tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48119673332662116962024-03-28T00:00:32.313-06:00Readers RoostJust Book Reviews and RecommendationsOrnery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.comBlogger1420125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-72504460777452665812024-03-28T00:00:00.009-06:002024-03-28T00:00:00.242-06:00The Rainbow Diary Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/mitch-maiman-the-rainbow-diary-book-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/17efea9964a349bfb1d5d3375d15b302" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dedb853eaec14ee5a8d23ad7bb7fa3aa" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dedb853eaec14ee5a8d23ad7bb7fa3aa" width="302" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Embracing Life's Final Colors: A Heartfelt Journey through Loss,
Redemption, and the Unknown</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Drama</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published: </b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">February 20, 2024</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher:</b> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Palmetto Publishing</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/208553576-the-rainbow-diary"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In the tender pages of <i>The Rainbow Diary</i>, embark on an extraordinary
odyssey that transcends the boundaries of life and death. This poignant tale
weaves a tapestry of love, loss, and redemption, resonating deeply with
anyone who has felt the sharp ache of losing a loved one or grappled with
the haunting anxiety of mortality.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Meet Kenneth Talbot, a man on the precipice of his final journey. Diagnosed
with pancreatic cancer, he confronts the fragility of his existence. As the
sands of time slip away, Kenneth's reflections paint a vivid portrait of
human emotion. His story becomes a mirror, reflecting the joys and regrets,
the triumphs and heartaches that define us all. Amidst the pain, Kenneth
finds unexpected solace in the most unlikely places. His bond with his
teenage son, Brian, becomes a source of profound reconciliation, a testament
to the enduring power of familial love. The gentle presence of MaryAnn, his
devoted nurse, becomes a beacon of hope, guiding him toward
acceptance.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>The Rainbow Diary</i> is more than a novel; it is a sanctuary for the soul. It
delicately explores the complex nuances of life's final moments, offering a
glimpse into the afterlife that is both imaginative and comforting. Through
Kenneth's introspection, readers are invited to confront their own fears and
anxieties, finding solace in the shared human experience. This book is a
testament to the resilience of the human spirit and a celebration of the
enduring power of love that transcends the boundaries of time and
space.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Immerse yourself in this extraordinary narrative, and let The Rainbow Diary
be your guiding light through the labyrinth of life, death, and everything
in between.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="392" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ccZfEp1zEKA" width="472" youtube-src-id="ccZfEp1zEKA"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span>
</p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/f94895d061e947d1b8e653285ceeba0d" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/f94895d061e947d1b8e653285ceeba0d" width="240" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Dr. Mitchell Maiman became a physician at age twenty-four and is now
retired. As a specialist in Obstetrics and Gynecology and sub-specialist in
Gynecologic Oncology, he has had a distinguished academic, clinical, and
research career in medicine and served as both a Director of Gynecologic
Oncology and Chairman of Obstetrics and Gynecology at major New York
City-based university hospitals. He has been recognized for his numerous
educational contributions in the field and his devotion and commitment to
the teaching of residents and fellows.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Mitch lives with his wife, Dr. Judy Levy, in Long Island, New York, and is
an avid tennis player and practitioner of yoga. They first met during their
residency training. This is his first novel.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/mitchmaimanbooks">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/mitchmaiman/">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.linkedin.com/company/mitchmaimanbooks">LinkedIn</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/mitchmaimanbooks/">Pinterest</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/MitchMaiman">Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/43wDYKt">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-rainbow-diary-mitch-maiman/1144830591" style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Barnes and Noble</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/the-rainbow-diary_mitch-maiman/52228046/item/63324918/#idiq=63324918&edition=70894328">ThriftBooks</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.walmart.com/ip/The-Rainbow-Diary-Paperback-9798822933200/5394762002?wmlspartner=wlpa&selectedSellerId=0">Walmart</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-13213258882420311082024-03-27T00:00:00.022-06:002024-03-27T00:00:00.350-06:00The Heart Knows What the Mind Cannot See Book Blitz #rabtbooktours<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/toby-negus-the-heart-knows-what-the-mind-cannot-see"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/86d584eed71848feae9da1d6562b89e2" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/4864cd1b2dcf4c608c1c49cd69563aaa" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="487" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/4864cd1b2dcf4c608c1c49cd69563aaa" width="298" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Self Help, Spiritual Inspiration</b></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> 06-02-2021</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59790668-the-heart-knows-what-the-mind-cannot-see"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This is a thought-provoking and enlightening exploration of spirituality
and perception. The text functions as a guide to self-improvement, with a
mixture of autobiographical elements and snippets of universal wisdom. The
speaker provides accessible solutions to life's difficulties, and an outlook
of optimism applicable to any circumstance. The illustrations and graphics
are thoughtfully chosen, and the interactive textual elements give this work
an originality that sets it apart. The speaker's own experiences and
conclusions are at the heart of this fiction, and the first-person narrative
voice creates a sense of proximity between author and reader. The text
describes itself as 'a journey to the heart', and this truthful discovery of
the self is reflected in the speaker's revelation of his whole self through
the text. The narrative often presents a dichotomy between positive and
negative outlooks or voices.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">For example, the speaker includes sections in which his self-doubt speaks,
'you've got no proper education, you can't spell properly, you're dyslexic
and your grammar is crap. You're not really a writer'. This negative voice
directly opposes the sense of self-belief the speaker builds within the
narrative. He uses examples such as this to remind readers that the journey
to happiness is complex and that flaws or setbacks are natural. The negative
separation or fragmentation of the self is prevalent in the lines, 'I do not
love the grumpy me, the sad me, the hostile me, the parts of me that act as
if I do not care'. The act of writing represents a unification of the self
and an attempt to reframe the speaker's life into coherence. The frequent
use of direct address and rhetorical questions promotes an active reading
experience, in which the author opens up a dialogue with the reader. The
text includes prompts and activities for the reader to engage with and learn
from. Encouraging readers to take part in the text is emblematic of their
journey to self-fulfillment and love, in which they must take responsibility
for actively creating their own happiness.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The speaker depicts his process of enlightenment as a framework for others
to emulate, and the format of the text demonstrates the transfer of agency
to those who take part in the speaker's challenges at the end of each
chapter. This work ultimately teaches us that 'we are the cause of what is'
and thus sheds light on the crucial idea that every individual has the power
to create themselves and their world positively.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/c6300e859eb4475a89436b955797a50f" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/c6300e859eb4475a89436b955797a50f" width="183" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Toby Negus is an artist, both with paints and of the spirit. His work
reflects a deep commitment to meeting life on its terms and an equally deep
understanding of human nature.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Toby has studied and taught spiritual and personal development in the UK
and around the world for over two decades. He is qualified in advanced
counselling, as a life coach and as a Cognitive Behaviour therapist. He is
an Amazon best-selling author of a collaborative Conscious Creators book and
has illustrated and self published two books on the subject of
self-awareness and the spiritual journey. He has articles published in
national magazine and has given talks and run workshops in support of his
published work within the UK.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In the last few years, he has created many pieces of artwork that are a
reflection of his spiritual journey. These have appeared in magazines and
have been exhibited in the UK.
</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.tobynegus.com">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/OriginalArtWords/">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/tobynegus">Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59790668-the-heart-knows-what-the-mind-cannot-see">Goodreads</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://instagram.com/tobynegus/">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b> </b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/heart-knows-what-mind-cannot-ebook/dp/B096SR3WR2/">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-heart-knows-what-the-mind-cannot-see-toby-negus/1139679831?ean=9781919620404">Barnes and Noble</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/the-heart-knows-what-the-mind-cannot-see">Kobo</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
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Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-37807841563431622052024-03-27T00:00:00.012-06:002024-03-27T00:00:00.350-06:00Lone Star On A Cowboy Heart New Release Blitz #IndiGo<a href="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Love-Star-Blitz-Banner.png"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-106731" height="237" src="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Love-Star-Blitz-Banner.png" width="640" /></a>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Title</strong>: Lone Star on a Cowboy Heart</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Author</strong>: Marie S. Crosswell</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Publisher</strong>:<strong> </strong>NineStar Press</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Release Date</strong>: 03/26/2024</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Heat Level</strong>: 1 - No Sex</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Pairing</strong>: Male/Male</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Length</strong>: 49300</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Genre</strong>: Contemporary Western, contemporary, Lit/genre fiction, Arizona, M/M, asexual, aromantic, bisexual, law enforcement, cowboy, platonic, companionship, crime/robbery, gun violence, bartenders, blue collar, friends to partners</p>
<h2 style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/208980908-lone-star-on-a-cowboy-heart" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></h2><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="size-medium aligncenter wp-image-106649" data-attachment-id="106649" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-caption="" data-image-description="" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"0","credit":"","camera":"","caption":"","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"","orientation":"1"}" data-image-title="Lone-Star-on-a-Cowboy-Heart" data-large-file="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Lone-Star-on-a-Cowboy-Heart-scaled.jpg?fit=683%2C1024&ssl=1" data-medium-file="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Lone-Star-on-a-Cowboy-Heart-scaled.jpg?fit=200%2C300&ssl=1" data-orig-file="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Lone-Star-on-a-Cowboy-Heart-scaled.jpg?fit=1707%2C2560&ssl=1" data-orig-size="1707,2560" data-permalink="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/?attachment_id=106649" height="300" src="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Lone-Star-on-a-Cowboy-Heart-scaled.jpg?fit=200%2C300&ssl=1" style="text-align: left;" width="200" /></div>
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Description</strong></h1>
When Montgomery Clarke saves Deputy Sam Roswell’s life during an armed robbery, both men go home thinking they’ll never cross paths again. Instead, a friendship blossoms between them as they work together to track down a wanted man: the surviving robber who escaped the scene of the crime with a sack of cash. <div><br /></div><div>Drawn to each other despite their starkly different personalities, Montgomery and Sam quickly bond in a way neither man has with anyone else in years. Their friendship awakens Sam’s long-buried and unexplored romantic feelings for men, while reviving Montgomery’s deepest longing: for a platonic life partner. Sparked by violence, Sam and Montgomery’s connection becomes cemented in yet another dangerous confrontation when they finally catch up to Joel Troutman, the robber on the run. </div><div><br /></div><div>A year later, Montgomery and Sam are best friends with an exceptionally intimate relationship. What should be their first happy Christmas season together, however, suddenly turns sour when Montgomery gives Sam the cold shoulder without explanation. Brought together once again by crime—this time, one involving a teenage girl—Sam and Montgomery reckon with their feelings for each other. Will they remain friends or become partners?
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Excerpt</strong></h1><div>Lone Star on a Cowboy Heart</div><div>Marie S. Crosswell © 2024</div><div>All Rights Reserved</div><div><br /></div><div>Prescott, Arizona</div><div><br /></div><div>September 2014</div><div><br /></div><div>Sam Roswell stops for dinner at the Dog Bowl Diner in his civvies, his department-issued sidearm locked in his desk drawer at the sheriff’s office. He chats up his waitress just to feel better about eating alone, then watches the other people in the diner, half cop on the lookout for mischief and half wishing he could meet a new friend. There’s a young couple with a pair of restless kids who can’t stay seated longer than a minute, an old husband and wife tucked into a two-person booth, three men and a woman side by side at the chrome-rimmed counter, and some teenagers hanging out on the other side of the place. None of them pay him any attention.</div><div><br /></div><div>Two men wearing black knit masks over their faces dart into the diner, each of them leading with a gun. Sam freezes in his seat, watching in disbelief as they split up to cover the room.</div><div><br /></div><div>The man in a long-sleeved navy blue T-shirt moves into the more heavily populated section of the diner and shouts, “Everybody take out your wallets. Now!”</div><div><br /></div><div>The second man, wearing a dark red T-shirt under his jacket, goes up to the counter and points his gun at the first employee he sees. “Open the register! Open it!”</div><div><br /></div><div>The blonde waitress with big hair hurries to the cash register positioned at the right end of the counter and tries to obey, hands twitching and eyes panicked. She fails at her first attempt.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Hurry up!” Red Tee yells, steel revolver gleaming in the white light of the ceiling bulbs.</div><div><br /></div><div>The register drawer clicks and slides open, and the waitress yanks stacks of bills out of their compartments and drops them on the countertop.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Put the money in the bag! Put it in the fucking bag!”</div><div><br /></div><div>She scrambles for the cash with one hand, then shoves it into the cloth bag Red Tee slid onto the countertop. He snatches the bag away from her and passes it to his accomplice, who holds it in front of the family with kids.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Put your wallets in the fucking bag and pass it on,” Blue Tee says to them. “Now!”</div><div><br /></div><div>One of the children starts to cry, pink-faced and whimpering.</div><div><br /></div><div>A boy sitting at the table of teenagers bolts for the door, but Red Tee gets hold of the hood on his sweatshirt and yanks him back.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Where the fuck are you going?” Red Tee yells, wrapping his free arm around the boy’s neck and pressing his gun into the boy’s head. “Huh?”</div><div><br /></div><div>One of the teen girls yelps.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sam stands up and makes for Red Tee, plucking his badge off his belt as he goes. His pulse races, waves of adrenaline washing through him. He’s not thinking, his body drawn to the trouble like a piece of metal to a magnet.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Hey, hey,” he says, too soft-spoken for the circumstance. He holds the badge in his hand, so everyone can see it. “Just calm down. The kid’s not going anywhere. Send him back to his seat, and you and your pal can get out of here.”</div><div><br /></div><div>“A cop, huh?” Red Tee says, arm still wrapped around the teenager’s neck, the gun unrelenting against his skull. “We got us a fucking cop in here.”</div><div><br /></div><div>Blue Tee glances over at Sam, still following the bag of money around his section of the diner as it changes hands.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Where’s your gun, asshole?” Red Tee says to Sam.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Let the boy go,” Sam replies. “You got your money. You don’t have to hurt anyone.”</div><div><br /></div><div>Red Tee stares at him through the eyeholes in his mask, silent for a long beat, then pushes the teenager away from him. He points his gun at Sam’s chest.</div><div><br /></div><div>“He don’t even have a fuckin’ gun,” says Blue Tee, the bag of money in his hand. “Don’t be stupid. Let’s fuckin’ go.”</div><div><br /></div><div>Sam’s standing with his hands up in front of him, badge in the left.</div><div><br /></div><div>Red Tee doesn’t budge, staring him down with the revolver.</div><div><br /></div><div>“I said, let’s go,” Blue Tee barks.</div><div><br /></div><div>“Fuck this cop,” says Red Tee as he cocks back the hammer on his revolver.</div><div><br /></div><div>BANG!</div><h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Purchase</strong></h1>
<h2 style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://ninestarpress.com/product/lone-star-on-a-cowboy-heart/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">NineStar Press</a> | <a href="https://books2read.com/lone-star-cowboy-heart" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Books2Read</a></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Lone-Star-on-a-Cowboy-Heart-Now-Available.png"><img alt="" class="wp-image-106729 aligncenter" height="500" src="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Lone-Star-on-a-Cowboy-Heart-Now-Available-1024x1024.png" width="500" /></a></div><h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Meet the Author
</strong></h1>
Marie S. Crosswell writes long fiction, short fiction, and poetry. Her novellas Texas, Hold Your Queens; Alchemy; Cold, Cold Water; and The Silence of Lightning are available online wherever digital books are sold. Her short fiction has appeared in Thuglit, Betty Fedora, Plots with Guns, Tough, and other indie crime fiction publications. She’s a graduate of Sarah Lawrence College where she studied creative writing and friendship. She lives in the American West. Visit her <a href="http://www.mariescrosswell.com/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Website</a> for more!
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Giveaway</strong></h1>
One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!</div><div> </div><div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="555033ec1036" data-template="589504cd4f3bedde0b6e64c2" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/555033ec1036/" id="rcwidget_d7amn7md" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Blog-Button-2.jpg" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><img alt="Blog Button 2" class="size-medium wp-image-1679 aligncenter" height="210" src="http://i.imgur.com/a9QErEc.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-32259187939263189652024-03-26T00:00:00.083-06:002024-03-26T00:00:00.147-06:00Bridging Hope Author Interview #GayBookPromotions<!--wp:paragraph {"align":"center"}-->
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>BLOG TOUR</strong></em></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Book Title: <em>Bridging Hope (Bridging Hearts Series, #1)</em></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Author: Greyson McCoy</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Publisher: DreamSpinner Press</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Release Date: March 26, 2024</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Genre: Contemporary M/M romance</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, forced proximity, small town romance</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Themes: New dads</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Heat Rating: 3 flames</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Length: 58 pages</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">It is a standalone book and does not end on a cliffhanger. It’s a HEA</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/47719153.Greyson_McCoy" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><strong>Buy Links</strong></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/bridging-hope-by-greyson-mccoy-12441-b" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">DreamSpinner Press</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CRJ25V2S" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Amazon US</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CRJ25V2S" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank"> Amazon UK </a></p>
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<p><strong>Blurb </strong></p>
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<p>When workaholic Pierce Simms’s sister passes, he suddenly finds himself unemployed, back in the hometown he fled, and raising his niece and nephew. Despite that, he’s confident he has things under control—at least until his sister’s high-school sweetheart shows up.<br /><br />With his teaching grant ended, Dalton O’Dell is at loose ends and tight purse strings. Just as the world crashes down on him, he learns his ex-girlfriend has passed and named him guardian of her two young children. Chaos ensues when he and her brother, Pierce, are forced together to raise the toddlers in Pierce’s family farmhouse.<br /> <br />Nestled in the enchanting beauty of the farm, Pierce and Dalton bond over the challenges of co-parenting and their shared grief as unexpected love blossoms. Love might not be enough, however, if they can’t learn to bridge the gap between their different worlds and overcome the trauma of their pasts.</p>
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<p><strong>Excerpt </strong></p>
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<p>“Let’s discuss how to proceed,” Pierce’s attorney, a short, businesslike woman, said. For thirty minutes, Pierce kept the baby occupied while his attorney and Uncle Tim discussed the details of the will. I sat watching Pierce.</p>
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<p>The little girl kept bringing her uncle toys that had been left in the office for kids to play with, and each time, he’d smile or ask her questions. Eventually, the baby boy settled and snuggled sleepily in his arms. That’s when my heart melted. This wasn’t an absentee uncle. Clearly, he was important to them and vice versa. It made me question whether a custody fight was prudent.</p>
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<p>“Why did Lizzie want me to raise her kids instead of you?” I blurted, interrupting our attorneys and surprising myself.</p>
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<p>A pained expression crossed Pierce’s face as he spoke to me for the first time. “When she made her will, she probably figured I’d never come back. We were… estranged,” he said, voice gruff.</p>
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<p>“But you’re back now, and these two seem to trust you. How long have you been taking care of them?”</p>
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<p>His pained look morphed into one so grief-stricken I felt tempted to hug him. “About six months,” he whispered.</p>
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<p>I nodded in thought. “Do you have a job? Are you married? What’s your wife like? Is she on board with helping raise them?”</p>
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<p>My uncle cleared his throat, signaling to me to let the lawyers handle the questioning, but I couldn’t help myself. For a moment, Pierce looked a little stunned by the sudden barrage, but he answered. “I’m recently unemployed, but I received a good severance package. I’m set for at least a few months before I need to work full-time again. I’m not married.” He hesitated then, his face resolute, before spinning the question back around. “You?”</p>
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<p>I shrugged. “Unmarried and recently unemployed as well.” Ignoring his challenging stare, I continued honestly. “I see these two love you, depend on you. I don’t understand all this, but I trust Lizzie had her reasons for naming me their guardian. I won’t relinquish that responsibility. Not without knowing for certain they’re in good hands.”</p>
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<p>Pierce nodded, and his expression softened a little. “I’m not stepping out of their lives without knowing the same thing. Frankie and Max have already been through too much for two little kids. I’ll be here until they don’t need me.”</p>
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<p>“So we’re at an impasse,” I said.</p>
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<p>Uncle Tim cleared his throat again. “Or maybe it’s an opportunity. Mr. Simms, may I call you Pierce? I understand you inherited your father’s farm?” Pierce glanced at him and nodded. “And Dalton, you’re looking for a place to stay. Why don’t you boys combine forces? Dalton, your farming experience might be of great help to Pierce, and you’ll both have time to get to know one another and observe the other’s parenting style.”</p>
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<p>I looked at my uncle, aghast. “Uncle Tim, that’s probably not a good idea. Mr. Simms, surely you have a girlfriend or something? I couldn’t impose—”</p>
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<p>Pierce barked out a laugh, nearly waking baby Max, who’d fallen asleep in his arms. “I’m gay and single.” He glanced down at his nephew, then over to his niece, Frankie, before refocusing on me. “I understand you work with kids, but do you feel comfortable caring for kids this young?”</p>
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<p>I couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t have much experience being around kids this age. In my previous job, they already knew their ABCs when they came to me.”</p>
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<p>Pierce appeared lost in thought before he sighed and his shoulders dropped, as if he were giving up the fight. “Honestly, I could use the help. When Lizzie got sick, friends and neighbors helped, but that tapered off. Now it’s just us. I could use another pair of adult hands, especially at night.”</p>
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<p>“And there’s room at your house?”</p>
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<p>He nodded. “Yeah, I’m staying in my sister’s room, which has an adjoining area where the kids sleep. You could take the main bedroom right across the hall. But fair warning,” he said, a mischievous smile forming on his lips, “if you move in, you’ll have night duty too. Max only sleeps four or five hours, which means 1:00 a.m. diaper-changing time. You up for that?”</p>
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<p>I could tell he was testing me, and screw him. I slept like the dead, but I could set an alarm.</p>
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<p>I nodded. “I’m up for it if you are.”</p>
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<p>We both looked at our attorneys, who wore matching grins. “Well, then,” Uncle Tim said, “sounds like we’ve got a plan.”</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><strong>About the Author </strong></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: justify;">Greyson McCoy loves to travel. After years of being tied down to a life of kids, work, running a small farm, and all things domestic, he and his husband have taken full advantage of their empty nest to travel the world.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: justify;">The joy of writing came to Greyson late in life. While completing his master’s degree, he found himself fighting between desperately wanting to write fiction and finishing the homework and papers he’d been assigned.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: justify;">After his master’s was finished, Greyson decided to shirk his life of responsibility and pursue his dream of writing full time. His stories reflect many of the locations he and his husband have visited over the years.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><strong>Author Links </strong></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://greysonmccoy.com/" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Blog/Website</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61554408167021" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Facebook</a></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://gaybookpromotions.wordpress.com/">Hosted by Gay Book Promotions</a></p>
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<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>AUTHOR
NAME</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>:
Greyson McCoy</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><i><b>Introduce
yourself and your writing</b></i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="background: #ffffff; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<span style="font-family: Open Sans, Calibri, sans-serif;">After years of being tied
down to a life of kids, work, running a small farm, and all things
domestic, my husband and I have taken full advantage of our empty
nest to travel the world.</span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="background: #ffffff; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<span style="font-family: Open Sans, Calibri, sans-serif;">The joy of writing came
to me late in life. While completing my master’s degree, I found
myself fighting between desperately wanting to write fiction and
finishing the homework and papers I’d been assigned.</span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="background: #ffffff; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<span style="font-family: Open Sans, Calibri, sans-serif;">When my master’s was
finally done, I decided to shirk my life of responsibility and pursue
my dream of writing full time. My stories reflect many of the
locations my husband and I have visited over the years.</span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>What/who
inspired you to start writing?</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>My
great aunt was born in the early nineteen twenties. She and my
grandmother were raised so poor, there were times they simply didn’t
have enough food to eat.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>My
great grandmother, love her as I did, was not a big advocate of
higher education. Despite that, my aunt managed to get through high
school and began writing poetry when she was around my age.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I
never had a conversation with her about her writing. I just secretly
admired that she had the umph to do so, and when the world seemed to
be against her success at it.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I
think that’s where I first began to think about being a writer.
Even when I never would’ve dreamed I could do it professionally, I
would write poetry (bad poetry, that will never see the light of
day,) stories about my experiences, advice I wanted to give my kids,
and so forth and so on.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I’m
not quite sure I’d have had the nerve to take this on if it hadn’t
been for my great aunt. </span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>Tell
us about your new release. What inspired you to write it?</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><u>Bridging
Hope</u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>
was a labor of love. I was lying in bed one night when the plot bunny
hit me and refused to let me go. I ended up getting up and started
writing the story. </span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Of
course, the story ended up way too long for the submission
requirement for DreamSpinner press, so I had to pare it down, but
that’s only because I was enjoying writing the story so much.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>How
did you decide on the title? </b></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Okay,
confession time. I hate titling my books. I had come up with Bridging
Hearts, when I broached the subject of maybe making this a series
with my editor. With her help we decided Bridging Hearts should be
the series title, and </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><u>Bridging
Hope</u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>
the title for book 1.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I
was in central Oregon and fell head over heels in love with their
covered bridges. Of course, I went to college in Iowa where they had
their own covered bridges scattered about. Heck, </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><u>Bridges
of Madison County</u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>
was a book that came out when I was in college there.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>It
only made sense, as my husband and I rode around the idyllic scenery
that I would eventually set a book in a town similar to the one where
the real covered bridges reside.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Bridging
Hearts, just made sense as a series title. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><u>Bridging
Hope</u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>
is an accurate description of the process the guys in my book took to
find love, and family.</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>What
are you working on at present? Would you like to share a snippet?</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Well,
yes, yes I would! LOL</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I
have completed book 2 of the Bridging Hearts Series. The story starts
out with a young California farmer fighting to save his beloved farm
from a voracious wildfire.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Unfortunately,
he doesn’t succeed, but he’s thrust into a world of hope, when he
moves to live with his aunt and uncle on their dairy farm in Central
Oregon.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Now,
here’s that snippet:</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I
followed them in and immediately washed my hands in the lower
bathroom. No need to get Sue after me again. She’d all but flogged
me last week when I sat down at the table without washing proper, as
she called it.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I
took a seat in the dining room when Sue yelled up the stairs. “Cliff,
we’re sitting down to supper. Come on down.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I
looked at Levi with my eyebrow raised in question. “My cousin,”
he said quietly. “His farm was swept up in the California
wildfires. Only just arrived in the wee hours.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I
cringed. I’d been watching the news about the horrendous wildfire
currently scorching through California. It seemed fires were eating
up the forested parts of California and Oregon more and more every
year. “That’s awful,” I whispered. “He must be devastated.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Levi
nodded and a somber mood fell over the table. As talk shifted to
fences still needing repair, I popped into the kitchen to help Sue. I
was bringing out a bowl of mashed potatoes when I came around the
corner and looked right into the eyes of one of the most handsome men
I’d ever seen. </i></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Chiseled
jawline, lean build, and kind but sad eyes. When they locked on mine,
I stumbled. In one swift move, he caught me, put me right, and then
took the bowl from my hands and placed it on the table. </i></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I
was still feeling flustered when he shook my hand and introduced
himself as Cliff Anderson.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I’m
Brandon Forest, a friend of Levi’s. Nice to meet you.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Although
his face was weary, the smile he gave me made my heart flutter. </i></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Sue
brushed past us carrying a platter of pork chops, and took her
customary seat opposite Chris at the end of the table. Only then did
I notice Levi had switched seats so instead of sitting across from
Keya like usual, he was seated next to her. That left two empty
chairs side by side, which meant I’d be sitting beside the handsome
stranger all through supper. </i></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Let’s
say grace,” Sue began, and as was the custom, Chris said his
blessedly short prayer over the meal.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>The
conversation took its normal turns. Which fields had to be mowed,
which cows were calving, and whatever else needed doing around the
farm. Then Sue shared a little gossip about the neighbors. Mrs.
Horace needed a knee transplant. Mr. Frost had gone into hospice.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Chatter
buzzed around the table, but Cliff sat silently. I glanced his way a
few times, asking him to pass me the potatoes and to fork me up a
pork chop, which he did without a word.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I
could smell a whiff of smoke wafting off him, which must’ve
permeated his clothes, and it reminded me of all he must’ve just
gone through. My heart went out to the poor guy. I couldn’t imagine
what he was feeling.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I’d
seen videos of the fires that had consumed California and Oregon in
years past, and pictures of destroyed homes and burnt-out vehicles.
The devastation was overwhelming. Experiencing that firsthand would
be a real-life nightmare. I suspected Cliff was relieved no one asked
him any questions about it.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>When
is your next book gonna be out?” Levi asked me. I knew he already
knew the answer. I’d told him a couple of days ago that my agent
had asked me to send her copy of the first novel in my new series.
When I looked at him questioningly, he had a mischievous smile on his
face. So, I thought to myself, this was for his cousin’s benefit.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I
played along. “I should get my manuscript back for revisions any
day now,” I said. I couldn’t even say that without feeling a bit
of dread knowing I’d soon be faced with a document that my editor
had completely ripped apart.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>You’re
an author?” Cliff asked, and I smiled. </i></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Well,
I’m trying to be. I have two books out, and now I’m working on my
first series.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>What
do you write?” he asked, looking around the table shyly.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Mostly
science fiction and fantasy. My new series will be young adult
fiction, though. I wrote it in honor of my buddy Levi, the middle
school English teacher.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Everyone
chuckled except Cliff, who must not have gotten the joke. </i></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Your
cousin over there challenged me to write a book he could use to
motivate his students to read more. So, I bragged about that being
easy. Just so you know, writing a book for pre-teens is not easy.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Cliff
smiled warmly at me, and my heartbeat did the same pitter-patter
flutter in my chest as when I first saw him. </i></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I
remember being that age, I hated everything.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Yes,
you did. You were a pill back then,” Sue said.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Cliff’s
smile brightened. “Levi was always a bigger pill, so I felt like I
could get away with being a little surly.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Hey,
don’t pull me into this,” Levi complained.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Cliff
winked at his cousin, and with just that bit of humor, it’s like he
came out of his protective shell. </i></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Do
you write under a pseudonym?” he asked me.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I
use my own name. Brandon Forest.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Oh,
shoot, I should’ve realized that. I’ve read your books. I got
them last year for my birthday.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>Just
like that, the shutters went down again. Something bad must’ve
happened on or around his birthday. I didn’t pry but said, “I’d
be happy to sign your books.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>He
shook his head. “I doubt they survived,” he replied quietly. </i></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>A
sadness permeated the room, and he must’ve noticed because he
quickly forced a smile and said, “But I loved them. I can’t wait
to read your young adult fiction.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>I
smiled at him but wasn’t quite sure what else to say. So, I went
back to harassing Levi, which seemed to put everyone in a better
mood.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>After
supper, Cliff helped Sue take things into the kitchen. When
everything was put away, he excused himself, saying he wanted to call
a friend to find out if there was any news. Sue waved him off after
he shook my hand and told me it was a pleasure meeting me.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; margin-left: 0.5in; margin-top: 0.02in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>A
thrill, almost like an electric jolt, zapped my heart when he took my
hand in his, and something sparked in his eyes as well. Whatever this
was, and despite the awful timing in Cliff’s life, I wanted to
explore it. I’d never had such an immediate, visceral reaction to
someone before, and there’d been plenty of opportunity. I wouldn’t
consider myself a man-slut, but I wasn’t far off. I decided to pull
Levi and Keya aside and get to the bottom of the story with Levi’s
ridiculously handsome cousin.</i></span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>What
is the hardest part of writing any book?</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>The
blurb, hands down the most difficult thing I’ve done in a long time
was to take a story 20,000 words long and put it into 2 or 3
paragraphs. Honestly, I think I’d rather eat chalk.</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>Are
there any genres you prefer to write, and if so, why? </b></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I
love romance. Have most of my life. I like other stuff too, but my
passion is and probably always will be romance.</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>Why
M/M?</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Oh,
that’s easy. I’m gay. How fun is it to have loved romance books
most of my life, only now to have an audience who are willing to read
my work, and it all be about two (or more) men finding their best and
most romantic life?</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>What
book/s are you reading at the moment? </b></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I
just finished J.P. Jackson’s Skin Session. Oh boy, that man can
write in such a naughty delightful way.</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>What
novels do you adore/re-read?</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I
fell in love with Nora Roberts years ago and read her Three Sister
Island series. One day I want to write a series like those, because
DANG, they are still some of my favorite books!</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>Which
other writers do you follow? </b></span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Follow?
I’m not sure I follow them, but I adore Glenn Quigley, Andrew Grey,
Kim Fielding, Lily Morton, and so many others. You might say I’m a
bit of a MM romance slut. Ain’t no shame in that though, right?</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>Are
you a pantser or a plotter?</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I’m
told the word for what I do is pantsing. I do outline, sort of, but
mostly just to get my ideas down. Then I let my characters run with
it. I’ve drafted five books now, and not one of them has followed
the outline I initially created for them.</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>How
often do you write? Do you have a schedule?</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I
either write, edit, or market my books every day. I don’t have a
schedule, but I work well over fifty hours a week on my book
business. Which honestly feels like my book passion.</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>Are
you a cat person or a dog person? Tell us about your pets.</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Aah,
I love kitties. The only problem is I’m totally allergic. I also
love the puppies. </span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>My
old terrier passed away last year and broke my heart. We have an old
Husky mix now, and he occupies a lot of our time.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I’m
all about the cuddles, and where the terrier had no interest the
Husky is almost always willing.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Someday
ask me about the other puppies I’ve loved in my life. Each of them
have their own stories!</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>If
you had access to a time machine just once, is there anything you'd
go back and change? Either on a personal level or an historical
event?</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>This
is something I’ve pondered a lot lately. Would I change my life if
I could?</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Ultimately,
I’m surprised that I’ve decided no, no I wouldn’t change much
in my life. I mean, yeah, I’d buy Amazon stock, so I could be
richer than I am now, thus giving me more time to write and play and
well, all the stuff that I can’t afford to do now.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>No,
in reality, I’m proud of who I’ve become.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>In
the south, at funerals especially, people like to say, “Well, he
had a hard life.” Imagine that being said in a very prolonged
accented way.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I
haven’t had a hard life, yeah, there’s been a lot of hard stuff.
A heck of a lot of hard stuff in fact, but I don’t like to think of
my life in that way. Now, if I have a funeral, and people are
standing around talking about me, I’d want them to say, “he lived
an authentic life.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>I’ve
taken a heck of a lot of lemons and turned them into lemonade, lemon
meringue, lemon ice box pie, lemoncello, and so many more yummy
things. My writing is just one of those delightful delicacies that’ve
developed out of those authentic, albeit ass-kicking, life
experiences.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>THANK
YOU</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><br />
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><br />
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><br />
<br />
</p>
<p class="western" lang="en-NZ" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><br />
<br />
</p></div><br /><figure class="wp-block-image aligncenter is-resized" style="text-align: center;"><br /></figure>
<!--/wp:image-->Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-56164450020362522832024-03-26T00:00:00.017-06:002024-03-26T00:00:00.147-06:00Prophet Teaser Tuesday #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/harley-wylde-prophet-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/8b9b46c73ffd41beb04d77ea8fc1cabd" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/126a3c2770b747cd8f9d8f9432eda7e4" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/126a3c2770b747cd8f9d8f9432eda7e4" width="263" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;"><b><i>A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Dixie Reapers MC, Book 20</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 107%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Date Published:</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> March 29, 2024</span></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/209153786-prophet-dixie-reapers-mc-20"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ares – My life hasn’t always been kittens and rainbows. I spent
years as a captive, so when someone breaks into the compound and threatens
my little siblings, I go with the kidnappers instead. I’ve survived
being enslaved before, but the little ones wouldn’t make it. I can
only hope the club will find me in time.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Prophet – I’ve been patiently waiting for Ares to not only be
old enough for me to date her, but also for her to be ready. But I waited
too f**king long, and now she’s been taken. The bastard who has her is
going to pay, and once she’s back in my arms, I’m never letting
her go again.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>WARNING: Prophet is intended for readers 18+ due to adult content, darker
themes, language, and violence. While it can be read as a stand-alone, you
may enjoy the story more if you read Joker first.</i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/df5c462183ab4a3789b11e8bfcdaea7f" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/df5c462183ab4a3789b11e8bfcdaea7f" width="525" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>EXCERPT</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Ares</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Times had changed. The Dixie Reapers’ clubhouse no longer boasted
loud parties and naked women. Well, the naked women were gone, at any rate.
Music pulsed from the speakers as everyone took a much-needed break. My dad
had been in Church off and on since this mess started, and more often than
not, the members hung out in the clubhouse discussing the issue at hand.
Except right now, the doors were open to anyone.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I sat at the bar with a soda. Portia sat on one side of me and
Venom’s youngest, Dawson, was on my other side. Patched members lined
the bar on either side of them.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Pass me a beer, Ares,” Bull shouted from farther down. I
reached over the counter into the ice chest, then slid the longneck down the
bar top. I caught a smirk from my father as he watched.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hey, Pres. Think your girl has a future as a bartender,” Bull
said. He chuckled and twisted the top off. “She’s got good
aim.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Better than Foster’s aim last week,” I shot back, a
playful jab at his son’s appalling shooting during target practice. He
snorted and took a swallow of his beer, while Foster shot me a glare.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This place was my home. Dad and the Dixie Reapers had been my salvation,
pulling me from the abyss with hands as rough as the life they led. Even
though I couldn’t be a patched member, I was a Reaper’s kid. My
dad had given me permission to get the club colors inked on my shoulder
blade. It was a super small one compared to the ones the guys here had.
I’d seen quite a few with the colors covering their entire backs. In
addition, I’d gotten a phoenix rising from the ashes inked on the
outside of my right thigh -- a mirror of my own rebirth.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Foster might be mad at me right now, but I knew he’d get over it. In
a lot of ways, he was like a brother to me. All of the kids here close to my
age felt like family. Although, Foster, Owen, and Dawson were all older than
me. Not that I could tell when it came to Foster.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Cowboy’s son, Jackson, entered the clubhouse, his cowboy boots
thudding against the wood floor as he came closer. He put his arms around me
and hugged me from behind.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You smell like horses and dirt.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Mom always said it was the best scent in the world.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Yeah, I could see his mother
saying that. “Well, it’s better than sweat, I guess. Preparing
for your next rodeo?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I was planning to head out in the morning, but with everything going
on…”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I tipped my head back to look up at him. “You should go. If you put
your life on hold every time something bad happens around here, you’ll
never get to do the one thing you love most.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He kissed the top of my head. “Yeah, I know. You’re awfully
smart for someone so young.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’re only six years older than me, Jackson. It’s not
like you’re ancient.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“In rodeo years, I’m over a decade older than you.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I really did laugh that time. “Is that like dog years or
something?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Close enough. Hand me a beer. I’m going to go with Akira.
She’s in the corner with her nose in a book again.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I reached over for another longneck and passed it to him. He patted my
shoulder before wandering off. I watched him, noticing he hadn’t lied.
Akira, Wraith’s daughter, really did have a book in front of her face.
From the cover, no one would realize she was reading smut. If her parents
had any idea of the types of books she bought, they’d both have a
fit.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I sipped on my soda and just soaked up the atmosphere. My friends and
family were all talking or laughing. Despite everything going on outside the
club gates, they seemed at peace in this particular moment. Happy. I hoped
things could stay like this. I didn’t want anyone here to suffer the
way I had.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Never thought I’d see the day,” Tank said, approaching
with a smile on his face. “Ares Black, quiet as a church
mouse.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. “Just soaking it all in. Some
days, I don’t remember how blessed I am, until we’re all
together like this. Family. Friendship. As long as we have those, we can
weather any storm.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Damn straight.” He clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“We’re always in your corner, Ares.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Same here,” I replied. It wasn’t just words -- it was a
promise. We were the Dixie Reapers, and we protected our own with the
ferocity of a mother bear defending her cubs. I might not be a member of the
club itself, but as the President’s daughter, these people were still
my family, and I’d die to keep them safe.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I glanced at my watch and stood. Joker wanted Cleo to feel welcome here,
and while I wasn’t quite ready to be friends with the woman, I also
knew what it was like to be the outsider. I’d promised to head over
and play a board game. Instead of driving, I decided to walk. The fresh air
would be nice, and it would give me time to get my thoughts in order. It
felt like utter chaos inside my head these days.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ridley and Isabella were already there when I arrived. I fell into step
behind them as they entered Joker’s home. Ridley had a few board games
tucked under her arm. At least they’d come prepared, because I doubted
Joker had any. I’d already given them a few of the ones we had at home
that I thought might be fun.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hey, Cleo,” I said.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good to see you guys.” Her voice sounded hollow, and it looked
like she hadn’t been sleeping well.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Isabella walked over to her first, giving her a hug. “How are you
holding up?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Counting down the minutes,” she said.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ridley clapped her hands together, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
“We’re here to take your mind off things. Right,
Ares?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I nodded. “Yeah, we brought some board games. Thought we could all
use a distraction.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thanks,” she murmured.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We settled around her kitchen table. Before we’d even had a chance to
set up the game, someone knocked on the door. Joker went to answer. Ridley
started to set up one of the games, and Isabella and I helped. I noticed
Cleo kept glancing toward the door.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He returned with an envelope and handed it to Cleo. “For
you.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Who’s it from?” she asked. She ripped open the envelope
and as she read the contents of the paper inside, she paled a bit.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Everything all right?” Isabella asked.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Fine,” she said. Did anyone else notice the tremor in her
voice or the way her hands trembled? “Just a reminder about my
appointment.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ah, can’t forget that,” Ridley said.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Let’s focus on the game,” Cleo suggested.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I rolled the dice and gave a little shout of excitement, hoping to make
things seem as normal as possible. “All right!”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Everyone took their turns rolling the dice and moving their tokens. When it
went around to Cleo, she stared at the board, almost as if she wasn’t
fully present. I glanced at Ridley and Isabella, and realized they’d
noticed it too. Cleo must have a lot on her mind between the issues with her
family and her heart problem.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Your move, Cleo,” Ridley prompted.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Right,” she mumbled.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We played for quite a while, until the sky started to darken. I
didn’t know if this had distracted Cleo or not, but it had kept me
from focusing on things for a while. I hadn’t realized how much
I’d needed this until now. I helped clean up the games, then we told
Joker and Cleo goodbye.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ridley offered me a ride, but I waved her off. The walk would do me some
good. I paused at the clubhouse and stared at my car. It didn’t make
sense to leave it here overnight, but at the same time, I’d prefer to
get home on my own two feet than by driving there. I decided to leave it and
kept walking.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A sudden chill prickled my skin, a whisper of danger that tightened my
muscles. A feeling of unease skittered down my spine, and I wondered if
trouble was drawing closer than any of us realized.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">When I got home, there was a wrongness I felt all the way to my core. I
slowly approached the house, keeping an eye on my surroundings, just the way
Dad had taught me. I twisted the knob on the front door and pushed it
open.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Mom? Are you here?” I called out. Nothing. Not so much as a
whisper of sound. I eased farther into the house, wondering if I should call
Dad. Dessa’s car was outside, which meant she had to be here. She
hadn’t ridden with him to the clubhouse earlier, even though
she’d been there with the kids.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Junie, Judd, Marnie!” I shouted.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">No one answered, and I couldn’t find anyone at home. I went back
outside, wondering if maybe they went to a neighbor’s house. Before
I’d made it to the end of the driveway, I felt the cold kiss of metal
against my neck.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/3167c618c38640368102c6b55a46c150" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="439" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/3167c618c38640368102c6b55a46c150" width="524" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC
Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde
immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible
women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still
managing to end on a satisfying note each time.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new
plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book.
She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies.
Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and
don't forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts
and other exciting perks.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 107%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: @harleywylde</span></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 107%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
@changelingpress</span></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://books2read.com/ProphetDRMC"><b>Pre-Order Today</b></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-30196792391265904072024-03-26T00:00:00.010-06:002024-03-26T00:00:00.147-06:00A Win Won Situation Teaser Tuesday #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/reggie-gray-reggie-gray-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/92033b83ae5f495caf37266ad60f37e9" width="500" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/8d7f35f4f3ed4d47b4186094c8c9151d" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="461" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/8d7f35f4f3ed4d47b4186094c8c9151d" width="308" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Crossroads to Collaboration, A Personal Development Journey to Building
Successful and Synergistic Relationships</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Motivational/Business improvement</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">March 12, 2024</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher:</b> Elite Online Publishing</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/206768337-a-win-won-situation"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In <i>A Win Won Situation</i>, Reggie Gray embarks on a profound exploration of
personal development, interweaving his life experiences with insightful
lessons on building successful and synergistic relationships.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">WIN WON comes from what Reggie puts into practice in his business and
personal relationships. <b>W</b>HAT <b>I</b> <b>N</b>EED – <b>W</b>HAT <b>O</b>THERS <b>N</b>EED</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Through engaging chapters filled with personal accounts deeply woven with
important life lessons, Reggie imparts wisdom gained from his unique blend
of experiences. He challenges the reader to rethink conventional notions of
success and relationship building, offering a fresh perspective on how to<b>
lead a more fulfilling life</b>. This book is not just another motivational
read. It is a call to action, inviting readers to scrutinize the motives
behind the self-help industry and to seek authenticity in their personal
growth journeys.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Perfect for anyone at a crossroads in their personal and professional
relationships, <i>A Win Won Situation</i> is a guide for those who seek to live a
meaningful last third of their life, <b>leaving behind a legacy of
collaboration, success, and genuine connection. </b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Excerpt </b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">When making decisions and considering both sides of a situation, it boils down to the person’s or organization’s viewpoint. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> How are you looking at the situation or issue? What is its value to you or the other side? What is the background of how you got to this interface? What are the backgrounds of those influencing the outcome. What motivates them? </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> This is a series of questions for you to run through your consideration as you begin the process or at least right before you make a decision impacting the process. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> Are you the solution to problem(s) or are you the problem? When I hire someone, it is usually because I have a problem that I need solved. Make sure you don’t hire people that just become another problem for you to resolve. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> Many people also use problems (excuses) not to complete tasks or projects…not enough training, not enough, information, not enough assistance, etc. One can always find excuses and ways to not succeed, but employers and leaders like those that look for ways to overcome the problems. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> Be tolerant of others’ views. Don’t even say I disagree with them, they are their rights, but they stop when there is any force, verbally or physically, to express or apply yours to others. Your rights have stepped over their boundaries into someone else’s. You have yours, they have theirs. The views of accepting people regardless of religion, sexual preference etc. It’s not my paygrade to judge people.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/575da121c271497b96351d2eb2c5e47d" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/575da121c271497b96351d2eb2c5e47d" width="260" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">As the President of the Intercontinental Chamber of Commerce, Gray has been
a pivotal figure in the Houston area, with a strong presence in the
community for over 25 years. Gray has served on numerous area boards and
received numerous awards from those area organizations for his commitment
and service to Houston-area communities. Previous to the Chamber, he was a
Vice President of Marketing in the real estate management and development
industry and Vice President of Business Development for an international
logistics corporation.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">His projects and positions have taken him throughout the U.S. and to nearly
60 countries worldwide, where he has collaborated with a variety of
industries, corporate executives, international leaders, and royalty. Gray
has received awards of designation, appreciation, and partnerships from
numerous countries, such as Canada, Mexico, El Salvador, Malta, China, the
Philippines, Saudi Arabia, Monaco, and Panama.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Gray spends time and speaks often of his three sons and his focus on them
or, as he has repeatedly been quoted, “They are the oxygen in his
lungs.”
</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.houstonicc.org/">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://linkedin.com/in/reggiegray-14223120">LinkedIn</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/48O6pVB">Amazon</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="408264011853" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/408264011853/" id="rcwidget_1b09j23w" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a> <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
<a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-30716552661328631052024-03-25T00:00:00.012-06:002024-03-25T00:00:00.138-06:00The Gnome and the Seedlings Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/marilyn-slaughter-gob-the-gnome-the-gnome-and-the-seedlings-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26c3c2536dcc444f89241651a9187229" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/fa8fc5b5766f4a5ba24b542511e9d54c" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/fa8fc5b5766f4a5ba24b542511e9d54c" width="301" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Illustrated by: Angel Neha</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Children's Book</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 19.9733px;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 19.9733px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 19.9733px;"></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 19.9733px;">February 27, 2024</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher: </b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Mindstir Media</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/209033584-gob-the-gnome"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This short story is about a mother wanting balance for her children. She
wants her children to spend more time outdoor exercising, running and having
fun. One weekend mom encouraged her children to stop playing video games and
streaming movies while sitting on the couch and spend some time in the local
National Park. While at the park the children, Nathan and his sister, met a
mythical and magical Gnome, named Gob. Gob the Gnome explained to the
children what his role is at the National Park, and how to plant seeds to
grow trees.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I chose to add a Gnome as one of the main characters because since the
1400s, folklore has described Gnomes as guards of treasure and the protector
of earth. Gnomes represents stability, growth and Good Luck. My six children
books all revolve around a Gnome, the protector of a local forest who became
friends with Nathan and Iris.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span>
</p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/f5d348de42264cc58fd721d1f99ba58b" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/f5d348de42264cc58fd721d1f99ba58b" width="320" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Marilyn Slaughter is an educator with experience teaching second through
fifth grades, middle school science, and social studies. She now spends time
authoring books for children and adults for engagement, learning, and
entertainment. Marilyn’s first six books are a set with the theme of
children, with their families enjoying the outdoors; and with teachers and
classmates learning about the environment. The children are introduced to a
magical and mythical being in the forest and they work to save the local
forest. Her goal is to provide a fun read with an entertaining way for
children to learn about science.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://gobthegnome.com/">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/GobGnome">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/gobthegnome">Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/gobthegnome/">Pinterest</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.linkedin.com/company/gobthegnome/">LinkedIn</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/gobthegnome/">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3Ts2w2Y">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://gobthegnome.com/the-gnome-and-the-seedlings/">Website</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-26524955539239223952024-03-24T00:00:00.034-06:002024-03-24T00:00:00.131-06:00Oakley, Mostly Good Review #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024tours/kristen-grainger-oakley-mostly-good-virtual-book-tour"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/a0dcba8853984c5cb534fb9c915186fc" width="500" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p> </p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/7d666cb1845046bab9e7b8f85c066e39" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="540" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/7d666cb1845046bab9e7b8f85c066e39" width="540" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Illustrated by Sophie Barlow</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Children's Book</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Date Published: </span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">December 14, 2023</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Publisher:</b> MindStir Media</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/204182048-oakley-mostly-good"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Nothing's been the same ever since Oakley came to live at Mavis' house.
Change can be hard, but change can bring good things too.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/6b519270cfe54bf0af76e6a9db1c9195" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/6b519270cfe54bf0af76e6a9db1c9195" width="552" /></a><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRfCgkHSm5cPGngM_qbeC9ZIVDxeip_DV4HUooHdESBhM3MUgSPXZLpwQGVMG_vLHuSOIw1anHyY-kvBHgGRGcoUteJixl0CV8nsGtagHr2oHXbqEsYcLyXiLyVKG94YUw64pYnapNDbKGUpqm2Vg9JMsXiyUN4rZYw3yjaWYHshcH5N4tB3BKOncqg/s640/dog-1461959_640.png%20by%20jo%20justino%20on%20pixabay.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="349" data-original-width="640" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRfCgkHSm5cPGngM_qbeC9ZIVDxeip_DV4HUooHdESBhM3MUgSPXZLpwQGVMG_vLHuSOIw1anHyY-kvBHgGRGcoUteJixl0CV8nsGtagHr2oHXbqEsYcLyXiLyVKG94YUw64pYnapNDbKGUpqm2Vg9JMsXiyUN4rZYw3yjaWYHshcH5N4tB3BKOncqg/s320/dog-1461959_640.png%20by%20jo%20justino%20on%20pixabay.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Free use image from Pixabay</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>Ornery Owl's Review</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>Five out of Five Stars</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I adored this charming story about a sometimes naughty but always good-hearted pup named Oakley and his cat companion, Mavis. Although Mavis is often nonplussed by Oakley's overly exuberant behavior, they will always be friends.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">This book is appropriate for children of all ages. The story is short and simple and the illustrations are charming and colorful. There is nothing potentially alarming or upsetting in this feel-good, family-friendly book. You can feel confident about picking up a copy for an animal-loving youngster in your life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/633753de57324492ae40b291d1a60a0f" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/633753de57324492ae40b291d1a60a0f" width="146" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: x-large;">About the Author</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Kristen Grainger is a poet, author and performing songwriter who loves
books. She lives with her husband in the Pacific Northwest not far from
their grown children who also love books.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/47adf531bc6443a29a5e8c7fc5acf72d" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/47adf531bc6443a29a5e8c7fc5acf72d" width="142" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>About the Illustrator</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Sophie Barlow is an Illustrator and designer born and raised in Oregon and
the Pacific North West.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Sophie earned her degree from the University of Oregon in Art and
Technology but has enjoyed working in a range of mediums from digital to
physical in her artist practice. In addition to creating art, Sophie loves
to hike, bake, and travel whenever she can.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Contact Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><a href="http://www.oakleymostlygoodbook.com">Website</a></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>Purchase Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/48SRJVF">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/book/1144516890?ean=9781962987981">B&N</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-50348887049647134282024-03-22T00:00:00.049-06:002024-03-22T00:00:00.140-06:00Gifting a Dragon's Heart New Release Blitz #IndiGo<a href="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Gifting-a-Dragons-Heart-Blitz-Banner.png"><img alt="" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-106541" height="315" src="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Gifting-a-Dragons-Heart-Blitz-Banner.png" width="851" /></a>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Title</strong>: Gifting a Dragon's Heart</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Author</strong>: Mell Eight</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Publisher</strong>:<strong> </strong>NineStar Press</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Release Date</strong>: 03/19/2024</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Heat Level</strong>: 2 - Fade to Black Sex</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Pairing</strong>: Male/Male</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Length</strong>: 39600</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Genre</strong>: Fantasy, royalty, hunters, dragons, soldiers, magic</p>
<h2 style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/208337118-gifting-a-dragon-s-heart" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></h2>
<img alt="" class="size-medium aligncenter wp-image-105974" data-attachment-id="105974" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-caption="" data-image-description="" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"0","credit":"","camera":"","caption":"","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"","orientation":"1"}" data-image-title="Gifting_A_Dragons_Heart" data-large-file="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Gifting_A_Dragons_Heart-scaled.jpg?fit=683%2C1024&ssl=1" data-medium-file="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Gifting_A_Dragons_Heart-scaled.jpg?fit=200%2C300&ssl=1" data-orig-file="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Gifting_A_Dragons_Heart-scaled.jpg?fit=1707%2C2560&ssl=1" data-orig-size="1707,2560" data-permalink="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/?attachment_id=105974" height="300" src="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Gifting_A_Dragons_Heart-scaled.jpg?fit=200%2C300&ssl=1" width="200" />
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Description</strong></h1>
When he learns his father is dying, Roan leaves the wilds to return to the home he ran away from ten years prior. Roan knows the inevitable family reunion will be difficult, but then he meets Lyss, his former beau, who is the reason he had to leave. Roan doesn’t know what to feel or how to react to this older version of Lyss, but before he can get his emotions in order, a letter comes from the untamed wilds region telling him the town he’s called home for the last ten years is under attack.
Traveling back to the wilds accompanied by Lyss ought to give Roan time to figure out his feelings. However, the army, wyverns, and dragons all make finding time to even speak with Lyss difficult. Besides, ten years is a long time. When the battle is over, Roan and Lyss have their own separate lives to return to, assuming they both survive the fight to come.
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Excerpt</strong></h1><b>
Gifting a Dragon’s Heart </b><div><b>Mell Eight </b></div><div><b>© 2024
All Rights Reserved </b><div><br /></div><div> The sharply peaked roofs of Outpost came into view around noon as Roan followed the path beaten through tall, waving grass by generations of sturdy feet. Outpost had an official name on the maps, of course, but the locals simply called it what it was: an outpost station literally two steps from the start of the untamed wilds. </div><div><br /></div><div> Roann replied, shrugging. “I like to send her gifts when I can.” </div><div><br /></div><div> “Expensive gift,” Marius murmured, distracted by the blue skin. </div><div><br /></div><div>“Oh!” he added abruptly. “You got a letter last month.” </div><div><br /></div><div> He stepped away from the bar to a lockbox kept along the back wall. He used the key around his neck to unlock the box and retrieve the letter for Roan. </div><div><br /></div><div> “I sent the standard reply back to the return address, saying you were out in the field and would respond as soon as you could.” </div><div><br /></div><div> Roan ripped open the envelope and pulled out the single piece of paper inside while Marius went back to the skins. </div><div><br /></div><div> “Any hearts?” Marius asked, moving on to the red skin. </div><div><br /></div><div> “Mar,” Roan replied, his tone as heavy as his frown. “You know you can’t sell a dragon’s heart.” </div><div><br /></div><div> “Hah. You are the only roamer that follows that old adage, you realize. Besides, these are wyverns. No one’s seen a real dragon going on at least fifty years.”</div><div><br /></div><div> “Dragon hearts can only be given as gifts,” Roan finished the second half of the adage, completely uncaring that wyverns were only the smaller, considerably less dangerous cousin to dragons. He had the hearts for every skin in his bag, and a separate bag in his personal safe with the rest he had gathered over the last few years. At some point, he would hire a security crew to transport them home to his sister for him, and since he had the skin, maybe now was a good time to organize that. </div><div><br /></div><div> “Whatever you say,” Marius replied, unrolling the orange skin. “You ever change your mind, the heart is worth double what you earn from these skins.” </div><div><br /></div><div> “Just pay me for the skins and forget about the hearts,” Roan said, sighing. He and Marius had this same conversation every time Roan came back to Outpost to sell the skins he had harvested and re-provision for his next trip to the wilds. After a few days of rest and relaxation, sleeping in real beds, and using an actual shower, Roan would be more than ready to return to the peaceful solitude of the wilds.
Roan finally unfolded the letter and found only a few lines of his sister’s loopy, angled writing inside. </div><div><br /></div><div> Roanan,
I don’t know when you’ll get this message, but I hope you hear the news from me first. Father is dying. I know you and he had your differences; however, he has requested to see you one last time. If you receive my letter before he’s gone, please consider coming home. Even if you’re too late to see him, I could use a show of your support by having you at my side for a time as we go through the mourning period and transition to my taking over.
Please, please come home. I promise I will not do anything to prevent you from leaving when you’re ready to go, but I need you right now.
All my love,
Shanan </div><div><br /></div><div> “Damn.” Roan refolded the letter and tipped his head back, staring unseeing at the wooden beams of the ceiling. “Damn,” he repeated. </div><div><br /></div><div> “Everything okay?” Marius asked. </div><div><br /></div><div> Roan looked down, glad to be able to refocus on Marius rather than his swirling thoughts. While Roan had been reading, Marius had rolled the skins back up and had started counting out silver coins for payment. He had paused in his counting, one coin held in his hand just above the stack, and he had a concerned look on his face. </div><div><br /></div><div> Roan shook his head. “My sister needs me to come home, so it looks like my next trip is heading inland. Once you’re done counting, could you bring me my box from the safe?” </div><div><br /></div><div> “Inland? Damn is right. I’m sorry anything is dragging you there.” </div><div><br /></div><div> He finished counting the coins and headed to the back of the bar, where a massive safe door took up a large section of the wall. Unlike the lockbox, this was a modern, high-tech safe. Roan and other roamers paid for the extra protection, though. Marius placed his hand on the biometric scanner, letting it read his fingerprints and take a DNA sample from his sweat. The door clicked a moment later and swung outward. Marius vanished inside, returning after a few seconds with a large metal box with Roan’s name written on a piece of paper taped to the top. </div><div><br /></div><div> Roan took the box, scooped up the coins, the green skin, and his letter, and stuffed it all into his much lighter pack.
“Thanks, Mar. There a room at the inn?” he asked.</div><div><br /></div><div> “There should be. You need anything else?” </div><div><br /></div><div> “Just to figure out when the next train leaves,” Roan replied.
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Purchase</strong></h1>
<h2 style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://ninestarpress.com/product/gifting-a-dragons-heart/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">NineStar Press</a> | <a href="https://books2read.com/gifting-a-dragons-heart" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Books2Read</a></h2>
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<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Meet the Author
</strong></h1>
When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.
<h2 style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://melleightfiction.weebly.com/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Website</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/MellEightFiction/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/MellEight" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Twitter</a></h2>
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Giveaway</strong></h1>
One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!
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<a href="http://indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Blog-Button-2.jpg" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><img alt="Blog Button 2" class="size-medium wp-image-1679 aligncenter" height="210" src="http://i.imgur.com/a9QErEc.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></div>Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-51747334694512516492024-03-22T00:00:00.013-06:002024-03-22T00:00:00.141-06:00Hold Circulation Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/syntell-smith-hold-circulation-book-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/6a657c15c56a45be8e525e9726edae54" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/b25a7e5e96364ea695c0e0a343f010fe" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="499" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/b25a7e5e96364ea695c0e0a343f010fe" width="312" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Trial and Redemption</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A Call Numbers Novel</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Literary Fiction
</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62104045-hold-circulation---a-call-numbers-novel"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><i>In the book of life, the page must always be turned.</i></b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Robin Walker is at a crossroads. It’s 1994, and he’s been
suspended from his part-time clerical position at the 58th Street Branch
Library. His co-workers are overburdened, even with visiting clerks from
other libraries.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Still mourning the loss of his grandfather, Robin also pines for Shinju,
his former girlfriend and the niece of his supervisor Sonyai Yi. Meanwhile,
library page Tonya Brown attempts to reconcile with her cheating boyfriend
Andrew Friedman. Information assistant Angie Trueblood is given the cold
shoulder by Heywood Learner, still despondent over a breakup. And former
58th Street page Janelle Simms is due to give birth and go on maternity
leave, all while feuding with her parents.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But all is not lost. Over time, these co-workers have become much more than
that. Joy, anger, love and pain are etched among them like ink on paper. Now
they must decide whether to renew their life choices or reserve a new path.
And with their due dates fast approaching, one thing becomes clear –
everybody wants a happy ending.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Hold Circulation is the latest entry in the Call Numbers series. Author
Syntell Smith crafts a layered and thought-provoking novel that examines the
drama-filled lives of the people that are best known for keeping quiet.
Underneath the surface, these fascinating characters try to break free of
life’s burdens… by leaping off the page.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/c49b0f02e8fb4cd5a50bb496066b2636" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/c49b0f02e8fb4cd5a50bb496066b2636" width="270" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Syntell Smith was born and raised in Washington Heights, Upper Manhattan in
New York City. He began writing while blogging his hectic everyday life
experiences in 2004. After gaining an audience with a following of dedicated
readers, he studied scripts and plays and got into screenwriting. "Call
Numbers" is his first novel that he plans to develop into a series. He
loves comic books, video games, and watching reruns of Law and Order.
Syntell is active on Facebook. Tumblr & Twitter, and currently lives in
Detroit.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.authorsyntellsmith.com">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/syntell.smith">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/jetblack927">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.twitter.com/syntellsmith">Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3PncSzS">Amazon</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-10702557198286574562024-03-21T09:42:00.002-06:002024-03-21T19:23:43.073-06:00Ornery Literary Services Update featuring CHEAP PROOFREADING AND BOOK REVIEWS<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij1t-aR_yxfG3RJ37gZBr1Gdz0oEtSUJSUX9e3TwkZ32F9FMgq7UK6vHlSpuf9346dTLck7QlhlLgH59RNuph1QFgY-UpWiv8sGbI3C_gySe2po6IzMm-3biYs7PbzV-HIIe2tYvhzAFpPwy5vCCRileUawaKQ8BjeU6tp2ATpll9whYh1xQMjiUCMQQ/s640/books-1617327_640.jpg%20by%20marisa%20sias%20on%20pixabay.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij1t-aR_yxfG3RJ37gZBr1Gdz0oEtSUJSUX9e3TwkZ32F9FMgq7UK6vHlSpuf9346dTLck7QlhlLgH59RNuph1QFgY-UpWiv8sGbI3C_gySe2po6IzMm-3biYs7PbzV-HIIe2tYvhzAFpPwy5vCCRileUawaKQ8BjeU6tp2ATpll9whYh1xQMjiUCMQQ/s320/books-1617327_640.jpg%20by%20marisa%20sias%20on%20pixabay.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Free use image by Marisa Sias on Pixabay</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>AVAILABILITY STATUS:</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I have taken on a big project that will have me occupied until mid-April, but please bookmark this site and keep me in mind for future projects. You can also book my services ahead of time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hello everyone,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I've been dealing with a lot of personal stuff, so I haven't been around much. Colorado Medicaid stuck it to a whole bunch of people, so I'm no one special in my status of being one of those who got the shaft. They now cover my mostly useless Medicare B premiums, but no medical services. However, I can buy back in at $25 per month if I can show proof of self-employment. I'm on disability, hence the "can't work" thing. However, any tiddly-wink of income will suffice.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'd like to offer my services as a proofreader, and you can pay me as little as five bucks. I'm not in this to get rich, I'm in it to buy back into Medicaid. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Please email me at chartley65 at Gmail or carahartley at protonmail to request assistance. I can generally thoroughly proofread a 10,000-word story in 2 or 3 days. I have many years of experience editing what may be the worst writing in existence (mine). Surely, I can help you with yours!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm not a dev editor, but I will point out areas where the plot is unclear to me. You know, the sort of thing where the writer knows exactly what's going on but doesn't quite explain it to the reader, who is in the dark. Of course, I never do things like that. My writing is always perfectly clear and never includes too much backstory or anything of that nature because I am literary perfection personified!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My dumb sense of humor is an additional service I offer free of charge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Seriously, if you'd like me to give your manuscript the once-over, you can pay me as little as five bucks. There's pretty much no limit on length, but if you're submitting a five-hundred-page manuscript, maybe you could give me ten bucks. Pay what you can; you'll have another set of eyes on your manuscript, and you'll be helping me a lot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Regarding book reviews, the setup is also pay what you can. I will not guarantee a five-star review. It is rare for me to give less than three stars. You can do a search for reviews on this site to see samples of my style. I prefer to receive ARCs as a PDF, but if you only have an epub, I can convert it to a PDF. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">For promotion, I strongly suggest that you compare the book tour services featured at the bottom of the blog and choose one of them to work with. Their rates are very reasonable and they will get your book in front of a lot more eyes than I can as a solo blogger. Feel free to leave a comment on any recent post telling me the name of the book and who you're working with and I will sign up to help if I have availability.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I am also willing to swap a post for a post. In other words, I feature your book on this blog and you feature one of my books on your blog. If you are interested in doing a swap, leave your email in the comments and I'll contact you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you would like to do a guest post, I will need a Blogger-friendly HTML file, or a. doc or .docx file, or a PDF plus a picture of your book cover, blurb, purchase links, and an excerpt from the book. You can also include an author bio if you wish. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b>~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PtyM13dW4-vhjZdZKqiingKQg-7ErOEaAVMUFrSHnuxyuUlbBixdooiZMh2q06zMpiXhGjUYPC6aT8MWpKkgvI0EU2pVoTwB4GCaGGpEf2ySTdwtuLe-TAtkppu7_xSGrDCF0qobIGFoIqkoIUL8kw4QMvqj9SK5nlPYFCC356Z6VE_L1laVaQmoEg/s1920/owl-158417%20copyright%20open%20clipart%20vectors.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1878" data-original-width="1920" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PtyM13dW4-vhjZdZKqiingKQg-7ErOEaAVMUFrSHnuxyuUlbBixdooiZMh2q06zMpiXhGjUYPC6aT8MWpKkgvI0EU2pVoTwB4GCaGGpEf2ySTdwtuLe-TAtkppu7_xSGrDCF0qobIGFoIqkoIUL8kw4QMvqj9SK5nlPYFCC356Z6VE_L1laVaQmoEg/s320/owl-158417%20copyright%20open%20clipart%20vectors.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors</div><br /></div></div>Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-40163090496004347502024-03-20T23:55:00.000-06:002024-03-20T23:55:09.836-06:00On the Threshold Guest Post #GoddessFish<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpUe_pHU9yutyTYcXI2u-heUAJWbmrIv1TY7giAhEAH9z-lxR_sbqnE2yEWh174XJPzlyuwCaufGX0p1AC-dH0bpUSLrL5X9fg3YoUIv_JzbE-ggwzsuOP5FpMKllgEodwzKDlB3_imIBucM8c_oPNp5By86nw8kpLP8Bk4JP7sp8SY7ZhBEhd36ixg/s1200/tourBanner_On%20the%20Threshold.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="1200" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpUe_pHU9yutyTYcXI2u-heUAJWbmrIv1TY7giAhEAH9z-lxR_sbqnE2yEWh174XJPzlyuwCaufGX0p1AC-dH0bpUSLrL5X9fg3YoUIv_JzbE-ggwzsuOP5FpMKllgEodwzKDlB3_imIBucM8c_oPNp5By86nw8kpLP8Bk4JP7sp8SY7ZhBEhd36ixg/s320/tourBanner_On%20the%20Threshold.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><b>On
the Threshold</b></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">by
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">M. Laszlo</span></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>GENRE</b></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">:
Historical Science Fiction</span></span></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>BLURB:</b></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a name="_GoBack"></a>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Obsessed
with learning the origins of the cosmos, the actual meaning of life,
and the true purpose of civilization, a fine Scotsman named Fingal T.
Smyth dedicates himself to the study of Plato’s most extraordinary
ideas. Convinced of Plato’s belief that humankind possesses any and
all innate knowledge deep within the collective unconscious mind,
Fingal soon conducts a series of bold, pioneering occult-science
experiments by which to resolve the riddle of the universe once and
for all. However, Fingal forgets how violent and perilous the animal
impulses that reside in the deepest recesses of the unconscious mind.
And when Fingal unleashes a mysterious avatar of his innate
knowledge, the entity appears as a burning man and immediately seeks
to manipulate innocent and unsuspecting people everywhere into
immolating themselves. Now, with little hope of returning the fiery
figure into his being, Fingal must capture his nemesis before it
destroys the world.</span></span></span></span></p><p>
</p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>Excerpt </b></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Autumn,
1907: late one morning, some kind of torrid, invisible beast seemed
to wrap itself all around Fingal T. Smyth’s body. Each one of his
toes twitching fiercely, he exited the castle and scanned the
distant, Scottish Highlands. Go back where you came from. As the
entity wrapped itself tighter all about his person, Fingal blinked
back his tears. I’m melting, I am. Aye, it’s the heat of fusion.</span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span> </span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Gradually,
the beast’s heartbeat became audible—each pulsation. At the same
time, too, the illusory heat of transformation emitted an odor as of
oven-roasted peppercorns dissolving in a cup of burnt coffee.</span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Over
by the gatehouse, Fräulein Wunderwaffe appeared—the little German
girl wearing a plain-sewn robe and square-crown bowler. In that
moment, she no longer seemed to be a sickly child of seven years: her
inscrutable expression resembled that of a wise, indifferent cat.</span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>Perhaps
even some kind of lioness. Fingal cringed, and he recalled a fragment
of conversation from three weeks earlier.</span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">She
suffers from a most unnatural pathology, an anguished, maniacal
obsession with cats,” Doktor Hubertus Pflug had explained. “Ever
since the poor girl was a baby, she has always regarded it her fate
to one day metamorphose into a glorious panther, for she believes
herself to be ein Gestaltwandler. Do you know this word? It means
shapeshifter and refers to someone who possesses the power to take
the form of anything in nature.”</span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
heat radiated up and down Fingal’s spine now, and his thoughts
turned back to the present. Aye, it’s a change of phase. I’m
melting into a chemical compound. Despite all, he greeted the girl
and willed himself to flash a grin.</span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>Guest Post</b></span></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><b>5-10
Musts That Every Story in My Trans-Genre Must Have</b></span></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>On
the Threshold</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>
is a trans-genre work that seeks to truly help people to grasp and to
face very real and very difficult aspects of life. This metaphysical
kind of trans-genre writing is not complicated at all, though. In
fact, this kind of writing is quite simple and has only seven musts. </span></span>
</p><p align="justify" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span> First:
the protagonist or point-of-view character </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>must</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>
be able to teach the reader something.</span></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span> Second:
this kind of metaphysical, trans-genre work </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>must</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>
have a moral center. It must be abundantly clear that the
point-of-view character does not wish to harm anyone.</span></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span> Third:
both the story and the well-intentioned characters within said tale
</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>must</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>
be honest or sincere. If the protagonist fails to live up to this
ideal, nevertheless, the character should at least realize that he or
she ought to make a change.</span></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span> Fourth:
the writer </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>must</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>
market a metaphysical trans-genre work to adults only. At the very
least, the reader must be exceedingly mature. Remember, as simple as
my novels tend to be, all metaphysical fiction traffics in profound
ideas. </span></span>
</p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span> Five:
no matter how pernicious the stakes, the protagonist </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>must</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>
strive to make intelligent decisions. Even if the point-of-view
character is too afraid to make an intelligent or wise decision,
nevertheless, the character must be aware of that fact. At the very
least, when the character’s poor decisions unleash a series of
unintended consequences, the point-of-view character or protagonist
ought to readily recognize the problem. That kind of awareness should
make the character relatable to the reader because every reader has
made decisions that he or she regrets. Moreover, every reader has
experienced a scenario in which he or she had to make amends for a
bad decision.</span></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span> Six:
even if the main character has specific beliefs and political
aspirations, the main character </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>must</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>
be aware of how crucially important it is to be at least a little bit
objective. Even better, the protagonist ought to realize that peace
of mind comes from the psyche or intellect itself. In other words, if
the protagonist understands that politics cannot solve the problems
of the world, the reader’s relationship with that protagonist
becomes that much more personal or immediate.</span></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span> Seven:
even if the main character is prone to stress, confusion, and mental
illness, said character </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>must</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>
at least value the kind of lucidity that comes with having an
analytical mind and a good memory. Why? It comes down to the fact
that a clear-thinking character is a character that a reader can
</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>trust</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>.</span></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0.14in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>M.
Laszlo lives in Bath Township, Ohio. He is an aging recluse, rarely
seen nor heard. </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span><i>On
the Threshold</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span>
is his second release and first with Tahlia Newland’s Awesome
Independent Authors.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_21wNEdgjfK8RW9A7PCVtngTfX84_5Psnq5_W9h-XQBsBlvwNNd6Zr87OPiVrH-4g9eVgvryYL8DujPQlRORzgHPwIXjdq4At3A1x1Qo8ik0Oqk0WbvVHubfe5dPfOZZbO5Qsjroomp1GaEH2mWiCRaEdKAMECvkNikXGIAkHkVtUbNJ3MJ90cbQ-Dg/s876/author%20image%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="876" data-original-width="657" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_21wNEdgjfK8RW9A7PCVtngTfX84_5Psnq5_W9h-XQBsBlvwNNd6Zr87OPiVrH-4g9eVgvryYL8DujPQlRORzgHPwIXjdq4At3A1x1Qo8ik0Oqk0WbvVHubfe5dPfOZZbO5Qsjroomp1GaEH2mWiCRaEdKAMECvkNikXGIAkHkVtUbNJ3MJ90cbQ-Dg/s320/author%20image%20(1).jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>AUTHOR
Bio and Links:</b></span></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span>M.
Laszlo is an aging recluse who lives in Bath, Ohio. Rumor holds that
his pseudonym is a reference to Victor Laszlo, a character in the
classic film Casablanca. On the Threshold is his first release with
the acclaimed, Australian hybrid house AIA Publishing. Oddly, M.
Laszlo insists that his latest work, On the Threshold, does in fact
provide the correct answer to the riddle of the universe.</span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Buy
link: </span><span style="color: blue;"><u><a href="https://aiapublishing.com/product/on-the-threshold-m-laszlo/"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">https://aiapublishing.com/product/on-the-threshold-m-laszlo/</span></a></u></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoaWQkiUohsx8ZfAPTFblfDoxzWABqyQeqbt2AwRMR6wjm3eFKO89357OFxyEtQC4-S2UDaEaud8bMtso6YAGXDu_x6OvuCTctONuvp360w1p6bKC4iNdT9LJo_rj8tg6ROCZNazvNjjn3jYGspIe-hn0vB9I9jWnmMFSWYhyphenhyphengdobiVwoWihnjwNNv1g/s2700/BookCover_OnTheThreshold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoaWQkiUohsx8ZfAPTFblfDoxzWABqyQeqbt2AwRMR6wjm3eFKO89357OFxyEtQC4-S2UDaEaud8bMtso6YAGXDu_x6OvuCTctONuvp360w1p6bKC4iNdT9LJo_rj8tg6ROCZNazvNjjn3jYGspIe-hn0vB9I9jWnmMFSWYhyphenhyphengdobiVwoWihnjwNNv1g/s320/BookCover_OnTheThreshold.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>~~~~~~~~~~~~~</b></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>GIVEAWAY
INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE</b></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span><b>One
randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $25 Amazon/BN.com
gift card.</b></span></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a class="rcptr" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f4776/" rel="nofollow" data-raflid="28e4345f4776" data-theme="classic" data-template="" id="rcwidget_77oox4io">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-63792014511970807382024-03-20T23:42:00.002-06:002024-03-20T23:42:29.814-06:00Dark Goddess Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/j-ravent%C3%B3s-dark-goddess-book-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/297e634e86d34123a65f3dc4b759b7e1" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/2e333437da9c4961b63617b991f091bf" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="441" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/2e333437da9c4961b63617b991f091bf" width="294" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Thriller</b></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">November 16, 2023</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/202334395-dark-goddess"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">January 2009. In the midst of the financial crisis, a mysterious figure,
Satoshi Nakamoto, publishes the Bitcoin code. The disruptive power of this
digital currency is enormous, as it has been designed so that it cannot be
controlled by any banking or government authority and allows for completely
anonymous transactions. Special Agent Harris is assigned to find out who is
hiding behind that identity. Meanwhile, a powerful cybercriminal
organization is also searching for Nakamoto and will stop at nothing. Ada, a
young prodigy studying in Barcelona, and L30n, an elusive hacker, will be
swept up in this pursuit.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Reality and fiction intertwine in this techno-thriller that weaves a tense
plot exploring the power of money and technology.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/8716d83d455140c9871cde9ebbef2075" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/8716d83d455140c9871cde9ebbef2075" width="266" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">J. Raventós is an engineer and serial entrepreneur. After working in
Silicon Valley, he founded several tech startups in the fields of Artificial
Intelligence, 5G, and telecommunications networks. He is currently working
on a new AI and data security startup. He also serves as a technology
advisor for a venture capital fund.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/4ceGkSn">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://books.apple.com/us/book/dark-goddess/id6478404027">iBooks</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dark-goddess-13">Kobo</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1526668?ref=">Smashwords</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-67334802409769748542024-03-20T01:53:00.000-06:002024-03-20T01:53:27.098-06:00Co-Star #GayBookPromotions<!--wp:paragraph {"align":"center"}-->
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>NEW RELEASE</strong></em></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Book Title: <em>Co-Star</em></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Author and Publisher: Ava Olsen</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Cover Artist: Furiousfotog</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Release Date: March 20, 2024</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance </p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Tropes: Friends to enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, second chances</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Themes: Coming out, mental health, addiction, healing trauma (not SA) </p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Length: 75 252 words/300 pages</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Heat Rating: 4 flames </p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/203799301-co-star" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Goodreads </a></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><strong>Buy Links </strong>- <strong>Available in Kindle Unlimited</strong> </p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://mybook.to/dv6N3" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Universal Link</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQ8YWKCR" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Amazon US</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CQ8YWKCR" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><em> Love in the spotlight is not made to survive. Will we?</em></p>
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<p><strong>Blurb</strong></p>
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<p><strong>Reed: </strong>Tate Aduma is a Hollywood actor that everyone wants and no one really knows. Our first meeting as young dreamers sparks a decade of incredible highs and lows. </p>
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<p>I’ve loved him, I’ve hated him, and I can’t live without him. </p>
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<p>But I know that love in the spotlight is not made to survive.</p>
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<p>Will we?</p>
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<p><strong>Tate: </strong>Reed Larkin is the only constant in my chaotic life of movie sets, parties, and nameless lovers. But while being on stage is second nature, being myself in real life is a role I struggle to play. </p>
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<p>Then I’m offered the biggest part of my career, working alongside Reed as my co-star, and my love interest.</p>
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<p>This time, however, neither one of us is acting.</p>
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<p><em>Co-Star is a best friends to enemies to lovers, MM romance filled with combustible chemistry, indelible love, and a HEA a decade in the making. </em></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><strong>About the Author </strong></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Ava Olsen writes steamy and dreamy contemporary romances filled with heartwarming characters, cheeky banter and swoony moments. </p>
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<div aria-hidden="true" class="wp-block-spacer" style="height: 10px; text-align: center;"></div>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><strong>Social Media Links</strong></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://avaolsenauthor.com/" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Blog/Website</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100083209126068" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://avaolsenauthor.com/newsletter" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Newsletter Sign-up</a> </p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://twitter.com/avaolsenauthor/" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@avaolsenauthor?_t=8ZvnQk1HMWc&_r=1" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank"> TikTok</a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/avaolsenauthor/" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Instagram</a></p>
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<div aria-hidden="true" class="wp-block-spacer" style="height: 30px; text-align: center;"></div>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://gaybookpromotions.wordpress.com/">Hosted by Gay Book Promotions</a></p>
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<!--/wp:image-->Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-51682091238133610112024-03-20T00:00:00.238-06:002024-03-20T01:57:42.266-06:00Lonely Diner Review #GayBookPromotions<!--wp:paragraph {"align":"center"}-->
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><strong><em>AUDIOBOOK RELEASE</em></strong></p>
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<figure class="wp-block-image aligncenter is-resized" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-23329" src="https://lilygblunt.files.wordpress.com/2024/02/audio-banner-.png?w=610" style="width: 600px;" /></figure>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Book Title: <em>Lonely Diner</em></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Author and Narrator: Dann Hazel</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"> Release Date: February 9, 2024</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Tropes: Military Romance, Coming Out, Overcoming Adversity, Second Chances</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Themes: Dealing with Trauma, Gay in a New City, Forgiveness</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Heat Rating: 4 flames </p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">Length: 11 hours and 5 minutes</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">It is part of a series, but each novel can be read as a standalone. </p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;">It does not end on a cliffhanger.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/202119367-lonely-diner" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><strong> Buy Links </strong></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.audible.com/pd/Lonely-Diner-Audiobook/B0CVC8SXHB" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Audible US</a> | <a href="https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Lonely-Diner-Audiobook/B0CVCCTKSL" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Audible UK</a></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CN9GTXJM" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Amazon US</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CN9GTXJM" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Amazon UK </a></p>
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<div aria-hidden="true" class="wp-block-spacer" style="height: 10px; text-align: center;"><em>Two conflicted military men. A longing for happiness. One Lonely Diner, where people often search for a recipe for love. (The food is good there, too.)</em></div>
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<p><strong><br /></strong></p><p><strong>Blurb</strong></p>
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<p>Two conflicted military men. A longing for happiness. One Lonely Diner, where people often search for a recipe for love. (The food is good there, too.)</p>
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<p>One man plays it straight. Another grieves over a lost best friend with benefits.</p>
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<p>Everyone thought they were meant for each other. Lance, an Air Force computer engineer, and Ryan, a former submariner in the Navy and now a military college professor, are gay men blinded by the painful wounds of their past decisions. Both men are ready for love. But because of their pasts, they’ve slammed the brakes on their desires.</p>
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<p>Now thirty years old, a younger Ryan Ball decides he can be happy only by conforming to social expectations. So what does he do? He decides he must have a wife and kids. Though he acknowledges that he can never be straight, he is convinced that with effort, determination, alcohol and erectile dysfunction meds, he can play the necessary roles.</p>
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<p>Vikki, Ryan’s girlfriend in high school and now his wife, begs to differ.</p>
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<p>At thirty-one, Lance Dingle falls for his best friend and roommate, Randy, a stunt pilot who agrees to a friends-with-benefits arrangement. From Lance’s perspective, there’s a spark in their arrangement that Randy denies. Then, tragedy strikes. Lance finds himself alone and lonely, living with memories of Randy and an ever-expanding list of “what-might-have-beens.” Finally forcing himself into the dating scene, Lance discovers that Mr. Right is more elusive than he ever imagined.</p>
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<p>Then, Callie Yenti, transwoman, drag performer extraordinaire and entrepreneur, enters the picture. She owns the popular Lonely Diner and possesses an uncanny insight into the workings of the heart.</p>
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<p>Even the complicated hearts of her two hard-headed friends, Lance and Ryan.</p>
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<p>An HEA gay romance.</p>
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<p><em>Trigger Warning</em>: This novel includes scenes from a sexual assault and a PTSD episode.</p>
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<p><strong>Excerpt </strong></p>
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<p>It was at this point—this question—that Ryan slammed both hands flat against the table. He heard Diamond’s short scream and grimaced. He lowered his voice. “Okay. Fine. The two of you want the truth? The whole truth? You’ll have it, then.” </p>
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<p>He could imagine what Vikki would say. She would never have advised handling his parents the way he intended now. </p>
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<p>Ryan inhaled deeply. “For years now, I have denied a big part of who I am. In my denial, I asked Vikki to make a sacrifice—a sacrifice of which she was unaware for years—while I sorted my shit out. A fool’s way of avoiding the truth. It took a stint in the Navy but finally, I did. I sorted everything out and realized I am gay. There. I said it. And I said it without fear or shame.” </p>
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<p>“Oh, dear God!” Mr. Ball’s voice boomed, echoing against the walls of the dining room. “What kind of farce do you have in store for us next? That you’ve fallen in love with a sailor, and with him, you intend to live happily ever after?” A pause. Then: “Gay!” He spat out the word. “Another fad. Another trend. It’s not real. I’ve known men who thought they were homosexuals, then after years of lying to themselves passed, I discovered they were happily married with children.” </p>
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<p>“How many people have you told?” Mrs. Ball demanded. “To what degree have you brought shame to this family?” And then, after a thought: “And what about Vikki? Can you say with certainty that you’re really Diamond’s father? After all, you’ve been at sea for months at a time.”</p>
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<p> “Wait just a minute!” Ryan’s voice exploded. “First, I must say that your assertion is offensive—both to me and, I’m sure, to Vikki. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I can’t perform sexually with a woman.” He turned to his father. “Which probably is part of the reason why your gay acquaintances were able to pull the wool over your eyes so successfully. Being gay is more than just sex, you know.” </p>
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<p>Mr. Ball glared at his son. “I am so fearful of what will happen to this country when your generation takes the reins.” </p>
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<p>“Just—stop it! Just shut the fuck up! Both of you. I’m tired of it. Tired of the bullshit.” </p>
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<p>The expression on both parents’ faces confirmed the fact that their son had never spoken to them using this tone, these words. </p>
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<p>Ryan lowered his voice to a subtle whisper. “What Vikki and I are dealing with? Well, it’s our concern. No one else’s.” </p>
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<p>Then, a voice. Vikki’s voice. Coming from the doorway. Diamond, still absorbed in her coloring activity in the family room. </p>
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<p>“Please understand. Both of you. I was able to handle your son’s honesty. Was I deeply hurt when I discovered the truth? Yes. Of course. And I’m sure you bear some hurt of your own. But you should not weaponize that hurt into anger against your son. It’s important that you try to do what Ryan and I did. It took some effort, but it was worth it. With open communication and a willingness to be accessible to one another, we began to work things out. I know there are still challenges ahead of us, especially with our little girl. That’s uncharted territory, to be sure. But Diamond is loved. By both of us. We will still be a family, even when Ryan is in Florida and I’m here, in Virginia. We want both of you to be a part of our family. But that’s not going to happen if the two of you can‘t see your way forward to cultivate a little understanding.” </p>
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<p>To avoid escalating the situation even more, what Vikki and Ryan did not say was that Mr. and Mrs. Ball would never see their grandchild again if they could not surmount their anger, doubt and resentment.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><strong>About the Author</strong></p>
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<figure class="wp-block-image aligncenter is-resized" style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="wp-image-22862" src="https://lilygblunt.files.wordpress.com/2023/11/lotsa_hair_dann.jpg?w=206" style="width: 300px;" /></figure>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: justify;">Dann Hazel has been writing both fiction and nonfiction for more than twenty years. </p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: justify;">Besides writing romance, he has taught high school English and journalism, college psychology and human sexuality, directed federal grants and worked as a therapist in a psychiatric hospital. His fiction genre interests include thrillers, horror, literary and gay romance. He has published the Some Like It Haute Gay Romance Series, including <em>Room for Dessert</em>, <em>My Own Private Biscuit</em> and <em>Lonely Diner</em>.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: justify;">Nonfiction works include <em>Witness: Gay and Lesbian Clergy Report from the Front</em> and <em>Moving On: The Gay Man’s Guide for Coping When a Relationship Ends</em>.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: justify;">Dann’s personal interests include reading and writing, cinema, jogging, Broadway, keeping abreast of current events and travel.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: justify;">Currently, Dann lives in Central Florida with his husband, Josh, and their American Eskimo canine, Flurry.</p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><strong>Social Media Links</strong></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.haut-gay-romance.com/" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Blog/Website</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100089831902829" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Facebook </a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/dann.hazel/" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">Instagram</a></p>
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<p class="has-text-align-center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://gaybookpromotions.wordpress.com/">Hosted by Gay Book Promotions</a></p>
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<figure class="wp-block-image aligncenter is-resized"><img alt="" class="wp-image-23330" src="https://lilygblunt.files.wordpress.com/2024/02/banner-4.png?w=610" style="width: 600px;" /></figure><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2aBYF_ekv_FvgLne-qZLmt8368jNbfoaRXZCep_TNqO5m8YE81ZtaKoEd-b8a4EL6dk_wxL7qAh5GtE4HsKv-PY2egLUWwy2sJrrI-IGsHecF5zyXYW-uBJmCpC5yT-U-Yl4z-OUMA0e64E_WLUUBbkI9JtSof5FuLxFDLN8fAJYygewI53twSJdeQ/s1280/owl-158409_1280.png%20by%20open%20clipart%20vectors.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1252" data-original-width="1280" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2aBYF_ekv_FvgLne-qZLmt8368jNbfoaRXZCep_TNqO5m8YE81ZtaKoEd-b8a4EL6dk_wxL7qAh5GtE4HsKv-PY2egLUWwy2sJrrI-IGsHecF5zyXYW-uBJmCpC5yT-U-Yl4z-OUMA0e64E_WLUUBbkI9JtSof5FuLxFDLN8fAJYygewI53twSJdeQ/s320/owl-158409_1280.png%20by%20open%20clipart%20vectors.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>Ornery Owl's Review</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>Rating:</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>Four out of Five Stars</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">A coming-out story with mature characters rather than fresh young college students sounded like the sort of audiobook I'd enjoy listening to while on long drives from my rural home to appointments. Overall, I was right to take a chance on this book. The characters are well-developed and compelling. Some readers might be put off by the in-depth backstory of each of the major characters, but I say nuts to that. I'm the sort of reader who enjoys the backstory. Bring it on!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Ryan, a college professor and Navy veteran, has a daughter from his marriage to Vikki, his best friend from high school. Although Vikki was hurt when the marriage collapsed, she was supportive of Ryan when he came out to his homophobic parents. Ryan and Vikki's daughter Diamond lives with Vikki in Virginia, while Ryan moves to Florida to pursue his education and then to North Carolina when he obtains a job as a professor.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Lance is still active in the Air Force. He is grieving the loss of Randy, a fellow Air Force member with whom he had a friends-with-benefits relationship. Lance witnessed Randy's plane crash during an air show.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The third major player in this story is Callie Yenti, the transgender drag performer who owns the Lonely Diner. Callie has a knack for matchmaking and is a compelling, colorful character. Callie is the spice in the mix. The story would lack its special flair without this unique personality who gets things cooking, both literally and metaphorically.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">While I enjoyed the drama of both Lance and Ryan's own storylines and liked watching their paths converge, I could have done without the massive injections of political correctness. One of these took up an entire chapter when Lance goes to a meeting and the police chief goes off on a tangent, which remains in my memory as "blah blah blah, the queer community, blah blah queer blah blah queer blah." I wish I could report the venue where this meeting was held to the fire marshall because the exits were not clearly marked for me to make my escape. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Actually, I was driving and needed to keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel rather than trying to fast-forward through the chapter. I was relieved when it was finally over. As an info-dumper myself, I've been asked by more than one critique partner to cut out paragraphs where I provide way too much information, and it has the effect of stagnating the story rather than moving it along. The thoughts presented in this chapter would have been better set aside for a nonfiction essay.</div><div><br /></div>On the other hand, the chapter where Ryan is assaulted by his department head in a hotel room at a conference and berates himself afterward for not fighting back is powerful, hard-hitting, and, unfortunately, a reality many people can relate to. It took me forty years before I was finally able to realize that an incident that happened to me at fifteen years old was sexual assault and I needed to stop lambasting myself for freezing and allowing it to happen rather than making a scene. I really appreciated this narrative.<div><br /></div><div>Likewise, the chapter where Callie is beaten up while jogging by two thugs who are members of a subversive online community illustrates the very real problem of unhinged people targeting certain individuals or groups who don't conform to their belief systems. This chapter was well-written, although I didn't see the need for the couple who came to Callie's rescue to toot their own horns about being ever so woke. If I see someone being assaulted and manage to scare off their attacker, I'm not going to say, "By the way, I've always supported same-sex marriage" if I notice they're a gay man. I'm going to say, "Hang on, Bud, the ambulance is on its way."</div><div><br /></div><div>I also had issues with the chapter where a teenage Diamond talks about needing to "burn off calories" from the meal she enjoyed with Ryan and Lance. As someone who became bulimic at twelve and has fought with disordered eating for most of my life, I don't enjoy it when fictional stories lecture about "healthy" eating or encourage calorie counting, excessive exercise, or obsession with weight. A story is much more palatable without the addition of food moralizing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Despite the issues I've pointed out, I did enjoy the story overall. With apologies to Lance and Ryan, Callie was the book's shining star.<br /><figure class="wp-block-image aligncenter is-resized"><br /></figure>
<!--/wp:image--></div>Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-51230167762609634412024-03-20T00:00:00.008-06:002024-03-20T00:00:00.151-06:00Slam Dunk Job Search Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/david-allen-parker-slam-dunk-job-search-book-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/3eb971320de84233b753586cdc3a3514" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/b763065f820d4fc08e1b4082e8aeaf94" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/b763065f820d4fc08e1b4082e8aeaf94" width="280" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal">
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">6 Steps to Landing your Ideal Job in Any Market</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Business / Self-Help / Motivational</b></span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Published: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">March 2024</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher</b>: Beyond Competitive LLC</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/203899370-slam-dunk-job-search"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">An energetic, helpful, and thought-provoking coaching manual for improving
job-applying skills.</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/david-allen-parker/slam-dunk-job-search/">Kirkus Review</a></span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://slamdunkjobsearch.com/book">Website</a></span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/davidallenparker/">LinkedIn</a></span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3TA57sG">Amazon</a></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-83210299558302686192024-03-19T00:00:00.045-06:002024-03-19T00:00:00.141-06:00The Cyclopes Eye Teaser Tuesday #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/jeffrey-haskey-valerius-the-cyclopes-eye-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/af8b8b114bc84b81956098383841c514" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/1c195758302944eba0549bf5d25646dd" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/1c195758302944eba0549bf5d25646dd" width="267" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>YA Dystopian, Soft Sci-Fi</b></span></span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date to be Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> 04-09-2024</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher:</b> NineStar Press</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/209492824-the-cyclopes-eye"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">First they came for his sister’s eye. Now they’re coming for
his. And what’s even worse is he deserves it.</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Henry has never had anything good happen to him, period. Full stop.
That’s why, after school, he’s going to put on his big-boy pants
and confess his love to his best friend—because the universe owes him
one, dammit, and he needs a win.</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But maybe doing it on Drill Day wasn't the best idea—the one day a
month that healthcare conglomerate Axiom infiltrates schools across America
to select a new candidate to give up one of their eyes, for... research? And
if this Drill Day is anything like the last, Henry will never get a chance
at a good life. Especially if his past keeps threatening to eat him alive,
and especially if his old ways of keeping the darkness at bay refuse to work
anymore.</span>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Excerpt</b></span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I hate attention. I hate causing a scene. I hate being noticed. And
I’m very, very aware that, right now, that is exactly what’s
happening. I’m also noticing how sweaty I am. My face is either ghost
white or bile green. Or beet red. All three?</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A part of me knows they can’t be looking at me any worse than they
usually do, though. Poor Henry with his one-eyed sister. Poor Henry with his
drunk of a dad. Poor Henry with his convict of a mother.</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I think about reaching down to my thigh to catapult me out of this moment,
the tangle of cuts and scars I could squeeze and knead like dough so the
jolt of hurt would replace this ache of embarrassment. But I can’t.
Not here.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We take the third speed bump slower than the last two, but I still feel
touch-and-go. At this point, the best option is to just get out of here as
fast as I can. Since I’m already standing when we pull into the
parking spot, I don’t wait for all the people in front of me to get
off first. I march right on up to the front like I own this bus. And you
know what? For right now, I do, fuckers.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You in a hurry or something?” asks the driver. He removes his
shades to reveal two very intact and very brown eyes. His fist is wrapped
around the lever to open the door, but he’s not opening it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I wasn’t expecting this, and with each second, my blood feels thicker
and thicker, like sludge. I mumble something about a test I have to study
for.</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“One day you’ll realize life’s about more than
school,” he says, believing, I’m sure, that he’s being
very profound at six-thirty.</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I just nod and smile, hoping my face doesn’t betray my anguish.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He smirks and finally pulls the lever, and the door squeaks and sighs as it
opens. I jump down the stairs, and I must go a little too fast because
there’s no way I can hold it in anymore. I’ve got to puke, and
I’ve got to puke now.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I race around to the front of the bus, shielded on all sides by other buses
that I really hope are empty, and let it go.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s so painful coming up, like someone is stabbing me. My eyes
flutter open and closed as it comes pouring out, and it’s like
I’m watching myself in stop motion. It forms puddles around my feet.
Some of it gets on my shoes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s hot and gross, and some of it sprays up into my nose, which
might make me puke more. I try to be quiet so nobody will hear me, but the
bus engine is so loud that it probably doesn’t matter. Or maybe
that’s delirious thinking. Maybe the driver is watching from his
window right now. But if anybody does come over to see, they don’t
wait around long enough to say anything.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A minute later, when I’m sure it’s all out of me, I feel light,
free. Empty. I think this might be the best I’ve ever felt in my life.
Maybe I can read this poem today. Maybe Sam will respond the way I want. I
should puke more often.</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Everything in me goes still and quiet. It’s almost like I’m
floating through fog as I wind my way through the maze of buses all parked
in a cluster. I’m so light, it feels like a dream. Like I’m not
real. Is this what it’s like to get high?</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">As soon as I round the last bus, I come down.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">If getting sick was a dream, reality is not worth waking up for. The
nightmare of my life is as bleak as it’s ever been.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah, yes, here we are. Drill Day.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Across the parking lot, a few hundred feet away, is the entire student
body—two thousand of my peers. They’ve been rounded up like
cattle in front of school, their incessant chatter like primal, god-fearing
cries for help before being led to slaughter. And just like real cattle,
they know there’s no escape.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But at least the cows get to die before their mutilation
</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Jeffrey Haskey-Valerius works in healthcare by day and writes weird fiction
and poetry by night. His shorter work has been featured in numerous literary
journals and has been nominated for prizes, including Best of the Net. He
currently lives in the Midwest with his unbelievably handsome and perfect
dog, and also a human whom he loves. The Cyclopes’ Eye is his debut
novel.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.jeffreyhaskey-valerius.com">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://facebook.com/jeffreyhvwrites">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Twitter: @jeffreyhvwrites</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Instagram: @jeffreyhvwrites</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">TikTok: @jeffreyhvwrites</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-46880532425735802202024-03-19T00:00:00.034-06:002024-03-19T00:00:00.140-06:00Ghost Teaser Tuesday #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/dana-cask-ghost-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/53af58f793274f6fac8e26249f9eea2f" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dade4f9248f54349a9d649493a309245" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dade4f9248f54349a9d649493a309245" width="263" /></span></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">(Shiva’s Road MC)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Motorcycle Club Romance, Interracial & Multicultural</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> March 22, 2024</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/208823284-ghost-shiva-s-road-mc-1"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a>
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost -- Against my better judgment, I went to Chicago to meet my father.
Instead I find a sexy siren who’s fighting a daily struggle to
survive. I claim her for my own the first chance I get, but that’s
when our troubles really start. She won’t leave without my sister
Rachel, her best friend, and I’m a long way from home and my brothers.
When the bad guys attack, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them
both.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Simone -- I need a way out. When Ghost arrives, I take a chance and ask him
for help. But he’s the son of the man who sells my body. I don’t
know how far I can trust him. My life and Rachel’s hang in the
balance. Ghost says he wants me by his side forever. I’m trusting him
with our lives, but can I trust him with my heart?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/d5df0de401414cb7843fca587730c09d" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="402" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/d5df0de401414cb7843fca587730c09d" width="480" /></a>
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>EXCERPT</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Ghost</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“This place is something else,” Beowulf said over the sound of
their idling bikes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost didn’t respond, knowing his best friend didn’t expect him
to. He just stared at the place his mother had called home for the last
twenty-five years. The McMansion and surrounding grounds presented a vulgar
display of wealth against the suburban Chicago backdrop. The pink granite
drive wound around the two-story house, lit by spotlights in the center of
the immaculately manicured lawn. In bright sunlight, he’d no doubt
need darker shades to withstand the glare of the mica-flecked walls and
white shutters. He’d known about the setup from the intel Bytes had
gathered on his father before they left the compound in Central Ohio, but
seeing it in person shocked the man who had grown up dirt poor in a
single-wide trailer on the Mescalero Apache Tribe Reservation.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Name,” snapped a male voice from a box built into the brick
column to the left of the wrought black iron gate.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Lucas Blackfoot,” Ghost replied. His voice sounded rusty, even
to his own ears.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You were told to come alone.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost shrugged, sure the security cameras would pick up his response.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">After a long pause, the voice instructed, “Park your motorcycles in
the open garage bay. You will be met at the interior door. Do not enter
without an escort or you will be shot.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Friendly type, your Pops.” Wulf chuckled.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost let his unease out by revving his old Harley. The Knucklehead
vibrated the ground as the gate with a stylized W in the center pulled back
to allow them entrance. They followed the drive to the right of the house,
moving at a slow pace on the loose gravel, and found the place they were to
leave their bikes without issue.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Almost as soon as they swung their legs over the fenders, a door at the far
end of the far end of the garage opened. A limo occupied one bay. Midlife
crisis cars sat in the remaining two, each of which probably cost more than
Ghost had seen during his entire childhood.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A large, bald man in a black suit he couldn’t button over his flabby
stomach -- a security drudge so stereotypical as to be laughable -- motioned
them to come closer.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“What do you wanna bet he gets handsy?” Wulf said loud enough
to be overheard.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost grunted. This was gonna suck. He had planned to get in and out as
quickly as possible, having minimal interaction with his sperm donor.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Which one of you is Blackfoot?” the guard asked as they
approached.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Like that wasn’t obvious. Even a toddler could tell the black-haired
Native American from the Nordic blond. “I am,” Ghost
replied.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Your… companion… can wait here.” The guard put a
wealth of innuendo into the word companion, still trying to get a rise out
of him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.” Ghost didn’t make a threatening move, but he
wasn’t going into this house alone. He’d never spoken to Donald
P. Willard, never went looking for his parents after his mother left the
Reservation when he was eight. His father should be happy he’d only
brought his best friend for backup. No way in hell would he allow himself to
be separated from Wulf this early in the game.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“You come alone, or you don’t come at all.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Fine,” said Wulf, “We’ll be home in our beds by
morning then.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The dumbass reached out to grab Ghost by the arm. “I said
--”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost grabbed the guard’s hand by the thumb and bent it back. When
the man tried to twist out of his grip, Ghost held on long enough to make
sure the man knew Ghost was choosing to release him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Another man, this one a little older and in better shape than the first,
appeared in the doorway. “Problem?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“He doesn’t want to come quietly, boss,” Dumbass
said.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Let him bring his little friend if it makes him feel better,”
the new arrival replied. “I’m sure they won’t cause any
trouble. Right, boys?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“We’re housebroken,” Wulf assured him. “Can’t
say the same for your team though. Need a lesson in manners.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Boss” stared at them for a few beats, then turned on his heel
and walked back into the house. His lapdog followed, leaving Ghost and Wulf
to take up the rear. As soon as they cleared the doorway, another man came
up behind them, closing the door and walking practically on their heels.
They moved through the mostly dark house in that formation until they
reached a closed door with soft light spilling through around the
cracks.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A knock on the door received a curt, “Enter.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A hand on his back pushed Ghost ahead of Wulf into the room. No less
opulent than the rest of the house, the study had dark built-in shelves at
the back wall and thick, velvet green drapes bracketing the floor-to-ceiling
windows along the side. Donald P. Willard sat behind a polished walnut desk.
A Tiffany desk lamp illuminated Donald’s thick features and extremely
short-cropped, graying hair. His hands were laced together in front of him,
resting over a sizeable belly straining the buttons on his tailored shirt.
His blue suit jacket hung on the back of his leather executive chair. The
picture of a prominent light-skinned black businessman, surrounding himself
with obvious signs of wealth and opulence. Ghost was pretty sure it was all
a front, meant to impress.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Son, please have a seat. The rest of you are dismissed,”
Donald said.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The three bodyguards tried to grab Wulf to remove him bodily from the room,
but he evaded their grasps and sat down on the green leather sofa which
rested against a creamy damask wallpaper. “I think I’ll stay. I
like it here,” Wulf said mildly.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“This is a private conversation between my son and myself. Please do
us the courtesy of letting us have this family moment,” Donald
replied.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Wulf looked to Ghost, who gave him a slight nod. Beowulf could take care of
himself, and it didn’t seem like anyone was going to talk in front of
his friend.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Come on, boys. Show me the kitchen. I could use a snack after the
long ride.” Wulf jumped up from the couch and led the way out into the
hall.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Once they were alone and the door shut, Donald gave Ghost an appraising
glance. “You look like your mother.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost knew what he meant. His father’s African American heritage
didn’t show much in Ghost’s features. There didn’t seem
much point in replying so Ghost didn’t bother.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Donald sighed. “Have a seat, son. We have a lot to talk
about.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost sat in one of the chairs in front of Donald’s desk that matched
the leather sofa. It was as uncomfortable as it looked. Still, he said
nothing. He’d learned a long time ago prolonged silence had a way of
getting people to start rambling just to fill the void.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I have to say, your existence came as quite a shock to me. In all
the years I’ve been married to Caroline, she never once mentioned you.
Do you know why?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Has she ever contacted you since she left the
Reservation?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’ve always wanted a son to carry on my legacy. Surely, she
would have known I’d have welcomed you with open arms.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost shrugged. His mother had signed over custody of him to his
grandfather when she left, giving no explanation. His memories of her were
happy, but dim. He couldn’t say why his mother did what she did, and
wouldn’t tell this man even if he did know. He owed this man
nothing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Did she tell you anything about me before she left? Anything at
all?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.” Ghost knew he sounded like a broken record but really
what was there to say? He’d received word of his mother’s death
from a lawyer, closely followed by a summons from Donald P. Willard to
discuss her “affairs.” Ghost already regretted his decision to
come here and couldn’t wait to get the fuck out.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Man of few words, eh? I can respect that. Too many people
don’t stand by their word these days. I’m not one of those. Old
school to the core, just like my daddy.” He probably practiced his
“trust me” smile in the mirror. Ghost wasn’t falling for
it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why am I here?” He knew why, but he wanted to see how the
other man would spin it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I wanted to meet you, talk to you. I am your father, after
all.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are you sure?” Ghost was. Bytes had done the research.
Donald’s name wasn’t listed on his birth certificate, but his
mother had left a letter with his grandfather. The old man never said a
word, but the document had been among his things given to the tribal leaders
upon his death. An old friend read it to him over the phone. His father had
been a high roller at one of the casinos on tribal land. His mother worked
there and caught his eye. Eventually they started a relationship. She got
pregnant. Eight years later, she left the Reservation to be his wife.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Of course, I am. Your mother was faithful to me, even before we
married. Or are you trying to tell me you know otherwise?” The thought
seemed to anger him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well then, there you are. You’re my son. And I’d like to
think we could have a good relationship now that we know about each
other.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Ghost almost said no again, just to see what the other man would do, but
managed to stop himself. Instead, he changed tracks. “Your letter
promised legal action if I didn’t show. That’s not very…
fatherly.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“That was before I got to know you. My security team did a little
digging. Can’t blame a man for wanting to get to know all about a son
he suddenly finds out about, can you? And now I know you’ve served
your country well, but you’ve fallen on hard times. That motorcycle
club you’re with, well, I’d like to see my son socializing with
a better class of people. I can and will help you there.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.” The word came out fast and emphatic. Shiva’s Road
MC was his family now. Not this man.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“OK, OK, I can see I’m moving too fast for you. A habit in my
business. You don’t make money letting grass grow under your
feet!”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Donald’s business, according to Bytes, barely paid the mortgage on
this eyesore these days. Donald’s father had been a solid contractor
for large scale buildings in downtown Chicago. But cutting corners to
underbid other contractors, shoddy supplies, and other bad business
practices had given the family business a bad name. Donald scrambled to
cover his monthly debts and if he didn’t hire better lawyers,
he’d be facing jail time. Then there was the little matter of his
gambling debts…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Instead of replying right away, Ghost let his attention drift around the
office. There were business books, decanters containing various kinds of
alcohol with the usual glasses, and several framed pictures. One of the
pictures caught his eye. Two young women were laughing with their arms
around each other in front of a fountain. One had black hair, dusky skin and
a more than passing resemblance to Donald. She must be Rachael, his
half-sister.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The other woman -- he didn’t recognize her -- was nothing less than
stunning. Platinum-blonde hair surrounded her tanned face in a halo as the
sunshine poured down on her, seeming to illuminate her from within. The red
top she wore hugged her more-than-a-handful breasts and rode up enough to
show a strip of her belly. The matching skirt flared out from curvy hips
that begged to be gripped with his large hands and held onto for a wild
ride. Though he couldn’t tell the exact color of her eyes from the
photograph, they seemed to sparkle with mischief. And her full lips, painted
the same red as her shirt, were a form of temptation all their own. He
wanted to lick and suck and taste every inch of her. His cock came to life
behind his zipper as he studied the image. He’d never had such a
visceral reaction to a woman, let alone one he’d seen only in a
picture, in his life.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Every book is a mystery to Dana. Whether it’s writing one or reading
one, she delves into the who, what, when, where and why with a thirst for
knowledge. Getting to know the characters and following their journey as it
unfolds gives her a thrill she hasn’t been able to duplicate in any
other activity. She’s been known to devour as many as three books in a
day, and would write until her fingers bled if her muses allowed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Although Dana is just getting started on her publishing career, please join
her on Facebook and Goodreads, and visit her website often as her MC
collection grows to see what Dana has in store for her readers next!</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.danacask.com/">Author’s Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61553651656438">Author on Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://books2read.com/Ghost-SRMC"><b>Pre-Order Today</b></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-80595380903729623122024-03-19T00:00:00.033-06:002024-03-19T00:00:00.141-06:00Fox Hounds New Release Blitz #IndiGo<a href="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Fox-Hounds-Banner.png"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-106529" height="237" src="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Fox-Hounds-Banner.png" width="640" /></a>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Title</strong>: Fox Hounds</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Author</strong>: Lia Connor</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Publisher</strong>: Changeling Press</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Cover Artist:</strong> Renee' George</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Release Date</strong>: March 15, 2024</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Heat Level</strong>: 4 - Lots of Sex</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Pairing</strong>: Male/Male/Male/Female</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Length</strong>: 45 pages</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Genre</strong>: Action Adventure, New Releases, Paranormal Women's Fiction, Romance, Romantic Comedy</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Themes:</strong> 20th Century, Big Beautiful Women, Bisexual, Multisexual, & Pansexual, Multicultural & Interracial, Multiple Partners, Reverse Harem, Second Edition, Shapeshifters</p>
<h2 style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/208301413-fox-hounds" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Fox-Hounds.jpg"><img alt="" class="size-full wp-image-106530 aligncenter" height="685" src="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Fox-Hounds.jpg" width="451" /></a> </div><h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Synopsis</strong></h1>
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Foxy Lady…</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Reyna's a skilled thief and the lightest-fingered pickpocket around. Several professionals would love to have her on their side, if only to be able to keep an eye on her. What they don't know is that Reyna's nickname isn't just fantasy -- she's a shapeshifting fox and as clever and wily as they come. No one can catch her if she doesn't want to be caught, and so far no one's come close to winning her over.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Not, that is, until the hounds pick up her trail. Jonas, Si and Boone, lovers as well as skilled tricksters, have the Fox's scent and they intend to woo her, outsmart her and win her to their team. As hounds in name as well as in shapeshifting nature, they know they're just as good at getting the job done as Reyna is. All they have to do is catch this thief and get her not only on their side, but in their shared bed.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">And they won't give up until they get the job done.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div>Excerpt</h1>
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fox Hounds</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Second Edition</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lia Connor</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">All rights reserved.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Copyright ©2024 Lia Connor</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Three dogs climbing from an alley to the third-floor balcony of a nightclub would, Jonas knew, have raised a few eyebrows. If anyone had been around to see what happened next, they'd probably have fainted.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Three dogs clustered together on the roof, nosing one another in approval. One morphic flash later -- a sight that'd make any human's eyes water and their head ache -- and three men crouched above the club -- and more importantly, beneath a window.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Jonas tested the surface of the glass. "Bulletproof and cutter-proof. Gotta hand it to the owners. They think they know their security."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"Want to try the lock picks?" Si patted his pocket. He'd concealed his tools so well that unless someone stripped him bare they wouldn't have known he had anything more dangerous on him than his charming smile.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"No." Jonas studied the window. He rolled his sleeves up to mid-forearm. "I think this might just work better." He lifted and the window rose smoothly as silk. The ripe scent of perfume, gin and sex from the club rolled out in powerful waves. "It's like they bathe in it. Eau de Horny."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Si wasn't listening. "Wait, the window's unlocked? No alarms, no sirens, no pepper gas booby traps? Someone knew we were coming."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"I'd say it's likely. I'd even say it was the Fox."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Si swore softly and with great respect.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"Sounds like she's throwing a party to welcome us, too. Listen to that racket, would you? No better place to hide than in a crowd," Jonas said. "Nothing beats a classy lady except a crafty classy dame."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"There's got to be at least a hundred people in there," Boone said in awe. He bumped shoulders with Si and head-butted Jonas in the arm. "Do you think they know what she is?"</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"Doubtful. The Fox likes playing human." Jonas scratched idly behind Boone's ear. "Besides, doesn't matter. She's led us on a wild chase, but the end game is going to be one hundred percent worth it. Two forms and they both have their uses, boys. We found the Fox's current den on all fours, and now we sweep her off her feet as men."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"So you say. I don't think it's going to be that easy," Si objected. "Fox is the best thief on the West Coast, acknowledged by all, so God only knows how many offers --"</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"And threats," Boone butted in soberly.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"-- and threats," Si agreed, "she must have turned down before us. I'd bet dozens have tried and failed to get her on their low-down teams."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"Probably, but they're not us." Jonas lifted the window fully open. Sufficiently tall and wide enough to admit three full-grown conmen, even if one of them was Boone, who'd played fullback before his teammates became aware of his half-canine nature and drop-kicked him off the team. "Here's where the hunt really gets fun. Trust me. Have I ever led you wrong?"</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Si grumbled under his breath, then said, louder, "You know, someday you're going to be wrong. I just hope I'm fast enough to stay ahead of the shock wave of shit when that day comes along."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"You know how I know you love the biz?" Jonas ruminated. "The happier you get, the louder you complain. Right now, you're almost ecstatic. You'd shrivel up and die without this to keep you feeling lively. That, and you think the sun rises and sets on me."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"Don't push your luck."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"I never stop. Life without risk isn't life at all." Jonas nuzzled the corner of Si's mouth. "Don't try to con a conman."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Si rolled his eyes, but despite that he bit and licked at Jonas's lips, teasing him around for a proper kiss, dirty, wet, tongues sliding together.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"Careful you two don't get carried away and fall," Boone rumbled, ever protective even when amused. "It's a long way down and even shapeshifters go splat."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"Yep, that'll kill the mood." Si nudged Boone's chest. Lightly.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"Settle down, boys." Jonas poked his head through the window to assess the room beyond. "Empty. I'm betting it's for storage. Sounds like the party's directly below, too."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"A room full of L.A.'s brightest and most beautiful pretending to be bad boys and girls," Si said. "I like it."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"I like the chase." Jonas breathed in, searching for a trace of the Fox's unique, tantalizing scent. "Once we're inside, you follow my every signal. This is a three-pronged attack and I need you both sharp if we want the Fox to take our bait."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"You honestly think we have a shot at getting her on our team?" Boone asked dubiously.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Jonas turned, his balance perfect, to take Boone by the nape and kiss him quiet. "That was for luck, but if you ask me, I think we have as good a chance as any. Maybe better. We have something she wants. You lose all the battles you don't even try to win."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Boone grinned big and bright. "That's good enough for me."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"I knew I could count on you." Jonas held out his fist for his hounds to bump knuckles on. "One for all, and all for one. Let's catch ourselves a Fox."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>Purchase at <a href="https://www.changelingpress.com/fox-hounds-b-1089" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Changeling Press</a></h1><h1 style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/FoxHounds.jpg"><img alt="" class="aligncenter wp-image-106531" height="419" src="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/FoxHounds.jpg" width="500" /></a></h1><h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Meet the Author
</strong></h1>
Lia Connor lives in the South, but her job takes her almost everywhere but. Her laptop is her best friend. Lia loves stories about BBW’s, hot, hot, hot threesomes and wily shifters who get into (and out of) all kinds of trouble...
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Giveaway</strong></h1>
One lucky winner will receive a $10.00 Changeling Press Gift Code! <div><br /></div><div>
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<a href="http://indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Blog-Button-2.jpg" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><img alt="Blog Button 2" class="size-medium wp-image-1679 aligncenter" height="210" src="http://i.imgur.com/a9QErEc.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-49649719509986877732024-03-19T00:00:00.012-06:002024-03-19T00:00:00.140-06:00Once We Were Witches Teaser Tuesday #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/laura-daleo-once-we-were-witches-teaser-tuesday"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/947fca38d3dc4a60af75d9ad3f782739" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/35f6b6ae742442039fbb6108881deb1a" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/35f6b6ae742442039fbb6108881deb1a" width="267" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Immortal Kiss Series, Book 4</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Supernatural Fiction</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">03-08-2024</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/209634671-once-we-were-witches"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The mysterious world of witchcraft, murder, and mystery thrusts Raven
Sagestone into an adventure whose main goal is to unlock the secrets of her
powers. To do this, she teams up with Brandon Cass, an outsider with
knowledge of the supernatural world. Raven is introduced to Eve, a psychic
who reads destinies. Despite this, Raven is protected by a strong magic
barrier, preventing Eve from seeing her. Brandon and Raven search for the
truth at Bloodthirst, a vampire club. Visiting The Council's haven with
Margarete and Caleb is Raven's chance to find answers to the questions that
have plagued her.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Excerpt</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Chapter 1</b></span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A breaking news alert flashed on the TV screen as I bit into my
bagel.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">As the reporter stood by, the camera panned over to the lifeless body of a
young woman hanging from a tree branch. “Witch” was carved into
her gray, blood-stained forehead. He sighed and hung his head. “A
seventh victim has been added to the list.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I shoved my bagel aside as a sick feeling gripped my stomach. My heart
ached as I stared at the girl’s lifeless face. How could someone be so
cruel and sadistic? This was not just a random act of cruelty. And where
were the police in all of this?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My mom walked in, grabbed the remote, and shut off the TV.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I was watching that.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“There’s no need to watch some sicko murder young women.
Life’s too short to fixate on people like that.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m not fixated,” I clarified. “I’m
concerned. There’s a difference. That’s seven girls now. Each
with the word ‘witch’ carved into their foreheads. What are the
police doing? Nothing?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She blew me off. “Investigations take time. The police are doing
everything they can. Your dad and I see a lot of accidents at the hospital.
Sadly, crime is a real thing. But you,” she kissed my forehead,
“don’t need to worry about that. Your focus should be on college
and the class you need to get to.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Mom was wrong. I had to worry. The creep pursued young women, specifically
witches, a trait I shared and kept to myself. While my parents were
blue-eyed and blonde-haired, I had pitch-black hair and brown eyes, and I
also had strange birthmarks covering my forearms. It might seem like I have
a tragic story, but I believe everything happens for a reason. Maybe I was
destined to be abandoned outside the hospital where my adoptive parents
worked. As they headed home after a long shift, they heard a faint cry near
the emergency entrance. Rushing to investigate, they found me abandoned on
the front steps, bundled in a pink blanket. As fate would have it, they
immediately took me in and showered me with love.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">As a baby, a toddler, a teen, and now at 19, a college student, they never
saw me as anything but sweet, curious, sulky, and smart. They had no idea
what I was hiding, the power I perfected, the spells I practiced, the magic
I shed. In their eyes, I was like them. I knew I was someone beyond their
comprehension, someone powerful. But who was I? Who were my birth parents
who should have taught me how to use the gifts given to me at birth? The
only information I had about my past came from visions—an image of a
dark figure dropping me outside the hospital. There were no records of my
birth, my parents, a location—as if I never existed. Bringing my
questions to my adoptive parents wouldn’t do any good. They’d
kept these secrets hidden from me. In spite of me knowing the real truth, my
adoptive parents provided a birth certificate, giving me the name, Raven
Sagestone. I love them, but I want answers. I wanted to know the truth, and
it was clear it wouldn’t come from them. This was something I had to
figure out for myself.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I put on my cropped denim jacket, kissed my mom on the cheek, and hit up
Uber on my cell. My driver’s tests were a total disaster. I failed
every time. It creeped me out when the instructors stared at me with their
beady eyes. So…my driver’s license was out, and Uber was in.
Having someone else do all the driving was a much better plan, for now
anyway.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Forty minutes before class, the Uber driver dropped me off in front of the
massive steps leading up to entrance of Granite Bay University. It was one
of the oldest schools in Jodence, like something straight out of a
fairytale. Its structure was reminiscent of a castle, with its towering
columns, decorative arched windows, and cone-shaped roof; yet modern-day
people dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers surrounded the ancient
building—me being one of them.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">In the past fourteen weeks, my daily agenda had consisted of visiting the
library before class and researching its extensive collection of witchcraft,
magic, and supernatural books. One of those books was certain to contain the
answers to my birthright. I absorbed every word I came across about
soul-bending, mental conjuring, healing rituals, protection rituals, binding
magic, and the lore of fire, water, and air. One of the most fascinating
things I discovered was the witch’s mark. It has likely been around
for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. However, between the 15th and 18th
centuries, it had a much darker history than it does now. Witches were often
burned, hanged, drowned, and tortured, and those with red hair and extra
fingers and toes were often suspected of witchcraft. Witch hunters used
moles, birthmarks, scars, and extra digits to identify witches. It was a
myth that a particular god or bloodline was associated with the presence of
a mole cluster or rose-colored mark. My arms were covered in black symbols
like ancient ink, and neither a cluster nor a mark applied to me. Thank
goodness I wasn’t born back then.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">With my arms full of books, I walked beneath the library’s massive
brick archways, combing its numerous aisles for books I hadn’t read.
When I rounded the corner, I tripped over a guy sitting on the floor. My
books flew through the air and landed with a thud. I groaned as I hit the
ground, hoping I had not damaged my books. The guy on the floor, on the
other hand, quickly sprang up and apologized profusely.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">His hands steadied me as he blurted, “Whoa, sorry.” He helped
me gather my books and ensured I was okay. An adorable smile swept along his
lips as he brushed sandy-brown hair out of his hazel-colored eyes. He was
probably one of those guys unaware of how cute he was, but cute or not,
he’d parked his ass in the middle of the aisle, causing me to
trip.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“What the hell, dude? There are tables to sit at and
read.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yeah, I see your point,” he grinned, revealing dimpled cheeks
as he flipped through the books. “So you’re into witches? Or
maybe it’s research for a paper about what’s going now right
now?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Does it matter?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He squished his eyebrows together and tilted his head to the side.
“Do you know my sister?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Huh?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Never mind.” He tucked the books under his arm and bobbed his
chin toward the tables. “Here, let me help you. It’s the least I
can do.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">With a smile, I accepted his offer. “Thank you.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He arranged the books on the table before shoving his hands into his
pockets. Then he stood there, studying me.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Stare much?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Has anyone told you, you’re difficult?” He didn’t
wait for me to respond. “But hey, I apologize for staring.” He
spread his fingers and moved them in a circular motion over my face.
“You remind me of someone, Eve. She’s got the same dark hair,
ivory skin, and red lip look.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I shrugged. “I don’t know anyone named Eve.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hmph.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> The sound of a distant scream sent chills down my spine. My eyes
darted around, searching for the source. “Did you hear
that?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“That was definitely a scream.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Students leapt from their seats, hurling books onto the floor as their
gazes swept the room. Librarians abandoned their posts and spilled into the
aisles. Panicked voices shouted, “Who screamed?” “What
happened?” Me and the guy were thrown into madness by a stampede of
people charging to the exits and pushing us out of the building and onto the
library’s steps.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The echo of my thumping heart filled my ears as I tried to figure out what
was happening around me. The once orderly campus had become a chaotic mess
as hundreds of people rushed by, pushing and shoving, their faces filled
with panic. As I fought my way through the crowd, I couldn’t help but
wonder where everyone was going and what had happened to cause such
chaos.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“There!” the guy pointed toward the sculpture of the
university’s tower in the courtyard.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I gasped as my eyes landed on the bodies. Three girls hung from the white
tower with their necks bound together, now covered in blood. As I looked at
their lifeless eyes and saw the word “witch” carved across their
foreheads, a chill ran down my spine. An eerie, tragic, and horrific scene
surrounded the stained white tower. As students and teachers huddled
together, whispering in disbelief, a shrill of sirens echoed in the
distance, intensifying panic and fear. Police authorities were under
pressure to find those responsible for these horrific acts.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Damn, three this time,” he uttered with shock.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I couldn’t speak. My throat swelled with a huge sob as I slowly shook
my head.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The police rushed in, their footsteps pounding the sidewalk as they raced
toward the tower. Their faces were determined as they cautiously approached
the cordoned-off area. They quickly pulled out their clipboards and
meticulously documented the evidence, taking photographs of the area.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">An officer, wearing an exasperated expression, yelled. “Get back!
This is a crime scene.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I flinched, staggered backward, before firmly planting my feet on the
ground. I wasn’t going anywhere. This was my battle. I needed answers.
Those poor girls needed answers too. My eyes grew wide as I demanded,
“Why don’t you find this sick creep before we all die?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The guy’s gaze burned into my flesh as he snapped his head toward me.
“What are you doing?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The officer thrust his shoulders back and barked out, “You need to
step back.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Are you trying to get arrested?” the guy whispered in my ear.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Just as his words entered my head, I overheard someone say,
“They’re ice cold; not a drop of blood in them.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My eyes locked on the authoritative policeman. “Blood? Is that new?
Were the other girls drained of blood too?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A pair of squinted eyes glared at me. “You can retreat or go downtown
and think about your actions in a jail cell.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Omgeez, man up much?” the guy said as he grabbed my arm and
hurried me away. “You need to calm down.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I tore my gaze away from the dead girls and locked it on him.
“Don’t tell me what to do. You don’t know anything about
me. I want answers for those girls.” And myself, I privately declared.
“It seems nobody is fighting for them.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“It might seem that way on the surface, but I’m sure
they’re doing everything they can to help.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I wish I could believe that, but dead bodies keep showing
up…” My voice cracked as the sob squeezing my throat broke
free. My shoulders quivered, and I buried my face in my hands.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and softened his voice.
“They’ll catch ’em. It’ll be okay.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Sniffling, I sighed, “I can’t concentrate. I can’t be in
class.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“We can walk to The Grind, get a coffee, and just relax.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I nodded and then hung my head as he led me away from the gruesome scene of
dead girls.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/efef8a600898422e8fb2b1934b362a8b" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/efef8a600898422e8fb2b1934b362a8b" width="213" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">LAURA DALEO is a multi-genre author, specializing in Dark Fantasy, Urban
Fantasy, Supernatural/Paranormal fiction, Science Fiction, and Young Adult
Fiction. Immortal Kiss, her best-known vampire series, explores the Egyptian
pantheon that gave rise to vampires. Currently, she is working on her eighth
book, I am Wolf, an urban fantasy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A native of San Diego, California, Laura now lives in Tucson, Arizona with
her two dogs, Rose and Cooper.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.lauradaleobooks.com/">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLauraDaleo">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/AutLauraDaleo">Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13162897.Laura_Daleo">Goodreads</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/lauraddaleo/">Pinterest</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/author_laura_daleo/?hl=en">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/laura-daleo">BookBub</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Preorder Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CXJQD8XS">Amazon Kindle</a> - on sale for $0.99</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1736610325">Amazon paperback</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href=" https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/once-we-were-witches-laura-daleo/1145019024?ean=9781736610336">Barnes & Noble - ebook</a> - on sale for $0.99</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/once-we-were-witches-laura-daleo/1145019024?ean=9781736610329">Barnes & Noble</a> <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/once-we-were-witches-laura-daleo/1145019024?ean=9781736610329">- paperback</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/once-we-were-witches-3">Kobo - ebook</a></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;"> - on sale for
$0.99</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
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Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-20774253964523893322024-03-18T00:00:00.024-06:002024-03-18T00:00:00.175-06:00Belega New Release Blitz #IndiGo<a href="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Belaga-Blitz-Banner.png"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-106378" height="237" src="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Belaga-Blitz-Banner.png" width="640" /></a>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Title</strong>: Belega</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Series</strong>: The Karthagans, Book One</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Author</strong>: Dianne Hartsock</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Publisher</strong>:<strong> </strong>NineStar Press</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Release Date</strong>: 03/12/2024</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Heat Level</strong>: 3 - Some Sex</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Pairing</strong>: Male/Male</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Length</strong>: 99600</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Genre</strong>: Fantasy, fantasy, magic, sorcerers, mage, psychic powers</p>
<h2 style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/208336209-belega" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a></h2><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="size-medium aligncenter wp-image-105971" data-attachment-id="105971" data-comments-opened="1" data-image-caption="" data-image-description="" data-image-meta="{"aperture":"0","credit":"","camera":"","caption":"","created_timestamp":"0","copyright":"","focal_length":"0","iso":"0","shutter_speed":"0","title":"","orientation":"1"}" data-image-title="Belega" data-large-file="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Belega-scaled.jpg?fit=683%2C1024&ssl=1" data-medium-file="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Belega-scaled.jpg?fit=200%2C300&ssl=1" data-orig-file="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Belega-scaled.jpg?fit=1707%2C2560&ssl=1" data-orig-size="1707,2560" data-permalink="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/?attachment_id=105971" height="300" src="https://i0.wp.com/www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Belega-scaled.jpg?fit=200%2C300&ssl=1" width="200" /></div>
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Description</strong></h1><h1 style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The Karthagans have regained their ancient powers of manipulating nature, but at the price of madness. In their lust for control, they've destroyed their island and most of their race. They come now to Belega, where one of them, Camron, seeks domination over the known world. The Mage has come from the northern continent of Sennia to bring peace, but finding his strength no match for the coming struggle, he passes his abilities on to Natan, who only desires a simple life.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Now only Natan has the ability to stop Camron, but the personal cost is more than he imagines. It is only with the combined strength of his friends, his Karthagan lover, Kavi, and his deep desire to bring lasting peace to the earth, that he finds the courage to overcome Camron and restore balance to the world.</span></span></div>Excerpt</h1><h1 style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Belega</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Dianne Hartsock © 2024</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">All Rights Reserved</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">“I have you.”</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Natan rose into a low crouch from the scrub brush, careful not to scrape his cloak against the foliage, and searched his memory for the trick Kavi had taught him. Oh, yes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing all worries. His expectations. Letting go. The clip of the horse’s hooves echoed in his mind, and he concentrated on that, the smell of the horse, the feel of its hide, the oats on its breath. He became aware of a vague fear in the animal’s mind.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">But the tenuous connection broke without time to try again as the soldier leading the roan brought him to a stop, his gaze sweeping the path ahead, alert. Gathering his scattered wits as best he could, Natan lunged to his feet and dove for the soldier’s legs. They went down hard, Natan gasping at the whoosh of air against his cheek as the horse reared, hooves barely missing him. Knowing he was no match for the soldier physically, he scrambled to jab a knee into the man’s back, then drew his thin knife and pressed it against the pulse at his throat, feeling him stiffen.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">“Hold very still,” he warned. The soldier didn’t move as the keen blade inadvertently nicked his skin. Recalling Kavi’s imprisonment in an Amara prison, Natan gritted his teeth and swung his arm back, then brought the hilt of the knife down sharply on his vulnerable skull. With a grunt, the man went limp. Natan climbed to his feet, cursing under his breath as the horse disappeared up the trail. He rolled the man over so his face wouldn’t be in the dirt, making sure he could breathe without difficulty.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Frowning at the thick trees crowding them, he left his captive a moment to scout the vicinity, at last coming upon a small clearing off the trail. It took some effort to drag the unconscious soldier to the spot, and a relief to roll the heavy body down the last few feet. He retrieved leather strips from his pack, bound the man’s hands and feet to a small sapling, then examined the soldier’s head once again. Although the purplish welt had swollen, the bleeding had stopped.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Natan watched the soldier a moment and shook his head in disgust when he didn’t waken. “Hit him too hard,” he muttered, angry with himself. He built a small fire as the air grew chilly and sat with his back to a tree while he waited for the soldier to regain consciousness. Darkness descended on the forest, and he chewed his lips in growing anxiety. His dear friend, Captain Bryon of Amara, along with Lieutenant Jaden, had gone to Nagal to petition the Mage to help them recover Kavi. Had they reached the city yet? If so, Natan would need to be at the Lake of Glass to meet with them in a few short days. A lifetime, as long as Kavi remained captive.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">He sharpened his knife on a whetstone to pass the time while the soldier remained unconscious. As the stars came out, an ache crept into his chest as he thought of Kavi and how they used to lie awake, watching for falling stars. Natan would make them tea in a little pot over the fire; then they’d wrap in warm blankets and talk quietly while the sky wheeled overhead. Sometimes they made love, Kavi’s warm sleek body pliant as Natan searched out new ways to draw those sweet breathy moans from his lips.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">And then it had all ended. Natan closed his eyes at the jab of pain in his heart. The Nagal soldiers had come to their camp and dragged Kavi away, laughing when Natan struggled, and methodically beat him senseless. That had been two weeks ago, and every attempt he’d made to find his lover had failed. The last time he’d been in Amara he’d been threatened with imprisonment himself.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">He would do Kavi no good behind iron bars, he reminded himself.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Natan opened his eyes to find the captive staring at him from where he’d slumped against the tree. Natan went over and helped him to a sitting position.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">“What’s your name?” he asked with ice in his voice. The man continued to stare at him, insolent.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Natan looked him over carefully. “Let me guess. You’re dressed as a Nagal soldier, though you’re obviously not one. Maybe a deserter? Maybe a Barkuit spy?” He watched the soldier’s face as he named the rival country, then leaned closer to whisper, “What of Kavi?”</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">“That trash?” the man asked in surprise, then yelped when Natan lunged at him, knife slipping into his hand.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">“Say that again and I’ll slit your throat. Now, what is your name?”</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">“Captain Syros Reed.”</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Natan sat back on his heels, fury hot in his chest. “Speak.”</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">“I could tell you where they mean to bury him,” Syros drawled, holding Natan’s gaze, and smiled slightly at his sharply indrawn breath. “That is, once Landlan has drawn the secret to the Karthagans’ power over nature out of him. The power the Barkuit army would kill to use in our coming conflict. Kavi was alive the last time I saw him, but I heard they mean to bury him soon. If you hurry, he may still be breathing. I don’t know.”</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">“And you didn’t help him?” With a sudden enraged cry Natan drove his knife into the sapling inches from Syros’s face. “He’d better be alive, for your sake.”</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">He left his water skin for Syros, should the man succeed in freeing himself, then gave the soldier no more thought as he snatched up his pack and settled into the long run ahead, determined to be at the Lake of Glass on time.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div>Purchase</h1>
<h2 style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://ninestarpress.com/product/belega/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">NineStar Press</a> | <a href="https://books2read.com/belega" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Books2Read</a></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Belega-Now-Available.png"><img alt="" class="wp-image-106379 aligncenter" height="500" src="https://www.indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Belega-Now-Available-1024x1024.png" width="500" /></a></div><h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Meet the Author
</strong></h1>
Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination. <div><br /></div><div>Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.
<h2 style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Website</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Dianne-Hartsock-Author-107985445959828/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/diannehartsock/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/diannehartsock/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></h2>
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><strong>Giveaway</strong></h1>
One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! </div><div><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="555033ec1036" data-template="589504cd4f3bedde0b6e64c2" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/555033ec1036/" id="rcwidget_w2mxeidp" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a> </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
<a href="http://indigomarketingdesign.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Blog-Button-2.jpg" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><img alt="Blog Button 2" class="size-medium wp-image-1679 aligncenter" height="210" src="http://i.imgur.com/a9QErEc.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-66592883623770227072024-03-18T00:00:00.013-06:002024-03-18T00:00:00.176-06:00Code of Reanimation Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/lanie-mores-code-of-reanimation-book-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/497e5eb9c18d4e8aba6954c4f3b2c5ed" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/527457d50fc94ab88e637e16879c0943" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/527457d50fc94ab88e637e16879c0943" width="267" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Spin-off of the Father of Contention series</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Paranormal Thriller, Science Fiction, Horror</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> 11-14-2023</span>
</p>
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</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/201108782-code-of-reanimation"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Freedom is a state of mind.</i></span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Brigita Nowak has only ever wanted one thing—her freedom. Labelled
psychotic and committed to a mental institution at seventeen, she missed the
chance of a “normal” life. She never held a job, owned her own
place, or experienced love. Until now.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">After awakening sprawled on the common room floor—the hospital in
ruins, the staff and patients missing—she realizes it’s her
chance to escape. Seeking sanctuary with her sister, she meets “the
boyfriend” Renner Scholz, a vile yet brilliant geneticist. He has
developed a bioweapon, the Code of Reanimation, destined to destroy the
world. Or so Brigita believes. She’s been seeing zombie hallucinations
as of late, a sure premonition of the highly contagious bioweapon getting
out of hand. Why the connection? Because the bioweapon reanimates dead
organisms into bloodthirsty killing machines.</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Brigita has typically experienced death-based hallucinations, blamed on her
mental illness. She, however, always felt they were psychic premonitions.
Convinced that Renner intends to release the bioweapon at a public
fundraising event, she teams up with a handsome love interest to thwart the
catastrophe. But, as Brigita’s visions kick into hyperdrive and
timelines blur, she must determine which events are based on reality or
delusional constructs of her subconscious mind...</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">before it’s too late.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/1e896b7aec894109a1133234c12a9bdf" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/1e896b7aec894109a1133234c12a9bdf" width="240" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Lanie Mores is the award-winning author of the science fiction and fantasy
book series, Father of Contention. She has an Honours Bachelor of Science
Degree, a Masters Degree in Clinical Psychology, and she is an active member
of the Canadian Authors Association. When she isn't writing, you'll find her
reading, binge-watching Netflix, baking, and slaughtering zombies and other
monsters on her Xbox. She lives in Ontario with her family and forever
barking fur babies, Batman and Petri.</span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.laniemores.com">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/LanieMores2/">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/LanieMores">Twitter</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.laniemores.com/blog/">Blog</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17950238.Lanie_Mores">Goodreads</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/LanieMores/">Pinterest</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/laniemores/">Instagram</a></span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/48YMKST">Amazon</a></span></p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="408264011855" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/408264011855/" id="rcwidget_rx8gmwpk" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a> <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
<a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-76320063256824554882024-03-15T00:00:00.064-06:002024-03-15T00:00:00.251-06:00The Morbid Alphabet Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/gabrielle-ferrara-the-morbid-alphabet-book-book-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/8181c7009ae94c268e70d7b8171ff47a" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/c1d8fc62f16b4c3ba4afc5fa2c636fba" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="528" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/c1d8fc62f16b4c3ba4afc5fa2c636fba" width="528" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Children's Book</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">July 2022</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/122419667-the-morbid-alphabet-book"><img height="75" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/26885701adea4bb791503c2c1651b879" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The Morbid Alphabet Book combines a love of the macabre with learning the
alphabet. This fully illustrated book is the perfect educational tool for
children curious about the world around them. Each page features a different
letter paired with a morbid word and corresponding definition. Not only will
children learn their alphabet, but they will expand their vocabulary at the
same time!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">From A to Z, The Morbid Alphabet Book is sure to educate and
entertain.</span>
</p>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span></p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/a8fb2d06df53438f8520468e52d89ac0" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/a8fb2d06df53438f8520468e52d89ac0" width="220" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Gabrielle Ferrara is an artist and entrepreneur who creates
Victorian-inspired art and jewelry with ethically sourced animal remains.
She has a master's degree in Museum Studies and undergraduate degrees in
Anthropology and Art History. Gabrielle enjoys spending her free time with
family, venturing down the rabbit hole of obscurity, and talking about
dinosaurs.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.uniquelymorbid.com">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/UniquelyMorbid">Facebook</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.instagram.com/UniquelyMorbid">Instagram</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3Pd4FOH">Amazon</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-morbid-alphabet-book-gabrielle-ferrara/1141669840">B&N</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-53390234535625788152024-03-15T00:00:00.051-06:002024-03-15T00:00:00.250-06:00 A Twist of Hate Blurb Blitz #GoddessFish<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwo0XBE8r0E_DNMG3WEzZE3rasYKi_L7BZUzRKLDllvC5GL_wz-O_1tjU34G7eMJ0rzFIbotHl7bUX6-71QAmmFdZrDD3jr6Z9UmVoSPE_DtSizek5QhDYZuJ3XZy8Zj3ovauGflqHUzt0EXfdD1CTq2n_pcXjwyaR2R9ixAx7svzJFzKlsWtpzVoAvg/s1200/TourBanner_A%20Twist%20of%20Hate.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="1200" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwo0XBE8r0E_DNMG3WEzZE3rasYKi_L7BZUzRKLDllvC5GL_wz-O_1tjU34G7eMJ0rzFIbotHl7bUX6-71QAmmFdZrDD3jr6Z9UmVoSPE_DtSizek5QhDYZuJ3XZy8Zj3ovauGflqHUzt0EXfdD1CTq2n_pcXjwyaR2R9ixAx7svzJFzKlsWtpzVoAvg/s320/TourBanner_A%20Twist%20of%20Hate.gif" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><b>A
TWIST OF HATE</b></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>T.E.
Lorenzo</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span><span style="color: black;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><b>GENRE</b></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">:
Romance</span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span><b>BLURB:</b></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>They
love to hate each other...</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>Natalia
is content with hating her co-worker, Adrian. The two can hardly
stand being in the same room, despite having worked together for
several months. When Natalia agrees to a trip out of town with a
friend, little does she know that Adrian will be there, too. This is
the time to crank up the hate, right?</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span><span style="color: black;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">The
trip is not what Natalia thought it would be. Forced to spend time
with her enemy, she finds there is more to Adrian than meets the eye.
Will Natalia push aside her hatred and see the true Adrian?</span></span></span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>With
a twist of hate, just maybe...</span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Excerpt</b></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>Last
night wasn’t just any dream. It was a dream that left nothing to
the imagination. In the dream, she had a room in the Venetian, where
they had returned for a long night of intimacy. She already knew how
his lips felt pressed against hers and applied that same sensation to
the rest of her body.</span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>She
had woken at four o’clock in a drenching sweat, despite the house
being freezing. The dream had felt too real, and the part that
bothered her the most was that she enjoyed it. When she fell back
asleep—after an hour—she wanted to return to that dream. Even
though she had plenty of doubt that any of it could become a reality.</span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>It’s
not like we’re in a relationship, she had told herself as she drove
to work this morning. He still has his little girlfriend, and I don’t
even know where my life is going to take me. Why does this have to be
so complicated? It was much easier to hate him before this got all
messy.</span></span></p><p class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span><br /></span></span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVOWH9w4An2hIw9mUfwJcyKSYtwgNvabPd5b1aosicYSkWmKF5su3wohuRndQMSgx4w9xStLbXuM-tKvQLbgcVOHPTk7sVjhg9szo3ox0H24a77EEm0K9-jSwhOIW-C79UOePFZs_LavP5qXW_SUVF7xH_l-hkPCbFKrcHVfSTexg9HniX7jRrfgMh-A/s432/Author%20Image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="288" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVOWH9w4An2hIw9mUfwJcyKSYtwgNvabPd5b1aosicYSkWmKF5su3wohuRndQMSgx4w9xStLbXuM-tKvQLbgcVOHPTk7sVjhg9szo3ox0H24a77EEm0K9-jSwhOIW-C79UOePFZs_LavP5qXW_SUVF7xH_l-hkPCbFKrcHVfSTexg9HniX7jRrfgMh-A/s320/Author%20Image.png" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span><span style="color: black;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><b>AUTHOR
Bio and Links:</b></span></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>TE
Lorenzo is the debut author of A Twist of Hate. Having lived through
his own enemies-to-lovers story, he believes love can come from the
most unexpected of places. When he's not writing, TE is likely
chasing his kids around, playing baseball, or relaxing with a good
book. He is currently living out his happily-ever-after with his wife
and three kids in their hometown of Denver, CO.</span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span><span style="color: black;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">AMAZON
LINK: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP2TF94Z">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP2TF94Z</a></span></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span><span style="color: black;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">BN:
</span></span><span style="color: blue;"><u><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-twist-of-hate-te-lorenzo/1144416094"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-twist-of-hate-te-lorenzo/1144416094</span></a></u></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span><span style="color: black;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">KOBO:
<a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/a-twist-of-hate">https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/a-twist-of-hate</a></span></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span><span style="color: black;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">SW:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1485296?ref=5princepub</span></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span><span style="color: black;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">GOOGLEPLAY:
<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/T_E_Lorenzo_A_Twist_of_Hate?id=PbTlEAAAQBAJ">https://play.google.com/store/books/details/T_E_Lorenzo_A_Twist_of_Hate?id=PbTlEAAAQBAJ</a></span></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>Website:
<a href="https://www.5princebooks.com/telorenzo.html">https://www.5princebooks.com/telorenzo.html</a></span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span></p><p align="center" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaYpgJOvI4wlCt78gRYntAQcxDLD5bsARBFcSHjW6wpdm3zjBdRlK84TtGh2ay_fOIyFJKXrEPQkt1RPCWgzVPSbVVh1rzQ5gyyfUPOH0zzNEEGXF1wmhf-wHwh3Ds8rOquTBjIz5un8-FIs62wvIxfY1sWoBc5lwwEGGB3a3V4oe_rxaIRhsftwvqPw/s2700/BookCover_ATwistOfHateEbookCoverUse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaYpgJOvI4wlCt78gRYntAQcxDLD5bsARBFcSHjW6wpdm3zjBdRlK84TtGh2ay_fOIyFJKXrEPQkt1RPCWgzVPSbVVh1rzQ5gyyfUPOH0zzNEEGXF1wmhf-wHwh3Ds8rOquTBjIz5un8-FIs62wvIxfY1sWoBc5lwwEGGB3a3V4oe_rxaIRhsftwvqPw/s320/BookCover_ATwistOfHateEbookCoverUse.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span><b>GIVEAWAY
INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE</b></span></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span>The
author will award a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn
winner.</span></span></p><p>
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="28e4345f4824" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f4824/" id="rcwidget_zq50e8ko" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4811967333266211696.post-37803235473967279562024-03-14T05:59:00.001-06:002024-03-14T05:59:29.555-06:00Bretisms Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sites.google.com/rabtbooktoursandpr.com/2024blitzes/bret-davis-bretisms-book-blitz"><img height="200" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/dba2561c2e544f0486eba7fde2c5a6af" width="500" /></a></div><p> </p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/4e91ce1271d940a6945579869464220b" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="462" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/4e91ce1271d940a6945579869464220b" width="289" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Adopted, Borrowed and Modified Philosophies For a Life with LESS ANXIETY
and MORE CONFIDENCE</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Nonfiction / Self-Help</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Date Published: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">January 29, 2024</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Publisher:</b> MindStir Media</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This book contains a collection of sayings, thoughts, and life lessons that
have helped to reduce my level of stress and anxiety while building
confidence in myself and others. Some are mine, and others I have heard and
adopted either as is or marginally tailored to become mine over the years. I
repeat these sayings to myself and others almost daily. By reading these
healthy reminders on a daily basis you will come to realize a healthier
outlook on life, find others treat you with more kindness and respect all
while building confidence in yourself and your abilities.</span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>About the Author</b></span>
</p><a 1="" href="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/77103146f43f46a49fec64f6a21c3ac2g" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/production-sitebuilder-v1-0-3/663/206663/rL88XEv2/77103146f43f46a49fec64f6a21c3ac2" width="240" /></a>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Born in Youngstown Ohio, with stops throughout his life in Michigan, NJ,
Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Florida, Ohio (again) Georgia and Texas. Bret Davis
is a born salesman. With the love of his wife of twenty-eight years, Kelly,
and their two sons, Blake and Connor, he has achieved his dreams and more.
Starting from a door-to-door salesman, he has worked his way up to
executive-level positions with multiple companies in the medical field.
Throughout his trials and experiences in the sales industry, Bret has come
to understand people and that the way we all work holds a unique value.
Today, he and his family reside in Houston, Texas.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Contact Links</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.bretisms.com">Website</a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><b>Purchase Link</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3Tt64Df">Amazon</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rabtbooktoursandpr.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="RABT Book Tours & PR" height="400" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/wzukusers/user-32179697/images/0ef1e26fd5f04c99b11731d6d17c8a41/RABT-Tour-Host.png" width="400" /></a></div>
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost http://www.blogger.com/profile/07596105116325246476noreply@blogger.com1