Posted in Book Release, excerpt, Spotlight, suspense on April 30, 2016

Violated cover

VIOLATED (BRANDON FISHER FBI SERIES)

by Carolyn Arnold

Published by: Hibbert & Stiles Publishing Inc.
ISBN (e-book): 978-1-988064-71-0
ISBN (print): 978-1-988064-70-3

Synopsis

Sometimes the past should stay there…

The murder is one of the most heinous FBI agent and profiler Brandon Fisher has ever seen. But that’s not why he and two members of the team are rushing to California. The Bureau is interested because the prime suspect is one of their own, Paige Dawson.

But Paige didn’t go to Valencia to kill anyone. She had set out on “vacation”—her new lover in tow—only to confront the man who raped her friend twenty-some years ago. While the hands of the law are tied, she wants him to face the fact that he destroyed a young woman’s life and know that, as an FBI agent, she’ll be watching his every move. Yet, instead of accomplishing her goal, she wound up in the back of a police cruiser.

Now Paige must face off with a hard-nosed detective determined to stick a murder charge to a fed. But with the trained eyes of the FBI on the case, it’s becoming more and more obvious that the evidence lends itself to a serial killing, not an isolated incident. And as long as the local authorities are focused on Paige, the real murderer is still out there, possibly waiting to strike again…

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Excerpt

“Agent Fisher.” I had answered without checking the caller ID, but the ensuing silence on the other end of the line had me pulling back the phone and consulting it now.

SANTA CLARITA V.

That tells me nothing…

“Hello? This is Special Agent Brandon Fisher. Can I help you?” I looked for Zach, but he was gone again.

There was no verbal response on the other end of the line, but I heard a distinct exhale, followed by more deep breaths.

Santa Clarita… Where was that? It sounded Californian.

And I knew only one person in California.

“Paige?”

There was a jagged intake of breath. A sob, maybe?

“Oh God, Brandon.” It was Paige, and she was definitely crying. And Paige didn’t cry. I’d witnessed the odd tear fall when our relationship had ended, but this was different. Something was very wrong.

I leaned on my desk and looked around, but no one was nearby.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” I asked. I gave her a few seconds to respond. She didn’t. “Where’s Sam? Is he okay? Talk to me, Paige.”

“Shh. I don’t want everyone to know.”

“What’s going on?” I was starting to get annoyed that she was avoiding my question. She was the one who had called me.

“I’m in trouble,” she began. “Big trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I’m in…jail,” she ground out.

Her words struck me as a physical blow. I even stopped breathing for a second. I sank back into my chair. “You’re what?”

“There’s been a misunderstanding is all.”

I’d hope so…

“Where is Sam?” I asked again.

“Please, Brandon, don’t tell Jack or Zach.”

Another aversion tactic. “I don’t know much to tell.” My concern for her was quickly morphing into irritation. “Where’s Sam?” I repeated a third time. Maybe I should record myself and just hit “play.”

Another deep exhale into the receiver.

“Talk to me,” I entreated.

“He doesn’t know.”

“What? How can he not know you were—”

“Shh! I can’t explain everything over the phone. I need you to get me a good defense attorney and send him to the Santa Clarita Valley Sheriff’s Station. Have them ask for Detective Grafton or Mendez.”

A good defense attorney?

“What are you suspected of?”

“I don’t want—”

“You called me, remember?”

She sighed. “Something I might be regretting…”

“I’m sorry, but you asked me to get you—”

Jack came up next to my desk. He ran a hand along his throat, indicating my call needed to end. Now. And based on the way he was staring me down, refusing him wasn’t an option.

“Where’s Zach?” he asked.

“God, is that Jack?” Paige whispered. “Brandon, you can’t say a—”

I cupped the receiver portion of my cell phone and held it away from my ear. “He’ll be back,” I told Jack. “He probably just went to the bathroom.”

“Hang up,” Jack demanded. He never tolerated personal calls on the job, but this was going overboard. Besides, this particular one wasn’t personal. Or was it?

And why did Paige call me and not Sam? Was it just that I was familiar, or did she not want to give the new guy a bad impression? I dismissed the idea of her still harboring feelings for me before I even considered it, but whatever it was, I wasn’t sure I was completely comfortable with it.

I got up from my chair and walked away from Jack, taking my cell phone with me. I had it pressed to my ear again and could tell Paige was still on the line. I could feel Jack’s eyes watching me, but so far, he wasn’t following.

“I will do what you asked,” I said into the receiver, “but it would help to know what you’re…you know.” I didn’t want to say being charged with, seeing as Jack was still within earshot.

“I don’t want to get into it with you, Brandon. Hell, I probably shouldn’t have even called you. I just thought I could trust you.”

“You can.” The words had come out of their own volition.

“Thank you. I just need a defense attorney who is good at getting the innocent off—” Someone spoke to her in the background. “Yes, I know… Fine,” she said, her voice muffled, probably from her hand over the receiver. Then back to me. “I’ve got to go.”

“I’ll get you someone.”

“Remember, Detective Graft—”

“Grafton and Mendez. I got it.”

“One more thing, Brandon. Please let Sam know I’m okay.”

“And what about the part where you were…” I couldn’t elaborate as Jack was now literally breathing down my neck.

“You can’t tell him I’ve been arrested.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Can I trust you or not?” she asked impatiently.

I nodded even though she couldn’t see it. “You can.”

“Sam’s at the Hyatt Regency, room 328.” Then she hung up. With the conversation over, I was left to face Jack, and based on his epic scowl, I was going to have explain why I didn’t hang up the second he had told me to.

“I need to make another phone call,” I said.

“Not right now you don’t,” Jack replied.

Zach came back to his desk, a confused look on his face when he saw the two of us, and Jack gestured for us to follow him into his office.

I was pacing in front of Jack’s door, not wanting to go in because I needed to get Paige that lawyer ASAP.

Jack gripped my shoulder with a firm hand. “Go inside.”

“Uh, yeah. On it.” I pressed on a smile and went into his office.

Jack shut the door and didn’t bother to take a seat. Neither did Zach or I, but the two of us kept looking at each other for a clue as to what this was about.

“Paige has been brought in as a murder suspect.” Jack delivered the statement as if it were any other case—direct, punchy, and succinct.

I swallowed roughly, my throat so dry I wondered if my mouth was even producing any saliva. I sought out one of the chairs that were positioned in front of Jack’s desk.

Jack’s gaze followed me until I sat down. “That was Paige on the phone with you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I choked out.

His jaw tightened. He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what he was referring to—Paige’s arrest or my consorting with the…enemy?

Jack closed his eyes. “She just couldn’t leave it alone.”

“Leave what alone?” Zach asked.

Jack let out a heaving sigh, met my eyes, and then turned for the door. “Come on, we’re going to California. I’ll explain on the plane.”

About the Author

Carolyn Arnold

CAROLYN ARNOLD is an international best-selling and award-winning author, as well as a speaker, teacher, and inspirational mentor. She has four continuing fiction series—Detective Madison Knight, Brandon Fisher FBI, McKinley Mysteries, and Matthew Connor Adventures—and has written nearly thirty books. Her genre diversity offers her readers everything from cozy to hard-boiled mysteries, and thrillers to action adventures.

Both her female detective and FBI profiler series have been praised by those in law enforcement as being accurate and entertaining, leading her to adopt the trademark: POLICE PROCEDURALS RESPECTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT™.

Carolyn was born in a small town and enjoys spending time outdoors, but she also loves the lights of a big city. Grounded by her roots and lifted by her dreams, her overactive imagination insists that she tell her stories. Her intention is to touch the hearts of millions with her books, to entertain, inspire, and empower.

She currently lives just west of Toronto with her husband and beagle and is a member of Crime Writers of Canada.

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Posted in Contemporary, Giveaway, romance, Spotlight, women on April 29, 2016

every bride has her day

Every Bride Has Her Day by Lynnette Austin

Magnolia Brides, Book 2
ISBN: 9781492618003
Release Date: May 3, 2016
Genre: Small Town Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca

Synopsis

CAN LOVE REVIVE A WILTING HEART?

Cricket O’Malley can’t wait to plant roots back home in Georgia, where she’s returned to restore an abandoned flower shop to its former glory. The only blemish? Her neighbor’s house is even more neglected than her old flower shop, and its occupant seems as surly as he is darkly handsome.

Devastated body and soul after a tough case went south, New York City detective Sam DeLuca thought he’d have no trouble finding solitude in the quiet Georgia town of Misty Bottoms, but his bubbly neighbor seems determined to shine happiness into Sam’s life. Sam is equally determined to close himself off, but his heart says otherwise…

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Lynnette’s tips for the Perfect Wedding

You and your special someone have decided to tie the knot! Now what? Above all, remember it’s about you and your fiancé. This is your wedding. You don’t need the approval of or advice from every coworker, your dentist, and your grocer. Have a clear vision in mind of what you and your groom want and hold to that. The same with your budget. Set it and stick to it. Don’t be talked into something that’s going to blow it out of the water. Don’t let others shanghai your wedding. If someone doesn’t like your color choice of red and white and thinks purple and green would be better, tell her you’ll pass on her choice so that she can use it for her wedding—or anniversary party if she’s already married.

Make your wedding day personal with those small touches—things that have meaning to you and your soon-to-be husband. It might be Mom or Grandma’s banana pudding recipe or a bulletin board with photos showcasing your relationship from first date, up to and including the rehearsal dinner. Make it meaningful—to the two of you.

Every Bride Has Her Day graphic

Excerpt

“Hold on a sec.” Sam raised a finger and headed back inside. Grabbing the small radio he’d found tucked inside a closet, he placed it on the ledge above the sink, dialed up a station that played a lot of Frank Sinatra, and opened the window. The music drifted into the twilight.

In another cupboard, he found a stub of a candle in a squat holder. His aunt Gertie’d probably kept it in case of a power outage. It would do. He lit it and stepped outside to find Cricket curled up on the back porch swing, Hobo at her feet.

“So you decided to come home,” he said to the dog. “You’ve been gone half the day.”

In answer, Hobo thumped his tail on the porch.

“Yeah, I know. You heard steak was on the menu for dinner.”

The tail thumped harder, and Cricket laughed, a warm, sultry sound.

Sam set the candle on a small side table, his system on high alert.

Cricket O’Malley. The girl-next-door meets sex goddess.

He didn’t understand it, but that didn’t seem to matter. Chemistry fairly sizzled between them.

He cleared his throat, then leaned down beside the fire circle. After he got a nice little blaze started, he pulled an old bench close. “I know we don’t need the heat—” He broke off. No, they sure didn’t. If they got within ten miles of each other, they generated enough of their own. “I mean, uh, I thought it might add a little ambiance.”

“Nothing I enjoy more than sittin’ around a campfire.”

“Have a seat then, and I’ll start the steaks.”

After he tossed them on the grill, he inched down beside Cricket.

The woman smelled like heaven. Or sin. He couldn’t decide which and slung an arm over the bench back. Hobo jumped up beside him.

Sam slid closer to Cricket to give the dog more room.

Hobo took it and more.

“You’re crowding me, boy.”

Those big eyes stared up at him, then Hobo threw his head back in an ear-piercing howl.

“Stop that!”

The dog answered with another mournful cry.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” He tried to move the dog off the bench, but he’d become a boneless, dead weight.

Cricket laughed. “I think we both know what he wants.”

Sam let out a half-laugh. “You up for it?”

“I can handle it if you can.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m up for it.” He rolled his eyes. “Wrong way to put that, but—”

He broke off as she laid a hand on the side of his face, leaned into him, and gave him a taste of heaven.

“Not enough,” he muttered, pulling her closer, dipping his lips again and angling them to take more. He trailed kisses along her neck, then moved back to her mouth.  His hands moved down her arms, brushed the sides of her breasts.

A log dropped and sent up a loud popping and a shower of sparks.

He drew back and laid his forehead against hers, noticed, thank you God, her ragged breathing matched his own. “Cricket—”

“Shhh.” She laid a finger over his lips. “Let’s just accept that for what it was.”

“What was it?”

“Darned if I know.” She laughed. “But Hobo’s quiet.”

Sam looked at the dog who, job done, had hopped off the bench and rested in the grass. “I’m liking that dog more every day.”

About the  Author

Lynnette AustinThe luxury of staying home when the weather turns nasty, of working in PJs and bare feet, and the fact that daydreaming is not only permissible but encouraged, are a few of the reasons middle school teacher Lynnette Austin gave up the classroom to write full-time. Lynnette grew up in Pennsylvania’s Alleghany Mountains, moved to Upstate New York, then to the Rockies in Wyoming. Presently she and her husband divide their time between Southwest Florida’s beaches and Georgia’s Blue Ridge Mountains. A finalist in RWA’s Golden Heart Contest, PASIC’s Book of Your Heart Contest, and Georgia Romance Writers’ Maggie Contest, she’s published five books as Lynnette Hallberg. She’s currently writing as Lynnette Austin. Having grown up in a small town, that’s where her heart takes her—to those quirky small towns where everybody knows everybody…and all their business, for better or worse.

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Posted in 4 paws, excerpt, fiction, humor, Review on April 29, 2016

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Not-Quite-So-Stories-187x300

 

Title: NOT QUITE SO STORIES
Author: David S. Atkinson
Publisher: Literary Wanderlus LLC
Pages: 166
Genre: Absurdist Literary Fiction

Synopsis

The center of Not Quite So Stories is the idea that life is inherently absurd and all people can do is figure out how they will live in the face of that fact. The traditional explanation for the function of myth (including such works as the relatively modern Rudyard Kiping’s Just So Stories) is as an attempt by humans to explain and demystify the world. However, that’s hollow. We may be able to come to terms with small pieces, but existence as a whole is beyond our grasp. Life simply is absurd, ultimately beyond our comprehension, and the best we can do is to just proceed on with our lives. The stories in this collection proceed from this conception, each focusing on a character encountering an absurdity and focusing on how they manage to live with it.

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Review

This is a collection of shorter stories and I have to admit they are a bit bizarre, well some of them anyway! However they are interesting too. There are a few stories where they just end and in a way I felt let down, that there might have been more to the story that I guess we just have to make up on our own!

I like that some of the stories are short and some are longer. None of them take long to read and it is easy to put down if you need to stop for some reason.

I think one of my favorites was The Onion She Carried. The last line definitely made me smile in this story.

We give this 4 paws up.

pawprintpawprintpawprintpawprint

Excerpt

TURNDOWN SERVICE

Margaret’s heels clicked repetitiously on the polished marble floors of Finklebean’s Mortuary. The sharp sound echoed down aisles of metal-faced vaults in the chilled, solemn hallways. Her steps were quick but purposeful, her stride constrained by the tight skirt of her starched navy business dress. An invoice was clutched tightly in her talon-like hand. Someone owed her an explanation…and that debt would be paid.
Catching sight of the plain brown wooden door hidden off in a back hallway bearing a faded Caretaker’s Office sign, Margaret halted, causing her heels to clack loudly on the stone. She pursed her lips as she scrutinized the sign. As if using the white metal sign with flaking black letters as a mirror, she adjusted the smartly coiled chestnut bun of her hair. Then she shoved open the weathered door and marched inside.
“Excuse me,” she called out sternly before looking what the room happened to contain, or even whether it was occupied.

A portly man in old blue coveralls sitting at a rough wooden worktable looked up at her calmly. Long stringy gray hair framed his face around a set of coke bottle eyeglasses perched on the end of his reddened bulbous nose. A metal cart, half full of plastic funeral flower arrangements, was positioned next to the worktable. Individual plastic flowers littered the table surface.

Unlike the somber and silent polished gray marble trimmed in shining brass of the hallway outside, the caretaker’s room felt more like a basement or garage. The walls were cinderblock, unpainted, and the floor was bare concrete. Obviously, the room was not used for professional services.

“My bill is incorrect,” Margaret said, thrusting the invoice out at the frumpy little man between a thumb and forefinger, both with nails bearing a French manicure. “You maintain my grandfather’s plot, but this month’s bill is way over the usual twenty-five sixty-three…nine hundred dollars more to be precise. You may not be the person in charge of this, but you’re who I found.”

The older man quietly looked at her still presenting the invoice even though he had made no move to take it. “Name?”

“Margaret Lane,” Margaret said curtly.

“No,” the caretaker shook his mess of oily old hair. “I won’t remember you. I meant your granddad’s.”

Margaret pursed her lips again. “Winston Lane.”

“Ah, yes.” The heavyset man leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head and cocking out his elbows. His belly pushed on the table slightly, causing loose plastic flowers to roll around on the tabletop. The flowers were separated into piles according to color: red, white, yellow, purple, and orange. “Winston Lane. His is over on hillside four, I believe.”

“I’m sure.” Margaret crossed her arms, still clutching the invoice. “So why do I have a bill for over nine hundred dollars?”

The caretaker hunched forward, setting his chin on a pudgy arm and wrapping a flabby hand around his mouth. “Let’s see…Winston Lane…bigger than normal bill…oh, that’s right!” His face brightened with recollection.

Margaret smugly waited for the expected rationalization to begin, the extras and add-ons designed to take advantage of the gullible grieving. She wouldn’t be so easily manipulated.

“He got an apartment.”

Margaret’s expression cracked.

“That’s what the extra money is,” he pleasantly explained. “It’s to cover the rent.”

Margaret stared, blinking occasionally. A thin purple vein throbbed angrily at the side of her neck.

The man smiled. Then he pushed his round glasses further back up his nose and grabbed one of the plastic funeral arrangements from the cart. It had a block of dense green foam set in a fake bronze vase and various colors of plastic flowers stuck in the foam. The man pulled all the flowers out in a single movement and set each in the respective colored pile on the worktable. Then he placed the vase in a pile of similar vases on the floor.

“You…rented my grandfather an apartment?” Margaret finally asked. “Why?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the older man snorted, dismembering another arrangement. “He rented the apartment, not us.”

Margaret sneered, having recovered her self-possession and indignation. “Sir, my grandfather is deceased.”

“Yep,” the caretaker agreed. He started quickly taking vases from the cart, ripping them apart, and then tossing the materials in the respective sort piles. “Guess he didn’t like the plot he picked out. Maybe it wasn’t roomy enough, I don’t know. Some things like that you just can’t be sure of till you get in a place and stay there a while. Anyway, he must not have liked something about it because he went and got himself that apartment. He wouldn’t have done that if he’d been happy where he was at.”

Margaret stood rigid. The toe of one foot tapped irritably. “How could my grandfather possibly rent an apartment? He’s dead!”

“How couldn’t he?” The caretaker snorted again. “It’s a great apartment. Plenty of light. Nice carpets. Good amount of space. It’s got a nice pool, too. Not that pools make much of a difference to a guy like him, being dead and all. Anyway, take a look; happen to have a photo of the place right here. Can’t rightly remember why.”

The man handed Margaret a bent-up photograph he pulled from a coverall pocket. It depicted a pleasantly-lit living room with vaulted ceilings. Tasteful black leather and chrome furniture was arranged around a delicate glass coffee table. On top of the coffee table sat her grandfather’s mahogany coffin, looking just as stately as it had at her grandfather’s funeral service.

Margaret glowered, unsure what to make of the photograph, noticing after a moment that she was chewing her lip as she ground her teeth. Her brain couldn’t keep up, it was all just too ludicrous for her to grasp.

The man sorted more funeral arrangements. “So…you’re telling me that my deceased grandfather rented an apartment. Him, not you.”

“Yep. That’s the long and short of it.” The man jammed the photograph back into his pocket.

“My dead grandfather.”

“Yes’m.” He took the last arrangement off the cart and disposed of it as he had the others. He paused to dust off his hands. Then he grabbed a vase from the floor, jammed a plastic flower inside from each stack, and set the newly arranged arrangement on the cart.

“How could anyone rent my grandfather an apartment!?” Margaret threw up her arms. “He’s dead! The landlord couldn’t do that!”

“Sure they can,” the caretaker countered, paying more attention to the funeral arrangements than Margaret. “The building is zoned for mixed use.”

“Mixed use?! He’s dead!” She wiped her hand down her face slowly, stretching her skin as it went.

“So? He’s residing there. That’s a residential use. Certainly isn’t commercial.” The caretaker accidentally shoved two red plastic flowers in the same vase. Laughing at himself, he ripped them out again and started over.

Margaret stepped back, perhaps wondering if the caretaker was insane as opposed to just conning her. That would explain the photograph.

She crossed her arms loosely and tilted her chin upwards just a little, trying to mentally get a handle on the situation. Her brain felt like an overheated car with no oil in the engine. “I’m sorry, but that’s very distracting,” Margaret commented, pointing at the plastic flower piles on the worktable. “Is there any way that you could stop a moment?”

“Sorry.” The older man shook a thick calloused finger at an old clock on the wall, stopped as far as Margaret could tell. “I got to get this done.”

“But…what exactly are you doing? You’re just taking them apart and putting them back together.”

The rumpled man gestured at the flowers. “Well, people pay us to put these on graves, don’t they?”

“Right…”

“They come from a factory, don’t they? Someone paying someone else to bring something a machine made? I don’t think much of that. My way, there’s at least some thought in it.”

Margaret did not respond. Instead, she watched the man fill up the cart again. The arrangements looked exactly the same as before.

“Anyway,” the caretaker went on, “don’t you owe your granddad?”

“Pardon me?” Margaret puffed out her chest.

“Sure,” the man said, peering up at her through the finger-smudged lenses of his glasses. “He said when he bought the plot that you were going to take care of it and he was going to leave you money to keep going to school. He thought you should start working, but helped you out since you were going to mind his spot.”

Margaret swallowed, ruining her attempt to look indignant. A few beads of sweat gathered at her temples.

“You figure you’ve done enough?” The man had his head held low, hiding the tiny smirk on his face.

Margaret’s eyes widened. Her arms hung limply at her sides and her shoulders slumped. “But…”

“Hey, that’s between you two. I just take care of things like I’m paid to. If he wants his plot, I do that. If he wants a two-bedroom palace, I do that instead.”

Margaret absentmindedly twisted an old, ornate gold ring on her finger. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed as if the light in the dim room had gotten brighter. The meticulously squared corners of her mind twisted and stretched deliciously. “That’s right…it was a deal.”

“Come again?”

“I agreed to have his plot cared for.”

“And?”

“Well…” Her lips slipped into a pointed grin. “I pay you a fixed monthly amount to care for that plot. Apparently this apartment is his plot now, so the rent should be part of your monthly care. I expect you to take care of it accordingly. After all, caring for his plot is caring for his plot.”

“Now see here–”

“Regardless, I can’t help but think,” she went on, “that it reflects poorly on your services if grandfather isn’t happy with his plot, not mine.”

The caretaker gawked at Margaret, his mouth hanging loose. “Is that what you think now?” The older man finally growled.

“It is,” she responded with a saccharine tone, “and I expect that all future bills will be for the correct amount.”

“Hmph,” he huffed, settling back into his chair. “Wonder what your granddad would say about that.”

Margaret smirked. “You’re welcome to go and ask him, if you think it will get you anywhere.”

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About the Author

David S. Atkinson 2David S. Atkinson is the author of “Not Quite so Stories” (“Literary Wanderlust” 2016), “The Garden of Good and Evil Pancakes” (2015 National Indie Excellence Awards finalist in humor), and “Bones Buried in the Dirt” (2014 Next Generation Indie Book Awards finalist, First Novel <80K). His writing appears in “Bartleby Snopes,” “Grey Sparrow Journal,” “Atticus Review,” and others. He spends his non-literary time working as a patent attorney in Denver.

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Giveaway

David S. Atkinson is giving away one paperback copy each – BONES BURIED IN THE DIRT & THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL PANCAKES!

Terms & Conditions:

  • By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
  • Two winners will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive either BONES BURIED IN THE DIRT or THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL PANCAKES
  • This giveaway begins March 1 and ends on May 27
  • Winners will be contacted via email on May 29.
  • Winners have 48 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!
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Posted in excerpt, Giveaway, Historical, romance, Spotlight on April 28, 2016

rivals of fortune cover

Title: Rivals of Fortune & The Impetuous Heiress

Author: Jane Ashford

Pubdate: May 3rd, 2016

ISBN: 9781492631514

Two classic Regency romances from beloved bestselling author Jane Ashford

RIVALS OF FORTUNE — Joanna Rowntree thought she would die of a broken heart when her one true love married another—until not one but two fascinating newcomers appear on neighboring estates. As the roughhewn Jonathan Erland and the polished Sir Rollin Denby engage in a heated competition for her hand, Joanna realizes her heart is alive and well—but to whom will she give it?

THE IMPETUOUS HEIRESS — When spoiled Lady Alicia Alston, privileged daughter of a duke, is accidentally tossed into a ravine after a wild gallop with Ian MacClain, Earl of Cairnyllan, she expects a proposal as soon as is convenient. The stubborn Scot has other ideas. It takes a headlong journey to prevent an elopement to give Alicia and Ian a chance to clear up misunderstandings and figure out what they find so damnably passion-inducing about one another…

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Excerpt

“Of course we can’t stop now,” agreed Frederick, full of contempt for the faint hearts. “We are nearly done.”

“Nonetheless,” said Erland, “I say that we put off finishing until tomorrow.”

As he spoke, everyone was suddenly reminded that this was, after all, his property. Something in his tone and bearing informed them, very politely, that they were being asked to leave.

Sir Rollin Denby smiled. “A guinea on the lord of the manor,” he murmured to himself.

Mr. Rowntree was frowning at their host. “But see here, Erland, what can it matter to you? You needn’t do anything.”

The other man smiled gently. “If you’ll pardon me, sir, I think that unlikely. I shall have to find the necessary materials for rigging a pulley, and Gerald and I have done most of the heavy work so far.” Joanna’s father started to speak, but he held up a hand. “And I am very ready to go on. Tomorrow.”

“A flush hit,” murmured Sir Rollin.

“No!” cried Frederick. “I won’t give up now. We cannot leave it all open this way for any…”

“Frederick,” interrupted Erland, “I should like to speak to you.” He beckoned commandingly. Frederick frowned, looked at him, then went.

Joanna joined her father but couldn’t decide if she would have preferred to go on with the work tonight. She was dirty, tired, and hungry, but now that the stone was really being raised, the excitement about what might lie beneath it offset these things. However, clearly, they could not argue with Erland on his own land, so she said, “Mother will be wondering where we have got to today.”

Mr. Rowntree appeared to struggle with himself for a moment, then, reluctantly, gave in. Joanna looked, without much hope, to Frederick and found him transfigured. Whatever Mr. Erland had said to him had dissolved all his objections in a moment.

They all walked back to the house together, Templeton and Carstairs taking their leave, Sir Rollin following them. While the Rowntrees were waiting for their carriage to be brought around, Joanna went to speak to their host.

“What did you say to Frederick?” she asked. “I was sure he would make a great fuss over leaving.”

Erland smiled down at her. “We have an agreement, he and I.”

“But what is it?”

“Oh no, I may not tell.”

“Just as you may not tell me what he was doing all day in your house?”

“But how would I know that?”

“You know. Frederick told me you did. I must say I think it is horrid of you, both of you, to plot without me. I was in this from the beginning, and now you won’t tell me what is happening. Frederick was clearing out his secret passageway today, wasn’t he? Did he find anything?”

Erland shrugged and smiled.

Joanna’s eyes flashed. “It’s too bad of you to treat me this way!”

Seeing that she was really angry, the man said, “Miss Joanna, this could be a dangerous hunt, you know, now that we seem close to whatever my uncle left. I don’t think you should be involved.”

Joanna tossed her head. “But my young brother should? A mere boy?”

Erland smiled again, then suppressed it. “I will watch over Frederick. Believe me, I shall take care.”

She glared at him. “If it is safe for Frederick, it is for me as well.”

Erland looked uncomfortable. “Well, we also thought it best to keep our progress as close as possible. All through this affair, too many people have known…”

“You think I will tell tales then?” exploded Joanna, now thoroughly enraged. “You think I can’t keep a secret?” She nearly walked away from him then, but somehow she could not. She wanted to show him just how mistaken he was.

The man reddened. “I did not mean…”

“Have I done so before?” she continued quickly. “Am I branded as a tattlebox then?”

Erland’s brows came together. “I never said that. But…”

“But what?”

“Well, I believe you have mentioned several things to Sir Rollin Denby that we would have preferred…” He trailed off in embarrassment.

Joanna opened her mouth to confound him, and realized that he was right. In her foolish infatuation, she had told Sir Rollin nearly everything. She crimsoned. It could not matter what Denby knew, but it mattered very much indeed that Mr. Erland knew she had told him and what he thought about that fact. “I…I didn’t,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean…”

“Of course, you meant no harm,” said Erland quickly.

“No, and I…” Joanna struggled with pride and her intense desire to have this man respect her. “I didn’t understand,” she managed. “I was mistaken in him.”

“Mistaken? In Sir Rollin, you mean?”

She nodded. “I thought he was so splendid, but he is not!”

“Not?” Erland looked down at her, some emotion growing in his eyes, and in that moment, Joanna realized that she wanted more than respect from this unusual man. She wanted love. He was nothing like the figure she had set up as her ideal short months ago, but she saw now that he was everything one could desire in a partner—intelligent, brave, kind, and principled. How stupid she had been not to see this before, how silly and young and stupid. “Oh, I wish I could do something to help you,” she cried.

Erland held her eyes for a moment, then took her hand. “You help me simply by existing,” he answered, and he brought her hand up and kissed it.

About the Author

Jane Ashford discovered Georgette Heyer in junior high school and was captivated by the glittering world and witty language of Regency England. That delight led her to study English literature and travel widely in Britain and Europe. Her historical and contemporary romances have been published in Sweden, Italy, England, Denmark, France, Russia, Latvia, Slovenia, and Spain, as well as the U.S. Twenty-six of her new and backlist Regency romances are being published by Sourcebooks. Jane has been nominated for a Career Achievement Award by RT Book Reviews. She is currently rather nomadic.

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Posted in Guest Post, Spotlight, suspense on April 27, 2016

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House of the Hanging Jade cover

House of the Hanging Jade
Contemporary Fiction/Suspense
Lyrical Underground (April 26, 2016)
ASIN: B0138NHCMO

Synopsis

A dark presence had invaded the Jorgensens’ house. On a spectacular bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, something evil is watching and waiting . . .

Tired of the cold winters in Washington, D.C. and disturbed by her increasingly obsessive boyfriend, Kailani Kanaka savors her move back to her native Big Island of Hawaii. She also finds a new job as personal chef for the Jorgensen family. The gentle caress of the Hawaiian trade winds, the soft sigh of the swaying palm trees, and the stunning blue waters of the Pacific lull her into a sense of calm at the House of Hanging Jade–an idyll that quickly fades as it becomes apparent that dark secrets lurk within her new home. Furtive whispers in the night, a terrifying shark attack, and the discovery of a dead body leave Kailani shaken and afraid. But it’s the unexpected appearance of her ex-boyfriend, tracking her every move and demanding she return to him, that has her fearing for her life . . .
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Guest Post

Today, StoreyBook Reviews welcomes Author Amy Reade!  She is sharing some tips of what to avoid if you travel to Hawaii.  I LOVE Hawaii and these are some great tips!

Kailani Kanaka’s Tips for Travelers in Hawaii: What to Avoid

  1. When visiting the islands of Hawaii, please refrain from wearing socks with your sandals. Important: this applies to everywhere on earth in addition to Hawaii. I know you want to keep your feet warm and prevent chafing on your ankles, but please note that your feet will not be cold here unless you are visiting the higher elevations (in which case please wear sneakers with your socks). And consider this alternative if your ankles chafe from sandal straps: slippahs (also known as flip-flops).
  1. Do not touch honu, or sea turtles, under any circumstances. I know they’re magnificent creatures and it would be very cool to feed them, but you put yourself at risk for huge (read: enormous) fines if you touch them.  Punalu'u Black Sand Beach 3
  1. If you are struck with an irrepressible desire to pet the many stray cats you will find, beware that they’re not all friendly. I know of a certain author who was bitten by a cat she thought was adorable. That author’s husband thought it was hilarious, but it sooo wasn’t. There is some good news, though, if you are bitten by any animal in Hawaii: Hawaii is rabies-free.
  1. You may want to visit one of the thermal pools fed by volcanic heat on the eastern side of the island. Have fun, but remember these two words of warning: inexplicable rash.
  1. If you are tempted to visit the Island of Lanai on, say, a catamaran day trip, please note that the aforementioned author did the same thing once and something laid wet, sticky eggs in her hair while she slept in a hammock. She will not be returning to that island.
  1. Do not, under any circumstances, take home lava rock from the islands. The fire goddess, Pele, will seek revenge; you and everyone you know will be besieged with bad luck until the lava is safely returned to its Hawaiian home.
  1. If you’re looking for something good to read on your Hawaiian holiday, consider House of the Hanging Jade. Here’s how the publisher describes the book:

A dark presence had invaded the Jorgensens’ house. On a spectacular bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, something evil is watching and waiting . . .

Tired of the cold winters in Washington, D.C. and disturbed by her increasingly obsessive boyfriend, Kailani Kanaka savors her move back to her native Big Island of Hawaii. She also finds a new job as personal chef for the Jorgensen family. The gentle caress of the Hawaiian trade winds, the soft sigh of the swaying palm trees, and the stunning blue waters of the Pacific lull her into a sense of calm at the House of Hanging Jade–an idyll that quickly fades as it becomes apparent that dark secrets lurk within her new home. Furtive whispers in the night, a terrifying shark attack, and the discovery of a dead body leave Kailani shaken and afraid. But it’s the unexpected appearance of her ex-boyfriend, tracking her every move and demanding she return to him, that has her fearing for her life . . .

Anaeho'omalu Bay sunset

 

About the Author

amy readeAmy M. Reade grew up in northern New York. After graduating from college and law school, she practiced law in New York City before moving to southern New Jersey, where she lives now with her husband, three children, dog, two cats, and a fish. She writes full time and is the author of Secrets of Hallstead House, a novel of romantic suspense set in the Thousand Islands region of New York, and The Ghosts of Peppernell Manor, a novel in the same genre set outside Charleston, South Carolina. Her third novel, House of Hanging Jade, is set in Hawaii and will be released in April, 2016. She is currently working on the first book of a series set in the United Kingdom (expected release date in early 2017). She loves cooking, reading, and traveling.

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Posted in Giveaway, Interview, Spotlight, Young Adult on April 26, 2016
The Patience Trilogy
by
Beth Fehlbaum
Genre: Young Adult Contemporary Fiction
Publisher: Steady On Books
Date of Publication: March 29, 2016
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Courage in Patience begins Ashley’s story. . .

Courage to endure.

Courage to survive.

Courage to overcome.

Tenacious 14-year-old Ashley Asher claws her way back to normalcy after enduring six years of an unimaginable Hell. Uprooted from her negligent and selfish mother, Ashley finds solace in the safety of her father’s home. Building a relationship with her stepmother, she’s finally able to open up and confront the past that haunts her.

With the help of her stepmom, therapist, and a group of troubled adolescents, Ashley battles her demons, struggling to find the normal teenage life she’s always wanted. Can Ashley find the strength and courage to overcome the horrors of her past while fighting for the future she so deserves?

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Hope in Patience continues the story. . . 
Hope to heal.
Hope to grow.
Hope to evolve.

Still shattered from the horrific events of her childhood years, 15-year-old Ashley Asher is barely holding it together. Battling her vicious and vile mother who still sees her as the villain and not the victim, Ashley’s stuck in a cycle of self-injury and self-hatred as a result–despite the many people who trying to pull her out of it.

Adolescence is hard, but throw in a new school, a new family, and a father she hardly knows, Ashley’s need for self-destruction and pain intensifies. Her new therapist, Dr. Matt, may be unconventional with bizarre antics, but he’ll do whatever it takes to pull Ashley out of the doldrums. Ashley just wants a crack at normalcy. But can her counselor and the friends and family who love her teach her that “crazy is the new normal” and that nobody has it easy?

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Truth in Patience concludes the story. . .
 
Truth in the past.
Truth in reality.
Truth for tomorrow.

Finally adjusting to life in small town Texas, Ashley Asher sees a glimmer of what happiness really is. Even her new relationship with the attentive Joshua Brandt shows promise of a first romance. But Ashley’s fear of intimacy after years of unspeakable abuse may cause friction and distance in their relationship.

Determined to prove to her that she’s healing, Dr. Matt, her beloved therapist, shows her that “life is messy.” And he doesn’t know how messy it is about to get. When her mother decides that Ashley belongs back in their hometown with her, Ashley is forced into another family feud that she isn’t prepared for. Refusing to leave behind the new life she created in Texas, Ashley and her mother go head-to-head. But can Ashley finally find the courage and strength to battle her demons when her mother might be the biggest demon of all?

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 AMAZON      BARNES & NOBLE 

AuthorInterview

Welcome Beth to StoreyBook Reviews, thank you for taking the time to share a little bit about you with us!

What do you think most characterizes your writing?

I have been described as “writing without looking over my shoulder.” In other words, I am committed to authenticity and truth-telling and I’m okay with it if life appears messy in my books, because that’s how it is.

Are there under-represented groups or ideas featured in your book? If so, discuss them.

Homosexuality is mentioned in Courage in Patience, and in Hope in Patience a teen lesbian character moves to Patience. The discomfort some people have with the character’s sexual orientation is addressed, and the character’s struggles to be accepted as she is are also part of the storyline.

Are you a full or part-time writer? How does that affect your writing?

I teach full-time during the school year, and I write full-time during the summer. I do write during the school year as well, but it is mostly on the weekends or holidays.

I teach seven periods a day, respectively 9th grade English, Pre-AP English, and an End-of-Course English I Lab class for students who have failed the test. When I get home in the evening, I do domestic goddessing as well as handle email related to my author job and upload the next day’s blog post for the group author site I founded, UncommonYA.  I’m lucky if I’m awake past 8:30, because I am T-I-R-E-D.  Lately I’ve been prepping for The Patience Trilogy’s release, so I’ve been super-busy working with my editor as well as approving cover design, etc. So lately, I’ve been not just tired, but busy AND tired.

What are some day jobs you’ve held? If any of them have impacted your writing, please share.

I have taught for nearly 19 years, and my experience as a teacher impacts my writing tremendously because I consciously weave the study of a particular novel into the character’s English class. This enables educators who use my books to pair the study of my book with the book referenced in the story, which is usually paired in some way thematically with what is going on in the main character’s life. In addition, I write free teaching guides to accompany my books, as well as provide free materials such as videos, PowerPoints, and printable book marks. They are found on the teacher resources section of my website.

Where did your love of writing and reading come from?

My childhood was quite traumatic and dysfunctional. As a young child, I can remember fantasizing that I was a member of, for example, The Brady Bunch or The Partridge Family.

I began writing stories and poems when I was quite small, and as a teenager, I wrote poetry as a way of processing what was happening in my life.

As an author now, my childhood imagination and “Let’s Pretend” comes in handy because when I get stuck on a plot point, I can ask myself, “What…happens…now?” and try different scenarios on for size.

Is there one subject you would never write about as an author? What is it?

I would never write erotica or explicitly detailed sex scenes as an author. I would not be comfortable doing that. I’m not a prude, but writing those scenes would not be my thing. I would never write graphically violent scenes, nor would I write gratuitously violent scenes. I would never have characters swear for the sake of swearing, i.e. when my characters swear, they do so because to say those words in that way is the most authentic, realistic way I can think to communicate their feelings at the time. Finally, in terms of plot points, I will NEVER write about the death of a beloved animal, NOR will I ever have Ashley’s dog, Emma, die. The real-life Emma died suddenly at a young age, and it nearly killed me when it happened. She will live forever in The Patience Trilogy.

 

In addition to writing Young Adult Contemporary Fiction, Beth Fehlbaum is a secondary English-Language Arts teacher who frequently draws on her experience as an educator to write her books. She has a B.A. in English, Minor in Secondary Education, and an M.Ed. in Reading.

Beth is a featured author on the 2015-2016 Spirit of Texas Reading List- High School. She is the author of the Kirkus Starred Reviewed Big Fat Disaster (Merit Press/F+W Media, March 2014) and The Patience Trilogy: Courage, Hope, and Truth (Steady On Books, 2016).

Beth is a member of the RAINN (Rape , Abuse, Incest National Network) Speakers’ Bureau. She has a following in the young adult literature world and also among survivors of sexual abuse because of her work with victims’ advocacy groups. She has been the keynote speaker at the National Crime Victims’ Week Commemoration Ceremony at the Hall of State in Dallas, Texas and a presenter for Greater Texas Community Partners, where she addressed a group of social workers and foster children on the subject of “Hope.”  

Beth is a survivor of a traumatic childhood, like Ashley in The Patience Trilogy, and the day-to-day manager of an eating disorder much like Colby’s in Big Fat Disaster. These life experiences give her a unique perspective, and she writes her characters’ stories in a way meant to inspire hope.

Beth lives with her family in the woods of East Texas.

 
 
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2 GRAND PRIZE WINNERS: 
Each win autographed copies of all three books in The Patience Trilogy  
Plus a $50 Amazon Gift Card


5 WINNERS
Each win autographed copies of Courage in Patience 
Winner names drawn 4/19, 4/24, 4/27, 4/30, 5/3
(US ONLY)

  April 19 – May 3, 2016

 
 
 
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Tour Schedule
4/19: Margie’s Must Reads  — Review
4/20: Books and Broomsticks — Author Interview #1
4/21:  Missus Gonzo    — Courage Excerpt
4/22:  The Librarian Talks   — Review
4/23: The Crazy Booksellers  — Promo
4/24:  The Page Unbound  — Review
4/25: It’s a Jenn World   — Guest Post
4/26: StoreyBook Reviews — Author Interview #2
4/27: My Book Fix Blog  — Review
4/28:  Forgotten Winds  — Hope Excerpt
4/29: Byers Editing Reviews & Blog — Author Interview #3
4/30:  Because This is My Life Y’all   — Guest Post
5/1: Hall Ways Blog — Truth Excerpt
5/2: Country Girl Bookaholic  — Review
5/3: Blogging for the Love of Authors and Their Books – Review
Posted in 5 paws, Cozy, Giveaway, Monday, mystery, Review on April 25, 2016

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without a doubt cover

Without a Doubt (A Carol Childs Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
3rd in Series
Henery Press (May 24, 2016)
Paperback: 258 pages

Synopsis

As radio reporter Carol Childs investigates a series of Beverly Hills jewelry heists, she realizes her FBI boyfriend, Eric, is working the same case. Even worse, she may have inadvertently helped the suspect escape. The situation intensifies when the suspect calls the radio station during a live broadcast, baiting Carol deeper into the investigation.

In order for her to uncover the truth, Carol must choose between her job and her personal relationships. What started out as coincidence between Carol and Eric becomes a race for the facts—pitting them against one another—before the thieves can pull off a daring escape, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind, and taking the jewels with them.

Related subjects include: women sleuths, murder mystery series, whodunit mysteries (whodunnit), book club recommendations, suspense, noir.

Books in the Carol Childs Mystery Series available on Amazon

SHADOW OF DOUBT (#1)
BEYOND A DOUBT (#2)
WITHOUT A DOUBT (#3)

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Review

There is something about this series that I really enjoy. I don’t know if I can put my finger on anything specific but I have enjoyed each book that I have read and wonder what news reporter Carol Childs will get involved with next.

I like that Carol isn’t afraid to search for the truth using her investigative skills as a “cub” reporter for a chick-lit news station, they don’t report the gruesome news but do keep their listeners informed. She does have a young son and her love interest is Eric who is a FBI agent.

The mystery in this book is a little different as no one was meant to die, at least not initially. The thief also reaches out to Carol and seems to have some sort of connection to her and that is what helps her figure out part of the mystery.

We give this 5 paws up

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About This Author

nancy silvermanNancy Cole Silverman credits her twenty-five years in news and talk radio for helping her to develop an ear for storytelling. But it wasn’t until 2001 after she retired from news and copywriting that she was able to sit down and write fiction fulltime. Much of what Silverman writes about today she admits is pulled from events that were reported on from inside some of Los Angeles’ busiest newsrooms where she spent the bulk of her career. In the last ten years she has written numerous short stories and novelettes. Today Silverman lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Bruce and two standard poodles.

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Posted in excerpt, fiction, Historical, Spotlight on April 24, 2016

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Synopsis

Anna Dahlberg grew up eating dinner under her father’s war-trophy portrait of Eva Braun. Fifty years after the war, she discovers what he never did—that her mother and Hitler’s mistress were friends. The secret surfaces with a mysterious monogrammed handkerchief, and a man, Hannes Ritter, whose Third Reich family history is entwined with Anna’s. Plunged into the world of the “ordinary” Munich girl who was her mother’s confidante—and a tyrant’s lover—Anna finds her every belief about right and wrong challenged. With Hannes’s help, she retraces the path of two women who met as teenagers, shared a friendship that spanned the years that Eva Braun was Hitler’s mistress, yet never knew that the men they loved had opposing ambitions. Eva’s story reveals that she never joined the Nazi party, had Jewish friends, and was credited at the Nuremberg Trials with saving 35,000 Allied lives. As Anna’s journey leads back through the treacherous years in wartime Germany, it uncovers long-buried secrets and unknown reaches of her heart to reveal the enduring power of love in the legacies that always outlast war.

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Excerpt

For my extra day of freedom, I planned to linger over breakfast at a table with a sunny view of the mountains. But the dining room was a frenetic symphony of clinking and clattering when I arrived and the maitre d’ stuck me in a dark corner.

I had just poured my coffee when a young male voice shrilled, “Fräulein Peggy Adler?” from the entrance.

I turned as he reached my table in a handful of long strides. He wore the stiff uniform of Hitler’s Leibstandarte: dark tunic, breeches, tall boots, and rounded helmet. All that was missing was the rifle customarily slung over the shoulder.

“Come with me, please.”

Terror struck so hard, I couldn’t speak—not even to ask where. Especially not that. It seemed incriminating. At last, I stammered, “I-I—”

“You have been requested for an interview,” he said.

What kind of interview? I still couldn’t find words to ask. Should I get my stenographer’s pad? Or was this about questioning me?

“We have a car waiting outside.” His tone was threaded with impatience, as though I were already taking too long, being too slow to understand. I’m surprised he didn’t check his watch, tap his foot. His face had a youthful softness. He was perhaps 19 or 20. I thought of my brother, Peter.

I noticed a waiter at the neighboring table and glanced at my unfinished cup of coffee, as though it might offer some possibility of reprieve—he would insist I stay, since I hadn’t finished.

He also seemed uneasy around the guard as he said, “No trouble, Madam. We will keep your table for you.”

But would I return to it?

Then I remembered my co-workers, and Erich, and blanched with fear as cold as the sweat that rose instantly on my neck. Hadn’t I been careful enough, yesterday? Had I said too much? Had someone besides Eva been listening, or had my cohorts from the Foreign Office somehow been found out?

My mind raced to the worst of all possibilities—they’d been apprehended. I refused to let that thought take root, claimed my mind back from it the way I try to rescue my breath from panic each night in the air-raid shelter back in Berlin.

Appear unfazed and cooperative. I’d heard this tactic from Erich and others in the Resistance. If stopped by the Gestapo, or called in for any reason, seem slightly surprised, untroubled, and entirely willing to comply.

I reached to gather my things. I had only my purse, and the book I’d brought along. “Will we be going far?” I found courage to ask.

“It is right nearby.”

When we reached the car, his brisk movements included a snap of his heels as he opened the door for me. Clearly, he wasn’t going to manhandle me like a suspected criminal. Not yet.

I clambered into the back, toward the middle, and closer, of the two bench-like seats. The mammoth Mercedes had as many huge tires as a delivery truck. Its convertible top was down, and bright sun blinded my eyes.

The young uniform joined the driver in front. The car exited the Platterhof parking lot, made a hard left, and rolled down a sharp incline, though only a short distance.

Goering’s house was somewhere off to the right, hidden by trees. I’d learned recently that beneath us was a burgeoning network of tunnels and bunkers under construction, a subterranean complex that those who dwelt above ground might not even know was there. Perhaps it would open up suddenly and swallow us all.

The car blocked the narrow road when it stopped at a guardhouse barely big enough for one person to stand inside. Behind it was the Hotel Türkenhof where Aunt Paula and I had once stayed. It looked to be in use as barracks of some kind. Is that where they were taking me?

The uniform turned and said, “Your papers, please.”

I had them ready in anticipation of this, though I’d already gone through all the rigmarole of admission to the Führer Zone two days ago.

He took them, got out, and strode to the guard shack.

I’d been taken in for questioning once before, after I’d accompanied Jewish children to England as an escort with the Kindertransport. A petty Nazi bureaucrat summoned me because of my dual citizenship. I’d dressed conservatively in a simple cotton print skirt that hinted at a dirndl’s lines, and a borrowed white blouse tied loosely at the throat so the top half of my décolletage was visible, while the rest remained virtuously concealed.

During my inquisitor’s first burst of questions, I’d offered simple answers with a demeanor of complicit meekness. Finally, I’d evoked tears by imagining the inevitable fate of that Jewish child I’d seen pulled back through the train window into her father’s arms. “Can’t you imagine how thankful I am that Germany is my birthplace?” I nearly shouted at him. “That my mother is so faithful?”

More advice from those in the Resistance: act indignant, insulted even, at the very dishonor of being suspected of disloyalty.

“There are many spies,” he said. “Dual citizenship makes an excellent cover.”

It does, indeed, my thoughts concurred.

“How can you even suggest such disgrace?” I tried to sound hurt. “When my British blood is disgrace enough, for me?”

Then I’d covered my face in the refuge—and strategy—of sobs. It had been over-dramatic, but I wanted to leave no doubt in his mind. I used my best high German for these impassioned declarations. Once I saw he was softening, I lapsed into the Schwäbisch dialect I’d detected in his own speech, thanking God for my ear for nuance and language.

The inquisitor turned almost paternal, even invited me for coffee. I’d had to pretend disappointment, say I was expected home to help Mutti.

“You are the kind of maid who will assure the Fatherland’s triumph!” he’d avowed, like the final line of some Wagnerian drama.

“Whatever you do, use the language of the current view, and mold it to your needs,” Erich had advised me before I’d accompanied those Jewish children to safety.

It was the only way to deal with these fools. These very dangerous fools.

Eva

 

About the Author

phyllis ringPhyllis Edgerly Ring lives in New Hampshire and returns as often as she can to her childhood home in Germany. Her years there left her with the deep desire to understand the experience of Germans during the Second World War. She has studied plant sciences and ecology, worked as a nurse, been a magazine writer and editor, taught English to kindergartners in China, and frequently serves as workshop facilitator and coach for others’ writing projects. She is the author of the novel, Snow Fence Road, and the inspirational nonfiction, Life at First Sight: Finding the Divine in the Details. She is co-author, with Ron Tomanio and Diane Iverson, of With Thine Own Eyes: Why Imitate the Past When We Can Investigate Reality?, an exploration of how to achieve balance between the material and spiritual aspects of life.

The author is available for a variety of presentations based on this novel, Eva Braun, and the era of World War II Germany. She also loves to hear from readers.  E-mail her at: info@phyllisring.com.

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Posted in Fundraiser, Giveaway, Pets, romance on April 23, 2016

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It’s RELEASE DAY for LOVE PAWS!

Help us celebrate Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Month and go download this amazing anthology NOW. Only 99 cents for seven wonderful, sexy romances . . . you can’t beat that deal.

Of course, what could make six contemporary romance shorts plus one story with a paranormal twist by award-winning and best-selling authors even better? Add seven sweet, scene-stealing pets . . . and then make the whole project a benefit for animal rescue charities!

That’s just what we’ve done. LOVE PAWS features short stories with a little bit of steam, a little of sweet and happy endings all around. Each story also includes a pet, just to give the romance a bit of a boost.

Each author is donating her portion of the net proceeds to a specific animal charity. Check out which charities will benefit below! And don’t forget to enter the giveaway-scroll down.

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Get your copy now! Amazon/iBooks/Nook/Google/Kobo

~~~***~~~

Montana Heat (Chefs of the West, Book One) by Becca Boyd (Heart of the Valley Animal Shelter)

One protective smokejumper, one reluctant landowner, one big fire… Randa Sadler has turned away the sheriff, the Forest service, and all her neighbors. She knows the fire is coming, and she’s not leaving her home. When Tyson Herrick is sent to talk her down off the mountain, he finds the secret that’s keeping her there… but can he save her from the oncoming fire without losing his heart in the process?

By Chance (A Playing Games Spin-off Novella) Rene Folsom (K9s for Warriors)

While burying herself into her editing job, Samantha Cline struggles to come to terms with the fact that her love life is dormant… and has been for quite some time. Every sickly sweet love story she has to edit continuously reminds her of how impractical romance is. Aside from her loyal group of friends who have their own relationship drama, she settles for companionship of the canine variety with her best bud, Chance. In truth, there’s only one man who has ever turned Sam’s head, though she’d never admit it aloud. She remembers watching him train horses on her dad’s farm as a teenager, and no other man has ever measured up. Now that he’s been living next door to her for a few years, she can’t help but wish he’d glance her way and show some sort of recognition. Sam is finally pushed over the edge when her dog runs off, forcing her to reassess her lot in life and what it would take to heal her heart in his absence. Then, one stormy night, her very sexy neighbor shows up on her doorstep, stealing her breath away with his presence. After a rather awkward encounter, Sam can’t help but wonder if she’ll lose her chance for good.

Saving Grace: A Beautiful Ruin Story Alison Foster (LA Animal Services)
They call it a moment of truth. We all have them. Nathan and I are no different. Those are the moments when things can go two ways, toward a better life or toward destruction.
Nathan was my everything — until this morning when a white lie entered our circle of trust which led quickly to a second lie and then, of course, in our life, a gun is always soon to follow.
They don’t cover guns or deceit in any of my baby books. I checked. My charmed life with my man and my sweet dog, Annie, is spinning out of control again. And to make matters worse, we haven’t had sex in weeks.
All in the Takeoff (The Rawley Family Romances – 4) Olivia Hardin (Pets Fur People – Tyler Humane Society No-Kill Shelter)
Harrison Richards may be part-Rawley, but he’s content with a ranch life just outside his tight family circle. On a flight to pick up a rescue dog after his cousin Kay’s wedding, his small Cessna is grounded due to weather. Harrison’s left to find lodging for himself . . . and a shepherd-mix named Curtiss. Single-mom Kitty Sears has a hectic life running a busy bed-and-breakfast. The short window between winter and summer is her unofficial vacation, when local tourism is almost dead, so she’s surprised to get a call about a guest looking for special accommodations. From the moment Harrison lays eyes on Kitty Sears, he has a feeling he’s getting more than he bargained for in a hostess. He’s not looking for romance, but it may be that love just needs a little spark to takeoff . . .
My One And Always (A THE ONE Trilogy and ALWAYS LOVE Trilogy Crossover Short) Tawdra Kandle (MuttNation)
Sydney moved to the small town of Burton, Georgia to run her aunt’s bakery. At least, that’s her excuse. She doesn’t exactly want to broadcast the fact that her own restaurant went belly-up, her boyfriend ditched her and her life is in shambles. And the cute newspaper guy who keeps pestering her for date with his danish? Yeah, that’s not happening. Will is pretty sure he’s a glutton for punishment. After all, Sydney’s made it clear she’s not interested, but he just can’t seem to stay away, no matter how hard he tries. Now, though, he’s got a secret weapon–the four-legged kind. Can this down-on-his-luck dog be the key to toppling the walls around her heart?
Lindy James is the sister of baseball star, Tate James. When Tate’s neighbor Kip Deevers crosses paths with Tate’s little sister, he gets more than he bargains for-a grade school crush and a pair of dog paws on his chest. The attraction between the two is undeniable, but Lindy’s past has her afraid to let Kip get too close. Kip is willing to put aside his dislike for all things furry to get to know Lindy better, but will she let her guard down long enough for Kip to win over her heart?
Taunt: A Twisted Wolf Tale Juli Valenti (Suncoast Animal League)
There’s no place like home.
When a tornado plagues the state of Arkansas, picking up Emmy’s house and dropping it into a world she’s never seen before, she thinks things couldn’t get any worse. Except, she was wrong. Especially when it killed the good witch and she’s named a murderer.
In order to get home, and to escape the wrath of the enraged town-folk, Emmy must maneuver the Wicked Woods, along with her pet wolf, Laurent, to prove she, herself, is not a Wicked Witch. In the woods lurk nightmares of her own creation, and, when doubt begins to set in, she realizes things are not always as they seem.
Follow the story of Emmy and Laurent in this modern-day twist on The Wizard of Oz.

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Posted in excerpt, Giveaway, romance, Spotlight on April 22, 2016

outlaw cowboy

Title: Outlaw Cowboy
Author: Nicole Helm
Series: Big Sky Cowboys, #2
Pubdate: May 3rd, 2016
ISBN: 9781492621270

Synopsis

BIG SKY TROUBLE

Ever since his father’s accident, Caleb Shaw vowed he’d mend his wild ways, and he means to keep his word. He’s a changed man. A better man. And he knows he should want absolutely nothing to do with his crazy old life…or the maddening temptation that is Delia Rogers.

Because Delia? Is nothing but trouble.

Delia’s been stealing her sisters away from their violent father ever since she was old enough to fight back. But now with the police on her trail and all her bridges burned, there’s nowhere left to run but back into the arms of the one cowboy she knows she shouldn’t need. Caleb has always been too good for her, no matter how bad he claimed to be. Yet when close quarters turn into something more, Delia and Caleb are forced to decide what really matters: mending their reputations or healing their wary hearts…

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Would you rather email an embarrassing message to your entire newsletter or eat a jar of mayonnaise?

In a contest of things, I hate mayonnaise and embarrassment are pretty close to the top of the list. But, I think I’d have to choose the embarrassing message, if only because I would prefer that to my body’s reaction to a jar of mayonnaise.

Excerpt

“I know. I’m not comparing, Delia. I can’t.” He shook his head as his gaze returned to hers.

If she looked closely enough, she could probably see her own reflection, but getting any closer than this already too-close cab of his truck held zero appeal.

“But if you had something that was yours, that made you who you are, that gave you a reason to get up in the morning, wouldn’t you do everything to keep it? Wouldn’t you fight to keep the thing that made you feel like you weren’t a complete waste of space?”

She should look away. She should get out of the truck or demand he drive her to her family home. She should do anything but keep his gaze and let his words wrap around her heart and squeeze.

She didn’t have a thing that made her who she was, or a reason to get up in the morning—at least not once Steph was out. Yet she’d always kept plowing ahead, because no matter how bleak things were, she knew who she was. Strong. Resilient. And she knew, deep in her heart most of the time, that once she did her duty to her sisters, there would be something waiting for her on the other side.

She hadn’t planned on it being jail, but even in her darkest moments she knew even that would be a temporary thing, as long as she could get Steph safe first.

All the crap Caleb was complaining about was easier, but somehow sadder, because he didn’t know how to go on without this beautiful, amazing piece of land that made her feel an aching kind of hope.

Hope. Somehow, it kept her going. It kept people like them going. And all of Caleb’s was tied up in something that could be taken from him.

“I’m not expecting sympathy,” he said, his voice hushed and his eyes on hers.

She felt herself lean forward, as if there was some force pushing her there. Him or the sun disappearing in his eyes.

“I just want you to understand why I did what I did. Helping you isn’t an easy choice for me. It threatens my only chance at this. But I want to do it anyway.”

She couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat, and her eyes burned. It shouldn’t make it better and it shouldn’t make it understandable. It certainly shouldn’t make her forgive him for trying to kick her off Shaw.

But she saw his battle, and that thing inside of him so lost he couldn’t find a center without the beauty that surrounded them, and that seemed more depressing than getting up every morning ready to fight. Thinking the only thing that made you worthwhile could be so easily taken away seemed worse than working to save people you loved. At least, at the end of the day, she knew she’d have her determination.

He cleared his throat. “Christ, Delia. Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying.”

He reached out and touched his thumb to an unruly tear trailing down her cheek. She had a handle on the rest, but that one escaped and now he was touching it. Her.

Why were they so close? Why was she letting him be this close? Letting him touch her? She should push him away. Knock that stupid hat off his head while she was at it. She should do everything but lean into that gentle touch. It was a lie, a distraction, anything but something she could believe in or allow.

But somehow their mouths were close, and her heart was beating frantically against her chest, pushing her even closer to him. With his mouth a whisper from hers, her body completely warm for the first time since she’d woken up in the Shaw house this morning, he didn’t press his mouth to hers. He shook his head.

“I can’t do this with you.” But he didn’t back away, and when his eyes searched her face, they didn’t seem to mean that at all.

“But here you are,” she managed to croak out, sounding not at all like the cool, unaffected, kick-ass woman she’d like to be. Here she was, letting him swoop in, letting him touch her and affect her. “I don’t trust you,” she whispered, because she had to put that between them. She had to remind herself.

“Good. I don’t trust myself.”

Why? Why did she feel sorry for him? He had everything, including all the power. But sympathy softened her heart against her will, because the jackass didn’t know himself at all, and that was damn sad.

She’d rather be stupid than sad. She’d rather feel than run away from it. So she did the stupid, feeling thing to do.

She leaned in and pressed her mouth to his.

About the Author

Nicole Helm writes down-to-earth contemporary romance specializing in people who don’t live close enough to neighbors for them to be a problem. When she’s not writing, she spends her time dreaming about someday owning a barn. She lives with her husband and two young sons in O’Fallon, Missouri. 

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