#NewRelease “Fading Face (Love Notes Book 3)” by Jonah Igwe

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Genre: New Adult Fiction

Trope(s): Coming of age, college, love triangle

Release date: 19 November 2021

Will the small-town boy give up love for big city riches?


After his father’s death, gifted Nnamdi must grow up fast and succeed with his studies to make a better life for himself and his mother. His long-term friend, the beautiful and graceful Udo, has always been by his side. They promised to stick together and share a future. However, his ambition and the lure of distant opportunities threatens to drive a wedge between them. Soon she could become just a fading face in his memories. Is he willing to give up his old love for new fortunes?


Amazon: http://ow.ly/JlHB50GKbOM
iBooks: http://ow.ly/7Qij50GKbOP
Nook: http://ow.ly/jnJb50GKbOK
Kobo: http://ow.ly/Itvf50GKbOQ

Psst: the ebook is only ₦500 at Okadabooks until Nov 20th.

Okadabooks: https://bit.ly/3DAEaL0


#BookTrailerReveal “Moon Scorned” by Marty Mayberry

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Welcome to the book trailer reveal for the first book in a brand-new shifter series, Moon Scorned by Marty Mayberry!

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Moon Scorned (Raven Moon Wolves #1)

Expected Publication Date: January 5th, 2022

Genre: Upper YA/ Shifter/ Paranormal Romance

I fell hard and fast for the alpha of an elite pack.

Then he rejected me.


Asher took off when I needed him most, rejecting me and my inner wolf. Then my half-sister is murdered at an exclusive college that’s enshrouded in magic and secrets. When the school offers me a scholarship, I accept and move onto campus. I’m going to find out who killed her, then rip them apart. And if I run into Asher while I’m there? He’ll learn I’m no longer his sweet little thing. He’s about to taste the fury of a wolf shifter scorned.


Everly’s everything to me, but to protect her, I had to shove her away. If I go near her, the Drudge Pack will discover who she truly is. My father—their enforcer—will kill her. But when she shows up at Ravenmire College, my inner wolf hungers. I’ll do anything to keep her safe—even if that means sacrificing myself and betraying my dangerous family.

Coming Soon!

About the Author

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Marty lives in New England, where you’ll find her plotting and writing while walking in the park–yes, at the same time! Otherwise, you might find her sitting in the shade with her feet up, reading everything she can get her hands on.

Marty Mayberry | Twitter | Instagram | Facebook | TikTok

Book Trailer Reveal By:

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R&R Book Tours

#Excerpt “When I Was Her Daughter” by Leslie Ferguson

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Date Published: November 12, 2021

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

Seven-year-old Leslie has a serious problem: someone is trying to kill her.

She must fight to save herself and her little brother from the stark realities of living with their mother’s raging psychosis. To evade the evil Russian spies her mother believes are after them, they forgo sleep, speak in whispers, and live on the run. Her mother searches for hidden listening devices, writes rambling manifestos about the impending Communist takeover, and attempts to kill herself and her children to protect them from rape, torture, and murder at the hands of the government. Controlling the chaos seems impossible—Leslie rebels, which only angers her mother, but when she obeys, terrible consequences follow.

Eventually, the police place Leslie and her brother in foster care. Freedom from her mother’s paranoia and violent tendencies offers the young girl a glimmer of hope, but she plummets into despair under the oppressive weight of abusive, alienating homes. All seems lost until a teacher intervenes, risking everything to bring Leslie to safety, to show her the redemptive power of trust and patience, and to prove unconditional love is possible, even without the bond of blood.

When I Was Her Daughter is a raw, honest account of one girl’s terrifying childhood journey through madness, loss, and a broken foster care system, where only the lucky and most resilient survive.





Summer 1980

Age 6

My earliest memory is of drowning.

Mom squints and smiles at me. Holding my hand, she guides me into the ocean. I’m on my tiptoes and intoxicated with excitement. I want her to take me out so I can float like a buoy. The cool water lifts me up, makes me weightless under the blasting summer sun. Mom tells me, “Not too deep,” but I pull her toward the horizon, where all I can see is water and sky.

I’m six years old, wearing my pink and white floral two-piece with the ruffles over the chest and across the hips. The water’s surface rises under my chin like a blanket, and a lukewarm chill trickles along the back of my neck.

Auntie Philys and William wade at the shoreline behind me where the water rushes in and tugs at the land. Auntie’s polyester pant cuffs are rolled up, so I know she’s expecting to get wet even though she can’t swim. William is only five, and he can’t swim either. The sun makes the top of his blond head shine.

My aunt’s ragged voice rings out. “Help! I can’t swim!”

When I look back to the shoreline, I see the surf has knocked her down, and the water and sand take her, as if with fingers, into the sea. Like an overturned beetle, Auntie kicks at the air. Then, William falls, and the whitewash yanks him into the surf, too. I’m thinking I should go back and save them, but when I turn toward Mom to tell her, water gushes into my mouth and floods my ears with its whoosh, glomp, whoosh, and then I’m like a bundle of clothes in a washing machine. I don’t understand the thick scent that fills my nose—mushed strawberries mixed with salt. My eyeballs sting like a burn, but I keep them open. I need them to find the light because that’s where the surface is.

Mom lets me go. I inhale ocean and flail around for her—a hand, a body, something to anchor me. I’m slammed into the sea floor. It’s a scratchy, sickening drag along the bottom before I’m tossed again and tumbling. I strain toward the surface, teaching myself how to survive already. Something scrapes my thigh. Mom’s fingernails? No, her ring. The yellow topaz one with the prongs that stick up like needles. I reach for her but come up empty.


I open my eyes after drowning to see Jesus looking down at me. He holds me in his arms, carries me to my towel. Seawater drips like honey from his long, brown hair and beard. The sun behind him creates a halo around his head.

William lies on a towel on his belly, whimpering. I rest my hand on his trembling back.

Jesus leaves but returns soon, carrying Mom. He leaves again, and when he returns, he has Auntie Philys in his arms. He lays her gently on a towel.

“You’re an angel,” Mom says, her breath heavy like sadness. “You saved us. An angel sent straight from heaven. What’s your name?”

“It’s Jesus, Mom,” William says.

Jesus laughs. “I’m Dan. Just glad I was here.”

“Where did you come from?” Mom says. “The beach is practically empty except for those two fucking lazy excuses.” She points to a man and woman sitting as still as mannequins in low chairs about fifty yards away.

“I was just out on my board,” Jesus says. “The undertow took you.”

Mom’s mascara streaks her cheeks, and her short auburn hair sticks to her temples and forehead. “Damn Communists.” She shakes her head. “They’re everywhere.”

Auntie squints. “Roberta, knock it off.” She coughs into her hand, then gropes around the towel for her purse. “I need my glasses. And a cigarette.”

I sink into my warm towel, floating on being alive. I look up, but Jesus is gone.

“Lazy bastards!” Mom shouts and shuffles through the hot sand toward the lounging couple. “Kids are drowning, and you just sit there?”

They ignore her, staring straight ahead in their sunglasses. Maybe they are mannequins. Or Communists, whatever that is. Auntie puts her hand on Mom’s arm, but Mom kicks sand at their legs before giving up.

Towels over shoulders, we drag ourselves to the car. Boiled hotdog and coconut suntan lotion smells replace the scent of drowning. Soaring seagulls let squawks fall from their beaks. A cloud-gray bird lands at the edge of the sidewalk to peck at breadcrumbs.

We drive home in Auntie’s Ford Mustang with the fuzzy white dice hanging from the rearview. Lungs small and tight, I fall asleep and dream about how staying close to the surface keeps me safe.

On the sidewalk in front of our Paramount apartment, I turn the crotch of my swimsuit inside out to release clumps of sand. I should have died, but instead, I feel how soft the sand and I are, and how hard, too. I’m mad at the ocean for tricking me, for being so inviting when all it wanted to do was swallow me.


About the Author

Leslie Ferguson is an accomplished educator, editor, and writing coach. As a youth in foster care, she dreamed about becoming a teacher. She earned her credential at the University of Redlands and returned to her alma mater to teach advanced English before obtaining a master’s degree in English literature and an MFA in creative writing from Chapman University. Her work has been published in numerous literary magazines and anthologies. A member of the San Diego Memoir Writers Association and the San Diego Writers and Editors Guild, Leslie is a repeat performer at So Say We All’s VAMP! and Poets Underground. She lives in the greater San Diego area with her husband, where she binge-watches coming-of-age character dramas and reminisces about her glory days as an All-American basketball player and collegiate Hall-of-Fame athlete. When I Was Her Daughter is her first book.

Visit the author online at LeslieFergusonAuthor.com.

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#PromoTour “S.I.B.s: The Society of Intellectual Beings” by Iris Bolling





In the mortal world, it is believed that there are six degrees of separation. 
That number diminishes within The Society of Intellectual Beings. 
The bloodlines are intertwined, blurring the degrees of separation. 

Network Executive, Wade Tyson gets a story that is a little too close to home. His biological parents, who were convicted of multiple murders thirty years ago, die suspiciously within 24 hours of each other. Wade investigates their deaths which leads to questions surrounding the original crime. During the investigation, Wade opens the door to a multiple generational experiment to create a community of exceptionally intelligent humans. To complicate matters, these beings have been immersed in mainstream society.

What if a society of children were conceived to rule the world based on intellectual logic?

Wade discovers he is connected to the Society of Intellectual Beings in more ways than one. Through a series of journals from his now deceased mother, Wade has the experience of not only reading her words but absorbing her thoughts. Each time he reads one of her journals, certain powers are bestowed upon him. The powers come without instructions or warnings, but he needs them to complete the task of stopping evil forces from populating the world with S.I.B.s. He, with the help of his adopted brothers, is the only ones who can save the humans from themselves.

What if the society’s disposable children rise up to confront the new world order?  

Wade finds himself conflicted when he discovers each of his adopted brothers were created in the Society of Intellectual Beings but were disposed of as children. Doors to a different world open as Wade tries to find answers to questions that will impact not only his life, but the world.
At one point, Wade is forced to ask himself

What if the S.I.B.s, who are directed by their evil creator, infiltrated the highest level of government?

What if??????






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Present Day

Every day, for close to thirty years, Star Bond wrote a message to her son from a prison cell. The messages weren’t long, just thoughts she would have shared with him had they’d been together as parents and children should be. Just five to ten lines of wisdom written in black-and-white 100-page composition notebooks. Using both sides of the pages, scribing at least five messages per page, there was a total of well over ten thousand gems of wisdom. The God of her spirit has assured her that the messages would be delivered to her son upon her entrance into the afterlife. Star was also told this would be her last night on this earth. The earlier attempt to end her life with the injection of a drug into her system failed. Now, those who sought to harm her had to shift gears. However, before the night was over, the deed would be done. Tonight’s message was important in preparing her son for his future. She thought long and hard about what she would write, then began.

In the mortal world, it is believed that there are 

six degrees of separation. That number diminishes 

within The Society. The bloodlines are intertwined, 

blurring the degrees of separation. You, my son, are 

bestowed with the powers of the Gods. You alone can 

save the mortals from themselves. 

Star read the message to ensure it stated what she intended. Satisfied, she nodded, then placed her pen down. Star stood, secured the composition notebook next to her bunk bed on top of ten others. Then she proceeded with her nightly routine.

Taking her time, she brushed her black, waist-length hair, using strategic strokes to keep it straight. Then, starting from the nape of her neck, she threaded her fingers through her hair, creating one long braid. Thoughts of her husband, and the way he would massage the oils onto her scalp, caused her to long for his gentle touch. Her heart ached with the fact that the feeling would not come again until they united in the afterlife. Completing the task, she sat in the center of the floor with her legs folded under her bottom, closed her eyes, then prayed. Her prayer tonight was not for wisdom, as it had been in the past. The prayer tonight was for her son to one day understand the powers he possessed and the sacrifices that were made so that he could live.

The sounds of her surroundings were wiped from her mind until the footsteps came. It was time.

The footsteps of death were distinct. She knew those steps were coming for her. Knowing what members of The Society were capable of, Star took one last moment to thank the ancestors for guiding her thus far, then prayed for continued guidance for her son.

Clearing all thoughts of the boy she had not seen in years, she allowed her husband’s face to take over her mind. Godwin Bond may not have been from her tribe, but he was her kindred spirit. Thoughts of him filled her heart with joy. She asked that upon learning of her death, he would not suffer but rejoice in knowing they would be together soon.

The electronic buzz from the door indicated a person was free to walk inside her cell. He was alone. No witnesses to the deed he had been tasked with, Star surmised.

“I understand you had visitors today, Star.”

Star continued with her prayers as if no words had been spoken. She could sense the presence staring down at her. He was attempting to penetrate her mind. It was not the first time, but she had it on good authority it would be the last. She cleared her mind of everything except the Gods, who were now surrounding her in spirit.

“Your attempts to block my entry will be futile tonight. You broke the rule when you spoke with outsiders. The consequence is death.”

Star’s mind was now amongst the clouds. There was no fear, for the Gods were there to protect her spirit. This man could have her human body.

“There is a moment between life and death when you will no longer control your mind. It will be open to me. I will obtain the information you have guarded all these years.”

The air from his breath indicated he was close to her face. Star could feel his massive hands as he wrapped them around her throat. Instinctively, her eyes opened, looking straight into the eyes of death.

Whispers of voices from other prisoners who sensed something was awry in her cell filtered through the air. The voices increasing in volume.

Her hands grabbed the murderous arms of the man pulling her from the floor by her neck. Her small frame was lifted and slammed against the cement wall. A thick rope encircled her neck, then was thrown up around the bars in the window. His hands fell to her waist, holding her weight to keep the force of the rope from snapping her neck. He wanted to prolong the moment to try to gather what he could from her mind.

That was something she could not allow.

She wasn’t fighting what was to come. Her ancestors were gathered, waiting for her, armed with the knowledge that her son would retaliate for what was done on this night and a day long ago. What was to come gave Star the strength to do what was needed. The murderer could not steal her thoughts. She’d die on her terms.

She kicked forward, causing the man to fall backwards, releasing her body. The rope snapped her neck.

Star was no longer of this world.


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USA Today bestselling author Iris Bolling published her first novel, Once You’ve Touched the Heart in 2008. This self-published work was the first installment to the popular Heart Series which has captivated the hearts of readers and awarded Iris the Emma Award as Debut Author of the Year in 2010. Iris has received the honor of being named Author of The Year several times since the inception of her career. This trailblazing author, producer and screenwriter was also named Conversations Magazine Top 25 Women of the Year two consecutive years in a row.

In 2017, Iris added another series to her lineup, The Dunning Trilogy. Her first novel from the series earned her the Best Suspense Romance of 2018.

From her platform during various guest-speaking engagements, Iris has encouraged others to follow their dreams. With the recent implementation of her G.I.Y. workshops Iris shares her experience, knowledge, and talents with others to assist them along the way. Encouraging everyone to simply, BELIEVE!

Iris currently lives in Richmond, Virginia where she is working on her next book, movie project and/or workshop.





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