Research Tips by Judith Works – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Judith Works will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Research Tips
One of the most interesting and sometimes frustrating tasks in creative writing is research to ensure the external elements of the scenes are accurate to the time frame and cultural position of the characters. A child reading Katzenjammer Kids in the Sunday comics, a Medieval village in Andalucía, a dress made of flour sacks, a Viking hall, a teenager wearing saddle shoes, the sweet smell of a Paris pastry shop, a junked Packard or Model T, an old or new TV show should plunge the reader into the scene. In my current work-in-progress I refer to green Jello salads to put a reader into the 1950s as part of a backstory. Sometimes just one well-described object can set an entire story in motion – a piece of 17th century jewelry, a tin whistle, a rusted sword, or a moth-eaten fur coat that falls into the hands of the protagonist and leads her on the journey that is your plot.

But where to get information about the history of the time or what objects looked like? Search engines like Google and Bing are obvious places to start with questions like “What were favorite foods in 1950s MidAmerica?” Librarians are always happy to assist with more specialized information or point you to specific websites. Photo sites like Getty can bring settings to life. Wikipedia is a goldmine for information about places and people. Talking with old-timers who lived during the time when your story is set can be informative. For those novels set further back in time, there are groups who re-enact historical events such as Civil War battles or the Napoleonic Wars in Europe to help you picture the era. Old census records, business records, and diaries can be useful; maybe the contents of an attic, a garage sale, the local history museum, or a junk shop will lead you to learn more about how your characters might have lived. Travel to the places mentioned in your story is invaluable to develop a sense of place – climate, architecture, odors, vegetation, and landscape.

It’s important that stories of importance to special interest groups be accurate. I had a friend who was writing about World War II in the Pacific. The type of planes, the armaments, uniforms, geography, and climate needed to be correct. She made a mistake on the model of a fighter and was corrected by readers who pointed out that it was not produced until the following year thus losing credibility. Guns can also be a topic where some readers are only too happy to pounce if there is an error.

For a memoir, sometimes talking with family members can be illuminating, always remembering it is your story to tell. The contrasts from their memories with yours can add to the narrative to highlight emotions or events. For my memoir of Rome, Coins in the Fountain, I asked husband and daughter about their memories of events they’d participated in – it was interesting how they perceived them differently than mine. Sometimes I agreed they were correct, sometimes I ignored their take. I dug out my photos and looked at travel guides to refresh my memory. For my new novel, The Measure of Life, I studied maps of Rome, perused Italian cookbooks and tasted recipes, and looked at pictures of churches on Getty, and for one unusual object, I went to Flickr. I wanted to have my protagonist’s environment portrayed accurately but her reaction to them had to be consistent with her personality.

Remember the results of your research should amplify, not dominate the story: the addition of even a small detail can make a story sing.

A story of love and loss, lies and truth, begins in Rome when Nicole shares a cappuccino and cornetto with her Italian tutor. The meeting sets off a chain of events that upends the course of her life. While Rome also brings deep friendships and immersion into a sumptuous food scene there is no escape from acknowledging the consequences of her actions. In search of forgiveness and healing, she moves to an island near her childhood home in Seattle only to find the way to reunite the remnants of her family and discover her true path is to return to Rome and face the past.

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I read about a new concept called blogging. Intrigued, I studied the process to launch my own blog. After a lot of false starts, I managed to post about the day I bought bread in the bakery Maggie recommended and ended up meeting the old man. I titled it FIAT PANIS (Let There be Bread):

Once upon a time I met an old man out of a fairy tale. He was tiny and perched in a gigantic carved chair where he presided over a treasure trove of books and antiques. And it was the same day I first savored the goodness of real Roman bread. The kind of bread that’s crispy brown on the outside and chewy inside. The kind baked in a wood-fired oven wafting a mouth-watering aroma out the door to compel you to follow the scent back to the bakery where fresh loaves await. I squeezed through the crowd toward the clerk to make my selection while imagining ancient Romans clustered at the baker’s stall—the baker pulling the rounds of whole wheat spiced with poppy and fennel seeds from the hot oven while his wife handed them to house slaves who gossiped about their owners, and matrons who gossiped about the neighbors as they handed over a few coins.

I included colorful photos of the bakery and a loaf of fresh bread on my kitchen table along with frescoes of loaves from the ruins of Pompeii.

About the Author:After I earned a law degree in midlife, I had the chance to leave the Forest Service in Oregon and run away to the Circus (Maximus). In reality my husband and I moved to Rome where I worked for the United Nations Food & Agriculture Organization for four years as a legal advisor to the director of human resources. I could see the Circus that had hosted chariot races during the Roman Empire from my office window.

My husband and I reluctantly returned to the US after four years. But we pined for the land of pasta, vino, art, and sunny piazzas. Then the gods smiled and offered a chance to return to Rome with the UN World Food Program. Six more years or food and frolic in the Eternal City passed much too quickly. The indelible experiences living in Italy and working for the UN were the genesis of my memoir Coins in the Fountain.

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Smoke & Mirrors by Joanie Olson – Spotlight and Giveaway

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

Searching for an answer to a question you haven’t asked yet? You are not alone. One small realization and a whole world unravels.

Woven through these pages are a series of my most significant life events relating to narcissistic victim/survivor syndrome. Inside are keys unlocking mysteries of complex PTSD, compounded through various forms of abuse.

A journey of highs, like the Freedom Convoy, and the lows of a failed longtime marriage. With spiritual forces at work behind the scenes, could a Christian home have so many secrets? The smoke will clear to reveal our true mirrored self.

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I was sitting in the back of the plane, settling in between two passengers. My hair in a ponytail, wearing comfy sweatpants and a T-shirt with excitement in my chest. Others around me seemed like seasoned pros fluffing their pillows, adjusting their screens, ready to endure the long flight overseas.

I tried to act like a frequent flyer but struggling to plug in my headset must have given me away. Fidgeting in my seat to get comfortable, I remembered to put my phone on airplane mode. That’s when I saw a missed call from my son.

He had reached adulthood and well able to care for himself. A hard worker, smart as a whip and living life on his terms. With a few more minutes before the plane departed, I took the opportunity to give him a call.

“Hey Michael, Mom here. Sorry I missed your call. I was kind of busy.”

Michael responded, “That’s OK Mom, sorry I never called you back yesterday. What are you up to?”

“Well,” I said as I let out a laugh, annoying the man sitting beside me. I leaned over with my head down between my knees. Cupping the phone to muffle the sound of my voice, I went on to explain. “I’m on a plane headed to Paris, France!”

“WHAT?!” he replied.

About the Author: Joanie was raised on a farm in Saskatchewan, Canada. Life revolved around chores, school and church. Six older siblings and all the nieces and nephews added up to a large family.

Strong in doctrine and armed with a passion for truth, she’s walked the walk of faith, facing challenges to overcome. She was married at 19, became a mother to a stepdaughter, and later birthed two children. Following years of turmoil in her marriage, she hit the inevitable breaking point.

Starting life over, she attended broadcasting college, going on to anchor morning news for the airwaves. Feeling isolated and rejected, her drive to help others who have gone through similar circumstances inspired this book. Through the Refiners fire, she’s ready to share tools required to escape the fake and embrace the truth.

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Hall of Shadows by Mariah Stillbrook – Spotlight and Giveaway

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

In the quiet life of Tess Moreau lies a remarkable power-her touch revives ashes, defying nature’s laws. When she uncovers a mysterious book linked to her grandmother and a witch’s coven, her journey begins. Guided by a cursed deck of oracle cards, Tess delves into The Hall of Shadows, a realm crafted by her ancestors. With each dimension traversed, she uncovers her true lineage-a descendant of mythical beings. As Tess’s humanity wanes, her destiny beckons. At journey’s end, she faces a choice: preserve or destroy the hall. In a tale of magic and identity, Tess’s odyssey may end, but her legacy is just beginning-a testament to the power within us all.

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The thing about being a smudge of darkness against a black backdrop is that no one ever sees you. That is until there’s smoke. I’ve always been a creature of the night. Not like a vamp—although that would be kind of badass. I wouldn’t ever want to be like the sparkly ones, but I wouldn’t have an aversion to the cult classic: razor sharp fangs with no morals kind. Like They Thirst or Salem’s Lot, but maybe with a little more humanity left inside the creatures. I could totally rock alongside The Lost Boys.

I’ve always clung to the shadows. It’s safe there. You know, like the night sky, or the stars. The twinkle of just that small bit of light breaking through this world. It knows me, unlike this place. This place is crawling with filters that no one else seems to notice—colored lenses that sharpen the edges of what most people, if given the chance, wouldn’t want to see. My Grandma Reanin used to say the same things. I guess that’s why I make so many people uncomfortable. I look for the details most people find cringy. Imagine if they knew the truth about me.

About the Author: Mariah Stillbrook is the witchy author of In the Pines, Hall of Shadows, and The Lost Erwain. Originally from Iowa, she lives in Colorado with her white German shepherd, husband, and little girl. She spends most of her days writing, reading, and enjoying the occasional hike. In her late twenties she realized that her writing was missing something, magic. She now focuses her writing on urban fantasy and horror in both adult and young adult genres.

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Everything You’ve Ever Wanted by Jess Ames – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jess Ames will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Jenna Mitchell has spent her adult life under the control of her husband, her dreams of owning her own bakery pushed aside. But at twenty-eight, she’s finally ready to reclaim her life and pursue her passion. Well… almost.

With the unwavering support of the Sensational Six—her close-knit group of friends—Jenna can finally envision a day where she is in charge of her own destiny, a big step forward for her. As she works at her friend’s café, Jenna begins to discover the strength and courage she needs to break free from her past and begin focusing on her future.

But can she quiet the echoes that keep finding their way back to her? Will the doubts they’ve created make it impossible for her to see—and trust—the path forward before her chance at a better life slips through her flour-dusted fingers?

Fans of Rachel Hanna will enjoy this warm and uplifting story about self-discovery, finding the courage to start anew, and the unbreakable bonds of chosen family.

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I was sifting powdered sugar over a just-cooled apple strudel when my husband called from county jail. Leaning over the tiny kitchen table in my tiny new apartment above the café where I worked, I was imagining myself with my apron-covered hip propped against a gleaming stainless steel table, putting the finishing touches on a last-minute order that had come in through my bakery’s website. Back and forth with the sifter… downy, white flakes danced around each other as they floated and settled into their resting places.

B-r-r-r-r-r-t

The rumble of the phone against the white laminate broke me from my time-worn daydream. I reached up to adjust the white baker’s cap that existed only in my mind, pressed pause on my dream, and shook my head to clear it. When I read the caller ID, my stomach folded in on itself.

‘Collect call’

Craig.

I took a deep breath that settled in my chest and refused to return. I set the sifter down on a nearby dish and picked up my phone. For a moment, just a moment, I held it in my hand and considered letting him go to voicemail. But a lifetime of experience told me that ignoring a man who will not be ignored would only delay the inevitable.

“Hello?” I said, forcing the air from my lungs.

My husband’s out-of-touch politician’s voice poured through the phone. “Jenna, sweetheart. Are you busy?” Without waiting for me to answer, he continued. “I need you to do me a favor, baby. Can you please come down here and bail me out? I can’t sit here for one more day.”

I shifted the phone to my other ear and wrapped my free arm around my waist as I paced the twenty steps it took to reach the other end of my apartment and back. He wasn’t going to like my reply. “Craig, I just don’t think I can do that. I don’t have the money for it right now. I’m sorry.”

This was apparently not the answer he was expecting, because, as expected, his demeanor slipped from the fake, sticky sweetness of corn syrup to hot, burning rage faster than a falling soufflé. “You’re sorry? You’re sorry? Be sorry that you haven’t already come down here to get me. I’m your husband, Jenna. Remember the vows you took? Love, honor, and obey?”

Recognizing the opening line to the endless refrain of our marriage, I pulled a chair away from my kitchen table and willed my shaky legs to deposit me safely into it.

“Yes, I do remember, Craig. But I still can’t afford to come and bail you out right now. I have expenses I need to think about.”

The sound of what I could only assume was the phone bashing against a hard surface assaulted my eardrum. “You have expenses because you decided to leave our home and go live above that — that woman’s café.”

“That woman is my boss, and my friend,” I reminded him, “and she’s been nice enough to let me stay here.”

“You don’t need to stay there,” Craig argued back. “What you need to do is come and get me so we can go home together where we belong.”

About the Author: Jess Ames is knocking on the door of fifty, but has the sense of humor of a twelve year old and the body of a fifty-four-year-old (according to her fitness app).

She is “mama” to nine, “mimi” to four, “friend” to all, an adequate wife, and living the dream of the little girl who wanted to be a writer when she grew up.

They are both still waiting for that moment, so she’s writing in the meantime.

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Being Broken by Geoffrey R. Jonas – Spotlight and Giveaway

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A young woman dies alone in a hotel room, her fentanyl-poisoned cocaine still on the desk. She had been missing for nearly 2 weeks. Social Services had been trying to find a place for her to live with her 3-year-old son, whom she had left with her parents. Six months later her father fights for his life in intensive care, but succumbs to his illness because of a lifelong use of alcohol and tobacco. A month after his death her mother is assessed by doctors to be unable to care for herself because of her Alzheimer’s and mental health issues brought on by benzodiazepine and alcohol addiction.

The son, brother, stepson is the only one left to pick up the pieces. He begins a journey of the self and finds out the truth of his family. After going over letters, notes, emails, videos, and text messages, he uncovers a disturbing picture of the abuse his sister suffered at the hands of their parents. He also begins to better understand his own struggles with mental health and substance addiction because of the trauma and abuse he also suffered from their parents.

Follow the son as he looks through his family history to discover the generational abuse that trickled down through the years. Learn about how parents who suffer from narcissistic personality disorder emotionally abuse and manipulate their children. See how the abuse and trauma becomes mental illness in the abused, and how they fall into vicious traps of addiction, eating disorders, self-harm, and complex post-traumatic stress disorder. Witness the transformational change of the son as he works on the recovery of his inner child and tries to become the man he was meant to be.

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Prologue

Defining Narcissistic Parental Abuse
Normal Narcissism vs. Narcissistic Personality Disorder

To understand the tragedy’s conclusion, we must define the patterns of learned behaviours and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) that caused it. To do that, we first need to discuss what NPD is and how it differs from normal or healthy narcissism (NN).

Many of us have heard the tale of Narcissus from Greek mythology. Narcissus starved to death because he fell in love with his reflection in a pool of water and refused to leave it. This results from pathological narcissism or NPD. If he had just checked his reflection like we all typically do in the morning and moved on with his day, that would be healthy narcissism. We are all guilty of a bit of healthy narcissism, especially in these days of social media. Healthy narcissism can generate positive self-image and self-esteem, but can lead to bragging or even demeaning others. The key difference here is that someone with NN will recognize that what they have said or done has hurt others, can feel empathy, and will try to correct the situation.

For someone with NPD, the lack of empathy for others is a key criterion for diagnosis. Sufferers of NPD need what is called ‘narcissistic supply’, meaning the emotional reaction from others, whether negative or positive, to fill the gaping hole of low self-esteem most of them have. They require constant reassurance and admiration from others and can become hostile and angry, even rageful, if we do not meet their needs. They will use any means necessary to get their supply, even lying and being aggressive or demeaning towards others.

About the Author: Geoffrey is a first-time author. He lives peacefully by a lake, spending his time writing, painting, gardening, and woodworking. His recovery is ongoing, and he enjoys his privacy and seclusion.

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Researching Tips by Maxime Trencavel – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding $20 Amazon/BN gift cards to two randomly drawn winners. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Researching Tips

As I researched how to be a fiction novelist, I studied how-to authors seminars and blogs, which stressed the importance of consistent foundations in world-building or else your reviewers will point out the inconsistencies or worse, reject reading your books. Likewise, in historical fiction, experts warn of not doing your homework, as readers will reject your work for historical inaccuracies.

De facto, editor comments and reader reviews of both The Matriarch Matrix and sequel, The Matriarch Messiah, have called out the successful world-building. As well, some reviewers have praised the cultural education they received, especially about the Kurdish world.

None of this came without extensive background work. For understanding how a Kurdish woman might think, behave, be wounded by, I had read Kurdish women autobiographies, fictional stories, and factual accounts of their oppression. I found Kurdish films (with subtitles of course) which depicted the lives of
Kurdish women. In my Brussels home neighborhood, we live adjacent to the Kurdish sector of whom I study the shopping habit of Kurdish women. And most importantly, I engaged an outspoken female Kurdish author and editor to ensure my portrayals were culturally correct as well as read her books.

In the prequel I am drafting, the story takes place eighty years before the current two books in the series. De facto this is historical fiction. The story starts in 1913 Crimea and finishes in 1926 Crimea after much adventure chasing the mythical Hyperboreans in the Kola Peninsula. The epilogue will be in 1944 Crimea which will parallel The Matriarch Messiah’s prologue. The protagonist is a Krymchak Jewish girl.

Very little is written about this niche sect who only numbered less than one thousand in the 1920s and tragically eighty percent were exterminated by the Nazi’s.

The character, her family, her customs and culture, are all based on the few accounts and papers about this obscure group. I created the first segments in the Diulber Palace with the exiled Grand Duke Nikolas Nikolaevich and his wife Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicholaievna Romanova based on a biography of the grand duke and a book on the flight of the Romanov’s other than the last Tsar.

To provide an overall ethos and flavor, I read the famous book And Quiet Flows the Don, by Nobel Prize winner Mikhail Sholokhov. For visualizations, I viewed the award-winning 1957 film adaptation (with subtitles of course).

The expeditions of the very obscure Alexander Barchenko were crafted from deep-dives into AI translated Russian sources, which were mere references in more recent Russian articles and blogs, and from books about the Russian occult researchers. To my knowledge, no English western fiction features
his foundational research into the existence of the polar Hyperboreans and the elusive Agartthan portals.

In summary, novel writing research is laborious, necessarily detailed to provide consistency. It is performed before you begin drafting the novel and is constantly refined and researched as each chapter is written.

Zara Khatum, a woman haunted by ancient visions, finds herself drawn deeper into the heart of a perilous quest. Guided by a mysterious voice, she seeks to fulfill an ancient prophecy and find the cavern of blue light – a sanctuary rumored to hold the key to saving humanity. But the path to salvation is fraught with danger, and Zara is torn between her destiny and her heart.

A shadowy organization, known as NiQihs, seeks to exploit the power of the legendary black object, the source of Zara’s visions, for their own sinister ends. They are not alone. The world’s superpowers, driven by greed and ambition, race to control the artifact, threatening to unleash unimaginable devastation.

Joining Zara in this dangerous pursuit is Rachel Capsali, a brilliant Israeli archaeologist driven by a personal quest to uncover evidence of Asherah, a forgotten goddess who held a pivotal place in ancient Israelite faith. Unbeknownst to them, both women are bound by a shared destiny – a prophecy foretelling the cavern of blue light and a final, heartbreaking truth: two women will fight to the death, and only one will save us all.

Adding to the complexity, a passionate triangle forms as Rachel vies for Peter Gollinger’s affection, a man deeply entangled in the ancient mystery. Zara, torn between fulfilling her destiny and her own feelings for Peter, finds herself caught in a web of conflicting desires.

As Zara and Rachel navigate a treacherous landscape of hidden agendas, betrayal, and relentless pursuit, their rivalry for Peter’s affections intensifies. Can love survive the forces that threaten to tear them apart? Will the quest for salvation lead to a heart-wrenching sacrifice?

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Another dewdrop hits her nose. But this time, she does not wipe it off as it mingles with the drops from her eyes while she searches inside for the strength to remember that which remains unresolved in her life, with her family, with her destiny. Is he really the one? Should she reveal what should only be revealed to the one man who will bring her to her destiny?

A purse of her lips and she finally says, “Sara, my great-grandmother, she was our link to the wisdom of generations of spiritually inspired women before her.”

Still facing away from Peter, she says, “Sara liked you. She saw something in you when she first met you at that first dinner at her ancestral house when we were staging for our mission to retrieve the object.”

Turning back to him, she says, “Sara said to my grandmother Roza, her daughter, that you harbor the same light her husband, a Sufi imam, my great-grandfather, had within him when they first met.”

She points to his eyes. Blue ones which naturally go with his once-blond and now-sandy-brown hair. “Sara said the light is blue. The light we should seek is blue. The world thinks the light is white. But the one we seek, we yearn for, we die for, is blue. She so feared dying before she could find the blue light. For in the blue light, we shall return”, she said.

Peter, who knows so much trivia because he is an editor of all sorts of topics, papers, and books, is speechless until he finally mutters, “Blue? Where did that come from? I’m not getting the connection to the mystery of the ancient matriarch we solved.”

“As you had with your grandfather, your pappy, who entrusted you with an ancient family oral tradition, passed from mouth to mouth, from generation to generation, as far back in time as that temple, the world’s oldest temple, which our follies led to be destroyed, so there is a line of similar wisdom passed down in my family line. But through the women. Mother to daughter and to granddaughter.”

About the Author: Maxime has been scribbling stories since grade school, from adventure epics to morality plays. Blessed with living in multicultural pluralistic settings and having earned degrees in science and marketing, Maxime has worked in business and sports, traveling to countries across five continents and learning about cultures, traditions, and the importance of tolerance and understanding. Maxime’s second novel, The Matriarch Messiah, was conceived, outlined, written, and edited in different locations in Belgium, including the Turkish and Kurdish neighborhoods of Brussels, in various islands of the Caribbean, in Colombia, in Madrid, Malaga, Mallorca, Spain, London, UK, and on the two coasts of the United States.

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Boo’s Blue Poo and Goo by Toni Nelson – Spotlight and Giveaway

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

‘Give a helping hand to someone in trouble today and you will be richly rewarded!’

Diamonte De Dazzle (owner of the world’s most famous department store) read her daily horoscope and was puzzled. Who was in trouble?

Who, what, why, when and where? How on earth could she help?

She then encountered Boo, a homeless blue cat, trying to escape from TCC, the horribly horrible Cat Catcher. Boo was the only truly blue cat on the planet, so TCC intended on cat-napping and exhibiting her to become rich and famous.

(Evil laugh from TCC . . .)

The combination of an eccentric department store owner, as well as TCC, two snobby socialites, plus a fashion event which is unexpectedly and thoroughly thrown into chaos, is life- changing.

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Meet Boo: A sweet-natured, gentle, cuddly, affectionate cat—as well as being a gorgeously gorgeous cat! Few adults realized how lovely Boo was, because few adults would approach her. This was because Boo was blue. Blue! She was born blue, and the colour hadn’t faded … in fact, if anything, she seemed to grow ever bluer. Children liked her very much. They wanted to cuddle her, stroke her, and play with her. They knew she was simply a cat, no matter what colour she was.

Boo was homeless. She had to live on the streets of the city in all kinds of weather; sometimes she was freezing cold, and sometimes she was so hot she wished she could unzip her blue coat, take it off, and cool down. She was very wary of all the tall people who were constantly walking past her, but most people were so busy looking at their phones, or hurrying somewhere, that they rarely noticed her as she hunted for food.

As if that wasn’t enough, Boo also had to keep a look out for The Cat Catcher— known as TCC—an extremely grumpy man. Not only was TCC grumpy, but he was also a bully! He was employed by the City Council to remove stray animals from the city streets. Unfortunately, TCC had spotted Boo some time ago … and was now obsessed with catching her.

About the Author: Toni is Australian-born, considering herself extremely fortunate to have had parents who encouraged her love of books. Seventy years on, she is still an ardent reader.

(Thanks Mum and Dad.)

She enjoys writing, previously assisting in the production of a monthly community newspaper: The Bayswater Buzz.

This story is derived from a brief news report she watched some years ago, which has somehow morphed into this book.

She truly hopes you enjoy the story of Boo, the blue cat.

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The Search for Sasha Lockwood by Thomas Grant Bruso – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Thomas Grant Bruso will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Something is stalking the campgrounds at Pine Hill Creek.

Rumor has it that local folklore about the notorious Bigfoot is responsible for the mystery of a missing young woman.

When eighteen-year-old high school senior Sasha Lockwood vanishes without a trace while camping with her friends, fear and horror sequester a small community. Local and federal law enforcement officers begin an exhausting twenty-four-hour investigation of seventy acres of vast forest, looking for the victim.

The tight-knit community is in an uproar, horrified by these unexpected events. An unrelenting sheriff’s department and a media-savage system doggedly interrogate Sasha’s parents and close friends.

What happened the night Sasha Lockwood disappeared? Is it real or part of a cruel joke? Is Bigfoot responsible, or is something sinister at play in the deep, dark woods?

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Journal thoughts

I’ve got a secret.

I can’t stop thinking about my best friend, Annie Monroe. We’ve been friends since forever. I don’t know what I’d do without Annie. She’s not only a friend, but a decent, caring person. She is beautiful, artistic, and somebody I don’t ever want to lose.

We went swimming in her parents’ inground pool today. We ordered pizza and had a few beers. Her parents were out of town. So, it was refreshing to be alone with Annie. Finally. Usually, we see each other at school, while passing in the hallways or after ninth period study hall, or by our cars in the parking lot. Rarely are we alone, which I’d prefer. I love hanging out with her. She makes me feel good. We laugh and smile when we’re around each other. She makes me feel safe. I admire her self-deprecating personality and wise-cracking jokes.

It’s as if time stops when we’re together. Annie introduced me to her shoe collection and the new painting she’s been working on since the beginning of the school year.

She’s so talented, and everything she creates shines like the gorgeous high heels and charm bracelets and that great big smile she wears every day.

Her new pastel and watercolor painting is of Lake Champlain where we used to sit every weekend by the water’s rocky edge. She unveiled the final product to me last weekend when she invited me for a picnic by the lake.

She also told me she loved me more than a friend.

Hearing the words over egg salad sandwiches and potato leek soup (her signature dish) hit me like a hot skillet on the back of the head.

I was floored, speechless, and thrilled—all at the same time. I knew how I felt about Annie. And being around a person for so long only heightens those emotions. But I never knew how Annie felt about us. We’d never done anything sexual together, not even kiss, obviously.

Years ago, I struggled with my sexuality and my feelings for girls, especially Annie. I wanted to make a move and kiss her or hold her hand and tell her I loved her. But I was naïve and scared because I was unaware of her thoughts—whether she liked me the way I liked her or not.

What if Annie wasn’t sympathetic? What if she wasn’t a lesbian? What if my open-hearted discussion about love and romance spiraled out of control and left egg on my face? I didn’t want to ruin a good thing with Annie. Our friendship meant everything to me, like life or death.

I always wondered or worried that she’d notice how I looked at her when we were together, sitting by the lake, or walking by each other in the hallways at school, or during one of our sleepovers.

Annie Monroe is a stunning beauty, an eye catcher for both sexes. I almost drown staring at her peaches and cream complexion and losing myself in her illuminating blue eyes.

There is a sunset glow about her when you’re in her company. Life feels less lonely, unhinged. At least, for me. Reality blurs and all my problems vanish when Annie opens her mouth to talk, or smile. The way she curls the feathery locks of her hair around her earlobe weakens my soul in a wonderful way.

So, when she told me she loved me, more than a friend, I cried happy tears.

We held hands for the first time in public, by the lapping water, in the gathering dusk.

It was magical. Our relationship was more than just…friends.

Love is a powerful thing.

The way Annie and I love is unmatched by all the other romantics walking around: fighting, cheating, and living a lie.

We are happy together.

Our secret is safe with us.

About the Author: Thomas Grant Bruso knew he wanted to be a writer at an early age. He has been a voracious reader of genre fiction since childhood.

His literary inspirations are Ray Bradbury, Dean Koontz, Stephen King, Jim Grimsley, Karin Fossum, and Joyce Carol Oates.

Bruso loves animals, reading books, and writing fiction, and prefers Sudoku to crossword puzzles.

In another life, he was a freelance writer and wrote for magazines and newspapers. In college, he won the Hermon H. Doh Sonnet Competition. Now, he writes and publishes fiction and reviews books for his hometown newspaper, The Press-Republican.

He lives in upstate New York.

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Life in Rotations by Farid Yaghini – Spotlight and Giveaway

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

Farid Yaghini’s unforgettable memoir takes you on a journey from escaping persecution in Iran to rebuilding a life in Canada and serving on the frontlines with the Canadian military. Filled with humour, heart, and unflinching honesty, his story of resilience, redemption, and the founding of Camp Aftermath will inspire you to believe in the power of hope and human connection.

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On the fourth night, I woke to my mother shoving bread into my jacket sleeves. Everyone around us was scrambling, panicked. The smugglers were making their move. My mother, my two-year-old sister, and I were crammed into the back of an SUV, sitting on jerry cans. One popped open, drenching us in gasoline. The driver, cigarette in hand, barely seemed to notice.

Hours later, we stopped in the middle of the desert. Just as we climbed out, headlights appeared in the distance. Without hesitation, our smugglers jumped back into their vehicles and tore off, leaving us stranded in the open. We ran for cover, crouching behind a hill as the approaching vehicles roared past. Not border patrol—just more smugglers.

Separated from my parents, I was sent off with my cousins and a group of young boys. This should have been terrifying, but to seven-year-old me, it was an adventure. No rules, no bedtime. We hid behind restaurants, rode in the backs of pickup trucks, and dodged guards at the border. One smuggler, Shahpur, fascinated me—his hand always on the gun in his jacket pocket. The day he set it down on a car hood, I touched it, awed.

Weeks later, I was reunited with my parents. I hadn’t seen them in so long that I forgot to be scared. But when I overheard them whispering about never returning home, I finally understood. We weren’t going back to Iran. Ever.

About the Author
Farid Yaghini was born in Iran and fled to Pakistan with his family to escape religious persecution following the Islamic Revolution of 1979. At the age of nine, he immigrated to Canada as a refugee, navigating the confusion and frustration of adapting to a new way of life. Through it all, he carried a deep sense of resilience, hope, and an irrepressible knack for finding humour, even in the most challenging moments.

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A Murder of Convenience by Kathleen Buckley – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Kathleen Buckley will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Ellen Cuthbert’s husband, Randolph, is now the Earl of Keswick’s heir. Their marriage is a sham, and Randolph’s mistress, Lydia, is present at the house party. When she is found murdered in a locked room, all the evidence seems to point to Ellen. And how could the murderer have escaped the locked room except by witchcraft? Sir Hugh accompanies his cousin, a magistrate, to the scene of the murder. They investigate, appalled to find their childhood friend Ellen appears to be the chief suspect. Hugh’s lack of prospects years ago prevented their marriage. Now if he cannot find the real murderer, there may be only one final service he can perform for Ellen to spare her a slow death at the end of the hangman’s rope.

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Keswick strode to the door and spoke sharply to the footman who hurried away to return in a matter of minutes with two candlesticks holding tapers.

“Hold the candle for me, Hugh.”

Wallace knelt by the heap, which had been a woman. She lay on her left side, swathed in a night rail, its white linen embellished around its low neck and cuffs with white silk embroidery. The cushioned stool lay on its side at her feet. She must have been sitting there, ready to retire, when someone struck at least one hard blow. That much was obvious from the blood matting the side of her head, horribly visible against hair as pale as flax.

“You see the problem, Seaton.”

“Apart from the murder?” his cousin asked.

The earl gave an irritable grunt. “The scandal, man. No one in attendance at this affair is titled but myself, and all but she”—he jerked his chin at the corpse—“and a family of Cits are related to me in some degree. I can control them. The servants are another matter. Threaten as I may, keeping this quiet may be impossible. The best solution I can hope for is that the inquest finds she fainted or had drunk to excess and hit her head on the table.”

This was clearly a suggestion that Seaton should endorse one of these explanations. Hugh managed not to reveal his opinion of such fiddling with facts and legal procedure.

About the Author One day after coming home from first grade, Kathleen Buckley set about writing her own dictionary but quickly realized it would take too much time, so she read a book instead. Possibly Space Cat.

After a career which included customer service, light bookkeeping, working as a paralegal, and a stint as a security officer, she began to write as a second career, rather than as a hobby. Her first historical romance was written after re-reading Georgette Heyer’s Georgian/Regency romances for the tenth or twelfth time and wondering if she could do something like that. Apparently, she could, as her eleventh will be released on 3/24/2025. As a change of pace, it’s a murder mystery, but still set in the mid-1700s (but still with some romance).

Warning: no bodices are ripped in her romances, which might be described as “powder & patch & peril” rather than “Jane Austen drawing room”. They contain no explicit sex, but do contain the occasional den of vice and mild bad language, as the situations in which her characters find themselves sometimes call for an oath a little stronger than “Zounds!”

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