#GuestPost “Eternal Forever” by Syl Waters

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Oh, I do love to write beside the seaside!

by Syl Waters

Out of my window I can see a fat seagull. I don’t know if it’s a he or a she (how do you tell – note for self to check on google). Note to reader, having consulted the expertise of the web I have learned it’s very difficult to tell the difference between a male and female seagull. For your reference, the male may have a bit brighter and more colourful plumage, but the difference is so subtle, so I’ve read, only experienced bird watchers can tell the difference.

I am not an experienced bird watcher.

And so I’m wondering if this seagull is fat or pregnant.

The internet hole looked longer this time and so I have resisted. I can tell you though that a seagull usually lays its eggs at the beginning of May and has a clutch of three. The number three may have special significance in seagull circles, as it’s also after three weeks the eggs begin to hatch.

And so my mind wanders to what a baby seagull looks like and if I’ve even seen one?

Cue google images.

You may or may not be interested to learn baby seagulls (from my expert scanning of images online), appear to be dappled grey. I find myself pondering how such greyness can turn into such strong swipes of black and white in later years. I mean, when you look at a seagull it’s colours are very striking, not striking in a zebra sort of way, but still the body is always white and the wings are always black.

Isn’t it amazing how nature knows where to put the colours?

The baby seagull (also known as fluffy chicks – I’m not sure that’s right…), also is missing the red slash on its yellow beak that adults acquire later in life.

I’ve always thought the red was from the blood of a seagull’s victims.

That could be unfair. I don’t know how dangerous seagulls are, but I bet they aren’t as bad as swans.

Swans scare me.

You can ask my other half, we were out on a hot day having a romantic walk by the canal and I wouldn’t walk past a swan which was sat hissing. He took the mick, royally.

Me? I walked off in the other direction. Romance or saving my life? I’ll save my life every time.

And while writing this, I’m now starting to wonder if my fear of swans is undeserved and I’m ruining my chance of romance. And so I’ve searched the net for ‘are swans dangerous’. There’s a report from the BBC in 2012 called ‘Who, What, Why: How dangerous are swans?’ In it they detail a couple of swan attacks where the birds capsized kayaks and attacked rowers.

I am alarmed.

I would read more, but I don’t know if any of this is helpful for me overcoming my existing fear of swans.

I close the tabs and look back out of the window at the fat seagull. I wonder if soon she’ll give birth to some fluffy chicks? Whether true or not, that’s what I’m always going to call baby seagulls from now on. J

Syl Waters is the author of Who Killed Patrick? and Eternal Forever.


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Fame, glory and… foul play!

Jessie was a shop worker dreaming of the big time, then YouTube found her. But staying in the limelight requires meticulous management: pop stars are made not born.

With awards night approaching, the pressure’s on for Tito, Jessie’s manager, to whip her into shape. Getting so close wasn’t in the contract, but then neither was him being murdered in Spain.

Alone and scared of the negative publicity, Jessie turns to Mack, her account manager at Eternal Forever, the UK’s first digital legacy management agency. But Mack’s got his own issues: the company’s fast running out of cash, his key developer’s on the turn and a blogger’s suicide looks suspicious.

With the assistance of J-Pop, Mack’s assistant and wannabe reality TV star, Jessie turns sleuth. But in a world where everybody’s watching, it’s hard to escape. Reputation is everything and some people will do anything to protect it.

Purchase Links

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Author Bio

Most people know crazy cat ladies are a ‘thing’, but I’m a proud crazy guinea pig lady! I love fun in the sun and plenty of cocktails. My happy place is flip flops. I write stories to keep me company – my characters ensure I’m never lonely and always smiling (when I’m not tearing my hair out!)

Social Media Links

Website     |     Twitter     |     Instagram     |     Facebook


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#CoverReveal “A Date for the Fair” by Heidi McLaughlin & LP Dover

Title: A Date To Play Fore Author: Heidi McLaughlin & LP Dover Genre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: August 11, 2020 Cover Designer: MadHat Studios Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors Heidi McLaughlin and L.P. Dover come together for a sexy new series that delivers romance for every season!

Covered in sweat with a sticky face… the signs of a great county fair.

Years ago, Laura dropped out of college for love. Unfortunately, the perfect life she built with her husband imploded when he decided to plunge into another woman’s dunk tank. Now, eager to rebuilt her shattered life, she’s returned to her dream of becoming an Interior Designer.

As if her life isn’t already a Ferris wheel of emotions, who walks in to teach her first class but Jude, her high school sweetheart. One glance, and the desire between them sizzles hotter than a freshly fried funnel cake.

Reconnecting at a town fair, their night starts with a watermelon eating contest and ends with them sharing more than a corndog. Laura is blissfully embracing a dizzying Tilt-a-Whirl of romance with Jude, when her ex saunters back into her life in search of a second chance. Will she go back to the comfortable life she once treasured? Or aim for the big prize and a shot at true happiness?

Dive in face first and don’t stop until they scream your name, it’s time for The Watermelon Festival!

Pre Order Your Copy Today!!

Kindle Unlimited

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Tweet: #CoverReveal A Date for the Fair By @HeidiJoVT & @LPDover #PreOrder https://ctt.ec/DVax1+ Buy all of the available Books in the series https://ctt.ec/1C6db+ #KindleUnlimited #ContemporaryRomance #BAPpr #ReadingList2020

About Heidi:

Heidi McLaughlin is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of The Beaumont Series, The Boys of Summer, and The Archers. Originally, from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup and a Highland West/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL and her brother, Racicot. When she’s isn’t writing one of the many stories planned for release, you’ll find her sitting court-side during either daughter’s basketball games. Heidi’s first novel, Forever My Girl, has been adapted into a motion picture with LD Entertainment and Roadside Attractions, starring Alex Roe and Jessica Roth, in theaters January 19, 2018.

To stay connected with Heidi visit www.facebook.com/authorheidimclaughlin or heidimclaughlin.com

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About L.P. Dover:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author L. P. Dover is a southern belle living in North Carolina with her husband and two beautiful girls. Everything’s sweeter in the South has always been her mantra and she lives by it, whether it’s with her writing or in her everyday life. Maybe that’s why she’s seriously addicted to chocolate.

Dover has written countless novels in several different genres, including a children’s book with her daughter. Her favorite to write is romantic suspense, but she’s also found a passion in romantic comedy. She loves to make people laugh which is why you’ll never see her without a smile on her face.

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Available to Buy Now & in Kindle Unlimited

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#BookTour “Life for Life” by JK Franko

on Tour August 1 – September 30, 2020

Synopsis:

Life for Life by JK Franko

What would YOU do if someone threatened your family?

Roy Cruise and his pregnant wife Susie barely survived an assassination attempt in their own home. The police now have them under surveillance. Meanwhile, Kristy Wise is a loose cannon—she knows too much and is trying to “set things right.”

What goes around comes around. And in this case, Roy and Susie may have pushed things too far. There are too many dead bodies. Too many foes plotting against them.

Roy and Susie must outwit the police and neutralize their enemies once and for all. If not, their days of retribution may end behind bars… or six feet under.

Life for Life is Book Three of the Talion crime thriller series which begins with the Eye for Eye Trilogy.

Eye for Eye

Tooth for Tooth

Life for Life

If you like smart, fast-paced thrillers with unexpected twists, then you’ll love J.K. Franko.


Book Details:

Genre: Thriller, Suspense, Crime, Legal
Published by: Talion Publishing
Publication Date: July 31st, 2020
Number of Pages: 396
ISBN:978-1-9993188-2-6
Series: Talion Series, #3
Purchase Links: Amazon | Goodreads


Read an excerpt:

PROLOGUE

Death is always several seconds and a few footsteps away. Look around you, wherever you are right now. How many things are there within five feet of you that could kill you? An improperly grounded electrical outlet plugged into your tablet. A slippery, wet bath tile that sends your head smashing into the side of the tub. An invisible virus silently multiplying in your lungs.

From the moment of conception, we fight to cheat death. The majority of what parents do for most of a child’s life is simply keep them from dying. And much of what parents teach kids, from avoiding strangers to keeping their fingers out of their mouths, is about staying alive.

Although the odds are stacked against us, we get very good at cheating death. So good that, maybe out of misplaced pride or just to maintain our sanity, we tell ourselves that death is far off.

But it never is. And it comes for us all.

Given my profession, I have always feared death at the hands of a patient. For years, I imagined an unhinged, unmedicated client lashing out at me. Hopefully with a gun, not a knife. When I met Susie and Roy, that changed somewhat. I feared death at their hands not because they were unstable, but because I was expendable.

I must say that after the murder of former Congressman Getz, I believed that I finally had that situation under control. Susie, Roy, and I—and all of our incentives—were finally aligned. We were on the same team, so to speak. I foolishly believed that my life could simply return to normal.

But as I look back on everything now, with twenty-twenty hindsight, I can see that even as Roy was drowning Jeff Getz in the Bay of Pollença in Spain, the rough outlines of our tragic ending had already been sketched—all of the pieces were in place. Death was watching, and planning.

As you must appreciate by now, my story is inextricably intertwined with the stories of others. This is, of course, fundamental to the human condition. We are all part of a larger whole. Seemingly unrelated people and events, distant in time and location, weave their way in and out of our lives like the threads of a tapestry.

I have told you two stories from the past that directly impacted me, Susie, and Roy. I shared with you the tragic tale of little Joan’s death and how she was finally avenged. And, I shared with you the evil done to Billy Applegate and how Jeff Getz paid the ultimate price for that crime.

To complete the circle, for you to understand everything that happened to us, and so that you can take from all this the same cautionary lessons that I have learned, I need to share one final story with you. It is about a woman whose life was irreversibly impacted by our actions.

It is a story about love and death. And, in this case, depending on your point of view, you might even say that her story had a happy ending.

PART ONE

Rebecca Forsyth Turks and Caicos 2020

My work as a therapist requires imagination. To help someone, to really get inside their head, you have to have some sense of what they are going through. If you haven’t experienced what your patient is suffering firsthand, you must imagine.

For example, I have never had a panic attack. But then, only five percent of humans will experience a panic attack during their lifetimes. A pretty low number. So, how can I relate?

I must imagine.

From what my patients tell me, a panic attack closely resembles the feeling of claustrophobia. This is something that I have experienced. What gets me there instantly is that scene from Kill Bill—the one when the heroine Beatrix is buried under six feet of dirt in a coffin and left to die. Do you know it?

Indulge me.

Imagine that you wake up and open your eyes, but you can’t see anything. It’s pitch dark. So dark, you’re not sure your eyes are even open. You’re lying on your back. The air you’re breathing feels warm and slightly humid, the way it does when you’re sleeping with your head under the sheets.

You don’t know where you are, but you don’t hear the usual sounds you would hear in your bedroom. No ceiling fan. No A/C blowing. Everything is silent around you. Muffled.

You try to sit up and immediately feel a thump as your forehead hits something. Your hands automatically react and reach up, discovering that something dry and smooth—heavy, immovable—is laying on top of you, just inches above your body. Right above your face, your torso, your legs.

You try to stretch your arms out to either side, and you feel the same barrier just inches away from your elbows, from your shoulders. You move your legs, spreading them apart and lifting them up. They are able to move only inches before, again, you feel something boxing you in.

Your nose itches, but you can’t reach your face to scratch it. You clear your throat and can hear that the sound doesn’t travel. It’s close to you, stifled by the box you’re in. The box is made of wood. There’s maybe six inches between you and the box, all around your body. It’s so close you can smell it. Damp wood. You can also smell soil.

You’re in a box that’s been placed in a hole, six feet deep. On top of it, and on top of you, are six feet of dirt. That much dirt weighs over two thousand pounds. One ton.

The weight of the dirt prevents you from opening the box. The lid won’t budge. And even if you could break out of the box somehow, the dirt above you would fall into it, suffocating you before you could dig your way up to air.

There is no way out. No hope.

As you realize this, your heartbeat accelerates—firing more rapidly. Your breathing speeds up. You struggle to take in air. You’re not sure if you’re already running out of oxygen or simply panicking. You can feel the silent, blind weight of two thousand pounds of earth above you crushing down onto your body. Your legs are tight, anxious. Your body fights for more space… to move, to stretch out, to stand, to run. But on every side you are closed in. You know that out there, everywhere, there is air, freedom. A universe of wide-open space.

But not for you.

You scream. The sound is muffled by the box. The only one who can hear it is you, and you know it. And you remember, as you scream, that there is a very small supply of oxygen in the box. With each breath, you are depleting it, converting it into CO2.

You’re going to suffocate. And there is no way out.

That feeling of being closed in, of paralysis, of heart-racing suffocating hopelessness, is what a panic attack feels like. Just like being trapped in a coffin.

My patients say that this is how you will feel when you’re about to die.

When I try to imagine how Rebecca must have felt, 120 feet underwater with an empty scuba tank strapped to her back, I draw on this image.

* * *

Rebecca Forsyth was floating, weightless. Free as a bird. The feeling was otherworldly. And the view was breathtaking. Above her in every direction stretched a majestic canopy of bright blue. Looking heavenward, her eyes traced dancing beams of sunlight up and away until they converged into a round disc of shimmering white firmament. As she gazed downward, the world fell away from her—the bright blue and the light fading, everything becoming darker the further she looked. The only sound she could hear was the too-close, too-loud in-and-out of her own breathing, which she tried to control—relaxing, breathing slowly.

In: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten. Out: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten.

She reached up, pinching her nose, and gently blew, equalizing the pressure in her ears—the Valsalva Maneuver.

Scuba diving was something Rebecca enjoyed, to a point. She was no expert, though she was open water certified and dove several times a year. She loved the feeling of weightlessness. And she liked being able to explore the ocean without having to bob up and down for air. She’d never quite mastered using a snorkel—she always had trouble clearing it of water. Scuba was much more convenient. No bobbing up and down. That being said, she had not done many deep dives.

Today was different.

Alan, Rebecca’s husband, had talked her into diving a wreck. A sunken ship. It was all perfectly safe. Alan was an extremely experienced diver. A certified instructor. He had spent numerous summers working as an instructor and had logged hundreds of hours. In fact, he was the one who had gotten Rebecca into the sport.

The plan was for Rebecca and Alan to follow standard protocol and stay close to one another, buddy diving in case of an emergency. As Rebecca floated about 40 feet underwater, Alan was signaling for her to follow him down toward the wreck, which at its deepest was 165 feet below the surface. They weren’t planning to go down that far. The bow of the ship was at about 110 feet.

Although Rebecca wasn’t crazy about diving so deep, she reluctantly followed. They were on vacation, trying to relax. Trying new things to reinvigorate their marriage. After five years married, they’d hit a rough patch. They’d had some issues. Nothing insurmountable, she would have told you.

Part of their problems stemmed from the way they approached things. Rebecca was more conservative in her thinking. Alan was more of a risk-taker. Of course, for her to have chickened out of this dive would only have served to underscore the differences between them.

She checked the air pressure in her tank and noticed that it was dropping a little faster than normal for her, given the amount of time they’d been underwater. But, she knew that she was stressing over the fact that they were going to dive so deep, and she was breathing a little more rapidly than usual. She reached up and slightly reduced the buoyancy of her BCD, then gently frog-kicked her legs to conserve energy and air, following her husband down into the dark blue depths.

Rebecca swam about ten feet behind Alan and a bit to his left. The bow of the wreck still lay another 70 feet below them and hadn’t come into view. Rebecca couldn’t see it yet. She also couldn’t see that, in addition to the bubbles that drifted up and away from her each time she exhaled, a stream of tiny bubbles trailed behind her. Air was escaping from her scuba tank through a small leak in the line to her backup regulator. As she descended into the depths, the water pressure around her grew, increasing the rate at which air was bleeding from her only tank.

Rebecca followed after Alan, taking in the immensity of the ocean floor that lay before her. The vastness of it was almost overwhelming. She tried to focus on keeping pace with her husband, and on breathing slowly.

In: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten. Out: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten.

She scanned beyond him, hoping that the wreck would soon come into view as she gently kicked and followed. As they descended, they were following the natural slope of the ocean floor off the coast of the island. The seabed was spotted with seagrass, kelp, small fish, and here and there a lobster. She saw several lionfish as well.

Rebecca enjoyed fish-watching. Although, for her it was always secondary to keeping an eye out for sharks. The Caribbean is home to a great many species—nurse sharks, lemon sharks, reef sharks—which are generally harmless. But now and again, you will see more aggressive bull sharks and hammerheads.

Rebecca followed behind Alan, staying close, but she couldn’t help being entertained admiring the seascape. She regularly pinched her nose to clear her ears. After what felt like just a few minutes, a shape began to take form ahead of them. Alan stuck his arm out to his side and gave her a thumbs-up. It was the wreck. A few more kicks, and she could clearly see the silhouette of the freighter sitting on the ocean floor below.

It was a tranquil day and the water was clear. There was still very good visibility as they passed 100 feet, though at that depth the water filtered out most of the reds and yellows in the color spectrum. Everything was draped in shades of blue and green.

Rebecca and Alan were diving just off the coast of Providenciales in the Turks and Caicos Islands. The wreck they were approaching was the W.E. Freighter, a 100-ton ship that was purposely sunken just north of Turtle Cove to create an artificial reef. The plan for the reef had been for the ship to settle in somewhat shallow waters to create an attraction for recreational divers. The ship had unfortunately ended up much deeper than intended and required a bit of expertise to reach.

Once at the bow of the freighter, Alan stopped and gave Rebecca the “okay” sign. She responded in kind, indicating that she was fine. She checked her depth gauge and saw that they were at 110 feet, just what the guidebook had promised. Alan and Rebecca had agreed on the surface not to go inside the vessel. There was always danger of collapse or of getting trapped due to gear catching on something. There was also the risk of getting cut since what remained of the ship was decaying metal that tended to be sharp and jagged. A cut meant blood in the water. And blood in the water attracted sharks.

They hovered for a moment by the bow of the wreck.

As they looked about them, a small school of fish swam out of the boat through a hole in the hull. They were silver with what appeared to be yellow fins and tails, though the color was muted and dull due to the depth. Most were about two feet long. Rebecca recognized them as horse-eye jacks. They shimmered in the water as they swam past the husband and wife, less than three feet away. Alan reached out and touched one of the fish as it went by. It didn’t seem to notice or care.

Rebecca watched the school of fish briefly, then her focus shifted. Always scanning for sharks, she’d seen a shadowy movement not far from them—maybe forty feet. Whatever it was had whipped its body and quickly disappeared into the dark, murky distance. She kept scanning as the small school of fish swam away from them.

Suddenly, her peripheral vision registered a rapid movement coming from their left. She focused just in time to see sparkling glints of silver—a large barracuda rocketed in from the murkiness and sank its teeth into one of the jacks as the remainder of the school scattered. Thin wisps of black blood trailed behind the barracuda as it swam off, chomping and chewing on its prey. In the wake of the attack, the remaining jacks re-grouped and continued on as if nothing had happened.

It was not the first time that Rebecca had seen a predator make a meal of another fish. It never ceased to amaze her how an underwater scene could turn from completely tranquil to suddenly violent and bloody, and then return once again to the prior calm as though nothing had happened. She turned to Alan, who was shaking a hand back and forth as if to say, “Holy crap!” She gave him a thumbs-up in reply.

Rebecca continued to scan. Now there was blood in the water. And she was nervous—looking for sharks. As she looked around, Alan drifted a bit deeper examining the wreck. Rebecca was about to follow when a strange shape on the seafloor caught her eye. She felt her belly tighten and reached for her dive knife. She froze and watched carefully. Her patience was rewarded.

A sludgy-looking grey rock, which had apparently been laying low waiting for the barracuda incident to pass, decided that the coast was clear. Rebecca marveled as the rock changed color and texture, turning back into an octopus. The little guy half-swam half- crawled away, in the opposite direction of the barracuda. Rebecca smiled to herself. She loved those smart, creepy, eight-legged mollusks.

The octopus gone, she turned and saw that Alan had drifted about twenty feet away from her, deeper, exploring the hull of the wreck. He looked back at her and waved her towards him. Apparently, he’d found something of interest. Rebecca gave him a thumbs-up, and as she began to move, she looked down at her depth gauge.

Still at 110 feet.

They had agreed not to go below 130 feet, which was the official cut-off for recreational divers. Realizing it had been a while since she’d checked, she also took a look at her air pressure gauge.

Red.

A cold claw of panic squeezed Rebecca’s chest when she saw that the needle was in the red zone, between 200 PSI and zero. Almost empty. The gauge had to be wrong. She and Alan had both checked her tank in the boat. It was full then. And they’d not been diving that long—certainly not long enough for her to have used up a full tank of air.

She tapped on the gauge with a gloved finger. The needle didn’t move. Still red.

She carefully reached back behind her head with one hand to make sure the tank was fully open. Sometimes a not fully open tank would give a bad reading on a gauge. She turned the air valve in one direction and the flow of air stopped. Then she turned it in the other direction, fully opening the valve, and air flowed. She checked the gauge. Still red.

Rebecca looked up and saw that Alan had swum farther away from her, about thirty feet. And he was still moving. She fought down the panic and breathed out slowly: one-two-three-four-five-six- seven-eight-nine-ten.

Then in: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten.

She had two choices.

She could try to ascend. If she did, she’d be abandoning Alan—leaving him at risk. She also had no idea if the air in her tank would get her to the surface. If it didn’t, she’d have to make a “controlled emergency ascent.” She remembered from her training what that meant. Possible decompression sickness. Possible pulmonary barotrauma—essentially her lungs exploding. And, of course, she could drown.

Her other option was to get Alan’s attention and return to the surface using his backup regulator—an “alternate air source ascent.”

She had to choose quickly. Given her options, Rebecca decided she had to get to Alan. She frog-kicked gently, trying not to accelerate her heart rate or breathing, conserving air, swimming down deeper into the cold sea after her husband. As she swam after him, she removed her dive knife from its sheath and used the metal ball on the end of the hilt to bang on her tank, making a high- pitched metallic clink clink clink hoping to get Alan’s attention.

Alan continued to descend. He was too far away to hear her.

She was still breathing. She still had air.

But her brain began to work against her. Fear gripped her throat like a noose slowly tightening. As Rebecca swam deeper into the sea, the ocean began to collapse in on her. Tunnel vision. Panic began to rise in her belly. She felt boxed in.

Trapped.

She fought the fear, trying to keep her breathing slow. Kicking gently, trying to get to her husband. He had air. He was only thirty feet away.

Life was only thirty feet away.

She began to feel desperation. To lose hope.

Is this it?

Is this how I die?

Alan didn’t hear the continued and more desperately rapid clinking of her knife on her tank. He wasn’t turning. He was swimming deeper, and she was barely gaining on him. She began to kick harder, knowing that her heart rate would increase. And her breathing as well. She had to get to him. He was still too far away.

Rebecca kicked and breathed. Kicked and breathed.

Kicked and…

…she breathed in, and three quarters of the way through the breath she hit a wall—it was like she was sucking on a rubber hose that was closed at one end. There was nothing. She was out of air.

She couldn’t fight the panic any longer. Sheer panic.

The feeling of being closed-in, of paralysis, of heart-racing suffocating hopelessness hit Rebecca Forsyth like a brick wall.

***

Excerpt from Life for Life by JK Franko. Copyright 2020 by JK Franko. Reproduced with permission from JK Franko. All rights reserved.


Author Bio:

JK Franko

J.K. FRANKO was born and raised in Texas. His Cuban-American parents agreed there were only three acceptable options for a male child: doctor, lawyer, and architect. After a disastrous first year of college pre-Med, he ended up getting a BA in philosophy (not acceptable), then he went to law school (salvaging the family name) and spent many years climbing the big law firm ladder. After ten years, he decided that law and family life weren’t compatible. He went back to school where he got an MBA and pursued a Ph.D. He left law for corporate America, with long stints in Europe and Asia.

His passion was always to be a writer. After publishing a number of non-fiction works, thousands of hours writing, and seven or eight abandoned fictional works over the course of eighteen years, EYE FOR EYE became his first published novel.

J.K. Franko now lives with his wife and children in Florida.

Catch Up With JK Franko On:
jkfranko.com, Goodreads, Instagram, Bookbub, Twitter, & Facebook!

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!


Enter To Win!:

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for JK Franko. There will be Six (6) winners for this tour. Two (2) winners will each receive a $10. Amazon GC. Two (2) winners will each receive LIFE FOR LIFE by JK Franko (Print ~ US and Canada Only) and Two (2) winners will each receive LIFE FOR LIFE by JK Franko (eBook). The giveaway begins on August 1, 2020 and runs through October 2, 2020. Void where prohibited.

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#BlogTour “Tipping Point” by Michelle Cook

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A tale of loss, manipulation, and the search for the truth

What would you risk to turn back the tide?


Essie Glass might have been a typical eighteen-year-old – had life not dealt her an early blow.

Struggling to come to terms with the loss of her family in a terrorist attack, and left with nothing, Essie’s not kidding herself about her world. She wants change, and she’ll be honest about it, whatever the cost. From behind her keyboard, that is…

After all, this is England, 2035. Earth’s climate continues its accelerating collapse. A powerful elite controls the disaster-weary population with propaganda, intimidation, and constant surveillance.

By all appearances, Alex Langford is a respected local businessman – until Essie discovers that he’s a murderous conspirator who’d see the planet die for his fortune.

When their paths collide, Essie must decide: how much is she really willing to pay for her honesty?

Her choices, and the events she sets in motion, pit her against both enemies and supposed friends as she risks more than just her life to thwart them.

Will she succeed in revealing the truth? And will she survive?

Purchase Link  – http://mybook.to/tippingpoint


Author Bio

Michelle Cook

Michelle lives in Worcestershire, UK, with her husband Daniel, their two young children, and a cat called Lyra Belacqua. By day, she works for the NHS, a job which she has almost as much passion for as fiction.

Her first joyful steps into creative writing were at the age of ten, when the teacher read out her short story in class. A slapstick tale of two talking kangaroos breaking out of a zoo, the work was sadly lost to history. Still, Michelle never forgot the buzz of others enjoying her words.

More recently, she has had several flash pieces published, was long-listed for the Cambridge 2020 prize for flash fiction, and placed first in the February 2020 Writers’ Forum competition with her short story The Truth About Cherry House. Tipping Point is her debut novel.

Social Media Links  

https://linktr.ee/michellecookwriter


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#ReleaseBlitz “Sleeping with Shadows” by Rachel Hailey

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Dark Paranormal Romance

Date Published: 9/22/20

Publisher: FyreSyde Publishing

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 Once The King of Nightmares, Ashe lost everything when he was betrayed.
Released from prison, he’s got one goal: Stay Free. To make that happen
he’ll have to rescue the girl who stole his crown while saving the court
he’d rather see burn. But he can’t do it alone. He needs Callie.

Abused, neglected, and finally shunned by The Court of Light, Callie is
done with court politics. It’s just too damned bad Ashe doesn’t care. He’s
arrogant, manipulative, and dangerous. Everything she’s been taught to fear.
It would be so easy to hate him, but the sadness in his gaze calls to her
heart, and his touch awakens her own darkness. She has never wanted anyone
more.

Callie is Ashe’s darkest desire, but to earn his freedom and prevent the
destruction of humanity, she must embrace the destiny that will keep them
apart. But is the safety of the world worth losing the kind of love he’s
only dreamed of?

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About the Author

Rachel Hailey was born and raised in the South. She’s all about that nerd life and in between writing she’s dedicated herself to raising the next generation of nerds.If she’s not online or staring at a book she can usually be found at the local game store rolling dice, shuffling cards, or planning her next cosplay. 

Her childhood was most prominently shaped by the works of R.L. Stine,
Stephen King, Anne Rice and the Brothers Grimm. 

 

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#TeaserTuesday “History Village: Time to Shine” by Jo Elliott

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Time to Shine cover

Ally, Josh and Brendan are half siblings living in Australia who have a difficult reality to face at School and at home. They have a special interest in the past as they have previously embarked on two time-travelling adventures with God’s divine help. Once again they embark on their latest time-travelling trip into first century, ancient Syria. On the road to Damascus the children meet the frightening Commander who is on a mission to find and punish anyone who disagrees with his religious views. The children must quickly learn who can be trusted in this dystopian Village as they push back against the darkness and look for the truth. In time, the children learn that ordinary people with extraordinary faith in God can have a monumental impact throughout the generations. With the help of biblical heroes of old, this coming of age story will help young people discover their own unique purpose and mission in life. If you enjoy action-packed, suspenseful drama enveloped in cultural history, you are going to love “Time to Shine”.

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#ReleaseBlitz “Edge of Tomorrow (Arrow’s Edge MC, #3)” by Freya Barker

Title:Edge Of Tomorrow (Arrow’s Edge MC, #3) Author: Freya Barker Genre: Romantic Suspense Release Date: September 21, 2020 Photographer: KW Photography Models: Darrin Dedmond & Baby John Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

Solitude and motor oil meets soul food and wariness

I’m a grease-stained enigma. A watcher, a protector, an ex-con, and a mechanic. My name is Brick. I’m old enough to know good things come to those who wait, and hungry enough to go after what I want. I am a proud independent.

A nurturer, a cook, a casualty, and a grandparent. My name is Lisa. I’m cautious enough to keep my distance, and too wise to let a chance at love pass me by. We seem unmatched—in race, in history, in lifestyle—but when tragedy leaves a baby in our care and a target on our backs, we discover the strength of family.

Unified.

Available in Kindle Unlimited

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USA Today bestselling author Freya Barker loves writing about ordinary people with extraordinary stories.
Driven to make her books about ‘real’ people; she creates characters who are perhaps less than perfect, each struggling to find their own slice of happy, but just as deserving of romance, thrills and chills in their lives.
Recipient of the ReadFREE.ly 2019 Best Book We’ve Read All Year Award for “Covering Ollie, the 2015 RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for Best First Book, “Slim To None”, and Finalist for the 2017 Kindle Book Award with “From Dust”, Freya continues to add to her rapidly growing collection of published novels as she spins story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!

Available in Kindle Unlimited

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#Excerpt “Malice and Forethought” by Felicia Denise

Malice and Forethought cover

Malice and Forethought:

Short Stories of Malice and Murder

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EXCERPTA Hint of Malice

She caught her blurred reflection in the antiquated steel doors of the basement elevator.

Black turtleneck. Black Jeans. Black boots. Jacket and gloves, also black.

If she were in a nightclub, she would be called hot.

But she wasn’t some voluptuous bad-ass fashionista making a statement or setting a trend. She wore black for one reason. It hid blood splatter.

“Give me your knife, Jess.”

She’d forgotten it was still gripped in her fisted hand, blood dripping from its blade to the tarp on which she stood.

They extended their gloved hands, and he took the knife, dipping it into a small container of clear solution.

The blood disappeared.

He tossed the knife onto the tarp with the body and began rolling it up.

Jess stepped off her end and bent to help.

“No. I got this. You look a little shaken up. Scour the area and make sure we leave nothing behind.”

Jess walked around the small area of the underground parking garage but glanced over her shoulder to see Ren complete his task with ease and no emotion.

Was she shaken up?

Jess took one last look into the unseeing eyes of Neil Garner AKA William McNaughton before he disappeared into the folds of the tarp. She couldn’t muster up one ounce of guilt or remorse. She’d sent him to hell and knew she’d join him one day.

Jess grabbed Ren’s ‘tool bag’ and tossed it into the back of the Mercedes. She heard a dull thud and turned to see Ren walking away from the abandoned dumpster.

They climbed into the vehicle and began their return trip.

Thoughts of her aunt, Carmella Gordon, flooded her mind.

Her amazing aunt who’d always been a major part of Jess’ life, was gone, dead from her own hand.

Because of Neil Garner.


Malice – noun; mal·ice | ˈma-ləs

1 : desire to cause pain, injury, or distress to another
//
2 : intent to commit an unlawful act or cause harm without legal justification or excuse
//ruined her reputation and did it with malice

Everyone is capable of malice and no one is immune to its outcome.

A Hint of Malice – When her last living relative commits suicide after having her identity and assets stolen, a grieving niece longs for justice.

Burned – When the masterminds behind a major drug operation get off with a slap on the wrists, a frustrated police detective warns them their wealth cannot shield them from everything.

The Marshall Sisters – After seeing her sister mistreated by far too many men, Leslie Marshall is proud of Paula for standing up for herself and accompanies her on a cold winter’s night to confront her boyfriend, but even Leslie isn’t ready for the new, assertive Paula.

The Watcher – Shamed into exile by his family because of his sexual fetish and hanging on to the shreds of his sanity, a man plots the ultimate date night with his new neighbor.

What’s done in the dark always comes to the light.

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#CoverReveal “Trapped Within a Dream” by J.P. Uvalle

Trapped Within a Dream By J. P. Uvalle

A Romantic Horror Suspense Short Story

Releases October 30th, 2020

Blurb

They say that when you die in a dream, you die in real life. I can tell you that isn’t true—I died in my dream, and what happened to me was much stranger than that…

Willow Divine, a goal-driven medical student with midterms around the corner, has enough on her plate. When she begins having a recurring dream with a shadow-like entity haunting every corner of her mind, the lines between fantasy and reality start to blend.
Axel, the lead singer of the college rock band, only complicates her situation. She believes his pursuit of her is more sinister than he lets on.
She discovers she’s right a little too late.
Now, Willow is trapped within a dream with no way out in sight.
Can Willow discover the truth
and escape her worst nightmare before she’s trapped forever?

JP takes you on a thrilling supernatural journey, filled with terror and twists at every turn inspired by some of her most horrifying nightmares.


*Not for the faint of heart*

Preorder Here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08H4TJ2XT

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Excerpt

“Willow?” a familiar voice whispered from above.
I reluctantly craned my head up to greet bright brown eyes and a temptingly wicked smile framed by tousled black hair.
The face of sin, the poster boy for all things, dark, brooding, and utterly dangerous.
“Axel.” I went back to my research. I didn’t have time for distractions.
I heard the chair next to me move, and Axel’s broad, muscular body appeared in my peripheral. He moved my chair closer to his, the fraction of his jeans sparked a warmth against my bare thigh. Smirking, he placed a brown paper bag in front of me. “I thought you might be hungry.”
The smell of grease, cheese, and hamburger meat wafted into the musky air tangling with his cedarwood cologne—a potently tantalizing combination. My stomach clenched, a rumbling noise barreling through me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten. Glancing down at my wristwatch, I shook the daze from my head, fully aware of my hunger. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. My momma would take a belt to my hide if she’d known I’d been surviving on coffee alone.
Southerners didn’t play when it came to food. I didn’t grow up in the south, but my momma made sure her rich heritage was ingrained into every aspect of our lives. She brought the southern charm to wherever we were stationed. Our neighbors certainly appreciated her home-style cooking; it kept her busy when my daddy was overseas.
Reminiscing about Southern eats had me biting my lip, anticipating the mouthwatering taste of the juicy, salty cheeseburger.
“Thank you, Axel.” I reached for the bag, but he slapped my hand away.
I turned toward him, pinning him with a glare. I should have known there was a catch attached to this meal. That’s how Axel always wanted somethin’ from me.
“Not so fast.” That devilishly handsome grin I loved to loathe grew wider, consuming his face.
“What do you want now, Axel?” I leaned back, folding my arms over my chest.
His gaze bee-lined to my chest, but with a blink, they have linked with mine again. “Relax. I just want to have a meal with my girl.”
I rolled my eyes, blowing out a breath. This guy was relentless. “I’m not your girl. We ain’t even datin’.”
He leaned closer, his breath heating my ear. “We don’t have to be dating for you to be mine. Just make it easier for both of us and just accept it. Fry?” He dug into the bag and removed the carton of crisp and steaming waffle fries and waved it back and forth as if he were a hypnotist, and I was his powerless victim.
Who in the hell did this guy think he was? My second attempt to snatch the fries away failed, and he pulled them toward his chest.
“Just admit it, Willow, so we can eat.”
“No. I rather starve.” I didn’t understand his pursuit of me. I was startin’ to think he had a bet going with his buddies because there was no way the lead singer of the college’s infamous rock band Devil’s Descent wanted me to be his one true love when he could have any girl on campus.
His lips tugged into a frown. He set the fries down on the table and ran a hand through his shiny black hair. “I want to give you everything, but you just keep breaking my heart.”
“It ain’t my fault you won’t take no for an answer. I’ve been quite clear with how I feel ‘bout you.” My glare remained fixed. My momma warned me about boys like him, and I was giving for nothin’.
He met my glare with his. “Suit yourself.”
He snatched up the fries and shoved them back into the bag, taking the entire thing with him but not before whispering, “Sweet dreams, princess.”
His words froze me still, the chill frosting down my spine. Why on earth would he say that? It was still daylight. Maybe he was being his usually nosey self and noticed what I was reading.
I watched Axel disappear into the dark corner of the library without turning back.
After rolling my shoulders back to release the tension in my body, I continued my search, scanning the pages until a particular section caught my attention.
My heart strummed against my chest, my skin suddenly hot. My eyes widened as I blinked, not wanting to believe what I was reading. Had I found my answer?
The Dream Man:
Over twenty years, there have been reports of young women between the ages of 18-28 who had died in their sleep. In recent years, more deaths have followed before tapering off. The women had mentioned to family members and friends that a shadowy figure was haunting their dreams, nights before their sudden demise…

I snapped the book shut, sliding it across the table, unable to read anymore. My mind was infected with the horror within the pages. That can’t be true. Right? Things of that nature didn’t exist. Those were just myths and urban legends—ghost stories. I shook my head in denial. I’m just really stressed. The shadow…it means nothing.



Follow the Author

Website: https://www.beautifullytwistedpublishing.com/

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https://www.facebook.com/J.P.Uvalle/

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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15064096.J_P_Uvalle

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20406249.Luna_Jade

Amazon:
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#FREE “Deuce Mora Mystery Series Vol. 1-4” by Jean Heller

Four heart-stopping, hard-boiled mysteries at a sizzling price!

Deuce Mora’s one tough cookie–-a female sleuth with a conscience and an attitude–fiery, tough, athletic, a dirty fighter when she has to be. The scrappy lead columnist for the Chicago Journal normally writes about politics, and, rather than shying away from fights, she tends to pick them, but every once in a while, Deuce’s search for a good story brings her face to face with more trouble than she was really looking for.

In Award-winning journalist Jean Heller’s first action-packed mystery featuring the intrepid sleuth, Deuce learns in short order that if you mess with organized crime, you have to be tough—and you’d better be as much detective as reporter.

The second volume finds Deuce on the wrong side of the NSA, the FBI and the CIA. At a minimum. Exhausted by these two white-knuckle investigations in one year, Deuce is content to focus on her column until she gains information that could help catch the relentless arsonist whose Burning Rage is consuming Chicago. The Ill Wind sweeping Chicago threatens to blow in a bloody mob war. Fans of hard-boiled female protagonists should hang onto their fedoras—this one’s an action-packed extravaganza!

THE SOMEDAY FILE

Deuce uncovers a series of crimes committed over nearly six decades, and, as her human interest story morphs into a hard-boiled, action-packed mystery, she finds herself dead center in a storm of threats and reprisals from the mob. Fortunately, she has many allies, but at least one of them, she suspects, is hiding a secret–- corruption? Murder? The veteran reporter knows: if you’re talking Chicago crime scene—it’s probably both.

THE HUNTING GROUND

The grisly discovery of a human bone while Deuce is out for a hike with handsome arson investigator Mark Hearst leads to the unearthing of a vast burial field, a human trafficking ring, and international intrigue. The pull-no-punches columnist—and meticulous detective—keeps turning up information, but the Journal’s lawyer appears daily, bringing warnings about “national security.” What, Deuce seethes, could be a greater matter of national security than the safety of the city’s children, who are being kidnapped and murdered?

BURNING RAGE

Whole blocks of Chicago real estate are falling to an arsonist, but no one knows why and everyone suspects the worst—terrorism. But no terrorist group has claimed the mayhem. From the moment she hears the earliest details of the first fire, her detective-instincts say the pieces don’t fit, and every other instinct tells the hard-hitting reporter she can’t walk away from the story—even though she knows she’ll regret it.

ILL WIND

In the cold blustery dawn, reporter Deuce Mora stands looking up at a body swinging from the window of a downtown Chicago federal building. The dead man was her friend, and she knows to a certainty that this is not, as the police claim, a suicide. But the death scene was triple-locked–—from the inside.Deuce suspects his death is tied to his investigation of organized crime, a viewpoint that is strengthened by the arrival in Chiago of a Washington reporter who’s been following the story. They work the story together as it erupts into a bloody mob war in the streets.

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