tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5292635672935937012024-03-13T19:49:34.078-04:00VBTC Authors On TourVirtual Book Tour Cafe | Authors On Tour | Book PromotionBrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-69798090334056338022016-08-04T13:36:00.001-04:002016-08-04T13:36:47.422-04:00TurboJetslams:Proof #29 of the Non-Existence of God by Jass Richards<span style="background-color: white; clear: left; color: #464760; display: table; float: left; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%; position: relative; text-align: justify; width: auto;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" style="color: #945fc3;"><img alt="Picture" class="galleryImageBorder wsite-image" src="http://virtualbooktourcafe.weebly.com/uploads/4/2/0/1/4201931/tjs-600x900.jpg?250" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.129412); margin: 10px 0px; max-width: 100%; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;" /></a><span class="wsite-caption" style="caption-side: bottom; display: table-caption; font-size: 11.7px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: -10px; text-align: center;"></span></span><br />
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Book Genre: Fiction, Humor<br />
Publisher: Magenta<br />
Release Date: April 1, 2016<br />
Buy Link(s):<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/TurboJetslams-Proof-%2029-Non-%20Existence-God-%20%20ebook/dp/B01D5PBYWO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1468896329&amp;sr=8-%20%201&amp;keywords=turbojetslams#nav-subnav" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/turbojetslams-jass-%20richards/1122594945" style="color: #bd8aea; outline: 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">BN</a> | <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-ca/ebook/turbojetslams-%20proof-29-%20of-the-%20non-existence-%20of-god" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Kobo</a> | <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/622687" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Smashwords</a> | <a href="https://ww.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/turbojetslams-proof-29-ofthe/9781926891651-%20%20item.html" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Indigo </a>| <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/turbojetslams-proof-%2029-non/id1093390811?mt=11" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">iTunes</a><br />
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<br />
Book Description:<br />
<br />
You ever have a neighbour whose behaviour is so mind-bogglingly inconsiderate and so suicide-inducingly annoying that you just want to ask him, in a polite Canadian way, to please stop?<br />
<br />
TurboJetslams isn't like that.<br />
<br />
Jass Richards' new novel, TurboJetslams: Proof #29 of the Non-Existence of God, tells the tale of one person's pathetic and hilarious attempts to single-handedly stop the destruction of a little piece of beautiful Canadian wilderness by the increasing numbers of idiots who couldn't care less.<br />
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A quick and entertaining summer read. and/or A perfect cottage-warming gift. and/or Boomer lit. and/or Sure to resonate with paddlers everywhere.<br />
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<em style="position: relative;">Extraordinarily well written with wit, wisdom, and laugh-out- loud ironic recognition, TurboJetslams: Proof #29 of the Non-Existence of God is a highly entertaining and a riveting read that will linger on in the mind and memory long after the little book itself has been finished and set back upon the shelf (or shoved into the hands of friends with an insistence that they drop everything else and read it!). Highly recommended for community library collections.</em> ~Midwest Book Review</div>
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<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Excerpt:</b></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
On the Monday, when she and Shiggles went for a walk down the
lane—Shiggles liked to say hi to Nutter, Caramel, and Beast, but
they didn’t go there on weekends when the Bullerts were up—they
saw a new dog at the edge of the road. Right across from Bullerts.
A big black one.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Correction. They saw a bear at the edge of the road.
</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Correction. Three bears.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Ah, she thought. A Teddy Bear Picnic.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Next morning, she saw that Bullert and his buddies had tossed a
couple plastic bags of garbage into the bush, into the treed swath of
land between the lane and Campbell’s road. The swath was actually
Andy’s property, but she didn’t think Bullert realized that. It
wasn’t <i>his </i>property, that’s probably all that mattered.
Oh well, she thought, looking at the torn plastic bags, the scattered
tins, licked clean, the packaging of various materials, torn and
scattered, but also licked clean—let Andy deal with it. Problem
is, he probably wouldn’t notice it. Since Bullert had dumped it
across from his own driveway, not across from Andy’s driveway.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Which, by the way, how stupid is that, she asked Shiggles, safe in
her arms just in case. Even you don’t like to shit in your own
yard if you can help it.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He probably also left his barbecue grill outside. Yummy bits of meat
and fat. What self-respecting wolf within a hundred miles would
ignore that?</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
It happened every time a new seasonal moved in. They’d just toss
their leftover food: hamburger buns, pasta, rice, wieners, vegetable
soup— She’d seen it all.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Including a car battery. And a bag full of used diapers. But that
was along the road, not beside someone’s cottage.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Thing is, would they do that in the city? She didn’t think so.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Then why do it here? Do they really not even <i>consider</i> the
possibility that their actions might have consequences for others?
Who might not see Mama Bear, or raccoons, in time to grab their
Shiggles?</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Maybe they figure it’s organic, it’ll decompose. (How slow <i>are
</i>city raccoons?)</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Maybe, like so many other things, being here, at a lake, in a forest,
brings out the primeval in people. They think they’re in the wild.
Where there are no dumps.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
But where there <i>are </i>bears. And raccoons. And wolves, and
martens— Anyone in the wild with an ounce of grey matter, let
alone moral responsibility, buries their garbage. Or carries it out.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She put on the pair of gloves she’d brought with her and moved all
the leftover garbage back onto Bullert’s property. Maybe he’d
get the message.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Or not. The following weekend, late Sunday when the ATVs had gone,
she headed out for a walk in the forest, using the entrance, loosely
speaking, at the bottom of the hill because Frankie was at his cabin,
getting ready for deer season, or duck season, or mastodon season,
and although she had the legal right to use the road past his cabin,
she wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation. If he <i>was </i>preparing
for deer season, or duck season, or mastodon season, he’d be
cleaning his rifles.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
And she saw right there, just ten feet off the road and just two feet
to the left of the path, four bags of garbage. What the fuck.
Seriously?</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She carried them back where they belonged. To Bullert’s property.
Specifically, into Bullert’s screened porch.</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The bears did their thing. The raccoons did their thing. There was
a lovely mess to clean up when they arrived the following Friday.
</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
And the hardware store was, oddly enough, all out of screen.
</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Right in the middle of blackfly season.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: small;">Author Bio:</span></strong> Jass Richards has an M.A. in Philosophy and used to be a stand-up comic (now she’s more of a sprawled-out- on-the- couch comic). Despite these attributes, she has received four Ontario Arts Council grants.<br />
<br />
Her most recent novel, TurboJetslams: Proof #29 of the Non-Existence of God has been called “highly entertaining … and a riveting read” (Midwest Book Review). In addition to her Rev and Dylan series (The Road Trip Dialogues, The Blasphemy Tour, and License to Do That), which has reportedly made people snort root beer out their noses, she has written This Will Not Look Good on My Resume, a collection of short stories described as “a bit of quirky fun that slaps you upside the head,” followed by its sequel Dogs Just Wanna Have Fun. “The O & D” was published in The Cynic Online Magazine (Sep 2011), two excerpts from This Will Not Look Good on My Resume have been selected for Contemporary Monologues for Young Women (vol.3), and Substitute Teacher from Hell was produced and performed by Ghost Monkey Productions in Winnipeg (2014).<br />
<br />
Her worst-ever stand-up moment occurred in Atlanta (at a for-blacks- only club) (apparently). Her best-ever stand-up moment occurred in Toronto (when she made the black guy fall off his stool because he was laughing so hard at her Donovan Bailey joke).</div>
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<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: blue;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="http://www.jassrichards.com/"><span lang="en-US">www.jassrichards.com</span></a></u></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="color: #464760; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="https://www.facebook.com/JassRichards1/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel"><span lang="en-US">https://www.facebook.com/JassRichards1/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel</span></a></u></span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="color: #464760; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="color: #464760; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="https://twitter.com/jassrichards"><span lang="en-US">https://twitter.com/jassrichards</span></a></u></span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="color: #464760; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="color: #464760; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29536148-turbojetslams?from_search=true#other_reviews"><span lang="en-US">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29536148-turbojetslams?from_search=true#other_reviews</span></a></u></span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="color: #464760; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="color: #464760; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="http://www.amazon.com/Jass-Richards/e/B0041HGOOE/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1"><span lang="en-US">http://www.amazon.com/Jass-Richards/e/B0041HGOOE/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1</span></a></u></span></span></div>
</div>
BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-8629594666310015712015-09-28T06:00:00.000-04:002015-09-28T06:00:00.833-04:00Universal Scams & Fraud Detection by David Snow Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">Genre: Non-Fiction</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Publisher:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Release Date:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Buy: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1500547158" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon US</a> | <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1500547158" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Book Description:</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Fraud and Scams are a costly menace to society and global industry. Learning from experience is the best way of developing skill and knowledge. This book will assist you in preventing fraud and financial crimes against you and your business. The book will teach you the tricks used by scam artists in modern society and give you the edge and ability from falling victim to fraud. Explore the many aspects of fraud, including; identity theft, retail scams, fraud against the elderly, insurance scams, employee theft and more. Learn how to conduct elaborate investigations including cross border and gathering of valuable evidence. If its too good to be true, then it probably isn’t true. Learn to trust your feelings from experiencing the different real life cases and scenarios. Don’t fall victim to fraud, learn how to protect yourself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><u><strong>BIO</strong></u><br /><br />David Snow has been working in the private security and financial investigation arena since 1989. He was one of the first graduates and members of the Institute of Irish Investigators. He obtained the "youngest student award" from the Institute in 1989. In 2013 he was awarded Investigator of the Year by the Europe Middle East and African chapter of the International Association of Financial Crime Investigators. He was also presented with the International Investigator of the Year Award in Denver Colorado by IAFCI – North America and donated his winnings to the Wounded Warrior Project, which supports American troops injured at war.<br /><br />He was initially employed by Sleator Carroll Investigators and then Pinkerton Security & Investigations. Pinkerton is the world’s oldest and largest Private Detective and Security agency with operations on every continent. He joined Pinkerton in 1993 and became the General Manager of the Irish operation in 1996, leaving in 2001 to pursue a career within insurance fraud investigation.<br /><br />Today he is employed as the Head of Special Investigations for the Irish operation of a multi-national insurance company. He is a member of the International Association of Special Investigation Units (IASIU), the International Association of Financial Crime Investigators (IAFCI), the Association of Irish Risk Management (AIRM) and was one of the first Europeans to obtain the Certified Insurance Fraud Investigator (CIFI) from North America. He has lectured on identity theft and financial crime in Ireland, North America and Europe. He is also a member of the Irish charity A Little Lifetime Foundation, formally known as ISANDS, obtaining an award in 2012 for his efforts in the prevention of the identity theft of dead Irish baby’s.<br /><br />He lives in Dublin, Ireland with his wife and two children Olivia and Sarah. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Website<br /><br /><u><a href="http://www.davidsnow.ie/" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;">www.davidsnow.ie</a></u></span><u><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.davidsnowauthor.com/" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.davidsnowauthor.com/</a></span></u><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Giveaway Rules</span></b>: Click to tweet this giveaway above, or tweet from this page using the Twitter share button. Tweet MUST contain #PIDavidSnow, #vbtcafetours and follow @author_davesnow. The more you tweet these hashtags, the more entries you get.</div>
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Good Luck!</div>
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<b><i>All prizes courtesy of author, David Snow.</i></b></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-45674523530308627012015-09-27T06:00:00.000-04:002015-09-27T06:00:01.524-04:00Tillie's Tale by Mindy Mymudes Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway<div class="paragraph" style="background-color: white; color: #464760; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px; padding: 0.5em 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Genre: Middle Grade | Urban Fantasy</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFGmXaUnDY_TjIc7g30vYLXnvhgC1IP8L0Puk2jlpAMJQnS7tZrtGKDCxdtsHf0VyR6gmzBIjORbZ5Df4j6GxTKoLyr1616Uw03SaTQQyXtTeTM6YoAV336Kx6tZBYkrB67KwYLfHkVQ/s1600/Tillies-Tales-Mymudes.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFGmXaUnDY_TjIc7g30vYLXnvhgC1IP8L0Puk2jlpAMJQnS7tZrtGKDCxdtsHf0VyR6gmzBIjORbZ5Df4j6GxTKoLyr1616Uw03SaTQQyXtTeTM6YoAV336Kx6tZBYkrB67KwYLfHkVQ/s320/Tillies-Tales-Mymudes.png" width="213" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Publisher: MuseItUp Publishing</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">Release Date: March 24, 2015</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">Buy: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tillies-Tale-Magical-Drool-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B00UMDL036/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1426866034&sr=1-1&keywords=Tillies+Tale" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tillies-tale-mindy-mymudes/1121412568?ean=2940151719179" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a></span><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Book Description:</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Who is the mysterious ghosty haunting puppygirl Tillie? And why? George, the magical basset hound familiar is on the trail. </span></div>
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<strong style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Author Bio:</span></strong><span style="font-size: medium;"> I've worked in a hazardous waste lab, where under the sign for the Right To Know law, was added: if you can figure it out. I've been a metals tech, a bakery clerk, a professional gardener, and taught human anatomy and ran two university greenhouses. Along the way I picked up my Master's Degree in Biology, specializing in the population genetics of an endangered plant. I’ve also been a top breeder, handler, and trainer of English springer spaniels under the prefix of Muddy Paws. We three in the equivalent of the National Club's (ESSFTA) hall of fame. Every time I think I know dogs, another dog comes along and proves my beliefs are totally wrong. The truth is, the Muddy Paws Pack walk all over me.</span><br />
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<strong style="font-size: 13px;">Author Links - </strong><br />
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Website <a href="http://mindymymudes.weebly.com/" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">http://mindymymudes.weebly.com</a><br />
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Blog: <a href="http://mindymymudes.weebly.com/blog" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">http://mindymymudes.weebly.com/blog</a><br />
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Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Mindy-Mymudes/486126501426333" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Mindy-Mymudes/486126501426333</a><br />
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Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/GeorgeBasset" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">@GeorgeBasset</a><br />
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Goodreads <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6702514.Mindy_Mymudes" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6702514.Mindy_Mymudes</a><br />
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Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mindy-Mymudes/e/B00H9LFMR4" style="color: #945fc3; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">http://www.amazon.com/Mindy-Mymudes/e/B00H9LFMR4</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWz_PUCIHjndMkD4gwuQrbgHPXS9Ii8Jba0koEr1L3OdAQmHzST2E9w8m-OPWcx_v5gAhTTHBv0-zeNlLrpedDMoVptJ__MyF8j1al0ERVmswWxdRQC8DbNJDUzmQVqg69J8Mh79JI7Y/s1600/Tillie%2527s-Tales-Tour-Banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWz_PUCIHjndMkD4gwuQrbgHPXS9Ii8Jba0koEr1L3OdAQmHzST2E9w8m-OPWcx_v5gAhTTHBv0-zeNlLrpedDMoVptJ__MyF8j1al0ERVmswWxdRQC8DbNJDUzmQVqg69J8Mh79JI7Y/s400/Tillie%2527s-Tales-Tour-Banner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/scheduling-now/tillies-tale-by-mindy-mymudes" target="_blank">Follow The Tour Here</a></span></div>
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<a href="http://ctt.ec/lcHzM"><img alt="Tweet: RT to enter to win an #ebook of George Knows or an #Amazon gift card from @GeorgeBasset #vbtcafetours http://ctt.ec/lcHzM+" src="http://clicktotweet.com/img/tweet-graphic-3.png" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Giveaway Entries:</span></b> To enter this giveaway, click the bird above & Tweet about the giveaway, or click on share by Tweet on this post. Your Tweet <b>MUST</b> contain the following to enter - #vbtcafetours & @GeorgeBasset. Good luck!</div>
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<i><b>All prizes courtesy of author, Mindy Mymudes.</b></i></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-30913187743539712942014-07-31T08:00:00.000-04:002014-07-31T08:00:08.399-04:00Operation Angelica by Juliene Lloyd<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4gWB0XtgUoNs9TlS8JT4UKhzdet7Lzfx_WqAD_J8yn9XtjfCyFlphHmwjXApUII4aUR-9VUcPLygaGCmMjUGw8N48A1Ud1dCF-Hd95ZcISMBjLqAMjvS-wyCDFpAYd4RrhMIOmA9FS8/s1600/Juliene-Lloyd-Tour-Banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4gWB0XtgUoNs9TlS8JT4UKhzdet7Lzfx_WqAD_J8yn9XtjfCyFlphHmwjXApUII4aUR-9VUcPLygaGCmMjUGw8N48A1Ud1dCF-Hd95ZcISMBjLqAMjvS-wyCDFpAYd4RrhMIOmA9FS8/s1600/Juliene-Lloyd-Tour-Banner.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Juliene Lloyd is a writer and
entrepreneur living near Ann Arbor, Michigan. She enjoys living life
to </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWTeTbUDeCdd2w-62CDb3Xa9xl8njObmLPEw8Urk_Y7W2ZX7uydWRrMeIvHfbKpArwV3OXqomR0eLJRjSbNa3tNAvwMUARPq8gTfvibJRBGYjsmpgr8v-vkrqD421ujIpuX5XIm8EDlA/s1600/LJLoyd-246x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWTeTbUDeCdd2w-62CDb3Xa9xl8njObmLPEw8Urk_Y7W2ZX7uydWRrMeIvHfbKpArwV3OXqomR0eLJRjSbNa3tNAvwMUARPq8gTfvibJRBGYjsmpgr8v-vkrqD421ujIpuX5XIm8EDlA/s1600/LJLoyd-246x300.jpg" /></a></div>
the fullest with her husband, three children, dog, cat and several
goldfish.<br />
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Author Links:<br />
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<a href="http://www.julienelloyd.com/">www.julienelloyd.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/ljulienelloyd">www.twitter.com/ljulienelloyd</a><br />
<a href="http://www.darkswordpress.com/">www.darkswordpress.com</a><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Genre: Suspense</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-align: left;">Publisher: <a href="http://www.darkswordpress.com/" target="_blank">Dark Sword Press</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-align: left;">Release Date: July 2014</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-align: left;">Buy: </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; position: relative; text-align: left;">Coming Soon</em></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJ7o_OTeod6cAGJtkHdPhBQbZ_VViM707M-WYpy7Wn2uGP4vuqETu59JN2eadHiX_LwQJ5e7NlSJfrrQU-IlO4lPnbnUrH09GkZnespC1a4IG3aBsUaQSfR25KJgGo2LZEtoBZwr7KSM/s1600/cover+thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJ7o_OTeod6cAGJtkHdPhBQbZ_VViM707M-WYpy7Wn2uGP4vuqETu59JN2eadHiX_LwQJ5e7NlSJfrrQU-IlO4lPnbnUrH09GkZnespC1a4IG3aBsUaQSfR25KJgGo2LZEtoBZwr7KSM/s1600/cover+thumbnail.jpg" height="320" width="200" /></a></div>
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Book Description:</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
FBI sniper Elizabeth Ashton's ideal
life shatters with the murder of her fiancée in Honduras, Central
America. Let down by the government she serves, Ashton takes justice
into her own hands. However, after crossing paths with a shadowy
Washington D.C. consulting firm, Vormund/Ames, she decides to join
the company.
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
Partnered with former soldier and CIA operative Brandon Casey, Ashton
learns that sometimes governments and law enforcement agencies need
an ace up the sleeve. Her first assignment: to aid in the rescue of
twelve people held hostage by rebels in Colombia, South America.
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With the help of three very different men in her new life, Ashton
leaves her FBI life behind while the Vormund/Ames team prepares for
their mission. But can they rescue a dying woman held prisoner for
five years in time? Can Ashton be the ace?</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Schedule:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;">July 31 - Introduction at </span><a href="http://www.vbtcafe.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #945fc3; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">VBT Café Blog</a><br style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;">July 31 - Guest Blogging at </span><a href="http://sarityahalomi.blogspot.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #945fc3; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">Coffee, Books, Art</a><br style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;">July 31 - Spotlight at </span><a href="http://cherrymischievous.wordpress.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #945fc3; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">Cherry Mischievous</a><br style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;">August 1 - Reviewed at </span><a href="http://storyteller-skgregory.weebly.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #945fc3; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">Storyteller SK Gregory</a><br style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;">August 1 - Spotlight at </span><a href="http://4covert2overt.blogspot.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #945fc3; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">4 Covert 2 Overt A Place In The Spotlight</a><br style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;">August 1 - Spotlight at </span><a href="http://uraniasarri.blogspot.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #945fc3; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">Urania's Distractions</a><br style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;">August 2 - Spotlight at </span><a href="http://dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #945fc3; line-height: 7.800000190734863px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">Deal Sharing Aunt</a><br style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #464760; line-height: 7.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-70373551082213925682014-06-22T06:00:00.000-04:002014-06-22T06:00:00.127-04:00Counterfeit Youth by Narbeh Avanessian<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPV3wsN9WA0XUlznutoFZo1xG8jKa88J10TW4yW_S7_AHZnuUaaUy3S_DWeYcoBluCucDd5ctyM07ys4kAN8D7o_kM9F8sGEOfUbFTE7jsNk04o_lnmqMf1-BdKMISOq7dYnpBFT_J8Z0/s1600/Narbeh-Avanessian-Tour-Banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPV3wsN9WA0XUlznutoFZo1xG8jKa88J10TW4yW_S7_AHZnuUaaUy3S_DWeYcoBluCucDd5ctyM07ys4kAN8D7o_kM9F8sGEOfUbFTE7jsNk04o_lnmqMf1-BdKMISOq7dYnpBFT_J8Z0/s1600/Narbeh-Avanessian-Tour-Banner.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="background: #ffffff;">Narbeh
Avanessian lives in Los Angeles as a freelance writer and marketing
professional. He spends</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QsoJ4yQM0kORqRAL-OYoZgElx8x6z1QKtwMGKYhzMLFLOCuyy7s011aO2DHYicVBIuWu68ahZp5NWNR8JRF1sfWbsV9qaStTdxOH-QZzTGmjyVkD6NcEu7XNCpmjTy9DlwyUUL9fA7c/s1600/Narbeh+Profile+Pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QsoJ4yQM0kORqRAL-OYoZgElx8x6z1QKtwMGKYhzMLFLOCuyy7s011aO2DHYicVBIuWu68ahZp5NWNR8JRF1sfWbsV9qaStTdxOH-QZzTGmjyVkD6NcEu7XNCpmjTy9DlwyUUL9fA7c/s1600/Narbeh+Profile+Pic.JPG" /></a></span></div>
<span style="color: black;"> his free time writing science fiction and
studying video games.</span><br />
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Author Links -
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Narbeh Avanessian.com</div>
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<div style="background: #ffffff; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Twitter.com/TheNarbs</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Narbeh-Avanessian/313966922092707" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Narbeh-Avanessian/313966922092707</span></span></a></u></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_drvVdefEykGco-KuSzRNTt2sInXZKW7dEeJo5Zk3_0UClrwNJyDSgLu3ZieMGKrJnc5HDHuzAaV4BsnAc6Unq7NiM_5htIVK-dW7vlw9ziI4UADhEPvVfhJHr7bT0vcdpGQRaK-RqY0/s1600/Counterfeit+Youth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_drvVdefEykGco-KuSzRNTt2sInXZKW7dEeJo5Zk3_0UClrwNJyDSgLu3ZieMGKrJnc5HDHuzAaV4BsnAc6Unq7NiM_5htIVK-dW7vlw9ziI4UADhEPvVfhJHr7bT0vcdpGQRaK-RqY0/s1600/Counterfeit+Youth.jpg" height="320" width="200" /></a></div>
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Book Genre:
Science Fiction</div>
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Publisher: Self-published</div>
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Release Date: April 28, 2014</div>
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Buy Link(s):
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Amazon: </span></span></span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="http://www.amazon.com/Counterfeit-Youth-Narbeh-Avanessian-ebook/dp/B00K0QR7Y6" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.amazon.com/Counterfeit-Youth-Narbeh-Avanessian-ebook/dp/B00K0QR7Y6</span></span></a></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">iBooks:
</span></span></span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/counterfeit-youth/id874926895?mt=11" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/counterfeit-youth/id874926895?mt=11</span></span></a></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Barnes
&
Noble: </span></span></span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/counterfeit-youth-narbeh-avanessian/1119379259?ean=2940149175413" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/counterfeit-youth-narbeh-avanessian/1119379259?ean=2940149175413</span></span></a></u></span></span></div>
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Book Description:
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="background: #ffffff;">What
does the man who has everything want? The answer is simple: for it to
never end. Jackson Riley is a young billionaire living in the year
2052 with a single obsession - to discover immortality within his
lifetime. But what happens when this obsession tears him apart from
reality and his one true love Nicole? And why have untraceable
special agents taken an interest in his medical experiments?
Counterfeit Youth is an emotionally charged sci-fi thriller that
explores the concept of happiness, and what it means to live forever.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Excerpt:</b></span></div>
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<i>February 2nd, 2053</i><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
What does the man
who has everything want? It was the one question that began to haunt
me in the younger years of my life. If I could just come up with the
answer, I was convinced I could find the secret to the most elusive
human emotion: happiness.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
I remember sitting
alone in a dimly lit Burbank diner at dawn, playing with my
ketchup-drenched curly fries as my coffee cooled down, lost in
thought. My sunken, insomniac eyes would wait for the sun to rise
through the cafe's east windows. The blinding light of dawn's first
rays coming in strong and low was almost pristine enough to deliver
some kind of answer, but it was not to be.</div>
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The bullet train
would deliver me to Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco in the winter,
when the crowds had left. The wind would gust with bursts of fury,
and I'd smell the salt in the air. The splashes of the bay water
calmed me down immensely. It was the closest I had come to finding
what I was looking for, yet I still searched.</div>
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For most of my
life, I would convince myself the answer would come through my art;
perhaps a set of my best paintings—no, an entire exhibit—would
give me solace, but it was never enough. Everywhere I looked in my
Golden State, the state many simply called California, the answer to
the question continued to elude me.</div>
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It was my family's
move from the valley into West Los Angeles that finally aligned the
stars in my favor. Against all odds, I found him—the man who had
everything. The question that had driven me mad all of these years
could finally be answered, if I could somehow become part of his
story and pay close enough attention.</div>
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That man was
Jackson Riley. He was born in the year 2017 to proud parents who
would have only one child. By 2035, Jackson Riley neatly fit the
criteria as the man who had everything. He was worth eight billion
dollars, the sole heir to a real-estate empire, so he never worried
about money. He was deeply in love with his strikingly beautiful high
school sweetheart and never suffered unrequited love. At the young
age of eighteen, he never ached for lost youth.</div>
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So did I learn the
answer to my question through a man I thought would only exist in
theoretical debates? Is my story in the pages written below any help
at all? A simple answer to a once philosophical question does it no
justice, but in case you were still wondering, I'll give it to you
square. What does the man who has everything want? Simple—for it to
never end.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.08in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>Arsen</i></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmLy1Rr_I4lmkQSKwNKRVr-8Y1G0OoGos2zfoURPoKhh2wnxd_Q2O_XQ59mvZCKyVIrSLvzvZ4jbfxr0-JEFwSoov9nHV6hPGnFbYasV4EtisXZ1CPGk_5t4YZApm4ISIE1omHKYoITQ/s1600/Narbeh-Avanessian-Tour-Banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmLy1Rr_I4lmkQSKwNKRVr-8Y1G0OoGos2zfoURPoKhh2wnxd_Q2O_XQ59mvZCKyVIrSLvzvZ4jbfxr0-JEFwSoov9nHV6hPGnFbYasV4EtisXZ1CPGk_5t4YZApm4ISIE1omHKYoITQ/s1600/Narbeh-Avanessian-Tour-Banner.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-66877887960750815102014-05-15T06:00:00.000-04:002014-05-15T06:00:02.658-04:00True Nature by Jessica Freely (Book Tour & Giveaway)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gZBpnnHoL4PrTJ189yZItWJvhy4LpYFUemC5sYDrUT1OdzwwD4zWpgQZo_Y06X1be6mISd1wloPG8IiweyBcoARqHW7FSpoJREiiSB-AUHyovxQxFV3RnG8SJOfb2mcfo8xxCkdELrU/s1600/JF_truenature_banner_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gZBpnnHoL4PrTJ189yZItWJvhy4LpYFUemC5sYDrUT1OdzwwD4zWpgQZo_Y06X1be6mISd1wloPG8IiweyBcoARqHW7FSpoJREiiSB-AUHyovxQxFV3RnG8SJOfb2mcfo8xxCkdELrU/s1600/JF_truenature_banner_1.jpg" height="51" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpf-SBgf8Si5VW8-1Xy_Hv0722cOqGk0lRsNb3hK3sNIc8dln3BV6BZTckvmpjJ-drxAp9gnll6KhZwwuGAw2hyphenhyphenjzm7Gsr-0o3TPi_kCdQRayfS3XmotmT6h281J-zeWfVnSxD_D-znfI/s1600/JessicaFreely_Headshot.Color.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpf-SBgf8Si5VW8-1Xy_Hv0722cOqGk0lRsNb3hK3sNIc8dln3BV6BZTckvmpjJ-drxAp9gnll6KhZwwuGAw2hyphenhyphenjzm7Gsr-0o3TPi_kCdQRayfS3XmotmT6h281J-zeWfVnSxD_D-znfI/s1600/JessicaFreely_Headshot.Color.jpg" height="320" width="255" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Author Bio:</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times;">Jessica Freely can't
resist a wounded hero. As a reader and a writer, her favorite stories
are of soul mates finding redemption in each other's arms. Married to
the love of her life in a beautiful relationship based on mutual
goofiness, Jessica also warps minds as an instructor in Seton Hill
University's Writing Popular Fiction MFA program. Her dog, Ruthie,
doesn't seem to care that Jessica's an award-winning and best-selling
author in multiple genres. She just wants to play tug of war with
Jessica's pages.</span></div>
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Author Links -
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Jessica Freely
Online:</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Website & Blog:
<a href="http://jessicafreely.com/">http://jessicafreely.com</a></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Amazon Author Page:
<a href="http://amazon.com/author/jessicafreely">http://amazon.com/author/jessicafreely</a></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Newsletter:
<a href="http://eepurl.com/FYXLf">http://eepurl.com/FYXLf</a></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Facebook:
<a href="http://facebook.com/jfreely">http://facebook.com/jfreely</a></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Twitter:
<a href="http://twitter.com/jessicafreely">http://twitter.com/jessicafreely</a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Goodreads:
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1690113.Jessica_Freely">http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1690113.Jessica_Freely</a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Book Genre: Paranormal Gay
Romance</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Publisher: Loose Id</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Release Date: April 22</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Buy Link(s):
</span></b></div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Loose
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZIYMdoErzEsm0T4Syq-_dz_B3NXragdZkpUSpFW3Y4ko8JCtMsWKUe0qw0yeTC6mmpHpwUKvjHVZF_kKMO-uoTFip-tbrszC1UYuJaD0sqlH-fujInIaBbdAsNhB9NAUSbQv2qK-M5Jo/s1600/JF_truenature_coverin_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZIYMdoErzEsm0T4Syq-_dz_B3NXragdZkpUSpFW3Y4ko8JCtMsWKUe0qw0yeTC6mmpHpwUKvjHVZF_kKMO-uoTFip-tbrszC1UYuJaD0sqlH-fujInIaBbdAsNhB9NAUSbQv2qK-M5Jo/s1600/JF_truenature_coverin_1.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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Lake Clearwater--conservation officer
and water spirit--has just been appointed guardian of Gem Pond by The
Powers That Be. It's the first time in eight years he's had a real
home and he's determined to protect it, even if that means hiding his
attraction to his sexy new partner, Forrest Oakwood.
</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Forrest is a native of the Gem Pond
area and the guardian of its trees. He knows the land and its people
are a crucial lynchpin in the natural order. He also knows that if he
comes out, his boss in the DNR, Sgt. Dennison, will find an excuse to
fire him. But ignoring his true nature was a lot easier before Lake
Clearwater showed up. The man's a walking, talking wet dream.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Meanwhile, local residents--human and
animal alike--conspire to bring Lake and Forrest together. The land
needs its guardians united and at their full power. Dennison wants to
cut down the trees to make room for water slides and tennis courts.
If Forrest and Lake don't embrace their passion for each other,
they'll be unable to stop him and that would be a disaster, not just
for Gem Pond but for the entire natural world.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt One:</span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
It was full dark
and snowing by the time Forrest finished his report. He stood up with
a groan and stretched his stiff muscles.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Clearwater sat at
the kitchen table, playing a game of solitaire. He looked up as
Forrest entered and smiled. “Want some soup? I made it myself.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Forrest wandered
to the stove and sniffed suspiciously at the simmering pot. It
actually smelled pretty good. “What is it?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“Lentil.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“Vegetarian,
right?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“Yeah. Doesn’t
mean it’s not delicious. Here, let me get you a bowl. Sit down.
What do you want to drink?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Forrest allowed
himself to be herded over to the table.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
A few minutes
later, Lake set a plate with bread and butter beside him, poured him
a glass of milk, and set a steaming bowl of lentil soup before him.
It was kind of like being a kid again only…</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Only Lake didn’t
look anything like his mom. He sat down opposite Forrest now, tucking
his long blond hair behind his ears. His green eyes gleamed as he
waited for Forrest’s reaction.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Forrest took a
spoonful. Flavors of sage, rosemary, and garlic burst across his
tongue, borne by the silken seduction of pulverized lentils.
“Mmmmmm.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Lake sat back,
looking like a bear with a piece of honeycomb. “Good, huh?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
He nodded, but
apprehension stole in upon him. “You trying to convert me,
Clearwater?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Lake widened his
eyes as if to feign innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Like hell. Forrest
enjoyed the soup anyway.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
* * * *</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
As he washed the
dishes, Forrest’s thoughts returned to the events of the night
before. He remembered Clearwater’s body stretched out in the bed,
naked and tan, all long lines and flat planes. As he washed his
supper dishes, his fingers tingled, remembering the silken texture of
that warm, smooth skin. How he wanted to touch those rose-pink
nipples, tease them, and watch them become erect, and then dip his
head down, circling each one with the tip of his tongue as
Clearwater’s gasps and moans of pleasure bathed his ears.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“Think I’ll
turn in early and do some reading,” Clearwater said.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Forrest started,
dropped the soapy bowl, and splashed water all over his shirt.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Clearwater
laughed. “Sorry.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“Just not used
to having someone else around.” That should have been someone so
hot around. Forrest fought to quell his burgeoning erection.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Silence.
Clearwater was still there. No footsteps announced his departure. But
he didn’t say anything. What was he doing? Embarrassment and
irritation doused Forrest’s libido, and he was able to turn around
without humiliating himself.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Clearwater stood
in the doorway, staring at him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“What?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“Officer
Riverbend… Not much of a talker?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
The understatement
forced a smile to Forrest’s lips. “You could say that.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Clearwater nodded.
“I’ll try not to overwhelm you with my relentless chitchat.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“That’s not
what I meant. I just… I don’t know. It’s just…” What was
wrong with him? Why couldn’t he complete a sentence?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“It’s a
change.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“Yeah.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
They stared at
each other in silence. Forrest felt the stillness of the winter night
settle around them.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
Suddenly
Clearwater drew a deep breath and turned away. “Well, good night.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.24in;">
“Good night.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Forrest finished up the dishes.
Yawning, he went into the bedroom and grabbed his PJs. Clearwater was
already in bed. One rosebud nipple peeked out from beneath the
blanket as he lay on his back, reading a book. No pajama top. <i>What
about the bottoms? </i>
</div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-37619120101165013842014-04-01T13:38:00.000-04:002014-04-01T13:38:00.128-04:00Renegades by Sara Mason<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Title: Renegades</i></b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Author Name: Sara Mason</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3a3a3a;"><span style="background: #e1e1e1;">Sara
Atherton Mason was raised in Somerville, Massachusetts, with an
amazing immediate and extended family. She attended Wheaton College
in Norton, Massachusetts, graduating with highest honors in
Chemistry. She then graduated from the Florida State University
College of Law with high honors. She lives in the Florida with her
toy poodle, Melvin, and clerks for a United States District Court
Judge. She enjoys coffee, wine, sports, and science fiction
television shows.</span></span><span style="color: #3a3a3a;"><span style="background: #e1e1e1;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Author Links -
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<span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="http://www.saraathertonmason.com/"><span lang="en-US">http://www.saraathertonmason.com/</span></a></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7370794.S_A_Mason"><span lang="en-US">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7370794.S_A_Mason</span></a></u></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Book Genre: Science
fiction</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Publisher: Self-Published</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Release Date: October 31,
2013</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDLH2U4B1-gp9keO9xR7sZNFsoIcy3OlPUojH_puNgOc2m6XlXLdx2ogegiHJ7aHP8n_DJTGhg2BJiaYF-vSDrU-bdoHwxWpl9gSM5WXbiVM5fhq7ubt2F7ZY9XHRNfg0jie0gIP7jcQ/s1600/Renegades+Cover1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDLH2U4B1-gp9keO9xR7sZNFsoIcy3OlPUojH_puNgOc2m6XlXLdx2ogegiHJ7aHP8n_DJTGhg2BJiaYF-vSDrU-bdoHwxWpl9gSM5WXbiVM5fhq7ubt2F7ZY9XHRNfg0jie0gIP7jcQ/s1600/Renegades+Cover1.jpg" height="320" width="207" /></a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: #ffffff;">Elora
Pertin spent her life trying to please her father, an esteemed
General for the Empire.</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: #ffffff;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: #ffffff;">When
he convinced her to leave her quiet life as a scientist to advance a
secret project for the Emperor, she had no idea what she was getting
into. The seemingly innocent projects she engineered were actually
being used to develop a genocidal weapon. After uncovering the
Emperor’s plot, Elora had no choice but to act.</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: #ffffff;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="background: #ffffff;">Elora
finds herself fighting for her life against the Empire she once
served, abandoning everything with only a handful of friends and an
unlikely ally—the Emperor’s deadliest assassin. Will he prove
himself true as her protector, a loyal servant of the Empire, or a
romantic distraction? With the law and assassins searching the star
system for them, Elora and her team are determined to accomplish
their mission . . . or die trying.</span></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Excerpt One:</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.5in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Back
in her room, Elora tried to come up with another plan. If her father
couldn’t—or </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>wouldn’t</i></span><span style="font-size: small;">—help,
she had to find someone else. Just finishing and going home was not
an option. She tried to focus on the weapon, but was preoccupied with
thoughts of her father. What was he involved with? How could he
involve her in the development of an illegal weapon? He had been her
rock and best friend since her mom died when she was so young. If she
couldn’t trust her dad, whom could she trust?</span></span></span></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.5in; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">She
had just closed her eyes to practice the meditative techniques she
learned on Naruta when she was suddenly pulled out of bed to her
feet. She felt the strong arms of a man on either side of her head.
Instinctively, she tried to jerk his arms away because she was sure
he was about to break her neck. Her head was pulled so far to one
side she could feel the muscles in her neck tearing apart. Then he
stopped. </span></span>
</span></div>
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<div lang="en-US" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.5in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Elora
could barely see the mirror in her peripheral. The man’s black
monochromatic attire made him hard to see in the dark room, but she
could make him out against her body. He was tall with shaggy dark
hair, slightly curly on the ends. He had a strong jaw, and as she
moved up his face, she saw he was looking at her in the mirror. His
eyes were dark—almost as black as his clothes. Just as suddenly as
he pulled her out of bed, he released her.</span></span></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-72168346145831278392014-02-02T05:30:00.000-05:002014-02-02T05:30:00.410-05:00King of Rags by Eric Bronson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Title: King of Rags</span></b></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Author Name: Eric
Bronson</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Author Bio: Eric Bronson teaches
philosophy in the Humanities Department at York University in
Toronto. He is the editor of <i>The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and
Philosophy (Wiley-Blackwell, 2011), Poker and Philosophy (Open Court,
2006), Baseball and Philosophy (Open Court, 2004)</i>, and co-editor
of <i>The Hobbit and Philosophy (Wiley-Blackwell, 2012)</i>, and <i>The
Lord of the Rings and Philosophy (Open Court, 2003)</i>. In 2007 he
served as the "Soul Trainer" for the CBC radio morning
show, "Sounds Like Canada." His current project is a book
called <i>The Dice Shooters</i>, based loosely on his experiences
dealing craps in Las Vegas.</div>
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Author Links - The link for any or all
of the following...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/King-of-Rags/151466658365442">King
of Rags</a> | <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17742311-king-of-rags?from_search=true">Goodreads</a>
| <a href="http://www.amazon.com/King-Rags-Eric-Bronson/dp/0988829002">Amazon</a></div>
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Book Genre: Historical Fiction</div>
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Publisher: Neverland
Publishing</div>
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Release Date: May, 2013</div>
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Buy Link(s): <a href="http://www.amazon.com/King-Rags-Eric-Bronson-ebook/dp/B00DTXYUP6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1387571115&sr=8-1&keywords=King+of+Rags+by+Eric+Bronson">Amazon</a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Book Description:</div>
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<span style="color: #222222;">King of Rags
follows the life of Scott Joplin and his fellow ragtime musicians as
they frantically transform the seedy and segregated underbelly of
comedians, conmen and prostitutes who called America’s most vibrant
cities home. Inspired by Booker T. Washington and the Dahomeyan
defeat in West Africa, Joplin was ignored by the masses for writing
the music of Civil Rights fifty years before America was ready to
listen.</span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt One:</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Whenever he had a
difficult decision to make, Scott set himself up on the small hill
with high grass and wildflowers. In the starlight he was especially
careful not to disturb the patient, purple flowers. A traveling white
schoolteacher once read to his class the story of the heliotrope from
Ovid’s</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i>Metamorphoses</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.
Derided by the world and scorned by her lover the Sun God, a poor
nymph keeps her eyes ever fixed to the sun. Streaked with purple, she
is covered in leaves and flowers, roots that claw their way around
her helplessness, forever binding her to the earth.</span></div>
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“‘<span style="font-family: Calibri;">An excess of
passion begets an excess of grief,’” the schoolteacher quoted.
“Don’t reach so high. You’ll be much happier if you lower your
sights.”</span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But there was
something about the nymph’s undying faith that touched him inside.
She refused to be stuck here in this world, and that refusal brought
hope along with the pain. Scott thought he understood the nymph’s
eternal conflict. His music wouldn’t right the wrong, but it might
help ease the loss. Long after the sun abandoned her, Scott sat among
the heliotrope and played for her his coronet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The hill had a
further advantage: it overlooked the new train station. He was there
one December day, ten years earlier, when the first Texas &
Pacific railway pulled in from Dallas, on its way to Fulton,
Arkansas. Since then his father had taught him to play the violin,
banjo and coronet, but none of them could take him beyond his
colorless world. Maybe the trains couldn’t either, but the tracks
held that promise, going outwards, ever away. His mother believed the
coronet was</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">the Devil’s
instrument. Scott disagreed. Any instrument that brought relief to
others was useful. It shouldn’t much matter who was dancing at the
other end.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Under the wavering
light of a half-moon, Scott played with all the sounds of the night:
the high-pitched melody of cicada bugs over the running bass line of
lumber cars and freight trains, garbage crates and short hauls
sounding their syncopated iron rhythms: </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i>boom-chugga
boom-boom: boomchugga</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i>boom-boom</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.
The music of the night trains was the sound of waiting—waiting and
waning and wasting away. The greatest secrets in life, Scott knew,
lay not in the music or the</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">people who played
it, but in the short, silent spaces that sometimes fell unexpectedly
off the beat. The Stop Man taught him that without hardly even saying
a word.</span></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-17088553068702886922014-01-26T20:13:00.000-05:002014-01-26T20:13:00.755-05:00George Knows by Mindy Mymudes <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Title:
George Knows</b></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Author
Name: Mindy Mymudes</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Author
Bio</b>: <span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Mindy
Mymudes runs with the Muddy Paws Pack in Milwaukee, WI. She insists
she is alpha, even as the dogs walk all over her. She hunts, cleans
the den and keeps them entertained. When she can escape the pack, she
enjoys digging in dirt, listening to audiobooks, and weaving the
antics of the pack into stories. The alpha male, Tall Dude, just
shakes his head and stays out of the way.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Author
Links - </b></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">George’s
Blog: </span></span><span style="color: blue;"><u><a href="http://bassetbones.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">http://bassetbones.wordpress.com</span></span></a></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Facebook
(me): </span></span><span style="color: blue;"><u><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mindy-Mymudes/486126501426333"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mindy-Mymudes/486126501426333</span></span></a></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6702514.Mindy_Mymudes?from_search=true</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Book Genre: Urban
Fantasy, Midgrade</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Publisher:
MuseItUp</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Release
Date: Dec. 6</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Buy
Link(s): <a href="http://www.amazon.com/George-Knows-Mindy-Mymudes-ebook/dp/B00H2YO68O/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386513140&sr=1-1&keywords=george+knows">Amazon</a></b></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtbxaRM9YW-rkVtdqRJvANH67oS1bP6Hw8DfJVkk48-aXNchEmjWxPhJGYSO5Tw3iFPdYtSjAyEj8ZQTejAhlAhp1M0wjDJTZAnBISe2y86N3-xvvYCIVMJlbXN5064azGD0VB4QH_zD0/s1600/8ee17-georgeknows333x500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtbxaRM9YW-rkVtdqRJvANH67oS1bP6Hw8DfJVkk48-aXNchEmjWxPhJGYSO5Tw3iFPdYtSjAyEj8ZQTejAhlAhp1M0wjDJTZAnBISe2y86N3-xvvYCIVMJlbXN5064azGD0VB4QH_zD0/s320/8ee17-georgeknows333x500.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Book
Description</b>: <span style="color: black;">An egotistical magical basset
hound named George believes it's his duty to train and protect his
12-year-old, a greenwitch named Karly. The world is full of people
who don't know how to use their natural human senses, and while
teaching Karly to use hers, he's also teaching her how to use her
magic. George is the perfectly designed familiar.</span></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt:</span></b></div>
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<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
don’t understand my Girlpup; the rest of my Pack adores me. Packmom
Doreen is always an easy conquest. She saved me when I was a puppy
and I fell over my ears, and my legs wouldn’t stay under me. She is
the most important member of the Pack—she feeds us. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just
not often enough. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Packdad
Brian is very well trained and does whatever Packmom Doreen wants. In
the last two years, I’ve become a model of the perfect hunting
hound. Karly needs to see me for what I am, and she doesn’t. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yet.
</span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When
I prowl in her mind, I see how she pictures me—a clumsy, stupid,
wobbly pup. I shouldn’t have to prove to her I am the best familiar
in the world or that I am brilliant. I shouldn’t, but I know I’ll
have to.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">George!”
she shouts through panting. Why is she running? “Where the heck are
you?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Although
Karly’s scent changed after her twelfth birthday from
sweetmilkFrootLoops to that fakeflowerchemical that she thinks
removes her odor, I know it’s her. Even if I can’t smell her, I
can still hear her stumble over the path. Big rocks and trees that
scrape the sky get in the way. She needs to get lower to the ground.
Now she’s sneezing. If only she’d work with me, her allergies
would go bye-bye. Whoever heard of an allergic witch-in-training? We
can use green magic. Except, Karly will first have to trust me. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And
she doesn’t. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yet.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Maybe
when she gets older.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She
will.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
continue to scrape my claws into the damp ground, searching for more
smelltastes and listening for my Girlpup. She’s panting like it’s
a hot day. At least she’s catching up. I am satisfied she’s okay,
and dig like a badger with my wonderful big paws and claws, the ideal
excavation tools. I wish I was digging up the den of a rabbit. I slow
to sniff. </span></span>
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<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There’s no rabbit here.
</span></span>
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<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Something different’s
calling me. </span></span>
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<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What the heck is it?</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dirt
and roots pile up behind me, and my rear is now higher than my front
as I dig. I scrape against rocks and try to push them away. They
aren’t rocks—too long and thin. I wrap my jaws around one and
toss it with a headshake out of the hole. I find another and do the
same thing, until there is a pile of buff-colored things that looks
like bleached driftwood.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
heave myself out of the hole and investigate my find. The thick
sticks are hairy with fine roots. I pick one up. It’s light for its
size, hollow, and about the size of a rawhide bone. It has a round
knob on one side and is broken off on the other. I retrieve more
pieces from the hole and sit. Maybe they are old branches. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No.
</span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They
don’t smelltaste like old branches.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hmm.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Karly
finally shows up, huffing and puffing, out of breath. She needs to
get out more. I poke my nose into the pile of things I’ve dug out.
“George, what are you doing? You aren’t, um, eating those, are
you?” </span></span>
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<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
look at her like she’s crazy. I don’t eat wood. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Anymore.
</span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Karly
points to the things and counts them. “So what did you find? There
are nine of whatever they are.” She bends down and touches one.
“Weird, they look like someone snapped them in half.” My Girlpup
takes one of the longer things and rubs off the dirt.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She
drops it like it’s a pan just out of the oven. I take a sniff; it’s
not hot. There’s something here, though. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not
a good something, either.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> “G-G-George,
those are bones,” Karly’s voice breaks as she stutters over my
name. I take another sniff. Yeah, they could be bones. What’s the
problem with that? I lick one. It tastes like dirt. They’ve been
here a long time. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yup.
</span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That’s
it. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just
a bunch of animal bones. Maybe a big dog buried them. What’s
bothering her? The hackles rise on the back of my neck. The not good
gassulfurdrysnakecatstink smelltaste spins around my brain like
smoke. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh.
</span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh
no. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
hack and cough. I know exactly what kind of bones these are.</span></span></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-26418907124008486312013-10-18T06:00:00.000-04:002013-10-18T06:00:06.867-04:00 Sir Stan the Bogeyman by Stacie Morrell (Promotional Tour & #Giveaway)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sir Stan the Bogeyman</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
by Stacie Morrell</div>
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Illustrated by Elizabeth
Berg</div>
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<div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 138%; margin-bottom: 0.17in; padding: 0in;">
<strong><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">About Stacie:</span></span></span></span></span></strong></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 138%; margin-bottom: 0.17in; padding: 0in;">
<strong><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Accomplishments:
</span></span></span></span></span></strong><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Started
a used bookstore for the Friends of the Wilsonville Library, subject
of Oregonian article, published in: Antiques and Collectibles
Magazine, Bookman’s AB Magazine, Antique Trader, Writer’s Digest
(writing clinic), Book Magazine. Started the E-Commerce collectibles
department for Goodwill of the Columbia Willamette. Currently
pursuing an Associates of Applied Science in Business and Management
at Portland Community College, holding a 3.98 GPA, member of Phi
Theta Kappa honor society, on Dean’s and President’s List.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 138%; margin-bottom: 0.17in; padding: 0in;">
<strong><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Interests:
</span></span></span></span></span></strong><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Reading
(pretty much anything even the cereal box if nothing else is
available), writing (all genres), family (wife and mother), growing
in and spreading my faith, learning (information geek), travel (but I
rarely ever get to), volunteering, bargain hunting at garage sales,
thrift stores, flea markets, etc.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 138%; margin-bottom: 0.17in; padding: 0in;">
<strong><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">In
one sentence, who am I? </span></span></span></span></span></strong><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Stacie
Morrell is an eccentrically entertaining neurotic bibliophile who
sells collectibles, tries to have patience with her precocious
daughter, fearlessly tries to do everything, and writes because she
is driven to as part of her genetic composition.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<strong><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">If
I could go back and do one thing over: </span></span></span></span></span></strong><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
would have figured out what I wanted from life way before now and
gone back to school to get it (much, much sooner than I did).</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 138%; margin-bottom: 0.17in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><a href="http://staciemorrell.wordpress.com/">Website</a>
| <a href="https://www.facebook.com/stacie.morrell.1?fref=ts">Facebook</a>
| <a href="https://twitter.com/StacieMorrell">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4636634.Stacie_Morrell">Goodreads</a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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Genre:
Children's Picture Book</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Publisher: Self-Published at
CreateSpace</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Release Date: September 1, 2013</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Amazon - Coming Soon!</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Book Description:</div>
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Do dark places bother you?</div>
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The space under your bed…</div>
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The closet, door slightly ajar…</div>
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Do you believe in the Boogey Man?</div>
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Who is he?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=529263567293593701" name="_GoBack"></a>Where did he come
from?</div>
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What does he want?</div>
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Maybe he has a story to tell,</div>
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And we should listen.</div>
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Excerpt:</div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-56971869806560346702013-09-30T06:00:00.000-04:002013-09-30T06:00:03.299-04:00Blue Moon Chronicles by Bryant Golden (Book Tour & Giveaway)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxBZwSmks9jllHxxYMExXZwqyHToF2CL5woRnCCNsl1fZDWvu_Zy71FF69hQ4sy7HLX3tb8V3tV04ReQo0zkYColEjcYaGSkI0x4QNqmTK_O1cd8oR99Rq_ksDkM_bPhtLsU6kigqzrM/s1600/Bryant-Golden-Long.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxBZwSmks9jllHxxYMExXZwqyHToF2CL5woRnCCNsl1fZDWvu_Zy71FF69hQ4sy7HLX3tb8V3tV04ReQo0zkYColEjcYaGSkI0x4QNqmTK_O1cd8oR99Rq_ksDkM_bPhtLsU6kigqzrM/s400/Bryant-Golden-Long.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">About
The Author:</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bryant
Golden started writing “Blue Moon Chronicles, Book I” when he was
twelve years old and sick at home. The story and the genre changed
significantly in the seven years it took to finish, hopefully for the
better, but the title and the themes never changed. Born and raised
in Los Angeles, California, he originally settled his characters into
fantasy worlds with magic and creatures to abandon life in the city.
When he was rewriting the story for the final time he realized that
the story needs to be personal for it to matter, to the writer and to
readers, so he created new characters and settled the story into a
fictional but realistic world.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;"><u><a href="http://www.twitter.com/bryantgolden"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Twitter</span></a></u></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">
| </span><span style="color: blue;"><u><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bryant-Golden/e/B00D7MJ5L8">Amazon</a></span></u></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span style="color: blue;"><u><br /></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Genre:
Fiction/Action & Adventure/Young Adult</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Publisher:
Self-published with CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Released
June 4, 2013.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Blue-Moon-Chronicles-Bryant-Golden/dp/1490479090/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1375506341&sr=1-1"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Amazon</span></a></span></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Book
Description:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s
been a century since the Civil War split the continent into two
provinces, Sanctum and Alexandria, and now another war is on the
horizon: the Continent War. The end of this war means the end of one
of the provinces. This is the story of Ian Hirst as he finds himself
in the fray and fights to defend his province and loved ones. Isaiah,
a young boy from the newest locale in Sanctum, struggles to learn
what it means to grow up and become “a proper man” in the middle
of it all.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b>Excerpt
#1, “A Night In Sanctum”:</b></u></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><br /></b></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><br /></b></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ian
was shown the cheapest inn to spend the night, far out on the
outskirts of the city. They get cheaper the farther away from the
castle, according to what the man told him. When he got to his room
for the night he pulled off his boots and his parka, hung the empty
rifle on the bedpost and changed his bandages.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
dozed off for a few hours and woke up to the sound of the doorknob
turning. He grabbed the rifle and silently positioned himself behind
the door in the blink of an eye. He’s a lot quicker on his feet
when he isn’t inches deep in snow.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hi
there,” he said, closing the door with the rifle pointed at the
mysterious hooded figure that just walked in. “Don’t do anything
stupid or you’ll be dead before you can regret it.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
deep chuckle, male, Ian thought, then silence. The hooded man turned
to face him. He noticed the large beard, definitely a man then. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Who
are you?” he asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not
your enemy. Well, not yet.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
man pulled down his hood to reveal an aged face, half of it covered
by his large dark beard. “You were given a package by that
ridiculous man earlier,” he started. “I’ve been following those
fools for days.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ian
sat down on the floor, still aiming the rifle at the man. “That’s
none of my business but I won’t give it to you,” he said. He kept
switching his focus between the man and the rucksack to make sure he
doesn’t reach for it.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fool,
this is no ordinary delivery. Did you not see the ribbon? It means
‘royalty’. Those ridiculous merchants are only overlooked
swindlers, friend.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m
not your friend, old-timer. Also, I don’t make a habit of peeking
at other people’s mail. Neither should you,” said Ian with a
glare. “Wait, so…‘royalty’ then? Did that man expect me to
deliver this to the king?” he asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No,
of course not… You don’t deliver it directly to the king. Why
don’t you know that? What kind of courier are you?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m
not a courier. I have my own reasons for being in the city. You’d
know that if you were better at what you do. I didn’t even see you
at the fork in the road.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
didn’t see me because I’m that good at what I do, you fool.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ah,
well… I’m not giving it to you,” mumbled Ian, the lack of
confidence is embarrassingly obvious.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Well,
I’m not really giving you a choice,” said the man with a smile.
In one quick motion the man pulled his cloak off, threw it at Ian,
disarmed him in the confusion and had it pointed at his forehead.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-20160417023466077492013-09-02T05:00:00.000-04:002013-09-02T05:00:02.701-04:00The Phoenix Blade by Andrew Hess (Book Tour & Giveaway)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKXxwjXuJTFTsfegUgzkDm3F0PLXB0yQGFAS9a1AmJdz6ZTq-hrazhErFBRnqC7DwjbomO-HyuQ1SUjiZAqEsY5u9sRDROtn9YG1aIRu3kq51ew_56erjAiB709SCamHz6J494fDaOzsY/s1600/Andrew-Hess-Long.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKXxwjXuJTFTsfegUgzkDm3F0PLXB0yQGFAS9a1AmJdz6ZTq-hrazhErFBRnqC7DwjbomO-HyuQ1SUjiZAqEsY5u9sRDROtn9YG1aIRu3kq51ew_56erjAiB709SCamHz6J494fDaOzsY/s400/Andrew-Hess-Long.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>The
Phoenix Blade</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>by
Andrew Hess</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>About
The Author:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMBotbNyEB40gehj8xdOImCnZRuXNt4O1DMyxmIvygog4XAiT7Xf8BAgx11u4mb3XPbhrml7xBx3_4aWo1mLSTx9AjNivM-f_VG2oNYzoIzhNs9XFOdTQfa9ZkCrDUz8OVrGXO29D99EM/s1600/IMG_1848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMBotbNyEB40gehj8xdOImCnZRuXNt4O1DMyxmIvygog4XAiT7Xf8BAgx11u4mb3XPbhrml7xBx3_4aWo1mLSTx9AjNivM-f_VG2oNYzoIzhNs9XFOdTQfa9ZkCrDUz8OVrGXO29D99EM/s200/IMG_1848.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #222222;">Andrew
Hess (1983-present) was born in Lindenhurst, NY where he spent most
of his life. After living in the New Paltz/Poughkeepsie, NY area for
five years (2003-2008) he returned home to Long Island to pursue his
dream of writing. Andrew published his first book, The Chamber of
Souls (2011), where he blended free verse poetry and short story into
one book.</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="http://thephoenixrevolution13.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/TheRealPhoenix13" target="_blank">The Real Phoenix 13</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/ThePhoenixBlade" target="_blank">Book Page FB</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/ThePhoenix1369" target="_blank">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://www.linkedin.com/pub/andrew-hess/44/ba9/269/" target="_blank">Linkedin</a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Genre:
Action/Drama</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Publisher:
CreateSpace</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Release
Date: April 24, 2013</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Phoenix-Blade-Andrew-Hess/dp/1482052733/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370032427&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Phoenix+Blade">Amazon</a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Book
Description:</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Follow
the journey of Andrew Lancaster and his friends as they are thrown in
the middle of the biggest government conspiracy to hit the United
States. Andrew is contacted by a man known only as the Benefactor.;
claiming to be a government official that has been monitoring
Lancaster and his friends. He is told they have enough evidence to
arrest them for treason, but would like to hire them instead for a
top secret government project. As a <span style="color: #0066cc;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Phoenix-Blade-Andrew-Hess/dp/1482052733/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370032427&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Phoenix+Blade#" target="_blank">bonus</a>
</span>the Benefactor says he will reveal something Lancaster has
wanted to know for the last six years. Who killed his mother.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Excerpt:</span></span></span></div>
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“I keep thinking how so much has changed in the last ten years.”
“Here we go again.”
“I mean it. When we were kids everything was different. The world was more peaceful. Everyone got along and helped each other. But now everyone’s fueled by greed, corruption, and they get some sick pleasure from hurting others.”
“I know what you mean, but there’s not much we can do about it. Too many people think they have to do whatever’s necessary to get ahead in life.”
“I still wish we could change it.”
“Yeah, it’d be great to get rid of all those people.” Mike reached for the remote to turn the movie back on. “Too bad it’ll never happen.”
I knew he was right. Our idea was ludicrous. But at that moment, my cell started ringing.
“Talk to me,” I answered.
“Yes hi, I’m looking for Mr. Andrew Lancaster,” a stern confident voice said.
“Who’s calling?”
“Someone who has the power to change your future.”
“If this is some telemarketer, you can hang up now. I’m not interested.
“I assure you this isn’t a sales pitch and I’m not a telemarketer.”
“Then what do you want?”
“It’s come to my attention that you and a few friends have been talking about eliminating certain types of people.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb Mr. Lancaster. You and your friends have been monitored for some time now. We know everything.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m someone from the government that would like to give you an ultimatum. We have e-mails and recorded conversations between you and your friends talking about killing people that are as you said evil.”
“Look, Mr. we were only joking around.”
Mike heard the panic in my voice. My face turned pale white.
“What’s going on,” he whispered.
I placed the call on speaker and placed a finger to my lips.
“Be that as it may. You’ve been under our watchful eye for several months. Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”
“And that would be?”
“The hard way is we send our agents to your house and arrest you for conspiracy and possible treason.”
“Are you fucking serious,” Mike shouted. I quickly covered his mouth with my hand.
“Who is that? Who’s with you?” I didn’t reply. I could hear him rifling through papers. “Ah yes, that is most likely Mr. Santangelo.”
“How does he know my…”
“What’s the easy way,” I asked.
The man cleared his throat. “Simple, we hire you to go through with it.”
I laughed it off immediately. “Yeah right, and next you’re going to tell me that I’m the next in line to be King of England.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’m very serious. We have a list of targets and evidence that proves their illegal activities. We would like to give you the chance to make the world a better place.”
“If you have evidence against them, why not put them in jail where they belong?”
“Because they have ways of getting around our judicial system. We all know it’s fallible.”
“But why me?”
“Who better to lead a team than someone who has never received justice for his own mother’s death?”
“But it was ruled an accident.”
“That’s what you were led to believe. I have proof she was murdered and know who’s responsible.”
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<br />BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-84434557425638204432013-08-21T05:30:00.000-04:002013-08-21T05:30:03.556-04:00Escape: A New Life by David J. Antocci<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Escape: A New Life</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>by David J. Antocci</i></b></span></div>
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<b>About The Author:</b></div>
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaATIHFgTw67-NTtb2ARjQpcVoFm5o0sTsCZDUL2W_JgsEG9jPNFvdW1XKUwMQ3EdHodQuCncwPQPTSsp3445O-sk1ZxdABytALwpF6zBoztqraxZeECvNRM87qrlJJAUJkNdiT64iZUg/s1600/David+Antocci.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaATIHFgTw67-NTtb2ARjQpcVoFm5o0sTsCZDUL2W_JgsEG9jPNFvdW1XKUwMQ3EdHodQuCncwPQPTSsp3445O-sk1ZxdABytALwpF6zBoztqraxZeECvNRM87qrlJJAUJkNdiT64iZUg/s320/David+Antocci.jpg" width="228" /></a></b></div>
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David J Antocci is a noted wordsmith,
blogger and author. His work can be read regularly on the Worcester
Telegram and Gazette website where he has spent many years writing
about the trials and tribulations of being a real life Mr. Mom.
While his first love is music, he has put down the guitar in recent
years in order to pour his passion into writing… and the gentle tap
of the keys on his laptop are much less disruptive late at night when
the children are sleeping. The <i>ESCAPE</i> books are his first
published foray into fiction. He lives in New England with his
beautiful wife and children.</div>
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<b><a href="http://www.antocci.com/">Website</a>
| <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/David-J-Antocci-Author/234609443349916">Facebook</a>
| <a href="https://twitter.com/david_antocci">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://goodreads.com/Antocci">Goodreads</a></b></div>
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<b>Book Genre</b>: Thriller, Action/Adventure</div>
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<b>Publisher:</b>
Independently Published by David J Antocci<br />
<b>Release Date</b>:
June 30<sup>th</sup> 2013</div>
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Amazon</div>
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<b>Book
Synopsis: </b>
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After saving a
drowning man during a savage storm, Abby wakes up in a tropical
paradise in a fight for her life. She has no idea how she got there,
and notices changes in herself that she cannot explain. Haunted by
unsettling dreams of her past, she sets out to escape, joined by
Eric, who finds himself in the same quandary. Standing in their way
is a madman, and his band of willing followers, with a mind set on
murdering their unwelcome visitors. An eccentric hermit who has been
living there for years offers them refuge, but they must deny his
generosity. Escape is their only option. Yet, they discover
this deceptive paradise is harder to leave than they had ever
imagined. One mystery leads to another, until their escape
throws them into even greater danger as Abby’s frightening past
finally catches up with her. Her escape is only the beginning.<br />
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HER EYES FLASHED open with a start as
she gasped for air. Heart pounding, she reached up and felt her
moist face. Her eyes were wide open, yet she saw nothing. Blackness
surrounded her. She heard what sounded like white noise all around
her. Reaching down to feel her body, she found that her skin was
cool and wet. A blinding white light streaked across the black sky
above, forcing her eyes closed for a moment. Rain. She realized
that she was hearing rain beat down all around her.
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She sat up, with
some effort, her muscles felt very sore. She felt her stomach and
thought that it seemed smaller than it should be. Odd. With another
flash of lightning, she saw waves pounding the beachhead in front of
her. Consumed by confusion, she struggled to remember where she was.
<i>How did I get here?</i> Through the haze, she knew one thing.
She was soaking wet and feeling a chill. She needed a place to dry
out.</div>
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Behind her she saw
only trees and darkness. Ahead, she saw the blackness of water as
far as her eyes could focus. To her left, she spotted a cliff
jutting out of the water and up into the emptiness of the sky. There
were a number of trees pushed up against what looked like an overhang
off the side of the cliff. <i>That’s probably the driest spot
around here</i>, she thought. Pushing her wet hair out of her eyes
and running her fingers through it, she couldn’t help but think
that it seemed a little longer than it should. She assumed that was
because it was wet. <i>Where the hell am I? </i>Her thoughts were
fuzzy and she could not put the details together, as hard as she
tried. She wrapped her hair around itself in a quick ponytail to
keep it out of the way.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Still sitting on
the sand and looking around, she wondered if there was anyone else
out here. “Hello?” The crash of the waves and sounds of the
storm drowned out her voice, even to herself. “HELLO!”
Listening, she heard nothing. <i>Wait, was that someone calling?</i>
Looking left and right as the lightning continued to flash, she saw
no one—only empty beach for about a hundred meters in each
direction. The sand pushed up against the cliffs on the left, and
the tree line came out to meet the water on the right.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She put her left
hand on the wet sand and her right hand on her thigh to brace herself
to stand. Her right hand felt something hard and leathery. Her
fingers traced the object. If she did not know better she would say
it was a knife. Perplexed, she wondered, <i>why would I have a knife
strapped to my thigh?</i>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She managed to
stand, though confusion still reigned over her senses. The rain and
waves both let up for a few seconds. There it was. Someone was
definitely shouting. It was coming over the water.</div>
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<span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 48px;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b><u><a href="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/3/post/2013/06/escapea-new-life-by-david-antocci.html" target="_blank">Follow The Tour Here</a></u></b></span></span></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-8881029676308942932013-08-19T00:00:00.000-04:002013-08-19T00:00:00.931-04:00Tracy Repchuk 3 Day Book Bash & Giveaway - 31 Days to Millionaire Marketing Miracles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9g7wbmoo8ye_LcMszIF_1j-J-Ur-iGmqh7PzzucBghqjgxihVrD5L1WYYLdbgu5UYfNZvMg6tzPi-lgOav_TZf3dG5BBPySUsasCdKXau666ETELE2bb6xx-o5W9P4Wi28V6RSMing4k/s1600/Tracy-Repchuk-Long.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9g7wbmoo8ye_LcMszIF_1j-J-Ur-iGmqh7PzzucBghqjgxihVrD5L1WYYLdbgu5UYfNZvMg6tzPi-lgOav_TZf3dG5BBPySUsasCdKXau666ETELE2bb6xx-o5W9P4Wi28V6RSMing4k/s400/Tracy-Repchuk-Long.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Genre:
Self-Help, Business</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Publisher:
Wiley Publishing</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Release
Date: August 19, 2013</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1118684419/ref=s9_simh_gw_p14_d0_i1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=1SSFDSJACVA54NNSR4WH&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=1389517282&pf_rd_i=507846">Amazon</a></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<span style="color: #99284c;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Book
Description:</b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>A
marketing blueprint for attracting more leads, getting more clients
and making more sales</b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>31
Days to Millionaire Marketing Miracles </i>is a breakthrough
blueprint outlining the proven steps for successfully attracting more
leads, getting more clients, and making more sales. Author Tracy
Repchuk shows entrepreneurs, business owners, and opportunity-seekers
what to do, when to do it, and the order in which it needs to be done
to build an online marketing presence that is stable, predictable,
and expandable. Whether you want to dominate your market globally or
locally, this thirty-one-day guide allows you to take your product,
service, or message, and turn it into a moneymaking machine.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<br /></div>
<ul>
<li><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Best
Selling Author Tracy Repchuk is recognized as the Top Woman Speaker
in the World for Internet Marketing and an entrepreneur in the IT
and internet industry since 1985</span></span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.18in; margin-top: 0.18in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Serves
as a reference guide to newbies and entrepreneurs wanting to turn
their passion into profits and accelerate business results</span></span></span></div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.04in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>31
Days to Millionaire Marketing Miracles </i>guides you along a proven
path to profits and shows you an Internet marketing formula that will
attract more leads, get more clients, and make more sales.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Excerpts:</b></i></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">"There are
hundreds of blog services and some reside within specific niche
areas, which may be better suited to your product. Simply go to
Yahoo! or Google, and type “your niche” blogs and you’ll have
plenty of options to choose from.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.33in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">When branding
your identity, blogs can be a big part of the success for a
full-scope campaign. As you may know when you are putting together a
campaign for a product launch or company launch, there are a number
of pieces for which you should start to lay the foundation. These
originate from the four types of websites and their purpose."</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.33in; text-indent: 0.33in;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: red;">Praise
for 31 Days to Millionaire Marketing Miracles</span>:</b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"A
step by step process that does not leave me scratching my head!"</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">~</span></span></b></i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Wayne
R. Hagerty, Amazon Reviewer</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-style: normal;">"</span><i><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">This
book has been a HUGE help in getting my business started and
expanding it! Tracy is very up front and in your face. It is very
refreshing and relieving especially after trying a TON of different
programs and having nothing work."</span></span></i></b><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
~ Desiree P., Amazon Reviewer</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b><span style="color: black;">"This
is not just another internet marketing book! Tracy Repchuk's 31 Days
to Millionaire Marketing Miracles is about how to create an online
presence that is sustainable and built on practical business
principles so you can dominate the internet, get your message out
there, and attract the customers you need. Excellent!"</span></b></i><span style="color: black;">
~ Sharon McRill, Amazon Reviewer</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: #b80047;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">About
The Author:</span></span></b></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #b80047;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjeGWu0K0UA4rAfys6DllAv3elYNG5HFuqE4ycnlt7Tb4d3sty5smPAZsmIHuhrc9XpJOOHhqE6uLthMgaEwvhCrwLNn_-CMaZXxJob8QRgGN4pzOgTHqmsPDcbt5xPu3CvpZzKFibWnw/s1600/Tracy-Repchuk-Promo-Ad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjeGWu0K0UA4rAfys6DllAv3elYNG5HFuqE4ycnlt7Tb4d3sty5smPAZsmIHuhrc9XpJOOHhqE6uLthMgaEwvhCrwLNn_-CMaZXxJob8QRgGN4pzOgTHqmsPDcbt5xPu3CvpZzKFibWnw/s320/Tracy-Repchuk-Promo-Ad.jpg" width="256" /></a></span></span></b></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tracy
Repchuk is an internet marketing and social media strategist and
speaker. She is a best selling author, and has been an entrepreneur
since 1985 and has helped thousands of clients get their message out
around the world. Tracy is an internationally acclaimed speaker
and motivator in over 35 countries. She keeps audiences engaged with
her ability to break down complex concepts and turn them into formula
based success.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.2in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Tracy
started her first software business at the age of 19 which still
supports Fortune 100 companies. She has been nominated for awards
such as Entrepreneur of the Year, Chamber of Commerce Business Woman
of the Year, Coach of the Year and Stevie Awards for Business Mentor
of the Year, received Provincial Volunteer and software development
awards and has appeared in the International Who's Who in 7
categories.<br /><br />She graduated in Business Computer Systems, and
went on to receive a Certified Management Accountants designation. In
2007 Tracy won "New Internet Marketing Success of the Year"
from the World Internet Summit and catapulted into success with her
best selling book, speaking engagements, and extensive internet
experience in web development, software integration and marketing
since 1996.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tracy
specializes in online marketing campaigns that build a cohesive
corporate or personal brand using an integrated web strategy that
helps you attract more leads, get more clients and make more money.
Her solutions are done with marketing and results in mind. In
addition she has appeared on TV: ABC7, NBC, King5, 7 For Your Money,
4 On Your Side, WBZ, Report on Business Television, CTV news, USA
Today, Radio, magazine, newspaper and her work has appeared in over
50 publications including 2 motivational movies.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>Connect
With Tracy Online:</b></i></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.tracyrepchuk.com/">Website</a>
| <a href="http://www.imtracyrepchuk.com/">Blog</a> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/tracyrepchukfan">Facebook</a>
| <a href="http://www.twitter.com/TracyRepchuk">Twitter</a> |
<a href="http://www.linkedin.com/in/TracyRepchuk">Linkedin</a> |
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/TracyRepchuk">YouTube</a> | <a href="http://www.mymediapage.com/">Media</a>
| <a href="http://www.tracyrepchuklive.com/">Speaker</a></span></b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/3/post/2013/05/31-days-to-millionaire-marketing-miracles-by-tracy-repchuk.html" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Follow The Book Launch & Bash Here</span></b></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1d8dec101/" id="rc-1d8dec101" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-13986156036298782992013-07-25T09:54:00.000-04:002013-07-25T09:54:00.639-04:00Amazon Kindle Free Days - Buzz Kill by Teresa Trent (Cozy Mystery)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0enuIJMLzJBpnl_5wZ0Q_NX57v6XfFgHWJSQeNxxLFjDuuuxU16oLCi-MVZOlWORbK8Dg-VWwsNZhhRrJ-OkueIil7yetJw3hlAt6fcGgJFRLQ6d_GQ1TlNEfH3JwcG2sJbXkv4FFD8/s1600/Buzz-Kill-Long.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0enuIJMLzJBpnl_5wZ0Q_NX57v6XfFgHWJSQeNxxLFjDuuuxU16oLCi-MVZOlWORbK8Dg-VWwsNZhhRrJ-OkueIil7yetJw3hlAt6fcGgJFRLQ6d_GQ1TlNEfH3JwcG2sJbXkv4FFD8/s400/Buzz-Kill-Long.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Dragonfly;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Dragonfly;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Dragonfly;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Kindle
Free Days</b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><b>July
25 - 28</b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Bullpen 3D;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b>Buzz
Kill</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Apple Chancery, cursive;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>by
Teresa Trent</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Apple Chancery, cursive;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in; page-break-before: always; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Genre:
Cozy Mystery</i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Release
Date: July 2013</i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Buzzkill-Pecan-Bayou-Series-ebook/dp/B00DSU1S8W">Amazon</a></b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Book
Description:</b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLf0w9l18Hw-_5tMVrGLbk2ZkU6eSNe_l13Y6QqIv0OFO3ZK3YYyon9ifbefjvTj7UbEg3_lD5nsVcrjUJbItKBp1bYcsHVZ_F316Bt9cvqjDo2gNLys7AeBeRIV6aPRgCrqiX04zfEM/s1600/BUZZKILL_COVER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLf0w9l18Hw-_5tMVrGLbk2ZkU6eSNe_l13Y6QqIv0OFO3ZK3YYyon9ifbefjvTj7UbEg3_lD5nsVcrjUJbItKBp1bYcsHVZ_F316Bt9cvqjDo2gNLys7AeBeRIV6aPRgCrqiX04zfEM/s320/BUZZKILL_COVER.jpg" width="221" /></a></b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 7pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Betsy
Livingston is planning a wedding so what could go wrong? After
publishing a recipe for homemade calamine lotion in the newspaper,
the ladies in the community church make a large batch. Everyone loves
the stuff until someone in Pecan Bayou is found dead after using it.
The town points to Betsy and she starts rethinking her whole career
as a helpful hints columnist. Now she must clear her own name in
between dress-fitting, cake-tasting, and all those things that turn a
bride into a bridezilla. Is Betsy at fault or could there be
something else that leads her down the aisle to murder?</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 7pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: BoisterBlack;"><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt:</span></span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: BoisterBlack;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
</div>
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“Okay now, let’s
see.” Mr. Andre lowered his head, revealing the roots of his
mousse-spiked, bleached hair. He wore a dark maroon suit with a
matching jewel-toned silk shirt unbuttoned midway, showing sparse
hair on his skinny chest. “Do you have a photographer?”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“Yes,” I
ventured.</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“No,” Aunt
Maggie cut in. “She has some guy who shoots kiddie team pictures.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“Oh my.” Andre
circled something on his clipboard. “No photographer.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“And you’ve gone
for a wedding cake tasting?”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“A tasting? I
think I already know what vanilla and chocolate tastes like by now.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Andre shook his head
as if I were a child. “No, my dear. You will be pleased to find out
there are other flavors like white amaretto, champagne – girl, you
can even get peanut butter if that’s what floats your boat. So I
take it you haven’t had a cake-tasting session?”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“You would be
correct,” I replied.</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“I see.” He
circled another line. “And your flowers?”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“She’s using
Lenny Stokes, and she’s already put a deposit down,” Aunt Maggie
said.</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Andre grimaced.</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“I see. I’ll
need his number and address so I can get in contact with him to put
him on my approved vendors list.” He circled another line. “And
what is the venue?”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“We are going to
have the ceremony at the community church.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Andre’s eyebrows
raised as he nodded and smiled. I had finally done something right.</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“Do you have any
kind of documentation on this?” he asked.</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“Not officially,
no,” I said. “I have talked to the pastor about it, though and he
says it’s open. We live in a small town, Andre. Documentation isn’t
always required.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“Mr. Andre,” he
corrected.</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“We just don’t
have the same kinds of waiting lists like there are in the big city.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
He clutched his hand
to his chest. “Well, that’s a relief.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“And your
invitations?”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“We weren’t
going to send those out until mid-January. We were afraid people
would lose them. I have them ordered.” Mr. Andre’s eyes slanted
toward me. “Well, they’re not exactly ordered, but I do have them
picked out.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
A pause hung in the
air as Mr. Andre summoned up the strength to go on. “Are you sure
we’re planning a wedding and not some kind of country barbecue
where they cook a pig over a spit?” He clasped his hands together
in front of him to emphasize his point. “You are in crisis mode,
Madame Happy Hinter.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
I gulped. So maybe,
just maybe, I hadn’t nailed down enough of the details. I felt a
tear escape onto my cheek. Andre, used to overwhelmed brides, reached
over to a satin-covered tissue box and slapped it down on the table
in front of me.</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“Dry your eyes,
sweetie. We’ve got work to do,” he said. “You should know what
a lucky girl you are. I just removed myself from a wedding on the
same day. No one – I repeat, no one – does a wedding like Mr.
Andre, but even I have my limits on troublesome brides and monster
mothers. As fate would have it, I’m yours.”
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
He walked over to a
filing cabinet and pulled out a large white leather binder. Mr.
Andre’s picture was on the front, and underneath that, “Weddings
Exclusively by Mr. Andre” was embossed in gold lettering.</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“I don’t care
what religion you are,” he said. “This, lovey, is your new bible.
Carry this with you everywhere and fill it with notes, questions,
business cards, quotes and everything – I mean everything – that
has to do with your wedding. Is that clear?”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“Yes, sir,” I
said and saluted before I could stop myself. Aunt Maggie broke out
into a laugh, but Mr. Andre turned quickly, fixing his eyes on her.
She quickly stifled her reaction and stood up a little straighter,
becoming just another draftee in the world of white satin.</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="http://teresatrent.blogspot.com/">Website</a>
| <a href="https://www.facebook.com/teresatrentmysterywriter">Facebook</a>
| <a href="http://www.twitter.com/ttrent_cozymys">Twitter</a> </b></span></span></span></span>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-49119725022654174172013-07-24T05:00:00.000-04:002013-07-24T05:00:09.876-04:00Not All Bubble Baths & Chick Flicks! Glitter by Mona Darling (Book Tour & Giveaway)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxg4qwcneOdQnjhUntRHeJ8yvwdS9KaVY6MvX4aZBSPLSxGcc_SrxAxMhTAaNP0QL0bhzv74lAJfs2S6IioVYlqTMuuGMawTVqcJijVLrLbhs_7NHDZoOigXoIMS9-WaQJVohNu32FBHs/s1600/Glitter-Girl-Banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxg4qwcneOdQnjhUntRHeJ8yvwdS9KaVY6MvX4aZBSPLSxGcc_SrxAxMhTAaNP0QL0bhzv74lAJfs2S6IioVYlqTMuuGMawTVqcJijVLrLbhs_7NHDZoOigXoIMS9-WaQJVohNu32FBHs/s400/Glitter-Girl-Banner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Glitter</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>by
Mona Darling</b></i></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTg60SoXzBIP5FXCOTx-4K3c5xb270VsPnFQVkE-9SAHNxl4K8LvuL6q1l7zSYfGnPxpBmIc_PZ1oGeWxIAsK0ejHb3aYutbFjjAXkZuQ_ceRNUChNw4VERjbZfBEwJ8FiLwruT0wZtWg/s1600/280DCGLogo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTg60SoXzBIP5FXCOTx-4K3c5xb270VsPnFQVkE-9SAHNxl4K8LvuL6q1l7zSYfGnPxpBmIc_PZ1oGeWxIAsK0ejHb3aYutbFjjAXkZuQ_ceRNUChNw4VERjbZfBEwJ8FiLwruT0wZtWg/s1600/280DCGLogo.jpg" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>About The Author</b>:</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-left: 0.08in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mona
Darling aka Dead Cow Girl, spent close to twenty years as an A-list
professional dominatrix before becoming a D-list mommy blogger. After
spending many years traveling the world being told that she is
fabulous, she now spends her days being told she doesn’t drive fast
enough by her three-year-old son.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dead
Cow Girl was a nickname she received in grade school after a
humiliating morning involving a mobile butcher and a school bus. She
chose to use that name to reclaim the part of her that spent much of
her childhood red-faced with shame, embarrassed for her unique
childhood. She also likes it because it is readily available on
nearly every social media platform.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
writes, sporadically, about food, sex and toddler-related mayhem
at </span></span></span><a href="http://deadcowgirl.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">DeadCowGirl.com</span></span></span></a><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://glitterhood.com/">Website</a>
| <a href="http://deadcowgirl.com/">Blog</a> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/mona.deadcowgirl">Facebook</a>
| <a href="http://www.facebook.com/glitterhood?ref=hl">Glitter
Facebook</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/DeadCowGirl">Twitter</a>
| <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/103671603710349591944/posts">Google
+</a> | <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17406815-glitter">Goodreads</a></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Genre</b>:
Women's Studies</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19jbYvMQX5AiLuJA3-6nwt_ZaEfuwfedMQYyssc4fpSkDcHpORzeCbSDCui1M4EMyIo2mQNdjhjbghsLSS4xVFtiu1Yrcz3RtqIuY4vFmvcolZVCt9O8rTGORUrLoX7B6yqjaKbgAu3c/s1600/GlitterCoverMonaDarling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19jbYvMQX5AiLuJA3-6nwt_ZaEfuwfedMQYyssc4fpSkDcHpORzeCbSDCui1M4EMyIo2mQNdjhjbghsLSS4xVFtiu1Yrcz3RtqIuY4vFmvcolZVCt9O8rTGORUrLoX7B6yqjaKbgAu3c/s320/GlitterCoverMonaDarling.jpg" width="210" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Publisher:</b>
Darling Propaganda LLC</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Release
Date</b>: Feb 2013</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Glitter-Stories-Women-Sexual-Desire/dp/0988964708/ref=sr_1_1?">Amazon</a>
| <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/glitter-mona-darling/1114819601">Barnes
and Noble</a></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Book
Description</b>:</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Glitter
is about the female sexual experience, which contrary to what the
media would have you believe, is not all bubble baths and chick
flicks.<br /><br />Women are constantly judged as slutty, or uptight, but
the reality is somewhere in between those two, and sometimes, nowhere
near either. We have secret shames and private desires and we all
feel we are the only one.<br /><br />We are good church-going girls with
a fondness for the paddle, PTA moms who hire escorts, feminists who
like to bottom in the bedroom, slutty virgins, bi-curious married
laddies and women with a past. We are gay, straight, and
undecided.<br /><br />We are all over the map, and we are amazing.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-17030475972078648532013-07-16T08:35:00.002-04:002013-07-16T08:35:42.367-04:00Promotional Tour & Giveaway: Untimed by Andy Gavin (YA Time Travel)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Untimed</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>by Andy Gavin</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Genre
</b>YA Time Travel Adventure/Romance</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Publisher
</b>Mascherato Publishing</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Release
Date </b>December 18, 2012</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amzn.to/175PCaG"><b>Amazon</b></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Book
Description</b>:</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Untimed
</i>is an action-packed time travel novel by Andy Gavin, author of
<i>The Darkening Dream </i>and creator of <i>Crash Bandicoot </i>and
<i>Jak & Daxter</i>.<br /><br />Charlie's the kind of boy that no one
notices. Hell, his own mother can't remember his name. So when a
mysterious clockwork man tries to kill him in modern day
Philadelphia, and they tumble through a hole into 1725 London,
Charlie realizes even the laws of time don't take him seriously.
Still, this isn't all bad. Who needs school when you can learn about
history first hand, like from Ben Franklin himself. And there's this
girl... Yvaine... another time traveler. All good. Except for the
rules: boys only travel into the past and girls only into the future.
And the baggage: Yvaine's got a baby boy and more than her share of
ex-boyfriends. Still, even if they screw up history -- like
accidentally let the founding father be killed -- they can just time
travel and fix it, right? But the future they return to is nothing
like Charlie remembers. To set things right, he and his scrappy new
girlfriend will have to race across the centuries, battling murderous
machines from the future, jealous lovers, reluctant parents, and time
itself.</span></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt: Chapter One "Untamed"</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
UNTIMED
by Andy Gavin
Illustrations by Dave Phillips
Advance Review First Chapter
Cover Art Not Final
Formatting Not Final
Illustration Formatting Not Final
© 2011-2012, Andy Gavin. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
MASCHERATO PUBLISHING
PO Box 1550
Pacific Palisades, Ca, 90272
publishing@mascherato.com
http://andy-gavin-author.com
Copyright © Andy Gavin 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
MS version: 3.20a
75,300 words, November 19, 2012, 1:19:29 PM PST
Cover Photo-Illustration copyright © Cliff Nielsen 2012
Interior Illustrations copyright © Dave Phillips 2012
E-book ISBN 978-1-937945-05-3
Hardcover ISBN 978-1-937945-03-9
Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-937945-04-6
Chapter One:
Ignored
Philadelphia, Autumn, 2010 and Winter, 2011
My mother loves me and all, it’s just that she can’t remember my name.
“Call him Charlie,” is written on yellow Post-its all over our house.
“Just a family joke,” Mom tells the rare friend who drops by and bothers to inquire.
But it isn’t funny. And those house guests are more likely to notice the neon paper squares than they are me.
“He’s getting so tall. What was his name again?”
I always remind them. Not that it helps.
Only Dad remembers, and Aunt Sophie, but they’re gone more often than not — months at a stretch.
This time, when my dad returns he brings a ginormous stack of history books.
“Read these.” The muted bulbs in the living room sharpen the shadows on his pale face, making him stand out like a cartoon in a live-action film. “You have to keep your facts straight.”
I peruse the titles: Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Asprey’s The Rise of Napoleon Bonaparte, Ben Franklin’s Autobiography. Just three among many.
“Listen to him, Charlie,” Aunt Sophie says. “You’ll be glad you did.” She brushes out her shining tresses. Dad’s sister always has a glow about her.
“Where’d you go this time?” I say.
Dad’s supposed to be this hotshot political historian. He reads and writes a lot, but I’ve never seen his name in print.
“The Middle East.” Aunt Sophie’s more specific than usual.
Dad frowns. “We dropped in on someone important.”
When he says dropped in, I imagine Sophie dressed like Lara Croft, parachuting into Baghdad.
“Is that where you got the new scar?” A pink welt snakes from the bridge of her nose to the corner of her mouth. She looks older than I remember — they both do.
“An argument with a rival… researcher.” My aunt winds the old mantel clock, the one that belonged to her mom, my grandmother. Then tosses the key to my dad, who fumbles and drops it.
“You need to tell him soon,” she says.
Tell me what? I hate this.
Dad looks away. “We’ll come back for his birthday.”
* * *
While Dad and Sophie unpack, Mom helps me carry the dusty books to my room.
“Time isn’t right for either of you yet,” she says. Whatever that means.
I snag the thinnest volume and hop onto my bed to read. Not much else to do since I don’t have friends and school makes me feel even more the ghost.
* * *
Mrs. Pinkle, my ninth-grade homeroom teacher, pauses on my name during roll call. Like she does every morning.
“Charlie Horologe,” she says, squinting at the laminated chart, then at me, as if seeing both for the first time.
“Here.”
On the bright side, I always get B’s no matter what I write on the paper.
In Earth Science, the teacher describes a primitive battery built from a glass of salt water covered in tin foil. She calls it a Leyden jar. I already know about them from Ben Franklin’s autobiography — he used one to kill and cook a turkey, which I doubt would fly with the school board.
The teacher beats the topic to death, so I practice note-taking in the cipher Dad taught me over the weekend. He shows me all sorts of cool things — when he’s around. The system’s simple, just twenty-six made-up letters to replace the regular ones. Nobody else knows them. I write in highlighter and outline in red, which makes the page look like some punk wizard’s spell book. My science notes devolve into a story about how the blonde in the front row invites me to help her with her homework. At her house. In her bedroom. With her parents out of town.
Good thing it’s in cipher.
After school is practice, and that’s better. With my slight build and long legs, I’m good at track and field — not that the rest of the team notices. A more observant coach might call me a well-rounded athlete.
The pole vault is my favorite, and only one other kid can even do it right. Last month at the Pennsylvania state regionals, I cleared 16’ 4”, which for my age is like world class. Davy — that’s the other guy — managed just 14’ 8”.
And won. As if I never ran that track, planted the pole in the box, and threw myself over the bar. The judges were looking somewhere else? Or maybe their score sheets blew away in the wind.
I’m used to it.
* * *
Dad is nothing if not scheduled. He and Sophie visit twice a year, two weeks in October, and two weeks in January for my birthday. But after my aunt’s little aside, I don’t know if I can wait three months for the big reveal, whatever it is. So I catch them in his study.
“Dad, why don’t you just tell me?”
He looks up from his cheesesteak and the book he’s reading — small, with only a few shiny metallic pages. I haven’t seen it before, which is strange, since I comb through all his worldly possessions whenever he’s away.
“I’m old enough to handle it.” I sound brave, but even Mom never looks him in the eye. And he’s never home — it’s not like I have practice at this. My stomach twists. I might not like what he has to say.
“Man is not God.”
One of his favorite expressions, but what the hell is it supposed to mean?
“Fink.” For some reason Aunt Sophie always calls him that. “Show him the pages.”
He sighs and gathers up the weird metallic book.
“This is between the three of us. No need to stress your mother.”
What about stressing me? He stares at some imaginary point on the ceiling, like he always does when he lectures.
“Our family has—”
The front doorbell rings. His gaze snaps down, his mouth snaps shut. Out in the hall, I hear my mom answer, then men’s voices.
“Charlie,” Dad says, “go see who it is.”
“But—”
“Close the door behind you.”
* * *
I stomp down the hall. Mom is talking to the police. Two cops and a guy in a suit.
“Ma’am,” Uniform with Mustache says, “is your husband home?”
“May I help you?” she asks.
“We have a warrant.” He fumbles in his jacket and hands her an official-looking paper.
“This is for John Doe,” she tells him.
The cop turns to the man in the suit, deep blue, with a matching bowler hat like some guy on PBS. The dude even carries a cane — not the old-lady-with-a-limp type, more stroll-in-the-park. Blue Suit — a detective? — tilts forward to whisper in the cop’s ear. I can’t hear anything but I notice his outfit is crisp. Every seam stands out bright and clear. Everything else about him too.
“We need to speak to your husband,” the uniformed cop says.
I mentally kick myself for not ambushing Dad an hour earlier.
Eventually, the police tire of the runaround and shove past me as if I don’t exist. I tag along to watch them search the house. When they reach the study, Dad and Sophie are gone. The window’s closed and bolted from the inside.
All the other rooms are empty too, but this doesn’t stop them from slitting every sofa cushion and uncovering my box of secret DVDs.
* * *
Mom and I don’t talk about Dad’s hasty departure, but I do hear her call the police and ask about the warrant.
They have no idea who she’s talking about.
Yesterday, I thought Dad was about to deliver the Your mother and I have grown apart speech. Now I’m thinking more along the lines of secret agent or international kingpin.
But the months crawl by, business as usual, until my birthday comes and goes without any answers — or the promised visit from Dad. I try not to let on that it bothers me. He’s never missed my birthday, but then, the cops never came before, either.
Mom and I celebrate with cupcakes. Mine is jammed with sixteen candles, one extra for good luck.
I pry up the wrapping paper from the corner of her present.
“It’s customary to blow out the candles first,” Mom says.
“More a guideline than a rule,” I say. “Call it advanced reconnaissance.” That’s a phrase I picked up from Sophie.
Mom does a dorky eye roll, but I get the present open and find she did well by me, the latest iPhone — even if she skimped on the gigabytes. I use it to take two photos of her and then, holding it out, one of us together.
She smiles and pats my hand.
“This way, when you’re out on a date you can check in.”
I’m thinking more about surfing the web during class.
“Mom, girls never notice me.”
“How about Michelle next door? She’s cute.”
Mom’s right about the cute. We live in a duplex, an old house her family bought like a hundred years ago. Our tenants, the Montags, rent the other half, and we’ve celebrated every Fourth of July together as long as I can remember.
“Girls don’t pay attention to me.” Sometimes paraphrasing helps Mom understand.
“All teenage boys say that — your father certainly did.”
My throat tightens. “There’s a father-son track event this week.” A month ago, I went into orbit when I discovered it fell during Dad’s visit, but now it’s just a major bummer — and a pending embarrassment.
She kisses me on the forehead.
“He’ll be here if he can, honey. And if not, I’ll race. You don’t get your speed from his side of the family.”
True enough. She was a college tennis champ and he’s a flat-foot who likes foie gras. But still.
* * *
Our history class takes a field trip to Independence Park, where the teacher prattles on in front of the Liberty Bell. I’ve probably read more about it than she has.
Michelle is standing nearby with a girlfriend. The other day I tapped out a script on my phone — using our family cipher — complete with her possible responses to my asking her out. Maybe Mom’s right.
I slide over.
“Hey, Michelle, I’m really looking forward to next Fourth of July.”
“It’s January.” She has a lot of eyeliner on, which would look pretty sexy if she wasn’t glaring at me. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
That wasn’t in my script. I drift away. Being forgettable has advantages.
I tighten the laces on my trainers then flop a leg up on the fence to stretch. Soon as I’m loose enough, I sprint up the park toward the red brick hulk of Independence Hall. The teachers will notice the headcount is one short but of course they’ll have trouble figuring out who’s missing. And while a bunch of cops are lounging about — national historic landmark and all — even if one stops me, he won’t remember my name long enough to write up a ticket.
The sky gleams with that cloudless blue that sometimes graces Philly. The air is crisp and smells of wood smoke. I consider lapping the building.
Then I notice the man exiting the hall.
He glides out the white-painted door behind someone else and seesaws down the steps to the slate courtyard. He wears a deep blue suit and a matching bowler hat. His stride is rapid and he taps his walking stick against the pavement like clockwork.
The police detective.
I shift into a jog and follow him down the block toward the river. I don’t think he sees me, but he has this peculiar way of looking around, pivoting his head side to side as he goes.
It’s hard to explain what makes him different. His motions are stiff but he cuts through space without apparent effort. Despite the dull navy outfit, he looks sharper than the rest of the world, more in focus.
Like Dad and Sophie.
The man turns left at Chestnut and Third, and I follow him into Franklin Court.
He stops inside the skeleton of Ben Franklin’s missing house. Some idiots tore it down two hundred years ago, but for the bicentennial the city erected a steel ‘ghost house’ to replace it.
I tuck myself behind one of the big white girders and watch.
The man unbuttons his suit and winds himself.
Yes, that’s right. He winds himself. Like a clock. There’s no shirt under his jacket — just clockwork guts, spinning gears, and whirling cogs. There’s even a rocking pendulum. He takes a T-shaped key from his pocket, sticks it in his torso, and cranks.
Hardly police standard procedure.
Clueless tourists pass him without so much as a sideways glance. And I always assumed the going unnoticed thing was just me.
He stops winding and scans the courtyard, calibrating his head on first one point then another while his finger spins brass dials on his chest.
I watch, almost afraid to breathe.
CHIME. The man rings, a deep brassy sound — not unlike Grandmom’s old mantel clock.
I must have gasped, because he looks at me, his head ratcheting around 270 degrees until our eyes lock.
Glass eyes. Glass eyes set in a face of carved ivory. His mouth opens and the ivory mask that is his face parts along his jaw line to reveal more cogs.
CHIME. The sound reverberates through the empty bones of Franklin Court.
He takes his cane from under his arm and draws a blade from it as a stage-magician might a handkerchief.
CHIME. He raises the thin line of steel and glides in my direction.
CHIME. Heart beating like a rabbit’s, I scuttle across the cobblestones and fling myself over a low brick wall.
CHIME. His walking-stick-cum-sword strikes against the brick and throws sparks. He’s so close I hear his clockwork innards ticking, a tiny metallic tinkle.
CHIME. I roll away from the wall and spring to my feet. He bounds over in pursuit.
CHIME. I backpedal. I could run faster if I turned around, but a stab in the back isn’t high on my wishlist.
CHIME. He strides toward me, one hand on his hip, the other slices the air with his rapier. An older couple shuffles by and glances his way, but apparently they don’t see what I see.
CHIME. I stumble over a rock, snatch it up, and hurl it at him. Thanks to shot put practice, it strikes him full in the face, stopping him cold.
CHIME. He tilts his head from side to side. I see a thin crack in his ivory mask, but otherwise he seems unharmed.
CHIME. I dance to the side, eying the pavement, find another rock and grab it.
CHIME. We stand our ground, he with his sword and me with my stone.
“Your move, Timex!” I hope I sound braver than I feel.
CHIME. Beneath the clockwork man, a hole opens.
The manhole-sized circle in the cobblestones seethes and boils, spilling pale light up into the world. He stands above it, legs spread, toes on the pavement, heels dipping into nothingness.
The sun dims in the sky. Like an eclipse — still visible, just not as bright. My heart threatens to break through my ribs, but I inch closer.
The mechanical man brings his legs together and drops into the hole. The seething boiling hole.
I step forward and look down….
Into a whirlpool that could eat the Titanic for breakfast. But there’s no water, only a swirling tube made of a million pulverized galaxies. Not that my eyes can really latch onto anything inside, except for the man. His crisp dark form shrinks into faraway brightness.
Is this where Dad goes when he drops in on someone? Is the clockwork dude his rival researcher?
The sun brightens, and as it does, the hole starts to contract. Sharp edges of pavement eat into it, closing fast. I can’t let him get away. Somehow we’re all connected. Me, the mechanical man, Sophie, and Dad.
I take a step forward and let myself fall.
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<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>About
The Author:</b></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #222222;">Andy
Gavin is an unstoppable storyteller who studied for his Ph.D. at
M.I.T. and founded video game developer Naughty Dog, Inc. at the age
of fifteen, serving as co-president for two decades. There he
created, produced, and directed over a dozen video games, including
the award winning and best selling </span><span style="color: #222222;"><i>Crash
Bandicoot </i></span><span style="color: #222222;">and </span><span style="color: #222222;"><i>Jak
& Daxter</i></span><span style="color: #222222;"> franchises,
selling over 40 million units worldwide. He sleeps little, reads
novels and histories, watches media obsessively, travels, and of
course, writes.</span></span></span></div>
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<b style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://all-things-andy-gavin.com/">Website</a>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-54728312579630998062013-07-12T00:00:00.000-04:002013-07-12T00:00:04.260-04:00Book Bash: Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective (Book 1) by Christine Amsden<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Cassie
Scot:</b></i></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><strike><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Para</span></strike><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">N</span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;">ormal</span>
Detective (Book 1)</b></i></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>About The Author</b>:</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Christine
Amsden has been writing science fiction and fantasy for as long as
she can remember. She loves to write and it is her dream that others
will be inspired by this love and by her stories. Speculative fiction
is fun, magical, and imaginative but great speculative fiction is
about real people defining themselves through extraordinary
situations. Christine writes primarily about people and it is in this
way that she strives to make science fiction and fantasy meaningful
for everyone.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="border: none; line-height: 0.17in; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">At
the age of 16, Christine was diagnosed with Stargardt’s Disease, a
condition that effects the retina and causes a loss of central
vision. She is now legally blind, but has not let this slow her down
or get in the way of her dreams. (You can learn more </span></span></span></span></span><a href="http://christineamsden.com/wordpress/?page_id=84"><span style="color: #707070;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">here</span></span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.)</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="border: none; line-height: 0.17in; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="border: none; line-height: 0.17in; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">In
addition to writing, Christine teaches workshops on writing at </span></span></span></span></span><a href="http://www.savvyauthors.com/vb/content.php"><span style="color: #707070;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Savvy
Authors</span></span></span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
She also does some freelance editing work.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="border: none; line-height: 0.17in; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="border: none; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.17in; margin-bottom: 0.17in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Christine
currently lives in the Kansas City area with her husband, Austin, who
has been her biggest fan and the key to her success. They have two
beautiful children, Drake and Celeste.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.christineamsden.com/">Website </a>|
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/ChristineAmsden">Twitter</a> </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Genre: Fantasy</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQAQbbYT_QuFRdX7lckgimId6JgU8sLMx3GIbMRUs3TIj6UdQFIc6QxGOOt_jf3-dsYHRJRd0V0e2wGj7d1SRENinvUxwOiEUYkduLkHAEm_fy-RmMq2Pn2b91pDdgLQDvOacwXfgqsE/s1600/CassieScot_med.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQAQbbYT_QuFRdX7lckgimId6JgU8sLMx3GIbMRUs3TIj6UdQFIc6QxGOOt_jf3-dsYHRJRd0V0e2wGj7d1SRENinvUxwOiEUYkduLkHAEm_fy-RmMq2Pn2b91pDdgLQDvOacwXfgqsE/s320/CassieScot_med.jpg" width="206" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Publisher: Twilight Times Books</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Release Date: May 15, 2013</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cassie-Scot-ParaNormal-Christine-Amsden/dp/1606192752/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1369051620&sr=8-1&keywords=Christine+Amsden">Amazon
</a></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Book Description:</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cassie
Scot is the ungifted daughter of powerful sorcerers, born between
worlds but belonging to neither. At 21, all she wants is to find a
place for herself, but earning a living as a private investigator in
the shadow of her family’s reputation isn’t easy. When she is
pulled into a paranormal investigation, and tempted by a powerful and
handsome sorcerer, she will have to decide where she truly belongs.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://christineamsden.com/wordpress/?page_id=1712">Read
The First Chapter Here</a></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/3/post/2013/05/cassie-scot-paranormal-detective-book-1-by-christine-amsden.html" target="_blank">Follow The Tour Here</a></b></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Praise
for the Cassie Scot Series:</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<h3 align="LEFT" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong><span style="color: maroon;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>From
Publisher’s Weekly:</b></span></span></span></strong></span></span></span></h3>
<blockquote style="background: #ffffff; border: none; line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;">“</span><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">In
this entertaining series opener, Amsden (The Immortality Virus)
introduces readers to the eponymous Cassie, a decidedly mundane
member of a magical family. …Readers will enjoy Cassie’s
fish-out-of-water struggles as she fights magical threats with little
more than experience and bravado.”</span></span></span></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote style="background: #ffffff; border: none; line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in;">
<br /></blockquote>
<h2 class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 0.17in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; padding: 0in;">
<strong><span style="color: maroon;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Kim
Falconer, bestselling author of The Spell of Rosette, Quantum
Enchantment Series, had this to say:</b></span></span></span></span></strong></h2>
<br />
<blockquote style="background: #ffffff; border: none; line-height: 0.2in; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in;">
<span style="color: #444444;">“<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">When
sorcerers call the shots, what’s a girl without powers to do? Get
ready for a ripper of a murder mystery full of romance and intrigue,
where magic potions bubble, passions spark and vampires are
definitely not your friend. Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective grabs
you by the heart and won’t let go until the very last page. Well
written, immersive and unputdownable. This is urban fantasy at its
best. More please!”</span></span></span></blockquote>
BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-56456834944153093902013-06-27T00:00:00.000-04:002013-06-27T00:00:06.855-04:00Promotional Tour & Giveaway: Faelon by AJ Kelton<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Faelon</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>by AJ Kelton</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcO5r-hLdFYvfYm_Lh3kjTHT09qwFOWsKfL63rGAEeoCV5HxIHT4R4B0E1nr9oZ_14rkGJfgQp_3X0PuaIUdessKVln-dDkHKhY_9PuSADQXrD13GkJVfNLjhm0_T29EUfaQPo_b9NTsCT/s1600/AJ-Kelton-Long.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcO5r-hLdFYvfYm_Lh3kjTHT09qwFOWsKfL63rGAEeoCV5HxIHT4R4B0E1nr9oZ_14rkGJfgQp_3X0PuaIUdessKVln-dDkHKhY_9PuSADQXrD13GkJVfNLjhm0_T29EUfaQPo_b9NTsCT/s400/AJ-Kelton-Long.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>About
The Author</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">:</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">AJ Kelton are the dynamic
writing team of Angel and Jordan. The couple met online several years
ago on an Alexander fan site and have been friends ever since. Angel
soon found that Jordan had a flare for storytelling with several
half-finished stories on her computer. Angel encouraged Jordan to
finish the stories and with help in creative description she decided
to send the stories off to MLR press. They were both shocked and
excited when they got the news that Faelon was accepted for
publication. While Jordan may have a flare for storytelling she
doesn’t enjoy the smaller details in getting a story ready for
publication. That is where Angel comes in; she spends countless hours
getting the story ready after line edits, going over each line in
proofing and formatting, making decisions such as covers and fonts,
all things that Jordan just has problems focusing on.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Angel
is always on the lookout for her perfect mate, a cross between Ethan
from </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Under
the Australian Sky </i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
and Evan from </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Marco.
</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Until
Mr. Perfect appears at her door, or in front of her booth wanting an
autograph she loves to read, take pictures and attend concerts of all
kinds. She loves all things 80’s. Angel lives in Texas with her two
dogs, Daisy a beagle who she insists is nothing like snoopy and her
Chihuahua Bonita.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
not writing Jordan loves to read anything from Amish romance to the
dark taboo books of fiction both M/M and Het. She is a very avid
reader, except when writing because she doesn’t want to be
influenced by what she is reading. Jordan loves to travel and often
her latest vacation spots show up in his books. While Jordan is
always looking for that perfect place to live at the moment she can
be found in Kansas. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Both
writers have solo projects coming out in the future, Angel with
Misunderstandings under the name Angel Rothamel. Jordan with Legion
under the name Rider Jacobs.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Both
authors would love to hear from you. You can contact them via their
web page </span></span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="mailto:AJKelton@AJKelton.com"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">AJKelton@AJKelton.com</span></span></a></u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.
You can also find them on Facebook under both AJ Kelton, Angel
Rothamel and Rider Jacobs.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="http://ajkelton.com/"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Website</b></span></span></a></u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Genre</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">:
M/M Romance</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Publisher</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">:
</span></span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="http://www.mlrbooks.com/Bookstore.php?bookid=AJKFAELN"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">MLR
Press</span></span></a></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Release
Date</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">:
April 5, 2013</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Faelon-ebook/dp/B00C7S9KWW/ref=la_B00B9MUDSC_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1366152550&sr=1-2"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Amazon
</span></span></a></u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">|
</span></span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/faelon-aj-kelton/1115031698?ean=2940016776569"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Barnes
and Noble</span></span></a></u></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Book
Description</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">:</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYe-E2pC9vt_QCCgXtiezjDMk4emL7_u3lrXRwwEp1dBm_zEc-4ATdZZy_yOrQT1GgCSLdVZdiAFrEb1cRl74PCxO2jh6zawL3X2brFH2xqVtPMq604Q6FGtmlQ0IQie5Q7hnSn-Jugjis/s1600/1400x2100Faelon_Front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYe-E2pC9vt_QCCgXtiezjDMk4emL7_u3lrXRwwEp1dBm_zEc-4ATdZZy_yOrQT1GgCSLdVZdiAFrEb1cRl74PCxO2jh6zawL3X2brFH2xqVtPMq604Q6FGtmlQ0IQie5Q7hnSn-Jugjis/s320/1400x2100Faelon_Front.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Who
knew that loving a Nephilim could be so dangerous. Faelon, a
3000-year-old nephilim, fleeing a demonic master, found safety with
the church. He has repaid their kindness by translating various
artifacts. Father Donovan has watched as Faelon became a recluse,
fearing those who would harm him. Jax, wanting a change, moves to
Salem, MA where he finds work as a churches security guard. Not
believing that Faelon is a nephilim, he is forced to confront his own
beliefs in the supernatural. Can he learn to accept Faelon, and be
the master he requires? Or lose the man he loves to the demons who
would harm him.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Excerpts:</b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b style="color: red; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">*NOTE* Some Graphic Language</b></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> “I
have been called many names in my life, but I don’t think
‘crazy-ass’ was one of them.” The man smiled at him.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You still haven’t
answered my question.” Jax pulled out his cell phone. “You have
exactly thirty seconds to tell me who you are and why you are here,
or you’ll be explaining it to the police.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The other man pushed off
from the door and sauntered toward Jax. “There is no need to get
the police involved. My name is Faelon, and I live in the basement
where I happen to be cataloguing all those important items and
translating those dusty old books into English. It isn’t the most
exciting job in the world, but, hell, it keeps me a bit busy, and at
this moment I find I’m enjoying it.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You live in the
basement?” Father Donavan mentioned that Faelon worked late at
night, but he didn’t mention that the man actually lived down
there. “Father Donavan didn’t mention that you lived in the
basement.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Faelon shoved his hands
in the pockets of his leather jacket as he started toward the side
door. “Yes, I have a small studio apartment down there. It’s why
no one is allowed to enter the area without my express invitation.
Ask Father Donavan tomorrow if you don’t believe me. I’m going
out, grabbing a bite to eat, and maybe I’ll watch the water for a
while. Tell me, is it warm out? Are the tourists here yet?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jax shrugged his
shoulder. “It was a nice day for October and the tourists are
always here, aren’t they? Especially this time of year?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I find that they are,
yes. As to why they would come to this place when there are so many
others across this nation that hold just as much mysticism at a
warmer temperature is beyond me. Until tomorrow, Mr. Security Guard,”
he said as he started walking again.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jax.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jax?” Faelon turned
his head in inquiry.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My name, it’s Jax.
At least that is what everyone calls me. It’s short for J-Jackson,”
he stammered. He had no idea why he was rambling, other than the fact
that Faelon was sexy as hell, and he wanted to speak to him just a
little longer. There was something about the soft musical quality of
his voice with just a trace of an accent that made Jax want to keep
him talking.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Faelon gave a slight
smile, and for a brief moment, Jax thought he had to be the hottest
man alive. “Until tomorrow then, Jax.”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jax watched him walk out
the door. Giving himself a brief mental shake, he breathed in deeply
to clear his head. He had never been so instantly attracted to
someone before. When Father Donavan had told him about a researcher,
but he’d never pictured a young man with skin-tight leather pants,
a black biker jacket, and lips that looked like they would be right
at home wrapped around a cock.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/3/post/2013/04/faelon-by-aj-kelton.html" target="_blank">Follow The Tour Here</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: red;">Giveaway</span>: Faelon Ebook</b></span></div>
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<br />BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-8785508074040957072013-06-04T02:35:00.000-04:002013-06-04T02:35:05.333-04:00Epsilon AR by Zackery Humphreys <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Epsilon AR</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>by Zackery Humphreys</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRuqPBOWc2BfDWgEUHx0icu_NJvOyjfREszbOOd9zoy0NBOodvMJuNeN5a6Z3CViUK12dtC3kwg5b0YjkFKQha5RZyr3iOhox6tTJDJ7Xw2H8gSTEh7ekLkbFdK4gUHpOXftEhp82Z_1M/s1600/choice+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRuqPBOWc2BfDWgEUHx0icu_NJvOyjfREszbOOd9zoy0NBOodvMJuNeN5a6Z3CViUK12dtC3kwg5b0YjkFKQha5RZyr3iOhox6tTJDJ7Xw2H8gSTEh7ekLkbFdK4gUHpOXftEhp82Z_1M/s320/choice+2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">About The Author:</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Zackery
Alexander Humphreys is a Novelist, Actor and Poet who occasionally
dabbles in Screen Writing and Play Writing.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://zackeryhumphreys.blogspot.com/">Blog</a>
| <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Zackery-Alexander-Humphreys/370275879738503">Facebook
(author)</a> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/EpsilonAR">Facebook
(novel)</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/Zhumphreys">Twitter</a></b></span></span></span></div>
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<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.08in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Book
Description:</b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Hundreds
of years into the future, mankind has gone under ground to relocate
to the beautiful city of Epsilon. Epsilon is run by a strong,
secretive government that keeps its citizens in check by subtle
manipulation and strict schedules. No one questions its authority and
no one is unhappy. ALN-896, an average man who is just trying to
live a normal life, begins to have dreams; something strange and rare
in Epsilon. In his dreams, he meets a man named Harry and everything
is fine- until Harry dies. When ALN-896 wakes up, he shrugs it off as
if nothing has happened. It was only a dream. But then the next day,
he is suddenly arrested and sent to prison for killing Harry, whom
ALN-896 assumed was just a figment of his imagination. Now
inside prison, ALN-896 begins to learn about everything the
government of Epsilon has been doing and he plans on escaping. Not
only from prison, but from Epsilon. This one decision turns him
against everything he has ever known and forces him to face against
centuries of lies. To escape means to live. But what will it cost?</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #222222;"><b>Excerpts:</b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #222222;"><b>A
black-and-white tie... </b></span></i></span></span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>---- </b></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Thoughts froze within
his mind. Spit bubbled through his pursed lips. </span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">ALN-896 finally
managed to pull away from the exposed wire. He fell to the ground and
wiped away the spit dribbling down his cheek. His heart raced, and
sweat poured down his body. </span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">That was the most
painful sensation he had ever experienced. </span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I never should have
grabbed that wire... </i></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">ALN-896 stood up
slowly and looked around. No one saw what had just happened. He was
alone on the desolate stretch of Simov Street. </span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Fortunately, I did
not get hurt. </i></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Instead of continuing,
he decided to get back into his car and let a nice cup of tea calm
him. </span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">From the center
console of the car, green tea was automatically dispensed into a cup.
He let the liquid slide down his throat, easing every muscle that had
tensed. He melted into his plush seat as he let his mind come to a
halt. Then the silence was interrupted by a robotic voice. “ALN-
896, your vitals are irregular. Is everything all right?” </span>
<br />
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Everything is fine.
I went to inspect one of the house's trashcans as I was instructed
to, but I noticed an exposed wire on the ground. I went to cover it
back up when it...” </span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">ALN-896 wasn't quite
sure </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>what </i></span><span style="font-size: small;">had actually
happened when he touched the wire. He hadn’t been electrocuted, but
something strange had occurred. The only thing he could get out of
the experience was that he had seen a black-and-white tie floating in
the darkness behind his closed eyelids. Nothing surrounded it, but he
knew it had been attached to a body. One he hadn’t been able see,
but one he knew existed somewhere within the black. </span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Irrelevant. </i></span></span>
<br />
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">When it...,”
ALN-896 stumbled. “When it shocked me,” he lied. </span>
<br />
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Your job still
needs to be completed. You still need to inspect the trashcans for
Monday's workday. After your tea, you need to continue.” </span>
<br />
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Yes, I understand.”
</span>
<br />
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-91948346366020650862013-05-27T00:00:00.000-04:002013-05-27T00:00:05.417-04:00Demon Inhibitions by Gary Starta Promotional Tour & Giveaway<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Demon Inhibitions</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>by Gary Starta</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #403b34;">About
The Author:</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #403b34;">Gary Starta is a
former journalist who began writing multi-genre fiction in 2004. He
likes to include science theory in his stories as well as elements of
paranormal, fantasy, mystery and
romance. </span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.garystarta.net/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #bf6619;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Website</span></span></a><span style="color: #403b34;"> | </span><a href="http://www.networkedblogs.com/blog/gary_startas_writers_blog_a_forum_for_novelists/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #bf6619;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Blog</span></span></a><span style="color: #403b34;"> | </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/GaryStartaSciFiFanPage" target="_blank"><span style="color: #bf6619;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Facebook</span></span></a><span style="color: #403b34;"> | </span><a href="https://twitter.com/scifiauthorGary" target="_blank"><span style="color: #bf6619;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Twitter</span></span></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #403b34;">Genre:
Paranormal Romance/Science-Fiction</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #403b34;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge6f_uASC5sogfcKR_nvrkQd-r3qcDkn-CutPctOCsJ3S-Xpmv9DJOAUrjQYzdydenynidhY8ZDDoKGcCMOj2_sOCffZWIB_8h-WYaDeZnRb8LNVZRCJJgrebjrOJVEz2soDLnbN-MF40/s1600/New+Cover+for+Demon+Inhibitions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge6f_uASC5sogfcKR_nvrkQd-r3qcDkn-CutPctOCsJ3S-Xpmv9DJOAUrjQYzdydenynidhY8ZDDoKGcCMOj2_sOCffZWIB_8h-WYaDeZnRb8LNVZRCJJgrebjrOJVEz2soDLnbN-MF40/s320/New+Cover+for+Demon+Inhibitions.jpg" width="214" /></a></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #403b34;">Publisher:
Self-Published at Amazon Kindle</span><br /><span style="color: #403b34;">Release
Date: March 15, 2013</span><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Demon-Inhibitions-Caitlin-Diggs-ebook/dp/B00BVAYAVI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1364612323&sr=1-1&keywords=demon+inhibitions" target="_blank"><span style="color: #bf6619;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Amazon</span></span></a><br /><br /><span style="color: #403b34;"><b>Book
Description:</b></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #403b34;">Most
people don't travel to another universe to get a new job, house and
boyfriend but psychic investigator Caitlin Diggs did. Now she's
living the life of her alternate self, working for the FBI's
Preternatural Division where her first case just happens to include
chasing a genetically engineered man hell bent on stealing souls.
Well, there had to be consequences. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Demon
Inhibitions Excerpt</b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When she found I had
visited Manners, Briana began scurrying about her house, scooping up
a pair of scissors and a red candle. Before I could speak further,
she came at me. I backed away from her in fright. Her placid face
revealed nothing malevolent. But the shears were headed right for me.
I tried to dive away from the contradiction. Who was the real Briana?
The sweet woman who made cookies for me--or her shears wielding
maniac counterpart now standing before me? She screamed not to worry.
I heard a snip. I felt a strange sensation. Not pain. But something
was no longer attached to me. It was a piece of my hair. She caught
the floating lock in her hands as if it were a runaway feather.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is very important
we get to work, Caitlin.” Too stunned to process the weird moment,
I could barely utter a groan.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then she explained how
she must protect me. “He’ll surely make a visitation now that he
has met you.”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I tried to explain it was
a good thing. I would probably get a vision of him and then I could
determine his part in the slayings.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She interrupted. “A
visitation is what he’ll do to you. I don’t know how to break
this to you but the cat judge is an incubus. He’ll surely come to
you in your dreams. And in case he is our murderer, you’ll need a
protection spell, pronto.”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I reminded her I carried
a firearm. I had worked in the FBI.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">No earthbound weapons
can harm the judge once he joins with you. An incubus enters your
dream world.”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">'How do you know this?”
My tone grew edgy. She had obviously withheld knowledge of Manners.
Maybe the two were friends or even lovers. And she just admitted an
incubus could have committed these crimes without fear of being
harmed or caught.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I know things because
I’m a witch, Caitlin. That explanation will have to suffice for
now.”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you’re truly a
witch, Briana, you must know he’s our best suspect.”<br<</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I do not wish to make
sentence of him, yet. He could very well be innocent, even though he
is not human. You must not be quick to judge. Don’t forget you now
have paranormal abilities. You wouldn’t want to be labeled guilty
just because of who you are.”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She had me there.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I settled in for the
spell.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I will create a mind
shield for you, Caitlin Diggs.”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She began to chant,
inviting me to join her.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I call upon the
helpful powers of my ancestors. Please protect and shield me from
harm. By the ancient ancestral power, blessed be!”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Briana played soft Celtic
music for me as we waited for the spell to take effect. I tried to
distract myself with the lovely dulcet tones of harps and violins. It
almost worked until my stomach rumbled--again. We never had supper.
Briana was too intent on saving my ass. For what seemed hours we held
hands waiting for the candle to burn down. I had plenty of time to
drink in the ambience of the McFadden household. Floral print
furniture and lacy doilies surrounded me. But most disturbing, a
poster of Cher is depicting the actress as a witch in the film
<i>Witches of Eastwick</i>, hung right before my eyes. When the
candle finally expired I yawned and thanked Briana.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Don’t
thank me yet. The night is now upon us. We must return to your house
if we hope to engage the judge.”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Won’t your presence
discourage Manners from coming?”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">No.” She paused to
smile. “You could have twenty police armed to the hilt and he’d
still come. Nothing from the waking world can harm him.”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">muttered something
unintelligible even to me.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I’ll be in the next
room to supervise so to speak. When he comes I’ll sense it. I will
then cast a binding spell so he can’t attack you – or worse,
drain you. Now the spell won’t last indefinitely so you won’t
want to waste time with small talk. Hopefully you’ll be able to
determine his innocence or guilt in your dream.”</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">had once interrogated an
evil man named Crowley in a dream state. It didn’t go so well. But
at least he didn’t threaten to harm me. Maybe he couldn’t. I
still don’t know; but I was sure of one thing if the judge
threatened me in anyway I would defend myself. I didn’t care what
Briana said about the dream and waking worlds. I went to bed packing
a handgun.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-27638789171243015922013-05-09T00:00:00.000-04:002013-05-09T00:00:33.108-04:00Promotional Tour & #Giveaway: I Don't Sing Anymore by April Williams<br />
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<span style="font-family: Freebooter Italic, cursive;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b>I
Don't Sing Anymore</b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Freebooter Italic, cursive;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b>by
April Williams</b></i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaQfToXbrcX1Kpa6NHAKE_VK3uLOw4FGTl1h2LaDt7fs_J6FwSQdXpin2yBqhzxzWYO8dVuDP9Hv8xxT-h5bTGpQup__m65DJfe09Wl1GA2PzzB1W1bUZOgMp2b0VTWq3iZ2mILUfqGs/s1600/Aprils+new+picture+(337x380)+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaQfToXbrcX1Kpa6NHAKE_VK3uLOw4FGTl1h2LaDt7fs_J6FwSQdXpin2yBqhzxzWYO8dVuDP9Hv8xxT-h5bTGpQup__m65DJfe09Wl1GA2PzzB1W1bUZOgMp2b0VTWq3iZ2mILUfqGs/s320/Aprils+new+picture+(337x380)+(2).jpg" width="283" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">About The Author:</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">April
Williams was born in Bainbridge, Georgia in August of 1974. The
fourth child born to her mother, a fieldworker and a father, a brick
mason. When she was just a toddler, her mother relocated the family
to Florida and settled in the All-American city of South Miami. April
attended all the local schools including Miami-Dade Community
College.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.19in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">April
was an active volunteer in her community. For years working on
programs including the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Annual
Celebrations, and many South Miami Community Outreach Gospel
Programs. Along with her writing, singing she has always been a
passion. She was one of the founding members for the Miracle Voice
Ensemble.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.19in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.19in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Many
years ago, her pen was her way of escaping some of the hard times she
has faced. She discovered that she could live victoriously and help
others by writing about her experiences, triumphs and pains. April’s
writing brings concrete reality to the issues within the 21st Century
world. She exhorts and motivates her readers to remain constant and
dedicated to their passions.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.19in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.19in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://www.idontsinganymore.com/">Website
</a>| <a href="http://www.facebook.com/april.williams.94801116-I">Facebook</a>
| <a href="http://www.twitter.com/AprilDanyla101">Twitter</a></b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.19in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.19in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.19in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVvhWvy6Nhdzitxesy2khUHniVmVipcxA3ND2LrvKojb59hdoKxyVuKZQ0nsVxpGhH1DiYWgjZJ_cobjp4smxwGTF94WV2VbaBqEW08Pdlc4T6kwPzQDSp7PovJLjVl4XS7uAeWJFaOY/s1600/BookCoverImage+I+dont+sing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVvhWvy6Nhdzitxesy2khUHniVmVipcxA3ND2LrvKojb59hdoKxyVuKZQ0nsVxpGhH1DiYWgjZJ_cobjp4smxwGTF94WV2VbaBqEW08Pdlc4T6kwPzQDSp7PovJLjVl4XS7uAeWJFaOY/s320/BookCoverImage+I+dont+sing.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Publsiher:
Self-Published at CreateSpace</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Release
Date: July 29, 2012</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dont-Sing-Anymore-April-Williams/dp/1475093039/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1362430094&sr=8-1&keywords=I+don't+sing+anymore">Amazon</a></b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Book
Description:</b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 100%;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Josie
Gibbs is a young woman who works in the cotton fields of Fowlstown,
Georgia. She has had three failed relationships all producing
offspring. She only now wants to concentrate on finding a
better life for her young family. But her circumstances quickly
change when Keith Anderson, May’s father, result to terrifying acts
of violence. She is now forced to leave and find a new life in the
big city of Miami, Florida.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Keith
Anderson is a war veteran who vows to be with Josie at all cost. But
the demons of war he has in his mind continue to haunt him. He hasn’t
had a peaceful night of sleep in spite of his addiction. His life
spirals out of control when his dreams manifest to reality and will
cost him everything.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">May
Gibbs is their daughter who will struggle with the effects of
physical and sexual abuse. The path she walks is full of pain and
leads her to live a joyless life. What can be done to save this
creature that seemed to be doomed from the day she was born?</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I
Don’t Sing Anymore is a story of a family who battle through all of
life’s circumstances. We don’t always know our path in life but
we do have a say in how we get to live it. A heartbreaking tale
drenched with every kind of emotion you can imagine.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Excerpt:
Chapter Eleven</b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> Josie
was so excited that John was going to be stopping by before he headed
back up to the base. She chose to put on a white sundress that draped
so beautifully below her shoulders. She had her hair up in a ponytail
that made her look younger. The children were outback playing with
Peeps. Josie was excited when she heard the knock on the door. She
opened the door to find John standing there in his uniform. The first
thing John did was to pick her up in a strong bear hug and plant a
nice big kiss on her lips. John was excited just to hold her
again. Josie moved away from John as Mrs. Freda appeared in the
living room. “Mom, this is Mr. John Flenn. Mrs. Freda did not
hesitate to shake his hand. She walked over to her rocking chair and
picked up the snuff can. She used to spit out her tobacco. Mrs. Freda
sat quiet for a moment before she decided to ask John some questions.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> “So,
Mr. Flenn where are your people from?” she asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> Well,
we are originally from Attapulgus, but my father lived in Tennessee
for a while.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What
does he do now?” she asked</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
is a retired Lieutenant from the Air Force.” He said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Are
most of the men in your family military?” she asked</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes,
we can trace our history back to the Civil War” he said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well,
I think that is just fine.” Mrs. Freda said,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thank
you, my father was part of the Tuskegee Airmen.,” he said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Is
that right?” she said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Josie
gave John a great big smile. She did not know he had a long line of
military men in his family. John picked up her hand to hold in his
hand. He wanted to hold her so much, right now.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mr.
Flenn would you like some sweet tea?” Mrs. Freda asked.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That
would be just great Mrs. Gibbs.,” he said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">As
soon as she got up out of rocking chair a loud knock on the door.
Josie got up to open the door. She was shocked to see the man
standing there in a Sunday morning suit.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hello,
Josie.” Keith said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Josie
just did not know what to do. She did not know whether to slam the
door or just say come in. Mrs. Freda recognized the voice right away.
Keith stepped inside the door without an invite. Josie nervously
closed the door behind him. John stood up to shake Keith’s hand.
The smirk Keith had on his face faded quickly as he shook John’s
hand. Josie made the introductions.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Keith,
this is my friend Private John Flenn.,” she said as her voice
cracked.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Afternoon”
Keith said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Mrs.
Freda returned from the kitchen with the glass of ice tea. She could
feel the mood of the room shift, quickly.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">John
this is Keith, he is May’s father,” she said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Josie
rushed from the room to wake May so that Keith would be able to hold
her. Mrs. Freda’s eyes became fixated on him. She could see the
vein popping out of his neck. It was obvious to her that he was
furious to see Josie there with another man.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Keith
would you like some sweet tea?” she asked him.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No,
thank you.” he said with a great deal of restraint.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Josie
appeared from the back and placed May in Keith’s arm. He had not
seen her since the night she was born. She was big baby now. May
started crying soon as Josie put her in his arms. This only
infuriated Keith even more. Keith could not take it anymore. And
before anyone knew it, he jumped with the baby in his arms and headed
for the door.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Where
are you going with my baby?” Josie asked</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Move
out of my way you whore!” he screamed.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">John
jumped to his feet to protect Josie and the baby.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> “You
are not leaving with the child.” He said.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> John
was careful as he grabbed Keith’s free arm.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
better get your damn hands off me.” Keith said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Mrs.
Freda moved towards Keith and said give me the baby. You don’t want
that kind of trouble.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Keith
stared at the baby for a second and handed her to Mrs. Freda. John
followed him out of the door.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
ain’t nobody.” Keith shouted at John.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> Josie
stood at the side of her man. She was wishing that he just get in his
truck and drive away. Keith did not intend to leave quietly.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
ain’t nothing but a punk!” he continued to shout.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">John
did not utter a word because he did not want another confrontation.
But that quickly changed when he began to curse Josie.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Witch”
he said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> John
had left Josie’s side before she could call his name. Even if she
had it was too late. The two men were now in a fistfight. Both men
matched blow_ for_ blow. Keith being a marine had more skill. Josie
could see the fight turning in favor of Keith. She was almost frozen
and not knowing what to do. Mrs. Freda appeared with her shotgun and
fired off one around. The two men stopped in their tracks. The
children came screaming and hollering from the back. Now Mrs. Freda
had her sight on Keith.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
had better get off my property,” she said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> Keith
straightened himself up and walked over to his truck. He spit on the
ground just before leaving. Josie rushed to John’s side. She could
see how upset he was.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">John
are you O.K.?” she asked.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> I’m
fine!” he snapped.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Mrs.
Freda did not like the way he said this.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Young
man, I think you better be leaving now, because Keith is crazy enough
to comeback,” she said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> ohn
walked over to his car and Josie followed with her head down. She was
so embarrassed by the entire incident. John turned around to look at
her in the eyes. He lifted her chin. “Haven’t I told you not to
hide your beautiful eyes from me.” he said. Josie managed to give
his a slight smile.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"> “<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Don’t
worry it is not your fault.” he said.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">He
leaned forward and kissed her good-bye. Josie stood on the porch
alone, retreating inside.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> John
was listening to music as he drove down highway 309. He was trying to
calm down while listening to music. Then he noticed a truck driving
up fast and close to his bumper. John began to speed up to try to get
away from the truck. He kept checking his rearview mirror and finally
realized that it was Keith. John felt it as Keith rammed the back of
his car with the truck. John slid off the road into a ditch. He was a
little bit dazed but he soon saw Keith running towards his car. Keith
had lit a bottle of vodka that he had in his truck. John saw the
flames gushing from the white rag. He knew he had to move quickly.
John managed to get out the passenger seat window. Just as he did, he
heard the bottle crash against the car. Keith realized that John had
escaped the car. He ran back towards his truck to get his rifle. By
the time he returned he could no longer see John in the rows of
cotton that never seemed to end.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> Keith
spit on the ground as John’s car went up in flames. He was so proud
of the fact that he had taken something from him. John stopped
running somewhere in the middle of the field. He had a watchful eye
as he headed back towards the road. He took off his military jacket
and started walking back towards Josie’s house. He was only about
six miles away and it would not take him that long. John walked at a
rapid pace as he continued to look over his shoulder.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Giveaway:</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">3 Signed Paperbacks</span></span></div>
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-85569826739500199992013-04-29T05:00:00.000-04:002013-04-29T05:00:12.822-04:00The Equation by James Tarrantin<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<i>The Equation</i></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>by James Tarrantin</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ_406XIiwrtMIWtGr1rOqcuxqxGNiMsuACUgOQWGZkqw3Vg-FQZ3yBWZ8SEyaz7ZW5cw5buu_l0jredZJfMWYvrl-rE93YcqQ4eU3CxojA3GM8dl5QAst2K1b4MM9NmzMofWzBM0JBpY/s1600/Equation-Cover-Finalforweb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ_406XIiwrtMIWtGr1rOqcuxqxGNiMsuACUgOQWGZkqw3Vg-FQZ3yBWZ8SEyaz7ZW5cw5buu_l0jredZJfMWYvrl-rE93YcqQ4eU3CxojA3GM8dl5QAst2K1b4MM9NmzMofWzBM0JBpY/s320/Equation-Cover-Finalforweb.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Genre:
</b><span style="color: #222222;">Action/Adventure, Spirituality, Personal
Growth & Inspiration</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Publisher: </b><span style="color: #222222;">Tarantin
Ent.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Release Date: </b>November
22, 2012</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0615753965">Amazon</a>
| <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-equation-james-tarantin/1113841657?ean=2940015774757">Barnes
and Noble</a> | <a href="http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Equation/book-XjR7aFCWEE-dF-9fDxW4fQ/page1.html?s=-_BGyHI8z0yzuFKxfVdbQw&r=1">Kobo</a>
| <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-equation/id582438270?mt=11">iBookStore</a></b></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Book Description:</b></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-left: 0.06in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
Legendary Larry King writes “The Equation is a Cross-Cultural
Odyssey, an asset that will inspire in people the science of
accomplishment.”<br /><br />The Equation Book tells a true,
cross-cultural saga that spans over 58 Years and explores exciting
adventures on 4 continents.<br /><br />The Story of a young lad named
Omer, born to a wealthy family and shackled on an island of battling
hierarchies.<br /><br />The youth leaves his home, and meets great
dangers and tragedies as he seeks to discover Time’s Silent
Secret.<br /><br />At the turn of the Millennium, the mission was to
track historic clues and discover an Equation that was lost through
the times … hidden in the margins. An Equation that whoever finds
it will be Transformed. And with its 4 Rings of Power … design
destiny.<br /><br />A Revolution is inspired! Time Stops!<br /><br />Will the
lad transform or bite from the forbidden power and be carried to the
brink of Death?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Excerpt
One</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">:</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Over
13 billion years ago ...when the universe sparked to <i>life
... </i>the spiritual Big Bang accelerated fluctuations of light
that swept the void of space with galaxies and <i>dark </i>energy.</span></span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Within
this creation, a promise was made. In its heart lies the greatest
light. The watchmaker watched the creation, as the universe was
endowed with <i>the freedom </i>to move on its own.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One
infinite garden, yet many trees of life. One humanity, yet many
stories. This book is a small story from the inner light: a story
that shall explore the Physical World and the Spiritual World. The
body of the story shall embark upon exotic adventures across the
lands of Planet Earth: from the continent of Asia to the continent of
Europe, and from the ancient civilizations of the Middle East to the
continent of America.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
mind of the story will travel from a little roof to the vastness of
the stars, from the fires of the valleys to spiritual summits, from
War to Peace, and from the sorrows of a heart to the pursuit of a
dream.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>There
is a treasure</i>. Yes! There is a treasure. A treasure that had been
lost for millennia, hidden in the margins of History. A force beyond
Time and Space – the source of all innovations. The myth tells that
whoever discovers this treasure shall be bestowed <i>4 Rings of
Power</i>: <i>The Fountain of Youth </i>–
Water, <i>Designing Destinies </i>– Wind, <i>The
Moment </i>– Earth, and <i>Cosmic Energy </i>–
Fire. So let us light the torch of the future and sail towards
the <i>unseen</i>!</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">An
exchange of energy always occurs among all living things. Within this
circle, within this network of energy ... a small family once lived.
But in order for the family to be here today, past generations
decided to design the <i>sands of time</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With
no fuel or oil, every day, 7 days a week, Planet Earth orbits the
sun. Every dawn, when the morning star shines high above, <i>a
new hope </i>is born. A long time ago, in a far away holy land,
on one of these mornings, an old man named Mati decided to <i>transform.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">About The Author</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1kGmxReDQm58HjbIwOIK8xwIa69KIcdSCbIX7fAoRo-Pi7CMcwiHOZwFbP83nwWoiM3U5eZhPHU2eLBptj1FkNDOjWPTZeYLZhe5Ef-4Onu9nF6_X83MoI5jw1fV0Uz3qkggsW2HrE4/s1600/James-Tarantin-The-Author-Image-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1kGmxReDQm58HjbIwOIK8xwIa69KIcdSCbIX7fAoRo-Pi7CMcwiHOZwFbP83nwWoiM3U5eZhPHU2eLBptj1FkNDOjWPTZeYLZhe5Ef-4Onu9nF6_X83MoI5jw1fV0Uz3qkggsW2HrE4/s320/James-Tarantin-The-Author-Image-2.jpg" width="212" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><b>I
believe that success is indivisible; the success of anyone anywhere
is the success of all of us everywhere.”</b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">James Tarantin
is a Philosopher, Game Architect, Author, the Executive Chairman of
Tarantin Ent LLC and the Creator of 4=T²D².</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">An American
Citizen who immigrated to the United States alone with no family,
money or any formal education … as a Philosopher, James studied 5
Chief avenues; The Mind, Pragmatism & Enterprises, Morality,
Metaphysics and Aesthetics. These avenues are explored in his
written works, such as The Equation.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After several
months of deep research and traveling to Rome, James saw the Equation
in a dream at age 16. From 9/22/10 – 12/25/10 he handwrote the
entire book.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">James believes
that each person is just around the corner at accomplishing their
mountain top. And though he was a poor young man at the time, James
was the first immigrant to America, and one of the youngest spiritual
thinkers in history, to write a memoir at the age of 25, in a
language that isn’t his mother tongue and with no training in
writing whatsoever. The first memoir to present a new philosophical
theory and explores a rich array of issues: Family Life, History,
Mystical Science, Philosophy, Human Evolution, Personal Success,
Enterprises, Spirituality, Beauty, The Universe and Cultures on 4
Continents.</span></span></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">At the age of
22, the legendary broadcaster Larry King took James under his wing,
and he founded Tarantin Ent LLC … A company to be structured after
a 50 page model that includes international business classes,
classified strategy science, culture and values, and long-term
Life-Cycle vision.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As the
company’s Executive Chairman, James has 5 responsibilities: Content
Creation, Global Strategy, Legislation, Balancing the Budget, and
Transparency.</span></span></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before the age
of 26, with fierce belief, James created, almost single-handedly:
complete screen manuscripts, a library of stories, animated
superheroes, a trading card game, the mobile game design script, a
technical design document, goods and services, distribution channels,
and the platform for a new social network.</span></span></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;">“<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>You
go anywhere in the world, from The Big Apple to Paris and from Brazil
to Berlin … the borderline between success and failure is blurred.
In this new century, people want something fundamentally different.”</b></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222;">“<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The
Equation is the answer spoken by the hearts of young and old, rich
and poor.”</b></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="http://www.jamestarantin.com/">Website</a>
| <a href="http://www.the-equation.com/">Book Site</a> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/OfficialEquation">Facebook</a>
| <a href="http://www.twitter.com/YesEquation">Twitter</a></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/3/post/2013/04/the-equation-by-james-tarantin.html" target="_blank">Follow The Tour Here</a></span></span><br />
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-35813295343763959572013-04-29T00:00:00.000-04:002013-04-29T00:00:01.487-04:00Cover Reveal Book Blast - Chrysalis by Michelle Cornwell-Jordan<br />
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=529263567293593701" style="background-color: white; color: #bf6619;"><img alt="Picture" src="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/uploads/4/2/0/1/4201931/8644121.gif?353" style="border: 1px solid rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.129412); margin-left: -2px !important; margin-right: -2px !important; max-width: 100%; padding: 1px !important; width: auto;" /></a></div>
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<strong style="line-height: 1.5;">CHRYSALIS </strong></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #403b34; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 9.5px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #403b34; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">YA Paranormal Novel</span></div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
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<strong style="color: #403b34; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<strong style="line-height: 1.5;">Set to release </strong><strong style="line-height: 1.5;">Summer 2013</strong></div>
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<span style="color: #403b34; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.5;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Add to Goodreads</span></div>
</span><div style="color: #bf6619; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.5; text-align: center; text-decoration: none;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15705478-chrysalis" style="color: #bf6619; line-height: 1.5; text-decoration: none;">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15705478-chrysalis</a></div>
<br /><br /><strong style="color: #403b34; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.5;">About The Book:</strong><br /><br /><span style="color: #403b34; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.5;">After the war between Man and the Supernatural. The world settled back into a harmonious rhythm. Man and Preternatural existing side by side, building a society that was technologically advanced and beneficial to both kinds. Ruled by ThunderKins(Children of the Sun). But there was dissatisfaction in several of the Divisions one of Fire and the other Rain. (Fire) Division did not accept the rule of ThunderKin. The Thunderkin heir was targeted for destruction, believing this would cause the Thunderkin rule to be overthrown. So Chaos was birth and Chaos had a name….Ayda</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #403b34; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.5;">Ayda Blackhawk was the beautiful, mysterious new girl at Eagle Ridge High School, in the Mountain Division of the New World, She was not there to make friends but to bring destruction. Her assignment? To kill the Thunderkin heir. But Ayda meets Adrian the ThunderKin leader, and through a twist of fate, the rules change which places Ayda, Adrian and their world at the cross roads to either destruction or redemption</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #403b34; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 1.5;"><strong>The cover was created by the amazing (Amy Rooney-CVWriterDesigns) </strong><br />Website: <a href="http://www.courtneyvail.com/" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;">http://www.courtneyvail.com/</a><br /><br /><strong>Photography by the fantabulous (Tiffany McDonald- Anecdote Photography)</strong><br />Website: <a href="http://www.anecdotephotography.com/home.html" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;">http://www.anecdotephotography.com/home.html</a><br /><br /><strong>Big Hug and Much Gratitude to the very awesome duo</strong> <strong>Models</strong><br /><strong>Jessica Becerra - </strong>FaceBook: <a href="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/scheduling-now.html#!/jessica.becerra12?fref=ts" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;">https://www.facebook.com/#!/jessica.becerra12?fref=ts</a><br /><strong>And Javier Gonzales - </strong><a href="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/scheduling-now.html#!/javier.gonzalez.1804?fref=ts" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;">https://www.facebook.com/#!/javier.gonzalez.1804?fref=ts</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><strong>Michelle Cornwell-Jordan is a Young Adult/ New Adult author.</strong><br /><br />Her titles include a co-written work with Danny Jones called<em style="position: relative;"><strong>Reahket</strong></em>, her solo young adult novella series <em style="position: relative;"><strong>Night School Vampire Hunter Trilogy</strong></em> and a contribution to the <em style="position: relative;"><strong>HerStory Anthology</strong></em> released March 08th2013(Pagans Writers Press)<br /><br />She is also the producer/host of the online radio segment, IndieReview Behind the Scenes, where she and her co-host Jamie B Musings interview Indie authors and musicians.<br /><br />Michelle has been married for seventeen years and has a fourteen-year-old daughter. A book lover, her favorite genre has always been paranormal adventures.<br /><br />Find out more about her on her website <a href="http://michellecjordan.wix.com/author" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;">http://michellecjordan.wix.com/author#</a>!<br /><br />Follow her on twitter at <a a="" class="_hootified" href="http://twitter.com/#!/@mcjordan37" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;">@mcjordan37</a><br /><br />Fan her on FaceBook at IndieWritersreview YA blog <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Indiewritersreview-YA-blog/243295842393117" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;">http://www.facebook.com/pages/Indiewritersreview-YA-blog/243295842393117</a><br /><br />And FaceBook at IndieReview Behind The Scenes Internet Radio<br /><br /><a href="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/scheduling-now.html#!/IndiereviewBehindTheScenes?fref=ts" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;">https://www.facebook.com/#!/IndiereviewBehindTheScenes?fref=ts</a><br /><br /><a href="http://michellecjordan.wix.com/author" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">Website</a> | <a href="http://www.twitter.com/mcjordan37" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/michelle.cornwelljordan" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">Facebook</a> | <a href="http://indiewritersreview.wordpress.com/" style="color: #bf6619; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">IndieReview Behind The Scenes</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.virtualbooktourcafe.com/3/post/2013/04/chrysallis-by-michelle-cornwell-jordan.html" target="_blank">Follow The Blast Here</a></span><br />
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BrandiKaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11126255876455702830noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-529263567293593701.post-52575237426803784982013-03-28T12:21:00.000-04:002013-03-28T12:21:10.780-04:00The Wonderful Times of Godfrey and Chucky: Hot Spring by Daitoku Daiichi with Giveaway<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<i>The Wonderful Times of Godfrey and Chucky: Hot Spring</i></h4>
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<i>by Daitoku Daiichi</i></h4>
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Genre: Drama/Teens/Young Adult Fiction<br />
Publisher: Daitoku Daiichi<br />
Release Date: January 2013<br />
<a href="http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Wonderful-Adventures-Godfrey-Chucky/book-NQYQUKGIbUGq0zRHM-Jvag/page1.html?s=n_JIczztjUa11PicEuJHAw&r=1" style="color: #ea8400; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title=""><strong>Kobo</strong></a><br />
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The Wonderful Adventures of Godfrey and Chucky<br />
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Godfrey is young, wealthy and able-bodied. He has all the women you can imagine, and unbelievably deep pockets. But Godfrey wants more. His Great Greatness wants to rid the world of a menacing scourge, and restore what is truly superior to an elevated position. Why would anyone stop him? Who could possibly stop him?<br />
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Chucky arrives as the new assistant, and tries to perform every duty that is handed to him. What challenges for a dull servant! Look at him muddling through! With passports of exclusive privilege, the two adventurers make a splash in tropical Langkawi, where the water is blue and the girls are brown. Then they rendezvous with the locals in Singapore, where pleasures are plentiful and multicolored. Food and money are found in piles. Life in a global city should be, possibly, one of <em style="position: relative;">uninterrupted</em> <em style="position: relative;">leisure</em>…shouldn’t it?<br />
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Desire is a seductively red piece of jade, which resides even in our dreams.<br />
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"I am a healthy, strong and sexy male with a life, most of it sex life." - Godfrey Mann<br />
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"I did not know how to reply, since the words were difficult to speak." - Chucky</div>
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<b>About The Author:</b><br />
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Inspired by English and Japanese gardens, Daitoku Daiichi is committed to sharing scenes of beauty with his readers. He hopes that through the mansion-like device of the novel, he can host a tea party to serve his readers exotic delights. In the day, he is a tutor, essayist, gourmet and world traveler. People somehow love to share their secrets with him, and he wants use his gifts of perception to tell innovative stories.<br />
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Readers are always welcome to chat with him at ddaiichi@gmail.com<br />
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<strong><a href="http://www.godfreychucky.com/" style="color: #ea8400; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">Website</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Godfrey-and-Chucky-Hot-Spring/511833322171615" style="color: #ea8400; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="">Facebook</a></strong></div>
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