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

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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.

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The Voices Inside our Head by Michelle Davis – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $50 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to one randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The Voices Inside our Head

Practicing yoga impacts me in more ways than I could ever imagine. It assists my stiff body in making baby steps towards being more limber, it quiets my monkey brain, it occasionally helps me enter the state of bliss, and it provides me with a wealth of knowledge that actually transitions into my daily life. Sure, sometimes I don’t want to make that effort to be on my mat, for some reason I believe that more pressing items exist. But whether I go willingly or out of obligation, I know that when the class is over, I will feel better – physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Last week during one of my favorite yoga teacher’s classes, she shared two terms that intrigued me greatly… the street level you and the higher level you. I’ve heard of the second term, but never did I hear anyone mention street level you. At first, I thought she was talking about the bad and the good, the duality that we all possess. But, the more she explained, the better I understood. This is not about purity vs. evil. Rather, this metaphor is meant to show our humanness and our godliness.

As humans, we are not all light or all dark; we possess both qualities, each revealing itself in multiple ways throughout our day. For example, my being human, or my street level self, may entice me to arrive at yoga early so that I can place my mat in my favorite spot. That is not a good or a bad action. One might say that I know where I perform best, so why not secure that space. While another person might view this action differently. Perhaps they see this behavior as competitive or even selfish. Regardless, this conduct represents my street level self in action, not my higher level self. In contrast, my higher level self would arrive in time, but without a care as to what space is available. This higher level self would welcome the opportunities provided by any location in the room, most likely embracing a spot that my street self would never choose.

Street Level You – “If it is in the back and I can’t see anything, I’m going to topple during the balance pose. If it is next to the heater and I start sweating a lot, I’ll slip all over the place.”

Higher Level You – “If it is in the back and I can’t see anything, I’ll learn to trust my inner balance to help me through the poses.” If it is next to the heater and I start sweating a lot, I’ll detox the impurities in my body, allowing me to better assimilate the benefits from the class.”

Do you see the difference?

These two dualities constantly dance back and forth, often creating an internal tango where both partners try to lead. While the higher level you guides your dreams of becoming the best version of yourself, the street level you constantly sends reminders of failed attempts, clinging onto old patterns and behaviors. I like to think of our higher selves as seventy-five year-olds, ripe with wisdom, experience, and perspective while our street level selves act more like nine-year-olds, barging full steam ahead, doing what we want, at that moment, without thinking about the impact it has on us and others.

So, what does this all mean and how is it relevant? Can we dismiss our street level self, telling him or her to go away and let our higher level self rule the show? As appealing as that sounds, I don’t think it’s possible. However, we can become more aware and consciously listen to what’s happening inside. Should we honor the persistent and perhaps belittling voice that nags at us, chipping away our self-confidence… the one that pumps us up, proclaims that we’re right and the other person’s wrong? Or, should we consider the quieter whisper, the voice that proposes another perspective that guides us, but refrains from sharing a road map, forcing us to do the work? Honestly, I’d like to choose the one that tells me what to do and when to do it; but I know that’s usually my street level self, jumping up and down, saying whatever’s necessary to gain my attention. Instead, I need to dig deep, be present, and listen to the soft voice, the one that presents me with the more challenging path, the one that dares me to be a better person. When I am brave enough to listen my higher self, when I can check my ego, trusting in the unknown, that is when I find my biggest growth, my happiest moments. It so much easier not to listen, to give the nine-year-old the attention she craves. But I know in my heart that she does not have the answer… rather, the wise woman, the one how knows the real me, she’s the one I want to follow.

Jenna Moore’s flawlessly orchestrated life and engagement to Ben Kelly, “the perfect man,” vanish when she discovers a controlling side of her fiancé. Confused and unsure of who she is without Ben, Jenna decides to uproot from her safe, predictable life in Boston and move to Bend, Oregon, hoping to find her answers there. It’s when she meets Jackson, a former Navy SEAL who battles demons of his own, that Jenna finds the courage to let go of being perfect and embrace uncomfortable risks, transforming her life through forgiveness, compassion, surrender and acceptance. Yet the rewards from discovering her true self exceed Jenna’s expectations – not only does she find the greatest love of her life, but she also understands what’s kept her from learning to bend.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Yet, at that moment, there is a subtle shift in my being. As devastated and lost as I feel, a small part of me unfolds, almost releases. I can’t describe the feeling as it’s something I’ve never before experienced. I breathe, inhaling Ben’s scent, knowing it’s most likely the last time I am going to be this close to him. Then Ben moves his hand to the back of my head, pulling me towards him, passionately kissing me as we momentarily return to who we were. My body instinctively takes over as I languish in his taste, surrendering to him, if only for a few seconds. But I come to my senses and pull away. We are no longer the Jenna and Ben who are about to be married in two months. No, that couple is gone. It’s then that I do the unavoidable – I slowly remove the ring from my left finger and press it into Ben’s hand. After all, this is a family antique. It no longer belongs to me. I call for Sam, give Ben a final goodbye kiss on the cheek, and leave.

About the Author: Michelle Davis, whose career path includes banking, teaching, and college admissions consulting, holds a B.S. in Finance from Lehigh University and a M.S. in Education from St. Joseph’s University. Through her blog, elevate, Michelle’s goal is to inspire others to shift their perspectives and welcome change as they realize their life purpose. A Pennsylvania native, Michelle and her husband enjoy visiting their sons in Boston and spending time in Bend, Oregon, the settings of her debut novel, Learning to Bend. To learn more about Michelle and how to elevate your life, visit her website.

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Slick Filth by Erato – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Erato will be awarding a $15 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.

It’s 1737, and England is on edge: someone has tried to assassinate the King at the theatre, and every stageplay is a satire of the royal family. Enter Prime Minister Robert Walpole with a cunning scheme that will grant him power to censor anything that goes on stage — by writing the filthiest play ever conceived.

Get ready for sex, castratos and cannibalism, because the Prime Minister is ready to shock the city!

Based on true events, Slick Filth includes a recreation of the notorious play The Golden Rump, which so offended Parliament that new censorship laws were enacted for the first time in England’s history. The book is typeset in historical fonts, making you feel like you’ve been pulled back in time to watch the drama unfold first-hand.

 

About the Author: Be taken to another ERA with ERATO.

Erato (also stylized erAto) is a Hispanic American author of historical fiction. Her stories are often set in the Georgian/Regency period, taking the characters past the traditional bonnets and balls into gritty cities, medical mishaps and painful love affairs. Her stories color in the forgotten and irregular aspects of history, and several of her books are written in the historical English of the period.

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Metaphoria by Melinda Longtin – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Melinda Longtin will be awarding a $10 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.


Collecting seashells

Off the sands of time,

I race to Grandfather Clock.

Barter,

Burden,

Broken,

Bought.

My broken shells are gone.

The beach is empty.

I

Have

Nothing

But salt and canvas.

What new life

Can I create?

Enjoy an Excerpt


Spinning Windows into Doors

Veins are trees. Sprigs shimmer matte Without their foliage.

Invisible ceilings Mark the only barrier Between the shrubs and waves.

Rushes spiral, Slipping into cores, Ripped out stains of the sky.

A sun is a fist In a drawing’s window. Can’t punch through the waves, So it sneaks where water incinerates flesh.

But wait for the canvas, Front and center, Shooting past veins, To the pains of this clerestory.

It’s bleached white With eyes carved of wood and stone. Lips transparent, But deep violet. They restrict the pen Of one who would paint the world In gems and marble-cased grasses.

Emerald green would envelope the drawing, And no one would see the panes.

How could someone Try to resist A face with star flowers Around one eye, Decorated with time above the other?

Does sand permeate the window? Could it shut down time, And freeze the halves of pink chrysanthemums To shatter its own cheeks?

An image without purpose, Must spin the window Into a door.



About the AuthorMelinda Longtin is the founder of inspirwing, a professional development blog focused on helping people pursue their dreams. Inspired by her own recovery as a survivor of domestic abuse, Metaphoria started out as a private attempt to organize her emotions. However, it quickly evolved into drastic personal growth as well as her passion for assisting others. A previously published poet and successful educator, Melinda lives life to the fullest in the American Northeast with her soulmate and their cat. Chase your dreams too.

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Essays from a Dysfunctional Family by Casey Bell – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Casey Bell will be awarding a free eBook copy of the book as well as a free eBook copy of the book A Family of Strangers to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Two books in one (Kinda Sorta). Something Different. Essays from Dysfunctional Families is a fictional book which contains essays from ten different American residents. The book is written by fictional writer Dean K Brent. The book Literary Betrayal is a fiction written by Casey Bell, which tells the story of the aftermath of Dean writing the book Essays. Betrayal explores the possibility of what people might do if they discovered a bestseller written by a relative/friend is based on their life.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Michael R.
Goshen, Indiana

I was born and raised in a town in Indiana named Goshen. I have one brother and one sister, both younger than me. We grew up in a home that was very confusing. I did not understand at the time I was a child why my parents did what they did. They very well knew how to act like the best Hollywood actors, but were never professional actors. My father was a construction worker. He brought back pretty good dough. We were never needy. When he came home though he was tired, very tired and he spent not much time with us (his children). Every now and then he would take us to the park and sometimes to exciting places such as: zoos, museums, sporting games, and sometimes the theatre. My mother on the other hand worked part time as a seamstress. She was home more often and she would take us out more often than our father. The only thing that had me; that had all of us confused was there constant change in characters. After living with them for some time you just got used to the routine. On Friday and Saturday nights we were left home alone. At first, I wasn’t sure where my parents were going, but as soon as I reached an age where I could understand; it was clear. Not knowing exactly, but I knew it was a bar or club of the sorts. They came home drunk and sometimes high.

About the Author:

Proud Uncle Casey Bell has authored two Young Adult books, three General Fiction, three Non-Fiction, two Short-Stories, one Horror, one book of Poetries, five Children books, one book of collection of Art, and has produced four Word Search books. Twenty-two books in total, but has no intentions of slowing down. He enjoys sharing stories, ideas, and art that cause people to think beyond the box. Not only a writer, but also a playwright, graphic designer, fine artist, and fashion designer.

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Six Musts Every Women’s Fiction Should Have by Carolyn Re and Loretta Re – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Carolyn Re and Loretta Re will be awarding a $10 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.

Six Musts Every Women’s Fiction Should Have

Our novel, Secrets of the IN-Group set in the authors’ home town of Albury, is classed as contemporary women’s fiction. It’s an ensemble story following six older women. Its main themes are adapting to change and the role friendships and romance play in sustaining us in later life.

1. Relatable or believable characters

We’ve all read books where we’ve identified closely with some of the characters. Even if you don’t behave in the way a character may act, and even if you don’t like them, chances are you will have known somebody similar. Our characters are like the women you’d meet in your book club. None of them is perfect, but that makes them warm and relatable. Like most of us, they want love and companionship, new experiences and a little adventure.

2. Sparkling dialogue

The dialogue must move the story forward, and be relevant and interesting enough to form a bond with the characters. There’s a lot of dialogue in our story and perhaps that’s why so many people have said they’d like to join the IN-group!

3. Plot twists

Plot twists are the spice in a novel. Everything is going along quietly, you’re getting to know your characters when suddenly, POW!, the story reveals something big, something you weren’t expecting and your book becomes a page turner. What will happen next? Your readers can’t wait to find out.

4. Romance and strong friendships

In any story with women at its centre, no matter their age, romance will always be indispensable. And for most women, friendships are one of the solid foundations of their lives. Our characters aren’t always kind to each other, but they end up learning how important their friends are, that rifts can always be mended and that romance may be just around the corner.

5. Sense of place

Life doesn’t occur in a vacuum, so creating a sense of place is vital to good storytelling. One of our five-star reviewers wrote “Secrets of the IN-group makes me want to go on holiday to Albury!!!”

6. Satisfying conclusion

A satisfying ending doesn’t mean everybody gets exactly what they want, but it can mean they grow to accept and embrace what they have. (And some will always get that happy ending!)

A small town. A world wide web. Is the net really a friend?
What do you do when the children have flown the nest and you have time on your hands?

Six women in the Australian riverside city of Albury realise that, without social media skills, they’re staring irrelevancy in the face. Their book club won’t cut it any more. It’s time to go virtual.

But their decision to plunge into the on-line world brings shocking revelations and unexpected outcomes. Friendships, new and old, are tested and their lives teeter on the edge of collapse. They must navigate a path through the chaos. But who exactly can they trust?

Enjoy an Excerpt

[At Martin’s technology lesson, Sarah is shocked at an image on her husband’s iPhone]

Sarah tried to smile, but her face felt stiff, as if she’d had Botox injected. Her mind screamed: Who is this girl who looks so like Anna? Why is she on Rob’s home screen? And why is he enveloping her in some sort of … horrible hug? It wasn’t the kind of hug you’d give a girlfriend, more like a father’s proud embrace.

Andrea cleared her throat loudly in a distracting way, quite out of character.

‘Sorry, but I have to go soon,’ she said, gathering her things. She slid her iPad into its leather satchel. ‘Such a nuisance. It’s been fun tonight.’ She looked at Martin. ‘There’s only ten minutes left, would you mind if we finished early? Pick up on this again next week?’

Thank you, Andrea. The ploy had given Sarah momentary breathing space. Her internal scream quietened a little. She had to get out of here, away from the goodbye chatter and the polite offers to take a slice of cake home. She needed to digest what she’d seen and work out what it meant. She had to have time to think.

She dreaded time to think. With the flick of a switch—what a cliché, but how true in this case—her life had changed. It was all so confusing; her fragmented brain whirled with questions. But an answer, barely thought out, misshapen but insistent, was boring into her brain.

Rob has another daughter somewhere. A daughter who’s the image of ours …

About the Authors:

Carolyn Re worked for over twenty years as a general practitioner before turning to writing. No longer needing to produce serious medical and scientific articles, she’s now writing contemporary fiction for older women. Carolyn lives in the regional city of Albury, New South Wales, with Ziggy the whippet and three contented chickens.

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Loretta Re is a former lawyer who is now writing novels and screenplays. Her book for middle grade readers, Stand Up and Cheer, is a story inspired by the rescue of the Uiver DC2 over Albury during the 1934 Centenary Air Race. It was voted one of the best books for literacy and language development in 2015. Loretta lives in Sydney and is on the board of Writing NSW.

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Lean on Me by Pat Simmons – Spotlight and Giveaway

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Pat Simmons who is celebrating today’s release of the first book in her new Family Is Forever series, Lean on Me. Enter the Rafflecopter at the end of the post for a chance to win a copy of the book.

First in an emotional, poignant romantic women’s fiction series from acclaimed inspirational romance author Pat Simmons.

No one should have to go it alone…

Tabitha Knicely is overwhelmed with sorrow and exhaustion caring for her beloved great-aunt, whose dementia is getting worse. When her neighbor Marcus Whittington accuses Tabitha of elder neglect, he doesn’t realize how his threats to have Aunt Tweet taken away add to Tabitha’s pain.

Then Marcus gets to know the exuberant elderly lady and sees up close how hard Tabitha is fighting to keep everything together. Tabitha finds herself leaning on Marcus more and more. And he’s becoming more than happy to share her burdens…

Enjoy an Excerpt

Tabitha needed to refocus as she smiled lovingly at her aunt. Beginning today, Aunt Tweet would stay at an upscale adult day care while Tabitha began her first day at a new job.

After getting the milk carton out of the refrigerator, Tabitha walked back to the table and poured some into Aunt Tweet’s bowl. Chalking it up to another sad oddity of dementia, she was determined to keep happy memories in the forefront of her mind as she kissed her aunt’s cheek.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Aunt Tweet giggled, adjusting Tabitha’s red, floppy hat on her head. Since her arrival, her aunt had fallen in love with that hat and wore it practically every day, regardless of her ensemble. “I took a little walk around God’s green earth.”

“What?” Tabitha didn’t like the idea of her aunt out of her sight. “Without me?” It was easy for anyone to succumb to the tranquility and abundance of green space in Pasadena Hills, which rivaled the nearby Norwood Hills Country Club. But in the midst of that apparent peace, they were still on the outskirts of a neighborhood not nearly so safe. It definitely wasn’t safe for Aunt Tweet to wander. Tabitha shivered at the thought of worse-case scenarios.

“You were asleep.”

“That’s okay.” She hugged her aunt. “Next time, wake me and I’ll go with you.” She yawned, recalling her previous night’s lack of sleep. Her aunt had wanted to reminisce about her years as an airline stewardess, and Tabitha had indulged her before all of Aunt Tweet’s memories would slip away. Researchers had yet to find a cure, so Tabitha hoped God would reveal a cure to eradicate or reverse this terrible disease before it was too late for her aunt.
All of a sudden, Aunt Tweet dropped her spoon, spilling milk onto the table. “I left my scarf…I left my scarf!” Panic-stricken, she trembled and scooted her chair back.

Startled, Tabitha’s heart pounded, so she patted her chest to aid her breathing to return to normal. “It’s all right. I’ll get it from upstairs,” she said, reassuring her aunt that it was okay to forget things sometimes.
While staying with Kym, Aunt Tweet had worked herself into hysterics over the vintage scarf she had gotten as an engagement gift. Her aunt boasted she’d gotten rid of the husband but held onto the expensive shawl. There hadn’t been any peace in Kym’s house until she’d found it behind a pillow on the sofa.

“No!” Aunt Tweet shrieked, shaking her head. “On that porch. We’d better hurry.”

Confused, Tabitha tried to calm her down to figure out what was going on. “On my porch?” When her aunt shook her head, Tabitha asked, “Whose porch?”

“I don’t know.”

Dread seemed to pour over Tabitha like a downpour. “Okay, okay.” Of all the days for a distraction, this was not a good one. This was her first day on a new job. As a pharmaceutical sales rep, Tabitha could recite medical terms, facts, definitions, and clinical studies’ results in her sleep. She’d entered college as a biology major and graduated with a bachelor’s in business. The pharmaceutical industry gave her the benefit of both worlds. Plus, she thrived on studying the physiological, anatomical, pharmacological, and scientific properties of medicine, so she could communicate the benefits of the company’s products.

But family was family, so taking her duty as a caregiver seriously, Tabitha had resigned from her job of six years as a senior pharmaceutical sales rep to ease the stress of the demanding position. Not wanting to leave the field completely, she took a pay cut to work in a smaller territory with a competitor who demanded little to no overnight travel. The sacrifice was worth it. Plus, her aunt’s trust fund designated the money for her own care.

Tabitha rubbed her forehead. “Let me put something on, then we’ll go find it.” Tabitha raced upstairs, hurried into her clothes, then grabbed her briefcase. Minutes later, she almost slipped while rushing down the stairs in her heels.

She reentered the kitchen, and Aunt Tweet wasn’t in sight. Tabitha checked the adjacent family room, then peeped outside toward the patio. Her aunt was behind the wheel of Tabitha’s rental car. Not good. She hadn’t purchased a car in years. A perk for being a sales rep, after she completed her two-week training, which started today, would be a company-issued vehicle.

After locking up the house, she had to convince Aunt Tweet, who had worked herself into a frenzy, that she couldn’t drive. Tabitha had to coax her own self to have patience while following her aunt’s conflicting directions, thinking, I can’t be late for my first day on the job.

“That’s the place!” Aunt Tweet yelled as Tabitha jammed on her brakes in front of a stately, story-and-a-half, older brick house she had never noticed before. The massive front door was centered under an archway. Twin french doors with mock balconies were on both sides of the entrance.

“I don’t see anything.” She craned her neck, admiring the impressive work of building art.

Aunt Tweet snapped, “I told you that’s the porch.”

“Okay.” There is no reason for your sharp tone, Tabitha thought but dared not voice. This house wasn’t that close to hers at all. Despite some mental deterioration, there was nothing wrong with her aunt’s physical stamina. She had obviously cut through the common ground area among the houses to get here.

After parking her car, Tabitha got out and surveyed her surroundings to make sure she wasn’t being watched. “This is crazy, sneaking up to somebody’s house,” she muttered to herself. Since the coast was clear, she hurried toward the red scarf that was snagged on a flower in a pot and flapping in the wind. She was within her reach when the door opened. Tabitha jumped back, then steadied herself in her heels.

An imposing man filled the doorway. Under different circumstances, he would be breathtakingly handsome. That was not the case now. Judging from his snarl and piercing eyes, Tabitha felt as if she had walked into the lion’s den.

***

Excerpted from Lean on Me by Pat Simmons. © 2020 by Pat Simmons. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

About the Author Pat Simmons is an author of more than thirty-five titles and a self-proclaimed genealogy sleuth who is passionate about researching her ancestors, then casting them in starring roles in her novels. Pat holds a B.S. in mass communications from Emerson College in Boston, Massachusetts. She has worked in various positions in radio, television, and print media for more than twenty years. For fourteen years, she oversaw the media publicity for the RT Booklovers Convention. She lives with her husband in Florissant, Missouri.

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The Tears We Never Cried by Ryshia Kennie – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

A mother’s tragic diagnosis.
A daughter’s life on hold.
An ending and a new beginning …

Cassandra McDowall’s mother has been forgetful for a while, but she never anticipated rapid-onset Alzheimer’s to come out of nowhere and shake their world to its very core.

As Cassie puts her already-lackluster life on hold, her mom’s indomitable will and spirit of adventure prove to be a handful.

And as her mother fades, the two embark on one last adventure—a journey that reveals secrets on the brink of being lost, the joy of foreign sunsets, and love where she hadn’t thought it possible.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“The car is stolen!”

Mother’s voice sliced through the swirls of sleep.

I leapt out of bed, glanced at the clock and tripped over the unfamiliar flannel sheet. On the wall was a poster of a rock band I’d loved at fifteen. I was back in the room of my childhood.

I’d brought Mother home to live with me for that first night after the Christmas card debacle. One night was about all either of us could tolerate. My apartment was too small. It had taken me only a few days to get my stuff together, notify my landlord and move in with Mother.

“Hang on, Mom.” I fought to catch my breath as I reached for my housecoat.

“Cassie!” Her voice cracked across the layer of frost that collected on the window frame overnight and slammed through the partially open window. I have a penchant for fresh air. Sleeping with a window open even in the midst of winter is normal for me, and made it easy to hear Mother’s shriek outside as it erupted a second time loud enough to roust the neighbors. Her screech had me excited but not panicked. Not until my conscious and my unconscious married those two thoughts together—outside and Mother.

About the Author:

The winner of her city’s writing award, Ryshia Kennie’s novels have taken her characters from the depression era prairies in her first book “From the Dust” to a across the globe and back again. There’s never a lack of places to set a story as the too long prairie winters occasionally find her with travel journal in hand seeking adventure on foreign shores. While facing off a Monitor Lizard before breakfast or running through the Kasbah chased by an enraged Water Carrier aren’t normal travel experiences and might never find a place in one of her stories, they do make great travel stories. When not collecting odd memories from around the world, she’s writing mainly romantic suspense and women’s fiction.

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