Posted in excerpt, nonfiction, War on May 21, 2023

 

 

Synopsis

 

Everyday War provides an accessible lens through which to understand what noncombatant civilians go through in a country at war. What goes through the mind of a mother who must send her child to school across a minefield or the men who belong to groups of volunteer body collectors? In Ukraine, such questions have been part of the daily calculus of life. Greta Uehling engages with the lives of ordinary people living in and around the armed conflict over Donbas that began in 2014 and shows how conventional understandings of war are incomplete.

In Ukraine, landscapes filled with death and destruction prompted attentiveness to human vulnerabilities and the cultivation of everyday, interpersonal peace. Uehling explores a constellation of social practices where ethics of care were in operation. People were also drawn into the conflict in an everyday form of war that included provisioning fighters with military equipment they purchased themselves, smuggling insulin, and cutting ties to former friends. Each chapter considers a different site where care can produce interpersonal peace or its antipode, everyday war.

Bridging the fields of political geography, international relations, peace and conflict studies, and anthropology, Everyday War considers where peace can be cultivated at an everyday level.

 

 

Amazon * Cornell University Press

 

 

Excerpt

 

Introduction

 

“Do you want to go to the green, yellow, or red zone?” Kyrylo bellowed enthusiastically. He was gripping the wheel of his probably mufflerless SUV and we were barreling down a superhighway outside of Kyiv, Ukraine. It was 2015, and Kyrylo lived on the other side of the country in the nongovernment-controlled part of Donetsk, but traveled to the capital city regularly to gather supplies and meet with colleagues about his humanitarian work. His color-coded levels of risk, brilliantly calibrated to the universal language of the stop light, were intended to help manage the perils of working in close proximity to military violence. For the red zone where sniper fire was common, I would need a helmet, Kevlar, and exhaustive knowledge of where to take cover at any moment. In the yellow zone where there could be heavy artillery fire, I would need to be connected to the flow of information at a granular level: knowing the forecast in the military microclimate was essential to survival. In the green zone, I might see plumes of smoke or be awakened by the grumbling of artillery fire, but there would not be life-threatening dangers, he told me. Kyrylo’s stoplight metaphor challenged my previous way of thinking about war as chaos. He showed me the side of military conflict that entails planned destruction. But the simplicity of this mental mapping stands out against another reality, which was the complexity of who was fighting whom, and why. And while it might seem surprising, people, including families with small children, lived in the red zone, vividly demonstrating that contemporary conflicts threaten life’s very ongoingness: one could be shot and killed while stepping out to buy bread.

Between 2014 and 2017 alone, the conflict over the Ukrainian provinces of Donetsk and Luhansk extinguished well over 13,000 lives (many of which were civilian) and injured at least 24,000 people (OHCHR 2017, 1). Tens of thousands were missing and presumed dead. Over two million people had been forcibly displaced (OHCHR 2017, 1; Mukomel 2017, 105), and the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) estimated the population of humanitarian concern to be five million (OCHA 2020, 1). The scars of the conflict marked the earth itself: by 2017 Ukrainian soil had one of the highest concentrations of landmines in the world (OCHA 2020). Unless removed, these mines will shift over time and take lives and limbs for decades to come. Eight years on at this writing, and despite multiple efforts to end the conflict, peace remains elusive.

This book is less concerned with the statistics, however, than the subjective experience of military conflict. The chapters seek to expand the boundaries of what we take to be war. Contemporary military conflicts are increasingly being fought in residential areas, and the protagonists have changed. We, therefore, need to stop thinking about military conflict as something that is primarily waged between the trained soldiers of states. Theories of “new wars” and “hybrid wars” (Kaldor 2013; 2006; Hoffman 200) postulate that cyber-technologies, Jihadists, mercenaries, disinformation, election interference, and forcible population dis- placement characterize contemporary military conflicts. But these concepts still implicitly treat states as the most important actors. If today’s wars are increasingly fought in civilian areas, it is all the more imperative to study (as this book aims to do) what happens among the noncombatants who live in areas where conflict and combat occur.

 

The Conflict over Donbas and this Book

 

The military conflict began in the wake of the 2013–2014 revolution, also known as the Revolution of Dignity or the Maidan movement. The revolution initially sought to bring about greater integration with the European Union, an objective that aroused sharp controversy in the eastern provinces of Donetsk and Luhansk, Ukraine. Protestors took to the streets and while some supported the political transition going on in Kyiv, others were against it. In March 2014, insurgents in the city of Sloviansk seized administrative buildings as well as the police station, and the first shots were fired. It was the beginning of a bloody armed conflict, sometimes called a hybrid war because of Russia’s covert intervention using multiple modalities on behalf of the insurgents. The conflict therefore had both domestic and international dimensions that are elaborated on in the next chapter.

For now, suffice it to say that Ukraine’s aspirations to be more integrated with the West, aspirations that the United States and the European Union encouraged, hardly played well in Moscow, and helped inspire the occupation of Crimea. The “success” of the Crimean operation is believed to have helped embolden President Vladimir Putin to support the anti-Maidan insurgency in eastern Ukraine. In the beginning, mercenaries paid by the Russian Federation were important ac- tors in the conflict. At the battle of Ilovaisk, that began in August 2014, Russian military forces became more identifiably involved. Owing to how weak the Ukrai- nian military was at this time, it was up to battalions of volunteer fighters, coming from all walks of life, to limit this advance. The United States also provided sup- port, including technical advice, training, and eventually the transfer of advanced military equipment like surface-to-air missile launchers. This was on top of the United States Department of State having advised the Ukrainian government to have its troops stand down when Crimea was occupied. A great deal of debate has centered on who is to blame: kto vinovat? Ukraine’s territorial integrity and the social identities, political rights, and economic livelihoods of people across this region, not to mention respect for state sovereignty more generally, are at stake.

The first half of the book takes place in government-controlled parts of Ukraine. These chapters are organized around friend, family, and romantic partner relationships to illuminate the specific ways in which war can reconfigure intimacy while intimate relationships are the site of a different, everyday kind of war. The second half of the book is focused on life in and around the Donetsk

 

 

About the Author

 

Greta Uehling’s scholarship is broadly concerned with international migration and forced displacement. Major projects have examined the experiences of refugees, asylum seekers, and the internally displaced. Her current project explores the subjective experience of military conflict and forced displacement in Ukraine. Based on ethnographic fieldwork, she documents how the military conflict reconfigured social worlds that became the site of a different, everyday kind of war.

Prior to teaching in the Program on International and Comparatives Studies, Uehling consulted with a number of international organizations including the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, and the Watson Institute at Brown University.

Uehling holds a PhD in cultural anthropology from the University of Michigan. In 2004, she completed a post-doctoral fellowship with the Solomon Asch Center for the Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict at the University of Pennsylvania. Her first book is Beyond Memory: The Deportation and Repatriation of the Crimean Tatars. Her newest book is Everyday War: The Conflict over Donbas, Ukraine. She is also the author of numerous scholarly articles and the editor of two edited volumes.

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Posted in Book Release, excerpt, Fantasy on May 20, 2023

 

 

Synopsis

 

The story takes place in Auris, a world of storms and chaos where seven violent Tempests rule the land, wreaking havoc across the continent. This first book in the series follows three heroes who walk the threads of fate, weaving an epic tale of magic, war, love, and loss. Together these individuals will forever change Auris’ future. Empires will shatter and Tempests will be Unbound, but destiny will prevail as the protagonists face their fated ends.

Castien Varic is a soldier and a Stormless – someone without magic – on an expedition for the King. He battles with intense anxiety and panic attacks while striving to complete his mission. Prince Faelyn Titansworn disagrees with his father, the King, about the dangers Auris is facing and must decide where his loyalty lies. Meanwhile, two years in the past, Asteros Silverglade is uncovering secrets behind the mysterious Vanishing that wiped out the Ancient Sects and created the Tempests. The paths of the three protagonists converge in an exciting cliffhanger, setting the stage for the next book in the series.

More than one character in Stormless struggles with mental health issues, and Stitle does not shy away from the subjects of depression, anxiety, and panic attacks. He hopes his readers can see themselves in his characters and realize they are not alone. Stitle’s heroes are not perfect, implausible personalities but complex, flawed individuals.

 

 

Amazon

 

 

Excerpt

 

“You come into my kingdom, into my castle, and now you command me to hand over my city?” The King chuckled. “You must be mad!” The King slapped his knee, still bellowing with laughter. He raised his eyes back to Velarus. “But if that is the game you wish to play…” Flames drifted from the King’s crystals, swirling around his hands as he wove them together. “Well, we have a special place in the dungeons for your kind.” The fires licked the King’s fingertips. “I will not give up my armies. And I certainly will not surrender my country to you.” The King guided his hands through careful, well-practiced motions, and Velarus soon found himself surrounded by brilliant tendrils of flame. “Besides, even if you were a Blood Sorcerer–as you claim to be–my answer would be the same.” Swaths of golden flames surrounded the King, giving him an almost divine aura. “I have always thought the powers of your kind were a bit… exaggerated.”

Velarus smiled, subtly bleeding his Crystals. This would be a display that the King would not soon forget.

“Exaggerated?” Velarus snorted. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

The King lunged.

Velarus closed his eyes, diving into the depths of his soul. His power awaited him, begging to be unleashed. Velarus grabbed hold of it, and then the blood came.

The King’s flames vanished as the room exploded with black-red energy.

Torrents of blood flooded the chamber, scattering the contents of the throne room. Darkness surged within the air, warping the blood and causing it to levitate. The terrible power thrived, rivers of blood and darkness ravaging the chamber.

Velarus knocked the guards to the ground with nothing more than a thought. The hell-storm raged, knocking down braziers, tearing apart the soft carpet, and wreaking havoc on even the pillars themselves. Dark energy smashed into the walls, causing the whole palace to quiver.

The cyclone of blood magic quickened, growing stronger with each passing second. Velarus smiled. With a wave of his hand, the frenzy of horror receded slightly before him, leaving in its place a single person…

The King writhed on the marble floor before Velarus, his vermillion robes flapping in the raging storm of blood magic. Velarus approached him, forcing the King to his knees with a twist of his finger.

“You are nothing,” Velarus whispered, his face mere inches from the King’s. “You will always be nothing. You cannot even imagine the power my people hold.”

“Please.” The King wept, trembling beneath the spikes of pain Velarus pulsed through his body. “Why are you doing this?”

Velarus paused. “Auris is in danger, and it seems I am the only one who can save it. You and your people have made it clear that you only respond to force,” he breathed. “We are your last hope. Even your most powerful Summoners don’t stand a chance in the face of the Resurgence.” Velarus released him. The cascades of blood and darkness vanished in an instant, fading into nothing.

The King fell to the floor. He was mostly unharmed—as were the guards—but Velarus had no doubts that this would be a day they would never forget.

“You have six weeks,” Velarus said. “Surrender the city by then… or suffer the consequences.”

The King offered no response.

Velarus turned, gliding toward the doors through which he had entered. As Velarus passed through the entrance, the only sound in the enormous chamber was the gentle crackling of the flames, a reminder to the King that, even surrounded by the very element which he controlled, he was powerless.

 

 

About the Author

 

Injuries forced Nicklas Stitle to stop playing tennis after his freshman year of high school, and he realized that was an opportunity to begin working on the story he had been carefully putting together in his head. Stitle began writing Stormless at the age of 15 and woke up early every day to work on the story before school, creating a new fantasy world and crafting characters he could relate to. Incorporating valuable advice from industry experts wanting to help a young author, Stitle completed Stormless at the age of 17.

Stitle has nearly finished book two, The Fire King, and is currently planning books three and four in the series. He hopes to inspire other young writers to chase after their dreams. Stitle lives in Indiana with his mom, dad, older brother, and two dogs.

 

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Posted in Book Release, excerpt, Historical on May 17, 2023

 

 

Synopsis

 

In one of his most accomplished, compelling novels yet, acclaimed New York Times bestseller Jeff Shaara accomplishes what only the finest historical fiction can do – he brings to life one of the most consequential figures in U.S. history – Theodore Roosevelt – peeling back the many-layered history of the man, and the country he personified.

From the mid-nineteenth century to the early twentieth century, from the waning days of the rugged frontier of a young country to the emergence of a modern, industrial nation exerting its power on the world stage, Theodore Roosevelt embodied both the myth and reality of the country he loved and led.

From his upbringing in the rarefied air of New York society of the late 19th century to his time in rough-and-tumble world of the Badlands in the Dakotas, from his rise from political obscurity to Assistant Secretary of the Navy, from national hero as the leader of the Rough Riders in the Spanish-American War to his accidental rise to the Presidency itself, Roosevelt embodied the complex, often contradictory, image of America itself.

In gripping prose, Shaara tells the story of the man who both defined and created the modern United States.

 

 

Amazon * B&N * Bookshop * Macmillan

 

 

Excerpt

 

CHAPTER 1

 

December 25, 1918

Sagamore Hill, New York

“The president was received by, well, some estimates say two million Frenchmen turned out, waving flags and whatnot.”

Roosevelt turned away from her, said, “My sister visits me to bolster my spirits, and this is what she brings. On Christmas Day yet. Woodrow Wilson is a hero for the ages, while I lie here as a lump of bacon fat.”

“Dear Teedie, I only tell you what you will read in the papers. And you will read them, despite Christmas, or whatever affliction you have today. I have never known you to ignore any news that might annoy you.”

He turned to Corinne, saw a smile. “Fine. My sister insults me. But I cannot scold you. You’re one of my caretakers, after all.”

He flexed his aching fingers, the pain a sudden shock. He looked at the splint around his hand. “When did this happen?”

Edith was there now, a hand on Corinne’s shoulder. “Last night. The doctor said the splint would help keep your hand and wrist immobile. You complained woefully about the pain in your fingers.” She paused, said softly, “You don’t recall?”

“Of course I recall. I’m no invalid, you know.”

The word hung between them, and he knew his protest had been overblown.

“No, of course you’re not. We’re just pampering you until you’re completely not an invalid. What should we call you in the meantime?”

“Bull Moose will do.”

His sister laughed, but Edith kept a frown.

“They’re still pushing you to come back, you know. More letters this morning. Bull Moose indeed. They want you to run. I do wish you would tell them once and for all to leave you alone. This is not the time for such foolishness. I’m not certain that agreeing to this writer’s request for an interview is a good idea at all. You need your rest.”

He didn’t want this, not now.

“My precious Edie, the 1912 election was my final hurrah, or perhaps my final whimpering farewell. Regardless how many love the term Bull Moose, I do not. I’m not going to run for anything, not president, not local constable.” He paused, fought for a breath. “But it is flattering, yes? They still love me. I rather enjoy holding on to that. If Mr. Hagedorn wishes to write about me yet again, dig into all my wonderful accomplishments, should I complain? I think not. The public does adore me, after all.”

Corinne laughed.

“I see that your gift for sarcasm hasn’t been damaged.” She looked up at Edith. “He’s right, though. Is there harm? They want him to run because he’s beloved, and Mr. Hagedorn can sell books about Teedie because people want to read them. There is no harm, Edie.”

Edith lowered her head.

“Of course. It’s hard to argue against any of that. We’ve all seen the crowds.” Edith clapped her hands, bringing him to attention. “All right, that’s it for politics. You want to wind yourself up, wait for Mr. Hagedorn. This young man has been begging to see you again since you’ve been home. But be prepared for him to press you, and hard. I’m only concerned for my husband. The doctor will be here in about an hour, and I don’t want you holding back anything. Not now. Please, Teddy.”

He looked at them both, saw soft fear, drew more pain from their concern than from the ridiculous agony in his hand. He flexed his fingers again, habit, flinched again from the sharp pains.

“I hurt. But it is not necessary for you both to mother-hen me like this. I am no child.” He paused. “Well, usually. But right now, I just hurt. And I think I’ve got a fever again. You’re a little blurry too. Or perhaps that’s just me.”

Edith bent low, a hand on his forehead. She said nothing, but he knew the look.

“Fever it is, then. My wife can hide nothing from me. I suppose you should hurry that doctor along if you can.”

He rolled slightly away, stared at the brightness of the window, too bright, closed his eyes.

Corinne said, “I’ll leave now, Edie. Maybe he can get some rest. Call me if you need me.”

She was gone in a rustle of her dress, and Edith sat now, her hand on his arm. He wanted to turn, facing her, but there was no strength, no energy at all. He tried to open his eyes, the sun blinding him again, the weight of his fever swirling through his head.

“Thank you, Edie. I’ll sleep now. My hand hurts.”

* * *

HE HEARD A familiar sound outside the window.

“That singing. It’s a cardinal, a male.” He paused, his mind drifting, the sound of the bird filling him with the kind of joy he had always felt when hearing such a variety of songs, identifying every kind of bird, a talent that even master naturalists had found astonishing.

“God, I remember it all. My father did that, opened a marvelous door to everything about nature. Egypt, the entire family absorbing so much, but none enjoyed that trip as much as I did. If I could, I would return right now.”

The images were in his mind, Egypt and the great river, so many birds, the excitement of the hunting excursions, trophies he never could have imagined. Close by, the cardinal serenaded him again, brought him home. He fought through the blurriness, tried to see Edith.

Copyright © 2023 by Jeff Shaara

 

 

About the Author

 

JEFF SHAARA is the award-winning, New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal and Publishers Weekly bestselling author of seventeen novels, including Rise to Rebellion and The Rising Tide, as well as Gods and Generals and The Last Full Measure – two novels that complete his father’s Pulitzer Prize-winning classic, The Killer Angels. Shaara was born in New Brunswick, New Jersey, grew up in Tallahassee, Florida, and lives in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

 

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Posted in coming of age, excerpt, Interview, Short Story, Young Adult on May 1, 2023

 

 

Synopsis

 

During a span of four inquisitive years, Wendall, an overly curious teen, has his view of the world transformed by a colorful cast of small-town characters. Some are mentors; others are tormentors. However, each one thoroughly comprehends a specific facet of human nature: happiness, manipulation, and saying no, just to name a few.

But Wendall isn’t just a passive student. He gets his hands dirty when his father transplants the family to a rundown farm and soon finds himself up against a sadistic psychopath, a con man, and a close friend who has attempted suicide.

Wendall’s adventures add some fun and entertainment, which balance and reinforce the seriousness of the lessons being taught throughout the story.

 

 

Amazon * B&N * BAM * Indigo

 

Praise

 

“An inspiring story about a teenage boy, Wendall, and his journey to discovering the importance of self-respect and understanding of human nature. The book is full of life lessons, stories of kindness and empathy, as well as a serious look into the issue of bullying. It is a great read for all ages, full of heartwarming moments and valuable lessons.” –  Johnston316, OnlineBookClub.org

 

“I rate it 5 out of 5 stars. I recommend it to young adults and lovers of books that share life lessons through short tales.” – Roy Nick, OnlineBookClub.org

 

 

Read an Excerpt Here

 

 

Interview with the Author

 

How did you do research for your book?

 

No formal research. I pulled everything from my experiences and people I have met.

 

Which was the hardest character to write? The easiest?

 

Hardest: Mrs. Brown – a combination of several incredible women.

Easiest: Rance Hill – an unforgettable, real-life monster.

 

How did you come up with the idea for your book?

 

The idea of the book came from patients asking me in the ER from what book I learned the 3Bs (my own description of manipulation). I wrote my book for people like them – struggling to deal effectively with other people in their lives.

 

Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

 

Helping others and the potential to help people I will never know.

 

There are many books out there about self-help. What makes yours different?

 

Most self-help books are full of good advice and information but they are mundane and read like a college psychology text – not fun or particularly enjoyable to read. I have implanted my self-help lessons in a story line with memorable characters. Remember the characters, and you will remember the lessons.

 

What advice would you give budding writers?

 

Write and then rewrite and then refine it again. The more you write and review sometimes-embarrassing edited versions of your work, the better writer you will become.

 

Your book is set in Benson, Kansas. Have you ever been there?

 

It is set in a fictional town. I grew up in a town in northwest Oklahoma very similar to Benson.

 

Do you ever get writer’s block? What helps you overcome it? 

 

Yes. Two cures: 1) Just type down the thoughts of whatever topic you are confronting without worrying about coming up with the perfect line. You can always sift through it later. 2) Walk on a treadmill and think about what you want to say. Then stop and jot down lines or segments of lines as needed.

 

What is your next project?

 

A follow up book: Mentors and Tormentors in Medicine – the story of Wendall’s medical school and residency adventures.

 

 

About the Author

 

Tim Jones, M.D.  is a board certified family physician currently practicing full-time ER medicine in rural Texas. He is happily married with four grown daughters and five grandsons. He and his wife also have a toy poodle, who has more followers than Tim on his Facebook account. He enjoys fine art acrylic painting, but it has recently taken a back seat to his pursuit of writing.

 

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Posted in Book Release, excerpt, romance on April 30, 2023

 

 

Synopsis

 

Two worlds. One heart. Twelve hours.

Bianca Maria Curtis is at the brink of losing it all when she meets Eric at a bar in Manhattan. Eric, as it turns out, is the famous Korean drama celebrity Park Hyun Min, and he’s in town for one night to escape the pressures of fame. From walking along Fifth Avenue to eating ice cream at Serendipity to sharing tender moments on top of the Empire State building, sparks fly as Bianca and Eric spend twelve magical hours far away from their respective lives. In that time, they talk about the big stuff: love, life, and happiness, and the freedom they both seek to fully exist and not merely survive.

But real life is more than just a few exhilarating stolen moments in time.

As the clock strikes the twelfth hour, Bianca returns back to the life she detests to face a tragedy that will test her strength and resolve—and the only thing she has to keep going is the memory of a man she loves in secret from a world away.

 

 

Amazon * B&N * Bookshop

 

 

Excerpt

 

It’s 5:55 p.m.

I’m losing it. God, I’m losing it.

“F* it! I mean they didn’t even wait a few days, even a few hours, to tell me that my presentation sucks. They spit it out right in the middle of it.” I whine vehemently as I say this. I simply do not have the capacity to calm down right this minute because the stakes are too high.

The demand letter from the bank is like a ticking time bomb inside the purse that hangs tauntingly under the bar, proving me powerless. “We demand that you send us the four months of missed mortgage payments within thirty days or you will need to vacate the property fifteen days after the grace period indicated above.” My heart tightens. I have $427 to my name and maxed out credit cards that are all in default. My beat-up car, parked somewhere in Jersey City, looks like my next housing option if I don’t get this all figured out. Homelessness is real, and it can happen to anyone. I’m on the brink of it.

 

 

About the Author

 

Maan Gabriel is a mom, wife, dreamer, writer, and advocate for women’s stories in literature. She earned her BA in communications from St. Scholastica’s College in Manila and MPS in public relations and corporate communications from Georgetown University. She has lived in Manila, Brussels, Dakar, and Mexico City. During the day, she works in strategic communications. Gabriel and her husband and son currently call suburban Washington, DC home.

 

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Posted in 3 1/2 paws, excerpt, Review, Short Story on April 28, 2023

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

Visions of her Cherokee grandmother, Cordie, flashed through Mary’s mind as her mother, Marguerite, informed her that her stepfather shot himself and was in the hospital. Oh no! Did she use me last night? She’d never use her scapegoat! No, she couldn’t! Even Marguerite wouldn’t sink that low! Or would she? Marguerite had always been abusive and vile to most people, and especially to her children and husbands, but would she shoot Paul? Chills raked Mary and triggered her shuddering. Was she more shocked that her mother shot her stepfather with murderous intent, or that she left Mary as her alibi?

 

 

 

Amazon * B&N * Apple

 

 

 

 

 

 

Review

 

This short story shares the horrors one woman went through growing up with a mentally unstable mother. While reading this, it made me grateful for my family. I couldn’t imagine the horrors this woman and her siblings endured at the hands of their mother. Mary seemed to be targeted the most by her mother, with no real understanding of why.

More and more stories like this come to light daily, making me sad for those who endured abuse from their parents or other family members. It is hard for me to understand or grasp that people can do this to someone they supposedly love.

Despite her upbringing, Mary is able to break free from the negativity in her life. It isn’t easy, and she doesn’t get it right immediately. But she moves forward with her life. I can only imagine the horror of being the “alibi” for her mother, whose husband is found shot. While nothing is ever confirmed, it is suspected that her mother shot him.

This is a gritty book, but it shares her story. There are photos included of her siblings, grandparents, and other celebrations in her life.

I did feel like the story was scattered and seemed to wander in places, but overall is a solid testament to her strength.

We give this book 3 1/2 paws.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt

 

Chills raked Mary and triggered her shuddering. Was she more shocked that her mother shot her stepfather with murderous intent, or that she left Mary as her alibi?”

 

Before I get to this shooting, I want to fill in background so that you understand sociopathic people and the rage they can present to another person or persons. My mother was a sociopath. Her rage was uncontrolled, and she acted fast, aggressively, and with vengeance. It’s important for the reader to have a full background.    

As I grew up, I wanted to believe that my mother was a good mother, but sadly that never happened, she never was. My mother, Marguerite, always seemed to think that she was the best mother, perfect even, but not all mothers are made the same as I found out from a very young age.

I remember my second Christmas at age two years. We had a cedar Christmas tree with lights and tinsel.  Somehow, I found some small, glass Christmas lights and I had them in my hands. No one stopped me. Possibly no one noticed. I took my pretty treasures and sat behind the heating stove in our small house on North Grand Avenue. For some reason only a two-year-old would understand, I put one of the light bulbs in my mouth and bit it down. I broke the glass, and I didn’t get hurt, and I thought oh that was a cool sound and so I broke the other one in my mouth! My mother, older brother and sister were in the same room, and my mother found me bleeding from my mouth behind the heating stove. She went into a ballistic rage! I was in trouble. She beat my butt and yelled at me all the way to the hospital in Lyons, KS, and she was quiet only while my stomach was pumped. No glass was left inside me, and I had one little cut on my tongue, and no stitches needed. I will never forget her rage at me, and that is probably why I remember the incident.

 

 

About the Author

 

Mary L. Schmidt writes under her given name and a pen name, S. Jackson, along with her husband Michael, pen name A Raymond. She grew up in a small Kansas (USA) town and has lived in more than one state since then. At this time, Mary and her husband split their time between homes in Kansas and Colorado as they love the mountains and off-road four-wheeling. Traveling is one of their most favorite things to do and Mary always has a book to read on her Kindle. Books are one of her favorite things. When she was younger, it seemed like every time she turned around, a new library card was needed due to the current one being stamped complete. Diving into a good book made any day perfect, and you would be surprised at the number of books she read over and over.

As a child, Mary drew paper dolls, and clothes for them, using watercolor as her medium when painting scenes, especially flowers. She continued with art in high school exploring a wide variety of mediums such as jewelry making, ceramics, leather works, drawing, painting and more! Her creative loves to be an amateur shutterbug and she has an online art gallery.

In college, she went into the sciences and received a bachelor’s degree in the Science of Nursing. Throughout her nursing career, Michael assisted Mary in her work with The American Cancer Society, March of Dimes, Cub and Boy Scouts, and sponsored children alongside his wife on music trips. Mary’s nursing career was highly successful, and she hung up her nursing hat in December 2012.

Mary and Michael love to read, fish, play poker, go Jeeping, and travel, especially to visit their grandson, Austin, and granddaughter, Emma.

 

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Posted in Book Release, excerpt, suspense, Texas, Thriller on April 24, 2023

 

 

Synopsis

 

An undercover FBI agent and an independent coffee shop owner must team up when a local barista is found dead and danger circles their coastal Texas town in this new romantic thriller from New York Times bestselling author Laura Griffin.

With two brothers on the police force, Leyla Breda is well aware of the rising crime in her small beach town, but she never expected it to show up on her doorstep. When Leyla finds one of her employees murdered in the alley behind her coffee shop, she’s deeply shaken, and as a new law enforcement officer in town begins to circle her place of business, her instincts only sharpen.

Sean Moran is on an undercover mission: The seaside community of Lost Beach may look like a picturesque postcard, but his team suspects it’s a point of intersection for several crime syndicates that the FBI has been investigating for years. Even so, when the brash and beautiful Leyla Breda starts bossing him around, he’s immediately intrigued. He knows her brothers want him to back off, but every time he sees her, he feels more of a spark.

Leyla’s connections in the local community and Sean’s skills allow them to go deeper into the case together than they would be able to go alone. But when a single crime spirals into something much darker, Sean’s carefully planned mission takes a deadly turn.

 

 

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Excerpt

 

Sean Moran slipped away from the party. The bride and groom had left under a shower of rice, but people were still milling around beneath swags of white lights, drinking the couple’s booze and enjoying the breeze off the water. Sean would have liked another drink, but he needed to get back to his condo. As he crossed the wooden bridge spanning the sand dunes, he spied a woman on the beach with a champagne flute in hand.

Leyla Breda.

Her formfitting dress looked silver in the moonlight, and it shimmered against her body as she strolled toward the surf. Nearing a piece of driftwood, she dropped her shoes to the sand and sat down. She nestled the flute at her feet, then lifted her arms and twisted her dark hair into a knot at the top of her head.

Sean stopped at the end of the bridge. He had about a hundred things left to do tonight, including contacting his boss.

Instead, he walked over to Leyla.

“How’s the champagne?”

She jumped and turned around. Recognition flickered across her face, and her shoulders relaxed.

“It’s good.” She held up her glass. “You didn’t have any?”

“Nope. Can I get you a refill?”

She smiled. “What, are you a waiter now, too?”

He stepped closer. “I’m Sean Moran, by the way.” He held out his hand. “We never actually met.”

“Leyla Breda.” Her handshake was brisk and businesslike, but the warm look in her eyes gave him hope.

“Joel’s little sister,” he said.

“That’s me.”

He turned toward the water so he wouldn’t be tempted to stare down the front of her dress.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you earlier,” she said. “Things got really hectic.”

“Looked like you had your hands full.”

“So, are you here for Joel or Miranda?”

He looked at her. “Joel.”

She tipped her head to the side as she gazed up at him. “And you know him from . . . ?”

“Work.”

She frowned. “Here?”

“No. We go way back. We were in the same academy class in Houston, spent some time at HPD together.”

“Oh. That was a while ago.”

“Yeah.”

“So . . . the vice squad, then?”

“Yeah. Mind if I sit down?”

“Not at all.”

Sean lowered himself onto the other end of the sandy log. He didn’t like the direction the conversation had taken so he steered it back to her.

“So, how long have you been a caterer?” he asked.

“Hmm . . . let’s see. I guess it’s been about three weeks now.” She turned and smiled at him, and he felt a hot jolt of attraction. “Why? Can you tell?”

“Not at all.”

“Right.”

“Well, the timing seemed a little bumpy.”

“Just a little.” She rolled her eyes. “We had several staffers no-show. It happens a lot in this business. People are flaky. Despite all my planning, you could say we were a bit rushed.”

Rushed was right. No woman had ever clapped at him before. He’d discovered it was a turn-on.

 

Excerpted from Deep Tide by Laura Griffin Copyright © 2023 by Laura Griffin. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved.

 

 

About the Author

 

Laura Griffin is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty books and novellas. Her books have been translated into fourteen languages. Laura is a two-time RITA® Award winner (for Scorched and Whisper of Warning) as well as the recipient of the Daphne du Maurier Award (for Untraceable). Her book Desperate Girls was named one of the Best Books of 2018 by Publishers Weekly. Laura lives in Austin, Texas, where she is working on her next novel.

 

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Posted in excerpt, fiction, Review on April 13, 2023

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

On the cusp of turning eighteen, it’s time for Drew Lovell to become a man.

But deep within, Drew has questions—ones he doesn’t know how to phrase—about what that means and how to go about it.

During three intense stretches between 1985 and 1993, taking him into his mid-twenties, Drew undergoes a series of profound experiences—often wild, sometimes painful, and always revealing—that force him to rethink his current assumptions. Only after nearly dying from trying to conform to conventional models of masculinity does he begin to become the man he wants to be and not the one he thought the world required him to be. Still, he’s unable to live with full integrity until interaction with a pair of awakened humans inspires new awareness that helps him at long last embrace the truth of who he is.

 

 

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Praise

 

Kat’s Cradle is … an inquiry into the nature of consciousness, evolution, and perspective that makes Kat just one of a series of strong characters whose lives intersect in … its paradigm-changing inspection of humanity, spirituality, and forces beyond human ken.”- D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review

“At once thriller and search for meaning, Karuna Das’s story of an extraordinary woman’s self-discovery imagines a world of conspiracy at the edge of science where the stakes couldn’t be higher. Kat’s Cradle probes the very nature of existence and digs for answers at the intersection of medicine and mystery.”- Tom Sweterlitsch, author of The Gone World

​”Kat’s Cradle is neuropunk at its mind-bending and truly optimistic finest.”- Heidi Ruby Miller, author of the Ambasadora series

“awe-inspiring science fiction. I look forward to the next installment.”-H. Miller, Amazon Review

“Great book, with really strong female characters. It’s scifi/ fantasy and an enjoyable read!”-AS, Amazon Review

 

 

Excerpt

 

“You’ve seen gay people before, right?” asked Tina. She’d noticed me staring at two handsome, muscular, shirtless men holding hands. One’s chest was hairy; the other’s was completely smooth. With their tanned skin, they looked like golden gods.

“Not ones I knew for sure were gay,” I replied. “Some kids at school, a few teachers. People call them fags behind their backs, and sometimes even to their faces. But nobody’s ever admitted it.” I could only imagine what people would’ve said—or done—to them if they had.

As we approached a glitzy tavern, I spotted a group of tall, big-haired individuals in feminine attire congregated outside the door. One bore a remarkable likeness to Cher.

The real-life star’s film Mask had come out that spring. But this was not drug-addict-biker-mom Cher. This was skimpy-sequin-dress Cher. I couldn’t take my eyes off … her?

“Whatchu lookin’ at, little fan-man?” Not-Cher called out, prompting me to avert my gaze. “You’re cute when you blush. Pussy—I mean cat—got your tongue? Wanna ditch the bitch and come get to know a real woman?” Not-Cher smiled at Tina. “No offense, darlin’.”

“None taken,” Tina replied through a laugh as we strolled by Not-Cher and friends.

I resisted the impulse to turn my head for another look once we passed. When Tina stopped to peer into the window of an art gallery down the block, I couldn’t help sneaking a glance back.

Not-Cher blew me a kiss.

“That’s a guy,” I said. I’d definitely never seen a real, live crossdresser before.

“Yep,” Tina replied. “You like that?”

What?” I asked. I saw she was pointing at a watercolor on display in the window. “Oh.” The image depicted a beachscape. “Sure,” I said.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, taking my hand. “Come on.”

She led me across the street to a tiny doorway barely visible between two upscale shops. According to the hand-painted, weathered sign, we were venturing into the mystic realm of a fortune teller: Tarot cards, crystal balls, and palmistry were all on offer; for a mere five dollars per reading, our destinies would be revealed.

I passed on the cards and crystal ball, preferring to learn what the alleged seer could divine about me from my own body. Madame Cherie—who resembled the female impersonator from the nightclub across the street in more than name—insisted her readings were private affairs, to be witnessed only by the subject, and never to be shared. By disclosing her findings, I now risk incurring Madame Cherie’s everlasting curse. If you believe in that sort of thing.

“Your hands are soft for a man,” she said, holding mine lightly in her own. Before I could tell her I did construction work, she let go of one and scrutinized the other.

“I’m right-handed,” I told her.

“No matter,” she replied. “On all young men, we read the left, for it shows your potential. Come back when you’re older, and we’ll read the right to see how you’ve fulfilled that promise.” She felt the palm pad at the base of my pinkie. “A well-defined Mercury mount. You’re a good communicator, with keen insight into others.”

Favorable traits for a writer. Maybe there’s some truth to this stuff, I thought.

She pressed softly on the pads below each of the other fingers, then more firmly on the fleshy mound at the base of my thumb. “A somewhat elevated Venus mount. This predisposes you to promiscuity.”

Or maybe, I thought, it’s all a bunch of malarkey.

“Now we shall read the lines,” she said. “That is, I will read the lines, and you can read between them.” She squeezed my fingers together and bent them back, spreading my palm open. “Your heart line is deep and red. You are ruled by temperament.”

“Does it say anything else?”

“About your love life?” asked Madame Cherie with a smile. “The line is long with quite a few small breaks. The possibility exists for a satisfying and lasting romantic relationship. But it’s likely you will undergo a number of traumatic experiences along the way.”

Great, I thought. As I wondered where Tina fit into that scenario, Madame Cherie said something about cross marks on my head line and my facing a series of inner crises.

“Ah! See how your fate line forks?” she asked. She pointed to a comparatively faint crease beginning at the bottom middle of my palm and soon branching apart. “That means your life could go in either of two quite different directions.”

“Can I pick which one?”

“Your decisions in key moments most certainly will influence your destiny. But you won’t necessarily be able to predict where the choices will lead.”

So much for the big revelation, I thought.

“Your life line is deep,” she said. “But not particularly long. Rather short, in fact.”

“You mean I’m going to die young?”

“For your longevity we must look elsewhere.” She rocked my hand back and forth as she eyed the base of my wrist. “Good news! You have four rascette lines. And strong ones. These here, like bracelets. Three is far more common. You could live to be a hundred years old.”

That might be a bit much, I thought, albeit with some relief.

“Because it’s also deep, the shortness of your life line is more good news. You can overcome any physical problems you may develop.” She took another look. “Hmm.”

“What?” I asked.

“You have a second life line. This often reflects extra vitality. Initially I thought it was just that. It would go hand in hand—get it?—with your propensity for longevity and health.”

“But …”

“It’s perfectly parallel to the first.”

“And …”

“This might be interpreted as a sign you’ll lead a double life. Maybe you already are.”

 

Taken from the book’s First Movement, “Cock Tales,” and the chapter “Champagne Punch,” Copyright © 2023, Kyle Andrew Bostian

 

 

Guest Review by Nora

 

“Much contemporary philosophy considers the feeling of having an independent and unified self to be an illusion. It views humans as disjointed—and often conflicting– collections of beliefs and behaviors determined entirely by our cultural conditioning, by the dominant modes of thought in our social structures. In doing so, it takes away the possibility of free will or any real agency.”

There is nothing that unifies us as human beings so much as the search for who we really are. We’re born as one thing, grow into a sense of identity for a brief time, and then when we reach adolescence; we spend many years thereafter trying to figure out who, exactly, we are.

This is the situation that young Drew Lovell finds himself in when on the edge of teenager-hood he begins questioning his identity and sexuality. Being teased by his friends for not having yet had sex, Drew flippantly loses his virginity in a way that he finds unsatisfying. This first sexual experience does not dim his love for women, and he goes through his teenage years having as much sex as possible and also engaging in copious drug use.

Though he finds love as an adult, he also goes through heartbreak and the loss of several close friends. After having a seizure that nearly ends his life, Drew realizes that he must change something in his life and begins writing a memoir. The end of the book is very much about Drew’s final destination, despite him still being a very young man. But spiritual enlightenment can happen at any age, and it just so happens that Drew’s comes at an age when he still has most of his life ahead of him.

An authentic story that serves as both a fictionalized memoir and a coming-of-age novel, ‘Sex, Drugs, and Spiritual Enlightenment (but mostly the first two),’ is a rollicking read that you won’t soon forget! I know I definitely won’t!

 

 

About the Author

 

Karuna Das is the pen and spirit name of Kyle Bostian. Born in Wisconsin, he grew up in Massachusetts and now resides in Pennsylvania, but he lives wherever he happens to be at that moment and feels at home everywhere in the universe. He holds a BA in English and an MFA in Playwriting. In addition to his dramatic writing, he’s published the sci-fi novel Kat’s Cradle, as well as short fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry. He and his life partner Ti share their house with five wonderfully wacky cats.

 

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Posted in Book Release, excerpt, memoir on April 12, 2023

 

 

Synopsis

 

Raised by two loving parents in New Delhi, India, Kanchan Bhaskar has always been taught that marriage means companionship, tenderness, and mutual respect—so when she enters into an arranged marriage, this is the kind of partnership she anticipates with her new, seemingly wonderful, husband. But after they marry, she quickly discovers that his warmth is deceptive—that the man beneath the bright, charming façade is actually a narcissistic, alcoholic, and violent man.

Trapped in a nightmare, Kanchan pleads with her husband to seek help for his issues, but he refuses. Meanwhile, Indian law is not on her side, and as the years pass, she finds herself with three children to protect—three children she fears she will lose custody of if she leaves. Almost overnight, she finds herself transformed into a tigress who will do whatever it takes to protect her cubs, and she becomes determined to free them from their toxic father. But it’s not until many years later, when the family of five moves from India to the United States, that Kanchan is presented with a real opportunity to leave him—and she takes it.

Chronicling Kanchan’s gradual climb out of the abyss, little by little, day by day, Leaving is the empowering story of how—buoyed by her deep faith in a higher power and single-minded in her determination to protect her children best—she fought relentlessly to build a ramp toward freedom from her abuser. In this memoir, Kanchan clearly lays out the tools and methods she utilized in her pursuit of liberation—and reveals how belief in self and belief in the Universe can not only be weapons of escape but also beautiful foundations for a triumphant, purpose-driven life.

 

 

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Excerpt

 

Preface

 

I grew up in New Delhi, India, and my dreams were built on the romance and jubilation in which I was brought up. I imagined my married life to be as blissful and tender as that of my parents, who truly cherished and treasured each other and nurtured their four offspring with love and warmth. They lived more as partners than as a traditional Indian husband and wife.
Having been raised in this progressive environment, I acquired a unique perception of life—a woman was an equal partner in a marriage, one to be honored and valued. Marriage meant love, companionship, and caring. I couldn’t fathom it being any other way. Violence of any kind in marriage was unthinkable. A woman was to be respected—period.

My future husband would not share these perceptions. I found myself in an arranged marriage to a bright and deceptively-charming man, who revealed his true nature only after our wedding. The first time he hit me, my world spun upside down. When it righted, I had gotten myself stuck in a tumultuous, abusive relationship with a narcissistic alcoholic, in whose captivity I was trapped for more than twenty years.

The desperate mother of three innocent children who were casualties of these circumstances, I had to get away, but my escape had to be carefully planned with no room for error. If I divorced, I’d lose one or all of my children to the man I needed to escape from, which was not an option.

There had to be a way out.

I searched until I found it.
This story narrates how I built a ramp to climb out of the abyss, little by little, using a myriad of tools to bring me closer to freedom. Although I was alone in my fight for survival, I had deep faith in the higher power which presented me with collaborators in the form of angels and mentors to light my way.

My work was slow but steady. The ramp collapsed a few times and had to be rebuilt stronger. I shaped myself into a resilient woman, a tigress who could fend for her cubs. It wasn’t easy, and each day was a struggle, yet I remained determined in my single mission to protect my children and provide them with the best, as I had been provided with. This focus gave me the courage and spirit to keep forging ahead relentlessly.

Belief in self and belief in the Universe became my weapons of ultimate escape, the foundation for my liberation and re-earned dignity.

The story doesn’t stop with gaining my freedom but describes my continuing journey on the path of spirituality. In this book, I share my dawning realizations and the period of self-resurgence, which resulted in a triumphant, purpose-driven life.

Belief in spirituality provided the foundation and a new beginning on the path toward the emancipation of mind and soul.

Today a free woman, I’m happily settled in Chicago, living life on my own terms. I walk with my head high and chin up. The first flowers of spring in their divine colors make me smile. I can laugh again at a joke, find stillness in trees, and plan without fear, making up for the lost time.
I’m reminded of my favorite lines, my motto, from Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”:

 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

 

Reprinted from Leaving: How I Set Myself Free from an Abusive Marriage with the permission of She Writes Press. Copyright © 2023 by Kanchan Bhaskar

 

 

About the Author

 

Kanchan Bhaskar (Kan-chan Bhas-car), an Indian-American, is a first-time author. She holds a Master’s Degree in social work and a certificate in life coaching. She is also a certified Business Coach. Being a successful Human Resource professional, her expertise is in training and mentoring. She is a certified advocate, speaker, and coach for victims and survivors of domestic violence. Kanchan lives in Chicago.

 

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Posted in excerpt, romance on April 9, 2023

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

A man seeking closure after the death of his estranged brother. A woman grieving her sister and best friend. A connection they never saw coming. More than the temperature heats up in USA Today Bestselling Author Christy Hayes’ unforgettable page-turning romance about two tortured souls and their collision course with love.

Megan Holloway has learned a few hard truths in her twenty-eight-years. Life isn’t fair. People she loves always leave. And she’ll be stuck on Key West running her parents’ gift store and raising her twelve-year-old niece for the rest of her life.

Thirty-year-old Bryan Westfall has come to Key West to clean out his dead brother’s apartment and search for answers about the woman who died with his estranged older brother. Bryan didn’t know the woman had a daughter and he sure didn’t expect her sister to floor him with her beauty and biting brashness.

Bryan’s persistent need to help and Meg’s bumbling business skills create an unlikely union. The more time they spend together, the more their feelings become too powerful to deny. Meg knows Bryan is leaving at the end of the summer and Bryan knows Meg is holding back to spare herself needless heartache. When a hurricane forces them to evacuate, Meg mentally prepares to let Bryan go while Bryan wonders if home is where he came from or is with the woman who stole his heart.

 

 

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Excerpt

 

He inched the door open a crack and his heart jammed into his throat. Instead of a beefy henchman, a willowy redhead stood fuming on his doorstep. He swung the door open wide and gawked at Amanda Holloway’s sister, tapping her sandaled foot on the mat.

“Stay away from us.” Her velvet voice quivered with rage. “Do you understand me?”

“Uh …” Bryan couldn’t organize his thoughts into anything resembling words. Seeing her in the store had been like a punch to the gut. Standing inches away on his doorstep where he could count the freckles across her nose and smell the perfume on her skin left him senseless. The woman didn’t need a baseball bat. She wielded a punch with her presence.

“You’ve got nothing to say?”

He extended his hand. “I’m Bryan Westfall. It’s nice to officially meet you.”

“Nice?” She gave his hand a death stare and her tone pitched higher. “You think this is a social call?”

Bryan dropped his hand. “I don’t have a clue what this is.”

“This is a warning.” She aimed a finger in his face. “Do not come near me, my niece, or our store, ever again. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you’re not going to weasel your way into our lives like your brother did. He did enough damage, thank you very much.”

Whatever evidence Bryan had been searching for landed squarely at his feet with her threat. Corey’s presence in this woman’s life had changed it for the worse. “Listen …”

“Meg.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Meg.”

His simple statement and quiet tone stopped her cold. She straightened her stance and folded her arms across her V-necked white t-shirt, an apostrophe forming between her brows. “What do you want from us? Why are you here?”

Bryan stepped back. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll explain.”

The crevice between her brows deepened and she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Of course she didn’t trust him. He was a stranger. His brother had slithered into her sister’s life and torn it to shreds. Meg was the living, breathing, reminder of what happened when people let Corey and his devil-may-care outlook into their orbit. “I’m cleaning out Corey’s apartment. Trying to piece together his last few months.”

“You’re his brother.” It wasn’t so much a statement as an accusation.

“You and your sister were close?”

The sadness in her eyes said as much as her choked agreement. Grief sat just below the surface. One tiny shift was all it took to uncover her pain. “Very close.”

“Corey and I …” How could he explain their complicated relationship? He couldn’t, not without a history lesson she didn’t care to hear. “We had a falling out.”

She snorted. “Of course you did.” She stared past him into the apartment filled with boxes labeled for charity. “That must make this pretty easy for you, huh? Boxing up his stuff, giving it away as if he never existed. You’re probably relieved he’s gone. No more fighting, no more messy feelings about your flesh and blood.”

Shame heated the skin of his neck, giving his voice a dangerous edge. “Nothing about this is easy.”

“My sister and I lived and worked together.” She raised her chin in the air, determined to drive her point home. “We raised her daughter together. Nothing about losing her was easy on any of us. I’m sorry for your loss, Bryan, but you can look for answers elsewhere. We’ve been through enough. The last thing we need is another slick-talking Westfall poking around where he doesn’t belong.”

Would she feel better or worse to know they shared the same impression of Corey? He decided not to find out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trouble you.”

“It’s too late for that. Just hear me loud and clear—leave us alone. Pack your stuff and go back where you came from. Whatever Corey was up to before he died doesn’t change the outcome. He’s dead and he dragged Amanda down with him. If you care at all about those of us left behind, you’ll go and never come back.”

She turned to leave, and a panicked surge of impatience had him stepping toward her, had him saying something he should have thought through. “I know you feel—”

She turned back so quickly her hair tangled in her teeth. She pulled the strands free and speared him with an angry scowl. “You don’t have a clue how I feel.”

He didn’t, not really, but neither did she. “I lost my brother, too.”

She closed her mouth and stared at him, the heat coloring her cheeks dimmed.

“Maybe we weren’t close. Maybe I couldn’t have changed the outcome, but you’re not the only one grieving. He may be the villain, but he was my brother. He was a man—a flawed man—with a family who cared. I’m not here to get you all worked up, but I need answers. My family needs answers.”

She watched him with wary, grass-green eyes. “Your answers don’t involve us.”

“Your sister knew him better than anyone.”

She shook her head and the red strands caught fire in the sunlight. “That’s not saying a lot.”

He had no other option but to beg. “Please, Meg. I don’t know where else to turn.”

She stared at him, grasping the strap of the leather bag slung over her shoulder in a chokehold. “Then I guess you’re out of luck.” She pivoted and strode away, eating up ground with her long, slender legs.

Bryan watched the sway of her miniskirt as she stormed off, then closed the door and turned to face Corey’s apartment. He rubbed the ache in his gut. He may have needed answers, but finding them just got a whole lot harder.

 

 

About the Author

 

Christy Hayes is a USA Today Bestselling author. She grew up along the eastern seaboard and received two degrees from the University of Georgia. An avid reader, she writes romance and women’s fiction. Christy and her husband have two grown children and live with a houseful of dogs in the foothills of north Georgia.

 

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