Winter Blogfest: Christy Nicholas

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a free ebook of my timeslip romance, Past Storm and Fire. 

December Celebrations

Ah, December. The ringing of jingle bells until you want to smash the little buggers whenever they appear, the mad dash for holiday gifts, the dreaded anticipation of hordes of relatives appearing at your doorstep.

And yet, it is a time of serene beauty and joy. It is a time of solitude and dark nights, a time to contemplate the love in your life, and all your blessings. One of my favorite things to do on snowy evenings is to sip a cup of coffee while the weather covers the outside world in a blanket of white splendor, at least in the northern hemisphere. To sit and read a new book during this time is part of the season’s enchantment.

How can we keep from singing?

Nights are made bright with blankets of pristine snow sparkling in the sublime moonlight. Days are made sweet with the ringing of children’s laughter in the snow. And the food… oh, so much food! Candies, cakes, roasts, and eggnog. 

Last year, my husband, who loves anything to do with the Norse and Viking warriors, got a cookbook based on traditional Norse recipes for Yule. He roasted wild boar for our Yule meal, with rosemary and a cherry glaze. He added several root vegetables, such as turnips, rutabaga, carrots, and beets. Now, I’m never a big fan of beets, but these were lovely in a mix with the roast boar juice. 

No matter what your beliefs, no matter what your religion, December is a month of peace and joy. So, Merry Christmas, Happy Channukah, Joyful Yule, and Happy Kwanzaa. Enjoy those things in life that you hold dear, now and throughout the year. 

Normally, I would implore you to hold them tight and fierce, for tomorrow is a new day with new opportunities and possibilities. However, this year, we must be content with electronic greetings and long-distance hugs. However, while we deal with the strictures of this chaotic time, we can hold in our heart the hope of a more intimate season next year. Be of good cheer!

Why do I say ‘happy holidays’ rather than ‘Merry Christmas?’ Not because I hate Christmas or Christians, or want a war on any of them. I say ‘happy holidays’ because there are many different holidays in this time, holy days observed by many different religions. Here are just a few of them!

Some December festivals:

  • Advent (Nov 29th-Dec 24th)
  • Boxing Day (Dec 26th)
  • Chanukkah (Jewish Festival of Lights)
  • Christmas (Dec 25th)
  • Hogmanay (Dec 31st)
  • Hogswatch (From Discworld – fictional)
  • Jolabokaflod (Dec 24th Icelandic tradition of gifting books and reading them all night)
  • Krampusnacht (Dec 5th)
  • Kwanzaa (Pan-African Festival)
  • New Year’s Eve (Dec 31st)
  • Saturnalia (the Roman Winter Solstice)
  • St. Lucia’s Day (Dec 13th)
  • Yule (Pagan winter festival/Solstice)

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So, brew yourself a warm cup of cheer, grab a brand-new book, and sit by that magical window to read on a cold midwinter night as the world’s liminal enchantment commences.

A transatlantic journey, a quest for lost family, and a magical brooch.

Wealthy Valentia has the perfect life—except for the nightmares that plague her, foretelling disaster if she doesn’t find the brooch her grandmother lost decades ago in Ireland. The night her family’s hotel burns to the ground, Valentia knows she can no longer wait. Risking a perilous Atlantic voyage, she heads to Ireland to discover her heritage.

But the journey exacts a terrible toll, and her health deteriorates. Struggling to navigate a new country, cope with the desperate poverty, and untangle a complicated web of family secrets, Valentia fears she’ll never find the brooch in time to save her sanity—until she discovers a clue which sends her on a desperate trek across the Irish countryside, despite the dangers.

As the clock ticks down, her grasp on sanity slips through her fingers, forcing her to fight for a centuries-old legacy or lose everything.

Celtic Fairies, Fables, and Folklore! Bestselling author (top #100 Amazon)

Christy Nicholas, also known as Green Dragon, is an author, artist and accountant. After she failed to become an airline pilot, she quit her ceaseless pursuit of careers that begin with ‘A’, and decided to concentrate on her writing. Since she has Project Completion Compulsion, she is one of the few authors with NO unfinished novels.

Christy has her hands in many crafts, including digital art, beaded jewelry, writing, and photography. In real life, she’s a CPA, but having grown up with art all around her (her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother are/were all artists), it sort of infected her, as it were.

She wants to expose the incredible beauty in this world, hidden beneath the everyday grime of familiarity and habit, and share it with others. She uses characters out of time and places infused with magic and myth, writing magical realism stories in both historical fantasy and time travel flavors.

Combine this love of beauty with a bit of financial sense and you get an art business. She does local art and craft shows, as well as sending her art to various science fiction conventions throughout the country and abroad.

 

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter

Buy the book at Amazon.

Times Change and We Change with Them by Bethany Askew – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Bethany Askew will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Times Change and We Change with Them

It was my son’s birthday the other day. I remember the day he was born as clearly as if it was yesterday. And yet it seems to me I was such a different person then. This led me to think about whether we are indeed different people at different stages of our lives. Certainly that’s what the author William Boyd thinks, and writes about in his novel “Any Human Heart”, which was brilliantly dramatised for television.

It’s not just the fact that I was so much younger when my son was born that makes me believe I was so different. Of course I liked different music at the time. I can remember the radio was constantly tuned to Radio 1—I can even remember the song that was number one at the time: “Seasons in the Sun”. And I had different tastes in clothes, dictated by fashion not comfort. But it’s more than that: I was married to a different person. I had different friends. A different outlook on life. I was more impatient. Less satisfied with life. Striving to do more, be more.

I see my life, so far, in four very different stages: first, my childhood, growing up with my parents and brother and sister. Secondly, my first marriage and the birth of my son, looking after him, whilst trying to forge a career for myself. Thirdly, my present marriage, the trauma of divorce, taking on my step-children, establishing a successful career. And finally, the present stage: the children grown up, my parents gone, no longer working full-time—a time to do the things I always wanted to do, like being a writer.

At each stage of my life, I feel I was a different person: child, sister, lover, wife, mother, step-mother, career woman. I see myself reacting differently to things that happened depending on where I was living, who my friends were, who I was married to, which children I was looking after, where I was working, who I was working with.

There are things I did in the past that I wouldn’t do now. Like everyone, I have my regrets. I look back and think, “I was too impetuous, too selfish, I didn’t appreciate my parents and what they did for me.” But I’m still the person who did those things, it’s just that I view them now through the lens of life, with the experience that life has taught me. My basic personality hasn’t changed. I’m still the same person, with the same strengths and weaknesses. It’s just that I’ve learned, I hope, to curb some of my excesses: my impetuosity, for example, and my quick temper. That is what life teaches us.

When Carly Spurway is mistaken for old school friend Caroline Westminster, she has the chance to re-invent her life.

As the lines between fantasy and reality become blurred, the web of deceit Carly weaves around herself for protection threatens instead to trap her.

But what has happened in her past to make Carly want to escape? And is Caroline’s life as perfect as Carly thinks it is?

This story explores how well we really know the people we have relationships with; the different versions of the truth we tell ourselves and others; and the impact of the past on the present.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“I know you, don’t I?”

“No,” she says, “you must be mistaken…”

“Caroline,” he says firmly. “Caroline Westminster…”

She shakes her head but he’s seen the flash of recognition in her eyes.

“I used to teach you,” he says. “At East Devon College. Maths. You were very good…”

He’s older, of course. His hair is greying and there are laughter lines around his eyes, but there’s no mistaking him. This is her moment to correct him.

“I’m not Caroline,” she should say. “I’m Carly. Carly Spurway.” but the moment’s gone and she finds herself shaking hands with him automatically. “Mr. Exton…” she says politely.

“Mark, please.” He laughs. “What’re you doing here?”

She glances around at the pictures on the walls.

“Not here, literally.” He laughs again and she can see now that he’s a bit nervous. “I mean, here in Taunton?”

“I live here. Well, only just. I’ve been here a few weeks. You?”

“Oh, we’ve been here for years. I’m teaching at Wyvern’s now. The sixth form college.”

The ‘we’ isn’t lost on her. Married, obviously. Well, of course, he would be by now. He must be, what, early forties? He was probably only a few years older than them when they were in the sixth form, though he seemed so much more mature, not long out of university; the good-looking Maths teacher that all the girls fancied and all the boys wanted to emulate. He’s still good-looking, despite the slightly greying hair. More confident now, though. Slim, athletic-looking. Clearly he looks after himself. He senses her examining him and his dark eyes hold hers. Embarrassed, she looks back at the painting.

Someone pushes past them, jogging his elbow so that his red wine spills slightly over the back of his hand. He bends his head to lick it off and says, “It’s getting crowded in here. Why don’t we go through to the bar?”

“I’ve got to go,” she says quickly, glancing at her watch for authenticity.

“Oh, please,” he says. “Just a few minutes. I don’t often bump into former students. You’ve all moved away…”

She knows she shouldn’t. This goes against everything she’s moved here for. But he doesn’t know who she is. He thinks she’s someone else. She doesn’t have to see him again.

About the Author:Bethany Askew is the author of six novels: The Time Before, The World Within, Out of Step, Counting the Days, Poppy’s Seed and I know you, don’t I?
She has also written a short story, The Night of the Storm.

Bethany likes to write about women’s lives and is particularly interested in their role in society, their positions as wife and mother and the impact of marriage, children and divorce on family dynamics.

Bethany was born and brought up in Somerset and has lived there all her life. A Dispensing Optician by profession, she was able to fulfil her lifelong ambition to be a writer when she retired from employed work seven years ago. She is married and has four grown-up children and six grandchildren.

Website | On Active Service blog | Facebook | Twitter | Publisher’s Author Page

Buy the book at Amazon UK, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Blackwells, or Andersons.

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Creating the Ideal Writing Space by Joanne Guidoccio – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Joanne Guidoccio will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Creating the Ideal Writing Space

When I first retired, I assumed I would be writing in my den. Everything was in place: desk, new computer, ergonomic chair, bookcases crammed with craft guides, and inspiring Monet prints on the wall.

Unfortunately, my writing muscles refused to budge.

After several frustrating attempts, I shared my tale of woe with Denise, a new writer friend.

“It’s the wrong room,” Denise said. “It sounds perfect on paper, but it’s not working for you.”

As I let her words sink in, I realized that she was right. A free room with computer access and no distractions sounds like a dream writing space for most wannabe writers. But something fundamental was missing.

The following day, I set the kitchen timer for 60 minutes and sat in front of the computer. I was determined to write something, anything at all. And if that failed, I would sit there until I figured out the problem. I managed to write the date and title before experiencing once again the tyranny of the blank page.

I turned several times in the swivel chair and tried to look out the window. I ended up dragging the chair several feet so I could get a good view of the outdoors.

Issue #1: I didn’t have easy access to a window.

Glancing around the room, I tried to figure out a solution. One of the bookcases would have to be moved so the desk and computer could be next to the window. I squinted and tried to reimagine the décor. It wouldn’t work.

Issue #2: The den was too small to accommodate any changes in décor.

I decided to take a coffee break.

While walking toward the kitchen, I passed by the living/dining area. I glanced around the large room, noting that two-thirds of the opposite wall was taken up by a large window and the balcony. Outside, five majestic trees provide shade and a beautiful view.

If only…

I walked quickly to the other end of the living area and stood in front of the entertainment nook. Without measuring, I knew right away that the desk, computer, and chair would fit. As for the CD player and stand…that could be easily moved.

It didn’t take long to set up in the nook. A friend helped me move the desk and set up the computer. On one of my shopping excursions, I discovered a set of four metallic butterflies for the wall.

With over 900 square feet of space and easy access to the kitchen and balcony, I no longer felt constrained. I could stretch, swivel, and write.

Bliss.

Angelica Delfino takes a special interest in the lives of her three nieces, whom she affectionately calls the daughters of her heart. Sensing that each woman is harboring a troubling, possibly even toxic secret, Angelica decides to share her secrets—secrets she had planned to take to the grave. Spellbound, the nieces listen as Angelica travels back six decades to reveal an incredulous tale of forbidden love, tragic loss, and reinvention. It is the classic immigrant story upended: an Italian widow’s transformative journey amid the most unlikely of circumstances.

Inspired by Angelica’s example, the younger women share their “First World” problems and, in the process, set themselves free.

But one heartbreaking secret remains untold…

Enjoy an Excerpt

As Angelica read the document, she heard several sighs emanating from Bellastrega. While she had grown to like this young woman and trust her judgment when it came to wellness, Angelica was not prepared to abandon her plans. Three women needed to be rescued.

“What if they don’t come?” Bellastrega asked.

“They will come,” Angelica said, smiling confidently.

“It’s still winter, and the roads around here can be treacherous.”

“That won’t stop them.” Angelica smiled at Bellastrega’s discomfort with winter driving. Fearless in her talk, the psychic dreaded going out at any hint of snow. “Not to worry. They’re Northern Ontario girls.”

Bellastrega waved her hands. “So, they get up here, and you share your secrets. Then what?”

“They begin to heal.”

“You can’t expect to solve all their problems in one weekend,” Bellastrega said in a gentler tone. “If you’re not careful, you’ll send them running to their mothers, who won’t hesitate to create unnecessary stress for you.”

From the start, Bellastrega had been determined to eradicate all the unnecessary stress in Angelica’s life. Did she really think she could create a lasting magic bubble?

Since receiving the positive medical report, Bellastrega had redoubled her efforts and started to plan spring and summer excursions. She had added to her meager wardrobe and purchased several decorative items for her room. Each day, she was settling in and becoming more comfortable in her role as a companion. The beautiful thirty-five-year-old woman with Arctic-blue eyes and a stormy past had found sanctuary in Angelica’s house.

Angelica’s thoughts traveled back six decades to her encounter with another set of Arctic-blue eyes. But that woman had been much older and more realistic in her expectations.

“Are you all right?” Bellastrega asked.

“I’m fine,” Angelica said, returning to the present. “I want to start the process. The rest will be up to them.” Angelica felt a sudden wave of fatigue, one she hadn’t experienced in months. This argument was growing old, and she no longer wished to justify her motives. Why couldn’t Bellastrega let it go?

About the Author: In 2008, Joanne Guidoccio took advantage of early retirement and launched a second act as a writer. Her articles and book reviews have been published in newspapers, magazines, and online. When she tried her hand at fiction, she made reinvention a recurring theme in her novels and short stories. A member of Crime Writers of Canada, Sisters in Crime, and Women’s Fiction Writers Association, Joanne writes paranormal romances, cozy mysteries, and inspirational literature from her home base of Guelph, Ontario.

Website | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest | Facebook | LinkedIn | Amazon Author Page

Buy the book at Amazon, Amazon CA, Amazon UK, or Amazon AU.

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Moon in Bastet by E.S. Danon – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

A memoir turned into thrilling fiction; Moon in Bastet is based on the life of author E. S. Danon. The story follows a fourteen-year-old girl named Eva, an orphan living in the Negev desert of Israel who is working as a custodian of Cirque Du Christianisme. Her life is controlled by a volatile drunk named Bella who favors a group of equally volatile teenage bullies over her and her own safety or sanity.

Bullied, neglected, and alone – Eva’s only friends are an odd, thirteen–year–old Sephardic boy named Jack and a small cohort of Bedouin sister-wives. On the brink of giving up on life, Eva stumbles upon a mysterious cat in the middle of the desert. Or really, did the cat stumble upon her?

Together they must fight to stay alive, win the battles thrown at them, and Eva must learn to not only lean on others but to trust in herself.

Filled with mystery, magic, and symbolism – Moon in Bastet is a story of resilience, survivorship, forgiveness, and women empowerment. This is a work filled with Jewish mysticism that can be enjoyed by people of all races, ages, and religions everywhere.

Enjoy an Excerpt

A mosaic of moonlight drifts over the breaking waves. Designs illustrated in silvers whisper a story by the observant full moon. Anticipation rips through the midnight air as an assortment of shells wash ashore, decoration for the celebration at hand.

Several fawn play inside of a tidal pool, tripping over each other’s hooves, while various crabs scurry to find cover. The does watch from the spartina covered marshes, less willing to get involved in the gambol of their children. A lone buck stands guard near the subtle alchemy of the ocean as the moonlight shimmers off his bone-white rack.

Soft pitter-patter echoes towards the beach: red, brown, gray, and white paws scurry stealthily through the wooded oasis. Streaks of fur can be seen flashing underneath the breaks in the treetops – Evergreens, Oaks, and Pines say their hellos as the creatures of the night began to gather at the shoreline.

A menagerie of insects hurry amongst the mossy forest bottom, following the outlines of fresh animal tracks.

Worker bees open their eyes and groggily buzz from the confines of their honeycombs; each of them carrying a parcel of honey. Together they dance in unison around the honeycomb, mimicking the sound of trumpets with their wings. The Queen Bee abruptly emerges to monitor her brood before inspecting herself: Every bristle is in place, held by honey made gel. Soon, the bees follow a parade of centipedes and worms traveling below.

A white wolf breaks through the trees; his body illuminated against the thick wall of forest at his back. Dozens of wolves emerge from behind him as he lets out a single howl, just before catching sight of the buck standing guard. Both alpha males nod in recognition of each other as an amber painted pup runs excitedly ahead of the pack, all too excited to meet the fawns in the tidal pool. The pup breaks through the water’s edge before tumbling down a small embankment of peat.

Flop!

She yelps with glee as water springs up all around her, turning rocks and snails upside down with her snout. Some of the does prop their heads up to inspect the noise as the fawns cautiously approach the pup.

In no time, the children are engaged in a pretend search and rescue mission with each other.

What will they find in nature’s watercolor tapestry?

The white wolf takes position next to the buck; both creatures now standing guard of their families.

Dolphins jump through the churning waves several feet away as a caravan of sea animals emerge through the crashing surf.

First come the sea turtles: Moving leathery, black boulders covered in mountainous ridges march forward, followed by mini, starburst-colored ovals. A single hawked sea turtle is the last of his kind to emerge, carrying a sand dollar – a token of appreciation – within his beak.

Next the seal pups begin wobbling onto shore, their mothers following close behind. Like watching fireworks in the sky, the pups reflect in awe of the celebration on shore from their discotheque eyes. Their mothers quickly nudge them forward, making way for the rest of the cohort.

Within moments, dozens of horseshoe crabs and whelks begin to make landfall.

Meanwhile, in the forest, Queen Bee flies ahead of her workers until noticing that her soldiers are slowing; she calls out to them, ordering them to keep moving.

The time has almost come.

A group of squirrels overhear the Queen Bee’s calls, prompting a tizzy among lofty tree branches. Mr. Snow Owl comes to attention as they frantically collect acorns. He plucks a feather from underneath his wing before flying past the squirrels and towards the shoreline.

The time is near.

Gifts begin to pile around a mound of mud within the chasms of the tidal zones: a sand dollar, the owl’s feather, and now randomly placed acorns. A garden snake slides through the mess, shedding his skin – followed by the molting of a lobster nearby.

A shadow crosses the moon then, just before various species of birds clatter to the ground below. A swan lands last with a bellow of her song, and in unison, the wolf pack returns the call. The dolphins respond to the melody by becoming more calculated in their movements, smoothing into a perfect rhythm with the songs now being sung by the ever-growing crowd of Mother Nature’s tribe.

It’s as if a drum is being played:
Boom.
Boom Boom.
Boom.
Boom Boom.

A heartbeat.

The expanding mound blooms into a large circle consisting of multiple sections. The inner circle holds the gifts, the middle circle shelters the juvenile animals surrounded by their mothers, and the outer circle consists of the older animals.

The time is almost here.

Queen Bee breaks through the woodlands and is met by a breeze. In response to her arrival, the congregation pauses briefly… only to erupt in song. The guardians at the shoreline bow their heads, kneeling onto their two front legs in order to greet the Queen Bee.

After kissing both guardians on their foreheads, she signals to her crew to make their final descent. A cloud of buzzing wings hums as they approach the middle of the circle with caution, then the inner circle. The Queen Bee ferociously shakes her wings and immediately, her workers dive down to smother the exposed mud in honey.

It is almost done.

The animals steadily move in a counterclockwise circle.
Tick.
Tick.
Tock.
The rhythm of the creatures becomes increasingly sonorous.

Off in the distance, the figure of a goat and her kid can be seen approaching.
Tick.
Tick.
Tock.
Mother goat and her child meticulously walk through the outer circle of churning animals. They are meandering through the middle circle when the wolf pup howls in excitement. Startled, the young kid topples over the hill of trinkets and slides into the patch of honey-soaked mud. Mother goat follows, spilling a drop of milk at her kid’s annoyed squeal.

Everything stops.

Even the air seems to have come to a halt.

Mother goat nudges her kid back over the trench of gifts and into the middle circle where they wait.

Everything waits.

Minutes go by before even the faintest touch of a breeze can be felt. The Queen Bee’s wings twinge at the coolness; she gazes towards the inner circle’s center. The white wolf and the buck move to stand beside the Queen when enervated rumbles suddenly upset the milk and honey-soaked patch. Something is trying to break through the surface…

Without warning, peat erupts from the patch: then two budding leaves climb their way through the film.

Swan sounds her horn, signifying that the deed has been done.

The Moon child has been born.

Finally.

About the Author:

Elizabeth Danon received her B.S. in Marine Science from Stony Brook University before working as a Marine Biologist for the National Marine Fisheries Service. She traveled the U.S. Eastern Seaboard and Gulf of Mexico: collecting data aboard commercial fishing vessels and dredges.

When that didn’t pan out to be the glorified job that she expected, finding herself covered in shark snot and fish scales daily, Elizabeth became a technical writer. In her spare time, she began doing standup comedy after taking comedy bootcamp with the Armed Services Arts Partnership. At this time, she married the most wonderful man who also provides most of her joke writing material. Unfortunately, because he’s Indian he has also enabled her Maggi addiction… Like she needed that on top of her already long-standing iced coffee issues.

Her favorite show is Schitt’s Creek, as she feels a special bond to her fellow comedians – and Sephardic brethren. Growing up half-Jewish herself, Elizabeth eventually converted to being full-Jewish with Temple Israel as a student of Rabbi Panitz.

Her enriched, but complicated, heritage has been an inspiration for most of her creative writing. Being an Aries, she has always felt like a leader and has therefore integrated her feminist beliefs into her work, albeit dropping every women’s studies course that she ever elected in college.

Additionally, her writing has an unmistakable international presence. Elizabeth wanted to discover as much as she could about her Sephardic Heritage and went on Birthright, followed by her independent travels to over ten other countries… carrying nothing but a red bookbag.

Website | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter
Buy the book at Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

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A String of Stories by Ann Chiappetta – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Ann Chiappetta will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

A demon deer and a ghost cat. Sibling rivalry and sexual awakening. Self-image and self-confidence. The chance for an offworlder to breathe free at last on a new planet. Those are just some of the diverse themes of these remarkable stories. Some endings are happy, some are sad, and some are intriguingly open-ended. But once you step inside the author’s world, you cannot emerge unmoved.

Enjoy an Excerpt from “A Temporary Perspective”

Sloane had ordered Chinese take–out, a treat on their fixed income. Josh loved eggrolls, and his smile upon seeing the containers made her day.

After clearing the dishes and stowing the leftovers in the fridge, Sloane noticed Josh watching her.

“Josh, what is it?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, honey.” She put her hands in her lap to hide her nervous fidgeting.

“Mom, now that I’m in 8th grade, I’ve been thinking about what I want to do after high school.”

“You mean, like college?”

“Kind of. But not really. Mom, I want to join the military.”

Sloane stopped fidgeting, shocked. This wasn’t how the conversation should go, she thought. He was supposed to say something different. “Mom, I want to learn all about computers.” Or “Mom, I want to run my own business.” But the military? She must have looked confused, because she saw the barest flick of an eye roll from her usually respectful and stoic son.

“The military?” she asked.

“Yes, the Army—the Reserve Officer Training Corps, actually. It starts in 9th grade.”

Sloane didn’t know how to respond. Part of her was relieved, and the other part wasn’t happy at all. “That means you’ll be going away a lot.”

“Not until after high school,” he said. “Besides, Juan and Mark are joining ROTC, too.”

“Sounds like you’ve done your homework on this one,” she said. “I’ve tried my best to raise you to make good decisions and be practical.”

They sat in silence at the dining table. Sloane couldn’t help finding the irony in what was clearly her own inaccurate thinking. Josh wasn’t even thinking of her as an embarrassment or of himself as the only son of an abandoned single mother who was going blind.

“It could be dangerous,” she said. “I’ll worry.”

“Mom, it’s what I want. There are kids who get all messed up just crossing the street.”

Sloane shook her head in defeat. There was no arguing with the invincibility of youth.

About the Author:

Making meaningful connections with others through writing.

Ann’s nonfiction essays have been printed in Dialogue magazine, among others. Her poems are often featured in Poesis, The Pangolin Review, the Avocet, and Magnets and Ladders. Her poetry is also included in Breath and Shadow’s 2016 debut anthology, Dozen: The Best of Breath and Shadow.

Her first two books, a poetry collection, UPWELLING: POEMS C 2016 and memoir, FOLLOW YOUR DOG A STORY OF LOVE AND TRUST C 2017, are available from all eBook sellers in electronic and print softcover, and as audio books from Audible.

Ann’s third book WORDS OF LIFE: POEMS AND ESSAYS C 2019 can also be purchased in all eBook formats and in softcover. The Audible audio book will be released in Fall 2020. Ann’s newest title, A String of Stories: From the Heart to the Future C 2020, is also available as an eBook and softcover.

Blog | Website | Author Page | Facebook | Thought Wheel Facebook | Twitter

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Madam in Silk by Gini Grossenbacher – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Gini Grossenbacher will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

4.7 Stars on Amazon! IPPY Silver Medalist Gini Grossenbacher’s second novel marries the squalor and chaos of San Francisco’s gold rush town with the struggles of the exquisite Chinese beauty, Ah Toy. She breaks rules and defies traditions, both American and Chinese, gaining courage to trust policeman John Clark. A sweeping, sensual, and inspirational tale that puts love to the test.

Read an Excerpt

After she swallowed what seemed like a rock, she found her voice. “If you knew this Mr. Painter, why did you not contact us in Guangdong?” If only her dragon would reach out its fangs to bite him.

“I tried, but even when I sent your husband the letter, I knew you would not receive it by the time you sailed. News came too late.” He twisted the brim of his cap.

“Now what do I do?” Those dragon fangs would tear off that hair on his face. Then she would feed it to the chickens.

He reached into his inner coat pocket, drew out an envelope, and held it out to her. “Here is money to get by for a month. Lodging, room and board.”

“Only a month?” She took the envelope, her hands trembling.

Painter’s patient tone grew curt. “I got you a room in Little Canton until you can get another ship’s passage home. You better leave on the next sail. Believe me, without a job you are a gone circumstance amidst all these varmints.”

“What are varmints?” she asked.

He tapped the badge clinging to his lapel. “Men with no good intent. You’ll see men who call themselves Hounds from New York who parade around town with fife and drum. Stay away from that lot. They prey on immigrants, such as your fellow Celestials and Mexicans. . . .

She took a half-step toward him. “I am strong. Willing to work.” Maybe if she said the words, they would come true. Was her dragon listening?

About the Author:

MADAM IN SILK is California teacher and editor Gini Grossenbacher’s second historical fiction novel. Her debut novel MADAM OF MY HEART garnered the 2018 IPPY silver medal for Historical Fiction; finalist in the 2018 American Fiction Awards for Historical Fiction; honorable mention at the 2018 San Francisco Book Festival for General Fiction; and runner-up in the 2017 Hollywood Book Festival for Genre Fiction. She is also a copyeditor and leads an aspiring writers group called Elk Grove Writers and Artists, providing lessons in novel writing, memoir, poetry, and flash fiction. When she’s not writing, Gini can be found taking long walks, tending the roses in her garden, and barbecuing with her husband and beloved dog, Murphy Brown.

Amazon buy book link: https://www.amazon.com/Madam-Silk-Gini-Grossenbacher-ebook/dp/B07VH5SXVN/ref=sr_1_1

Social Media Links:

Website: http://www.ginigrossenbacher.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ginigrossenbacherauthor/
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Writing Hopepunk in a Grimdark World by Meredith Egan – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Meredith Egan will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Writing Hopepunk in a Grimdark World

I find this idea enchanting. I think it describes something I’ve lived for a lot longer than the past few years, which is weird for an old white lady. I hope my readers find sparks of this in my novels!

The past few months have created a whole new world to navigate. In North America, and around the world, we are self-isolating, wearing masks and limiting our contacts even with the people we usually love lavishly. We are moved by an expanding awareness of how some systems in our communities are biased against our neighbours. Law enforcement and policing are being examined and are not measuring up to our hopes for our communities.

We live in interesting times! And unfortunately, after 30 years of hanging out with marginalized people, I’m not surprised…and I realize these times are challenging and sometimes scary.

So where do my ideas come from?

I work with victims of serious crimes and the people who have committed them, mostly in the field of restorative justice, I know many people who have thought about the challenges North America is waking up to. I’ve been in prisons all across Canada leading and listening in workshops and writing groups, with the goal of waking up in a world with no more victims.

Both of my books, Tide’s End – a just living novel and Just Living – a novel, take place in British Columbia, and are a mashup of crime writing, current social challenges and hopepunk.
In Tide’s End, Taylor struggles to find and rescue his little sister Jenny, who is the victim of the foster care system, and cyberporn. To do this, he has to navigate through difficult systems and situations, working with both ex-offenders and sexual assault survivors. He has to face his own struggles before he can help his sister.

And I learned about all of these struggles through stories from real victims and perpetrators who hurt and were hurt by others. I learned about how our systems marginalize both victims and offenders. I listened hard and learned to ask questions.

And I couldn’t tell these stories that were shared with me because they weren’t my stories, so I turned to writing fiction.

Every page of my work is worked with prisoners inside a medium-security prison here in Canada, and some of those writers I’ve known for 25 years. They challenge me, and my privilege and perspective, and always improve my stories. I am forever indebted to them.

And my early readers all have known victimization and/or marginalization. They, too, want no more victims.

My novels explore a place where people are complicated, and always changing, where anger and marginalization and struggle and hurt are real and affect people’s friendships, and families, and communities. It’s a place where people know what fear and safety feel like.

If you want to explore how we’ve gotten to this place, and how we can build a better society, I hope you’ll be a part of the conversation that comes from my books, and these questions.

What will our new normal look like when the pandemic stops being a threat to our loved ones?
When we start talking about ‘defunding police’ or releasing prisoners who have hurt people in the past, will our neighbourhoods be safe?

How do we, as we think about true crime, respond in ways that lead to #NoMoreVictims?

And how do we engage in the conversations that will lead to a new society, even when we also know that safety, like love, is never assured?

Join me at justlivingnovels.com to be a part of the ongoing conversations. I’d love to listen and learn from you, or your book clubs, about these ideas!

Taylor Smythe dreams of having a loving family. But first, he has to rescue his little sister Jenny from the gritty underbelly of the child cyberporn industry. Taylor journeys from homelessness in the inner city to a community in the dripping forests of the Pacific Northwest to confront the relentless pounding of his fiercest pain. Can he become the big brother Jenny needs right now, and for the rest of their lives? Tide’s End explores the many faces of sexual assault and human trafficking, and how life can shatter for those most affected – the victims. Because #MeToo is more common than we can imagine. As is #ChildrenToo and even #BoysToo. It tears apart our families and neighbourhoods. And wherever there is suffering, there are guardians and helpers who still the relentless pounding to encourage Tide’s End.

Enjoy an Excerpt

If this is what I have to do to rescue Jenny, I’ll figure it out, I thought as I drove along the dark, narrow roadway. My little sister is worth it, even if I feel like throwing up. Occasionally the overhanging trees dropped massive dumps of water onto my car. Or rather, into my car through rust holes and windows that didn’t seal. Every time there was the thunder of falling water, I ducked.

What the hell have you gotten me into, Marta? I thought, wishing daggers at the social worker who’d sent me here. Crawling further up the driveway, I turned a corner and gasped.

Holy crap, I thought, staring at the building in front of me. I’d stayed in dodgy motels. Run down apartments. But I’d never been in a place like this before. Ever. In my life. This place was huge, and gorgeous, and knew I wouldn’t fit in. I’d registered for the Survivors of Sexual Assault Retreat, but would it be okay? What would it take to blend?

The money I’d need to pay for the rest of the damned retreat was in my torn duffle. But this looked decidedly upper class, and, well…here I was hoping my junker would make it up the driveway. It’d been my home for the last three months…so not upper class.
Is this really what I need to do to get Jenny back? I’d just turned 19, and getting custody of Jenny Benny, being an epically amazing big brother for a change…that was the most important thing to me. Marta thought I’d better deal with my sexual…history first.

My mind bounced all over. Then it landed on maybe tonight I’ll get warm. Like, to my bones, warm. I smiled.

About the Author:
Meredith Egan is an author of critically acclaimed novels, Just Living: a novel and Tide’s End: A Just Living novel. The stories are shaped from her work with crime victims and violent prisoners over more than thirty years. Meredith is trained in mediation and peacemaking circles., and has been honoured to learn from many First Nations peoples. Meredith coaches writers and other creative folks and offers workshops and training through her Daring Imagination work.

Meredith is the principal at Wild Goat Executive Coaching where her clients include leaders in the automotive, technology, government and small business fields. She lives at the Groundswell Ecovillage in beautiful Yarrow, BC. with her dog Mollie, and rambunctious feline sisters Firefly and Filigree. For fun she dabbles in cooking soup for her neighbours, and soaking in her hot tub with her four adult children when they visit.

You can find Meredith through her website, and on Facebook and Twitter for information about her novels, and her coaching work. Meredith welcomes opportunities to speak with groups about justice, and writing. Her books are available through Amazon and local bookstores.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

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When the Villain is RIGHT! by David Beem – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. David Beem will be awarding a $10 Amazon or BN GC to one randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter. Clik on the tour banner to see the other stop on the tour.

When the Villain is RIGHT!

It’s an odd concept, I know, but what if the villain of your story is right? Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons is a well-established bad guy trope, but sometimes writers surprise themselves by jumping into the getaway car and joining the search for a suitable place to dump the bodies!

The truth is, writers are every character of their books. Part of me here, part of me there, that’s a sui generis joy of writing. But in the Edger series, around the time I released book two, I realized where the final act of the story was headed, and knew I had no compelling position for the protagonist to take! The antagonist was poised to cure all of society’s woes. What could the protagonist possibly offer to compete with that?

The Edger series is a wacky superhero/spy comedy, but at its core it analyzes liberty versus control. The villain’s goal is to become the hive mind leader of the human race, mind-controlling everyone for all eternity. Which, I mean, is obviously bad, right? But what if I told you this hive mind leader wants world peace? What if the goal is to fix Washington, break us off fossil fuels, end poverty, and fix once and for all Shrek-faced Superman from Justice League? What if the writer infuses the villain with every noble goal he can think of?

The problem of proving the villain is wrong is a good problem to have. It means you’re doing something right as a writer. It also means you’ve got your work cut out for you. Writers must put as much effort into convincing readers of the side of good as they do for the side of eee-villl. Adding to this challenge was the fact that I was writing the series at a time when the world was (is?) apparently unraveling, which naturally predisposes a person to consider desperate solutions. Readers may find greater sympathy for my villain (particularly in book 3) than they expect simply because of the times they live in.

I wrote the Edger series because I wanted desperately to laugh and escape these problems. I wanted the literary equivalent of a tv action/comedy series, something with a little depth, and staunchly apolitical. As tempting as it was to pull back the curtain and reveal the villain is a republican or democrat, I resisted. The villain’s solution to our problems was a somewhat universal solution anyway. Just take control and fix it. But in searching for the “good” response to this position, what I discovered is that the real villain wasn’t a who, but a force. It is the motivating quality that drove the villain to take such drastic measures in the first place. That force is cynicism. It’s the belief we must be wicked to fight wickedness. We must hire wicked leaders because the job itself is wicked, and angels are no match for demons…

This was my lightbulb moment. Because while every good protagonist must act on the world around them, they are not actions—they are people with motivations and attributes. Sympathetic villains are delicious ingredients in our fiction, but we still need our heroes to guide us from our worst instincts. Once I understood the villain as a motivating force, the hero’s counterforce became clear.

Edger has a certain naiveté allowing him to see the best in people. He can dial down the noise, gather his friends close, and trust angels are still capable of defeating demons. A healthy naiveté is a powerful force, because it’s where courage comes from. One doesn’t storm Normandy beach expecting to live, after all, nor can one afford to be cynical about survival! Cynicism is a poisonous privilege, and a healthy naiveté is its ultimate antidote.

Edger spoiler alert: Edger’s healthy naiveté is the quality that ultimately saves the human race.

Meet Edger (Ed-jer), a twenty-six-year-old gadget retail dork destined to become the world’s first superhero! His superpower: the ability to channel the Collective Unconscious, a psychic network connecting the living and the dead. In his arsenal are the skills of Bruce Lee, the strength of Samson, the wisdom of the ages…and the dancing chops of Michael Jackson—including that one twisty foot move, crotch grab, and fedora tilt. But there’s a catch… Like every psychic super power to get administered through a hypodermic needle, this one comes with a prick. Someone seems to have misplaced the booster necessary for stabilizing his superpower. Without it, Edger has three days before his brain turns to pudding. Join our Dork of Destiny as he overcomes the world’s greatest butt, two rival Cluck-n-Pray gangs, an evil cow, a Green Bay Defensive Tackle, rifle-toting assassins—and a pair of stoners who inadvertently create the world’s first supervillain after a wild night on Twitter!

Enjoy an Excerpt

Red letters scroll across the heads-up display.

PULSE ELEVATED.

Yes, I know.

RECOMMENDATION: ACCESS COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUS.

Okay…

I focus on the red circle in the HUD labeled “Collective.”

Buh… anyone in the Collective got any bright ideas?

Roaring voices deafen my ears. Billions of lights streak past. I stagger backwards. Too much! The processors in my suit narrow down possibilities. Billions become millions. Thousands become hundreds. Finally… one. Gravity triples in my limbs from the fatigue of thousands of pull-ups, flutter kicks, push-ups, and sit-ups done in a single day. I’m shivering. Can’t stop. It’s hell week in BUD/S training. In and out of the ocean. Swimming miles against the clock. Cold… so cold. Face-down in the mud; holding my breath; lifting telephone poles; trembling muscles; falling painfully on my gun; moonless nights; stalking from the shadows; rescuing hostages; do I have what it takes to make it till morning?

Heard you could use a hand, sir.

The life behind the voice completes its fast-forward. It belongs to one Lieutenant Trevor Killmaster, Navy Seal. College champion swimmer. Fifteen deployments. Eighty-seven confirmed sniper kills. I’m breathless and sweating. My tired limbs get their strength back. I try to hold onto everything I’ve seen. Killmaster grew up in a little place outside of Santa Barbara, where he met his wife and bought a home.

He wears Old Spice.

Weird.

You’re telling me, sir, Killmaster replies.

I slide onto the barstool to gather my thoughts.

You know, I’m not really much of a… sir.

Killmaster replies: You are today. Sir.

About the Author:David Beem loves superhero movies, taekwondo, and flossing. He lives in Djibouti with his family and crippling self-doubt. To help actualize David’s inner confidence, visit his website and buy all the stuff

Website | Amazon Author Page

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The Name of Red by Beena Khan – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be giving away a $10 Amazon/BN GC or 1 of 3 digital copies of the book to a randomly drawn commenter (4 winners!). Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Two strangers on the same path.
Survivors. Companions.
They will be each other’s salvation.

On a rainy, winter night, a mysterious woman in a red dress seeking shelter comes inside the restaurant Kabir was busy working in —primarily the bar— and night after night, drink after drink, she comes back to the same spot. That is where he sees her for the first time.

Hundreds of patrons around her try to speak with her daily, but she dismisses them. It appears she wants to remain in a blissful peace alone with her booze and books. After seeing the mysterious woman reading a book, and because of his shy nature, Kabir gains entrance into her life by anonymously leaving books with notes for her.

The Name of Red is the story of two strangers, two different personalities who meet on a winter, rainy night who challenge each other. They have a connection which blossoms into a friendship due to their fondness of books. But they both have secrets that can bind them together or threaten their newfound relationship forever.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The restaurant Ferdaus was filled with a buzzing crowd.

The smoke around the people twisted and formed curls, illuminated under the bar lights. The atmosphere was a hazy cloud, lingering against their clothes. Several people came in seeking shelter from the pouring rain outside. The customers of the restaurant turned to look at the entrance door- bell jingling. They glanced at the large crowd coming as the glass door was pulled open, and they watched as someone newstepped in behind them.

The woman walked into the bar for the first time in the winter rain.

She didn’t have an umbrella on her; her little sleeveless dress ended at her ankles, fully drenched. Her wet dress clung to her body, showcasing the outlines of her curves. In one hand, she was carrying the skirt of her dress. Suddenly, she let it go, and her long, bare arms moved upwards as she tried to fix her damp hair which had darkened in intensity due to the rain. It fell past her shoulders, the strands sticking to her face. She attempted to comb through the tangles with her fingertips.

The men watched her movements hungrily, their eager faces drawn to her and at the sight of someone new. Their eyes trailed from her face, to her wet body, then back to the movements of her hands entwined in her hair. Under her arm, she carried a book and a trench coat. It appeared strange she wasn’t wearing the coat when it was pouring outside and freezing in the middle of November. Men were left mesmerized by her, and she turned heads as she walked by. Something radiated from within her, drawing the men around her in.

The women who were with some of these men noticed their gaze on the unfamiliar woman. Now they stared at her with jealousy and anger.

Who is she? they wondered.

About the Author:

Beena Khan lives in a suburb in Queens, New York in her apartment. She is 27 years old from Azad Kashmir, Pakistan. She is an immigrant who moved to New York when she was five years old. She currently holds a Masters Degree in Developmental Psychology from Cuny School of Professional Sciences. She enjoys reading, writing, and netflixing. This is her debut novel.

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Single Chicas by Sandra C. Lopez – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Sandra C. Lopez will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Get your copy of the book free at Amazon during the tour.

Single Chicas is a collection of stories about modern Latinas being in, out, and around the zany hurdles of relationships. One woman receives strange calls from a lonely soul, another seeks advice on how to love herself, and another wakes up in a parallel universe to a man she’s never met. These chicas will make painstaking effort to survive the complexities with humor and grace. Once again, López dazzles audiences with her brilliantly candid craft. Smart, witty, and funny, these stories will explore the true endurance of singlehood.

Enjoyed the Excerpt

I’ll never forget the day my brother gave me a stroke. Of course, being that he was my little brother, a stroke should’ve been classified a recurring condition by then. Instead, the most he had ever given me was a chronic eye twitch, which, now that I think about it, may have been an indicator of an on-coming stroke. But, yes, it was definitely a stroke I had when Benito (I always called him Benny) came over that day to tell me he was getting married.

My brain blew a short and my whole body went numb. I think, at one point, the world before me was engulfed in a white flash, and then somehow I ended up on the floor. When I finally got the feeling back in my jaw, the only thing I could muster to say was: “Are you a moron?” The clear answer was “yes.” He was a moron. Getting married? Was he out of his freaking mind? Oh, hell yeah! Let’s put aside that he was only 19, not even old enough to drink, for god sakes; let’s put aside that he’d only known the girl for 6 months, at most; let’s even put aside how annoying the girl was and how I couldn’t stand her. Why in the hell would he want to hang himself like that? Had he forgotten that marriage is basically a prison? Had he not paid attention to all the disaster stories I’d told him? Broken marriages from all around the table, starting with our parents and going all the way to our grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, to damn near everyone else we knew. It all ended the same: divorce, the blissful release from a life sentence.

“Why, Benny, why?”

“Oh, Bea, don’t you even start,” he retorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I don’t want to hear your putdowns on marriage…again. I’ve heard them over and over and over.”

“Well, have you heard that marriages basically suck the big weenie?”

“I believe I did hear that from you, yes.”

“Well, then tell me why? Why the fuck would you do something like that!?” Oh, I could feel my poor blood pressure rising. Good grief, the boy was going to give me a heart attack. I tried taking in a few calming breaths, but the whole thing was basically useless. I was in total freak-out mode. “C’mon, Benny, tell me, please, because I’m not understanding here. What, did she pull that voodoo-hoodoo crap on you? Did you crack your head on something? Have you just completely lost your mind? C’mon, you gotta give me something here.”

With an easy shrug, he said, “Oh…you know.”

“No, I don’t know!” Okay…one, two, three…breathe. I shot him a stern glance and asked directly, “Did you knock her up?”

He looked at me accusingly, his dark eyes narrowing. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, I don’t know what else to think.”

Benny shook his head with a petulant eye roll. I know that eye roll. It’s the same one he pulls whenever someone tells him to pick up his socks or wash his hands. In a huff, he simply stated, “No. I didn’t knock her up.”

“Then why?”

“Because she’s just…”

“What? Say something.”

“You know…” At a loss for words, he paused then added, “she’s just so…you know…great.”

A literary master at work here. “Great? What’s so great about her?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s a good answer,” I inserted wryly.

“Well, I can’t think with all these questions,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry, do you need a minute? I mean, I know I’m throwing really hard questions at you. Worse than poking your nose or scratching your balls, evidently.”

“Why you gotta be like that, huh?”

“Hey, I’m not the one ruining my life here. I’m not the one going after those little titties.”

Pulling his “talk to the hand” gesture, Benny turned to walk away.

About the Author:

Sandra C. López is a writer, artist, blogger, and book reviewer. She is one of today’s funny and influential authors in YA and chick lit. Her first novel, Esperanza, was published in March 2008 WHILE she was still in college. Her most recent and bestselling book is Single Chicas, a collection of humorous short stories about zany chicas. She is currently working on the next installment of the Single Chicas series called Holiday Chicas. Release date coming soon! When not writing her stories, Sandra supports the art and literary communities with freelance work and book promotion.

Website | Book Review Blog | Facebook | Twitter
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