Book blitz – Dagger’s destiny by Linnea Tanner

Curse of Clansmen and Kings, Book 2

Historical Fantasy

Publisher: Apollo Raven Publisher

Release Date: September 26, 2018

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A Celtic warrior princess accused of treason for aiding her enemy lover must win back her father’s love and trust

In the rich and vibrant tale, Author Linnea Tanner continues the story of Catrin and Marcellus that began with the awarding-winning novel APOLLO’S RAVEN in the Curse of Clansmen and Kings Series. Book 2: DAGGER’S DESTINY sweeps you into an epic tale of forbidden love, mythological adventure, and political intrigue in Ancient Rome and Britannia.

War looms over 24 AD Britannia where rival tribal rulers fight each other for power and the Romans threaten to invade to settle their political differences. King Amren accuses his daughter, Catrin, of treason for aiding the Roman enemy and her lover, Marcellus. The ultimate punishment is death unless she can redeem herself. She must prove loyalty to her father by forsaking Marcellus and defending their kingdom—even to the death. Forged into a warrior, she must overcome tribulations and make the right decisions on her quest to break the curse that foretells her banished half-brother and the Roman Empire will destroy their kingdom.

Yet, when Catrin again reunites with Marcellus, she is torn between her love for him and duty to King Amren. She must ultimately face her greatest challenger who could destroy her life, freedom, and humanity.

Will Catrin finally break the ancient prophecy that looms over her kingdom? Will she abandon her forbidden love for Marcellus to win back her father’s trust and love? Can King Amren balance his brutality to maintain power with the love he feels for Catrin?


Other Books in the Curse of Clansmen and Kings series:

Apollo’s Raven

Curse of Clansmen and Kings, Book 1

Publisher: Apollo Raven Publisher

Published: April 2017

A Celtic warrior princess is torn between her forbidden love for the enemy and duty to her people.

AWARD-WINNING APOLLO’S RAVEN sweeps you into an epic Celtic tale of forbidden love, mythological adventure, and political intrigue in Ancient Rome and Britannia. In 24 AD British kings hand-picked by Rome to rule are fighting each other for power. King Amren’s former queen, a powerful Druid, has cast a curse that Blood Wolf and the Raven will rise and destroy him. The king’s daughter, Catrin, learns to her dismay that she is the Raven and her banished half-brother is Blood Wolf. Trained as a warrior, Catrin must find a way to break the curse, but she is torn between her forbidden love for her father’s enemy, Marcellus, and loyalty to her people. She must summon the magic of the Ancient Druids to alter the dark prophecy that threatens the fates of everyone in her kingdom.

Will Catrin overcome and eradicate the ancient curse. Will she be able to embrace her forbidden love for Marcellus? Will she cease the war between Blood Wolf and King Amren and save her kingdom?

Excerpt

Treason

July, 24 AD, Southeast Britannia

The image of her father being wounded at the prisoner exchange haunted Princess Catrin as she entered the cave’s dank womb where warriors had secretly carried the casualties. Under the illumination of a flaming torch, she found several men hovering over the king’s motionless body. She feared the decision to use the dark forces of the Ancient Druids to alter the future could doom her father and people.

Catrin trembled as she knelt by her father and studied his bloodsmeared face. A chill of foreboding sliced down her spine. Just that morning, she had made love with Marcellus on what could be her father’s deathbed.

She placed the palm of her hand on his forehead. His skin was cold and clammy, but he was still alive.

Feeling the bloody streaks on his tunic, she pulled her fingers away and turned to Cynwrig, the king’s most-trusted guard. “Help me remove the tunic. I need to stop the bleeding!”

Cynwrig supported the king as Catrin cut the fabric from his chest. The ghastly crisscross cuts and deep abdominal gash made her cringe. A stench like rotten eggs assaulted her nostrils.

King Amren fidgeted. “Fetch my Druidess.”

“No!” Catrin snapped. “Agrona is a traitor. We can’t risk letting anyone

know we’ve rescued and are tending you. There are herbs near the wall that will help reduce the swelling.”

Catrin clasped her father’s icy hands and noticed his sunken, bloodshot eyes. She looked to Cynwrig. “Heat a knife so I can seal his wounds. I also need water from the river.”

“Do what my daughter says,” rasped Amren.

Cynwrig pointed to the cave’s opening. “I’ll start a fire over there and get someone to fetch the water.”

While Cynwrig prepared the fire, Catrin rummaged through several pouches, searching for the proper herbs. After a warrior returned with a bucket of water, she soaked several strips of willow bark in the container, then crushed dried blackberry, borage, and sage stems in a ceramic mortar.

She finally added vinegar to the powder and stirred the contents with her finger into a green paste.

She looked at Cynwrig. “Is the knife ready?”

Cynwrig pulled the glowing red blade from the flames. “It looks hot enough.”

“Then bring it to me.”

Catrin took the knife from Cynwrig, who then restrained the king’s arms. She pressed the searing blade on the wounds, methodically moving downward. The king writhed in agony, his eyes as wild as a wounded animal’s as he fought Cynwrig’s restraint. Concentrating on her task, Catrin swallowed the bile in her mouth and handed the dagger to Cynwrig to reheat the blade. Light-headed and in a cold sweat, she leaned into the hard wall to brace herself, then applied the paste dressing over her father’s reddened wounds. Even with her gentle touch, his muscles flinched. Observing the anguish on his face, she placed a blanket under his head and gave him chamomile and poppy in water to ease his pain.

She continued the treatment by placing bark strips on the dressing until the king’s grip around her wrist stopped her.

“We need to speak about Marcellus,” Amren said with a growl from deep within his throat.

Catrin winced, apprehensive her father knew about her relationship with the Roman hostage placed under her charge. She warily studied the king as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He waved Trystan, his second- in-command, over and whispered to him. With a nod, Trystan ordered everyone away.

The hairs on Catrin’s neck prickled. The only reason her father would order warriors away would be to reprimand her. She wilted under the king’s burning glare as he began questioning. “Trystan told me when we were imprisoned together that Cynwrig found you unconscious in Marcellus’s arms. I want to know what happened between the two of you.”

Catrin hesitated, fearing her revelation would anger her father and cause his condition to deteriorate. “You should rest now. We can discuss this later.”

“No. Tell me now!” Amren snapped.

Catrin could feel the king’s eyes probing her like a sharp-edged scalpel for the truth. She bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. “When I was stricken with the falling sickness, Marcellus came to my aid.”

“Trystan said the Roman was found naked with you, and Agrona accused him of bewitching you with an amulet!”

“Marcellus had just finished bathing,” Catrin answered, suddenly feeling queasy.

Amren cocked an eyebrow. “Bathing?”

“Yes.”

“And that is all that happened?”

Catrin froze under her father’s cold stare.

“Answer me!”

“You can’t trust what Agrona says,” Catrin replied.

“And why is that?”

“She is a druidic spirit from your past.”


About the Author

Since childhood, award-winning author, Linnea Tanner, has passionately read about ancient civilizations and mythology that held women in higher esteem, particularly the enigmatic Celts reputed to be warriors and druids. She has extensively researched and traveled to sites described in the Curse of Clansmen and King series. A native of Colorado, Linnea attended the University of Colorado and earned both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in chemistry. She lives in Windsor with her husband and has two children and six grandchildren.

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Cover reveal of Fountain dead by Theresa Braun

Cover reveal fountain Dead
Fountain Dead cover reveal

Expected Publication: Mid-November

Genre: Mature YA Horror/ Paranormal

Fountain Dead cover
Fountain Dead cover

Mark is uprooted from his home and high school in the Twin Cities and forced to move with his family into a Victorian in Nowhere-ville. Busy with the relocation and fitting in, Mark’s parents don’t see what’s unfolding around them—the way rooms and left behind objects seem alive with a haunted past.

The house
The house

Of course, Mark keeps his ghostly encounters to himself, all the while sinking deeper into the house’s dark, alluring, and ultimately terrifying history. As romantic entanglements intensify, the paranormal activity escalates. Past and present come together. Everything is connected—from the bricks in the walls to the hearts beating in their chests, all the secrets of Fountain Dead are finally unearthed.

Coming Soon!

Excerpt
The vapor wafting from the stagnant pool smelled like the rancid rot from inside a carcass. Mark felt he breathed in fire. The gooey surface boiled and foamed as if a prehistoric substance. His heart stopped as something emerged. A goopy and gnarled dome became a sickly face. The eyelids still closed, the rest of the form rose, covered in green.

A tattered dress clung to the feminine curves. The cloth slipped from the shoulders, drawing his attention to her skin. The texture made him gag.

A sour taste of bile filled his mouth. His skin contracted as he contemplated her spongy flesh. Her black eyes sprang open like a demonic doll’s. Her inhuman gaze stabbed his very core, and he knew he was facing a soul-less being. The eyes burned like hot stove burners.

A decomposing hand extended toward his throat.

Mark woke, wet with perspiration. His pillowcase and sheets were damp, as if he’d taken a swim in the fountain. That idea made him unable to breathe. His heartbeat sped along at a rate close to heart attack status as he tried not to blow a gasket about the evil that lie in wait. He whipped his pillow from behind his head and squashed it to his chest. No one would grasp what he’d been feeling—or what he’d been seeing.

His lip trembled.

Something—a fiend, a spirit, the fountain—wanted to hurt him.

Mark’s chest compressed.

The devil on his shoulder advised him that his mother had to be right. All of the metal music, the cartoons, the swearing, had been an invitation for demons and darkness. Forget the fact that none of his friends had ever mentioned opening some gateway to hell. These dark forces had chosen him.

He lied back, exhaustion sinking him deeper into the mattress. After pulling the blood warm sheets up to his chin, he shunned the moonlight streaming into the room. The crooked claws of the branches squealed against the half-open windowpane. Summer’s hot breath puffed into the house. Mark didn’t have to strain to hear its griping—the sighs of the woodwork and the building’s various joints.

The door to the servants’ quarters was open again. However, that bothered him less and less. A perfume of fragrant flowers sent him to sleep.

About the Author

Theresa Braun
Theresa Braun

Hmmm. What’s this? Looks like Ms. Braun left her computer on and her Goodreads bio open.
This should be fun.
What can we say about Theresa? I mean other than the fact that she’s weirdly obsessed with smiley faces :-). Like, seriously obsessed >:-*. It’s kinda scary :-O.
I think she thinks she’s from Renaissance England or Venice or something. I never could figure out which one it was. (She’s really bad at doing accents.)
She likes romance novels and crime TV, which are pretty much the same thing when you think about it. Ha! Am I right?
She has a hell of a singing voice. Seriously. It’s, like, seventh circle of hell bad.
She likes editing. A lot. Just wait till she get’s aload a this.
Cats. Shoes. Chips and salsa. In that order.
Yeah, that last part didn’t make sense to me either.

Website: https://www.theresabraun.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/tbraun_author
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/theresa.braun.9

Giveaway Time!

For your chance to win a $25 Amazon Gift card, click the link to enter! Good luck!

Rafflecopter Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0e7c6a8f46/?

This cover reveal is organised by

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Book blitz and giveaway – The Dragon’s shadow by Allison Morse

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Tween High Fantasy / YA

Date Published: September 24, 2018

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

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Royal twins ripped apart at birth become reluctant champions of good and evil.

Kylie, a teenage science geek, has no faith in people. Instead, she relies on what she trusts the most, the facts––what she can see, touch, and hear but never feel. With enough pain to deal with in her own world, she is thrust into another––a kingdom at war whose strange inhabitants fear one thing the most––the return of the dragon.  All of this is illogical to Kylie, but even more so, when she discovers she belongs there.

Her brother, Prince Jarlon, journeys to kill the dragon who has laid waste to his kingdom.  His only hope for destroying the beast is help from his sister, whom he has never met. Will their paths cross before the beast’s malevolence infects Kylie and turns her into his creature or will Jarlon have to destroy her, too?

Advance Praise

“A heartwarming fantasy adventure featuring winning characters.” – Kirkus Review

Excerpt

A deafening screech sounded. Jarlon’s limbs vibrated from the piercing cry of a teledicthus. The dragon’s minions.

The twenty-foot-high shelves rumbled, and books rained down. Screams came from outside the library door. “Jarlon you must escape,” the king commanded. “Go into the forest and find the Lady of the Eyes. I need you safe. Go.”

The library doors flew open. A teledicthus, flapping large leather wings and screeching its horrible wail, flew into the room. The monster’s red face featured a mouth that was more like a barracuda than that of a bird. Its lower jaw was longer than the top, and both were lined with a double row of razor-sharp teeth. The creature’s large, black eyes darted about, then settled directly on the prince.

The master of arms pushed Jarlon toward the doorway, but the giant bird swooped closer. The soldier lifted his sword.

Too late.

The teledicthus swiped. Blood sprayed from the soldier’s shoulder, and he fell. The bird screamed in triumph and flew upward, preparing to attack again.

Jarlon leapt to the soldier’s aid. Using a sleeve of his waistcoat, he made a tourniquet by tying it around the man’s arm to stop the bleeding.

The Sword of Legends in his hand, the king yelled to Jarlon to run and hide.

Jarlon looked up and saw the glistening teeth of the giant bird come closer. Blood covered the bottom double row. The beast then closed its mouth, and the blood vanished. The creature dove toward him.

Unsheathing his sword, Jarlon waited for his moment to strike. The wind from the teledicthus’ wings whisked across his cheek and a touch of saliva brushed his arm. He swung his saber at the bird’s neck.

The teledicthus dropped in midair to dodge the blade. Still, the bird did not avoid the sharp blow to the back of his head as Jarlon hit downward.

“Maglot!” he swore. He hit the bird squarely but with the flat side of his sword. The sharp end had failed to pierce the beast’s skin.

The teledicthus flew up and out of reach. A second screeching bird swooped into the room, and the two circled their prey, their sights set on the king.

Jarlon ran toward his uncle. Everything slowed. His heart pounded.

The teledicthus dove closer and closer still.

With arm held upward, Jarlon placed his body and his sword in front of the king, waiting for the beasts’ jaws to tear into his flesh. Instead, his uncle shoved him to the floor, and Jarlon watched the king ram the Sword of Legends into one of the great birds.

The bird fell dead.

Jarlon pushed himself to his feet but not in time.

The other teledicthus sliced into his uncle’s chest, leaving a gash that exploded in red and ran down the king’s robe. His uncle was dead!

A scream, more primal than any teledicthus could make, erupted from Jarlon. “No!”

The giant bird flew back to the roof of the library.

Watching it circle above, Jarlon held his sword tightly and waited to die. Then the stone floor rumbled beneath him. Something grabbed his leg.

“Jarlon!”

Tryff! Where was he?

Jarlon looked down. A stone from the floor had been removed. He scrambled through the opening and dove into the darkness.

About the Author

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Allison Morse is the author of three very different novels: Fallen Star a Hollywood Gothic mystery, The Sweetheart Deal, a Rom/Com and Dragon’s Shadow a YA Fantasy & Adventure all published by The Wild Rose Press. She lives with her wonderful husband in a house in the hills filled with books.










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Review of on the open road by Stuti Changle. #myfriendalexa

On the open road

BLURB:

Myra wishes to break free of her cubicle. Kabir wonders what life would be to build on his own. Sandy drops out of college to work on the next big startup idea. Ramy inspires millions of his generation on his travel blog – on the open road.

on the open road – THREE LIVES, FIVE CITIES, ONE STARTUP, revolves around the lives of these restless and dreamy 20-somethings as they battle their inner demons and the societal taboos to live life on their terms. It is an emotional journey of following one’s heart. The journey entails undying friendship, love and loss, happiness and depression, fear and conquest, dreaming and achieving.

Will they be able to embark on the hard yet empowering journey to their true selves? Or succumb to the hardships on their road to freedom?

MY REVIEW:

The story revolves around three people- Myra, Kabir and Sandy. We have the struggle part described for all three of them. Myra is fed up of her 9-5 cubicle life but longs to startup a business with friends. Kabir is a rich gyu who has his family business, but he wants to have a business of his own. Then we have Sandy who is Kabir’s friend, who’s a college dropout and has his own startup creating apps but is not very successful.

We have another Character Ramy(Myra’s friend) to whom people look up to. He is a traveler and a blogger. Kabir and Sandy draw inspiration.

The plot is something that every single person in the corporate rat race can relate to. It has elements of love, friendship, dream, travel and success. The writing is simple and crisp. I completed the book at one go. The book is mentioned as unputdownable on the cover, since its fast-paced. But seriously, it did not let down my expectation and has lived up to it.

Stuti, coming from the corporate background herself has brought out the experiences just as it is in reality.

The one liners and the quotes will inspire anyone with ambitions but has inhibitions to proceed with it. I have listed out some of the one-liners I liked.

I loved the cover and how the title aptly suits the plot. I loved reading the second half especially. The characterization was done brilliantly with no sugar-coating. They were genuine in their portrayal.

Anyone who has a dream of owning a startup should give this book a read. I felt people from other walks of life could find it a little difficult to relate to the experiences noted by Stuti. Though the book is a light read, the amount of experience and self-motivation we gain is a lot. The book makes you self-introspect to think ahead of career and make decisions.

BOOK DETAILS:

  • Book name: On the open Road
  • Author: Stuti Changle
  • Paperback:188 pages
  • Publisher:Invincible Publishers & Marketers (2 March 2018)
  • Language:English
  • ISBN-10:9387328465
  • ISBN-13:978-9387328464

The book is available on Amazon https://amzn.to/2zqBsZY

MY RATINGS:

Cover: 4.5/5

Title: 4/5

plot: 5/5

Writing and Presentation: 5/5

Overall: 4.5/5

ACCOLADES:

Winner of ‘Notable Mentions’ in Amazon Kindle’s Pen to Publish competition

‘Unputdownable, lively and fast-paced, it promises to inspire the youth to pursue their dreams.’- Ashish Kashyap, founder – Goibibo & redBus

‘The book reflects you and me. A great group of characters who bring life into a great story. It’s a must-read.’- Neha Hinge, Actress & Miss India 2010

Quotes from on the open road:

“Somewhere between the right and the wrong, the past and the future, there lies a now. Don’t let it go. For ‘now’ often leads to a new road!”

“Life proves to be one hell of a ride. All you’ve got to believe is that the things that do not work out lead to the ones that do! As the journey goes on, there’s a lot more to learn.”

” Citylights seem glorious at night, the high rises stand in splendor, in my mind I have a fight,what do I want in life? I wonder! ““Whenever you have a problem, try to enlarge your perspective, look at the sky and the stars.”

“If you feel that the cubicle isn’t for you, build some for others!”

“We belong to a generation full of broken hearts and wandering souls, just blank from the inside, in a constant search for ourselves, looking for something we don’t know yet, in the empty spaces of life. It is not that we can’t do great things, but we’re raised to believe – we can’t!”

“When you work on what you love; it acts like meditation. If each one of us does what we love and pour our heart and soul into it, we would not have to meditate elsewhere at any point in time.”

About the Author (in her own words)

A minimalist at heart, with every passing day, I find myself moving farther from the never-ending quest of owning material possessions and a step closer to owning a vast ocean of experiences. In 2016, at twenty-three, I packed a rucksack and left Mumbai, in search of my true self. I met people with extraordinary stories – the travelers, the entrepreneurs, the artists, the visionaries and the saints, who inspired me to the core and gave a new direction to my life. on the open road draws inspiration from my real-life experiences and I wish to inspire my readers to follow their dreams.

Share your thoughts about the book using the hashtag #OTOR

She interacts with the readers’ community through Instagram Live and Facebook Live. @stutichangle

About the Author

A post-graduate in management from the prestigious B-school IMI, New Delhi and a graduate in Computer Science and Technology.Winner of Notable Mentions in Amazon Kindle’s Pen to Publish Competition.

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Review of Twenty three : Collection of short stories by Bikramjit Sen #myfriendalexa

twenty three: collection of short stories

BLURB:

Everyone has a story to tell or a story that deserves to be told. Since no person is the same, everyone’s life is a unique tale. This uniqueness of different lives is honoured by Twenty Three: Collection of Short Stories that narrates the lives of various people. Twenty Three tells all kinds of stories, ranging from stories of ordinary people to those of paranormal entities. So, step into different dimensions as you flip through the various stories of Twenty Three.

MY REVIEW:

Well the book is a collection of 23 short stories just as the title says. Each portraying a different human emotion. The authors thoughts before each chapter is something that would not be liked by all. Since at places it seems like it takes too much importance drifting away the focus.

While some stories are exception, some led to a drag to the pace that was already set by the previous chapters. The book speaks about death, re-incarnation, psychology, spirituality. This shows the author’s interests on the topics.

Some of the emotions portrayed are those which are neglected by us. The author should be applauded for making each emotion a center of focus in each chapter.

Outer, Heated, the legendary tale of Jatayu are few chapters I personally liked.

The characterization was very well maintained throughout each chapter. The narration was excellent and played a pivotal role making the book a definite page turner.

A commendable job on the cover design which is a portrayal of colors depicting emotions surrounding the human life.

The editing was perfect; amongst the recent books I’ve read.

twenty three: collection of short stories
twenty three: collection of short stories

BOOK DETAILS:

  • Format:Kindle Edition
  • File Size:3080 KB
  • Print Length:178 pages
  • Page Numbers Source ISBN:1948321254
  • Publisher:Notion Press; 1 edition (16 December 2017)
  • Sold by:Amazon Asia-Pacific Holdings Private Limited
  • Language:English
  • ASIN:B078BG7R1D

The book is available on amazon https://amzn.to/2zpldfC

MY RATINGS:

Cover: 4.5/5

Title: 3.5/5

plot: 4/5

Writing and Presentation: 4/5

Overall: 4/5

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Bikramjit believes he is an old soul. He was born in the City of Joy (Kolkata, India) on Friday the 13th in the wintry December of 1996.

He’s a student of English at Shri Ramswaroop Memorial University (Uttar Pradesh). He presently resides in the Capital of Nawabs (Lucknow, India) with his mother, Mausumi Sen, and father, Surajit Sen. He is the only son of his parents.

He immensely loves being a writer. Sometimes, we need people like him to motivate us to follow our passions. Since childhood, he always has been inquisitive towards topics regarding philosophy, mythology, religious history, paranormality and finds of ancient times.

He is an introverted person who loves being in Mother Nature’s lap. He is very intelligent and contended, not wild at all. He just loves his freedom and doesn’t let his heart settle in a cage. He is always willing to burn for everything he has ever loved. He’s one of a kind. He’s divine, and he doesn’t have to wait for anyone to tell him so in order to believe that about himself. That’s what makes him so inspiring.

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Book blitz – Death by the river

Book and author details

Death by the river

Death by the river

Death by the River
by Alexandrea Weis & Lucas Astor
Published by: Vesuvian Books
Publication date: October 2nd 2018
Genres: Horror, Young Adult
Synopsis:

A high school “American Psycho.”

SOME TRUTHS ARE BETTER KEPT SECRET.

SOME SECRETS ARE BETTER OFF DEAD.

Along the banks of the Bogue Falaya River, sits the abandoned St. Francis Seminary. Beneath a canopy of oaks, blocked from prying eyes, the teens of St. Benedict High gather here on Fridays. The rest of the week belongs to school and family—but weekends belong to the river.

And the river belongs to Beau Devereaux.

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

He is also a psychopath.

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

As the victim toll mounts, it becomes crystal clear that someone has to stop Beau Devereaux.

And that someone will pay with their life.

Except :

Beau strolled down the elegant curved mahogany staircase of his parents’ plantation home. He stepped onto the hardwood floors and caressed the newel post at the end of the steps. Shaped like the head of a horse, the bit pulled taut in its mouth, he admired the pain carved into the creature’s bulging eyes.
He headed along the hallway, tugging his book bag over his shoulder, the occasional moan of the floor echoing around him. He glanced at a massive gold painting of New Orleans he liked, bought by some dead relative a century ago. Family portraits of other deceased members of the Devereaux clan littered the white wainscoting covered walls. He passed the tall cypress door to his father’s office, not bothering to check inside. His old man was an early riser and probably on his way to the brewery.
At the end of the hall, he turned down a slender corridor to the kitchen and the entrance to the five-car garage. He enjoyed the quiet in the morning after his father went to work and before his mother crawled out of bed. It made him feel like it was all his, for a little while anyway.
In the kitchen, Beau went around the beaten copper-covered breakfast bar to the refrigerator.
His father appeared, holding a coffee mug.
Beau froze, almost afraid to move when he spotted him.
Gage Devereaux rested his hip against the black granite countertop. Tilting his head slightly, he inspected his son. In his usual attire—a long-sleeved shirt and slacks—he came across more like a casual businessman than a ruthless capitalist. Except for their height and physical prowess, Beau felt he had nothing in common with his father.
He attempted to relax by shifting his book bag on his shoulder. “Didn’t expect to find you still home.”
Gage set his mug on the counter. “I wanted to speak to you before you left for school.”
The hint of condescension in his father’s voice tightened his chest—it usually signaled a lecture.
“I got a call from Ms. Greenbriar yesterday afternoon. She said you visited her office after a run-in you had with Carol Foster’s boy.”
Beau’s fingers twitched, the way they did when his aggravation got the better of him. Great. The idiot woman had called his father. The last thing he needed was Gage Devereaux up his ass.
“Derek is dating Dawn’s sister, so I often see him at school.” He tempered the irritation in his voice, not wanting to annoy his father. “I was talking to Leslie when Derek walked up. I accidentally caught him with my elbow when I turned around. I apologized and everything is fine.”
He waited, analyzing every move his father made, searching his hard eyes for an inkling of his mindset.
“I’ve spoken to you before about this.” Gage came around the breakfast bar. “This family is in a precarious position with everyone in town. I don’t want your actions threatening our business or our good name.” He gripped Beau’s shoulder. “What have I always told you? What is our rule?”
Beau cringed as the words he’d spent a lifetime dreading screamed through his head. He faced his father, standing at attention. “Self-control in all things. Never let anyone see who you really are.”
Gage leaned closer. “No matter what anyone says, no matter what they do, you walk away. This includes your girlfriend. Do you understand?”
Beau stiffened at the low, menacing tone in his father’s voice. “Yes, sir.”
Gage lifted the left side of his mouth ever so slightly. “Go to school.”
Beau stood by the breakfast bar, not moving a muscle as his father headed to the garage. The door clicked shut and a trickle of sweat ran down his temple. His jaw muscles cramped from clenching, his heart rate slowed, and he glanced at his fists. His father’s warning spinning in his head, Beau slammed his hand down on the copper bar.
Anger like molten lead ran through him. Beau sucked in deep breaths to calm himself—something he remembered from a long-ago therapy session. Then he relaxed his hand on the bar, checking the indent he’d left in the copper. He wiped the smudge away, stepped back, and raised his head.
I am the master of control.

AUTHOR BIO:

Lucas Astor

Lucas Astor

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

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

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

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

Alexandrea weis

Alexandrea weis

Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Having been brought up in the motion picture industry, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective and began writing at the age of eight. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her award-winning novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story memorable. A permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans.

This book blitz is organised by Xpressobooktours.

Book blitz – The walking horses by Linda S Browning

Parlor Game Mysteries, Book 2

Paranormal Cozy Mystery

Date Published: August 2018

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It all started with a haunted Ouija board in Nashville and the cold case murder of Sophie Mathews. Then, Henry Meyer did not commit suicide in his tobacco barn in Columbia and the case went cold. When Olivia Honeycutt takes on the case of Eloise Venable Freeman, she must accept her paranormal proclivities. Eloise and her infant daughter, Andrea, allegedly died in a horrific fire thirty years ago. Her husband, David, is not satisfied with ashes. David wants answers. Olivia travels to Shelbyville, Tennessee, and the world of the Walking Horses to solve her most challenging mystery to date.

Other Books in the Parlor Game Mysteries Series:


Hanging Tobacco

Parlor Game Mysteries, Book 1

Published: June 2017

Hanging Tobacco is the first book in the Parlor Game Mystery Series. Olivia Honeycutt solved the cold case murder of Sophie Mathews with the help of Sophie’s Ouija board. Now, Olivia and her Nashville detective boyfriend, Presley, tackle the twenty five year old mystery surrounding the death of Henry Meyer. The old man was found hanging from the neck in the rafters of his tobacco barn in Columbia, Tennessee. Was Henry intent on suicide? Or, was it murder? Uncovering the truth behind Henry’s death proves both challenging and life threatening. Not everyone in Columbia wants to know the truth. Olivia takes the Ouija board on the road.

Excerpt

“. . . I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

EMILY BRONTE, Wuthering Heights

CHAPTER 1

He waits in the shadows as silent and greedy as any panther awaiting its prey. It’s where the game always begins. I approach casually—pretending I don’t know he is there, pretending I don’t know he waits.

          I stand with my back against the refrigerator. At five-feet-something my head doesn’t come anywhere near the top of the appliance. After about one minute, he bops me tentatively on the top of the head with one paw and then retreats. Back he comes with another stealthy bop. I imagine he’s giggling with glee as I turn to sweep Toby from his perch. His giggle is a purr of satisfaction. He’s gotten me again. I’m a successful, professional, thirty-four-year-old woman; yet, I delight in playing this stupid game with a short-haired gray cat that I named Toby—short for Tobacco Cat. How on earth did I allow this to happen? I’ve always made fun of people who went stupid over their pets.

                Toby is approximately six months old and he’s a strange-looking animal—small for a male cat with round chipmunk cheeks. His mother was a small calico barn cat. His father had been a man of the gypsies. The veterinarian is convinced Toby’s blue-gray coloring, heart-shaped head, and large green eyes are distinguishing characteristics for a Korat. What a cat from the regions of Thailand had been doing fraternizing with a Tennessee barn cat was anybody’s guess.

                Five minutes later Presley Warren entered the kitchen with a prowling grace. He’s a big guy. Bull-in-a-china-shop size big. It kinds of ticks me off that he should move so easily and gracefully. I’m a little dinky person and I flail around whatever room I’m in at the time. He leaned into a morning kiss—“Good morning, sunshine!”—smacking his lips afterwards. “Yum, coffee with cream.” Gliding over to the kitchen counter my police detective boyfriend shrugged into the jacket and reached for his to-go cup upended in the dish drainer beside the sink. “Good morning, Toby!” He threw the greeting at the cat. Toby growled into his food dish and I growled into my coffee cup.

            I suffer through mornings as a necessary evil. Something to endure until a more respectable hour rolls around. He leaned over to kiss me goodbye with one hand holding his tie flat and the other grasping the now-filled to-go cup. He had that aftershave wonderful man-smell thing going and I thought fleetingly of grabbing his tie and wrestling him to the kitchen floor. I love the clean weekday man-smell. I’m also fond of the Sunday morning scruffy detective in-need-of-a-shave guy. It’s a toss-up. He grinned down at me as though he could read my mind. “I’ve got to go. Big meeting downtown. What are you doing today?”

                I sighed. “I’m going to make some calls to see what I can scare up.” In a lot of ways I’m jealous of Presley’s job. In a city the size of Nashville there is never a shortage of crime. Presley has job security. I’m a freelance journalist. There is nothing secure about a career in journalism.

     Presley whirled toward the hallway with coffee in one hand and car keys in the other. He called from the front door, “Text me later,” and he was out the door.

     I mumbled to the room. “Elvis has left the building.” Toby didn’t acknowledge the comment. Presley’s jeep rests in the driveway when he stays over. It’s my house so my Mini Cooper gets to live in the one-car garage. Setting my empty coffee mug in the sink I headed upstairs. I’d been awake for at least an hour. It was time for a nap. Presley had awakened me early; banging around in the small shower stall off the master bedroom. He could have showered in the bathroom downstairs, but he prefers to bang around and swear. The shower stall is small, perfect for a single professional hobbit-sized woman. The proudest day of my life had been moving into my fifteen-hundred-square-foot townhome. I fell in love with the soaring cathedral ceilings the moment I saw the place. Peter Pan could fly in here.

                Somehow a goofy-looking cat and a big-footed detective had burrowed their way into my little nirvana when I hadn’t been paying attention. Presley and I don’t live together. He has a small apartment in downtown Nashville. We are casually committed lovers; it’s complicated. We’ve been a couple ever since we laid eyes on one another last June. He is six feet of beat-up handsomeness. I was hooked immediately.

                I snoozed for about a half hour and woke up to Toby sprawled across my ankles in a purring puddle. Leaving the cat on the bed I went to shower and prepare for the day. By the time I re-entered the bedroom, Toby had left to roam the premises. I headed downstairs to the kitchen and my laptop. I was getting antsy for a story. The cold case mystery of Sophie Mathews had sold well throughout Tennessee. If I had included Sophie’s supernatural assistance in the solving of her case via a link with her Ouija board, I probably could have ended up on some national news shows…or even made the front page of the National Inquirer. While I had no problem furthering my career by telling her story, I would never have trivialized it with paranormal shenanigans. Sophie had meant a lot to me.

                A few months after Sophie’s case was put to bed I was invited to look into the cold case of Henry Meyer. When I wrote up Henry’s story and shopped it around, it sold like the funnel cakes at Mule Day weekend in the close town of Columbia—which was where Henry Meyer had not hung himself in his tobacco barn.

                I was bored. I needed to get busy and sell a story. I had a mortgage, a car loan, and a cat to support. I opened my laptop to search for local happenings that I could twist into a story and was immediately intrigued by a recently received email.

To: Miss Olivia Honeycutt

From:  David Owen Freeman

Date: January 19, 2015

     I am in need of your help. I was given this email address by Sheriff Lockheed of Bedford County which he acquired via his professional contacts with the sheriff’s office in Maury County. I was assured this was your business email and not personal. My wife and I have read the journalistic pieces you have written concerning the cold cases of Sophie Mathews of Nashville/Davidson County and Henry Meyer of Columbia/Maury County. My dear wife, Betsy, has encouraged me to write to you in the hope that you will look into the thirty-year-old deaths of my first wife, Eloise Venable Freeman, and infant daughter, Andrea Ilene Freeman. I have long suspected their deaths were the direct result of arson; therefore, they were murdered.


      I sincerely hope you will consider my request. I will personally cover all expenses you incur due to travel and hotel accommodation regardless of the outcome of your investigation. Eloise and Andrea lost their lives in an inferno at the Venable family estate. The official cause of the fire was never determined. However, I have always believed it was arson. There is a cold case at the Shelbyville Police Department filed away as Eloise Venable Freeman and infant daughter. My daughter’s Christian name isn’t even printed on the case file. The remains of my wife were recovered in the rubble. My daughter’s remains were never recovered. I am haunted by the summary in the report of the Fire Marshall. The remains may have been so insignificant that all traces of the infant could have been incinerated in the extreme velocity of the fire. Assuming it was arson (and I do), no motive was ever established. Eloise’s date of death was August 3, 1985.The fire started in the early morning hours of that date.


       Eloise was the daughter of Lawrence Venable. Venable Tennessee Walkers are well known throughout the country for the breed of Tennessee Walking Horses. I can be reached at the phone numbers and email addresses listed below. I will not go into further detail at this time. I sincerely do hope you will consider my request and get in touch.

About the Author

Linda S. Browning is retired from the University of Tennessee, Office of Research and Social Work. She lives with her husband in Middle Tennessee with their thirty-plus year amazon parrot and a young and energetic Bichon/ShihTzu mix. Linda is the author of Leslie & Belinda Mysteries.

Contact Links

Purchase Link

Cover reveal of Alpha breeds by Milana Jacks

BOOK DETAILS:
Alpha Breeds
by Milana Jacks
(Alpha Horde, #1)
Publication date: October 29th 2018
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Science Fiction
Alpha breeds
Alpha breeds by Milana Jacks
Synopsis:

Omegas belong to the King. But this one belongs to me.

Kingsley
At the frat party, someone must have spiked my beer, because I see a bright light and find myself sitting on a bed with a huge, green monster looming over me. I screech and throw every sharp object within reach. But you know what’s really weird? I’m terrified and, at the same time, there’s something about those black eyes, that scent, that purrrr that makes my body come alive.

Loven
I fight for the honor of someday owning an Omega, a rare breeding female reserved for Alphas hand-selected by the King. For years, fighting alone has been enough. Until I scent this alien female, and my body emits a mating call.

Omegas are King’s property. If I don’t deliver her to the Omega Compound, I’ll lose my life, the lives of my Horde Alphas, and risk starting a full-scale rebellion. And yet, I can’t part from her. This one belongs to me.

***Science fiction alien captive romance with Mf Omegaverse flavor. No cliffhanger. No cheating.
___________________________
Mf Omegaverse readers -> Hard core non-con is not gonna be the heat factor in this one. I hope that by being upfront about this, I’ve helped you make a purchasing decision. Cheers! Milana =D

AUTHOR BIO:

Milana Jacks, Author of alpha breeds
Author of Alpha breeds
Milana grew up with tales of water fairies that seduced men, vampires that seduced women, and Babaroga who’d come to take her away if she didn’t eat her bean soup. She writes devious paranormal and science fiction romance from her home on Earth where she lives with her mate and their three little monsters.
Author links:

Never ending list of pregnancy myths #myfriendalexa

Pregnancy myths
Pregnancy myths

Pregnancy is deemed the best phase of being a woman. Being born a woman attains full glory when she becomes a mother.

But it’s also the timeline where you get to hear a lot of myths. Not only in our Country, it happens all over the world. So let me list them down for you and you can comment if you came across something more. So let’s get those myths busted.

It starts with the date you conceive. Add the month of conception to your age, the total is even it’s a girl else you’re in for a boy.

Then comes morning sickness, if you have it throughout your first trimester then it’s a girl else if you don’t experience it you have a boy.

Pregnancy glow People have different versions here.

Indian:

“You’re glowing you definitely will have a girl” is what you hear and if it’s the other way , you look tired and dull they say you are having a boy , since the male child draws out all the energy.

Rest of the world:

If you’re dull it means you have a girl, since she takes up all your glow. And if you are glowing and look fabulous you will have a boy.

Carrying high or low, wide or outward:

Pregnancy myth
Pregnancy myth

If you are carrying low and belly is outward, you are probably carrying a boy.

If you are carrying high and belly is wide you are carrying a girl.

Popular pregnancy myths
Popular pregnancy myths

Food habits:

If you crave sweets and dairy rich stuff, you are probably carrying a girl.

If you crave salty and spicy food, you are probably carrying a boy.

Doesn’t it depend on what the woman usually wants to eat?

Pregnancy myths
Pregnancy myths

Fetal heart rate:

If it is over 140 per second you are carrying a girl and if it’s below, you are carrying a boy.

Swelling of nose:

They say if you have a swollen nose it’s probably a girl.

But the actual fact our noses swollen up due to increased estrogen levels.

Wedding ring myth:

Tie a strand of the father’s hair to your wedding ring and swing it over your belly, you are probably carrying a girl if it goes in circles; if it swings back and forth then it’s a boy.

Doesn’t it depend on wind direction?

Stepping over ropes:

It’s considered that stepping on a rope results in umbilical cord coiling around the fetus neck.

In modern days, now it extends to electric chords as well.

Usage of hands:

Ancient days people say If the pregnant woman is seated on floor and when she tries to get up, if she uses her left hand first it would be a boy; if its right you would be carrying a girl.

I don’t think that would change once a woman becomes pregnant. Even when she was ten she would have been using the same hand to get up.

Whatever the above points seem to convey what all mothers want is to have a healthy, cheerful baby. Gender discrimination should not be taking a priority here. No mother will want to abandon a child just because she was expecting the other gender. In the end, he/she is another tiny living human being created by her and who is now dependent on her.

Keep having positive thoughts, surround yourself with loads of happiness, positive vibes and most importantly people with positive vibes. Keep yourself well hydrated and well-fed. And that is all that takes to see your little dude/duddette.

Let’s hear those myths coming and keep nodding heads; get the myths busted. I will always love my baby no matter he/she. A baby is a baby.

I am taking my Alexa rank to the next level with Blogchatter .

#sindhusblogs #myfriendalexa

Book blitz Through the layers by R H Tucker

Through the Layer by RH Tucker
Published Sept. 17th, 2018

Genre:YA/NA Romance

Synopsis:
Second chances are for suckers.

Micah’s heard that expression before. With his first year of college in the books, catching his girlfriend cheating on him—again—he learns that lesson firsthand. The girl he thought could’ve been his high school sweetheart, turns out to be nothing more than a liar, completely destroying his trust.

No one has ever called Veronica fat. Thick? Okay. Curvy? Sure. However, they’ve never come right out and told her she’s overweight. Not unless you count the kids in third grade who called her roly-poly. Grade school or freshman year of college, it doesn’t matter. Guys usually go for the tall, thin girls. Girls like Micah’s ex.

Despite their hang-ups, and their pasts, Micah and Veronica find something in each other that quells their concerns. But when old faces return, and unsettling truths are revealed, will either of them be able to work through the layers and find one another again?

Through the Layers is a standalone YA/NA romance in the Rumor Has It series.

LINKS:
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H29YMWW
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07H29YMWW
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07H29YMWW
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07H29YMWW
Amazon IN: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B07H29YMWW

AUTHOR LINKS:
http://www.rhtuckerbooks.com/

https://www.facebook.com/rhtuckerbooks
https://www.instagram.com/rhtuckerauthor/
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/rh-tucker

EXCERPT:
I knock again and pull out my phone. Maybe I should call him.
The door swings open and Micah stands there, dripping wet, holding a towel around his waist. “Hey, you’re early.”
“I … I …” I’m trying to form words, but my brain has gone to pudding. I can feel it, all squishy, sloshing around inside of my skull. He opens the door wider to let me in, but I just stand there, admiring—gawking—at the water dripping down his chest. The beads of water trail over his muscles, down his stomach, to somewhere underneath the towel.
“You gonna stay out there all night?”
My eyes shoot back up, and he’s smiling. “Would you like to come inside or did you want to get to business out there?” My mouth drops, and he laughs.
Finally realizing he’s teasing me, I find some kind of strength to not stare at him, and go inside.
“Just give me a second to dry off.”
I stop and stand behind the sofa. Usually, I’d feel comfortable enough to go to the kitchen and grab something to drink, or just lounge around on their couch, or even head straight into his bedroom and turn on the TV and start to watch something. Now, I’m stuck.
What should I do? Does he expect me to do something or say something? Should we have something to drink first? I know they usually have some alcohol in the apartment, maybe he wants to relax first. Should I change already? Why is it they make it look so much easier in the movies and on TV when it comes to this sort of stuff?
“What are you doing?” Micah asks, coming back out of the bathroom. He’s got on a pair of shorts and a shirt that fits him snuggly, but I can’t erase—nor do I want to—the mental image of him opening the door in nothing but a towel.
“Um …” I look around, unsure how to answer.
He gives me a hug and kisses the top of my head, before walking to the kitchen. “Happy birthday. I ordered a pizza. I would’ve gone all out, but you said you just wanted a chill night. Is that okay?”
“Mm-hm.” I nod.
Turning around, he stares at me still standing there. “Are you okay?”
Get it together, V. This was your idea!

AUTHOR BIO:

RH Tucker lives in Southern California and writes character-driven stories with people who have real heart. At least, he tries to. He also consumes too much caffeine, eats too much pizza, and firmly believes Rocky Road is the best flavor of ice cream.

This post is for the book blitz organised by Xpressobooktours.