Friday, July 12, 2024

Let Milo Open the Door Book Blitz #rabtbooktours


New Adult Fiction / General Fiction

 

 

It’s 1989, and the doors Milo thought would open after college are all closed. Dumped by his girlfriend and deserted by his father, he washes up on the shores of Nantucket, where his transformation begins.

Milo outsmarts a preachy painter to earn the contract at the Our Island Home, a rest home where those at death’s door teach him how to knock on others. He also earns the affection of Julia, the home’s laundress, who has her own challenges, including a distant husband, a fortieth birthday, and an illness she can’t fight alone.

Through a series of misadventures, Milo matures with the summer, averting rival painters, proud nudists, serious crunchers, and death-by-crucifix. At summer’s end, he is faced with a decision that will complete his transformation and point the way to new beginnings.


About the Author

Tom Endyke is a Novelist and Music Journalist for Guitar & Pen Magazine. Tom infuses rock music's power and promise into his stories. His protagonists are outcasts, marginalized by society, who work their way through dark, edgy, and absurd scenarios.

​​Tom earned a degree in creative writing from MCLA. He lives with his wife and two kids in West Newbury, Massachusetts.

 

Contact Links

Website

Twitter

Instagram

BookBuzz

 

Purchase Link

Amazon


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Thursday, July 11, 2024

Shameless Self-Promotion + Inspiration: Who The Hell Said You Could Write?

 

Image by Chen from Pixabay

I also publishing the cleaned-up version of this essay on the Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp blog. 

http://crazycreativescheerleadingcamp.blogspot.com

I'm publishing both the first draft and the cleaned-up version here to illustrate my editing prowess. 

Challenge Prompt: Who was the first person you told about your decision to pursue paid writing, and what was their reaction?

The First Draft

I can’t recall anyone ever telling me I should pursue a paid writing career. If anything, my family pushed me to avoid pursuing any kind of creative occupation, despite my father being a professor of literature and social sciences. I ended up following my parents’ chosen path for me and went into health care, a choice which ended up destroying my own health. I later learned that my father hoped I would become a professor of middle English since I displayed a love for it at a young age. I was a precocious learner when it came to language. I could read the Dr. Seuss books by the time I was four years old, and by the time I was six, I was reading Edgar Allan Poe.

Scarier still, I found myself relating to Edgar Allan Poe. I was never a particularly happy child. I never felt like I belonged in the world. I realized at a young age that the world was a scary place filled with awful possibilities. Perhaps childhood should be carefree and idyllic, but it’s naive to think it actually is.

These days I find myself wishing I could go back in time and tell my parents, “I know you’re doing what you think is best because of what you learned from your own families, but you need to stop and rethink things. You are really fucking up this child, who, in the future, will become the horrifying swamp witch you see before you. You are fracturing her fragile eggshell mind before she even has a chance to learn how to critique a concept and see if it holds up. You are contributing to the creation of a neurotic, traumatized soul who has no self-confidence or belief in herself.”

I can’t do that, though. I don’t have any sort of time machine or portal spell that will allow me to travel to the past and talk sense to my parents or push my bullies into a mud puddle if I’m feeling benevolent or a fire ant hill if I’m feeling less so. I grew up in New Mexico. I learned to hate fire ants early on. I’m surprised I haven’t written a horror story about fire ants yet. Or maybe I’m not. I really don’t care for stories about creepy crawlies.

Right now, I’m not entirely sure what my intention is with this blog. I keep trying to re-invent my blogging presence. There are certain things I’ve learned along the way, but I’d feel like a bullshit artist if I tried to present myself as any kind of know-it-all expert. I do know I’m done screaming into the void hoping someone will sympathize with my pain and validate my existence. I can only speak from my own experiences. I can’t tell anyone else what to do. If I manage to help someone else by exposing my own foibles or relating my misadventures, it’s a win.

The Edited Version

I can’t recall anyone telling me to pursue a paid writing career. My family discouraged me from entering any creative occupation, despite my father's background as a professor of literature and social sciences. I ultimately followed my parents' wishes and entered the healthcare field. Ironically, working in this field destroyed my health.

I later learned that my father hoped I would become a professor of Middle English because of my early interest in the subject. I was a precocious language learner. By the time I was four years old, I was reading Dr. Seuss' books. By six, I was reading Edgar Allan Poe.

Scarier still, I related to Edgar Allan Poe. I was not a particularly happy child. I never felt like I belonged. I realized at a young age that the world was a frightening place filled with awful possibilities. Perhaps childhood should be carefree and idyllic, but it’s na├»ve to believe it actually is.

These days I find myself wishing I could travel back in time and tell my parents, “I know you’re doing what you think is right because of what you learned from your own families, but you need to stop and rethink things. You are really fucking up this child, who, in the future, will become the horrifying swamp witch you see before you. You are fracturing her fragile eggshell mind before she even learns how to analyze a concept to see if it holds up. You are contributing to the creation of a neurotic, traumatized soul who has no self-confidence or belief in herself.”

I can’t do that, though. I don’t have any sort of time machine or portal spell that will allow me to journey to the past and talk sense to my parents or push my bullies into a mud puddle if I’m feeling benevolent or a fire ant hill if I’m feeling less so.

I grew up in New Mexico. I learned to hate fire ants early on. I’m surprised I haven’t written a horror story about fire ants yet. Or maybe I’m not. I really don’t care for stories about creepy crawlies.

I’m not sure what my intention is with this blog. I keep trying to reinvent my online presence. There are certain things I’ve learned along the way, but I’d feel like a bullshit artist if I tried to present myself as some kind of know-it-all expert.

I do know I’m done screaming into the void, hoping someone will sympathize with my pain and validate my existence. I can only speak from my own experiences. I can’t force others to care about me. If I help someone else by exposing my foibles or relating my misadventures, it’s a win.

Summary

I removed 50 filler words and restructured sentences and paragraphs to enhance clarity and readability. Both versions of the post convey the same message, but the second one does so more efficiently.

If you're interested in booking editing services, you can learn more here.

https://ornerybookemporium.blogspot.com/p/ornery-literary-services.html

Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors




To Find A Killer Cover Reveal #rabtbooktours

 


A Natural State Murder Mystery, Book 1

 

Murder Mystery

Date to be Published: 10-04-2024

 

 

When Atlanta Detective, Tammy Sharp's past collides with her present, it's a wild ride of bullets, broken hearts, and chilling mysteries.

In her hometown of Pocahontas, Arkansas, she faces not just her ex, Jace Eubanks, but also a dangerous killer on the prowl.

With murders old and new intertwining, Tammy faces a choice: team up with her ex or let justice slip away.

As the clock ticks down to a sinister ultimatum, will Tammy outsmart the sociopath or fall prey to a deadly game of cat and mouse?

 

 

About the Author

Leah Brewer writes all kinds of things.

Sometimes, she writes Christian Fiction (Seeds of Faith Series). Other times it’s Historical Fiction (Petunia 1949). Right now, it’s all about murder. The first novel in her Natural State Murder Mystery series, To Find a Killer, is set to release this October.

In 2019, after an Ovarian Cancer diagnosis, Leah decided to pursue her passion for writing. Being cancer-free, she now revels in her life as an author.

With an extensive 28-year career that encompasses diverse leadership roles in a Fortune 500 company, Leah brings an authentic perspective to her storytelling.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook: @writingleahbrewer

Twitter: @leahlbrewerr

Goodreads

Instagram: @writingleahbrewer


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Wednesday, July 10, 2024

Prendarian Chronicles Teaser #rabtbooktours


A Sci-Fi Futuristic Women’s Fiction

Date Published: July 12, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC


 

Two worlds hang in the balance. Two love affairs will change both societies. Forever.

For the Love of Rigah -- Rigah, the most powerful woman on the world of Prendara, has purchased a handsome Earther slave to serve as her consort. Jason vows to resist and refuses to accept his role as Rigah’s personal whore. But he can’t fight the passion she demands from him… or the need to demand much more than passion from her. More than she may be willing to give.

For the Heart of Daria -- A human who’s lived under alien domination for her entire life, Daria vows to rid Earth of the evil invaders no matter what the cost -- even if it means seducing a powerful alien sympathizer. But Gray isn’t the monster she wants him to be. Yet despite the passion he forces her to feel, nothing will ever convince her to trust him.



About the Author

Gemma Woods has no spouse, no children, and no pets. Her family is imaginary -- she writes them. Outside her imaginary world, she enjoys the typical author hobbies of reading, traveling, and fretting over her dying houseplants.

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today


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Tuesday, July 9, 2024

Point Blank Review #GayBookPromotions

AUDIOBOOK TOUR

Book Title: Point Blank: Badlands Book 6—an MM psychic detective romance adventure

Author: Morgan Brice

Publisher: Darkwind Press

Narrator: Kale Williams

Release Date: May 21, 2024

Genre: Paranormal M/M Romance, psychic detective adventure

Tropes: Planning a wedding, meddling family, ghost hunting, malicious magician

Themes: Letting go of the past, the power of love and friendship

Heat Rating: 4 flames       

Length:  6 hours and 55 minutes

 It can be read as a standalone although it is part of a series

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links

Audible US  |   Audible UK  

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

Sexy psychic Simon Kincaide and skeptical homicide detective Vic D’Amato are getting married--if the ghost of a murderous magician doesn’t get them first!

Blurb 

Simon and Vic’s wedding is just a few weeks away, and they’re hoping for a little peace and quiet to wrap up work before their honeymoon, but nothing ever goes that smoothly.

Strange circumstances around the death of a retired stage magician suggest supernatural involvement, bringing Simon in on the case. The dark secrets of a long-ago resort hotel lead to a trail of unsolved cold cases that have a chilling similarity. Old scandals, malicious magic, and vengeful spirits expose a web of lies, deceit, and death that is headed for a reckoning.

Can Simon and Vic solve the murders, stop the ghosts, keep Simon’s mother from crashing the party, dodge last-minute wedding disasters, and still make it to the altar on time? Or will the shadows of Myrtle Beach’s haunted past ruin everything?

Point Blank is a fast-paced thrill ride MM paranormal romance packed with supernatural suspense, sinister sleight-of-hand, mysterious monsters, psychic visions, hot men, hurt/comfort, loyal friends, wedding planning, found family, ghosts galore, dark magic, and an evolving, established romantic relationship with all the feels.


Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors

Ornery Owl's Review

Rating: 
Five out of Five Stars

Morgan Brice is the queen of hot m/m romance and supernatural thrills, and this book is no exception. When medium Simon sees a vision of a man throwing himself from the roof of a historic hotel, the trouble starts. Simon just wants his wedding to his fiance Vic to go smoothly, but the spirit world has other plans. As Simon learns more about Ocean Paradise, a one-time tourist hotspot that was demolished long ago, the danger increases. 

The author creates characters that audiences care about from the start. The story is packed with plenty of action, several spooky scares, and a compelling plot. Fans of no-holds-barred man-to-man action are sure to appreciate the explicit romantic scenes between Vic and Simon. Those who love a thrilling mystery will not be disappointed either. 

If you're a fan of the Friday the 13th television series or Supernatural, this story is for you. With immersive descriptions and perilous plot twists, you'll feel like you're right in the middle of the action. The narrator's voice is the perfect vehicle for pulling you into a dangerous world where the unexpected is commonplace. When the ride comes to an end, you'll wish there was more.

My only complaint is that I don't have time to listen to more of Morgan Brice's books this month, even though I really want to.

About the Author  

Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy MM paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic and urban fantasy, with less romance, more explosions.

All of the modern-day Morgan Brice and Gail Z. Martin series crossover, so characters from one series appear in cameos and on page in important secondary roles in books from other series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but the more you read the more the expanded universe of friendships and connections becomes clear. 

Morgan and Gail believe that paranormal elements make any story even better, and her worlds are full of ghosts, psychics, shifters, creatures, vampires, monster hunters, and magic. 

She's also a huge fan of the TV show Supernatural. (Chibi art by Kamidiox)

Author Links

Website  |  Audible Profile  |  Amazon profile

Facebook Group  |   Facebook Page

  Pinterest (for Morgan and Gail)  |  Twitter    

 BookBub  |  Instagram

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Read a copy of my Badlands short story Restless Nights here for free

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The Maker of Worlds Teaser Tuesday #rabtbooktours



Fantasy

Date Published: 05-22-2024

Publisher: Evolved Publishing


 

If you had the chance to remake the world, what kind of world would you choose?

When tragedy strikes Lucas Mack's young life, he desperately yearns to escape its sorrow, and takes an improbable leap through the mythical maelstrom. Rather than splashing down on the far side like his neighbors, he's transported to a magical realm where he has the power to redefine not only who he is, but the world in which he resides.

As he stumbles about trying to find his way, he meets Mia, an equally troubled fellow pilgrim. With the help of a mystical guide and an aging wizard, they navigate the enchanted land while learning to control their newfound powers. Yet this realm is more complex than they expected, with seasoned sorcerers who've been corrupted by the sinister side of magic.

Limited by natural law and seduced by magic's power, they are tested as never before. Will the gift of magic bring renewed hope or drive them to the edge of the void? 


Excerpt

Chapter 1 - The Departure

All stories begin with a question, and this is mine: if you had the chance to remake the world, what kind of world would you choose? Let me start from the beginning. 

 The day before my leap, spring had peeked above the horizon. A bolder sun had inspired buds to sprout on the branches, so tiny they stood out only when moistened by the morning dew. A smattering of flowers had bloomed as well, daffodils and the tips of tulips that showed more as promise. Forsythias bulged yellow, lilacs blossomed and spread their fragrance, and the air tasted fresher too, as if purified by the increased sunlight. A time for hope. 

But not for me. The arrival of spring did nothing to remove the cloud that had shadowed my days and darkened my dreams these past six months. 

Addy had always chided me for living only part time in the real world, the rest of my time filled with flights of fantasy. 

I disagreed. My approach had always been a conscious choice, a matter of perspective. After all, what was so wonderful about reality? 

Her answer: only in the real world would I find her. 

I discovered too late how harsh my life would be without her. 

I’d slept poorly that night, my sleep disturbed by dreams, but when I awoke well before dawn, my resolve remained. Though I’d sleepwalked through my coming of age five years earlier, my circumstance had now changed, replaced by a lingering sadness, a malaise that would not heal. I’d become inclined to imagine another life elsewhere, desperate to try out an alternate path. On this day, I intended to test the maelstrom. 

The maelstrom appeared as a swirling circle of water for only three days each year, starting at the equinox—an unusual anomaly that behaved in a manner different from a proper whirlpool. This vortex hovered a foot above the lake’s surface and, more bizarrely, stood vertical. 

Townsfolk debated its purpose. The more rational claimed a perturbation of light, like a prism, caused by sprays of seasonal runoff and the angle of the sun. Others believed it to be magic, though none existed in our world. 

Of course, what we called magic might be nothing more than a label for things beyond the boundaries of reason. Natural phenomenon might still be magic. The sun’s rays lifted our spirits, and the advent of spring lightened our hearts. 

Each year, as the equinox approached, young boys who’d reached their eighteenth year would boast about their intent to challenge the maelstrom. In practice, few did. By eighteen, most had narrowed their path through life, following the example of their elders, or rebelled and chosen a contrarian course. With age, the lust for adventure diminished to bluster, tall tales told to impress their younger peers. 

Those who took the leap landed with a splash on the far side to the derision of their mates, but rumors alleged one had vanished years ago as villagers gaped, never to return. Philosophers speculated the swirling water might be a gateway to the gods, but only for those with sufficient faith. 

At eighteen, I would never have abandoned Addy, but once she was gone, my desire for change stirred. While I lacked the required faith, this was caused by the cruelty of the world, and did not reflect my belief in magic. My desperation grew until, in the spring of my twenty-third year, I determined to go. 

I’d leave before sunup, guaranteeing solitude on the shore. Should I stumble through the maelstrom to no effect, no one would witness my folly. Still in a daze, I stowed provisions in my backpack: a day’s worth of salted mutton, a loaf of hard bread, two dried apples, a full waterskin, a knife, a flint, and a rain slicker to ward off the morning chill. 

At the doorway of my Queen’s Hill cottage, I hesitated. This morning’s excursion would likely be a fool’s errand, but what if it turned out to be something more, a journey to who-knows-where? As I gazed down to the lake, a sense of foreboding crept over me. No matter. Foolhardy or not, I was committed.

 I slipped across the threshold and navigated the switchbacks in the dark. 

 The maelstrom hovered over the shallows a dozen paces offshore, in the dim light showing as nothing more than a disturbance in the air. I yanked off my boots, knotted the laces and slung them around my neck. As I rolled my trousers above the knee, I cast a lingering glance up the hill to catch a last glimpse of my cottage. 

I waited until the eastern horizon reddened and waded into the lake. 

An arm’s length from the gateway, I reached out, keeping as far away as possible while my fingertips brushed its surface. It felt like... nothing, likely no more than an illusion. In half an hour, I’d be back in my bed, no closer to comprehending the universe. Yet I’d yearned for a portal to another world, one that might allow me to deviate from accepted norms. I longed to float off to a fresher fate. 

Once, I too would have followed the safe path, with no risk of surprise, but then life did surprise me with a cosmic slap across the face that left me shattered—the taking of Addy. At twenty-two, misfortune had cleared the slate, leaving me alone and adrift. 

I drew in a breath and plunged through. 

In the light of pre-dawn, and in my half-awake state, no difference struck me at first, other than the chill waters deeper than expected, soaking the rolls of my trousers. Out of the mist on either side, giant evergreens loomed graceful as usual, rising until their tops blurred. The view so distracted me that several heartbeats passed before I realized the change. 

Perhaps I was still sleeping in my bed, for where the channel to the west lake should have been, a broad flood plain spread. The water had washed over the banks and crept inland for a hundred paces, leaving the trees the only witness to what once had been dry land. 

Beyond the trees, nothing. 

Nowhere a dock or a mooring, not so much as a hint of early morning smoke rising from a chimney. Nowhere the cottages of Queen’s Hill. Nowhere houses at all. As I gaped, the edges of branches shimmered as if undecided whether to remain intangible or become real. In a panic, I realized the folly of this quest. Better to return to a safer, albeit gloomier life, to go back through the portal at once. 

Behind me, the maelstrom still swirled, a fleeting comfort as it had started to recede. While I stared at the last link to my old world, the orb diminished, shrunk to a size I could cover with my hand, and then to that of the tip of my thumb. Before I sloshed more than two steps closer, it winked out. 

Now, to the north and the south, nothing showed but water. I stumbled to shore, my movements causing the slightest wake in the surface, which lay so still I could make out my astonished features in the reflection. 

I’d spent much of my young life with Addy, like a mate sailing across a forever lake. She’d been with me through calm and storm. I’d yearned to find renewed hope on this side of the gateway and return home to a new life, yet now the gateway, like Addy, had vanished.  

 

About the Author

The urge to write first struck at age sixteen when working on a newsletter at a youth encampment in the woods of northern Maine. It may have been the wild night when lightning flashed at sunset followed by the northern lights rippling after dark. Or maybe it was the newsletter's editor, a girl with eyes the color of the ocean. But he was inspired to write about the blurry line between reality and the fantastic.

Using two fingers and lots of white-out, he religiously typed five pages a day throughout college and well into his twenties. Then life intervened. He paused to raise two sons and pursue a career, in the process -- and without prior plan -- becoming a well-known entrepreneur in the software industry, founding several successful companies. When he found time again to daydream, the urge to write returned.

David now lives in the Great Northwest. He no longer limits himself to five pages a day and is thankful every keystroke for the invention of the word processor.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook: David Litwack - Author

Twitter: @DavidLitwack

Goodreads

Instagram

 

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Shaloha Gems Release Blitz #rabtbooktours



Humorous Fiction/Romantic Comedy/Historical Fiction/Jewish Fiction

Date Published: July 9th, 2024

Publisher: Acorn Publishing


 

Abe Goldstein’s life is speeding downhill faster than a Coney Island roller coaster. 

His Manhattan diamond company is on life support. Crime is so bad that muggers are mugging other muggers. And his overbearing mother has gone behind his back and posted his profile on a Jewish dating site. Now, Abe’s phone is blowing up with messages from women who want to marry him. 

At the advice of his accountant, Abe flees to Honolulu and cuts a deal with an Okinawan family to buy their diamond ring business. The owner’s beautiful daughter Kiyoko stays on as a consultant, and Abe finds himself falling hard for her.

But there’s trouble in paradise. Abe’s meddlesome mother hires an unscrupulous matchmaker to break the pair up and find a nice Jewish girl for him instead. To make matters worse, a rival diamond firm connected to Japanese organized crime is bent on destroying Abe’s fledgling business, Shaloha Gems.

As Abe navigates the twists and turns of his unconventional island life, everything he values is in jeopardy. He may be willing to damage his relationship with his mother to preserve his romantic relationship. But will he crumble under the pressure if he loses his reputation and his budding diamond empire too? Or will a discovery that leads back to the darkest days of World War II open an unexpected door to a brighter future?

 

 

About the Author

Born and raised in New Jersey, Terry Chodosh earned his MS in criminology from Florida State University. Terry began his twenty-eight-year career with the United States Secret Service (USSS) in NYC and fulfilled assignments in the San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Honolulu field offices as well as in the Gerald Ford protective detail.

While assigned to the Honolulu office, Terry traveled extensively in Asia, conducting complex financial crime investigations and providing executive protection for US government officials, including the president and vice president of the United States. After retirement, Terry wanted to tap into his humorous and creative side, which was often restrained throughout his career, so he began writing his novel Shaloha Gems.

Terry lives with his wife and son in Honolulu, Hawaii. He enjoys distance swimming in the ocean and outrigger canoe paddling, and he strives to stay one step ahead of skin cancer and tiger sharks.


Contact Link

Website


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