Tumble
Adriana Locke
Release Date: February 26, 2019
Publisher: Montlake Romance

Synopsis

After being burned by her dream job in New York City, sports journalist Neely Kimber suddenly finds herself jobless and paying a long-overdue visit to her hometown in Tennessee. Her plan? Relax, reset, and head back up the corporate ladder. There’s just one unexpected step. Neely’s back in Dogwood Lane for barely a day when she sees the man she ran from nine years ago: the bad boy next door who was her first kiss, her first love, and her first heartbreak.
Devoted single dad Dane Madden knows he hurt Neely in the worst way. He’s got a lot to make up for. And as passionate as their reconnection is, it’s a lot to hope for. Having her back in his arms feels so right. But falling in love all over again with a woman who wants to live a world away is bound to go so wrong.

What’s it going to take for Neely to give him—and Dogwood Lane—just one more chance?

Guest Post: Spend a Morning with Dane Madden, The Hero of TUMBLE

I looked in the mirror this morning to shave. As I lifted the razor to my cheek, I saw a little scar that sits just to the side of my right eye. It’s not something most people would ever notice. Hell, I don’t notice it every day. But the light caught it just right and suddenly it was all I could see.

I’m Dane Madden, the carpenter, not Dane Madden the philosopher, so why I stood there for a good five minutes remembering the night I got that scar is beyond me. But I did. I thought about how the barbed wire caught my skin and ripped the flesh and how Neely Kimber’s face filled with so much concern I was kind of glad I was bleeding.

She and I were inseparable back then. From the moment she opened the door and our eyes locked, there was a bond between us that grew stronger. We went from finding ways to bump into each other, to hanging out with a group of friends, to dating in the sincerest way. She wasn’t just a girl. Neely wasn’t a pretty face I wanted on my arm, or in my bed as things evolved, like many of the guys I knew back then labeled their girlfriends. She was more than that to me—my best friend. My confidant when things with Dad went sour. My trusty right hand that bailed my ass out of more trouble than I was worth.

The night my eye was cut, she remembered to go back and get my hat so it wouldn’t be found the next day. Had she not done picked up the evidence, the farmer whose cows my friends and I had been trying to tip (terrible idea, if you’re wondering) would’ve been able to track the mess in his field to me and my friends. Dogwood Lane is a small town. Word gets around easy enough without trying.

Then there was the night my brother Matt, our friend Penn, and I went corning around Halloween. That’s another terrible idea, if you’re wondering, and involves throwing shucked corn at cars passing by. Let’s just say a certain driver in an oversized pick-up truck didn’t appreciate the sentiment. After being chased on foot to the outskirts of town, we had to hide in a chicken coop until Neely could come get us.

Despite my antics, she was there. She might’ve laughed at me or pointed out how stupid we were, but she took my worst right along with my best.

Our lives were entwined by shenanigans, stories, and so much love. Damn, I loved her. I didn’t know where she stopped and I started. I didn’t want to know. She was the best thing in my life. She made me better. And that was the ruination of us because I couldn’t bear to think I would make her life worse.

Seeing her again after all these years lit a fire inside me that I didn’t think was possible. I haven’t felt this burn since the day I walked off her porch having broken her heart. I want to talk to her, touch her, hold her and I can’t do any of it. Even though so much of our lives were built together, our memories from the easiest time of our lives shared, we aren’t those people anymore.

And it’s all my fault.

***

Excerpt

Splat!

The sound of the hammer crushing my thumb—swung with more force than was necessary, to boot—ricochets across the front lawn. The tool falls from my hand, striking against the sawhorse, and flips into the soft grass with a gentle thud.

“Son of a…!” My hand shakes, the top of my thumb threatening to explode. I tilt my head to the sky and try to find some peace in the clouds.

I come up empty. “Matt!” I call to my younger brother. “I’m taking ten.”

He nods from halfway up the ladder leaned against the side of the house.

Wrapping my good hand around my thumb, I head toward my truck. Sounds of construction ring out behind me. It’s usually music to my ears, the lifeblood of the Madden name. But each cut of a saw blade, buzz of a power drill, and swing of a hammer feels like a distraction this morning. I have a throbbing thumb to show for it.

Beads of sweat cluster along my forehead. I remove my hat with my good hand and run the back of my forearm along my brow.

“Damn it.” Everything feels sticky. Mildly irritating. And the progress on the project that usually energizes me has failed me epically this morning. I just don’t want to be here. Not that I have a better place to be. Quite frankly, I have a lot of places I shouldn’t be, and with Neely, or thinking about Neely, is one of them.

I would’ve recognized her anywhere. Same gray eyes that glimmer like she’s about to tell you a secret. Full lips that spread into a smile so infectious you can’t help but feel your own mouth following suit. The hint of floral perfume, the golden hair that may as well be silk, and the aura about her that’s just as strong as the day she left Dogwood Lane and me—it’s all the same. It’s like time forgot to age her. She somehow has become more beautiful, sexier, stronger.

The world hates me. I’ve postulated this for a long time, but it’s obvious today.

The tailgate of my truck lowers. Scooping a handful of ice from the cooler in the bed into a bandanna, I wrap it around my injured digit. The relief lasts only a few moments.

“What are you doing down here?” Penn rests his forearms over the side of the truck, the tattoos carved in his skin like mini masterpieces on full display. He eyes my makeshift bandage. “What happened to you?”

“Hammer,” I groan, adjusting the ice.

“That’s interesting.”

“How you figure?”

“Never knew you to hit yourself with a hammer before. I find that interesting.”

“If that’s interesting, you need a hobby. Or you could work like I’m paying you to do . . .”

“I have a hobby, thank you, and you should’ve seen her last night,” he says, smacking his lips together. “Lord Almighty, she’s a—”

“Penn.”

“Yeah?”

The tip of my finger sticks out of the bandanna. It’s bright red and hot to the touch despite the ice packed around it. “All your escapades really sound the same at this point.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?” He cups his hand to his ear. “I thought so. Not my fault you’re in a dry spell.”

Leaning against the truck, I look at him. “Jealousy isn’t how I’d describe it. But if that makes ya feel good, go for it.”

“My hobby makes me feel good.” He moves his lips around, like he’s fighting the next words trying to pop out. He does this when he knows he shouldn’t say something but can’t quite convince himself not to. “From the looks of you, I’d say you’re more than jealous. I’d say you’re . . . tempted.”

My tongue presses on the roof of my mouth. “Tempted to what?”

He leans against the truck, too, the gold St. Christopher’s medal he’s worn since elementary school clamoring against the side. The corners of his lips nearly touch the corners of his eyes. He knows.

“Word travels fast, huh?” I say, prodding around to see if my guess is right.

He slow blinks. Twice.

“What?” I ask.

“That’s all you have to say about Neely being back in town? ‘Word travels fast.’ What’s wrong with you?”

We don’t have time for that conversation.

I sigh. “What do you want me to say?”

“I’d love to have been a fly on the wall for that little run-in.” Penn snickers. “Did you stutter around like I imagine? Or did you not manage to say an entire sentence?”

Working my jaw back and forth, I point a finger his way. “You better stop while you’re ahead.”

He reads me correctly, and his animation drops a notch. “Really, though. How’d it go? But before you answer that, let me toss out there that I heard sparks were flying all over the diner so hot Claire had to call the fire department.”

I shake my head. “Shut up.”

“Just telling you what I heard.”

“The firemen were there to order food, you idiot.”

He thinks he’s onto something. There’s a glee in his face that means only one thing: it’s going to be a long day around here.

“So, what happened?” he asks, resting his arms over the truck bed.

“You know, sometimes I think you should’ve been a girl with all the gossiping you do.”

“This isn’t gossip,” he contends. “This is Neely-freaking-Kimber, man. Every memory I have of my entire adolescence has her in it. She bailed me out of jail when I was too scared to call my dad and you and Matt were passed out on moonshine. Remember that?”

My chuckle is so hard, it causes my thumb to throb. “I forgot about that. She was pissed.”

“Neely came through, though. God, I miss her.”

Those last words echo through my mind.

I have shoved her out of my head for the last few years. Took over Dad’s business, took care of my business. Trudged forward without her because that was the only choice I had. I hardly even think about her anymore unless someone brings her up in conversation.

So why do I itch to crawl into the truck and hunt her down?

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys dreamed up by other authors, she decided to create her own. She is the author of Tumble, the first novel in her Dogwood Lane series; the Exception series; the Gibson Brothers series; and the Landry Family series.

She resides in the Midwest with her husband, her sons, two dogs, two cats, and a bird. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather’s nice, and there’s always a piece of candy in her pocket. Besides cinnamon gummy bears, boxing, and random quotes, her next favorite thing is chatting with readers. She’d love to hear from you!

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads

Giveaway

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Deliverance from Stupidparty Land by Patrick M. Andendall
Adult Nonfiction, 428 pages
Genre: Political
Publisher Fact Over Fiction Publishing
Release date: October 2018

Synopsis

How did the US voluntarily arrive at the doorstep of its own demise? is homemade manmade Handmaid’s Tale, where falsehoods and transparently mean-spirited claptrap trump facts and common decency–subverting naïve yet positive innocence into a malignant supremacist and myopic nationalistic agenda that is now in aming the planet’s already rising temperature of self-harm? All this to cloak the true aspirations of the identi ed malevolent Oligarchs, who no longer lie quietly waiting.

The first book in this trilogy (Math v. Myth) exposed the blatant myths that now overshadow reality. The second book (Who is Jeb!!!) uncovered the horrible histories of the Bush dynasty–revealing how America, beginning with the JFK assassination, began its descent from being a force for good, to now having zero moral authority. Allies hold us in contempt; enemies nurture us.

We must understand the problem in order to visualize and actualize the solution. Since I fear the solution is unlikely to be enacted organically, we must prepare to seek a ballot-box-inspired intervention from a higher power–we must seek deliverance from our own collective folly, not from the heavens but from our own homegrown saviors, whom we created in the image of own inescapable delusions.

Excerpt from Chapter 4: Fake This + Fake That = Fake Americans

Fake Patriots Cannot Recognize Real News

Is it patriotic to read the above and believe it is real news, that CBS, NBC, ABC, CNN, BBC, and NPR spell out fake news? Is it patriotic to believe in junk, to believe that Obama was born in Kenya? Is ignorance patriotic? Is it patriotic to attack the Fourth Estate, the FBI, the CIA? Is it patriotic to encourage the destruction of the integrity of the presidency, to overlook the use of the power of the White House to promote Trump’s business interests, to turn a blind eye while the White House intimidates political opponents?

Is it patriotic to sit idly by and watch the White House pardon people in order to undermine efforts to investigate crimes by the presidential team? For the President to pardon himself? Would a patriot applaud collusion, encourage the obstruction of justice, rejoice at the promotion of fear? Is it patriotic to absorb and believe the falsehoods about immigrants, give the thumbs up to the proliferation of pollution, police violence, gun violence; mock women’s rights, fuel the destruction of healthcare plans?

Is it patriotic to support policies that isolate America, make America a rogue nation; to succor and support Russian imperialism, and support policies that encourage countries across the world to look toward China for stable business relationships? Strategic alliances? Is it patriotic to abandon U.S. territories such as Puerto Rico in time of distress, to reportedly insult all African nations; insult all Muslim nations, insult Mexico, Haiti, Germany, France, and China—while fawning over Putin, over Netanyahu?

Insulting the world— is that good business? Does that push nations to choose Boeing over Airbus, or tourists to visit New York rather than Paris? Consumers across the world, if they despise America whilst receiving aid from China— will those consumers be looking at GM trucks or at Toyota trucks first? If China (also looking to restore aspects from its horrendous histories) helps a country with its infrastructure, rather than the assistance coming from ever-diminishing America, who will that country look to first for trade or side with at the UN during an international crisis, or share intelligence with?

This slippage has already begun; it began with Trump’s businesses— now busily removing the Trump name from public view, Trump’s brand-new golf courses in Scotland being shunned. Next, it will be America’s brand, its flag; its interests will all have to be hidden. Nobody wants to lend a hand to a bad person, a bad country, a rogue country that shows zero respect for the wishes or welfare of much of the rest of the world’s inhabitants.

Is that being a patriot, to support such obscenities, to make America a laughing stock, a country striving for zero integrity? Of course that is not what any patriot wants; only fake patriots would be so willing to destroy the foundations of their country.

It is the fake patriots who are the traitors; America would be far better off building a wall round those guys and pushing them off into the middle of the Pacific…These very same fake patriots, these real traitors—this segment is the easiest to manipulate. All one has to do is press the fear button—that, by definition protrudes from every conservative brain. Now that the geeks have the big data, their work can be used for good or bad—easy to unleash on a public with no built-in immunity. Easy to figure out how to virtually push that protrusion, cultivate that ignorance, incite that fear.

About the Author

Patrick Andendall has always had an interest in politics and, being multicultural, he views issues from a more international perspective. In 2004, five days before the election, he flew to Cleveland and pitched in to help with the political process. What he discovered was the dissolution of the American Dream, which he writes about in his book, Stupidparty.

Educated at English boarding schools from the age of seven, Andendall went on to graduate from Lancing College. He started by sometimes working three jobs at once, trainee Underwriter/claim broker at Lloyd’s of London, his own one man cleaning Company (cleaning the very offices of a Reinsurance Company he would transact business at) plus doing seasonal work on various farms.

Having made some windfall profits by borrowing money in order to be a “Stag” to take advantage of opportunities created by Margaret Thatcher’s denationalization policies of the mid 1980s, Andendall evolved into an entrepreneur with a core specialty in Reinsurance in London and New York where he looks for patterns in numbers. Self-employed in a field not normally conducive to self-employment, he is able remain in control, juggle different jobs, travel and pursue his various interests.

Ending up in New York via romance in the African bush, Andendall now lives on Long Island with his wife, two children, and two dogs.

Website ~ Twitter

Giveaway

Prizes: Win a copy of Deliverance From Stupidparty Land by Patrick M. Andendall. One winner will also get a $50 Amazon GC (open to USA only / 7 winners total)

(ends March 22, 2019)

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Title: PASSENGERS
Author: Elizabeth Collums
Publisher: Amite River Press
Pages: 309
Genre: Historical Fiction/Family Drama

Synopsis

During the Great Irish Famine the Ewing family made their way from their rural cottage to the village of Highland Way. Annie, the oldest daughter was left to care for her mother and younger sister after her father left to find work in Dublin.

A mysterious letter arrives from America forcing Annie, Lily, and Katy into a harrowing journey. The hand written note not only will expose deep secrets, it will also challenge the strength and fortitude of the Ewing women, leading each member into their own soul searching voyage.

Follow this extraordinary passage that begins in Ireland and leads each woman to uncover their own courage and truths in this new world.

Guest Post

What I wanted to be when I grew up was never addressed in my house.  My Dad was gone a lot as a truck driver trying to scratch out a living for us so my mom was my only companion. I called myself an unaccompanied minor long before that phrase was popular.  Because you see, physically she was in the house, but mentally she was in her own world.  Maybe she still had an emotional hangover from The Great Depression that she often dwelled on or it could have been the dark cloud of the Vietnam War that overshadowed any thought of dreams or celebrations in our home.  My mom worried for years that my brother would be drafted and then she stayed in a deep depression when he was and then she didn’t want to let him go when he came home alive and well.  She was so consumed with bitterness of the past and worry of the future she didn’t make room for living her life much less mine.

So, I made every feeble attempt behind my closed bedroom door to reach for my own stars with my dog, Pete, and every stuffed or plastic creature I owned.  Public speaking? No problem.  I had spent countless hours practicing my very own interview with Johnny Carson in front of my dresser mirror. Sewing? No problem. I taught myself how to sew by making clothes for my dolls.  Writing? Again no problem.  Whatever the teachers assigned, I did double what they asked for.  My room was my sanctuary. However, nothing my parents did or didn’t do could keep me from putting my best foot forward to get out and on my way.

I think so often how sad for my mom that she spent most of her life looking down and missed out on the journey. That’s what life is. One event after another.  I’ve had more than my share of making stupid decisions, as well as experiencing personal triumphs.  I’ve been married, had children, grandchildren, widowed and emptied nested.  I’ve worked at jobs ranging from cleaning houses to postal work.  And it’s been the most colorful, aggravating, heartbreaking, joyous, challenging, earth shaking, blessed life I could’ve ever imagined. And I have never been alone. God always sent the right person at the right time, as long as I was looking up.

My bucket list is long. Publish my book, travel to Ireland, United Kingdom, see penguins and pandas up close and personal, learn how to ride a horse, master a pottery wheel…..and the list goes on and on.  I don’t ever want to forget to dream, learn, explore and yes, I still play make believe.  Every time I look in the mirror, I still see that little girl from the reflection of this sixty-one year old, young woman.

Excerpt

As Annie was trying her best to capture and absorb all these extraordinary surroundings so she could accurately relay every detail to her daddy one day her ears picked up the sound of humming. Annie had never heard her mama sing much less hum but she knew it was a woman’s voice. Her visual recording would have to wait as she slowly pulled her arm out from underneath Lily’s head, got to her feet and followed the sound out of the big room they had spent the night in and down the long hallway. The woman’s voice was now on the other side of last door on the end. All her muscles tightened as her feet froze to the floor. She had dreams like this before. When she needed to run, when she was being chased and couldn’t see who was chasing her, but she still knew she needed to move. Her breathes became shallow and she could feel her heart pounding like her senses were telling her there was danger on the other side. “Oh God, please help me, I’m so tired, I’m scared, and this can’t be my fault. Lily and I need somebody. We need our mama”….then suddenly some invisible strength, not of her own making, lifted her hand as she pushed the hinged door open. There in the middle of this huge stark white kitchen was her mama swirling around. Katy had a long white apron tied to her waist with the bottom lifted like it was a ball gown and she was making her own music while dancing to a waltz. Annie saw her mama’s burn scarred face like she had never seen it before. She was smiling and having a whispered conversation with her imaginary dance partner. She had the most peaceful and contented expression that Annie had ever seen before. Annie was certain that this was somehow a miracle in the making. God had finally heard her prayers and her mama had been transformed.

About the Author

Ann C. Purvis, chose to publish her first novel under her birth name, Elizabeth Collums; this is her true roots and where she has drawn from many of the experiences she wrote about. She lives in Denham Springs, Louisiana and enjoys DIY projects. She has two daughters, a stepdaughter, son-in-law, two amazing granddaughters, and her dog Daisy.

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VORTEX

by

Kimberly Packard

Genre: Women’s Fiction / Psychological

Publisher: Abalos Publishing

Publication Date: January 31, 2019

Number of Pages: 308 pages

SCROLL DOWN FOR THE GIVEAWAY! 

Constant spinning, round and round and round, temperatures rise and fall from stifling heat to chilling cold, emotions run high in anticipation of what will happen next… there’s a fine line between surviving a tornado and falling in love.

A close encounter with a tornado, during the final months of her doctoral studies, jogs a lost memory to the surface. Desperate to relive the vision and find answers, storm chaser Elaina Adams continually puts her safety at risk by placing herself in the path of dangerous storms.

When betrayal strikes, Elaina is forced to pair up with Robert Tucker. “Tuck” owns a storm chasing tour group and only cares about two things: chasing tornadoes and making his next buck.

Seth Maddux was climbing his way to the top as the star meteorologist for the Forecast channel, but an embarrassing outburst on camera sent his career on a downward spiral. Hoping to reignite his career with a promising field assignment, he meets Elaina and a different kind of flame sparks.

Family secrets surface and passions explode in this twister of a tale.

Vortex is a story of family, love, identity, and determination set against the thrilling backdrop of Tornado Alley.

Praise

“Set in the heart of America’s Tornado Alley, Kimberly Packard’s latest psychological fiction swirls with discovery and betrayal. VORTEX may make you question who among those closest to you are really your friends.” — Addison Brae, author of Becker Circle

“Vortex is a fast-paced story with a strong woman at its center. Readers will be in for a wild ride full of secrets, the labyrinth of memory, and the spark of romance. Definitely one to add to your reading list.” — Christine Brodersen, author of Lip Gloss, Shame and Murdered Tomatoes 

“Kimberly Packard is an accomplished author who writes strong women characters. She blew me away with her Phoenix series (three books you don’t want to miss) and now in Vortex, we meet Elaina Adams, who, like all of us, struggles with her past, her career, and her family secrets. Action, and emotion-packed, this page-turner is a different kind of love story.” — Vanessa Foster, author of More than Everything 

Why it was deleted:

Quite frankly, I wasn’t really sure where this was going other than a chance for Elaina and Seth to catch up after they had a little spat. As authors, we have to examine every scene to see how it moves the story forward, and while this does give us a good glimpse into their relationship, I had to make a hard decision. But looking back at it, I do love this scene and wish I could have found a way to squeeze it in.

SBR – I have to agree with Kimberly – this is a great scene and wish it would have made its way into the book!

= = =

To some people, punishment should fit the crime. To others, one size fits all. Dr. Pierce was in a unique camp in that he believed the best form of punishment was what the recipient deemed to be pure hell.

And, for Elaina, that hell was standing in front of three hundred freshmen who signed up for Meteorology 101 simply to satisfy a science credit.

“Okay, so who can tell me the type of clouds that you’ll see prior to a frontal boundary moving in?”

She gazed out the darkened auditorium. Only the faces of the few late students stuck with a front row seat stared back at her, the rest were unmoving darkened heads.

This could be someone’s worst nightmare.

Elaina turned her back to the room of collegiate zombies to write the answer on the dry-erase board. The ink zigged on the board, a result of her still-shaking hands from the near collision with a flying Buick. In two days the shaking subsided to fits and starts, but an electrical pulse of fear would flood her bloodstream with no warning. She slammed the pen down on the ledge and turned back to the class. “Come on guys, this is easy stuff. You should have learned that just from watching TV.”

A couple of faces illuminated in white-blue light confirmed what she already knew. She lost them.

How does Pierce not commit freshmancide?

Elaina crossed her arms over her chest and paced the front of the room. She had fifteen minutes until she was free. Fifteen more minutes of hell. She could capitulate and let them leave early. Send them on their way to torment their next professor. Or, she could escalate.

Elaina sat on the edge of the beige metal desk and a Mona Lisa smile crawled across her face and she narrowed her eyes.

“Did I mention that I’m the one who writes y’alls’ final exam?” She kicked her boots like a bored child. Students in the front row sat up straighter causing a ripple that radiated to the back of the auditorium. “So, you have ten minutes to ask me what’s going to be on the test.”

She kicked a few more times before the silhouette of a hand rose up in the back of the room.

“Yes?”

“Will there be anything on the test about tornadogenesis?” a male voice asked his Southern accent dancing across the room.

“Yes, you’ll need to understand the distinctive features that lead to a tornado, both from the ground and on the radar. What else?”

More silence stared at her and then his hand came up again.

“What about hurricane prediction and impact, especially along the U.S. Coastal region?” The voice felt familiar the second time she heard it.

Elaina chewed on the inside of her cheek. This was definitely deeper than Pierce had planned on going this semester. And, judging from the wide eyes and slouched figures, he probably spent a lot of time explaining why clouds are white and the sky was blue. How did this one sharp pencil end up in a package of blunt instruments?

“Well,” she started, letting the word drag out a little too long. “Yes, there will be some questions on hurricanes, prediction, impact, etc. But what you’re asking is really something that would be covered in the next level. What else? Three minutes.”

The distinctive shuffling of papers floated through the air like falling leaves. Three minutes and they would all be free. Unless …

The hand in the back shot up one more time. A collective groan rumbled through the air. Elaina might have been part of it.

“Sorry, last question.” This time something was different. The tone of the voice was the same, but gone was the Southern syrup. In its place was a straight and narrow non-accent accent. Exactly the type of accent one would use on national television. “Which is cooler, hurricanes or tornadoes?”

A laugh erupted from her chest before she could catch it. “Tornadoes. Okay, you guys get out of here.” She pushed herself off the desk and walked around to gather her own papers. “Except you in the back. I need to see you down front, please.”

Seth fought against the tide of escaping students, getting jostled by some, gawked at by others and downright ignored by most. When he finally made his way down to the front of the room, they avoided each other’s eyes until the room was empty.

“For the record, you’d fail my class,” she said, finally looking up from her backpack after the door closed behind the last student.

Seth looked up from his phone. His crystal blue eyes were filled with embarrassment and remorse and one side of his mouth twitched up into a sheepish half-smile.

“Like I failed our first date?”

An icy shudder course down her spine. Storming off the dance floor and out of the club made her feel more like a petulant freshman than the near doctor she was. She could feel her neck and cheeks warm as the rising tide of embarrassment.

“I think I might be the one to have flunked that one, remember? I just kinda quit.”

Seth shrugged and perched on the desk beside her.

While I am not an official reviewer on this tour, I was lucky enough to snag a free copy from Amazon a few weeks ago on a special promotion and I am thankful to the author for offering the book during those few days.

Storm chasing – those words will either instill fear or exhilaration in the hearts of a human.  I’m not 100% sure where I would fall in those camps but nature is a wondrous thing with what comes from colliding temperatures and all that other scientific jargon that I don’t understand but Kimberly Packard wraps up the terminology in easy to understand bits and weaves a tale of love, loss, memories, and hope.

This book enthralled me and it was hard to put down.  I would find myself reading “just one more chapter” before getting reading for work or before turning out the light at night.  The characters were raw yet real and could be someone we know in our own lives.  Elaina wasn’t the only character that had baggage they were holding on to for too long.  Seth threw away a promising career thanks to a coworker, Tuck is a brilliant storm chaser but has a gambling problem, and Connie (Elaina’s mother) just want to protect her daughter and is afraid to tell her the truth about her life before being adopted.  There were so many great elements that will pull you into the story in different ways.  The way the author describes the storms was genius and caused me to think about storms in a whole new way.

I did figure out a part of the story tied to Elaina’s past.  It was pure luck as not much in the story pulls you in this direction, but the pieces seemed to fit for me.  I am not going to say more only because I don’t want to give anything away because the story really builds to this piece of Elaina’s past.

One of my favorite lines from the book is actually what was on one of Elaina’s t-shirts – “I’m more confused than a chameleon in a bag of skittles.”

Some of my other favorite lines:

“Ever since that tornado, her grip on her identity felt loosened, like holding onto a weather balloon only to have it pulled out of her fingers and float away.”

“What if the sign ahead was a green light, telling him the road would likely be bumpy and curvy, but it was the route he was supposed to take?  What if saying yes changed everything?”

Why should you read this book?  You should only read it if you want it to sweep you up, twirl you around, and then blow you away just like a tornado.

This is why we are giving it 5 paws up!

Kimberly Packard is an award-winning author of edgy women’s fiction. She began visiting her spot on the shelves at libraries and bookstores at a young age, gazing between the Os and the Qs.

When she isn’t writing, she can be found running, doing a poor imitation of yoga or curled up with a book. She resides in Texas with her husband Colby, a clever cat named Oliver and a yellow lab named Charlie.

Her debut novel, Phoenix, was awarded as Best General Fiction of 2013 by the Texas Association of Authors. She is also the author of a Christmas novella, The Crazy Yates, and the sequels to Phoenix, Pardon Falls and Prospera Pass.

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FIRST PRIZE: Signed Copy  +  $5 Amazon gift card + Bookmark

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TWO WINNERS: eBook copies

FEBRUARY 19-28, 2019

(USA only)

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Restaurant Weeks Are Murder (A Poppy McAllister Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
3rd in Series
Kensington (February 26, 2019)
Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages

Synopsis

Cape May, New Jersey, is the site of a big culinary competition—and the knives are out . . .

Poppy McAllister is happy about opening a Jersey Shore B&B—but working in a professional kitchen has always been her real dream. Now it’s coming true, at least briefly, as she teams up with her former fiancée, Tim—and his condescending partner, Gigi—during the high-profile Restaurant Week challenge. Poppy’s specialty is pastries, despite her devotion to a Paleo diet. But if anyone can make glorious gluten-free goodies, it’s Poppy.

Things get heated quickly—especially when some ingredients get switched and Tim’s accused of sabotage. Relatively harmless pranks soon escalate into real hazards, including an exploding deep fryer. And now one of the judges has died after taking a bite of Poppy’s cannoli—making her the chef suspect . . .

Includes Seven Recipes from Poppy’s Kitchen!

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Review

I seriously love this series…I don’t know what it is about the characters or the setting (maybe it is the recipes), but I can’t wait to read these books as they are released!

Poppy is an engaging protagonist.  A mistake in her youth altered her future but she seems to be doing ok trying to get a B&B off the ground, baking gluten-free items for a coffee shop, and solving the murders that happen in her town.  It doesn’t hurt that she has two potential love interests – Gia, the owner of the coffee shop and a hot Italian and Tim, her college sweetheart who owns a local restaurant.  I am team Gia – just putting that out there – because, while Tim wants to be with Poppy, he lets himself get distracted by GiGi and other women.  Anyway, you can make your own decision on which team to belong.

I love to cook (which may be why this series appeals to me) and this one brings together cooking with reality TV.  Poppy teams up with Tim and Gigi to represent Tim’s restaurant in a cooking competition.  Gigi is not likable and she gets her due many times throughout the book.  I think my favorite is when the network decides that anyone on the team must cook one of the courses.  This infuriates Gigi because she doesn’t think Poppy is a chef because she didn’t attend culinary school.  Gigi is in for a rude awakening because not all great cooks have attended cooking school and Poppy knows her way around a kitchen which is more than can be said for Gigi.  As is to be expected, there is murder during the show and Poppy has to figure out the killer before she becomes the next victim.  I really tried to decipher the clues but I did not do a good job because I was quite surprised to learn who the murderer was and the reasoning behind the death(s).

There is a cast of quirky characters that liven up the storyline and of course, we can’t forget Aunt Ginny and her antics along with the rest of her Senior friends.  She knows how to liven up this book with her shenanigans.

We give this 5 paws up and suggest reading the whole series starting with the first book so you can understand the back story.

About the Author

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Herbs and Homicide (The Faerie Apothecary Cozy Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Novelwright Mysteries (September 27, 2018)
Paperback: 217 pages

Synopsis

Looking for a unique paranormal cozy mystery series that’s lighthearted and fun?

Settle into the cozy countryside of Moss Hill, where house-elves rent rooms, sprites live in gardens, a leprechaun is the best tailor in town, and a half-elf/half human named Carissa Shea owns a pharmacy known as The Seelie Tree Apothecary shop. Life couldn’t be more idyllic for Cari, but healing humans and fae folk proves challenging at times, especially when secrets unfold in The Faerie Apothecary Mysteries.

About Book 1: Herbs and Homicide
In the small town of Moss Hill, customers of all kinds visit Carissa Shea’s Seelie Tree Apothecary Shop. That includes tall and short, young and old, human and faerie. Being half-elf/half-human herself, Carissa personally knows and cares for them all. So, when a grumpy brownie, a type of house faerie, named Miss Morgan dies in her shop, Carissa is devastated. As she learns more about her customer’s death, she realizes Miss Morgan might have been the only thing standing between the Seelie, faeries of light and goodness, and the Unseelie, faeries of darkness and evil. On top of it all, the Sidhe guard, protector of all fae residents, rule it a murder and name Carissa as a suspect! Now she must prove her innocence and find the real culprit before it’s too late – not just for her but for all of Moss Hill.

Review

If you enjoy magical creatures, solving a mystery, and being transported between two worlds, this might just be the book for you.

Many times when I start a book I haven’t read the synopsis or it has been some time.  Many times I think that is better because it opens up many new worlds, characters, and situations that aren’t biased ahead of time.  I say this since books that are somewhat fantasy in nature aren’t what I read but I do enjoy expanding my horizons and since this is a cozy it was bound to be enjoyable.

I was intrigued by the various magical creatures – from elves to leprechauns to sprites.  They all added depth to the mystery and I might have learned a little bit about them.  I think I liked the sprites the best since they were quite comical especially Hiya, Cynth, and Chaos.  I think they made me chuckle because they didn’t speak but you could sense their emotions from the descriptions.

The mystery itself was well written.  I was surprised to discover “whodoneit” and never suspected this character.  Because there are magical beings there are characters that are spelled (or cursed) and Cari was always able to determine something was wrong even if she couldn’t fix the situation herself.  I think Cari also felt a little lost because she is part human and her magical capabilities are less than others.  She is very determined to solve the mystery and my guess is because she is the prime suspect since Miss Morgan dies in her shop.

The only thing that I didn’t like was that the author would use both Cari and Carissa in the same paragraph and I’m not sure why.  It would make more sense to use one or the other when close together.  But this didn’t affect my enjoyment of the book.

We give it 4 paws up.

About the Author

Astoria Wright is the author of The Faerie Apothecary Mysteries, including the bestselling prequel novella Chaos in the Countryside. Intrigued by myths and inspired by cozy mystery writers before her, Astoria tries to combine two worlds with human and faerie neighbors trying to solve puzzling crimes on the fictional island of Moss Hill. She’s also a poet, which shows in the Moss Hill poetry anthology “written” by the characters in the series. Her goal is to bring Moss Hill to life in her stories, because who doesn’t wish we lived in a town with magical faeries as neighbors?

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Bad Influence

By Stefanie London

Publication date: 2/26/19

Synopsis

He’s the bad bachelor who inspired it all…

Annie Maxwell had her whole life figured out…until her fiancé left her when his career took off. If that wasn’t bad enough, every society blog posted pictures of him escorting a woman wearing her engagement ring. To help the women of New York avoid guys like her ex, Annie created the Bad Bachelors app. But try as she might, Annie just can’t forget him…

For bank executive Joe Preston, his greatest mistake was leaving the love of his life when she needed him most. Now, all he wants is to make things right—and she won’t have him. But when Annie’s safety is threatened by a hacker determined to bring down her app, Joe is the only one she can turn to. He’ll have to lay himself on the line to prove to Annie that he’s a changed man. But will their hard-won bond survive the revelation that Annie is the one pulling the strings behind Bad Bachelors?

Bad Bachelors Series

Bad Bachelor (Book 1)

Bad Reputation (Book 2)

Bad Influence (Book 3)

Amazon * B&N * BAM * iBooks * IndieBound

Excerpt

“You’re not thinking about seeing him again, are you?” Darcy shoved the sleeve of her sweater up, exposing her elaborate tattoos. “Please tell me you’re not in self-destruct mode.”

“I’m not,” Annie said, unsure which of the two things she was actually addressing.

She should be repulsed by the thought of having Joseph back in her life. Spitting in anger that he’d waltzed back into Manhattan and was hanging around “their place” without warning her. But the fact was, Friday night had shifted something between them. He’d come to her rescue when she’d needed him.

This time. Let’s not forget that his presence and attention are conditional.

Darcy pulled on a pair of pink rubber gloves and wrenched Annie’s mother’s old, squeaky taps. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not thinking about seeing him again.”

The answer should have been an immediate absolutely not, but the words didn’t spring to Annie’s lips. “Maybe it’ll give me some closure.”

“It’s been three years. What other information could change the way you feel?”

“I don’t know.”

“The answer is none. Nothing will change what happened.” She squirted detergent into the basin and Annie watched the luminescent bubbles multiply under the hot water. “Think about the reasons why he might want to talk to you. Stay the hell away. Trust me, your sanity will thank you.”

Of course, she knew Darcy was right. When Joseph had walked out, she’d fallen to pieces. Her friends had helped put her back together. They’d crashed at her place that first night—Darcy and Remi sleeping on the cramped pullout sofa bed—to make sure she got up the next morning and ate a proper breakfast. They’d stood by her while she called her boss and asked for a few days off to deal with it. They’d plied her with wine and pizza and cheesy movies.

They’d gone to the hospital with her after her mother’s mastectomy, held her hand, and promised her that everything would be okay. Things he should have done.

“What are you two gossiping about?” Her mother appeared in the doorway, a knowing smile on her lips. Only she wouldn’t be smiling if she actually knew that their “boy talk” was about he who should not be named.

Darcy shot Annie a look. “Your daughter is harassing me about my charity run.”

Connie snorted. “That sounds like her.”

“Ma! You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Her mother walked over and wrapped her arms around her, her head barely coming up to Annie’s chin. She smelled like lemon and sweet basil and perfume. Like always. It struck Annie, even now, that her mother’s shape was so permanently changed. She’d decided not to have reconstructive surgery after the double mastectomy—one to address the cancer and one as a preventive measure—having always hated her huge bust. But they’d never actually talked about it. And Annie hadn’t wanted to pressure her mother when she knew it was still a painful topic.

Her mother and Sal had always been determined to “protect” their kids from anything painful in life, including their health problems. At the time, they’d hid Connie’s diagnosis until it was decided she needed to have surgery. Had Annie known about her mother’s situation earlier, she might never have agreed to go to Singapore. Perhaps with that on the table from the get-go, things might have turned out differently between Annie and Joseph.

But it hadn’t, and knowing her parents were inclined to harbor such big secrets had made Annie jittery. And untrusting.

Wow, and the hypocrite of the year award goes to…?

“You know I love you, topolina. But you are a giant pain in the ass sometimes.” Connie’s loud laugh ricocheted off the worn linoleum and weathered walls.

“Charming,” Annie replied, extracting herself from her mother’s embrace and heading behind the breakfast bar to gather more dishes. “Let me know when we want to do dessert, and I’ll get some coffee going.”

“Soon. The girls have gone for a walk and the boys are in the garage.” She attempted to muscle her way into the kitchen to help, but both women waved her away.

Connie rested against the breakfast bar. Her once-chocolate-brown hair was now peppered with gray. The lines had deepened around her eyes, which still had a mischievous twinkle, and she wore her signature bright-pink lipstick.

To Annie, she would always be the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. And the bravest.

“So,” Connie said. Annie’s ears pricked up at her tone. It was the I’ve heard something interesting tone. “When were you going to tell me Joseph is back in town?”

Darcy made a choking sound and Annie froze, her back to her mother as she dried one of the white ceramic platters. “Huh?”

“I ran into Zia Mariella at Costco, who said she’d had lunch with Anna-Maria from down the street, and she had spoken with Petra—Petra who’s married to Tony—whose grandson works for one of the banks, and he read an article saying Joseph is now the chief something-or-other.”

Annie blinked as her brain took the necessary time to catch up with her mother’s story. “Wait, which Petra?”

Connie ignored her question and narrowed her eyes. “Did you know?”

Darcy looked like she was about to back out of the kitchen, so Annie grabbed her wrist, shooting her a Don’t you dare leave me look. Crap. What was she supposed to do now? She never lied to her parents. Ever.

“Uhhh…”

“You did know.” Connie’s lips flattened into a line so thin that almost all of the pink lipstick disappeared. “How could you not tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to know, to be honest.” Annie tucked her hair behind her ear. Shit. This was not a time for her tells. When it came to dealing with her mother’s warpath, the mantra needed to be: Show no weakness!

“Well, I do.” Connie planted her hands on her hips. “So now I can tell him to leave again. He’s not welcome in this city.”

Her mother would definitely freak the hell out if she knew he’d been in Annie’s apartment.

“Thanks, Mayor Mama. I’ll be sure to revoke his Connie visa.” She rolled her eyes.

About the Author

Stefanie London is the USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romances with humor, heat, and heart. Originally from Melbourne, Australia, Stefanie now lives in Toronto, Canada with her husband. She loves to read, collect lipsticks, watch zombie movies and drink coffee. Her bestselling book, Pretend It’s Love, was a 2016 Romantic Book of the Year finalist with the Romance Writers of Australia.  

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads * Instagram * YouTube * Pinterest

And, get the latest dirt on Bad Bachelor #1 at the site badbachelors.weebly.com!  

Giveaway

5 copies of Bad Bachelor

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Synopsis

“Sharon Sala is a consummate storyteller.”—DEBBIE MACOMBER, #1 NYT Bestselling Author for A Piece of My Heart

Every storm they’ve weathered…has led them to each other

Dan Amos lost his wife and son years ago, when they inadvertently got in the way of a death threat meant for him. He’s never had eyes for anyone since, and he doesn’t want to. But fellow Blessings resident Alice Conroy sparks something inside him…

Newly widowed, Alice was disillusioned by marriage and isn’t looking to fall in love anytime soon. Then a tropical storm blazes a path straight for the Georgia coast, and as the town prepares for the worst, Dan opens his heart and his home. The tempest is raging, but Alice and Dan are learning to find shelter…in each other.

Review

I love this series – it is a sweet romance series that touches my heart each time I read one of the books. This book focused on newcomer Dan Amos and Alice Conroy. Both have had tragedy in their lives but that made their union even that much sweeter.

Blessings GA is in for a rough ride as a hurricane is on its way and the town is right in its the path. While no one is safe from this national disaster it was nice to see how the citizens of this town come together to help each other when all was said and done. There are several that discovered that the path they were on was going to lead to their downfall and righted their path once they realized they did not like who they were becoming.

While the story focused on Dan and Alice, there was no shortage of other characters you will remember from the other books.

Usually, I have an idea of who the next book might be about but I have no idea who to expect the focus to be on in the next installment. Maybe Lovey, the owner of Granny’s diner. She ran into some problems in this book from the hurricane but thankfully has the whole town plus Ruby and Peanut to help her out.

We give this 5 paws up and suggest starting with the first book so that you can follow the personal storylines of the various characters.

Excerpt

School was officially out for the day, and parents were standing outside their cars, making sure they were in plain sight today so that their children would not be afraid.

Dan was on his way back to his truck when Alice got out. She waved at him, then stood out on the sidewalk so Patty could see her. She would be looking for their car, not Dan Amos’s truck.

Dan jogged over to where she was standing and tossed his crowbar into the truck bed.

“You were amazing,” Alice said. “I was afraid you would get hurt, too.”

He grinned. “It appears I haven’t lost my roping skills.”

Alice’s eyes widened. “I thought you were a lawyer before you came here.”

“I was once, but I grew up on a ranch in Texas. My parents still live on it, but both of my brothers run it now. When we were kids, we all worked the ranch,” he said.

“So I guess you ride horses, too?” she said.

Grinning, Dan pointed to his boots and belt buckle. “Yes, ma’am. This stuff’s not for show.”

Alice laughed and then heard the bell ring and turned toward the school. Within moments, kids began emerging through the front doors. “Here they come,” she said.

Dan was still trying to get past how her laugh made him feel when the children began coming outside. To his surprise, there was actually a kind of order to their exit. Teachers walked with part of the students toward buses, while other teachers walked with the in-­town riders. He was wondering who would be driving the injured driver’s bus when he saw a man come jogging out behind some of the kids and head that way.

“That’s the PE coach. I’ll bet he’s going to be the substitute driver,” Alice said, and then pointed. “There’s Patty! Oh…she doesn’t see my car.”

“We’ll fix that,” Dan said, and once again, he picked Alice up by the waist and swung her up and into the truck bed. Now she was heads above everyone. “Wave! She’ll see you,” Dan said.

Alice’s heart was hammering as she turned and waved, and then kept on waving until suddenly Patty saw her, smiled, and waved back.

“She saw you, right?” Dan asked.

“Yes, she did! Thank you so much.”

“Ready to get down?” he asked.

She nodded.

This time, he let the tailgate down and then held out his arms. She sat down on the tailgate, then he lifted her off and set her on her feet.

“We should have driven my car. Then you wouldn’t have to be helping me up and helping me down,” she said.

“What’s the fun in that?” he asked, grinning as he set her back into his front seat.

She was a bit taken aback by the teasing, then laughed. Moments later, they began moving up in line along with everyone else. Within a couple of minutes, they were at the loading zone. Dan jumped out and opened the back door of his truck.

“One more Conroy girl to load up, and then we’re good to go,” he said as Patty came running.

As soon as she was buckled in the back seat, she started talking.

“Mama, a girl named Shirley threw up on teacher’s shoes at lunch. I got a happy face on my workbook page and skinned my knee at recess! Did you know there were mean dogs at our school? Will they come back? I might be a’scairt tomorrow.”

Dan was grinning. “Does she ever stop to take a breath?”

“Rarely,” Alice said, then turned around to look at Patty. “Good for you for getting a happy face. That makes Mama’s face happy, too. We did know about the dogs. Mr. Amos saw the dogs and ran to help the bus driver. He stopped the dogs, and the police came and took them away. You don’t have to be scared about anything, okay?”

“Okay, Mama. Thank you, Mr. Amos.”

“You’re welcome, Patty.” Then he glanced at Alice. “Do you need anything before I take you home?”

“No, thank you. We have all we need,” she said.

“Okay then,” he said, and turned left at the stop sign by the school.

“Mama, is Charlie gonna have to walk home by himself? Won’t he be a’scairt, too?”

Alice shook her head. “Charlie walks home every day, and no, he won’t be scared. Charlie is a big boy, remember?”

Patty nodded.

Dan smiled as he drove, enjoying the little girl’s chatter and Alice’s calm demeanor. He was actually disappointed when he reached their house and pulled up into the driveway.

“Well, ladies, you’re home. Alice, if you will bear with me one more time, I’ll help you two out and see you to the door like the gentleman my mama raised me to be.”

He circled the truck, helped Alice down first, and then Patty. Once Patty’s feet touched the ground, she was running toward the house and already on the porch, airing her cheerleader skills by running from one end of the porch to the other, cheering as she went.

Dan laughed out loud at the surprised expression on Alice’s face.

Alice sighed. “Don’t encourage her.”

“Is that even possible?” he asked, as he helped her up the steps. “House key?”

She handed it to him. “It’s the one with the pink nail polish on it, remember?”

“Got it,” he said, unlocked the front door, and then stood back out of the way as Patty danced through the doorway and into the house. Dan was still grinning as he dropped the key ring into Alice’s palm. “It has been a pleasure to spend this time with you and your mini me, Ms. Alice. Maybe we could do this again sometime when there’s nothing else calling your attention.”

Alice was so shocked by the invitation that she forgot to answer.

Dan hesitated. That wasn’t the response he was hoping for. “Uh…so, is that a silent yes, or a silent no?”

She blinked. “Oh. I’m sorry. Uh…it’s a yes, and thank you?”

His heart skipped a beat. Here he was, wanting to kiss her again. He settled for a touch on her forearm. “Take care of that hand,” he said, and left before he made a bigger fool of himself or she changed her mind.

He was on his way home before the shock of what he’d done finally hit. “I cannot believe I asked her on a date.” He drove a whole block farther. “I can’t believe she said yes,” he added. He got home and all the way inside his house with one last question yet unasked. Was tomorrow too soon?

About the Author

SHARON SALA has over one hundred books in print and has published in five different genres. She is an eight-time RITA finalist, five-time Career Achievement winner from RT Book Reviews, and five-time winner of the National Reader’s Choice Award. Writing changed her life, her world, and her fate. She lives in Norman, Oklahoma.

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Synopsis

When a homeless war veteran is beaten to death by the police, stormy protests ensue, engulfing a small New Jersey town. Soon after, three cops are gunned down. A multi-state manhunt is underway for a cop killer on the loose. And Dr. Tessa Thorpe, a veteran’s counselor, is caught up in the chase. Donald Darfield, an African-American Iraqi war vet, war-time buddy of the beaten man, and one of Tessa’s patients, is holed up in a mountain cabin. Tessa, acting on instinct, sets off to find him, but the swarm of law enforcement officers gets there first, leading to Darfield’s dramatic capture. Now, the only people separating him from the lethal needle of state justice are Tessa and aging blind lawyer, Nathaniel Bodine. Can they untangle the web tightening around Darfield in time, when the press and the justice system are baying for revenge? Justice Gone is the first in a series of psychological thrillers involving Dr. Tessa Thorpe, wrapped in the divisive issues of modern American society including police brutality and disenfranchised returning war veterans.

Excerpt

Chapter 7

The funeral services, particularly the burial, had been announced as private and that sympathizers should remain at a discreet distance; and in a demonstration of exemplary respect, the hundreds of supporters complied with the request.

Family and comrades, especially those from the New Hope Clinic, were designated to be at the gravesite. An uninvited guest, surprisingly, was also among them: John Garson, Police Chief of Bruntfield Township.

After the lowering of the coffin, and the slow deliberate departure of the mourners, Garson slipped away, in the opposite direction that everyone else would follow toward their cars and hired limos: crossing fields of gravestones until he reached the coppices of oak trees, in order to escape the press.

Everyone else present merged into the group of activists who assembled at the gate of the plot, all intent upon making known the measure of their sorrow to the public.

The crowd that participated was moderate in numbers, but in no way insignificant—about seven hundred were reported to have shown up. They marched, waving their signs and chanting slogans, from the central commercial district to the Bruntfield Veterans Memorial Park, where a makeshift stage had been set up for the guest speakers. The local TV stations from Newark and Trenton, including the network affiliates, were present covering the march.

The whole thing was fairly orderly, despite the loud chants of “Justice for Jay” and the cardboard signs that said: WE DON’T WANT KILLER COPS, SHAME ON YOU, PROTECT NOT KILL, PUT THE ANIMALS BEHIND BARS. Police presence was minimal and subdued.

Once they arrived at the previously setup podium in the park, representatives of the various groups got their chance to express their views with the condition of keeping it short, and as per Marshal Felson’s request, focused on the incident. The fact that Jay Felson was approached by police when he was not in the act of committing any crime was stressed on more than one occasion. The TV crews covered the speeches with utmost diligence, as this was one of the highlights to be expected. Finally, for the emotional touch, the organizers called on the young man’s father.

“We are here today to let the city authorities know that we will be following very closely the grand jury proceedings!” Marshal Felson shouted. “That we, as a community, will not just brush this aside. I am grateful to all of you who have shown concern and have voiced their support for my son.” He gave up the mike and walked off the stage amid cheers and applause.

A rather frail-looking young man with glasses took control of the audience to announce that Dr. Tessa Thorpe from the New Hope Trauma Recovery Clinic was to be the next speaker.

Tessa had given much thought as to how she should dress for the occasion. Her first instinct was her Karen Kane pants suit, but dismissed that idea to wear her copper-brown print kaftan in its stead.

Now, with its folds caught in the vigorous September breeze, giving the illusion of a multitude of miniature flags fluttering around her, her thick locks of hair dancing around her head, she spoke to the crowd, slowly, deliberately taking her time. “Hello, my fellow citizens.” She stopped to survey the mass of people standing in front of her. Dramatic pauses replete with eye contact, if not overdone, were quite effective in getting one’s message across. Not surprisingly, Tessa knew how to get her message across, a special art in the realm of behavioral scientists. Public relations firms, advertising companies, political campaigns, all hired an army of psychologists to sell a product. And Tessa Thorpe, as someone who had thirty years’ experience as a criminal psychiatrist, could sell as well as any of them. “We are here today for two reasons, two very important reasons that are essential to our well-being in a modern society. Freedom is one, and justice is the other.”

Enthusiastic cheers.

“When the call for war came, we were told that our enemies hated our freedoms. We were told that the citizens of Iraq had been held hostage by a ruthless dictator who denied his own people these freedoms. Our invasion of that country was sold to us as Operation Iraqi Freedom. And so we sent our young men and women off to war, the most traumatic experience a human being could ever go through, with the belief that they were fighting for liberty and freedom. And yet, one of those whom we had sent…had come back to us only to have his own freedom denied. His single offence at the time he was approached by law enforcement officers was that he was exercising his freedom to stand on a street corner.”

This elicited a roar from the crowd.

“This is not merely tragic, it is an act of deplorable fraud, being denied the very thing he fought for!”

More heartfelt cheering.

“When I was young, we were made to pledge allegiance, an oath that ended with the phrase, ‘with liberty and justice for all.’ Well, Jay Felson was denied liberty…let us make sure he is NOT DENIED JUSTICE!”

An ear-shattering reverberation of concurrence.

Having descended from the little platform with the crowd still shouting in endorsement, Tessa was serially embraced by her coworkers: Casey, Ed, Penny…all with praise about her wonderful speech, culminating in Marshal Felson’s hug, whispering into her ear, “Amazing.”

The next event on the program was to go together to the site where Jay was killed at the bus depot in order to lay memorial flowers and gifts. The TV teams followed, instinctively knowing that this was indeed another newsworthy item. In fact, as a human interest story, it tugged at the heart to see the gift bearers laying their offers down. And what made it even more poignant was the huge bloodstain that had yet to be cleaned off the pavement, a crimson smear that drew numerous zoomed-in shots by the camera crews.

About the Author

N. Lombardi Jr, the N for Nicholas, has spent over half his life in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, working as a groundwater geologist. Nick can speak five languages: Swahili, Thai, Lao, Chinese, and Khmer (Cambodian).

In 1997, while visiting Lao People’s Democratic Republic, he witnessed the remnants of a secret war that had been waged for nine years, among which were children wounded from leftover cluster bombs. Driven by what he saw, he worked on The Plain of Jars for the next eight years.

Nick maintains a website with content that spans most aspects of the novel: The Secret War, Laotian culture, Buddhism etc.

His second novel, Journey Towards a Falling Sun, is set in the wild frontier of northern Kenya.

His latest novel, Justice Gone was inspired by the fatal beating of a homeless man by police.

Nick now lives in Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Website * Goodreads * Amazon

Title: The (Half) Truth
Author: Leddy Harper
Release Date: February 19, 2019
Publisher: Montlake Romance

Synopsis

Tatum Alexander is so close to realizing her dream of becoming a sous chef she can taste it, but working at her ex-fiancé’s restaurant with his new girlfriend was never in her career plan. To save face and prove she’s moved on, Tatum cooks up a lie that she’s in a relationship with her best friend’s superhot cousin. There’s just one problem: Jason only recently moved to town, and he has no idea they’re already “dating.”

Jason’s a recovering ladies’ man who shouldn’t be on the menu, but that doesn’t mean he’s immune to Tatum’s quirky charm. Giving her lie a kernel of truth, they decide some no-strings-attached fun between the sheets can’t hurt. But as Tatum’s forced to keep making up stories to cover her original fib, she has a hard time separating what’s real and what’s fake—including her feelings for Jason.

With too many tales spun, Tatum can only watch in horror as her collection of yarns begins to unravel, leaving everyone she cares about feeling betrayed. After so many lies, will it be too late to set the record straight? And more importantly, will she be able to convince Jason there’s truth in their love?

Guest Post

How To Properly Create a Fake Relationship with the Heroine from THE (HALF) TRUTH

My name is Tatum Alexander, and I’m a liar. There…I’ve said it. Now, before you judge me, hear me out. While I understand this might sound preposterous (if it hadn’t happened to me, I wouldn’t believe it, either), trust me when I say it’s 100% true.

You see, what had happened was…my fiancé dumped me in the most epically humiliating way—while sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant, waiting for my friends and family to join us for my birthday dinner. But, he wasn’t just my fiancé (well, technically, my ex-fiancé), he was also the owner of the posh restaurant I worked at. And rather than quit my job after he dumped me, I stayed because it would’ve been career suicide to leave after I’d gotten so close to being a sous-chef (my dream job). The one thing I hadn’t expected was that a few months later, my ex-fiancé would hire his new girlfriend—who happens to work in the kitchen, one station away from me. Needless to say, I was unable to escape the embarrassment and devastation that surrounded my breakup…especially since the kitchen was full of nosy-bodies.

And since my ex has the heart of a corpse, he decided to schedule me and his new girlfriend to work side by side at the town’s annual foodie festival. She’s not a bad person—kind of sweet, really, aside from the whole dating my ex thing—so it wouldn’t have been that bad had she not spent the whole time discussing how “wonderful” her relationship was. Before I knew it, I was telling them all about the new guy I was dating. (I’ll let you in on a little secret…I wasn’t dating anyone. Didn’t really even know the guy, but that’s what I get for trying to sound like I wasn’t bothered by her stories of her “amazing” boyfriend.) I guess you can say that was the beginning of the train wreck. And boy, what a train wreck it was!

Looking back on it now, I can see where I went wrong. Then again, hindsight’s twenty-twenty. If I had to make a list of all the mistakes I made while forming this “half” truth of sorts (AKA my new boyfriend), I’d probably start with the boyfriend himself. You see…I had recently met my best friend’s older, extremely hot, sexy, and single cousin. And somehow, while describing my faux-beau, I ended up giving a very detailed description of said older, extremely hot, sexy, and single cousin of my best friend. The very next mistake happened about five seconds later when I was asked what his name was. Jay. Sounded simple enough. Except my bestie’s cousin’s name is Jason. Technically not the same name. But still, it would’ve been smarter to have gone with Ricardo…or Thor. Anything other than the first syllable of his real name. And the very next mistake happened five seconds after that…when I stupidly showed the girls his picture. It could be argued that that had been the biggest mistake of them all, considering the real Jason showed up to the very same foodie festival I was working. Although, with as well as I’d detailed his entire body, they could’ve very well picked him out of a crowd without a picture.

My story doesn’t end there, but I don’t want to bore you with the details of how my “lie” became somewhat of a “truth”…right after everyone I worked with witnessed him cheating on me (in his defense, he had no idea we were dating. In my defense, I had no idea he’d become interested in me after all my co-workers thought him to be a lying, cheating scumbag. But I digress.) All of that could’ve easily been avoided if I was a better liar, if I wasn’t such an awkward person—especially around a certain extremely hot, sexy, single guy—if I hadn’t kept it all from my best friend, or if that same best friend hadn’t “forbidden” me to see him in the first place. So all in all, it wasn’t entirely my fault.

But at least I now know what not to do when creating a fake relationship. So, if any of you find yourselves in a situation like I did (oh, who am I kidding? I’m literally the only person on the planet who could manage that) or in any situation where one might need an imaginary boyfriend, I have a few tips to keep in mind. One—never use a real person. Especially his name. It would be best if you take eleven or twelve different men and describe their physical traits as if they were one person. That way, the chances of anyone “finding” him will be slim to none. And if he is found…I’d say that’s as good as any sign I can think of that he’s your soul mate—which might behoove you to pick some pretty delicious-looking men, if you ask me. Two—and this one’s important, so pay very close attention…never, and I mean never show anyone a picture of this guy. If anyone asks why you don’t have any photos, make sure you have a realistic list of excuses. Such as: he’s camera shy; you lost all your pictures in the last software update on your phone; he’s a celebrity and doesn’t want to risk putting you in the public eye. Okay, that last one might be a bit too much. I never claimed to be a good liar. And three—which might very well be the most important tip I could ever give…do not, under any circumstances, fall in love with him (especially if you’ve made him up…because then you’d have a few additional problems to deal with rather than just getting caught in a lie).

Trust me…getting caught in what I call a “domino-effect” lie (once one falls apart, the entire thing comes crashing down) is not fun. So, if you’ve learned anything from me today, I hope that it’s the importance of a well-crafted lie. But in the event you get caught, always remember…it’s not a lie; it’s a “half” truth.

Excerpt

“You do know Michael used to be engaged to Tatum, right?”

“Yeah, he told me. But that was a while ago. Does it bother you, Tatum? You’ve never said anything about it.”

I thought about pointing out that six months wasn’t really a while ago, but I decided to let that go. And the idea of admitting how it felt to see him smile at her or whisper into her ear, let alone hear about all the things I didn’t have to witness, made me want to disappear. “Oh, no. I’m so over it. So, so over it.” And since stopping while I was ahead had never been my strong suit, I added, “In fact, I’ve been dating someone.”

“You have?” Both Rebecca and Amanda asked the same question at the same time, but while Rebecca’s voice was filled with excitement—which matched her bright eyes and ridiculous hand clap—Amanda’s was more cynical.

“Yup. And he’s amazing.”

“What’s his name?” Again with the doubtful tone from Amanda. She’d been part of my postbreakup support system, so I couldn’t exactly blame her for questioning my sudden confession. After everything Michael had put me through, this was something I definitely would’ve told her … had it been true.

“Uh … Jay. His name’s Jay.”

“Where’d you meet him?” This time, it was Rebecca asking, as if we were girlfriends sharing juicy gossip over mimosas at a spa.

I had no idea why I’d even started this. I should’ve known they’d jump all over it like rabid dogs on a T-bone. Yet I couldn’t back out now.

“We met at a barbecue.” Short and sweet, not many details I’d have to remember. Perfect.

“When?” Dammit, Amanda. She was no longer on my Christmas card list—not that I’d ever sent any out, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a list in case one year I felt ambitious. And if that year ever came, this heifer wouldn’t get one.

“Two weeks ago.”

“What’s he look like?” Rebecca’s blue eyes shimmered.

“Yeah, tell us what he looks like, Tatum.” And now she could forget getting a birthday present from me. It also helped that I had no idea when her birthday was.

“He’s tall. Hot. A man’s man.” That could’ve been anyone. I was still safe.

“How very nondescript of you.”

“Well, you know how it is, Amanda.” I glared at her, hoping she’d get the hint and go with it. “It’s still new, and I wouldn’t want anyone to get jealous of how perfect he is.”

“No need to worry about me. I’m very secure in my relationship with Michael.”

I wanted to ask Rebecca how secure she could possibly be with a man who, six months ago, had broken up with his fiancée on her birthday because he said he wasn’t sure if he was ready for something so serious. But I held back the wicked comments that longed to slip off my tongue.

The next words out of my mouth were Michael’s fault. Had he not forced me to spend the day with his new girlfriend, listening to every detail of their relationship, I never would’ve been in this position.

“He has dark hair that’s trimmed short on the sides and a little longer on top, just enough to look messy if he runs his fingers through it. His eyes are this amazing shade of green—sometimes they’re light, like blades of grass at the beginning of spring, and other times they’re darker, similar to the color of a Christmas tree. And he’s gotta be over six feet tall. When I stand next to him, I’m eye level with his chest.” I glanced at my phone in my hand, noticing that the photo still filled the screen, and realized I had described Jason to a T.

“Go on,” Rebecca prodded. “Is he fit like Michael?”

By this point, I was in it to win it.

“He makes Michael look like a wimp. And I’m not just saying that because Michael’s my ex, either. I could wash my clothes on his abs.” Well, that was taking it a little too far. I had to rein it in some if I wanted her to actually believe me. “He works out all the time, so he’s totally in shape. Not an inch of fat on him.”

“He sounds dreamy,” Rebecca said with a sigh.

“Yeah, he does. Almost too good to be true … like you made him up. You probably don’t have any pictures of him, do you?” As only a friend would, Amanda loved watching me dig my own grave.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” I thought about sticking my tongue out at Amanda in an immature “shows what you know” kind of way, but then I realized what I’d just done. In my need to prove her wrong—even though she wasn’t—I’d inadvertently dug my hole even deeper.

“Well, let’s see it.”

I had no choice but to show them the photo on my phone. I had to admit, though, the surprise on Amanda’s face when she saw it gave me a sense of victory—like winning Monopoly only because I cheated. Rebecca’s approval was simply the icing on the cake.

A cake that came crashing to the ground about thirty minutes later.

Rebecca stared at something over my shoulder and asked, “Hey, Tatum, isn’t that Jay?”

“Huh? Jay who?”

“Uh … your boyfriend,” Amanda reminded me with a quirked brow.

I craned my neck so fast it gave me a cramp. There was no way it was him. Okay, so that was wishful thinking on my part. Not only was there a chance he was here, but he was, in fact, here. At Taste of the Town. Standing a few tents away next to another guy.

My life was over.

Having Amanda believe I had lied about a boyfriend was one thing—having multiple people catch me in said lie was another. Add in the probability of Jason being one of those people, and … shoot me now.

About the Author

Leddy Harper had to use her imagination often as a child: she grew up the only girl in a family full of boys. At fourteen, she decided to use that imagination to write her first book, and she never stopped. She often calls writing her therapy, using it to deal with issues through the eyes of her characters.

Harper is now a mother of three girls, making her husband the only man in a house full of females. She published her first book to encourage her children to go after whatever they want, to inspire them to love what they do and do it well, and to teach them what it means to overcome their fears.

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