Reviews!

I am still having a difficult time concentrating on reading a book, I hope to get back into it at some point. Still doing book promotions just not reviews Thank you for your understanding during this difficult time. I appreciate all of you. Kathleen Kelly July 2024

04 April 2024

The Otis Thorne Thriller Series Book 2 by Arla Jones Release Tour!

Get ready for a pulse-pounding journey through the

 darkest corridors of power in the Otis Thorne thriller

 series!

In the second Otis Thorne thriller, a malevolent alliance

 triggers a global pandemic, forcing Thorne and Noah

 into a race against time. Can they unravel the sinister

 plot?


Black Dust

The Otis Thorne Thriller Series Book 2

by Arla Jones

Genre: Thriller, Suspense

An action-packed thriller for fans of Clancy, Thor, and

 Flynn, Great for readers of political conspiracies and

 CIA counterterrorism missions.

In the gripping second installment of the Otis Thorne thriller series, the world is thrust into chaos as a malevolent alliance between Russia and North Korea unleashes a deadly biological weapon upon the United States. The insidious plan triggers a devastating global pandemic, pushing Otis Thorne and his trusted ally, Noah, into a perilous race against time. As they unravel the sinister plot, they find out who is behind the deadly biological attack against their country. With lives hanging in the balance and the fate of nations at stake, Thorne and Noah must navigate a treacherous web of deception, danger, and intrigue to uncover the truth and stop the relentless march of the pandemic.

This second book will leave you breathless and wanting more.


   1 The Biting Dust 

 

 An underground research facility, North Korea, 2027


The underground facility was perfect for secret tests, including nuclear and chemical experiments that they did not want any of their enemies or neighboring countries to see on the satellite. The facility was dug deep underground into a volcanic mountain that hadn’t experienced any volcanic activity for years. Only the high-ranking members of the Worker’s Party knew about this facility. 

The secret nuclear weapon and chemical weapon research in this facility created an environmental change in the bugs that had come in contact with the research area. The tiny insects that survived the chemical environmental change moved in the air like a cloud of black dust, looking for a living animal or person, and then attaching to the skin. The scientists called these bugs: 

무는 먼지 muneun meonji which meant the biting dust.

It was a new form of life, not exactly anything that had existed before, but they were tough and resilient, like cockroaches, and could survive almost anything. The only difference was that these bugs were microscopic and moved together, never individually. 

The scientists were both surprised and horrified by what they had created. They knew that, for example, grasshoppers could change their behavior because of crowding, which is called density-dependent phenotypic plasticity and refers to the bugs changing behavior due to environmental factors. The North Korean scientists suspected that something similar had happened to these bugs that had survived the chemical and nuclear research area, and thus, this new form of black bugs appeared on Earth.

When the sun set and it became dark, these bugs searched for their next target, any warm-blooded living thing would do, and they started biting. For some reason, the bugs never moved or bit during the daytime. 

The scientists first thought was that the reports of the biting bugs were just imagination or hallucination, but when they got a sample of the black dust under the microscope, the bug looked more like a blackish-green crystal than a normal bug except this crystallized bug was alive. It was a new form of life created by chemical weapons. 

The researchers observed that these insects exhibited movement to locate their target specifically during cooler temperatures, typically after sunset. They hypothesized that each minuscule bug functioned like a vampire, extracting blood from the host, resulting in a sensation of biting and itching. This experience often gave the impression of something crawling on the skin, followed by a subsequent sting, with the intensity increasing based on the number of bugs present on the skin. The scientists studied the bugs some more and realized that and realized they could reproduce themselves. 

The bugs displayed no distinction between males and females. The researchers observed that the life cycle of adult-sized insects spanned approximately five days, following a developmental period of one week to reach this stage. 

At the end of the adult-sized bugs' life cycle, the insect emitted a cloud of black dust, smaller than its original size and measuring approximately one-fifth of a millimeter. These entities, referred to by scientists as eggs, cracked open resembling a butterfly's cocoon, revealing larvae inside. These juvenile bugs exhibited rapid growth, reaching the size of an adult, around half a millimeter, within a week. The most troubling discovery was that the scientists could not find any method to kill these bugs or their eggs. They tried all kinds of pesticides to no avail. They even tried to burn a building infested with these bugs, but the bugs survived. 

They conceded that there was no established method for exterminating these nightcrawlers. However, the scientists soon recognized that they possessed an unparalleled weapon, unique in the world. It was now imperative to devise a strategy for employing these insects to their advantage against their adversaries. 

***

The next phase was to experiment with the labor camp prisoners. They chose a distant location in Hoeryong, where the notorious concentration camp was reportedly closed in 2012. However, in reality, it was still running state-supported secret experiments on the remaining political prisoners. 

This infamous camp was in North Hamgyong province in northeast North Korea, close to China’s border and about 700 miles away from the Sea of Japan. Regardless of how close the camp was to the Chinese border, not many prisoners escaped. 

It was heavily guarded, and the experiments and malnutrition made the prisoners weak and sick. Most of them were brought there in the back of a truck in the middle of the night, so they never saw the outside of the camp and where it was located. They had poor-quality shoes that were not made to walk long distances along the valleys and hills on uneven ground. If they escaped, their prison outfit would not keep them warm during the freezing nights when the temperature dropped below twenty Fahrenheit.

It was the perfect place for the new secret weapon experiment.

The prisoners were never told what the new experiment would be. They were just exposed to it. This time it was the bugs!

  




Giveaway 

Swag Pack, $10 Amazon giftcard – 1 winner each! 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://bit.ly/BlackDustTour



War of the Mind by Dana Claire Release Tour! #NowLive @IndiePenPR #danaclairebooks #authordanaclaire

 

Immense grief causes demigod Calli to do the unthinkable and use her powers to erase herself from the memories of her beloved Henrik. Calli rebuilds herself and her crew, only to be reunited with Henrick by order of the crown to stop Perseus and his accomplices before it’s too late. 

As remnants of their passion haunt their voyage, will their wounded hearts find their way back to each other, or will past choices stand in their way? Readers who love pirate adventures and Greek mythology with forced proximity and second-chance romances will want to devour Dana Claire’s new Young Adult Novel, War of the Mind.

Read Now!

 
  His sacrifice could save humanity. Her revenge could turn it to stone.

When immense grief turns demigod Calli Bordeaux’s heart to vengeance, she does the unthinkable. Using her powers, she erases herself from the memories of her beloved, Henrik, so that he cannot join her hunt for the notorious pirate Captain Fredrick, Henrik’s savage father. Shattered, Calli rebuilds herself and the crew of her parent’s ship to vanquish her enemy, only to discover a piece of Henrik came with her after all.


Unaware that he lost the greatest love of his life, former pirate turned royal guard, Henrik, sets out with Cava’s navy to find a woman the gods forsook and the humans fear. Medusa. Her latest rampage of stony destruction is not mindless slaughter but self-preservation from pirate assassins. The demi-god Perseus has put a bounty on her severed head, seeking the power it possesses to slowly slaughter mankind.


United by order of the crown, Calli and Henrik must stop Perseus and his pirate accomplices before it’s too late. Echoes of their past passion haunt their voyage, tipping them into turmoil when humanity needs them most. Can their wounded hearts find their way back to each other in time? Or will the barriers constructed by past choices stand in the way as the world around them turns to stone?


Add to Goodreads!


Goodreads http://tinyurl.com/hz9u3awn

Add to Goodreads!

Excerpt

Copyright 2024 Dana Claire

My legs wobbled as I tiptoed into Henrik’s bedroom, careful to close the door behind me with a soft click. Moonlight streamed through the slightly parted curtains, casting a silvery trail on the floor that guided me across the carpet. I knelt by his bedside and watched his sleeping form, the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest—a chest I had stroked a hundred times but would never touch again. His lips fluttered, giving me pause. Lips I had kissed since I was thirteen and would miss as much as him. His mahogany locks fell over his forehead, a messed look that he never donned during the day but one I always loved to admire while he slept. 


I lingered by his side, allowing the rhythm of my heart to slow, my eyes tracing over him, memorizing every visible detail for the final time. Gently, my fingers brushed the dimple of his chin, then slowly traced his cheeks, feeling the remnants of dried tears. They were not for his father but shed for me—for my pain. I couldn’t let him carry any more than he already had. I knew I was doing the right thing. He could go on to live a life full of promise, something I could no longer give him.


I’d ache for this: his face, the warmth of his companionship, the depth of our love. Yet, deep down, I knew I couldn’t offer him the future he deserved. Our dreams of marriage, of children playing along the seashore, of exploring the world together—those would remain unfulfilled fantasies. A heavy, uninvited burden had been thrust upon me, a path I had to walk alone. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, drag him into this dark journey and risk his soul to Hades. 


Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over. “I love you,” I whispered, my voice a ghostly echo in the darkness. Gently, I lowered my lips to his, bestowing a final, fleeting kiss. I didn’t linger, couldn’t bear to, and our united lips parted too swiftly.


“I’ll never stop loving you. For all my days, you’ll have a sanctuary in my heart. In moments of despair or fury, I’ll delve into my memories of you. You’ll be my steadfast anchor, my unwavering light in the darkness. But I can’t return this love to you, not anymore.” My voice quivered as I inhaled sharply, steeling myself.


“You deserve a world of happiness, an eternal life of bliss.” With a heavy exhale, I placed my hands gently on the sides of his head. A surge of energy coursed through me, pulsating from my palms. The power within me awakened, vibrating with an intensity that resonated with the new, harsh shriek at the very core of my being.


His eyes blinked open, the dark green irises blending with his widened pupils, my name a faint sound on his lips. “Don’t.” He exhaled.


“I’m so sorry. It’s the only way.” My voice trembled. “I will see you again… in the afterlife.” 


My arms shook under the strain, yet I maintained my hold, determined. One by one, I erased our shared moments from his mind: the laughter-filled day at the seaside festival, our playful sparring sessions, the intensity of our first kiss, the passion of our lovemaking, our bold adventures, and each time we’d defied the world with our love. Each memory, vivid and precious, slipped away from his consciousness. The essence of his thoughts, foreign to my senses, tasted of the ocean’s salt and the earthy musk of the woods. As I swallowed, they vanished from his mind, leaving a void where our love had once thrived.

When I stood, his eyelashes fluttered briefly before he settled back into a peaceful slumber. His cheek rested against the pillow, his breathing steady and calm. My hands trembled as I backed away, each step heavy with the weight of what I had done. Nausea churned in my stomach, the taste of guilt bitter in my mouth. I crept out of his room, closing the door behind me.

 

About Dana Claire

 
Dana Claire is an award-winning author whose stories explore identity, fate, and destiny at the crossroads of romance and adventure. Her love of romantic tension, the supernatural, and non- stop action has elicited positive feedback from many readers, as their online reviews reveal her flair for spine-tingling action and unforgettable characters. Dana is now sharing her stories through speaking events and book signings, introducing more readers to the worlds she created. She lives in Los Angeles, CA with her adoring husband living her dreams: writing books, telling stories, and changing the world, one reader at a time.

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Fast Times, Big City by Shelly Frome Book Tour!

FAST TIMES, BIG CITY

by Shelly Frome

April 15 - May 10, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Fast Times, Big City by Shelly Frome

Like most people, Bud Palmer felt this was just another day.

Though the era was drawing to a close, he assumed his life as a sports columnist in the subtropics, in keeping with the benign fifties itself, would go on as predictable as ever.

But that particular autumn morning he was thrust into a caper that was totally beyond him, forced him to leave Miami and take the train to Manhattan, and suddenly found everything in this restless "Big Apple" was up for grabs at a dicey turning point.

Book Details:

Genre: Crime Fiction
Published by: BQB Publishing
Publication Date: February 27, 2024
Number of Pages: 250
ISBN: 9798886330267
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Getting as overtired as can be, he opted for the radio once again and the show tunes station. Within minutes another song from West Side Story came filtering into his room. This time the star-crossed lovers put the images on the poster to words, yearning for “a special place,” claiming if they held on tight they could take each other there. Somehow, some day, somewhere.

Even after he switched the radio off, the sweet melody and yearning lyrics stayed with him. But soon faded and dovetailed into the dread of what might await him under these pressing circumstances. He finally let go of it all and sank into a fitful sleep.

***

Excerpt from Fast Times, Big City by Shelly Frome. Copyright 2024 by Shelly Frome. Reproduced with permission from Shelly Frome. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Shelly Frome

Shelly Frome is a member of Mystery Writers of America, a professor of dramatic arts emeritus at UConn, a former professional actor, and a writer of crime novels and books on theater and film. He also is a features writer for Gannett Publications. His fiction includes Sun Dance for Andy Horn, Lilac Moon, Twilight of the Drifter, Tinseltown Riff, Murder Run, Moon Games, The Secluded Village Murders, Miranda and the D-Day Caper and Shadow of the Gypsy. Among his works of non-fiction are The Actors Studio: A History, a guide to playwriting and one on screenwriting. Fast Times, Big City is his latest foray into the world of crime and the amateur sleuth. He lives in Black Mountain, North Carolina.

Catch Up With Shelly Frome:
www.shellyfrome.com
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Facebook - @AuthorShellyFrome

 

 

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03 April 2024

The House on Biscayne by Chanel Cleeton Book Spotlight!

 

THE HOUSE ON BISCAYNE BAY by Chanel Cleeton

Berkley Trade Paperback Original | On sale April 2, 2024


As death stalks a gothic mansion in Miami, the lives of two women intertwine as the past and present collide in New York Times bestselling author Chanel Cleeton’s atmospheric new novel.

With the Great War finally behind them, thousands of civilians and business moguls alike flock to South Florida with their sights set on making a fortune. When wealthy industrialist Robert Barnes and his wife, Anna, build Marbrisa, a glamorous estate on Biscayne Bay, they become the toast of the newly burgeoning society. Anna and Robert appear to have it all, but in a town like Miami, appearances can be deceiving, and one scandal can change everything.

Years later following the tragic death of her parents in Havana, Carmen Acosta journeys to Marbrisa, the grand home of her estranged older sister, Carolina, and her husband, Asher Wyatt. On the surface, the gilded estate looks like paradise, but Carmen quickly learns that nothing at Marbrisa is as it seems. The house has a treacherous legacy, and Carmen’s own life is soon in jeopardy . . . unless she can unravel the secrets buried beneath the mansion’s facade and stop history from repeating itself.

I cannot for the life of me imagine why anyone would want to live in Florida.


The house looms before me, a pale stone behemoth jettisoning from the swampy earth. It casts a long shadow, towering three stories high with a parapet on top as though it's readying itself to guard against intruders. Its palatial size and exterior appear to have been plucked from some European city and dropped on this godforsaken plot of land in Miami. There are arches and flourishes all around the building, the fanciful embellishments reminiscent of a wedding cake's intricate design. Enormous glass-paned windows dominate the facade, equally impressive doors leading out to a front patio set atop a stone staircase made of the palest coral that matches the house's exterior walls.


The grass sways a few feet away conjuring images of snakes slithering through the tall blades. What sort of reptiles do they have in Florida? Large ones capable of felling a full-grown person? This feels like the end of civilization as we know it-a far cry from Manhattan and the sensibilities we have grown accustomed to.


The house is nearing completion, the progress an undeniable sign of just how long my husband has been keeping this secret.


Robert took me to Italy for our honeymoon years ago, and it appears he gathered a great deal of his inspiration from the grand houses we saw on our trip there.


There weren't alligators in Italy, though.


And it wasn't this hot.


A thin line of sweat trickles between my shoulder blades, my already dampened gown sticking to my skin as I trudge away from my husband's roadster toward our future home. As a little girl sitting in the pews of St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City, I often thought about the fires of hell as I prayed for my immortal soul. I envisioned the devil's playground to have a climate like this one, but in all my wild imaginings, Lucifer didn't have iguanas.


Men mill about the property, working on the construction Robert has planned. It looks to be rough work, heavy pieces of stone being carried from one side of the house to another, the radiant sun beating down on the men. It must be hell doing such strenuous physical labor in this stifling heat.


A few cast curious glances our way, no doubt wanting to get a measure of the new owners; some low chuckles drift toward us, and my cheeks burn as I realize they're likely laughing at me and how out of place I look in such a rugged environment. When Robert told me he was taking me for a trip to Miami for my birthday, I fancied a romantic weekend at one of the luxurious resorts that have cropped up along Florida's east coast. I thought the surprise he mentioned would be an elegant necklace or perhaps a pair of earrings. After all, forty feels like a momentous occasion that should be marked, albeit with something smaller than real estate.


"What do you think, Anna?" my husband asks, spreading his arms out expansively as though he could encompass the whole of the property in his reach, seemingly oblivious to my obvious discomfort. "Isn't it amazing? There's no other house for as far as the eye can see and then some."


I'm saved from a response by an insect swarming perilously close to my face.


It hovers in midair, likely calculating its plan of attack, before it finally retreats with an irate buzz as though recognizing me as an interloper and reluctantly ceding its territory.


I wish I could hie off with it.


There are those who hate city life, the houses close together, the streets teeming with people, the noise, and the bustle, but I've grown accustomed to it, find familiarity in the sounds that play in the background of my days.


The silence here is deafening.


"Anna?" Robert asks again.


I take a deep breath, lifting my skirt out of the swampy muck.


"I would like to see the rest of it," I announce, biting back a string of blistering curses.


"You should see the best part," Robert announces, pointing past the house to the view of Biscayne Bay. "You can't put a price on this location."


I could, and my price would have one zero attached to it whereas I fear Robert's has quite a few dangling behind an astonishing number.


I trudge past the house, and I walk toward the water's edge, careful to keep a healthy distance between me and the bay. I've always had an uneasy relationship with the ocean. It's lovely to look at, but never having learned to swim, I am terrified by the crashing waves.


The closer we get to the bay, the breeze grows, offering a respite from the heat.


The water is undeniably stunning, sparkling beneath the sunlight, nothing but horizon before us. For an instant, a breath, I can understand what drew Robert to the property. I imagine there's a great deal you would put up with for a vista such as this one.


I glance down at the rocky seawall, a nearly six-foot drop between the land and the water. The turquoise sea crashes against the coral, forming white foamy caps. It's an abrupt change from land to ocean; should we put up a railing or something for safety?


Robert laughs when I posit the question. "And ruin the view? Besides, to do it the length of the property would cost an absolute fortune. We'd be better off just heaving our money into Biscayne Bay."


It feels like we're already doing that.


"What about hurricanes?" I ask, turning back to face Robert lingering behind me.


"The architect working on the house has built it to withstand hurricanes."


Is such a thing possible? It seems hubristic to assume that anything man makes can meet Mother Nature's fury.


I turn and peer over the edge of the seawall. Fish flit back and forth beneath the water, their bright colors like vibrant jewels flashing in the sunlight.


You don't see that in New York, I suppose.


I lean forward-


A bloodcurdling shriek peals through the air.


Excerpted from The House on Biscayne Bay by Chanel Cleeton Copyright © 2024 by Chanel Cleeton. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved.




Chanel Cleeton is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Reese Witherspoon Book Club pick Next Year in Havana, When We Left Cuba, The Last Train to Key West, and The Most Beautiful Girl in Cuba.

Originally from Florida, Chanel grew up on stories of her family's exodus from Cuba following the events of the Cuban Revolution. Her passion for politics and history continued during her years spent studying in England where she earned a bachelor's degree in international relations from Richmond, The American International University in London and a master's degree in Global Politics from the London School of Economics & Political Science. Chanel also received her Juris Doctor from the University of South Carolina School of Law.


Chanel Cleeton



If We Were Stars by Eule Grey New Release Blitz! @ninestarpress

 

Title:  If We Were Stars

Author: Eule Grey

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/02/2024

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: NB/NB

Length: 26600

Genre: Fantasy, fantasy, YA, British, non-binary, pansexual, interracial, coming of age, coming out, friends to lovers, autism, ableism, neurodiversity, aliens, unlikely heroes

Add to Goodreads

The final countdown begins in three hours.

Blimey. The last thing Kurt wants is to wear a space helmet, and, no, they didn’t plan on saving the world either—Not before their eighteenth birthday anyway. Who’d have thought friending a lonely alien would lead to the Cape Canaveral launch pad.

Best friends since they were ten years old, Kurt O’Hara and Beast Harris tackle the typical teenage challenges together: pronouns, AWOL bodies, not to mention snogging. A long-distance relationship with an alien named Iuvenis is the least of their troubles.

Kurt loves programming, people-pleasing, and yellow dresses. Most of all, Kurt loves Beast.

Beast adores elephants, protest marches, and Kurt. Rules? —Nah. Humanity’s way down on Beast’s list of to-dos.

Beast and Kurt, Kurt and Beast. The end. Exactly how their love turns into a scene from Red Dwarf is anyone’s guess. Spaceships? NASA at the doorstep? No biggie. As long as they’re together, Kurt and Beast can survive anything.

Except, apparently, lift-off. Because nobody considered sensory issues, did they? Nope. NASA never made adjustments for neurodivergent astronauts. Unbelievable.

Will science be enough to blast Kurt and Beast—unlikely superheroes—into space to save the planet? Or will it take something much more extraordinary?

If We Were Stars
Eule Grey © 2024
All Rights Reserved

Ten footsteps to the left, ten footsteps to the right.

I’m ten years old, pacing the corridor outside the headteacher’s office, wearing one shoe, reeking of fear. It’s my birthday. My school shirt is torn. Voices bombard my head, but they’re not new.

How dare they?

I hate them.

Unfair!

And quieter echoes:

I hate me.

Stupid Kurt.

It’s weird how I can never hear my own voice. If it’s present, I don’t recognise it. Mum calls the voices my temper as if I have any control over them. Try to calm down, Kurt. Sometimes I can, and sometimes I can’t. She doesn’t understand why I get into so much trouble, and nor do I. I’ve tried to explain the best way I can. Htyr hur eer aaaaa. Kkk. Bl. It makes sense to me, but Mum gets cross. Speak properly!

Ten footsteps left.

Ten to the right.

One wrong move will cause my gasket to blow, just like Dad’s car.

Miss Smith doesn’t believe I’m sorry, not anymore. I hadn’t meant to rip the posters off the wall or call the dinner lady a fucker. If only Michael would stop chanting my name over and over, Kurt O’Hara, Kurt O’Hara, Kurt O’Hara, until the scared thing inside me blows a gasket. Bang!

Ten footsteps left.

Ten to the right.

Hearing my name chanted doesn’t bother me; the spite lurking behind Michael’s voice does. Those mean kids probably know all the answers. Otherwise, why would they wind me up? Last year hair-pulling, and now this.

I’m sorry about the posters, the dinner lady, and most of all about the badness. Maybe I should add an apology to my name. Kurt Sorry O’Hara. It would save a lot of time and energy.

Stupid Kurt.

Mum says the others don’t hate me. She’s wrong. I’m not sure why they hate me though. Why? What have I done? Worrying about what makes me unlikeable stops me from sleeping, even at weekends. I can’t enjoy my books and numbers like I used to. Why, why until I can’t escape, and then I blow a gasket again. Worse, the mean kids know about the scared thing inside me.

Ten left.

Ten right.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Today has been the ultimate shitstorm, worse than last year when Miss Smith and Mr Rogers rugby-tackled me. I was confused then, and I still am. How could being squashed achieve anything good? It made the scared thing inside desperate because it was threatened. Ten to the left and ten to the right didn’t calm me down. Now, I can’t be inside little rooms or lifts, and stairwells aren’t so good either.

Miss Smith is mean. Last week, she made me sit facing the wall like I was nothing. She pressed her pen too hard because the sound against the paper was as scratchy and loud as Dad when he crashes the kitchen pots and pans. I almost asked Miss Smith if she’d like me to show her how to hold a pen correctly. It hurts your hand, but Mr Wilson says it’s necessary if I want to write like the other kids.

After a while, Miss Smith left me alone, facing the wall. “Think about what you’ve done!”

I tried to think but grew bored and scared, so I read through a file with my name on the front. I didn’t mean to, honest. She left it on the desk, and I couldn’t help it. Unfortunately, Kurt O’Hara displays signs of autism, with little empathy for his peers. Now, the file’s stuck inside my head. I don’t know what to do about it. What can I do?
#bookaddiction #bookshelf #mustread #instabook #fortheloveofbooks #bookrecs #newbook #readersofinsta #tbrpile #whattoread #newbook #weekendreads #romance #SciFi
Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read


Eule Grey has settled, for now, in the north UK. She’s worked in education, justice, youth work, and even tried her hand at butter-spreading in a sandwich factory. 
Sadly, she wasn’t much good at any of them! She writes novels, novellas, poetry, and a messy combination of all three. Nothing about Eule is tidy but she rocks a boogie on a Saturday night!
 For now, Eule is she/her or they/them. Eule has not yet arrived at a pronoun that feels right.

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