A Twist of Hate by TE Lorenzo – Spotlight and Giveaway

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

They love to hate each other…

Natalia is content with hating her co-worker, Adrian. The two can hardly stand being in the same room, despite having worked together for several months. When Natalia agrees to a trip out of town with a friend, little does she know that Adrian will be there, too. This is the time to crank up the hate, right?

The trip is not what Natalia thought it would be. Forced to spend time with her enemy, she finds there is more to Adrian than meets the eye. Will Natalia push aside her hatred and see the true Adrian?

With a twist of hate, just maybe…

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All Natalia could think about was another opportunity to get Adrian to speak to her before they wandered around the desert together. She thought the odds might be in her favor, considering she had overheard Denver mention that he and Adrian would leave for the airport immediately after their shift ended today. Vegas would be at the forefront of Adrian’s mind. Surely he would clear the tension that had grown so awkward and heavy between them before he left.

Further playing into her hands was the special seating arrangement drawn up for the day. Lopez assigned both Adrian and Natalia to desks on the suite level, and they’d be in the same row, four seats apart.

Once she saw this seating chart posted on Friday, Natalia knew she had to crank up the heat for the big day. She dressed in a form-fitting pencil skirt that cut off just above the knees, revealing the Speedy Gonzales tattoo just above her ankle. She had even shaved—in the winter—to make sure her legs were as appealing as possible.

Natalia also wore a blouse that revealed the slightest glimpse of cleavage. She questioned herself as she dressed earlier this morning, wondering why she was putting in so much effort into her appearance to get Adrian’s attention. She hated him, after all.

It’s not for Adrian. It’s for me. I’m freshly single, going to Vegas in two days, and life is good. I can get sexy all for myself if I want to.

About the Author: TE Lorenzo is the debut author of A Twist of Hate. Having lived through his own enemies-to-lovers story, he believes love can come from the most unexpected of places. When he’s not writing, TE is likely chasing his kids around, playing baseball, or relaxing with a good book. He is currently living out his happily-ever-after with his wife and three kids in their hometown of Denver, CO.

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The Making of a Horror Writer by Jack Lowe-Carbell – Guest Post and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jack Lowe-Carbell will award 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.

The Making of a Horror Writer

I think I would classify myself as such. Though Arlya has many different themes and genres present, coming of age, thriller, mystery, at the end of the day it is a horror novel. A tale of something horrifying happening to a family, a town. Most of my short story work is also in the horror genre so I believe I would have a difficult time calling myself anything else.

Anyways, back to the question at hand, what I believe the making of a horror writer would be. I believe one of course has to love horror. You have to be a little strange, to love the feeling of being scared. To read or watch something that gives you goosebumps. The feeling is powerful, to have an emotion you never usually get on a normal day, while safely in your bed or in a theatre.

I have had countless nights wide awake, staring at the closet as a kid, telling myself for sure, for sure there is something behind there that will crawl out any minute. No matter how badly I wanted to turn over, to stop looking at the place where I would see bony hand claw out from around the wood, I would stare. I still do it. I still wake up, and though I hate it, I imagine the scariest thing that could happen right then. Something crawling along the floor moving quickly out of sight to climb into my bed.
Then, I write it down. Use it as a scene, imagine a story around that one single moment of terror.

I believe you have to see things a little differently. Horror is an interesting genre because it is filled with people that were maybe born with a strange, haunting view of the world. I tell people about the scenes I imagine and they scoff, why would I want to think about those things. I think a horror writer allows these thoughts to enter their mind while most people push it away. I have to blame my dad for reading me scary stories and encouraging these thoughts. When we would drive to our cottage, down a dark winding road through the woods, we wouldn’t talk about the next day at the lake, the morning sun, the quiet that comes with the forest at night, we would talk of old women in nighties sprinting through the woods at us, of decrepit beings crawling out in front of our headlights. So yeah, maybe it’s his fault.

I think horror writers are a rare breed, those who do it well at least, and I am not saying I do, although I have had a few people tell me they can’t read my stories at night. Anyways, my respect to all of you weirdos out there who see things a little differently. Keep writing, keep reading, and keep listening to those things that go bump in the night, and imagine them a little more next time, because it might not be “just the pipes”.

Thank you.

Arlya, a small town in Southern Ontario, is rocked by a gruesome crime. Four friends must work together with Detective Dylan Grey to find a pattern, a bike, a clue, and a sister before it is repeated.

James and his three best friends, Owen, Tommy, and Mike, have just finished school for the summer. The plan is the same as every other year: they are going to build the biggest fort yet, deep in the Dhoon Woods. After stumbling across a tiny, seemingly unimportant wooden hut, a series of crimes take place and their plans change.

Arlya falls into itself. Doors are locked, curtains drawn, bikes are put away, strangers invade, and kids are off the street. In the first week of summer vacation, a dark and disturbing family history is uncovered; friends turn on each other; a storm rolls through town; and a monster is hiding just out of sight, smiling its toothy grin and crawling through the corn.

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One Friday night last summer, the four of them had left James’s house after his parents had gone to bed. They had biked around in the dark, briefly illuminated by the sparse streetlights looming over the side streets. Fog had drifted across the side roads; houses were barely visible through their covered lawns. Somehow, they wound their way to the bottom of Cemetery Hill.

“My grandpa is in there,” Tommy had said quietly.

They had looked out at the long blackness which rose menacingly above them. The trees at the top of the hill had been reaching toward the starry sky.

James had wanted to bike back. If he had left, the others would have surely followed suit. Mike had glanced at James waiting for his decision.

“My dad was supposed to be buried here,” Owen had said, his voice cracking, devoid of moisture.

The fog had continued to thicken around the four of them standing stagnant in the road, straddling their bikes.

About the Author:Jack Lowe-Carbell is a 26-year-old writer living in Vancouver, BC. Arlya is his first novel, and it is based in his hometown, Ayr, ON. Thanks to his dad, who read him horror stories when he was far too young, Jack has always loved the genre. His next novel is a tale of horror based in Garibaldi Provincial Park.

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Background of the Book by Nathaniel Koszer – Spotlight and Giveaway

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

Background of the Book

One aspect of Latency that seems to stand out to readers is the sheer amount of POV characters. There are six protagonists in total (Sera, Naren, Nadine, Edgar, Victor, and Symon) and three antagonists (Spidre, Captain Byron, and the androids, who are technically three separate entities but mostly operate together) and they all get their turns in the spotlight. It might surprise people to know that I always envisioned having this many characters, and in fact I am grateful to my publisher for letting me keep all of them. I just can’t imagine the story any other way, and the reason for this has very old personal roots.

My desire to be a writer is relatively new, maybe a decade old at most. Before that I was exclusively a science-fiction nerd, and before that I was a science fiction nerd and a daydreamer with a wild imagination. In elementary school, I would often get in trouble for not paying attention in class, it was because I was lost in thought, inventing my own little characters that eventually became the cast of Latency.

Elementary school Nate loved teams of superheroes. I watched the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles animated series religiously, played with X-men action figures, and read Animorphs books. I also loved learning about animals, especially bugs! So it made perfect sense that my first original characters, the ones that zipped around my brain during math class, were mostly themed around insects and arachnids. There were six “good guys” and three “bad guys”, and after two decades of digesting science fiction media whenever I could, those characters, now very different from their origins, can be found in my debut novel.

Here are the characters that elementary school Nate thought of. I encourage readers of Latency to try and figure out which character each of these became.

The “good guys”:

Firefly: Could fly, glowed, and had light based/blinding powers

Scorpion: Very physically powerful, and had stabbing pincers on each arm

Mosquito: Could fly fast, and delivered weaker blows but lots of them very quickly

Mantis: A fighter that dealt out fast, powerful blows

Wasp: Could fly but slowly, and had a forceful stabbing ability

Spider: The older leader of the group. Nimble and agile fighter but no other standout powers

The “bad guys”:

Spidre: Spider’s evil twin. The leader of the bad guys. I have a feeling this one is obvious.

Crony #1: This character and the next had names at some point, but for the life of me I can’t remember them now. They were the two non-bugs, and were comic relief bumbling evildoers (think Bebop and Rocksteady from TMNT) who worked for the big baddie Spidre. Crony number one one was huge and strong but very dumb.

Crony #2: This one was a scary looking robot with lots of gadgets, but got around on wheels and constantly fell/was knocked over.

I hope readers have fun figuring out which character is which as they read through Latency, and I look forward to seeing everyone’s guesses!

Sera is a LO-EC, a human who gained superpowers as an unintended side effect of a biotechnological breakthrough. Her unique abilities allowed her to survive while others like her, including her parents, were exterminated by a world government fearful of their potential.

After decades of hiding, she meets Naren, another superpowered survivor who has infiltrated the ranks of the military. Together, they form a plan to unite with other surviving LO-ECs, claim vengeance against the forces who murdered their families, and ultimately stoke a worldwide rebellion against the government that wanted them dead.

The entirety of 26th century Earth’s armed forces stand in their way: Soldiers equipped with terrifying weaponry, armies with electromagnetic cannons, merciless bloodthirsty androids, and Spidre, the World Leader with unnatural abilities of his own. The world brought Sera and the other LO-ECs pain and loss, and they’re determined to return it in kind.

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In the basement of a skyscraper hundreds of stories high, a constant shaking and groaning accompanied the cacophony of breaking glass and falling bricks from the street above. A man and a woman had spent the night here, fearing those sounds meant their building was on the verge of collapse. Finally, the sun rose and the sounds gave way to stillness. The death of the noises gave life to new fears, in that now the man and woman had to take action.

“Are there any sort of supplies on the cycles?” the man asked. He was bleary-eyed, his face was flush, and even the simple task of standing up seemed to be a struggle.

“I doubt it,” the woman replied, her expression as beleaguered as his. “And you’re sure there was nothing in these boxes?” she continued, glancing around the small storage room.

The man shook his head. “Just lots of cleaning supplies. And we can’t risk going back upstairs,” he replied. “I can’t even hear the big one lumbering around, that has to mean they’re searching another building. We need to move now. We’ll worry about supplies after we get out of New Orleans, and after it feels safe.”

The woman nodded and walked over to one smaller pile of boxes. She pulled them away and the room lit up in an orange glow. The boxes had been covering a young girl, no more than six years old, whose skin had trails of orange light swirling across her arms, legs, and face.

“We need to leave, sweetie. We’re going to find our cycles in the garage, Ok?”

The little girl nodded.

“Do you remember that woman? Alison?” she asked the girl. “Do you remember where she and her friends live?”

The little girl nodded slowly, while the man’s face furrowed with skepticism.

“If anything happens to us, you go straight to her. Do you understand?”

“She can’t go to them!” the man exclaimed in an elevated whisper. “They’re a bunch of fanatics!”

“They are, but they will keep her safe!” the woman responded.

About the Author: Nate grew up in Brooklyn NY, but now calls the Bronx home along with his wife and their sons. Nate grew up on all things sci-fi. Partly due to his chronic illness, Nate always had a special place in his heart for the X-Men, and especially the invulnerable Wolverine. This was heavy inspiration for his first novel, Latency a superhero sci-fi story to be released March 5, 2024.

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Happy Harry: A Magical Golden by Barbara Lampert – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a $30 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

In her dog memoir Happy Harry: A Magical Golden, psychotherapist Barbara Lampert, a lifelong dog lover, tells the story of her beloved Golden Retriever, Harry. Like her first dog memoir, Harry’s story comes from her mostly uncensored daily journal and takes place in Malibu, California.

Harry was a genuinely free spirit – wild, and very wolf-like. Did all this contribute to his being exceptionally happy? Perhaps.

Harry was not only the happiest being Barbara’s ever known, happy to the very core of him, but also the bravest. More than once in his life, Harry had to face true adversity, and each time, Barbara would look at him in wonder, not fully understanding how a being could be so brave and at the same time continue to be so happy.

Harry literally pranced through life, with a joyous attitude that made being around him like magic. Barbara fell in love with Harry. And as you immerse yourself in Harry’s story, it’s likely you will too! Happy Harry is unforgettable!

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I call Harry my calendar dog. Exquisite face. That’s what drew me to him when he was nine weeks old. Sounds superficial, but I thought his face was extraordinary. And this sounds superficial too, but I’d hoped his face would stay as gorgeous when he grew up. Well, it has. But you know, no matter what he turned out to look like, I knew I would love him tremendously. What’s inside Harry is amazing!

Harry is the happiest dog I’ve ever known. Genuinely happy, from the core of him. Mostly with a ball game. Harry can’t wait for the moment when he can go out to play.

The first few years with Harry were insane. He was a maniac, wouldn’t listen. Particularly when he was out of the house on a walk or at the big field at the nearby school. We tried every kind of leash and harness. We enlisted a dog trainer. Nothing worked. But little by little, he’s getting better. Still pays scant attention when we’re out of the house, but at least I don’t have the feeling he would run away. Though he’s never off leash when we’re out. Never!

Those first years were so chaotic with him that I was resigning myself to the possibility he might be a sociopath, because he seemed to not care about rules, listening, or consequences. I needed to accept him as he was. But now, at six, Harry has become incredibly devoted and loyal. Our wild wolf has settled into his pack.

I’m at work right now and can’t wait to get home and see Harry. Give him lots of kisses, get his over-the top joyful greeting with a soft toy in his mouth. Seeing Harry brimming with enthusiasm makes me so happy! I love him so much!

Harry’s adapting… But more than that, he’s still so joyful. His abundance of happy energy is so wonderful to be around. He’s still putting stuffed toy rabbits and balls in his mouth, particularly when he’s really happy. Still comes to me with even more enthusiasm and his head held even higher than usual when I say, “Hey Harry.” I love saying that to him, and Harry seems to love hearing it. I only use the “Hey” with Harry. It’s special, just for him. Something I started saying to him a few years ago. To me, it’s a way of emphasizing how cool Harry is. Yes, Harry is really cool, in the true sense of the word. Unafraid, carefree. Still.

Dogs are such special beings. I swear a big reason they were put on this earth is to teach us how to be.

About the Author:

My passion is dogs! I’ve had dogs most of my life and hope to have at least one by my side always. Dog energy is the best!

I’m the author of two dog memoirs: Happy Harry: A Magical Golden and before that Charlie: A Love Story. Each about one of my Golden Retrievers. (I told you dogs are my passion!)

I’m a psychotherapist, licensed for over thirty years, specializing in relationships.

I was a flight attendant for nine years. And taught sociology at several universities. I have two master’s degrees and a doctorate.

Gardening is another love – not as much as dogs, but right up there! I see my garden as a work of art and garden as much as possible in my free time. I love being in nature.

I live in Malibu, California with my husband David and, you guessed it, our two wonderful Golden Retrievers, Oliver and Henry.

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The Genesis of the Idea by Vyvyan Evans – Guest Post and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a randomly drawn winner a copy of the audiobook. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The Genesis of the Idea

The Babel Apocalypse imagines a future in which we stream language directly to neural implants in our heads. Today, we stream anything from movies, to books, to music, to our ‘smart’ devices, and consume that content. Smart devices use streaming signals—data encoded in IP data packets—encoded and distributed via wi-fi internet.

Given my background as a professor of linguistics, a “what if” question occurred to me: What if we also streamed language? And what would the consequences be for us as human beings, if we no longer had to learn it? What would we gain, and more importantly, what would we lose, if language became a commodity, controlled by big tech? Clearly, with recent developments in AI and Chatbots, this is no longer far-fetched.

Language streaming would work, in principle, in the same way as streaming wi-fi devices today. With a ‘language chip’ implanted in our brains, in the not-so-distant future we will be able to ‘stream’ language from internet-in-space on demand, 24/7.

Moreover, based on an individual’s level of subscription to a language streaming provider, they would be able to stream any language they chose, with any level of lexical complexity. This means that someone could, potentially, apply for a job in any country in the world, without needing to be concerned about knowing the local language. Rather, the individual would just draw upon the words and grammar they need, to function in the language, by syncing to a language database, stored on a server in space. And call it up, over the internet, in real time, as they think and talk. It means that everything someone needs to know, to be able to use a language, is streamed over the internet, rather than being stored in someone’s head. Language learning, thus, becomes obsolete.

Science fiction has a long and illustrious habit of predicting the future. In 1940, with his first in the Robot series of stories, Isaac Asimov predicted some of the ethical issues that would arise as artificial intelligence comes to have a more pervasive influence in our daily lives.

Today in the twentieth first century, we are on the brink of a Fourth Industrial Revolution, sometimes dubbed 4IR. This is where automation and connectivity, via the internet, will dramatically alter the way in which we interact with each other, as well as everything around us, in our increasingly joined-up technological environment. And I predict, in less than one hundred years from now, this new technology will transform many aspects of our daily lives that we currently take for granted, including language itself.

Indeed, in 2015, many of the world’s leading scientists, warned, in an Open Letter and accompanying report, against the new dangers of AI, as a consequence of 4IR. This Open Letter was issued in response to new breakthroughs in AI that, without adequate control, might pose short and long-term existential threats to humans.

But potential dangers come not just from the use of AI, in the sense of, for instance, The Terminator series of movies, in which AI seeks to wage war and destroy the human race. New implantable devices, that will enhance how we as humans can interact with our new tech-landscape, will also give rise to potential dangers. Language is, arguably, the single trait that is the hallmark of what it is to be human. And yet, in the near-future, language-chipped humans, or ‘transhumans’, will have enhanced abilities that bring new opportunities, as well as ethical challenges and even threats.

Language is no longer learned, but streamed to neural implants regulated by lang-laws. Those who can’t afford monthly language streaming services are feral, living on the fringes of society. Big tech corporations control language, the world’s most valuable commodity.

But when a massive cyberattack causes a global language outage, catastrophe looms.

Europol detective Emyr Morgan is assigned to the case. Suspect number one is Professor Ebba Black, the last native speaker of language in the automated world, and leader of the Babel cyberterrorist organization. But Emyr soon learns that in a world of corporate power, where those who control language control everything, all is not as it seems. After all, if the mysterious Ebba Black is to blame, why is the Russian Federation being framed for an outage it claims no responsibility for? And why is Ebba now a target for assassination?

As he and Ebba collide, Emyr faces an existential dilemma between loyalty and betrayal, when everything he once believed in is called into question. To prevent the imminent collapse of civilization and a deadly war between the great federations, he must figure out friend from foe—his life depends on it.

And with the odds stacked against him, he must find a way to stop the Babel Apocalypse.

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It wasn’t her cold beauty that marked out Ebba Black as unique—her chilling looks, as she called them—although her looks invariably made an impression on all who met her. Rather, it was the fact that she was the last nate in the automated world. That made her famous. Undoubtedly she was celebrated for other things too—Ebba Black the Babelist, the heiress, the conspiracy theorist, the charismatic professor. Maybe even the oddity. After all, Ebba was the last speaker of languages that would die with her. With Elias’s passing five years prior, she had no one left to speak them with. And Ebba Black would not marry. Commitment of that sort wasn’t her thing, and she would certainly never have children. You could say she wasn’t the maternal type.

Ebba knew she was unique in other, ineffable ways, too. For one, she listed things to herself, silently, in her head. Reasons to know me. Reasons not to know me. Reasons to hate me, to admire me. But not reasons to love me. Never that. That was forbidden. Ebba never allowed anyone to get that close.

Sometimes Ebba even indulged in one of her trademark waspish grins. To no one in particular, while she mentally scrolled through one list: reasons to kill. The list with the names. Her list of lists. The grin was the only outward sign she was performing a mental stock-take. It wasn’t good to be on that particular list. Ebba Black was neither the forgiving nor the tolerant type.

About the Author Dr. Vyvyan Evans is a native of Chester, England. He holds a PhD in linguistics from Georgetown University, Washington, D.C., and is a Professor of Linguistics. He has published numerous acclaimed popular science and technical books on language and linguistics. His popular science essays and articles have appeared in numerous venues including ‘The Guardian’, ‘Psychology Today’, ‘New York Post’, ‘New Scientist’, ‘Newsweek’ and ‘The New Republic’. His award-winning writing focuses, in one way or another, on the nature of language and mind, the impact of technology on language, and the future of communication. His science fiction work explores the status of language and digital communication technology as potential weapons of mass destruction.

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Balancing Life and Writing by Bernadette Marie – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Bernadette Marie 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.

Balancing Life and Writing

I have been writing nearly nonstop since I was in the seventh grade. It didn’t become a full time job until I was well into my thirties, but by then I had five busy kids and multiple businesses.

Gratefully, I’ve usually run my businesses from my home, which allowed me the opportunity to be with my kids. But, it became a game of making sure I could accommodate everything in my life.

I am a big list maker. Often it has been my lists that offer me time to accommodate everything I need to tend to. I know in order to output the number of books I want per year, I need to stay on track. So, writing usually started before anyone in my family woke up. And even though all of my kids have since moved out, I still keep this schedule. Tending to my words first thing in the morning gets those words into that book before I’m pulled in a million different directions.

I’m not only a big list maker, but I’m a time blocker. I block out my time per week. I know I have 168 hours each week to accomplish as much as possible, and to also take care of myself. I organize my tasks by writing, publishing, tending to my other businesses, family, friends, and myself. (Oh, sure, these are just a few of my categories, but you get the idea.) From there each area in my life gets a certain number of hours in which I work those tasks. It truly keeps me focused on not only getting everything done, but making sure that I have time for myself to exercise, spend time with family and friends, and to just veg on the couch.

I also believe in giving yourself grace. So if I choose to go to lunch with a friend, or go shopping with my mom and sister, I easily move those blocks around to allow myself that time to take care of myself.

When Will seeks to rekindle a flame with his ex-girlfriend, his best friend Monique reluctantly suggests a plan involving secret admirer notes to divert his ex’s attention. In a surprising turn, Monique finds herself infatuated with her new boss, prompting Will to reciprocate with anonymous tokens of affection. However, as the deceptive game unfolds, both Monique and Will come to realize that the heartfelt sentiments expressed in the secret admirer notes were their own true feelings. So, what happens if the plan works? What happens if it doesn’t?

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“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he says, his words slurred from champagne.

“Sure,” I say, letting my eyes close. “Can’t even imagine anything happy about it.”

“Cynical,” he teases, but I don’t have the energy to argue with him.

Lifting my head, I sit back in my chair, and scan a look over him. Will’s hair looks like he just rolled out of bed, but that wasn’t how he looked when he’d brought me home. Alcohol and stress has had him raking his fingers through it until now it stands on end.

Will is a handsome guy, though lacking in any fashion sense. He’s my ride or die friend, has been since middle school, and I adore him.

“Are you going home?” I ask, noticing his eyes blink slower, or maybe my eyes are blinking slowly.

“No. Since you begged me to drink away the old year with you, you’re going to have to let me sleep on your couch.”

I was hoping he’d say that. I don’t want him to leave. Tonight, I want the company.

“Do you think she’s home?” I ask.

Will leans his elbow onto the table, resting his head in his palm, and he watches me. I move to mimic him, placing my elbow on the table, and my head in my hand.

“She’s home,” he says. “I’m just afraid that maybe she’s not alone.”

I reach for his other hand, and lace our fingers together.

“You know your living situation makes no sense, right?” I say.

“I know that more than anyone,” he admits.

“I mean, who lives with their ex?”

About the Author: Bestselling Author Bernadette Marie writes contemporary romances and believes in Happily Ever After. The married mother of five believes in love at first sight, quick love, and second chances. An avid martial artist, Bernadette Marie is a certified instructor and holds a third degree black belt in Tang Soo Do. She loves Tai Chi, traveling to Disney parks, and having lunch with friends. When not writing, or running her own publishing house, Bernadette is probably immersed in a Rom Com, from which she will often quote one-liners.

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My take on Critique Groups by Lisa Ard – Guest Post and Giveaway

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

My take on critique groups

Critique groups are invaluable, but that doesn’t mean every critique group is valuable to every writer. If you’re committed to producing your best work, then be choosy when looking for a critique group. Consider the following tips for the best experience:

1. Work with other writers that write in the genre you write in.

Publishing expectations vary depending on the genre you work in. For instance, picture books have a particular page count and structure that stem from printing and book production. Young adult fantasy will have a longer word count than novellas, memoirs, or other forms of fiction. Non-fiction is a different beast altogether. Length is only one of the attributes that differ by genre. Critiquing within the same genre ensures that all writing partners are working toward the same goals.

2. Join the right size group

Each critique member will bring a unique perspective on your work. One person will hone in on the voice in your work. Another will have opinions on the point of view. Another might be expert in spotting showing vs. telling. You want enough helpers to round out the critique, but not too many that you’re infrequently up for review. What’s the right amount? That depends on the group composition, the operating rules of the group, and your expectations. As a general rule of thumb, I’d suggest 4-6 writers.

3. Be open to constructive criticism

Develop a thick skin. Whether you’re submitting an early-stage or polished piece, you’re looking to make it even better, which means someone’s going to tell you what’s not working. Remember that good critique partners want you to succeed. When you receive critique, you should leave inspired to get back to work–because you now know how to improve the submission.

4. Adopt a set of guidelines

Decide together how often each person submits for critique, an acceptable word count, how polished it needs to be, etc. Agree on a format for offering critique. My group likes the Oreo approach: start with what you like, outline ways to improve the piece, and wrap up with encouraging remarks. Another way to say that is: commendations, recommendations, and encouragement.

5. Be clear about the type of input you’d like

Help your critique partners help you by stating what you’re looking for. That might mean asking: Is the story arc apparent? How’s pacing? Do you care about this character? Is there too much backstory? Also be clear on what you don’t want. For example, when submitting an early draft, you might not care about punctuation or detailed line edits.

6. Take what you like, and leave the rest.

Listen for the consensus of the group. If everyone says you need to lighten up the backstory, believe it. If multiple people point out improving the piece by using more active (rather than passive) verbs, consider it. In the end, it’s your work, and you decide what changes you make and what you leave behind.

The 19th century women’s rights movement and the rise of public education intertwine with one woman’s story of struggle, perseverance, and love.

When her father dies and the family inn falls to ruin in 1882, western North Carolina, thirty-year-old Alice Harris is compelled to marry Jasper Carter, a Civil War veteran twice her age. Far from home and a stranger in a new family, Alice remakes herself. She learns to farm tobacco, mothers her stepson, and comes to love her husband.
However, Alice uncovers pending trouble with the family’s land holdings, which threatens their livelihood on the farm. The growth in Asheville promises a different future—one of manufacturing, transportation, tourism, and wealth. Alice believes this future demands an education and she rebels against the limited rural instruction. She joins forces with other women campaigning for Asheville’s first public schools. Her actions spark the rebuke of the Carter men.

Tragedy strikes and Alice’s newfound security is ripped away. The family challenges her property rights and files for guardianship of her stepson. Battered but determined, Alice turns to the law—and a friendly court clerk—to fight for her independence. Will Alice lose everything? Not if she can help it.

Lisa Ard’s debut historical fiction novel will resonate with readers for its parallels, between then and now, on women’s rights, inequality, and racism.

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The dressmaker probably saw every kind of bride—joyful, nervous, excited, even frightened, yet rarely two sisters on the same day and seldom ones of our advanced age. At thirty years old, I’d long since abandoned the idea of marriage. The War had ended when I was thirteen and with battlefields turned to cemeteries, the marriage prospects in the South had dimmed considerably. I didn’t favor the title spinster, but I valued my independence. Especially now, as it slipped from my grasp.

“Shorter, Miss Harris?” Miss Shackton asked. “You might wear it after the wedding.”

“Yes, thank you. It’ll make a fine church dress.” My cheeks warmed at the suggestion for thrift. My thoughts thundered over my family’s losses. A hastily arranged marriage to a man I barely knew was my only option.

While Miss Shackton circled to pin the dress’s hem, my eyes swept the neatly kept shop. It was narrow, not two wagons’ breadth across with a front counter crafted from a rich, dark slab of wood laid on top of postmaster shelving. The many nooks and crannies held the dressmaker’s tools of the trade: threads, spools, pin cushions, bolts of fabric, scissors, and more. The orderliness soothed me.

“I’m almost finished here. Be with you in a minute,” Miss Shackton announced to my sister.

Jennie slumped on a faded settee and dabbed her eyes with a damp handkerchief. She’d always been delicate and our rushed marriages, and that of our two sisters, Louise and Ina, didn’t help.

About the Author Lisa Ard is the author of the new historical fiction novel Brighter Than Her Fears, which is based on her great-great-grandmother’s experience in 19th century western North Carolina. Her previously published children’s books include Fright Flight, Dream Team, and the Kay Snow award finalist Saving Halloween. When not writing, Lisa enjoys reading, hiking, golfing and sharing her love of history as a bike tour docent with the Palm Springs Historical Society. She and her husband live (and golf) in both Palm Springs and Portland, Oregon.

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Alex by Dianne Hartsock – Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway

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Alex is twenty and confused. He always is. The world presses on him with its horrors and pain, with scintillating auras that bewilder his eyes and drive the migraines deeper. He hears the cries of the children, sees the brutal images of tortured victims. He feels out of control and his mind slips…

Severely abused as a child, he is left with horrible scars on his body and even worse scars within his mind. Even though it puts him in danger, he’s compelled to help those who call to him. He’s driven, motivated by his visions to rescue them and hopefully uncover the killer. When he can, he helps the police; yet some detectives suspect he’s involved. Often, Alex finds himself alone and afraid in a world he doesn’t always understand.

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“Hi.”

He jumped, spinning toward the voice. “Kyle.”

He had to look away. The young man’s white hair was loose, the blue tips catching the sunlight. The color was irresistible and drew Alex’s gaze back to it. As they walked, he stared at the fluttering strands in bewildered fascination.

Kyle was aware of his fixation and gave a secretive smile. “Here we are.”

They had walked some distance and Alex stopped abruptly, perplexed by the neighborhood he found himself in. They’d passed the college dorms and were on a street with rental homes for students. “What?”

“My house. Didn’t you say you’d look over my sketches?” Kyle searched his face. “Did you forget?” The gold flecks in his eyes unsettled Alex even more. He shook his head, unable to think. Kyle was all brilliant light and color, and Alex, in his exhaustion, was overcome by the visual stimuli. “I should go home,” he mumbled.

Kyle took his arm. “Come in just for a minute.”

Alex stumbled inside. A vague uneasiness fluttered in his stomach, but the thought of returning home was suddenly unbearable. He didn’t want to be alone with his fear. And though the horrible images had stopped flashing in his head, he was terrified he’d lose his mind if the images returned, and there was no one around to help him.

Kyle pushed him down on the couch and pressed a glass of wine into his hands. Distraught, Alex watched as he lit a few candles in the room, then drew a bulging portfolio from a cabinet. Alex settled back on the couch with a slight sigh of relief. Kyle hadn’t lied to him after all.

Kyle pulled a chair closer and opened the folder on his lap. He looked up. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Alex leaned forward for a better look. There was definite talent in the sure strokes and firm lines Kyle used in his landscapes. Just then Alex noticed the long fingers holding the paper, and a sudden awareness of the young man flooded through him. He drew back, confused by the unexpected desire leaping to life in him; he wanted those fingers on his skin. He pulled in a desperate breath, fearing the attraction was a warning his body misinterpreted. What was going on? He wanted to run away, but Kyle glanced up, captivating him. He’d always thought Kyle’s eyes were beautiful.

“Kyle,” he began, then his voice trailed off as the silver and blue of Kyle’s aura swirled around both of them. He followed it with his eyes to where it danced across the ceiling, losing the thread of his thoughts in the dazzling imagery.

He cried out when Kyle suddenly dropped the folder and grabbed his arms. The glass fell from his numb fingers and shattered on the hardwood floor. Alex watched, stunned, unable to move, as Kyle pulled a roll of gray tape from under the couch and bound his wrists.

Kyle leaned closer. “Hush. It’ll be fun.”

About the Author Dianne grew up in one of the older homes in the middle of Los Angeles, a place of hardwood floors and secret closets and back staircases. A house where ghosts lurk in the basement and the faces in the paintings watch you walk up the front stairs. Rooms where you keep the closet doors closed tight at night. It’s where her love of the mysterious and wonderful came from. Dianne is the author of m/m romance, paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind.

She now lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. Dianne says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee in her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

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The Spinster, the Rebel, and the Governor by Charlene Bell Dietz – Spotlight and Giveaway

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Move over Susan B. Anthony. There’s an unsung woman asking for the vote 224 years before you, and murderous rebels and bigoted gentlemen can’t prevent spinster Lady Margaret Brent from wielding her power to defend Maryland settlers from plunder and obliteration.

Lady Margaret Brent, compelled to right wrongs, risks her life by illegally educating English women, placing her family at risk. She fights to have a voice, yet her father and brothers exclude her from discussions. Worried the kings’ men may know of her illegal activities, she flees to the New World where she can enjoy religious tolerance and own land, believing she will be allowed a voice. Once in Maryland, she presents cases in provincial court where she’s hired as the first American woman attorney, but there she uncovers perilous actions, prompting her to build a fort to shield those within from being murdered. Can Margaret Brent’s integrity and ingenuity protect Maryland from being destroyed?

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The Wells girl covered her eyes with both hands. Margaret, ignoring the buzzing of flies and the damp heat of the morning sun, worked to untangle the girl’s words in her mind.

“If the river doesn’t take me, then I shall have my baby alone and will have to live with Master Cole, and I shall never see my dear Tom again.” With that, she burst into tears.

“You do not look like you are about to have a baby. Why do you say your time is up?”

“Master Cole brought me here four years ago. He said after I had worked for him for four years, I wouldn’t owe him a tad more, and now he says I can’t leave, and so I might as well marry him. Lady Brent. I worked hard from early morning until after dark every day, and my time is up. Even the devil would say this isn’t right.” She sniffed and looked away.

Margaret set her jaw. “Heaven help us if other masters here in Maryland treat their servants in this manner.”

“There’s nothing I can do.” She bit her lip. “I thought maybe the next time you talked with Governor Calvert you might say something on my behalf, and I pray my request is not one of cheekiness.”

“Mary.” Margaret called sharply across to the soap making group. “Would you please come here?”

When Mary finished saying something, she trotted over to the garden. “Hello, Carrie. Are you not feeling well—your face seems flushed?”

“So, you are acquainted with Carrie Wells?” Margaret studied her sister, slipped the basket from Carrie, and moved it into Mary’s hands. “She brought these for us and herbs to scent your soap.”

“Sometimes on Sundays after church Carrie walks with me in the woods and shows me barks, roots, and herbs that heal.” She glanced at the basket. “Why, these are lovely.” She glanced at the young woman, then put her hand on Carrie’s arm. “Are you still having trouble with Jacob Cole?”

“Jacob Cole is about to have troubles with her. Has Giles returned from Kent for Assembly today? Will both our brothers be at the meeting?” Margaret’s frogs roiled inside her.

How dare these men take advantage of their servants?

“I saw him and Fulke along with some other men heading to Lewger’s home earlier.”

“Come, Carrie Wells. We shall also attend Assembly.”

“But—Margaret,” Mary grabbed her arm. “Certainly, women would not be allowed—”

Margaret shrugged Mary away, snatched Carrie Wells by her hand, and stomped off down the path.

“Sister,” Mary called after her, “you must take off that filthy apron. You’re covered in soil.”

Margaret jerked it untied and slung it. “There is a difference between God’s soil and men’s dirt. Carrie Wells and I are about to sort this very thing out with all those fine gentlemen of Assembly.”

About the Author: Charlene Bell Dietz lives in the central mountains of New Mexico. She taught kindergarten through high school, served as a school administrator, and an adjunct instructor for the College of Santa Fe. After retirement she traveled the United States providing instruction for school staff and administrators. Her writing includes published articles, children’s stories, short stories, and mystery and historical novels.

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Mamacadabra by Carrie Monroe O’Keefe – Spotlight and Giveaway

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Starting her third year of marriage, Carrie Monroe O’Keefe had already been on the roller coaster of extreme highs and lows of a newly blended family. Thinking she could do a better job of navigating marriage, stepmotherhood, working full time, and all of the things, she embarked on a year of “what if.”

Settling into her role as wife and mom, she tried to find ways to do things better, see things differently, and reframe her thinking to create a better home for her family and to feel more at home herself. With humor, unwavering honesty, vulnerability, and sarcasm, Carrie finds her way through the year and to her true self.

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From Chapter: A Real Mom After All

No one can fully prepare you for the journey of being a stepmom. In the early days, I doubted myself daily, suffered from depression, considered divorce, and constantly questioned the meaning and viability of our relationship. My relationship with my little girls that is.

I had to look at the kind of mom I wanted to be and the kind of mom I actually was. Because we only have our little girls half the time, I was consumed with worry about what their life was like when they weren’t with us. However, this only led to me being too uptight, too rigid, and too crabby. When they came home, the worry subsided but then I turned into a crazy mom, constantly trying to have everything work perfectly. Which, obviously, isn’t a thing.

It took a while, but eventually everything just kind of fell into place. I stopped worrying what people thought about how I parent. I stopped caring whether others viewed me as one of the little girls’ moms. Most importantly, I stopped trying to compare myself to someone else. Finally, I decided I was one of their parents and I do, in fact, matter. I’m playing an important part in how these little girls will grow up, how they’ll turn out and who they’ll become. I am one of their moms.

About the Author:

Carrie Monroe O’Keefe started blogging about her life by sharing stories of marriage, stepmotherhood, and how to navigate it all on mamacadabra.com in 2012. People said they loved reading the posts, so she kept writing. In addition to blogging, she released her middle-grade fiction book, The Whole Truth, in 2019.

Carrie lives outside of Minneapolis with her husband, two daughters, and dog Finlay.

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