19 June 2021

Generation of Vipers Maria Ann Green Book Tour and Giveaway!

Generation of Vipers
Maria Ann Green
Publication date: June 18th 2021
Genres: Adult, Gothic, Psychological, Thriller

Rosabella Moore-Davis has just moved her husband halfway across the world, with a spur of the moment purchase–a glorious gothic mansion–while on vacation in France. It was love at first sight, and somehow she knew it was more than just some huge house; it was meant to be her home.

But not all things that are meant to be end happily ever after.

Rosabella soon finds herself waking in the middle of the night from more than just wind and creaking pipes. In the dark she discovers ghostly figures looking up into her windows from outside, rooms and treasures previously hidden for centuries, creeping crawling guests, and too many dark shadows lunging toward her. And still, somehow, instead of screaming and running away she researches, choosing knowledge over fear, and learns more about the house and the history of this place she loves so much.

Only when she stumbles into the past, meeting an aristocrat hiding enough deadly secrets to take down the patriarchy, does Rosabella start to regret her choices. And after having come this far, she worries it’s too late to turn back and save herself from a house that has more skeletons in its vast amount of closet space than anyone expected.

Rosabella isn’t the fleeing type, but she’s not sure she’ll survive the fight. Especially against a place with so many stories buried beneath it, burned into every fiber of the edifice, a house with a portal to dark places and troubles that shouldn’t be stirred up.

Generation of Vipers is a mix of crimson peak and Mike Flanagan’s Haunting of Hill House, with elements of Marisha Pessl’s Night Film mixed throughout.

If you like dark thrillers that border on horror, gothic elements, and deliciously dark twists that will keep you guessing, then Generation of Vipers might be your next favorite book. It’ll keep you reading just one more page all night long, too afraid to turn out the light and go to sleep.

It appeals to lovers of suspenseful plots, all things dark like thrillers and horrors, stories with murder and mayhem, dark romance elements, fans of American Horror Story, Shirley Jackson, Gilian Flynn, Ruth Ware, Tana French, J.A. Konrath, and the Timothy Blake Series by Jack Heath.

*Content Warning: graphic violence, sexual content, and language*

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

My eyes snap open.

There’s no disorientation, even though there should be.

Between stone walls and wallpaper older than my three decades, the cold air isn’t a surprise.

But what does scare me isn’t the new setting or the snoring of my sweet husband but the feeling that something just left. Like I’d been watched and only noticed after it ended.

Or—okay, well that’s crazy.

Though, I don’t know if I was dreaming or if something external woke me up.

Milos’s breath is soft, even if it rumbles in the back of his throat just a little. And I’ve slept next to it for years without jarring awake like this. As another creak sounds, followed by a tiny clunk, I know I’m right.

Maléfique has old bones, and they must protest changes in temperature as we take our trips around the sun.

Though…

The little noises aren’t really enough to have woken me up either. I don’t think so anyway.

Still, whatever the reason, I’m up now. Wider awake than I was when we were taking in the newness of our manor earlier. My eyes flick to the clock Milo insists on bringing with us every vacation, and I correct myself. It was now yesterday that we bought this beautiful space, considering it’s three in the morning.

And I’m fucking wide awake.

I’ll never get back to sleep right now.

So I slip out from under the comforter and let my toes touch the chilly wood of the floor. I move slowly, quietly, even though I doubt Milo would wake up for anything less than my screaming.

Heaviest sleeper I’ve ever met. Which he proves with a snort as he moves to face the other way, still very much unconscious.

And as I move toward the huge window of our new bedroom, I roll my eyes at Milo for the second time in the last twenty-four hours. It happens without forethought, and of course I feel instantly guilty after.

That’s when a kinder smile touches my lips just before my fingertips, then my forehead, touch the thick glass, as I lean against the window and look down at the greenery of our property.

Well, it’s all shades of gray and black at the moment, with the moon behind the clouds.

I can still make out plenty, though.

The woods just beyond an overgrown garden, a path starting just between two picturesque weeping willows—the kind that beg for a swing, or a hammock strategically placed for reading. I can see all of it well enough, but when the moon peeks out between two wisps of cover, my eyes scan harder, searching for something. I’m not even sure what.

Maybe for what could have woken me up if it wasn’t Maléfique.

And I’ve all but given up as the tall grass waves in a darkening breeze when something sparkles and pulls my eyes back to the opening of the track, the archway between hanging branches.

Though, not something. No.

Someone.

Author Bio:

Maria, a badass USA Today and internationally bestselling indie author, lives in Minnesota despite the frozen winters. Actually, she prefers snow drifts and icicles over summer and all that sweat running everywhere. She writes about bitches, breakups, and bloodbaths – not in any particular order. She lives with her husband and little family, which includes a few lazy cats who make great lap warmers. You can usually find her whishing that she lived in a secret cabin in the woods where she could be a hermit reading and writing all of the time. Instead she lives the suburban life where she pretends to her neighbors and the other moms around that she doesn’t swear like a sailor, have hidden tattoos, and loves a good bottle of wine. She absolutely believes in unicorns and ghosts and hopes vampires and monsters are real too. She’s a coffee-in-the-morning and alcohol-in-the-evening kind of person, preferably with a nap in between. Maria prefers cats over dogs, books over people, and late nights over early mornings. She probably shouldn’t talk to anyone until she’s had her first cup of coffee, extra sugar. And if you ever want to hang out with her, you’ll have to be game for a horror movie or just a quick run to target for two (hundred) little things. Also, you couldn’t pay her to be in her twenties again; Thirties is where it’s at. She’s a creative, mouthy, introverted, proud bisexual, highly-sensitive INFJ, chronic pain spoonie warrior, Slytherpuff, dork with a sweet-tooth.

Maria devours books, reading mostly in bed or listening to audiobooks in the car. Writing has been one of her passions for pretty much her whole life. So creativity is a necessity for her, always. After working in the mental health field for almost a decade, she’s now living her dream as a stay-at-home writer, kiddo wrangler, professional snuggler, and constantly-tired-person. When it comes to her writing, she specializes in dark and twisted thrillers or gritty, angsty contemporary romances. But no matter the genre, she always prefers writing deeply flawed characters with dysfunctional relationships. She’s pretty sure the whole “unlikable character” thing is a conspiracy because every character she loves have been labeled this way. Ridiculous. And because of this, she’s pretty much found it impossible to write anything without at least a little mayhem.

Maria was once told she painted with her words, and that phrase stuck with her – because writing really is an art, and good stories are true masterpieces. She’s always trying to grow and improve in her craft, shooting for a masterpiece of her own someday. And she plans to write forever because writing gives Maria the ability to disappear into new worlds and create people within twisting plots, all from the comfort of her couch. She will always believe that though not every story is for her, and her stories aren’t for everyone, every story has a reader.

For more from Maria find all of her links, including a link to get more content at her newsletter, here: linktr.ee/mariainmadness

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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 



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