Giveaway – Shelter From Our Secrets, Silence & Shame by Rebecca L Brown @GoddessFish

Posted on April 7, 2022 by fundinmental

I love book covers and I love the cover for Shelter From Our Secrets, Silence & Shame. I am delighted to have Rebecca Brown visiting fundinmental to share her own thoughts on the cover.

Topic: Discuss your cover — how it came to be, what it represents, what you love or don’t love about it, etc. Anything you’d like to share about it.

I’m excited to be part of this Fundinmental blog tour, and I love that I can take this opportunity to talk about my book’s cover. I know that we shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, but I wanted my book’s cover to catch people’s attention and hopefully draw them to it and start reading.

I took the photograph myself in May 2021 when I was out in my kayak on Lake Huron, where I am lucky to live and work as a mental health clinician. I need to find ways to burn off and let go of the difficult stories that I collect in my day. One of my favourite ways to release the stress is to paddle into the sunset and feel the tension release from my body. I begin my book with this prologue:

I am floating.

On the water

calm

clear

soft

quiet.

Dusk,

the sun is setting.

The sky will hold light

for another half an hour

or so.

The beauty is often just after the sun sinks into the water,
then the colours are spectacular.

Or just softer.

It’s been a long day;

hard

heavy

yet healing.

I have no words left in me.

I cannot talk

or listen anymore.

I need quiet

peace

calm

presence.

I have found the shelter that I seek today

on the open water.

My kayak is my shelter this day.

I will paddle until I physically feel the release in my body.

I will watch the sun set until I find the peace in my soul.

I hope to sleep tonight. 

Rebuild my resilience.

I will wake and do it all again.

I may need to seek shelter differently tomorrow

Or not.

Knowing that I must still seek shelter sometimes,

makes it safe for me to continue in this work that I love.

Later in the book, I share a chapter which digs further into why this particular photograph means so much to me.

Chapter Fourteen: Spring 2021

I couldn’t wait to get my little yellow kayak in the water. It had been three years since I moved to the shores of the Great Lake Huron. We live in a home that has a story of its own (more on this to come), and it was built to look out at the beautiful water, which is a gift we cherish every day. The sunsets have been called among the most beautiful in the world, and the water itself changes from day to day: from calm, like glass, to rough and choppy. We’ve referred to it as both Lake Atlantic and the Pond Lake, all within twenty-four hours. The soft sand and miles of beach are what draw people from afar, but what makes it the most magnificent sight always is its colour. The water looks almost tropical. It can resemble a Caribbean turquoise blue, so soft that it takes your breath away. Looking at the colour of this beautiful water is a moment of awe that I treasure every day.

We’ve had a warm, mild spring, and this year feeling confined to the house, working from home, unable to see people in person, I have been trying to spend even more time outdoors in nature and, as often as possible, down at the water.

On May 17, our temperature rose to twenty degrees Celsius (68 F), and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. After dinner, I pulled my little yellow kayak out from under the deck where it had been stored all winter. I hosed it off to get rid of any spiders and dirt that had been hiding there all winter, and within half an hour had it in the water.

Due to the State of Emergency and lockdown in our area, there was virtually no one in the cottages that dot the shoreline of our secluded little bay. I was able to paddle in silence for an hour. The sun was high in the blue sky when I started, and once I went as far as I needed to, I let my paddles rest, pulled out my phone, and took a couple of photos to celebrate the moment. I floated and rested and let the warmth of the sun sink deep into my skin, and I meditated silently for a few minutes, noticing the slightest movement of the calm water swaying my boat.

It was both a moment of happiness and awe that I was so grateful for.

Then I turned my little yellow Pelican kayak in the direction I had come and started to paddle slowly and rhythmically back home. My cup of happiness was full.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my dog beside my bed telling me the sun was up. I went downstairs with her, my other dog, and two cats, and while I let all the animals out into the back yard, I poured myself a cup of coffee and cued up a guided mindfulness meditation. I let the small herd back inside and then made my way to my comfy chair in my office to practice ten minutes of mindfulness. The meditation I listened to this day was on Headspace.com, one of my favourite mindfulness apps. I easily slipped away with the narrator’s voice as she guided me through a visualization about balance, using the visual of a blue sky as a focal point.

This image of a blue sky is often one used in guided mindfulness meditations, and it’s a lovely image to think about. We can visualize the blue sky as something we always have access to; it’s the clear, calm, uncluttered mind, but it can be buried beneath our busy, racing thoughts, or the clouds. If we visualize clearing away the thoughts/clouds by intentionally focussing on our breath for a few minutes, the clouds gently float away to reveal the beautiful, calm, blue sky that is always somewhere in the background of our minds. The meditation suggested visualizing a photograph of a beautiful blue sky to help enhance this visualization, so I instantly visualized the beautiful blue sky I had experienced just the evening before when I was out in my kayak.

I opened my phone and turned to the photo I had taken just twelve hours earlier, out on the water on my kayak, with the beautiful blue sky in the background.

I knew instantly that I this photograph held so much meaning, which is why I chose it for my book cover.

Shelter from Our Secrets, Silence, and Shame: How Our Stories Can Keep Us Stuck or Set Us Free by Rebecca L. Brown, MSW, RSW

GENRE: SELF-HELP / Personal Growth / Self-Esteem

BLURB

As a mental health clinician, Rebecca Brown has been a safe place for many to seek shelter from their secrets, silence and shame. Inspired to finally slow down, stop running from herself and share her own story, she found ways to seek and savour her own shelter.

Rebecca’s personal journey takes us through sadness, tragedy, self-sabotage, the impossible pursuit of perfection, distorted thinking and eating, engaging with her shadow self, divorce, and numbing with alcohol, all in an attempt to avoid the story needing to be shared.

Dispelling the limiting beliefs we hold about ourselves can unlock our limitless potential to reach goals we never dared to dream. From the Boston Marathon to working with horses, Rebecca sets out to prove to herself that anything is possible when you don’t listen to the negative stories you tell yourself.

Everyone has a story. We become who we are because of what has happened to us, and because of the stories we tell ourselves. But do our stories continue to serve us well, or keep us stuck? Are our stories fact or fiction? Is it time to rewrite the versions we have been telling ourselves?

Shelter provides strategies to help reframe the thinking patterns we have developed, and offers tools to recognize when we are suffering from our own thoughts, feelings and actions. Resilience-building techniques are woven through the pages, and encouragement for the lifelong journey of collecting moments of awe and happiness.

Seeking and reading Shelter is a gift of self-compassion and self-discovery. Rebecca’s hope is that it will be read with a highlighter in hand, pages folded down, re-read, recommended to a friend, and used as a guide to start sharing our own stories with those we love.

We may not have written our beginnings, but we have the ability to write every word from this point forward and just imagine where our stories can take us when we are free of secrets, silence and shame.

EXCERPT

I give my talk.

The room erupts in applause.

A dozen people line up to thank me or say a few words at the end of my session.

One man in particular stands out.

He is well over six feet tall and wearing a full Texas sheriff uniform.

He has greying hair and is likely close to the end of his career.

He pumps my hand as he shakes it, almost leaving it numb.

He thanks me for my talk. “Great stuff,” he says.

And then he hands me his business card.

But it’s not quite a business card.

It’s a photo card, like a baseball card, or a kid’s hockey card, with the player’s name, position, and smiling face as they stand posed to take a shot in their team uniform.

Only this is of a man on a black horse.

More precisely, it’s this man, a Texas sheriff on his beautiful black police horse.

“I thought you’d like to have this,” he says. “My horse is Canadian, like you.” And then he says something that has stayed with me, because he couldn’t be more right: “Everyone in this business should have a good horse!”

He meant the business of trauma.

I couldn’t have agreed more.

I still have his “business card.”

Two years later, I went back to Texas to teach a three-day workshop on resilience to youth detention workers. I tried to look up my Texas sheriff, but he had retired. I hope he’s finding more time to enjoy his good horse. I’ve shared the story of our brief encounter and his photo card with many police officers over the years. And every one of them agrees: horses can heal humans. I’ve found shelter with horses. Sometimes in the saddle, but mostly not. My story will get there. Eventually.

I finished my keynote address and spent the rest of the day at the conference on Youth in the Justice System. People stopped me in the halls of the hotel, telling me how much they enjoyed my talk. Later that evening, I went for a run.

And then I drank a bottle of wine and went to bed.

AUTHOR Bio and Links

REBECCA BROWN is a clinical social worker with over 35 years in practice ranging from medical social work, childhood trauma, vicarious trauma for first responders, international psychological first aid, and Equine Assisted Therapy. She is honoured to hold a faculty appointment with the Department of Family Medicine at Western University in London, Ontario. She teaches extensively on the topics of trauma and resilience and has delivered keynote presentations throughout North America. She shares her life and career with her husband, a family physician and trailblazer in the field of Lifestyle Medicine. Together they live and work on the shores of the Great Lake Huron, where they seek and share shelter with their six adult children, four grandchildren, extended family and friends, two dogs, two cats and one horse.

Connect with Rebecca L. Brown

WEBSITE https://rebeccabrown.ca/
INSTAGRAM https://www.instagram.com/rebeccabrown.ca/
GOODREADS https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22150115.Rebecca_L_Brown

Get your copy of Shelter

AMAZON.COM https://amzn.to/3JTnKAj
AMAZON.CA https://amazon.ca/dp/0228859417
INDIGO CHAPTERS https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/shelter-from-our-secrets-silence/9780228859420-item.html
BARNES & NOBLE https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shelter-from-our-secrets-silence-and-shame-msw-rsw-brown/1140865116
SMASHWORDS https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1125515

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Giveaway – Savage City by L Penelope @leslyepenelope @XpressoTours

Posted on April 6, 2022 by fundinmental

Savage City
L. Penelope
(The Bliss Wars, #1)
Publication date: March 31st 2022
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

For Talia, death is only the beginning of survival…

When a tragic accident cuts my lonely life short, instead of heaven or hell, I’m stolen away to a terrifying city of warring shifter clans—the Nimali and the Fai. The Nimali mistake me for their missing princess. Her father, the dragon king, is identical to my own. But in this world, he dotes on me with the love and affection I always craved. And in a land with no tolerance for outsiders, feigning amnesia and impersonating shifter royalty may be the only way to survive.

For Ryin, falling in love is the worst kind of betrayal…

As a Fai warrior in captivity, I’m forced to serve my enemy even as I plot their destruction. The lost princess returned much changed, now the heat between us crackles irresistibly. While helping her heal using my magical talents, I begin to question what I thought I knew about the Nimali. She remains as forbidden as ever, but she also might be the key to freedom for me and my people.

Caught between two enemy factions balancing on the knife-blade of annihilation, our lies are the only thing keeping us alive, but they just might be our undoing.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

On top of the wall, silence reigns as the soldiers wait for word. We all stare toward the ground, anticipation a dark cloud suspended over us as sharp eyes scan the gloom for either a member of the scouting team that went out an hour ago or a Revoker, red eyes flashing and fangs covered in gristle and blood.

The first person who runs into view is tall and familiar and very much Nimali. His armor is blood spattered, but he appears uninjured. Others sigh audibly in relief, but my jaw tightens. Prince Shad. I wouldn’t have minded if he’d been grievously injured. My daimon silently chastises me for the unkindness, but I can’t help it. There are only two Nimali men who could have killed Dove, and he’s one of them. Until I’m certain it wasn’t him, I have to act like it was.

A bear and a lion are close behind him—part of the prince’s honor guard. The bear’s gait is hampered by a pronounced limp, though she still eats up the ground with long strides. Then my focus returns to the prince. He’s carrying something—someone—over his shoulder like a sack of beans. His bounding steps cross the distance easily, and then he’s at the rope ladder a soldier threw down. He climbs it with one arm while holding what I can see now is an injured woman.

Blood pours down her back from gashes that I’m sure were made by a Revoker’s claws. Her clothing is odd. A short, loose dress, oddly patterned and flimsy—I’ve never seen anything like it before, not on a Nimali or a Fai. Why anyone would go into No Man’s Land without battle armor is a mystery, but the woman is also barefoot. Begrudging respect bubbles up from my chest for the way the prince is able to negotiate the climb with that much dead weight, carried awkwardly. He could have shifted into his other form and flown up, but his own claws might have further injured her. And he is definitely treating her like something special.

The reason becomes clear when he finally gets to the top and one of the soldiers reaches out to help him with his burden. Prince Shad shakes his head and gently lays the woman down on her side, revealing her face.

I’m too far away to see at first, but when the soldiers in front of me gasp and immediately kneel, I get a glimpse. Princess Celena lies there, bloodied and battered. Her rich, chestnut skin is ashen, taking on an almost gray pallor. I’m frozen in place for a moment viewing her small form, her strange, tattered clothing, the odd way she’s braided her hair.

Then I’m shoved hard from behind, stumbling forward through the kneeling men and women.

“Where is the healer?” Prince Shad roars, but I’m already there, crouching down beside the princess. My daimon joins me seconds later, eager to fill me with its essence and lend me its healing power.

Celena’s back is ravaged, the wounds already bubbling with the poison from the Revoker’s talons. They look fresh, so it’s not too late to heal them if I’m quick about it. I hold out my hands and close my eyes, letting my daimon fully take over. Its energy flows through me, using my physical body as a conduit for its power.

Through my daimon, I sense the damage, the torn flesh and the toxins that have already entered her bloodstream. The healing energy pulls the poison out, a sticky black substance that leaks onto the stone of the wall. The flesh, layers of muscle and skin, is knit back together until there isn’t so much as a scar left. I silently thank my daimon and it retreats. Then I open my eyes.

Prince Shad is staring down at his sister. When the blue light of my power retreats, his dark eyes flick up to mine.

“I removed the poison,” I tell him.

“All of it?” I nod. His lips flatten into a grim line. “We’re taking her back to the Citadel. Come with me; the king will want to be sure.”

Author Bio:

L. Penelope has been writing since she could hold a pen and loves getting lost in the worlds in her head. She is an award-winning author of fantasy and paranormal romance. Equally left and right-brained, she studied filmmaking and computer science in college and sometimes dreams in HTML. After living on both coasts, she settled in Maryland with her husband and their furry dependents. Sign up for new release information and giveaways on her website: http://www.lpenelope.com.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub

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Giveaway – The Best Friend’s Guide To Taking Risks by Kadie Scott & Nicole Flockton @AOwenBooks @XpressoTours

Posted on April 6, 2022 by fundinmental

The Best Friend’s Guide to Taking Risks
Kadie Scott & Nicole Flockton
Publication date: April 4th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

All it takes is one weekend…

Everyone knows that the biggest risk you can take with your best friend is to cross a certain line.

When it comes to relationships, Hunter Lancing is not a risk taker. Between his parents’ terrible divorce and his own bad decisions, he’s been burned. Computers make more sense to him. Everything has a rule. Everything is defined. Like his computers, his best friend is defined, constant, and comes with rules he won’t break.

Part-time children’s party princess Natalie Morgan dances to the beat of a drum no one else can hear. The only person who truly gets her and is never scared off by her sometimes zany ideas is Hunter. But she has a big problem. Natalie keeps having all these…feelings…for her bestie.

But on a weekend getaway, a game of risky dares and one-upmanship that was supposed to just be for laughs may end up with both of them crossing the friend zone line.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

—

EXCERPT:

“Please be home,” she half-pleaded, half-muttered.

She glanced behind her. Checking the shadows. Not that she needed to. Her best friend since forever lived in the posh part of Sacramento thanks to his innovative tech company and savvy business mind. The man always had been a geek to his core, and it had paid off. In millions.

She brushed at a stray tear rolling down her cheek with an impatient hand. Holding them in during the party had been an act of sheer valor, not wanting the kids to get a water-logged princess. Besides crying generally wasn’t her thing. But her business was everything to her. She loved what she did, and that woman…

“Come on Hunter.” She knocked again, a little more frantically.

Slipping her phone from her purse, she scrolled to the contact labeled “Lancelot”—a play on his last name—and the phone started ringing as she knocked again. If he didn’t answer, she’d leave.

“’Lo?” A sleepy voice came over the line with a grumble.

She blew out a breath in sharp relief. “Let me in.”

“Nat? Call me at a human hour.”

“I’m at your door.”

Pause. No doubt his mind taking a second to catch up to her words. “Of course you are.”

“It’s only eight o’clock,” she pointed out dryly. “On a Saturday night.”

And he should be surprised dammit. Natalie wasn’t a party girl by any stretch of the imagination—or at least not the adult kind. Her sister Lexie, on the other hand, could give Studio 54 in the seventies lessons on how to party. All in the name of research for her podcast on dating, she claimed. But 8pm was hardly party time anyway.

“I pulled an all nighter working on code a friend asked me to review. I only just fell asleep. Hunter grumbled as the sound of echoing footsteps on his wooden stairs filtered through the phone. Then a series of beeps—no doubt the alarm—followed by several clicks of locks. She hung up as he cracked the massive metal door open, paused, then swung it wider, his dark brown gaze taking in every inch of her.

“Let me in. Don’t you recognize a damsel in distress when you see one?”

“Sorry.” He hurriedly stepped back, closing and locking the door behind her. After an owlish blink, he tipped his head. “Your tiara’s crooked.”

She started to lift a hand to right it only to stop herself with a scowl. “Yours would be too, if you went through what I did tonight.”

Tonight definitely deserved a title. Party-gate? Abandoned-princess-gate? Never-trust-a-knight-to-show-up-when-he’s-needed-gate?

Thick eyebrows winged high, and was that a twitch to his lips? It disappeared as his gaze slid down her body again, then back up to land on her probably tear-and-mascara-streaked face, and a frown formed between his brows.

Natalie crossed her arms, trying to hold in body warmth, but that only served to plump her breasts over the top of her corset. They were practically to her chin, so she dropped her arms again.

“You didn’t bring a jacket?” he asked.

“I accidentally left the matching fur stole at the party I just finished,” she tossed over her shoulder. She might just never get it back. Facing that mom again was not high on her To Do list about now.

“You seriously have a matching fur stole?”

Hunter flipped on the hall light and Natalie blinked rapidly, but not at the harsher lighting. No, what was setting her retinas on fire was the sight of Hunter in a pair of low-slung black pajama pants and no shirt.

Holy hell, her BFF had muscles.

Her gaze was glued to the eight pack – yes eight – of muscles ridging his stomach. When the hell did he get those?

How long as it been since I’ve seen him without a shirt?

Author Bio:

Award-winning contemporary romance author Kadie Scott grew up consuming books and exploring the world through her writing. She attempted to find a practical career by earning a degree in English Rhetoric (Technical Writing) and an MBA. However, she swiftly discovered that writing without imagination is not nearly as fun as writing with it. Kadie also writes sweet contemporary romance as Kristen McKanagh, and award-winning paranormal and YA/NA fantasy romance as Abigail Owen. No matter the genre, she loves to write happily-ever-afters that shine with home, heart, and humor. Kadie currently resides in Austin, Texas, with her own swoon-worthy hero husband and their two children, who are growing up way too fast.

Author links:
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

—

USA Today Bestselling author Nicole Flockton writes sexy contemporary romances, seducing you one kiss at a time as you turn the pages. Nicole likes nothing better than taking characters and creating unique situations where they fight to find their true love.

On her first school report her teacher noted “Nicole likes to tell her own stories”. It wasn’t until after the birth of her first child and after having fun on a romance community forum that she finally decided to take the plunge and write a book.

Apart from writing Nicole is busy looking after her very own hero – her wonderfully supportive husband, and two fabulous kids. She also enjoys watching sports and, of course, reading.

Author links:
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

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Giveaway – Spider Green Series by Norm Harris @GoddessFish

Posted on April 4, 2022 by fundinmental

Spider Green Series by Norm Harris

GENRE: Mystery/Thriller Legal Military

I love the cover for Fruit of the Poisonous Tree by Norm Harris. And, sometimes the characters are to die for, so let’s check out what Norm has in store for us.

* Fierce Female Lead Characters: How to Create Strong Role Models in fiction.

I will begin with a recent review from the second book in the Spider Green Mystery Thriller Series. Arid Sea. The review validates in my mind that I am on the right track with regards to the craft of creating strong, if not fierce, women.

5.0 out of 5 stars Strong female Protagonist.

Reviewed in the United States on February 26, 2022

This was my first Spider Green mystery thriller. She has many names. I enjoy reading a tale about a strong woman. This one has an equally powerful sister. Yes, there are charming and evil men in their lives. An intriguing and interesting story that kept me turning the pages. I am eager to read more of her adventures. Thanks to the publisher for providing a copy via NetGalley.

Fierce females can be found easily in the movies. The Marvel series alone has many of the badass ladies. And not to forget Wonder Woman. Over the top ladies, the characters in our stories do not have to be extraordinary to be authoritative, credible, or notable.

It may be easier for me, a man, to write fierce women because I add male traits to their fiber. I cannot see the world as a woman does, so I rely on editors to put my ladies in the proper light. I will list each character from my four books Spider Green Mystery Thriller Series, with a bio. It may help to understand how this was done. Keep in mind that all of these characters are military females. A male-dominated career choice.

Faydra Green is a Navy lawyer, a JAG, of Judge Advocate General. Her central conflict is that her dad was President of the United States. Fay wonders if any of her achievements were of her own making or if those doors opened to her because of her celbrity status? She proves to be not only intelligent but fearless as well. The female version of James Bond or Clancy’s Jack Ryan. Not superhuman like a superhero, but the no surrender desire is there.

JP is Faydra’s half-sister. Her half ethnicity is native American. J.P. is smart, she is witty, but she has low self-esteem. It is up to her sister to hold up J.P.’s sense of self-worth. Faydra knows it, and the reader can see it as well. J.P. is tall, a kickboxer, and would like to be a fighter pilot.

Irishka is fierce simply because she is a Russian espionage agent.

Yet, when I asked the editor which her favorite series character was, she said Irishka is the most interesting in her opinion. Irishka is a no-nonsense woman who will do what she has to do, including assassination, if it serves to realize her goal.

Katrinka is Irishka’s twenty-three-year-old softer protege. She is a spy who began her career out of necessity at age thirteen. This in itself served to shape Katrinka’s mental and physical fortitude.

Azrael is a twenty-three-year-old Latino from East LA. And she is a Marine. By nature, Marines are exemplary of mental and physical strength. Where Azrael grew up sets the stage for her strong female bearing.

When I place these fierce women into their respective scenes they have what is required to accomplish goals that the average man, or woman, would have difficult if not impossible to complete.

All fierce women have to be qualified in the storyline you have set up for them to be believable. For example, Faydra is put in a scene where she must scuba dive on a dangerous op with a SEAL team. As a set up earlier in the story, the reader is told of her passion for scuba diving, so when it comes time for her to dive with the SEALs, we know she has the skill. Still, she must find the courage to complete the mission.

As I write these scenes, I recall what may well be the single greatest and fierce strength in any female animal. The mother protecting her young. Find that fierceness and then place it into the heart of your powerful female character. If you have read your female-centered scene and if she brings a tear to your eye or if you feel proud of her accomplishment, you have created the character you set out to create.

As a guide, I recommend studying Faydra, who you will find in all four books. J.P. in books one and two. Irishka and Katrinka in books three and four. Or Azrael, the Marine, in book four. I assure you these are fierce women who all have a feminine side.

This is an example of two strong women having a fierce exchange from Fruit of a Poisonous Tree. Senator de la Croix has ordered “Spider” Green to meet with her. To set this up de la Croix wishes to cover up the death Green is investigating. Under normal circumstances, one would expect a military officer to be submissive to a powerful U.S. Senator. Yet Fadra is a fierce warrior, so she deals with the Senator in her own way.

“Seaman Rodman’s death, while unfortunate,” de la Croix said, “was accidental and nothin’ more.”

So, the old bat knew all about this and had decided that an accident was what it was.

“You’re a bright woman,” de la Croix continued. “In fact, I’ve heard that you’re on a fast track to becomin’ one of the youngest lady admirals in the history of the U.S. Navy. I would hate for your illustrious career path to take an unfortunate wrong turn somewhere along the way.”

Threaten me!? A basic white girl who has not had her Starbucks fix today!? She nodded and remained silent. She had not liked de la Croix from the first time she met her. She enjoyed her even less now. Ah, what the hell, may as well fire one across the old scow’s bow. “Senator de la Croix, career path or no, I must investigate this incident, regardless of whose toes I may step on.” Something her dad would have said at a time like this.

Her impertinent response quickly drew the ire of de la Croix. Her nostrils flared; her eyebrows arched. “You listen to me, little lady, and you listen well.” Her open palm smacked the surface of the conference table as she demonstratively drove her point home.

This woman comes to anger quickly. Maybe this is where she bellows, “Off with her head.” Something the Queen of Hearts would have said at a time like this.

“I don’t need to hear of your platitudes on duty to God and country. I know duty. I began servin’ your country while you were still in diapers, Missy.”

One more time with this little lady/Missy bull crap and de la Croix will be missin’ her own damn head, Fay thought. At times, it is hard to remain respectful with one whom you have so much disrespect for.

Thanks so much for diving into the guest post and sharing your thoughts, Norm.

BLURBS

FRUIT OF THE POISONOUS TREE (Book One):

A female lawyer must prove a war hero’s innocence. Navy SEALs hijack a Russian warship to stop a North Korean missile crisis.

“A great read with a stunning finish.” – Advocate, Narayan. “Picturing Justice,” published by the Faculty of Law, University of San Francisco.

Every now and again, a unique story comes our way, a story unlike any we may have read before. Such is “Fruit of the Poisonous Tree,” author Norm Harris’s first critically acclaimed mystery/thriller. The story’s focal point is Faydra “Spider” Green, a dedicated Navy lawyer who has lived her life in the shadows of a great and powerful man: her father, former President of the United States William Green. Green cannot heal the wound in his relationship with his daughter. His former power and influence curse Faydra and cause her to wonder if her accomplishments were her own doing.

Faydra is anxious and excited as she undertakes her first homicide investigation: the murder of a Navy SEAL. She reasons a successful investigation will provide her the opportunity to validate her sense of self-worth. Thanks to her remarkable deductive abilities, Faydra soon realizes the accused man, a Special Ops Marine war hero, may be innocent and the Navy is using her as a pawn in a complex cover-up.

“A sharp, crackling military thriller…, Norm Harris’s ‘Fruit of the Poisonous Tree’ offers a labyrinth of military cover-ups, surprise twists, and insider techno knowledge. Good, exciting, inventive read.” – Wendell Wellman, actor, producer, and screenwriter for Clint Eastwood’s “Firefox” and Producer of “Top Hat,” “Sail Away”, and “House in the Canyon.”

Meanwhile, a seasoned Navy Sea Captain, Egan Fletcher, a single parent, struggles to balance his Navy career with raising a son. When the Navy purposefully pairs him with Faydra in a meeting, the two Navy officers embark on an adrenaline-pumping adventure. It is a top-secret mission-impossible taking them around the world in an attempt to avert a catastrophic act of terrorism in the form of a biological war.

“Norm Harris’s book grabs the reader with its first sentence and holds the reader throughout with its fast-paced action. Dialogue is always the hardest to write, but Harris has captured the art and, with his writing, keeps the reader turning pages. His ability to heighten the intrigue keeps the reader on the edge of his or her seat throughout the story. Strongly recommend the book…” – CAPT David E. Meadows, US Navy, author of numerous (15) military thrillers, such as “Sixth Fleet,” “Seawolf,” and “Tomcat.”

Set against the dramatic backdrop of Washington State’s Puget Sound and the mystique of East Asia, Fadra’s story revolves around a woman who appears to be as pure as the driven snow—yet, she is driven by an insatiable need to complete any assignment, no matter how dangerous. Along the way, she transforms into a symbol of hope, perseverance, and a woman’s ability to overcome life-threatening events.

“This story is complex and well crafted, and you’ll immediately invest your emotions in these vivid characters. The dialogue is some of the freshest I’ve encountered in some time…. As a reader, and as a novelist myself, and now as a fan, my hat goes off to this guy. A wonderful debut.” – Larry Brooks, critically acclaimed author of psychological thrillers (including “Darkness Bound,” “Pressure Points,” “Serpents Dance,” and others), in addition to his work as a freelance writer and writing instructor.

The first novel, “Fruit of the Poisonous Tree,” begins the riveting Spider Green Mystery Thriller series. If you enjoy the razor-sharp dialogue, strong-willed people, twists, and high-octane action, then “Spider” Green, the intrepid female sleuth and unpretentious hero in this taut, fast-paced adventure, will appeal to you.

EXCERPT

Spider Green Series by Norm Harris

Mystery/Thriller Legal Military

Fay turned and descended the ladder to the waiting boat. She dug deep into her soul to gather what courage she now carried with her to the dark and foreboding place known to all seafarers as “Davy Jones’ Locker.”

The frigid night air slapped her face as the small boat raced across the flat surface of the night water; sea spray soaked her face and hands. She squinted and fixed her gaze on the wall of black now standing before her. I’m going to need severe beauty salon time when I get back to civilization, she thought.

Shortly after, the boat arrived at the prescribed dive location. The dive team donned their facemasks and tested their gear—then, one by one, the divers rolled backward from the boat and into the water. Fay was last to leave the safety of the small boat.

The cold salt water stung her skin momentarily, until the thin layer of water between her skin and her wetsuit warmed to a tolerable temperature. She bobbed on the surface for a moment, then flicked on her underwater torch. Fay then slipped beneath the water’s surface and began her descent toward the bottom.

The wreck was ninety feet below. The Carr came to rest upright on the edge of a reef. The ship had not completely settled and was subject to shifting with each tide change. All good reasons for her to exercise extreme caution.

Nothing could have prepared Fay for the frightening feeling she experienced as she struggled to see and gain some sense of direction. She could tell she was sinking, but only because the luminous dial of her depth gauge so indicated. Following the eerie flickering lights of the three torches preceding her, she suppressed her fear and the feeling of claustrophobia by thinking of those people nearest to her heart.

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Norm Harris’ first novel debuted on an Amazon bestseller list in 2002. It was a one-and-done, but now he’s back with a plan to publish a couple of sequels to that first mystery/thriller of days gone by. Except for time spent in military service, he is a second-generation Seattleite (that’s what they call those who dwell in the shadow of Mt. Rainier), with his legal beagle son, K-K, and five giant tropical fish. His upcoming release, Arid Sea, is the third book in what he hopes to be an award-winning Spider Green Mystery Story series.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/780557.Norm_Harris

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Giveaway – Crunching Her Numbers by Mia Sivan @XpressoTours

Posted on April 3, 2022 by fundinmental

Crunching Her Numbers
Mia Sivan
Publication date: March 31st 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Kelly, a successful investment manager from Tel Aviv, is living it up. She is single, rich and happy to be with men just to scratch an itch. Embarking on a no strings attached relationship with the hot, much younger Slava feels like a great idea—and he’s totally up for it.

Ilan, an ambitious and charming investigator working for the Israeli Securities Authority, is trying to untangle a huge market manipulation scheme. He needs Kelly to crack the case, but whistleblowing might jeopardize everything she’s ever worked for. Ilan, however, can be very persuasive. Soon, and against their better judgment, they start mixing business with pleasure.

But, when Ilan asks her to stop seeing Slava, Kelly realizes that no-strings doesn’t mean it’s easy to let go. With her livelihood on the line and her love life a mess, can Kelly keep it together, or has she thrown one too many balls in the air?

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

Kelly couldn’t afford to waste more time. She booked a scooter from her app, changed into sneakers, and entered the elevator—just when Ilan ran squeezing in.

“I’ll reschedule my appointment,” he said. “Your boss needed to take care of something.” They stood close in the small elevator. Kelly breathed in his cologne, which smelled woody and spicy without being overbearing. It suited him.

He looked down at her sneakers and smiled slightly. Now that she wasn’t in heels, they were the same height.

“Let’s have coffee together, Kelly.” It wasn’t a question. “I have some time now.” He oozed confidence. He acted cocky, and his masculinity reminded Kelly that she hadn’t had a decent cock in quite a while.

Kelly looked into the serene brown-green eyes. He emitted quiet power without any conscious effort, and she fought his effect on her. “How did you know my name?”

He shrugged. “Have coffee with me”—she was treated to another charming smile— “or maybe something stronger. I’ll tell you everything.”

Kelly looked away and kept quiet. He unnerved her.

They reached the lobby. She walked faster and so he picked up his pace. They were already out in the street, Kelly reaching for her scooter, when he grabbed her elbow lightly. Kelly halted, turning, and Ilan let go of her arm. They locked stares, his cool eyes searching hers, their noses nearly touching. If she leaned a little forward, she could bite the juicy lower lip of his half-open mouth. She wondered what he would do if she did. His slight aroma of masculine sweat smelled of rosewood, and Kelly felt a desire to nuzzle against the dark chest hairs that were showing through the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

His face was somewhat flushed, so maybe he liked her closeness too. He reached into the front pocket of his jeans, his arm almost touching her breast, and Kelly looked down and noticed a bulge, which she wanted to touch very badly. God, she needed to get herself a good fuck. Soon.

Ilan extracted a business card and handed it to her. She took it, careful not to brush his hand. It read “Ilan Ohayon, Private Investigator” in Hebrew and English. The card didn’t include a street address or a website address, just a mobile phone number.

“Please,” he said, somewhat hoarsely. Yep, he wasn’t indifferent to her. He cleared his throat. “Call me. It’s important.”

“Do you have a different card in the other pocket?” she asked. “You introduced yourself to my boss as a potential client.”

Ilan broke into a dazzling smile, one that showed white teeth and attractive wrinkles in his eyes.

“Clever girl,” he said, extracting a second business card.

Ilan Ohayon, CEO, SMA Business Solutions. This card specified a website, a landline number, a different mobile, and a street address.

“I’ll think about it.” She pocketed both cards before putting on her helmet, unlocking the scooter, and riding off. When she looked back once, Ilan hadn’t moved. His hands were deep in his pockets and he was watching her with an inscrutable expression.

Author Bio:

Mia Sivan is an Israeli woman who lives, works and loves in Tel Aviv. The city is as much a part of her books as any other character.

Mia has worked as a senior investment manager for many years, and the books she writes draws much from her personal experience, as well as real-life scams that took place in the Israeli financial market.

When not writing or dreaming up steamy scenes, she lives with her handsome husband and even handsomer two sons, and enjoys long walks by the beach (it’s Tel Aviv, it’s never too cold).

Website / Goodreads / Instagram / Bookbub / Newsletter

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Giveaway – Night In His Eyes by Alisyn Fae & Emma Allsyn @EmmaAlisyn @XpressoTours

Posted on April 2, 2022 by fundinmental

Night In His Eyes
Alisyn Fae & Emma Alisyn
(The Fae Prince of Everenne, #1)
Publication date: March 17th 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance

A war of Fae Houses. A Prince waking from darkness. A woman drenched in his blood.

Prince Renaud, my mother’s killer, is waking. The Court has not felt the full weight of an Old One in centuries, and it’s my fault.

I am Aerinne Capulette, Lady of House Faronne, and I will have my vengeance against House Montague and Renaud. But despite the ground war I’ve led since I was a child, we remain locked in bloody stalemate.

If the Prince takes the field against us, he will rip from my mind the secret that will shred any hope for peace, or victory.

He will kill me if he discovers the truth. . .

. . .sweet, foolish child. Your death is not what I desire. I have not waited, watched, and planned for centuries to let something as petty as a halfling girl’s vengeance keep me from claiming what is mine.

To protect you, and to ensure my reign, I will bend you to my will. I will slake this obsession with your blood and tears, and I will yield you to no one.

Let your House protest. Let my Court look aghast. They are nothing.

And you—you are my anchor.

We may be enemies, but your hatred only seduces my darkness.

Night in His Eyes is an adult high heat, slow burn Fae fantasy romance, first in the Fae Prince of Everenne series. This not a standalone and ends in a cliffhanger.

For readers who crave enemies-to-lovers, obsessed dark heroes, murderous heroines and a battle of dark wills and enjoy authors such as Sylvia Mercedes, Sarah J. Maas, Kathryn Ann Kingsley, and Laura Thalassa.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

“No.”

The Prince halted, and glanced up at the sky. “My amusement is diminishing. I had hoped to relearn the taste of wine tonight.”

“Sorry to keep you from your red.” I doubted he was a white kind of guy.

“It is not an apology I desire from you.”

What did he desire. . .other than the subjugation of Everenne’s Low Fae, and the Lords of the High and Low Courts kneeling beneath his boot?

I lifted my blades.

Renaud’s mouth thinned as he let me attack, eyes a flat grey. I refused to return to Faronne without every bone in my body broken from trying. I wouldn’t kneel at my mother’s grave and confess weakness.

Return victorious or on your shield.

A line of fire grazed my sword arm. I ignored the pain and my dark angel, sheathing my long dagger and shifting the sabre to my left hand so the dripping blood didn’t threaten my grip.

I panted, my breaths harsh and acid with the nausea of forcing myself to remain on my feet. The moon peeked over the horizon.

“Enough, Aerinne,” the Prince said, expression now concealed by the encroaching night. His eyes still glowed.

“Stop. . .saying my name like that.” I swayed.

“Like what?”

“Like you know me.”

“You cannot fathom what I know, girl. Now, sheathe your sword.” A bite in his voice. A hint of a leviathan in his depths.

“No—”

The back of his hand crashed against my face.

I crumpled to the ground. He’d pulled the blow at the last second, enough not to break me. But definitely sufficient to enforce the command to lay down my sabre.

I was staring up at the sky, dazed and unable to force my limbs to work, when a strong hand wrapped around my sword arm and yanked me to my feet.

“Tell me what you see,” Prince Renaud said.

I didn’t need to look around me to know. The white stone was awash with red, dark because of the night. And the Prince surveyed it coolly, unfazed and still at full strength. Killing him wouldn’t be easy.

“The result of several generations worth of blood feuds.” I matched his chill, pointed tone, channeling the hauteur my mother could don at the drop of a hat, the effect marred because my head ached, and my words came out slightly slurred.

Renaud shifted his grip, arm sliding around my back to hold me up as if shouldering my weight was the most natural thing in the world. “The result of our inability to change.”

He grabbed the sabre still clutched in my hand and tossed it aside. “Our enduring obstinacy and adherence to norms that almost caused our destruction once. I did not cross the realms and seize this city only for it to bite my hand. This—” his gaze traveled over the battle “—this was never your ambition. It was never even your mother’s.”

“Don’t speak of her.” Another twist of pain in my head. I grit my teeth through the pulse.

His arm tightened around me. “I knew Maryonne for far longer than you, girl. I’ll speak of her if I wish, and you will listen.”

Anger gave me a jet stream of strength. “I may be hot-headed, but you’re arrogant. You think you know our moves and will counter them all.” I pushed away from him and turned, one foot behind the other. “I won’t listen to you.”

If I had doubts before, I had none now. He would pay for my mother, for his casual claim of kinship to which he had no right. She was mine, grief was mine.

“And if you cared for my mother, as you imply, Danon would be free!” I screamed the last three words, self-control broken and tossed aside like trash. “I’ll leave this field when one of us is dead.”

Eyes narrowed and watchful, he didn’t move, the sword in his hand pointed down. “So you Vowed.”

Wind whipped my hair in my face, a sudden steep rise of the night breeze. “I will fulfill my Vow, and not only because I must.”

I took another step back, defiant, uncaring of his anger.

Paused.

And bared my teeth. For a fleeting moment, I accepted what I was.

Fae.

Bound by my anger, grounded in my vengeance.

I might fail, but I would fail victoriously, taking his blood and kin with me as I perished.

“Release the wyverns!”

Author Bio:

Emma is a 40 mumble mumble bi-racial American Muslim mom of five who writes PNR & SFR.

Her dragons, fae, and bears will most interest readers who like their alphas strong, protective, and smokin’ hot; their heroines feisty, brainy, too grown to give a *uck, and over the age of 30.

Her stories feature men and women of diverse backgrounds.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub

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Giveaway – The Yellow Honeysuckle Is The Sweetest by Bill Pentress @ProvidenceBks

Posted on April 2, 2022 by fundinmental

The Yellow Honeysuckle is the Sweetest

by Bill Fentress

March 14 – April 8, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Yellow Honeysuckle is the Sweetest by Bill Fentress

THE YELLOW HONEYSUCKLE IS THE SWEETEST is a salute by the author to a lifetime of outdoor experiences in eastern North Carolina and beyond. It encompasses 14 true short stories about family, friendships, and the emotions involved in hunting, fishing, and other outdoor-related topics. It is not a how-to book, nor just a compilation of hunting and fishing stories; it describes how simple family and personal interactions, with the outdoor sports and unmatched natural beauty as a backdrop, can result in treasured memories like perhaps no other pursuits. If you hunt and fish, or grew up enjoying histories of family traditions and friendships revolving around the outdoors – whether it be in North Carolina, or elsewhere – THE YELLOW HONEYSUCKLE IS THE SWEETEST is for you.

Book Details

Genre: Sports, (as in Hunting and Fishing), Nature, Family, Memoir Published by: Indie Publication Date: February 3, 2022 Number of Pages: 257 ISBN: 979-8-9855598-1-1 Purchase Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Here’s a word from our author:

Read an excerpt:

There is something special about hunting, that sears in place our memories with others. Maybe it’s the vivid nature where our grand experiences take place or the team efforts we go through to make it all happen? Maybe it’s the getting up early, the black coffee, the smell of eggs and bacon in a cabin, the swoosh of ducks over decoys or the violent uprising of a big covey followed by the delirium of released bird dogs? Maybe it’s the sunrises, the sunsets, the gobbles at dawn, the split oak fires or the oysters? Maybe it’s the bonds we have over lifetimes? I’m not really sure. But I do know we’re blessed when these partners come into our lives. Like many boys, my first hunting partner was a dog, Pepper. I wish I could say Pepper was the granddaughter of King Rothschild’s Sire of Pepper Creek, but I cannot. Pepper was a fittingly, albeit not uniquely, named black and white pointer-mix stray who took up at Miss Jo’s house in Bayboro. Somehow, through either constant brow beating with her pathetic brown eyes or via her constant hanging around the back door looking for food, Pepper convinced Miss Jo to call me—not my mother, her friend—but me. “Billy,” she commanded, “I have a beautiful dog you would just love!” Of course, I immediately got off the phone and begged Mom to take me to Bayboro. “Miss Jo’s got a dog she says I need!” I always thought Miss Jo should have led many of the sales classes I attended in my banking career. Let me tell you, she talked directly to the buyer, and went right around the secretary. While I’m not sure how long it took for Mom to talk to her again, we came home with Pepper in the Chevy wagon and me with a smile as broad as the cuff on my dungarees. Pepper was one of the smartest dogs I ever owned. She followed me everywhere—from our store to Grandmamma’s house to the woods behind our house to the tractor shelter woods across the road, down Swan Point Road, and of course behind our neighbor’s house. Pepper was smart enough to look both ways before she crossed the road. Don’t smirk; I saw her do it a hundred times. She also knew how to be quiet as I planned a sneak-up strategy on the local robins and wrens. But her mind absolutely took the day off when it came to our neighbor’s chickens. — Excerpt from The Yellow Honeysuckle is the Sweetest by Bill Fentress. Copyright © 2021 by William C. Fentress. Reproduced with permission from Bill Fentress. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Bill Fentress is a retired banker and current Finance Officer in eastern North Carolina. A current resident of New Bern, NC, Bill grew up in Pamlico County, North Carolina, where many of his hunting and fishing experiences in The Yellow Honeysuckle is the Sweetest take place. He has enjoyed nature’s beauty and God’s gifts of family and the outdoors throughout his lifetime, in North Carolina and elsewhere.

Learn More About Bill Online:

BillFentress.com Goodreads Facebook – @billfentressauthor

Tour Host Participants:

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ENTER TO WIN:

This is a giveaway hosted by Providence Book Promotions for Bill Fentress. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

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Giveaway – The Flapper, The Scientist and the Saboteur by Charlene Bell Dietz @GoddessFish

Posted on March 31, 2022 by fundinmental

The Flapper, The Scientist, And The Saboteur by Charlene Bell Dietz

GENRE: Mystery

BLURB

A workaholic bio-medical scientist, Beth Armstrong, is torn between saving her sabotaged ground-breaking multiple sclerosis research or honoring an obligation to care for her chain-smoking, Cuba Libre drinking, ex-flapper aunt. Nursemaid ranks just above catching the plague on Beth’s scale, yet her ex-flapper aunt would prefer anything deadly to losing her independence under the hands of her obsessive compulsive niece. While a murderous culprit runs loose in the science institute, the raucous aunt entertains Beth’s neglected husband with nightly cocktails and stories form the Roaring twenties. The Flapper, the Scientist, and the Saboteur intertwines a corporate espionage mystery with a generational battle-of-wills story between a dedicated professional intent on fighting chaos to restore order and a free-spirited aunt who needs her niece to live in the moment.

EXCERPT

Beth lunged to the bed, snatched the cigarettes out of Kathleen’s hands, crushed them, then flung the pack into the waste basket. She bent close to her aunt and inhaled deeply.

“Beth, what in the world—”

“I don’t know you, but I know people like you. You seriously need help.”

“What on earth are you fretting about?”

“Fretting? Not me, I’m happy as a loon.” Beth’s lungs needed more air.

“Beth, I didn’t start that fire.”

“Now you’re going to say it was Mrs. Harrison?” Beth’s words filled the room. Until today, she never yelled.

“It wasn’t her.” Kathleen said.

The room felt small, dark, smoky—no air. She heard her breath coming in short little bursts.

“Dear, you didn’t mean to, but you started the fire.”

Something snapped in Beth’s brain. She shook her head. But Kathleen, with innocence etched in her wrinkled face, kept looking at her.

AUTHOR Bio and Links

Charlene Bell Dietz writes science and historical-suspense, award-winning mystery novels and short stories. Her award-winning short stories have been published in the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers 2016 Anthology and SouthWest Writers 2019 Anthology. The Flapper, the Scientist, and the Saboteur combines family saga with corporate espionage. The Flapper, the Impostor, and the Stalker propels readers back into 1923 frenetic Chicago during the Roaring Twenties. Both these novels were named to Kirkus Reviews’ Best Books of 2018, and each won the coveted Kirkus Starred Review. Her latest novel, The Scientist, the Psychic, and the Nut, gives readers a frightening Caribbean vacation. Her current work in progress, a biographical historical novel, starts in England in 1638 and ends in precolonial Maryland. Charlene, a retired educator, traveled the United States as a consultant for Houghton Mifflin Publishers after a career of teaching little ones, older ones, and college graduates. Surrounded by forests and meadows, she currently lives in the foothills of the mountains in central NM several miles from the small village of Torreon. Charlene is the current president of Croak & Dagger, New Mexico Chapter of Sisters in Crime. She belongs to Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, Rocky Mountain Mystery Writers, Mystery Writers of America, and SouthWest Writers. Connect with Charlene on Facebook

(https://www.facebook.com/charlene.dietz.9), https://inkydancestudios.com/ or chardietzpen@gmail.com

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Giveaway – Find Your Way Back by Javacia Harris Bowser @GoddessFish @seejavaciawrite

Posted on March 29, 2022 by fundinmental

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The Literary Lobbyist will be awarding one $25 and one $50 Amazon or B/N GC to randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Award-winning freelance journalist Javacia Harris Bowser is convinced that writing is a superpower. She sees her life as proof of it since writing has helped her navigate marriage, crisis of faith and body image issues. It also helped her to beat cancer.

As a Black woman from the South, Javacia has used the written word to explore issues of gender and race as well as religion. Find Your Way Back is a collection of essays that demonstrate how Javacia has used writing to achieve some of her wildest dreams such as being a public speaker, having her own column, and being her own boss. The book also explores how writing, self-love, and faith helped her overcome her worst nightmare: a cancer diagnosis in 2020. Javacia’s goal is to show readers how writing can transform their lives as well. The book includes prompts throughout to help readers start their own writing journey.

This book is for the woman who has wanted to write since she was a girl but struggles to find the time or the courage to put her words on paper. Find Your Way Back, shows that instead of putting writing on the back burner when life gets turned upside down, we should turn to it to help life make sense again.

Read an Excerpt

– from I’m Feeling Lucky – and Enraged

When it comes to health care, I’ve always been lucky. My lupus diagnosis in 2008 didn’t come after spending years visiting doctor after doctor, searching for answers to questions of chronic pain. I mentioned my fatigue, achy joints, vitiligo spots, and bouts of Raynaud’s disease to my primary care physician at the time as casually as someone rattling off a grocery list. She looked at me and said, “We need to test you for lupus.”

Years later, in a new state with a new doctor, I once again had a proactive primary care doc who urged me to get a mammogram, even though I was in my thirties. Breast cancer is often diagnosed in its later stages for women under forty, which means the survival rate is lower and the recurrence rate is higher. And while Black women and white women get breast cancer at about the same rate, Black women are more likely to be diagnosed before age 45 and, regardless of age, Black women die from breast cancer at a higher rate than white women.

Even when I was diagnosed with breast cancer at age thirty-eight, I still felt lucky. I felt lucky that I had insurance that covered my treatment. I felt lucky that whenever I said I was in pain, my doctors and nurses believed me and scrambled to do something about it.

I felt lucky because in 2020, thirty million people were uninsured, and about half of those were people of color, according to The Brookings Institution, a research and public policy organization in Washington, DC. I felt lucky because both anecdotal evidence and published studies reveal that many medical professionals don’t take Black people’s pain seriously. According to a 2016 study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Science, half the medical students surveyed had false beliefs such as “black people’s skin is thicker than white people’s.” And trainees who believed that Black people are not as sensitive to pain as white people were less likely to treat Black people’s pain appropriately.

The staggering Black maternal mortality rates show that this type of implicit bias can be deadly. According to the CDC, each year about seven hundred people in the United States die during pregnancy or the year after. Black women are three times more likely to die from a pregnancy-related cause than white women. I feel lucky, and I feel angry because I shouldn’t feel lucky! Affordable health care and being listened to and taken seriously by your doctors should be the norm for everyone.

I will use my privilege and my platform to try to do something about this. I’ve written stories about the Black Maternal Health Momnibus Act, which seeks to use legislation to address every aspect of the maternal health crisis in America. And I’ve written about the CDC’s Hear Her campaign, which seeks to improve communication between patients and their doctors and help to make healthcare providers, patients, and their families more aware of the warning signs of potentially life-threatening complications. I’ve had the chance to be a voice for other breast cancer patients of color in sessions with healthcare providers thanks to the work of organizations like the Tigerlily Foundation, which provides breast cancer education, awareness, advocacy and support for women ages 15 to 45, with a focus on women of color.

Even though I’m a writer, sometimes words aren’t enough. So, I will keep writing, but I also will keep fighting.

About the Author

Javacia Harris Bowser is an award-winning essayist and journalist and the founder of See Jane Write. A proud graduate of the journalism programs at the University of Alabama and the University of California at Berkeley, Javacia has written for USA Today, HerMoney.com, and Good Grit magazine. Named one of Birmingham’s Top 40 Under 40, she believes we can all write our way to the life of our dreams.

IG & Twitter @seejavaciawrite, #FYWBBookTour
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Purchase Links:
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See Jane Write: https://seejanewritebham.com/product/findyourwayback/

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Giveaway – The Wayward Assassin by Susan Ouellette @smobooks @partnersincr1me

Posted on March 26, 2022 by fundinmental

The Wayward Assassin

by Susan Ouellette

March 1-31, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Revenge knows no deadline.

Although told to stand down now that the Chechen rebel who killed her fiancé is dead, CIA analyst Maggie Jenkins believes otherwise and goes rogue to track down the assassin. Soon it becomes clear that failure to find Zara will have repercussions far beyond the personal, as Maggie uncovers plans for a horrific attack on innocent Americans. Zara is the new face of terrorism–someone who doesn’t fit the profile, who can slip undetected from attack to attack, and who’s intent on pursuing a personal vendetta at any cost.

Chasing Zara from Russia to the war-torn streets of Chechnya, to London, and finally, to the suburbs of Washington, D. C., Maggie risks her life to stop a deadly plot.

Praise for The Wayward Assassin:

“Ouellette, herself a former intelligence analyst for the CIA, imbues the exciting action with authenticity. Readers will want to see more of the wily Maggie . . .”
—Publishers Weekly

“Every once in a decade you read a book like The Wayward Spy, which is thrilling, addictive, and sends you reading more thrillers, but you’ll go back to this stunning book by Susan Ouellette and reread this tour de force.”
—The Strand Magazine, a Top 12 Book of the Year

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: March 15, 2022
Number of Pages: 416
ISBN: 0744304784 (ISBN13: 9780744304787)
Series: The Wayward Series, Book 2 || Each is a Stand Alone Book
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | IndieBound.Org | CamCat Books

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

CIA Headquarters, August 16, 2004

Maggie Jenkins strode across the parking lot to the sidewalk that led her past the “Bubble,” the CIA’s white, dome-shaped auditorium. Just ahead, she paused at the bronze statue of Nathan Hale, the first American to be executed for spying for his country. A half dozen quarters lay scattered at his feet, left there by superstitious CIA employees hoping to garner good luck before deploying overseas. She fished around in her purse for a quarter, which she placed carefully atop Hale’s left shoe.

In just a few minutes, Maggie would learn whether her six-month deployment to the US embassy in Moscow had been approved. Even though Warner Thompson, the CIA’s deputy director for operations, had advocated on her behalf, there were several others, including an Agency psychiatrist and a team of polygraphers who were not convinced that she should be stationed overseas. She’s not ready yet, the shrink had opined, as if she were a piece of fruit not quite ripe enough for picking.

“Wish me luck,” she said to the statue as she turned for the entrance ahead. The CIA’s headquarters comprised two main buildings, both seven stories high, which were linked together by bright hallways with large windows overlooking a grassy courtyard. Maggie worked in the original headquarters building (OHB), which had been built some forty years earlier during the height of the Cold War. From the outside, OHB was a concrete monstrosity with no aesthetically redeeming value, at least in Maggie’s opinion. It reminded her of Soviet architecture—heavy on the concrete, light on the beauty.

And other than the expansive marbled foyer and the posh seventh-floor executive offices, OHB’s interior also was nothing to write home about. Every floor between the first and the seventh looked exactly the same—drab, hushed, windowless hallways lined with vault doors. Behind those heavily fortified doors sat rows of cubicles, a few conference rooms, and cramped offices here and there for mid-level managers.

Maggie pulled open the heavy glass entry door and ducked into a pristine lobby gleaming with white marble-clad walls. Ahead, the Agency’s bright blue logo covered a massive swath of the gray-and-white checked granite floor. To the right stood the Memorial Wall, which was emblazoned with black stars honoring dozens of Agency officers who’d perished in the line of duty. Maggie stopped and bit down on her lip.

The wall was an awesome, solemn reminder of lives given in the defense of freedom. Every time she walked past it, the sharp points of the eighty-fourth star—Steve’s star—ripped another gash in her heart. He’d been working under cover, so no outside friends or relatives had been invited to the ceremony. Warner had sat with her, stoic, as she clutched his hand and stared at the parade of speakers, not hearing a word they said.

She turned her gaze from the wall, slid her badge through the security turnstile, and offered a polite hello to the officer manning the front desk. She bypassed the elevator that she took every day to the fourth floor and made a beeline for the spacious employee cafeteria. In the far corner sat Warner Thompson, nose buried in the Washington Post.

“Morning,” she offered.

Warner rattled the paper and folded it lengthwise. “Coffee?” He pushed a Styrofoam cup across the quartz tabletop and smiled at her. His full head of hair had grayed considerably since last year, but it worked on him, enhancing his gray-flecked eyes and tanned complexion.

“Thanks.” Maggie sat.

“You ready?”

“I guess.” She sipped the coffee, still piping hot and perfectly sweetened. Warner knew her well. “What do you think they’ll say?”

“There’s no reason they should deny you the posting.”

“The psychiatrist thinks I’m obsessed with Zara.”

“He has a point.” Warner leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I told you not to bring her up in your evaluation sessions. If she’s still alive, we’ll find her, Maggie. I promise.”

“There’s no ‘if’ about it.” She waited until a man with a breakfast tray settled at a nearby table, then lowered her voice. “I saw her fleeing the farmhouse in Georgia. Who do they think set fire to the place after I escaped with Peter?”

Warner winced, obviously uncomfortable with the reminder of Peter, his former case officer, the one who’d been intimately involved in the murder of Steve, another case officer, and his protégé, nine short months ago. That Steve also had been Maggie’s fiancé made saying what he had to say all the more difficult. “The point is, the Agency needs to think that you’ve moved on from what happened in Georgia before they send you to such a sensitive overseas posting.”

“Moved on? Warner—”

He raised a hand to stop her. They’d had this discussion dozens of times since the previous November. Maggie had made it perfectly clear that there was no moving on, no closure, as people said these days, until she found Zara. “You know what I mean. You have to toe the party line and say you believe that everyone involved in Steve’s murder is dead. Period.”

“I still don’t understand why they won’t at least consider the possibility that Zara got away.”

Warner rubbed his forehead. “Because the Agency wants this to go away. A star operations officer was murdered by a terrorist and the terrorist is dead. It’s a simple, straightforward narrative. They don’t want the press finding out that another Agency employee and a senior US congressman were involved in Steve’s death. Everything is about the war on terror, Maggie. If the media found out that CIA and elected officials were mixed up with terrorists, there would be hell to pay.”

Maggie quoted the Biblical phrase inscribed on a wall in the CIA’s lobby. “The truth shall make you free.” She snorted. “The truth, unless it’s too embarrassing?”

Warner exhaled and shifted in his seat. “Both of us are lucky that the FBI investigation didn’t uncover . . . everything.”

He was right, of course. Last year, Maggie had destroyed classified documents and withheld other evidence from the FBI to protect them both. And Warner had been entangled, albeit unwittingly, with a Russian who had ties to both Zara and the congressman. Had the FBI known any of this, neither of them would be CIA employees today.

Maggie waved to a coworker who stared from the nearby coffee station. Warner didn’t frequent the employee cafeteria, so his appearance was sure to raise eyebrows. She’d grown accustomed to sidelong glances inside the Agency’s walls. Everyone recognized her. The media had splashed her face all over television and the internet after Congressman Carvelli’s death. There were some who whispered about her using her fiancé’s death to advance her career. Fortunately, they were in the minority. Most who knew about her role in uncovering the terrorist plot considered her a hero, a designation she refused to embrace. Her actions may have saved thousands of lives, but her motivation had been personal—to clear Steve’s name.

He was no traitor, and she’d proven it.

Maggie glanced at her watch. “We’d better go.”

Warner nodded. They grabbed their coffees and headed for the elevator bank. “Remember, you believe Zara died in the fire at the farmhouse,” Warner reminded her on the way up to the fourth floor.

“That’s what I told the shrink last session, but then he talked to the polygraph people.” Since leaving the House Intelligence Committee to return to the CIA earlier this year, she’d endured three marathon polygraph sessions. Every time, the stupid machine registered deception in her response to questions about whether she intended to violate government policies for her own benefit. “Now he thinks I’m up to something.”

Warner shrugged. “Aren’t you?”

Maggie laughed despite herself. “Always.”

***

Author Bio:

Susan Ouellette is the author of The Wayward Spy, a thriller that Publishers Weekly calls a “gripping debut and series launch.” She was born and raised in the suburbs of Boston, where she studied international relations and Russian as both an undergraduate and graduate student. As the Soviet Union teetered on the edge of collapse, she worked as a CIA intelligence analyst. Subsequently, Susan worked on Capitol Hill as a professional staff member for the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence (HPSCI). Since her stint on Capitol Hill, she has worked for several federal consulting firms. Susan lives on a farm outside of Washington, D.C. with her family.