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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

02 October 2024

The Mechanics of Memory by Audrey Lee Blog Tour! @Bookgal @therealbookgal @audreyleeauthor





Never Forget.


Memory is Copeland-Stark’s business. Yet after months of reconsolidation treatments at their sleek new flagship facility, Hope Nakano still has no idea what happened to her lost year, or the life she was just beginning to build with her one great love. Each procedure surfaces fragmented clues which erode Hope’s trust in her own memories, especially the ones of Luke. As inconsistencies mount, her search for answers reveals a much larger secret Copeland-Stark is determined to protect.


But everyone has secrets, including Hope.


1 | Don’t look back

HOPE

The Wilder Sanctuary

Rancho Mirage, California


“And how are the nightmares?”

“Fine.” Hope shifted, pushing stringy hair from her face with her palms. “I haven’t had any this week.”

“None at all?” 

Hope shook her head slowly, face impassive. 

“That’s important progress.” Dr. Stark looked impressed with his own abilities, as if he’d performed a special magic trick to protect Hope from herself. Perhaps in a way he had. 

Dr. Stark jotted notes on his tablet with a pointy gray stylus. “Are you sleeping any better?”  

“A little. An hour or two at a time.” It was a lie. She hadn’t slept at all. 

Hope focused on the San Jacinto Mountains outside the picture window, framed by the endless blue of the summer sky. Desert sky. It was hard to think about darkness right now, with so much light around her. “Does that mean I’m getting better?”

“As we’ve discussed, it’s important you get concentrated stretches of sleep.” Dr. Stark flipped his tablet to expose the keyboard, typing with a renewed purpose. “It will help you make progress in the Labyrinth.”

The word Labyrinth filled Hope with a viscous dread. She knew she’d visited it dozens of times since arriving at Wilder, though never remembered what had happened there. “I told you I’m never going back.”

“You did,” Dr. Stark said. “But as I said, it’s important to try and push through. It helps you confront what you’re avoiding.”

“I’m not avoiding anything,” Hope said. Another lie.  

“I’m increasing your temazepam to thirty milligrams,” Dr. Stark said. “And tomorrow evening I’d like you to spend some time in ViCTR using the Erleben device. Say, forty-five minutes?” 

Hope glanced at the ceiling. She wanted a cigarette in the worst way. 

“Great,” he said. “Check in with the pharmacy after our session.”

Stark was doing the casual Friday thing that day, though Hope remained uncertain if it was, in fact, Friday. He resembled a prep school student, with his shiny polo shirt and immaculately pressed chinos. The polo looked brand new, still creased in the sleeves and too white, almost blinding. Hope couldn’t picture Dr. Stark performing the tasks of mere mortals: changing the toilet paper, taking out the garbage, shopping for polo shirts. Maybe his wife did all that. Maybe she bought five polo shirts in different colors from Neiman Marcus, hanging them in an orderly row, next to his dry-cleaned Italian suits in clear plastic bags. 

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Dr. Stark asked, still typing, fingers thin and bare. 

“Are you married?” 

“Divorced,” he said. “More thoughts about last year, perhaps?”

“Nothing else,” Hope said. She glanced outside again. “Have there been any messages for me?”

“I’m sorry.” Stark shook his head. “But I promise to let you know if there ever are.” 

An artificial chime reverberated through the room’s speakers, and Dr. Stark smiled. “We’ll pick up again next week.”

Hope wiped her hands on her pants and rose, heading for the shiny glass door. 

“Hope,” Dr. Stark said.

She paused, hand on the doorknob.

“Be well.”

“Be well, Dr. Stark.” 


Audrey Lee started writing fiction at the young age of eleven, when she and her best friend co-authored a masterpiece about gallivanting around London with the members of Depeche Mode, Wham!, and Duran Duran.


Unfortunately, these spiral notebooks have yet to find a publisher evolved enough to understand the genius buried within. As a result, The Mechanics of Memory is her first work of published fiction.


Before she started writing fiction, Audrey received her master’s degree in education from UC Berkeley (Go Bears!) and spent over two decades in public education. When she isn’t writing books she consults with school districts about creating environments for students that are more equitable, culturally responsive, and socially just.


Audrey lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, son, and Maltipoo, Luna. When not working, Audrey is compulsively organizing something, bullet journaling, cheering for her son at a dance competition, max betting on a slot machine, or watching the Golden State Warriors with a dirty martini in hand.


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https://audreyleeauthor.com


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Goodreads


Praise:


"Audrey Lee's mesmerizing THE MECHANICS OF MEMORY is as complex as it is thrilling. All we ever really have are our memories, but what if those memories aren't real? Lee takes this premise to frightening extremes...Steeped in paranoia and delightfully playful with the concept of reality, THE MECHANICS OF MEMORY is wildly entertaining and, ironically, quite unforgettable."

- Carter Wilson, USA Today bestselling author of The Father She Went to Find


"One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest meets Inception in Lee's stunning debut. A must read."

- James L'Etoile, award winning author of Dead Drop and Face of Greed.


"The Mechanics of Memory is propulsive and muscular. I hung on every word. A technological thriller that keeps us perched on the edge of our seats as well as our disbelief, Lee pulls it together masterfully. In the end I cried in relief...and instantly wanted more. Can't wait to see what's coming from her next!"

- Linda L. Richards, award-winning author of Dead West and Endings


"The Mechanics of Memory is a swift, twisty speculative novel that grabs you from page one. With engaging characters and intriguing science, the reader is absorbed throughout. For fans of Blake Crouch and other high-end speculative twist rides."

-Shannon Kirk, International-Bestselling author of Method 15/33 and the gold medal-winning The Extraordinary Journey of Vivienne Marshall


"Debut author Audrey Lee has created an intoxicating mix of psychological thriller and domestic drama a la the streaming series Severance. As you take your first steps in The Mechanics of Memory, you will find yourself falling under Lee's spell, unable to leave her world until the very end."

—Naomi Hirahara, USA Today bestselling author of Mary Higgins Clark Award-winning Clark and Division









Hijinks, Hitchhikers & Mayhem A Coletti Warlords Novel by Gail Koger Book Tour! #HijinksHitchhikersAndMayhem @ColettiWarlordBooks @gkoger58 #books @SilverDaggerBookTours #Writersofinstagram

 Can a kickass psychic, an invisible hitchhiker, a deadly

 warlord and a cowardly witch stop the brain-eating

 aliens from destroying the galaxy? Only time will tell.

  

Hijinks, Hitchhikers & Mayhem

A Coletti Warlords Novel

by Gail Koger

Genre: SciFi Romance, Comedy Adventure

  

After a yearlong separation from her soul mate, all Casey wanted was to have hot, mind-blowing sex with Hothar. That little fantasy went up in smoke when she’s stuck babysitting Aphrodite, a cowardly witch, who is the galaxy’s only hope of survival. To add to the fun, Casey has picked up an invisible hitchhiker who she named Hitch. Is he friend or foe?

Can a kickass psychic, an invisible hitchhiker, a deadly warlord and a cowardly witch stop the brain-eating aliens from destroying the galaxy? Only time will tell.

Author’s note: This book was originally published in Pets in Space #8. It has been retitled, revised, and expanded.

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*Smashwords * Bookbub * Goodreads

My gaze fixed on a tall, brawny warrior dressed in a spiffy black uniform striding across the landing pad. God, why did he seem so familiar? I eyed his short hair and beard. He didn’t look Coletti. Maybe he was one of Zarek’s mercenaries. I mentally scanned him, and my jaw dropped. “Oh, my God. Hothar?”

 

The warrior stopped and turned to face me. 

 

My affectionate companion had turned into a cold-eyed stranger. My stomach tied in knots; I walked over to him. “What happened to your warrior’s braids?

 

“I cut them off.”

 

Color me confused. Braids were an important part of a Coletti warrior’s identity. “Why?”

 

“I went undercover as an Avicii mercenary.”

 

Which explained his brown eyes. “And the beard?”

“It hides my Coletti features.” Hothar’s gaze roamed over me. “You have not been eating properly.”

 

“Gee, I wonder why?”

 

“I must go. Zarek awaits me.”

 

Talk about a slap in the face. Was he that eager to get away from me? “Who do you think told me where you were? Should I call you War Commander now or will Hot Lips still do?”

 

The muscles in Hothar’s jaw bunched. “I do not answer to Hot Lips.”

 

“Don’t I get a hug, Hot Lips?”

 

Hothar’s hands fisted. “I gave my word to Zarek that I would not touch you.”

 

“Well, I didn’t.” I wrapped my arms around him. “I’ve missed you so much.”

 

“And I you.”

 

Pain squeezed my heart at his cool, impersonal tone. He didn’t sound like he had missed me at all. His body remained stiff and unyielding. My God, he hadn’t even smiled at me. I took a step back and smacked his chest. “You’ve changed your mind about us. That’s why you never wrote or called or linked with me.”

 

“I could not contact you. I was on an undercover assignment for the Overlord.”

 

The image of a nude female draped over Hothar’s lap flashed across my mind. Oh, hell no. The bastard was fondling her breasts. A murderous fury swept over me. “And how many pleasure houses did that undercover assignment include?”

 

Hothar’s eyes narrowed. “I did what was necessary to maintain my cover.”

 

“And you enjoyed every minute of it too, didn’t you?” I shoved the memory of the nude female into his head. “Why don’t you just admit, you forgot all about me. But that’s okay, you’ll never have to see me again. It’s a win-win situation for both of us.”  I stomped off.

 

The war commander teleported in front of me. “Stop!”

 

“Why? You made your choice and it’s obvious you don’t want me.”

 

Hothar’s hands closed around my arms and up I went. He held me at eye level. “How could you even think I would have sex with another female?”

 

“What am I supposed to believe?  You were touching her.” I studied his stern face, hoping to find some sign of affection or love. “I thought you were the other half of my soul. Guess I was wrong.”

 

  A burning hunger exploded in Hothar’s eyes. “Every hour of every day without you was pure agony.” He gently shook me. “You are mine and I will never let you go.”

 

“Why should I believe you?”

 

Hothar’s mouth closed over mine. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a body-burning, soul-searing lip lock.

Howdy. My name is Gail Koger and once upon a time, I

 was a 9-1-1 dispatcher. Too many years of wild

 requests, screwy questions, bizarre behavior, and

 outrageous demands have left me with a permanent

 twitch and an uncontrollable craving for chocolate.

I took up writing science fiction romances to keep from

 killing people. So far, it has worked.

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01 October 2024

The Courtesan's Pirate by Nina Wachsman September 9 - October 4, 2024 Virtual Book Tour!

The Courtesan's Pirate by Nina Wachsman Banner

The Courtesan's Pirate by Nina Wachsman

Venice Beauties Mysteries

1614. At long last, Belladonna has been reunited with Isaak, a pirate captain, on the island of Jamaica. Amidst the chaos of hurricanes and Spanish marauders, they are separated.

 When she discovers her beloved Isaak is captured and bound for execution in Spain, Belladonna goes back to Venice, planning to leverage her allies to save him, only to learn her influence has diminished. 

Now facing cunning adversaries and shifting alliances, she must navigate perilous intrigues in a high-stakes bid to rescue Isaak from a tragic fate. Belladonna risks everything, including her own safety, in a daring gambit to save the man she loves.

Praise for The Courtesan's Pirate:

"Join Belladonna and Isaak on a Caribbean quest filled with rich history, dangerous risks, and suspenseful intrigue. Will the couple be reunited? Can Belladonna save her love and her soul? If you like an atmospheric adventure story, you’ll love The Courtesan’s Pirate. Witty and engaging!"
~ Kelly Oliver, author of The Fiona Figg & Kitty Lane Mysteries

"From the pirate-infested waters of the Caribbean to the silken-clad intrigues of Venice, Nina Wachsman vividly recreates life, and particularly the dangers faced by Jews, in the turbulent 17th century. Exciting and richly textured, with strong, admirable female characters."
~ Alyssa Maxwell, author of The Gilded Newport Mysteries

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Suspense
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: September 1, 2024
Number of Pages: 350
Series: Venice Beauties Mysteries, Book 3
Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

PART 1 – THE NEW WORLD

CHAPTER 1 – BELLADONNA

THE ISLAND OF JAMAICA, The fifth of NOVEMBER, 1614

“Just a short trip to Curacao,” Isaak said, as he stood beside her on the dock, “I will return shortly, I promise.”

Belladonna wondered how many women had heard the very same words from their fathers, sons, and lovers, and how many had returned to their families, as promised.

“Why must you go?” Belladonna had waited so long and given up so much to be with Isaak. She secretly believed their union was at risk every time they were away from each other.

“Despite our efforts to attract the English to Jamaica, the Spanish have moved faster, and the heirs of Christopher Columbus have been bought off. We need to find somewhere else to settle,” Isaak said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

She raised her eyes skyward, to keep the tears from rising. “Then my brother died for naught.”

“We cannot change the past, but we must try to find the way to our future, for you and I and for your brother Roderigo’s family. Curacao has been abandoned by the Spanish and will soon become part of the dominion of the Dutch West India Company.”

Belladonna wanted to believe his promise, but after a life tossed about at the whim of Fate, it seemed like random interventions could foil any plan they made for the future.

Isaak caressed her cheek. “It is also a port of call of the Jewish Brethren. Under the Dutch we have little to fear. The Dutch are the only nation who does not force its Jews to live separately in a Ghetto. We will soon formalize our union. There lies our potential future.”

Belladonna sighed. “In Curacao do you believe no one will care about our origins ̶ if we are Jew or Christian?”

Like her sister-in-law Mariella, she had begun life as the daughter of a New Christian landowner who had sought freedom in the New World. In a terrible twist of Fate, on a visit to Recife, Brazil, the Inquisition had murdered her parents because of their Jewish heritage, turning her into a refugee. Luck had found her, and she had been rescued by Isaak from Barbary pirates. Thanks to Isaak she had been taken to Venice, but he had soon set sail once more, leaving her to save others from captivity.

When Isaak returned to Venice to reunite her with her brother Roderigo, feelings between the courtesan and the corsair were rekindled, and Belladonna made her decision to sail with Isaak. Giving up her palazzo, her wealth and servants had gone against her usual cynicism but for once, she had chosen love over security.

“It is worth the chance,” said Isaak, and then he pulled her close, “You must stop nourishing your guilt over the death of Roderigo. You have come here to take care of his family as you promised. And we have accomplished the impossible: we are together at last.”

Belladonna acknowledged her satisfaction with her decision. “Over the past year in Jamaica and with you, I have discovered the comfort of family, which had been missing from my life for so long. Why dare Fate to disrupt our happiness once more?”

Isaak looked beyond her towards the sea. “There is a storm coming, which will provide us with a distraction to sail by Spanish war ships gathering along the coast.” He lifted her chin and brushed her lips with a last kiss. “Both the storm and the Spanish ships represent a bad omen. But do not fear, I am a seasoned captain and have sailed through worse brews than this. But my senses tell me our idyll in Jamaica is bound to come to an end. I must go to Curacao.”

Belladonna did not want to let him go, but he kissed her, and gently disengaged from her. She ran to the edge of the wooden dock, and leaned as far forward as she dared. He waved one last time as he boarded his ship. She reasoned that the fierce winds should be good for sailing and would speed Isaak’s journey. Squinting, she tried to see his figure on the bridge, imagining him making his farewell to Jamaica and to her.

Isaak’s fears about Jamaica were not unfounded. The Spanish were becoming bolder in establishing their dominion over the island, even though it officially remained under the sovereignty of the heirs to Christopher Columbus. The end of Jamaica’s independence was near, and once the Spanish took over, both she and Isaak, as well as her newfound family would be in danger because of their Jewish blood.

“Senora, we must go. Big storm is coming, and we must prepare. The sky do not look good. Horses do not like it.” The coachman peered up at the amassing dark clouds, and then gave her a pleading look.

Reluctantly, Belladonna turned away from the sea towards the mountains. “Let us go.”

Adjusting his hat so it was firmly placed on his head, the driver flicked his whip and the horses responded by taking off at a gallop, as if they were as eager as the driver to find shelter. Belladonna craned her neck, still looking towards the dock as they drove away.

The coachman kept the horses going at a fast gallop, so she had to hold tight to both sides of the carriage to avoid toppling forward. The wind kicked up the dust of the roadway, flinging it through the bushes and trees, shaking loose leaves and petals, swirling through the air and into their faces.

“Hiyah!” the coachman shouted again at the horses, flicking his whip so they galloped even faster. Used to traveling by boat in Venice, she knew little of carriages and put her faith in the coachman to get them home safely.

Lurching from side to side in the speeding carriage, she closed her eyes to shut out the frightening views of a careening landscape. She dared open them only when the carriage slowed, and the wails of the wind were softer. They had entered the sheltering thickness of the mangrove forest adjoining her brother’s land. The trees here were very thick and though their upper boughs still rustled in the wind, she felt more protected. The respite from the wind did not last long, and soon the carriage emerged from the mangrove trees into a slashing rain. The downpour swamped the open carriage, soaking her completely and making it even more difficult to move forward. Though it seemed like an eternity in the wind and rain, the coach soon drew to a sharp halt. Safe.

Her brother’s plantation house stood two stories tall, surrounded by trees, which the wind lashed against the closed shutters. Assailed by wind and rain, it did not seem to be the safe haven it had seemed several months ago when she first arrived on the island. After over a year at sea, when she first stepped onto the grand veranda, it had conjured long-ago memories of home. Though not as grand as the palazzo she possessed in Venice, it did have many rooms, furnished comfortably with bright island fabrics on sofas and chairs. There were flowers in abundance, and island paintings and pottery similar to her childhood home on the island.

That home and her family had been torn from her when the Inquisition came to Recife, Brazil where they had been visiting relatives. Her parents were New Christians, having been born Jews but then baptized, like many others who had come to the New World, and easy targets for accusations of heresy and the fires of an auto de fé. Both she and Roderigo had escaped capture, but each did not know the other survived until very recently, when they had found each other in Venice. Their reunion was short-lived; and Roderigo’s dying request was for Belladonna to find his family in Jamaica and make sure they were cared for.

After securing the door behind her, Belladonna stood in the entry hall, water dripping from her gown and pooling at her feet.

“Mariella!” she shouted, hoping her sister-in-law was in the house, and could hear her above the howling wind.

Mariella and Moises, her son, bounded down the stairway from the upper floor, each carrying armfuls of clothing and possessions.

“We do not have much time,” Mariella shouted back to her above the rattling of the shutters and the wind, “We must go. Take what you need.”

“We cannot stay here?”

Moises answered for his mother. “When the wind is this strong, the house is not safe. We must go to the Cave.”

Cave? Belladonna shivered in her wet clothes at the thought of it. Mentally, she checked off what she needed to take, including the small leather sack of jewels which had been with her since Venice. Hurrying up the stairs with her water-heavy skirts, she raced to her room. She quickly shed her wet clothing for dry ones, then pulled up a few select floorboards and retrieved the leather sack. She stuffed it into a bundle of clothing she had grabbed, and was heading for the stairs just as the shutters of her room banged wide open. Rain and wind invaded as Belladonna ran, skirting the flying debris of a large tree that had crashed through.

Her wet feet slid on the polished wood floors where she landed from her flight down the stairway, but neither Mariella nor Moises were in sight. She called out both their names, and let out a breath of relief when Moises emerged from behind the door to the servant’s area and beckoned to her.

She followed Moises below the stairs to the servants’ dining area and the kitchen. The servants’ quarters were protected by bushes and were on a lower level, so Belladonna assumed they could take refuge there. The few servants huddled together on plain wooden benches.

“Ready to go?” asked Mariella, Belladonna’s sister-in-law, who had taken full charge. “We have taken some food and supplies. The storm is growing more severe, and it is best we go now, or we will not be able to make it to the Cave.”

“What is this Cave?”

“The Cave of Christopher Columbus. It is on the highest point on the island, safe from flooding, and deep enough to avoid the damage of the wind.”

“That is not the same cave from the map that Roderigo—”

Mariella held up a hand and did not allow her to continue. “Yes, it is. But there is no time for talking or explaining. It is imperative we leave this house now, before another tree crashes down.”

A whimper from a maid was the only other comment as the servants were instantly on their feet, each clutching a bundle of belongings.

Mariella wrapped a shawl around her head and handed another to Belladonna to do the same. As soon as the outer door opened, the wind swept them into its maelstrom. Clustered together, they braced themselves as best as they could, and faced the storm.

***

Excerpt from The Courtesan's Pirate by Nina Wachsman. Copyright 2024 by Nina Wachsman. Reproduced with permission from Nina Wachsman. All rights reserved.

Nina Wachsman

Nina Wachsman is a graduate of the Parsons School of Design, where she studied under Maurice Sendak.

 She is currently lives and runs a digital agency in New York City. She is also a descendant of a chief rabbi of the Ghetto, a contemporary of her characters in the Venice Beauties Mysteries. 

The Gallery of Beauties, her debut novel set in 17th Century Venice, was an Agatha nominee for Best First Novel and a Silver Falchion finalist for Best Historical mystery.

The second book in the Venice Beauties Mysteries, The Courtesan’s Secret received a 5 star recommendation from the Historical Fiction Company and is a Silver Falchion Top Pick and a finalist for the Silver Falchion for Best Historical. 

Nina has published stories, many with an art theme, in mystery and horror magazines and anthologies. She is one of the four authors who write stories and novels about art and crime as Curators of Crime.

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You can also find Nina on the

  www.CuratorsOfCrime.com 

Facebook - @curatorsofcrime 

Facebook - @GalleryBeauties.

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