#BlogTour “Opposition” by Jane Henry 18+

 

 

 

 

I hate Liam Alexander.
I hate his Rolex. I hate his scowl. I hate everything his multi-billion-dollar company stands for.

When the pompous, rich, arrogant jerk comes strutting into the coffee shop, I barely manage civility.

But people make mistakes, and when I screw up, it’s epic.
I never expected the jerk would actually be a well-respected member of Club Verge.
I never should have trusted the masked stranger when he beckoned me.
I never should have taken him up on his offer.
And the biggest mistake of my life?
Letting him kiss me.

 

Adult Content!

I want her and I hate that I do.
I fucking want her, and I shouldn’t.
She’s a damn brat, and way too young for me. Poorer than a church mouse and worst of all? She’s got kids she’s responsible for. Almost as bad as a single mom and that is fucking anathema to me. I don’t care who a woman is, how beautiful she is, how much I enjoy her… children are a hard limit.
A hard fucking limit.
Why am I even thinking about what I want to propose?
The elite women I socialize with don’t pose a challenge to me. The only challenge is who to pick. Cora, though… Cora is playing hard to get, and I doubt it’s even intentional.
After I told her my name, she closed her eyes and groaned, and I got my shit together. I released her and smoothed out my suit while she righted her hair and grumbled, though I didn’t miss the flush on her cheeks and chest, the wide, bright eyes and the way her pretty lips are slightly parted.
Christ, what I’d do with that mouth.
“You look oh so happy to be going out to eat with me,” she mutters, shaking her head and staring out the window. “Not super sure what your problem is.”
My problem is her, damn it.
I don’t do relationships with strings attached. Hell, the past half dozen relationships I had, we had contracts. There wasn’t anything beyond the bedroom involved. The exchange of power. Control.
I like what I want, and what I want is a woman who obeys me, who accompanies me to events, and who leaves with a cool sum of cash so there are no hard feelings when I’m ready to move on.
This is not good.
Not to mention the fact that she’s openly protesting the largest business deal I’ve had in well over a decade.
Christ, I’m a moron.
Everything in me says, run, and yet here I am, bringing her to the rooftop of Fiamatta because the girl needs a good fucking meal, and I love this place. It’s casual enough for what she’s wearing, and the rooftop gives us privacy because I already called in and reserved it.
“You’re the guy,” she says, her lips thinning when she pauses between words. “You’re the guy that wants to pave The Greenery.”
I shrug. “You make it sound like I want to skin live rabbits and sell their fur. I’m not that cruel, Ms. Myers. I’m a businessman. And I prefer not to discuss that at the moment.”
“No? You don’t make sense, though. You don’t know me at all and clearly don’t even like me. And yet here I am, in the back of your fancy-pants car, getting something to eat. I don’t know what it is you want from me.”
She will.
God, that mouth of hers.
It’s been too long since I’ve had a contract with a woman, and I haven’t had one with a kink virgin like her. What I could introduce her to. What I could show her…
“Tonight, I want dinner,” I tell her. “Now stop complaining for a damn minute, will you? Are you hungry or not?
“Starving,” she says, glaring.
I roll my eyes and huff out a breath. After one good night with her hands cuffed behind her back while sucking my cock, a jeweled plug in her ass, and her body striped good and well with a short-handled whip, I bet she’d find that mouth of hers doesn’t run so freely.
My cock hardens. God, do I want a chance to tame this wild girl. If only she didn’t get on my nerves so much.
“Then for the love of God, shut up and let’s get something to eat.”
“How charming. You tell all your dates to shut up?”
“No,” I mutter between clenched teeth. I give her a pointed look. “I typically gag them if they’re mouthy, after I give them a good spanking.”
It’s actually amusing how she opens her mouth then clamps it shut, her bright eyes wide.
“I—you—”
But we’ve pulled up to the curb and Manuel is opening the door. “They’re waiting for you, sir. Go right on up.”
We get out of the car, but before we enter the restaurant, I take her hand.
“A quick word with you before we go upstairs,” I tell her.
Pretty, angry eyes meet mine. “Yes, sir?” she parrots.
“Behave yourself. My reputation matters to me. I don’t allow people to speak to me the way you have, and if you do, I’ll put an end to it.’
Rolling her eyes, she asks, “Oh? What will you do, daddy? Spank me?” Oh, that lyrical little voice of hers wouldn’t sound so saucy if she was panting out a plea.
“Not yet,” I murmur. “A spanking on bare skin is far more effective, but I don’t like the idea of anyone else’s eyes on you but me. Sorry to disappoint you, but that will have to wait.”
I like the way her pretty mouth falls open when I continue. That one little spanking over her fully-clothed ass was just a warning.
“If you get mouthy, I’ll kiss you again to silence that tongue of yours. Got it?”
“Sounds terrible,” she mutters.
“Cora,” I warn.
“Silencing me with a kiss. Next thing you know, you’ll punish me with chocolate cake.”
I sigh with practiced patience.
“Buy me roses to teach me a lesson?”
Christ, she’s mouthy. I shake my head, take her wrist, and give her a sharp crack to the ass when we approach the entryway door. The spank has the desired effect and she clamps her mouth shut.

USA Today Bestselling author Jane has been writing since her early teens, dabbling in short stories and poetry. When she married and began having children, her pen was laid to rest for several years, until the National Novel Writing Challenge (NaNoWriMo) in 2010 awakened in her the desire to write again. That year, she wrote her first novel, and has been writing ever since. With a houseful of children, she finds time to write in the early hours of the morning, squirreled away with a laptop, blanket, and cup of hot coffee. Years ago, she heard the wise advice, “Write the book you want to read,” and has taken it to heart. She sincerely hopes you also enjoy the books she likes to read.

 

 

 

#BlogTour “Blackwell: Prequel to the Magnus Blackwell Series” by Alexandrea Weis with Lucas Astor

Blackwell by Alexandrea Weis with Lucas Astor

Synopsis:

Blackwell by Alexandrea Weis with Lucas Astor

“… an intriguing, dark tale complete with vividly drawn characters, and a uniquely compelling character in Magnus … seamlessly blends mystery, magic and matters of the heart to create an enthralling read. Readers will be engaged from the start of the story to its climactic ending.” ~Melanie Bates, RT Book Reviews

“A dark story of passion and revenge … A guilty-pleasure read that kept me captivated knowing something sinister is looming in the plot and over the characters.” ~New Orleans Magazine


In the late 1800s, handsome, wealthy New Englander, Magnus Blackwell, is the envy of all.

When Magnus meets Jacob O’Connor–a Harvard student from the working class–an unlikely friendship is forged. But their close bond is soon challenged by a captivating woman; a woman Magnus wants, but Jacob gets.

Devastated, Magnus seeks solace in a trip to New Orleans. After a chance meeting with Oscar Wilde, he becomes immersed in a world of depravity and brutality, inevitably becoming the inspiration for Dorian Gray. Armed with the forbidden magic of voodoo, he sets his sights on winning back the woman Jacob stole from him.

Amid the trappings of Victorian society, two men, bent on revenge, will lay the foundation for a curse that will forever alter their destinies.

Book Details

Genre: Historical Mystery with Supernatural Elements
Published by: Vesuvian Books
Publication Date: January 17th 2017
Number of Pages: 295
ISBN: 1944109242 (ISBN13: 9781944109240)
Series: A Magnus Blackwell Novel 0.5
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Blackwell Trailer:

 

Read an excerpt:

“We all saw different spirits,” Emily surmised. “How is that possible?”

Katie rose from Jacob’s side. “We each saw the person we wanted to see. The person we felt most connected to on the other side.” She came around the table to Magnus, grinning like a proud peacock. “Do you still doubt my abilities?”

“No.” Magnus blew out a long breath. “I think we should not do this again, though. I got the impression what happened tonight may be only the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?” Emily pestered.

Magnus straightened his coat as he turned for the door. “Something very dangerous.”

***

Excerpt from Blackwell by Alexandrea Weis with Lucas Astor. Copyright © 2017 by Alexandrea Weis. Reproduced with permission from Alexandrea Weis. All rights reserved.

Alexandrea Weis:

Alexandrea Weis

Alexandrea Weis, RN-CS, CRRN, ONC, PhD, is a multi-award-winning author of over twenty-seven novels, a screenwriter, ICU Nurse, and historian who was born and raised in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Having grown up in the motion picture industry as the daughter of a director, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective and began writing at the age of eight. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story moving and memorable. A permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured animals. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans. Weis writes mysteries, suspense, thrillers, horror, crime fiction, action, historical, and romance. She is a member of the Horror Writers Association and the International Thriller Writers Association.

Lucas Astor is from New York, has resided in Central America and the Middle East, and traveled through Europe. He lives a very private, virtually reclusive lifestyle, preferring to spend time with a close-knit group of friends than be in the spotlight. He is an author and poet with a penchant for telling stories that delve into the dark side of the human psyche. He likes to explore the evil that exists, not just in the world, but right next door behind a smiling face.

Catch Up With Alexandrea On
alexandreaweis.com, Goodreads, Twitter, & Facebook!

Lucas Astor:

Lucas Astor

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

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

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

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

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!

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This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Vesuvian Books. There will be 2 winners of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card each. The giveaway begins on February 1, 2019 and runs through April 1, 2019. Void where prohibited.

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#BlogTour “Dangerous Flaws: Leah Nash Mysteries, Book 5” by Susan Hunter

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Synopsis:

Dangerous Flaws by Susan Hunter

A chilling murder shocks a small Wisconsin town.

True crime writer Leah Nash is stunned when police investigating the murder of a beautiful young college professor focus on her ex-husband Nick. Leah has no illusions about her ex, but despite his flaws, she just can’t see him as a killer. Reluctantly, she agrees to help Nick’s attorney prove that he isn’t.

But Nick’s lies make it hard to find the truth, and when a damning piece of evidence surfaces, Leah plunges into doubt. Is she defending an innocent man or helping a murderer escape? She pushes on to find out, uncovering hidden motives and getting hit by twists she never saw coming. Leah’s own flaws impede her search for the truth. When she finds it, will it be too late to prevent a devastating confrontation?

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery
Published by: Himmel River Press
Publication Date: December 11th 2018
Number of Pages: 392
ASIN: B07KK2HM6M
Series: Leah Nash Mysteries, Book 5
Purchase Links: Amazon | Goodreads
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Read an excerpt:

How did everything go so wrong? But then again, why did she ever think that this could come to anything but disaster? She knows now there are only a few ways this can end and none of them are good.

She sighs, then bends down to put the leash on Tenny, her crazy little mixed-breed dog, looking up at her with big brown eyes. He’s so happy and so oblivious. Despite her sense of coming catastrophe, she can’t help smiling at him. He begins wagging his tail, then dancing around eagerly in anticipation of his nightly run. She can barely get the leash hooked.

“Come on, then, you heartless beast. I’m in the worst situation of my life, and all you can think about is getting out and having fun. Tell me again why I bother with you?”

They leave and walk down the road—no sidewalks here—toward the county fairgrounds, an expanse of 80 acres just a short distance away. She loves the odd mix of town on one side of her home and country on the other.

She shivers a little. Her exhaled breath leaves a small trace of vapor in the air. Under the silvery light of the full moon, everything stands out in crystalline splendor: the piles of snow left by the plow, untouched yet by the dirt and grime of passing cars; bare branches of trees shimmering with frost; the stars themselves, flashing and glittering like sparkling beads sewn on the black night sky. It is incredibly beautiful. But she barely notices. She is too lost in thought.

Should she do as she threatened, confess and bring everything to a head? If she does, there’s no going back. And she isn’t the only one who will suffer—or be saved. Because isn’t it possible that freedom, not tragedy, will be the outcome? Things do, sometimes, turn out better than we expect. She feels a momentary spark of optimism, but it fades. This is too important for wishful thinking. She must be realistic. Once the truth is out, the consequences will be devastating. But this—the way she’s living now, lying, denying, pretending that everything is fine—is crushing her. So intent is she on her thoughts that she doesn’t hear the crunch of footsteps behind her.

Doesn’t notice the increasing agitation of her little dog. Doesn’t recognize the impending danger.

“I finally caught up with you.”

Startled, but not alarmed—she recognizes the voice—she turns.

“What are you doing here?”

“We didn’t finish. I need to know you understand.”

She doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not tonight. Not when her mind is so filled with jumbled and conflicting thoughts. Her reluctance shows on her face.

“You said you want to do the right thing. I do too, but you’re wrong about what it is. Please, let’s talk.”

“Tomorrow would be better. I—”

“No! It wouldn’t be!”

The words are said with such force that she takes an involuntary step backward. Tenny growls softly at her side.

“I’m sorry. But we’re talking about my life! Don’t I deserve a few minutes at least? I’ll walk with you. Please?”

She sighs. But now Tenny is pulling at his leash, eager to run free on the frozen surface of the pond.

“All right.” She slips off her gloves and bends down to release the dog. Her cold fingers fumble and his eager jumping makes it hard work. He spies something on the ice and springs forward with excitement. Both the collar and the leash come loose in her hands, and he dashes away.

She tucks them into her pocket as she stands. It’s then that she notices the barricades around a large hole in the frozen pond.

“I forgot about the Polar Plunge tomorrow. Let’s go that way, in case Tenny gets too close. The barriers should keep him out, but he’s a wily little devil.”

They walk around the edge of the pond. She is silent; she doesn’t interrupt. But she isn’t persuaded. Her focus turns inward, as she searches for the right words to explain. All the while she knows they will be unwelcome. As she struggles for a way to be both truthful and kind, she misses the rising tension in her companion’s voice. She doesn’t register the transition from desperation to danger.

A loud series of barks causes her to look up. Tenny is chasing a muskrat across the ice. Both of them are heading toward the barrier-shielded hole in the frozen pond. For the muskrat, it will mean escape. For Tenny, it will mean calamity.

“Tenny, no! Come here!” She runs out on the ice, calling him, moving as fast as she can on the slippery surface, trying to distract the dog. But intent on his prey, he ignores her. He dashes under the barricade just as the muskrat slips into the water to safety. Tenny slides to a stop, gives a few frustrated yips, then turns toward her. His expression clearly says, “Thanks a lot. I almost had him.”

She reaches the edge of the barricade and pushes it aside, holding out the leash and collar.

“Tennyson, come here right now.”

He makes as if to obey, but when she leans to get him, he scampers away. She calls him again.

He comes tantalizingly close, then eludes her grasp and retreats with a cocky grin on his face.

He likes this game.

She sets the collar and leash down on the ice. She gets on one knee and reaches in her pocket.

When her hand emerges, it’s holding a dog treat. In a honeyed, coaxing voice, she says, “Hey, Tenny. Look, sweetie! Your favorite, cheesy bacon.”

She stays very still as he approaches. When he gets within range, she intends to scoop him up, scold him, and never let him off the leash again. He moves slowly, maintaining eye contact with the treat, not her. She stretches her hand out ever so slightly. He streaks forward, snatches it from her open palm, and runs away across the pond. Then his attention is caught by a deer just reaching the middle of the ice. He gives chase.

She sighs with relief. At least he’s away from the open water. She starts to rise. Without warning, a strong shove from behind sends her sprawling. Her head hits the ice. She’s dazed for a second. Then terrified as another shove pushes her forward and into the hole cut in the pond.

The shock of hitting the water takes her breath away. The weight of her clothes pulls her down.

She struggles back to the surface, disoriented and confused. Her breathing is shallow and quick—too quick.

She swallows a mouthful of water and starts to choke. Panic rises. Her arms flail.

One hits something hard. The edge of the ice. Her fright lessens as she can see a way out.

She works her body around so she can grab the icy lip of the opening in the pond. She begins to move her legs, stretching out as though she were floating on her stomach. As she transitions from vertical to horizontal, she’s able to get one forearm on the ice. She tries to lift her knee. If she can get it on the ice—she’s too weak. The weight of her water-logged clothes pulls her back into the water. She feels the panic rising again. She pushes back against it with her desperate determination to survive.

She tries again, kicks her legs again, stretches out again, gets her forearms on the ice again.

But this time, she doesn’t try to lift herself. Instead, she begins to inch forward with a writhing motion, like a very slow snake crawling on the ground. She fights for every awkward, painful inch of progress. How long has it been? Five minutes? Ten? Twenty? It feels like forever.

Her arms are numb. Tiny icicles in her hair slap gently against her face as she twists and turns her body out of the water. Tenny is nearby. He’s barking, and then he’s by her left arm, tugging at her sleeve.

“No, no, Tenny, get back.” She thinks she is shouting, but the words are a whisper. She has to rest, just for a minute. She stops. She closes her eyes. But as her cheek touches the ice, Tenny’s bark calls her back to life. She will not give up. She will not die this way, this night.

Again, she begins her hesitating progress forward. She can do this. She will do this. Almost her entire upper body is on the ice now. Just a little longer, just a few more inches, just another—hands grab her shoulders. Someone has come. Someone is pulling her to safety. As she turns her head to look up, she realizes the hands aren’t pulling, they’re pushing, pushing, pushing her back.

No, no, no, no! She tries to fight, but she has nothing left. She’s in the water.

The hands lock onto her shoulders like talons. They push her down, down, down. Water enters her mouth; her throat closes over. She can’t breathe. The last sound she hears from far, far away is Tenny’s mournful bark. Then darkness closes in.

***

Excerpt from Dangerous Flaws by Susan Hunter. Copyright © 2018 by Susan Hunter. Reproduced with permission from Susan Hunter. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Susan Hunter

Susan Hunter is a charter member of Introverts International (which meets the 12th of Never at an undisclosed location). She has worked as a reporter and managing editor, during which time she received a first place UPI award for investigative reporting and a Michigan Press Association first place award for enterprise/feature reporting.

Susan has also taught composition at the college level, written advertising copy, newsletters, press releases, speeches, web copy, academic papers, and memos. Lots and lots of memos. She lives in rural Michigan with her husband Gary, who is a man of action, not words.

During certain times of the day, she can be found wandering the mean streets of small-town Himmel, Wisconsin, looking for clues, stopping for a meal at the Elite Cafe, dropping off a story lead at the Himmel Times Weekly, or meeting friends for a drink at McClain’s Bar and Grill.

Catch Up With Ms. Hunter On:
leahnashmysteries.com, BookBub, Twitter, & Facebook!

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!

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#BlogTour “Consuming Fire” by Catherine Fearns

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Consuming Fire coverWhat Has Been Seen Cannot Be Unseen…

Liverpool is in the grip of an intense heatwave, and strange things are happening.

A woman dies in an apparent case of Spontaneous Human Combustion; a truck explodes on the dock road; the charred corpses of pets litter the city; forest fires ravage the pinewoods…and there are birds everywhere, silent flocks drawing in ominously.

Detective Inspector Darren Swift thinks there are connections, and his investigation delves into the worlds of football, nightclubs and organised crime. But is he imagining things?

Dr. Helen Hope doesn’t think so. And she believes the key lies in a mysterious seventeenth-century occult book which has gone missing from Liverpool Library.

In the blistering sequel to Reprobation, DI Swift is forced to confront some inconvenient ghosts from his past, as a terrifying shadow lies over his city’s reality….

Purchase Link  

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~~~


Author Bio  Catherine Fearns

Catherine Fearns is from Liverpool, UK. In previous incarnations she was a financial analyst, a cocktail pianist and a breastfeeding counsellor, but nowadays she likes to write. Her first novel, Reprobation, was published by Crooked Cat Books in October 2018 and quickly became an Amazon bestseller in several categories. The follow-up, Consuming Fire, is currently on pre-order and will be available in early 2019.

Catherine writes for music website Pure Grain Audio, and her music journalism has also appeared in Broken Amp and Noisey. Her short fiction and non-fiction pieces have been published in Here Comes Everyone, Toasted Cheese, Offshoots & Metal Music Studies. She holds a degree in History from Oxford University, a Master’s degree from the London School of Economics, and is a member of the Crime Writers’ Association.

When Catherine is not writing, she plays guitar in a heavy metal band, mainly to annoy her four children.

Social Media Links  

Twitter

~~~

 G I V E A W A Y

Win a signed copy of Consuming Fire, Consuming Fire stationery, and a cuddly peacock!

(Open Internationally)

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E N T E R

*Terms and Conditions –Worldwide entries welcome.  Please enter using the Rafflecopter box below.  The winner will be selected at random via Rafflecopter from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days, then Rachel’s Random Resources reserves the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over.  Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will be passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfillment of the prize, after which time Rachel’s Random Resources will delete the data.  I am not responsible for dispatch or delivery of the prize.

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#BlogTour “The Elkridge Series” by Lyz Kelley

 
The Elkridge Series by Lyz Kelley 
(Book 1)
 
Author’s Amazon Page 
(Find the full series here)
 
 
Blinded Quotes:
“I don’t just want you. I need you. You are my oxygen.” 

“You never treated me like I was broken or handicapped or helpless. And for that reason, I fell in love with you.”

“What about your brother’s case? The community is spooked that there’s a murderer on the loose.”

Review for Blinded:

“I enjoyed this book and read it in two sittings. The author writes well, but each chapter left me wanting more so it was almost impossible to put down, I love that in a book.” A book lover’s Emporium book Blog

“Blinded is a second chance book – not just the romance but also life, family and friendship.” 2 Girls who love books blog

“Once I picked up this book, I couldn’t put it down.” Word Land Reviews

 
 
Author Bio

Award-winning author Lyz Kelley mixes a little bit of heart, healing, humanity, happiness, honor, hope and honor in all her books that are written especially for you. She’s is a total disaster in the kitchen, a compulsive neat freak, a tea snob, and adores writing about and falling in love with everyday heroes.  
 
 
Newsletter Sign Up: http://lyzkelley.net
 
 
 

#Excerpt2 “Decanted Truths: An Irish-American Novel” by Melanie Forde

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cover Title: Decanted Truths
Author: Melanie Forde
Genre: Literary / Women’s Fiction / Family Saga

For Irish immigrant families like the Harrigans and Gavagans, struggle has been the name of the game since they arrived in Boston in the nineteenth century. For twice-orphaned Leah Gavagan, who comes of age in the Depression, the struggle is compounded by bizarre visions that disrupt her daily life — and sometimes come true. She has difficulty fitting in with her surroundings: whether the lace-curtain Dorchester apartment overseen by her judgmental Aunt Margaret or the wild Manomet bluff shared with her no-nonsense Aunt Theo and brain-damaged Uncle Liam. A death in the family disrupts the tepid life path chosen for Leah and sets her on a journey of discovery. That journey goes back to the misadventures shaping the earlier generation, eager to prove its hard-won American credentials in the Alaskan gold rush, the Spanish-American War, and The Great War. She learns of the secrets that have bound Theo and Margaret together. Ultimately, Leah learns she is not who she thought she was. Her new truth both blinds and dazzles her, much like the Waterford decanter at the center of her oldest dreams — an artifact linking three Irish-American families stumbling after the American Dream.

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Amazon CA

Amazon AU

~~~

EXCERPTS #2

Testing, one last time, the security of the replacement shingles he had just applied, [Paulie] made note of where his toolbox and bucket of tar lay. He didn’t want to trip when rising… Peering above the roof ridge, Paulie’s eyes promptly watered from the brilliance of the sunlight bedazzling the water under an azure sky. From this perspective, as he knelt on the landward side of the roof, the water didn’t appear below him so much as in front of him, as if it were spreading out to infinity in mid-air.

Is that dot on the right Race Point Light? That’s twenty miles away as the gull flies!

                What’s more, he thought he could see the open ocean beyond Provincetown, plus the earth’s curve limiting this otherwise endless horizon. On this phenomenally crisp afternoon, Paulie fantasized he might even be able to see his homeland. Not just the Azores, but Portugal!

Only half-rising, he clambered higher for a better look… Monitoring his foot placement, he suddenly chided himself for classifying those two landmasses across the vast blue sea as home.

Both my parents were born in Massachusetts, for Chrissakes!

                As he straightened up, he was glad for indulging his irrational urge and understood Theo’s fondness for this view, probably worth all the gales in Christendom.

Just shy of the roof ridge, he spread his feet to shoulder width and raised a palm to test for breezes. The air was remarkably still. Nevertheless, the arm movement muddled his equilibrium. Or maybe the blame lay with those perspective-distorting whitecap whorls dancing before him, instead of below him (or so it seemed). Both arms rocketed out to restore his balance. Relaxing into his new position, Paulie felt as confident as a mountain goat—even though he stood atop a two-and-a-half-story clapboard house perched on a cliff one hundred feet above the churning bay…

Confidently braced at the roof ridge, Paulie spread out his arms. Not for balance, but to embrace the view, the sun, the water, life. He tossed his head back and gulped in the clean, salt air while he maintained that open-hearted posture… Feeling the sun on his upturned palms, he realized he looked very much like the statue of Christ the Redeemer, now nearing completion in Rio de Janeiro. He had marveled at the newsreel footage of that hundred-foot work of art, dramatically sited on a mountaintop overlooking the city. And now here he was, looking out, arms spread above Cape Cod Bay, just as the Nazarene carpenter held all of Guanabara Bay in his embrace.

The Manomet workman wondered if Jesus had ever felt similarly invulnerable in a lifespan that ended only a few years beyond Paulie’s current age. Had the Redeemer known what it was to feel this alive, this sun-kissed, this synchronized with every heartbeat on the planet?

Excerpt #3

Perception competes with reality in any immigrant’s assessment of life in America. For millions of Irish who crossed the Atlantic in the nineteenth century, perception was paramount—not because they experienced hardship or success to any greater degree than their counterparts from Germany or Italy, but because the Irish had a lively disregard for reality. For eight centuries, they had denied their mortality by charging into one hopeless rising after another. Even a well-educated Irishman acknowledged the geomantic pull of the Four Green Fields, with their earth and water spirits, their sacred wells, and their enchanted crossroads. And whenever reality intruded too roughly, the Irish were adept at numbing themselves with alcohol.

Perception of the great American melting pot varied from Irishman to Irishman. Many willingly lived in wretchedly overcrowded conditions in Boston’s Fort Hill ghetto or the North End, overpowered by the stench of open sewers. They were in constant danger of contracting typhoid fever and consumption or asphyxiating in a tenement or factory fire. For some, the bitter reality of American cities was worse than the life they’d escaped on the other side of the Atlantic. The psychological challenges were equally daunting, especially in Boston, arguably the most hostile city an Irishman could encounter in the United States. Its entrenched, homogeneous Yankee class had inherited the Puritans’ loathing for the lesser races and religions afflicting the British Isles. Yet Irish transplants insisted on sinking their roots in Cotton Mather’s hometown, even after the signs went up everywhere, snarling, “No Irish Need Apply.”

Many immigrants refused to focus on the direness of their circumstances because their faith in a glorious future was unshakable. Everything would work out for them next year or in the next decade. And if it didn’t, well, their children would be the ones to realize the American Dream. Everyone knew of at least one Corkonian who had metamorphosed from an ignorant, disenfranchised starveling into a well-fed, educated, politically empowered American. In the United States, anything was possible. In America, the direction was always up.

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Author BioMelanie Forde

Raised in a Boston Irish family, Melanie Forde knew her life was infinitely easier than that of her ancestors, refugees from the Potato Famine. The storytelling skills of her elders kept ancestral triumphs and tragedies alive, so that the Potato Famine and the Easter Rebellion felt as real as the Cold War. Inheriting the storyteller gene, Ms. Forde is the author of three earlier novels, her Hillwilla trilogy. She now lives far from her roots, on a West Virginia farm. She still maintains a potato patch—just in case.

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#BlogTour “Healing His Medic (The Protectors #1)” by Nana Prah

Title: Healing His Medic

Series: The Protectors #1

Author: Nana Prah

Genre: Adult, Military Suspense Romance

Published: September 19, 2018

Page Count: 200 Pages

Published by: Love Africa Press

Doctor Comfort Djan is looking for salvation after a tragic accident, which takes her to deprived regions where her skills heal the helpless. Until Fate thrusts her as a medic on board a West African military coastal protection ship. Proving herself to the male-only crew is nothing compared to being near one intense naval officer who has her feeling something other than her survivor’s guilt.

Commander Akin Solarin wants nothing more than to do his job, especially when his medic’s temporary replacement turns out to be a disconcerting woman who pushes all his buttons. He runs a tight ship, and doesn’t need captivating and efficient yet aloof Comfort around to keep his heart-rate in semi-permanent overdrive.

Neither can deny the attraction between them, but navigating uncharted personal waters may be the least of their problems when confronted with bold pirate attacks and other vicious unknown dangers onboard the frigate. And when Comfort’s life gets on the line, Akin knows he will do anything to save his medic and heal her battered heart in the process.

 

 

Healing His Medic © Nana Prah 2018

 

Loosening his hold, he pulled himself back to hook a finger under her chin so she could look him in the eyes. She needed to see the truth of his words.

“No, Comfort. You’re strong. You always have been and I don’t doubt you always will be. Your ex was the weak one for expecting you to heal from the heartbreak of a lifetime without changing. For not being able to remember that everything passes. Everything. And not sticking by you until it did.”

Warm air fanned his cheek when she expelled a shuddering breath. “He had every right. Hell, I’m surprised he stayed as long as he did. We hadn’t been getting along for the year prior. We were both overworked and…”

“What?” He prodded with a small shake of her shoulder.

“I had been putting off having a baby for a while.” She lowered her gaze. “I wasn’t ready to lose the foothold I’d gotten on my career. If we’d had a child he would’ve proceeded while I’d been held back. I wasn’t ready to make the sacrifice.” She focused on him again. “I guess that makes me selfish.”

Akin smiled. “Only as selfish as anyone else, male or female, who wants to make a career for themselves. It’s just that women are expected to fall back when they have a child while men continue forward.”

Her brows bunched together. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were a feminist.”

Free from witnesses, he released the laughter. How did she have the uncanny ability to set him free? “What makes you think I’m not?”

She raised a finger into the air, “You’re mean to women.”

“I’m mean to everyone.”

“True.” A second digit flung up. ”You don’t want female sailors on your ship.”

He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. How could such a small thing fit so perfectly into his?

“It’s not my rule. We’re on a pirate-seeking ship where the risk of being attacked is high. Pirates have no honor. I’d hate to think what would happen to a woman if she were ever captured during a siege.”

An icy chill stole down his spine at the thought of it ever happening with Comfort on board.

Nana Prah first discovered romance in a book from her eight grade summer reading list and has been obsessed with it ever since. Her fascination with love inspired her to write in her favorite genre where happily-ever-after is the rule.

She is a published author of contemporary, multicultural romances. Her books are sweet with a touch of spice. When she’s not writing she’s, over-indulging in chocolate, enjoying life with friends and family, and tormenting nursing students into being the best nurses the world has ever seen. Nana loves to connect with her readers on Twitter @Nana Prah and Facebook at Nana Prah, author.

 

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