#Featured “Finding Cade (Dream Catcher Series Book 1)” by Bernice Layton

Finding Cade cover

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I have this gift, an ability to transcend myself while I sleep. I never interact with anyone in this out-worldly place. I simply…watch.

I’ve heeded my aunt’s warning to not interfere while I roam freely around the world in my dreams. But that all changes when I find an injured man fleeing his captors.

Now, every night when I fall asleep I manage to find him. I can feel him—his presence caressing my skin. The more I see him, interact with him while I’m in this trance, the more I start to realize that there’s a reason I found him. There’s a reason I sense him wherever I go.

He’s in trouble. In the real world his life is in danger while the shadows keep his soul trapped in limbo.

I have to figure out how to help him, how to rescue him from the darkness.

I need to save…Cade.

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#FREE “Dead Tree Tales” by Rush Leaming

 

Dead Tree cover

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Dead Tree Tales by Rush Leaming is about a lot more than a dead tree. It’s a mystery. It’s a crime story. It’s a thriller. It’s a powerful comment on today’s society and politics… fast-paced, full of action and intrigue… It’s a real page-turner and just a fantastic read.” – Lorraine Cobcroft, Reader’s Favorite.

Set in Charleston, SC, and the surrounding islands, detectives are called to investigate the poisoning of a much-loved 1000-year-old tree only to find evidence of a more brutal crime. From there the story explodes into a fast-paced, multi-character,thriller unlike any you’ve ever read. Not for the faint of heart…

FREE for a limited time!

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#NewRelease “Bitter Street: A Liars Island Suspense” by L.G. Davis

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How well do you know the people next door?

When Jenny Hall’s teenage daughter, Kyle, went to babysit for the couple next door, she was her usual self.

A few hours later, she returns home and she’s someone else.

In the days that follow, Jenny watches in horror as her child becomes a shadow of her former self.

Something happened that night, something dark and traumatizing. But Kyle refuses to talk to Jenny about it.

What did she see? What did she hear?

It’s up to Jenny to find the answers she needs. But the closer she comes to the truth, the deeper she falls into the same dark hole as her daughter.

Can she save them both before it’s too late?

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Welcome to Liar’s Island, a stand-alone series of interconnected, novella-length domestic thrillers set in the picture-perfect community of Liars Island. Here, nothing is quite as it seems.

On this island, families and friendships are more than meets the eye…secrets, deceptions, and jealousies threaten to ruin everything these influential people have built. But it isn’t only the rich that live here…and power comes in all shapes and sizes. Everyone here is a liar…just how far would you go to get what you want?

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#BookSale “Revelations” by Laurie Kubuitsile

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A neglected wife in a foreign country.

Feeling isolated, Elizabeth is struggling to find her place in a different country. Her once happy marriage is fading. Her husband, Ditiro, is busy with his successful law practice. Even being a mother does not alleviate her loneliness.

An ambitious man who will do anything for greatness.

After one challenging morning, Elizabeth picks up a hitchhiker, and completely out of character, she has a brief sexual encounter with the much younger man, Tumelo—a rash decision that will change her life completely. Tumelo, a pathologically ambitious man will use Elizabeth as a stepping-stone on his way to the fame he thinks he deserves.

An embittered husband battling to save more than his marriage.

Ditiro is broken-hearted by Elizabeth’s affair and kicks her out of their home and family life. When she becomes the target of a psychopath’s quest for power, he will have to put aside his hurt to protect her. However, forgiving Elizabeth and letting her back into his heart may be beyond him.

50% off at Smashwords thru July 31st!

1.99

Smashwords

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#BookTour “Safekeeping” by Eva Mackenzie

SafeKeeping

Welcome to the tour for highly anticipated release, Safekeeping by Eva Mackenzie! Read on for more details and a chance to win a brand-new Kindle Paperwhite 32GB (Value 249.99)!

Mackenzie_Safekeeping_Ebook

Safekeeping

Publication Date: July 20th, 2021

Genre: Thriller/ Suspense Thriller

No one ever thinks they’ll get caught…

Moments before police arrive on the scene of a car accident in rural Montana, Sonia has time to make one phone call. With one word whispered, she sets off an unstoppable chain of events. Once police arrive, she confesses to the brutal murder of her stepsister, Emma.

After, she’s sentenced to life in prison where she learns her stepfather’s ruthless reach. It’s a game of cat and mouse– a game she has already lost. She only needs to hold on long enough to be sure her secret is kept safe.

Until one day, news of an unidentified man’s death confirms her worst fear, and Sonia must get out of prison, at all cost. What did the dead man say, and who heard him say it?

Because everyone is guilty of something…

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Excerpt

She winced and sucked air through her mouth as she pressed on the bridge of her nose. Murmuring could be heard outside her cell from women nearby. A whisper began, low at first, but climbing to reach her ears: “Green light go, on 216. Green light go, on 216.”

It was soft and almost childlike, and its echo sent a shiver through her. Green light was code for a hit, and 216 was her cell number. It was like note-passing among the inmates, only she was meant to hear it. Someone had decided it was time for her to die.

The morning light caught the edge of one of her paintings and she stared back at a likeness only she could see.

“I miss you,” she whispered. “I’m not done yet.

Available on Amazon

About the Author

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Eva Mackenzie is an author who enjoys twisty, emotionally engrossing tales. Her debut novel has been a work in progress for over a decade. Under the urging of a loved one, it’s finally finished.

She is a wife and mother living on the east coast. When she isn’t writing, she is spending time with her family, training for her next marathon or reading stacks of suspense novels. Some of her favorite authors are Minka Kent, Dean Koontz, Tami Hoag, and Lisa Jackson.

Eva Mackenzie | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads| Newsletter

Who wants to win a brand new Kindle??? This giveaway is open to everyone and will run all week (ending July 24th)!

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SafeKeeping

Book Tour Schedule

July 19th

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

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

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

@addictedtobooks86 (Review) https://www.instagram.com/addictedtobooks86/

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

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

July 20th

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

Kam’s Place (Review) https://www.superkambrook.com/

Just 4 My Books (Review) http://www.just4mybooks.wordpress.com

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

July 21st

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

@esmeralda_lagiggles18 (Review) https://www.instagram.com/esmeralda_lagiggles18/

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Cocktails & Fairy Tales (Review) https://www.facebook.com/CocktailsFairytales

Phantom of the Library (Review) https://phantomofthelibrary.com/

July 22nd

@amysbooknook8 (Review) https://www.instagram.com/amysbooknook8/

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

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

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

July 23rd

@greeneyedgirl0704 (Review) https://www.instagram.com/greeneyedgirl0704/

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

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

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

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

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#Excerpt “The Disposables (The Obscurité de Floride Trilogy, Book 2)” by Greg Jolley

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The Obscurité de Floride Trilogy, Book 2

Suspense

Date Published: Jun 1, 2021

Publisher: Épouvantail Books, LLC

 

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In the jungles of coastal Mexico, twelve-year-old Kazu Danser is on the run, his bloody past haunting and attempting to be his ruination. Hot on his heals is journalist Carson Staines, a deadly madman full of blood thirst and greed, determined to first chronicle Kazu’s criminal life – and then end it. Staines must nail him down, dead or alive; the boy being worth a huge payoff.

Making a perilous crossing of the border into the States, Kazu fights for his life, desperately heading east. Entering sunburnt Florida, he teams up with a gang of Floridian street urchins, known to the authorities as, “The disposables.”

With Staines not letting up on the chase, Kazu and the other youths go on the run, fighting for their lives.

Can the Disposables and Kazu survive?

What will they have to do to stop the murderous and resourceful monster mowing through them to get to his reward?

The second part of the book takes place in the shadows of Florida, where street urchins fights every day to survive, both bodily and in spirit. In contrast to the tropical beaches and teeming vacationers, the children will do anything necessary to keep their heads above the perilous deep waters.

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Chapter One

Leaving the Hotel Or

In Mexico, there’s plenty of wet work for an innocent-looking boy with a 9mm. For the smart ones, there was a world of new clothes, game systems, and a bedroom door with a lock. For the smartest, there were bank accounts and dreams of living without blood-splattered shoes.

Kazu was on the run, his last job gone ugly, as in kicking-a-mound-of-fire-ants ugly. The twelve-year-old had escaped the Hotel Or with a policia dragnet reaching out to snag his heals.

Sitting forward in the driver’s seat so his boot toes could reach the pedals, he kept the speedometer buried past 140km per hour, racing down Federale 200, running south from Puerto Mita.

He had escaped the resort hotel with nothing more than his backpack and his life, taking advantage of the chaos by driving away at a forced, leisurely pace. In his rearview mirror, he watched a swarm of policia vehicles turn into the hotel road.

When the last policia truck with sweeping lights and siren swung into the hotel grounds, Kazu buried his boot toe on the accelerator.

The two-lane highway began its swaying turns through endless miles of green jungle and forests. Thirty kilometers along, he slowed up and rode in the draft of a six-wheel cargo truck, a gold tuna and ‘Fish de Jo y Maria’ painted on the rear steel door. Knowing he had to ditch the car, he stayed in the queue forming on the highway, a farm truck running behind.

“Run it to empty,” he decided, leaning forward, the steering wheel inches from his chin.

He had paid cash for the stolen and re-plated Buick at the Or Petrol y Restaurante adjacent to the Hotel Or.

“Get distance.” He wiped a skim of sweat from his brow and neck.

Federale 200 continued south for fifty clicks before heading eastward, away from the coast. The lush green jungle walls brushed along both sides, and over time formed tunnels of cooler but dank air of ripe rotting vegetation. He dropped all four windows, the air conditioning having died the week before.

When the fuel needle sank under the E, he drove the grass shoulder, letting the trucks and cars behind him pass. With the stretch of highway to his own, he turned the Buick from the road.

Foliage brushing the roof, the car bounced and jolted downhill. He worked the wheel as trees and rocks cracked the sides, undercarriage, and bumper. Thirty yards in, the car was invisible from the highway.

Kazu climbed out with his backpack shouldered. Hiking halfway back up the hill to a green and shaded clearing, he kneeled in the wet soil, where patchy sunlight had dried out the vegetation.

The heat and stagnant humidity were pushing down on him.

His skin was dank with sweat. Scooping up two handfuls of dirt and dust, he rubbed the front of his black t-shirt. Same with his Pirates baseball cap. He ground dirt and leaves into the front of his black shorts before standing up and looking himself over. The results had transformed him into an everyday, poor Mexican street urchin.

Pulling the cap low to shade his foreign, almond-shaped eyes, he climbed halfway back to the road through the brush and rocks.

“Steal a pair of sunglasses,” he said, looking south, knowing he would come upon a village or city eventually.

Walking in the vegetation often high overhead, he paralleled the highway, standing still with his breath clenched when trucks or local buses went by.

He walked and climbed and crossed streams for the next two long hours. Sticky green vines repeatedly tried to grab and trip him up. The afternoon sun was lowering into the trees when he stopped. The highway sign up on the shoulder told him the town of Colomo was off to the east, and he headed that way.

“Get a ride. Then a Pepsi with lots of ice,” he said, pushing through green clinging limbs and leaves. He was approaching a scatter of small and worn residences. When he came up upon the first few cinder-block houses, he took to the pavement, the heat from the crumbled pavement pressing into each step he took. He entered the first side street, seeing no one about, hearing only a dog barking and a radio blasting Mexican disco a few houses up.

His next ride was parked alongside a station wagon on the dirt patch of a front lawn. The house was still and the windows dark. After drinking from a garden hose, he circled to the passenger side of the Ford pickup resting on its dirt tires. He looked in before opening the door.

The keys were on the dash, the passenger side of the bench seat cluttered with food wrappers on top of newspapers. Before climbing in, he checked out the truck bed. A five-gallon can of petrol was bungee-strapped to the side. He gave it a shake, and it sloshed and felt heavy. Opening the toolbox behind the cab, he swiped a roll of Gorilla tape and from the clutter in the bed grabbed two cuttings from a fence post among the other scraps of wood and aluminum.

With blocks taped to the two pedals, he turned the key and dropped the transmission into reverse. A half-hour later, he was a good distance away, up Highway 54, heading north and east.

Icons and beads swung back and forth from the mirror. Mary Magdalena was glued to the dash. She had a bubble compass embedded in her belly.

“Mary, right? Nice having someone to talk to,” he said, trying the windshield fluid knob.

It was empty.

Digging through the glove box, he pushed aside papers and food wrappers, coming up with a cashew tin full of green tobacco and some tissue papers. There was nothing to eat. He took out a sun-bleached folded map.

The miles rolled by, the road taking him through the outskirts of Guadalajara. The sun was low in the western sky when he passed through Zacatecas, where he braved a sleepy gas station to fill the tank, using forty of his one hundred ten dollars of cash. The soda icebox inside the station didn’t have Pepsi, so he bought two chilled bottles of strawberry Jarritos and two bags of chips.

“Help me find a place to hide?” he asked Mary on the dash. “Somewhere with cell service and a shower?”

The bubble compass in her mid-section appeared to bob and nod encouragement.

Four hours later, he pulled off the road on the north side of Saltillo. A dusty driveway ran to a simple row motel. A large and tired man sat behind a desk in a bowling shirt, television running to his left, radio playing to the right. Before saying a word, Kazu took out fifty US

dollars from his backpack and laid it out.

“Una habitación para uno, por favor,” < A room for one, please>  Kazu said.

The man didn’t even pause in renting a room to a short twelve-year-old boy. The entire fifty dollars was exchanged for a room key. Minutes later, Kazu parked the truck behind the motel instead of the parking lot and entered room six.

After locking and chaining the door, he got out of his black boots, stripped off his clothing, and took a long cold shower. He left the room one time to go out to the truck to pry the Mary Magdalena compass off the dash. After a dinner of chips and the second bottle of strawberry soda, he opened his backpack on the bed. Digging through his few belongings, he took out his old and battered gray Nokia flip phone.

He placed a single call to his former employer. Hitting voicemail as expected, he left a message.

“Lamento tu mala suerte en el Hotel. Necesito un trabajo. Cerca de la frontera.” < Sorry about your bad luck at the hotel. I need a job. Near the border.> After a second cool-down shower, he took out pens, pencils, and pastels and his current image-novel. With his pad of hard bond drawing paper leaning on his raised knees, he drew and shaded until his eyes began to close involuntarily and his chin bobbed on his chest.

Waking an hour before dawn as usual, he pulled on his clothes and took a third shower since arriving, rubbing out the dirt stains. Checking his Nokia, he saw he had no new messages.

With his backpack on his shoulder, he walked up the street to a market.

In the parking lot of the local Supermercado ,  a combination hardware and grocery store, he watched a thin and very short man push a shopping bag into the rear basket on the back of a motorbike. As the man started the bike, Kazu studied each movement of his hands and shoes on the throttle, clutch, and gears. The man toed the shifter into second gear as he sped away up the road.

Finding shade under a dusty tree, Kazu sat and waited. An hour passed before he saw what he needed. A man rolled in on a seriously old Honda 90 trail bike, once red and white, then different hues of oil stains and dirt. The rider got off, leaving the keys, and did a cowboy walk into the market. A dust devil also spun into the parking lot, a brown whirlwind crossing right to left. Corralled by the gap between two farm trucks, it spiraled slowly to death.

Kazu stood and crossed to the spinning residue, not bothering to wipe the dust from his dirty face, eyes on the key.

After scanning the cars and trucks and the store’s doorway, he climbed onto a dirt bike for the very first time. Minutes later, he was running up the highway in the slow lane, the wind cooling his skin even as the sun blasted down.

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About the Author

Greg Jolley earned a Master of Arts in Writing from the University of San Francisco and lives in the very small town of Ormond Beach, Florida. When not writing, he researches historical crime, primarily those of the 1800s. Or goes surfing.

Contact Links

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Twitter: @gfjolle

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#AuthorInterview Shawne Steiger, author of “Games We Played”

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Shawne Steiger wrote her first story when she was seven. Over the years, she has been a pizza maker, dressage teacher, house cleaner, and therapist. The one constant in her life has been her writing, which is why, after years working as a trauma therapist, she applied to Vermont College of Fine Arts and completed an MFA in Fiction writing. After learning that she’s happiest when writing, Shawne published short stories and essays in several literary journals. Supporting her writing habit with her social work degree, Shawne frequently incorporates her understanding of how trauma affects people into her fiction. When not writing or working, she enjoys going to the theater, reading and travel. Luckily her love of travel stops her from fully realizing her aspirations to enter the realm of mad cat woman, since she’s yet to find the perfect suitcase that will fit both her cats and still be light enough to carry.

Shawne Steiger | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | BookBub

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Thanks for spending time with us on the blog today, Shawne.

Games We Played covers timely issues unfortunately found in our real-world society. What was the motivation behind the book?

 I started writing this book when I entered the Vermont College MFA program. I actually did grow up in Carlsbad and I was one of only three Jewish kids in my class.  When I was around five or six, I played war with a neighborhood boy and we always played Nazis and Jews.  He did claim his Grandfather had fought for Hitler and there was an attic with a gun collection. That was always the germ of the story and the memoir piece I built the fiction around. I originally planned to tell just the childhood story from that child’s point of view, but when I started my MFA, my first advisor urged me to write from an adult’s point of view and focus on short stories.  By the time I graduated, I had done all this research on white supremacy and I had all sorts of material that had transformed the novel I had envisioned. I took a break for a while, because I got a new job that consumed a lot of time and I didn’t know what to do with all those pieces.  By the time I had a draft organized, 2016 happened and I realized my novel had suddenly become much more relevant than I had anticipated.  I rewrote some of it after the election. 

I’m particularly interested in intergenerational trauma.  How does all the trauma my Jewish grandparents and great grandparents experienced in Europe affect me?  How will the trauma we’ve all lived through this past few years affect the children, the next generation of children etc?  Children absorb so much from the adults around them, a lot of it unconscious.  One thing I know from my background as a trauma therapist is that sometimes people respond to trauma by becoming very rigid in their thinking and in how they see the world. We start to see everything in black and white and develop an us and them mentality in order to feel safe. It feels safer to “other” those who don’t look or think or behave like we do.   I think when people read my novel, they might get angry at Rachel and feel impatient with her at times. They might sympathize with and even like Stephen.  I want people to experience that discomfort, because I want to challenge us all to start seeing each other as full complex human beings. 

Do you have a favorite character in the story?

I’m particularly fond of Stephen.  He’s so broken, but he wants things and he wants to be good. He’s just really confused about how he defines good.  He has a lot to overcome, but he’s very driven to try to make things better. Rachel needs external events to get her moving, but Stephen creates those external events for himself. 

What is your work schedule like when writing a book?

I wake up at 5am, make coffee and write till 7, when it’s time to get ready for work. I try to write at least a little on the weekend, but I am most productive when I have long chunks of time.  Once a year, I get together with some friends at Cape Cod and we all just write all day every day for a week.  I generally get hundreds of pages out of that week. I will say COVID has affected my writing. I’ve mostly been teleworking, which theoretically gives me more time to write, but somehow I’m writing less.  I tell myself I have extra time and turn the alarm off and then wake up too late.  Luckily, the Cape Cod week is going to happen this summer, after a very long year of COVID lockdown. I’m counting on that week to get me back in the groove. 

Are you self-published, traditional, or hybrid?

I’m published under Red Adept Publishing.  They’re an indie publisher and have been truly great to work with. I really could not have asked for a better experience. Everyone has been so helpful and supportive.

Do you write full time, or do you also work outside the home? 

I wish I wrote full time.  I’m a clinical social worker with a mental health background, primarily focused on treating PTSD. Currently my job is more administrative than clinical. My retirement plan is to do a little part time therapy and write. 

What do you do when you’re not writing? 

So many of these questions seem to require pre-COVID and COVID answers.  Pre-COVID, I read, watched movies, traveled, went to theater, went out to eat, went to the gym, took walks with friends.  COVID time has been a little quieter. I still read and I’m a bit of a TV addict (Handmaid’s Tale FINALLY returned).  I take walks with people and have one or two people over for outside gatherings (now that we’re all getting vaccinated).  I’m quite addicted to Pilates and my big investment this past year was a good quality Pilates reformer. 

Do you have pets who “help” or inspire you?

Teddy and Seymour. Yes, they are named from J D Salinger short stories. Phoebe is 16 and not so photogenic, and Holden passed away.

 

As a child, What did you want to do when you grew up? 

First I wanted to be a veterinarian. Then I found out science was involved.  I was into theater in high school, so I briefly wanted to act, but I couldn’t match pitch and I couldn’t dance very well.  At the time those deficits seemed like giant barriers.  I was also deeply into horses and I had a brief career training Dressage horses and teaching Dressage lessons before I went to grad school for my MSW.

Totally addicted to social media or could you live without it?

Totally addicted to Twitter.  I love the challenge of trying to say things in as few words as possible.  I could live without Facebook.  I’m pretty introverted and Facebook sometimes feels like all the social pressure that I struggle with in real life. 

What’s your next project?

I’m working on a psychological thriller. I’m really excited about it. 

Do you have any advice for new authors?

Reading is the best way to learn to write. Also, learn to separate your sense of self-worth from your writing. The best way to develop your craft and improve your writing is to get honest critiques from skilled writers. I’ve noticed some new writers react to critiques as if they are being judged or criticized. I’ve seen writers get defensive, because the critique made them feel bad about themselves.  Critiques are about helping you develop craft skills and make your story or novel even better. You can ignore critiques that don’t resonate for you, but if you find yourself ignoring all the feedback you get, you might be preventing yourself from growing as a writer. 

Please share an excerpt (extract) with us from one of your favorite scenes.

I think I’m not alone in saving hundreds of pages of “darlings” that I ultimately cut from the novel.  I thought, rather than a specific excerpt from the novel, I’d share an excerpt from a piece I wrote that ultimately made it into the novel in bits and pieces and not in its original form. The entire piece is 11 pages, but here’s a bit of it. This is an excerpt from a letter I imagined Rachel writing, but not sending her grandmother: 

I do think of you Grandma.  I do.  But I don’t visit.  I think of the way you invaded our house, your black suitcases heavy with kitchen supplies enshrouded in bubble wrap and newspaper.  Mother taut shouldered, chapping her hands in the sink while you purged our cupboards, dumping plates, bowls, silverware in black garbage bags, and I carefully organized the new forks and spoons in their separate kosher drawers with masking tape labels for meat and dairy.  Father hiding in his study surrounded by magic books and boxes full of hidden compartments.  I think of you at the kitchen table with my mother, inhaling curls of steam from decaffeinated Lipton tea and explaining exactly why we must honor the kosher rules.  “Do you understand, Rose?  We are in a covenant with God.  The Jews were chosen by God to be pioneers of religion and morality; that is our purpose.  You must understand this, and you must raise your children as religious Jews.”  Mother nodding, sipping, nodding.  Emptying our cupboards that day, you removed the big rose colored serving platter and my mother flung her arms out, spraying water all over the floor and surrounding countertops.  She snatched that plate out of your hands.

“I’ll keep this,” she said.  “It was a wedding gift from my mother.”

You squeezed your lips and crossed your arms.  “Well, I won’t have it in a kosher kitchen. It’s probably had meat and cheese on it at the same time.”  Your tone implied my mother must have murdered somebody and served the body parts on that platter.  My mother hugged it to her chest and crept out of the room like a dog just caught in the garbage.  You patted my head and said, “No Rachel, that fork goes in the meat drawer.  See, it was on the right side of the tablecloth.”  You pointed to the shiny array of silverware on the floor, carefully organized on right and left sides of our picnic tablecloth, glinting like treasure against the faded yellow flowers.  

I want to blame you and I want to hate you. I remember the day you came – us waiting at the gate, me clutching Guarder in one hand and my mother’s clammy fingers in the other, staring at my father’s back, hair curling darkly around the collar of his white polo shirt.  Streams of passengers rushed past us in twos and threes, hugging waiting friends and family members, crying, chattering about lousy food and nearly missed changeovers in Atlanta, the new clothes they found in Florida. We were a tableau, a still life in the middle of it all. You walked out alone in your gray skirt, white button down blouse and gray jacket. Your pantyhose bunched around your ankles. People stepped aside to let you through.  When I picture you coming off that airplane I think of the cactuses I once saw on a drive through Arizona – all determined sharp edges, able to survive on the occasional rain, sucking every droplet of water from the air around them.  You looked down and said, “Hello Rachel.”  None of the singsong voice usually reserved for children or the elderly.  I felt like when I played house with Stephen -him announcing, “I’m home, honey,” and me wobbling precariously over to him in my mother’s heels, touching my lips to his cheek, tingling with the fear and excitement of being a wife at six years old. 

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Games-We-Played-500x800-Cover-Reveal-and-PromotionalGames We Played

Publication Date: October 17th, 2020

Genre: Literary Fiction/ Women’s Fiction/ Thriller

When actress Rachel Goldberg shares her personal views on a local radio show, she becomes a target for online harassment. Things go too far when someone paints a swastika on her front door, not only terrifying her but also dredging up some painful childhood memories. Rachel escapes to her hometown of Carlsbad. To avoid upsetting her parents, she tells them she’s there to visit her Orthodox Jewish grandmother, even though that’s the last thing she wants to do. But trouble may have followed her.Stephen Drescher is home from Iraq, but his dishonorable discharge contaminates his transition back to civilian life. His old skinhead friends, the ones who urged him to enlist so he could learn to make better bombs, have disappeared, and he can’t even afford to adopt a dog. Thinking to reconnect with his childhood friend, he googles Rachel’s name and is stunned to see the comments on her Facebook page. He summons the courage to contact her, Rachel and Stephen, who have vastly different feelings about the games they played and what might come of their reunion, must come to terms with their pasts before they can work toward their futures.

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#Free “Just a Simple Little Holiday (Just a Simple Little series Book 1)” by bea kendall

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Fern wants a second chance at a normal life

Following a hit-and-run, she has mastered the art of being invisible from the comfort of her wheelchair.

But it’s time to live again.

Months into a new job, and with a reputation as The Ice Queen, making friends hasn’t been easy.

In fact, she can count the number of them on one finger.

When that friend – Nessa – invites her on a girly holiday in a luxury Portuguese villa, Fern’s first panicked thought is to refuse.

But Nessa is very persuasive, so much so that Fern pulls on her big girl pants and eventually agrees.

Is this her chance to prove the old Fern still exists?

After all, it’s Just a Simple Little Holiday.

What could possibly go wrong?

Women’s Fiction with a mystery thread and a hint of psychopath

 

(originally published as the Fifth Wheel by L.S. Fellows. Same story, same author, but with just a simple little makeover)

Kindle Unlimited

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#BookBlitz “He Goes Out Weeping: A Story of Mystery” by David A. Fiensy

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Mystery, Suspense

Published: May 2021

Publisher: New Harbor Press

Evil stalks John Book; violence tracks him. Can he escape his pursuer?

Someone has murdered the internationally famous professor of theology at Graf Divinity School. Who would want to kill a harmless, old theologian? Is it the same person that stalks one of the students and threatens harm to him and his fiancee? As layer after layer of mystery unfolds, as intriguing characters one after the other enter, and as more surprises rise up to frighten, readers confront evil–both in others and in themselves. He Goes Out Weeping is for mystery lovers who want a little theology with their chills.

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About the Author


David A. Fiensy taught religion for forty years in colleges and churches. He is now semi-retired and engaged in speaking for special events and in several writing projects.

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Contact Links

Website

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Promo Link

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Purchase Links

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Publisher

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RABT Book Tours & PR

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#FREE “Twisted Lies: | Dark Possessive Alpha Romance (Dirty Secrets Book 1)” by Sedona Venez

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Core’s an ex-criminal billionaire that wins, whatever it takes. Until Sin. She’s the one woman he can’t have but wants.

Sinthia is a rising fashion star.

Together, they spark a romance that could ignite a corporate empire—or bring everything crashing down.

Core wants revenge on a corrupt politician who took everything—but he doesn’t expect to want with the very woman he plans to use as a weapon.

Sin didn’t become famous without knowing how to fight back…even against the man she wants.

FREE at all online retailers for a limited time!

Amazon

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IMPORTANT NOTE:
The books of Dirty Secrets must be read in order:
Twisted Lies
Twisted Lies 2
Twisted Lies 3
Twisted Lies 4

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