16 May 2022

Cover Art (A Charley Scott Mystery) by Vanessa Westermann Book Tour and Giveaway!

Cover Art (A Charley Scott Mystery) by Vanessa Westermann

About Cover Art

 

Cover Art (A Charley Scott Mystery) 

Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Setting - Kawartha Lakes, Ontario, Canada 

Cormorant Books (May 17, 2022) 

Paperback ‏ : ‎ 440 pages 

ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1770866426 

ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1770866423

Charley Scott is thrilled to be running a summer pop-up gallery in cottage country. Returning to the lakeside village, not on vacation but as an artist, she’s determined to turn her hobby into a career.

 

But, beneath the surface of this peaceful town, darkness lurks. There’s a history.

 

Local chocolatier, Matt Thorn, is struggling with his father’s death and his legacy of deception. As Matt plans to expose his father’s secrets, a local is found dead, the result of eating Matt’s chocolates.

 

Luckily, art is all about perspective and Charley’s always had a keen eye. Can she see past the obvious and find the killer?

 

About Vanessa Westermann

An avid reader of mysteries, Vanessa Westermann is a former Arthur Ellis Awards judge, holds an M.A. in English Literature, as well as a Bachelor of Education, and has taught creative writing. Her debut mystery, An Excuse for Murder, was published in 2019. At the heart of all of Westermann’s stories are strong female protagonists inspired by the heroines in her own life. She currently lives in Ontario.

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River of Ashes from @alexandreaweis & Lucas Astor Book Blitz and Giveaway! #XpressoTours @XpressoTours⁣⁣⁣ #riverofashes #alexandreaweis #LucasAstor

 

River of Ashes
Alexandrea Weis & Lucas Astor


(St. Benedict, #1)
Published by: Vesuvian Books
Publication date: August 2nd 2022
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller

“A psychological portrait akin to Lord of the Flies.” ~Midwest Book Review

SOME TRUTHS ARE BETTER KEPT SECRET. SOME SECRETS ARE BETTER OFF DEAD.

ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOGUE FALAYA RIVER, sits the abandoned St. Francis Seminary. Beneath a canopy of oaks, blocked from prying eyes, the teens of St. Benedict High gather here on Fridays. The rest of the week belongs to school and family—but weekends belong to the river.

And the river belongs to Beau Devereaux.

The only child of a powerful family, Beau can do no wrong. Star quarterback. Handsome. Charming. The “prince” of St. Benedict is the ultimate catch.

He is also a psychopath.

A dirty family secret buried for years, Beau’s evil grows unchecked. In the shadows of the haunted abbey, he commits unspeakable acts on his victims and ensures their silence with threats and intimidation. Senior year, Beau sets his sights on his girlfriend’s headstrong twin sister, Leslie, who hates him. Everything he wants but cannot have, she will be his ultimate prize.

As the victim toll mounts, it becomes clear that someone must stop Beau Devereaux.

And that someone will pay with their life.

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EXCERPT:

A howl came from the direction of The Abbey.

Andrea leaned away from him, listening. “What’s that?”

Beau nuzzled her neck. “Wild dogs. They live on The Abbey grounds. There’s a couple of legends about them.”

“What legends?” She stepped out of his embrace.

He watched her hips beneath her coat. “They say the dogs stay around The Abbey waiting for the lady in white. She was a gamekeeper for the seminary school and a lover of one of the monks. She died on the grounds, betrayed by the man she loved. Her dogs were kept to manage the varmint population. The wild dogs are said to be their offspring.”

Beau slipped the coat from her shoulders. “The gamekeeper was found hanging from a tree in a white hooded cloak. It was all kept very hush-hush at the time. After the woman’s death, the dogs roamed the grounds and lived off the land. They’re said to only appear when death is near.”

Beau looked at Andrea to see if she was sufficiently unnerved.

“That’s just creepy.” She glanced at his hands as he tugged at her jeans. “But a guy who brings girls to these abandoned cells is into creepy.”

He liked the image the cells portrayed. It was his laboratory, like he’d read about in Frankenstein, where he could experiment and create his own monsters.


Alexandrea Weis, RN-CS, PhD, is a multi-award-winning author of over twenty-seven novels, a screenwriter, ICU Nurse, and historian who was born and raised in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Having grown up in the motion picture industry as the daughter of a director, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective and began writing at the age of eight. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story moving and memorable. A member of the Horror Writers Association and International Thriller Writers Association, Weis writes mystery, suspense, thrillers, horror, crime fiction, and romance. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans where she is a permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries and rescues orphaned and injured animals.

Lucas Astor is from New York, has resided in Central America and the Middle East, and traveled through Europe. He lives a very private, virtually reclusive lifestyle, preferring to spend time with a close-knit group of friends than be in the spotlight.

He is an author and poet with a penchant for telling stories that delve into the dark side of the human psyche. He likes to explore the evil that exists, not just in the world, but right next door behind a smiling face.

Photography, making wine, and helping endangered species are just some of his interests. Lucas is an expert archer and enjoys jazz, blues, and classical music.

One of his favorite quotes is: “It’s better to be silent than be a fool.” ~Harper Lee (To Kill a Mockingbird)


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⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣ ZULU by @sybil.bartel Reveal! #zulu #sybilbartel #XpressoTours⁣⁣⁣ @XpressoTours

 

Zulu
Sybil Bartel


(The Alpha Elite, #4)
Publication date: June 14th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Navy SEAL.

Sniper.

Mercenary.

The Navy trained me to be the best, but the Teams turned me into a deadly weapon. Every mission honing my tactical skills, I never missed a shot. Living for my brothers and the Trident I’d earned, I didn’t look past my next deployment.

Then my friend and former teammate made me an offer—private sector, government contracts, combat missions and the chance to fly my own jet. Retiring from the Teams, but not the mission, I joined Alpha Elite Security.

As second-in-command at AES, I demanded precision because I didn’t do things the wrong way. Until a mysterious brunette walked through the door, and everything went FUBAR.

Code name: Zulu.
Mission: Exfiltrate.

ZULU is a standalone book in the exciting Alpha Elite Series by USA Today Bestselling author, Sybil Bartel. Come meet Zane “Zulu” Silas and the dominant, alpha heroes who work for AES!

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Sybil Bartel is a USA Today Bestselling author of unapologetic alpha heroes. Whether you're reading her deliciously dominant mercenaries, bodyguards or military heroes, all of her heart-stopping, page-turning romantic suspense novels have sexy-as-sin alpha heroes!

Sybil resides in South Florida and she is forever Oliver’s mom.

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15 May 2022

: Blue Rose by Lena Austin Book Tour!

 

Title: Blue Rose

Author: Lena Austin

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: May 13, 2022

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male/Female (Male/Male interaction)

Length: 114 pages

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Alternative Universe, Bisexual Pansexual & Multisexual, Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures

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Synopsis

Princess Zara knows one of royal blood is sometimes forced into political alliances, but what’s wrong with wanting a real Prince Charming? Few princes would want a wife who could best them with any weapon, still, there are more rivals for her hand -- and her father’s kingdom -- than she expects, but only two catch her eye. Prince Bram seems perfect, but he’s more interested in Prince Kennit than Zara. And the nearsighted Kennit isn’t perfect enough -- her father will never approve the marriage.

Prince Kennit knows there’s only one woman for him, but few princesses would find a shape shifting dragon to their liking. When Zara is poisoned, Kennit’s the first to volunteer for the expedition to save the princess, though the quest will lead them deep within the ninth circle of Hell. Zara refuses to be left behind, and Bram’s along for the ride.

Things have changed a little -- okay, a lot -- since the days of Dante’s Inferno. This time the tourists are Zara, the poisoned princess, and her two suitors. Together they must find a single blue rose in the deepest part of Hell before the next full moon, or Zara will run out of time -- and choices.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Lena Austin

Zara shrieked in rage and aimed the next statue from the mantel at her father’s head. The heft of the clay dog might open up his thick skull. “I am not a fucking piece of merchandise!”

“Hang it all, Zara! I don’t like this any more than you do, but I would appreciate the courtesy of being treated like the king now and then!” King Ragnar dodged another object and winced as it shattered behind him. “Damn it! That was your mother’s favorite.”

“She’s been dead for twenty-five years. I don’t think she’ll miss it.” Zara cast about for something else to use as a weapon, but the more useful items were behind her father’s desk, putting her in reach of his burly arms. “Did you already send a herald to announce, ‘One kingdom for sale! Marry the princess and rule Powell Mountains’?”

Ragnar snorted, but kept a wary eye on her. “Thank goodness I had the sense to rule all persons must be disarmed in my presence, or you’d be hacking at me with your sword.” He drew himself up. “As a matter of fact, I did indeed issue invitations to the local princes. They should arrive in time for tonight’s feast.”

Zara swallowed another shriek and ground her teeth instead. “You mean to sell me and the kingdom into marriage quickly, don’t you?”

Ragnar’s fingers opened and closed convulsively, and Zara guessed he’d love to have them around her throat. “At least I’m giving you a choice of princes, you ungrateful wretch. I could have simply chosen one and delivered you to him trussed up like a goose.”

“I’d much rather you changed the law that demands this kingdom be ruled by a wedded pair. Just because you got lucky and found Mother while you were children doesn’t make the law right.” Zara tossed her thick black braid over her shoulder and slammed out of the door, not waiting for a dismissal. The cold fury on her face magically cleared a path through the corridors before her.

She’d known something was wrong when the guardsmen who usually gave her a sword workout were conspicuously absent from the fields. Not even the sergeant looked her in the eye when he informed her they were all out on field maneuvers for the week. She sailed through the doors leading to the back of the castle and noted the guardsmen had miraculously reappeared from their maneuvers.

Now she knew the why of the lie, and her anger soared even higher to realize her father had ordered all her “masculine” activities curtailed. Few princes would find a wife charming when she could best them with any weapon. Fewer still would find her preference for masculine clothes alluring.

Zara turned from the now forbidden joys of beer by the smith’s fire, a joint of beef in the barracks, and the clash of metals on the practice field. She knew better than to approach her old friends and cause them to lie to her further. Her eyes stung, not with pain, but more anger than she’d felt in many a year. Her shoulders slumped as she headed for the cliffs to walk as she often did when troubled. The men would read her posture and know that while she didn’t like it, she’d accepted it wasn’t their fault.

The wind and sky played a tempestuous love affair, whipping her comfortable, woven shirt until it plastered against her body, revealing too many feminine curves even in leather pants and vest. She hated her soft skin, though she’d honed fine muscles beneath the easily bruised flesh, of which there always seemed to be too much. “Can I help it if I’m as tall as a man, and nearly as broad? Certainly not. I refuse to be one of the court wenches who daintily picks at her food and then throws up what little she does eat for fear of not appearing feminine and delicate. Pahh!”

She stepped around a particularly large boulder and beheld a sight so strange it stopped her angry ruminations.

A lanky man stood at the very edge of the cliff, his black cloak seeming to hang in the air as if riding the winds, and his shoulder-length black hair escaped its silver thong to join the cloak in flight. Nothing could be seen of the man’s face, for his back was to Zara, but the whole figure was one of tranquility.

That peace alone intrigued her, for so few could bear the fearful heights, and fewer still dared walk the edge on a day when the winds could yank a full-grown man over the precipice. Either this one was very brave or very crazed.

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Meet the Author

Someone cursed Lena Austin with "may you have a life so full you'll have many tales to tell your grandchildren." Lena's a "fallen" society wench with a checkered past. She's been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba -- she's got a lifetime of "Research material!"

Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won't listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something?

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14 May 2022

Kelpie's Claiming Fairview Chronicles 10 Alexa Piper Book Tour and Giveaway!

 

Title: Kelpie's Claiming

Series: Fairview Chronicles 10

Author: Alexa Piper

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: May 13, 2022

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 147 pages

Genre: Romance, Mystery, Thriller/Suspense, Paranormal Romance, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Alternate Universe, Shapeshifters

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Synopsis

Rob’s current goal in life? Do not eat people. That’s easier said than done when you’re a kelpie in the service industry. While Rob pursues his goals from behind the bar, a stranger walks in, and Rob catches the man’s scent. Yet, patrons are not for eating, and it should have ended there… except when Rob smells that delicious scent again, the beautiful stranger needs help.

Bertrand wants to fit in, but because he’s part Fae, part Elf, and grew up human, he’s not really at home in either human or supernatural society. Still, he likes being a reporter and following a story all the way to its conclusion. The story he’s pursuing when he walks into Rob’s bar one night is one of supernaturals going missing, and Bertrand seems to be the only one who cares.

Meeting Bertrand might just shift Rob’s life goals. Coming face-to-face with a kelpie stallion might be enough to help Bertrand see where he fits in perfectly. Except Bertrand doesn’t really know what to make of Rob, and also, Bertrand's missing persons story is bigger than even he envisioned. It’s turning into a case of abduction and trafficking he needs to unravel before he can even think about Rob’s advances. The story will lead Bertrand to some dark places before the year is out.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Alexa Piper

Rob

In his more philanthropic youth, Rob had been excited about opening a bar-slash-diner and making a name for his establishment. He had succeeded with the Ragdoll, which was known for amazing sandwiches and exquisite liquor concoctions in supernatural circles and human circles alike. Going fully vegetarian had been the logical choice for Rob when he’d moved to the city of Fairview.

Now, he had over twenty years in the service industry under his belt, and the occasional slice of liver sounded so appealing when Rob had to cling on to his smile for all he was worth in front of a customer. It was why he’d hired a half-succubus and sexy Ilya whatever-he-was to handle the personal interactions.

(Rob was convinced Ilya could have, if he’d ever shown the inclination, charmed the pants off a barstool if barstools wore pants.) But now, with Ilya in love with a disgustingly rich witch and consequently out of town for whatever spell the Fey had planned to put on Rob’s most beloved employee, Rob had to pick up the slack behind the bar. And Ilya’s brother was not a suitable replacement, even if he was responding well to getting trained for the job.

“There is not enough rum in this,” the customer told Rob again, and Rob was pulled from his musings and back to wishing for a slice of liver.

“I’m ever so sorry,” Rob said without conviction. He looked up from the lime he was about to dismember on his cutting board behind the bar and glanced over the customer’s shoulder at Titi. The busboy was taking down the Fat Man Day decorations and prepping the Ragdoll for Sparklers and Public Drunkenness Day. There would be even more early drinkers here on Sparklers and Public Drunkenness Day, and Rob would have to be behind the bar, because sweet Ilya was getting bewitched.

“So are you gonna make me a new one?” the customer asked. Apparently, the red-faced man in his thirties with a beer belly threatening already was still there. At three in the afternoon. To consume rum cocktails. Not that Rob was the judgy type.

Rob had no intention of making another Mai Tai. He took a step to his right, located the dark rum, and poured the customer another finger of the liquor into his glass. “There you go,” Rob said, giving the man his best take it or leave it look.

The man looked from Rob to the cocktail, back again, and took it. He was complaining under his breath as he moved back to the table he’d occupied with two equally annoying male companions. The beer bellies were imminent in all of them, in Rob’s opinion. Sadly, that meant their livers would be fatty rather than yummy.

“Sorry,” Ilya’s brother said. Rob looked over to the man, who wore a black button-down shirt and jeans, but not as well as Ilya. He didn’t look half as sexy as Ilya. Rob still could not understand how that worked, how they were related. Ilya was a mysterious pale-skinned and raven-haired delight (who could easily handle over-drunk patrons with his charm). Kyle was plain dishwater blond. It made no sense, apart from being unfair to Rob, who would have loved nothing better than two Ilyas behind his bar.

“It’s fine,” Rob said. “The drink wasn’t the issue.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes and looked at the floor. “Okay.”

Rob frowned. Kyle was an odd one, but he followed direction perfectly. The real downside was simply that he wasn’t the sexy barman his brother was.

“Really, it’s okay. Some people just need to be assholes, and there is nothing you can do about that.” He patted Kyle on the shoulder. Kyle jerked a little at the contact before he relaxed.

Rob felt that was enough life advice, so he went back to murdering the lime. About five seconds later, the door opened, and on a breeze of cold air, the local mage and one of her lovers drifted into the bar. This lover (the nice one) was slightly too chatty for Rob’s taste, but judging by the time, the two of them were just here for a late lunch or coffee and something sweet. (This time, Rob hoped they wouldn’t have their… dessert in the ladies’ room. Rob wasn’t a prude by any means, he just disliked cleaning a bathroom after people spent time on their knees in there for whatever reason, and it was extra work, even if Kyle happily volunteered each time.)

Predictably, after the mage -- in conversation with the nice lover -- waved hello at Rob and Kyle, who seemed like he wanted to hide under the bar at seeing her, they made for a table rather than the bar. Rob knew Ilya, and possibly the Fey witch, had gotten the mage to become a regular, and it made Rob miss his night bartender all the more.

Kyle sidled up close to Rob. “Uhm, do you want me to serve them?” he asked quietly.

Rob put his knife down. This lime was getting lucky, for now. “I can do it. I don’t think she bites, and that lover definitely doesn’t.”

Purchase

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Meet the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!

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Possibilities Kira Stone Book Tour and Giveaway!

 

Title: Possibilities

Author: Kira Stone

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: May 13, 2022

Heat Level: 5 - Erotica

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 19 pages

Genre: Erotica, BDSM, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, SciFi, Dark Desire, Age Gap, Gay

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Synopsis

Choices... Neal dives into a secluded pool hoping to find release for his aching body and his troubled mind. Instead, he finds Saul. The scribe is everything Neal could dream of -- and yet he knows he dares not pursue his desires, for Saul is a Scribe. Saul wants Neal, but not in servitude. Even a slave can make choices, and Neal chooses to make love to the man who opens his mind -- and his heart.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Kira Stone

Moonlight strokes the rocks and vegetation bracketing the waterfall with its ghostly fingers. Crystal clear water tumbles from one shallow pool to another, tugged down by gravity's inexorable grip. Flowers bend in the gentle breeze, and nocturnal creatures add to nature's nightly chorus as they go about their lives. It is perfect. It is peaceful.

It is a place where possibilities are born... although it would take me some time to realize it.

Although I've travelled past this location many times before, this particular spot is unfamiliar to me. It is, however, a welcome sight. I am weary and need a place to rest for the night. The pool looks so inviting. Perhaps a swim before bedding down would help erase the strains of the day.

Rushing water stifles my tired groan as I remove my silks. Little more than scraps of black fabric to cover the most male part of me, held together by a single braided strand of rope. Even so, I treat them with care for they are all I have to shield me against the elements so I set them on a rock beside the water.

The journey to this place, this moment in time, has not been an easy one. My body bears the scars of battles fought, some still fresh. See there, across my wrist, the lines of red? A demon who nearly bereft me of my life left those marks with his razor sharp claws. I can't decide whether to praise the gods or curse them for sending the district's healer along to save me when they did.

My spirit is equally marred. Hope has crawled into some dark corner of my soul. I dine on regrets and guilt, a meal that doesn't sustain a man of thirty-eight for very long. And yet, here I am, still living and breathing. I don't know why.

I ponder this as I move toward the edge of the lowest pool. The water is warmer than I expect given the lack of the sun's warming rays, and I find myself drawn into its embrace. At its deepest, it rises no higher than my waist. I swim the breadth of it several times before finding a rock near the middle to sprawl on.

My limbs dangle loosely, toying with the surface, and I stare up at the heavens with the three moons of Trinity hanging low in the sky, searching for answers.

This is how he must have first seen me, looking like some debauched sprite fallen to ground.

I take no notice of the stranger in my midst at first. Slowly, he colors my world. Sound grows clearer, flowers perfume the night air, and everything around me begins to hum with a vibrancy as though it's newly awakened to life.

I sit up and spy a ripple of midnight blue, just a shade paler than the sky, along the edge of the pool. He stops moving, and his cloak settles around him. Just as my surroundings burst into full life, so does he. Dark blue cloth wraps his rugged frame from neck to knee. His mahogany hair curls back from his face. Black boots and gloves cover his feet and hands. Though a handsome man by any rational person's account, I remain unfazed.

Until I reach his eyes.

How is it possible to see one's soul through their eyes? It's a myth I never believed until I met this stranger. Although I've always been partial to blue, it's not the rich color that holds me captive.

It has little to do with the expression on his face, which seems faintly amused at coming upon me bathing in the moonlight as he had. Nor is it the air of danger and sexual prowess that he exudes. No, it is the reflection of a lifetime of experiences, good and bad, hovering in those blue, blue eyes that I cannot look away from.

Oddly, I'm slightly ashamed of my nakedness for the first time in my humble life. He is the only Master in sight; I am merely a servant boy. I have nothing that he does not give me, including my life. Appearing naked before him should be as natural as breathing and yet I long for some form of cover, as if his eyes might delve into me too deeply otherwise.

Slowly I recall my duty and slip from the stone, back into the water. I swim across to him, kneeling in the shallows when I reach the water's edge. Still I cannot look away from his face and those startling eyes. "Master, may this boy be of service to you?"

He breathes deep, his broad chest expanding, before answering in a commanding yet gentle tenor. "Tell me your name, boy."

"This one is called Neal, Master."

"And you may call me Saul."

I admit I'm not often at a loss for words, but that request stopped all thought from forming in my brain. A Master wants me, a slave, to refer to him by name? Unheard of! "Master, are you sure?"

He laughs and the sound is more cleansing to me than the crystal clear water. "When we are alone, yes. I want to hear my name from your lips."

He is Master. I am slave. I shouldn't question his requests. And yet... "But Master, I am only a boy. I have no right to speak your name."

"You have whatever rights I give you, and I grant you permission to use my name." He cocks his head to the side in consideration, then adds, "For tonight."

His expression hasn't changed, but there's something in his manner that convinces me he is serious. I didn't wish to cross him, for even one of the scribe caste could be dangerous if provoked. "Yes, Mas -- Yes, Saul. May this boy be of service to you?"

"Perhaps it is I who am here to serve you," he suggests with a smile.

A great and mighty Master would lower himself to serve a humble boy? It had never been done before in my knowledge and I can only think of one reason for him to suggest it. "Is this a test for me, to see if I will behave properly?"

"No, Neal. It is merely a suggestion."

It's the first of many possibilities he shows me this night. Even now my body trembles with the memories of that first spectacular glimpse of what could be.

"How would you... Boy can... This is not..." No thought would complete itself in my brain before a new one birthed.

Saul laughs again as he presses his finger to my lips. "Easy, Neal. Do not hurt yourself."

I search the depth of his eyes for some explanation for what is happening. All I find are more questions. "Saul..."

With a smile on his face, he commands, "Come with me."

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Changeling Press LLC | Amazon

 

Meet the Author

Kira Stone lives in a warm cave tucked away in the remote Scottish Highlands, where a small band of ever-changing heroes serves as company. As they relax in front of a roaring fire, demons dance in leather pants and angels stroke tunes from the harp strings, while the Fae stop in to share tales from other worlds. Bound by pen and imagination, these are the folk who wait to greet you from the pages of Kira's stories. Find out more on their website.

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Moss Manor by @marthasweeneyauthor Book Tour and Giveaway! @indiesage_pr #marthasweeney

 

Moss Manor

by Martha Sweeney Publication Date: May 10, 2022 Genres: Historical Romance, Historical Fiction, Romance

Purchase: Universal | Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Google Play | Kobo | Smashwords

BESTSELLING author Martha Sweeney presents her first historical romance set in England during the 1800s when the steam engine was first made available for public use. At the age of twenty-four, Abigail becomes widowed and the sole survivor of the recently deceased Lord Quincy. Upon inheriting his estate, she becomes the first woman to own property. Having been brought up on a farm with three brothers, Abigail knows what it takes to keep the business profitable. Strong-willed and confident, Abigail is determined to prove herself capable. While trying to balance the Manor, the farm, an orphaned child, and her status in society, Abigail finds herself presented with love in the most unusual of places. Will she allow love into her life when it’s staring her in the face? A clean yet witty story about Lady Abigail Moss who is an independent woman every man desires and who every woman desires to be.

About the Author

 
Martha Sweeney is a BESTSELLING, multi-genre author who writes: romance, suspense, fantasy, romantic comedy, thriller, coloring books, and science fiction. She strives to push herself as a storyteller with each new tale and hopes to push her readers outside of their comfort zone whether it be the genre or the stories themselves. With a B.S. in Psychology, Martha utilizes her knowledge of human and animal behavior successfully in the business world and in her writing to present realistic characters and situations. She’s been creative since she was little, always drawing, coloring or making crafts, so her venture into being an author was a natural transition.

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13 May 2022

They Called Him Marvin by Roger Stark Book Tour and Guest Review!

They Called Him Marvin by Roger Stark

They Called Him Marvin by Roger Stark

Publisher: Silver Star (September 21, 2021
Category: Historical Romance, WW2, Family Saga, Based on a True Story
Tour dates: April 25-June 24, 2022
ISBN: 978-0578855288

Available in Print and ebook, 320 pages

They Called Him Marvin

Description They Called Him Marvin by Roger Stark

They were just kids, barely not teenagers, madly in love and wanting to be a family, but WW2 and a B29 got in their way.

Three hundred ten days before Pearl Harbor, buck private Dean Sherman innocently went to church with a new friend in Salt Lake City. From that moment, the unsuspecting soldier travelled a remarkable, heroic path, falling in love, graduating from demanding training to become a B29 pilot, conceiving a son and entering the China, Burma and India theater of the WW2.

He chronicled his story with letters home to his bride Connie that he met on that fateful Sunday, blind to the fact that fifteen hundred seventy five days after their meeting, a Japanese swordsman would end his life.

His crew, a gaggle of Corporals that dubbed themselves the Corporealizes, four officers and a tech Sargent, adventured their way across the globe. Flying the “Aluminum Trail” also called the Hump through the Himalayas, site of the most dangerous flying in the world. Landing in China to refuel and then fly on to places like Manchuria, Rangoon or even the most southern parts of Japan to drop 500 pounders.

Each mission had its challenges, minus fifty degree weather in Mukden, or Japanese fighters firing away at them, a close encounter of the wrong kind, nearly missing a collision with another B29 while flying in clouds, seeing friends downed and lost because of “mechanicals,” the constant threat of running out of fuel and their greatest fear, engine fire.

Transferred to the Mariana Islands, he and his crew were shot down over Nagoya, Japan as part of Mission 174, captured and declared war criminals.

Connie’s letters reveal life for a brand new mother whose husband is declared MIA. The agony for both of them, he in a Japanese prison, declared a war criminal, and she just not knowing why his letters stopped coming.

Review They Called Him Marvin by Roger Stark

Guest Review by Laura Lee

'They Called Him Marvin,' is a story about love, survival and war in what was probably the most terrifying time for American citizens of the 20th century.

In 1941, World War II was raging across much of the world, but despite sending supplies, American had kept cautiously out of the fighting. This would all change after Japanese forces bombed Pearl Harbor and the U.S finally began sending troops overseas. These are things we all know from history class, but what of the soldiers who were sent overseas in those first waves of assignments? What of the individuals called upon to serve their country, who had limited information of what they were even getting into?

This book is about a man like that, Lt. Dean Sherman, who, in 1941 was not yet a lieutenant, but who had just met the love of his life in the form of one Constance Baldwin. Constance was a nice, church-going girl, whose parents were initially reluctant to let her date a soldier. But eventually, Constance's parents relented, and the two dated and were married shortly before the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

Constance soon became pregnant and it was while she was with child that Dean was called upon to pilot a B-29 over to China and Japan. Constance returned to her parent's house in Utah, where she had only Dean's love letters to make her feel close to him for the next four years. These letters are reprinted in the book, and they make up the soul of 'They Called Him Marvin,' providing a human element to the story of a war that, at so many times, was anything but humane.

Roger Stark really makes his readers love the people that he writes about and appreciate the finer details of what each of them were going through. Although Dean Sherman was never able to return home to his wife and their son, Marvin, I'm sure he would have enjoyed this book and liked to have his side of the story told. It is based on the true story and the writing is pure gold! 

Guest Post by Roger Stark

So, What Makes You Think You are a Writer?

 I don't consider my self a writer. When My wife introduced me to a new acquaintance saying, "He is a writer," I was taken back, shocked like it was a new idea coming into my mind for the first time. Well, yeah, I am retired from day jobs, I have written stuff, but I haven't tried to make a living doing it, or won any fabulous prize or notoriety because of anything I have written. I am just a regular human being that has written some stuff. I don't deserve to elevate myself to the status of people who can really write.

In my junior year of high school my English teacher Miss Johnson, a definite credit to the profession, sponsored a little essay contest amongst all of the juniors taking English (which of course was everyone) that year. Fifteen hundred words. I remember thinking how impossible writing fifteen hundred words would be when she announced the assignment. I gave it the automatic "No Way" reaction. It took me a while to recover enough to actually start formulating a subject and the how of writing fifteen hundred words. You know, 1500 words that went together, that turned into something.

I had recently seen a movie that I quite enjoyed. "Mr Roberts" had made the transition from Broadway hit to the movie screen bringing along the star of the play Henry Fonda as Roberts. One of the scenes that stuck in my head was an overflow of suds from the laundry that inundated the ship. Bubbles of soap suds billowed out of the ship's lower areas onto the main deck. My wondering about what I might write for my essay collided with that hilarious scene, and an essay titled "Bubbles" was born. To get to the point my essay won the contest, I filed that away as nice, but never considered that I might have some sort of skill in the art of writing.

Fast forward to my real life career as an Addiction Counselor. As I accumulated knowledge in the field, I applied to a national organization to present on the subject of addiction recovery. The presentation went very well, and convinced me I had enough material for a book on the subject. A year later "The Waterfall Concept, A Blueprint for Addiction Recovery" appeared in print. It was not on any best seller's list, but sold enough copies that I called it successful. I followed that up with "Reclaiming Your Addicted Brain," a book I coauthored with an addict friend. But those were self help books and quite different from a "real" story. Fiction or even creative non fiction, writing just seemed out of the realm of possibility for me.

 Then I went to dinner at Marv's house. We had worked together, along with some others, on a recovery project and he and his wife, Judy put on a little dinner party to thank all who had helped. Judy's dinner was exceptional, but it was the after-dinner conversation that changed my mind about writing. Marv related to me the story of a father he had never met, a victim of WW2. He was very emotional and admitted that he knew little of his father, the pain of researching him just too great. I knew that this was a story that others should hear, should remember. and should honor.

That was eight years ago now. Six of those years were spent in research and writing. I visited Japan, the National Archives in Washington DC and spent countless hours in front of my computer researching, finding bits of information here and there. When Marv gave me the letters to transcribe, I knew they had to be part of what I was writing. Many writers friends suggested just using a few, but I felt this was Dean and Connie's story and I should let them tell as much of it as I could.

I felt other worldly influences when I wrote. Many times, I looked behind me as I was writing to see if Dean was looking over my shoulder. I could feel his influence. He liked to wake me at 4 am with a great idea or sentence. I learned to go to the computer and record them or they would evaporate if I went back to sleep.

So "They Called Him Marvin" came into existence, not because I am a writer, but because it needed to be told. People needed to hear it. People need to remember and honor their gift to us.

So please don't confuse me with a writer. The wordsmiths that do magical things with words. I am just a guy who heard a story and felt it needed to be passed along.

They Called Him Marvin by Roger Stark

About Roger Stark

Roger Stark, by his own admission, is a reluctant writer. But there are stories that demand to be told. When we hear them, we must pick up our pen, lest we forget and the stories be lost. Six years ago, in a quiet conversation with his friend, Marvin, he learned the tragic story of his father, a WW2 B-29 Airplane Commander, shot down over Nagoya, Japan, just months before the end of the war.

The telling of the story that evening by this half orphan was so moving and full of emotion, it compelled Roger to ask if he could write the story. The result being “They Called Him Marvin.”

Roger Stark’s life has been profoundly touched in so many ways by being part of documenting this sacred story. He prays that we never forget, as a people, the depth of sacrifice that was made by ordinary people like Marvin and his father and mother on our behalf.

Website: https://theycalledhimmarvin.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TCHMarvin

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Giveaway They Called Him Marvin by Roger Stark

This giveaway is for 3 print copies, one for each of 3 winners. This giveaway is open to  the U.S. only and ends on June 24, 2022 midnight, pacific time.  Entries accepted via Rafflecopter only.

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