Tag: romantic suspense

Callie Carmen’s Michael: Cover Reveal!

Michael is the sixth and last novel in the Risking Love series. The stories chart a group of friends through life and love. These steamy stories will have you laughing, crying, and your heart racing.
(Cover by Jessica Greeley https://www.facebook.com/JessicaGreeleyGD)

Blurb:
Olivia had spent enough time on memories of her ex-boyfriend’s abuse. She was going to put all of her efforts into her new business career. And try to convince her boss, Vice President Michael Evans, that the woman he’d been dating was nothing more than an opportunist and that she’d climb into bed with anyone that could get her to the top.

Michael, who lost his younger sister to an abusive relationship, was falling in love with Olivia. He kept his distance from her and waited patiently for a sign that she was ready for his love.

Buy link:
Ebook DEAL #99cents until publication 8/19.

 

JL Peridot: The perilous matter of reviewing books

It’s hard reviewing books. Even when all I did was read, and the only opinion I had to worry about was my own, it still took work. Sometimes you just want to enjoy the emotional experience of a book without having to put it into words. Publishing a review thrusts you into the public eye, turning your raw feeling into something that can influence another person—that’s one heck of a responsibility!

As an author, things get complicated. It’s often hard to share a raw opinion, especially if it’s not overwhelmingly positive, knowing there’s another writer out there just like you, who may be hurt or confused by what you have to say. “Suck it up, buttercup” is unhelpful on both sides, even though we authors are generally advised to grow a thicker skin and accept we can’t please everyone. The thing is, we’re all human—fallible, vulnerable, sensitive—it’s what makes us able to relate to each other and create good stories for our readers.

There’s also the matter of reconciling the technical self with the emotional self. What happens if you can’t stand the way an author writes, but the story’s so good you end up enjoying the book? Or what if the story is dreck, but perfectly written? What’s your criteria for adding up those stars then?

Then there are the times when things get uncomfortable. Early in my career, I agreed to participate in a review swap. In case you’ve not heard of these, it’s when the two (or more) authors agree to read each other’s books and leave a review, usually on Amazon and Goodreads.

I got right to reading, but found I couldn’t connect with the characters or the story. And when I wrote to the author privately to let them know, they responded asking me not to post a review because they only wanted 5-star reviews associated with their book.

Now, I understand the desire to write a 5-star book. I can appreciate that publishing is a business no matter how romantic the story, and that practices like this are common and accepted in some circles. But something about this exchange didn’t sit well with me.

As a writer, it made me feel like I chose a dishonest line of work. As a reader, it made me lose trust in the indie publishing sector, where we may lack the readership numbers needed to outshine these minor manipulations. I used to wonder why many reviewers state explicitly that they were giving “an honest review”. After this incident, I stopped wondering.

These days, I avoid review swaps, review requests, and any kind of review-related transaction. I’ve learned that I’m a “mood reader” and, as such, it would be unfair of me to promise a fair review if I’m emotionally incapable of delivering one.

Likewise, I don’t expect any of my writer friends—even close ones—to read or review my books. Reading fiction is a privilege and a pleasure, and I think sometimes we authors lose that in the deluge of our work.

If, like me, you’ve grown weary and wary of book review culture, here are a few alternative ways to support an indie author whose stories you admire:

  1. Recommend instead of review. A book may not be for you, but you might know someone who’s looking for that exact read.
  2. Include the book in literary discussions. Need an example in a blog post or forum discussion? Consider citing a lesser-known book alongside the customary bestsellers.
  3. Give that author a boost on social media. Even if you’re not sharing your in-depth opinion of their work, this helps them reach a wider audience and achieve stickier brand recognition.
  4. Engage with their online content. Social feed algorithms are diabolically good at helping bigger names overshadow smaller players. Every like, reply, save, repost and follow can help your favourite newcomer gain visibility and connect with more readers.

About JL Peridot
JL PeridotJL Peridot writes love stories and more from her home beneath the southern skies. When not chipping away at her current WIP, she’s chomping down on a new favourite book, watching Netflix, and chilling real good. Subscribe to JL’s mailing list for banter, updates, teasers and the occasional microfiction.

Website: http://jlperidot.com
Blog: http://jayelle.pink

Chasing Sisyphus by JL PeridotChasing Sisyphus

Bounty hunter Adria Yuan is hot on the trail of her final hit: a notorious hacker wanted by the city’s elite. With the reward, she can pay for her brother’s surgery and finally get out of Basilica City. Trouble is, her line of work’s not exactly legal, and she’s barely staying ahead of the cops who want her target, too.

Detective Rhys Carver may be a little unorthodox, but he’s a good cop. Born and bred in Basilica, he does his part to keep his city clean. As clean as it gets, at least. And with Adria suddenly in his sights, it’s going to take more than falling in love for him to let her go.

As the pair close in on their mark, they are unwittingly drawn into a high profile conspiracy that could thrust the whole of Basilica into chaos. Can Adria and Rhys set aside their differences, and their desires, to save the only home they know?

Excerpt

Adria hadn’t counted on the tripwire. This kid knew someone would follow him home one day. He’d strung a line of empty soup cans across the apartment hallway. When she kicked that out, a hefty serving of iced water came down squarely on her head. Gooseflesh prickled her neck and shoulders. The muscles in her jaw seized in the cold. Against the shock, she scrambled to her feet, fired up to catch the stomping and crashing in the other room before it got away.

A figure ran past the doorway.

“Stop!” she yelled.

It rounded the corner. Adria gave chase.

She scanned the room. It was dim at best, thanks to the streetlights from outside, but she saw enough. Computer equipment and various peripherals lay strewn across the floor, some still plugged into a transportable battery in the corner, emitting tiny lights and numbers.

A window slammed shut. The glass shattered. Shards crunched and ground beneath Adria’s boots as she hurried in pursuit of her fleeing target.

When she stepped out onto the fire escape, two hands rammed her into the ladder. The whole balcony shuddered from the collision. Pain flared down her shoulder, but she kept her grip on the gun. She held it up with her good arm and fired.

Two shots.

Missed.

She stumbled backward, clutching her burning shoulder, but the railing crumbled under her weight. Adria grabbed what was left of it with both hands as her footing slipped away.

It looked like a four-story drop. Maybe five if she’d miscounted. Her legs dangled over thin air while from below came the clatter of broken pieces of railing, along with her gun, as they hit the concrete.

Overhead, her target stomped away on the rungs and disappeared onto the roof.

Adria’s shoulder raged. She tried to pull herself up, but couldn’t take the weight with just one good arm. Her feet kicked out, searching for a foothold, but the grill beneath had long withered away to slivers of rust and sharp edges.

Water and sweat dripped into her eyes. She swiped them helplessly on her sleeves and winced as rough seams grazed the skin. The railing creaked in her clammy grip. She could always let go. If she timed her landing right, maybe she’d get away with a broken ankle and a tetanus shot. Surely it only looked like a long way down.

Then she heard a gunshot from inside the apartment.

Add Chasing Sisyphus to your Goodreads TBR.

The beginning of a war, the ending of a marriage? #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!
Perilous Love Jan SelbournePerilous Love
Blurb:
Adrian Bryce’s world of wealth and beautiful women comes to an end when he’s ordered to accompany his estranged wife to Belgium. The British government want proof Gabrielle’s uncle is supporting the German Empire. What Adrian discovers will plunge him and Gabrielle into a nightmare of betrayal, forcing them to run for their lives as the Germans cross the border. Facing danger, brutality and injury, and painful truths about themselves, they reach safety as two different people. Waiting for them are charges of treason and a woman who’ll stop at nothing to see Adrian dead.

Buy links:
Amazon.com
Barnes & Noble
Goodreads

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
  “What was she like?”

“What are you talking about?” He scowled, dreading what was coming.

“Sigrid, Maryanne, whatever her name was,” she snapped back.

“What the hell are you trying to do, Gaby?  Force an argument?”

“No, I’m not forcing an argument.  I really want to know!  You preferred that woman’s company to mine and your children’s and, because of her and my uncle and your unbelievable stupidity, two innocent people have died, and we are forced to rely on each other to stay alive.  Are you proud of yourself?  And was her beauty and obvious bedroom expertise worth all of this?”

Adrian clenched his jaw and turned his head away.

“I’m waiting,” she persisted.  “I presume you also showered her with gifts and expensive baubles while we would be lucky to see you on our birthdays.”

Something snapped inside him.  His face was tight with fury as he turned back to face her.  “If I could get up and walk away, I would.  Just what are you trying to achieve?  We’ve avoided capture by the skin of our teeth, we have no idea how to get away, the Germans are pouring into Belgium, thousands will be killed, and you want to know if I showered her with gifts.  Why don’t we concentrate on getting out of here and then you will be free of me?  Now, for Christ’s sake, leave it alone.”

“You want to get up and walk away?” her voice dripped scorn. “Did I walk away from that lonely, empty life, in that big, lonely house?  Making excuses to your children, visiting neighbours on my own.  Did I show such contempt for my marriage vows?”

“You forgot to mention entertaining Charlton in my home,” he snarled, and then flinched as Gabrielle’s hand slapped his face.

“Yes, your home.”  she yelled.  “I may have lived there and given birth to your children there, but it was always your home.  I pray to God we will return to England and you can enjoy your home with your expensive, treacherous harlots!”  Her hands clenched into fists.  “Yes! Brian did share my bed.   You were never there; you couldn’t care less about me or our children.  You were so besotted with that German harlot’s devious charms you had no idea what was going on.  She was exceptionally clever, and you were exceptionally stupid.”

Adrian rubbed his cheek and pointed his finger at her.  “If you hit me again, you will be sorry.  You want to know what she was like.  I’ll tell you… She had long wavy auburn hair, a figure that made men’s eyes water and, yes, she had expertise in the bedroom.  She could drink me under the table, and she could discuss politics like a man.  She was exceptionally clever and, yes, you are right, I was exceptionally stupid, because I hadn’t a clue she was German or she’d bedded a cabinet minister or she’d been on other assignments for your uncle. I hope I’ve answered all your questions and I don’t give a damn whether you believe me or not, but I’m bloody ashamed of myself.  And I hope to God we’ll get back to England, so you can do whatever you want, and I won’t have to listen to your harping sarcastic tongue.  Are you happy now?”

“Oh yes, very happy, thank you.  Who wouldn’t be, sitting with you on the damp ground beside a canal without food or clean clothes,” her eyes glittered with contempt. “How does it feel that you, a cabinet minister and my uncle shared her?  I wonder if she kept an inventory of her jewellery and gifts to remember who gave her what.”

He pulled his feet from the water and stood up.  “I’m not listening to your ranting anymore, nor am I waiting here for them to find me.”

“You can’t face the truth, can you?” she shouted at him.  “Well, unpleasant as it is, you need me and I need you to survive. When we reach safety, you can go back to the life you enjoyed with your sophisticated women without the inconvenience of an unwanted wife.  And if we get out of here, I don’t want anything from you.  Not even a Christmas card.”  Her lip curled.  “A gentleman never breaks a business contract, but it’s of no consequence to break your marriage vows.”

Adrian reached down and roughly pulled her up to face him, his eyes black with fury. “I can’t face the truth?  It’s a pity you didn’t meet and marry that useless fop Charlton eight years ago, because he’d have been the target for your sainted uncle’s lunacy instead of me!  Christ, you haven’t shut up about your miserable marriage, but look where it’s got me!  Stitched up like a bloody weaver’s loom, set up as a traitor, hiding like a fugitive.  And why?  Because I had the temerity to marry you!”  He turned his back and hobbled over to the grazing horse.  “I’m leaving; are you coming with me or staying here?”

Gabrielle’s face mirrored the shock she felt at Adrian’s words.  Her foot lashed out sending a small log into the water and she walked up to Adrian, her fists clenched, then without warning she burst into tears. “I have no choice.” Her voice was raw with emotion. “All I want is to get out of Belgium and go back to my children and never see you again!”

Adrian gripped her arms, his fingers digging into her flesh.  “You’ll get your bloody freedom one way or the other.  If we get out of this, I’ll gladly give it.  If I’m shot, you can play the grieving widow for a day or two.  Now shut up and help me get this horse into the shafts.”

He heaved himself into the driving seat, knowing damn well they were suffering reaction to what they’d witnessed. His insides were ripped apart enough without her rubbing his face in it. How could he have been so bloody naïve? His mistress had wheedled far too much information out of him and a senior government minister named Edmund. Good God! Sir Edmund Charters! Close to the PM and related to the Foreign Minister. The old fool must be seventy, and you Bryce, are the biggest fool of all.

About Jan:
Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

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Treachery in spades! #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

The Woman Behind the Mirror by Jan SelbourneBlurb:
Betrothed by her father to a man twice her age, Sarah Forsythe does the unthinkable—she escapes her arranged marriage and runs away with the son of a Methodist minister. Not to Gretna Green, to colonial America—the New World. For Sarah, a “new world” of broken promises, abandonment, poverty and shame. Around her, the American Revolution is quickly developing and the siege of Boston worsens by the day. As British soldiers seek out traitors and treason, a desperate Sarah breaks open a safe looking for cash. Instead, she finds a box holding Bank of England documents. Through willpower, bitter determination, and lying through her teeth, Sarah manages to make her way home to England. What she doesn’t know is that two men follow, and they will do anything to claim those documents.

Bank investigator Neil McAlister faces an almost impossible task—to determine the true owner of the documents by deciding who is lying. Most of all, as danger creeps ever closer, he needs to know who wants the secretive, beautiful Sarah dead.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
A voice from behind made her jump. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

Sarah whirled around. “Because…” She didn’t know what to say.

“No one asked? I can barely believe it.”

Feeling stupid and awkward, she remained silent.

“Don’t tell me you can’t dance,” Neil taunted.

“Take care of your bank business and I’ll take care of my shortcomings,” she bit back.

“I can’t take care of my bank business if you won’t allow me to take the documents to London.” he said sharply.

“I told you I want a written assurance of a reward. I know and you know I will never see them again.”

Neil leaned closer. “I told you we can apply to the courts for a warrant to seize them.”

“You will seize a pile of ash.”

“You could go to prison,” Neil replied coldly.

“Really? I should have burned them in Boston to keep warm.” She shrugged. “I believe they are quite genuine, otherwise you wouldn’t be in such a fuss.”

“They must be examined properly. Forgeries are the bank’s biggest headache.”

“If they are genuine, the bank can hold them for Claude Westfield and give me an appropriate reward for bringing them safely to you.”

“You are not shy in demanding money,” Neil said caustically.

“No, I’m not. I rely on my brother for a roof over my head and it—” She broke off as her cheeks flushed. “Go and enjoy yourself and leave me alone.”

As she moved away Neil put his hand on her arm. “There is no need to be unpleasant. If they are genuine, we will discuss it further.”

“Nothing more to discuss,” Sarah’s eyes never left his. “Remove your hand.”

Neil’s face hardened. “You think you hold all the cards, madam, but rest assured, until you are more amenable, you’ll get nothing.”

“Neither will you, sir. Beneath your smooth bank exterior, you are no better than your forebears who loaned their gold at outrageous interest.”

Neil’s fingers dug into her arm. “You are no better than a street hawker yourself.”

“Get your hand off me,” Sarah’s voice rose as she wrenched her arm away. “Leave me alone!”

Neil’s expression changed from irritation to disbelief to shock. “Good God,” he breathed. “It was you.”

About Jan:
Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

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Meet Shiela Stewart and her paranormal romance!

The Darkness seriesThe Darkness series

Blurb:
Seducing the Darkness

Trinity was once a fragile girl. Being taken by Basil, a powerful vampires, changed her, and discovering him in the arms of another woman, changed Trinity’s destiny. Alone, she learned fast how to be tough, how to survive, and how to protect the people in her city from the evil lurking in the dark. She was managing just fine… Until Basil walked back into her life. Desiring the DarknessWith the cloak of darkness draping Jacob’s Cove, Dante Vega must work to protect the humans from the blood-thirsty vampires trying to take over the human race. When a half-naked young woman races into his arms, begging him to save her, he is compelled to help her despite the fact she is a vampire. Embracing the Darkness.

Once, vampire Jonah Moore had it all. When his wife and unborn child were taken from him, his life became darker than the night forever covering Jacob’s Cove. Raven Mooney is used to tending to the needs of others and soon finds herself fighting for her and Jonah’s safety—and freedom. Will they open their hearts to each other and learn there is life after death?

Buy link:
Amazon

Meet Shiela:
Shiela StewartQ: Which genre or genres do you write or prefer to write? And why?
A: I’ve always had a fascination with a murder mystery, and by always, I mean as far back as I can remember. My first introduction was a movie called Straight Jacket. Don’t ask me the plot though, I only caught a few moments of it while my parents watched it after my siblings and I went to bed. What I saw was disturbing. A woman picks up an axe and chops a mans head off. It didn’t take much for my parents to figure out I was watching. I think my sharp gasp gave me away. Now for most kids, that would have been traumatic, and I do remember being scared going back to bed, but that was it. I was five. As I grew up, my older brothers thought it was funny to scare my little sister and me. They’d slide under our beds and grab our feet. They once hid a glow in the dark skeleton head in our closet. I could go on and on, including having lived in a haunted house, but I digress.

The genre’s I prefer to write are paranormal and suspense romance. I like to sprinkle some comedy in my books to keep them a little lighter.

Q: Who influenced you the most in deciding to become a writer?
A: There really wasn’t one thing that influenced me. I’ve always loved telling stories. I loved to read, but I never found a book that matched what I saw in my mind. I wanted a romance to go with the story, but I didn’t want to read one of those mushy harlequin romance. I wanted suspense with it. It wasn’t until I picked up my first Nora Roberts book that I felt at home reading. She had the mystery and the romance. Perfect. Finally, my stories matched.

Q: What gets your creative juices flowing?
A: Nightmares. I have some really scary dreams. I polish them up, put in a romance and viola! Also music. It may seem odd to some that I can concentrate on my story while a heavy dance beat fills the room, but it gives me fuel to write.

Awaken the Demon by Shiela Stewart

Q: Do you have a favorite cartoon character? Why?
A: Don’t judge. I love the Teen Titans go series. It’s a cartoon series I watch with my granddaughter. It’s about young superheroes who think they can get the bad guy but mostly fail. My favourite character on the show is Beats Boy. He’s weird and funny.

Q: Who would you love most to meet ‘in person’ and why?
A: Jared Padalecki or Jensen Ackles. They’re the main stars of a series I am obsessed with called Supernatural.  Why them? For one, they are gorgeous. But mostly, I want to know the real person behind their characters.

Q: If you had an unexpected free day what would you do with it?
A: Stretch out on the couch and watch a movie. Yes, a scary one.

Q: What are you working on now?
A: Secrets of the Dead. It’s a paranormal romance involving the hero and heroine locked in a haunted house and a ghost who won’t let them leave.

New release! Secrets of the Ravine by Brenda Whiteside

Secrets of the Ravine by Brenda Whiteside

An unsolved murder and the disappearance of her love decades ago
are back to haunt Magpie MacKenzie.

Solve the murder or become the next victim…

Have you ever walked into a room and felt you’ve been there before? Or have you met someone and instantly thought you’ve always known them? Have you made plans, but you hesitate to see them through, and you don’t know why you have such an ominous feeling?

I can say yes to all of these. Maybe because I’m a child of the sixties, a wannabe hippie, my mystical beliefs are strong. Auras, déjà vu, intuition, crystals, empathic visions, and the universe all speak to me. I’m not gifted, I believe whole heartedly.

A couple of decades ago, we were gathered in a room with other parents and a group of Austrian boys who had come to our town to play hockey. We were going to house one of the young men in our home. I glanced at the group and immediately locked gazes with the blue eyes of Harte, and I experienced a moment of feeling like I’d known him forever. When they drew names, Harte was chosen for us. Coincidence? I think not. We’ve been fast friends from afar ever since. And I’m convinced we knew each other in another time and will again.

In my latest novel (released on 9/15/2020), Secrets of The Ravine, book one of The MacKenzie Chronicles, my characters use a little bit of the mystical to solve a decades old murder and prevent their own demise. The series is set in present-day Joshua, Arizona, an 1800s mining town, turned ghost town, turned hippie haven, and now a tourist town, hanging on the side of Spirit Mountain.

The mystery and suspense unfold in present-day Joshua, using three points of view. Within this present-day story is a tale that chronicles the life of Magpie’s father, Frank. Clues to the present are found in Frank’s past from the time he settled in the hippie haven, The Ravine, on the outskirts of Joshua, to the present when he is likely to be charged with murder.

Have you ever experienced déjà vu or an empathic moment? Intuition? I’d love to hear.

Blurb:
When a ringer for her long-dead love walks into her life the same day skeletal remains are found at the edge of town, Magpie MacKenzie can’t ignore what the universe is telling her…solve the mystery, or become the next victim.

Lawyer Zack Peartree’s life is orderly and entanglement-free until he visits purportedly haunted Joshua, Arizona, and meets free-wheeling shopkeeper Magpie. Despite experiencing troubling visions and odd moments of déjà vu, Zack’s instantly drawn to Magpie and to the unsolved murder which troubles her so.

Using clues from her father’s past and Zack’s déjà vu moments, Magpie and Zack race to solve the mystery, avoid a murderous fate, and to discover their future…together.

About Brenda:
Brenda WhitesideBrenda Whiteside is the author of suspenseful, action-adventure stories with a touch of romance. Mostly. After living in six states and two countries—so far—she and her husband have decided they are gypsies at heart, splitting their time between Central Arizona and the RV life. They share their home with a rescue dog named Amigo. While FDW is fishing, Brenda writes.

Visit Brenda at https://www.brendawhiteside.com

Or on FaceBook: https://www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/brendawhitesid2

She blogs and has guests: https://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003V15WF8

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3972045.Brenda_Whiteside

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/brenda-whiteside

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brendawhitesideauthor/

Alana Lorens: Strong women and why I write them

1911

Alana Lorens
My grandmother and her kitty

As a romance (and also sci-fi/fantasy) writer, one of my goals is always to have a strong woman as a central character. Why is this? They’re more interesting. They have more resources, mentally and physically. They’re just more fun to write!

My mentor and best example of a strong woman is my grandmother, Mildred Moore Ogle. Today would be her 109th birthday. Born in 1911, when strong women were discouraged, she grew up in Indiana farmland, daughter of a well-to-do family. She was the only girl child; her two brothers were educated well, as was the custom of the day. She didn’t get to go to college.

Her brothers went on to join the military. Jim would become a decorated Navy veteran who survived Pearl Harbor. Paul was captured by the Japanese and died as a prisoner of war. That left her as the one who stayed home, doing what women did at the time, learning to care for a home and family.

She inherited the family home in Bunker Hill, Indiana, an old brick two-story that was a homestead farm established by her parents in 1883. She married a man who’d worked in a bakery, but gave up his job to come live with her and learned to run the farm. He may have worn the overalls, but for those of us who saw their relationship later, I’d definitely say she wore the pants.

They had two children, one of whom was my mother. My grandmother

My square-dancing grandparents

proved to be too strong for my mother, and she spent her life trying to avoid contact. Her son, on the other hand, did his Navy service, then returned to the area with his family. They grew up close to my grandmother and experienced her strength, as my grandfather passed, and she continued running the farm business on her own, keeping it a success even through the difficult economy years.

As for me, and my three sisters, we grew up with our fathers. This provided the opportunity to visit with my grandmother, who we called Maudie, after she came to take care of us during a mumps infection blitz. She said, “Just call me Maude the maid,” and it stuck. Over the years, she came to be the woman who filled our need for female mentorship. She really tried to make sure we had the “family” influence in our lives.

Zinnias–my grandmother’s flower

She succeeded. We wanted to be like her. To this day, we all try to cultivate zinnias, because of the gardens she grew. We admire and collect Fiestaware because that’s what she served her home cooked meals on. We eat rhubarb and rice and raisins because that made us feel loved at her table.

The woman with a spine of steel and limitless determination lived to the age of 93, and she continues to inspire us. Let’s celebrate the strong women we know and we write about! We owe them the world. Who’s your favorite strong woman, real-life or fictional?

BIO:
Alana LorensAlana Lorens has been a published writer for more than forty years. Currently a resident of Asheville, North Carolina, she loves her time in the smoky blue mountains. One of her novellas, THAT GIRL’S THE ONE I LOVE, is set in the city of Asheville during the old Bele Chere festival. She lives with her daughter, who is the youngest of her seven children, two crotchety old cats, and five kittens of various ages.

ROMANCE/suspense Alana Lorens

Website  https://wordpress.com/page/alana-lorens.com/21
Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/AlanaLorens/
Goodreads   https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4829967.Alana_Lorens

Amazon Author Page  https://www.amazon.com/Alana-Lorens/e/B005GE0WBC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

SCI-FI/ fantasy Lyndi Alexander

Website https://lyndialexander.wordpress.com/
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lyndialexander13/
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4185290.Lyndi_Alexander

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Lyndi-Alexander/e/B005GDYPU2/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Bookbub https://www.bookbub.com/profile/lyndi-alexander

Addison Brae’s newest: Dark Energy!

Dark Energy by Addison BraeHow Characters Find a Place to Call Home
Many authors invent heroines who return home to family and childhood friends. Other novels center on characters who yearn to create new homes as far away as possible from where they grew up. These characters are usually escaping bad memories.

Gillian, the heroine in Dark Energy, opted to leave her small-town childhood home of Sugar Creek, Missouri behind. She secured a scholarship to Harvard, graduated early, and headed to Dallas for warmer weather and a fresh start. As a mama’s girl, her world crashed when her mom lost her battle with breast cancer, which threw her dad into the bottle. Luckily the bar was only a block from their house, so he could stumble home safely. Gillian could mix the best martini of any 12-year-old.

While creating Gillian’s character, I researched middle-America towns near metropolitan areas that fit Gillian’s roots and found Sugar Creek. Visual mapping and websites helped me locate her schools, part-time job, the newspaper where her father was the editor, home, and the bar in the next block.

I also visited Sugar Creek to make sure this town works, and the charming town does. Sugar Creek has a Moose Lodge, town gazebo, and shady streets lined with pre-WWII homes. Best of all is the Kross Lounge & Restaurant. It’s exactly the place I picture as the local bar where Gillian’s dad was a regular. It’s a place where everyone truly knows your name, which is why I got strange looks from everyone there. I ate lunch at the bar and chatted with the bartender who had worked there for 19 years. When I told her why I was visiting, she nodded and agreed she would likely be the one who made sure Gillian’s dad made it home.

Blending fiction with real settings and situations helps create relatable characters. Most people who’ve worked hard to start over in a fresh place will understand why Gillian might call her new Dallas neighborhood home.

 Blurb:
Cybercrime doesn’t talk. It creeps in and destroys lives right under Gillian’s nose when a cryptojacking scheme lands her boss, Pinkie, in jail. Gillian had just started over with a new career, boyfriend, and confidence after escaping a vicious murder investigation that shattered her ability to trust. Then Pinkie’s arrest leaves her struggling to run his two bars while also unraveling the conspiracy.

 Gillian will not let her mentor and friend go down for something he didn’t do. Neither will Jon, the most talented musician on the bar’s stage and the perfect boyfriend…until his good fortune sends her reeling. Gillian forces herself to trust the cops, people who hurt her, and known criminals. Will it be enough to free Pinkie and save her life?

Links:
Read more about Addison Brae on her website, Tirgearr Publishing, Amazon, and BookBub.

You can find Dark Energy (Return to Becker Circle) on Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon Canada, Amazon Australia, Smashwords, Apple Books, Kobo, and B&N Nook. A portion of the author proceeds will go to Staff Meal to help provide meals and other aid to restaurant workers in need during the pandemic.

Excerpt:
I rest my forehead on the window and breathe to gather what little nerve remains. People stroll the sidewalk like tonight’s a regular Saturday night. Cars drive past like nothing has changed. The neon that traces the perimeter of the high rise across the street cycles through a rainbow of colors. Inside, the crowd hum creeps back. A shaker and clanking bottles sound from the bar.

I’m sure this is a little misunderstanding. Pinkie will be back tomorrow. Thoughts race through my head. They’re only words, not answers. Certainly, they’ve made a mistake and arrested the wrong person. What do I do right now? Face this head on?

Ignore it? Tell patrons, “thanks for being part of the Pinkie’s Too grand opening. The band starts shortly, so order another round and enjoy!”

What’s Pinkie’s Too without Pinkie? The answer is entirely up to me to figure out.

First, get through tonight. Start the band. Keep food and drinks flowing, so customers stay happy and don’t ask questions. Talk to each crewmember individually and make them feel secure. We can’t afford to lose anyone else. Then hope Pinkie is back here tomorrow, laughing about how the feds are so useless they couldn’t play dead in a cowboy movie.

Before I talk myself out of it, I turn and face the music. Teran is the first person I encounter.

“Man, what a shocker.” He shakes his head. “Not what I’d expect from Pinkie. I can open and close, you know, help you manage, handle the books, whatever you need to cover until he’s back.”

“Uhm, thanks, Teran. I’ll let you know.” I can’t even process what he’s saying, so I keep walking.

“Ma’am,” a patron says as I pass their table. “Is everything okay?”

No, everything’s not okay. The cops just yanked my friend, my mentor, my boss out of the bar on opening weekend. “I’m sure it is. Thank you for asking. How’s everything?”

“Good so far,” the customer rattles back. “Hope whatever that thing was works out.” I slip into automatic mode. Greet table after table. Tuck away the terror, mistrust, and unanswered questions in a safe place where no one knows they’re there.

This is exactly how I survived the five years at home before Harvard after Mom died, and Dad drowned deeper into the bottle. My teachers, Mom’s friends, and people around town asked the same question.

“Is everything okay?” Considering I was twelve when it started, and Dad was the only one I had to take care of me, my answer was always yes. I carefully compartmentalized my sadness and fear of the future so everyone would believe Dad and I were the perfect little family.

Bio
Addison BraeAddison Brae lives in Dallas, Texas on the edge of downtown. She has been writing since childhood and continues today with articles, video scripts and other content as an independent marketing consultant. She writes romantic suspense and contemporary young adult fiction. When she’s not writing, Addison spends her time traveling the world, collecting interesting cocktail recipes and hosting parties. She’s still addicted to reading and enjoys jogging in her neighborhood park, sipping red wine, binge-watching TV series, vintage clothing and hanging out with her artistic other half and their neurotic cat Lucy.

Connect with Addison Brae on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and YouTube.

No place does it like the South! Death Southern Style by Beverley Bateman

Death Southern Style by Beverley Bateman

Blurb for Death Southern Style:
When Perrine Dupré dies under suspicious circumstances her daughter, Julie Ann Dupré, returns to New Orleans to find the truth about her mother’s death. She uncovers a family secret, hidden for years. Now someone is trying to kill her. Will the little dog who appears after her mother’s death help her? Is the sexy detective out to help her, or is he part of police corruption?

Detective Connor O’Reilly, a native of New Orleans, comes from a family of police. He’s an honest cop but realizes there is corruption in the division. His father may have died as part of that corruption. He meets Julie Ann, checks out her mother’s death and finds it was badly handled. Julie Ann deserves the truth and he wants to find it for her.

Julie Ann and Connor work together to unravel the real reason behind Perrine Dupré’s murder, Julie Ann’s mysterious past, and why people want her dead, while developing their challenging relationship. Can they both survive? And can their relationship survive?

Excerpt:
Perrine Dupré hurried down the street. She needed to get home. Dark New Orleans clouds hovered overhead. Thunder rolled. Large drops of late May rain pelted the streets of the French Quarter. It sounded like hail as the fat globs bounced off the pavement behind Perrine. The ozone mixed with the scent of magnolia and the smell of shrimp and fish cooking in the area.

The older African American woman struggled against the wind. It whipped her umbrella inside out. She clutched it tightly so not to lose it. Rain blurred her vision. Thunder crashes caused her to jump. She stumbled up the three steps to her front door. Her daughter was coming home for a visit. Perrine’s pulse increased and a smile sneaked out.

Perrine loved her New Orleans. She hated to travel, but two years ago she’d gone to New York to see Julie Ann and her new business. It was a mass of busy airports and crowded flights, but she’d enjoyed seeing the city and staying in her daughter’s apartment. Her daughter had showed off her new interior design business, introduced Perrine to a few of her friends and dragged Perrine to some of the typical tourist activities. Julie Ann had been getting her designing business established then and had a challenge taking time off to leave and come home. Recently she’d taken on a partner. It freed up a little extra time. Tomorrow Julie Ann would be home in New Orleans and Perrine could give her a big hug.

Juggling her parcels, umbrella and the key Perrine jabbed it in the direction of the lock. Finally, the key found the opening and turned.

Thunder rumbled a little louder, sounding like pins crashing in a bowling alley.

Perrine turned the doorknob and froze.

One of her psychic visions flashed in front of her. Her shoulders sagged. A man stood inside. Her visions didn’t lie. She wasn’t going to see Julie Ann after all. And she’d miss their regular telephone call tonight, too.

She wasn’t prepared to die. A single tear shimmered down her cheek. Her heart pounded. She clutched her parcels to her chest. Why now?

Lightning flashed. Thunder crashed again.

He waited for her to come inside.

The vision showed her crumpled on the ground in front of the house. She’d run, but obviously she wasn’t going to get far. Even if she managed to escape, they would kill her eventually. And after tonight Julie Ann would be home. She would also be in danger.

The family was too rich and powerful. They didn’t care about collateral damage or anyone who might get hurt. Had they killed off all the other people involved? Was that why the documentation wasn’t important anymore? The birth certificate should have been enough.

There was so much she should have shared with Julie Ann. At least then she would be aware of the threat.

Perrine didn’t want to die in the house. It would leave a permanent stain and memory. Julie Ann might never enter the house again if Perrine’s body was found inside.

In her mind, Perrine stared into the depths of the house, hands trembled, freezing cold filled her chest. She had to make a decision. He was getting ready to make a move. Perrine dropped her parcels, turned and raced down the steps.

The skies opened wide and lightning flashed across the sky, turning it an electric white. Perrine crumpled to the street. No one heard the shot. An icy shroud of death enveloped over her.

The front door closed. The lock clicked.

She felt no pain, not even when a boot kicked her sharply in the ribs – twice.

The feet moved away.

A gate squeaked.

A car engine roared to life.

The phone rang. No one answered it tonight.

Her spirit prepared to leave.

Perrine regretted that she’d never shared any information about Julie Ann’s real mother with her daughter, or how her mother had been murdered. She’d tried to protect her baby.

Julie Ann’s birth mother had kept records and passed them to Perrine, to be used for blackmail purposes for everyone’s protection.

It hadn’t saved Elizabeth, Julie Ann’s birth mother. She’d been killed before Julie Ann was a year old. That had been an ominous sign. Perrine had spent years looking over her shoulder, but there had been no issues. No one ever threatened them. Even today, there had been no demands or threats.

To the best of Perrine’s knowledge, no one else had been in danger since. Although she had never looked up any of the people involved at the time of Julie Ann’s birth. Now, for whatever reason, death had reared its ugly head. The documents hadn’t saved her. There’d been no threats, just the shooter.

What had changed? Why now?

She wished she’d at least told Julie Ann about the documents. It might help save life.

Perrine’s mind dimmed. She prayed to her god to help her keep Julie Ann alive. Her spirit gradually left her body and floated away. Using her fading power, Perrine pulled on the power of the Priestess to allow her to remain on earth, in any form.

Julie Ann would be at risk. Perrine might still be able to protect her. She needed to be there, at least in spirit, for her daughter.

Buy Links:
eBook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B089VRC1WR
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1777262410

Interview time!

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book?
BB: I like to use a little paranormal in books and I decided that New Orleans was the perfect place for a setting with a paranormal twist and a history of voodoo. Then I came up with the first scene of having a murder occur and the victim had a psychic vision of it abut to happen. After that I had to figure out why. I added and subtracted ideas, changed them and eventually came up with the complete plot for the book.

NA: What sort of research did you do to write this book?
BB: I researched New Orleans, districts, houses, funeral homes, voodoo, police departments and fight scenes.

NA: A fun fact about writing your book.
BB: I was in New Orleans with friends before I wrote the book. We stayed in a very old brick hotel in the Bourbon Street area. Our room had brick walls on the exterior. On the way back to our room one night we bought pralines. I had mine in the paper bag on my bedside table. During the night I was wakened by someone trying to get the pralines out of the bag. There was no one there. I believe t was a ghost trying to get at it. That same night my roommate said she woke up because someone was flicking the plaster from between the bricks at her as she lay in bed.

NA: Do you have a day job? What was your job before you started writing full time?
BB: I don’t have a day job any longer. Previously I was an administer for a government childcare and adult care program.

NA: What started you on the path to writing?
BB: I’ve been writing ever since I can remember. I’d write plots and locked in a room stories. After I developed breast cancer for the first time I decided if I was going to do anything with my writing, I needed to get serious. So I wrote my first book.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
BB: My family and my friends that aren’t writers are very encouraging but if you start to talk about t, their eyes glaze over.

NA: Do you outline books ahead of time or are you more of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?
BB: A bit of both. I get a feel for the plot and my characters and I write maybe one sentence per chapter as to where the story is going. Then I start writing, but I don’t always follow my one sentence outline.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
BB: The wonderful people I have met over the years, both online and in person.

NA: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
BB: Before or after Covid? Before I liked to travel, do glass fusion, eat out, and play my Native American flute. Now I putter in the garden and walk my rescue dog – and still play my flute.

NA: Why did you choose the shirt you have on?
BB: Okay, that’s funny. Because of the Covid virus I spend most of time at home and I slouch around in leggings and t-shirt. I love pandas and today I’m wearing my panda t-shirt.

NA: First thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning?
BB: I’m one of the lucky ones, although with Covid there might be a lot more people, but I don’t wake up to an alarm. So I wake up when I’m ready to face the day.

NA: Strangest place you’ve brushed your teeth?
BB: I’m not sure it’s that strange but it would be in my car, (at a stop light).

NA: What are you working on now?
BB: I’m working on two things at the moment. Book 2 of The Foundation – Liability Wife – Lydia’s Story, and a novella.

NA: Did you enjoy writing Death Southern Style?
BB: Yes. It was a fun book to write. While there is murder, attempted murder and corruption, there’s also paranormal elements which I love and were fun to wind into the plot. And the research, for example the funeral, were fascinating to research. I enjoyed writing this book.

Meet Beverley:
Beverley BatemanBeverley Bateman now lives in Medicine Hat, Alberta. She recently moved from the Okanagan Valley in BC, Canada. Instead of vineyards, orchards, lakes, and mountains she has ranches, farmers and a close community. She lives there with her husband and her Bichon-poodle rescue dog. During the cold Alberta winters, she snowbirds to Arizona and does glass fusion, watercolor painting and plays the ukulele besides working on her latest romantic suspense. Hunted, Missing and Targeted are part of her Montana series. She also has her Holly Devine series: A Cruise to Remember, and a Murder to Forget. Don’t Go is her darker romantic suspense.

Author Links:
Website – https://www.beverleybateman.com
Blog – http://beverleybateman.blogspot.ca/
Twitter http://Twitter.com/kelownawriter
Facebook Authorpage – http://www.facebook.com/AuthorBeverleyBateman?ref=hl

Pinterest  http://pinterest.com/okwriter
Amazon author page http://www.amazon.com/Beverley-Bateman/e/B008M01F5E

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/beverley.bateman.18?fref=ts
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7052567.Beverley_Bateman

LinkedIn – babateman@shaw.ca
Instagram – Beverley.Bateman

A very Perilous Love: Jan Selbourne #MFRWHooks

Perilous Love by Jan SelbournePerilous Love

Blurb
Barely tolerating each other, Adrian and Gabrielle are trapped in Belgium as the clouds of war loom over Europe. Plunged into a nightmare of lies and betrayal, they flee for their lives as the German forces cross the border. Narrowly evading capture, witnessing death and atrocities, they reach safety as two different people who’ve found deep love. But, the tentacles of treachery have spread to England where Adrian faces charges of treason and a woman who’ll stop at nothing to see him dead.

Buy links

Amazon

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt

The first soft shafts of sunlight woke Adrian. The ground was hard and he was cold. He’d barely slept because of his throbbing foot and he was as thirsty as hell. He hobbled to the canal and drank thirstily then dipped both his feet into the cold water. He let out a slow sigh as the pain eased. Gabrielle knelt at the water’s edge beside him and washed her face and pushed her wet fingers through her hair to slick down the untidy curls.

Her voice was low and angry. ‘What was she like?’

‘What are you talking about?’ He scowled, dreading what was coming.

‘Sigrid, Maryanne, whatever her name was,’ she snapped back.

‘What the hell are you trying to do Gaby? Force an argument?

‘No, I’m not forcing an argument. I really want to know! You preferred that woman’s company to mine and your children’s and because of her and my uncle and your unbelievable stupidity, two innocent people have died, and we are forced to rely on each other to stay alive.  Are you proud of yourself? And was her beauty and obvious bedroom expertise worth all of this?’

Adrian turned his head away, angry and embarrassed.

‘I’m waiting,’ she persisted. I presume you also showered her with gifts and expensive baubles while we would be lucky to see you on our birthdays.’

Something snapped inside him. He’d had enough of her barbs and sarcasm.

Furious, he turned to face her. ‘If I could get up and walk away, I would. Just what are you trying to achieve? We’ve avoided capture by the skin of our teeth, we have no idea how to get away, the Germans are pouring into Belgium, thousands will be killed and you want to know if I showered her with gifts. Why don’t we concentrate on getting out of here and then you will be free of me?  Now for Christ’s sake leave it alone.’

‘You want to get up and walk away?’ her voice dripped scorn. ‘Did I walk away from that lonely, empty life, in that big lonely house? Making excuses to your children, visiting neighbours on my own. Did I show such contempt for my marriage vows?’

‘You forgot to mention entertaining Charlton in my home,’ he snarled and flinched as Gabrielle’s hand slapped his face.

‘Yes, your home.’ Gabrielle yelled. ‘I may have lived there and given birth to your children there, but it was always your home. I pray to God we will return to England and you can enjoy your home with your expensive treacherous harlots!’  Her hands clenched into fists. ‘Yes! Brian did share my bed. You were never there, you couldn’t care less about me or our children, you were so besotted with that German harlot’s devious charms you had no idea what was going on. She was exceptionally clever, and you were exceptionally stupid.

Adrian rubbed his cheek and pointed his finger at her. ‘If you hit me again, you will be sorry. You want to know what she was like. She had long wavy auburn hair, a figure that made men’s eyes water and yes, she had expertise in the bedroom. She could drink me under the table and she could discuss politics like a man. She was exceptionally clever and yes you are right, I was exceptionally stupid, because I hadn’t a clue she was German or she’d bedded a cabinet minister or she’d been on other assignments for your uncle. I hope I’ve answered all your questions and I don’t give a damn whether you believe me or not, but I’m bloody ashamed of myself. And I hope to God we’ll get back to England, so you can do whatever you want and I won’t have to listen to your harping sarcastic tongue. Are you happy now?

‘Oh yes, very happy, thank you. Who wouldn’t be, sitting with you on the damp ground beside a canal without food or clean clothes,’ her eyes glittered with contempt, ‘How does it feel that you, a cabinet minister and my uncle shared her? I wonder if she kept an inventory of her jewellery and gifts to remember who gave her what.’

He pulled his feet from the water and stood up. ‘I’m not listening to your ranting, nor am I waiting here for them to find me.’

‘You can’t face the truth, can you?’ she shouted at him. ‘Well, unpleasant as it is, you need me and I need you to survive. When we reach safety, you can go back to the life you enjoyed with your sophisticated women without the inconvenience of an unwanted wife.  And if we get out of here, I don’t want anything from you. Not even a Christmas card.’ Her lip curled.  ‘A gentleman never breaks a business contract, but it’s of no consequence to break your marriage vows.’

Adrian reached down and roughly pulled her up to face him, his eyes black with fury.

‘I can’t face the truth? It’s a pity you didn’t meet and marry that useless fop Charlton eight years ago, because he’d have been the target for your sainted uncle’s lunacy instead of me!  Christ, you haven’t shut up about your miserable marriage but look where it’s got me!  Stitched up like a bloody weaver’s loom, set up as a traitor, hiding like a fugitive. And why?  Because I had the temerity to marry you!’ He turned his back and hobbled over to the grazing horse. ‘I’m leaving, are you coming with me or staying here?’

Gabrielle’s face mirrored the shock she felt at Adrian’s words. Her foot lashed out sending a small log into the water and she walked up to Adrian, her fists clenched, then without warning she burst into tears.

‘I have no choice.’ Her voice was raw with emotion. ‘All I want is to get out of Belgium and go back to my children and never see you again!’

Adrian gripped her arms, his fingers digging into her flesh. ‘You’ll get your bloody freedom one way or the other. If we get out of this, I’ll gladly give it. If I’m shot, you can play the grieving widow for a day or two. Now shut up and help me get this horse into the shafts.’

He heaved himself into the driving seat, knowing damn well they were suffering huge reactions to the events they had witnessed. His insides were ripped apart enough without her rubbing his face in it again and again. How could he have been so bloody naive?  It wouldn’t matter how loudly he protested his innocence, the fact remained his mistress had wheedled far too much information from him and a senior government minister named Edmund. Good God! Sir Edmund Charters! Close to the Prime Minister, related to the Foreign Minister. That old fool must be nearly seventy and you, Bryce, are the biggest fool of them all.

Jan

Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

Contact Jan:
https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne/
https://twitter.com/JanSelbourne
https://www.linkedin.com/in/jan-selbourne-2817b6140/
https://nomadauthors.com/

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