#BlogTour “The Bareback Cowboy (Southern Hearts Club, #4)” by Melanie Munton

Title: The Bareback Cowboy (Southern Hearts Club, #4)
Author: Melanie Munton
Genre: Romantic Comedy

Release Date: November 23, 2021
Cover Designer: L.J. Anderson at Mayhem Cover Creations
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

He might be one of the best riders in the world,

but she’ll give him the buck of his life.

WOULD YOU RATHER… Go through your entire life without ever falling in love?

OR… Have a rough-and-tumble cowboy stomp all over your heart with his sharpened spurs before riding off into the sunset like John f***ing Wayne?

Yeah, that happened. And frankly, I knew better. All cowboys are trouble. I’ve grown up around them my entire life, so I know how they operate. I’ve broken some of the toughest horses in the business. But for some reason, I found this thoroughbred impossible to resist.

A lot of good it did me too. Nothing but tears and comfort eating in the aftermath.

Suddenly, after a year away with no phone calls or texts to show for it, he’s back. He thinks we can pick up where we left off. But I’ve got news for him: His eight seconds with me are already up.

Little do I know, there’s a reason why he’s come back.
And it’s the absolute last thing I expect.

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“You’re not Quinn Prescott.”

My arm drops. I’m not even sure how to react to that, let alone what to say. My inner brilliance comes up with, “I’m not? Then maybe I should call the DMV and tell them they made a mistake on my ID.”

His frown only deepens. “I don’t hire minors. Even if you’re legal to work, wages get muddy with minors and it’s not worth navigating.”

Uh…minor?

Cut him.

Is he actually serious? Sure, I’m short. Barely 5’1”. And yeah, I’m pretty small and petite. Always have been. I was teased relentlessly about it in grade school because I always looked years younger than everyone else in my class. Among their many nicknames for me, I think their favorite was “Pipsqueak Prescott.”

But a minor?

This dude must be trippin’ off gin and juice.

“I’m twenty-four,” I state very clearly and a little impatiently.

His expression clears…and there it is. However he was struggling to see me before, he’s somehow figured it out and is now looking at me like he suddenly has free rein to do so. As if he’s actually letting himself really look now.

“I’ve heard that Morty and Quinn Prescott are some of the best horse trainers around,” he says dubiously. “And that you, in particular, have tempered some of the most unmanageable mounts. They say you have a gift.”

My chest swells with enormous pride at the compliment and at the knowledge that influential individuals in our field are actually touting our expertise. But it’s the tone with which he says all of it that rankles on my already prickly nerves.

Disbelief.

I huff, planting my hands on my hips. “What exactly were you expecting? A two-hundred-pound cowhand with a sailor’s mouth and a wad of dip in her lip?”

I immediately realize I shouldn’t have said that. Because he seems to take it as an invitation to conduct a more thorough inspection of my body. From the top of my shoulder-length brown hair and diamond stud nose ring, to the tank top and untucked flannel shirt, to the denim shorts, and finally, to my lace-up, calf-high combat boots.

Despite the fact that I first sat a horse at three years old and have grown up in the rodeo business, cowboy boots have never been my thing. They aren’t a prerequisite to being an expert horsewoman, thank you very much. I just feel more comfortable this way.

“The combat boots were a shock,” he eventually says after his gaze once again finds mine.

The urge to grin hits me, but I instantly quash it. Something still has me on the defensive with this cowboy. Then again, I’m always on the defensive. With almost everyone. I can never seem to turn it off.

And something tells me that with this guy, I’m going to have to keep my back up.

Because if I so much as blink, he might try to get me on my back.

Melanie grew up in a small town in the Midwest. After marrying her husband, she decided she wanted to try coastal life because why not? A few months later, they moved to North Carolina where she discovered her passion for writing, and they never looked back. They are now enjoying life with their beautiful daughter in Savannah, GA and loving every minute with their little Georgia peach.

Melanie’s other passion is traveling and seeing the world. With anthropology degrees under their belts, she and her husband have made it their goal in life to see as many archaeological sites around the world as possible.

She has a horrible food addiction to pasta and candy (not together…ew). And she gets sad when her wine rack is empty.

At the end of the day, she is a true romantic at heart. She loves writing the cheesy and corny of romantic comedies, and the sassy and sexy of suspense. She aims to make her readers swoon, laugh out loud, maybe sweat a little, and above all, fall in love.

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#BookTour “Cut and Run” by Annabelle Lewis

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Welcome to the book tour for Annabelle Lewis’s novel, Cut and Run. The perfect thriller for the spooky season!

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Cut and Run

Publication Date: August 14th, 2021

Genre: Contemporary Thriller

Their story continues . . .

The four Boston clairvoyants, blessed—or cursed—with special powers, must fight a ruthless enemy and stop injustice. In Dead Cat, Run, the Sisters of Fate drove them together, but at what cost? The God Apollo wasn’t playing around. He’s still dead set on vengeance.

Sinister forces will have a wicked agenda. An energy grab, a mineral rights war, and deadly mercenaries create a mortally serious game. But the psychics’ sibylline abilities aside, they’re only human. At least three of them are. (What’s up with that?)

Can they stop the killers? And who will survive?

An energetic contemporary thriller, Cut and Run will have you on the edge of your seat as the dance between good and evil resumes.

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Available on Amazon

About the Author

AnnabelleLewisHeadshot small

Annabelle Lewis is a pseudonym for the author who lives in Minneapolis with her husband, children, and a wild thug of a dog who sleeps beside her. A multi-genre writer and publisher of 9 novels to date, her humorous mystery caper books have a theme – taking down the bad guy. Villains beware! She also writes a scathing blog and highly entertaining monthly newsletter.

Annabelle Lewis | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram

Giveaway: Enter for a chance to win signed copies of both Dead Cat, Run and Cut and Run

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Book Tour Schedule

October 25th

R&R Book Tours (Kick-Off) http://rrbooktours.com

@bookscoffeehappiness (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/bookscoffeehappiness/

The Magic of Wor(l)ds (Spotlight) http://themagicofworlds.wordpress.com

Stine Writing (Spotlight) https://christinebialczak.com/

October 26th

The Faerie Review (Spotlight) http://www.thefaeriereview.com

@thefaeriereview (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/thefaeriereview/

Reads & Reels (Spotlights) http://readsandreels.com

@chasethestories (Review) https://www.instagram.com/chasethestories/

October 27th

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

Liliyana Shadowlyn (Spotlight) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

Rambling Mads (Spotlight) http://ramblingmads.com

Crossroad Reviews (Spotlight) http://www.crossroadreviews.com

October 28th

@amymertz (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/amymertz/

Books, Rambling & Tea (Spotlight) https://booksramblingsandtea.com/

Nesie’s Place (Spotlight) https://nesiesplace.wordpress.com

@Fle_d (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/fle_d/

October 29th

Books + Coffee = Happiness (Spotlight) https://bookscoffeehappiness.com/

MacroMicoCosm (Podcast Interview) https://www.vraeydamedia.ca/macromicrocosm-online

Paige Warren (Spotlight) https://paigewarren.Wordpress.com

Misty’s Book Space (Spotlight) http://mistysbookspace.wordpress.com

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#BookTour “Rising Star” by Michele Kwasniewski

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Welcome to the book tour for Rising Star by Michele Kwasniewski! Read on for more details and a chance to win a signed copy of the book!

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Rising Star (The Rise and Fall of Dani Truehart #1)

Publication Date: October 20th, 2020

Genre: Young Adult

In the first book in THE RISE AND FALL OF DANI TRUEHART series, RISING STAR, fifteen-year-old Dani Truehart is living a life that is not quite her own. Driven by her mother’s desire for fame and fortune, she has spent her childhood dutifully training for a career as a pop star. On the brink of discovery, doubts begin to creep into Dani’s mind as she questions her own desire for fame, and she wonders whether she can trust the motivations of the adults who are driving her forward.

Following a brilliant audition arranged by her vocal/dance coach and former ’80s pop icon Martin Fox, Dani is thrown full-force into the music industry. She leaves her friends, family and scheming mother behind to move with Martin, who has become her legal guardian, into the Malibu compound of her new manager, Jenner Redman. Jenner, the former swindling manager of Martin’s boy band, leverages what’s left of his depleted fortune to launch Dani’s career.

Isolated from her life at home and trying to stay apace with her demanding schedule, Dani struggles to keep in touch with those she loves, connect to her withholding mother and find her voice as an artist. With Martin and Jenner at odds over their rocky past and finding herself unprepared to handle the pressures of her future singing career, Dani’s debut album and future stardom are at risk of falling apart.

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Excerpt

I walk back to the couch, sit down and stare at my parents. I feel like I’ve aged a lifetime in the past few hours I’ve listening to my mom haggle over every detail of my contract like I’m a piece of meat at the butcher. “Mom, I’ve been working for this my whole life. Stop causing problems and let Martin do his job. You can’t threaten to stop me now after you’ve already given guardianship to Martin. Acting like a concerned parent this late in the game isn’t going to work. If you really wanted to protect me, you would have never handed me over to Martin.”

I shake my head and narrow my eyes at my mom, so furious I can barely speak. “I’m sorry that the money I make isn’t going directly into your pockets like you’d hoped. I promise the first thing I’ll do is to pay you and Dad back for all the lessons you’ve given me. You deserve some return on your investment. But if the past few hours have shown me anything, it’s why you really pushed me to do this all these years. I’m sorry that you won’t be getting the big payday you’d hoped for.”

My parents just sit there, stunned.

Tears stream down my face as I get up to leave. I’m a mess of anger and sadness, and I just want to be alone.

Available on Amazon

About the Author

M. Kwasniewski Author Photo Rising Star

After graduating from Loyola Marymount University with a BA in Technical Theater, Michele Kwasniewski spent over fifteen years in film and television production. Starting out as a film set assistant on movies such as INDEPENDENCE DAY, FACE/OFF, PRIMAL FEAR, and EVITA, she worked her way up to production manager on TV shows including BIG BROTHER, ADOPTION STORIES, EXTRA YARDAGE and MEET THE PANDAS. She is also a proud member of the Producers Guild of America. Michele’s colorful experiences in the industry inspired her to write THE RISE AND FALL OF DANI TRUEHART series. Michele lives in San Clemente, California with her husband, their son, and their disobedient dachshund. RISING STAR is her first novel.

Michele Kwasniewski | Twitter | Facebook

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#BlogTour “Of Black Bulls and White Horses” by Roland Ladley

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Welcome to the book tour for thriller, Of Black Bulls and White Horses by Roland Ladley! It’s also on sale for just $0.99 for Kindle. Read on for more details!

of Black Bulls and White Horses (5) (1)

Of Black Bulls and White Horses

Publication Date: December 14th, 2020

Genre: Thriller

Emily Copeland is a young teacher at an inner city school. And she’s good at it. One Christmas her mother shares a long held secret of a teenage affair with a French fisherman. Months later her mother is killed in a hit and run and Emily’s life is dislodged from its axis.

With the school summer holidays approaching, Emily decides on a cathartic journey to revisit the French seaside village where, all those years ago, her mother enjoyed her summer fling. Clutching a series of old holiday snaps, she sets off with the ambition of closure. However, the Camargue – where the mighty Rhône meets the Mediterranean – holds deep secrets. It’s a lawless place of cowboys and gipsies, of mudflats, lakes and meandering tributaries … and of black bulls and white horses.

Emily’s journey soon ends up being more than just a rehearsal of her mum’s past. As she traces her footsteps, the romantic memories she unearths of a previous summer paint an altogether more sinister picture of the present. And Emily’s trip turns out to be one of enlightenment and of deceit; and of abuse and of greed. Ultimately it’s a story that ends in death … and in love.

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Chapter One

Four months previously

Emily had her back to the class, facing the whiteboard. She had to stand on tiptoes to reach the top. Some bright spark from maintenance had fitted the new interactive boards last summer and she was sure they had purposely put hers a few inches higher than the original. She wasn’t short. Not short, short. At 155cm she was hardly legs up to your bottom tall, but she always considered herself to be an endearing height.

Whatever.

It made reaching the top shelf in her kitchen cupboards a struggle without a stool. And – on her feet all day with her spine contracting by the hour – after lunch the top of the whiteboard was an effort.

She bit her bottom lip as she wrote out, ‘Pythagoras’s Theorem’, in capitals. In blue. She underlined it. And then turned quickly on her heel. You didn’t want to have your back to Year 9D for any longer than was necessary.

‘OK, team, let’s recap …’ She stopped mid-sentence.

Something was up.

There usually was.

There were sixteen pupils in this, the fourth maths set of five in Year 9. When the classes had been divvied out at the beginning of term INSET training, her class had been described by her head of maths as ‘lively’. That was like calling a great white shark, ‘a bit bitey’.

But they were her Year 9 set. And, bless them, they weren’t nearly as bad as her predecessor had made out. Alison, who was now off on maternity leave, had taken most of Emily’s current class last year – and she hadn’t made it to Christmas. After weeks of staffroom tears, there had been an incident with a textbook that had mysteriously shredded itself and ended up out the window, its pages fluttering across the games field. Alison had, apparently, confronted a boy who was big for his age and had a tongue on him. The word ‘bitch’ couldn’t be ignored, even if it had been under the lad’s breath. As a result Alison had stormed out of the room leaving the class to fend for itself until the next door teacher recognised the noise of near-anarchy for what it was.

Alison didn’t teach her Year 8 set again.

So far though, Emily was keeping a lid on them. And they were learning something. Albeit in fits and starts.

With some classes you often just had to let kids’ frustrations play out. Especially in the last period on a Thursday, having come straight from PE where stale sweat was a stronger essence than even the spray-on, carcinogenic board cleaner.

Now looked like it was going to be one of those times.

Emily’s nose twitched. It was an instinctive reaction.

She looked up and down the classroom. Three rows of tables, each row broken into four so that she could navigate the room quickly and not get stuck top left when all hell was breaking out at the bottom right.

Like most teachers she designed her own seating plans. There were unwritten rules, borne of previous teachers’ experiences of the same pupils. Who should not sit next to whom. Who had learning difficulties. Which children were classified as ‘Pupil Premium’ and, therefore, came from particularly disadvantaged backgrounds. They needed special care and attention both in terms of the questions you asked them and the tone you used.

For example, it was no use asking Shaun to complete work using the internet as he lived with his gran, who didn’t have Wi-Fi … and, in any case, Shaun didn’t have a computer. Harriet, Mobina, Massimo and Darren couldn’t afford dinner money, let alone a calculator.

And there was Lauren.

She respected no one. As far as Emily knew, Lauren lived a half-itinerant life, moving from her aunty to a friend’s house, and back again. Her father was locked up for armed something or other, and her mother was either an alcoholic, or drugged up, or both, most of the time. So Lauren had no adults to respect. So she respected no adults.

Emily included.

But Emily was against wholesale, teacher-led segregation when it came to the seating plan. Other than her sixth form, where she allowed her students to sit anywhere they wished, she started the year with a best guess – putting kids in places she thought would suit them. And then she let the arrangement change as the year developed and friendships and conflicts emerged.

With just sixteen in this class and thirty-five chairs – the sets got smaller the further down the ability ladder you slid – she had been able to group her Year 9 class into enclaves of reasonable behaviour, which in turn sometimes encouraged half decent work. It was never easy.

Bless them, though. Apart from Madi, who should be moving up to Evan Jones’s set some time soon, maths was none of her class’s favourite. Every topic was a struggle. Every ‘x’ a smudge on the board. Every ‘y’ a question rather than a letter representing a variable.

No wonder they misbehaved.

‘I’ve lost all my pencils, miss.’ It was Ben. An almost adorable short lad who was the class clown. On his left was Will, son of a bricklayer, who was brighter than he thought he was. On Ben’s right, Karim, a Sudanese lad with an incongruously massive afro, who was definitely brighter than he thought he was.

‘Shu’ up, Ben.’ Lauren’s surly retort cut through rising tension from the other end of the classroom.

Triangulation was going to be difficult now. Ben was clearly making a play, which Emily would be happy to see through if it didn’t go on for too long. Lauren, who took no prisoners and scared the wits out of everyone in the class including the boys, was bored and might well kick off at any moment which would leave someone in tears.

And Pythagoras was still asking for all of their attentions.

Emily raised a gentle hand in Lauren’s direction.

‘Try not to use that language, please, Lauren.’ She shot the girl a half-smile and then almost in the same sentence, ‘Where are your pens, Ben? Tell me.’

Ben, Will and Karim were all smiles. Ben, who could be cute, cheeky and bloody devious all in the same breath, snorted, his eyes damp with suppressed laughter.

Where’s this going?

She had no idea. So she went on the offensive.

‘Can you borrow one? Say from Karim … or Will?’ Emily, armed with a straightened index finger, pointed at both boys, one after the other.

More sniggering.

‘… grow up, morons.’ The first part of Lauren’s sentence was a mumble, but it might have included the words ‘fucking’ and ‘well’. Emily knew she was close to losing control and might have to resort to a sanction; maybe even ask someone to leave the room. Early intervention was key. But, for her, sanction was always a last resort and she saw it as a failure. On top of that it disrupted the class and always shattered any ambience she had managed to create.

She waited for an answer.

Ben, who even sitting down was nipple-height to the much taller Karim, turned to his friend and said, ‘Can I borrow a pen?’

Karim stared straight ahead impassively. Lauren tutted. Loudly.

‘Say please,’ Karim said.

Will was also struggling to contain himself. Emily still had no idea where this was going, but so far it was pretty harmless … and might be very funny. They managed that sometimes.

‘Please,’ Ben replied, his shoulders lifting and falling below his soundless giggles.

Karim, still looking straight ahead and with a deadpan face, lifted a hand and pointed to his afro.

Emily could see it then.

Karim’s hair was full of pens and pencils. She could see the red rubber of a pencil sneaking a peep from the black, curly mass of Karim’s 80s-style hairdo. Alongside it was the silver top of a biro. You could hide the stationery store in there.

‘Thanks,’ Ben said, gulping down a snort.

He then stood and carefully and thoroughly removed six pens and two pencils from Karim’s hair. And still none of the three broke into laughter. But the rest of the class, who might well have seen the trick before, couldn’t stop themselves.

Apart from Lauren.

‘My mum’s taxes pay your wages, miss. D’you wanna start earning them?’

‘Sure, Lauren. Sure,’ Emily replied, smiling and shaking her head at the same time.

As the giggles lost their momentum and Ben finished systematically collecting the contents of his pencil case from Karim’s afro, Emily put up both hands to try to bring some gravitas to the situation …

… just as the classroom door opened.

And the headmistress came in.

‘Miss Copeland. May I borrow you for a moment?’

The headmistress never visited Emily’s classroom. Behind her was one of the deputy heads. This was odd … and ominous. Emily’s brain spun … and she noticed the class had gone unnaturally quiet.

‘Sure.’ Emily shook her head for a reason she didn’t understand.

‘You might want to bring your things.’ The head nodded at her rucksack which was by her chair.

What?

Was she being arrested? Was the head here to sack her? Images of failed bankers pushing open large glass doors with their hips, their arms overloaded with boxes full of personal possessions, flashed through her consciousness.

‘Ehh. Yes. Of course.’

The head smiled, more a grimace than a smile. The deputy was already in the room. He was looking up at the board.

‘Pythagoras,’ Emily said, as she loaded her rucksack.

‘Got it,’ was his reply. He was now looking at the class with trepidation.

‘Good luck,’ she whispered, and then she slipped out through the door the head was holding open. The corridor beyond was dark and faintly oppressive.

Emily heard the clunk of the door closing, stopped and turned back towards the head, who was a few feet behind her.

The head’s face told the story. Whatever news was coming next was bad. The worst. Emily instinctively knew.

‘Who?’ she said.

The head stuttered. She started to put her hands up to hold Emily by the shoulders, but the distance between them made the attempted hug impossible. So, she dropped her arms back to her side.

‘Your mum, Emily. I’m so, so sorry.’

Available on Amazon

About the Author

authorenlarged

I am an ex-British Army colonel with operational service in Bosnia, Sierra Leone and Afghanistan. I was subsequently a secondary school maths teacher for 8 years. And since 2014, my wife and I have been itinerant, driving around Europe in our motorhome, penning the Sam Green thriller series.

In 2020, during lockdown and on advice from a publisher, I wrote of Black Bulls and White Horses, my first and only non-Sam Green novel.

Book 2 in the Sam Green series, Fuelling the Fire, won a Kindle Scout publishing contract. And, the as yet unnamed, book 8 in the series will be published in 2022.

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#BlogTour “Danger on the Mountain (Marshall Brothers Book 3)” by Carolyn LaRoche

Title: Danger on the Mountain (Marshall Brothers, #3)
Author: Carolyn LaRoche
Genre: Suspense

Release Date: September 4, 2021
Cover Designer: Booksmilth Design
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

She’s sold her soul to the devil for the last time…

When an unexpected inheritance comes her way, high-powered defense attorney, Layla Evans, gives up everything she’s known and seizes the opportunity to start over. The mountain ranch is the perfect escape from a life she can no longer stand. In the solitude of her mountain escape, she can wrestle her demons and never hurt anyone with her job again.

She never counted on her past following her there.

Ben Marshall knows a thing or two about running away…

After a decorated military career ended in the worst way possible, Ben leaves his Special Forces unit and seeks sanctuary high in the Blue Ridge Mountains. He needs the solitude. It’s enough, until a beautiful brunette, who has no business running a ranch, literally falls into his life. When Layla’s past catches up to her, Ben’s old instincts kick in. His need to keep Layla safe becomes stronger than his desire to protect himself from her.

Can he protect Layla without risking his battered heart or will love truly conquer all?

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It pained him to hear the roughness of her voice. A solid reminder that he’d almost lost her. The battle that had waged inside him since meeting her had amped back up to full scale.
When the nurse was gone, Ben tried again to explain himself. “I was engaged once, you know.”
“Nope. I had no idea,” Layla answered without looking up from her drink. Her apparent indifference hit him right in the heart. “You haven’t said much about yourself.”
“Her name was Lauren. According to her, I’m not fit for a serious adult relationship.”
“Just because it didn’t work out with her you consider yourself unable to care about anyone else?”
Man, she isn’t making this easy on me.“It goes much deeper than that, Layla. I’ve seen things, done things.”
“We all have regrets, believe me.” She sounded sad and a little wistful. Like she had some serious secrets of her own.
“I was in the Air Force. Special forces. My job… well, things happened. Things I could never get over. Lauren knew it, and now, after messing things up with her so badly, so do I.”
Layla set her cup down on the bedside table. “So, because things didn’t work out with one relationship, you left your home, your family, and a job I think you loved to come live on a mountain, sentencing yourself to a lifetime of loneliness and self-pity?”
He exhaled slowly. “You don’t know what it’s like to live in my head. Besides, didn’t you basically do the same thing?”
“This isn’t about me!”
He leaned forward, looking her in the eyes. “Are you saying you don’t have any secrets of your own? Secrets that sent you to the same isolated mountain as me? Secrets that seem to want to see you suffer, maybe even die?”

Science teacher by day, writer and baseball mom by night, Carolyn LaRoche lives near the ocean with her husband, two boys, rescue puppy, and four cats. She loves crocheting, books, food videos and trying new recipes.

#BlogTour “The Color of Rain: A Kansas Courtship in Letters” by John W. Feist

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Welcome to the blog tour for romantic historical fiction novel, The Colour of Rain: A Kansas Courtship in Letters by author John W. Feist. Read on for details and a chance to win a $25 Amazon e-Gift Card!

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The Color of Rain

Publication Date: September 1st, 2021

Genre: Historical Fiction/ Romance/ Based on True Events

Publisher: Winter Wheat Press

Separated by a great distance in the 1890s, can a widower and a schoolteacher overcome the obstacles that stand in the way of their love and commitment? John Feist unfolds a true-love story, old-fashioned letter style, in his historical romance novel, The Color of Rain.

Handsome, well-respected local banker, now eligible bachelor, Frank Wilson is nothing less than a hot-ticket item with “the path to [his] home? a pilgrimage for unmarried women bearing casseroles.” He’s not interested in remarriage right away-except for Irene, a schoolteacher living two train connections away. A long-distance courtship commences. The lovers keep to weekly letter-writing since they barely have the chance to see each other, especially when trials and tribulations convolute their individual lives.

“Feist’s rich writing style stitches historical details, providing a seamless flow from letters-writing to narrative sections that capture everyday life’s realities amid unsettling times. A true-love historical romance that will have readers riveted to the page. Highly recommended!” -Chanticleer Reviews, five stars

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Excerpt

Frank could not converse in the carriage Ethan Alton drove behind the green wagon to the railway station for his train home. Frank had brought Allie to the St. Joseph hospital twelve days before she died. Their family doctor had run out of anything meaningful to do or say about whatever it was that put her in bed a week before that. Between visits to her bedside, Frank had talked with the Altons about sickness and mortality until he, too, had run out of meaningful things to say. Today, the Altons did converse but accepted his silence. He looked from one side of the street to the other. A normal day. But the sun-splashed houses, buildings and people he saw were water-colored contrivances not from his world.

The Altons sat with him in the St. Joseph terminal until his train yanked him toward home, toward two sons, their thirty-seven-year-old father now widowed. Their mother would be buried beside two infant siblings in a graveyard which he was later to design as a more formal cemetery. It was now an unshaded patch of hill in the northeastern Kansas town of Horton, founded just ten years before.

The train crossed the railroad bridge over the Missouri River to the Kansas side and started to speed up its run toward Horton, putting soot into the cloudless sky. The tracks of the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railway would not pass such a waterway again in their transit of the vast Kansas wheat fields and prairie grasses. But, for the next three hours, Frank’s journey would be only fifty miles across wrinkled hillocks of sorghum, oat and corn fields, and over streams lined with willows and cottonwood trees. Soon farmsteads came into view that he knew by name. He had financed those farmsteads. He was banker to these farmers. Today he saw that his fields of collateral needed rain badly.

Seeing familiar crossroads and steeples brought back thoughts of the girl he fell in love with. The smile he fell in love with. Allie lived the love commandment. She held a constitutional belief in the goodness of others. She delighted in her encounters with everyone without reservation or exception. Whoever felt her smile felt improved. Frank did so daily. It was not some occasional, wordless expression to signal mood or assent. It was the emblem of her soul. Her smile was her distinctive song, regular as dawn, constant as breath.

Frank had seen life leave Allie. He had watched the swarm of nurses drift away while he stood stationed at the foot of her bed. A doctor he had never met before declared, unnecessarily, that she had expired. It hurt to hear it. It hurt to smell the still, sultry air. What exactly she died of had not been evident or ever explained. I’ll forever wonder why, he thought. No, please . . . not on the train. He stiffened. His mouth bent downward. He stifled himself. The whistle shrieked.

Available on Amazon

About the Author

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John W. Feist is the American author of a series of political thrillers, “Night Rain, Tokyo” (2018), “Blind Trust” (2019), and “Doubt and Debt” (2021), plus a literary novel, “Diamond Mornings” (eLectio Publishing, 2016). He is semiretired from a career in business law in California and government relations advocacy in Washington, D.C. His work experiences planted the seeds for his thrillers with their lawyer-protagonist, observations of Japanese culture, and high-stakes international business deals.

Having inherited from his mother, an Equity actor, a love of drama and literature, Feist has appeared on Washington, D.C.-area stages, and provided live audio descriptions of theatre and opera performances for The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. He holds a BA in philosophy from the University of Kansas and a JD from Stanford Law School. Feist lives in Falls Church, Virginia. He has two sons and two grandchildren who live in California.

John W. Feist

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#BookTour “The Awakening of Artemis” by John Calia

TheAwakeningBT copyThere’s a new book coming out this month and if you enjoy science or speculative fiction, you’re going to love it! Check out The Awakening of Artemis by John Calia!

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The Awakening of Artemis

Expected Publication Date: September 29th, 2021

Genre: Science Fiction/ Speculative Fiction

Orphaned by war and disillusioned about her life, Diana Gutierrez-Adams is on a routine military assignment when she and her team are kidnapped by a domestic militia. She learns from her captors that her cryogenically-frozen grandfather is at the center of a high-stakes plan to steal technology that will change the world for greed and great fortune.

Challenged by the conspiracy and pulled by emotions she doesn’t fully understand, Diana’s rescue mission will change her life. What happens to her is unexpected, perhaps miraculous – an adventure that embraces all her hopes for finding her true self and her place in a world dominated by powerful elites and even more powerful artificial intelligence.

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Excerpt

Diana knew that everyone who lived in the pods as well as anyone officially connected to the government had an embedded chip that enabled monitoring technology to identify where every individual was at any time. The chips also measured the secretion of enzymes and hormones. Algorithms had been developed to predict everyone’s wants and needs based upon those secretions. Over time, the algorithms learned from human response and adjusted their predictions accordingly – without human intervention.

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About the Author

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A Brooklyn-born, second generation American and the eldest of three boys, writing is his third career and the one about which he is most passionate. Following graduation from the US Naval Academy and active duty in the Navy, he embarked on a career in business. He began writing his blog “Who Will Lead?” in 2010 attracting over 115,000 readers. It inspired him to write his first book, an Amazon five-star rated business fable titled “The Reluctant CEO.” Currently he makes his home in Fairport, NY, a village on the Erie Canal.

John Calia | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

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#BlogTour “Where Are We Tomorrow” by Tavi Taylor Black

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I am so happy to share this novel with you all today. It’s called Where Are We Tomorrow by Tavi Taylor Black. Read on for more info and a chance to win a $25 Amazon Gift card!

56929822._SY475_Where We Are Tomorrow

Publication Date: May 31st, 2021

Genre: Contemporary Fiction/ Women’s Fiction

Publisher: Touch Point Press

Alex Evans, a thirty-six year old touring electrician, discovers through an accidental pregnancy and then the pain of miscarriage that she truly wants a family. But to attempt another pregnancy, she’ll have to change both her career and her relationship; her partner Connor, ten years her senior, isn’t prepared to become a father again.

When Alex is implicated in an accident involving the female pop star she works for, she and three other women on tour rent a house together in Tuscany. While the tour regroups, confessions are made, secrets are spilled: the guitar tech conceals a forbidden love, the production assistant’s ambition knows no limits, and the personal assistant battles mental issues.

Through arguments and accidents, combating drug use and religion, the women help each other look back on the choices they’ve made, eventually buoying each other, offering up strength to face tough decisions ahead.

TRIGGER WARNING: MISCARRIAGE/ ADDICTION/ GRIEF

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Excerpt

Inside the concrete arena, programmed lights whirred and spun in rhythm; eleven thousand fans watched, mesmerized, as vibrant magenta and violet beams sliced through midnight black. On stage, the band regurgitated the same set as the night before, and the night before that. They’d performed the set in Mexico City and Guadalajara. As far south as Santiago and Lima. The road crew for Sadie Estrada’s Home Remedy tour knew each dip in volume, each drop in the beat. They knew exactly, down to the second, how much time it required to step outside and suck down a Marlboro. These time-zone travelers planned bathroom breaks by the songs’ measures; no one missed a cue to mute the stage mics, to hand out room-temp bottled water for set breaks, to pull up house lights.

Behind heavy velvet curtains, separated from the frenzied pace of the show, Alex unscrewed the cover of a moving light to expose the core: circuit boards and capacitors, motors connected to color wheels. Deep bass, feedback, and the fevered pitch of collective voices penetrated the curtain, the familiar, almost comforting reverberations of life on the road. Alex continued her diagnosis, removing the light harness as a mother removes a soiled diaper— routinely, with a touch of tenderness. While she located and replaced the broken part, she kept an ear to the music, alert to the final measure of the set, ready to repack her multi-wheeled toolbox, move on to the next city, set up again.

Alex ran the light through all its functions, testing and retesting once she’d replaced the gobo wheel. The body of the light panned and tilted, working fine. A small victory.

“Sure you know what you’re doing, little lady?” Alex turned at the familiar voice of the tour’s production manager.

“Funny,” she said. “Very original. For that, you get to help me put it away.” Alex waited for another barb, one about her not being able to lift the seventy pounds by herself, but Joe simply helped her flip and crate the unit, a harder task for him at 5’2” than it was for Alex, a good five inches taller.

The arena crackled in anticipation of the show’s climax. Thousands of voices swelled and surged, a unified congregation. The body of the moving light settled into the carved Styrofoam, and Alex tucked its tail inside the handle. As she slammed the case shut, Joe’s laminate got caught inside the box, and he was jerked down by the lanyard around his neck. He freed the latches and yanked it clear, smoothing the wrinkles from the photo of his two young children, a wallet-sized clipping he’d taped behind his backstage pass. Joe caught Alex eyeing the photo.

“When are you gonna give in and pop out a few yourself?” Joe asked.

Alex breathed slowly, letting a brief sadness settle into her body, though her face wore a practiced, blank expression. She gestured into the smothering dark, into the roar of the crowd and sweat-filled air. “And give up all this?”

Available on Amazon, Bookshop, IndieBound and Barnes & Noble

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About the Author

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Tavi Black lives on an island near Seattle where she designs sets for the ballet, works as the tour manager for a musical mantra group, and has founded an anti-domestic violence non-profit organization. Before earning an MFA from Lesley University, Tavi spent 14 years touring with rock bands. Several of Tavi’s short stories have been shortlisted for prizes, including Aesthetica Magazine’s Competition, and the Donald Barthelme Prize for Short Prose.

Tavi Taylor Black | Instagram | Kirkus Reviews | Indie Reader

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#BlogTour “Sand and Shadow” by Laurisa Reyes White

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Welcome to the blog tour sci-fi/ horror Sand and Shadow by Laurisa White Reyes! Read on for more details and a chance to win a $20 Amazon e-gift card!

SandandShadowEbook2Sand and Shadow

Publication Date: September 6th, 2021

Genre: Sci-Fi/ Horror

Seven Survivors.

One Monster.

Nowhere to hide.

Mission Specialist Adán Fuentes awakes from cryo-hibernation to discover that most of his fellow crewmates are dead and the shuttle Carpathia is not where it’s supposed to be. Surrounded by a vast barren landscape, he and the other survivors wonder how they can accomplish their mission, to establish a home for future colonists.

When an unseen creature attacks them, the Carpathia’s crew must turn their attention to surviving and solving the true purpose behind their mission.

Inspired by the 50’s sci-fi flick FORBIDDEN PLANET, SAND AND SHADOW plumbs the depths of the human psyche and the power of its influence. As the Carpathia’s crew’s secrets and flaws are revealed, readers may find themselves compelled to examine their own dark places.

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Excerpt

“Hold it here!” Adán jabbed a finger at the corner of the tent still attached. Tink obeyed, gripping the fabric with his gloved hands. Adán grasped the canvas several feet above Tink. Then he began to pull it, gradually drawing the fabric toward him. It was like trying to haul an anchor up from the ocean floor, the effort requiring every ounce of strength he could muster. He wasn’t sure his plan would work. He was battling a storm that at any moment could snatch him up and carry him off.

“Get me down!” Scott screamed, his voice piercing through Adán’s comm.

“I’m trying! Just hold on!” Adán kept pulling, but he made little headway with the wind pulling so hard in the opposite direction. “Scott, use your hands! Try to climb down!”

Scott started hand-over-hand down the column of living canvas. The distance between Scott and Adán slowly began to shrink. The sand pelted Adán so hard now that he could feel it through his gear.

“The rest of you get inside!” he called out. “It’s too dangerous out here!”

Fess grabbed the heating unit that Scott had dropped and made his way toward the shuttle. Tink held tight to the tent behind Adán.

“Tink! I’ve got it! Go on!”

“You don’t have it,” said Tink. “I’m not leaving!”

“But you have to—” Suddenly, a powerful gust tried to rip the silver tarp from Adán’s hands. The knuckle in his pinky finger snapped in a stabbing flare of excruciating pain, but he did not let go. Scott flipped around in the air, as helpless as a marionette on strings, though he was a good eight feet closer to the ground than he had been minutes before.

Adán tried to hold tighter to the fabric, but the pain in his hand throbbed ruthlessly and had robbed it of its strength.

“Scott! You’re going to have to let go!”

“Let go? Are you insane? This wind will blow me away like a kite!”

“Curl up into a ball! Wrap your arms around your knees and drop to the ground!”

Adán heard Tink’s voice. “This strap is tearing! When it rips all the way, that tarp is taking you with it, Scott!”

“Scott, you’ve got to let go now!”

He did. Scott released the fabric and pulled his knees to his chest. He fell like a stone to the sand below. He hit the ground, his limbs sprawling out in every direction. Then, getting to his hands and knees, he scurried away like a bug just as the tarp tore free from its strap. The silver snake curled and whipped like a flag in a hurricane and then vanished into the darkening sky.

Adán, his back to the wind, dropped to his knees beside Scott. “You all right?” he asked. “Can you get up?”

Scott collapsed into the sand, moaning. Adán felt a wave of relief. Their commander was dazed, possibly even hurt, but he was alive. A few yards off, Tink fought against the storm’s assault. He clutched the transmitter case to his chest and staggered forward one step at a time. The sky was so dark now and the sand so thick that the shuttle looked like nothing more than a broad mass of shadow.

Adán slid one of his arms beneath Scott’s shoulder and hoisted the barely conscious commander into a sitting position. “Dryker, listen to me! We’ve got to get back to the shuttle or we’ll die out here! Get up, Commander! On your feet!”

Scott moaned again, but Adán felt his muscles stiffen as he attempted to get his legs under him. With a bit of effort on both their parts, Scott was soon standing, though he leaned much of his weight against Adán. Adán looked back at Tink, who hadn’t made as much progress as he’d hoped.

“Tink, drop it!” Adán shouted.

Tink shook his head furiously. “We need it to communicate with the other shuttles! They’ll never find us without it!”

Tink’s words came back to Adán broken and staccato. He tapped on his earpiece. The storm had damaged his comm. “Tink? Can you hear me?”

This time Adán heard only static. He looked back to the shuttle, a mere ten yards away. Dema and Fess, clinging to each other, were scrabbling for the hatch lever. Adán looked back at Tink, half that distance behind him. He’d get Scott to safety, he decided, and come back for Tink.

“I’ll be back to help you in a second!” he said, though he couldn’t be sure if Tink had heard him, then he trudged forward with Scott in tow.

The two minutes or so that it took for him to hand Scott over to Dema and Fess felt like hours. He was exhausted and in pain, but Adán turned and headed back out for Tink, now on his knees hunched over the transmitter just four or five yards away.

He had just reached him when Adán saw it—a dark mass rising up from the ground behind Tink. “What the hell is that?” he said more to himself than to anyone else.

Dema’s voice crackled over the comm. “Adán, do you read me? Scott’s okay. A bit stunned but okay. Fess is with him in the common room now. Do you have Tink and Lainie?”

Lainie. Adán had forgotten all about her. But Tink. . .

“There’s something out here!” said Adán.

There was a pause before Dema’s voice returned. “Adán, get out of there. The sensors are picking up something solid, something big!”

He reached Tink and pulled him to his feet. Together, with the transmitter still clutched in Tink’s arms, they staggered toward the shuttle, which they could now barely make out through the thick haze of sand.

“Lainie!” Adán waited a moment for a reply. “Lainie, do you read me?” He shook his head. “The storm’s interfering with the frequency!”

“She was carrying the generator,” said Dema, her words nearly impossible to make out through the static. “She was closer to the shuttle than we were. You should see her!”

Adán and Tink continued trudging forward. Then just to right of the shuttle hatch, they spotted something square and black half buried in the sand at their feet. It was the generator tipped onto its side, but there was no sign of Lainie.

Available on Amazon

About the Author
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Laurisa White Reyes is the author of the SCBWI Spark Award winning novel The Storytellers and the Spark Honor recipient Petals. She is also the Senior Editor at Skyrocket Press and an English instructor at College of the Canyons in Southern California.

Laurisa White Reyes | Skyrocket Press | Facebook | BookBub

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Blog Tour Schedule

September 6th

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readsandreels.com

Nesie’s Place (Spotlight) https://nesiesplace.wordpress.com

Lunarian Press (Spotlight) https://www.lunarianpress.com/

September 7th

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

Breakeven Books (Spotlight) https://breakevenbooks.com

Misty’s Book Space (Spotlight) http://mistysbookspace.wordpress.com

September 8th

Liliyana Shadowlyn (Spotlight) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

@bookaholic__reviews (Review) https://www.instagram.com/bookaholic__reviews/

Musings of a Final Girl (Review) https://musingsofafinalgirl.wordpress.com/

September 9th

Jessica Belmont (Review) https://jessicabelmont.com/

Rambling Mads (Review) http://ramblingmads.com

@dreaminginpages (Review) https://www.instagram.com/dreaminginpages/

September 10th

PoptheButterfly (Spotlight) https://popthebutterfly.wordpress.com

The Magic of Wor(l)ds (Spotlight) http://themagicofworlds.wordpress.com

The Faerie Review (Review) http://www.thefaeriereview.com

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#BlogTour “Maggie Dove” by Susan Breen

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Check out this new cozy mystery called Maggie Dove by Susan Breen! Read on for details and a chance to win a $25 Amazon e-gift card!

58474646._SY475_Maggie Dove

Genre: Cozy Mystery

Publication Date: July 27th, 2021

Susan Breen introduces a charming series heroine in this poignant and absorbing cozy mystery with a bite. Maggie Dove thinks everyone in her small Westchester County community knows everyone else’s secrets. Then murder comes to town…

When Sunday School teacher Maggie Dove finds her hateful next-door neighbor Marcus Bender lying dead under her beloved oak tree—the one he demanded she cut down—she figures the man dropped dead of a mean heart. But Marcus was murdered, and the prime suspect is a young man Maggie loves like a son. Peter Nelson was the worst of Maggie’s Sunday School students; he was also her late daughter’s fiancé, and he’s been a devoted friend to Maggie in the years since her daughter’s death.

Maggie can’t lose Peter, too. So she sets out to find the real murderer. To do that, she must move past the grief that has immobilized her all these years. She must probe the hidden corners of her little village on the Hudson River. And, when another death strikes even closer to home, Maggie must find the courage to defend the people and the town she loves—even if it kills her.

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Excerpt

Maggie Dove wanted to be a beacon of light. She dreamed of being the sort of person who made others laugh, calmed crying babies, soothed wild dogs, inspired hopefulness. She wanted her life to be about something grand, yet every blessed thing that happened seemed designed to bring out all that was petty, cranky and small in her middle-aged self.

Take her neighbor, Marcus Bender. Maggie knew, intellectually, that he wasn’t an incarnation of Satan. He was just an annoying man. He was the sort of man who blew all his leaves onto her lawn each fall. He drove too fast down her quiet street, and once, when she had to jump out of the way of his car, she saw him laugh. He put a soccer net right up against her property so that every time his kids missed a goal, the ball went flying into her rose bushes. All of this, Maggie recognized, was insignificant. Petty. She tried to ignore it. She wanted to ignore it, and she might have succeeded had Bender not gone after her oak tree.

Maggie loved that oak tree. Her father planted it when she was a girl. She’d climbed on it. Her daughter had swung on its branches. She put ghosts on it for Halloween and lights on it for Christmas. Maggie loved the graceful shrug of its branches; she loved watching its little flowers unfold into leaves. She loved the little pods that floated over her lawn in the fall. Mostly she loved the way the tree linked her to her past and future. She would come and go, her daughter had come and gone, but the tree was as close to eternal as she was likely to see anytime soon.

Bender wanted her to move the tree. That was the sort of man he was. He thought you should move trees. It blocked his view of the Hudson River. He’d gone to considerable expense to remodel his house, which was the old Bell house, home of Maggie’s best friend growing up. He’d transformed the quiet little colonial into a Spanish style atrocity that looked like it had a dungeon in the basement. He had an art studio on the top floor, though he wasn’t an artist. He was a lawyer, but he had an artistic bent and wanted to paint studies of the Hudson River, and he didn’t want those studies blighted, as he said, by her oak tree. Blighted!

Maggie said no.

He offered her money. He had a lot of money and was willing to pay to get what he wanted. He seemed genuinely surprised to find there was a person in the world who didn’t care about what Bender wanted.

“We’ll work this out, Maggie,” he said, grinning at her in that wolfish way he had. He was a very good-looking man, athletic, muscular, tanned. He wore suits to work and his broad chest bulged against the constrictions of his shirt. Winifred Bell, who had once been Maggie’s neighbor, but was now confined to a nursing home because of Parkinson’s, was convinced that the source of Maggie’s anger was sexual desire, a conclusion Maggie thought so far off the mark, she didn’t even argue about it.

She didn’t like men like steam rollers. She liked gentle men, and gentle people. She loved her small town on the Hudson River and the people she’d grown up with and she loved that tree. There was no amount of money he could pay her to make it worthwhile to cut it down. She didn’t want to fight about it; didn’t want to talk about it. She just wanted to live her life and enjoy her tree.

Then, one April morning, Maggie went outside to see if any new leaves were starting to form. She loved those wispy little clusters that blossomed for a short time each spring, but as she neared the tree she was struck by a sharp odor. She saw a strange dark puddle at the base of the tree; bent down to sniff it and her nostrils burned. Poison. Bender was poisoning her tree.

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About the Author

Breen casual photo

Susan Breen best-selling Maggie Dove mystery series was first published by a digital imprint of Penguin Random House and in the process of being reissued in paperback by Under the Oak Press. She’s proud to have had two of her Maggie Dove stories in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. A new story will be in Malice Domestic’s upcoming anthology: Murder Most Diabolical (introduced by Walter Mosley.) She was also longlisted for the 2021 Margery Allingham Short Story competition. Susan’s first novel, The Fiction Class, won a Washington Irving Award from the Westchester Library Association.

Susan teaches novel-writing at Gotham Writers and she’s also on the faculty of the New York Pitch Conference. She lives in a very pretty little village on the Hudson River with her husband, two sweet cockapoo dogs and two rather aggressive cats. Her three grown children are flourishing elsewhere.

Susan Breen | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram

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August 30th

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readsandreels.com

Books, Rambling and Tea (Spotlight) https://booksramblingsandtea.com/

A Very Original User Name (Review) https://averyoriginalusername.wordpress.com/

August 31st

@FlowerGirl0214 (Review) https://www.instagram.com/flowergirl0214/

Rambling Mads (Review) http://ramblingmads.com

@fatimaa.zainab_ (Review) https://www.instagram.com/fatimaa.zainab_/

September 1st

Breakeven Books (Spotlight) https://breakevenbooks.com

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September 2nd

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

Liliyana Shadowlyn (Spotlight) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

@isbn_reading (Review) https://www.instagram.com/isbn_reading/

September 3rd

@bookishkelly2020 (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/BookishKelly2020/

PoptheButterfly (Spotlight) https://popthebutterfly.wordpress.com

Misty’s Book Space (Review) https://mistysbookspace.wordpress.com/

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