18 June, 2021

5 Rounds by Nikki Castle Cover Reveal! @nikkicastleromance #CoverReveal #NikkiCastle #EnemiesToLovers #SportsRomance

Join us for the cover reveal of 5 Rounds by Nikki Castle. Fans who love enemies to lovers romance will sink their teeth into this hot sports romance. Keep scrolling for more details about this sexy cover. 

Title: 5 Rounds

Author: Nikki Castle

Release Date: July 16, 2021

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Sports Romance

Synopsis:

She's a feisty workaholic that hates his guts.

He's an arrogant MMA fighter that can't afford any distractions.

This isn't the kind of fight they're used to...

When Remy is suddenly evicted from her apartment, her best friend offers to let her crash at his house while he's traveling for work. The only problem is, she can't stand his roommate, Tristan. Now, they're stuck living together for 10 days. But after the tension breaks with one very steamy night, and then again, and again… they're forced to reexamine their long-standing enemy relationship.

While Remy struggles with her developing feelings for a notorious womanizer, Tristan has to decide if his feelings for Remy are worth it, or if they'll distract him from his longtime goal of becoming a world champion. To make matters worse, their deadline is looming because Remy is moving out soon.

Will they risk their hearts and let themselves fall in love? Or will they go back to hating each other before they've even had a chance to be together? 

Add to Goodreads Here

Goodreads https://bit.ly/3vf8ZQv

Pre-order Links:

Amazon https://amzn.to/2SoF4Yy


About Nikki Castle 

Nikki Castle is a 29 year old wife and bulldog mom who writes steamy love stories about alpha MMA fighters and the women that melt their badass, playboy hearts. She spends her days working for a technology company and her evenings running a Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) gym with her husband, who is also a retired fighter.

Nikki has been writing in one way or another since she was a teenager. She pursued an English and Philosophy degree in college, and finally decided to sit down and fulfill her longtime dream of writing an entire novel when quarantine began in 2020.


Follow: Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon

Facebook → https://www.facebook.com/nikkicastleromance

Instagram → https://www.instagram.com/nikkicastleromance/ 

Goodreads → https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/126158117-nikki

Amazon →https://www.amazon.com/Nikki-Castle/e/B095P6M2M8

PRIMORDIAL by David Sobel Book Spotlight and Guest Post! #primordial #medicalthriller


PRIMORDIAL by David Sobel, is a Crichton-like thriller that centers on the plights of two scientists separated by decades and borders but united in their obsessive quest for the physical location of the soul. Jonas, a hospital attorney, begins to suspect that someone is targeting patients in his NYC hospital. With the help of two residents, his search for answers will bring him face to face with a killer.

Thought-provoking, both scientifically and ethically, PRIMORDIAL is a story that spans decades of medical and legal mystery, history and suspense. It will transport readers to a Nazi medical laboratory in World War II, then back to present day New York City where an unlikely trio, Jonas the experienced hospital lawyer, “Early” the quirky urology resident, and Rachel, the wickedly smart neurosurgery resident, struggle to piece together a series of unexplained killings. Debut author Dr. Sobel weaves his medical expertise and extensive historical research in a twisted tangle of secrets that will keep readers on the edge of their seats.


David Sobel, M.D. is a board-certified practicing urologist who specializes in sexual medicine and is a faculty member at the University of Colorado. He has over 21 years of experience and graduated from the University of Illinois at Chicago College of Medicine. Prior to becoming a physician, he was a corporate lawyer with Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison in NYC. Dr. Sobel is also a founder of Emmi Solutions, a company that creates education modules that assist patients with their medical care. He lives in Denver with his wife and two children. 

Social Media:

https://www.facebook.com/David-Sobel-Author-105217538318878

https://twitter.com/dsobelmd 

https://www.instagram.com/papasobel/


Read an Excerpt


Rudolph “Rudy” Walla was sweating. 

He stood, perfectly still, within the one-meter square sentry post that was positioned just inside the back gate of the Seelentor concentration camp. The post was a tiny glass and wood structure with a small external cut-out that housed a potbelly stove. The stove, on this bitter February night, poured molten heat into the structure. Rudy’s breath, exhaled in the long drawl of the bored and tired, condensed on the front pane of glass, obscuring his view. He was just able to discern the shadowy outline of the SS-Schutze—the private—who had occupied the post before Rudy came looking for a reprieve from the cold. He smiled at the thought of a sentry post with a frosted view and of the private, hunched and angry, pacing in the cold. Not much to see anyway, he thought to himself, returning to his slow, metered breathing. Rudy was in a corner of Poland—forgotten, miserable, stoic, and sweating. God, was he sweating.

Rudy’s wool uniform, the severe black of the SS, was plastered to his body. Each movement was a sticky uncomfortableness. The commander of the camp had called the sentry post the Aufrechten Sarg—the “upright coffin.” And, as horrible as the coffin was, it beat the blistering cold that was just on the other side of the glass. It was early morning. Dawn was approaching and the sun was just tickling the sky, turning the black into a bruised dark blue. The earth felt as if every ounce of heat had been stolen away. A brittle and broken, icicle-white wasteland. His sanctuary was a stifling coffin. Rudy thought of Ishmael and the white whale. And, not uncommon on a lonely, sleepless night, he thought of the hand of fate that had steered him all the way from his childhood in Berlin to this tiny box in this foreign land.

Guest Post

The First Sentence…

By David Sobel

“She always liked the color blue.”

These were actually the first words that I wrote when I started my novel PRIMORDIAL.  It was late at night and I figured that I had to start at some time, somewhere.

I had a sense of the plot, most characters and certainly the ending.  However, I had not written an outline and I had only done a smattering of research.   I am also embarrassed to say that what I had figured out about the story was stored in the flawed and forgetful file cabinet in my head.  What I knew, though, was that the first chapter would be the first murder and that the murder was all about the victim.  

So, why the color blue?  

I sat in my office – it was late at night again and I was just starting to write -- and I thought about the hospitals that I have worked in.  In my mind I walked through the halls, registering the sights as I imagined the smells and sounds.  I was looking for the birthplace of fear; for the seed of anxiety.  So, I drifted to the surgery suites.  

In an operating room, blue is the color of sterility.  We use blue drapes to frame the flesh that becomes the operative field.  We shout at the med-students not to touch anything that is blue for fear that they will contaminate that sterile bubble.  We look for that bluish hue of veins as we place an IV.  I stood on the threshold of that OR feeling the cold air and seeing all that crisp blueness.

I then thought about the victim.  She was old and frail and cold.  I thought about her prepped and draped, waiting for the incision.  I thought about her awake, shivering slightly.  Her skin, papery thin, clung tightly to her face and loosely to her arm.  She was desperate for a familiar touch.  She wanted to go home.

And, then, it came to me.

“She always liked the color blue.”




17 June, 2021

Guardians at the Wall By Tim Walker Blog Tour!

 



Book Title: Guardians at the Wall

Author: Tim Walker

Publication Date: 1st June 2021

Publisher: Independently published

Page Length: 310 Pages

Genre: Historical dual timeline (Contemporary/Roman)


Twitter Handles: @timwalker1666 @maryanneyarde

Instagram Handles: @timwalker1666 @coffeepotbookclub

Hashtags: #HistoricalFiction #HadriansWall #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub


Guardians at the Wall 

By Tim Walker


Archaeology student Noah scrapes the soil near Hadrian’s Wall, once a barrier that divided Roman Britannia from wild Caledonian tribes, in the hope of uncovering an ancient artefact around which he can build a project-defining story.


He makes an intriguing find, but hasn't anticipated the distraction of becoming the object of desire in a developing love triangle in the isolated academic community at Vindolanda. He’s living his best life, but must learn to prioritise in a race against time to solve an astounding 2,000-year-old riddle, and an artefact theft, as he comes to realise his future career prospects depend on it.


In the same place, almost 2,000 years earlier, Centurion Gaius Atticianus, hungover and unaware of the bloody conflicts that will soon challenge him, is rattled by the hoot of an owl, a bad omen. 


These are the protagonists whose lives will brush together in the alternating strands of this dual timeline historical novel, one commencing his journey and trying to get noticed, the other trying to stay intact as he approaches retirement.


How will the breathless battles fought by a Roman officer influence the fortunes of a twenty-first century archaeology mud rat? Can naive Noah, distracted by the attentions of two very different women, navigate his way to a winning presentation?


Find out in Tim Walker's thrilling historical dual timeline novel, Guardians at the Wall.


Kindle: http://mybook.to/guardiansatthewall 


Paperback: http://mybook.to/guardianspaperback 


Available on Kindle Unlimited


Guardians at the Wall by Tim Walker

Let the exploratory excavation commence!


[From the POV of student archaeologist, Noah Jessop]


The following Saturday, we were in the car park loading Mike Stone’s Land Rover with shovels, hessian sacks, sample bags, trowels, sieves, a metal detector and a ground-penetrating radar device that Richard had signed out for the weekend. I had identified the current owner of the farmhouse, Mrs Betty Hardcastle, a retired widow, and I’d spoken to her on the phone, introducing myself as an archaeology student who was interested in identifying sites of old Roman graveyards. 


It had piqued her interest when I said I had a hunch that there might be a family graveyard plot in the corner of her house enclosure. She’d replied that she was a member of the Corbridge History Society, and was interested in the prospect of finding historical remains on her land. I had played it down, saying that I would like to come over one Saturday with a couple of friends to have a look around. She had agreed, and proposed that we come over right away, on the forthcoming Saturday.


“What did Professor Wilde say to you, Richard?” Dave asked, placing a cool box of sandwiches and drinks in the back.


Richard carefully stored the last of the equipment in and shut the rear door. “She gave me a copy of the trust’s dig rules and told me not to disturb or remove any artefacts we may uncover. We’re only to photograph and record them, then come back and fetch Mike Stone.” 


I groaned at the thought of having to stop if we found anything of interest. I held the passenger door open for Dave. Only three could squeeze into the cab, so Russ had agreed to stay behind.


“Well, I guess she could take the credit if we found anything,” Dave said as he wedged himself in the centre seat by the gear stick.


The drive time to Hardcastle Farm was only thirty minutes, and the electric gate opened for us after I waved at a CCTV camera. We rattled across a cattle grid onto the one-hundred-yard straight drive to the manor house, passing two dozen shaggy-coated Highland cattle and as many sheep chewing the thick, coarse moorland grass. Away to our left I saw the boundary fence and the buildings of the Corbridge Museum between trees, owned by the English Heritage Trust.


“To think that Gaius must have been so near and yet somehow thwarted from reaching Coria,” I said as we waited for a second set of electric gates to swing open. Our approach had been tracked on a moving CCTV camera. The main house, front garden, barn and outhouses were all enclosed by an electric fence.


Richard parked next to a newer, but similar, Land Rover on the gravel driveway. “Let’s hope this is the right place.” 


We got out to the barks of two large smooth-coated hounds with floppy ears, and the approach of our host, a stout, grey-haired woman in cream Aran jumper and corduroy trousers tucked into green gumboots. It was practically a uniform around here, and we were similarly attired.


“Good morning and welcome to Hardcastle Farm,” she said.


“Hi, Mrs Hardcastle.” I held out my hand. “I’m Noah. Thanks for inviting us to have a look around.”


“Not at all, and please call me Betty.” She gave me a firm hand shake. I could see from her ruddy cheeks and frame that she was an outdoors person, no doubt a keen hiker and dog walker on the Northumberland hills that rose from the river valley in which her property sat. “I’m so pleased you called. I’ll take you to the overgrown corner which I think would be a good place to start. There’s a pile of stones that may have been used as grave markers. I’ve put a couple of rakes over there. If you wouldn’t mind clearing away the leaf mulch and twigs for me and tidying up, I’d be grateful.”


She led the way across an expanse of mown lawn towards the corner of the enclosed area, past a stone border and hedgerow that marked the edge of the garden, and onto a rough track that led into an area of low-hanging trees and bushes. There was a disused wooden shed with a partially collapsed roof, then a secluded area with lumps of coarse grass where no trees grew, only a few bushes.


“This looks promising,” I said.


“Yes, I’ve often wondered if this was an old graveyard. The nettles and brambles run riot, so it’s a magnet for butterflies. You can rip up the bushes and slash back the grass, but leave the trees that border this area, please,” Betty replied. The area covered roughly forty square yards.


*****


[In the Roman fortified town of Coria in the year 180 CE, Centurion Atticianus gives his report to Tribune Bebius]


Gaius silently rehearsed the report he knew he would soon be giving, then composed himself as the voices of officers entering the commander’s office filtered through the thin door.


“Ah, Centurion Atticianus, come forward and meet your fellow officers,” Tribune Flavius Lucius Bebius said in a welcoming tone, his composure fully recovered.


“Yes, sir!” Gaius replied, standing to attention. “I am Gaius Vitellius Atticianus, Centurion of Horses of the Fourth Century, Fourth Cohort, Sixth Legion, Victrix Pia Fidelis. I was sent here by Tribune Helvius Pertinax from Vindolanda which is under attack from a large force of barbarians these past two days.”


He paused as the officers gasped. With late arrivals, there were now two prefects and twelve centurions in the room, including Lupus, whom Gaius had recently escorted from Habitancum Fort to the Wall. He nodded to the Senior Centurion whom he knew, Julius Flavius or ‘First Spear’, who was above all centurions.


“It is necessary that you speak slowly, so that my clerk can record the detail of your report,” Tribune Bebius said. Gaius glanced over his shoulder at the clerk sitting at a small table in the corner of the room, stylus hovering over a wax tablet.


“Certainly, sir. But before I continue, may I ask, what action was taken upon hearing the report by Centurion Lupus Viridio of the fourth cohort? He had witnessed the gathering of the Caledonii tribes at the dun of the Selgovae king.” 


A look of anger flashed across the tribune’s face. After glaring at Gaius for his impudence, he looked at the huge man in polished, gilded armour standing before him. “Well, First Spear, did you receive a report from this centurion of a gathering of the tribes?”


“I… did, Your Excellency, but you were otherwise detained at the time, and so I thought it could wait until our weekly briefing, scheduled for tomorrow, sir.”


“Fool! Do you not recognise an important piece of intelligence when you hear it?” The tribune’s cheeks turned puce again, this time with rage. “You could learn much from Centurion Atticianus here, who practically battered down my door to give me his report of hostiles approaching…” He checked himself, and his storm blew over as quickly as it had started, and he continued in a calm manner. “Right, put the entire garrison on full alert and send out your cavalry on patrols. Is there anything else we should know, Centurion Atticianus?”


Gaius cleared his throat and replied, “We were forced off the road at the estate of Magistrate Lucius Gabia…”


Tribune Bebius chuckled, cutting him short. “Ah, Fortuna guided you there. He is a friend of mine and I know his estate is built like a fortress. He convinced himself that one day barbarians would attack… and now they have. He is away in Eboracum at the courts. The walls are high and he even had corner towers built.”


“Yes, Fortuna be praised, sir. We made use of the walls and towers. And with the help of his estate workers, managed to keep the savages at bay long enough to bury our payroll chest and standard, before making a staggered retreat via the river path.”


“You did well, Centurion. My compliments to you for your wise actions in what must have been a grim situation. Remain behind and give the location details to my clerk. They must be recovered after we see off the barbarians.”


Gaius spun on his heels and marched out, followed by the scurrying clerk clutching half a dozen tablets to his chest. Gaius could see soldiers and civilians rushing about through the windows, and knew that meant the warband had been spotted.


The clerk sat and looked up, expectantly.


“We buried a chest of coins and the fourth cohort standard at the estate of Magistratus Lucius Gabia, in a grave marked with a stone in the name, Domina Drusilla Gabia,” he enunciated in a slow, deliberate manner, watching the bird’s nest on top of the clerk’s head wobble as he made deep and deliberate indents in the soft wax. “Those are the salient facts. And now, I take my leave.”



Tim Walker is an independent author living near Windsor in the UK. He grew up in Liverpool where he began his working life as a trainee reporter on a local newspaper. After studying for a degree in Communication studies he moved to London where he worked in the newspaper publishing industry for ten years before relocating to Zambia where, following a period of voluntary work with VSO, he set up his own marketing and publishing business. He returned to the UK in 2009.

 

His creative writing journey began in earnest in 2013, as a therapeutic activity whilst recovering from cancer treatment. He began writing an historical fiction series, A Light in the Dark Ages, in 2014, inspired by a visit to the part-excavated site of a former Roman town. The series connects the end of Roman Britain to elements of the Arthurian legend and is inspired by historical source material, presenting an imagined history of Britain in the fifth and early sixth centuries.

 

The last book in the series, Arthur, Rex Brittonum, was published in June 2020. This is a re-imagining of the story of King Arthur and follows on from 2019’s Arthur Dux Bellorum. Both titles are Coffee Pot Book Club recommended reads. The series starts with Abandoned (second edition, 2018); followed by Ambrosius: Last of the Romans (2017); and book three, Uther’s Destiny (2018). Series book covers are designed by Canadian graphic artist, Cathy Walker.

 

Tim has also written three books of short stories, Thames Valley Tales (2015), Postcards from London (2017) and Perverse (2020); a dystopian thriller, Devil Gate Dawn (2016); and three children’s books, co-authored with his daughter, Cathy – The Adventures of Charly Holmes (2017), Charly & the Superheroes (2018) and Charly in Space (2020).



Website: http://www.timwalkerwrites.co.uk 

Goodreads: https://goodreads.com/author/show/678710.Tim_Walker 

Amazon Author Page: http://Author.to/TimWalkerWrites

Facebook Page: http://facebook.com/TimWalkerWrites

Twitter: http://twitter.com/timwalker1666

Instagram: https://instagram.com/timwalker1666 

Newsletter sign-up and free short story: https://eepurl.com/diqexz

 







16 June, 2021

His Moonflower by TK Cherry Book Release Tour!

Adam and Everly have both experienced their fair share of love and heartbreak, but when the two find themselves consumed by the other, the differences between the two are a constant reminder of how they don’t fit. For these two, is age just a number, or will it be the downfall of a well-deserved happily ever after? Readers will devour this silver fox romance featuring one sexy older dad next door. Fall in love with your next book boyfriend with His Moonflower by TK Cherry, the next book in the Single Dad’s Romance series. 

Read Now!

ADAM

At forty-three, I've experienced my fair share of love and even betrayal. 

That very same heartbreak gave me the gift of two adolescent boys, and I owe it to them to be a good example. 

But the proverbial girl next door has captured my attention and has me craving things I shouldn't want. Not with Everly. It’s almost shameful how much of my headspace is consumed by someone half my age. 

EVERLY

I may be young, but I'm no stranger to failed relationships and heartbreak. In fact, the last time I fell in love, it almost killed me.

But everything about Adam, the sexy and much older man next door, draws me in. I don't care that he's nearly twice my age or that he has two young sons. I would do just about anything to make him mine.

Can I convince him that age is just a number, or will he shut me out because he's also my uncle's good friend?

Add to Goodreads!

Excerpt 

Copyright 2021 TK Cherry

Medical school might've been a more practical option for me over business school because I'm a very sick man. I should be in therapy, or maybe even prison, for all the despicable thoughts consuming me over the past three years.

Why does she leave the blinds wide open like that at night?

Doesn't she know I can see right inside her bedroom?

I spot the white wireless earbuds tucked into Everly's ears, revealing the reason her upper body sways silently as she folds laundry on the bed. She's dressed in nothing but a borderline translucent white camisole and teeny, pale blue panties. The shadows of dark circles up top and the plump skin teasing me from between her crossed legs below makes me wild inside. Suddenly, she takes a break from folding, rises, and starts dancing on the floor.

Sweet mother of…

It's a seductive expression of a sound that only she hears. I wish I knew what she was dancing to. For now, my imagination plays "I Touch Myself" by Divinyls in order to occupy the quiet space on my side of the window and drown out my breathing. Even though the song playing inside my head gives the perfect tempo for her sexy little shimmy, something dawns on me.

She wasn't even born when that song came out.

Shit! Close the fucking window, Holt!

My insides are shouting at me like the viewing audience warning a woman not to trudge through the woods in a horror film. But like her, I don't listen. I don't know what it will take for me to stop obsessing over this young girl next door—rather, young woman. But still… She's young.

I'm old enough to be her father.

Will Dan have to kick my ass?

Having my bedroom window facing hers surpasses cruel and unusual punishment. I could choose to sleep in a different bedroom. I could also stop peeking through the blinds at night, stealing glimpses of her magnificent body. Instead, I'm like an alcoholic taking refuge in a wine cellar. She is Aphrodite, and I'm a eunuch being seduced by her nightly. Touching Everly is simply out of the question.

How old is she now? Twenty-one?

No matter… She's way too young for me.

I've seen young guys from the neighborhood flocking there over the years, mainly to flirt with her and her cousin, Renchel. For me, Everly was the one who always stood out. She's beautiful, with distinct features that became more refined as she got older. For the life of me, I don't understand why boys aren't breaking down her door.

About TK Cherry

You can take the girl out of Detroit, but you’ll never take Detroit out of this girl.

For TK Cherry, it’s pop—not soda, and Tim Hortons over everything else.

Born and raised in The Motor City, TK now enjoys little or no winters in the Carolinas. By day, she’s a spreadsheet whiz and frequent flyer. By night, she lives for keeping her loyal readers on the edge of their seats with steamy tales of happily ever after.

Follow: Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | BookBub | Website | Newsletter | Amazon | Pinterest | Book and Main Bites |

Check out this fabulous giveaway from Author TK Cherry!

Enter to win a signed paperback & a $10 Amazon eGift card

Contest ends Tuesday, June 22nd at midnight ET

http://bit.ly/hismoongiveaway

About the Single Dad’s Romance Series

Seven single dads, all from different walks of life and doing the best they can to raise their children - are ready to make you fall in love. 

From the celebrity dad just trying to protect the ones he loves from the spotlight...to the silver fox who's out to prove it's never too late to have a family of your own - this single dads collection guarantees to bring you a whole lot of love and of course, a happily ever after. 

Look no further, your next book boyfriend is here!

Follow the @IndiePenPR FB Page for all the Single Dad's news: https://www.facebook.com/IndiePenPR

This promotional event is brought to you by Indie Pen PR

Murder, She Wrote: Killing in a Koi Pond by Jessica Fletcher & Terrie Farley Moran Book Tour and Giveaway!

Murder, She Wrote: Killing in a Koi Pond by Jessica Fletcher & Terrie Farley Moran

About Murder, She Wrote: Killing in a Koi Pond

 

Murder, She Wrote: Killing in a Koi Pond 

Cozy Mystery 53rd in Series 

Publisher: Berkley (June 8, 2021)

Hardcover: 288 pages 

ISBN-10: 0593333594 

ISBN-13: 978-0593333594 

Digital ASIN: B08FH8NM6R

When a friend’s husband dies while Jessica Fletcher is in town visiting, Jessica’s vacation turns into a murder investigation in this latest entry in the long-running USA Today bestselling series.

 

After traveling to Bethesda for a mystery writers’ conference, Jessica Fletcher decides she’s earned a vacation and takes a train to Columbia, South Carolina, to visit her old college friend Dolores, who has recently married her third husband, Willis Nickens, a wealthy and cutthroat businessman. They’ve moved into an opulent historic home with plenty of space for guests, and Jessica is ready for a week of shopping, gossiping, and relaxing at the grand estate.

 

But the morning after she arrives, Jessica discovers Willis facedown in the koi pond, and despite what the police think, she’s sure foul play is involved. She hadn’t known Willis long, but it’s clear to her that he didn’t concern himself with making friends. The question isn’t if her friend’s husband was murdered but by whom.

 

About the Authors

Jessica Fletcher is a bestselling mystery writer who has a knack for stumbling upon real-life mysteries in her various travels.

Terrie Farley Moran is the author of Murder She Wrote: Killing in a Koi Pond, the latest in the long-running Jessica Fletcher series, to be followed in autumn 2021 by Murder She Wrote: Debonair in Death. She has also written the beachside Read 'Em and Eat cozy mystery series and is co-author of Laura Childs’ New Orleans scrapbooking mysteries. Her short stories have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies. Terrie is a recipient of both the Agatha and the Derringer awards.

Terrie's Links 
  Purchase Links 



TOUR PARTICIPANTS
June 7 – Novels Alive – AUTHOR INTERVIEW
June 7 – Baroness' Book Trove – REVIEW
June 8 – Literary Gold - SPOTLIGHT
June 8 – The Editing Pen – REVIEW
June 9 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT
June 9 – Lisa Ks Book Reviews – REVIEW
June 10 – Thoughts in Progress – SPOTLIGHT
June 10 – Christy's Cozy Corners – REVIEW
June 11 – Books to the Ceiling - REVIEW, CHARACTER INTERVIEW
June 11 – MJB Reviewers – SPOTLIGHT
June 12 – Laura's Interests – REVIEW
June 12 – Sapphyria's Book Reviews - SPOTLIGHT
June 13 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW
June 14 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT
June 14 – I Read What You Write – REVIEW
June 15 – Mysteries with Character – AUTHOR INTERVIEW
June 15 – The Book's the Thing – REVIEW
June 16 – Celticlady's Reviews – SPOTLIGHT
June 16 – Reading, Writing & Stitch-Metic – SPOTLIGHT
June 17 – Maureen's Musings – SPOTLIGHT
June 17 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – SPOTLIGHT
June 18 – Diane Reviews Books – REVIEW
June 18 – Author Elena Taylor's Blog – REVIEW
June 19 – Brooke Blogs - SPOTLIGHT
June 19 – Here's How It Happened – REVIEW
June 20 – BookishKelly2020 – SPOTLIGHT   

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15 June, 2021

Verity by Colleen Hoover Review!

Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer on the brink of financial ruin when she accepts the job offer of a lifetime. Jeremy Crawford, husband of bestselling author Verity Crawford, has hired Lowen to complete the remaining books in a successful series his injured wife is unable to finish.

Lowen arrives at the Crawford home, ready to sort through years of Verity's notes and outlines, hoping to find enough material to get her started. What Lowen doesn't expect to uncover in the chaotic office is an unfinished autobiography Verity never intended for anyone to read. Page after page of bone-chilling admissions, including Verity's recollection of what really happened the day her daughter died.


Lowen decides to keep the manuscript hidden from Jeremy, knowing its contents would devastate the already grieving father. But as Lowen's feelings for Jeremy begin to intensify, she recognizes all the ways she could benefit if he were to read his wife's words. After all, no matter how devoted Jeremy is to his injured wife, a truth this horrifying would make it impossible for him to continue to love her.

A standalone romantic thriller from #1 New York Times bestselling author Colleen Hoover.


My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Lowen Ashleigh is a struggling writer, with financial difficulties who gets an offer of a lifetime for her. Jason Crawford, who's wife is an author, is looking for someone to finish his wife, Verity's books. Verity is a successful author who had been in a car accident and is bed ridden.
Jason lives in this huge house along with his son. Jason and Verity had had twin daughters who died in separate incidences. Jason is of course grief stricken at their loss.

Lowen accepts the job, not sure if she is up to the task but decides to try to finish the remaining books. She moves into their home and starts doing research to help her get an idea as to what she is writing. She stumbles across an autobiography of sorts and becomes immersed in the story of how Jason and Verity met, their lives together, the death of their daughters. There are some things in the diary that have Lowen horror stricken. To describe anymore would give away the story.

Verity just one of those stories you don't want to end. Plus you never see the ending coming. I love psychological thrillers and this is right up there with the best.
I had never read a Colleen Hoover book, I know this won't be the last.

View all my reviews

The Poison Keeper By Deborah Swift Blog Tour! @swiftstory @maryanneyarde #CoffeePotBookClub

 



Book Title: The Poison Keeper 

Author: Deborah Swift

Publication Date: 18th May 2021

Publisher: Quire Books

Page Length: 394 Pages

Genre: Historical Fiction

Twitter Handle: @swiftstory @maryanneyarde

Instagram Handless: @deborahswiftauthor @coffeepotbookclub

Hashtags: #HistoricalFiction #Renaissance #Italian #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub

The Poison Keeper 

By Deborah Swift

Naples 1633

Aqua Tofana – One drop to heal. Three drops to kill.


Giulia Tofana longs for more responsibility in her mother’s apothecary business, but Mamma has always been secretive and refuses to tell Giulia the hidden keys to her success. When Mamma is arrested for the poisoning of the powerful Duke de Verdi, Giulia is shocked to uncover the darker side of her trade.


Giulia must run for her life, and escapes to Naples, under the shadow of Mount Vesuvius, to the home of her Aunt Isabetta, a famous courtesan. But when Giulia hears that her mother has been executed, and the cruel manner of her death, she swears she will wreak revenge on the Duke de Verdi.


The trouble is, Naples is in the grip of Domenico, the Duke’s brother, who controls the city with the ‘Camorra’, the mafia. Worse, her Aunt Isabetta, under Domenico’s thrall, insists that she should be consort to him – the brother of the man she has vowed to kill.


Based on the legendary life of Giulia Tofana, this is a story of hidden family secrets, and how even the darkest desires can be vanquished by courage and love.


‘Her characters so real they linger in the mind long after the book is back on the shelf’ Historical Novel Society


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The Poison Keeper by Deborah Swift  Extract

From Chapter 2


The ship berthed in Naples early, so when they arrived it was just after dawn, the sun still a pinkish blur, hanging low in an egg-blue sky. Giulia was awed by Mount Vesuvius, which was almost purple in this light. It stood motionless and benign, as if no fiery breath could spurt from its jaws, even though it had erupted less than eighteen months ago, raining torment on everything below. Today, Naples was bustling with traders, despite the fact the whole city could be buried tomorrow under red-hot lava if the fire god willed it. 


Giulia drank it all in, her head turning from side to side so as not to miss any detail. Cats strolled from the alleys to stretch out on the warm flagstones, horses and carts trundled lazily by with workers on their way to the wheatfields. 


Sister Simona marched them through the narrow streets with their tall shuttered houses, with a ‘Keep up. Keep up!’ to her gaggle of followers. Sister Teresa and Sister Marthe were painfully slow walkers. ‘It’s near Il Mercato,’ Sister Simona said, after a quarter hour of walking, her cheeks flushed with exertion. ‘An area of wealthy merchants. There are many beautiful palazzi close to the market. Your aunt must be a wealthy woman.’


‘I don’t know,’ Giulia said. ‘I’ve never met her.’


Sister Simona glanced at her two companions, and frowned. ‘Then we will come and meet this aunt of yours,’ she said.


After a little more walking, and pleas from Sister Marthe, ‘Please, slow down!’ they came to a stop outside a long avenue of houses fronting the square, where traders were already beginning to set up for market. 


 ‘Is this the one?’ Giulia asked, surprised. They were standing before a lofty white stone villa, with high arched windows and a balcony with an ornate ‘goose-breast’ balustrade. A sign in curvaceous script read, ‘Villa Bianca’.


 ‘Imp…imposing.’ Sister Marthe was so breathless it was the only word she could manage. 


Up two stone steps to a vast double door, with a cartouche above carved with twining leaves, and urns of overblown flowers and fruit. It seemed so strange to arrive anywhere without Mamma. Giulia was intensely aware of her lack of proper luggage; that no-one had dressed her hair, and that despite her rich gown, now somewhat crumpled, she was to all intents a beggar on the doorstep. It was intimidating. She took a breath, took hold of the heavy brass ring and knocked on the door. 


No answer. The house remained shuttered. Sister Simona pushed past her to knock again, harder, but when there was no answer, she tried the door. It was open. ‘Come along.’


The nuns escorted Giulia inside, into a dark hallway. Marble underfoot, and gilded paneling. It was shuttered, but a heavy scent of perfume, like the pungent scent of lilies, hung in the air. Giulia breathed it in. So different from the sharp smell of physic at home. 


‘Excuse me,’ called Sister Simona into the echoing hall. ‘Is anyone there?’


Buongiorno?’ Giulia called, louder.


Suddenly they were surrounded. Servants, obviously come straight from their beds, appeared bearing candles and lanterns.


‘What do you want?’ A tight-faced serving woman wearing a plain cambric nightshift, her hair in a long braid under a cap, stood barring their way, her hand curled around a candle. She was obviously the housekeeper in charge.


‘Beg pardon, but we are seeking Isabetta Boveri,’ Giulia said, smiling hopefully. ‘She’s my aunt.’


The servants looked at her askance. ‘Too early. She sees no-one before noon,’ the housekeeper said. 


‘Then we’ll wait.’ Sister Marthe, glad of the excuse, plumped down on the only chair in the hall.


‘All of you?’ The housekeeper looked down her nose at the nuns.


Giulia turned to Sister Simona. ‘There’s really no need for you to wait. You’ve been more than kind.’


At that moment a door clicked open upstairs, and a woman’s imperious voice came down. ‘Can’t a woman get any sleep? What’s all that noise? Alessa! What in the devil’s going on?’


‘Your niece, mistress. She’s here in the hall.’


‘Niece?’ the voice said. ‘Don’t talk nonsense. I have no niece. My family disowned me, twenty-five years since.’


A stab of alarm. Would she be turned away? The nuns looked to each other, frowning.


A moment later a woman rushed down the stairs in a flurry of yellow silk, causing the candles to waver in the draught. Sister Simona gaped and the other nuns took a step back.


‘Where is this niece?’ The woman, a taller, thinner version of her mother, looked from Giulia to the sisters. ‘And who on earth thought it a clever idea to admit these nuns?’


‘Pardon us,’ Sister Simona said. She stood up calmly, her shoulders braced. Anyone else would have wilted under the flashing eyes of the new arrival. ‘Are you Signora Boveri?’


‘Of course I’m Isabetta Boveri. How dare you wake me at this hour?’


 ‘My apologies for the intrusion,’ Sister Simona said, ‘We are leaving, as soon as we make sure Giulia is safe. Her mother left her to travel alone.’ 


‘So like Theofania,’ Aunt Isabetta said. ‘No consideration for anyone else.’


Giulia stepped forward. ‘I’m Theofania’s daughter, Giulia. I’m glad to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.’ A lie, but she was anxious to make a good impression.


 Aunt Isabetta’s face froze. She looked her up and down, her voice came out in a whisper, ‘But that’s impossible. You can’t be Giulia. Giulia’s a child.’


‘Not any more, Aunt Isabetta. I’m twenty three.’


‘No. Let me look at you.’ She stared at her face as if she might see through it. ‘Yes, yes, you have our look,’ she said, as if to reassure herself. ‘The same widow’s peak in the hair, the same pointed chin.’


‘Aunt Isabetta, I’m sorry we could not give you more notice of my arrival in Naples, but Mamma said you’d be glad to give me a place to stay.’


 ‘She sent you here?’ She shook her head. Then she turned and paced, a frown on her face. ‘But she never wanted us to meet, she said… oh, never mind what she said.’


She was slimmer than Mamma, and her face was painted in the style of a woman much younger, though the wrinkles round her eyes showed her age to be past forty. Her opulent dressing-robe was made up of swathes of yellow-dyed silk, the sleeves trimmed with gold point, and the neck tied in an elaborate bow. Beneath, she caught a glimpse of a lawn nightgown, and a garter but no stocking. Giulia stared. Aunt Isabetta was wearing jewellery to bed.


‘Why?’ Isabetta asked. ‘Why would she send you to me after all this time?’




Author Bio:


Deborah Swift lives in the north of England and is a USA Today bestselling author who has written fourteen historical novels to date. Her first novel, The Lady’s Slipper, set in 17th Century England, was shortlisted for the Impress Prize, and her WW2 novel Past Encounters was a BookViral Millennium Award winner. 


Deborah enjoys writing about ordinary people thrust into extraordinary circumstances, and most of her novels have been published in reading group editions. She holds an MA in Creative Writing from Lancaster University and is a mentor with The History Quill.

 

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