28 August 2017

The Show Me Series Boxed Set Volume 1 (Books 1-3) by Anne Stone Book Blitz!

The Show Me Series Boxed Set
Volume 1 (Books 1-3)
by Anne Stone

BLURBS:
Book 1: Life’s Second Chances:
Angelina Samuels has lost the only job she’s ever held. A last minute interview lands her a new teaching job just days before the school year is about to begin. It turns out to be the best thing that could have happened when she realizes that her best friend from college, Gabriella Alvarez, is also a member of the teaching staff.
Gabriella’s brother, Alejandro, relocates to his hometown after having lived away from family and friends since he left for college to become a renowned transplant surgeon. He’s settling into a new job, reacquainting himself with family and friends, and is learning to deal ever-so-slowly with the personal loss that forever changed his life.
When Angelina’s sister experiences a health crisis, Alejandro is there to support her and her family. And when Angelina herself experiences a personal tragedy, Alejandro is the only one to guide her through it. As love stares down at them, can Angelina help Alejandro take that second chance on love and marriage?

Book 2: Life’s Gateway to Happiness:
Kelly Samuels is dedicated to her career and has received several promotions in her short tenure at Lattice Works. Kelly’s family is shocked when she returns home unemployed and without an explanation.
Alec Alvarez, a pediatrician from a family full of doctors, is focused solely on his career. He’s declared his bachelor status for life and has no desire for love, marriage, or babies. When Alec finds Kelly stuck on the side of a snowy road, neither of them are prepared for the feelings they begin to have for one another.
As Kelly and Alec grow closer, he wants to know why the once happy-go-lucky Kelly is hesitant to his touch, while Kelly just wants to find purpose to her life again. After Kelly tells two conflicting stories as to why she lost her job, Alec steps in to discover what truly happened. Can Kelly come to terms with what happened to her and move on with her life? And can Alec love enough to give-up his bachelorhood status for good?

Book 3: Life’s Turned Upside Down:
Gabriella Alvarez is the youngest of the Alvarez family. She’s watched her best friend marry her brother and another brother find love. Deep down, she’s looking for love, but she can’t quite shake the college sweetheart that broke her heart.
Dr. Ashton Holder works for the famous Alvarez practice. He and Gabriella have always clashed—she continues to see him only has the rough-edged doctor with no bedside manner, but he’s really made strides to put this image behind him.
When Gabriella discovers a secret from Ashton’s past, though, she does her best to help him uncover something that will change his life forever, but a misunderstanding between them rocks him to the core. When he finally uncovers the secret, he must learn to put his past aside and try and move on with a future willed with hope and dreams.

AVAILABLE AT THESE RETAILERS:
Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/2vfltfS

SNIPPETS:
From Life’s Second Chances:
“You are my life, Angelina.  I will do everything and anything to make you happy.  Always remember that…”
“…Your pain is my pain.  Your happiness is my happiness.  Your dreams are mine.  Together we will make it through whatever obstacles are presented to us because I know our love can survive.”
From Life’s Gateway to Happiness:
“Right before she fell asleep, she remembered Ken’s sickening laugh and threats made concerning her job.  She could feel his hot, foul breath on her face.  She could feel him trapping her against the desk.  And then, her world went dark.”
“She’s gotten under your skin, Alec.  I think you’re falling for her…Yes, you are.  You’re feeling the same sense of guilt and protectiveness I felt for Angelina.  I hope that you can recognize it earlier than I did…I almost lost her, and I’ll always regret the time we lost before we found ourselves again.”
Life’s Turned Upside Down:
“I heard what you said earlier that you haven’t felt this with anyone ever and that you want to be with me…I miss you when you’re not around, too…You’re always on my mind but then there are days when I tell myself that I can’t feel this way.  I can’t allow myself to throw all the cards down on you…”
“Gabby, you know I have very few childhood memories.  This year for once, I was making ones that I knew would stay with me until the day I die.  And you were behind it.  I can still see your eyes when we drove up to your house, and you saw the outside lights for the first time.  I clearly remember watching you as you wrapped each present, measuring incorrectly and throwing the paper aside…”


AUTHOR BIO:
Anne Stone was born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri but now lives in the cold state of Wisconsin with her faithful Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. She writes heartfelt sweet contemporary romance and is the author of The Show Me and Williams & Company series.  She loves to tell a story and that’s what you’ll definitely get in an Anne Stone novel.  
Anne’s degree is in education but she has worked in the corporate sector managing a large number of staff.  Now, she works from home where part of her day is still spent in the corporate world and the other part is dreaming of her heroes and heroines.  

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A Little Like Destiny Author: Lisa Suzanne Pre Order Blitz!




Title: A Little Like Destiny 
Author: Lisa Suzanne 
Genre: Contemporary Romance 
Release Date: August 31, 2017 
Cover Designer: CT Cover Creations, http://www.ctcovercreations.com/ 



Reserved and responsible Reese Brady refuses to miss her chance with bad boy rock star Mark Ashton. After one steamy night, she's convinced the emotional connection they shared was just a figment of her imagination. After all, he’s a womanizer whose affairs are highly publicized. Reese strives to leave that night behind her after a handsome business mogul asks her to dinner. Her relationship with Brian Fox quickly escalates into something meaningful, but Reese never expects the secret that emerges when he finally invites her to his penthouse. She fell in love with a rock star the last time she was there. How could she know she’d fall in love with his brother next?





I’m thankful for the alcohol. It’s helping me make decisions that my sober mind wouldn’t agree with, but this is what I need. It’s like I’m finally thinking clearly, finally stepping out of my good girl persona and into the hidden minx that’s always been dormant inside me.
I lower my head and he’s centimeters away. I do what feels natural. I lean forward and press my lips to his.
I’m tentative at first despite the alcohol. His lips are firm and soft, a contradiction that feels absolutely right, but I’m leading here. I’m the one who kissed him.
I may be tentative, but he’s not. He’s hot and assured, pushing his hips harder against me to show me that he wants this…wants me. His arms tighten around me as our tentative kiss escalates.
His mouth opens to mine, and that’s when the music stops—or it keeps going, I don’t know, because all I’m aware of are my primal instincts. I meet his hips as they push to mine, our bodies pressed together as passion takes over. My hands trail up to feel his hair. It’s soft and thick, and I luxuriate in rolling a few strands around my fingertips. His hands grip my back, fingertips digging into the exposed flesh, as if it’s the only way he can prevent himself from getting me naked in the middle of a crowded dance floor.
He breaks our kiss first. He’s a bit breathless and I’m a panting mess.
He leans into me, pulling me into a hug and nuzzling my neck. He turns so his lips are near my ear. “I’ve wanted to do that since that morning you ran into me when you got off the elevator.”
I think to myself that I’ve wanted that, too, but I was scared, too caught up in my own head, too stupid to see what was right in front of me. He’s a catch, and I’ve been pushing him away because I can’t stop thinking about a pipe dream.
But I won’t allow myself to continue to be stupid.
“So much for taking things slow,” I mutter.






Lisa Suzanne is a romance author who resides in Arizona with her husband and baby boy. She’s a former high school English teacher and college composition instructor. When she's not cuddling baby Mason, she can be found working on her latest book or watching reruns of Friends




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My Next Breath by Author: Shannon McKenna Two Week Blog Tour and Giveaway!

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A relentless rebel supersoldier must seduce a mysterious beauty in his quest to rescue his brother, but gets more than he bargained for when their passion rages out of control… and releases a monstrous killer hellbent on their destruction...

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About My Next Breath:
Title: My Next  Breath
Author: Shannon McKenna
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: August 29, 2017
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services
Format: eBook
ISBN: 978-0-99779-413-7



Zade Ryan. Rebel supersoldier. Nearly superhuman. On a desperate quest to rescue his missing brother Luke by any means possible. To do it, he must seduce the elusive Simone Brightman, inventor of the ingenious and deadly tech used to capture Luke and hold him prisoner, location unknown. Zade will do whatever it takes to get close to Simone. Her mysterious beauty and highly sexual allure have him at a disadvantage, but time is running out . . .
Simone is fighting battles of her own, on her own. Until Zade—six foot four of sinewy muscle and lethal combat skills—rescues her from street thugs and leaves her breathless. His smoldering black eyes and overpowering sensuality—and his seductive invitation to spend one wild, unforgettable night with him—prove too tempting to resist. Their passionate encounter unleashes scorching desire that neither can control—leaving them vulnerable to their enemies who watch from the shadows and wait. And when they are lured into a trap by a monstrous killer hellbent on their destruction, they must fight with every weapon they have to save Luke, and each other.
Because one night together could never be enough—and they might not live to have another . . .
Add to your TBR pile: Goodreads
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Excerpt (for those posting Promotional Spotlights):
An excerpt from MY NEXT BREATH
Copyright © Shannon McKenna 2017
Damn, now he’d lost the sound thread again.  He reached for it—listening harder . . . yes. Rubber boot soles on the wet pavement. He’d know that little squeaky-squeak song anywhere. He’d memorized its exact rhythm and pitch.
Less than a block away now. He was already getting a whiff of her. Warm, female smells. He seriously dug that honeysuckle shampoo. Couldn’t wait to sniff it at close range.
He stepped out of the shadow of the awning. Raised his hand to signal the men waiting down the street. One raised his hand in response. They were ready. She was an easy target, parking an almost new Audi on a badly lit street like this.
His heart raced as his augmented sensory processor kicked into high gear, as if revving for combat. Which was overkill. He didn’t need an ASP jolt for this. The Obsidian researchers had wired him and rewired him during the Midlands experiments on their quest to produce the ultimate, relentless war machine. The data that speed-scrolled over his field of vision whenever he was stressed was a constant reminder of how they’d changed him. Permanently.
But he ignored it. He’d stolen himself back. He and all the rest of the Midlanders. He was more than what Obsidian had tried to make of him. Fuck them all.
Tonight—for her—he needed to be funny, smart and unthreatening, for starters. And good in bed, if he got lucky. Past experience suggested that he would. It was bad form to get cocky about it, but whatever. A guy could hope.
In fact, he quivered with hope. Watching Simone for two whole months had kept him perpetually half-hard. It wasn’t like she was doing anything sexy. On the contrary. She mostly just sat there on the bed, cross-legged in a thick snarl of wires and cables, surrounded by screens, dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt. Braless. Eyes narrowed with ferocious concentration as she typed so fast and hard the detached wireless keyboard bounced against the mattress.
He was in a groove with surveillance monitoring. Forget sleep. Pill-induced or natural, it wasn’t happening while he was watching that woman. And after their escape from Obsidian’s research facility at Midlands, he’d sworn never to inflict sentinel sleep on himself again. Constant vigilance turned the strongest into short-circuited robots. It didn’t matter how skillful he was at alternating his brain hemispheres, resting one while using the other and blah-blah-di-fucking-blah.


He was good at it, yeah. And so? He was good at a metric fuckton of unspeakable things. That didn’t mean he would ever do them again.
But he’d do any number of unspeakable things for a chance to know what happened to his brother. Watching Brightman prance around in her underwear was no chore. She was so damn pretty it just turned his head around.


She was almost upon him. His ASP processor sent a fire-hose of data scrolling wildly up both sides of his field of vision. His senses sharpened to a level beyond painful. He hadn’t expected this. Bullshit timing.
Her footsteps echoed in his ears, boom-scrape-squeak. Her soft breathing, the quick and steady drum of her heart. He smelled the warm mix of her hand lotion, her wool coat, the leather of her boots, the swish of her long skirt, the brush of the tights between her thighs. He smelled the coffee she’d had not long ago and a hint of the vanilla flavored creamer she’d lightened it with. Whiffs of the perfume she used to wear back in her corporate days wafted out of her purse like little ghosts.
He also smelled the festering mouth-breathers who waited across the street.
His heart thudded loudly. In a few seconds he’d see Simone in the flesh. The mysterious ex-fianceé of Noah Gallagher, Zade’s friend and fellow Midlander rebel.
A woman who might or might not hold the key to the last possible clue that could lead him to his brother.


Or to his brother’s bones.
That thought stabbed through him like a thin blade of ice just as Simone Brightman rounded the corner and hit his line of vision.

About Shannon McKenna
Shannon McKenna is the NYT bestselling author of sixteen action packed, turbocharged romantic thrillers, among which are the stories of the wildly popular McCloud series and the brand new paranormal series, The Obsidian Files. She loves tough and heroic alpha males, heroines with the brains and guts to match them, villains who challenge them to their utmost, adventure, scorching sensuality, and most of all, the redemptive power of true love. Since she was small she has loved abandoning herself to the magic of a good book, and her fond childhood fantasy was that writing would be just like that, but with the added benefit of being able to take credit for the story at the end. Alas, the alchemy of writing turned out to be messier than she'd ever dreamed. But what the hell, she loves it anyway, and hopes that readers enjoy the results of her alchemical experiments. She loves to hear from her readers.

Connect with Shannon:  Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads

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Katrina Williams by Robert E.Dunn Series Book Tour and Giveaway!

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A LIVING GRAVE
Katrina Williams Book 1
by Robert E. Dunn
Genre: Thriller, Crime Mystery
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The first in a gritty new series featuring sheriff’s detective Katrina Williams, as she investigates moonshine, murder, and the ghosts of her own past…
 
BODY OF PROOF
 Katrina Williams left the Army ten years ago disillusioned and damaged. Now a sheriff’s detective at home in the Missouri Ozarks, Katrina is living her life one case at a time—between mandated therapy sessions—until she learns that she’s a suspect in a military investigation with ties to her painful past.
 
The disappearance of a local girl is far from the routine distraction, however. Brutally murdered, the girl’s corpse is found by a bottlegger whose information leads Katrina into a tangled web of teenagers, moonshiners, motorcycle clubs, and a fellow veteran battling illness and his own personal demons. Unraveling each thread will take time  Katrina might not have as the Army investigator turns his searchlight on the devastating incident that ended her military career. Now Katrina will need to dig deep for the truth—before she’s found buried…
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I felt like it was the end of summer. Not that there was a hint of green or the creeping red-oranges of leaves turning. In Iraq, everything was brownish. Not even a good, earthy brown. Instead, everything within my view was a uniform, wasted, dun color. It was easy to imagine the creator ending up here on the seventh day, out of energy and out of ideas after spending his palate in the joy of painting the rest of the world. This spit of earth, the dirty asshole of creation we called the Triangle of Death, didn’t even rate a decent brown.
I had been in country for eight months. I had been First Lieutenant Katrina Williams, Military Police, attached to the 502nd Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division for a little over a year. Pride and love had brought me here. Proud to be American and just as proud to have come from a military family, I was in love with what the ROTC at Southwest Missouri State University had shown me about my country’s military. I fell in love with the thought of the woman I would become serving my nation. I wanted to echo the men my father and my uncle were and add my own tone to the family history. Iraq bled that all out of me. Just like it was bleeding my color out into the dust. Bright red draining into shit brown.
It was the impending weight of change that made me feel like the end of summer. As a girl, back home in the Ozarks, the summers seemed to last forever. It wasn’t until the final days, carried over even into a new school year, when the air cooled and the oaks rusted, that I could feel them ending. Their endings were like the descent of ice ages, the shifting of epochs. That was exactly how I felt bleeding into the dirt. The difference was that I felt an impending death rather than transition. The terminus of an epoch. In Iraq though, nothing was as clear as that. It was death; but it wasn’t.
Lying on my back, I wished I could see blue sky, but not here. The air was hazed with dust so used up it became a part of the atmosphere. There was no more of the earth in it. Grit, like bad memories and regret, hanging over an entire nation. I coughed hard and it hurt. A bubbly thickness slithered up my throat. Using my tongue and what breath I had, I got the slimy mass up to my lips. I just didn’t have it in me to spit. Instead, I turned my head to the side and let the bloody phlegm slide down my cheek.
Dying is hard.
Wind, hot and cradling the homeland sand so many factions were willing to kill for, ran over the wall I was hidden behind. It eddied there, slowing and swirling and then dumping the dirt on my naked skin. A slow-motion burial. Even the land here hated naked women.
I stayed there without moving, but slipping in and out of consciousness for a long time. It seemed long, anyway. I dreamed. Dreamed or remembered so well they seemed like perfect dreams of—everything.
Green.
We played baseball. Just like in old movies with kids turning a lot into a diamond. No one does that anymore, but we did. My grandfather played minor league ball years ago and I had a cousin who was a Cardinals fan. Everyone was a Cardinals fan, so I loved the Royals. When the games were over and it was hotter than the batter’s box when I was pitching—I had a wild arm—my father would take me to the river. Later when we had cars, I was drawn there every summer to swim and swing from the ropes. We floated on old, patched inner tubes and teased boys. That was where I learned to drink beer. My father would take me fishing on the river. My grandfather would take me on the lakes. I used the same cane pole my father had when Granddad taught him about fishing. Both of the men used to say to the girl who complained about not catching anything, “It’s not about the catching, it’s about the fishing.” I don’t think I ever understood until a good portion of my blood was spilled on the dirt of a world that hated me.
My head spun back to the moment and back to Iraq. If I was going to die, I would have done it already, I figured. At least my body. That physical part of me would live on. That other part of me, the girl who loved summer… I think she was already dead. Death and transition.
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A PARTICULAR DARKNESS
Katrina Williams Book 2
Pub Date: 9/12/2017

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From the author of A Living Grave comes a gripping police procedural featuring sheriff's detective Katrina Williams as she exposes the dark underbelly of Appalachia . . .

Dredging up the Truth

Still recovering from tragedy and grieving a devastating loss, Iraq war veteran and sheriff's detective Katrina Williams copes the only way she knows how—by immersing herself in work. A body's just been pulled from the lake with a fish haul, but what seems like a straight-forward murder case over the poaching of paddlefish for domestic caviar quickly becomes murkier than the depths of the lake.

Soon a second body is found—an illegal Peruvian refugee woman linked to a charismatic tent revival preacher. But as Katrina tries to investigate the enigmatic evangelist, she is blocked by antagonistic FBI agents and Army CID personnel. When more young female refu-gees disappear, she must partner with deputy Billy Blevins, who stirs mixed feelings in her, to connect the lake murder to the refugees. Katrina is no stranger to darkness, but cold-blooded conspirators plan to make sure she'll never again see the light of day . . .
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We had lights on our helmets and a flashlight each, but our progress was really because of Billy’s familiarity with the path. Three turns and one crawl-through and we came out into a chamber. At one end water dripped and trickled, seeming to bleed right out of the stone and filled a small basin. At the other end, the basin emptied into a silent steam that disappeared into a fissure the size of my fist. In between was a flat space on which we sat. Billy pointed out shapes and features in the walls and ceiling.
“Are there bats?” I asked.
“Not all caves have bats,” he answered without laughing or making me feel bad for asking. “But this one has something better. Something special.”
He slipped down to his knees and put his face low. For a second I thought he was going to put his head under the pool of water. Instead, he shined his flashlight around until he found what he wanted.
“Come look at this.” His voice had become a whisper.
I joined him staring into the light beam within the water. What, at first, I thought were reflections, moved away from the light. Fish. They were tiny, like minnows, but the color of bleached bone. Their eyes were small and dead looking. It was as if I was looking into a ghost world.
“Down here.” Billy pointed with the flashlight then poked a finger into the beam.
There, along the line of his finger was a white rock.
“A pebble?” I asked.
“Wait.”
The rock moved and the strange shape resolved into what appeared to be a tiny lobster.
“Crayfish,” I said excited. It was so colorless it was practically transparent at the edges. “So pale.”
“They don’t need color in the darkness. They don’t need eyes either.”
I sat up, stunned and elated by the place I was in. “Thank you,” I said looking around. “For sharing this with me.”
“This isn’t what I wanted to share,” Billy said.
He reached to the lamp on my hard hat and killed the light. After a moment, he turned off my flashlight. Again he waited a few seconds to turn off his flashlight. Finally, after a longer pause, he turned off his own headlamp.
We were in the kind of complete darkness I don’t think I’d ever experienced. It was thrilling and jarring at the same time. I reached and took his hand without even thinking. The black we were in was like distance and I wanted to be close.
“Why?” I asked.
“Look around,” he answered, softly.
“It’s dark,” I said. “Nothing but black.”
“There’s no light. But absence isn’t exactly black.”
“I don’t understand.” I shook my head then wondered why.
“Some of the guys I know . . .” Billy said then stopped.
I knew he was talking about something different then, but still the same. A change in subject not in meaning. I waited, like waiting for a suspect. He had to be the one to fill the silence.
“Veterans,” he continued. “Guys who were over there. We talk sometimes. They talk a lot about the things they see when they close their eyes. It’s always personal. No one ever has the same experience or the same . . . vision on events. Look around. Do you still see nothing?”
I did as he asked and noticed for the first time that blackness wasn’t exactly, only blackness. There were patterns of light, vague shimmers, not entirely seen, but not simply imagined, I was sure.
“Something . . .” I admitted.
“Our eyes don’t like complete darkness. When there’s no light to be seen, the optic nerves still fire, populating the void with specters. The thing is, your eyes won’t see what mine do and I won’t see what you experience. Darkness is singular. What you see, is your particular darkness, no one else’s. No matter how well you describe it, no one will see it the way you do.”
“You’re not talking about darkness.” I actually thought I heard fear in my voice.
“You’re holding my hand.”
“Yes,” I answered, squeezing.
“Is it real?”
“What do you mean?”
“My hand. Me. Am I real”
“Of course,” I said. “Why would you not be?”
“That’s what I tell the other guys. We all have our own darkness within us and sometimes it gets out, it shadows our lives, the entire world we see. Those times we get so wrapped up in seeing our own thing, our own darkness, we forget the real out there beyond it.”
He let go of my hand and I was suddenly untethered. I was adrift in my own darkness. It was a familiar feeling. In a way, comforting. The same way what is familiar and expected is always somehow a comfort. But I didn’t want the darkness anymore. I realized I wanted his hand.
“Billy . . .”
He touched my face. Then the touch became a hold as he placed his hands to each side with his fingers in my hair. His thumb rested on the scar that framed my eye and I didn’t mind.
“I don’t want to live in the dark anymore,” I confessed.
Then Billy Blevins kissed me.
When we walked out of the crevasse and entered the cave’s mouth, the world was a circle of light to be walked into. It spread and opened as we approached. When I stepped through, I understood what Billy had said about breathing sunshine.


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I wasn't born in a log cabin but the station wagon did have wood on the side. It was broken down on the approach road into Ft. Rucker, Alabama in the kind of rain that would have made a Biblical author jealous. You never saw a tornado in the Old Testament did you? As omens of a coming life go, mine was full of portent if not exactly glad tidings.

From there things got interesting. Life on a series of Army bases encouraged my retreat into a fantasy world. Life in a series of public school environments provided ample nourishment to my developing love of violence. Often heard in my home was the singular phrase, "I blame the schools." We all blamed the schools.

Both my fantasy and my academic worlds left marks and the amalgam proved useful the three times in my life I had guns pointed in my face. Despite those loving encounters the only real scars left on my body were inflicted by a six foot, seven inch tall drag queen. She didn't like the way I was admiring the play of three a.m. Waffle House fluorescent light over the high spandex sheen of her stockings.

After a series of low paying jobs that took me places no one dreams of going. I learned one thing. Nothing vomits quite so brutally as jail food. That's not the one thing I learned; it's an important thing to know, though. The one thing I learned is a secret. My secret. A terrible and dark thing I nurture in my nightmares. You learn your own lessons.

Eventually I began writing stories. Mostly I was just spilling out the, basically, true narratives of the creatures that lounge about my brain, laughing and whispering sweet, sweet things to say to women. Women see through me but enjoy the monsters in my head. They say, sometimes, that the things I say and write are lies or, "damn, filthy lies, slander of the worst kind, and the demented, perverted, wishful stories of a wasted mind." To which I always answer, I tell only the truth. I just tell a livelier truth than most people. 

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Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!

​July 28
kickoff at The Silver Dagger Scriptorium
Mythical Books

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Jazzy Book Reviews

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What Is That Book About

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Tales of A Wanna-Be SuperHero Mom
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For Love of Books4

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SnoopyDoo's Book Reviews

Aug 8
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Indie Wish List

Aug 9
Must Read Faster
AC Squared Book Blog 

Aug 10
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Aug 11
Susan Heim on Writing
Ramblings of a Coffee Addicted Writer

Aug 13
Chill and Read

Aug 14
Traci Hayden
Always Love Me Some Books Blog

Aug 15
A Mama's Corner of the World 
Rabid Readers Book Blog

Aug 16
Momma Says: To Read or Not to Read – REVIEW
The Authors Blog

Aug 17
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The Pen and Muse Book Reviews

Aug 20
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Turning Another Page
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Yah gotta read this
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U.S. - Brazil Book Review

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