06 September 2020
Think You Know Your States? by Chelsea Falin #BookTour & #Giveaway °❃*⚡⚡*❃° #Nonfiction #State #Trivia #History #ThinkYouKnowYourStates #Colorado #Missouri #Montana #SouthDalota #Mississippi #Idaho #Wisconsin #99cents #OnSale @CFalinHammond
05 September 2020
PAW Patrol: Jet to the Rescue DVD Giveaway!
Hosted By: Love, Mrs. Mommy
Winner Will Receive a:
PAW Patrol: Jet to the Rescue DVD!
About the Prize!PAW Patrol: Jet to the Rescue episodes:
04 September 2020
One Step After Another by Bethany-Kris Reveal and Giveaway!

ONE STEP AFTER ANOTHER
by Bethany-Kris Cover Credits: London Miller The After Another Trilogy, book #1 Publication Date: September 14, 2020 Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Crime Thriller, Organized Crime

Amazon: https://geni.us/OneStep
iTunes: https://apple.co/349Ui7p
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3122Qvl
Google Play: https://bit.ly/2Y6xUIi

He finds the unfindable, but she’s terribly good at hiding …
Penny Dunsworth is dead.
Well, she should be—a piece of her certainly is. The broken girl she once was no longer exists. Now a trained assassin for The League, she’s turned into the worst nightmare for the monsters who once haunted her every waking moment. She has to be … it’s the only way to keep her past safe. That is if she can keep it from catching up.
Luca Puzza is chasing a ghost.
He’s never once been able to catch her in the five years that he spent searching. Until now. The promise he made to find the girl who disappeared without a trace turned into an obsession that changed his life. But the woman he was looking for is only a shadow of who he finds. She’s dangerous … for his heart and life, and so are the secrets she’s protecting.
One can only play with monsters for so long before they start to notice you’re not the same. In this world, predators can just as easily become prey.
Except she stopped being a victim long ago. And it’s time for this to end.
*
Note: One Step After Another is book one of the After Another trilogy following the same couple over a journey that takes them from present, to past, to future. The books should be read in order. The trilogy discusses triggering topics that may be uncomfortable for some. Please be advised and read at your own discretion.


“MISS Carter, whenever you’re ready.”
Regardless of how many times Penny Dunsworth used aliases—many times over her five years as an assassin working for The League—she had never really become accustomed to the revolving door of identities. It was part of the job. Expected, even. Yet, hearing another name that wasn’t hers still took Penny a second to answer.
“Thank you,” she told the driver currently holding the right side, rear passenger door open. “We won’t need further help, or the car.”
“I was told to be here at twelve to—”
“Excuse me,” Penny said, stepping out of the vehicle and turning her back to the man as she grabbed the edge of the car door. It forced the driver to move, but also allowed the other passenger in the rear seat to exit as well. “Hurry. We’re not drawing attention here, Delilah. Remember?”
Compared to Penny’s form-fitted black gown, matching hat—that was better suited for the beach than the formal dinner and event happening a few doors away inside the Manhattan hotel—Delilah’s white get-up was quite a sight as she left the vehicle. Well, Delilah wasn’t her real name, but it was what her papers said, and Marise liked the option when Dare handed over the five different identifications for the job. Choices were always good.
Today, Marise was Delilah. Penny was Georgina. And none of it was true.
The skirt of Marise’s white gown, made up of layers of chiffon, ruffled in the wind but not much. The silk cloak with the large hood that kept her blonde hair and most of her face hidden from any view up above—camera angles, mostly—kept the loose layers of the gown from blowing wildly.
Side by side on the street, Penny and Marise probably appeared to be total opposites. She towered over the girl’s four and a half feet by a foot and half in her patent leather pumps. Their gowns were a contrast in both color and style. Even their hair—Marise with blonde curls, and Penny in her pin-straight black wig—couldn’t be more different.
And yet despite those obvious physical differences, if anyone asked, the story was simple—Penny was Marise’s mother. Or … the identities they had taken on were a mother and daughter pair, for that matter.
On the surface, anyway.
Beneath that, well, things were a lot darker. As was usually the way in their business. A person couldn’t play with monsters and never come face to face with one, after all. In all her twenty-three years, it was one lesson Penny almost wished she had never learned. Thing was, if she hadn’t learned it, then she wouldn’t be who she was now.
“Miss Carter, this way, please,” said the man in a three-piece black suit with coiled wire hanging down from the comm in his ear. He held open the front door of the hotel while another man, dressed similarly, stood a foot back in the entryway. Definitely not hotel security—more likely part of the team for the father of the man Penny would soon be visiting upstairs in a suite.
Penny smiled. “Absolutely. Delilah, follow me.”
Her partner on the job said nothing but didn’t hesitate to trail behind Penny who followed the two men dressed in black. The men didn’t speak to each other, or the women walking only two feet behind. Or to any of the many people milling about in the large entry of the upscale hotel. Music and laughter filtered in through the open doorways of the bar and ballroom decorated in lengthy, sheer drapes.
Penny took all of it in. And barely even moved her head to do it.
Besides, it wasn’t like she hadn’t been to a dozen of these kinds of events when she was younger. A wealthy family, too much privilege and power … of course, she had been dressed up and dragged to things exactly like this just because it was good for their last name to be tied to it all.
Not that she cared to think about it.
She never did.
Liar, her mind hissed as a hundred memories passed through her brain, making her heart beat harder and her chest tight. She was a liar because she thought about it too much.
Penny had just become better at hiding it. The League helped with that. Not that she was willing to admit the training they put her through had helped beyond anything more than teaching her how to kill another human in fifty different ways.
“Step inside,” the man to the left said as he and his partner came to a stop near the elevators. Only one was already open and waiting.
Penny moved into the open elevator at the far right of a bank of four. Marise didn’t need to be told to follow, nor did she raise her head enough to allow the cameras outside or inside the elevator to catch more than a shadow or the curve of her lips. The same way Penny’s hat kept her face from view despite it not really going with the outfit.
Win some, lose some.
“Floor eight, right?” Penny asked, smiling at the suits waiting outside.
“Floor eight. Suite eight-oh-one.”
She knew that, too.
At least the assholes could feel like they were really doing something more than just delivering a man’s fetish.
Penny hit the button for the appropriate floor and waited until the door closed before she hit another. Two floors lower than the eighth. “You’ll be fine—just get the hell out of here and make sure they don’t see you leave, huh?”
Marise passed her a look. “What if he has someone waiting up there? Another one of those assholes in a suit—one with a gun?”
That was cute.
Funny, even.
She could do these jobs alone except for when she couldn’t and needed a decoy. Say like another assassin who, when dressed up a certain way looked younger than she was. As far as Penny knew, Marise was somewhere in the range of eighteen years or so. About the same age Penny had been when she walked into The League five years earlier with a black folder in hand and no idea what would come next.
Except for tonight.
Because tonight, Marise—or Delilah—wasn’t supposed to look her age at all.
“Get off on the sixth floor,” Penny said. “No one will be waiting up there with him. They never have anyone. The entire point of what they do is the less who know, the better.”
Marise didn’t argue. She also got off the elevator on the sixth floor.
The rest, Penny could do alone.
Besides, she liked it that way.

CALLING ALL REVIEWERS, BLOGGERS, BOOKSTAGRAMMERS! YOU CAN NOW SIGNUP TO PARTICIPATE IN THE AFTER ANOTHER TRILOGY EVENTS!
One Step After Another: https://indiesage.com/one-stepbk/
One Breath After Another: https://indiesage.com/one-breathbk/
One Second After Another: https://indiesage.com/one-secondbk/
ABOUT BETHANY-KRIS

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to four young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.
To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD
Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Instagram • Bookbub •


.Chasing Kat by Jacqueline Simon Gunn ❃° #BookTour & #Giveaway °❃*⚡⚡*❃° #Contemporary #Romance #ChasingKat #HudsonRiver #OnSale #99cents @jsimongunn
The Royal Governess by Wendy Holden Book Spotlight!
In 1933, twenty-two-year-old Marion Crawford accepts the role of a lifetime, tutoring their Royal Highnesses Elizabeth and Margaret Rose. Her one stipulation to their parents the Duke and Duchess of York is that she bring some doses of normalcy into the sheltered and privileged lives of the two young princesses.
At Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, and Balmoral, Marion defies oppressive court protocol to take the girls on tube trains, swimming at public baths, and on joyful Christmas shopping trips at Woolworth’s. From her ringside seat at the heart of the British monarchy she witnesses the upheaval of the Abdication and the glamour and drama of the 1937 Coronation.
During the war, as Hitler’s Heinkels fly over Windsor, she shelters her charges in the castle dungeons (not far from where the Crown Jewels are hidden in a biscuit tin). Afterwards, she is there when Elizabeth first sets eyes on Philip. But being beloved governess and confidante to the Windsor family has come at a cost. She puts her private life on hold until released from royal service following Princess Elizabeth’s marriage in 1947.
THE ROYAL GOVERNESS reveals that behind the Queen’s iron composure is a real human being. The story of Elizabeth II’s childhood unveils not just a life of protection and privilege, but one of real pressure and upheaval. The person who was her confidante and comforter, and who more than anyone else guided her through it all, was her governess, Marion ‘Crawfie’ Crawford.
.The Pizza Chronicles by Andy V. Roamer #YA #LGBTQ #ThePizzaChronicles #WhyCantFreshmanSummerBeLikePizza @andyvroamer *❃° #BookTour & #Giveaway °❃*⚡⚡*❃°
03 September 2020
Casting Call for a Corpse: A Fun Detective Cozy (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries) by Heather Haven Book Tour and Giveaway!
Casting Call for a Corpse: A Fun Detective Cozy (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries) by Heather Haven
About Casting Call for a Corpse
Casting Call for a Corpse: A Fun Detective Cozy (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries)
Cozy Mystery 7th in Series
Publisher: The Wives of Bath Press (August 1, 2020) Print Length: 295 pages Digital ASIN: B08BR6H1GV
A DETECTIVE AGENCY WITH HEART. AND A WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!
Super sleuth, Lee Alvarez, finds a dead man wearing a tuxedo in a friend’s bathtub during a soiree for San Francisco’s VIPs. And not just any friend, but an internationally acclaimed actress who recently came to live in San Francisco. And not just any bathtub, but a bathtub residing inside one of Alamo Square’s famed Painted Ladies, recently bought by said actress.
The police believe it’s the actress friend who done the man in. After all, it’s her house and her tub. And another man died under suspicious circumstances around her recently. Both romantic encounters, doncha know. The actress must be guilty.
Or is she?
For ace detective Lee Alvarez, the timing couldn’t be worse. She is supposed to go off in celebration of her 6-month wedding anniversary with her hunky hubby. Paris is calling!
Or is it?Her long-time friend, plus her mother – She Who Must Be Obeyed – thinks she should stick around and find out who the real killer is. So Lee, family, handsome hubby, and Tugger, the cat, are on the job. But Lee’s nose is itching. Which means not one of the suspects is telling the truth.
Or not all of it. Lee soon uncovers threatening letters, sullen playwrights, dead bodies, and a criminal web of jewel thieves, all treading the boards of her friend’s latest musical. This is showbiz?Author Haven pulls out all the stops in a cozy fan’s delight about a charming, and unconventional Palo Alto detective family who get their man or woman, as the case may be. Book Seven follows its tradition of the Bay Area’s favorite PI, who rolls over with all four paw in the air when it comes to her darn near perfect mother. But with the help of her computer geek brother and handsome hubby, Lee works to solve the case in time to celebrate her own 6-month wedding anniversary.
About Heather Haven

Heather moved to the Bay Area and studied creative writing at Stanford University. Previously, several of her comedy acts and plays were performed in NYC. Her novels include the humorous Silicon Valley-based Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries, Manhattan-based Persephone Cole Vintage Mysteries, Love Can Be Murder Novellas, Snow Lake Romantic Suspense Series and standalone mystery noir, Murder under the Big Top, based upon her mother’s stint as a performer with Ringling Brothers’ Circus. There is also her anthology, Corliss and Other Award-Winning Stories. Her favorite protagonist is in Corliss, one of the featured short stories, but don’t tell anyone!
Author Links Website - http://heatherhavenstories.com/,
Keep Me In Sight Rachel Blackledge Book Blit and Giveaway!
Keep Me In Sight
Rachel Blackledge
Publication date: September 1st 2020
Genres: Adult, Thriller
One night. One lie.Now someone is going to die.It’s about Dan.
These three words jolt Brynn Masters back to the big boozy night she spent with her boyfriend, Dan. The very same night his ex, Erin, showed up. Erin says something terrible happened that night. Dan says he never touched her. Trouble is, Erin has evidence to prove it.
Brynn can vouch for him though. She was there that night she can hardly remember, but will never forget. Except, when Brynn pieces together her fractured memories, lost that night at the bottom of a bottle, she faces the horrifying possibility that maybe Dan isn’t completely innocent. Maybe he’s guilty as charged. As Brynn inches closer to the truth, she begins to wonder: Who is the predator? And who is the prey?
Gloria knows. She’s a psychic who turned her back on her ability long ago, after she failed to prevent a terrible tragedy. As her gift floods back to her, can she learn to trust herself again before it’s too late? Or will her painful past hold her back from saving someone’s future . . . and quite possibly their life.
This addictive and suspenseful thriller explores the fault lines between broken memories and shattered trust, and promises to keep you up well past your bedtime.
—
EXCERPT:
INMATE 6881
Initials mar the bench of the holding cell, a sea of letters scratched into the paint by the forgotten ones, marking their existence.
So and so was here. There’s a lot of gang insignia, too. I see a skull done up quite nicely. That person had some talent. Wasted, clearly.
Keys clank against the metal gate. Wanda stands there, sliding a key into the slot and twisting. She’s one of the nicer guards, which is why she works in the out-processing unit.
Her uniform strains against her bulk. The heavy-duty leather belt cinched up tight sections her belly into top and bottom folds. She’s an older woman, approaching retirement, I hope. What an awful place to spend her golden years.
“Case dismissed.” She pushes the gate open, looking me up and down. “Let me take a picture. It’s not often I see a murderer walk free.”
“Murderess,” I say, rising to my feet and straightening my prison issue garb. I smooth back my hair and walk freely out of the holding cell.
“‘Scuse me,” she says, following me down the barren hallway. “They all come in here howling about how they’re innocent little lambs. And the justice system has done them wrong and they deserve to be set free. Except none of those smart lawyers on the outside can never seem to find a single reason why.”
I’m thinking about all the unfortunates who lack the ability to plan the perfect crime. Poor them.
Behind me, Wanda labors for breath, a wheezing sound that keeps time with her footsteps. Then we reach the last gate before freedom, the last time I’ll be referred to as an inmate number.
“What’s your secret?” she demands in a low voice, hand grasping the bars of the sally port door in front of us. “I saw your case file. You killed that guy deader than a doornail.”
My gaze passes from the pockmarked metal bars to her fleshy hand, wrapped around the bar, knuckles rising up in soft mounds.
I recall Chris’s hands wrapped around my neck, his nostrils flaring, his lips stretched across the tidy white line of his teeth. Then I remember the gleam of my knife before I sank it in his belly.
“Foresight,” I say with a wry smile. She smiles too, an involuntary reaction, but I can tell from her quick sideways glance that she’s confused, trying to work out the meaning. While her wheels are turning, I nod toward the gate. “Shall we?”
I retrieve my articles, stored the night they processed me into general. No probation or bail for me. No way. A female killer? The authorities didn’t want to take their chances, rare as we are. Women are supposed to be peaceable, not violent. What had driven me to kill?
Until they knew, nobody wanted the responsibility of authorizing my release. And who can blame them? Nobody wanted to face the possibility that it could happen again.
But it just might.
In fact, I wouldn’t rule it out.
Author Bio:
An American ex-pat since 2008, together with her husband, Rachel has sailed over 11,000 nautical miles, crossing the Indian Ocean three times and sinking only once. She hung up her foul weather gear since the birth of her son. And writes thrillers now instead.
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