The Invisibles by Rachel Dacus – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rachel Dacus will be awarding a $40 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.

Sisters Saffron and Elinor inherit a cottage on the Italian coast from their father, along with its resident ghost and a secret manuscript. Their rivalry explodes through a struggle for control of the inheritance.

Saffron has a genius for creative living, but ever since her judgmental older sister interfered in her love life, Saffron and Elinor haven’t spoken. When death brings them together at their father’s funeral in Rome, the battle re-ignites. It continues as they travel up the Italian coast to take possession of their cottage. Both secretly wish to mend fences, but they have opposite views about the best way to live.

Saffron has always sensed the “Invisibles”, people lingering after their demise. When the spirit who lives in the house predicts one sister might die, she takes it seriously, but can’t convince her practical-minded sister.

As they prepare the house for sale, Italy infuses its magic in food, festivals, and local love interests — until a shocking night changes everything for the sisters and their friends.

A tale of sisterhood and the supernatural, perfect for fans of Mary Ellen Taylor and Barbara O’Neal.

PRAISE FOR THE INVISIBLES

Author Dacus does a superb job bringing the village of Lerici to life, from the smells of the sea to the pungency of the local olive oil, and showing how the Italian way of life changes both women. An enjoyable, romantic read. — Suanne Schafer, author of HUNTING THE DEVIL

Enjoy an Excerpt

Saffron glared at her black-suited sister across their father’s grave in Rome’s Protestant Cemetery. It was nearly empty for their father’s funeral, only Elinor, this small bunch of stylish Italians also wearing black, and herself in lavender. Was it worth coming all the way from Berkeley, with her domineering sister, for this ritual? Ellie had written a solemn ceremony, as if Dad would have enjoyed the pomp. Okay, maybe he was enjoying it, but Saffron knew he was hating being dead.

She could tell by the purple glimmers that swarmed over his casket that Dad was disturbed by his situation, but he’d soon grow calm.

Her superior sister, with her perfect pageboy and dark suit, looked embarrassed tossing red rose petals onto the casket. Good, she should. The cheesy petal-tossing idea had been Ellie’s. She was always planning and calculating. She could never do anything spontaneously. It was as if all the energy in Ellie’s body flowed up and gathered in her brain, where it pulsed in constant, bossy motion.

But then Saffron remembered she didn’t want to be critical, especially not with her sister, who had invited her to come. She tried to put on a hopeful expression, to please Ellie—and then she remembered Ellie wouldn’t like to see her smiling at the funeral.

The judgmental vibes were probably flowing from Ellie, who was always embarrassed by something. Often it was by Saffron and her spontaneity, which was, yes, a little messy. And what Elinor dismissively called imaginative. To Ellie, the mix-up with the plane reservations had proved yet again why Saffron wasn’t competent. After Saffron booked the wrong dates, Elinor took over with a flourish. Her sister loved to take charge. Ever since childhood, Ellie had honed her management skills by running Saffron’s life.

Yes, it was true, Saffron needed help. Of course, she wasn’t perfect. Okay, she was about to turn thirty and hadn’t yet begun adulting. But at this moment, she was proud of herself for coming along and trying to mend fences with Ellie—as proud as you could feel with drizzle plastering your hair onto your face, your boot heels sinking into the spongey ground, and your sister frowning at your smile.

About the Author:

Rachel Dacus is the author of The Invisibles, a novel of sisterhood with a touch of the supernatural. “An enjoyable, romantic read.” The Renaissance Club is a time travel love story featuring the great 17th century Italian sculptor Gianlorenzo Bernini, who meets and falls for his superfan from future time. “Enchanting, rich and romantic.” Dacus has written four poetry collections: Arabesque, Gods of Water and Air (poetry, prose, and drama), Earth Lessons and Femme au Chapeau. She lives in Northern California with her husband and Silky Terrier. When not writing, she raises funds for good causes.

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The Making of a Southern Fiction Writer by RC Welch – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. RC Welch 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.

The making of a Southern fiction writer

I would define my preferred genre as southern fiction. I have been influenced by writers such as Flannery O’Connor, Pat Conroy and Ferrol Sams to name a few whose activity spans a reasonable period of time. I find my place in the southern United States, as I was born in Georgia. In addition, my experience in life attaches its formative origins within that particular geography and about and around the lives that populate that land. I would say, at least for myself, that I find a similarity with many of the Native Americans with whom I have become acquainted over my lifetime. Regarding our discussions, the land upon which they were born and within which they have known their heritage is regarded as a spiritual force in their lives. I find this same feeling to be present in me, as well. Although I have lived the last thirty years in North Carolina, each and every time I return to my homeland in the state of Georgia I feel the enveloping warmth of a sense that I would call, home. To be more precise, when I cross the bridge that spans Lake Hartwell on Interstate 85 headed south, I feel the embrace of familiarity and welcome. I suppose that in my case, and perhaps, my recognized and secret colleagues, of this particular writing genre, must feel this same attachment to the land upon which we were born and raised. Out of that foundation I can write my stories.

I also like to think that I am a fairly well-read and well-traveled gentleman. I try to incorporate my extended experience with the world with my knowledge and imagination of a local color. I blend trauma and tragedy with happiness and joy. I can speak the language of the city and the dialect of the country. I can find a clever story through the tending of my mother’s garden. I can develop compelling scenery from a Saturday float upon one of our southern rivers. I can devise struggles and suffering around a holiday dinner. I can pose questions about faith in the midst of a Sunday sermon. And, in all those scenarios and many others, I can develop characters that are engaging, and inspiring in whatever emotional capacity that flows within the scene. All those notions compose my tool bag for writing in the genre and flair of my secret mentors. However, in answer to the question posed above, the strongest attraction to this preferred genre is the southern human character, with whom I am familiar, to whom I am loyal and dedicated, and about whom my audience may relate with compassion, excitement, misery, praise, disgust, or any other emotional component that is interesting, fascinating and compelling.

Golf, love, life—Jack Weatherlow is more than familiar with all three. Is life a series of coincidences or is it linked by a greater thread? Returning from the brink of destruction, Jack lets his participation in recovery, his work at the hotel, and his close relationship with his wife, Samantha, guide him through some of life’s most important questions and lessons. What do we do when opportunity knocks at our door? Is it fate that brings us together with those we love most? What constitutes a family and what obligations do we have to those around us? Through his relationships and experiences on and off the green, Jack discovers many of life’s lucky chances.

Enjoy an Excerpt

We were alone that day. She was already in place when I arrived. Sam turned when I entered. She spun around quickly, startled by my entrance. I had apparently interrupted some secret contemplation. She gave a little jerk with her head. She blew smoke into the air, while throwing her hair out of her eyes. We shared a brief, but natural, greeting as I entered the steamy, chlorine-scented room. I remember a glinting instant of eye contact, which remained in place for a moment longer than might be expected. The only sound filling the room was the methodical whirring of the machines.

When I first saw her, I recall feeling flushed by a sense of confusion, or a nervous anxiety. I became inextricably distracted. I was struck stupid, all of a sudden. I couldn’t focus on my work. I fumbled with simple tasks that I had executed quite proficiently for the better part of my life. I was no stranger to laundry duties, but in those few moments, i appeared dumbfounded by the simple chore of loading a washer. I had trouble putting a quarter in the machine. I cast the very real appearance of someone who needed help, and Samantha took the opportunity to lend a hand. Clumsy male struggling with laundry duty, adept female coming to the rescue; the scene seems ludicrously formulaic and fraudulent, but it is nonetheless our story.

About the Author Summer is in full swing – folks are hitting the golf course by day, and reflecting on life as the sunsets go later into the evening. In the spirit of golf and life, Charlotte-based Warren Publishing has released Lucky Chance, a thoughtful and moving novel by businessman, golfer and public speaker, R.C. Welch.

Lucky Chance is a 346-page soft cover book that addresses some of life’s most thought-provoking and insightful dilemmas and lessons through the lens of Jack Weatherlow. A golfer, husband, and alcoholic in recovery, Jack returns from the brink of destruction, and through his recovery, work, and relationship with his wife, Samantha, he attempts to find the answers to some of life’s most important questions. What do we do when opportunity knocks at our door? Is it fate that brings us together with those we love most? What constitutes a family and what obligations do we have to those around us? Through his relationships and experiences on and off the green, Jack discovers many of life’s lucky chances.

Inspired by his love of golf, business, and storytelling, Welch wrote Lucky Chance to give readers insight into a character he loves, and connect certain apparent similarities in life between obviously different circumstances.

“Lucky Chance is a wonderfully crafted novel, rich with narrative originality, and emotional and philosophical depth,” added Mindy Kuhn, President of Warren Publishing. “It’s a fantastic, unique read for anyone who enjoys reading about sports or love, but also for those looking to delve into the truly intricate and complicated questions of life.”

R.C. Welch holds graduate and post graduate degrees from two universities, and is honorably recognized in various circles of the business world. He is also an accomplished golfer, storyteller and public speaker. Lucky Chance is an expression of his innate and unique gifts. He currently resides in Winston Salem, NC.

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The Gumbeaux Sistahs by Jax Frey – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jax Frey will award a randomly drawn winner a $25 Amazon/BN GC and will award a second randomly drawn winner a print copy of the book (US only). Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Five Southern women wage a hilarious war against the ageism problems of one of their deep-in-trouble sisters using their improbable friendships, evil-genius schemes, oh-so-numerous cocktails, and a shared passion for good gumbo.

When southern artist, Judith Lafferty, loses her long-time, prestigious museum job to a much younger man, she finds herself devastated, alone in her sixties, and on the brink of financial disaster. Enter the incomparable Gumbeaux Sistahs, who deliver day-old coffee to her front door as a ploy, then go on to kidnap her, feed her excellent gumbo, and come up with outrageous solutions to her problems. Their motives are just good excuses to drink wine, have a great time, argue over whose mother makes the best gumbo, and, most of all, help a sister out. Ageism, dangerous boyfriends, deep loneliness, and any other challenges that can face the over fifty crowd don’t stand a chance against these five resourceful ladies. The Gumbeaux Sistahs is a heart-warming, smart story of friendship and unexpected shenanigans that you do not want to miss.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Judith Lafferty had never been a violent person, but it felt like it might be a good day to start. It was a little after ten o’clock on Monday morning, and she felt a steadily rising derangement as she waited, third in line, at St. John’s Coffeehouse. The cafe was crowded with late morning caffeine seekers. The music from the overhead speakers was bouncy, the weather was glorious, the baristas were smiling, and Judith was seething. Normally she would be bouncing right along to the music in the popular café and eyeing the lemon bars in the glass case. Not today. Today, Judith would have enjoyed flinging one of the lemon bars across the room like a frisbee. Or maybe she could just punch something. Yes, she would very much like to punch something — anything at all. The life-sized, cardboard sign near the front counter of a smiling man overly enjoying his bag of coffee beans seemed a tempting target. She balled her fist and considered it. His young, smiling face reminded her of the man responsible for her current mood. If she truly believed punching the fake-smile on the cardboard figure would somehow make her feel better, she would flatten him. But she did not think anything could help right now.

About the Author:

Born in New Orleans, Jax Frey came into this world, whooping and hollering, with a sense of love and celebration of Louisiana culture, food, family and fun. Translating that celebration into her writing and onto canvas is her true calling. Her colorful art depicts everything-Louisiana from her dancing Gumbeaux Sistahs paintings to her popular line of original Mini paintings. Because over 25,000 of the mini paintings have been created and sold into art collections worldwide, Jax holds a world’s record for The Most Original Acrylic Paintings on Canvas by One Artist.

Jax is also the co-founder of the Women of Infinite Possibilities, an empowering women’s organization started in Covington, LA, where Jax lives today with her loveable, tornado-of-a-pug named Lucy. The Gumbeaux Sistahs is her debut novel.

Email: jaxfreyart@gmail.com

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What Kind of Writer am I? by Rosemary J. Kind – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rosemary J. Kind will be awarding a $30 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.

What kind of writer am I?

I’m a ‘holic’ writer. I’m addicted. I neither want to stop myself nor have the willpower to succeed if I did. That last part is saying something, as I have an awful lot of willpower.

Oddly, and probably a sign of my age, I think best with a pen or pencil in my hand. I then tend to put it down to type on a keyboard, as I can type much more clearly than I can write. There is nothing worse than committing the finest prose to paper, only to find you can’t actually read a word of it and the idea has gone.

I have many of the related addictions which you tend to find in writers. I have nurtured some of those since childhood. I’m a bookaholic, stationaryaholic, notebookaholic and penaholic to name just a few. It’s amazing how many of those traits writers share and it is very much like going to a support group when you get together with other writers and all start to confess. You sit around in a circle saying things like ‘I bought three beautifully bound blank notebooks I didn’t need last week. One of them has the most wonderful metal clasp and another has no less than three ribbons to mark your place.’ You cannot imagine how relieved I was to find there are even people out there who have more unopened fancy notebooks than I have.

I’m like a child in a sweet shop when it comes to choosing stationary. It’s no coincidence that I ran the stationary shop when I was in the sixth form at school – being able to buy and sell stationary without committing my own money was like being fed an unending line of caramel centred chocolates without getting fat. (Did I mention the chocolate and coffee addictions?)

What is more important than the addictions themselves, is the qualities that obsessive tendency brings to my work. I tend to be thorough, determined and keen to make sure that my books will really meet the needs and hopes of the reader. Nothing makes me happier than drawing an emotional reaction. If I can make readers laugh, cry, shout – for the right reasons, then I have achieved something.

I work long hours and am unhappy when, for any reason, I can’t spend time writing. Writing grounds me. If there is no time to write, then there is no time to be me and it doesn’t take long for me to become unhappy.

I love being a writer. If I can write books that are respected and which readers enjoy and recommend to their friends then I will be the happiest writer in the world.

From fleeing the Irish Potato Famine, to losing his parents on the ship to New York, seven-year-old Daniel Flynn knows about adversity. As Daniel sings the songs of home to earn pennies for food, pick-pocket Thomas Reilly becomes his ally and friend, until he too is cast out onto the street.

A destitute refugee in a foreign land, Daniel, together with Thomas and his sister Molly, are swept up by the Orphan Train Movement to find better lives with families across America. For Daniel will the dream prove elusive?

How strong are bonds of loyalty when everything is at stake?

Enjoy an Excerpt

At the end of the block, the buildings clambered over the tentacle-like roots of a massive tree, its shape and leaves quite different to the ones he knew back home. Leaning against the trunk, with his knees pulled up to his body, sat Tom. Daniel felt awkward approaching him. He didn’t know what to say. He went and sat beside him and began stripping the bark from a twig he found lying on the ground.

“We’ll be thrown out when she dies.” Tom drew the back of his sleeve across his face.

“She’ll get better.” Daniel spoke more in hope than certainty.

“You’ve lived in Ireland all your life and you’re still an optimist? Welcome to reality. Folks don’t get better, they die. Or they leave you. Don’t you want to know where me da is? That drunken eejit. He works the railroads some place. Said he’d send money back for us. Said he’d send for us to join him. He’s out there drinking hisself silly, while Mammy lies here dying.”

Daniel felt a flood of anger, not at Tom’s absent father but at his self-pity. “You don’t think I knows what it’s like? I’d lost everything.” His nostrils flared as he spoke. “I found you and Molly, that’s my hope. I ain’t got no one but yous.” Feeling the overwhelming urge to cry, but desperate not to show his weakness, he instead punched Tom’s arm.

Tom punched him back and before long they were sprawling in the dust, each trying to pummel their frustration out on the other, until they eventually fell laughing in a heap. They were hardly more filthy and tattered than when they began.

About the Author: Rosemary J Kind writes because she has to. You could take almost anything away from her except her pen and paper. Failing to stop after the book that everyone has in them, she has gone on to publish books in both non-fiction and fiction, the latter including novels, humour, short stories and poetry. She also regularly produces magazine articles in a number of areas and writes regularly for the dog press.

As a child she was desolate when at the age of 10 her then teacher would not believe that her poem based on ‘Stig of the Dump’ was her own work and she stopped writing poetry for several years as a result. She was persuaded to continue by the invitation to earn a little extra pocket money by ‘assisting’ others to produce the required poems for English homework!

Always one to spot an opportunity, she started school newspapers and went on to begin providing paid copy to her local newspaper at the age of 16.

For twenty years she followed a traditional business career, before seeing the error of her ways and leaving it all behind to pursue her writing full-time.

She spends her life discussing her plots with the characters in her head and her faithful dogs, who always put the opposing arguments when there are choices to be made.

Always willing to take on challenges that sensible people regard as impossible, she established and ran the short story download site Alfie Dog Fiction for six years building it to become one of the largest in the world, representing over 300 authors and carrying over 1600 short stories. She closed it in order to focus on her own writing.

Her hobby is developing the Entlebucher Mountain Dog in the UK and when she brought her beloved Alfie back from Belgium he was only the tenth in the country.

She started writing Alfie’s Diary as an Internet blog the day Alfie arrived to live with her, intending to continue for a year or two. Thirteen years later it goes from strength to strength and has been repeatedly named as one of the top ten pet blogs in the UK.

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Temptation Rag by Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The world of ragtime is the backdrop for a remarkable story about the price of freedom, the longing for immortality, and the human need to find forgiveness. Seventeen-year-old May Convery, unhappy with her privileged life in turn-of-the-century New York City, dreams of becoming a poet. When she meets the poor but talented Mike Bernard, an aspiring concert pianist, she immediately falls in love. But after their secret liaison is discovered, neither is prepared for the far-reaching consequences that will haunt them for decades. From vaudeville’s greatest stars to the geniuses of early African American musical theater, an unforgettable cast of real-life characters populates this richly fictionalized historical saga.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The women making their way down the avenue, cheeks glowing from the cold, eyes burning with conviction, came from every stratum of society, the wealthiest to the poorest. This was no picket line, no stubborn demonstration by a handful of militants hoping for a small headline in the morning paper. This was a force to be reckoned with, a force to which the politicians in Washington would have to answer, sooner or later. These women were betting on the numbers; there were too many of them to ignore.

But despite the impressive turnout, the suffragettes were clearly outnumbered. The street was lined with tens of thousands of onlookers, some only curious but others intent on undermining the women’s morale. They included men of all descriptions, from common laborers in canvas and khaki to office types in overcoats and gray bowlers. Men presumably with loving mothers and sisters, devoted wives, obedient daughters. Men who no doubt considered themselves inarguably civilized but, in the blink of an eye, had changed into quite the opposite. Their relentless heckling was predictably rude, shockingly hateful.

The arrogance of these ill-mannered naysayers only served to harden May’s resolve. But their voraciousness made her nervous. The policemen stationed along the parade route didn’t seem to be taking their assignment too seriously. Rather than pushing back on the crowd, they appeared perfectly happy to let the worst of the rabble-rousers do whatever they wished. Already a few had crossed the line that separated spectators from protesters, the authorities either unaware or simply choosing to do nothing.

“Help! Please, somebody help!”

About the Author:

Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard is an award-winning author of historical fiction. Her debut novel The Beauty Doctor is an historical thriller that takes place in the early days of cosmetic surgery, when the world of medicine was a bit like the Wild West and “beauty doctors” were the newest breed of outlaw. The Beauty Doctor was a finalist for the Eric Hoffer Book Award, National Indie Excellence Awards, AZ Literary Awards, and is a Medallion Honoree of the Book Readers Appreciation Group. Bernard’s second book, Temptation Rag: A Novel, immerses readers in the bawdy atmosphere of vaudeville and early 20th century African American musical theater. Publishers Weekly wrote “Bernard’s resonant novel . . . about the birth and demise of ragtime . . . is a lively tale in which romance and creative passions abound.” Temptation Rag is a Readers’ Favorite 5-star pick and a Medallion Honoree of the Book Readers Appreciation Group.

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Horseshoes and Hand Granades by S.M. Stevens – Spotlight

Long and Short Reviews welcomes S.M. Stevens who is celebrating the upcoming release of Horseshoes and Hand Grenades on September 27.

Fragile but practical Shelby Stewart and ambitious, confident Astrid Ericcson just want to start their PR careers in 1980s Boston and maybe find a nice guy to hang out with. But long-buried memories of incest at the hands of her local hero stepfather keep interrupting Shelby’s plans, affecting her health one way after another. And when will she actually date someone her friends think is good enough for her?

Astrid thinks she wrote the book on How to Get Ahead by Flirting but is forced to re-visit her career advancement strategy when her boss Brad takes the innuendoes to a whole new, scary level, threatening her job and her safety.

Suddenly, instead of taking charge of their lives, both women find themselves spinning out of control.

In this fast-paced story for the #MeToo generation, the women reach new highs and lows in life, work and romance, while struggling to make sense of the abusive relationships that haunt them.


About the Author: S.M. Stevens began writing during back-to-back health crises: a shattered pelvis and ovarian cancer. She has self-published Shannon’s Odyssey (Middle Grade) and the Bit Players series (Young Adult). When not writing, she provides marketing and PR to solar energy companies. She lives in New England.

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LASR Anniversary Scavenger Hunt: Fortune’s Folly by Cat Dubie


Thanks for joining us on our 12th anniversary scavenger hunt! There are two ways to enter to win and it’s easy to play– first read the blurb below, then answer the question on the first Rafflecopter. You might win a $100 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC. Follow and visit authors social media pages on the second rafflecopter and you’re entered to win another $100 Amazon/BN GC!

In 1867, Eden Fitzgerald marries, not for love or money, but to persuade her influential in-laws to obtain her father’s release from a contrived prison sentence. Cleverly evading those who believe she, like her father, is a smuggler and Fenian collaborator, Eden does what she can, what she must to achieve her goal. When legal methods are exhausted, she dons a mask, carries a pistol and, using her wiles, wits, even her seductive beauty, robs wealthy citizens to amass enough money to arrange her father’s escape.

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Rouge by Richard Kirshenbaum – Spotlight

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Richard Kirshenbaum who is celebrating today’s release of Rouge.

Like Swans of Fifth Avenue and Truman Capote’s Answered Prayers, Richard Kirshenbaum’s Rouge gives readers a rare front row seat into the world of high society and business through the rivalry of two beauty industry icons, by the master marketer and chronicler of the over-moneyed.

Rouge is a sexy, glamorous journey into the rivalry of the pioneers of powder, mascara and rouge.

This fast-paced novel examines the lives, loves, and sacrifices of the visionaries who invented the modern cosmetics industry: Josiah Herzenstein, born in a Polish Jewish Shtlel, the entrepreneur who transforms herself into a global style icon and the richest woman in the world, Josephine Herz; Constance Gardiner, her rival, the ultimate society woman who invents the door-to-door business and its female workforce but whose deepest secret threatens everything; CeeCee Lopez, the bi-racial beauty and founder of the first African American woman’s hair relaxer business, who overcomes prejudice and heartbreak to become her community’s first female millionaire. The cast of characters is rounded out by Mickey Heron, a dashing, sexy ladies’ man whose cosmetics business is founded in a Hollywood brothel. All are bound in a struggle to be number one, doing anything to get there…including murder.

Enjoy an Excerpt:

A Technicolor sky hung over the city even though it was only early May. At times, even New York City seemed to have caught the bug. The pear trees that bloomed like white fireworks every April may as well have sprouted palm trees. Everyone, it seemed, had just stepped out of a Garbo movie, and Josephine Herz (née Josiah Herzenstein) would be damned if she would not capitalize on this craze.

A young, well-kept woman was the first to grace her newly opened, eponymous salon on Fifth Avenue. With bleached-blond “marcelled” hair, a substantial bust, and a mouth that looked as though it had been carved from a pound of chopped meat, her new client had all the ammunition to entrap any man in the city, to keep him on the dole, and her cosmetic hygienist, in this case Herz Beauty, on the payroll. She lowered herself onto the padded leather salon chair like a descending butterfly and batted her eyes as though they too might flutter from her face.

“I want thickah,” she whined. She said this in a Brooklyn accent that would have killed her chances had she been an actress transitioning from silent to talkies.

Josephine nodded and reached into her arsenal, procuring the favored Herz moisturizer for a dewy complexion. She removed and unscrewed the glass jar, leaned over her client, and began to apply it to her cheekbones in soft, round swirls.

“No!” The client swatted her hand away as though to scold and dispose of a landed bug. “Not my skin,” she said. “My lashes.”

“Oh.” Josephine withdrew her hand and held it, poised high above her client’s face, as though hovering a spoon over a boiling pot.

“I want thicker lashes,” said the blonde. “Like Gloria.”

“Gloria?” Josephine was perplexed.

“Swanson!” the client said, shaking her head, miffed that she was not understood.

“I see.” Josephine replaced the glass jar in her holster bag and pro-cured a separate, zippered case. “For the thick-eyelash look, you have two options: tinting or application.” She removed both a small black cake and a moistened brush to apply the pigment and a plastic box of spidery lashes and displayed them as though they were a cache of jewels. The tube of adhesive gum came next.

The blonde’s eyes widened. She shook her head and sat bolt upright on her chair. A convalescent, revived from the dead. “Ya don’t mean you want to glue them on?”

Josephine took a long, deep breath. “How else do you think women get them?” she said. “If there were a drink ve could drink to grow them, I assure you I’d let you know,” she said in her Polish-tinged English.

“I just assumed . . . ” said the blonde. Miffed, she reached into her pocketbook and produced a magazine clipping from a crumpled stash. She unfurled a luminous, if wrinkled, image of Gloria Swanson, the Hollywood glamour girl, from the latest issue of Motion Picture. All lips, pouting like a put-out princess. She had the brow of an Egyptian goddess, the same distinctive beauty mark, and the eyelashes of a jungle cat. “Like that,” she said, pointing at her eyes. “I want to look like that for a party tonight.”

Josephine’s perfectly lacquered blood-red nails grazed the wrinkled page. She studied Gloria’s fabulous face, the brow, the lash, the pout.

“Application,” Josephine said, returning the image.

“Geez,” said the client. “You’d think by now you people would come up with something better than that.”
It was her duty, Josephine had come to feel, to tolerate stings and slights like this. But a new thought occurred to her as she prepped the lashes for application, as she meticulously heated and applied the adhesive gum. Her client was right. She often worked the floor to do just that: to listen to her patrons, her clients. And now that she was in New York, she knew enough never to be too far away from what real American women wanted. And so she took in the woman’s request with deep reverence, as she knew nothing was more important to her future sales than her clients’ needs. Blanche or Betty—or whatever the tacky blonde’s name was—was right. It was high time someone came up with something better. Josephine was certainly up to this task. The only problem was that across town, a woman named Con-stance Gardiner was doing the very same thing.

About the Author: RICHARD KIRSHENBAUM is CEO of NSG/SWAT, a high-profile boutique branding agency. He has lectured at Harvard Business School, appeared on 20/20, was named to Crain’s New York Business’s “40 under 40” list, and has been inducted into the Advertising Hall of Fame. He is the author of Under the Radar, Closing the Deal, Madboy, and Isn’t That Rich? and the New York Observer’s “Isn’t That Rich?” column. He lives in New York City with his wife and three children

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Lacewood by Jessica James – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jessica James 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.

Thrust together by chance. Bound together by destiny. A disillusioned socialite and a special operations veteran find a way to save a small town while healing themselves. A haunting read about the journey to restore an abandoned 200-year-old mansion and the secrets it reveals about a long-lost love.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Walking carefully along the overgrown path, Katie stepped to the side to touch the bark of one of the colossal trees towering over the front yard. “I’ve seen these trees before, but I don’t know what they are.” She threw her head back to see how the snowy white arms stretched toward the blue sky, catching and reflecting the amber rays.

The sheriff stopped and followed her gaze. . “They’re sycamores. See how the bark forms a lacy pattern at the bottom? Back in the old days they called it lacewood.”

He turned and bounded up the steps while Katie ran her fingertips over the intricate design. “It’s beautiful,” she said, under her breath. “Lacewood.”

“Of course, another name for the tree is ghostwood,” the sheriff quipped over his shoulder. “But that wouldn’t make a very good name for a house, now would it?”

Katie lifted her eyes from the multi-colored bark at the bottom to the white limbs overhead. Even in broad daylight the trees appeared ghostly, with skeletal-like branches reaching out like bony fingers.

Turning back to the house, Katie focused on the long-forgotten grandeur of the bygone days it represented. The outward signs might have worn off with age, but the dignity of the place remained intact as far as she was concerned.

Despite the decades of dirt and decay, she felt a welcoming presence here, a warm and friendly vibe. The peace of the house and its timeless beauty unlocked something in Katie, causing a prickly sensation to race up her spine. There were stories here. Long-forgotten and hidden just out of her reach. Were they to be lost forever?

About the Author:

Jessica James believes in honor, duty, and true love—and that’s what she writes about in her award-winning novels that span the ages from the Revolutionary War to modern day.

She is a two-time winner of the John Esten Cooke Award for Southern Fiction, and has won more than a dozen other literary awards, including a Readers’ Favorite International Book Award and a Gold Medal from the Military Writers Society of America. Her novels have been used in schools and are available in hundreds of libraries including Harvard and the U.S. Naval Academy.

James is a member of the Romance Writers of America, the Historical Novel Society, and the Independent Book Publishers Association.

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Jars of Clay by Mary Ann Poll – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Mary Ann Poll will be awarding a $25 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.

Jars of Clay
Mary Ann Poll
America’s Lady of Supernatural Thrillers
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” 2nd Cor 4:7

A day came when I was confronted with an indisputable fact. My eternal soul lives in nothing more than crockery. That day changed me forever – literally.

You see, I come from “good peasant stock.” In other words, I am a direct descendant of the hard-working American farmer. In a time when women were seen as weak, I prided myself on the fact I could do, and enjoyed, heavy physical labor usually reserved for men. I am also blessed with a decent intellect. So, I could not only take care of myself, I could make a good living. Until…

I awoke for another day of work. I stretched that wonderful morning stretch and stopped in tear-producing pain. It gave me pause and caused a nagging concern. I shook it off, took an Advil and went to work.

By noon, I couldn’t stop the pain unless I held my right arm at chest-level. My resolve to ignore the pain gave way to tears. Me, the proud and independent woman, was forced to call my husband to take me to the emergency room!

The diagnosis was serious. A disc herniated in my neck, and I faced surgery with a long recovery.

With this incident, I came to a place where I promised myself I would never, never go. This self-sustaining woman became physically and financially dependent on others. In the blink of an eye, everything I thought made me valuable had been ripped away. Despair and devastation flooded my mind and soul.

Just as with all grief, I went through shock, denial, anger, then acceptance. I saw the orthopedic surgeon who said, “You need surgery—yesterday!”

After I heard the risks involved, and because I am one who has more terror of an operation than of pain, I looked for other alternatives. (In retrospect, I do not recommend my approach to healing a herniated disc sitting in the spinal column. However, hindsight is 20/20.)

So, in my ignorance, I went to regular physical therapy sessions. They did little to alleviate the pain. Finally, I found an osteopath who was willing to adjust my muscles to help alleviate the spasms while the disc healed. I did small things to help my neck stay limber and to keep me moving.

It just so happens my only pain-free activity was reading. So, I read. Always the over-achiever, I read 100 books in three months. To keep me (and himself) sane, my dear husband made trips to the library.

By the grace of God, I began and continued to heal. I was so happy. I dreamed of returning to my life before this unfortunate affliction. I was destined for another deep disappointment and a time of overwhelming sadness.

No matter how I wanted to go back to my previous career, I couldn’t. I was unable to sit at an office desk and computer for more than a couple hours a day.

One day a friend of mine said, “You should write a book.”

I laughed. And laughed. And laughed. “Not happening,” I quickly answered.

As you may have guessed, my fear spoke for me. It terrified me to put something on paper and submit it to a publisher. Rejection is not my favorite feeling.

Still, after the initial feelings subsided, I thought about it. The more I thought, the more I became interested. After days (maybe weeks) of the idea rolling around the back of my head, I said, “What do I have to lose? It’s not like I’m going to submit anything to a publisher. I can just write. It gives me something to do.”

As I said, I could spend a couple of hours at a computer. I used those couple of hours to try my hand at novel writing. I sat down and stared at a blank screen. In a matter of minutes, the words cascaded out of my brain onto the paper. I could barely type as quickly as my mind was creating the scene.

The energy behind the writing should have been a definite and undeniable sign that I was destined to be an author. But no.

It took five years for me to defeat the self-doubt. To be honest, in those years, I was trying to convince myself I was not a writer, and I was being foolish. But, the passion and the excitement of writing would not leave.
I finally took writing classes, joined a writing forum, and talked to my family until they were ready to throw me out on my ear. (Kidding, they were very supportive. They still are.)

In 2010, I was blessed to see my first book Ravens Cove, An Iconoclast Thriller, in hard copy. When I held the book in my hands, I was flooded with joy, excitement and a overwhelming sense of achievement. What a wonderful day that was!

Between 2011 and 2017 I wrote three additional books which completed the Iconoclast series. This year, I was even more blessed when Ravens Cove came out in a second edition. A new book and yet the same.

When my disc ruptured, I thought my world was ending. To my amazement, God performed a miracle and put me on the road I was meant to travel. A road where I am constantly pulled out of my comfort zone and made to grow. A road where I live an abundant life—full of joy, and passion; and yes, a road where, on occasion, I must jump over the puddles of self-doubt and potholes of fear. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Endings aren’t always endings. Sometimes, they are amazing beginnings to the rest of our lives.

Welcome to Ravens Cove, Alaska, a tiny town nestled in a small hollow on the majestic Cook Inlet. A town familiar with storytelling—after all, Alaska abounds in rich legends. In Ravens Cove, though, legends have a tendency to come to life.

Meet Josiah Williams, the peculiar stranger whose warning to lifetime residents Kat Tovslosky and her cousin, Sheriff Bart Andersen, raises more questions than answers; a man whose dark past and knowledge of the murders make him a suspect more than an ally. Join Kat and Bart as an unlikely troop forms (including a very unwelcome FBI agent) to discover the identity of a killer. The unearthing of which will throw the reluctant warriors into a battle for their very lives and the lives of all who call Ravens Cove home.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Josiah marched to the back of the church, lifting his hand, waving it back and forth to part the black mist covering the door.

It shot to one side before he walked through, a dark curtain blown by an invisible wind.

The dark mist, Atramentous by name, vibrated with hatred, then fear at what he saw. An angel of God stood beside this man.

“Uriel!”

The angel turned and nodded. “Atramentous.”

Atramentous bent his head to avoid the blinding light. After they passed, he raised his head, formed an invisible mouth, a deep red chasm where the black mist had been. A guttural, gurgling roar spewed out to sound the alarm, sending sleeping birds flying into the sky crying in terror.

About the Author: I’m Mary Ann Poll, America’s Lady of Supernatural Thrillers and charter member of Author Masterminds. The first question most people ask is, “What is an Iconoclast?” Iconoclast means, “The destroyer of religious beliefs or symbols.” I took this definition and applied it to the supernatural realm, which is how the Iconoclast Thriller series was born. My books revolve around the battle between good and evil. They also revolve around the heroic acts of ordinary people who must face extraordinary, even unbelievable, circumstances.

I draw from real-life experiences, as well as my imagination, to create these supernatural thrillers. My love for a creepy, goosebump-creating ghost story and my love for Christ come together in these books.

I am a proud pet lover, which is also reflected in my writing. In my off time, I enjoy gardening, swimming and spending time with beloved family.

I pray you enjoy reading Ravens Cove as much as I enjoyed writing it. Blessings in Christ!

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