Synopsis

 

When Jan moves to Guatemala with her young daughter to run a medical clinic on the heels of her divorce, she knows the experience will be difficult and life-changing. But she doesn’t anticipate all the ways she will change. To make sense of her professional, personal, and parenting turmoil in a country with plenty of its own turmoil, Jan finds herself adopting a Maya worldview that weaves together concepts of duality (there can be no light without dark, no joy without pain), harmony with nature, and the importance of connecting to the past to understand one’s present self.

Awash with elements of Mayan mythology, history, and culture and innumerable revelations of the compassion, intelligence, and resilience of the Guatemalan people, Bird’s-Eye View is a coming-of-middle-age story that shows how viewing life through the prism of a different set of myths can help an individual understand the familiar tales they have unwittingly followed.

 

 

Amazon

 

 

Excerpt

 

Everything has a spirit

 

In an animistic cosmology such as the Maya world view, the natural and supernatural realms co-mingle, and all things are imbued with a sacred essence. Everything has a spirit—the rocks, the lake, the trees.

The spirits of trees are evidenced by the fact that they grow back when they are cut down, so it is forbidden to sit on a stump because that would be sitting on a spirit. Also, because the tree has a spirit, before cutting it or using its wood, one must ask permission of nature and wait until a full moon. If not, the tree’s spirit can harm the logger or his family.

I heard of a man who wanted to clear the land but did not recognize the hallowedness of the tree spirit, did not consult the guardian of nature, and did not wait for the full moon. Instead, he capriciously chopped what was in his way and stepped over the stump. The trunk tumbled, the branches broke, and the crown collapsed. Rising from the stump was not a spirit, but a ghost. The man only wanted to clear the land for his crops. He did not care for the wood he left on the ground, so he burned the stump and left the trunk there to rot. The stump’s ashes turned to mud, and its ghost haunted him.

If all natural objects have spirits, do intangible things such as relationships have them as well? If so, how had my relationship with Wade (my former husband) sprouted? How had it grown? How had it died?

For many years, the heartwood held our tree upright. Our daughter was a new branch that grew out. We bought a little house, delved into countless projects, and planted our garden. I sowed the seed of the idea of our little family traveling, living, and working in Latin America, perhaps because I thought if we were doing what we loved with each other, we would prune the decaying limbs and new growth would sprout. The early version of us lay inside, but layers that grew year after year made it harder to reach.

Holding on to the hope of reviving what was dying between us, I stayed at a job I hated for years to save money for our trip to Latin America. Every year that passed, I thought we were a little bit closer, but in reality, every year that passed, we were a little bit further apart. After a decade together, the heartwood rotted, and a hollow pith formed.

Still, by force of my will, our family held together. When Wade canceled our trip and soon thereafter split apart our family without consulting the powers that be, our marriage was felled.

Was the spirit of our failed marriage left standing? Did it haunt him the way it haunted me? And yet, out of the stumped of what had been carelessly cut, new life was emerging.

 

 

About the Author

 

Jan Capps has been a public health advocate for immigrants, farmworkers, domestic violence victims, and people of color in the US, Guatemala, and Mexico for over thirty years, focusing on building local capacity and health equity. During her two stints living in Guatemala, she organized and trained community health workers and midwives, managed a medical clinic, and studied the Maya Tz’utujil language. She has presented, trained, and written for national audiences. Her greatest joy and most humbling experiences have been being a mother and watching her glorious daughter grow and launch into the world.

 

Website

 

 

Synopsis

 

Against all odds, is true love strong enough to save a human soul?

After leaving her abusive ex, American scholar Brielle DeVolt embarks on a career-changing opportunity, the renovation of Laird Colin MacDougall’s Chapel ruin. The attractive, broad-shouldered Laird leaves her weak-kneed, but can she trust herself to love again?

Dusted in construction dirt, the curvy beauty in his study captivates Colin. As Brielle steps to the window, her brunette tresses halo in the sunlight, and he sees her as his dream soul mate. When he learns his hereditary duty is safeguarding magic Fae stones, all he wants is to protect Brielle from the evil forces of the Fae.

Traveling to the past to assume his forefather’s identity and find a missing magic stone is challenging enough. When Brielle appears, an undeniable attraction to his ancestor ignites, causing her confused passion. Faced with fighting an evil Fae to save the realms, Colin must choose between saving the stone or saving his love.

 

 

Amazon * B&N * Kobo * Bookshop

 

 

Excerpt

 

At the study, the door was ajar. A low fire glowed around the room. Good, someone already lit the fire. Brielle slipped into the dim room, crossed to the fireplace, and set the candle on the mantel. A flash of lightning illuminated the room, drawing her gaze to the shelves beside the fireplace.

She perused the shelving, trying to find the perfect book. She realized the one she wanted was three shelves up, and she couldn’t reach that high. Climbing to her knees on the lower cabinet, she stood and reached to the shelving above. Her fingertips barely touched the book she wanted. She stretched a bit more, and just as she was about to reach the spine marked Love Poems and Sonnets, a crack of thunder startled her, and she fell backward off the bookcase. Her cry was cut short when she hit something solid. A warm, muscular chest shifted along her back, and strong arms cradled her. Mortified, she kept her eyes shut. How much worse could it get?

Then the chest shook with a chuckle. The voice that belonged to it said, “Careful what ye seek, lassie. Ye might find something ye aren’t looking for.” In utter embarrassment, she kept her eyes shut. It was Colin.

“Ye can open your eyes, Brielle.” She turned her head farther into his chest. That was a mistake. He was shirtless and smelled too damn good.

“Please put me down,” she breathed. Colin moved to the couch and lowered her to the cushions. A plaid wrap lay on the sofa, still warm from a human body. She was not the only one who hated storms. She peered up from the couch. Next to the bookcase, Colin bent and picked up the book from the floor. He glanced at the open book, then at her with a raised eyebrow, and read aloud:

Western wind, when wilt thou blow.

That the small rain down can rain?

Christ, that my love was in my arms

And I in my bed again.

“Some light reading for a storm?” Colin lifted an eyebrow.

“Something of the sort. I was hoping to pass the storm.” Thunder boomed again. She jumped and squeaked.

“Storms scare ye?” He closed the book and went to the couch, handing it to her.

She went to take it from his hands, their touch causing sparks to fly up her arm. She glanced up at Colin’s face. He stood there with his hand still outstretched. He gazed directly into her eyes. They paused a moment. She shook herself, put the book on the side table, then peeked from under her lashes at Colin.

He faced the fireplace, bending to turn up the gas. His back muscles rippled with the movement of his body. As he rose, his muscles undulated under the stretched material of his jeans. Sensual heat rose inside Brielle like a fiery flame. He twisted, gazing at her. His face had the same smoldering expression as the one in the portrait of his ancestor she’d seen the day she arrived.

Thunder surged again. She jumped, closing her eyes and keeping them shut. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. After a moment, a shuffling told her he had moved around the room. A clink of glasses and the sound of liquid pouring. The couch dipped, and his body shifted toward her. A familiar potent, tart smell filled her nostrils, making her mouth water, and she licked her lips. He had positioned the glass under her nose.

She opened her eyes and took the glass from him.

“Here, lass, we’re in for a blow tonight. Ye’ll need this. Power won’t be back until morning, when the crews can get out this far.” He reclined back on the cushions. “Have a wee nip, and we’ll get ye back to yerself in no time.”

She drew a sip, swallowing the liquor and welcoming the warming sensation. Colin took a sip of his. Another boom, and she jumped.

“Come lass, tuck in, and let me chase yer fears away.” He settled her in the crook of his arm as they lay back on the couch. Colin wrapped them up in the red plaid with green and blue patterns, just like the one on her bed.

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Margaret Izard is an award-winning author of historical fantasy and paranormal romance novels. She spent her early years through college and adulthood dedicated to dance, theater, and performing. Over the years, she developed a love for great storytelling in different mediums. She does not waste a good story, be it movement, the spoken, or the written word. She discovered historical romance novels in middle school, which combined her passion for romance, drama, and fantasy. She writes exciting plot lines, steamy love scenes and always falls for a strong male with a soft heart. She lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband and adult triplets and loves to hear from readers.

 

Website * Twitter * Facebook * Instagram

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

“One must be careful practicing deception. The easiest to deceive will always be one’s self.”

The skilled thieves of the Takers Guild plot to overthrow the kingdoms of Baelon, but when their plans are thwarted by a prescient woman and her brooding daughter, they must turn to the League of Assassins for assistance. Meanwhile, retired royal guard Rolft Aerns returns to the palace of King Axil with an old score to settle. When they all cross paths–and swords–in the dark shadows of Fostead’s south end, nothing is as it seems, and the murder count rises quickly. The long fingers of the Guild reach everywhere, and one overly ambitious thief is all it takes to spark a chain of events that will haunt the world of Baelon for many years to come.

Six Moons, Seven Gods is book one in The Legends of Baelon.

 

 

Amazon

 

Read for Free via Kindle Unlimited

 

 

Praise

 

“A fascinatingly detailed and murder-fueled adventure in a violent fantasy setting.” — Kirkus Reviews

“In Robert A. Walker’s Six Moons, Seven Gods, loyalty and treachery entwine, friendships are tested, and dangerous secrets are held close to the heart… a brilliant, compelling narrative that hooks the reader from start to finish.” — Literary Titan 5-star Review

“…an exceptionally rewarding fantasy. There are twists and turns that will keep you on the edge of your seat, unable to stop reading.” — Ronél Steyn for Readers’ Favorite, 5 stars

 

 

Excerpt

 

Sibil sat on a bed in a servant’s quarters, her head spinning. Had it not been for previous visits to the palace with Princess Lewen, she would not have known where she was. The steward had escorted her briskly to the room some time ago, leaving her to entertain herself.

There seemed no end to the mystery surrounding her mother. Supposed premonitions of death had been unnerving enough, but now… an audience with the king? At his request! It was surreal, and Sibil’s wildest conjectures did not begin to explain it.

Her attempt to seize control of her own life seemed waylaid once again. She was imagining herself a bit of flotsam from a shipwreck, at the mercy of the ocean’s currents, when the steward returned, shutting the door angrily behind himself.

“Where is my mother?” she asked as he approached.

“With the king.” Without warning, the steward sat so close to her their thighs touched.

“I should like to see her.” Sibil started to rise.

“In due time.” The steward caught her arm and pulled her back to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“If your mother were more forthcoming, you would not be so inconvenienced.”

“How do you mean?” Sibil’s eyes darted toward the door.

“The woman’s hiding something. Perhaps you’d like to tell me what that is.”

“My mother has nothing to hide from the king!”

“I could be convinced of that, I suppose.” The steward loosened his hold and placed a palm against Sibil’s cheek. “There are many ways for you to prove your loyalty to the throne.” His hand brushed her breast as he withdrew it. “Are you prepared to do so?” Before Sibil could respond, he leaned in, his lips seeking hers.

Sibil pushed him away, struggling to stand. “How dare you!”

“Need I remind you where you are?” The steward rose, positioning himself between her and the door. “Or who you’re talking to?”

“I mean no disrespect, m’lord, but if you—“

“Take off your blouse.”

“What?!”

“Like mother, like daughter. Take off your blouse and let us see what you are hiding there.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” said Sibil breathlessly. “And if you lay another hand on me—“

The steward grasped her sleeve. Sibil twisted violently away, her blouse ripping at the shoulder seam.

The steward grinned. “You see? One way or the other!” He started to laugh, sobering quickly at the sight of the dagger Sibil produced. “Put that away before you hurt yourself.”

“Take me to my mother!” Sibil waved the dagger at him.

“Did I not warn you about making demands?” The steward lashed out, recoiling as Sibil’s blade pricked his arm. He swore loudly as he inspected the spot of crimson staining his white blouse. “You’ll not soon forget what I’m going to do to you.”

“Touch me and I’ll kill you!” Sibil lurched past the steward and onto the bed, clambering quickly over it, but he intercepted her before she could reach the door. He kicked a stool separating them toward her. Sibil grabbed it and flung it back at him. The stool sailed past the steward’s head and crashed against the door.

“Make all the noise you want,” the steward said. “No one cares!”

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Award-winning author Robert A. Walker grew up in Northwestern Massachusetts. After graduating college, he packed his scant belongings in a car with rusted-out floorboards and headed west. He’s lived in California ever since, and now resides along the Pacific Ocean with his wife and dogs. When not fabricating stories, he can be found roaming local tennis courts or working on a never-ending list of DIY house projects.

 

Website

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

In a bind, Bud Palmer finds himself at the crossroads when just about everything was on the verge.

Like most people, Bud Palmer felt this was just another day. Though the era was drawing to a close, he assumed his life as a sports columnist in the subtropics, in keeping with the benign fifties itself, would go on as predictable as ever. But that particular autumn morning he was thrust into a caper that was totally beyond him, forced him to leave Miami and take the train to Manhattan, and suddenly found everything in this restless “Big Apple” was up for grabs, on the brink, at a dicey turning point.

 

 

Amazon * B&N * BookShop

 

Praise for Shelly Frome

 

“This is a great mystery that had me guessing at what was really happening. I was sucked in and held tight until the reveal. A couple great twists and turns had me thrown off balance and guessing the whole time.” (Moon Games by Shelly From)-JBrounder Reviews

“It is full of action, adventure, mystery and suspense. It is not one that I could easily predict. The twists and turns kept on the edge of my seat. I never knew what would happen next.” (Moon Games by Shelly Frome)-AmyBooksy, Locks, Hooks, and Books

“The cover of this book shows what looks like a beautiful and peaceful place to live, but looks can be deceiving. Lies, bribery, and deceit are running rampant in this little town. Twists and turns are around every corner. Well written mystery”(Secluded Village Murders by Shelly Frome)- Lisa’s Writopia

“An entertaining story that has enough quirky characters, intrigue, suspense, humor, and drama that easily draws the reader into Emily’s amateur sleuth adventure. This cozy mystery is full of devious plot twists and turns that will easily keep you guessing. The Secluded Village Murders is an intriguing whodunit tale that cozy mystery fans will want to add to their reading list.” (Secluded Village Murders by Shelly Frome)- Kathleen Higgins-Anderson, Jersey Girl Book Reviews 

 

 

Excerpt

 

 

Even when Bud caught up to Katie, she did one of her I’m-mad-and-not-listening pouts and climbed a branch higher on the mango tree until she was almost camouflaged by the big leaves and hanging fruit.

Reaching out to her, Bud said, “Katie, I’m trying to tell you it couldn’t be helped. And if you’d think about the example I just gave you, you could be grown up about it, understand and come down from there.”

“Well I don’t care,” Katie said, poking her narrow face out through the foliage. “You promised. You always keep your promises. And when a person doesn’t all of a sudden keep their promise, they shouldn’t be listened to. And I especially don’t care about some dumb girl named Scout in some dumb town in Alabama, wherever that is.”

“Don’t,” Bud said, as she plucked a plump, reddish Haydon mango, tore into the thick skin, and took a big bite out of the juicy orange pulp. “Come on, Katie. You’ll get it all over your blouse, it’ll dribble onto your overalls and—will you stop this and listen for a second?”

“Why should I?”

“The point, Katie. You’re missing the point. No matter how hard you try, sometimes something comes up and you’ve got to make a choice. Are you going to take the easy way out and be tomboy Scout? Or are you going to go out of your way and be sensible Jean Louise Finch?”

Wiping some of the orange glop off her face, Katie peered down and said, “She’s got two names. How come? I don’t have two names.”

Trying harder, Bud said, “‘Cause Scout was her nickname. ‘Cause the writer was trying to tell us that under pressure—look, she marched straight over to the jailhouse steps and looked this mob right in the eye. Did it before they could storm the jailhouse and harm an innocent prisoner. Dropped her nickname and reminded them who she was and who they were. And said,  ‘Hey, Mister Cunningham. I’m Jean Louise Finch, remember? I play with your boy Walter and you brought my dad and me some hickory nuts.’”

“So?”

“So she made them ashamed. Stood up to them.”

“And that’s why you were late? And that’s what you did?”

“Not exactly. But I wound up at a Miami Beach hotel to keep them from doing harm to your grandmother’s kid brother Uncle Rick. It took some doing, called your mom and made my apologies. And, by the time I was through, it was too late to take you to the parrot jungle. And that’s just for openers.”

“So it’s not over?”

“It could get even worse until I go to New York and—”

“Golly.” Katie said, cutting in. “Then you got to tell me how you stood up to them and saved the day.” She scrambled down and took off through the grove. Before he could catch up to her she raced past Jill, the freckled faced baby sitter, grabbed her mother’s hand and pointed to Bud as he was catching up to her. “Hey, mom, guess what? Uncle Bud is taking on the mob!”

 

 

Guest Review by Nora

 

I honestly was not expecting such an engrossing read going into this! I do appreciate a good historical mystery, but I’m not that familiar with the 1950s, so I wasn’t sure what to expect when I started ‘Fast Times, Big City.’

Boy, was I surprised to find this would soon become one of my favorite reads of the year so far! This is an electric story about crime, passion and one man’s quest to protect his own family, all set in the buzzing world of New York City in the 1950s.

Bud Palmer is a sports reporter for the Miami Herald. Family means a lot to Bud, especially his sister and his feisty tom-boy of a niece, but when Bud’s mother asks him to check on his uncle while she is on a cruise, Bud is immediately reluctant.

Uncle Rick has a bit of a reputation for being a screw-up. As a private detective, Rick hasn’t had much success and now he’s gotten himself into something that may even get himself killed.

After meeting with Rick, Bud soon learns that his uncle has angered a mobster named Al Escobar who believes that Rick set him up. Something happened during a high-stakes poker game that left a woman that Rick arrived with—a beautiful Marilyn Monroe lookalike—walking away with a briefcase that belongs to Escobar.

Now, Bud has been roped in to traveling to New York to find the blonde and retrieve the briefcase. Of course, he has no idea where to find her, so things get hazardous quickly. Luckily, Bud is a natural investigator, who makes friends quickly even in the mean streets of New York.

‘Fast Times, Big City,’ is a book that you’re going to have to read to believe, I know I had to! This is a top-notch novel that totally transports the reader to another era.

Five stars! (or Paws in the case of this blog!)

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Award winning author, Shelly Frome is a member of Mystery Writers of America, a professor of dramatic arts emeritus at UConn, a former professional actor, and a writer of crime novels and books on theater and film. He also is a features writer for Gannett Publications.

His fiction includes Sun Dance for Andy Horn, Lilac Moon, Twilight of the Drifter, Tinseltown Riff, Murder Run, Moon Games, The Secluded Village Murders and Miranda and the D-Day Caper. Among his works of non-fiction are The Actors Studio: A History, a guide to playwriting and one on screenwriting, Shadow of the Gypsy is his latest foray into the world of crime and the amateur sleuth.

He lives in Black Mountain, North Carolina.

 

Website * Twitter * Facebook * Goodreads

 

 

 

Giveaway

 

This giveaway is for 2 print or ebook copies, open to the U.S. and Canada only.

This giveaway ends on March 26, 2024 midnight, pacific time.

Entries are accepted via Rafflecopter only.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

Dying has its perks…mostly. Bullied teen, Ember O’Neill goes from the weird girl to the tyrant of her school when she is resurrected from a deadly prank. Now secretly supernatural, she dethrones the school drama queen and snags the hot new guy, but her reign is at risk when the Order, a heretical sect, sends an assassin to eliminate her. Ember must expose her powers, potentially losing all she has gained, in order to save herself and her friends as her killer closes in.

 

 

Barnes & Noble * Amazon

 

 

Excerpt

 

“I love that.” He reached up and pulled a piece of hair away from her cheek. “I love your innocence. I love your hair. And those eyes…don’t get me started.” He ran his thumb gently across her bottom lip. “And these, right here.” His voice dipped low. His tongue darted across his lips as he looked into her eyes.

“Can I kiss you, Ember O’Neill?”

Finally. Butterflies took flight in her stomach. Slowly, she nodded her head. She had been waiting for this moment. Ever since she let her guard down and began trusting him, she had imagined what it would be like to kiss his perfect lips.

Logan reached up, placing one hand under her hair at the base of her neck. Electricity buzzed throughout her body. With his other hand, he cupped her cheek, pulling her closer.

She held her breath as his lips parted and pressed against hers with the lightest touch. In an instant, their bodies became one. The world melted away. It was just Ember and Logan on the dance floor. Her greatest wish for the night was coming true. She was kissing Logan.

Too soon, he pulled away. Eyes sparkling in the disco light, his thumb dragged across her bottom lip. She wondered if he could feel her racing pulse.

The kiss was sweet. Perfect. Ember smiled, remembering to breathe.

Both dimples asserted themselves as his lips shifted into a devilish grin. “You taste better than I imagined.”

 

 

About the Author

 

Kerrie Faye is a Gen X wife and mom who found her passion to write later in life. A graduate of Murray State University, she has a bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education. Raised in Western Kentucky, where her debut novel, DEAD GIRL, takes place, the author currently resides near the Rocky Mountain Flatirons in Colorado, where there is far less humidity but not nearly enough BBQ. Her debut novel, DEAD GIRL, will be published on February 26, 2024, by The Wild Rose Press.

 

Website * Facebook * Instagram * TikTok * X (Twitter)

 

 

Synopsis

 

A ghost’s antics, a harrowing moose chase, a hypnosis session, and smuggled booze lead to spilled secrets and betrayal, but do they also lead to murder?

At a hot springs retreat in Montana, whiskey-swigging Maude, the nearly eighty-year-old chef, longs for the glory days when the retreat hosted martini-sipping celebrities instead of long-haired hippies who refuse to wear deodorant. Brooke, feisty, adventurous, and a bit reckless, proposes a reunion at the retreat with her best friends to get away from the chaos of her life with teenagers and the emotional aftermath of her postponed wedding. One of those friends, Tracy, has devoted her life to her children and her husband despite her excruciating boredom. But a long-held secret could cost her the most important friendships in her life. Haunting the place is a ghost who, in life, dealt with tragedy by turning to prostitution which led to her murder over 100 years ago at the very place they all are staying.

What Happens in Montana explores friendship, betrayal, and forgiveness with blunt truth and witty insights. Together, these friends learn to navigate empty nests, infidelity, deception, and poltergeists. Most importantly, they learn their friendship is strong enough to get them through it all.

 

 

Amazon * B&N * Bookshop

 

 

Review

 

This story blends friendship with a hint of mystery and a ghost!

Four women decide to take a weekend getaway to a hotel in Montana, in need of much repair. At least parts of it. But what they don’t anticipate is finding their true selves, uncovering some secrets, and making new friends.

This story is told from multiple points of view. This can get distracting, but it helps, especially when Simone, the ghost, is telling her story. I really enjoyed learning about her life and why she died and was stuck at this hotel. I really liked Maude. She has been at the hotel/retreat center for thirty years. That is a long time in one spot, but she loves it there and has a connection with Simone. She may not know why Simone is there or what she needs to move on, but she still feels a connection to her. Then, there are the four women who came to this retreat to reconnect. While they had met as younger women, they were spread out across the country now. There are secrets that come to light, and it is amazing how revealing those secrets freed the women up to be themselves and not in fear of the secret being revealed before the right time.

I enjoyed the story and can appreciate how this weekend away might impact their lives. There is a sideline story about Maude’s daughter who died and how Brooke reminds her of that daughter. But we are left hanging as to what happened to the daughter and how it impacted her marriage. I would have liked to have known more about that scenario. There is also a lothario at the hotel, Max. Let’s just say that Max is not who you think he is, and luckily, no one is hurt in their interactions with him.

This was a fun read, and we give it 4 paws up.

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt

 

I glanced at the bird-like woman who sat across from him and wondered how she kissed him with that facial hair. Didn’t it smell like whatever he ate? Or scratch her face? Didn’t errant hair ever tickle her nose and make her sneeze? Maybe they had been together so long that they didn’t really kiss much anymore. Just a peck hello and goodbye. I supposed I could handle facial hair if that was my only interaction with it.

“Hello, I’m Maude, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Can I get you anything to drink besides water?”

“Water is fine for me. Dear, what would you like?”

“Oh, I’d like sparkling water. One of those flavored ones, if you have it. Not one that has calories or sugar or anything. Just the essence of lime or tangerine or whatever. Do you know what I mean?” She looked at me with big, pleading eyes. I saw such hunger in those eyes. Lord, this woman needed a huge steak and a baked potato with butter and sour cream. Then she needed a good bottle of wine to go with it and a German chocolate cake to finish it all. This woman didn’t look as though she had been properly nourished and decades. But what I saw most in her eyes was that she had not allowed herself to live. She imposed such restrictions on her life – what to eat, what to wear, what friends to have, what church to attend, what car to drive, what words to say – that she forgot what she wanted. She forgot how to live. She was just going through the motions. She might as well already be dead.

I wanted to tell her to forget calories, forget working out at least five days a week, forget always needing to be a size zero, forget what others think, forget keeping her house perfectly in order, for surely this woman’s house was always in order, and throw all caution to the wind. Eat an entire gallon of ice cream while binge watching Grace and Frankie. Stay in your pajamas till noon and dance to Uptown Funk with the volume so loud the neighbors will call the police. Hike to the top of Boulder peak at dawn to watch the sunrise regardless of the animals you might encounter. Tell your husband to shave that nasty dead rat on his face and kiss him like you did when you were a teen teenager. Just don’t live like life will last forever.

Instead, I said, “Sure. We have lime, grapefruit, and coconut sparkling water.”

 

 

About the Author

 

Kim McCollum graduated from Barnard College as a Japanese major and headed to work on Wall Street. Many miserable all-nighters and the birth of her first child led her to stay home to raise her children. Eventually, she pursued her passion for writing. An excerpt from this novel appeared in The Copperfield Review Quarterly, and her short stories have appeared in The Dillydoun Review, Beyond Solace, and Fiction on the Web. She lives in Bozeman, MT, with her husband, Brian, and their blended menagerie of five kids, two dogs, and seven spoiled chickens. What Happens in Montana is her first novel.

 

Website * Facebook * X (Twitter)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

A troubled marriage and love story set against the background of the AIDS pandemic and the American wars in Vietnam and Iraq lie at the heart of After Camus. Saul Davidoff and Tolle Riordan, who meet during a protest against the Vietnam War, marry, live through the Plague Years of the AIDS epidemic, raise a family … and burn out. Camus is a hero to both of them: Tolle, a young dancer and choreographer, has a liaison with him in Paris shortly before his death; Saul, inspired by Camus’s The Plague, becomes an infectious disease (and AIDS) doctor … and Camus becomes a ghostly presence central to our story.

Hoping to repair their marriage, Tolle and Saul return to a village in the South of France where they lived when they were first in love and where Camus lived when recovering from a siege of tuberculosis. The novel draws a vivid portrait of a marriage that spans a series of historical events: from the Vietnam War through the AIDs epidemic and Gulf War to the Iraq War and the advent of the right-wing Le Pen movement in France. After Camus is both a fictional meditation on recent history and a compelling tale of how various forms of love and friendship do and do not survive in times of social and political upheaval. In this novel of enchantments, internationally acclaimed author Jay Neugeboren is at the peak of his powers as a master storyteller.

 

 

Amazon * B&N * Bookshop

 

 

Excerpt

 

Often, when he doubted his love for her—or, more exactly, his capacity for love—or wondered why and how they had stayed with each other for more than forty years in a time when most people they knew—friends, relatives, colleagues—had divorced and moved on to new couplings and marriages—he would go back to the beginning.  This is how we met, he’d say to himself, and by telling himself the story again, no matter how many times he did, and no matter his knowledge that the effect of doing so was transient, he would for a brief while be reassured.  But reassured about what?  That they had been truly, deeply in love once upon a time?  That they had not erred in marrying, or in having children, or in remaining married?  That she did still love him and was devoted to him no matter the ways, they had, through the years, distanced themselves from one another?

More likely, he mused—they were driving south along a country road in France on a clear, unseasonably warm early February morning—Tolle had insisted they not take autoroutes, that they wind their way down from Paris at a leisurely pace—by conjuring up the first time they met, he was able to feel again what he rarely did of late: some genuine affection for Tolle, for the young man he had once been, and for the man he had become.

He saw himself standing across the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Veteran’s Day, 1965.  The air was crisp, the sky blue and cloudless, the crowd of anti-war protestors, among whom he stood, animated and happy.  How, on such a day, standing side by side with people of like mind and heart, could one believe anything was amiss with the world, or that whatever was amiss could not, with good will and hard work, be set right?  Across the street, crowds that lined the sidewalk behind police barricades with their banners, posters, and flags—in support of the war in Vietnam—seemed equally happy, so that the chants each side launched into the air seemed little  more than friendly cheers for rival football teams.

Tolle, in the front row of protestors, wore a pale V-neck lavender sweater, a purple paisely scarf knotted loosely around her neck.  Her wheat-colored hair,  shoulder-length, was, in the autumn sunlight, laced with threads of gold, and she appeared to him to have stepped straight out of a Saks Fifth Avenue advertisement so as to take her place—out of place—among those whose fashions seemed, for the most part, to have been purchased from clothing racks in Salvation Army thrift stores.

She seemed the kind of woman—beautiful, cool, poised—who had always had the power to intimidate him: a woman who, he assumed, went to debutante balls with self-assured men who were destined to become diplomats, to run Fortune 500 companies, to own yachts, and—always, always—to sweat less than he did.  He imagined she read Jane Austen, vacationed in Monaco, had lunch at the Plaza.  What, then, was she doing in the front line of anti-war protestors?  And what could a young woman like her ever want with an intense, curly-headed Jewish boy from Brooklyn?

Still, when she turned and looked his way, and when she smiled at him—a quizzical glance, as in: We’ve met before, yes?—he gained the courage he needed, pushed through the crowd, and made his way to her side.

He began talking at once—about the rally, about the weather, about the war, about the organization she was with (she held a placard that identified her as a member of the Committee for a SANE Nuclear Policy)—about whatever came to mind, and she responded easily.  Encouraged, and eager to impress, he alluded to the fact that he had rearranged his schedule at Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital, where he was doing a residency in infectious disease, in order to be at the rally, and also that he was a member of The Resistance and, although above draft age, was intending soon, in a public ceremony, to burn his draft card with those of draft age.  When chants from both sides of the street grew louder, she tugged on her right ear with thumb and forefinger to indicate that it was difficult to hear him.  Her pale hazel-green eyes, above ruddy high-colored cheeks, seemed almost translucent, and—what he had not expected—warm and inviting.

He looked to the right—uptown, to where she pointed—and saw that a military band was approaching, its music—Sousa’s familiar “Stars and Stripes Forever”—blasting away.  Behind the band, a phalanx of soldiers in camouflage khakis, rifles to their shoulders, marched in lock-step, policemen on motorcyles cruising slowly at their sides.

Closer to him, she asked his name.

“Saul,” he said.  “Saul Davidoff.”

She shook his hand.  “I’m glad to meet you, Saul Davidoff,” she said, then held to his arm briefly.  “But would you excuse me, please?” she said, and turned away, slipped under the wooden barricade, walked out onto Fifth Avenue and, along with about twenty others, sat down in the middle of the street, directly in the path of the oncoming parade.

 

Excerpt from AFTER CAMUS. Copyright © 2024 by Jay Neugeboren. Published by Madville Publishing. Reprinted by permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.

 

 

About the Author

 

JAY NEUGEBOREN is the author of 22 books, including five prize-winning novels, four collections of award-winning stories, and two prize-winning books of non-fiction about mental illness: Imagining Robert: My Brother, Madness, and Survival and Transforming Madness: New Lives for People Living with Mental Illness.

His stories and essays have appeared widely in The New York Review of Books, The Atlantic Monthly, The American Scholar, The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, Psychiatric Services, Ploughshares, Black Clock, Tablet, Commonweal,  among others, and have been reprinted in more than 50 anthologies, including Best American Short Stories, Penguin Modern Stories, and The O. Henry Prize Stories.

He is the recipient of fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Massachusetts Council on the Arts, and is the only author to have won six consecutive Syndicated Fiction Prizes.  His archive is housed at the Harry Ransom Humanities Center in Austin, Texas.

Nuegeboren was a Professor and Writer-in-Residence at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, as well as the Director of the Graduate MFA Writing Program there. He has taught at other universities, including Stanford, Indiana, S.U.N.Y. at Old Westbury, and Freiburg (Germany).  He now lives and writes in New York City, where he is on the faculty of the Writing Program of the Graduate School of the Arts at Columbia University.

 

Website

 

Synopsis

 

Kate’s home is filled with turmoil that leaks out into her small town as her famous mother draws her family into international power struggles. Her parents worry about Kate’s interaction with her invisible friend Destiny… who can’t be real… or can she?

 

 

Amazon

 

Read for Free via Kindle Unlimited

 

 

Excerpt

 

Gem thought Kate was, for lack of a better word, unique. Hints of her mother’s lovely feminine charm appeared in Kate. Beyond that, she and Margot bore little resemblance to one another. Margot’s celebrity charm, that set her up to be the star of every gathering, was absent in Kate. Instead, Kate almost vanished into the background.

The forest’s ability to entice Kate to enter, appeared natural to Gem. Her long, straight hair lacked the gentle curls present in Margot’s hair. It had tones present in the bark of many evergreens… brown, mixed with hints of red, and flecks of yellow, as if sunlight peeking through the leaves deposited itself there. A small section in her hair, just around her right ear, stood out as it was a mixture of pearl-white and opalescent tones. Deep-green of the evergreen trees played with lighter tones of green, hints of blue, and occasional specks of gold in Kate’s eyes, and they seemed to glow or sparkle when her curiosity piqued.

Thankfully, she had more of her father’s character traits than those of her mother. Even in her most introverted and withdrawn moments, Kate agreed to help anyone who asked her. She assisted with tasks, and unlike her mother, Kate preferred doing so without recognition. Her father, Rob, behaved the same way. Neither sought volunteer opportunities, but both volunteered when asked. Both insisted that their contribution was minor compared to others.

Margot was a mesmerizing woman. Glamorous and blessed with a perfect figure, she was accustomed to being surrounded by admirers everywhere she went. Her habit of changing her hair and eye color to fit her changing mood and style set her apart.
…..
Kate was more like a mist, or a fantasy creature one could sense, but almost not see. One might refer to Margot as a distinct style of fantasy creature from her daughter.

Despite her vanity, Margot’s innate charisma charmed people, although those who witnessed her darker side bristled at how cold she became around Kate and Rob. Oblivious to her coldness, Rob melted with the slightest flash of her smile. Gem saw the smiles she aimed at Rob lacked love. Her harsh words aimed at Rob were hard to listen to, so they must have felt worse having them directed at him. Whether a strength or a fault, Rob’s patience approximated being limitless.
….
Kate seemed to occupy another world much of the time and frequently forgot to play her roles in the other children’s games. As she drifted off to places alone, Kate seemed to believe she was following someone.

Some locals wondered if Kate inherited an artist’s imagination. Others theorized she might be that type of slightly mad person, who is not a threat, but doesn’t fully grasp reality. Many noticed

Kate was polite and helpful beyond what one would expect from the average child.

Kate had a quality that some of the superstitious folks felt reflected the fairy folk of the old world. Gem avoided those discussions but understood how people might form such impressions. Kate knew odd things and never had a satisfying explanation for her knowledge.
….
He heard Kate say several times that ‘Destiny’ showed her things. ‘Destiny’ seemed personified and linked with the pronoun her, so he doubted it was a concept, rather than the name of a being, that she was referring to.

Margot lost her poise when Kate mentioned ‘Destiny’ and dragged Kate to the side. After Margot’s menacing whispers, Kate would return and apologize for speaking of ‘Destiny’ as if it referred to something real.

Sometimes in response, people laughed and commented that many people believed in destiny. They said, “Maybe people from Central Intelligence City believe they have full control over their lives, but people in Waterly know better.” He could see their comments confused Kate.

From what Gem could see, Kate believed Destiny was an actual being, and a female one at that. Maybe Margot believed that as well sometimes? He was aware her status would be jeopardized by admitting she had such beliefs, so it didn’t surprise him if that pressure added to her discomfort with the already unsettling idea.

 

 

About the Author

 

I have had characters and stories in my mind for as far back as I have memories. For me, writing has been a hobby, comfort, and a path through some school degrees… but until now, not shared widely. My mother loved imaginative play, and my father was a teacher of multiple languages. They opened my eyes to the wonder of how language shapes our view of the world, and how what we experience shapes our language. That undoubtedly influenced my storytelling. My stories are told in translation. For instance, people there aren’t a perfect map to people here, but have some similarities we can relate to.

I would love to have the characters, worlds, and stories escape my mind and bring joy to as many people as possible… while keeping a little distance from me, the storyteller.

My time is mostly spent writing, traveling to see family, cuddling dogs, gardening, walking, hiking, etc.

 

Tumblr * Amazon Author

 

Cover design and author “photo” artist: Kaleb Leino

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

Step into the captivating world of Andrea de Laney, leader of the DeLaney Mob. In this gripping tale, Andrea finds herself entangled in a web of personal and professional challenges as her organization faces relentless attacks. Amidst the chaos, she unexpectedly encounters Valerie Cross, a resilient young woman whose own past traumas resonate deeply with Andrea. As their connection deepens, Andrea begins to realize the void that has long existed in her life.

As DeLaney prepares to engage in a fierce showdown against their rivals, The Fury and Ban Jack Mafia, Andrea assumes the role of a cunning mastermind, strategizing to outmaneuver them all and emerge victorious. However, the stakes are higher than ever, and survival becomes the ultimate goal.

Join Andrea de Laney on a suspenseful journey where loyalty, ambition, and unexpected love converge. Will she navigate the treacherous path ahead and emerge triumphant, or will the odds prove insurmountable?

 

 

Amazon

 

Read for Free via Kindle Unlimited

 

Other books in the series:

Book 2: Power In Vengeance

Book 3: Power in Justice

Book 4: Power in Loyalty – Preorder today!

 

 

Excerpt

 

Andrea’s stomach flip-flopped as the main door closed behind Valerie. She wondered how she let this get so out of hand. Scarlett had tried to kiss her while Valerie was in the apartment with them. Of all the stupid things her friend had done this week, that was the lowest of them all. She knew Scarlett was just using a tactic they used before where they fought and made up many times over the years, but today was the last time she could ever allow that to happen.

Before Andrea could bring herself to turn around and give Scarlett an ultimatum the redhead started speaking. “The Fury are trying to kill you. Your own brother hired them. Bryan betrayed you on every level. We chased a man in the tunnels where you were shot, and Allie literally pulled a bullet out of your arm. You have a very important city council vote tomorrow about a project that means a lot to you. You need to name a new number two and we have to find an accountant you can trust. That doesn’t even include all the other businesses DeLaney has and the things that need to happen with them this week. I mean fuck Andrea, on top of all of that you decide this 26 year old, who is 12 years younger than you, who you’ve known for less than a week, is suddenly your great love or something?” Scarlett chuckled darkly and Andrea heard the rustle of fabric behind her. She didn’t turn around though, she knew she wasn’t finished. “You know what giving her that necklace is going to tell everyone and what they are going to say don’t you?”

Andrea turned and looked directly at Scarlett who was sitting on the edge of the bed. “That she is mine. That if someone, including you, so much as touches her, looks at her wrong, or threatens her, I will kill them. I knew what it meant when I did it and if you think for one second that I didn’t you don’t know me at all.” She straightened her shirt again and fixed her belt while trying to gather her words. “A few days ago you told me I could handle a million things at once better than anyone you’ve ever seen. Now you think I can’t handle any of it because of Valerie?” Andrea laughed and rolled her eyes. “If it weren’t for her this week, I would’ve already killed Asher, blown up half the city trying to eliminate Brody and The Fury, and I would have met with the mayor and told him to get behind my proposal or I’d kill him next and run this city the way my grandfather did.”

“So what? I should be thanking her for preventing all out war?” Scarlett ran her hand over the sheets and rolled her eyes too. “You don’t want war and I know that. You should’ve just fucked her and sent her on her way that first night like you do everyone else!” Scarlett ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Now that I think about it, maybe the fact that she’s not satisfying your needs is the reason you’re so pissed.”

She wasn’t going to play these games anymore. Andrea stepped closer and in a tone that left no room for questions as to what it meant, she said, “You have until I walk into that meeting with you and Victor downstairs to figure out if you can handle this. Because none of the other things you listed are relevant to you if you can’t get over yourself and move past my relationship with Valerie and your own misguided feelings.” Andrea grabbed her jacket off the dresser and slipped it on. “And if you can’t, I suggest you get the fuck out of this building and out of my city because I’m not kidding, Scarlett. I’ve given you more leeway than I would give anyone else, but you are testing my patience and the limits of our friendship. Now, get out and make your choice.”

Scarlett swung her legs down to the ground and stood from the bed. She looked around the room. “Well, once again whatever Andrea de Laney says is the final word huh?” As she passed Andrea, she let their shoulders brush. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

As soon as she heard the door close, Andrea sat on the bed and took a deep breath. This wasn’t how she wanted to start her morning. There were actual problems she needed to solve and plans she needed to make. The last thing she needed today was this drama with Scarlett. Remembering the pain in Valerie’s eyes made her stomach drop. Andrea wondered just how much her girlfriend had heard and how far this whole scenario would set them back. With another deep breath to calm down a bit further, she stood and headed for the main door, but when she opened it there was no one in the hall. Bril was gone as was Valerie, and her heart started racing.

 

 

About the Author

 

Kirby Ann has always been captivated by the world of literature. From a young age, her love for reading laid the foundation for a lifelong passion for storytelling. It wasn’t until her twenties that she took up writing seriously, embarking on a journey of self-expression.

Away from writing, she finds joy on trips with friends and family, drawing inspiration from the new landscapes and cultures she encounters. When in need of a break, she immerses herself in the world of online gaming, finding both relaxation and creativity in the virtual realms.

In 2023, she took a bold step forward, deciding to share her works on a larger scale. As her professional writing career takes its first steps, she is filled with optimism and high hopes for the future. With a unique blend of Texas spirit, a love for storytelling, and a supportive network, she looks forward to weaving more tales that resonate with readers and leave a lasting impact.

 

Website * Instagram

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

George and Murphy are two brothers who share everything – toys, secrets, and especially the love for their sweet grandmother. But one day, she goes to Heaven, and the brothers miss her a lot.

Then, something amazing happens. Bright red birds start showing up wherever they go. These aren’t just any birds; they seem special. Following these birds, George and Murphy go on a big adventure. Along the way, they learn that these birds have messages from their grandmother!

The story of When the Red Bird Flies is like a big, warm hug. It tells us that even when someone we love goes away, they’re still with us in different ways. Sometimes, they might send signs to let us know they’re watching over us. All we have to do is pay attention and believe.

So, join George and Murphy as they learn about love, memories, and the magical ways the world tells us that we’re never truly alone. With every chirp and flutter of the red bird’s wings, they find a little more happiness and remember all the fun times they had with their grandmother.

 

 

Amazon * B&N * Bookshop

 

 

Excerpt

 

On a cold night in November, a loving grandmother had gained her heavenly wings—this left all her family in tears but especially George. George said “How will we go on without her? I will miss her so terribly much, Mommy.” His parents told him that he would never be alone, that his grandmother may have left but she is still here—right here. “You can feel her, but you can’t see her. If we believe enough and ask her to send us signs to let us know she is watching over us, she will do just that—always look for the signs when you need them most.”

Shortly after his grandmother’s passing, George celebrated his seventh birthday. His parents tucked him into bed on the evening of his birthday. As his mom closed his door, she whispered: “Close your eyes and make a wish.” So, he did—he wished for his grandmother to send him a sign to let him know she is still with him.

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Courtney Reames Haydell, born to Bonnie Carville Reames and Michael Wilks Reames, is the youngest among six siblings.  Hailing from a small town in Louisiana, she’s an author deeply rooted in familial ties and the wonder of nature.  Drawing inspiration from her own experiences and surroundings, her stories often touch upon themes of love, loss and healing.  Courtney currently resides in Texas, where she finds joy in the company of her husband and two sons.  Through her writing, she hopes to touch young hearts, helping them navigate through life’s profound moments.