Giveaway – The Man Who Scream At Nightall by Rush Leaming @partnersincr1me @leamingrush

The Man Who Screams At Nightfall… and other stories by Rush Leaming Banner

The Man Who Screams At Nightfall…
and other stories

by Rush Leaming

January 16 – February 10, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Man Who Screams At Nightfall… and other stories by Rush Leaming

Thailand. The Congo. Greece. Spain. America…

Four continents and 40+ years in the making.

The Man Who Screams At Nightfall is a landmark collection of short stories depicting a young man on a classic voyage of self-discovery, scouring the earth in search of some purpose in life.

From childhood to parenthood and everything in between—these tales are at times raw and unflinching, at other times poignant and moving.

Get ready for a literary journey unlike any you’ve experienced before.

WARNING: Some of these stories contain strong language, depictions of graphic violence, and sexual situations.

Praise for The Man Who Screams At Nightfall…and other stories:

“A powerful, gritty, and exquisitely written anthology —not to be missed.”

J. Miller, Reader’s Favorite

“A short story collection that excels in its sense of literary psychological growth and discovery. Libraries looking for interconnected short stories that represent life journeys and revelations will find The Man Who Screams At Nightfall…and other stories an appealing acquisition that promises much fodder for discussion to book club readers interested in fictional blends of psychological and social revelation.”

Midwest Book Review, D. Donovan

“Sharply observed, nuanced, precise, and morally challenging…”

“Leaming’s light hand with dialogue and keen sense of human psychology create a book that highlights weighty issues by putting a compassionate human face on human struggles. Sharp, inventive, and deeply moving: a fine literary collection.”

Book View

“Without a lengthy description of the characters, just enough to provide the imagery necessary to identify them, he catches and holds the reader’s attention like no other I’ve experienced in the hundreds of books and stories I’ve read over the years.”

Reader’s Favorite, L. Allen

Book Details:

Genre: Literary Fiction
Published by: Bridgewood Publishing
Publication Date: November 2022
Number of Pages: 150
ISBN: 0999745670 (ISBN-13: 9780999745670)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

…I could see the glow of a fire up ahead of us, and as we reached the mango tree, Pumbu motioned for me to stay low and follow him along a small wall of honeysuckle bushes. We crouched down, and from our hiding place, I saw Kachamba furiously pacing back and forth in his yard in front of a small bonfire. He swung his arms wildly in the air as if he was fighting off something that was falling on him. He dropped to his knees and then suddenly sprang three feet off the ground. Then he began to dance, swaying and spinning his body so close to the fire that I was certain he was going to fall in. All the while he screamed and shouted deep into the empty black night.

He spoke in a dialect that I couldn’t understand, so I had to ask Pumbu to tell me what he was saying. I asked him many questions: Why was he doing this? Who was he speaking to? Was he drunk? What was going on? Pumbu patiently explained to me that no, he was not drunk, and that he really didn’t know who he was speaking to, but that Kachamba’s wife had left him a few years ago, run off with another man and taken their children, and that ever since, he had not been right in the head. He was not from this village and had been kicked out of all the other places he had lived. He came here only because Kachamba’s father, the chief of Kitengo’s uncle, had once saved the life of the chief’s father (Kachamba’s uncle) and so the chief had to let him stay to repay that old favor. It was all very complicated, Pumbu said, and he didn’t fully understand it himself.

I was hardly listening, instead transfixed and horrified by what I saw. Spinning, swirling, shouting, and screaming—Kachamba’s face, so calm and happy as I had seen it earlier that day, was now knotted and twisted like a grotesque carnival mask, like some gargoyle sprung from the lowest depths of hell. The glow of the fire cut fierce shadows and gorges in his face, adding to the haunting vision that I saw.

For a long while, Pumbu and I hid behind the honeysuckle bushes and watched Kachamba shriek and wail and try to push back the night, until suddenly, all at once, he just stopped. Suddenly, he just stood still and quiet and stared at the sky. I followed his gaze and saw another shooting star. When I looked back, Kachamba had disappeared.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“That’s it,” said Pumbu. “He usually only does this for an hour or so.”

“And he does this every night?”

“Almost,” said Pumbu and yawned. “Mmm. I’m tired. I think I am going to go home.”

We left the bushes, went past the mango tree, and said good night. I walked home alone, both exhilarated and troubled by what I had seen.

I entered my room and prepared for bed, but long after I had extinguished my petrol lantern, I lay there staring into the darkness. I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned. It wasn’t that unusual—I noticed that it had been happening a lot lately, that I couldn’t sleep. I got up and found the bottle of Johnnie Walker and knocked back a tall glass until at last I was floating, and at last, my eyes did shut…

***

Excerpt from The Man Who Screams At Nightfall… and other stories by Rush Leaming. Copyright 2022 by Rush Leaming. Reproduced with permission from Rush Leaming. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Rush Leaming

RUSH LEAMING has done many things including spending 15+ years in film/video production working on such projects as The Lord of the Rings films. His first novel, Don’t Go, Ramanya, a political thriller set in Thailand, was published in the fall of 2016. His second novel followed suit in the summer of 2018, entitled The Whole of the Moon, set in the Congo at the end of the Cold War. 2021 saw the 5-star reception of his crime thriller Dead Tree Tales. His short stories have appeared in Notations, 67 Press, Lightwave, 5k Fiction, and The Electric Eclectic.

He has lived in New York, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Zaire, Thailand, Spain, Greece, South Carolina, England, and Kenya.

Catch Up With Rush:
LeamingRush.wixsite.com/Nightfall
Goodreads
BookBub – @RushLeaming
Instagram – @RushLeaming
Twitter – @LeamingRush
Facebook – @RushLeamingStories

 

 

Tour Participants:

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

 

 

ENTER TO WIN:

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Rush Leaming. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

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Giveaway – Sleigh Bell Serenade by Shanna Hatfield @XpressoTours

Sleigh Bell Serenade
Shanna Hatfield
(Winter Wishes, #2)
Publication date: January 19th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

He keeps his heart heavily guarded.
She meets everyone with a friendly smile.
Will the attraction sizzling between them pull them into the space between their two worlds?

Burdened by too many responsibilities, Bowen Jensen struggles beneath their overwhelming weight. Between raising his teenage sister, running their family ranch, and managing Sleigh Bell Tours, he barely has time to sleep, let alone do something just for himself. He can’t even recall his last date. Then a chance encounter with a beguiling woman leaves him pondering if there isn’t more to life than trudging through one lonely day after another.

Juniper Haynes appears to have it all with a successful real estate career and a picture-perfect life. In reality, she’s tired of dealing with demanding clients, wary of her so-called friends, and secretly longs for the peace she finds at her sister’s mountain home. After a magical New Year’s Eve kiss with a cowboy she barely knows, she realizes true happiness might only be found outside her comfort zone.

Can Bo and Juniper find the courage to embrace change and explore the possibility of a future together?

Find out in this sweet winter romance full of small-town charm, memorable characters, laughter, hope, and love.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

“What a mess,” the woman said, brushing at her coat with the napkin Sassy handed to her. “I’m not usually such a klutz.” She gave up dabbing at the cider soaking into the white cashmere and looked to Bo again. “Thank you for catching me before I fell. I’m Juniper, by the way. Juniper Haynes.”

“Juniper,” Bo mumbled, finally managing to gain a miniscule amount of control over his tongue. However, his heart pounded so fast and loud, it echoed like a bongo drum in his head.

“That’s an awesome name,” Sassy said, with the enthusiasm summoned by a teenager impressed by someone older and more worldly. “I’m Sassy, and this is Bo Jensen.”

Juniper’s smile widened as she looked up at him. Even with her high-heeled boots, she barely came up to his chest. Then again, at six-four, he tended to tower over a lot of people.

“Sassy and Bo. It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you, again, for catching me. Happy Christmas Eve.” Juniper turned away and took a lopsided step, but her foot slid on a patch of hidden ice. She would have fallen if Bo hadn’t caught her a second time, his arms looping beneath hers from the back. She tilted her face upward and offered him a look of gratitude.

Something that felt like an electrical current trailed up his arms, threatening to short circuit what few working brain cells he had left.

Words.

He needed words.

To speak—to say anything—but nothing seemed to be able to work its way from his overloaded brain to his mouth. The sharp elbow Sassy jabbed into his side didn’t help any more than her questioning glare to rattle something loose.

Bo stared at the woman, fascinated.

Juniper.

What an intriguing name for an entirely captivating woman.


Author Bio:

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.

Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”

When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.

To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield

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Giveaway – Blackout Trail by Linda Naughton @XpressoTours @lynnnoton

Blackout Trail
Linda Naughton
Publication date: January 10th 2023
Genres: Adult, Dystopian, Post-Apocalyptic

Doctor Anna Hastings is no stranger to disasters, having spent much of her career as an aid worker in conflict zones around the world. Yet when an electrical phenomenon known as an EMP brings down the power grid, Anna faces catastrophe on a scale she never imagined. She must learn what it means to be a doctor in a world deprived of almost all technology.

As the blackout causes planes to fall from the sky, Anna crosses paths with devoted father Mark Ryan in the chaos at the airport. Mark convinces Anna to travel with him and his seven-year-old daughter Lily to their family’s cabin in remote Maine. There Mark hopes to reunite with his wife, and find a safe refuge from a society on the brink of collapse.

Journeying across a thousand miles of backcountry trails, they will face a daily struggle against nature. Their biggest peril, though, may come from their fellow survivors. As Anna grows closer to Mark and Lily, she resolves to see them safely home. But can she hold onto her humanity in a world gone mad?

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

I lowered the phone and narrowed my eyes at the blank display. No indicators, no clock —nothing. How could it be dead already? I’d charged it before I left Jess’ house last night, and the damn thing was barely a month old. I scowled. “Oh, come on.”

The nearby baggage carousel ground to a shuddering halt. A collective groan from the other passengers drew my attention away from the useless brick in my hand. Snatches of disjointed conversation reached my ears.

“Can you hear me? I think we got cut off. Frank?”

“The hell? I had plenty of charge left.”

“Moooommy! My movie stopped!”

A growing sense of dread pooled in my stomach. It wasn’t just our baggage carousel that had stopped; they all had. Both the overhead lights and the computer screens showing the baggage carousel assignments had gone dark too. The only light streamed in from the floor-to- ceiling windows lining the perimeter of the baggage claim area. Why hadn’t the emergency lights kicked on?

The automatic sliding doors had also stopped, confounding a gaggle of college kids trying to leave. Beyond the doors, an ominous stillness had replaced the constant bustle of parking shuttles, cars, and taxis creeping along the pickup lane. There should’ve been engine sounds. Horns. Something. Now there were just a bunch of confused and pissed-off people getting out of their vehicles.

Grumbling from the other passengers gave way to a stunned hush. Panic bubbled just beneath the surface. You couldn’t set foot in an American airport these days without being bombarded with reminders of terrorism. Everyone looked at each other, the same question written on our faces: Was this some kind of attack? What should we do? I expected some sort of alert or explanation over the loudspeaker, telling everyone to remain calm, but none came.

A thunderous crash from the opposite end of the terminal had me ducking and covering my head. Metal screeched on metal, accompanied by the tinkle of shattered glass and an ear- splitting grinding sound. A chorus of terrified cries erupted around me. I’ll admit it—I screamed too. I caught a glimpse of a plane fuselage crashing through the airport ceiling before plowing into the ground.

The plane flattened the south end of the building as casually as a child knocking over a stack of blocks, and the resulting fireball sent flaming debris flying in all directions. At the opposite end, the shock wave knocked me off my feet. A rush of hot air stung my face and hands.

People started picking themselves up off the ground. Dozens of survivors made a mad dash for the exits. Their screams sounded distant to my ringing ears. Non-functioning doors proved to be a mild hiccup for the exodus. The lucky ones smashed through or pried the doors open before they got smashed against the glass.

Catching my breath, I rose to a crouch. The putrid smell of aviation fuel mixed with acrid smoke tickled my throat and made my eyes water. Heart hammering, I surveyed the destruction in slack-jawed horror. The rectangular terminal stretched for the length of a football field, and nothing remained of the south half but fiery rubble. Between here and there was a wide stretch where it looked like a bomb had gone off.


Author Bio:

Linda Naughton is a writer, software engineer, paramedic, and mother of two. She’s the author of several novels, gaming products, and the blog Self-Rescuing Princesses. A proud geek and gamer girl, she enjoys TV, movies, video games, and role-playing games. Visit her website at https://lindanaughton.com.

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Giveaway – The Warlock’s Curse by C B Oresky @cbOresky @GoddessFish

The Warlock’s Curse by C. B. Oresky

GENRE: Young Adult Fantasy

BLURB

Clara and Angelica Grace have never met ghosts. They’ve never sailed on a tall ship, ridden wild unicorns, or fought with magical weapons. Instead, the teenage twins have a wretched existence, ignored by their troubled parents in a rundown home and tormented by the town’s snobs.

Everything turns topsy-turvy all of a sudden when discovery of an ancestor’s hidden journal with an odd key to an unknown door leads them into an entirely different realm.

The girls go on a thrilling oceanic voyage to search for mysterious whales, train with a seasoned warrior, and are befriended by a wise Master. But all is not a bouquet of lovely lilies…they are hunted by a cunning warlock and must rid themselves of The Warlock’s Curse.

EXCERPT

The whales’ frenzied song grew even louder—the electrical atmosphere intensified.

 “Now what’s happening? We’re dissolving!” Clara yelled, watching her little hands disappear and then reappear again.

Angelica observed different parts of the ship, their cats, their bodies, and the monkey crew all vanishing momentarily. She drew a sharp breath. She was about to say something when the ethereal whale swimming directly before them opened its massive mouth, saltwater pouring down its yawning maw that seemed miles and miles deep.

 “This is madness!” Clara shrieked, staring down the vast gaping throat of the beast. “Even a hurricane would be much better than this.

We’re going to die, for sure!” Angelica lost her composure. “Turn the ship!” she demanded. “I don’t wanna die!”

 “Impossible!” Claudius cried. “We must go!” “I’m gonna be sick!” Clara cried, her face pasty. She clasped her sister’s scrawny hand in horror. What lay before them was far worse than that scary roller coaster Angelica had once convinced her to try at their town fair.

Catapulted forward by the hurrying tide, Claudius’s ship now sailed upon the phantasm of a massive whale. The sleek vessel hung momentarily on the edge of the watery precipice of white light, then slipped straight down the monster’s wide-open chasm…

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Fascinated by the works of Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, C.B. Oresky began writing her own fantasy novel, The Warlock’s Curse, after dreaming of being whisked off to an alien realm. Besides her debut novel, she has seen four of her short stories published in a small, national literary press: Conceit Magazine. When she’s not writing, she can be found wandering through the  woods, dancing flamenco, or planting flowers in her garden. She currently lives in a small town in Connecticut with her bodybuilder husband, their exceptionally naughty Scottish terrier and Siamese cat, ten chickens, Mr. Tiggy the hedgehog, and a yard filled with majestic flowers.

Website: www.cbOresky.com

  • Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cboresky/.
  • Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thewarlockscurse/
  • Twitter: @cbOresky
  • TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@cboresky
  • Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/c-b-oresky
  • Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22747540.C_B_Oresky
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Giveaway – Defy The Stars by Cathrina Constantine @XpressoTours @cathconstantine

Defy the Stars
Cathrina Constantine
Publication date: January 13th 2023
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Circus grunt. Charmer. Fire wrangler.
Growing up within the grind of the enchanted Circus Faire, Crew’s unique talents have blossomed. Though, he’s been warned that the King of Hawkswing is determined to eradicate a certain species, and for his own sake Crew must keep his formidable gifts under wraps.

Relations between interspecies caused an imbalance of power and now are strictly forbidden. Dolorans, like Sage and her sister, are being hunted and persecuted because of their intense powers, leaving them no choice but to run to escape the genocide of their kind.

She possesses a forceful energy for good and evil.
His untapped powers are growing stronger by the day.
Survival will demand they rely on each other.

When Crew learns a dark wizard is holding his brother captive, he enters into a deal with him in hopes of getting close enough to free those he has imprisoned. Yet, what he uncovers is far more sinister than Crew could ever imagine. Can Crew harness the strength within him to save his brother and Sage and all those in the wizard’s clutches? Or will he be trapped by the wizard’s wicked plan?

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

“What a shame. Polk spoke highly of you.” Aerestol snapped his fingers and the sentinels redeployed, penning Crew in. While Crew was a head taller, the goons were packing revolvers tucked into the waistbands of their pants. “In my line of work, I can’t afford to trust anyone. Rumormongers are dealt with accordingly. My advice? Don’t become one.” He hooked his thumbs into his vest, and with his head down, turned toward the grand staircase.

“Now what?” Crew said. Was he done for? Were his goons going to take him out. Kill him?

Aerestol pivoted, and as if improvising a reply, his head slanted sideways. “So far, you haven’t impressed me, boy. You should have handed over the girl. Instead, I walk away empty handed. I can’t tolerate that.” He ran his fingers beneath his chin. “Perhaps Polk was speaking with a straight tongue. He never failed me. I tell you what, for his sake alone, your obeisance is most welcome if you want into my lucrative business.” His mouth spread. “If you make it out alive…you know how to reach me, through Dyke. Ingrain this into that thick skull of yours. No snitches. One bullet.” He jutted his chin towards the one-eyed goon. “Do it.”

The sentry pulled his revolver from his waistband and targeted Crew’s chest.

“Hey!” Crew barked, anxious to get Aerestol to look at him. The doctor swerved and Crew straightaway connected with his dark eyes. Gotcha! “So this is how we’re going to end our business arrangement, aye? A bullet to the heart?” he pitched his voice. Aerestol’s pupils enlarged. “I’m the only one who can bring the girl to you. Don’t waste me and my talents.” Crew blinked, terminating his connection, and the doctor squeezed his eyes and shook his head.

“His thigh,” ordered Aerestol. “It’s unfortunate that I can’t stay to watch how this performance ends.”

The orc lowered his gun and pulled the trigger.

White light sliced through Crew. And a blinding explosion of stars as intense pain ripped through him. His knees buckled.

Author Bio:

I am blessed with a loving family and forever friends. My world revolves around them.

I grew up in the small village of Lancaster, NY, where I married my sweetheart. I’m devoted to raising 5 cherished children, and now my grandchildren.

I love to immerse myself in great books of every kind of genre, which helps me to write purely for entertainment, and hopefully to inspire readers. When not stationed at my computer you can find me in the woods taking long walks with my dog.

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Giveaway – Stranded With Billionaire Grumpy Pants by Stacy Deanne @XpressoTours

Stranded with Billionaire Grumpy Pants
Stacy-Deanne
Publication date: January 11th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Chanel’s about to jump off a bridge. A single mother of a teen daughter in a wheelchair, she loves her job but hates her annoying, yet fine-as-wine, billionaire boss.

Wesley Babcock is the biggest jerk on the planet: rude, disrespectful, arrogant, and he thinks the world revolves around his needs. Chanel’s sick of it!

Needing to get away and having an employee discount for a vacation to Wesley’s wilderness resort, Chanel and her daughter take off for a trip during Memorial Weekend. Chanel’s looking forward to having some fun until she sees who else has shown up.

Yep, Mr. Grumpy Money Bags Himself.

And if that’s not bad enough, Chanel signs up for a nature hike only to get lost with… yeah, you guessed it.

Chanel and Wesley cross each other’s paths constantly during the weekend, but can they stop bickering long enough to realize they’re incredibly attracted to each other?

Tropes: billionaire, age gap, office romance, romantic comedy, single-mother romance

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

“Mr. Babcock should be ashamed! Absolutely ashamed!” Chanel carried on at the check-in counter while the poor employees behind the desk shivered as if she were holding them at gunpoint. “I know he’s an ass, but didn’t know he was this terrible. How could this place not have a ramp? How?”

“We have ramps, Ma’am,” the pudgy redhead spoke as if she were afraid Chanel would strike her down. “One is in the back and the other by the spa.”

“Really?” Chanel scoffed, balling her fists so she wouldn’t throw anything. “So my daughter has to enter through the back like she’s a second-class citizen? Ramps should be visible in the front! Duh. That’s the idea of being accessible!” She slapped the porcelain counter. “This is unacceptable, and I’m reporting this place to the state for violations of the law. I will not let you get away with treating disabled people like an afterthought—”

“What’s going on here?” a male voice boomed throughout the waiting area.

Recognizing her boss’ icy tone, Chanel held her breath as she turned to face

him.

The debonair Wesley Babcock strutted toward the counter and everyone rushed out of his path. He always wore suits of dark-blues or blacks, so it surprised Chanel to see him without a blazer but still wearing his button-down white shirt and those diamond cufflinks with his initials engraved in them.

In this heat.

Chanel could do nothing but chuckle. It wasn’t bad enough she had to see this man everyday now he was here the one time she took a vacation.

“Ah, Miss Adeyami.” Wesley flashed a sarcastic smile that belonged on magazine covers. “What a surprise to see you here, causing a scene as always. Could you try to act like a lady, please?”

She scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You’re my employee.” He flexed his triangular jaws. “Which means you represent me and my company at all times and I will not have you embarrassing my brand in my establishment.”

“Well, if you don’t wanna be embarrassed in your own establishment, then you should’ve had a ramp in the front of your place!” She pointed to the glass doors. “Or are people in wheelchairs not allowed here?”

He grimaced, his dashing greenish-brown eyes set in a carnal stare that reminded her of a shady salesman. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Mr. Babcock, sir.” The feminine male employee dashed from behind the

counter. “It’s really nothing to bother yourself with.”

“The hell it’s not. It’s his place.” Chanel held her waist. “How come there isn’t a

ramp at the front entrance? That’s illegal.”

“Perhaps you should brush up on California laws, Miss Adeyami, or else learn

how to comprehend them better.” Wesley straightened himself, shoulders squared. “The law is that we have ramps that fit the code and we do. We do not have to have them at all entrances or exits.”

“But that makes no sense. My daughter has to wheel herself all the way to the back of the place to get inside? Like she’s the help sneaking in or something?”

He relaxed his face, his dimples firm in his cheeks despite not smiling. “Your daughter’s in a wheelchair?”

“Yes and boss or no boss, I won’t let you get away with this.”

He shrugged. “What are you gonna do about it?”

I’m gonna report you to the authorities!”


Author Bio:

USA TODAY FEATURED AUTHOR

Born and raised in Houston, Texas, Stacy-Deanne (Dee-Anne) is an award-winning author of romantic suspense, contemporary romance, thrillers, and women’s fiction books featuring BWWM pairings. Her books have been bestsellers in stores worldwide including Amazon, Apple, and Barnes and Noble. Her work has been praised and reviewed in USA Today numerously. She has a Bachelor of Arts degree and is a 2011 and 2012 African-American Literary Award Nominee. She also is a winner of the Swirl Award (an award dedicated to authors of multicultural/interracial works).

Stacy is known for bringing versatile stories to her readers. With her, you never know what you’re gonna get, which separates Stacy’s work from the pack.

Stacy’s books are full of passion, thrills, intriguing characters and so much emotion you can’t get enough! If you want something different and unpredictable then definitely check out her work.

With Stacy every book is an adventure.

Want to receive book updates? Sign up for Stacy’s mailing list:

http://eepurl.com/dFGzTL

Website: https://www.stacy-deanne.com/

Stacy is a proud member of ALLi, the Alliance of Independent Authors.

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Giveaway – Annihilation Archetypes by M M Gargiulo @XpressoTours

Annihilation Archetypes
M.M. Gargiulo
(Annihilation Archetypes, #1)
Publication date: January 13th 2023
Genres: Adult, Fantasy

Born to siren humans to their watery graves, Nefertiti feels trapped in her life of violence. She leaves her home to venture on shore and falls in love with humans. Her duty brings her back to the sea, and fate tightens its hold on her from an unexpected source.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

Chapter 4

The next day Evgenís was eager to talk about my training. I was evasive, trying not to make eye contact with her. I thought the details of my night were too embarrassing to share with my proud sister, and I had no wish to relive them. I did not know if other huntresses took so long to learn how to walk, but Diana made it seem like they did not.

“Okay, you do not want to talk about it,” she sighed after a few minutes of this ensued. “Tell me this, did you learn something?”

I looked up into her beautiful blue eyes and found myself both comforted and sad. I wished I was better at walking, but Evgenís would still love me even if I was a terrible huntress.

“Yes, I absolutely learned lots of things yesterday.” I smiled at her, forcing myself to look excited and happy.

“Interesting,” she murmured under her breath. “I am glad,” she said at full volume.

“Okay, well do you have anything you would like to do today?” she asked me, her voice bright and cheerful.

“I think I am to meet with someone today.” Guilt washed over me again. Evgenís had given up living with me to come and live here, in isolation.

“Oh, no matter, I am sure I can find something to do while you are busy. Perhaps we can pick a night soon and go to our favorite wreck?” Her hopeful tone had me agreeing before I thought it over.

“I’d love to!” The wreck was a smallish fishing boat that had sunk off the coast of a tropical island. Many species of fish lived inside it, and coral grew off the outside of it. I was particularly in love with the spot because of the bright white sand. It seemed to be made of thousands and thousands of tiny corals, smashed and rounded by the tide and the wind. It was one of our favorite places to go. Evgenís always found it difficult to find fish while we were there. I had many happy memories of the two of us laughing and relaxing in the sand.

Evgenís smiled at my enthusiasm and kissed me on the cheek, excited at our prospective time together.

We ate some kelp together that apparently someone had dropped off in excessive amount while we slept. Things almost felt back to normal, despite our vastly different surroundings. I felt as though removing my tail somehow made me less of a mermaid than Evgenís.

When we were done eating, I bid Evgenís farewell and started to swim through the caverns and tunnels toward the surface to an area similar to the one where I met Diana. If my new teacher was anything like Diana, she would show up near the surface. I watched the moon move in the sky for hours, feeling my anxiety rise. Maybe I was supposed to go somewhere specific, but Diana forgot to mention it.

I was just starting to swim back and forth when I heard a voice.

“Nefertiti! How are you?” Santiago was swimming by, with two others.

“I am well, thank you.” My eyes drifted to the two others with him. One was a beautiful fair blonde female, the other a dark-complexioned male.

“Oh, this is Kane,” he said, gesturing toward the male merman. “And this is Danica.”

“Pleasure to meet the both of you.” I nodded my head in their direction. Kane bent at the waist in my direction.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Huntress.” His deep dark eyes met mine.

“Lovely to meet you as well,” Danica said.

“We were going to visit a reef down in the tropics,” Santiago said. “Would you care to join us?”

“Thank you, but I am supposed to be meeting someone,” I said. I took note of Kane’s and Santiago’s eyes that seemed to linger, and Danica’s, which seemed full of contempt.

“Next time, perhaps.” Kane’s eyes were still locked on me.

“I would love to.” I smiled at Kane, and could feel Santiago stir slightly next to him.

“Farewell then, Nefertiti.” Santiago nodded his head, and the three of them turned and began to swim away. I watched them go with a pang of loneliness and wondered if there would ever be a time where I did not feel so isolated from my own kind. My thoughts turned to Evgenís, who probably had an even harder time with it than I did. Guilt flashed through me at the idea of Evgenís leaving everyone she knew to raise me on her own.

I watched the stars turn in the sky and thought about their stark and naked beauty. Not unlike our people, but less dangerous. I imagined the answers to all of my questions were up there, winking at me in some code I could not understand. I wished I could speak their language of light. I wondered if the Gods were there, Evgenís had told me they lived up in the clouds.

When the sky began to lighten, I gave up my quest. Perhaps my next mentor had forgotten about the time. Maybe Diana gave her the wrong name. I started to swim toward the castle, taking one last look back at the sky. Suddenly a massive hammerhead shark emerged from the haze in the distance. I paused on my journey back home to watch the magnificent creature swim. His gait was the most elegant thing I had ever seen. The way he swam back and forth was reminiscent of how the sea seemed to part for the king himself. I loved the movement of his tail fin.

The shark seemed to notice me as soon as I noticed him. He adjusted his path slightly so he was headed straight toward me. I reached my hand forward, not in the slightest bit frightened of him. He was the hunter equivalent to myself. Even his skin was made of the tiniest teeth. I would probably grow to be more dangerous than he was. At the last second he turned his giant head, swimming by me to allow my outreached arm to pet the length of him as he swam by.

I felt my heart stir at the scars that decorated his side. He was a beautiful creature, full of an ancient sadness. I wondered how anyone could ever hurt such a creature. My hand ran the length of him, ten times my own size, and I felt the rough, textured body under my delicate soft hand.

He circled me once, clearly as eager as I was to remain closely connected, even if it was for a short while. When he came by me a second time, I grabbed onto his dorsal fin and let the length of me rest on top of his body. He seemed pleased by the attention and slowed his pace, allowing me to feel the gentle sway of the giant beast as he moved his tail back and forth. My own body swayed with his movements, and I felt as though we were one. I traced the deep gashes of scars on his back with my fingers, wondering what had caused them. I rode atop him for longer than I should have, the sun starting to really shine on the top of the sea.

He circled back after quite some time of me lying on top of him and swam with dignity back to where he had first found me. I turned my head to kiss the top of his back, my hair swirling around my face.

“Goodbye friend, I hope to see you again soon.” I watched him turn and be swallowed up by the dark sea. Maybe I would never get to play with the other merpeople, but at least I would have shark friends. I turned tail, and made my way back to the cave, exhausted from lack of sleep the previous night. Just before I approached the entrance to the first tunnel, I was startled by a stunning woman waiting by the entrance to the hall.

She had waist length red and silver hair (I gathered she was a huntress), a green tail fin, and a fair complexion. Her giant blue eyes were staring, unblinkingly, at me. I assumed she was older due to the streaks of silver in her bright red hair, but it was difficult to tell, there were no lines on her face.

“Nefertiti.” It was not a question, and I tried to figure out if I had met this woman before.

“Yes, that is I.” I smiled at her, hoping she was less crass than Diana. “I apologize, have we met?”

“We have not, although I have heard tell of you.”

“Well it is truly a pleasure to be acquainted with you.” I nodded my head in her direction.

“Yes, it is, but there is no need to be so formal with me.” She tossed back her hair, and it shimmered out behind her with such finesse I felt a ping of envy. I wondered if I would grow up to be so beautiful. “I am Arianna.”

“Arianna.” Her name sounded like a story I had long forgotten.

“Come, let us go for a swim.” She smiled at me, and I noticed her teeth were not sharpened, but similar to Evgenís’s. Maybe she wasn’t a huntress after all. She reached out her tiny soft hand, and I put mine into hers.

“I am here to teach you the ways of those on land,” Arianna stated. “Much has changed since I walked up there, but I have the best understanding of humankind. I am one of those who brought the best of the land back to the sea.”

“May I ask how that is?” I wondered.

“You may ask, but I will not share that part of my story with you just yet. I am not the normal kind of huntress, nor am I the normal kind of mermaid.” She smiled at me again, and I noticed tiny smile wrinkles near her eyes, which along with the silver in her hair made me think again that she was older than she appeared.

“I apologize,” I smiled back at her and was hopeful I had not offended her.

“No need to apologize for curiosity,” She winked her light blue eye at me. “I am going to teach you everything from what they call a street, to anatomy, back to music, and onward to proper dining etiquette. Is there a topic you would care to start with?”

“I actually have a few questions, if you do not mind.” I was curious about so many things.

“Of course, that is natural.” We had stopped our swim and were perched at the edge of a reef I had seen growing nearby. Some fish were swimming delicately by, but there was not another merperson in sight. The sea seemed to be lightening in color, the sun beginning to warm the ocean.

“First, will these lessons always occur during the day? I was not aware that many of our kind enjoyed the sunlight.” I tried not to make my voice sound ungrateful, but I was extremely tired and having a hard time concentrating. The brightness really bothered my large eyes.

“Yes, our lessons will happen while the sun is up. We are going to adjust your sleeping cycle so you are able to sleep less. Sleeping is one of the luxuries young huntresses are typically low on. There is much to learn and not enough time to do so. The next full moon is about twenty-nine suns away, and you need to be better versed in mankind before you dance back on shore.”

I felt my heart sink a tiny bit at the thought of sleeping less. “Interesting,” I said because I was unsure how else to answer. “I did not realize huntresses were not well rested. How exactly are we chosen to be huntresses? I know King Titus looks for a sign, but other than that, I do not know.”

Arianna looked at me with wide eyes. “First of all, my dear, you are young and it is best to learn as much as you can for the next few years. About the huntresses, I thought you would have known this by now. Did Evgenís not tell you?”

I shook my head, hair billowing around me. Her stern look made me feel defensive for a moment and I sputtered out, “I never asked her; honestly I just tried to avoid the topic with her as much as I could.”

Her frown seemed to lessen as she looked carefully at my face before responding, “I was not criticizing. I understand why you might not have wanted to bring up the subject to her and vice versa.” She took a deep breath and her gentle blue eyes seemed to fall out of focus.

“Long ago, huntresses began when mankind were much weaker than they are now. Back then they worshiped gods and deities and built them massive structures to pay homage. There was one amongst us, Chleo was her name, who fell in love with one of the Kings of Land. She would shed her scales and walk on shore every full moon, a trick she discovered after watching crabs shed their shells that time of the moon. She had grown to love him from afar, watching him through the rivers. When she finally climbed on shore, she seduced him. He was a powerful man, almost treated as a god himself, hence part of his appeal.

“He did not know what she was, but thought her to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her infrequent visits were full of passion and sex. When she left him in the morning he would grow angry. He wanted her to stay with him permanently, but alas, she could not. One morning Chleo was followed by her lover, and he saw her slip into the sea. She grew back her fins and scales, brighter and more beautiful than any of his gems, her dark purple coloring glittered in the sunlight.

“He became obsessed in her absence. He wondered what kind of creature she was. He thought she might be some sort of goddess. He wanted to keep her as his lover, but he also wanted to sell her to other royalty, knowing her scales would be worth much. He thought about what a trophy such a lover would be. When the next full moon arose, Chleo climbed onto the shore and walked into the palace where her king lived. He was mad with lust, and they had wild sex all night. When the sun began to rise, Chleo tried to slip away while he slept, but his doors had been barred. Trapped, she began to suffocate.

“Chleo’s scales started to grow back, and her legs fused together, but the nearest water source was a small pond the king bathed in. She climbed into it, desperate to wet her body. When the king awoke he was pleased that she was still there, and even more pleased that he had captured her. He climbed into the water and had sex with her. She obliged, more because she was afraid what he might do to her should she refuse, and less because she wanted to.

“He used her this way for many days. Chleo, trapped, had no choice. After a few days the king decided to sell her body to another royal who was passing through his kingdom. This was common at the time. She was used for their bodily urges every day during her imprisonment. She felt the moon grow fuller in the sky, and her heart grew full of hatred. She decided when she could walk again she would escape and bring doom to those who had wronged her. She spent every waking second plotting her revenge. When the full moon turned in the sky, her legs came back, and Chleo was alone in the king’s room. He was out on a diplomatic mission, but she knew he would be back soon enough. She seduced the man left to guard her and slit his throat while he was inside her.

“She ran back to the safety of her river and swam back out to sea. Her mental injuries took hold of her heart over the next month, and when she was able to walk on land again she went ashore and killed men. She never reached her king, who was too heavily guarded, but she spent the rest of her time killing those who guarded and protected him. Eventually she was able to kill his future wife when she bathed in the river. Chleo was able to pull the woman to her doom. Chleo’s sister, Cora, joined her in her efforts, furious at her sister’s plight. The two of them were our first formal huntresses, and from them, others joined, some with anger in their hearts, others who felt they had been wronged by those on land.

“Now, that does not entirely answer your question, but I thought it important for you to know,” Arianna said with a deep breath, her voice taking on a somber tone.

“It does answer a part of my question though,” I insisted. “So how did we continue to be what we are today?”

“Less time ago, King Titus was born. A merman with unusual powers granted by the sea. Some say he is Poseidon’s first born son. His influence united our people, and we all agreed to let him rule us. Shortly after being crowned he declared war on mankind. He was angered by their destruction of our world. I think the mistreatment of our race weighed heavily on his mind. He cast a spell, using his strange powers, that bound huntresses to him. When a new one was born, he would feel it, and another impression of a shark would be left on his very flesh.” Her monologue trailed off and I was left with more questions than I started with.

“How does he know?” I whispered, as if he could hear me.

“He can read the hearts of others.”

“How can he read the heart of a person just born? I thought their heart would be pure and empty, having not experienced the world yet.”

“That is a question better posed to him than me. I do not understand the powers he possesses, but I have seen them enough to know they are not to be disregarded.” Arianna looked deep into my eyes, seeing the turmoil that raged inside.

“Is he really Poseidon’s son?” I asked, my mouth slightly open.

“Only Poseidon knows that,” Arianna said, eyes twinkling at my interest.

“Have you ever seen him before?” I wondered out loud.

“I have,” Arianna said calmly.

“You have?” I asked, incredulously. “When? Where? How?”

“One thing at a time,” she laughed. “Has your sister not taught you much about the gods?”

“I know that Poseidon is our most active God,” I said. “I know that others exist and they live in the clouds.”

“Yes and no, child,” Arianna began. “Poseidon might seem more relevant than the rest, but that is because we live in his domain. Zeus rules the sky, the king of them all. Aphrodite brought forth love and beauty, she is the goddess of both. Apollo brings us prophecy, music, and knowledge. Ares is the God of War.”

I listened to Arianna, imagining the clouds filled with giant beautiful merpeople who were also gods. I wondered if they had tails or feet.

“Artemis visits the seas sometimes, as he rules all animals. Athena is the Goddess of Wisdom. Hermes is the messenger of the gods. Dionysus brings pleasures to life. Hephaestus brings fire to the land. Hades rules the dead.”

“Do they have tails or feet?” I mused.

“They have what pleases them most,” Arianna said. “They are very able to shed their scales or feet as they desire.”

“And they live in the clouds?” I asked, eagerly.

“That is what a lot of our kind believes,” Arianna said slowly. “I think they wander around the planet, going where they want. Maybe they do retire to the sky, but I have never seen where their home would be.”

“And you have really seen Poseidon?” I was amazed.

“Yes, he used to frequent here more often than he does now. It has been at least half a century since he has been to this grotto.”

“What does he look like?” I asked.

“Exactly how you would expect him to look,” Arianna smiled.

“Big, strong, and handsome,” I said.

“Yes, those words could all be applied to him.”

I was silent for a few minutes, my head filled with ideas of what the gods looked like.

“I would very much like to meet Poseidon,” I said.

“Not any of the others?” Arianna asked, the corner of her mouth turning up into a smile.

“I would be happy to meet any of them,” I said honestly. “I would especially like to meet the god of my home though.”

“Do you have more questions?” Arianna asked.

“Many, many more. I am unsure where to start with them all,” I said, overwhelmed with everything I had just heard.

“I understand. I have trained many huntresses, and they all start off in a similar way. Lost and slightly confused. You will find your place in the world, in both worlds. And you will see that you will become what you were always meant for. Everyone will be proud of the huntress you grow into.” Arianna smiled kindly at me.

“Thank you.” I was at a loss for words. My throat felt tight and I wished I could clear it without drawing attention to it.

“Thank you for all that you will do for us. It is a hard task you have been given, and one not many can handle. Your bravery will always set you apart from the others.”

I did not feel brave, but I acknowledged her compliment with a nod of my head. It felt like everyone expected me to be this fierce warrior, but I had grown up with Evgenís, playing with fish and giggling at the world. For a brief moment I wished she had not taken me away from everyone, perhaps I would not be as soft. Maybe I would grow to be fierce, but I felt small and feeble listening to stories of the gods.

“What could Chleo have seen in that human king?” I mused, not really expecting an answer.

“I would imagine there were quite a few things that drew her to him.” Arianna surprised me with her thoughtful answer. “He was literally treated like a god of sorts. They believed their kings to be deities, and they often proclaimed themselves reincarnations of the gods they worshiped. At that time, the masses of people did everything their king asked for. He would have seemed very powerful. Incredibly resourceful. I am sure he was sexually desirable as well. Sometimes, there is a chemistry that goes beyond reason. Chleo was drawn to him; it is a shame he did not see the value of continuing the way she wanted.”

“Now, we are going to start with the very basics of human anatomy . . .”

I spent the next five hours learning about human bodies. I was most interested in their lower halves, seeing how they differed from my own. Their tops seemed to be relatively similar to ours, but they lacked gills and a way of absorbing oxygen from the water. Their hearts were smaller than ours and beat faster. They did not seem to be as lean as we were. Arianna told me the majority of humankind were larger than they should be. Our muscles were typically easily visible, we did not have hair on our bodies either, which was different.

“I noticed the split in my legs was different,” I ventured when we started to talk about the lower half of humans.

“Yes, so humans have an external clitoris which gives pleasure, as well as the internal pleasure giver. When you transform you take on these aspects as well. Also, it will be perfectly normal if you see hair begin to appear just above your vagina. Humans sometimes remove this, but it is not necessary. Diana will show you how to better navigate your sex organs.” She glanced at me. “I am too old to give you a proper, enthusiastic, and energetic introduction. Eventually, you are expected to be able to seduce human men.” Arianna did not seem abashed to discuss such intimacies.

“When?” My voice cracked.

“Oh, Nefertiti,” Arianna smiled at me kindly, “you have many years of learning to do before that happens. Do not worry about this; it is not something to lose sleep over.”

I wondered if she was joking, seeing as she told me I was to begin sleeping less.

“That seems to be enough for today.” Arianna leaned down and kissed me gently on my lips. “You are tired and have enough to think about.”

“Thank you for your instruction.” I bowed my head and turned around, mentally and physically exhausted. My tail was still aching from having the scales ripped off and regrown. I never stayed up this far into the day and was feeling somewhat delusional.

I half swam and half let the current pull me toward the entrance to the large hall where I first saw Arianna. I found my way to my small sanctuary, and to my relief, saw Evgenís asleep. I lay next to her, and let the events of the day wash over me.



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Giveaway – Painted To Death by Sarah Vernon @XpressoTours

Painted to Death
Sarah Vernon
Publication date: January 10th 2023
Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery

Sam Green is an art student with some pretty creative habits when it comes to solving mysteries, in this new series from author and artist Sarah Vernon. It’s the coldest part of a Boston winter when her friend Catherine is found dead in the painting studios one evening. The police are quick to rule her death a suicide, but Sam knows that something doesn’t seem right. Despite the protests of her friends Rebecca and Stephanie (although — happily — with the help of her crush Arun), Sam starts to poke around the old art department building. Peering into the dark corners of studios and underneath piles of musty art supplies, Sam soon uncovers some surprising suspects and motives behind Catherine’s death, in an art department simmering with artistic jealousy, resentment, and more relationship drama than a daytime talk show could handle. The only question is, will Sam be able to find out who killed Catherine before that person finds Sam?

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EXCERPT:

It was a dark and stormy night. Yeah, for real. That’s how I’m starting, because why mess with what works?

Also, it really was dark and stormy the night this all started, the wind bursting in through all the tiny cracks around the old, barely insulated windows of our triple-decker apartment. I say started, but this was actually a couple of weeks after Catherine had died. I just thought I’d start right in the middle of it, because we all know the worst Agatha Christies are the ones where Poirot doesn’t even come into it until page seventy-five, and you have to first get through hours and hours of slow English family drama, or worse, a bumbling English inspector.

We were huddled in the living room, with Benny on the floor leaning against the coffee table, and Rebecca, Mel, and me on the couches, mugs of mulled wine steaming in our hands. We would have all preferred to be outside smoking, the distraction of a cigarette easing the conversation, but there’s that dark and stormy night again. Plus, our landlord had recently made it harder to disarm the smoke alarm, so no more smoking inside either.

So here we were, trying to have a casual conversation about a topic that defies casual conversation. Mel – the kind of roommate we weren’t quite close to yet, who still attached herself to any kind of group activity at our apartment – was trying hard to make everyone smile, telling unfunny jokes and keeping the wine topped up. Rebecca had taken the comforting aunt approach, keeping her hand on Benny’s shoulder while he told us about his afternoon.

“I just feel like they weren’t even asking the right questions,” he was saying. “It’s like, the cops didn’t ask about her family much at all – what kind of mood she had been in. All they wanted to know was things like, did she have a boyfriend?” Rebecca tutted and leaned down to pat his back. “I mean, what is this, twenty years ago? Do they still only go for the boyfriend?” Benny frowned into his cup, the steam blurring his glasses.

In fairness, people are still most often killed by their immediate loved ones. And twenty years ago is not all that long ago. But forgive Benny’s nearsightedness; in fairness, at twenty-two, it was essentially a lifetime to him.

“What did you tell them?” Mel wanted to know.

Rebecca and I shot her a sharp look, but she was innocently fiddling with her hair, short and newly dyed lavender, and wouldn’t meet our eyes. Benny had called us as soon as the police had finished interviewing him, desperate for our company and already on his way over. We had all agreed it would be best not to ask for specifics, but Mel was apparently determined to be as annoying as ever.

“Obviously the truth,” Benny replied. “That she had dated a few different people so far this year, but none was particularly serious. And really,” he continued indignantly, “even if someone had been a serious boyfriend, how can they actually think that proves anything? All that shows, I think, is how easy it was to love her.”

Benny’s chin dropped to his chest and Rebecca was immediately on the floor next to him, her arm around his back. I swear she actually said, “There, there.”

“Sam, maybe you can get out some extra blankets? Benny, why don’t you just spend the night here, on the couch?” Rebecca looked at me expectantly.

“Of course,” I said, a clap of thunder accentuating my voice. “It’s way too stormy out for you to go anywhere, anyway.” I got up, dragging Mel with me. “Mel, help me get the blankets down.”

She followed me, obviously reluctantly, out into the hall. I opened the door to the hall closet, still holding onto her arm.

“Sam, what’s up? Let go of me,” she whined. I rolled my eyes.

“What was all that back there?” I hissed. “We agreed we weren’t going to ask him for specifics. Benny’s been through enough as it is – we don’t have to make him relive everything.”

Her eyes grew wide, an expression of innocence we were familiar with, as Mel always proclaimed that she was never the one who left dirty dishes out or forgot to buy toilet paper. It was frankly gross that she would try to pull the same crap here, in the middle of a murder investigation.

“Sorry, I didn’t think it was prying just to ask what he answered to one question,” she said, still in her most exasperating whine. “And come on, Sam, it’s not like you’re not curious. Benny was her best friend. Basically her brother! Who else is going to know what’s really going on?”

“But you don’t need to know what’s going on,” I said, reaching up to the top shelf for an extra quilt. “If the police want to call you up and tell you everything they’ve found out in the past two weeks, they’ll do that. You don’t have to ask Benny for the recap.” I pushed the quilt into her arms, turning back for sheets.

“Fine,” Mel said. “I’m sorry. But for the record, I’ve heard you and Rebecca whispering. I know I’m not the only one who wants answers.” This last word she delivered in a true crime podcast-perfect whisper.

Author Bio:

Sarah Vernon is an author and artist based in Massachusetts, where she writes the Triple-Decker Mystery Series.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram


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  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
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  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
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Giveaway – What Meets The Eye by Alex Kenna @partnersincr1me @ALEXKENNAS

What Meets the Eye by Alex Kenna Banner

What Meets the Eye

by Alex Kenna

January 9 – February 3, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

From debut author Alex Kenna comes a pulse-pounding tapestry of secrets, retribution, and greed for fans of Jeffrey Archer.

Kate Myles was a promising Los Angeles police detective, until an accident and opioid addiction blew up her family and destroyed her career. Struggling to rebuild her life, Kate decides to try her hand at private detective work—but she gets much more than she bargained for when she takes on the case of a celebrated painter found dead in a downtown loft.

When Margot Starling’s body was found, the cause of death was assumed to be suicide. Despite her beauty, talent, and fame, she struggled with a host of demons. But as Kate digs deeper, she learns that Margot had a growing list of powerful enemies—among them a shady art dealer who had been selling forged works by Margot. Kate soon uncovers a dirty trail that leads straight into the heart of the city’s deadly underworld.

Margot died for her art—and if Kate doesn’t tread lightly, she could be the next to get brushed out.

Praise for What Meets the Eye:

“[An] impressive debut . . . Sara Paretsky fans will be pleased.”

Publishers Weekly

“Alex Kenna is the real deal, a true talent. Her prose is stunningly eloquent and characterization masterful.”

Crime Fiction Critic

“A righteous, painful debut. More, please.”

Kirkus Reviews

“Dragging the world of high art down into the muck of Los Angeles’ criminal underbelly, Alex Kenna has created an engaging mystery buoyed by the heart of its heroine, Kate Myles. Trying to win against stacked decks in her professional and personal lives, Myles’ resilience and hustle makes her an easy hero to stand up and cheer for.”

James Queally, author of the Russel Avery novels and Los Angeles Times crime reporter

“With the sure hand of an old master, Alex Kenna’s debut blurs the line between catharsis and crime in this gritty and nimble noir mystery. When a routine investigation into the apparent suicide of art superstar Margot Starling becomes anything but, down-on-her-luck PI Kate Myles must square herself up for the fight of her life or lose it all. Entertaining and provocative, What Meets the Eye reminds us that truth often comes with a price tag much higher—and deadlier—than anything Sotheby’s could ever hope to fetch at auction.”

Katie Lattari, author of Dark Things I Adore

“Kenna gives us the LA crime story we want—a fronded, sun-beaten carousel of depravity and murder, all laced up with tight plotting, sharply hewn characters, and a gripping, original story.”

Joseph Schneider, author of the Tully Jarsdel Mysteries

“A suspicious death dismissed as suicide leads PI Kate Myles deep into a web of blackmail and deceit, set against an intriguing backdrop of shady dealings in the art world. An all too human character, Kate is determined to piece together the wreckage of her life and career, and salvage her fractured relationship with her daughter. With clever twists & turns, and a host of convincing suspects along the way, the plot delivers a satisfying ending, but leaves us with tantalizing hints of more to come from Kate…”

Julie Cameron, author of Nameless Acts of Cruelty

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery
Published by: Crooked Lane Books
Publication Date: December 2022
Number of Pages: 288
ISBN: 9781639101849 (ISBN10: 1639101845)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Penguin Random House

Read an excerpt:

Prologue

Six Months Ago – Margot

All week long, I’d felt a fire in my belly. The spirit passed through me like lightning, brushes flying from wet canvas to wet canvas. Cooking was a waste of time, so I ordered takeout and drank whiskey. Sleep was out of the question. I cranked up the music and worked to the beat. Sometimes I sang along, dripping globs of color onto the floor. The paint went on smooth, like buttery icing. After a while, my brushes stayed in their jar and my fingers danced across the canvas. No bristles between skin and cloth.

Soon the images came alive. I’d been studying the Spanish greats: Velasquez, Goya, Zurbaran, Ribera. For them, it was all about bottomless darks with hints of warm, mellow light. I took a break from bold colors, indulging in white and yellow ochre on burnt sienna. The effect was sinister but mesmerizing. One after another, my hands pulled ghostly figures out of a dark void.

I finally passed out around dawn on Thursday, just as the birds were starting to chatter. When I woke, it was midafternoon, and the magic was gone. My mouth tasted of bile and I felt like someone had scooped out my eyeballs and punched me in the sockets.

I wandered into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. One of Goya’s haggard witches stared back at me. My skin was the color of rice pudding. There were purple half-moons under my eyes and a cadmium streak in my hair. I picked at my nail beds, filled with Prussian blue. The thought of cleaning them was exhausting so I didn’t bother.

My stomach let out a growl and I stumbled over to the fridge. Nothing inside was fresh enough to tempt me. I turned to a soggy takeout container on the kitchen table. The waxed cardboard had partially melted, and a puddle of sauce oozed onto the table. A dead fruit fly was trapped inside the congealed orange liquid like a mosquito in amber. I pulled a half-eaten egg roll off last night’s dinner plate and popped it in my mouth. At least it was still crispy.

After lunch-breakfast-dinner, I had an edible and downed a pot of coffee. I tried to get back to work, but the electricity was gone. The images that were so alive last night now looked dull and mannered. A self-portrait smirked at me. I’d given myself a pouty red mouth like an Instagram twat and artificial jolly-rancher-green eyes. It was pathetic. The last desperate cry of a lonely train wreck nearing forty. I felt worthless. I should go jump off a bridge or wander onto the freeway.

I lay on the couch for what must have been hours, binge watching some show about British aristocrats and their servants. Thank God I wasn’t born in nineteenth century England. You can’t be a British lady if you’re a mouthy alcoholic who screws half the landed gentry. I would’ve done worse as a servant. I can barely fry an egg and half the time I’m too paralyzed by my own shit to get out of bed. I’d end up as a consumptive whore blowing sailors for my supper in a London tenement.

The curtains were drawn, and eventually light stopped leaking in from the window edges. I usually do better when the sun goes down. But nightfall didn’t bring me a second wind. It made me feel worse. I poured myself another drink and lit a cigarette.

My cell kept blowing up with a number I didn’t recognize. I’d had this phone for six months and never transferred my contacts over from the last one. Now my caller ID served as a kind of litmus test. If someone hadn’t reached out in half a year, they weren’t worth my time. I let it go to voicemail and turned back to the aristocrats. The only decent one was dead now. This show was making me tired.

There was a knock on the door. Probably the neighbor coming to tell me her baby couldn’t sleep because I make use of my electronics. I ignored it, took a swig of whiskey, and lit another cigarette.

Then whoever it was started pounding. “Margot, open up,” said a loud baritone. The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. His tone had an edge of desperation. Could it be that cop from last week? A wave of dread flowed through me. My hands started shaking and a clump of ash fell on the couch. If I kept very still, maybe he’d think I wasn’t home and go away. No, the TV was too loud. He knew I was in here.

I tiptoed over to the keyhole and gasped. My drink flew from my hand and shattered, coating the floor in alcohol and shards of glass.

***

Excerpt from What Meets the Eye by Alex Kenna. Copyright 2022 by Alex Kenna. Reproduced with permission from Alex Kenna. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Alex Kenna

Alex Kenna is a lawyer, writer, and amateur painter based in Los Angeles. Before law school, Alex studied painting and art history. She also worked as a freelance culture writer and sold art in a gallery. Originally from Washington DC, Alex lives in Los Angeles with her husband, son, and giant schnauzer, Zelda. When she’s not writing Alex can be found exploring Southern California, toddler-wrangling, and playing string instruments badly.

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Giveaway – Doc Showmance by Zoe Forward @XpressoTours

Doc Showmance
Zoe Forward
Publication date: January 10th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

From USA Today bestselling author Zoe Forward comes a new enemies-to-lovers veterinary RomCom.

I would say Dr. Ian Todd is my archenemy. But that would require us acknowledging each other, which we haven’t done since we graduated veterinary school.

He’s famous. As in, he’s the world’s “Sexiest Veterinarian Alive” with his own wildlife TV show and a string of glamorous girlfriends.

I’m infamous as a reality TV emergency veterinarian with a snark mouth, take-no-crap attitude, and zero dating life.

When asked to fake a romance with him on TV to boost my ER show’s ratings, I want to say no-way, but the extra money will pay off my brother’s loan shark debt. Even though Ian broke my heart, playing his love interest shouldn’t be hard, especially if it means getting to watch him squirm.

Lines get blurred when the TV setups stop feeling fake. Can I chance this might be real love?

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EXCERPT

He grinned. “It’s over. You don’t have to keep acting for the cameras.”

Be cool. Be tough. My emotional tank had hit empty an hour ago. All I had left was defensive grumpiness, which meant my mouth filter wouldn’t work. “I never peacock for the fucking cameras. I refuse. Actually, I can’t act. It’s why this, with you here and whatever the hell they plan to make us do, is a nightmare. I can’t pretendto like you.”

“You think pretending to like you is going to be a picnic for me?”

“Then go. Quit. Please. Let’s not do this.” I lowered my bag and glared. “Go back to what you’re good at in those set up wild animal scenarios.”

His smile fell. “You don’t think I can do this. You think I can’t do emergency medicine.”

Oh, good Lord. I’d forgotten if I pushed him by disagreeing, he’d dig his heels in and do whatever the hell it was simply to annoy me and prove he was better at it. “I’m sure you’re a great vet to dolphins and elephants. Won’t see a lot of those here. What you will see is a lot is life or death scenarios. If your medicine is rusty, those split-moment decisions might not be the right ones. Then your patient dies.”

Okay, not exactly the right thing to say to inspire him to leave.

His cheek muscle spasmed as he stalked close to me. He had a solid foot on me, not that I was intimidated. “You don’t hold the monopoly on good medicine, Amber.”

“Go prove you’re Mr. Super Sexy Smart Vet somewhere else. Anywhere that’s not here.”

He was in my space, and oh, God, he smelled good. Fresh and spicy aftershave. In a job rife with terrible odors, this was heavenly.

Not heavenly. Snap out of it.

He cocked his head and scanned down my body. Softly, he said, “You think I’m sexy?”

Oh, my. The purr of his tone made my stomach clamp. I managed to tug my gaze off his. “I’m not doing this insanity of you picking apart every word I say. Not tonight.”

I marched out of the office, only to spin around and march back to grab my cell phone off the counter. Damn Ian for putting me off my game. This frazzled, scatterbrained behavior was about to become my new norm if he was in the vicinity.

Ian smiled a radiant expanse of white teeth. “You’re scared.”

I froze. I turned back to face him.

He chuckled low. “I get it. You’ve always been scared of me…of this.”

“I. Am. Not. Scared. Let’s get one thing straight. There’s no this.” I marched away without looking back.

Oh, it was on now. No one, and I mean no one, got to accuse me of being chicken.

Author Bio:

USA Today bestselling author, parent, wife, veterinarian, chocolate lover. Author of spicy paranormal and contemporary romances. Zoe Forward brings readers the perfect combination of action adventure, romance, humor and a bit of magic.

Her novels have won numerous awards including the Prism, Readers’ Choice Heart of Excellence, Golden Quill, Carolyn Readers Choice Award, and the Booksellers’ Best Award.

You can find her residing in the South with a menagerie of four-legged beasts and two wild kids

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