Well there is not much to say abut me. I love coffee and books and if I can drink a fresh hot coffee while reading even better:)
I started to review a couple years ago and I still loving it. I love the book community and met many awesome people along the way. I'm looking forward to connect to even more of you awesome people out there and of course continue to discover more great books.
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Today’s stop is for Jeannette de Beauvoir’s The Deadliest Blessing. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.
Happy Reading :)
If there’s a dead body anywhere in Provincetown, wedding consultant Sydney Riley is going to be the one to find it! The seaside town’s annual Portuguese Festival is approaching and it looks like smooth sailing until Sydney’s neighbor decides to have some construction done in her home—and finds more than she bargained for inside her wall. Now Sydney is again balancing her work at the Race Point Inn with an unexpected adventure that will eventually involve fishermen, gunrunners, a mummified cat, a family fortune, misplaced heirs, a girl with a mysterious past, and lots and lots of Portuguese food. The Blessing of the Fleet is coming up, and unless Sydney can find the key to a decades-old murder, it might yet come back to haunt everyone in this otherwise-peaceful fishing village.
The sunset was living up to expectations.
I’d parked my Civic—known affectionately as the Little Green Car—in the row of vehicles facing Herring Cove Beach, one of the few places on the East Coast where the sun appears to set into the water. As usual, the light was spectacular. It’s the light that made Provincetown what it is, the oldest continuously operating art colony in the United States: the light here, apparently, is like nowhere else.
Or so my friend Mirela tells me. She’s a painter, and is constantly talking about the light, though when it really comes down to it, she can’t explain exactly what it is they all see, the artists who live and work here. I know; I’ve asked.
It was late spring, and I didn’t yet have too many weddings crowding my daily calendar, so I was taking advantage of the calm before the storm of the summer tourist season really hitting when my spare time, like everybody’s else’s, would disappear altogether. I’m the wedding coordinator for the Race Point Inn, and while we do tasteful winter weddings inside the building, the bulk of my work is in the summertime, as Provincetown is pretty much Destination Wedding Central, mostly for same-sex couples but really for anyone who wants this kind of light. The sun was carving a path of gold right up to the beach, glittering and gilded, and I knew I was smiling, settling back into my seat with a sigh.
My phone rang.
Cell coverage is spotty out here in the Cape Cod National Seashore, and my experience is that it’s when you really need to reach someone that it’s not going to happen; on the other hand, when it’s something you don’t want to deal with, the signal comes through loud and clear. Murphy’s Law, or something along those lines. I sighed and swiped, my eyes still on the sunset. “Sydney Riley.”
“Sydney, hey, hi, it’s Zack.”
My landlord. This couldn’t be good. I mentally checked the date. Um, I’d paid my rent this month, right? “Hi, Reg.”
“Hey, hi. Listen, Sydney, I’ve got Mrs. Mattos here and she’s looking for you.”
Of course she was. I live above a nightclub, which makes for reasonable rent with free Lady Gaga thrown in at one o’clock in the morning; Mrs. Mattos is the eighty-something widow who owns the very large house directly across the street. Property developers are probably checking on her health daily as they wait for her demise; I can’t imagine how many million-dollar condos they could create in that space.
I take her grocery shopping to the Stop & Shop once a week and I’ve noticed, lately, that she’s finding more and more excuses to come over and buzz my doorbell. She’s lonely and probably a little scared and most of the time I try to help, but the silly season was already upon us and there was a lot less of my time available. Generally I try to wean her off daily visits by May, but we were already into the beginning of June now, and she was crossing the street rather than calling, a sure sign of distress.
Mrs. Mattos is frequently distressed.
Still, it must have been something out of the ordinary for her to have buzzed Zack, who owns the nightclub as well as the building and was probably peeled away from his never-ending paperwork to talk to her. Mrs. Mattos is usually a little nonplussed around Zack, who regularly paints his fingernails chartreuse or purple, and owns an extensive assortment of wigs. “She’s there with you now?”
A murmur of conversation, then Mrs. Mattos’ quavering voice on the line. “I just need you to come over, Sydney,” she said.
The sun was dipping into the water now; the show would soon be finished. Above it, scarlet and pink streaked across the sky. Some day, I told myself, I was going to be old and quavering, too. “Okay, you go back home,” I said. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Her name is Emilia Mattos, she stands about five-feet nothing and might weigh a hundred pounds. But every bit of her, like most of the Portuguese women in town, is muscle and sinew. I know her first name, but I’ve never used it; there’s a certain distance, a certain decorum the elderly Provincetown widows observe, and I respect that. Out on Fisherman’s Wharf there’s a collection of large-scale photographs of elderly Portuguese wives and mothers, an art installation called They Also Face The Sea; Mrs. Mattos isn’t one of them, but she could well be.
Back when Provincetown was one of the major whaling ports, ships stopped off in the Azores to take on additional crew, and a lot of those people settled back in town and sent for their families; by the end of the 1800s they were as numerous as the original English settlers. Nowadays there are fewer and fewer Portuguese enclaves, as gentrification switches into high gear and Provincetown’s fishing fleet dwindles; but the names are still here: Mattos, Avellar, Cabral, Gouveia, Silva, Amaral, Rego, Del Deo.
Up until about ten years go, a prominent advertisement in the booklet for the Portuguese Festival was for the small Azores Express airline, when there was still a generation in town that was from Portugal itself; you don’t see that anymore.
She was standing in her doorway when I found a parking place for the Little Green Car and got to our street. I’ve read in books about people twisting their hands; I’d never actually seen it until then. “Mrs. Mattos! Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
“Probably nothing,” she said, on that same quavering note. “Oh, I’m probably disturbing you for nothing, Sydney.”
“Not at all,” I said firmly, taking hold of her elbow and turning her around. “Let’s go in, and you can tell me all about it.”
She was docile, letting me steer her back in the house and into the big kitchen where most of her life seems to take place. She has a home health aide who comes in to help her with bathing and laundry, but she doesn’t let anyone touch her stove: not to cook, not to clean. And when I say clean, I mean clean within an inch of its life: everything in Mrs. Mattos’ kitchen gleams. Not for the first time, I lamented that she couldn’t make it up my stairs: if she expended about an eighth of her usual zeal, my apartment would be cleaner than it had ever been.
She sat down, still fussing with her hands. “I’m having construction work done,” she said, and stood up again. “I should show you.”
“What kind of work?”
“Insulation.” Her voice was repressive, as if she were delivering censure of something. We’d just come off an amazingly, spectacularly cold winter, with single-digit temperatures and a nor-easter that brought the highest tides ever recorded, so I suspected she wasn’t the only one thinking about making changes. “In the walls. Them people at the Cape Cod Energy said I should.”
“Okay.” I still wasn’t getting what was wrong here. “Do you want to show me?”
She turned and led me into the front parlor (in Mrs. Mattos’ house, you don’t call it a living room); I had to duck to get through the heavy framed doorway, and the ceiling here was about an inch or so over my head. She, of course, had no such problems. A loveseat had been pulled away from one of the exterior walls and a significant hole made. She didn’t have drywall, but rather plaster and lathing, as older houses tended to. “There wasn’t nothing wrong with it. The insulation before was just fine,” she said, resentful. “Seaweed.”
She nodded vigorously. “Dried out. It’s what they used.” No need for anything else, her tone suggested.
“Okay,” I said again. “What is—“
“Go look,” she said, flapping her hands at me. “Just look.”
I looked. I pulled my smartphone out of my pocket and used the built-in flashlight. Wedged between strips of lathing was a box. “Is this it?”
Mrs. Mattos blessed herself. “Holy Mother of God,” she said, which I took for assent.
“Can I take it out?” I asked, eyeing the box. It looked as innocuous as last year’s Christmas present. Well, maybe not last year’s. Maybe from sometime around 1950.
Another quick sign of the cross. “Just don’t make me look. I can’t look again.”
I put my smartphone in my pocket and reached gingerly into the opening. Didn’t Poe write a story about a cat getting walled up somewhere? “Who’s doing your work for you, Mrs. Mattos?” It didn’t look as though they’d gotten very far in opening up the wall.
She was back to twisting her hands again. “The company wanted so much,” she began, and I nodded. Rather than getting a contractor, pulling a permit, having a bunch of workmen in her house and paying reasonable rates, she’d found someone to do it on the side. Someone’s unemployed cousin or nephew, probably. That sort of thing happens a lot in P’town, especially among the thrifty Portuguese. It explained the size of the hole, anyway: this was someone without a whole range of tools.
I pulled the box out—it was about the size of a shoebox, only square—and set it down carefully on the coffee table. Mrs. Mattos was looking at it as though something were about to pop out and bite her, like the creatures in Alien; she actually took a physical step back. This wasn’t just Mrs. Mattos being Mrs. Mattos; this thing was really spooking her.
I sat down beside the table and gingerly—you can’t say that I don’t pick up on a mood—lifted the top off the box. Sudden thoughts of Pandora blew by like an errant wind and I shook them off and looked inside.
Shoes; small shoes. Children’s shoes. Three of them, and none matching the others. It was wildly anticlimactic. “Shoes?” I said, doubt—and no doubt disappointment—in my voice.
“It’s not the shoes,” she said. “It’s that we shouldn’t never have moved them.”
I looked at them again. Old leather, dry and curling and peeling. But shoes? She was clearly seeing something I wasn’t. Had these children died some horrible death? Were these memories of lives that hadn’t been lived to their fullest? Something haunting, a song or an echo of laughter, moved through my mind as though on a whisper of summer air. I didn’t recognize the tune. “Mrs. Mattos?”
“It’s to keep them witches out,” she said, grimly.
She nodded. “An’ now there’s nothing to keep ’em from coming in. And nothing we can do about it, neither.”
Jeannette de Beauvoir grew up in Angers, France, but has lived in the United States since her twenties. (No, she's not going to say how long ago that was!) She spends most of her time inside her own head, which is great for writing, though possibly not so much for her social life. When she’s not writing, she’s reading or traveling… to inspire her writing.
The author of a number of mystery and historical novels (some of which you can see on Amazon, Goodreads, Criminal Element, HomePort Press, and her author website), de Beauvoir's work has appeared in 15 countries and has been translated into 12 languages. Midwest Review called her Martine LeDuc Montréal series “riveting (…) demonstrating her total mastery of the mystery/suspense genre.” She is currently writing a Provincetown Theme Week cozy mystery series featuring female sleuth Sydney Riley.
De Beauvoir’s academic background is in history and religion, and the politics and intrigue of the medieval period have always fascinated her (and provided her with great storylines!). She coaches and edits individual writers, teaches writing online and on Cape Cod, and thinks Aaron Sorkin is a god. Her cat, Beckett, totally disagrees.
Follow the tour HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway!
Today’s stop is for Dre Keeton’s TWithin the Walls. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.
Happy Reading :)
Perfect opposites in a far from perfect world.
Jackson and Lenah are from two different worlds. Lenah is among the elite in Sundale City. Jackson, on the other hand, is broke, Psycho Infected and has a criminal record growing by the minute. It’s safe to say, in another life, the two would never have crossed paths.
But when Jackson is assigned to work for Lenah in an effort to use his PI abilities for something productive, things get complicated.
As their worlds collide, they realize how much they’ve both suffered and struggled with the darkness the infection brought the world.
But the closer they become, the more dangerous things get. It isn’t just that PI and human relationships are forbidden, but Lenah's powerful fiancé has no intention of letting her go. And as people in the American Walled Cities start disappearing, Jackson and Lenah discover there's something even more sinister at play than her pending nuptials.
Lenah Noseki strolled from the parking lot, bravely moving toward the cluster of protestors outside. They were a not-so-quiet ambush waiting for her as she made her way toward the hospital. “Back off!” she yelled at a horde of men and women who pushed into her, trying to block her way to the front doors of the building. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be there. It wasn’t like she was thrilled to be signing away her brother’s life. Just like them, she longed for the days before the infection. But this was life now. “I said, ‘Back off!’” Lenah shouted again as a group of women linked arms in front of her. It had only taken her seven years to get the hang of it, but she’d finally grown accustomed to the pushy nature of selfrighteous protesters. She’d learned the hard way that niceties like “excuse me” didn’t work for these people. They were too blinded by their cause to extend common courtesy. No, Lenah knew she had to wear her game face with this crowd. The irony was that she agreed with them, for the most part. She wasn’t a fanatic, but the infection sucked. Particularly on a day like today. But that didn’t mean she was going to stand in the street holding up traffic like a raving lunatic. Honestly, who had the time? Lenah wiped her hands down the sides of her pants, her palms sweating with anticipation as she moved further into the crowd, bursting through human fences and stepping over sitting protesters. The chaos was starting to get to her. She’d been a seesaw all morning—up and down on how confident she was with her choice. “Do you not believe in the sanctity of life, young lady?” A graying old man stepped into Lenah’s path. “Every life has the potential to bloom. Don’t give in to the will of the abominations. Protect your loved ones, and don’t offer them up on a silver platter!” he yelled at her as she tried to push past him. His wrinkled hands held on firmly to a sign that read “Don’t let our lives go over Psycho!” Lenah rolled her eyes and made an attempt to go around him, but he shifted, determined to complicate her morning. “Move it, old man, or the bloom of your life will end right here and now. No Psycho necessary.” Planting her feet, she narrowed her eyes at him, watching as surprise flickered across his features. He obviously hadn’t been expecting resistance. He stepped away, drifting back into the crowd, and she smiled after him, feeling like an accomplished badass. They didn’t usually run scared. Things typically turned into a screaming match, but she must have looked extra fierce that morning. Her high-puff ponytail and fitted overalls must have given all of the “don’t fuck with me” vibes she needed. She wiped at beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and the corners of her smile inched downward. There was a reason she was extra fierce today. She had to be. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she approached the skyscraping hospital. It was the only one in Sundale, big enough to take up a city block, and it triple-functioned as hospital, feeding center, and mental institution. She was already exhausted, and the hardest part of her visit hadn’t even started. She stopped in front of the large, PI-proof double doors and sucked in a deep breath. She shivered as she pulled them open and stepped inside.
Dre Keeton is the oldest of three children, a tequila enthusiast, and fueled by plants. One of her favorite things, aside from chatting with her dog, is creating fictional worlds that seem likely. Dre is an avid promoter of diversity in literature and seeks to mirror that in her own work.
Today’s stop is for Sofie Darling’s Tempted by the Viscount. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.
Happy Reading :)
London, April 1825
Lord Jakob Radclyffe left his past behind in the Far East. Or so he thinks until a ruthless thief surfaces in London, threatening to ruin his daughter’s reputation. With the clock ticking, Jake needs the scandalous Lady Olivia Montfort’s connections in the art world to protect his daughter’s future.
Olivia, too, has a past she’d like to escape. By purchasing her very own Mayfair townhouse, she’ll be able to start a new life independent from all men. There’s one problem: she needs a powerful man’s name to do so. The Viscount St. Alban is the perfect name.
A bargain is struck.
What Olivia doesn’t anticipate is the temptation of the viscount. The undeniable spark of awareness that races between them undermines her vow to leave love behind. Soon, she has no choice but to rid her system of Jake by surrendering to her craving for a single scorching encounter.
But is once enough? Sometimes once only stokes the flame of desire higher and hotter. And sometimes once is all the heart needs to risk all and follow a mad passion wherever it may lead.
His feet began a slow prowl forward, steadily erasing the distance between them, inch by deliberate inch. She should feel panicked, or, at least, unsettled, by his purposeful approach. But those feelings refused to take hold. The anxiety and anticipation of seconds ago flared into a single overwhelming sensation: desire, white hot, ravenous. He drew within a foot of her and stopped. The only sound in the room the jagged in and out of her breath. So this was what it was to be a wanton? Aching from the nearness of his withheld touch, excruciatingly delicious and exquisitely tortured all at once. “Why are you here?” she muttered. “How should I answer that question?” he returned, his voice a low, masculine register that quaked her to her core. His head lowered, lips hovering just above hers for one, two, three rapid heartbeats, his breath a whisper across her lips. “Like this?”
Sofie spent much of her twenties raising two boys and reading every book she could get her hands on. Once she realized that she was no longer satisfied with simply reading the books she loved, that she must write them, too, she decided to finish her degree and embark on a writing career. Mr. Darling and the boys gave her their wholehearted blessing.
When she’s not writing heroes who make her swoon, she runs a marathon in a different state every year, visits crumbling medieval castles whenever she gets a chance, and enjoys a slightly codependent relationship with her beagle, Bosco.
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Following the grief and horror of her discovery of Jack the Ripper's true identity, Audrey Rose Wadsworth has no choice but to flee London and its memories. Together with the arrogant yet charming Thomas Cresswell, she journeys to the dark heart of Romania, home to one of Europe's best schools of forensic medicine...and to another notorious killer, Vlad the Impaler, whose thirst for blood became legend.
But her life's dream is soon tainted by blood-soaked discoveries in the halls of the school's forbidding castle, and Audrey Rose is compelled to investigate the strangely familiar murders. What she finds brings all her terrifying fears to life once again.
First off , I think this book would make a great TV show and I for sure would watch it :D
I started this book knowing it was book two but didn’t think they are connected . For some reason I thought they are following different people and since I didn’t read book one….. yet I started it. I learned pretty early on that I was wrong but I really didn’t care at that point because I just liked it way to much. Plus If didn’t really spoil that much and I really didn’t think the Jack the Ripper book would have a HEA
I usually not a big fan of historical fiction but this one sounded interesting and it was. It was well written, it was fun and kept you guessing. The setting while was great, and I really enjoyed it.
I also loved Audrey, she was a powerhouse for her time, she didn’t let the men put her down no matter what they said or how they treated her. She was a real trailblazer for the tiimepwriod and that was another thing I enjoyed. She was also very funny and had many laugh out loud moments on top her sassiness.
I also enjoyed Thomas very much and it seems like her always found trouble somewhere. I LOVED them together, it was funny, sweet , sassy and of course romantic and bit scandals for the time period. It also was spooky and sometimes gross, not overly so that people with weak stomachs couldn’t handle it. Overall it was soo much fun and I cant wait to actually read the first book lol.
Also after the ending I look very much forward to book three in the series. Over all I read the book 5★ , I listen to the Audio which was fantastic.
Today’s stop is for Lee Ann Ward’s Shadow Lilies. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.
Happy Reading :)
Sixteen-year-old Julia Reynolds struggles with her parents’ gypsy lifestyle and the urgent need to find out what happened to her missing cousin, Aubree. Soon Julia stumbles upon the mystery surrounding the Ursuline Convent in New Orleans, its banned third floor, and the blessed nails that seal its windows shut.
Solving the mystery of the Ursuline and blogging the story to the entire free world could gain more interest in the disappearance of Aubree. But there’s just one catch: the others who have explored this mystery have one thing in common…they’re all dead.
Things get even more complicated when Julia falls for Ryan Grandle, the hottest guy in her school, and he falls right back. Will she really risk her life and new love to explore an unsolved mystery for the story that could save her cousin? Turns out, staring death straight in the face is just the beginning.
When someone tells you the worst news in your life, it’s not with screams. No, the screams are what cut through your house like scissors through paper. Ripping. Tearing. Creating torn pieces that will never be whole again. The actual words are calm, quiet—so quiet you can still hear her voice, smell her hair, visualize the wilted flower still tucked behind her ear like the last time you saw her. “But where is she?” I’d repeated over and over. Repetition never bothered me when I was twelve. “We don’t know,” Mom had explained for the hundredth time. “Aubree is just…missing.” “Is she dead?” “Don’t say that, Julia!” It was rare for Mom to yell, but the day my 16-year-old cousin disappeared, so did normalcy…if you can call how we live normal. “Well?” I’d urged again. “I don’t think she’s dead, Julia. Can’t think it.” Mom never looked me in the eyes that day. “Maybe she just found a better future, more than your Aunt Beth could offer her…” I decided that day never to ask my mom about Aubree again. My cousin wouldn’t just disappear…wouldn’t up and leave us. Leave me. Maybe my family had stopped searching just to move on with life. But not me. No matter what, I’m finding Aubree.
Lee Ann Ward is an award-winning fiction author with a background in journalism and mass communications. She is also the former Senior Editor of Champagne Books. Her love of books started at the age of three, and she's been addicted ever since. She's published six novels with her seventh and eighth on the way (SEE a YA paranormal by Evernight Teen in June 2017 and GLIMPSES OF WILDERNESS a YA romance by Inkspell Publishing in December 2017) and has written several more. When she's not writing, she's reading, singing, baking designer cakes, bowling and dreaming. She's married to Joe (who also happens to be her publicist) and they have 4 sons whom they adore, and a granddaughter who is the love of their life. They make their home in the small fishing community of Bayou La Batre, Alabama.
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Sixteen-year-old and not-so-openly gay Simon Spier prefers to save his drama for the school musical. But when an email falls into the wrong hands, his secret is at risk of being thrust into the spotlight. Now Simon is actually being blackmailed: if he doesn’t play wingman for class clown Martin, his sexual identity will become everyone’s business. Worse, the privacy of Blue, the pen name of the boy he’s been emailing, will be compromised.
With some messy dynamics emerging in his once tight-knit group of friends, and his email correspondence with Blue growing more flirtatious every day, Simon’s junior year has suddenly gotten all kinds of complicated. Now, change-averse Simon has to find a way to step out of his comfort zone before he’s pushed out—without alienating his friends, compromising himself, or fumbling a shot at happiness with the most confusing, adorable guy he’s never met.
I have been seeing this book everywhere and with the movie just released I thought it was time to jump on the bandwagon and finally read it.
I really enjoyed it; it was everything I thought it be and more. It was light, funny cute and heartwarming to follow Simon as he not only comes out but also deals with the fallout and is falling in love . Plus dealing with all the other stuff you deal with in high school. I think what I liked the most what that we didn’t just get your usual teen drama, that we got much more and the feelings behind it. Not only from Simon but also his friends.
I also liked that not everything is sunshine and roses and we do get some kind of conflict and or bullying and that it is dealt with in a realistic manner.
Another thing I enjoyed was that after we finds out who Blue is, it doesn’t just end there. No it keeps going for a bit and gives us a glimpse on that live and all their futures.
Overall I really enjoyed this book and rate it 4-4 ½★
Today’s stop is for Emma Calin’s Seduction of Wealth. We will have info about the book and author, and a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.
Happy Reading :)
What would you do if your bosses told you to break the law? How far would you go before you questioned them? What if you're a cop and your bosses are the law?
London traffic cop Kaitlyn Thorn narrowly escapes a Mafia attack on the world-dominating banker Randolph Quinn, a key witness under her protection. Someone on the inside has gone bad and betrayed her location. With orders to keep him alive at all costs, she has to run from her own team and gamble on nothing but her own instincts.
Alone with this sexy and powerful man, her desire to know him in every way begins to dictate her actions. They want her to stay close to him, but just how far can she go before her passion clouds her judgement? If she loves him will she be able to betray and turn him in, as she surely must?
United with Randolph in all-or-nothing danger, she abandons herself to moments of pleasure, knowing every delicious second could be her last. Can she really trust their love? As risks escalate she must demonstrate her courage and skill but will it be enough to save them both from destruction?
'Seduction of Wealth', another stand-alone story in Emma Calin's 'Seduction Series', combining thrilling crime mystery with steamy suspense romance.
If you enjoy James Patterson, Catherine Coulter, Nora Roberts and Kendra Elliot you'll love a story that combines all of their best traits in a fast-paced, pulse-pounding roller-coaster adventure full of romance, deception, danger and love.
A juicy mix of cops, crime and passion with a HEA ending.
Early Reviews For Seduction of Wealth: "Reading Seduction of Wealth is like sitting down to a gourmet meal when you are starving. You want to gobble it up while savouring every morsel." Anneli Purchase "One of the best books I have read in a long time! Lust, suspense, travel and extravagance... love it!" Bookdiva, USA "Emma has done it again and given us a book that is well written and well edited with characters that are enjoyable. The main characters, Kaitlyn and Randolph, have great chemistry and interactions and exploits that are amazing." Chris McKay, USA.
Emma Calin writes steamy police action suspense romance novels with sassy female cops and sexy multi layered heroes. Her heroines have a courage and compassion honed on the streets but have the desires and vulnerability of all women both in and out of love. Emma has been writing since childhood and has won numerous local, national and international prizes for poetry, short stories and self-published novels, including the East Texas Writers Guild Award in 2017 and the New Apple Award for Ebook Literary Excellence in 2017. As a self-confessed Francophile, Emma spends her time between the UK and France. Her love of travel is reflected in her books which feature international locations and local flavour. Emma’s partner in life and also in crime, is an ex-Interpol and London Met Police Detective who is ever present as her deeper voiced consultant. Between them they have 7 adult children and 4 grandchildren and like to escape as often as possible on their tandem bicycle or in their kayak in the River Charente in south west France.
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Today’s stop is for Sian B. Claven’s The Culling. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.
Happy Reading :)
Twenty Elders came to their rescue. Twenty cities across the world were established. Twenty cities across the world were safe. Twenty cities middle children went to Nirvana.
In a world enveloped in darkness, where demons surround every inch of the globe. Twenty safe Zones have been set up and are protected by the Lord, and his Elders. Each year one Zone sends out their next generation of Middle Born Children to reach Nirvana and spend the rest of their lives with the Lord.
Only once outside the Zone, they are left to wonder if faith alone is enough to protect them from the darkness of the world.
Chapter One – The Culling
Whatever was making the noise scuttled through the trees swiftly, and moved before any light could touch it. Sonja stood under a tree, just off the clearing, and declared, “I am a Reclaimed of the Lord and I do not fear you.” Silence surrounded them. The five watching Reclaimed dropped shoulders in relief. Sonja smiled and said, “See, we have nothing to …” She didn’t get to finish her sentence, as something launched itself at her from behind, wrapping something long and black around her waist and dragging her into the forest and out of sight.
Hailing from Johannesburg South Africa, Sian B. Claven has enjoyed stories for all her life, whether she was reading them or making them. She has written for as long as she can remember, but Ensnared is the first book she decided to publish. Moving towards writing more for the horror / paranormal thriller genre, Sian has subsequently published the first two books in The Butcher Books series, Tatum and Kallista. When Sian isn’t thinking of ways to terrify people, she enjoys writing science fiction stories, poetry and rather long and gushy birthday wishes. When she isn’t working on her writing you can find her knitting, scrapbooking, reading, or playing Xbox. Sian previously reviewed for The Blithering Bibliomaniacs and still reviews in her private capacity. She clearly doesn’t know what the words rest and relaxation mean, at least not in the traditional sense.
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