COVERv2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="1973" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_xVbbYEWUSGpy9E_kNUrgG07WxaWIiy1QsSGYoVhyD1PNtNc26tZyzCQPo0bov5eu77l1og3YPxLHDOy2-s94r96GgNnaof1101Pns5CF1Q4WvhD16U3nkSZOahq-VX4g2Ao1DTupWREnciU_dRf6D_tQlqj2tpds2kuxSCGqjCoTUHDZECXFXm4tI2N/s320/The_Rogue_Mage_eBOOK_COVERv2.jpg" width="193" /></a></div>The Rogue Mage</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>The Sundered Web </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Book Two</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>Alex Thornbury</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Genre: Fantasy</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Publisher: Shadow Lore Publishing</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Date of Publication: 5th December 2023</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ISBN: 978-0-6454970-4-5</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">ASIN: B0BW35KXPZ</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Number of pages: 550</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Word Count: 190,000</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cover Artist: Alejandro Colucci</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tagline: For humankind, she would be the monsters’ monster. She would be their fear in the night. She would be the terror come for them. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Book Description: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Elika crosses the Bridge to Magic to find the world ruled by magic, where nothing is as it seems. Mages run the streets, whilst the tsaren, their masters, war with each other. Though it is men who pay the price with their lives.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Faced with the injustice of the mages and the new world order, Elika discovers her own untapped gifts that may yet shift the balance of power back into the hands of men. But her dabbling in the power she does not understand draws the attention of the dreaded demigod Syn’Moreg.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Elika must now outwit the shadow that hunts her, whilst seeking a way to free mankind from their oppressors. Yet dark grows her heart, and to darkness it reaches for that which the shadow denies.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">As whispers of a newly found heir to the Sacred Crowns grow to cries of war, Elika comes to realize that she may not be the savior of mankind after all. Mite has proclaimed himself King Northwind, and marches on Terren to claim what is rightfully his. Elika is certain he will fail, unless she can vanquish the one power standing in his way. But to do that, she must convince the court and the archmage that she is the demigoddess Arala returned.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BW35KXPZ">Amazon</a><o:p></o:p></span></b></p></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b></b></p></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="font-family: times;"><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b>Excerpt:</b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Aeon-Greengrass’
house was easy to find, illuminated as it was with moonlight. The chimney was a
weave of branches, and grass grew from the walls. She peered down from the edge
of the roof to a small balcony, and silently lowered herself onto it. The tree
branches stirred under her feet, then stilled. Instead of a window, an airy
opening, with black webbing barred her way inside. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Open,’
she commanded in a whisper, pushing her will into the surrounding essence, and
felt the answering quiver. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">The
black strands parted, and she strode inside into a darkened lounge. Had she
come here to rob, she would have needed ten sacks for all the loot. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Every
surface was crowded with silver ornaments in strange shapes and flowing forms
that resembled nothing you’d find in nature. She was drawn to a figurine that
resembled a twisting, spiralling shape of a man, as if his body was made from
water. Another figurine was of a dog, his earthly form also looped and
stretched around itself, a grotesque torment of the natural order.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">There
were trees and flowers and animals, all twisted and bent. Yet there was an odd
beauty in the grotesqueness that tugged at her primal heart. Was this how they
saw her world? Strange that these ugly beings searched for beauty and crafted
it in their own appalling way. <br />
What do you want from our world? she pondered. Surely your own is of much
greater splendour, abound as it is with magic and wonder. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Dangerous
musings, she thought, and abruptly turned away before her resolve wavered. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Inside
the house, there were no doors, only archways in the walls of branches with
strange, whimsical fruit sprouting from their tips. No fruit was the same, and
when she touched one, it felt hollow and light as if spun from dust and wishes.
Under her foot, there was a carpet of grass. In it grew small flowers, akin to
those a child might draw with a stick in the mud, both extravagant and clumsy
in their form. The petals were of different sizes and irregular in shape.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Everything
here gave an impression of simultaneous worship and corruption of nature, as if
the Laifae did not understand how it all fitted together. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">At
the end of the hall, she came to a doorway. A black web barred her way. Beyond
it, she felt his essence, the creature who gave this house its form. She
focused on that essence, placed the hand on the webbing and whispered, ‘Do not
resist me.’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Warm,
slick strands trembled under her fingers and parted before her, allowing her
entry into the majren’s bedchamber. A light glowed in a lantern beside his bed,
illuminating the youthful face of the sleeping mage. He was a youth … no, the
body he had stolen belonged to a youth whose limbs still had not developed the
bulk of a full-grown man. It was an absurdly wrong body for the man who held
such an important position in the archmage’s dominion. Curled on his side, he
looked like a child in peaceful slumber. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">The
child is dead, she reminded herself, willing the anger to grow. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Still,
she could not look at him and do what must be done. She sent a black tendril to
extinguish the flame in his lantern, and the room was plunged into darkness. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Aeon-Greengrass
startled awake and sat up. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Who’s
there?’ He moved his face searchingly, back and forth, past where she stood. <br />
She froze, realising that he was blind in the dark of night. His ears were
sharp, however, and he must have heard her intake of breath, or perhaps the
frantic beating of her heart. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Guards!
Guards!’ He shouted from inside the dead man’s chest, a sound akin to a
strangled roar. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Without
further thought, she grasped the threads of his essence and pulled. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘No!
Spare me. I have gold and riches.’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Riches
you earned by selling the lives of men.’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Who
are you, mistress?’ he gasped.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">In
reply, she pulled harder upon the threads. He groaned and writhed and finally
fell lifeless back onto his bed. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘A
life for a life.’ She uttered the mantra from long ago, which they had lived by
on the streets.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">And
something inside her grew cold and dark. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">A
crack under her feet … she plunged through the floor and hit the lower level
with a rough thud. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">She
groaned, rolled, noting that nothing was broken, and looked up. But of course,
she thought, with the Laifae gone, so was his magic. The grass floor morphed to
rotting wood, decayed and barely holding the house together. The walls of the
house were wilting and vanishing, and the stones which had been held firm by
black webbing began to crumble and crash around her. <br />
Elika scrambled to her feet, raced to the window and jumped out. Behind her,
the house fell to rubble and dust chased her down the street. Shouts and calls
came from the folk as they emerged to gape at the rubble she had left behind.
When she was out of their sight, she slowed to a walk.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">A
wind brushed her hood. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">She
stopped, and her heart raced with recognition and fear.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">The
wind blew again, stronger this time. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">She
knew that wind. Knew it as well as her own breath. She had lived beside the
dark chasm most of her life, had listened to the shrill screams upon it. But
she was far from the chasm, and the wind of the Abyss did not travel far past
it. Yet here it was, filled with biting rage, swirling around her. And on it,
she felt a dark presence. Something followed her that was not a man.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">She
spun around and probed the deep, lurking shadows of the night, straining her
ears to listen to the silence hidden by the wailing wind. A terrible power drew
near. She felt its approach in the depths of her bones. The very essence of the
world bent and trembled beneath it. It charged the air with its rage. A pulse
of that rage went past, and a tremor shook the ground beneath her feet. She
staggered but managed not to fall, turned again, trying to see where the
nearing storm was coming from. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">It
stilled, as if also listening. Then, as if it caught her scent, the terror
charged towards her. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">She
darted for the closest rainwater pipe and, in an instant, scrambled up it to
the roof, lay flat on her stomach and peered over the edge. No one was there.
No sound, no movement in the faintly lit street. Still, the sense of danger
prickling her skin was a physical sensation she could not ignore. Something was
there, seeking her, scanning the roofs where she had climbed. Aye, there were
eyes searching for her, brushing past her.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Darkness
moved, and she saw it, a shadow darker than the night untouched by moonlight.
It moved and vanished. And the winds of the Abyss grew still.</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">She rolled away from the edge and stared up at the
moon, waiting until she was certain the shadow had left. Then she rose and ran
home.</p></span></div><div></div></blockquote><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB06iceP7hCYp8VSeCv9hZlUP2n1H1dY4g0lePlH6zuGXx-IWTDIK_3QNsRVAVpVB0zr0nNm1R41oyzwmTo_-WCs87Yj2yJdM7W632WRVmdDaN0F9z-6q2WBXQQ7hxJO2jbm_phhJzOqMk_RdUJ4w8f1WZWNE1gJWjNte-ozlmJ7hTsChQovxcwNWgHhPN/s4739/AlexThornbury.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3164" data-original-width="4739" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB06iceP7hCYp8VSeCv9hZlUP2n1H1dY4g0lePlH6zuGXx-IWTDIK_3QNsRVAVpVB0zr0nNm1R41oyzwmTo_-WCs87Yj2yJdM7W632WRVmdDaN0F9z-6q2WBXQQ7hxJO2jbm_phhJzOqMk_RdUJ4w8f1WZWNE1gJWjNte-ozlmJ7hTsChQovxcwNWgHhPN/w200-h134/AlexThornbury.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>About the Author: </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Alex Thornbury is an award-winning author. She grew up in Cheshire UK, and developed deep love of history and fantasy thanks to the many castles she visited as a child. Though she grew up to be an Alchemist by trade, she never stopped fantasising about other worlds, dragons and epic battles.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Website or Blog: <a href="https://alexthornbury.com/">https://alexthornbury.com/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Bookbub: <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alex-thornbury">https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alex-thornbury</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/author.alexthornbury">https://www.facebook.com/author.alexthornbury</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/alexthornbury.author/">https://www.instagram.com/alexthornbury.author/</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Newsletter: <a href="https://alexthornbury.com/subscribe-to-my-newsletter/">https://alexthornbury.com/subscribe-to-my-newsletter/</a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22845843.Alex_Thornbury">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22845843.Alex_Thornbury</a> </span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKIobxsJ0bE_Q8UOkfM3sTULJtZH-KANll5MAjNspeMpDqdGfuDGEOhRtOH9VrFKEqxe04KHeaLVkKFo4qOZAJ6DkssJe1FlbDU0CKKKl5MbFf3GFuiYCCq1TvtcfweBH1UQeAyt8nOtOcDNr9g9lqj9iPVzXkclOFstP1kGd_x7TCpDXJGQmiuiM6imN/s1080/_Rogue%20Mage%20Tour%20Instagram%20Post.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKIobxsJ0bE_Q8UOkfM3sTULJtZH-KANll5MAjNspeMpDqdGfuDGEOhRtOH9VrFKEqxe04KHeaLVkKFo4qOZAJ6DkssJe1FlbDU0CKKKl5MbFf3GFuiYCCq1TvtcfweBH1UQeAyt8nOtOcDNr9g9lqj9iPVzXkclOFstP1kGd_x7TCpDXJGQmiuiM6imN/s320/_Rogue%20Mage%20Tour%20Instagram%20Post.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div>Roxanne Rhoadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06532276224663024130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18740036.post-79630403873947457242023-12-05T03:30:00.001-05:002023-12-05T03:30:00.148-05:00Boss Level by Allyson Lindt - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhVhf0NgVvDXham_t6toFKPBud7Ke3wshBsZogJevTq02O3BJHFROSipbiAr94bO0MS1f27csVOkLFF7weFam3mYd0g4vKcFjlj7L3m1bKaMPGTvZ-5LFu73pg4LCQce0f3I083utxyzNsVJ5Gs4WorsJrLlvhkslfpDOOTPKTAP2n5xPZ3qt14Dl7Hke/s820/Boss%20Level%20Deck%20the%20Halls%20Banner.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="820" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhVhf0NgVvDXham_t6toFKPBud7Ke3wshBsZogJevTq02O3BJHFROSipbiAr94bO0MS1f27csVOkLFF7weFam3mYd0g4vKcFjlj7L3m1bKaMPGTvZ-5LFu73pg4LCQce0f3I083utxyzNsVJ5Gs4WorsJrLlvhkslfpDOOTPKTAP2n5xPZ3qt14Dl7Hke/w400-h153/Boss%20Level%20Deck%20the%20Halls%20Banner.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfM7kDoc2fEsrMirT8WGeVRddDnctlEQvzKuHzE4-sHX6vTOhc4hpaVv6ya4Ule-086kLs1susFYVY698QQ7T-Sq9mO1XiGeAsioWqI5rEaIwKymlBp_edkCzLISnlKoEKK4bNBKAF-Mk8dybsX7_9lcWIJPElPurh6dpEDsyGJjIe3HkZzrOyDg/s2480/Holiday%20Flash%20Fiction.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="2480" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfM7kDoc2fEsrMirT8WGeVRddDnctlEQvzKuHzE4-sHX6vTOhc4hpaVv6ya4Ule-086kLs1susFYVY698QQ7T-Sq9mO1XiGeAsioWqI5rEaIwKymlBp_edkCzLISnlKoEKK4bNBKAF-Mk8dybsX7_9lcWIJPElPurh6dpEDsyGJjIe3HkZzrOyDg/w400-h84/Holiday%20Flash%20Fiction.png" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 12.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"></span></b></p><blockquote><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 12.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">New
Game <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 12.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="font-family: times;">An
Aces Played Short Story<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;">Judith</span></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I hadn’t watched a
Santa this closely since I was five. Of course, at the time I thought the jolly
old man at the mall was <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">the</span></i> Santa, and
tonight at least part of me was hoping <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">this</span></i> Santa had
something for me in his magic sack.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Of course, most
Santas didn’t look as good as Xander, either. The streaks of silver mixed with
brown that peeked out from under his hat were natural, as was the salt and
pepper beard. His Santa outfit was multiple layers of deceptive, hiding a
large, muscular build under padding, and tattoos under long sleeves.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">He stopped next to
one of dozens of <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">Rincon</span></i> signs dotted around the
convention center, to pose for yet another picture with a smiling child.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Admiring our handy
work?” Chloe’s question caught me off-guard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I was never
off-guard. Time to stop staring at the pretty man and get back to it.
“Something like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Chloe and I hadn’t
put this event together ourselves, but we did manage the teams who had.
Rinslet’s inaugural gaming convention. She was the company’s VP of all things
creative and I was the same for Operations.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">She looked past me at
Xander, who was posing with another kid. “He is pretty.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Deceptively so.”
Underneath the smiling exterior was a sadist. One of the things I liked about
him was he knew when to whip that out. “What’s up?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I need your
expertise and presence if you’re up for it. New guy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I grinned. “Of course
I am.” One thing I loved about doing client and partner meetings with Chloe was
the way people tended to underestimate us. Two petite women in tech who people
assumed joined a meeting together because we were meek. <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">New guy</span></i> meant this one wasn’t familiar with our
reputation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Introducing ourselves
would take my mind off the reason I was waiting for Xander.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Except it didn’t. I
gave the meeting enough attention to make sure Chloe had my support when she
needed it, and to present a united front. My thoughts were on a far more
lucrative decision I needed to make.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I’d built a career on
taking risks and pushing limits, but I always had enough information to go into
the decisions before I took the leap. Except my failed marriage. I followed my
gut there and discovered I needed more from a man than a big dick and good
orgasms. Those helped, but…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">That had nothing to
do with this except that it was another terrifying decision, and I didn’t
normally do fear. Rinslet had become one of the two biggest gaming companies in
the world, climbing from the ashes to soar here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Some of us who had
been here for a long time, since before the fall, wanted to get back into being
on the cutting edge. We had a game idea. They had all signed on and were
brilliant minds.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">The only hold-out was
me. The person who would run it all, fund a lot of it, and make sure other
groups funded the rest. No one was better suited for this job, but the idea
pushed so many limits and if we put it out there before the world was ready, it
would crash and burn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I had until the New
Year to make up my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Chloe and I wrapped
things up with the vendor, who was far more polite than when the meeting
started, and I went in search of Xander.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Apparently Santa was
done for the night and nowhere to be found.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I sent him a quick
text asking if he was ready to go, and stepped away from the thinning crowds to
see if I could spot him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">We’d been friends
since high school. We’d been there for each other through heartbreak, divorce,
ruin, and amazing salvation. We also very occasionally fucked—<i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">friends with benefits </span></i>sounded so tame—and tonight
that seemed like a good Christmas present to both of us when everything was
over.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Sit on Santa’s lap
and tell him what you want, little girl?” His low, teasing voice filled my
thoughts and his hot breath brushed my cheek when he leaned in from behind me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">My smile popped into
place without permission, and I leaned into him enough to feel the muscle under
the suit. I wouldn’t be obscene with Santa in front of the children or media.
“Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” I kept
my voice low enough only he would hear.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">He held a miniature,
individually wrapped candy cane in front of my face. “What do you think?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I think I like a guy
who knows size isn’t the only thing that matters.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">His chuckle was
more <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">I can’t want to make you scream later</span></i> and less<i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"> ho ho ho</span></i>. “Are you ready to get out of here?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Can we go someplace
you’ll leave the suit on?” We had a stop to make first, but there was a whole
night after that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Depends on if you
behave at dinner.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I was the one who
laughed this time. “I didn’t plan on it.” I didn’t submit to anyone in the
boardroom or the bedroom, it was another reason I’d clashed with my ex. But
with Xander, we’d been exposed to each other in far more intimate ways than
sex, and sometimes a little yielding on my part took the edge off the rest of
life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">We ditched the coat
from his outfit in his car, and he pulled on a sweater instead. Simple, cream
colored, and hugging every inch of muscle on his torso, with the red pants
still in place? That was as hot as anything.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">We crossed the street
to the hotel across from the convention center, and headed toward their
signature restaurant. I needed a neutral legal opinion on some aspects of this business,
and a friend had referred me to the man we were meeting with, as someone who
would give me an unbiased legal opinion.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Xander was the only
person outside of our group and their significant others who knew the details
of this concept. He was already onboard to invest and pushing me to sign on.
But only if I was comfortable with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">The foyer was
crowded, but the lone businessman wearing an expensive suit and a stern
expression stood out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Are you Dominic?” I
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">He turned his gaze on
me and studied me with eyes so dark they were almost black. He wasn’t quite as
big and built as Xander, but he still towered over me, and that stern
expression was <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">wow</span></i>. A polite smile slipped onto
his face. “I am. Judith?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Pleasure to meet
you. Thank you for making time for me tonight.” I extended my hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">His grip was firm and
tantalizing. I hoped he had some lucky woman or man waiting at home for him to
use that plus his smoldering stare on. “Not a problem.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I introduced Xander
as well, gave the host my name for my reservation, and we were shown to a
table.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">We were only here for
drinks and conversation, but the moment Xander ordered appetizers, I realized
how hungry I was. “Make that a double order,” I told the waiter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Xander shook his head
as the man walked away. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Guilty as charged. I
tended to forget food when I had more important things on my mind. “I had a
muffin for breakfast and enough coffee since then to kill a mule.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Good thing you’re more
stubborn than one,” Xander teased.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dominic didn’t look
so amused. He didn’t look like he was feeling much of anything. Reading him
would be interesting, but fortunately this was an advice session, not a
negotiation. “What can I do for you this evening?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“We’re looking to
create an MMORPG—a massively multiplayer online roleplaying game—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I know what the
acronym means.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I raised my brows,
unimpressed at being cut off. If he didn’t know what it meant, I’d be more
concerned, since he was supposed to be well versed in tech. “—that will contain
a large amount of adult content.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Don’t most of them?”
Dominic asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Like graphic
depictions of people fucking.” Xander went straight for the punchline. “More
than two people at once. Orgies. The like.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dominic still didn’t
flinch.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I wasn’t willing to
give out too much information, since there were some innovative concepts
involved in the plan, but we did need to tell him enough to get answers. I
filled in a few more highlights, and was wrapping up as our food arrived.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I dove into the
cheese dip like a ravenous child, enough to sate the gnawing in my stomach,
while the men nibbled.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“So what is it <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">I</span></i> can do for you?” Dominic repeated.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Make up my mind for
me. Tell me this was a stupid idea. Crack just enough for me to get a read on
that gorgeously stony exterior. “I want to know what the legal repercussions
are. I’ve considered several, but I won’t list them. I want to hear your
thoughts. What do you feel I should look out for, what could bite me in the ass
if I’m not prepared for it, and will this fuck me over when things go wrong?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Business will always
fuck you over if things go wrong enough,” Dominic said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“But how wrong is
that, really?” Xander’s smirk was the antithesis to Dominic’s marble
expression. “I mean, sometimes getting fucked, even when it’s wrong—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Sexual harassment.”
Dominic did seem to like to talk over people. “That’s the number one thing that
will bite you in the ass.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Was it wrong that I
thought it was hot, the way he and Xander clashed? Oil and water. Fire and ice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Sexual harassment is
a concern in most companies, especially in tech,” I said. “I don’t disagree
with you, but how is this different?” I had my own thoughts on the matter, and
I’d looped through them from multiple angles, but I was here to hear Dominic’s.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You’re starting a
company were discussing explicit sexual acts won’t just be a daily occurrence,
they’ll be a requirement of the job.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“So if Man One were
to ask Woman One her thoughts on double penetration, and what would make it
more pleasurable to both of them…” Xander left the thought hanging.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Did the corner of
Dominic’s mouth just twitch? “First of all, double penetration implies at least
three people, so grammatically the question is what would make it more
pleasurable for all three of them. Second, in almost every office in the world,
that conversation would be harassment. And lastly, I’m here to consult, not be
tested.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I could argue that we
weren’t poking at his edges, to see what gave, but he was right. And Xander had
only just started. It was almost a shame this was a business meeting, because
Mr. Dominic the Lawyer was a kind of wound-up I knew all too well, and I also
knew good sex released a lot of that tension.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I’d love to see the
sparks fly between him and Xander. Even better, I’d love to be the filling on
that sandwich.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">But there was work to
do. “Sexual harassment. Noted. What else do I need to consider?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">We went down a list,
and he hit most of the points on my list, as well as others I hadn’t even
considered. As we talked, we worked our way through the food, and stuck to
coffee rather than liquor. We had finished up and I’d paid the bill, much to
both men’s dismay, but were still talking.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“All well and good,
but the harassment will be an issue regardless.” Apparently Xander was a dog
with a bone about this. “How does she get around that?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Like anything
sexual, consent and honesty need to be part of the conversation.” Dominic’s
glance at me heated my blood. “People need to know the topic will come up, and
also understand that it’s up to them to be adults about how they handle it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Xander leaned in.
“Care to provide an example?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Of course.” Dominic
met and held my gaze. “If I were to offer to finger you under the table, to see
how long it took you until you cracked, and you were to jerk me off in return,
while Bad Santa over there watched, and the suggestion made you uncomfortable,
that would be harassment.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Touché. And if he was
expecting me to back down, he was about to learn a thing or two. “What if your
offer made me wet, instead of uncomfortable. And Bad Santa doesn’t tend to
watch. He’s more of a hands-on kind of guy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Watching is exactly
what any Santa does, good or bad.” Dominic’s stare was going to burn a hole
through my soul.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Xander chuckled.
“Sounds both naughty and nice. I’m in.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I wanted to shoot him
a glance, but I couldn’t look away. “Easy for you to say. You get to sit back
and watch.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Because that’s not
torture?” he countered.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Because you won’t
take yours later?” Dominic asked. “And if it turns you on, rather than offends
you, and nothing professional hinges on the exchange, it’s not harassment.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I’d call him on the
way he’d just oversimplified things, but I was too enthralled by his
suggestion. I covered his hand with mine, and moved both to my leg, at the hem
of my skirt.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dominic’s face still
didn’t so much as twitch as he shoved my skirt up, and inched his fingers along
the inside of my thigh.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">This was a horrible
place for foreplay, but I didn’t need it anyway. I was already turned on by the
clash between Xander and Dominic, and the fact that we were in public and I had
an almost-stranger’s hand gliding toward my pussy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I swallowed a gasp
and spread my legs when he brushed the crotch of my panties, but I refused to
crack.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">This time I was
certain I saw a smile tug up one corner of Dominic’s mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Xander wasn’t hiding
anything. He looked amused as fuck.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dominic pushed aside
my panties, and teased toward my opening. I was slick with anticipation, and
his touch glided easily along my skin. He slipped inside me just enough to
penetrate, before withdrawing and gliding up to my clit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">My nipples were hard
and tight against my bra, straining the lace. I swore everyone in here knew
what we were up to, despite there being a tablecloth keeping anyone from seeing.
My pulse hammered in my ears with each touch and stroke from Dominic. He really
knew how to use those fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">If anyone figured out
what we were up to, would it turn them on too? Would someone else go home and
get laid tonight, fantasizing about our display? Hell, could I go home and get
laid tonight, based on this?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">The way Xander
watched us said <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">yes</span></i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">The longer Dominic
stroked my clit, the closer I pushed to orgasm. I tried to focus on not letting
any reaction show, but my chest was heaving. I couldn’t look at anything but my
clenched fists, or I’d lose my composure.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Climax spilled
through me, and I nearly bit a hole through my cheek trying to keep it from
showing. Just as the pleasure started to ebb, Dominic slipped his fingers
inside me again, drawing out the moment, as I clenched tight around him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">He slipped out of me
without comment, and I struggled to catch my breath.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Xander pushed a glass
of water toward me. “Impressive. You almost melted the Ice Queen. You’ll have
to be positively glacial to win this one.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“We haven’t
established stakes,” Dominic said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">That didn’t sound
like a <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">me</span></i> problem. “It’s a bit late for that, since we’ve
already started. Are you backing out?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">He shook his head
.”Most definitely not.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Do the three of you
need anything else?” The waiter chose that moment to interrupt.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Why did this all make
me squirm almost as much as when Dominic was touching me?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“We’re fine, thank
you.” Xander never missed a beat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">As the waiter walked
away, I pushed my skirt up a little higher, enough to grab my panties.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What are you up to?”
Xander eyed me as I shifted in my seat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I slid the underwear
down my legs, cleaned myself up a little—they were ruined anyway—and set them
on the bench between Dominic and me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">He raised an eyebrow,
and I turned away from the questioning look as if it didn’t mean a thing. I
watched Xander instead as I tugged down Dominic’s zipper. He was already hard,
which made working him free difficult, but I figured it out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I wanted to risk a
glance at his exposed cock, but that felt too much like revealing how much I
was enjoying this. My hand would have to tell me the full story, and it was
telling an impressively big tale.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I grabbed my panties
again, and glided the smooth, damp silk along his skin when I gripped his
shaft.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">He clenched his jaw.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">The only regret I had
so far was with my panties gone, I was going to leave a wet spot on the back of
my skirt. But he started this and I was going to finish it. I watched Dominic,
looking for a clue as to what he was thinking or feeling. <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">Fuck</span></i> he was good. Stoic. Gorgeous.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">When he tightened
under my touch, a quiet <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">fuck</span></i> slipped
out under his breath. His hips came up and his ass rose off the seat. I felt
the warm spurt of his climax through the panties I’d wrapped around him, when
he came.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Was it wrong to want
to gloat as I eased my touch off? I was too turned on, still, to put too much
thought into it. I was definitely going to provoke Xander into something when
we got out of here, if he wasn’t already.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Pretty sure the lady
wins.” Xander took care of the looking smug on my behalf.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dominic’s laugh was
strained, but it was distinctly a laugh. “I know when I’ve been beat.” He took
the panties from me and shoved them in his jacket pocket. “Not complaining
about the outcome though. Anything else I can do for you this evening?” Like
that, his composure was back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Damn, he was good. “I
think what you’ve offered has been incredibly helpful. Thank you for your
time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You two kill me.”
Xander rolled his eyes. “There’s enough repression between the two of you to
imprison a small planet.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“You ought to try it
sometime. Showing some composure.” Yup, Dominic was back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Xander shook his
head. “No thanks. Wouldn’t want to deprive either of you. Pretty sure you’ve
made it a finite resource. Can we walk you out?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Since we’re going
the same way, that makes sense,” Dominic said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">When I stood, he was
ready with my coat, which was long enough to cover any wet spot on my skirt.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Xander led us through
a back hallway toward a tucked away exit. The hallway wasn’t labeled <i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">staff only</span></i>, but most of what was down here looked like
it was for employees.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">As we reached an open
door with light spilling onto the carpet. Xander grabbed my wrist and yanked me
inside, and Dominic followed, closing the door behind us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">That the clash between
them had become this kind of synchronicity was scary-hot.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Amid linen and other
room supplies, Xander pressed his body to mine, pinning me to the wall. “You
didn’t think that display out there would go unanswered.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I hoped it
wouldn’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">He bit my neck where
it met my shoulder, and my desire spiked. He moved his mouth to my ear. “I’m
glad you gave him your panties.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Why?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Because I want my
cum running down your leg while you walk to your car. While you drive home.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dominic’s groan
matched my whimper. I couldn’t hide the reaction, but I could gloss over it.
“You’re such an asshole.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Yup.” Xander was
rough when he shoved my skirt up around my hips.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I returned the favor
by freeing his cock.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">He was strong enough,
and enough bigger than me, that he made it look effortless when he grabbed my
hips and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, sighing in delight as
he slid inside me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dominic teased my
breast through my shirt. “I don’t know how he kept his hands to himself.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“All about proving a
point.” Xander’s voice trailed off as he pumped in me, starting slow and
building to a fast, hard pounding.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I gripped tight,
enjoying the desperation in this moment. That spot he hit inside me at just the
right angle. And when Dominic worked his hand between us, and sought out my
clit again. I was both too tender and not sensitive enough for this kind of
touch, and I dug my nails into Xander’s back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">He grunted in
response, and fucked me harder.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dominic’s skilled
touch worked me past the physical wall of resistance, and pleasure built inside
me again. Orgasm felt out of reach, until it crashed around me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Xander’s familiar
grunts blended with voices in the hallway, and my anticipation soared as he
spilled inside me. The talking outside moved away again, but my heart still
hammered against my ribs from the entire thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Xander was gentle as
he lowered me to my feet, but the three of us stayed tangled in a knot as we
caught our breath.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">I wasn’t new to
taking risks, but since my divorce, they’d all been calculated. I had mountains
of data before walking into any situation. I didn’t have that for the decision
I was about to make, and that was why it terrified me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">Tonight was reckless
and out of control, though. If Dominic hadn’t been up for the challenge, if the
media had gotten hold of the news, if most people outside the company found
out… I could’ve been ruined. And I didn’t regret a minute of what we’d done.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">If I didn’t step up
and take this opportunity, I was going to regret letting it pass me by.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What are you thinking,
Judy?” Xander murmured against my skin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">No one called me
that. Ever. But with him, tonight, it was right. “I’m thinking I need Dominic’s
business card, and to secure his legal services. Let’s play this hand and see
what happens.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;">~*~<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>To find out what
becomes of the company in question, and to find out where Judith, Xander, and
Dominic are now, <a href="https://www.allysonlindt.co/three-player-tag-team-poly-menage-romance/"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: windowtext; padding: 0in;">check out my Three Player Tag-Team series</span></a></i><i>.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br />
</span></blockquote><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Dd38CbvuByatx8ebYVySsv4RSSabGL2gubloinHJoSEsDIUF5rn_l26pAyOR-fqEUyBBQ8A8AURPrNFON2fcPLph2LkaJ3uZ_fjDJcmAqsyCKCHQlhAQebyCNe94dA1j1V3-OFJV6DV9qz_BZEOwQ7ERSP_BGb9WTK22a8Jt9Sw9d85lWzMqbrXCVVFr/s2700/9781955518291.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Dd38CbvuByatx8ebYVySsv4RSSabGL2gubloinHJoSEsDIUF5rn_l26pAyOR-fqEUyBBQ8A8AURPrNFON2fcPLph2LkaJ3uZ_fjDJcmAqsyCKCHQlhAQebyCNe94dA1j1V3-OFJV6DV9qz_BZEOwQ7ERSP_BGb9WTK22a8Jt9Sw9d85lWzMqbrXCVVFr/s320/9781955518291.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Boss Level</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b>Three Player Tag-Team </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b>Book Six</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b>Allyson Lindt</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Genre: Erotic Romance</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Publisher: Acelette Press</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Date of Publication: 12/24/2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">ISBN: 9781955518291</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">ASIN: B0CJ83FY8P</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Number of pages: 350</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Word Count: 76,000</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Cover Artist: Romance Premades</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Tagline: Her Fake Fiancé is Her Childhood Sweetheart’s Husband</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Description: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Judith</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">It’s lonely at the top.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">I knew it would be when I clawed my way up here, trading away favors and any personal life to get to where I am today, the head of the hottest new video game company in the industry.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">When an old friend calls in one of those favors, I’m happy to help Xander out. His partner, Dominic, needs to impress some conservative clients, and showing up to get-to-know-you dinners with a heavily tattooed man on his arm isn’t the way to do it.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">And there are far worse things in the world than pretending to be Dom’s fiancée.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">When the fake kisses with Dominic start to feel real, I realize there’s something missing in my life. Worse, I’m starting to realize I never should’ve let Xander get away.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">But the three of us together will bring everything we’ve worked for toppling down around us. There’s no way love is worth that kind of sacrifice.</span></div><div><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="bckground: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="books2read.com/ALBossLevel">Books2Read</a> <a href="https://amzn.to/46iCSSD">Amazon</a></span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMOMvYaiQdaaMy8X8198Da2_BC7-eeavepyZU0KHR_QBx-w6PgbYjKdBZA2o2Hcy-zBwcnaRxkkAn3MX9ydUfz9WBCb-TL27MesliYgjDKgTF4SMaLa55wkZDnGJEP6ElCKK9d4DIN-eoeBekxtnfbno2W2cbTpvRbUACgRb5NwVSLlZb_X3bHj__Hm6L/s1404/AllysonLindtBioPic.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1404" data-original-width="1075" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMOMvYaiQdaaMy8X8198Da2_BC7-eeavepyZU0KHR_QBx-w6PgbYjKdBZA2o2Hcy-zBwcnaRxkkAn3MX9ydUfz9WBCb-TL27MesliYgjDKgTF4SMaLa55wkZDnGJEP6ElCKK9d4DIN-eoeBekxtnfbno2W2cbTpvRbUACgRb5NwVSLlZb_X3bHj__Hm6L/w153-h200/AllysonLindtBioPic.jpg" width="153" /></a></div>About the Author:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Award winning and USA Today Bestselling Author Allyson Lindt is a full-time geek and a fuller-time author. She likes her stories with sweet geekiness and heavy spice, and loves a sexy happily-ever-after. Because cubicle dwellers need love too.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Website: <a href="http://allysonlindt.com">http://allysonlindt.com</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/AllysonLindt">https://twitter.com/AllysonLindt</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Newsletter: <a href="http://newsletter.allysonlindt.com">http://newsletter.allysonlindt.com</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AllysonLindt">https://www.facebook.com/AllysonLindt</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/author/allysonlindt">http://www.amazon.com/author/allysonlindt</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7024176.Allyson_Lindt">http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7024176.Allyson_Lindt</a></span></div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFcG7NQ6K830dY5IgYWqOrfKPTa0WF1iW7FWUn1GCQxCjfaUJPvxN5zDrEnW55g2G6mQnCYJYn_jEcqvjZaMFCNHZfh-5LaUIa8MNC8cmIap6KhNokBbuhWJ40fdgodebDttnUxqu109T9GUT4mxPCkxR7aShwl8MPv9U2B_bUa1DcIo55jDVMmgXOtZA/s1080/Deck%20the%20Halls%20Insta%20%20(2).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFcG7NQ6K830dY5IgYWqOrfKPTa0WF1iW7FWUn1GCQxCjfaUJPvxN5zDrEnW55g2G6mQnCYJYn_jEcqvjZaMFCNHZfh-5LaUIa8MNC8cmIap6KhNokBbuhWJ40fdgodebDttnUxqu109T9GUT4mxPCkxR7aShwl8MPv9U2B_bUa1DcIo55jDVMmgXOtZA/w320-h320/Deck%20the%20Halls%20Insta%20%20(2).png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKZ0dxprpHpyDB_iWI9Dy7QksBDxyRhC3jo5I2-wD0S0vM9bB14-lErtAhoc_4NM4nNqk8yrpqmiaKUXyu_5A5crScN7KUto86O3e7YBo-bsiHniAXaqchuGPXxl4SFCLBz0OQvmYSoVl9TeEP7jClH5HQq0NcFtP5VfMEvYP8aX3XwdaeI4JaUO77f4NB/s2304/Giveaway.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKZ0dxprpHpyDB_iWI9Dy7QksBDxyRhC3jo5I2-wD0S0vM9bB14-lErtAhoc_4NM4nNqk8yrpqmiaKUXyu_5A5crScN7KUto86O3e7YBo-bsiHniAXaqchuGPXxl4SFCLBz0OQvmYSoVl9TeEP7jClH5HQq0NcFtP5VfMEvYP8aX3XwdaeI4JaUO77f4NB/w300-h400/Giveaway.png" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="ba112ffc2207" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc2207/" id="rcwidget_1mtrdrw7" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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