Posted in excerpt, fiction, Spotlight on February 13, 2019

Synopsis

78 flash fictions from a master of the form

In Kiss Kiss, we’re introduced to a variety of stories, all told through a masterful blend of calamity and empathy.

Whether an aging man going through a mid-life crisis, or a grandmother getting fleeced by her own family, Beckman’s characters are written with a lively voice that is deft and saturated with heart.

Flash fiction, at its core, is a voyeuristic glimpse into a character’s internal struggle as the world around either helps or hinders the outcome. Hemmingway, Dybek, Ehrhardt, a few authors do it well. Paul Beckman is one of them.

Praise

“There are many surprises here and like other writers, I found myself thinking time and again, ‘I wish I’d written this.” — Niles Reddick, MBR: Reviewer’s Bookwatch

“…irreverent and sometimes heartbreaking, Kiss Kiss is an enthralling and entertaining read from start to finish.” — Alison McBain, Bewildering Stories

“Reading Kiss Kiss is like delving a box of chocolates without a cover as your guide. You’ll discover stories with soft, sweet centers. But some are just as jagged as biting into an almond—hidden inside white nougat—drizzled with red icing.” — Story and Grit

Excerpt

Creeps

Apparently, there are creeps everywhere. I hear my female co-workers talking about them over their cubicle walls. I sit on my bar stool, nursing my gin and tonic, staring straight ahead or doodling on a bar nap and listen to women at happy hour complaining about the creeps in their life. I don’t know what makes a guy a creep. One of the four women next to me at the bar looked up and our eyes met in the back bar mirror. She motioned for her girlfriends to follow her and pointed to a table. “Creep,” she said, passing behind me.

About the Author

Paul Beckman’s newest flash collection, his 4th, is Kiss Kiss, (Truth Serum Press). Paul had a micro story selected for the 2018 Norton Anthology New Micro Exceptionally Short Fiction. He was one of the winners in the 2016 The Best Small Fictions and his story “Mom’s Goodbye” was chosen as the winner of the 2016  Fiction Southeast Editor’s Prize. He’s widely published in the following magazines among others: Raleigh Review, Litro, Playboy, Pank, Blue Fifth Review, Matter Press, Pure Slush, Thrice Fiction, and Literary Orphans. Paul had a story nominated for the 2019 Best Small Fictions and he hosts the monthly FBomb flash fiction series in NY at KGB’s Red Room. He’s judged writing contests for Cahoodaloodaling and Brilliant Flash Fiction.

Website * Facebook * Twitter

 | 
Comments Off on Excerpt – Kiss Kiss by Paul Beckman @pincusb #FlashFiction @samijolien
Posted in excerpt, fiction, Guest Post, Historical, Thriller on February 11, 2019

Title: THE LIEBOLD PROTOCOL: a Mattie McGary + Winston Churchill World War 2 Adventure
Author: Michael & Kathleen McMenamin
Publisher: First Edition Design Publishing
Pages: 389
Genre: Historical Thriller

Synopsis

Winston Churchill’s Scottish goddaughter, Mattie McGary, the adventure-seeking Hearst photojournalist, reluctantly returns to Nazi Germany in the summer of 1934 and once again finds herself in deadly peril in a gangster state where widespread kidnappings and ransoms are sanctioned by the new government.

Mattie turns down an early request by her boss Hearst to go to Germany to report on how Hitler will deal with the SA Brown Shirts of Ernst Rohm who want a true socialist ‘second revolution’ to follow Hitler’s stunning first revolution in 1933. Having been away from Germany for over a year, her reputation as “Hitler’s favorite foreign journalist” is fading and she wants to keep it that way.

Instead, at Churchill’s suggestion, she persuades Hearst to let her investigate one of the best-kept secrets of the Great War—that in 1915, facilitated by a sinister German-American working for Henry Ford, British and Imperial German officials essentially committed treason by agreeing Britain would sell raw rubber to Germany in exchange for it selling precision optical equipment to Britain.  Why? To keep the war going and the profits flowing.  After Mattie interviews Ford’s German-American go-between, however, agents of Scotland Yard’s Special Branch are sent by Churchill’s political opponents in the British government to rough her up and warn her she will be prosecuted under the Official Secrets Act unless she backs off the story.

Left no choice, Mattie sets out for Germany to investigate the story from the German side and interview the German nobleman who negotiated the optics for rubber deal. There, Mattie lands right in the middle of what Hearst originally wanted her to investigate—Adolf Hitler believes one revolution is enough—and she learns that Hitler has ordered the SS to assassinate all the senior leadership of Ernst Rohm’s SA Brown Shirts as well as other political enemies on Saturday 30 June, an event soon known to History as ‘The Night of the Long Knives’.

Mattie must flee Germany to save her life. Not only does the German-American working for Henry Ford want her story on the optics for rubber treason killed, he wants her dead along with it. Worse, Mattie’s nemesis, the ‘Blond Beast’ of the SS, Reinhard Heydrich, is in charge of Hitler’s purge and he’s secretly put her name on his list…

Guest Post

Random Thoughts on Using Real Persons as Characters in Historical Fiction

I’ve been asked more than once why we use so many real persons as characters in our Mattie McGary + Winston Churchill historical thrillers so here are six thoughts on that subject for the six actual historical persons who have appeared in three or more of our novels—Winston Churchill, William Randolph Hearst, William J. ‘Wild Bill’ Donovan,

Adolf Hitler, Hermann Goring, and Reinhard Heydrich.

  • It’s easier using real people rather than creating fictional characters. Every fictional character a novelist creates, major or minor, has a backstory that the writer must know even if it never appears in the novel itself. Creating a backstory takes time. Using a real person eliminates that task as the character comes with a readymade backstory complete with friends and enemies, likes and dislikes.
  • By the same token, however, you’ve got to know the real person’s backstory and this means reading a lot about that person, preferably a biography if there is one.
  • Real people add verisimilitude to a historical novel, but getting those persons wrong or a detail about their lives wrong can quickly destroy that willing suspension of disbelief every reader brings to a novel. That means, for example, that you can’t have a tee-totaling, non-smoking vegetarian like Hitler eating meat, drinking alcohol or smoking a cigar. Likewise, you can’t have Churchill drinking Scotch without water. His whisky was always diluted with large quantities of water or soda.
  • Real people make for more plausible villains. Why create a fictional Nazi bad guy when you have so many real people to choose from? Hitler, Himmler, Goebbels, and Heydrich are all there for the taking. This allows you to have something other than a black and white portrayal. Hermann Goring, for example, kept lion cubs as pets, feeding them with a baby bottle. Hitler was unfailingly polite to his secretaries and, unlike Churchill, never swore at them. The only problem using a real historical person as a villain, however, if you can’t kill him at the end of the book if it’s not his time.
  • For the same reason, real historical people make more plausible supporting characters. If Mattie McGary is going to work for a newspaper, it’s better to have her boss be a fascinating guy like William Randolph Hearst rather than a two-dimensional Perry White of The Daily Planet.
  • Casting as a character a historical person whom you don’t especially like lets you display their less attractive traits. President Herbert Hoover, for example, was an anti-Catholic bigot and we gave him ample opportunity to display that in The DeValera Deception. His successor Franklin D. Roosevelt was both an anti-Semite and an anti-Catholic bigot who once actually said to a Catholic appointee “This is a Protestant country, and the Catholics and Jews are here on sufferance. It is up to you to go along with anything I want at this time.” We had FDR use that line in The Silver Mosaic.

Excerpt

Mattie McGary

21 Club

21 West 52nd Street

New York City

Wednesday, 13 June 1934

MATTIE McGARY tipped the taxi driver and stepped from the Yellow Cab and walked under the portico of the 21 Club, the former 1930’s speakeasy that had become, after the end of prohibition, one of the most popular watering holes in New York. It was known to its regulars, of which Mattie was one, as Jack and Charlie’s or simply 21. She was a few minutes early, but she didn’t want to keep her boss, William Randolph Hearst, waiting. The new Hearst headquarters building was just up the street at West 57th and Eighth Avenue and he also might be early.

Mattie was a tall, attractive and some—including her husband—would say stunning redhead whose figure turned heads in any room she entered. Now, she entered the Bar Room at 21 and stood there, scanning the room until she saw Hearst at his favorite table, #4, in the far left-hand corner of the room. Her hair was cut in a short tousled style that she had somewhat patterned after the American aviatrix Amelia Earhart. She wore a royal blue matching silk jacket and form-fitting skirt flattering a figure that, judging from the number of male heads that turned as she waved at Hearst and walked the length of the dark mahogany-lined room, drew men’s attention wherever she went. As she was the only woman in the Bar Room, she had no doubt most men were checking out her ass. She had wedding and engagement rings on her left hand, but she knew what her assets were.

There were various model aircraft hanging from the Bar Room’s low, dark ceiling. These included a British Imperial Airways Flying Boat, a Pan American Clipper, Lindbergh’s Spirit of St. Louis, a Ford Tri-Motor, a giant Handley-Page HP-42 bi-plane airliner, and, of personal interest to her, a Pitcairn-Cierva PCA-2 autogiro and the new German Zeppelin, the Graf Bismarck, formerly the British Vickers-built airship the R-100.

The autogiro was a model of the Celtic Princess, her husband Bourke Cockran’s aircraft. A few years ago she and her then-fiancé had flown it cross-country in an unsuccessful attempt to break America Earhart’s record set earlier that year. The zeppelin was the model of an airship commanded by her good friend Kurt von Sturm with whom, to her regret, she had a brief affair several years ago when she and Cockran had been briefly estranged and she thought, erroneously, that he had dropped her and taken up with a new blonde client.

Hearst stood up to greet Mattie when she arrived at his table. They exchanged brief kisses on the cheek and then a waiter arrived to pull out the table so she could sit beside him on the banquette. 21 had a specific protocol that if two people were dining together at a banquette table, then they had to sit next to each other facing out to the room.

Hearst was a tall, shambling man, well over 6 feet with a comma of gray hair boyishly falling over his forehead. He had clear, blue eyes and didn’t look his 71 years of age. For such a large man, however, he had a surprisingly high voice.

“Thanks for joining me for lunch, Mattie, I appreciate it.”

Mattie had been surprised Hearst asked her to lunch at 21 when she called him yesterday to schedule an appointment to discuss her next assignment. Usually, on those occasions, they met at his castle-like estate on Long Island Sound when he was on the East coast. “Any time you want to treat me to lunch at Jack and Charlie’s, Chief, all you have to do is ask and I’ll be there with bells on. What’s the occasion?”

Hearst smiled. “I always take my Pulitzer-Prize-winning journalists to celebrate at 21.”

“Well, Chief, this is the second year in a row I’ve had some stories nominated for a Pulitzer, but that’s not the same as being a winner.”

In fact, Mattie had four stories from 1933 nominated for a Pulitzer, all of which she believed deserved to be winners. One involved the Transfer Agreement between the Jewish Palestine Authority and the German government in which the Nazis agreed to allow Jews emigrating to Palestine to avoid the currency rules which forbade any German emigrant from taking assets with him. In exchange for allowing emigrating Jews to take with them to Palestine the equivalent of $5,000 US, the Jewish Palestine Authority agreed to buy exports of agricultural equipment from Germany in an equivalent amount. Further, the Jewish Authority agreed to actively oppose the Jewish-led worldwide boycott of German exports that was threatening to cripple the German economy and bring down the new Nazi government.

A companion story concerned the Concordat negotiated between the Vatican and the Nazis whereby the German government agreed to allow the Catholic Church to operate freely in Germany with no interference. In exchange, the Church agreed to forbid its clergy—priests, monks and nuns—from engaging in ‘political activity’ of any kind with the Nazis being the sole arbiter of what constituted ‘political activity’.

The third story consisted of exclusive interviews with the new German Chancellor, Adolf Hitler, and the new U.S. President, Franklin Roosevelt, right before assassination attempts on both where Mattie had been sitting beside them during the attempts. A fourth story concerned the rise of the fascist movement in America, focusing on the Silver Legion of America and Friends of New Germany.

Hearst raised his hand and a waiter came over with a silver bucket of ice on a pedestal, inside of which was a bottle of champagne. He placed two champagne flutes on the table and held the bottle up for Hearst’s inspection. He nodded his approval and the waiter undid the foil, popped the cork and filled Mattie’s flute halfway to the top. She smiled when she noticed the champagne was Pol Roger, the favorite of her godfather Winston Churchill.

Once Hearst’s flute was filled, he stood up, tapped his spoon against the flute until the buzz of noise from the many luncheon conversations in that section of the room had died down. Then he raised his flute and said in a loud voice that carried to the front of the Bar Room. “I propose a toast to the Hearst organization’s newest Pulitzer Prize winner.”

Mattie blushed as applause and not a few wolf whistles greeted Hearst’s toast.

“Really, Chief, I won?” Mattie asked as she reached over and hugged Hearst after he sat down. “Which story was it?” she asked, her voice full of excitement.

“Actually, it was all four stories and two prizes. You received the prize for ‘Correspondence’ for your stories from Germany on the Transfer Agreement and the Concordat. I think it was your interview with Hermann Göring that did the trick. No other story had that. You got the ‘Reporting’ prize for your stories on the Hitler and FDR assassination attempts after your exclusive interviews with them as well as your story on American fascists. The panelists were impressed by your courage under fire with Hitler and FDR as well as your running the gauntlet of the Silver Shirts and the Friends of New Germany in front of Severance Hall in Cleveland.”

Hearst reached down into a briefcase beside him and pulled up a galley proof of The New York American dated for tomorrow and handed it to her. There, on the front page and above the fold was a bold headline: ‘Two Pulitzers For Hearst Papers’ Mattie McGary’. Right below it was a two-year-old photo of Mattie standing in front of Cockran’s autogiro that she had just flown across the country, almost breaking Amelia Earhart’s record. Shot from below, it was her favorite. She was wearing a leather flying outfit from head to toe—a shearling–lined sheepskin flying jacket, trousers and boots—a camera in one hand, her leather flight helmet and goggles in the other, her tousled red hair blowing in the wind and a big grin on her face.

“That’s only the galley for The American,” Hearst said, “but the same story in the same place will run in all my papers tomorrow.”

Thanks, Chief,” Mattie said as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s a shame,” Hearst said, “that the Transfer Agreement and the Concordat undercut the anti-Nazi boycott of German exports that otherwise might have crippled the German economy and brought down the new Nazi government.”

“True, it didn’t do that,” Mattie allowed, “but don’t overlook the silver lining of the boycott. It accomplished two big things. It’s all there in my interview with Göring. First, Hitler issued a directive to the SA and its brown-shirted Storm Troopers to cease any actions like boycotts against the mostly Jewish-owned department stores and their suppliers. He even authorized a loan to a Jewish Department store that was close to bankruptcy. Sure, Hitler only did it to keep thousands of Aryans off the unemployment rolls if any department stores had to close their doors because of brown-shirt bullying, but he still did it and those stores remained open and prospering.”

Mattie paused and took a sip of champagne. “The second thing Hitler and Göring did in response to the boycott last year was even bigger. They forbade all violence against the Jews that the SA had been committing without authorization of the government. The penalty for doing so was, at a minimum, confinement to a concentration camp or, at the other end, death.”

“Really, death?” Hearst asked. “I don’t recall you mentioning that in your article.”

“I didn’t go into any detail,” Mattie replied, “and only mentioned it in passing. You remember Bobby Sullivan?”

“Sure, I first met him at San Simeon in 1929 right before the reception of the Graf Zeppelin when it arrived in Los Angeles on the round-the-world voyage I sponsored. He was in your wedding party last year in Scotland. Wasn’t he ex-IRA or something?”

“More like the Irish Republican Brotherhood led by Michael Collins. He was a member of ‘The Apostles’, Collins’ hit squad in the Anglo-Irish War in 1920 to 1921. Anyway, Bobby’s sister was married to a Jewish physician in Berlin who the SA castrated and killed last year. Göring practically gave Bobby a license to kill in taking revenge on all those responsible. He showed me photographs of Bobby’s six victims, all of them naked below the waist and missing their manly parts. Each man had a sign pinned to his chest that said ‘This is what happens to all who disobey the Fuhrer and kill Jews without his consent.’ We obviously couldn’t use them in your papers, but Göring actually had them published on the front page of Der Angriff.”

“Congratulations, Miss McGary,” the waiter said as he returned to their table to take their lunch orders. Mattie thanked him and then ordered a dozen oysters and chicken hash while Hearst went for the Dover Sole and, to her surprise, another bottle of Pol Roger. Her boss rarely drank alcohol and, in fact, prohibited alcohol in the guest rooms at San Simeon, his elaborate Spanish mission-style estate in Central California.

“I must say Göring was right,” Mattie continued after the waiter had left, “when he said the SA loved their, uh, genitals more than they hated Jews because violence against Jews over the course of the next year practically disappeared, especially in large cities where most German Jews live. I think the boycott deserves the credit for forcing Hitler’s hand to issue those decrees.”

“Okay, Mattie, what’s next? What are you going to give me to enter in next year’s Pulitzers? I’d really like to see you follow up on that SA leader Ernst Rohm and the story our Berlin correspondent filed in March about a speech he gave in early February. He said that the SA was the true army of National Socialism and that the Reichswehr should be limited to being a training organization for the SA. I’d like to know what your friend Göring thinks about that, not to mention the German General Staff.”

Mattie frowned. It had been well over a year since last she had been in Germany. As a consequence, her reputation in Germany as ‘Hitler’s favorite foreign journalist’ was beginning to fade. The last thing she wanted to do was revive that by doing a story on the SA and the German Army, notwithstanding that she had many high-level contacts in Nazi Germany including Göring and the Nazi foreign press chief Ernst ‘Putzi’ Hanfstaengl as well as Hitler himself.

Göring is not my friend, Chief. He is a source and that only because my friend Kurt von Sturm is his principle adviser on airships. Speaking of airships, Bourke and I are flying to Europe this Saturday on the Graf Bismarck. We’re going to spend the summer at our new house in Ireland. Bourke is going to finish his book on political assassinations and I’m going to use it as a base of operations for what I hope you’ll approve as my next story. Patrick and his grandmother Mary Morrissey sail tomorrow for Ireland. He’s going to spend a month in Galway with her getting to know his first and second cousins before he comes up to join us in Donegal.”

“That sounds like a wonderful summer. What did you have in mind for your next story, my dear?”

“Fascist movements in Europe other than Germany and Italy. A companion piece, if you will, to my story on fascism in America. Democracy is in trouble, Chief. I’ve done the preliminary research and there are fascist movements all over Europe. If the world’s economy stays bad, many of them could come to power just like Hitler and Mussolini.”
Her oysters arrived and Mattie ate one, took a sip of champagne and continued.

She held up her hand, and ticked them off on her fingers. “There are strong fascist parties in Austria, Belgium, Finland, Hungary, Ireland, the Netherlands, Portugal, Romania and Poland.”

“Well,” Hearst began, “I suppose it would be a good follow-up to the American fascist story, but I really was hoping to have an in-depth piece on the growing tension between Rohm’s SA and the German General Staff who I imagine don’t take kindly to becoming just a training cadre for Nazi Storm Troopers. Our new Berlin correspondent, Prescott Talbot, is good, but he’s not as good as his predecessor Isaac Rosenbaum or, for that matter, you.”

Mattie began to reply, but she was interrupted by their entrées being served. After the waiter had left and she had sampled her chicken hash, she looked over at Hearst. “Yes, it’s a shame you had to reassign Zack, but you had no choice after those SA thugs fractured his skull and cut off his ear for a souvenir. London is a far safer place for a Jewish journalist. Look, I really don’t want to get involved in any story about Ernst Rohm.”

“Why is that?” Hearst asked.

“Because when I was working on the Transfer Agreement, Kurt von Sturm and I were kidnapped at the Reichsbank one night by SA Storm Troopers and brought to Rohm’s hotel suite where, in plain view, he was buggering one of his adjutants, a young, very naked blond Storm Trooper.”

Hearst’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my God!” Hearst exclaimed. “I had no idea.”

“Wait. It gets worse. It’s common knowledge that Rohm is homosexual, so I wasn’t surprised, but doing it right in front of us was a tad off-putting. What’s worse is that he threatened to do the same to me if Kurt and I didn’t tell him why we had been at the Reichsbank that evening.”

“That’s…I’m at a loss…What a horrible person.” Hearst said.

“Yep,” Mattie said and slurped another oyster. “Fortunately, Sturm bluffed our way out of Rohm’s clutches. He said that I was an undercover Gestapo agent who used my position as a journalist with the Hearst papers as a cover for my work for the Reich and that we had been on a top-secret mission inside the Reichsbank at the behest of Reichsminister Göring with the blessing of the Fuhrer.”

“Well, given that, I understand your reluctance to go anywhere near that man again, but can’t you do the story without interviewing him?” Hearst said.

“Here’s what I can do. “Mattie concluded, “Göring and Rohm are bitter enemies. I’ve known Göring since 1923 when he commandeered my motorcar as a machine gun platform in the Munich putsch. If I have Sturm convey my request to Göring to have him give an exclusive interview to Prescott Talbot on the subject of Ernst Rohm, I’m sure he’ll agree. I’ll have Kurt brief Talbot off the record on what he knows. Göring has wiretaps on all the top SA people, not just Rohm. Transcripts of the calls are made daily. They’re called the ‘Brown Pages’ because of the color of the paper on which they’re typed. Sturm is on the approved list so he may well know a lot about what Rohm and other SA thugs are up to.”

Hearst sighed. “Well, it’s not the same as you doing the interview, but it’s better than what Talbot could do on his own. I’m not enthusiastic about your European fascist story, but let me think about it some more and I’ll get back to you. Why do I have the idea you always get the better of me when we disagree on your next story?”

Mattie grinned. “A faulty memory on your part, Chief. Sooner or later, you always get your way.”

 

About the Authors

Michael McMenamin is the co-author with his son Patrick of the award winning 1930s era historical novels featuring Winston Churchill and his fictional Scottish goddaughter, the adventure-seeking Hearst photojournalist Mattie McGary. The first five novels in the series—The DeValera Deception, The Parsifal Pursuit, The Gemini Agenda, The Berghof Betrayal, and The Silver Mosaic—received a total of 15 literary awards. He is currently at work with his daughter Kathleen McMenamin on the sixth Winston and Mattie historical adventure, The Liebold Protocol.

Michael is the author of the critically acclaimed Becoming Winston Churchill, The Untold Story of Young Winston and His American Mentor [Hardcover, Greenwood 2007; Paperback, Enigma 2009] and the co-author of Milking the Public, Political Scandals of the Dairy Lobby from LBJ to Jimmy Carter [Nelson Hall, 1980]. He is an editorial board member of Finest Hour, the quarterly journal of the International Churchill Society and a contributing editor for the libertarian magazine Reason. His work also has appeared in The Churchills in Ireland, 1660-1965, Corrections and Controversies [Irish Academic Press, 2012] as well as two Reason anthologies, Free Minds & Free Markets, Twenty Five Years of Reason [Pacific Research Institute, 1993] and Choice, the Best of Reason [BenBella Books, 2004]. A full-time writer, he was formerly a first amendment and media defense lawyer and a U.S. Army Counterintelligence Agent. 

Kathleen, the other half of the father-daughter writing team, has been editing her father’s writing for longer than she cares to remember. She is the co-author with her sister Kelly of the critically acclaimed Organize Your Way: Simple Strategies for Every Personality [Sterling, 2017]. The two sisters are professional organizers, personality-type experts and the founders of PixiesDidIt, a home and life organization business. Kathleen is an honors graduate of Sarah Lawrence College and has an MFA in Creative Writing from New York University. The novella Appointment in Prague is her second joint writing project with her father. Their first was “Bringing Home the First Amendment”, a review in the August 1984 Reason magazine of Nat Hentoff’s The Day They Came to Arrest the Book.  While a teenager, she and her father would often take runs together, creating plots for adventure stories as they ran.

Website | Facebook

 

 | 
Comments Off on Guest Post & Excerpt – The Liebold Protocol by Michael & Kathleen McMeanamin #PUYB #HistoricalThriller
Posted in Book Release, excerpt, mystery, Spotlight, Trailer on February 10, 2019

Synopsis

What exactly happened to Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose?

  • In 1945, Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, Leader of the INA leaves Singapore to take a series of flights, and dies in Taiwan after his plane crashes near Formosa. Or so it seems.
  • In 1947, Mr Mrs Singh, an illustrious army couple, both veterans of the Indian National Army, are last seen in Delhi, and then never again.
  • In 1949, the plane carrying the first deputy Prime Minister of India, Sardar Vallabhai Patel, mysteriously disappears for seven hours.
  • In 2012, following the fall of WikiLeaks, a female hacker of the notorious X group is on the run as most wanted by everyone from Interpol to the KGB
  • In 2015, the millionaire CEO of a Fortune 500 company suddenly resigns and vanishes from the public eye.

A set of seemingly unconnected disappearances emerge to be woven into a single fabric as the answer to one leads to another… In this riveting narrative, bestselling author Shreyas Bhave, takes the reader on a thrilling adventure to solve the greatest mystery the Indian nation has known.

Excerpt

Colonel Hardy looked at his wristwatch. It was almost time for the Court Marshall to begin. But then there were so many trials squeezed into one day that it was natural for his colleagues to be late for this one. He decided to start without them. “So, born in Lahore, eh?” he asked, eyes still on the files.

“Born and brought up there, Sir,” Major Singh replied. “I graduated from Government College, Lahore, and then sat for the Military Entrance Exam, passing which, I went to the Indian Military Academy at Dehra Doon.” Major Singh’s English was impeccable.

“Which year batch was it? “Hardy asked, impressed by the Punjabi’s resume. He himself was an alumnus of the same institute, though a few years junior to this man.

“1936.”

“Good.” Colonel Hardy gnawed his lower lip. So the Punjabi Major was his senior by almost half a decade.

“I was commissioned as Second Lieutenant on the Special List in early 1939,” Singh said, standing straight in the dock. “2nd Battalion. The Highlanders!”

“Secunderabad, right?”

“Indeed. A boring year until we were sent to the Far East to hold a garrison in a quaint little British port.”

Colonel Hardy read further. “Singapore, huh.”

“The war was soon to come.”

Hardy smiled as he went through the war records in the files. “I see one promotion after another. In less than six months, you were Acting Captain.”

“I served with distinction. Your army promotes on talent alone; I’ll give you that.” Singh bowed.

Colonel Hardy closed the files and looked up. “Japanese prisoner-of-war in Malaya, 1941 – what happened?”

“I was captured in Malaya.” Singh twisted his thick mustache. “I had taken my regiment on a midnight raid on the Japanese docking station on the island of Java.”

Trailer

About the Author

Shreyas is a 21 year old guy currently pursuing his B.Tech in Electrical Eng. from VNIT Nagpur. His love for history since his childhood prompted him to write his take on the story of Asoka who was one of the towering figures in the history of India, which has been taken up as ‘The Asoka Trilogy’ by Leadstart Publishing.

The first part of the trilogy called ‘The Prince of Patliputra’ has been published in January 2016 and garnered positive responses.

He is also presently working on several other manuscripts and completing the final year of his engineering Course.

Website * Facebook * Twitter

 | 
Comments Off on Excerpt – Prisoner of Yakutsk by Shreyas Bhave @shre14uses@BookReviewTours #mystery #trailer
Posted in excerpt, Giveaway, romance, Texas, Western on February 7, 2019

The Outlaw’s Mail Order Bride

Mail Order Bride, #1

by

Linda Broday

Genre: Historical Western Romance

Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca

Publication Date: January 29, 2019

Number of Pages: 384 pages

SCROLL DOWN FOR THE GIVEAWAY! 

When the West was wild, and man’s law favored the few, extraordinary women could be found…in the heart of an outlaw.

Outlaw Clay Colby is tired of living one step in front of the law and wants to see his dream of having a wife, a family, to give his life meaning. So far, he’s been rejected twice, and he won’t try again if this one doesn’t work out. But hope fills him that Tally Shannon will see his heart and help him finish this town where once stood an outlaw hideout. On the day when she’s supposed to arrive, a bitter enemy sets fire to the buildings he’d fought to erect and he’s back with nothing to show for his efforts. There’s no woman in the world who’d stand by him now.

But Talley Shannon is no ordinary woman.

After escaping the living hell of the Creedmore Insane Asylum into which she was thrust to die, Tally only wants someone to protect her and the little girl under her care. She doesn’t mind that Clay’s home is dang near burned to the ground—not when he makes her feel so safe. So cherished. But it’s only a matter of time before the ghosts of her past come calling, intent on stealing her happiness, her very life…and her loving cowboy must defend his new bride—and the family they forged—to his very last breath.

iBooks │ Amazon │Barnes and Noble

Praise for The Outlaw’s Mail Order Bride

“Broday’s earthy, no-nonsense characters fit the rugged setting perfectly, and it’s a pleasure to watch these two lonely, cynical souls forge a powerful, passionate partnership.” – Book Page

“Clay and Tally’s story will captivate the historical western lover in us all. Linda Broday has earned her way into the coveted title of “Queen of Texas Historical Romance.” — Tonya, Goodreads reviewer

“If love is your interest, do not miss this book. I could not put it down it was so compelling.” Cricket, Goodreads reviewer

“Trying to put this book down at times was like trying to get off of a high-speed roller coaster — the kind with twists, turns, and even loops; it’s just impossible.” Glenda, Goodreads reviewer

Clay stared at the stars dotting the dark expanse above. “I love you, Tally. I really deep down love you. This is nothing like when I told you I was going to choose to love you. This is different and it makes me…” He paused and faced her. “We are truly one person, one heart. Does that make sense?”

Tally tenderly cupped his jaw. “I think I first came to realize that I loved you when Josie almost died. But now, I have to tell you and not leave anything important unsaid, just in case…”

“Nothing is going to happen. Get that thought out of your head.” Clay regretted his rough voice, but it hurt too much to even consider the possibility of life without her.

“It might. You know Slade will come back with more men sooner or later. That’s just a given. When he does, I won’t have left anything unsaid. My love is solid and I’ll never feel this way about another as long as I live.”

Her vow created a tranquil glow around him. He finally had what he’d searched his whole life for. He blinked away the sudden mist in his eyes.

“Get some sleep.” He tucked her head onto his shoulder, her heart beating in rhythm with his.

Hours before dawn came, Clay woke to find her gone. The candles around the bed had gone out. He sat up quickly, a knot forming in his stomach. He jerked to his feet, his gaze sweeping the unfinished house. “Tally, where are you?”

Movement in the shadows revealed her location and concern replaced his worry. He dropped down beside her. “What’s wrong?”

Tally swung to face him, her eyes like pieces of glass. “A secret that I was going to take to my grave.”

I’m a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty historical western romance novels and short stories. I reside in the Texas Panhandle on land the American Indian and Comancheros once roamed, and at times if the breeze is just right, I can hear their voices whispering in the wind. Texas’ rich history is one reason I set all my stories here where cowboys are still caretakers of the land. I’m inspired every day by their immense dedication and love for the wide open spaces.

When I’m not writing, I collect old coins and I’ve also been accused (quite unfairly I might add) of making a nuisance of myself at museums, libraries, and historical places. I’m also a movie buff and love sitting in a dark theater, watching the magic unfold on the screen. As long as I’m confessing…chocolate is my best friend. It just soothes my soul.

 

Website  ║  Facebook  ║  Pinterest

Twitter  ║   Goodreads  ║   LinkedIn  ║   BookBub

————————————-

GIVEAWAY!  GIVEAWAY!  GIVEAWAY!

FIRST PRIZE: Signed Copy of The Outlaw’s Mail Order Bride +  $25 Amazon gift card

TWO WINNERS: Signed Copies of the book.

FEBRUARY 5-15, 2019

(USA only)

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Check out the other blogs on this tour

2/5/19 Excerpt All the Ups and Downs
2/5/19 Bonus Post Hall Ways Blog
2/6/19 Review Chapter Break Book Blog
2/7/19 Excerpt StoreyBook Reviews
2/8/19 Review That’s What She’s Reading
2/9/19 Author Interview Forgotten Winds
2/10/19 Top Ten Reading by Moonlight
2/11/19 Review Carpe Diem Chronicles
2/12/19 Guest Post Book Fidelity
2/13/19 Review The Book Review
2/14/19 Review Momma on the Rocks

blog tour services provided by

Posted in excerpt, Giveaway, romance on February 5, 2019

Synopsis

A young widow embraces a second chance at life when she reconnects with those who understand the sacrifices made by American soldiers and their families in award-winning author Laura Trentham’s The Military Wife.

Harper Lee Wilcox has been marking time in her hometown of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina since her husbandNoah Wilcox’s death, nearly five years earlier. With her son Ben turning five and living at home with her mother, Harper fights a growing restlessness, worried that moving on means leaving the memory of her husband behind.

Her best friend, Allison Teague, is dealing with struggles of her own. Her husband, a former SEAL that served with Noah, was injured while deployed and has come home physically healed but fighting PTSD. With three children underfoot and unable to help her husband, Allison is at her wit’s end.

In an effort to reenergize her own life, Harper sees an opportunity to help not only Allison but a network of other military wives eager to support her idea of starting a string of coffee houses close to military bases around the country.

In her pursuit of her dream, Harper crosses paths with Bennett Caldwell, Noah’s best friend, and SEAL brother. A man who has a promise to keep, entangling their lives in ways neither of them can foresee. As her business grows so does an unexpected relationship with Bennett. Can Harper let go of her grief and build a future with Bennett even as the man they both loved haunts their pasts?

Buy the Book

Excerpt

Present Day

Winters in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, were temperamental. The sunshine and a temperate southerly breeze that started a day could turn into biting, salt-tinged snow flurries by afternoon. But one thing Harper Lee Wilcox could count on was that winter along the Outer Banks was quiet.

The bustle and hum and weekly rotation of tourists that marked the summer months settled into a winter melancholy that Harper enjoyed. Well, perhaps not enjoyed in the traditional sense . . . more like she enjoyed surrendering to the melancholy. In fact, her mother may have accused her of wallowing in it once or twice or a hundred times.

In the winter, she didn’t have to smile and pretend her life was great. Not that it was bad. Lots of people had it worse. Much worse. In fact, parts of her life were fabulous. Almost five, her son was happy and healthy and smart. Her mother’s strength and support were unwavering and had bolstered her through the worst time of her life. Her friends were amazing.

That was the real issue. In the craziness of the summer season, she forgot to be sad. Her husband, Noah, had been gone five years; the same amount of time they’d been married. Soon the years separating them would outnumber the years they’d been together. The thought was sobering and only intensified the need to keep a sacred place in her heart waiting and empty. Her secret memorial.

She parked the sensible sedan Noah had bought her soon after they married under her childhood home. Even though they were inland, the stilts were a common architectural feature up and down the Outer Banks.

Juggling her laptop and purse, Harper pushed open the front door and stacked her things to the side. “I’m home!”

A little body careened down the steps and crashed into her legs. She returned the ferocious hug. Her pregnancy was the only thing that had kept her going those first weeks after she’d opened her front door to the Navy chaplain.

“How was preschool? Did you like the pasta salad I packed for your lunch?”

“It made me toot and everyone laughed, even the girls. Can you pack it for me again tomorrow?”

“Ben! You shouldn’t want to toot.” Laughter ruined the admonishing tone she was going for.

As Harper’s mom said time and again, the kid was a hoot and a half. He might have Harper’s brown wavy hair, but he had Noah’s spirit and mannerisms and humor. Ben approached everything with an optimism Harper had lost or perhaps had never been gifted with from the start. He was a blessing Harper sometimes wondered if she deserved.

“Where’s Yaya?” She ruffled his unruly hair.

Of course, her mom had picked an unconventional name. “Grandmother” was too old-fashioned and pedestrian. Since she’d retired from the library, she had cast off any semblance of normalcy and embraced an inner spirit that was a throwback to 1960s bra burners and Woodstock.

“Upstairs painting.” Ben slipped his hand into Harper’s and tugged her toward the kitchen. Bright red and orange and blue paint smeared the back of his hand and arm like a rainbow. At least, her mom had put him in old clothes. “Yaya gave me my own canvas and let me paint whatever I wanted.”

“And what did you paint?” Harper prayed it wasn’t a nude study, which was the homework assignment from her mom’s community college class.

“I drew Daddy in heaven. I used all the colors.” The matter-of-factness of his tone clawed at her heart.

No child should have to grow up only knowing their father through pictures and stories. Her own father had been absent because of divorce and disinterest. He’d sent his court-ordered child support payments regularly until she turned eighteen but rarely visited or shown any curiosity about her. It had hurt until teenaged resentment scarred over the wound.

Noah would have made a great dad. The best. That he never got the chance piled more regrets and what-ifs onto her winter inspired melancholy.

“I’m sure he would have loved your painting.” Luckily, Ben didn’t notice her choked-up reply.

He went to the cabinet, pulled out white bread and crunchy peanut butter, and proceeded to make two sandwiches. It was their afternoon routine. Someday he would outgrow it. Outgrow her and become a man like his daddy.

She poured him a glass of milk, and they ate their sandwiches, talking about how the rest of his day went—outside of his epic toots. His world was small and safe and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Her mom breezed into the kitchen, her still-thick but graying brown hair twisted into a messy bun, a thin paintbrush holding it in place. Slim and attractive, she wore paint-splattered jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt that read: I make AARP look good. Harper pinched her lips together to stifle a grin.

About the Author

LAURA TRENTHAM is an award-winning author of contemporary and historical romance. She is a member of RWA, and has been a finalist multiple times in the Golden Heart competition. A chemical engineer by training and a lover of books by nature, she lives in South Carolina.

Website * Facebook * Facebook Reader Group * Twitter * Pinterest

Follow me on Bookbub for new release or sale announcements

 

 

Giveaway

Enter to win a print copy of The Military Wife!

Open to US residents only

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted in excerpt, Giveaway, romance, Spotlight on February 1, 2019
Print Cover eBook Cover

 

Synopsis

Vets on the Go!

They didn’t plan to become heroes…

When former Marine Reid Griffith started his moving company, hiring only veterans, he just wanted to help his brother Cash adjust to civilian life. But when Cash is caught taking down a thief mid-robbery, the video goes viral. Suddenly Vets on the Go! are local heroes…and Reid’s phone explodes. He needs help handling the deluge of interest—fast.

When PR expert Naomi Starr sees the news spot of a muscular vet expertly apprehending a bad guy with duct tape, she knows Vets on the Go! is just the thing to revive her career. There’s just one problem. Naomi has vowed to never mix business with pleasure. Ever. Again. And tall, dark and brawny Reid Griffith is a whole package of temptation.

Amazon * B&N * iBooks * BAM * Indie Bound

Excerpt

“Just get in.” When she didn’t, he glowered. “I can wait all night.”

She stared back at him, a little alarmed when he closed the distance between them.

Then he shocked her by pressing her up against the car, full-body contact. The heat of him singed her. Suddenly, instead of feeling annoyed or scared, she wanted him in the worst way. Whoa, momma.

Reid ran a finger down her cheek. “I’m not letting you drive home.”

His implacable resolve surprised her. “Seriously, Reid. I’m a big girl. I know how to get home without getting mugged.”

He didn’t move, and she didn’t want to think about him pressed so firmly against her.

She didn’t see herself winning this battle, and though it was ridiculous to think she needed rescuing from herself, she had to admit it felt nice to have someone looking out for her. “If you really need to drive me home, go for it. But you’re going to feel stupid tomorrow when all that testosterone in your system wears off.” She added in a lower voice, “Won’t let me go. Please.”

“I’d rather feel stupid than regret not helping you out.” He moved back to unlock the car and opened the door for her, then waited for her to settle in. After joining her, he followed her directions home.

Naomi could have been angry about it, but his need to protect softened something inside her. Something she’d need to firm up before dealing with the man again. Reid sat far too close. She could smell alcohol and the faint scent of cologne on him, and it went straight to her head. Hell, maybe she was a little loopy. She really needed to get something to eat.

They arrived at her home in Greenwood, a cute little bungalow she’d refused to sell, even after losing her job with PP&R. She’d worked so hard for her home and had finally gotten the house exactly as she’d wanted it

“You okay?” Reid asked as he parked.

“Yes, fine. You’ve done your duty. Go home.”

“Keys.”

Her purse was in his hands before she could grab it back.

“Damn it!”

He had her keys out and had already left the vehicle when she’d thrown open her door, only to have him help her out and up the sidewalk. A domineering yet polite gentleman.

He nodded at the house. “Nice place.”

“Thanks,” she said, grudgingly, loving the homey two-bedroom Craftsman. Dark purple with white trim and a tidy little porch, the house had plenty of room for her and Rex, should he deign to come home. Probably out catting around like half the men in this town, she thought…cattily.

She snorted. “I suppose you want to come in.”

“Just to make sure you’re okay.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but he ignored her. She heard his car beep, locked up tight, and she glared at him. If he had any intention of staying, she’d disabuse him of that notion right away. She watched him unlock the front door then step back to hold it open for her.

Since Rex didn’t greet her right away, she figured he was probably touring the neighborhood. With a little huff, she took the keys from Reid and walked inside. He closed the door behind them while she flicked on a light.

“It’s you,” he said. “Same blue in here as your office walls.”

Huh. He’d noticed. What did that mean? That he had good recall or actually possessed an interest in her? And why did she care?

She nearly tripped again and swore, then kicked off her stupid heels.

“You want some water? I know I’m parched. It’s been a long day.” Reid stepped past her into her open living room that led by a dining area into her kitchen. She refused to follow him inside and instead massaged her aching toes.

He returned with a glass for her.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

He didn’t say anything and handed her the glass. She took a sip and handed it back. “There. Now go home, please. Because of you, I’ll have to get someone to take me to my car in the morning.” Though if she was feeling industrious, she could walk the short distance to get it herself.

“I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

His bossy attitude that had somewhat charmed her before now annoyed her. “No, thanks.” She watched him drink her water and grew even more steamed. “I’m not some silly little woman needing your help Reid. I’m not drunk or impaired in any way. I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

He gave a small smile.

“You find that amusing?”

He set the glass down on a coaster on her side table, and she hated that she couldn’t nag him about that either. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“And helpless, right?” She felt a little lightheaded, which had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with Reid. Around him, she felt more. Angry, annoyed, aroused. The three As of danger drawing nearer as he smiled at her distress. The bastard.

“Want me to help you, you poor, fragile thing?”

She could do without the smirk. “Yes, please,” she said, her voice sugary-sweet, then dragged him closer by the shirtfront, shocking him. “Isn’t this what you want? To take advantage of a helpless woman?”

“Hell, no.” Finally, a bit of his anger. He glared at her. “I’m trying to help you out, here, Naomi. Oh, forget it.”

“Oh, so now, because I’m a little aggressive, I’m not good enough for you.” She started to lose track of what she was saying, so close to Reid, to that firm chin with a hint of stubble, to that sexy smell of man and cologne, to the sheer breadth of him that seemed much bigger up close. Reid stood inches above her own height, their disparity even greater without her heels.

He tried to pry her hands free but stalled when he looked down into her eyes. “Y-you’re mad?” He sounded hoarse, his gaze moving slowly over her face and stilling on her mouth. “Hell,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I’m mad. You’re a menace, you know that?” Out of control and stirred to an angry passion by the man who refused to know she had her own mind, she yanked him down for an angrier kiss. The touch of his mouth under hers brought everything to a halt. An instant connection turned their burning chemistry into an all-out inferno.

About the Author

Caffeine addict, boy referee, and romance aficionado, MARIE HARTE is a confessed bibliophile and devotee of action movies. Whether hiking in Central Oregon, biking around town or hanging at the local tea shop, she’s constantly plotting to give everyone a happily ever after.

Website * Twitter * Facebook

 

Giveaway

Click on this image to visit the website with more details

THE WHOLE PACKAGE SWEEPSTAKES

If there’s one thing that we can all agree on, it’s that moving SUCKS. It seems like everyone’s got a moving gone wrong story—did your car break down halfway across the country? Or all of your dishes broke in transit? Or you get there and the place is infested with bugs? No matter what happened to you, we want to hear it!

We’re celebrating the release of the first book in Marie Harte’s new Movin On series, The Whole Package, with a sweepstake! Learn how to participate below, and you’ll be entered to win that awesome gift package on the right!*

STEP ONE: Tell us your true moving horror story on social media (Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram) using #movinonseries by February 3. Or you can email your story to casablanca@sourcebooks.com. We’re looking for stories between 50 and 200 words. If you use Twitter, feel free to utilize the thread function!

STEP TWO: On February 4, the Sourcebooks Casablanca marketing team will choose our top five favorite stories and put it to all of YOU to vote for the best story!

STEP THREE: Get your friends, family, movers, cats, and coworkers to vote for your story! We’ll announce the winner on February 15!

That’s it!

One (1) Grand Prize Winner will receive the following:

  • One (1) gift card to Home Goods (Gift Card Value: $30.00)
  • One (1) gift card to Home Depot (Gift Card Value $30.00)
  • One (1) gift card to At Home (Gift Card Value $30.00)
  • One (1) “Movin’ in” gift basket with items for your home, including:
    • One (1) set of storage organization boxes (Prize Approximate Retail Value: $14.99)
    • One (1) candle (Prize Approximate Retail Value: $10.00)
    • One (1) blanket (Prize Approximate Retail Value: $19.99)
    • One (1) hammer (Prize Approximate Retail Value: $9.89)
    • One (1) screwdriver set (Prize Approximate Retail Value: $6.29)
    • One (1) throw pillow (Prize Approximate Retail Value: $19.99)

(Grand Prize Approximate retail value: $171.15)

 

 

 

Posted in excerpt, Giveaway, Romantic Suspense on January 30, 2019

 

Beyond Risk 

By Connie Mann 

Publication date: 1/29/19 

Synopsis

 

The river runs wild 

Former Fish & Wildlife Officer Charlotte “Charlee” Tanner still carries the guilt of a tragic drowning accident that occurred on her watch. She hoped moving back home to the wilds of central Florida would provide a safe haven-until she learns the death was no accident, and she’s the intended target. 

But no wilder than their passion 

Tough and decisive, Lieutenant Hunter Boudreau loves his new job as a law enforcement officer with the Florida Fish & Wildlife Conservation Commission. Charlee is his best friend, so when she comes under fire, he’s not letting her out of his sight until the killer is caught. But Charlee won’t sit by and let anyone else die for her. 

As danger closes in and Charlee and Hunter’s attraction threatens to consume them, Charlee has to decide if she can trust Hunter. And to save Charlee, Hunter will have to trust her, too. 

“Heart-pounding excitement…left me sitting on the edge of my seat.”—#1 New York Times bestselling author DEBBIE MACOMBER for Angel Falls 

 

 

Amazon * B&N * iBooks * Indie Bound * Walmart

 

 

Excerpt

 

While Hunter checked outside, Charlee popped the second batch of cupcakes in the oven, his words echoing in her mind. Her heart ached for him over the loss of his brother. She would have wrapped him in her arms and told him how sorry she was if she thought he’d allow it.

She, better than most, understood the kind of guilt that gnawed at your heart, the sense of failure when things went wrong that never really went away. She also knew responsibility and the need to protect those you cared about. In that way, she and Hunter were exactly the same.

She shook out her fingers to get the blood flowing after clenching the wooden spoon so tightly. She knew every bit of the frustration churning inside him. But even though she knew things were different with Hunter, he still sounded just like her brothers. Or Rick. She wouldn’t tolerate a man telling her what to do “for her own protection.”

She snorted. Please. Capable woman here. Former cop. No pats on the head or macho swagger, thank you very much.

Hadn’t she followed her instincts and done what needed doing today? It had been exactly the right thing—no matter what he thought—and had shored up her battered confidence.

She allowed herself a little smile at that, then let out a breath. Enough. She had far more important things to think about than her muddled feelings for her maddening, altogether tempting best friend.

A bowl of chocolate fudge frosting sat on the table, and she was using her pastry tube to decorate the first batch of cupcakes when Hunter strode back in, his face void of all expression. She glanced up and went back to what she was doing. She didn’t have time to decipher what he was thinking. She didn’t care, either. At least that’s what she told herself.

He walked up behind her, and she could smell his woodsy scent and the heat that emanated from him. “Look, cher, I know you don’t like it, but I’m trying to protect you—”

He didn’t get any further than that. Without conscious thought, Charlee whirled around and shot half the tube of chocolate frosting right in his face, then calmly went back to her cupcakes. “Spare me the macho crap, Lieutenant. I don’t want to hear it.”

The silence went on for several beats, and Charlee had a moment to wonder if she’d gone too far. But then she heard him start to laugh. She looked up through her lashes and saw him tip his head back and laugh like she’d never heard him laugh, with his whole body.

She tried to keep from smiling, but finally gave up and joined in.

She was so distracted by the pull his laughter stirred in her belly that she yelped in surprise when a big glob of frosting landed on her nose. Followed immediately by another blob on her right check. And then her left. She tried to fight back with her pastry tube, but his assault was relentless, swiping frosting off his own face and transferring it to hers.

“Two can play this game, cher, and I’m betting I’ll win,” he warned, adding another layer to her chin.

“Oh yeah?” She went on the offensive, and they went back and forth, smearing frosting on each other.

Laughing and breathless, Charlee took a step back, stunned at the playfulness from such a serious man. She opened her mouth, trying to decide what to say, when his eyes met hers. Their laughter stilled as they studied each other. Behind the frosting and the laughter still dancing in his eyes, Charlee saw something more. Attraction, certainly. But something that went much deeper, that reached beyond friendship and caring and connected them in ways she was almost afraid to examine too closely.

Almost.

Charlee read the clear invitation in his eyes, and suddenly, her arms were around his neck, his wrapped around her back, and his hard mouth came down on hers. But where she expected aggression, he gave her featherlight kisses and licked the frosting from her lips, a smile on his own.

A shiver shot straight to her core, and she clutched his shoulders as he pulled her flush against him. The bands of muscle under her hands tightened, and she could feel the effect she had on him, but his arms didn’t feel like a cage, the way Rick’s had. No, Hunter was different. Danger clung to him like a second skin, but it was never directed at her. He growled low in his throat as he nuzzled her neck, and Charlee shivered, burrowing closer.

She shifted, giving him access to her neck, and ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, loving the way his hard grip made her feel safe even as his roaming hands and woodsy scent tempted her, invited her to move closer, to explore the fire that erupted whenever their skin touched.

When he nudged her lips open, she opened her mouth, welcomed his tongue in to dance with hers, hearts pounding, the kiss sparking and bursting to life until all Charlee felt was heat—his,
hers, theirs. Being in his arms was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

It felt…right.

 

About the Author

 

Connie Mann is a licensed boat captain and loves writing romantic suspense stories set in Florida’s small towns and unspoiled wilderness. She is the author of Beyond Risk, (Florida Wildlife Warriors #1), the Safe Harbor series (Tangled Lies, Hidden Threat, Deadly Melody), as well as Angel Falls and Trapped! She has lived in seven different states but this weather wimp has happily called the Ocala area home for more than twenty years.

When she’s not dreaming up plotlines, you’ll find “Captain Connie” on the Silver River, introducing boats full of schoolchildren to their first alligator. She is also passionate about helping women and children in developing countries break the poverty cycle and build a better future for themselves and their families. Besides boating, she and her husband enjoy hanging out with their grown children and extended family and planning their next adventure.

 

Website * Twitter * Facebook

 

Giveaway

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted in Book Release, excerpt, Giveaway, romance on January 27, 2019

Crazy Cupid Love

By Amanda Heger

Publication date: 1/29/19

Synopsis

“‘Percy Jackson for Romance fans.’ Delightful.”―RT Book Reviews Forewords

When a single arrow inspires romance, can you really trust happily ever after? In this magical rom-com, the descendants of Greek mythology must learn to live and love in a mundane world where Aphrodite’s blessing can sure feel like a real pain in the quiver.

Eliza Herman (a.k.a. The World’s Worst Cupid) has spent her entire life carefully avoiding her calling as a Descendant of Eros. After all, happily-ever-afters are nothing but a myth. But when a family crisis requires her to fill in at the local Cupid-for-hire shop, Eliza finds herself enchanting couples under the watchful eye of her assigned mentor, Jake Sanders…the one man she could never get out of her head.

Before long, Eliza is rethinking her stance on romance―until things start going terribly wrong with her enchantments. Now Eliza and Jake must fight to unravel a conspiracy that could destroy thousands of relationships, including their own…and spell the end of Love itself.

No pressure, right?

Amazon * B&N * Kobo * Walmart * iBooks * Indiebound

Excerpt

Thursday nights at the Agora were an even madder house than the grocery store on a Monday. A few months ago, Eliza would have pulled into the crowded parking lot and pulled right back out. But now she had a license. She belonged.

She handed the ever-present and ever-grumpy Mrs. Washmoore her fancy new ID and stepped inside with Jake beside her. They passed the Poseidon fountain and veered left, beyond a storefront advertising BOGO Ambrosia and a series of Cosmic Council offices.

Room 301: Cosmic Council Conference Room
Room 302: Records, Permits, and Descendant Benefits
Room 303: Circuit Fury

Between the rooms, bulletin boards full of community announcements proclaimed that local elections were on the horizon. “Look.” Eliza pointed to the sign. “The deadline for submitting your name is next week.”

Jake didn’t quite meet her eye. “Yeah. I’ll have to look into it.”

“What do you mean, ‘look into it’?” Eliza laughed. “You have to follow your dumb idea. That’s our thing.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her down the hall. Gods, he made every part of her tingle. “Noted. Now, can we please get to Dionysus before my stomach digests itself? I was too nervous to eat this morning.”

Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food. “What did you have to be nervous about? All you had to do was sign your name.”

“Are you kidding me? Do you know how tough it is to sign all those Department forms? I thought my hand was going to fall off by the time I’d certified that you were fit for duty as a Cupid.”

“Well, I appreciate all your hard work.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He pulled her a little closer, enough for his hip to settle into the space at her waist as they approached Dionysus. Faint hints of techno music escaped into the empty hall outside the bar. It was dark enough to make her bold, but light enough to tell they were the only two around.

Eliza stopped walking and faced him. “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

Gods, she had a hundred things she wanted to say to him. He’d ruined her for anyone else. He’d made her believe in herself again. He’d made her believe in Love— if only temporarily. But with just a few hours of enchantment remaining, Eliza couldn’t say any of those. Once midnight struck, things would change, and she didn’t want him to feel beholden to her. Like he’d need to let her down easily or try to keep from breaking her heart. It was going to break anyway, so she might as well save him the trouble of knowing about it.

“Thank you for everything,” she said. “I mean it.”

He stood close enough for her to feel the breath hitch in his chest. “My pleasure.” The corners of his eyes crinkled, like he was about to say something very important and maybe even a little naughty when—

“Welcome to Dionysus! Thursday night is Nereid Night, and we’ve got the best specials to celebrate.” The piercing voice sliced through their moment. It belonged to the tall, thin Dionysian who’d poked his head out into the hallway. “Right this way.”

He led them through a maze of chairs and bodies to a table right up against a floor-to-ceiling fish tank—or rather, Nereid tank. Inside, starfish and coral sat at the bottom, while a stunning sea nymph rode through the blue-green waves on the back of a turtle.

“So, this is the famous Nereid Night?” Eliza asked Jake.

“It is. Things get rowdy after midnight, but before that, it’s not too bad.”

“By not too bad, I assume you mean the beautiful, bikini-clad nymphs floating around?”

Jake leaned forward and brushed her hair out of her face. His thumb lingered against her cheek, and the gold in his eyes flickered in the dim light of the bar. “Eliza,” he said. “Does it look like I care about the bikini-clad nymphs right now?”

“Not really.” Every part of her wanted to climb in his lap and bury herself in his arms. Maybe this once—now that he wasn’t her mentor, and the Department didn’t seem to care about her sex life (or lack thereof)— she could give in a little. Enjoy the long glances and soft touches while she still could. She leaned closer to Jake. “Do you want—”

Knock, knock, knock.

Eliza jerked out of her chair, nearly knocking her head on the tank. The Nereid inside smiled and waved brightly, as if she’d been newly crowned Miss Greek Universe. And with that cascading black hair and teal shell top that barely covered any of her brown skin, she looked like she could be a contestant. She also looked like—

“Quinn?” Eliza said.

The Nereid swam to the top of the tank and hung over the edge. Saltwater droplets splattered on the table, and the scent of sea and sand permeated the air. “Hey, you! Long time, no see. When you first sat down I thought, That girl reminds me of Eliza Herman. But then you didn’t knock anything over, so I figured I had it all wrong. But then I heard you talk and I knew— Delta Iota Kappa for life! How are you?”

Eliza looked back and forth between Jake— who had a very amused look on his face— and Quinn, the sorority sister from her college days. “Pretty great, actually.”

Quinn wrung out the ends of her long hair and flipped it over one shoulder. “Same. Ever since this place started Nereid Night, I’ve been so busy. The tips here are great.”

“You two were in a sorority together?” Jake asked.

“Like any of us can go to college and not go Greek,” Quinn said.

About the Author

Amanda Heger is a writer, attorney, and bookworm. She lives in the Baltimore with her unruly rescue dogs and a husband who encourages her delusions of grandeur. She strongly believes Amy Poehler is her soul mate, and one of her life goals is to adopt a pig and name it Ron Swineson.

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 | 
Comments Off on Excerpt & #Giveaway – Crazy Cupid Love by Amanda Heger @amanda_heger @SourcebooksCasa #romance
Posted in Book Release, excerpt, Giveaway, romance on January 25, 2019

Suddenly Mine
By Samantha Chase
Publication date: 1/29/19

Synopsis

Love is a sanctuary

Christian Montgomery is burnt out—the family business might be his entire world, but his father’s judgment means Christian never stops working. His only respite is gazing at the beach and the carefree surfers riding the waves…especially the curvy redhead who’s caught his attention.

Sophia Bennington has just fled from her small Kansas town to California, where she’s trying her best to embrace her new beginning. Soon Christian and Sophia find one another, and it feels like a sanctuary. But when their difficult pasts catch up to them, will they run away from each other?

Amazon * B&N * iBooks * Kobo * Walmart

Montgomery Brothers Series

·         Wait for Me (Book 1)

·         Trust in Me (Book 2)

·         Stay With Me (Book 3)

·         More of Me (Book 4)

·         Return to You (Book 5)

·         Meant for You (Book 6)

·         I’ll Be There (Book 7)

·         Until There Was Us (Book 8)

Praise

“Chase’s three-dimensional characters leap off the page…”—Publishers Weekly for Until There Was Us

“A sweet romance: classic, thoughtful, and as lyrical as the stars.”—Kirkus Reviews for A Sky Full of Stars

“Chase just gets better and better.”—Booklist

Excerpt

Behind her, Christian laughed softly. “Yeah, I know. It’s a bit on the big side, right?”

“It’s practically a movie screen,” she said, looking over her shoulder and smiling at him.

Again, big mistake.

He returned the smile.

Her heart quite literally skipped a beat.

Christian moved closer to sit on one of the sofas before motioning for her to take a seat as well. “So…you wanted to talk to me?”

Right now? Not really. There were some other things she’d like to be doing with him, but she noticed him looking at her expectantly, and that forced her to push all sexy thoughts of him aside.

With her purse on the sofa beside her, Sophie sat primly, hands folded in her lap. “First, how are you feeling?”

His smile faltered a little. “I’m doing okay. I’m bored out of my mind, but I’m being respectful of my doctor’s orders and not calling into the office or even checking emails. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. But on the plus side, I’ve been sleeping well and I’ve made some modifications to my diet that I’m not hating, so…all in all, I’m all right.”

“Good. That’s good.” He was still studying her and Sophie fought the urge to squirm under his appraisal.

Christian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Was there something more?”

Why was she hesitating?

Oh, right. Because half-naked Christian Montgomery was very distracting!

She cleared her throat and did her best to focus on…his forehead. “Okay, so here’s the thing—I got a call from Patricia today.” She waited for him to react, but he didn’t. “She called to give me my schedule.”

Still no reaction.

With a huff, she went on. “Then she told me how you’d called my bosses and recommended me to be hired by other companies in the building! I appreciate your confidence in me, but…”

“But?” he prompted.

“You don’t even know me, Christian,” she blurted out. “For all you know, I’m terrible at my job! I could be…lazy or have no bedside manner! Maybe I stink at taking blood pressures or—or make people cry when I give them a flu shot. I mean, you don’t have any idea!” She was breathless by the time she finished and sagged against the sofa cushions.

Without a word, Christian rose and walked to the kitchen. The entire space was open so the living room, dining room, and kitchen formed one large space and she was able to watch him pour her a glass of water. He handed it to her.

“Thank you.”

He sat on the sofa opposite hers. “First of all, you and I both know you’re excellent at your job. Anyone who was there with you that day in my office will attest to that.”

Blushing, she said, “We don’t know that.”

He laughed softly. “I disagree. And on top of that, from everything Patricia told me, you were the one my mother and aunt wanted to hire. The position was never going to anyone else.”

She took a sip of the water and placed it on the coffee table on top of a coaster. “And what about the other companies?”

“Everyone in the building talks, Sophie. We’re not the only ones looking to incorporate this kind of a health program. We were just the first to do it. And now that we have, it didn’t seem like a big deal to recommend your agency and you to them.”

“But I haven’t even started with your company yet.”

He simply shrugged. “Why are you arguing with me about this? You said so yourself, this was the perfect job for you.”

And it was. She knew that. But… “I feel like I may get any future jobs under false pretenses, or…something like that.”

Laughing softly, Christian relaxed and slung one arm along the top of the cushion. “No false pretenses, Sophie. You are more than qualified for the job and any others you may get. Patricia was talking to me about that when…well, you know.”

Nodding, she countered, “It’s not like I don’t appreciate this—because I do—but I don’t want the recommendations because you feel obligated or something.”

“Believe it or not, this has more to do with how much my mother and aunt loved you and raved about you.”

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to gauge whether or not she believed him. “Where are they, anyway? Do they live nearby?”

“My parents live in New York and my aunt and her family are in North Carolina.”

She looked at him quizzically. “But…they were here, right? I met them on the beach?”

He nodded.

“Do they visit often?”

He shrugged. “No. They were here to start up the whole corporate health thing. I guess I’m still surprised that they met you and how everything sort of worked out the way that it did?”

“At first I thought they were just being nice, but then I realized they were chatty by nature,” Sophie said, smiling.

“That pretty much is a perfect description of them.”

“Anyway, I wasn’t sure how to end the conversation so I could get back into the water, and ended up sitting with them for a while and sharing my life story.” She chuckled. “I don’t even know how that happened.”

“Because they’re crafty like that,” he said. “Trust me. They have a gift for drawing things out of people that they wouldn’t normally share.”

“That sounds a little ominous.”

He explained a bit of the dynamics of his family, his uncle’s penchant for matchmaking, and how they all ended up working for one another.

“So that’s what this is?”

“No one tells anyone who they have to hire in this company,” he said matter-of-factly.

She gave him a hard glare at the irony of what he’d just said.

“What?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“And yet here you are hiring me because your mom and aunt told you to,” she stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It’s not the same thing, Sophie. Not at all. They hired your agency and requested you. I have nothing to do with any of this. Trust me.”

“Really?” she asked sarcastically.

Leaning forward, he met her gaze. “Look, they are different situations. We are adding something new to the company and needed to hire someone. They were in charge of hiring that person. It’s not like they called me and said ‘Hey, you have to hire Sophie and find a position for her.’ So you see, two completely different things.”

Maybe.

She still felt like the two situations were very similar, but she’d be willing to let it go for now.

“I’d like to believe you.”

He let out a sigh of frustration. “Are you always this argumentative? Because I’ve got to tell you, it’s exhausting.”

“Sorry,” she murmured. “And honestly, I’m not. I usually have better manners than this. I’ve never argued—even lightly—with anyone, especially not someone I work with!” And that’s when it hit her: she was going to be working with him. What was she thinking, coming here and arguing with him like this?

Standing quickly, she grabbed her purse and stepped toward the door. “I should go,” she said, suddenly feeling awkward and uncomfortable. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, and I’m sure I’ll see you at the office next week.”

Moving nervously, she made her way to the door.

Christian’s hand on her arm stopped her. When she turned, she saw confusion in his deep blue eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”

“I—I just remembered someplace I need to be,” she lied and immediately felt guilty for that too.

His eyes scanned her face, but his hand gently curled around her arm. “Really? Just like that? Without looking at your watch or anything, you suddenly remember that you have somewhere else to be?”

She bit her lip before saying, “Uh-huh.”

A slow smile played at Christian’s lips. “Where?”

“Where?”

“Uh-huh. Where do you have to be?”

Why couldn’t he just let her go? Why was he questioning her like this? “What—” she croaked and then cleared her throat. “What difference does it make? I needed to clear things up and I did, so…”

“So?”

She rolled her eyes. The man was infuriating.

And sexy.

That last one hit her when she went to move and somehow ended up even closer to his bare chest.

Licking him would definitely be wrong, right? And more than likely, a little inappropriate.

It didn’t stop her from wanting to do it, though.

About the Author

Samantha Chase, a creative writing teacher, released her debut novel, Jordan’s Return, in November 2011. Since then, she has published seventeen more titles and has become a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She lives with her husband of twenty-four years and their two sons in North Carolina.

Website * Twitter * Facebook

 

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Posted in 4 paws, excerpt, Review, romance on January 22, 2019

MEANT TO BE KEPT by Amelia Foster is available on Amazon from Limitless Publishing!

Synopsis

One night. One too many drinks. One mistake. That’s all it took to derail my marriage.

Now, all I can do is beg for a second chance. To try and redeem myself in a bid not to lose the love of my life.

I’m determined to use every second, every moment I have to show my wife how much she means to me—to rebuild the trust I shattered.

But the harder I try, the more I start to realize our marriage had fallen into a routine of complacency and misplaced priorities long before my indiscretion.

Isabelle is a strong, passionate, beautiful woman—a wife who has sacrificed so much for me. I just hope it’s not too late for us, and that I’ll be able to convince her that our love is meant to be kept.

Amazon US * Amazon UK * Amazon CA * Amazon AU

Excerpt

All the air left her body in a woosh and Izzy blinked a few times, certain she was seeing things. When the telescope and the mountain of blankets and pillows filling the bed of Tanner’s obnoxious yellow truck didn’t disappear, she spun around to face him.

“Tanner.” She breathed his name and lifted her hand to his cheek. So many thoughts ran through her mind, but none forming into coherent words. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling closer to him than she had all week. Closer than she had in years.

His deep chuckled vibrated against her and she closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation. “I’m glad you like it, but we haven’t even gotten to the surprise yet, sweetheart.”

She pulled back, but held on to his shoulders. “What do you mean? We’re going to lie under the stars together on a huge pile of pillows and you even got a telescope which is something we never had before. . . Tanner what more could there possibly be?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked, sweetheart.” He stepped away from her with a grin and pulled something off the driver’s seat of his truck. When he turned back around her eyes widened at the present wrapped in dark blue paper. “A little something for you.”

Izzy shook her head, not accepting the proffered gift. “It’s not my birthday.” Her brow furrowed. “And it is still, what thirty-six days until our anniversary? So why am I getting a present?”

A brief flash of disappointment flitted across his face and served to only deepen Izzy’s confusion. But just as quickly as it had come, it disappeared. “No, it’s not your birthday or our anniversary or Christmas, even. You’re getting this because you deserve to get something you love simply because you love it, not just because I’m sorry for what I did. Which I am. Extremely.”

She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips when she finally took the nearly flat rectangle from his grasp. She took a few steps closer to the truck, needing the help of the interior light. Izzy’s breath caught when she pulled the paper away. She looked from the gift she held in her hands to Tanner’s expectant face and back several times before jumping in his arms, still clinging to the picture frame. “Tanner.” She choked his name past the tears clogging her throat.

His grip on her tightened under her thighs, holding her close.

Izzy put her hands on his shoulders and pushed back enough to look in his face, tears streaking down her cheeks. “You bought me a star.” A bubble of laughter escaped past the happy tears. “First you bring the sky inside and now you buy me a star.”

He grinned and carried her around the bed of the truck, setting her down on the tailgate before climbing up beside her. “Come on sweetheart, let’s lay down for a bit. Unless you want to look for your star. I got the telescope to see if we could find it. Or we could look for what-”

She put a finger against his lips silencing the stream of words. A tiny part of her enjoyed seeing always confident and capable Tanner just a little nervous. She slid back on the inflatable mattress and laid down on the pile of pillows. “Being right here sounds perfect.”

Izzy had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing at how quickly he scrambled up beside her. He stretched out next to her, sliding his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers. “Belle, being anywhere with you is perfect.” He whispered the words, but they had the effect of a powerful windstorm.

“It’s been way too long since we’ve done this.”

Tanner stayed silent for a long time after her comment and part of her wondered if she shouldn’t have said anything. She chewed on her bottom lip and tried to think of anything she could say to ease the sting.

Finally he propped himself up on an elbow. “How long, Belle?”

She turned her head slightly and the earnest look on his face made her scoot closer to his side. “At least three years,” she said softly. “With the kids and work. . . we were just too busy.”

Tanner leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “Not we. Me. Dammit Belle, I’m sorry.”

She reached up to bury her fingers in his hair and pull his mouth more firmly against hers. The taste of him drove her to wiggle her body beneath his. His scent wafted over her and she barely contained a groan. She was finally surrounded by Tanner in every way and she never wanted it to end.

“Belle.” He murmured her name against her lips and began to kiss down her jaw, planting moist kisses along the column of her neck.

Izzy pulled Tanner until he was fully on top of her and her thighs were locked around his waist. When she lifted her hips and pressed against the evidence of his need she felt a gasp against her neck where Tanner had been licking and biting softly.

His hands slid under her shirt, caressing her back and drawing her closer to him. Tanner lifted the shirt over her head and began making a path of hot kisses across her bare chest. She arched into him again, her fingers tugging on his hair to bring his mouth back up to hers.

“Tanner.” She whimpered his name in between kisses, the soft cotton of his shirt rubbing against her skin, teasing every overly sensitized inch.

She’d always loved playing with Tanner’s hair and gave her fingers free rein to get reacquainted with each strand. When his hands skimmed down her sides and flicked the button open on her waistband she couldn’t help but shiver against him.

His mouth curved against hers. “You like that, sweetheart?”

She hadn’t realized until this moment just how much she missed his hands touching her and his lips leaving a scorching trail along her body.

His hands.

His mouth.

And one week ago they had been kissing someone else. Holding someone else. Touching someone else.

Izzy felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her, freezing her movement. She pushed Tanner away and scooted to the far corner of the mattress. She grabbed her shirt and held it against her chest. Why didn’t I put on a bra, she chastised herself.

Even in the darkness she could see his face fall. “Belle, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t.” She sobbed and gripped the shirt tighter against herself. She waved her free hand in a sweeping gesture. “Tanner, this is beautiful and perfect and you gave me the most amazing gift. . . but I can’t stop thinking about her. And you.” Her heart splintered. “And you don’t feel like mine anymore.”

She tugged her shirt on over her head, jumped out of the truck, and ran towards the dimly lit house in the distance as fast as she could.

Review

We’ve all been there, an incident that happens when we are either drinking too much or not thinking about what we should be doing (or not doing) at a particular point in time.  Sometimes we get lucky and have understanding friends and family, and other times it rips at the fabric of our being and all we hold to be true.  This is what happened to Izzy/Belle.

This story is told via storylines from the past and the present.  I like the varying times because you have a deeper understanding of the characters, their foibles and that not everything is as it seems.  The way the story starts you think that you might be siding with Izzy/Belle, but as the story progresses I found myself rooting for Tanner because he wasn’t a bad guy and he should not be penalized for a small transgression.  Izzy/Belle is not perfect either and we learn more about her and how she handled various situations in the recent past that are fodder for her actions to this event.

I enjoyed that all of the characters possessed real traits – I didn’t feel like any of them were just filler to round out a story.  There were times that Izzy/Belle got on my nerves because of her insecurity and because the situation was really not all Tanner’s fault.  But she was real and that is what made the story all that much better.

We give this 4 paws up.

About the Author

Books, coffee, and chocolate make up both the heart and body mass that is better known as Amelia Foster. She has been a lifelong lover of the written word, both as a reader and an author, and completed her first manuscript at the ripe old age of five complete with illustrations. Sadly, her art was a medium that never improved over time although thankfully her writing has.

From sweet to salacious the only requirement Amelia has in books she reads – and definitely in the ones she crafts – is an excessively satisfying happily ever after… and then a little bit more.

Website * Twitter * Facebook * Pinterest

 | 
Comments Off on Review – Meant to be Kept by Amelia Foster #NewRelease @afosterauthor #romance