Category Archives: Release Day Party

Book Release: My Way To You

About the Book

Title: My Way To You

Author: Lyndell Williams

Genre: Romance

Lawyer Simon Young is smart, confident, and adept at keeping things with women casual—until he meets his best friend Marcus’s sister, Regina. Immediately intrigued by Regina’s beauty, Simon becomes increasingly enthralled and ultimately risks his friendship to have her for himself.

Social justice writer and activist Regina Kent is usually cautious and savvy. Yet, unable to resist her attraction to the handsome Simon, she plunges into a torrid affair, knowing that she chances angering big brother and her less tolerant followers, many of whom will not accept that one of their most popular pro-Black bloggers is dating an Asian man.

As their clandestine romance evolves, Simon and Regina fall deeper in love. Making sure that things stay between them becomes progressively impossible, and neither knows how much longer they can keep Marcus in the dark and the world at bay.

 

 

Author Bio

Lyndell Williams is an award-winning writer as well as a multifaceted editor, romance scholar and author. She is a managing editor and columnist for various media platforms and serves as a content editor for a select group of clients. She’s had numerous short stories published in collections and enjoys a growing list of subscribers to her Layla Writes Love online short story series.

Lyndell is an adjunct instructor as well as an anti-racism and gender equity advocate. She is committed to the traditional use of literature as social commentary to affect positive social change.

 

 

Links

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Book Release Dearly Beloved

 

dearlybelovedrelease

Author Interview

Have you been writing for a long time? 

Ever since I picked up a crayon 150 year ago!!! Seriously, though, I wrote professional non-fiction from my 20’s-40’s. I started writing nonfiction romance when I turned 54 and had my first romance book published – traditionally – at 55.

 

What inspired you to start a writing career? 

I’ve always been a writer. I never did it as a full time career, though, choosing to write to supplement my income. When I turned 54 I wanted to see if I could make an actual living as a fiction writer and since I love to read romance, it made sense I’d write it as well. It took me a year to get my first romance novel published.

 

Is your book a stand-alone, or is it part of a series? 

It is the first book in a 4 book series, each of them, though, are stand alones, meaning you will not have had to read the one before it to understand what is happening in the current book. But since it is a series involving sisters, you might want to read them in order. Since DEARLY BELOVED is the first book, start with that one!

 

How does your book stand out from others? 

2 things, really. It looks at family in a true way – meaning I deal with death, betrayal, loss, and grief – all with humor, which is the second thing: you will cry on one page and then be brought out of your sadness by laughter on the next page. I haven’t read too many authors who do that. Typically romance novels deal with a straight arc of lovers meeting, getting pulled away, and then finding their HEA. I deal with more the families plus the love interests, and their paths to discovery which leads them to their HEA. And again, it’s done realistically, but with a great deal of humor.

 

Are any of your characters based on real-life people? 

God, no!! I’d get sued for sure! Hee hee

 

Do you have any advice for aspiring authors? 

If you want to write for publication – never give up. I was 55 when my first book was published, an age I was watching people around me beginning to discuss retirement. Not me. I embarked on a brand new career and am loving every minute of it, so my advice is to never give up on a dream and do whatever you can to make it come true for you.

About the Book

perf5.000x8.000.inddTitle: Dearly Beloved

Author: Peggy Jaeger

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Colleen O’Dowd manages a thriving bridal business with her sisters in Heaven, New Hampshire. After fleeing Manhattan and her cheating ex-fiancé, Colleen still believes in happily ever afters. But with a demanding business to run, her sisters to look after, and their 93-year-old grandmother to keep out of trouble, she’s worried she’ll never find Mr. Right.

Playboy Slade Harrington doesn’t believe in marriage. His father’s six weddings have taught him life is better as an unencumbered single guy. But Slade loves his little sister. He’ll do anything for her, including footing the bill for her dream wedding. He doesn’t plan on losing his heart to a smart-mouthed, gorgeous wedding planner, though.

When her ex-fiancé comes back into the picture, Colleen must choose between Mr. Right and Mr. Right Now.

Author Bio

peggyheadshotPeggy Jaeger is a contemporary romance writer who writes about strong women, the families who support them, and the men who can’t live without them.

Family and food play huge roles in Peggy’s stories because she believes there is nothing that holds a family structure together like sharing a meal…or two…or ten. Dotted with humor and characters that are as real as they are loving, Peggy brings all topics of daily life into her stories: life, death, sibling rivalry, illness and the desire for everyone to find their own happily ever after. Growing up the only child of divorced parents she longed for sisters, brothers and a family that vowed to stick together no matter what came their way. Through her books, she has created the families she wanted as that lonely child.

Tying into her love of families, her children’s book, THE KINDNESS TALES, was illustrated by her artist mother-in-law.

Peggy holds a master’s degree in Nursing Administration and first found publication with several articles she authored on Alzheimer’s Disease during her time running an Alzheimer’s in-patient care unit during the 1990s.

In 2013, she placed first in two categories in the Dixie Kane Memorial Contest: Single Title Contemporary Romance and Short/Long Contemporary Romance.

In 2017 she came in 3rd in the New England Reader’s Choice contest for A KISS UNDER THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS and was a finalist in the 2017 STILETTO contest for the same title.

In 2018, Peggy was a finalist in the HOLT MEDALLION Award and once again in the 2018 Stiletto Contest.

A lifelong and avid romance reader and writer, she is a member of RWA and her local New Hampshire RWA Chapter.

Links

Website/Blog

Twitter

Amazon Author Page

Facebook

Pinterest

Goodreads

Instagram

BookBub

Giveaway

Win one of two $15 Amazon gift cards during the release and tour.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Release Blitz The Heart of Aleppo

About the Book

Title: The Heart of Aleppo

Author: Ammar Habib

Genre: Young Adult / Coming of Age / Contemporary

Page Count: 235

After standing for over 7,000 years, Aleppo’s ruin came overnight. Separated from his family during the night the rebels attacked the city, thirteen-year-old Zaid Kadir is lost in the middle of a war zone. Alongside his friends, he is forced to survive the dangers of a civil war he does not even fully understand. Zaid witnesses the destruction of the brutal Syrian Civil War as it grows more deadly by the day and rips his city apart. However, as he braves this destruction, as he desperately tries to survive this catastrophe, he discovers something. Zaid realizes that it is in the darkest hours when humanity’s spirit of hope burns brightest.

 

Links

Goodreads

Amazon

 

 

About the Author

Ammar Habib is a bestselling and award-winning author who was born in Lake Jackson, Texas in 1993. Ammar enjoys crafting stories that are not only entertaining but will also stay with the reader for a long time. Ammar presently resides in his hometown with his family, all of whom are his biggest fans. He draws his inspiration from his family, imagination, and the world around him.

 

 

Social Media

Website:www.ammarahsenhabib.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ammarahsenhabib

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmmarAHabib1

@AmmarAHabib1

Blog: www.ammarhabibblog.wordpress.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Ammar_Habib

Instagram: https://instagram.com/ammar.a.habib/

@Ammar.A.Habib

Giveaway

In conjunction with the release of The Heart of Aleppo, Ammar is running a giveaway from July 26th to August 3rd. The prize of the giveaway is a signed copy of his national award-winning novel, Memories of My Future. Memories of My Future is a historical/inspirational novel that was published in 2016. It received several accolades after its release, including the Independent Press Award in May 2017.

Go here to visit the giveaway!

 

 

Why Ammar wrote The Heart of Aleppo:

I personally believe that the Syrian Civil War is one of this generation’s greatest tragedies. With the way it is proceeding, it’ll be remembered by future generations in the same manner that we remember the Rwandan genocide and the Bosnian War of the 1990s.

The motivation for writing The Heart of Aleppo was simple: I wished to bring more global attention to this crisis. Although the characters are fictitious, this novel accurately depicts the events that transpired in Aleppo during the summer of 2012. I hope that reading this will lead readers to have a greater understanding of the plight those in Syria face, as well as those in other war-torn regions. If this work helps garner more attention for those in Syria, then I will have considered this project a success.

In an over-politicized world, my wish is for this work to humanize those we call “refugees”. The Heart of Aleppo is not about the politics of the Syrian Civil War or any other conflict. Its aim is not to convince readers to support any faction or political party. Instead, this story is about the unbreakable spirit of humanity. It is about how humanity often shows its true strength during the darkest times.

I truly hope that these themes of hope and strength will resonate with readers. I know that simply writing this The Heart of Aleppo changed me as a person, and it made me more aware of everything that transpires in the world around me. Although the world will never be perfect, I believe that if we keep our faith in the human spirit and keep striving to always better ourselves and those around us, then we can create a little piece of heaven on earth.

 

Writing Playlist for The Heart of Aleppo

 

  1. “Sadness and Sorrow”

Youtube

 

  1. “Sound of Hugh Glass”

Youtube

 

  1. “Despair”

Youtube

 

  1. “Man of the World”

Youtube

 

First excerpt from The Heart of Aleppo:

Two days before Nabeel leaves for the last time, I find him standing at the kitchen counter with his friend, Zakariah. I don’t know his rank, but Zakariah serves directly under Nabeel in the army and only lives two miles down the road. The two of them always seem to be on leave at the same time.

Their voices are low, almost secretive, but I catch the look in Nabeel’s eye. Except back then, I didn’t recognize it.

“What are you guys talking about?”

Seeing me enter and hearing my voice, they both look my way before exchanging glances. That gleam in Nabeel’s eyes disappears.

I excitedly run up to the two of them. “Tell me!”

Nabeel looks back down at me as he stops leaning against the counter. Reaching down, he ruffles my hair. “You’re too young to know about that, Zaid.”

“Aww, what’s that about? I’m not part of the group now—”

My brother playfully flicks me on the forehead as he crouches down a little. “I’m sorry, buddy. Maybe next time.”

“You’re always saying that.”

Zakariah laughs as he comes closer to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “That’s just not fair, Nabeel. You’re a horrible brother for leaving Zaid out like that.”

I see a concerned expression momentarily wash over Nabeel’s face.

However, Zakariah glances up at Nabeel and shoots him a quick wink as he continues. “Why don’t I just tell you then?”

My eyes light up. “Really! You’re the best, Zakariah.”

Coming to his knees, he puts his arm around my shoulders and leans close, acting as if he is about to tell me the world’s biggest secret. “You see, Zaid, your brother and I were having a discussion about which one of us would win in a wrestling match. We all know that I’m stronger, but he just won’t admit it.” He sighs and shakes his head as he looks back at Nabeel. “But you agree with me, don’t you, Zaid?”

I don’t hesitate to respond. “No way!”

He moves his head back in surprise. “Huh?”

“Sure you’re pretty strong, but my brother would beat you!”

Zakariah is slow to reply, taken aback by the statement. “C’mon, Zaid. You do realize that I’m older than him—”

“Age has nothing to do with it, Zakariah! My brother was the school’s wrestling champion. He wouldn’t lose to you.” I whip my head to look back at Nabeel. “Right, big brother?”

Nabeel is slightly smiling now.

With a chuckle, Zakariah rises back to his feet. “Alright, alright. Well, I best be off, Nabeel. We can finish our little discussion next time.”

Nabeel shakes his hand. “Give my greetings to your folks.”

“I will.” Zakariah grabs my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “See you, Zaid—no, sorry: Dr. Zaid.”

Did he really just call me that? How did he know?

Hearing Zakariah’s footsteps grow faint, I turn back to Nabeel. He opens the fridge door and rummages through it.

“You told him?” I ask.

Nabeel doesn’t look my way. “I tell everyone.”

I watch him pull out a pound of chicken meat rolled up in brown paper as he turns back to me.

“Aisha is visiting her parents tonight and Abbi and Ummi are having dinner with friends. So looks like it’ll just be you and me.” Nabeel shoots me a wink. “I’m going to make some shwarma for dinner. Just the way you like it: tomatoes, lettuce, onions, lots of chicken, and even more spices.” He starts setting the ingredients on the countertop. “I went by Sohail’s shop today. The mangoes he was selling were ripe, so I picked some up. We can have them for dessert. That is if we have room.”

He looks back at me with a smile, but it fades when he sees my expression.

“What’s wrong, Zaid?”

I glance at the ground before replying, “I don’t think I want to be a doctor anymore.”

“Why not?”

“…I don’t think I can.”

He takes a few steps towards me before crouching down to come to my eye level, urging me to continue.

“Ms. Farooq said I’m not smart enough.”

“She did?”

“I got the lowest score in the class on the last math test. She said I’m not cut out for it.”

“I didn’t realize Ms. Farooq could tell the future.”

I don’t respond.

“Did you tell Abbi or Ummi?”

I shake my head.

He takes a deep breath and glances down at my feet. His eyes look like he’s weighing something, wondering if he should say it or not. When he does speak, his voice is different. It’s no longer speaking to me as his younger brother but as his friend. “You know, Zaid, Zakariah was joking about what we were talking about.”

“Really?”

He nods before his gaze focuses back on me. “Not even a few weeks ago, my soldiers and I were in a bit of a… well, situation.”

“What happened?”

“We were in Homs. The people we were fighting—the rebels—had heavy control of some neighborhoods. We were trying to take them back. It was…”

A silence ensues as he searches for the word.

“Difficult.” Nabeel pauses. “Some soldiers were pinned. The army tried an airstrike to break the rebel lines. It was a heavy bombardment that leveled entire streets. The cost was high. But we couldn’t break their lines.”

I don’t interrupt him.

“Our intelligence said it was a lost cause. We were ordered to abandon the soldiers. They said we would lose more men than we would save. But even the army’s ‘intelligence’ doesn’t know everything.” He looks away. “Zakariah and I disobeyed our commanding officer. As did our men. Those soldiers that were pinned weren’t just men. They were my friends… my brothers. And I would never abandon them, even if it led to…”

For a moment, his eyes again display that same gleam, but it disappears as quickly as it came.

His gaze again meets mine. It’s firmer this time, stronger. “It doesn’t matter what people say, Zaid. It doesn’t matter what the facts say. All that matters is what you say. And, maybe more importantly, what you do.”

I hang on his words, unable to say anything.

“Why do you want to be a doctor, Zaid?”

“I’ve always wanted to.”

“But why?”

“Because… I don’t want to see people suffer. I… I want to be the one to help others. I want to save lives, make a difference and put others before myself. I want to make this world a better place. Just like the Imam always talks about.”

Nabeel smiles. “Never forget that. And never go back on your word. No matter what happens. Please never forget one thing, Zaid: I love you. No matter the circumstance—no matter if I’m so far from you that you may never see me again, know that I’m with you.” He presses his finger against my heart. “I believe in you, Zaid.”

 

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Release Blitz Oak Seer

About Oak Seer

Thrust into the public eye as the “Green Lady,” Effie of Glen Coe has become a living legend, the fey woman who saved Scotland from devastation. But to some, she’s a threat to human existence and a traitor to fey-kind.

Determined more than ever to forge a peace between fey and humans, Effie finds herself navigating a realm increasingly divided. The lords of London have other plans, and once again Effie is pulled into a quagmire of politics and greed. She must stand against plots to remove her kind from the shores of the empire and madmen who murder fey without regard.

Even worse, heinous cults have arisen, enthralled by an unseen enemy. With violent thugs and unruly mobs all around, wits and courage are not enough. Effie must become something more than herself, an Oak Seer, a fey mantle long lost. But can she survive long enough to claim it?

Author Bio

Craig Comer is the author of the gaslamp fantasy series A FEY MATTER, which includes THE LAIRD OF DUNCAIRN and OAK SEER. He is a co-author of the mosaic fantasy novel THE ROADS TO BALDAIRN MOTTE. Craig earned a Master’s Degree in Writing from the University of Southern California and enjoys tramping across countries in his spare time, preferably those strewn with pubs and castles. His website is: https://craigcomer.com/

Links

https://craigcomer.com/

Get your copy on Amazon

An excerpt from Oak Seer – Chapter One

Heavy spring rains flooded the road to Langmire. The village sprouted to the north of Stirling along the River Teith. It smelled old to Effie, full of moldy timbers, damp leaves, and rusting iron. The collection of buildings, crofters’ homes mostly, sagged like the slumped back of a crone. Grey smoke wafted from a few blackened chimneys that sprouted from thatched roofs. Someone baked fresh bread. She caught it on the wind, and another something sweeter. Eager for a warm hearth and a cup of honeyed tea, she licked her parched lips. She’d travelled a full day to reach the village. She’d come because Conall Murray had begged her, because without her an innocent woman would hang.

In the heart of the village grew a stout oak. Muckle Ben the locals called it, Effie had once heard. They’d carved a Green Man into its bark long ago, during a time when such things held power. Now banners pronouncing some celebration hung from its limbs more often than not, but none remained there currently. Its trunk stood as somber as an undertaker. Chickens picked at worms in the upturned soil near its roots, and a lone hound howled at the rustling leaves as the branches creaked above.

Fergus Alpin hacked into his handkerchief, a wet, miserable noise she’d had to contend with the entire journey from Stirling. The Fey Finder sat across from her in the steam carriage’s tight compartment. His wrinkled face was spotted and thin, and he kept tugging his coat tighter about his frail bones. She tried to avoid his gaze, but nothing adorned the compartment for her to study, and she could only stare out the window for so long before feeling rude.

“I’ll do the speaking,” the man said. “You will remain silent.” The quiver at his lip turned into another fit of hacking, yet she still heard his mumbling. “Send a fey to catch a fey, and one with paps at that!”

The steam carriage rocked and bounced, splashing through the flooded road as if fording a stony riverbed. Its benches were worn and hard, the padding flattened from years of service. A lightly stained wood paneling formed its walls, floor, and roof. The boiler at the rear of the carriage warmed the compartment, but at the expense of the coal smoke that clouded the air.

Effie shifted to relieve her sore hips. Her eyes narrowed. “The Fey Finder General bade me accompany you, Mr. Alpin, and not so I would stand and do nothing.” She tried to keep the bite from her tongue. Of Fey Finders, Alpin was a journeyman and not a zealot. At least there was that. He sought not to be bothered rather than possessing the fiery hatred common to his profession.

She pressed her palms into the cushion on either side of her, to steady herself. It still marveled her she could sit so close to a Sniffer, a man the crown tasked with hunting down malevolent fey. Malevolent, as if they knew what the word meant. They hunted all with fey blood, and as a Sithling—one with the ancient blood of the Daoine Sith coursing through her—that included her. But things had changed after Caldwell House, and she had a need to trust where once she dared not. The fierce battle there had forced the lords of the empire to open their eyes. They could not rest on centuries of intolerance any longer. They had to welcome the fey into society’s ranks and accept a permanent treaty. They had witnessed the fate awaiting them if they did not.

Effie’s heart warmed. If the lords of the empire could learn to trust, so could she, and perhaps the Scottish fey would live freely for the first time in millennia.

Alpin’s jaw worked. He’d likely never had someone with paps stand up to him. Most Scots of either gender avoided Sniffers as if they carried the plague. “Look here, Miss Effie,” he snapped. “I’ll not have it. You may dine with the likes of lords, but you’re not in some grand procession here. I know the hearts of these gentle folk better than you ever will, and I will not banter with the mind of a devious hag.”

“When you see one, I’m sure,” said Effie, not knowing whether the man had meant her or the poor Spae Wife they’d come to question.

Heavy spring rains flooded the road to Langmire. The village sprouted to the north of Stirling along the River Teith. It smelled old to Effie, full of moldy timbers, damp leaves, and rusting iron. The collection of buildings, crofters’ homes mostly, sagged like the slumped back of a crone. Grey smoke wafted from a few blackened chimneys that sprouted from thatched roofs. Someone baked fresh bread. She caught it on the wind, and another something sweeter. Eager for a warm hearth and a cup of honeyed tea, she licked her parched lips. She’d travelled a full day to reach the village. She’d come because Conall Murray had begged her, because without her an innocent woman would hang.

In the heart of the village grew a stout oak. Muckle Ben the locals called it, Effie had once heard. They’d carved a Green Man into its bark long ago, during a time when such things held power. Now banners pronouncing some celebration hung from its limbs more often than not, but none remained there currently. Its trunk stood as somber as an undertaker. Chickens picked at worms in the upturned soil near its roots, and a lone hound howled at the rustling leaves as the branches creaked above.

Fergus Alpin hacked into his handkerchief, a wet, miserable noise she’d had to contend with the entire journey from Stirling. The Fey Finder sat across from her in the steam carriage’s tight compartment. His wrinkled face was spotted and thin, and he kept tugging his coat tighter about his frail bones. She tried to avoid his gaze, but nothing adorned the compartment for her to study, and she could only stare out the window for so long before feeling rude.

“I’ll do the speaking,” the man said. “You will remain silent.” The quiver at his lip turned into another fit of hacking, yet she still heard his mumbling. “Send a fey to catch a fey, and one with paps at that!”

The steam carriage rocked and bounced, splashing through the flooded road as if fording a stony riverbed. Its benches were worn and hard, the padding flattened from years of service. A lightly stained wood paneling formed its walls, floor, and roof. The boiler at the rear of the carriage warmed the compartment, but at the expense of the coal smoke that clouded the air.

Effie shifted to relieve her sore hips. Her eyes narrowed. “The Fey Finder General bade me accompany you, Mr. Alpin, and not so I would stand and do nothing.” She tried to keep the bite from her tongue. Of Fey Finders, Alpin was a journeyman and not a zealot. At least there was that. He sought not to be bothered rather than possessing the fiery hatred common to his profession.

She pressed her palms into the cushion on either side of her, to steady herself. It still marveled her she could sit so close to a Sniffer, a man the crown tasked with hunting down malevolent fey. Malevolent, as if they knew what the word meant. They hunted all with fey blood, and as a Sithling—one with the ancient blood of the Daoine Sith coursing through her—that included her. But things had changed after Caldwell House, and she had a need to trust where once she dared not. The fierce battle there had forced the lords of the empire to open their eyes. They could not rest on centuries of intolerance any longer. They had to welcome the fey into society’s ranks and accept a permanent treaty. They had witnessed the fate awaiting them if they did not.

Effie’s heart warmed. If the lords of the empire could learn to trust, so could she, and perhaps the Scottish fey would live freely for the first time in millennia.

Alpin’s jaw worked. He’d likely never had someone with paps stand up to him. Most Scots of either gender avoided Sniffers as if they carried the plague. “Look here, Miss Effie,” he snapped. “I’ll not have it. You may dine with the likes of lords, but you’re not in some grand procession here. I know the hearts of these gentle folk better than you ever will, and I will not banter with the mind of a devious hag.”

“When you see one, I’m sure,” said Effie, not knowing whether the man had meant her or the poor Spae Wife they’d come to question.

 

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Release Blitz A Girl Like Her

Teasers

About the Book

Everyone has secrets. He wants all of hers.

Meet the man next door…

After years of military service, Evan Miller wants a quiet life. The small town of Ravenswood seems perfect—until he stumbles upon a vicious web of lies with his new neighbour at its centre.

Ruth Kabbah is rude, awkward, and—according to everyone in town—bad news. Thing is, no-one will tell Evan why. Does she perform ritual sacrifices? Howl at the moon? Pour the milk before the tea? He has no clue.

But he desperately wants to find out. Because Ruth doesn’t seem evil to him; she seems lonely. And funny, and clumsy, and secretly quite sweet, and really f*%king beautiful…

The more Evan’s isolated, eccentric neighbour pushes him away, the more he wants her. Her—and all her secrets. Because there’s no way a girl like Ruth truly deserves the town’s scorn.

…Is there?

A Girl Like Her is a steamy, small town BWWM romance. Warning: this book is 65,000+ words of extreme pleasure and intense romance, ending in a HEA. There are NO cliffhangers and NO cheating. Enjoy responsibly!

Author Bio

Talia Hibbert is a writer and educator from England, U.K., by way of both the West Indies and West Africa. She wrote her first romance aged 12, and was promptly scolded by her teacher because her story of love in the jungle wasn’t ‘proper’.

Since then, Talia’s romances have improved in quality and hugely increased in heat. She now writes erotic, interracial romances about dirty Brits. They still aren’t proper, but they are a lot of fun.

In her free time, she eats too much ice cream and watches K Drama on Netflix.

She also spends a serious amount of time on social media, so make sure you stay connected.

And, as Talia would say… that’s all, folks. Love and biscuits!

Links

U.S. http://amzn.to/2FqDgmo

UK: http://amzn.to/2oZHp9W

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Release Blitz Massage & Murder

Teasers

“Don’t make me arrest you, Autumn.” His voice low and almost growling.

I scoff. “For what?”

“The list is growing, but right now you’re the last person to see the victim alive. You’re our primary suspect. You have means, motive and opportunity.”

 

 

He’s really making a case against me. The room is spinning or am I spinning? I can’t tell. This can’t be happening. I feel sick. Sure, I hate April…hated her. Envisioned killing her multiple times, but I would never do it. I’m not a killer. I’m a healer. Surely, Travis knows that. Then again maybe he doesn’t.

 

 

Everyone in town has a motive to kill April, but who actually did? It’s the million-dollar question, one I have to prove before Travis decides to pin the murder on me.

About the Book

Title: Massage & Murder

Author: Jenn Cowan

Genre: Cozy Mystery

 

I’m a Licensed Massage Therapist.

A professional.

A healer.

Not a killer.

 

When a client ends up dead on my massage table, I become the number one suspect.

I have Means.

Motive.

Opportunity.

But I didn’t kill her.

The clock is ticking, someone is stalking me, I have to find out who before I end up in jail or worse…dead.

 

 

Author Bio

Jenn Cowan is the author of several genres and pen names under Jenna Richert and J.R. Cowan. When she’s not writing you can find her in her massage office working on clients, cooking up a storm in her kitchen, singing and dancing with her hubby at a concert, cheering on the sidelines for her kiddos or cozied up by the fire reading a novel. She loves a good mystery and a happily ever after.

 

Links

Amazon

Facebook
Twitter: @JRCowan1
Instagram: jrcowan1 (Jenn Cowan)

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Book Release: Night of the Victorian Dead

About the Book

A Pride & Prejudice & Zombies for lit lovers!

Mr. Edward Dorchester invites several families of his acquaintance to a ball at his country estate, the night the Harvest moon rises fell and tainted. While those within are consumed by their hopes and schemes, tenants are going missing and arriving guests savagely attacked.

A gothic horror tale of classic zombies meets manners, with an ensemble, upstairs-downstairs cast of Vic. Lit inspired characters.

The knowing modern reader can follow unsuspecting characters down the road to the inevitable.

Author Bio

Amber Michele Cook writes stories of deep, meaningful fun. A devotee of Georgian to Edwardian period pieces, she adores Speculative Lit: Victorian literature-inspired works with a supernatural or paranormal element.

Partly raised in Germany, she went to an international school for high-school, majored in linguistics, loves literature and period pieces. She’s also a photography/graphic arts artist of color and wonder living in the great Northwest.

In addition to leading improv writing tables, she’s the Director of National Novel Editing Month and a Facilitator for the People’s Ink writing community.

Website: www.nightofthevictoriandead.com

Links

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Book Depository

Indigo

IndieBound

 

Giveaway

We’re hosting a giveaway for a Victorian brooch and signed copy of the book. All you need to enter is your email address!

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