Book blitz – Discovering April



Discovering April
Sheena Hutchinson
(Discovering Trilogy #1)
Publication date: April 27th 2015
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

April Landau thinks she has everything she’s ever wanted. Her high school sweetheart, a house she can’t afford, her bipolar tabby cat, and she’s all set to begin her Junior year of college. Just when she least expects it, her life gets thrown for a loop. When things between her and her long time boyfriend unravel, she becomes stuck in a downward spiral of emotion. Finally, opening her eyes to the fact that she may have given up more than she ever could have imagined in this relationship. She finds herself struggling to keep her head above water.

Enter April’s next door neighbor— Jared Hoffman. He’s her complete opposite. A high school drop out who was forced to take over his parent’s business after their untimely death. It’s no surprise this tragedy affected him greatly, causing him to recede almost completely from society.

But he has one secret. A secret he’s been carrying around for years.

What happens when their worlds collide? Can an old friendship be the one thing that brings these two back to life?

A new adult love story filled with drama, sex, death, and the complications of all of the above.

Goodreads / Amazon

99¢ for a limited time only!

DELETED SCENE:

Jared

My Wrangler rattles into the spot out front of Jack’s Coffee Bean. I flip down the musty old visor that still smells like muck no matter how many times I hose it down. I let out a deep breath as I run my fingers through my short hair before finally climbing out of the car. My hands automatically flatten out my shirt and attempt to tuck it in before my hand reaches for the door. My mind registers the chime of the door before my eyes adjust to the dimness of the shop. One glance around was all I needed to realize she isn’t here. A part of me is relieved, the other part disappointed.

“Yep, Gotcha!” The shaggy blonde barista has the cordless phone to his ear as both of his hands make two very different drinks. “Few minutes late, I heard you April!” My heart stops at the sound of her name. I find myself leaning against the glass display to get a closer listen. “I’ll have your triple caf, one pump hazelnut, no foam latte waiting for you when you get here. Yea, I’ll be fine. Okay—Bye!” the phone slips down his shoulder before he grabs it with one hand and hangs up from the call. When he spins around Jack hands the lady before me two cups before turning to greet me.

“Good afternoon Jared, what can I get you?”

“Just a small coffee, thanks.”

“You got it!” he picks up a cup as he turns, slips it under the spout just as his other hand flips it down. My eyes dart around awkwardly as I pick at the seam on my jeans. Jack must notice, “Sorry for the wait, my help got stuck at school today.” He has the lid on the cup before he even turns to place it on the counter between us. “But she’ll be here any minute, if you wanted to wait.”

Immediately, my eyes meet his. One glance was all I needed –he knows. I pause hand halfway reaching for my coffee when my eyes size him up. Is he threatening me with this knowledge? Is he jealous? Or is he really trying to help me out?

Jack shrugs as if reading my thoughts, “Just in case you were wondering.” He then starts to wipe down the counter top clearly ignoring the money in my hands.

“Uh, thank you,” I mutter pocketing the cash, “for everything.” I turn scanning the coffee house for a free spot. There are a few empty tables, but as I look around at all the coffee patrons, I realize I don’t want to be one of them. I don’t want her to look at me as a customer—someone to please and clean up after (not that I wouldn’t mind the pleasing part). But, I want her to remember Jared. The fun times we used to have together, the closeness we used to have. I know it’s my own fault. I let her go into high school not knowing how I felt. I let her walk off my porch after she screamed for me to open the door. To this day, it’s my fault she doesn’t know how I feel about her. It’s also my fault that she probably never will. Because I am the biggest pussy. I think before slipping out of the coffeehouse without even looking back. I grip the support bar and hop into the driver’s seat of the dirty old Jeep held together by some rusty old nuts that always seem to need replacing. The engine roars to life and I shift into drive by the time I see April pull her puttering little Honda into a parking spot. A flash of blonde hair with pink tips is all I spot before I gun it down the road, towards home.

All the next day I regretted not staying. Her and that douche bag, Hunter, broke up again late last night. I heard her screaming outside again before she stumbled into her house. I should have stayed, struck up a conversation. She even drunkenly screamed at me through the window last night. My window was closed so I couldn’t exactly make out what she was saying… but, that’s a step right? Maybe, I should go over and ask her if she’s okay or if she needs a cup of sugar or something… anything!

“Ah, truth is you’re too much of a wuss to do anything. That’s why she’s dating assholes and cheaters!” My own reflection taunts me with my own words. My very own brown eyes glare back at me with the same contempt I feel. “Fuck!” I holler throwing the towel off and slipping a pair of jeans on. I slam the bathroom door closed before taking a deep breath in the hallway. My eyes automatically trail over to the closed door in front of me. It’s closed for a reason— much like my chances with April. Like the girl next door, it’s a piece of the past I try to forget, but will never be able to escape from. I recognize the soft puttering of April’s car before it even gets to our street. I listen as her car door shuts and her shoes click all the way down the walkway, up the three stairs. Thump, thump—yup that’s her fumbling with the door. I wish I had the balls to ask her to fix it. I’m entranced by her as my feet wander deeper into my room, through my window I see a swish of blonde hair pass the small window on the stairs, then the door to her room opens. Her cat, Jinx, is the first to enter followed by April. Her tight jeans are what mesmerize me as she bends over and unbuckles her boots. Her window is still open and I think I can hear her humming again. It’s completely out of tune and I can just barely make out the song, but my lips curl into a smile as I continue to gaze at her. She kicks the other shoe off and turns to her dresser. That’s when she starts to run her fingers over the snow globe collection. I remember the first one her father ever brought home with Cinderella inside of it. She was so proud of it, brought the damn thing everywhere. Now, she has about fifteen of them. She continues about her daily routine bopping about to some music as she cleans her room. I think I could watch her all day. When she’s alone she’s so much happier, I don’t know why she doesn’t see that Hunter guy only drags her down. She’s finally free of him, maybe I could finally ask her out. I’m going to invite her to the barbeque tonight.That’s it. I’m doing it! Before, I change my mind my feet stomp down the stairs with purpose. My heart is pounding against my ribcage. This is it. This is happening. I think more for reassuring myself as I open the front door. I’m just going to go up those three steps and ring her doorbell like I used to do a million times. I’ve made it to my driveway by the time I hear the engine of that stupid obnoxious BMW. Fuck! I spin around and open my toolbox on the side of the driveway. I hear him walk up the walkway and ring the doorbell before he clears his throat.

She opens the door, I vaguely hear them talking before she allows him to come in. My heart sinks, she took him back! I missed my chance. I slam the toolbox shut and head back inside as my feet still stomp with stubborn purpose. It’s not fair! If I’ve learned anything it’s that life isn’t fair. If it was: my parents would still be alive, I would have April, and a football scholarship. But, if there is some crazy twisted plot of fate and I end up with an opportunity to date April Landau—I swear to give her everything I’ve been dreaming about doing for her for years. I will show her how a real man treats a woman… I just hope that I’m blessed with that chance.


Author Bio:

Sheena is a born and raised New Yorker, who followed her happily ever after to a much more rural town in Maine. When she’s not driving an hour to find a Starbucks or running from bugs that are way to big for her taste, she’s focusing on writing stories that empower and inspire.

Sheena always roots for the underdog, believes in love at first sight, and that everyone should have their happily ever after. For more on Sheena and her books visit her website: http://www.SheenaHutchinson.com.

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Book blitz – the fever king



The Fever King
Victoria Lee
Published by: Skyscape
Publication date: March 1st 2019
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

In the former United States, sixteen-year-old Noam Álvaro wakes up in a hospital bed, the sole survivor of the viral magic that killed his family and made him a technopath. His ability to control technology attracts the attention of the minister of defense and thrusts him into the magical elite of the nation of Carolinia.

The son of undocumented immigrants, Noam has spent his life fighting for the rights of refugees fleeing magical outbreaks—refugees Carolinia routinely deports with vicious efficiency. Sensing a way to make change, Noam accepts the minister’s offer to teach him the science behind his magic, secretly planning to use it against the government. But then he meets the minister’s son—cruel, dangerous, and achingly beautiful—and the way forward becomes less clear.

Caught between his purpose and his heart, Noam must decide who he can trust and how far he’s willing to go in pursuit of the greater good.

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READ CHAPTER 1:

Outbreaks of magic started all kinds of ways. Maybe a tank coming in from the quarantined zone didn’t get hosed down properly. Maybe, like some people said, the refugees brought it up with them from Atlantia, the virus hiding out in someone’s blood or in a juicy peach pie.

But when magic infected the slums of west Durham, in the proud sovereign nation of Carolinia, it didn’t matter how it got there.

Everybody still died.

Noam was ringing up Mrs. Ellis’s snuff tins when he nearly toppled into the cash register.

He all but had to fight her off as she tried to force him down into a folding chair—swore he’d just got a touch dizzy, but he’d be fine, really. Go on home. She left eventually, and he went to stand in front of the window fan for a while, holding his shirt off his sweat-sticky back and trying not to pass out.

He spent the rest of his shift reading Bulgakov under the counter. He felt just fine.

That evening he locked the doors, pulled chicken wire over the windows, and took a new route to the Migrant Center. In this neighborhood, you had to if you didn’t want to get robbed. Once upon a time, or so Noam had heard, there’d been a textile mill here. The street would’ve been full of workers heading home, empty lunch pails in hand. Then the mill had gone down and apartments went up, and by the 1960s, Ninth Street had been repopulated by rich university students with their leather satchels and clove cigarettes. All that was before the city got bombed halfway to hell in the catastrophe, of course.

Noam’s ex used to call it “the Ninth Circle.” She meant it in Dante’s sense.

The catastrophe was last century, though. Now the university campus blocked the area in from the east, elegant stone walls keeping out the riffraff while Ninth and Broad crumbled under the weight of five-person refugee families crammed into one-room apartments, black markets buried in basements, laundry lines strung between windows like market lights. Sure, maybe you shouldn’t wander around the neighborhood at night draped in diamonds, but Noam liked it anyway.

“Someone’s famous,” Linda said when he reached the back offices of the Migrant Center, a sly smile curving her lips as she passed him the morning’s Herald.

Noam grinned back and looked.

Massive Cyberattack Disables Central News Bureau

Authorities link hack to Atlantian cyberterrorist affiliates.

“Haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Say, have you got any scissors?”

“What for?”

“I’m gonna frame this.”

Linda snorted and swatted him on the arm. “Get on, you. Brennan has some task he wants finished this week, and I don’t think you, him, and your ego can all fit in that office.”

Which, fair: the office was pretty small. Tucked into the back corner of the building, with Brennan’s name and Director printed on the door in copperplate, it was pretty much an unofficial storage closet for all the files and paperwork Linda couldn’t cram anywhere else. Brennan’s desk was dwarfed by boxes stacked precariously around it, the man himself leaning close to his holoreader monitor with reading glasses perched on the end of a long nose and a pen behind one ear.

“Noam,” he said, glancing up when the door opened. “You made it.”

“Sorry I missed yesterday. I had to cover someone’s shift at the computer store after I got off the clock at Larry’s.”

Brennan waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t apologize. If you have to work, you have to work.”

“Still.”

It wasn’t guilt, per se, that coiled up in Noam’s stomach. Or maybe it was. That was his father’s photograph on the wall, after all, though his face was hidden by a bandanna tied over his nose and mouth. His father’s hands holding up that sign—Refugee rights are human rights. That was in June 2118, during the revolt over the new, more stringent citizenship tests. It had been the largest protest in Carolinian history.

“Linda said you had something for me to work on?” Noam said, tilting his head toward the holoreader.

“It’s just database management, I’m afraid, nothing very interesting.”

“I love databases.” Noam smiled, and Brennan smiled back. The expression lifted the exhaustion from Brennan’s face like a curtain rising from a window, sunlight streaming through.

Brennan oriented him to the task, then gave up his desk chair for Noam to get to work. He squeezed Noam’s shoulder before he left to help Linda with dinner, and a warm beat of familiarity took root in the pit of Noam’s stomach. Brennan might try to put up boundaries, clear delineations between professional life and how close Brennan had been to Noam’s family, but the cracks were always visible.

That was pretty much the only reason Noam didn’t tell him up front: database management was mind-numbingly boring. After you figured out how to script your way past the problem, it was just a matter of waiting around. He’d have once maybe emailed Carly or someone while the program executed. But they were all dead now, and between the Migrant Center and two jobs, Noam didn’t have time to meet new people. So he sat and watched text stream down the command console, letters blurring into numbers until the screen was wavering light.

A dull ache bored into Noam’s skull.

Maybe he was more tired than he thought, because he didn’t remember what happened between hitting “Execute” and Brennan shaking him awake. Noam lurched upright.

“You all right?” Brennan asked.

“What? Oh—fine, sorry. I must have . . . dozed off.” Noam seized the holoreader, tapping at the screen until it lit up again. The script was finished, anyway, and no run-time errors. Thankfully. “It’s all done.”

The thin line between Brennan’s brows deepened. “Are you feeling okay? You look . . .”

“Fine. I’m fine. Just tired.” Noam attempted a wan smile. He really hoped he wasn’t coming down with whatever it was Elliott from the computer store had. Only, he and Elliott had kissed in the back room on their lunch break yesterday, so yeah, he probably had exactly what Elliott had.

“Maybe you should go on home,” Brennan said, using that grip on Noam’s shoulder to ease him back from the computer. “I can help Linda finish up dinner.”

“I can—”

“It wasn’t a request.”

Noam made a face, and Brennan sighed.

“For me, Noam. Please. I’ll drop by later on if I have time.”

There was no arguing with Brennan when he got all protective. So Noam just exhaled and said, “Yeah, all right. Fine.”

Brennan’s hand lingered a beat longer than usual on Noam’s shoulder, squeezing slightly, then let go. When Noam looked over, Brennan’s expression gave nothing away as he said, “Tell your dad hi for me.”

Noam had arrived at the Migrant Center in the early evening. Now it was night, the deep-blue world illuminated by pale streetlight pooling on the sidewalk. It was unusually silent. When Noam turned onto Broad, he found out why: a checkpoint was stationed up at the intersection by the railroad tracks—floodlights and vans, police, even a few government witchings in military uniform.

Right. No one without a Carolinian passport would be on the street tonight, not with Immigration on the prowl.

Noam’s papers were tucked into his back pocket, but yeah, he didn’t need to deal with Chancellor Sacha’s anti-Atlantian bullshit right now. Not with this headache. He cut through the alley between the liquor store and the barbecue joint to skirt the police perimeter. It was a longer walk home from there, but Noam didn’t mind.

He liked the way tonight smelled, like smoked ribs and gasoline. Like oncoming snow.

When he got to his building, he managed to get the door open—the front latch was ancient enough it probably counted as precatastrophe. Fucking thing always got stuck, always, and Noam had written to the super fifty times, for what little difference that’d made. It was November, but the back of Noam’s neck was sweat-damp by the time he finally shouldered his way into the building and trudged into his apartment.

Once upon a time, this building was a bookstore. It’d long since been converted to tenements, all plywood walls and hung-up sheets for doors. The books were still there, though, yellowing and mildewed. They made him sneeze, but he read a new one every day all the same, curled up in a corner and out of the way of the other tenants. It was old and worn out, but it was home.

Noam touched the mezuzah on the doorframe as he went in, a habit he hadn’t picked up till after his mother died but felt right somehow. Not that being extra Jewish would bring her back to life.

Noam’s father had been moved from the TV to the window.

“What’s up, Dad?”

No answer. That was nothing new. Noam was pretty sure his father hadn’t said three words in a row since 2120. Still, Noam draped his arms over his father’s lax shoulders and kissed his cheek.

“I hope you want pasta for dinner,” Noam said, “’cause that’s what we’ve got.”

He left his father staring out at the empty street and busied himself with the saucepans. He set up the induction plate and hunched over it, steam wafting toward his face as the water simmered. God, it was unbearably hot, but he didn’t trust himself to let go of the counter edge, not with this dizziness rippling through his mind.

Should’ve had more than an apple for lunch. Should’ve gone to bed early last night, not stayed up reading Paradise Lost for the fiftieth time.

If his mother were here, she’d have dragged him off to bed and stuck him with a mug of aguapanela. It was some sugary tea remedy she’d learned from her Colombian mother-in-law that was supposed to cure everything. Noam had never learned how to make it.

Another regret to add to the list.

He dumped dried noodles into the pot. “There’s a checkpoint at the corner of Broad and Main,” he said, not expecting an answer.

None came. Jaime Álvaro didn’t care about anything anymore, not even Atlantia.

Noam turned down the heat on the stove. “Couldn’t tell if they made any arrests. Nobody’s out, so they might start knocking on doors later.”

He turned around. His father’s expression was the same slack-jawed one he’d been wearing when Noam first came in.

“Brennan asked about you,” Noam said. Surely that deserved a blink, at least.

Nothing.

“I killed him.”

Nothing then either.

Noam spun toward the saucepan again, grabbing a fork and stabbing at the noodles, which slipped through the prongs like so many slimy worms. His gut surged up into his throat, and Noam closed his eyes, free hand gripping the edge of the nearest bookshelf.

“You could at least pretend to give a shit,” he said to the blackness on the other side of his eyelids. The pounding in his head was back. “I’m sad about Mom, too, you know.”

His next breath shuddered all the way down into his chest—painful, like inhaling frost.

His father used to sing show tunes while he did the dinner dishes. Used to check the classifieds every morning for job offers even though having no papers meant he’d never get the good ones—he still never gave up. Never ever.

And Noam . . . Noam had to remember who his father really was, even if that version of him belonged to another life, ephemeral as footprints in the snow. Even if it felt like he’d lost both parents the day his mother died.

Noam switched off the heat, spooning the noodles into two bowls. No sauce, so he drizzled canola oil on top and carried one of the bowls over to his father. Noam edged his way between the chair and the window, crouching down in that narrow space. He spun noodles around the fork. “Open up.”

Usually, the prospect of food managed to garner a reaction. Not this time.

Nausea crawled up and down Noam’s breastbone. Or maybe it was regret. “I’m sorry,” he said after a beat and tried for a self-deprecating grin. “I was . . . it’s been a long day. I was a dick. I’m sorry, Dad.”

His father didn’t speak and didn’t open his mouth.

Noam set the pasta bowl on the floor and wrapped his other hand around his father’s bony wrist. “Please,” Noam said. “Just a few bites. I know it’s not Mom’s cooking, but . . . for me. Okay?”

Noam’s mother had made the most amazing food. Noam tried to live up to her standard, but he never could. He’d given up on cooking anything edible, on keeping a kosher kitchen, on speaking Spanish. On making his father smile.

Noam rubbed his thumb against his father’s forearm.

The skin there was paper thin and far, far too hot.

“Dad?”

His father’s eyes stared past Noam, unseeing and glassy, reflecting the lamplight outside. That wasn’t what made Noam lurch back and collide with window, its latch jabbing his spine.

A drop of blood welled in the corner of his father’s eye and—after a single quivering moment—cut down his cheek like a tear.

“Mrs. Brown!”

Noam shoved the chair back from the window, half stumbling across the narrow room to the curtain separating their space from their neighbor’s. He banged a fist against the nearest bookshelf.

“Mrs. Brown, are you in there? I—I’m coming in.”

He ripped the curtain to one side. Mrs. Brown was there but not in her usual spot. She was curled on the bed instead, shoulders jutting against the ratty blanket like bony wings.

Noam hesitated. Was she . . . no. Was she dead?

She moved, then, a pale hand creeping out to wave vaguely in the air.

“Mrs. Brown, I need help,” Noam said. “It’s my dad—he’s sick. He’s . . . he’s really sick, and I think . . .”

The hand dropped back onto the blanket and went still.

No. No, no—this wasn’t right. This wasn’t happening. He should go downstairs and get another neighbor. He should—no, he should check on his dad. He couldn’t. He . . .

He had to focus.

The blanket covering Mrs. Brown began to ripple like the surface of the sea. Outside, the hazard sirens wailed.

Magic.

Dragging his eyes away from Mrs. Brown, Noam twisted round to face his own apartment and vomited all over the floor.

He stood there for a second, staring woozily at the mess while sirens shrieked in his ears. He was sick. Magic festered in his veins, ready to consume him whole.

An outbreak.

His father, when Noam managed to weave his way back to his side, had fallen unconscious. His head lolled forward, and there was a bloody patch on his lap, yellow electricity flickering over the stain. The world undulated around them both in watery waves.

“It’s okay,” Noam said, knowing his dad couldn’t hear him. He sucked in a sharp breath and hitched his father’s body out of the chair. He shouldn’t—he couldn’t just leave him there like that. Noam had carried him around for three years, but today his father weighed twice as much as before. Noam’s arms quivered. His thoughts were white noise.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, a voice kept repeating in Noam’s head.

He dumped his father’s body on the bed, skinny limbs sprawling. Noam tried to nudge him into a more comfortable position, but even that took effort. But this . . . it was more than he’d done for his mother. He’d left her corpse swinging on that rope for hours before Brennan had shown up to take her down.

His father still breathed, for now.

How long did it take to die? God, Noam couldn’t remember.

On shaky legs, Noam made his way back to the chair by the window. He couldn’t manage much more. The television kept turning itself on and off again, images blazing across a field of static snow and vanishing just as quickly. Noam saw it out of the corners of his eyes even when he tried not to look, the same way he saw his father’s unconscious body. That would be Noam soon.

Magic crawled like ivy up the sides of the fire escape next door.

Noam imagined his mother waiting for him with a smile and open arms, the past three years just a blink against eternity.

His hands sparked with something silver-blue and bright. Bolts shot between his fingers and flickered up his arms. The effect would have been beautiful were it not so deadly. And yet . . .

A shiver ricocheted up his spine.

Noam held a storm in his hands, and he couldn’t feel a thing.


Author Bio:

Victoria Lee grew up in Durham, North Carolina, where she spent twelve ascetic years as a vegetarian before discovering that spicy chicken wings are, in fact, a delicacy. She’s been a state finalist competitive pianist, a hitchhiker, a pizza connoisseur, an EMT, an expat in China and Sweden, and a science doctoral student. She’s also a bit of a snob about fancy whiskey. Lee writes early in the morning and then spends the rest of the day trying to impress her border collie puppy and make her experiments work. She currently lives in Pennsylvania with her partner.

For exclusive updates, excerpts, and giveaways, sign up for Victoria’s newsletter at https://victorialeewrites.com/newsletter/

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Killer among – book blitz

Killer Among
S.E. Green
(Killer Instinct, #3)
Publication date: October 19th 2018
Genres: Thriller, Young Adult

Lane swore never to be like her late mother. But now she too is a killer. One difference remains—Lane only stalks and punishes the guilty.

But while trailing a new killer of teenage girls dubbed “The Strangler”, Lane makes a terrible miscalculation and kills the wrong man.

Now the family of the man she accidentally murdered is hunting the killer, and Lane is forced to cover her tracks by befriending them. Because everyone knows you keep your enemies close.

But are they really enemies? Lane isn’t so sure.

As the plot surrounding “The Strangler” tightens around her like a noose, for the first time Lane is tempted to trust someone with her darkest secrets. But will breaking down her boundaries bring salvation, or doom?

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Author Bio:

S. E. Green is an award willing, bestselling author who writes dark and twisty novels like Killer Instinct, dubbed “Dexter for teens”; Ultimate Sacrifice, a satanic cult novel of suspense; and Vanquished, a gritty survival thriller. She also writes under Shannon Greenland and there you’ll find young adult novels of action, romance, and suspense.

Shannon lives in a small Florida beach town, has one very grouchy dog, and loves to travel. She’s also up for any adventure you might throw her way.

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Review of elephants in the room

BLURB:

A ragtag group of friends are planning a bank heist to end their cash crunch. Novices to crime, they are driven more by emotions than skill – their plan seems fool proof, or so they think.In another part of the city, a gang of seasoned dacoits has botched up a job and now owes money to the local crime lord. They have to either pay up or pay for it with their lives – and time is running out… In a bizarre twist of fate, both these groups are brought face-to-face. Trapped in a situation beyond the realm of their planning and experience, they must think on their feet, form quick alliances and rally behind an unlikely leader.Set against the backdrop of Chennai, where men sing gaana songs in kuppams (fishing hamlets) nestled against swanky glass-fronted buildings and life-size cut-outs of film stars and politicians, a story of love, greed, friendship, fate and the absurdity of the human condition unfolds.

MY REVIEW:

Firstly, if you want to have this book on your TBR please make up your mind that you could not complete it at one go. NO I do not mean it’s not engaging I intend to mean the length that it runs into a massive 600-page suspense fiction. For a debut novel this is seriously a great attempt. A longish 89 chapters covered in 600 pages.

A bank robbery involving three gangs unaware of each other’s existence until they meet at the crime spot makes an impressive plot.

Quick thinking and smart decisions being planned by gang to loot away from the other has been narrated very well. The narration from the perspective of a robber is indeed different approach to this heist plot.

Each and every character made a mark which was one of the positive notes, instead of involving too many characters leading to confusion.

The local dialect used at places makes it even more relatable for we are well aware of the language. The unfolding of events given in an elaborate verbiage makes another plus point. But this book will never let you down of making it a choice.

The book cover is designed with a cute picture of elements which is completely in contrast to the mystery that the book holds inside. SO go ahead and grab your copy.

BOOK DETAILS:

  • Format:Kindle Edition
  • File Size:1624 KB
  • Print Length:659 pages
  • Publisher:The Write Place (11 October 2018)
  • Sold by:Amazon Asia-Pacific Holdings Private Limited
  • Language:English
  • ASIN:B07JCL37DV
  • ISBN – 978-9-38728-242-1

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Suraj is a big fan of crime and mystery thrillers. Movies in the genre of crime and suspense inspired him to take up writing on similar subjects. He started by writing movie reviews. He lives in Bangalore and is a software engineer by profession. His hobbies include reading and playing tennis. Readers can connect with Suraj through the website http://www.authorsuraj.com.

Book blitz – Alive?



Alive?
Melissa Woods
(The Alive? Series, #1)
Published by: Clean Teen Publishing
Publication date: October 30th 2018
Genres: Post-Apocalyptic, Science Fiction, Young Adult, Zombies

Everyone knows the first rule of the zombie apocalypse: Don’t. Get. Bitten.

Too bad Violet has never been great at following the rules. Walking home after a night of partying, she manages to let one of the Dead take a chunk out of her only hours after they’ve begun walking again. Fortunately for Violet, she doesn’t die. Unfortunately for Violet—she’s not exactly alive, either.

Violet’s body is undergoing changes, and suddenly the taste of human flesh is not as revolting as it once sounded. Controlling her new urges will be hard. Living with survivors who have no idea will be even harder. And the real zombies? They still want to eat her, too…

Surviving the zompocalypse is tricky when you play for both teams.

New from author Melissa Woods, Alive? is a heart-pounding adventure with suspenseful plot twists, complex characters, and a dash of dark humor. Gritty and raw, Alive? is sure to keep you guessing, and will delight zombie apocalypse fans everywhere.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

A creak of floorboards. Violet opened her eyes just in time to see a woman lunge. She was wearing a white lace nightie, offset slightly by the gaping wound in her stomach. Violet held out her arms, pushing back with all her strength. She barely had any left, but it was just enough to keep the zombie at bay. The woman’s eyes were almost white, and her teeth snapped in Violet’s face. Though she had no idea what caused this or why it was happening, she knew this thing wanted to kill her.

Her arms were hurting, but she continued to fight. The zombie moved her head suddenly, sinking her teeth into Violet’s left arm, just below the elbow. She screamed as teeth tore through her skin.

It was worse than any pain she’d ever experienced—sharp and brutal. She kicked out, catching the woman in the stomach and pushing her back. Violet ran, clutching her bleeding arm against her chest. She had no idea where the back door was, so she ran up the stairs. When she saw the bathroom up ahead, she threw herself inside.

The door slammed shut, and Violet saw a man click the lock into place as she dropped onto the floor by the sink. He was normal, not dead like the others. There was a hammering at the wood, rattling the frame. The man grabbed a towel, hurriedly wrapping Violet’s arm. She wanted to thank him, but her eyes felt heavy. Within seconds, everything was black.


Author Bio:

Writer, primary school teacher, zompocalyptic obsessive.

Melissa Woods is the author of ‘Alive?’, a young adult zombie adventure story, set for release on October 30th 2018.

When she’s not writing or teaching, Melissa can usually be found walking her three dogs, playing video games, or, occasionally, spending time with her husband.

Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads


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Book blitz – A Christmas star

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Romance, Women’s Fiction

Date Published: November 2, 2018

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Two years ago, Noelle North’s then-fiancé left her waiting at the church on Christmas—her wedding day and birthday. She knows she cannot endure another holiday season at home in Boston. At the urging of four women at the assisted-living community where she serves as health director, Noelle decides to rent Seashell Cottage on the Gulf Coast of Florida for the holidays. She meets Silas Bellingham, the cutest seven-year-old boy she’s ever seen, and his great-grandmother, Althea. Noelle discovers Althea’s caretaker has been abusing her and goes into action, ending up with the temporary care of both Althea and Silas. Becoming part of the Bellingham household has an entirely different series of challenges when it comes to Althea’s grandsons, Jake and Brett, who are having problems of their own with hotels to run and their parents missing in a plane crash. But after sparring with her, Silas’ father, Jake, realizes Noelle is just what he and his family need, and when she finds the perfect Christmas star for Silas, they both know he’s right.

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 Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

               On the Gulf Coast of Florida, Noelle North walked along the white, sandy beach that lined the shore like the fur on her slippers back home. The sun’s heat washed over her, hugging her with its warmth on this early December morning. She unzipped her light jacket and lifted her arms to the blue sky, welcoming the day with an embrace. She had a whole six weeks of freedom from work and her dismal life back home.

Her family had wanted her to stay in Boston with them for the holidays, but Noelle knew she couldn’t endure another Christmas of everyone feeling sorry for her. Two years ago, on Christmas Day, her fiancé, Alexander Cabot, had left her waiting at the church on her wedding day, while he’d taken off with another woman, his best friend’s wife. She’d wanted to die of embarrassment. Even now, thinking of that humiliation, a shudder shook her shoulders, and her stomach filled with acid.

               The one thing that had helped her keep going throughout the healing process was the conviction that she’d never fall for a glamour guy again. Besides, at thirty-two and with her grim track record with men, she was pretty sure she was destined to be single for the rest of her life. The thought didn’t bother her as much as it used to. Why should it? She had the freedom to come and go as she pleased, nobody was around to tell her what she could or couldn’t do, and evenings after a hard day of work at the New Life Assisted-Living Community were blissfully quiet.

               Noelle stopped walking and gazed out over the water. Waves rolled toward her in a steady pattern, greeting the shore with a kiss and pulling away like a shy child. Above her, seagulls wheeled in circles, their cries shrill in the stillness of the early morning. She watched as a group of sandpipers darted toward the water’s edge, dipped their beaks into the sand for whatever little morsel they could catch, and continued on their way, leaving tiny footprints behind.

               A flash of black caught her attention. She turned to see a big dog galloping toward her, yellow tennis ball in his mouth. She braced herself to greet him and then chuckled as the dog circled and ran right by her toward a small figure farther down the beach.

               She walked on, watching with interest as the dog ran into the water and came out again carrying the wet ball in his mouth. As she came closer, she saw that the person throwing the ball was a boy whom she guessed was seven or eight.

               The boy smiled at her as she approached.

“Your dog is a very good catcher,” Noelle said. “What’s his name?”

“Duke,” the boy said. The dog, hearing his name, came and sat by him.

“And what’s your name?” Noelle asked, thinking the boy with dark red hair, bright green eyes, and freckles was one of the cutest kids she’d ever seen.

“Silas. Silas Bellingham.” He studied her. “Who are you? And why aren’t you working?”

She grinned. “I’m Noelle North, and I’m not working because I’m on vacation for the next month or so.” She glanced around. “Are you here by the water on your own?”

“Naw. My great-grandmother’s over there. See?” He pointed to a woman sitting in a wheelchair on the porch of a sizeable house overlooking the beach.

               Noelle smiled and lifted a hand in greeting, but the woman didn’t wave back.

               “See you later,” the boy said and ran toward his great-grandmother.

               Noelle watched him go, thinking of all her friends’ children back home. Of the four women who had stuck together through everything since college, she was the only one who was unmarried and without children. She’d always wanted a large family, but that didn’t seem possible now. At her age and with no prospects of a husband in sight, she would be lucky to have even one baby.

               Trying to fight off depression, Noelle resumed walking. It was bad enough to have been dumped at the altar on Christmas, but that day was also her birthday. With a name like Noelle,  she’d always felt the holiday season was something extra special, almost magical, in her life. Until two years ago, that is. Now, Christmas trees, Christmas decorations, and especially Christmas music were nauseating to her.

               She walked on wishing her grandmother was alive. From an early age, she and Gran had had a special relationship. In fact, Gran was the reason why, as a graduate of Boston College’s nursing program, Noelle decided to specialize in caring for the elderly. She now headed the health program at an exclusive, assisted-living community outside of Boston. Over the past several years, some of the more active residents had become dear friends. Without them, she would not be in Florida.

               Noelle smiled at the memory of Edith Greenbaum confronting her with three of her closest elderly friends. “Now you listen here, young lady,” Edith had said with great earnestness, “it’s time for you to go somewhere, kick up your heels, and have a little fun. I was doing some research on the internet, and I’ve come up with the right place for you.”

               Shocked and pleased, Noelle had played along. “And where might that be, boss?”

               Edith and the other three women had tittered happily.

               “I’ve printed it out for you.” Edith handed her a sheet of information on the Seashell Cottage just south of Clearwater Beach in Florida.

               The minute Noelle saw the picture, she knew it was a perfect idea, the perfect place. Sitting on the edge of a broad expanse of white beach, a small, pink cottage beckoned to her.

With its painted clapboards, wide front porch, and two palm trees spreading shade nearby, it was everything she’d imagined in a beach getaway.

               “Thank you, Edith,” she’d said with meaning. “I’ll see if it is at all possible.”

               “You know we’re right, Noelle,” Edith replied kindly. “It’s time for you to move on with your life. If you don’t do it for yourself, at least do it for us. We’re stuck here. But you’re not.”

               Tears stung Noelle’s eyes as she’d embraced each one. It was the perfect time of year for her to do as they suggested.

               Thinking of those dear women, Noelle’s spirits lifted and she began to run.

###

               For the second morning in a row, Noelle awoke and stretched, relieved to be away from home. She’d wanted to come to Florida in time for Thanksgiving, but her mother had put her foot down and insisted that Thanksgiving be spent with all four of her children at home. Noelle loved her parents and her three older brothers and their families. But being with them for Thanksgiving had convinced her it was right to come to Florida for the Christmas holidays. Chaos reigned when the whole family was together. Eight nieces and nephews between the ages of one and fourteen were enough to rattle anyone. Even her mother, Jen, went to bed as soon as she could after everyone else had gone, leaving Noelle to do the last-minute tidying.

               Noelle put on her fuzzy pink robe, padded into the kitchen, and turned on the coffee maker. Through the kitchen window, she saw that the clouds the weatherman had predicted were marring the blue sky and hiding the sun. Still, with ice and snow back home, the day seemed full of promise.

               She took her cup of coffee out to the front porch and gazed out at the water. A sense of peace washed over her. Edith had told her life was full of challenges, forcing people to grow and change. Thinking of the past two years, she realized she’d been stuck in a pattern of self-doubt and hurt. No man, she vowed, was worth it. Edith was right. It was time for a change.

               With a fresh resolve to enjoy each day free from the past, she went inside, changed into shorts and a T-shirt, and headed out to the beach. Though the air was cool, the sun felt warm on her face as she headed down the sand at a brisk pace.

               Along the shore, egrets were dipping their beaks into the shallow water, retrieving small, silvery fish. Noelle loved their long legs and the orange beaks that accented their white feathers. How long has it been, she wondered, since she’d taken the time to stop and study the beauty around her.

               A number of people, children included, were searching the sand at the water’s edge for seashells. Some of the more experienced searchers held net bags that sagged with the weight of their treasures. She understood how hooked some people could be on searching for the best and the most unusual shells they could find. Each shell was truly a gift from the sea.

               As she got closer to the part of the beach where she’d met Silas, she slowed. But neither Silas nor the dog named Duke was in sight. Sorry to have missed them, she walked on.

               When she reached the long, wooden pier that reached out into the water like a finger testing for coldness, she sat down on one of the benches at the end of it. For a while, she watched fishermen patiently waiting for a strike. She especially liked to watch the young boys and girls fishing. The hope on their faces was priceless.

               Yawning softly, Noelle headed back to the cottage. The sea air, sun, and freedom from home were working their magic on her body, relaxing muscles that had been tight too long.

               In the distance, she could see Silas and his dog playing on the sand. Picking up her speed, she headed toward them.

               Duke bounded toward her. His black paws pounded the sand in steady, eager beats. Wagging his tail, he stopped in front of her, tongue hanging out. Laughing, she patted him on the head. “Hello, Duke.”

               She looked up to see Silas running toward her, waving.

               Her heart filled at the sight of him. She’d hoped for a little boy just like him one day.

               “Hi,” said Silas, beaming at her. “You’re early today.”

               “Yes, it was such a beautiful morning I decided not to stay in bed. How are you?”

               He looked down, kicked at the sand, and looked up at her with a sour expression. “Mrs. Wicked is back.”

               “Mrs. Wicked?”

               He nodded. “She’s my Nana’s nurse. I don’t like her. She’s mean. She was on her break. And now she’s back.”

               “I see. Well, nursing can be difficult,” Noelle ventured to say, unsure what the real problem was in the house.

               Silas took hold of her hand. “C’mon! I’ve got to hurry back. I’m supposed to stay right in front of Nana’s house. If I don’t, Mrs. Wicked will be mad.”

               Noelle allowed herself to be hurried along.

               Standing in front of Silas’s great-grandmother’s house, Noelle studied the old woman.

Even from a small distance, she seemed bowed in spirit and fragile as she sat in her wheelchair staring out at them. Others might not recognize these signs, but from her years of experience with the elderly, Noelle was used to seeing this. On a whim, she turned to Silas.

“Let’s go say hello to your grandmother.”

“She doesn’t talk much,” Silas said with a note of sadness in his voice.

Noelle smiled. “That won’t matter. I bet she’s curious about me and might like a visitor.”

As they walked toward the front porch, a figure emerged from the house. Noelle observed the big-boned, broad-chested woman and guessed that this was the person Silas called Mrs. Wicked.

“There she is,” whispered Silas.

Pretending not to have heard, Noelle lifted a hand in greeting. “Hello!”

The woman did not return Noelle’s greeting and, instead, went inside.

Noelle climbed onto the porch, walked up to Silas’s great-grandmother, and held out a hand. “I’m Noelle North, a new friend of Silas’s. I thought I’d come to say hello to you.”

From among the wrinkles and the downcast look on her face, her blue eyes lit and a smile emerged. “I’m Althea. Althea Bellingham.” Noelle could see how beautiful the woman must have been and wondered what kind of injuries kept Althea in a wheelchair when there seemed so much life to her.

“She’s Mrs. Bellingham to you,” said the woman emerging from the house to stand behind Althea. Dressed in dark slacks and a white shirt, she scowled at Silas and turned her disapproval on Noelle.

“And you are?” Noelle asked, curious about Silas’ name for her.

“Betty Wickstrom,” the woman said with a challenging expression.

Noelle held back a chuckle. Mrs. Wicked seemed such an appropriate name. She turned to Althea. “Maybe someday Silas and I can get you out in the sun for a bit. He and Duke play a mean game of catch.”

Althea nodded and then glanced at Betty.

“She’s doing very well right where she is. Right, Althea? And now it’s time for her medicine. So say goodbye to her.”

Althea’s expression changed to one of defeat.

“Silas, time for you to come into the house,” said Betty.

“No! I don’t want to go inside. I want to stay with Noelle. She lets me play with Duke.”

Noelle smiled at both women. “I’m happy to stay with him for a while longer. Will that is okay?”

“No!” said Betty.

As Althea reached up to touch Betty’s arm, her long-sleeved shirt revealed a bruise on her forearm. “Yes.”

“What happened to your arm?” Noelle asked as calmly as she could while suspicion rolled through her in a wave of unease.

Althea glanced at Betty.

“She’s fine, just a little clumsy, that’s all,” said Betty, waving away Noelle’s concern.

“You hit Nana there,” said Silas, moving closer to Noelle. “I saw you.”

“Why, you little … You know that didn’t happen. That’s where I helped her up from another fall.”

Silas clasped Noelle’s hand and shook his head. “Adults aren’t supposed to lie.”

Noelle knelt down in front of Althea’s wheelchair and spoke softly. “Althea, you can trust me. I’m a registered nurse who helps the elderly where I live in New England. Are you being hurt?”

Althea looked at Betty, turned back to Noelle, and nodded. Then she lifted her shirt. Bruises were everywhere.

Noelle scrambled to her feet and faced Betty, her hands fisted. The burning desire to attack the awful woman was almost overwhelming. Through gritted teeth, Noelle said, “I would suggest you pack up your things and leave now, Betty, or I’m calling the authorities.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” snarled Betty.

“I would, I can, and I will,” said Noelle, flexing her fists. The abuse of the elderly wasn’t new, but each time she saw an example, it made her sick to her stomach.

Noelle turned to Silas. “You stay here with your great-grandmother. I’m going inside to make sure Mrs. Wickstrom leaves.”

Mrs. Wickstrom placed her hands on her hips and glared at Noelle. “You can’t make me leave. You didn’t hire me.”

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police. I mean it. I’ve handled cases like this before,” Noelle said, well aware this really wasn’t her business. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t let the abuse continue. The sight of those bruises felt like a punch to her gut.

“Okay then, I’m not leaving until I get paid,” said Betty.

“Write down what you’re owed, and I’ll see that you get the money. That’s the best I can do under the circumstances,” said Noelle. “It’s the nicest offer you’re going to get because if it were left up to me, you wouldn’t get a dime. You’d get a jail sentence.”

“You have no proof that I did anything wrong,” countered Betty.

Noelle’s smile was cold. “Oh, but I do. I have two very credible witnesses and, if necessary, I’ll take photographs to show the authorities. Now, get your things, and I’ll escort you to your car.”

Noelle followed Betty inside and to a bedroom off the kitchen in the back of the house. She watched carefully as Betty hastily threw her things into a small suitcase. When she’d zipped her suitcase closed, she turned to Noelle.

“What are you going to do about it now?”

Noelle drew a deep breath. “I’m taking your keys to the house and escorting you to your car.”

“And then what?” sneered Betty. “Althea isn’t an easy woman to deal with. Too stubborn, too demanding for her own good.”

“We’ll see about that. Come on, let’s go.”

Noelle escorted Betty outside, wrote down the license number, and stood by as Betty threw her suitcase into the back of a small, blue sedan and climbed behind the wheel. After starting the engine, Betty gave her a middle-finger wave and took off with a roar.

Alone, Noelle stood in the driveway, breathing in and out in a calming pattern to slow her heartbeat. What in the hell had she done? She didn’t know Althea Bellingham. And now she was in charge of her until her family could find other help for her.

She went inside the house and out to the seaside porch. Silas was sitting next to the wheelchair, holding his great-grandmother’s hand. Althea was asleep in the chair. At the sweet sight of them, tears sprang to Noelle’s eyes.

“Hello,” she said softly to Silas. “Mrs. Wicked is gone. Come with me. I need your help.”

Silas followed her into the kitchen.

“Who do I need to call? Where are your parents?” Noelle asked.

Silas gave her a look that was so sad, Noelle’s heart clenched. “My dad is in New York. He’ll be back at the end of the week.”

“Do you have a phone number for him?”

Silas smiled and pointed to a printed list by the kitchen phone. “It’s the one on the top. His name is Jake.”

Noelle studied the mounted paper. Jake Bellingham’s phone number was listed at the top. She picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“The Bellingham Hotel New York. How may I help you today?” came a practiced, professional-sounding voice.

Noelle’s heart pounded with dismay. Bellingham Hotel? The family-owned hotels? “May I please speak to Jake Bellingham?”

“I’ll buzz his office for you.”

After a minute, a feminine voice came on the line. “Mr. Bellingham’s office. How may I help you?”

“Please, I need to speak to him. I’m a visiting neighbor calling from his grandmother’s house in Florida.” Noelle’s pulse sprinted at the idea of telling him what she’d done.

“Please hold, and I’ll see if he can take the call,” his secretary said.

A moment later, Noelle heard a deep voice say, “Jake Bellingham.”

Noelle swallowed hard. “Mr. Bellingham, you don’t know me, but I’m a new friend of Silas’s. My name is Noelle North, I’m a registered nurse visiting from Massachusetts, but not licensed in Florida, and I’m calling to tell you that I just escorted your grandmother’s caretaker out of the house for abusing her. I specialize in care for the elderly and recognize abuse when I see it. I did not call the police. I need to know what you want me to do next.”

“Let me get this straight. You don’t know me, my grandmother, or the woman who was taking care of her. Yet you had the balls to throw her out after, what, five or ten minutes in the house?  Is that it?”

“Yes,” said Noelle with a confidence she didn’t feel. “That’s about it. As I said, I am a registered nurse, so I’ve seen too many cases of abuse like this before. She has bruises on her arms and torso that are very telling.”

“Abuse? Really? Put Silas on the phone,” growled his father.

Noelle handed Silas the phone. “Your father wants to speak to you.”

Silas’s eyes grew round. He took the phone and listened, then he spoke in a series of staccato sentences. “Yes! I told you Mrs. Wicked was mean! Yes, I like her! Her name is Noelle and she’s here on vacation. Nana showed Noelle her bruises. That’s why.”

After a pause, Silas said, “Love you too, Daddy,” and handed the phone back to Noelle.

“I had no idea this was happening to my grandmother,” said Jake. “I have you to thank for uncovering the situation. I’ve been mostly away for the last several weeks, and Althea never mentioned any problems with Mrs. Wickstrom. Nor did I notice anything like that. I’m sorry, but I can’t make it home for another few days due to some international legal problems. Can you stay with my grandmother and Silas until I can send someone else to take over for you? In the meantime, who can I call for references on you?”

“You can speak to anyone at the New Life Assisted-Care Community outside of Boston. I handle the health program there. I’m in Florida for a vacation, and as I mentioned earlier, I’m not licensed to practice in Florida, and won’t be able to stay with your family for any length of time, and then only as a caretaker, not a nurse.”

“Until just this weekend, I promise,” said Silas’ father. “And if I can find a better service than the one I used for Mrs. Wickstrom, it could be for only a few hours. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you well.”

Noelle bristled. “You may be used to paying people to do your bidding, but it’s not necessary for me. I’ve done this because I care about others. Not to get your money.”

“Whoa! I didn’t mean … Forget it! I’ll be in touch.”

Noelle hung up the phone, still steaming from the notion that she and her work were for sale when she was just voluntarily helping to resolve a very tough situation.

“You’re going to stay with me now?” Silas asked, giving her a wide smile. “Maybe for a long time.”

“Just until your father can find a replacement,” Noelle said, not wanting to get Silas’s hopes up for something that wasn’t going to happen. She already knew she didn’t like Jake Bellingham.

About the Author

 photo A Christmas Star Author Judith Keim_zpskhgxygvr.jpg

Judith Keim was born and raised in Elmira, New York, and now makes her home in Idaho with her husband and their two dachshunds, Winston and Wally, and other members of her family.

Growing up, books were always present being read, ready to go back to the library, or about to be discovered. Information from the books was shared in general conversation, giving all of us in the family a wealth of knowledge and a lot of imagination. Perhaps that is why I was drawn to the idea of writing stories early on. I particularly love to write novels about women who face unexpected challenges and meet them with strength.

A hybrid author who both has a publisher and who self-publishes, Ms. Keim writes heart-warming stories of strong women who face challenges and find love and happiness along the way. Her books are based, in part, on many of the places she’s lived or visited and on the interesting people, she’s met, creating believable characters and realistic settings her many, loyal readers love.

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Review of The day he was gone

The day he was gone

BLURB:

Reeva Panchal has had a traumatizing past, but she is trying to build up her life again from scratch with her skill in art. When she receives a surprise marriage proposal from the wealthy hotelier Agnivesh Solanki, she can’t help but feel odd about it even though her parents are insistent that she agrees to it. With Agnivesh’s entry into her life, all her problems seem to alleviate at an unrealistic pace, even though Agnivesh continues to exude a dark aura for her. What unfolds is a series of unprecedented events where relations are broken, mistakes are made and the past is dug up to destroy as well as heal.

MY REVIEW:

Reading through the blurb and at a first glance the book seemed to be telling an ordinary story. But once I started reading it, I realized I was wrong. No, the author proved me wrong. The book starts with the protagonist Reeva receiving a marriage proposal from a millionaire Business man Agnivesh. No one including her parents are clueless about this guy and his whereabouts when suddenly he proposes to marry their only daughter.

Sumitra, Reeva’s mom gets elated since she gets the surety that her daughter would be well settled if she marries Agnivesh. But on the other hand Prakash, Reeva’s father is a person who understands his daughter and does not pressurize her to get into wedlock. Especially with a stranger who pops out of nowhere.

Reeva owns a handicraft workshop where she supplies gift articles for smaller celebrations. She initially resists Agnivesh, but after getting to know him over a couple of instances she falls for him finally.

The book alternates between the story between Reeva and Agnivesh and chapters from a diary “All about Sona”, where we see a letter being addresses to the diary by a guy about his to be girlfriend whom he names Sona. The part where both stories intertwine is just amazing.

The characterization is just done perfect. Especially that of Agnivesh. There is not a single spec of doubt that arises though he is portrayed to be a reserved stubborn guy initially. Getting to know he has a past and that has Reeva in connection is woven pretty well.

Reeva’s part, I won’t say is subtle, but the emotional struggles she undergoes from within and how she tries to hide them from the outside world makes her a strong protagonist. She does not fall for Agnivesh immediately when the proposal is received. She is curious to know who he is and how did he know of her and propose a marriage. She takes time to understand him and believes him completely when she is shattered by an instance which makes her solely dependent on him to prove her innocence when her own parents accuse her.

Prakash is a protective father, who does not thrust decisions on her but also wants her to settle in a good manner.

The writing is crisp and clear. Nothing was difficult to understand or required a dictionary peek to understand terms.

The cover is designed well with the picture of a girl looking dejected portraying that she is thinking of her past and in engrossed in it completely.

BOOK DETAILS:

  • Format: Paperback
  • Publisher:Invincible Publishers; First edition (23 September 2018)
  • Language:English
  • ISBN-10:9388333039
  • ISBN-13:978-9388333030
  • ASIN:B07HLM164P

MY RATINGS:

Cover: 4/5

Title: 4/5

plot: 4.5/5

Writing and Presentation: 4/5

Overall: 4/5

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Born and brought up in Pathankot (Punjab), Anjum Awasthi Malik is presently residing in Noida (U.P.). She has done her Post Graduation in Engineering from G.G.S.I.P.U. Delhi and has seven years of experience in the technical world. Last she worked in Centre Development of Advance Computing (CDAC), Noida. She took a break from work to look after her kids and meanwhile started writing the stories which have always been there in her mind. ‘The Day He Was Gone’ is her second book. Her first book ‘The Twist of Fate’, published by Invincible Publishers in December 2017, is widely appreciated by the readers and has several positive reviews on Amazon as well as Goodreads. With her writing and narration style, she has carved a niche for herself. She has always been a creatively inclined person.

Review of The Nanny song

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I’m so pleased to share The Nanny Song with you all today! There’s also a great giveaway at the end so be sure to enter!

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The Nanny Song

Publication Date: May 10th, 2018

Genre: Contemporary Fiction/ Suspense/ Romance

Publisher: Willow River Press
Mallory Riscoe is no stranger to dysfunction. Despite her tumultuous childhood, at twenty-two, she has established herself as a fully functional, self-made woman. However the safe, mundane life she has created for herself is quickly turned upside-down when she’s falsely accused of theft and promptly fired.

Meanwhile, a dismal pall hangs over the Colt residence. Since the death of his wife, Brendan Colt has struggled to care for his children; Kason and Meela. Each is lost in their own deep grief, but there is more to this family than meets the eye.

Two worlds collide when Mallory accepts the job as nanny to the Colt children. Mallory begins to feel a connection, a whisper of trust between them, that could mean there is still hope for everyone involved to heal. But when an unspeakable secret is uncovered that bond, and possibly Mallory’s life itself is now at risk. Can Mallory unlock the mystery intertwined in this chaotic family or will all hope of closure be lost forever?

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Excerpt

A chilly breeze had picked up and it whispered all around her. She was hardly aware of the frigid temperature penetrating her thin pajamas as she stared at Brendan’s form in the darkened cemetery. His shadowy outline was so stoic and somber that Mallory had to fight against her desire to walk in alongside the man and place a comforting arm around his shoulders.

MY REVIEW:

Mallory Riscoe, the main character in the plot has suffered the post during her early ages. Her life was total chaos with negative influences.

The struggles she goes through when she comes to know that she’s been falsely accused for a theft and deprived of a job.

Brandon Colt, the other lead character is found to be in a different state of mind wherein his wife passed away and he seems to be struggling with the children.

What actually happens when the life of these two people intertwine at a point is what the plot is all about.

The parts where in the relationship builds up between Mallory and Brendon keeps you waiting on what will happen next.

Babysitting is not an easy job. And when you have two kids to take care of, it sure is not a piece of cake. The author has given a realistic touch to the conversations between Mallory, Brandon and the kids.

What does Kason confess to Mallory and how does she decide to confide it to Brandon was all very well narrated. What is the secret that the family hold? Will Mallory try to find out the answers? Well you should pick up a copy for yourself to get to know that.

The characterization is etched to perfection. I wanted the story to go on , but it came to an end abruptly.

The great story line, plot, pace of narration keeps you glued to it. The writer has a very bright future.

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About the Author

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Misty Mount has written since age five and was first published at fourteen. By day she’s a caregiver, wife, and mother to a young son but during the quiet hours of night she becomes a novelist.
“I read because my grandmother showed me how to immerse myself in books for recreation, relaxation or even as a coping skill.

I write because my head is filled with daydreams and I like to choose the endings.”

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Schedule

October 29th

Reads & Reels (Review) http://www.readsandreels.com

Didi Oviatt (Promo) https://didioviatt.wordpress.com

The Bookstanista (Review) https://bookstanista.com

The Voluptuous Book Diva (Excerpt) http://www.thevoluptuousbookdiva.com/

The Reading Mermaid (Review) https://tamarathereadingmermaid.weebly.com/

Where Dragons Reside (Review) https://kernerangelina.live/

October 30th

Helen Hollick (Guest Post) https://ofhistoryandkings.blogspot.co.uk/

The Cozy Pages (Promo) http://thecozypages.wordpress.com/

Darque Dreamer Reads (Review) https://darquedreamerreads.wordpress.com

My Books, My Baby, and I (Review) https://mybabymybooksandi.wordpress.com

Life at 17 (Review) https://lifeat17.wordpress.com

October 31st

Loving Life Every Day (Interview) https://lauramorningstar.com

Valerie’s Musings (Interview) http://valeriesmusings76.wordpress.com

Bri’s Book Nook (Review) http://brisbooknook.wordpress.com

November 1st

Dash Fan Book Reviews (Review) Dashfan81.blogspot.com

Wicked Good Reads (Review) http://www.wickedgoodreads.com

Plot Monsters (Promo) http://plotmonster.wordpress.com

On the Shelf Book Reviews (Interview) https://ontheshelfreviews.wordpress.com

November 2nd

Cup of Toast (Interview) https://cupoftoast.co.uk

The Genre Minx (Promo) http://www.thegenreminx.com/

Jessica Rachow (Review) Jessicarachow.wordpress.com

Blog Tour Organized By:

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Book blitz – Twilight’s last glory

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Sci-fi Mystery/Thriller

Date Published: September 2018

Publisher: Star Born Publishing LLC


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A global spectacle of triumph and anguish. A grand pageant of violence and drama. In the future, it is more than just a game, and a mysterious secret society will use it to change the world. America’s game has become the world’s favorite pastime, and she is not just the WFFL’s latest superstar but the future of humanity!

“Perkins pens eclectic and unpredictable works of fantasy that will keep readers clawing through the pages!” Amazon Self-Publishing Review

“Thrilling commentary on politics, sociology with a touch of supernatural and sci-fi!” Scarlett Jensen, Amazon *****

In a world secretly ruled by an organized crime pyramid known as the Octagonal, and while a legend who harbors a dark secret strives for one last shot at glory in the twilight of his career, crime lord Gigi Salerno is the sinister hand casting the ultimate fate of victory or defeat. And, he will utilize any means necessary to ensure the Octagonal remains in control of the world’s most popular game.  But when a brilliant team doctor envisions WFFL rosters filled out with AI, Salerno’s masters secretly decide he’s expendable.

Now threatened by the intrepid ambitions of a young sports columnist determined to expose the Octagonal, and faced with the covert maneuvering of a once trustworthy lieutenant and the conflicted loyalties of an unscrupulous general manager, Salerno is faced with a dilemma: he may have to befriend one of his enemies to vanquish his double-crossing masters.

Will he survive long enough to capture what he desires most – the reluctant affections of a beautiful woman?

About the Author

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In just two short years as an independently published author, Massachusetts native Stephen Perkins’ thrilling, entertaining, thought-provoking, and sometimes controversial novels have rapidly gained a loyal and rabid audience. While enjoying the books, and for a unique perspective on the news of the world, be sure to check out the blog that is fast becoming everyone’s new source for real alternative news, Newsspellcom.org! Or, stop by for a visit on Twitter @ Twitter.com @RAGEOFWORDS. To discover more exciting titles by Stephen Perkins, go now to amazon.com/author/stephenperkins

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Review of the forbidden quest of Mysore

BLURB:

Around 1500 a famous astrophysicist Yagnabhatta created an ancient enigma, Gandabaerunda. To protect it from falling into the wrong hands, the great King Krishna Devaraya hid it in Mysore. Ever since then, the chase behind it has never stopped. Back in 2017, there lived a self-claimed archaeologist, Amar. He loved an intellectual girl, Pooja. Like every other Indian love story, they too had hurdles. Pooja was elder, and her father was rich. Their families were of a different caste and spoke different languages. Yet they never stopped loving each other. Embrace into the city of palaces as Amar and Pooja go in search of an impossible mission. Can the couple overcome the trials to decode the hidden secrets of the King Raja Wodeyar III? Can they fight the prejudices of the Indian society to get married?

MY REVIEW:

This book is perfect to be judged as a romantic mystery. It starts with a love story between two people from diverse backgrounds in all aspects such as region, linguistic and economy. Amar Bharadwaj and Pooja Naidu fondly called as Poo are the love birds and the two main characters. The writings bubble with love whenever there is a mention of these two. Amar’s father was an archeologist and is suspected to have run away with the biggest secret treasure of Mysore. Hs is in the papers for all wrong reasons. Amar as a dutiful son wishes to find what his father was up to and to unveil the mystery of the so called secret treasure. Pooja works in one of the biggest IT company in Mysore, while her parents stay in Bangalore.

The story builds up as Amar tries to gather various clues that are to lead to the treasure. In this treasure hunt, we are being taken virtually to all places of historic importance and architectural excellence in and around Mysore. The parts in Mahabaleshwar and Chamundeshwari temple were extra ordinary.

The descriptions and pace of the story especially in these parts were commendable. Together Pooja and Amar set out on the quest to discover the secret weapon. They occasionally, no no very often stay at a common friends place who does help them out by making them stay at his place and of course not to forget to give a mention about his delicious food which is a favorite of Poo and Amar.

During the course of time, we see the usual struggles in love marriages- caste differences, financial background differences play a major part. Poo is emotionally blackmailed by making her mother the prey to lose interest on Amar. The cat mouse race between the father & brother of Poo and Amar is the usual interpretation. Nothing very new here.

In between we have a crucial part by Dr.Venkatacharya who discloses shocking facts about the treasure and Amar’s father. This actually brings about turning point in the story.

Does Amar discover the treasure, does he unite with Pooja, what happened to his father is the remaining part of the story for which you should definitely grab the book.

The characterization is very good, especially that of Amar as a dutiful son, a good brother, a fond lover and a determined treasure hunter.

The pace of the story was right at the needed places but I felt a romantic overdose a few places which would not be liked by all. The vocabulary is crisp and was fluent.

BOOK DETAILS:

  • Paperback
  • Publisher:HALF BAKED BEANS (17 October 2018)
  • ASIN:B07JHRG24N

Get your copy from amazon: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B07JHRG24N/

MY RATINGS:

Cover: 4/5

Title: 4.5/5

plot: 4/5

Writing and Presentation: 4/5

Overall: 4/5

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Puneeth JH is an Indian writer, relishing in Germany. He indited his first book at an early age of nineteen and covet to write until he is ninety. He presently writes codes in C++ for living and stories for his love for words. He inscribes on the vivid issues of romance, feminism and mythicism.

Apart from writing, his Jekyll and Hyde tendencies make him a researcher cum programmer in the field of future wireless communication. In laymen words, he is one among the million engineers, who are trying to connect multiple smart vehicles with ultra-reliable low latency communication, so that they could drive on their own, and bring down the loss of life in road accidents.