10 August 2018

Blood Ribbon by Roger Bray Blog Blitz! @rararesources

Blood Ribbon
When there’s more than secrets buried, where do you start digging?
When Brooke Adams is found battered, bleeding, and barely conscious, the police are at a loss as to who her attacker is or why she was targeted.
Then, PI Rod Morgan turns up convinced that Brooke’s attack is the latest in a string of unsolved disappearances dating back twenty-five years.
The police, however, aren’t convinced, so Brooke and Rod must investigate the cases themselves.
As secrets from the past start unravelling, will they find Brooke’s attacker before he strikes again, or is that one secret that will stay buried forever?

About Roger Bray
–  I have always loved writing; putting words onto a page and bringing characters to life. I can almost feel myself becoming immersed into their lives, living with their fears and triumphs. Thus, my writing process becomes an endless series of questions. What would she or he do, how would they react, is this in keeping with their character? Strange as it sounds, I don’t like leaving characters in cliffhanging situations without giving them an ending, whichever way it develops.
My life to date is what compels me to seek a just outcome, the good will overcome and the bad will be punished. More though, I tend to see my characters as everyday people in extraordinary circumstances, but in which we may all find our selves if the planets align wrongly or for whatever reason you might consider.

Of course, most novels are autobiographical in some way. You must draw on your own experiences of life and from events you have experienced to get the inspiration. My life has been an endless adventure. Serving in the Navy, fighting in wars, serving as a Police officer and the experiences each one of those have brought have all drawn me to this point, but it was a downside to my police service that was the catalyst for my writing.

Medically retired after being seriously injured while protecting a woman in a domestic violence situation I then experienced the other side of life. Depression and rejection. Giving truth to the oft said saying that when one door closes another opens I pulled myself up and enrolled in college gaining bachelor and master degrees, for my own development rather than any professional need. The process of learning, of getting words down onto the page again relit my passion for writing in a way that I hadn’t felt since high school.

So here we are, two books published and another on track.

Where it will take me I have no idea but I am going to enjoy getting there and if my writing can bring some small pleasure into people’s lives along the way, then I consider that I will have succeeded in life.

Social Media Links –  https://twitter.com/rogerbray22
                            https://www.facebook.com/rogerbraybooks/
                            https://rogerbraybooks.com/

Love, Across the Divide by Krystal Ford Book Tour and Giveaway!



When politically ambitious Republican Megan Thompson falls for her Democrat
roommate, Andrew Croswell, she must make the choice between career over love,
or love over politics. Fans of Jojo Moyes’ One Plus One will love this sexy debut which
smashes stereotypes and strives to make sense of our not-so-brave new world. Most of all,
it asks a crucial question: Can love bridge the great American divide?
Krystal is offering one lucky grand prize winner a Vote, Women Tote Bag and signed
paperback copy of Love, Across the Divide and three Runner-ups an eCopy of
Love, Across the Divide! To enter for your chance to win one of these exciting prizes,
please fill out the Rafflecopter link below:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Direct link:
About Love, Across the Divide:
Title: Love, Across the Divide
Author: Krystal Ford
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 1, 2018
Publisher: Krystal Ford
Format: Digital eBook / Print
Digital ISBN: B07CZN3XQH
Print ISBN: 9780692111932
Synopsis:
On the eve of the 2016 elections, young Republican Megan Thompson faces a once-in-a lifetime
opportunity when her boss decides to groom her to run for his congressional seat in 2018.
Ambitious and pragmatic, Megan is missing just one thing: a wealthy, well-connected trophy husband.

So, when Megan moves from Florida to DC and lets the congressman broker a power match,
she’s looking to get down to work, not fall in love. And she’s definitely not looking to make nice
with her new roommate, Andrew Croswell, a liberal environmentalist determined to make her life hell.

After a series of unpleasant blind dates, Megan begins to lose hope of finding her shiny white
Republican knight in time to boost her appeal to donors and voters. At last she hits it off with Brock, a
dashing, Don Draperesque spokesman for the NRA, and even love-shy Megan thinks he could be “the one.
” But as the year progresses, she and Andrew start getting along a little too well, and Megan finds
herself second-guessing all her well-laid plans.

Things start spinning out of control when a special election pushes everything up by a year.
As Megan races against the clock, she’ll do anything to win—almost. Now she must choose: career over
love, or love over politics?

Love, Across the Divide follows genuine, familiar characters from both sides of the aisle, s
mashing stereotypes and striving to make sense of our not-so-brave new world. Most of all, it asks a
crucial question: Can love bridge the great American divide?
Add to your TBR list:  Goodreads
Available at:  Amazon
Advanced Praise for Love, Across the Divide:
“An upbeat and thoughtful blend of romance and politics.”Kirkus Reviews
America is now a tribal place, and author Krystal Ford has effectively carved into this
national polarity to craft a love story for the Trump era.”Jordana Landsman
Excerpt:
Copyright© 2018 Love, Across the Divide
Krystal Ford
He turned to her, holding out a bag of corn tortillas. “We are making tacos.”
He put her in charge of prepping the toppings, then disappeared into the fridge.
When he emerged, his hands were full. “Tomatoes, lettuce, onions, cilantro, avocado, cheese.”
She took the ingredients one by one from his hands and set everything in its place
on the counter, beside the cutting board. She stared at the food items like they were
questions on a pop quiz she hadn’t studied for. What was she supposed to do with them?
Only pride kept her from asking for direction. She lifted the block of cheese and found
a grater. This, she could handle.
The kitchen started to fill with the enticing scent of garlic in the frying pan.
“Salsa!” Andrew barked. “Mild, medium, or hot?”
Megan didn’t hesitate. “Hot, please.”
“That’s my girl. Chop some onions.”
She flushed with pleasure. Or was it the green chiles he’d just added to the pan?
Jeez, pull yourself together, Megan.
“What are you doing?” Andrew yelled, stepping up behind her and cautiously
stripping her paring knife from her clenched hand, as though he were talking a suicidal
victim off the ledge. “This is not what you chop onions with,” he admonished, holding
up the ancient paring knife. “It’s dull as a butter knife! You’ll cut yourself sawing away
with it. Now this”—he unsheathed a ten-inch Japanese chef knife from its block of wood—
“is what you chop onions with.”
“I know how to cut onions,” she insisted, and started to cut tentatively. Andrew’s watchful
gaze made her nervous. Her knife movement was clunky and awkward, leaving her with large,
uneven hunks of onion.
He smiled indulgently and stepped closer. From behind her came traces of his hippie soap—
eucalyptus and mint, she believed—and a pleasant hint of body odor. “May I?” he asked,
encircling her arm with his and wrapping his hand around hers, showing the proper way
to hold the knife. “Now start with the tip, and then as you push the weight of the blade down,
you make a little rocking motion.”
As they chopped together in culinary intimacy, an unexpected image flashed in her mind,
of him fleeing her room with a teddy bear barely covering his muscular butt. And suddenly it
sank in—something he’d said during their session with Emily: I’d already gotten undressed for bed.
So, she thought, Andrew sleeps in the buff.
Her cheeks flushed as he murmured gentle encouragements. When he slowly released his
grip and took a step back, disappointment flooded her body.

About Krystal Ford:

Originally from Montreal, Krystal Ford has fallen in love with the Hudson Valley, New York,
where she calls home with her husband and two children. She has a Master of Arts from
New York University and, when she's not writing, works as a community organizer around environmental
issues. Her favorite pastimes are reading books and gardening.
Connect with Krystal:  






09 August 2018

Bad Time To Be In It by David Burnsworth Book Tour and Giveaway!

Bad time To Be In It by David Burnsworth

Synopsis:

The past is never past. Sometimes it repeats itself. And sometimes it comes back to pay a visit. Blu Carraway, flush with cash and back in business, never had it so good. Or so he thought.The reality is his love life is in shambles, his business partner is spending too much time with women half his age and not enough time on the job, and someone close goes missing. Blu’s business partner goes off the rails, his friends show their true colors, and he realizes that getting closure sometimes means walking away from everything. With a case from the past gone wrong twice, a loved one in trouble, and an unanswered marriage proposal, it’s a bad time to be in it for Blu Carraway Investigations.

 Book Details:
Genre: Mystery
Published by: Henery Press
Publication Date: July 10, 2018
Number of Pages: 254
ISBN: 9781635113587
Series: Blu Carraway Mysteries #2
Purchase Links: Goodreads, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, Kobo
 GIVEAWAY:
This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for David Burnsworth. There will be 1 winner of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card and 4 winners of one (1) print OR eBook copy of David Burnsworth’s Bad Time To Be In It. The giveaway begins on July 9, 2018 and runs through August 11, 2018. Open to U.S. addresses only. Void where prohibited.
a Rafflecopter giveaway  
Read an excerpt:

Chapter One


Belize City, Belize, August, mid-Monday

Paco squinted as he stared out over the courtyard, the afternoon sun a brilliant blaze. Sounds of local women selling vegetables, cheap pottery, and trinkets to tourists filled the air. The clinking of dishware. Some of the vendors were lucky enough to have an umbrella or canopy to shield them from the burning heat. Most weren’t.
The pavement baked Paco’s feet through his cowboy boots.
He lifted his straw hat, one with an orange band he’d bought from a local Mennonite child, and wiped his brow. The air tasted of salt, dust, and tamalito grease.
His two partners, a Belizean Creole called Lin and a Jamaican named Peter, were already in position. Lin nodded at him from the other side of the square. Paco checked on Peter and found him fifty meters due east scoping out the three young women they’d come for.
Well, really it was just one of them they wanted. The other two women were going to be a bonus. The contract was to grab the woman with the family name of Kincaid, make a phone call when they had her at their hideout, and then do whatever they wanted with the other two. And eliminate any resistance.
The stupid chicas had only one guard with them. Some tall, middle-aged Bufon Paco guessed was half-Cuban, half-gringo, who wore sunglasses and dressed in light-colored fatigues and military style boots. He looked fit but was most likely nothing but an easy target. In the three days Peter, Lin, and Paco had tracked the women, the man with the sunglasses always kept watch from behind.
The past two nights Paco had dreamt of shooting the man through those sunglasses.
Using the sleeve of his shirt, Paco wiped his forehead one more time and then replaced his hat. He watched Peter wait until the women and the man passed and then fell in behind them.
God, the women were beautiful. Suntanned white girls in their early twenties. Perfect teeth. Curled, long hair. Linen blouses, short shorts, and sandals. After he shot their protector, his dreams ended with tying each of them to a bed, the fear in their eyes giving him immense pleasure.
And today was the day his dream would come true.
Paco watched the group pass through a crowd of old people in bright clothes unloading from a tour bus.
Except Peter didn’t emerge behind them when the women came through the other side of the gray-haired mass.
Neither did the sunglass-wearing guard.
Paco smiled and thought, good, Peter took him out already.
He nodded at Lin who gave him a thumbs-up.
The women perused another row of vendors.
He and Lin followed, coming from opposite ends.
The women were just ahead. Paco caught sight of their toned caderas and thanked his god again for tight American shorts. He picked up his pace as he threaded through the crowd.
After about forty meters, something didn’t seem right any more. He should have caught up to them by now. And Lin should have joined him.
Paco stopped, checked his phone. No messages.
Looking around, he thought he spotted the women turn down an alley.
Where were Peter and Lin?
It didn’t matter.
He had to get the woman now. Especially with the guard out of the picture.
Paco knew he could handle her by himself, even if the other two females had to die to make things easier. He sprinted after them, cut down the alley, and found himself alone with nothing but a dead end. The only noise he heard was the market from which he’d come.
An abandoned car on blocks with its hood open mocked him. Dust kicked up from his boots as he skidded to a stop. Paco turned around. No one had followed him.
He turned back and looked straight down the barrel of a revolver.
His eyes would not—could not—keep from staring at the black hole in front of him that brought death. Where in the hell did this come from? There had been no sound.
A man’s voice said, “Esto es donde dar la vuelta y a pie.” (This is where you turn around and walk away.)
Thinking fast, Paco said, “Que buscaba para mi hija.” (I was looking for my daughter.)
The thumb of the hand holding the revolver cocked the hammer back.
Anyone else would have soiled his pants at this. But Paco knew the man had made a very big mistake. Other peoples’ mistakes, and Paco’s awareness of them, were how he had survived this long. The cocked pistol an arm’s reach from his face had caught him off guard. If it had been five feet away, the perfect distance for control,he would have had a problem.
But this close—
Paco swung an arm at the hand with the pistol and ducked the other way, all in one motion just like he’d done before.
Except another gun fired.
Paco felt an inferno of heat and lead tear through his leg. He screamed and crashed to the ground.
A large, military boot kicked him in the face. It jolted his focus off the pain in his leg for a second and onto the sunglasses of the man from his dreams. Paco spotted a second pistol in the man’s other hand. He hadn’t seen the second gun because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the first. The man had outsmarted him.
The man smiled down at him and said, in Spanish, “Who hired you?”
The pain flooded back. Paco seethed out a “Piss off.”
The man with the sunglasses put his large boot on Paco’s injured leg and stepped down hard.
Paco had never felt pain so great in his thirty-three years on this earth. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He swam in a horizon of white noise.
The pressure on his leg let up. The boot kicked him in the ribs, ripping his concentration away from his leg once more, long enough for him to breathe.
“Your two friends won’t be joining us. Tell me who hired you. Do it now. I won’t ask again.” Paco’s mind recovered enough from the pain to formulate a last desperate plan. He slipped a hand behind his back and pulled out a derringer.
Before he could aim it, the man standing over him blasted his hand from two feet away. And Paco felt a different twinge of pain that almost matched the firestorm in his leg. He lifted his hand to where he could look at it. Two of his fingers were missing.
Then he saw nothing.

Chapter Two


Charleston County, South Carolina, August, mid-Monday


DAY ONE

Mick Crome sat on a stool at the inside bar of the Pirate’s Cove on the Isle of Palms. He finished off a second pint while staring at all the liquor bottles lined up on the shelves in front of him. They had a habit of staring back. Maureen, his sometimes girlfriend and bartender a hundred miles north up in Myrtle Beach, was pissed off at him. He couldn’t chill and watch her tight rear end as she poured drinks tonight. Maybe not tomorrow night, either.
The current bartender serving the beers, a friend named Brack Pelton, wasn’t exactly his type. At six feet and with a perpetual suntanned complexion, Brack looked like he should be tending bar in the Bahamas, not owning two watering holes in the South Carolina lowcountry.
Pelton asked, “You want another one, Mick?”
Even inside the place, the smell of the Atlantic Ocean directly behind him cleaned out his sinuses. The song streaming on the bar’s sound system, “Paradise City” by Guns and Roses, was a real classic.
Crome nodded, hooked a boot heel on the bottom rung of his stool, and pulled a vape pen out of the breast pocket of his weathered leather vest.
He couldn’t figure out what exactly he’d done wrong with Maureen but was sure it might have something to do with the two women he traded vodka shots with the night before. Mainly because neither of them was Maureen. Maureen hadn’t taken too kindly to him cancelling their date so he could follow a lead only to end up getting drunk and crashing at another woman’s pad. She didn’t believe him when he’d tried to explain that nothing had happened. The lead was legit, but even he knew he should have just gotten the information over the phone.
What did people say in times like this? C’est la vie?
Whatever.

  David BurnsworthAuthor Bio:
David Burnsworth became fascinated with the Deep South at a young age. After a degree in Mechanical Engineering from the University of Tennessee and fifteen years in the corporate world, he made the decision to write a novel. Bad Time To Be In It (July 2018, Henery Press) will be his sixth. Having lived on Charleston’s Sullivan’s Island for five years, the setting was a foregone conclusion. He and his wife call South Carolina home.

Catch Up With Our Author On: Website, Goodreads, Twitter, & Facebook!




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

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours

 

The Typist by Caroline Taylor Review!

Caroline Taylor’s newest thriller features classic noir elements, mysterious characters who aren’t what they seem


WASHINGTON D.C. – 1966. Washington, D.C. To survive in this town, sometimes a good girl has to be bad. Really bad.
Longing to transcend her Midwest roots and strict religious upbringing, Judah Lundquist spends her days obediently typing insurance policies for Tom Lawrence of Standard Life Insurance.
But Washington is not Peoria, and she finds herself caught up in a nightmare that threatens to subvert all the values she’s tried to uphold while exposing secrets from her past. A shameful one-night stand with neighbor Ralph Hicks lands Judah in a trap of her own making.
To protect what is left of her tattered reputation, Judah must become a seductress and a thief, betraying the only man who can possibly save her—a man with secrets that have nothing to do with crime and everything to do with the Cold War.
Fans of Taylor will recognize her signature edge-of-seat style and mysterious characters who all have something to hide.  Steeped in atmospheric noir, “The Typist” will have readers telling themselves “just one more page” until they’re at the end of the book.
Caroline Taylor is the author of mysteries, “What Are Friends For,” “Jewelry from a Grave” and “Loose Ends”; the award-winning nonfiction book, “Publishing the Nonprofit Annual Report: Tips, Traps, and Tricks of the Trade,” and a short-story collection, “Enough!: Thirty Stories of Fielding Life’s Little Curve Balls.” A lifelong writer and editor, Caroline has received numerous awards for editorial and design excellence for publications she. She is a member of the North Carolina Writers’ Network, Sisters in Crime, and Mystery Writers of America.
Advance praise for The Typist

“The Typist has everything you could want: a small town girl making her way in the big city, enough plot twists and turns to keep you guessing late into the night, an off-balance romance that keeps you coming back for more, and some very clever bad guys — or wait, are they the good guys? Secret codes, secret romances, secret frame-ups, and a secret past keep likable protagonist Judah Lundquist on her toes — and us along with her.”  
Kelly Oliver,
author of the Jessica James mystery series


“Caroline Taylor’s book catapults readers back to 1966 Washington D.C., where newcomer Judah Lundquist becomes entangled in a web filled with danger, murder, romance, and blackmail. An intricate tale of intrigue, deceit, hidden pasts, and dark secrets.”
Michael H. Rubin,
author of The Cottoncrest Curse and Cashed Out
“No one, not even Judah Lundquist herself, is what he or she appears to be in this very readable thriller. Judah’s job should be boring—she’s a typist in an insurance company—but her coworkers drag her into their tricky business. Seasoned with a bit of romance, The Typist is a real page-turner. Bonus points for the authentic feel of the 1960s setting.”
Karen Pullen, author of Cold Feet and Cold Heart
About the Book
“The Typist”
Caroline Taylor | June 21, 2018 | Black Rose Writing
Paperback | 978-1-68433-069-0 | $14.95
thriller
An Interview with
CAROLINE TAYLOR

Has this story been floating around in your head for a while, or was it a more recent development?
Actually, this is a complete rewrite of something I started years ago, featuring the same lead character, only she lived in a small Midwest town and the only crime was some stolen items and . . . yawn. So I kept the characters’ names, changed the venue to Washington, and made it about murder and spying during the Cold War.
In what ways do your characters manifest the urban-cultural divide? Here’s just one example: Judah Lundquist is an upright, uptight Midwesterner with a strict religious upbringing; whereas, her friend Nancy Pinkerton is a younger, more cosmopolitan woman from a less sheltered background. Judah has a strong sense of right and wrong, and yet things in Washington are much more fluid.    
Why did you decide on a 1960’s setting?
It had to be during the Cold War, and the mid-1960s seemed just about right for something that was fought mostly in the shadows and yet loomed large in people’s lives.
Having lived in Washington D.C., what past experiences of yours play a role in this novel?
Other than my familiarity with the area, in one of my very first jobs, I was required to type insurance policies that could not have any errors or erasures.
Are there any similarities between Judah and the characters in any of your previous books?
No. Judah has a strong religious background, even though she was a child thief. None of the other characters in my previous books hail from the Midwest
What advice do you have for aspiring writers?
Understand that rejection does not mean you’re no good. Rejection simply means that the person doesn’t want your story and that it could be because of personal prejudices, the current market, competing stories, or even personal or work issues that make rejecting a piece easier than taking it up. Learn from rejection on those rare occasions when someone gives feedback. But, also, look at that feedback with a critical eye
Do you have a method for tackling writer’s block?
If I can’t think of what to write, I go for a walk, take up some household task that involves physical rather than mental labor, or, when available, work on a freelance editing assignment—anything that gives the creative side of my brain a rest.
What’s next for you?
I am working on two novels, a mystery with a theme of human trafficking and a mainstream novel with a theme of dealing with loss of loved ones.

My Review
The Typist is a story of a young woman who leaves her past, her father had used her as a child, having her steal for him, and she is eager to leave that all behind. She ends up with a good job, a really good job for the 60's and has a decent life. She works at an insurance agency writing insurance policies and kind of a Girl Friday for her boss Tom Lawrence.
After a new girl is hired, Judah starts to notice strange things going on in the office. She is doing things for her boss that she finds a bit weird. Aside from that, she ends up having a one night stand with her neighbor that she is ashamed of. This neighbor has a bad end and now Judah realizes that she is in a dangerous situation. She ends up lying, stealing just to find out what is going on. Politics in the 60's, of course, were tied up in the Cold War and Judah finds herself smack dab in the middle of things. At the time I found Judah to be quite naive but of course, this was the 60's and it was impressive that Judah actually worked at such a good job.
The writing was good, had me caught right from the beginning. The characters were very believable and the era brought back a lot of memories of that time. This is a historical novel that is definitely readable and gives the reader a clue as to things that happened during that time. I really enjoyed it!

This book review was done voluntarily.


View My Stats!

View My Stats

Pageviews past week

SNIPPET_HTML_V2.TXT
Tweet