Excerpt & Giveaway: Keeper of my Soul by Rebecca Norinne Caudill

Title: Keeper of my Soul: Book Two of the Macauley Vampire Series

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Page Count: 229 (per print version)

Release Date: May 18, 2016

Synopsis

Olivia Donnelly never meant to fall in love with a hot, sexy vampire. But she did and, against all reason, now she’s been turned herself and is fast learning there’s more to William Macauley’s world than meets the eye. As Olivia struggles to adapt to her new life, an old madness – long dormant in their bloodline – re-emerges, bringing with it an unexplained power that courses through her veins unchecked. Faced with danger from old enemies, William and Olivia are forced to battle not only her internal demons, but other vampires that threaten their very lives. Can their immortal love conquer all, or will it lead to their destruction?

Buy Links 1: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01DC6BHDM
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29610380-keeper- of-my- soul

Author Bio

Rebecca read her first novel when she was just four years old and has been hooked on books ever since. When she wasn't writing her own stories, she was sneaking copies of her mom's paperbacks to read late into the night. Fast forward a few years later, she graduated from the University of Pittsburgh with a degree in Journalism. After a stint working in radio, she embarked on a career in technology public relations in Silicon Valley, representing some of the country's hottest start-ups and publicly traded companies. After more than a decade in the business, she began writing full time, and has now published both contemporary and paranormal romance novels. When not creating fictional worlds inhabited by strong women and dashing heroes, she is reading about them, planning her next vacation, trying out new recipes, or drinking a dram of whiskey. Rebecca lives with her husband in Dublin, Ireland.

Website: http://www.rebeccancaudill.com
Facebook Link: https://www.facebook.com/rebeccancaudill
Twitter Link: https://twitter.com/rebecca_caudill

EXCERPT

They drove past several men loitering in doorways or smoking outside of a pub, but nothing in their demeanor gave him pause. He didn’t approve of these types of men, but he wouldn’t condemn them either for the lives they had been born into but had failed to leave behind.

He maneuvered the car off the main street to roam darker, more secluded alleyways in search of the perfect opportunity. After driving in silence for several minutes, he turned them toward the deserted docklands area. Crawling stealthily up and down the relatively peaceful streets for a good hour, William considered moving their hunt elsewhere when he heard a faint scream off in the distance, one that wouldn’t have been discernible to the human ear.

The adrenaline rushed through Olivia’s alert body as William pulled the car over and stopped the engine.

“You heard that, yes?”

She swallowed, her venom flowing in anticipation of what her body knew was to come. “Yes.”

“I can’t tell how many. Three, maybe four. I wanted your first hunt to have as few distractions as possible. Fewer men would certainly be easier, but it won’t be difficult by any means. I could easily take on more, and wouldn’t be surprised to see you able to as well. That said, I leave the decision entirely up to you.”

While Olivia searched her mind for answer to his unspoken question – could she handle it? –

they heard the scream again. Somewhere, maybe a thousand yards away, a group of thugs joyful in their violence. Olivia pictured the scene, focused her senses on the more muted sounds, listened for anything that would give her a reason to act – or not. There was definitely the sound of fists hitting exposed flesh. Cries of pain. Then laughter.

An older man was being beaten, she was sure, but she didn’t know anything about him. Maybe he deserved his violent punishment, but then again, maybe he didn’t. If he was blameless – innocent – she couldn’t let the assault continue unabated. In a split second, she decided the man needed her to intercede on his behalf, and then something deep inside of her quieted, the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach going silent.

William watched Olivia zero in on the sounds ahead. She closed her eyes, took two deep breaths, and went completely still. Moments later she cocked her head to the right and twitched her eyebrows ever so slightly, a scowl crossing her face. He could see she had picked up on both the verbal confrontation as well as the inner monologues of the ruffians, was searching their private thoughts for vindication for what he already knew was to come. Three, maybe four seconds later she heard what she was looking for. Olivia opened her eyes, exited the car soundlessly, and silently prowled the street, all lithe feline grace.

Olivia hadn’t spoken a word to William before taking her leave. She was sure he knew her intentions and that he’d be by her side in seconds should she require him. She was gratified to see her intuition hadn’t been wrong. This was her hunt and he wouldn’t interfere unless she needed him to, but he wouldn’t let her experience it for the first time alone. Nearing the group of men, William receded into the shadows, on watch, his senses alert should Olivia need his assistance.

As she moved closer to the group she could hear the old man begging for his life, his cries becoming weaker and feebler with each menacing kick that was landed to his body. The situation was as she feared – it was a senseless act of violence, the old man having done nothing to deserve the pain he was being forced to endure. The realization made her angry and a deathly calm descended. This was the justification she needed to spill their blood.

She approached the group soundlessly. “Hello, gentleman.”

The scumbag closest to her jumped in surprise at the interruption. Had he spared her more than a momentary glance he would have seen more than a harmless red-haired woman standing behind him. Instead, he barely looked her way before turning his back on her to cheer his friends on in their mistreatment of the man who now lay prone on the cold asphalt, his body unmoving.

“Please stop kicking that poor man,” she requested in vain, knowing that even as she spoke her words fell on deaf ears. There would be no stopping their assault now that they had experienced their own version of blood lust.

“Whaya looking at brasser?” hollered another, stopping his attack long enough to look her body up and down lecherously.

I’ll give the feckin cunt a ride. Olivia heard the words pass through his mind as clearly as if he had spoken them aloud. He would never get close enough to try. She’d given them their one chance to comply with her directive. Hell, she had even been polite! Now she could drain them dry and not feel a second of remorse.

When she didn’t respond, he screamed louder, “Feck off ye geebag!” as he kicked the dying man again, harder, while staring straight at her. It was then that Olivia realized she had arrived too late to save their victim as he was no longer moving or reacting to the assault being wrought on his body. She listened for his heartbeat but knew it had already died. The assholes assaulting him hadn’t even noticed. That made her even angrier.

So be it.

Olivia closed her eyes, took a deep breath to settle her mind, let her power unfurl, and then she struck.

William had never seen anything like it. Olivia appeared for all the world a lethal killing machine and yet she was also full of grace and beauty, her body moving in perfect harmony with her mind as she glided from one action to the next. When she stopped moving, the man closest to her lay where he had stood, his neck broken, spinal cord severed, the bloody stump attached to his body by a single ligament. His cohort’s form was strewn next to him, heart ripped out of his chest, blood splattered over the front of his white polyester tracksuit.

Meanwhile, the third thug – the one who had dealt the blow that had killed the old man – pulled out a large knife to defend himself against her deadly onslaught, but she was too quick, too determined to see the act through to the end. Unlike his friends, he had seen her coming, had witnessed her monstrosity unleashed, and as he stared at her bared fangs, Olivia’s eyes came alive with excitement over his paltry effort to defend himself. In less than a second she had him in her arms, neck stretched taut to the point of breaking. He had been unable to even attempt to use the blade against her. The man whined and begged Olivia to spare his life as he blathered on about his mum and sister and a whole host of nonsense she hadn’t cared to hear.

William watched her close her eyes against the noise and he knew it was her attempt to block out the sound of his obsequious sniveling. Briefly, he remembered back to a time when he’d had to consciously do the same.

“You left me no choice,” she said, bracing herself for a wave of shame and disgust that never came. She captured the man’s gaze to ensure that in those few seconds before death he knew exactly who – what – had delivered retribution for his many crimes. By then he had ceased his whimpering and his eyes had gone vacant in fear.

She smiled cynically down at him and he pissed himself in response. “Oh god,” he whined as Olivia plunged her fangs into his neck, brutally ripping into the sweat soaked skin surrounding the arterial vein. The blood rushed into her mouth, a sloppy stream of hot, warm liquid that coated her throat as it worked its way into her body. She closed her mind to the force of his thoughts, twenty years of memories, as she drank him in. While she needed his blood flowing inside of her she did not need the knowledge of his life. She knew everything she needed to: he was a murderer and she was there to put an end to him. When his heart stopped beating and his blood ceased to flow, she threw his body to the side of the road like the garbage he had been.

Olivia’s eyes dispassionately moved over the men she had killed. She had left the castle tonight resolved to feed – yes, to kill even – but she hadn’t intended to leave a slew of maimed and mutilated bodies in her wake. Clearly the power thrumming inside her veins had had other ideas.

Olivia couldn’t recall specifically what had been going through her head while she had been bloodily plowing her way through the men. Her mind had made its decision and then her body had followed suit, reacting almost of its own accord to the blatant disregard the men had shown both their victim and her presence.

She remembered asking them to stop hurting him but they had refused. That hadn’t been surprising. In fact, it had been expected. What had surprised her, however, was hearing the man in the red hoodie consider forcing himself on her once they finished roughing up the old man. They had had some beef with him but she was just a random woman who’d crossed their path. That his thoughts would immediately go to rape said enough about him and the company he kept to let her know they couldn’t continue living. It was then that the monster that dwelled within her had taken over and she unleased her rage on them.

Olivia heard a subtle shift behind her and instinctively turned to attack. A human eye would never have been able to see her body make its move, but the man who stood before her was no human.

William.

Olivia’s body was primed for a fight, her mind filled with the thrill of the kill, but at seeing her maker – the man who was her eternal lover – standing immobile before her she dropped her hands to her side and relaxed her posture. Despite the overwhelming energy coursing through her and the fight or flight response that firmly held her in its thrall, somewhere in the back of her mind Olivia knew he would not hurt her, that William was not her foe.

Never.

Likewise, she knew she could not hurt him.

William reached his hand out for Olivia to take. He was in awe of the speed with which she had moved and her deadly poise, but he didn’t want to risk her turning that lethal grace on him. He could see from the unholy light that filled her eyes she remained in the grips of something quite beyond a blood fever. He knew the symptoms well as he had often enough been a slave to it himself, but what he saw now went far beyond anything he had ever experienced.

“Olivia.”

She stared at him for several long seconds, her body deathly still, and then the pulsing brilliance of her eyes began to fade to their normal emerald green. She blinked once and tilted her head, a slight shift to the right, and he saw from the recognition that crossed her face she had regained control of her faculties. Olivia turned in a wide circle, her hands hanging limp at her sides, as she took in her surroundings.

“Oh my god, I’m a monster.” The admission was spoken on a stifled sob.

“Yes, you are,” William agreed, a sad smile shaping his lips. “We both are.”

GIVEAWAY

The author is offering $25 Amazon Gift Card to the winner of the below Rafflecopter.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Excerpt: Hairy Tales by Clifford James Hayes

Welcome to my tour stop for "Hairy Tales" by Clifford James Hayes.  Please refer the tour page for the full list of bloggers who are participating in this tour.

Name: Hairy Tales: A Collection of Stories for Naughty Boys and Girls

Author: Clifford James Hayes

Release Date: February 19, 2016
Genre: Children's
Paperback: 148 pages
ISBN-10: 1530133785
ISBN-13: 978-1530133789
Buy @ Amazon

Fans of quirky humour will love these Hairy Tales! Eleven different stories full of rhymes, morals and wit - or just plain silliness and absurdity! Great fun for children and adults alike.

Join The Ugly Mermaid on her amazing undersea quest to discover why she’s so hideous, and find out why Veronica the Velociraptor has such very bad teeth! Discover Aubrey’s Smelly Adventure in the Land of Bernards, and learn that it can be cool to be different in Shipwreck'd Sarah and the Silly-Looking Pirates! Are you brave enough to meet the hideous, toad-fearing Grandma Grunt … and what dreadful fate awaits Horrid Horatia, the fearsome lady-slug? Baron Tuskogee pays a terrible price for his greed in The Walrus Story, stinky old Podge the pig revolts in more ways than one, and the dreaded Lurgatron threatens to take over the world!

All this (and a great deal more!) can be found in Hairy Tales! New, revised edition.

EXCERPT

GRANDMA GRUNT …

When you think of grandmas, you probably think of nice, scented old ladies - the kind of doddery old dears who drink endless cups of tea and spoil their grandchildren with sugary, stodgy home-made cakes. Your grannie is there to make you feel safe, warm and all gooey inside.
Grannies have cuddly, nursey mannerisms and a slightly bonkers too-old-to-care approach to life; they allow their grandchildren to get away with all manner of slightly naughty acts and misdemeanors. Eating too much cake? Breaking a china plate? Going to bed without cleaning your teeth? Such naughtiness may NEVER be allowed at home, but a grannie will usually find childish hijinks, tomfoolery and slovenliness to be quite acceptable when you stay at her place.
All this talk of sweet old dears gurgling tea and baking bad-for-you sugary cakes may possibly remind you of enjoyable visits to your OWN grandmother - and as a consequence it may give you soft, fluffy memories of never being scolded, of endlessly eating candy until you felt queasy and of always being well looked after.
Unfortunately, these were NOT the memories of Edgar and Wilhelmina Grunt. The grandmother of Edgar and Wilhelmina Grunt was NOT a nice, scented old lady. The grandmother of Edgar and Wilhelmina Grunt was SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY.
The grandmother of Edgar and Wilhelmina Grunt did not make sugary cakes, nor dish out too much candy. The grandmother of Edgar and Wilhelmina Grunt did NOT make you feel warm and squishy inside.
Imagine a grandma with a strong, lingering, rotten-vegetably smell - the kind of putrid stench that made you cough up a little bit of sick every time you got downwind of her! Imagine a grandma who spoke words so rude even a foul-mouthed football hooligan would be too embarrassed to repeat them. Imagine a grandma that liked to encourage spiders and other creepy-crawly things to live in every nook and cranny of her dilapidated, unclean home, and who fed her grandchildren food off plates that had never been washed in over forty years. Imagine a grandma with a mountain-range of lumps over every inch of exposed flesh, and with hairy moles on her skin that looked like baby tarantulas! Not to mention the coarse, bristly hair that grew in the strangest of places (even out of the gums between her blackened teeth)!
NOW you’re getting a picture of Edgar and Wilhelmina Grunt’s grandmother. To top it all, their grandmother was quite mad. An absolute fruitcake, in fact. Her favourite book was THE FROGS OF WAR - a woeful tale about pond-life taking over the world. Grandma Grunt was CONVINCED the book was a prophecy – and that one day the world would be taken over by frogs, toads, newts and salamanders. She read the bleak, miserable book again and again and again to her terrified grandchildren, filling their heads with images of the frog wars to come ...

Soldier toads, and frogs of war,
Built for fighting, blood and gore.
Hop o’er land, break down your door,
Take it all, then take some more!
We’re the toads and frogs of war,
Croak and ribit, belch and roar!

She called the book ‘The Froggy Scriptures’, and read terrifying chapters of it to Edgar and Wilhelmina every time they came to stay. Once satisfied she’d scared the living daylights out of her grandchildren, Grandma Grunt made them eat ‘GROT’ - a grey, semi-liquid concoction of her own design. Part-porridge, part-soup, and part whatever-was-found-in-the-backyard. Anything unfortunate enough to be slow and easy to catch often went into her vat of Grot - she had a particular fancy for snails and slugs, and even squeezed the ‘juice’ out of a dead seagull once, in order to add it to the putrid gruel.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Clifford James Hayes is an occasional author and independent publisher, and has to date written and illustrated over a dozen books in different genres (childrens’ tales, historical fantasy, comedic science fiction and biographical). His ‘day job’ is running his graphic design business (www.hayesdesign.co.uk) where his specialism is the design of books and cd/albums. Inspirations for his books include Roald Dahl, Monty Python, Rik Mayall, Spike Milligan and (most importantly) the mad outpourings of his young daughter, Poppy, to whom all his books are dedicated. For more info please get in touch via www.hayesdesign.co.uk.

Excerpt: When I Grow Up by Matt Williams

Name: When I Grow Up

Author: Matt Williams

Illustrator: Elizabeth Collyer

Publisher: Vivid Publishing

When I grow up there's lots of things I'd like to be:
But how am I supposed to know which job is right for me?

This delightful story will encourage children to use their imagination and dream about what their future holds.

The book comes with access to a worksheet for young readers to complete to reinforce the ideas raised in the story.

Buy now @ Amazon | Vivid Publishing

EXCERPT

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Author Matt Williams resides in Newcastle, NSW and is the proud father of two gorgeous kids, Mikayla and Harry. He’s an Early Childhood educator with 15 years experience in the industry. Matt has a passion for encouraging children to read books as he’s seen firsthand the benefits it brings to a child’s development. Matt’s vision for this book is to create a story that provokes discussion and encourages children to dream about their possible future profession. The book comes with access to a worksheet available online to print and complete after reading the story. This worksheet is designed to be an engaging and productive way to reinforce the ideas from the book.

Excerpt & Giveaway: The Viking's Curse by Xandra James

The Viking's Curse

Xandra James
Release Date:  15^th November 2015

Genre: paranormal romance

Tag Line:  He was supposed to keep me alive after I was marked for death, but hiring the meanest Viking shifter in town might just kill me...

Blurb

Woodland Creek Series.

30 Authors. 30 Shifter Stories.

http://woodlandcreekseries.com

I'm cursed. There's no cure for what ails me. I'm part man, part draugar; a Viking warrior shifter who protects the dead. I'm a selfish bastard, numb to the world around me, surviving only to avenge my wife and mother's murder.  One emotion —anger—keeps me alive. At least, it did until I met TJ Knight and my icy heart began to beat once more.

I was all wrong for her yet I craved her in ways I never imagined. So making a deal with her to save that cute ass from a death mark probably wasn't the smartest thing I'd ever done. If I could manage to keep my hands off her, I might just stay in one piece.

The other thing? It turns out we have a mutual enemy. If we can work together, we might be able to find and destroy him. Trouble is, now it seems I have to kill TJ to give her a chance at living. Killing was my favourite thing but bringing her back to life? Now that might prove a problem...

Excerpt

The smell that lingered in the air from the absent dead body burnt my nostrils, but still I bent over the grave, got up close and personal with the empty coffin, attempting to work out who—or what—would want to be a body snatcher.

It hadn't been taken long; I could still feel the buzz of bad energy. The stench wasn't from the rotting corpse. Nope, it was due to the magic shifting around where the body had been. Yeah, I said magic and it was normal for me to smell the stuff.

You see, my name's TJ Knight, and I work for Battle Security and have done so for almost eighteen months after being head-hunted while in the army. Battle Security was a department of the Catholic Church. I work for God, you might say.

You might also say I am quite unusual but I'm not really. There are a lot of people like me around if only you open your eyes and take a look. And I've certainly seen some shit. Magical beings—or wizards—are everywhere. Battle Security specialises in things that go bump in the night, and it's all around you if you know where to look. And I know where to look. Or where to stick my nose.

Which is why I earn the big bucks for sniffing newly popped bodies, and get called out in the middle of a date.

Xandra James

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Newsletter * Series Website

Giveaway

Free ebook copy of The Viking's Curse and a $20 amazon voucher

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Quotes from Shielded Past by Patti Morelli

Welcome to my tour stop of Shielded Past by Patti Morelli.  The full tour schedule can be seen here.

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Shielded Past is riveting and full of suspense. So many questions need to be answered. We find out about Kate’s life in foster care after being abandoned by her mother. We meet Annie Collins, her best friend since their high school days.

Kate meets her ideal man and they purchase their dream home. This home was restored to its magnificent grandeur by her husband Gregg, and it is here that the intrigue begins. There is a light that shines every evening from the adjacent abandoned Marlboro Psychiatric Hospital in New Jersey, and with this, the suspense commences. We journey with Kate and Annie as they seek answers to the source of the light.

It is not only the light they are seeking answers to, Kate’s past is also in question. Her seemingly bright future becomes more clouded by the unknown as the questions multiply. Kate wants to know who she is and finds out rather quickly that she was lucky to be shielded from her past. The forces that must be contended with are both dark and light. The two are not always distinguishable, and knowing who to trust is not always obvious. When Kate finds out her real surname, it connects her to a family she never knew existed. With the help of her new found family the past is unravelled and the truth about her parents is revealed.

Kate must now live with the memories of the horrors that were inflicted on her loved ones. Meet the man and learn his reasons for torturing so many innocent victims. The suspense does not end here.

There are questions that still remain. Was there a connection to her dream home and her past? Why does Kate and all those who love her feel that she is in danger?

Buy @ Amazon

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Patti's first book was written under a pen name because the personal contents. Her book was the first in 2014 to received the Gold Seal of Literacy Excellence through Trafford Publishing.

Patti Morelli was born in Manhattan, she previously lived in Staten Island, New York and Marlboro, New Jersey. Patti now resides in Oxford, Florida

Patti has achieved success in business, politics, marriage, motherhood as well as the challenges life has given her. She is a mother of three and now enjoys the moments shared with her children and her two grandchildren.

Patti's husband suffered a massive stroke in 2008, being his caretaker has open a world she had never known before. She finds peace in her writing, Patti has been writing for over 30 years, she now has the confidence to publish her work.

Shielded Past was written over ten years ago, after Patti viewed the grounds of the Marlboro Psychiatric Hospital. She said standing in the halls of the building, she felt an eeriness that could not be explained. Through her vivid imagination and her love for suspense novels, she conjured up the characters and then invented what could have happened in this hospital many years before.

Website

QUOTES FROM SHIELDED PAST

Kate walked over to the window and saw the light also. When the light moved, Sam barked again.
“You know something is out there, don’t you Sam, you’re a good boy.”

Annie walked over to one of the windows, exclaiming, “Look Kate you can see the side of your house from here. I can see your bedroom window. This must be the room that the light comes from and look, there is a staircase in the hallway.”

 “A family has been reunited because of their faith in God. They have truly suffered in the past and are being rewarded by the Lord because of their strong faith.  This is a day of rejoicing for this wonderful family and for all of us. This is a blessed day. Let us pray and praise the Lord for His mercy and kindness.”

“What a case. This man is like an onion, I peel one layer and another one appears. Where do I start?

One night, when I had gone to bed, he locked my door and then I heard the car leave. I looked out of my window towards the hospital and about ten minutes later I saw a light go on, it was on the second floor. I shuddered, remembering how he would go into Joshua’s room at night. Could that be Joshua’s room, I thought to myself?
 “I was not always this monster. I believed I was going to change the world for the better. I truly wanted to help people."

 “Are you kidding me? We are dealing with possibly two murderers out there and you are falling in love with me? Don’t you think there is something wrong with this picture?”

Excerpts from Jo Barney’s Henlit Titles (Her Last Words, The Runaway, Never Too Late)

Welcome to the tour stop of for blog tour for the author Jo Barney for her three Henlit titles: Her Last Words, The Runaway and Never Too Late.  The tour runs from November 9 – 13 and will consist of reviews, guest posts, interviews and excerpts.  The full schedule can be seen here.

ABOUT JO BARNEY'S BOOKS:

ABOUT HER LAST WORDS:

Every summer four old friends flock together at Madge’s seaside house to swap stories and sip wine. Throughout divorces, children, and new marriages, only the beach house and the sisterhood that comes with it, hold constant. This time, though, something is different

Madge, the writer friend who brought them all together, is acting strange. She asks them for a risky, unthinkable favor. And then one morning, she disappears.

In Madge’s absence, her friends discover the unfinished manuscript to what will be her final novel. It is the story of past forty years of their lives, a story that may reshape their futures.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

ABOUT THE RUNAWAY:

Ellie is in her sixties, gruff and independent. She doesn’t expect much from life; it’s broken enough promises to her. The only ugliness in the world Ellie can truly clean up is the graffiti marring mailboxes in her neighborhood, and she centers her days around this as one of the few acts that gives her a little peace.

When a fifteen-year-old goth girl appears offering to help, Ellie is surprised—and suspicious. Sarah has been shunted from house to house in the foster care system. Now she’s run away from a forest camp managed by a tyrannical, enigmatic man…. But escape is not that easy, and soon she finds her life in danger. And Ellie may be wrapped up in this more deeply than either imagined.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

ABOUT NEVER TOO LATE:

Decades ago, a shotgun wedding locked Edith into a life with a husband she’s not sure she ever loved. At sixty-five, she feels like a ghost in her own life, wondering where all this came from: the scornful husband, the mercenary brood of grandchildren, her well-meaning but controlling daughter-in-law. Then one Christmas morning Edith wakes to find her husband dead, and the role she played for so long crumbling. Gray-haired, but by no means done with life, Edith has a chance to discover the woman she could have been.

Soon questions arise about her husband’s death, and papers discovered in his pockets send Edith unraveling secrets of the man she thought she knew. Edith’s son Brian is the focus of her life, but he may not be as perfect as she thought. Revelations that he might be cheating shock her. As Edith investigates the mysteries of her family, she may just find who she truly is.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

EXCERPT FROM 'HER LAST WORDS'

Early Monday Morning: Flotsam

Lucius

“My God,” Lucius says, as close to praying as he has been in years. “We’re on Venus.” Monoliths rise ahead of him like black specters, their crags and angles cutting through the mist, jutting towards the high, bluing sky.

The others, silent, have dropped their handholds on the rope. Lucius bends to loop it over his arm, and as he does, he sees the man in the slicker, his bag over his shoulder, kneeling, rising, waving at them.

“That guy’s found something. Let’s go.”

He runs, slogs, really, his boots heavy with water. The women in their sneakers move faster, their arms reaching out to the dark figure and whatever lay at the foot of the rock he’s leaning against. Lucius cannot tell if it is the gulls or the women crying out.

Then they drop to their knees, a huddle of sorrow. They don’t look up as Lucius and the two firemen come up behind them. The mussel gatherer, his empty bag hanging from one grimy hand, a walking stick in the other, stands to one side, his eyes red and wild-looking, his sou’wester pulled down to his eyebrows. Hanks of wet, black hair drag over his eyes, drain down his cheeks like tears.

Madge Slocum lies wedged under an overhang, her face gray. Sand seeps from her mouth. A strand of seaweed wraps her out-flung hand like a bracelet, her bare feet seem ready to run, the toes spread, arched. An arm folds over her body, across a pack strapped to her waist. Several mussels have fallen from the pack and nestle at her throat.

“She came here for mussels,” Lou cries. “For us.” The women reach for her. They grapple with the iron until it falls, and they pull it away from her. Their fingers close her eyes, brush grit away from her lips. They remove the pack and empty it of its black shells. Joan crouches, takes a hand, massages it as if to warm it. Jackie closes the torn jacket, covers the white skin under it.

The ocean ripples as it awakens. White-edged swirls send the little birds skittering.

EXCERPT FROM 'THE RUNAWAY'

Sarah

September 2009

I can remember every second of that last graffiti patrol with Ellie. Maybe it’s the meds they’re feeding me, or maybe I’m a little crazy right now. The nurse says I probably should be with all the stuff I’ve gone through in the past couple of weeks, Ellie at the center of it all.

It was chilly that morning, and we shivered a little as we headed toward the first mailbox, me, in my punk clothes, Ellie in her old lady sweatshirt and red sneakers. She had her supplies and towels in an old shopping bag, like usual, and I could tell she was still mad at me, at my knowing how the graffiti got on the boxes. I was thinking about that, too, but she didn’t know the whole story, not then.

“Spray!” Ellie ordered, and I stopped remembering and pointed the bottle at the mailbox in front of me. We scrubbed, Ellie not talking to me yet. After a couple of minutes, the black polish on my nails began to melt like the paint scrawls we were working on. Ellie muttered “Good” when she saw me rubbing at them. As soon as the box was as clean as Graffiti X could get it, we headed toward the next one. By the time we got to the street with the big trees, I was hot and glad for what little shade was left, the limbs above me almost bare. Leaves crunched under my boots.

Then I stumbled and heard the heel of my boot snap. Shit, my only shoes was my first thought. I had to walk like a cripple, one leg short, one long.

“Take ’em off!” Ellie said, shaking her gray head at me. “Stupid to wear boots like that; you look like a baby hooker.” I watched where I was going, hoping I wouldn’t step on dog poop or something yucky hidden under the leaves. That’s when I saw the white basketball shoe sticking up from a pile of debris at the curb. Someone must have lost it. Except that the shoe also had a sock in it. And in the sock, a leg.

EXCERPT FROM 'NEVER TOO LATE'

Christmas Morning, 1993

I poke a foot out from under a tangled sheet. Find some joy! yesterday’s horoscope had advised me. Right now, I’ll settle for coffee. The air is morning-warm, the furnace groaning somewhere under me. I push the covers to one side, turn toward Art’s flannelled back, the wall he builds between us when he comes to our bed. 

I know I’m being mean-spirited, a disposition Christmas always delivers like a seasonal virus. Joy, I tell myself again and touch Art’s hump of a shoulder, give it a poke. If I have to get up, layer the cheese strata, set the table, pick up yesterday’s newspapers, he at least can help by turning on the tree lights and starting the fire in the fireplace. Shit! I’ve forgotten the stockings. They, and the stuff I’ve collected to fill them, are piled in a box in the closet. I shake him a little harder. “Get up!” 

Art rolls over on his back. His blue eyes stare up at the ceiling fixture hanging above his head. His mouth is open, as if he’s about to snore, but he isn’t rasping, gurgling, even blinking. 

I raise myself up on an elbow. I pat his arm, bring my hand up to touch his cheek. His skin feels like that of an unripe peach, hard under whiskery fuzz. Cold.

“Art?” 

My ear grazes his mouth as I listen for a breath. Silence. I press my hand against his chest, feel his pajama buttons with shaking fingers.

“Art?”

Art is dead.

It isn’t as if I never imagined him dying, leaving me to finish my life alone. At those times, the idea hadn’t been frightening, maybe even the opposite. A new life for me once he was gone, I envisioned, a better life, maybe. But this actual moment is not part of that scene. I drop my head back to my pillow and try to figure out what to do. My breath isn’t taking hold. I seem to be leaking at the seams, lungs empty, about to be as dead as Art.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

After graduating from Willamette University, Jo spent the most of next thirty years teaching, counseling, mothering, wifing, and of course, writing.

Her writing first appeared in small literary magazines and professional publications. Since retirement, she has had time to write four novels and two screenplays.

Her stories and essays, as well as the novels, reflect her observations of women’s lives and the people who inhabit them: the children, husbands, parents, friends, and strangers who happen by and change everything.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Excerpt: The Devil's Pawn by Marilyn Levinson

Welcome to my tour stop for "The Devil's Pawn" by Marilyn Levinson.  The full tour schedule can be seen here.

ABOUT THE DEVIL'S PAWN:

Paperback price: $12.98

eBook price: $2.99

Publisher: Booktrope Editions

ISBN-13: 978-1-5137-0215-5

After fifteen-year-old Simon Porte’s family is killed in an automobile crash, his father’s brother whom he’s never met brings Simon to live with him and his wife in upstate New York. Simon doesn’t trust Uncle Raymond, and for good reason. Raymond is dying and using his powers to take over Simon’s body. Simon and his allies—his dotty great-aunt Lucinda, his sister whom he finds living with another relative, and a pair of odd twins—wage war against the evil Raymond and his cronies.

Amazon | Barnes&Noble | iBooks

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

A former Spanish teacher, Marilyn Levinson writes novels for kids and mysteries for adults. Some of her books for young readers are AND DON’T BRING JEREMY, which was a nominee for six state awards, NO BOYS ALLOWED, and RUFUS AND MAGIC RUN AMOK, an International Reading Association-Children’s Book Council “Children’s Choice.” RUFUS AND THE WITCH’S SLAVE, will be out in the fall. Marilyn like traveling, foreign films, reading, knitting, Sudoku, dining out, and talking to her granddaughter Olivia on Face Time. She lives on Long Island.

Website | Amazon

EXCERPT

A witch! I stared at my great-aunt’s front door, and told myself Lucinda wasn’t a witch. There were no such creatures, at least not in the fairy tale way! I pulled back my shoulders and, not seeing a bell, knocked.
She stood in the doorway, her bright blue eyes raking me up and down like cat’s claws. “Clever boy, you found your way.”
My heart leaped into my mouth, and I turned to run. My aunt’s cackle chased after me.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m your great-aunt Lucinda, and I’ve things to tell you. Come along, Gregory.” She spun around and walked through the cozy sitting room, not waiting to see if I was following.
“My name’s Simon,” I said when we stopped in the kitchen at the back of the house. “Don’t call me Gregory.”
“That’s what they named you when you were born,” Lucinda said. She pointed to the table against the kitchen wall, and I sat down. “I should know. I saw you when you were five minutes old.”
“You did?”
I stared at Lucinda, but she was pulling a dish from the oven. I became aware of the delicious aroma wafting through the small house.
“Apple crumb cake,” she announced, setting it on top of the stove. “I hope you’ve room for a piece or two, after everything you scarfed down at your friends’ house.”
“Well, sure. I’d love a piece, but how did you know—?”
“I know lots of things, Gregory, most of which I wish I could erase from my mind for the pain they cause.”
“Please don’t call me Gregory. He calls me that.”
“Your uncle Raymond.” Lucinda grimaced. “He’s some piece of work, isn’t he?”
“He took me in. I’m grateful for that.”
“He did it for his sake, not yours.” She let loose a cackle of laughter. “Raymond only does what serves Raymond. He’s evil through and through.”

Excerpt: Your Invincible Power by Pamela Hamilton and W.T. Hamilton

Welcome to my tour stop for "Your Invincible Power: How to tame your ego and fuel your ambition" by Pamela Hamilton and W.T. Hamilton.  You can see the full tour schedule here.

How to Tame Your Ego and Fuel Your Ambition explores the ways ego plays a role in hindering your ambition. We give you ways to tame your ego and build the drive needed to fuel your ambition. 

In this book you will see ways to: 

Understand how your ego affects your decision process 

Be a gift giver and receiver 

Take your thoughts off of autopilot 

You will discover: 

Why some ambitious people fail 

The key ingredients for ambition 

How to bring what you deserve to you 

How to Tame Your Ego and Fuel Your Ambition gives you the tools and techniques you can use to achieve your goals. In this book we reveal one of the biggest secrets of the Law of Attraction.Everyone claims to have the missing secret piece to the law of attraction. Many people say they know what it is but very few can really explain why it works so well for some people and not very well for others. 

Discover how you can really bring the life that you deserve to you and turn your dreams into reality. 

Amazon

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Pamela and W.T Hamilton (a mother and son team) created a book series about taking responsibility for your life. How to Tame the Ego and Fuel your Ambition is about understanding the way the ego works within your everyday life. It is the part of us that creates those unwanted doubts.

The ego is that illogical part of our nature that gives us a false sense of self. The part of you which constantly says that you are not worthy. That you are not deserving and therefore you cannot reach your desires in life. It is all of these negative emotions that are buried in your subconscious mind. It is the residue of false ideas that were presented to you about you throughout your life. These thoughts that we reiterate contribute many obstacles to what otherwise would be an obvious pathway to ones life’s work.

The ego shows up in that negative part of us to remind us of past failures. It’s that little voice in your head that gives to you flawed ideas of who you are and who you can be. The ego mind is conditioned by fear. As long as you are fearful of change, of stepping out of the box, it is apt to keep you where you are. It is when we are aware of this hidden entity and understand the many ways it shows up in our lives that it loses its power over us.

How to Tame the Ego and Fuel your Ambition shows you how to defeat this hidden entity. The authors give the reader exercises and techniques in effective ways to dissociate from the ego, therefore disconnecting from unwanted people, situations and events taking place in one’s life.

Pamela and W.T invite you to join them on this journey of self-empowerment and abundance. Please visit us at www.yourinvinciblepower.com  

Pamela Hamilton and W.T. Hamilton are a Mother and Son team. They do not always share the same beliefs or viewpoints. Pamela follows the Law of Attraction from the spiritual perspective and W.T follows it from a practical point of view. They have been working and studying the Law of Attraction for the past few years and have written a series of books to teach how to use it in various aspects of daily life.

EXCERPTS