Harmony Kent's Blog, page 133
June 10, 2016
Leaving Shangrila
Hi folks! Today, I bring you author Isabelle Cecils and her memoir, Leaving Shangrila. Isabelle will be awarding a $30 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. For her other tour stops, please click on the banner above. And, be sure to leave comments and indulge in a bit of internet stalking for more chances to win! 
Leaving Shangrila: The True Story of A Girl, Her Transformation and Her Eventual Escape by Isabelle Gecils, is the captivating memoir of a charmingly complex heroine.
Isabelle paints a colorful world as she tells the tale of how she forged her own path in the midst of turmoil. The story, set in Brazil where she grew up, is populated with fascinating characters, both good and bad. From a narcissistic mother to her perpetually flawed lovers to three resilient sisters, Leaving Shangrila’s motley crew make for an endlessly intriguing storyline.
Leaving Shangrila begins with young Isabelle, trapped in a hellish world. Surrounded by lies, manipulation, and abuse, Isabelle is desperate to escape the adversity of this place. Filled with tremendous strength and an unyielding drive to survive, she begins her journey toward freedom and self-realization. Through the trials and obstacles along the way, Isabelle goes back and forth to balance who she is with what she must do to survive.
With themes of perseverance, self-reliance, and the resilience of the human spirit, Leaving Shangrila: The True Story Of A Girl, Her Transformation and Her Eventual Escape highlights the important character traits one discovers on the path to finding their self. Truly empowering and inspirational, readers everywhere will relate to this coming of age story.
Excerpt:
At the school grounds, my classmates cracked jokes about what happened during their afternoons together. They perched on one another as they traded stories and exchanged hugs. I heard about the English classes they took after school, their boat trips around the bays of Rio de Janeiro, the excited chatter that accompanied field trips I was never allowed to join. When the entire class decided to spend a lightly chaperoned weekend in Cabo Frio, a town with white, sandy beaches and coconut trees lining the boardwalks, my jealousy meter spiked. For two months, that is all anyone talked about. Since I did not even receive an invitation, nobody spoke with me.
I felt lonely observing them. I longed to be as adored as were the two most popular girls in my class: Isabela and Flavia. Isabela, despite the discolored white spots all over her skin due to type 1 diabetes, was the reigning queen. The boys swooned over Flavia, two years older than the rest of us although she repeated third and fifth grade due to her poor academic performance.
I observed these two girls, searching for what it was about them that made them special. Yes, they were both beautiful. While their beauty may have helped with their popularity, it surely was not the main factor, as there were other pretty girls too. I decided that what they had in common, what nobody else had, was that they were the best athletes in my class, even perhaps the best in all of the school.
Isabela and Flavia were always the ones everybody wanted to have on their team and as their friend. They were either team captain or the first pick. They seemed to try harder than everybody else. So I thought that if I truly focused on sports, then I could be just like them. If only I could excel on the handball field—as girls did not play soccer, despite the madness surrounding the most popular sport in Brazil—then maybe, just maybe, my social standing could change too. I made a plan. One day, I would be just as great as these two. One day, I would be chosen first.
The Making of Leaving Shangrila
By Isabelle Cecils
When I moved to the United States as teenager, I left my previous life behind.
From that moment on, I became a new person. I did not think about my past, did not talk about it, and did not think that I would ever feel compelled to.
But in 2004, my son was born.
By then, I had surrounded myself with friends and love, when earlier in my life I felt mostly alone and abandoned.
I found myself relatively successful professionally, using the financial security that it provided to mask that I grew up without means, often wearing tattered, stained clothing.
My travels around the world hid the fact that I had not been anywhere beyond the walls of a round house in the middle of a jungle in Brazil and its nearby town of Petropolis, until I first set foot in America.
Most importantly, I was the owner of my destiny, free to make choices that would keep both me, and now my newborn son, safe. A privilege that eluded me throughout my childhood.
It was hovering over my son’s crib that I felt the need to tell my story. I felt the calling to share with my son the story of the immense struggle to free myself from the circumstances where fate had placed me, that enable me to offer him a life free – to the extent that I could provide it – of fear, of lies and of loneliness. A gift that I had not been able to enjoy.
And I started writing Leaving Shangrila was born. I wrote this book in fits and spurts, when I found a moment among raising my family, building a business and having a life.
By then, I had a built an entire business focused on numbers and economic and business models. I can make spreadsheets sing! Writing? I had written various technical papers with the findings of my analysis, but that would not translate well into a book. So I applied to the Stanford Creative Nonfiction Certificate program, with the purpose of obtaining guidance on how to write a book I am proud of.
It would have been easy to give up on this project and on this journey. My life was so hectic with various responsibilities and little time. But the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write. The more of Leaving Shangrila I shared with my classmates at Stanford over the ensuing 2.5 years, the more excited I felt about the universal appeal of my story and the power behind its message: that irrespective of where comes from and the adversities they face, we can end up with a different, better life, by rejecting lies and dysfunction.
I learned that we climb mountains one step at a time. So, It took me years to publish Leaving Shangrila. Along the way, I learned that this story was meant not only meant for my son (who has read it multiple times now), but for anyone who ever felt compelled to live a life of their choosing, not the one others create for them.
About the Author:
Isabelle Gecils grew up in Shangrila, a remote farm in a lush jungle in Brazil. But who really knows where she hails from? Her immediate family hailed from 6 different countries: France (dad), Egypt (mom and grandma), Turkey (grandpa), Lithuania (grandpa) and Poland (grandma). There is a freedom in belonging nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
Leaving Shangrila is the story of Isabelle’s journey from a life others choose for her to one she created for herself. To support the writing of this memoir, Isabelle completed the Stanford Creative Nonfiction Writing certificate program. She currently lives in Saratoga, California, with her husband, four sons and two territorial cats.
LINKS:
https://www.facebook.com/IsabelleGecilsAuthor/
by 
June 7, 2016
Fueled by Lust
Hello and welcome to Harmony Kent’s place. Pull up a chair and make yourself comfy. There’s coffee in the pot and cookies (if you’re quick). It gives me great pleasure to welcome author Celeste Prater today, and her Erotic Romance novel: Fueled by Lust: Geleon.
Celeste will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. For her other tour stops, please click on the banner above. Visit as many as you can for more chances to win her Rafflecopter prize giveaway!
Hey! Yeah, you! Want in on a juicy secret? Geleon Thaice sure does. Why is the mysterious female of his dreams, wet or otherwise, constantly slipping through his hands? All he craves is to shower her with love and make her his own. Is that so bad? Is it just the fingers of fate doling out yet another allotment of misery upon his head? Or has destiny slyly laid a precise path that’s been waiting patiently for centuries?
Jaelyn Areeda just wants to peacefully survive another day, but the cosmos have her violently colliding with forces out of her control, falling into the capable, muscle-packed arms of a sinfully sexy alpha alien hell bent on inserting himself into her life… as well as her heart, mind, and soul. Will she run—or stay?
Book 9 in the Fueled By Lust Series doesn’t fail in delivering up another scrumptiously hunky male to whet your appetite, make you drool, and dare to love.
Excerpt:
Geleon’s head immediately turned and captured her lips again the second she’d uttered his name. He kissed her so passionately that Jaelyn unleashed a cry of discontent as he dared to lift away from her. Growly, strained words had her squirming in his arms.
“Your key … where is it?”
“Back pocket,” she croaked out.
He palmed both ass cheeks and squeezed before she felt his fingers digging into her pockets. They both looked over to watch his frantic attempt to shove the card into the little slot. He had no clue that his rumbling curses, repeated up-and-down bounces on his thick thigh notched between her legs, a broad palm steadily squeezing her ass, and his rich musky scent were sending her into a teeth grinding orgasm. He caught on quickly as his name shot from her throat, piercing the air. Their eyes locked.
Hands slammed down onto her hips, and he ground her against his leg, sensual heated words catapulting her into a mind-numbing level of pure ecstasy.
“Come on. Come on. That’s it,” he growled. “Show it to me. No. Don’t close your eyes. Look at me. Fuck. So beautiful. Roll your hips. Yes. Yes. Aw, I can feel the heat of your pussy on my leg.”
He began nibbling along her neck, hot breath sending a sheet of pebbles to race across her flesh.
“Ah, gods, you’re coming for me,” he rumbled. “That’s so fucking sexy. Feel how hard I am for you, Jaelyn.”
Her feet touched the ground, legs immediately buckling—only to be caught around the waist and held tightly to his side. She gripped his shirt, valiantly trying to kick-start her lungs. His body went perfectly still, and she felt him inhale deeply and slowly release. She vaguely registered the flash of green as he pulled the card and slammed his hand down on the door latch.
About the author:
I was born and raised in a small town between Dallas/Fort Worth and Austin. Wanting to see more than her small Texas town, I joined the Marines, which satisfied my craving to see more of the U.S. and my drive to see if I could be one of the few and the proud.
A firm believer in educating the mind, I’ve achieved several advanced degrees, the latest being a master’s of science.
My true love is writing erotic romance, especially about alien hunks that know how to treat their females. Drusus, Severus, Cato, Lucien, Caelius, Maxim and many more have swirled in my dreams until I had to bring them to life and allow them to find love within the pages of the Fueled by Lust book series.
Book 1 DRUSUS was nominated as Top 5 Finalist and placed 3rd in the 2014 RWA Passionate Ink’s 9th Annual Passionate Plume Book Contest in Erotic SciFi/Fantasy Category, Book 2 SEVERUS achieved BEST BOOK review rating and won April 2014 BOOK OF THE MONTH Reader Poll at LONG AND SHORT REVIEWS, Book 3 CATO won the May/June 2014 BOOK OF THE MONTH, LUCIEN won the September 2014 BOOK OF THE MONTH, and MAKAR AND BARUCH the SEPTEMBER 2015 BOOK OF THE MONTH Reader Poll at LONG AND SHORT REVIEWS. All currently released books in the series have made it into the Top 5 Bestseller Lists at Bookstrand.com within days of release as well as making it into the Top 10 Hottest New Releases in Erotic Science Fiction on Amazon.
I would like to give a big shout out to my gorgeous model, Anthony Zuniga, and the awesome cover photographer, David Erickson. You can catch Anthony on Instagram @anthonyzuniga1_ and David at @david_erickson8.
Buy Links for Book Series:
Releasing 5/24/2016 exclusively at www.bookstrand.com/celeste-prater and 6-8 weeks later at major retailers.
Bookstrand http://www.bookstrand.com/celeste-prater
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Celeste-Prater/e/B00H5Y36N2/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1410962247&sr=1-2-ent
Barnes & Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/celeste-prater?store=allproducts&keyword=celeste+prater
KOBO http://prod-www.kobobooks.com/search/search.html?q=celeste+prater
ITUNES https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/fueled-by-lust-drusus/id826723786?mt=11
You can find Celeste at:
Website http://www.celesteprater-romanceauthor.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/Celeste_Prater
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Celeste-Prater-Erotic-Romance-Author/181230038723758
Instagram http://instagram.com/celestepraterauthor
Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/celesteprater/
YouTube https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCudyD1KXoknydE443MWe5mA
Google+ https://plus.google.com/118162420222320764665/posts
Tumblr http://celesteprater-author.tumblr.com/
by
June 6, 2016
A Bonanza of Contemporary Romances
Hey everyone! Great to see you today. We have an extra special treat with not one but four Contemporary Romance authors and their novels, yay!!
We have Could this be Love? by Lee Kilraine, Not Second Best by Christa Maurice, Spooning Daisy by Maggie McConnell, and Working It by Leah Marie Brown.
The authors will be awarding digital copies of all books on the tour to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please click on the banner for their other tour stops, and be sure to comment and enter for more chances to win!
Could this be Love?
Everyone in Climax, North Carolina, knows the Cates brothers. But Sijan Cates is famous far beyond his quaint hometown–and when he comes back, he brings trouble with him. . .
Avery Danford urgently needs to get back in touch with her estranged family. If only she could get her picture in the papers, maybe they’d track her down. . .and what better way to accomplish that than to squeeze into the world’s tightest dress and cozy up to the world’s hottest actor, Sijan Cates? It’s a crazy idea, but it just might work. And though the former actress has sworn off Hollywood hunks, she’s got to admit this desperate measure might be a pleasure. . .
Scandal-plagued Sijan has come home for some peace and quiet–and to stay out of the tabloids. Then a woman claiming to be his number-one fan plants a hot kiss on him–in front of a pack of paparazzi. There’s only one way to protect his reputation: tell the world they’re engaged. It’s all just a show, as they use each other to get what they need. But in this sleepy Southern town, love stories have a way of coming true. . .
Excerpt:
“All right, let me see if I have the latest scandal straight.” Sijan Cates sat with his older brother in Dave’s Diner, a former passenger train car turned restaurant. There were two main entrances, one at each end of the car. Booths snaked around the front of the diner next to the front windows while a sit-down counter sat in front of a cramped but ruthlessly clean kitchen. Dave, the owner and cook, was known for his biscuits and homemade blackberry jam, and his burgers. That’s it. Ordering anything else on the menu was like playing Russian roulette with your stomach. But if you wanted biscuits and jam, a burger, or all the most up-to-date gossip, the diner was the place to eat.
“Hell, Ty, I came home to get a break from it.” He frowned across at his brother, but of course, it had no effect.
“It says here in The Tattler you got a sweet young thing pregnant and then dumped her.”
“I did not get a sweet young thing pregnant. I’ve never even met that sweet young thing. Hell, if I slept with even half the women the tabloids claim I do, I wouldn’t have time to get out of bed, let alone make movies.”
“According to them you’ve got a revolving door on your bedroom with a ‘Now Serving’ ticket machine attached to the wall next to it.”
Sijan leaned back as their waitress, Renee, slid steaming mugs of coffee in front of them both. “Renee, run away with me and save me from all this.”
“Sijan, if I weren’t having hot flashes, I’d be just another crazy woman trying to get a piece of you.” Renee tucked her serving tray under her arm and wagged a finger at him. “Now, your latest scandal’s got the Grapevine stirred up. I don’t think the Simon sisters can take the excitement.”
“Those ladies can handle anything. Besides, they’ve seen this before. Remember four years ago when an ex-girlfriend tried the same thing?”
“Thank goodness for DNA tests and poor math skills.” Tynan grinned. “She sure didn’t account for your six months of filming in Prague. You do attract the crazy.”
“It’s Hollywood.” Sijan’s muscles tensed at the memory. “Too many people can make money off you. I’m just an ‘opportunity.’ An opportunity to get a script read, a part in a movie, or free publicity.” “Or generous child support payments for the next twenty years.”
“Hey, I’ve dated some nice, normal women. Once I learned to steer clear of actresses.”
About author Lee Kilraine:
A former Air Force spouse, Lee Kilraine moved seven times over eighteen years before finally settling with her husband in the pine woods of North Carolina. She has worked as a physical therapy aide, a cashier, a waitress, an English tutor, a ballet teacher and a stay-at-home mom. Holding tight to her mother’s motto, “There’s nothing you can’t do if you try hard enough,” Lee returned to college as an adult and graduated from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. Writing thirty-one papers in two years (she counted) rekindled her love of writing, and she set her sights on her other dream—writing romance. When she isn’t swinging on her front porch swing or watching another of their four young adult children leave the nest (she swears she isn’t pushing them out!) you can find her typing away on her computer with her golden retriever, Harley, destroying something at her feet. Lee is a 2014 Golden Heart® Finalist.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31749
https://www.facebook.com/LeeKilraineAuthor
https://twitter.com/LeeKilraine
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Not Second Best
As a lawyer at Touchstone management, Tessa’s position brings her up close and personal to some of the world’s biggest heartthrobs. Sometimes that intimacy crosses professional lines, which is understandable considering Tessa’s impressive contact list. But when rock star Brian Ellis set her aside for the girl of his dreams, Tessa can’t help wonder if “spinster aunt” is her true vocation. Which explains her hook-up with rising star Brett Cherney at Brian’s celebrity wedding . . .
As the lead singer of BroRide, Brett has lived the rock-n-roll bad-boy lifestyle to the very hilt. But when the girl of his dreams marries fellow rocker Brian Ellis, he buries his disappointment in the arms of an older woman. The following morning, Brett realizes what he experienced was only the beginning of a song he’s been trying to write all his life. It’s a seductive theme, which Tessa falls for again and again, but getting her to believe they have a hit is turning out to be far from a sure thing . . .
Excerpt:
Tessa walked outside, maintaining her happy expression past the knot of smokers by the door. This wedding shouldn’t bug her so much. Brian had gotten over his crush on her years ago. Shit, he’d been married before. She’d fallen off his pedestal a long time ago.
So why did this marriage seem like the end of the world?
Suzi made a beautiful bride. One of her friends had designed the simple white gown for her. Ribbons of rainbow colors started as faint pastels across the bust and gained intensity as they wrapped around her body and down the back of her dress until they formed a brilliant train. Daisies wound through her upswept hair and complemented her pretty, sweet face. Brian looked rather sharp, too, in his white tux, open at the throat. His best accessory, though, had to be the expression of utter joy in his eyes.
It made Tessa want to puke. Not because they were happy. No, never that. Brian deserved to be happy. Suzi did, too. Apparently, everyone deserved to be happy. Except her.
“Nice show, huh?”
Tessa glanced at Brett who’d wandered up beside her at the overlook. Or maybe she’d wandered up beside him. The ocean smashed into the cliffs below as if it held a grudge against her. “Yeah. They look really happy.”
“She’s the Holy Grail,” Brett said. He leaned on the guardrail, fiddling a cigarette between his fingers. “She was a total mess when she left Logan last year. I took her out to this place I go to. Never laid a hand on her.”
Tessa nodded. Why did he think she should care? Everybody knew he’d pulled Suzi out of the party where she’d broken up with her last boyfriend, Logan, nearly a year ago. Tessa had been one of many people trying to figure out where the hell they’d gone for weeks before Suzi had reappeared at Jason’s West Virginia place. “You’re a big damn hero.”
About author Christa Maurice:
Christa Maurice has been obsessed with rock stars from early childhood when her older brother started randomly quizzing her on rock trivia. How many first graders know who the headliners were on the Black and Blue Tour? Christa did. (Black Sabbath and Blue Oyster Cult.) When not listening to music and/or writing, she enjoys traveling, reading and science fiction. Readers can find Christa on Facebook, and visit her website at christamaurice.wordpress.com.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/29516
https://www.facebook.com/ChristaMauriceWriter
https://twitter.com/christamaurice
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Spooning Daisy
Her mango chutney is exquisite; her blueberry sauce is to die for. But right now, Chef de Cuisine Daisy Moon is a woman without a kitchen–and without a fiancé. Unceremoniously dumped from her place of business and her relationship, Daisy sells her belongings, plus a few of her ex’s, and packs her bags. Maybe smashing all the china in her former restaurant was a bad move. Stripped of her Golden Spoon for “un-chef-like” conduct, she is now blacklisted all over Seattle. Her sole job offer is from the Wild Man Lodge. . .in Otter Bite, Alaska.
Too bad Daisy can’t even get out of Dodge without incident. By the time she boards a ship for Alaska, she’s got a trail of new troubles behind her, and suddenly Otter Bite is sounding pretty good. But the vessel turns into her own personal Titanic when a series of close encounters confirms her terrible taste in men–including one very good looking bad luck charm named Max Kendall. She vows to dedicate the rest of her days to chowders and brulée. Yet even Alaska isn’t far enough away to shake the memories of the sexy shipmate who rocked her cabin–and her world. Thank goodness she’s done with surprises–but they may not be done with her. . .
Excerpt:
Daisy turned to a stout woman who held a Kelly-green midcalf skirt and matching short jacket. Daisy loved that suit—it perfectly complemented her Irish genes—but love wasn’t a good enough reason to keep something that squeezed the breath from her. “Size six.”
“Is there some place I could try it on?”
“Try it on . . . ?” Daisy imagined popped buttons and exploding seams.
“I’ll handle this,” Charity Wagstaff whispered, coming through the milling browsers. “You take care of Cruella.”
Daisy shot her eyes toward the heavens.
“But remember,” her best friend softly chided, “you’re turning the page, moving on, taking risks. You’re letting go—”
“I know, I know.” Forcing a smile, Daisy attended to the brunette. “Make me an offer.”
“Ten bucks.”
“Ten bucks? That’s a Lladró!”
The brunette stared impatiently, as if she were tapping a foot. “It’s a limited edition and it cost $275 last year. They’ve probably broken the mold.”
“Well, if it’s so valuable, why’re y’ selling it?”
Because it was meant to crown the top layer of a fabulous, fivetier Amaretto wedding cake . . . “Because I’m moving,” Daisy said instead. “And I don’t have the room.”
The brunette yawned.
About author Maggie McConnell:
Golden Heart nominee Maggie McConnell spent her childhood in Asia and South America as the daughter of US diplomats. Attending college in Illinois, she earned a BA in Art and an MBA while working at the local animal shelter. At 26, she packed her dog and cat into a Ford truck and drove the Alcan Highway to Alaska, where she spent 23 years exploring The Last Frontier in single-engine Cessnas. An animal-rights advocate and vegan, Maggie provides a sanctuary on her Arizona ranch for all creatures great and small. Her compass still points north.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31732
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Working It
With her trust fund and coveted job at Christian Dior, Fanny Moreau believes she has it all. But when her best friend finds a fulfilling new career abroad—and a dreamy relationship with a great guy, Fanny’s fabulous life suddenly feels empty. Inspired to find her true purpose, she trades her cushy lifestyle in San Francisco for an adventure in the Alaskan wilderness.
Everyone thinks Fanny has gone off the deep end. What’s a girl with a Ph.D in Prada doing teaching in an Inuit village? Even Fanny is wondering, especially when she comes face to face with Calder MacFarlane. The Scottish search and rescue pilot is everything Fanny is not—selfless, heroic, and used to living on the edge. He’s also the man who once loved her best friend. Yet something in Calder’s sexy gaze has her believing that she’s a woman capable of great things—a woman who might just find her own happily-ever-after, in a place where she least expects it.
Excerpt:
The worst day of my life started with an unfortunate spritz of perfume.
Every tragedy can be traced back to one fatal mistake, one seemingly insignificant miscalculation that sets into motion a series of small blunders resulting in utter catastrophe.
Take James Cameron winning the Oscar for Titanic over Gus Van Sant for Good Will Hunting. If the Titanic’s wireless operator had known how to work the Marconi efficiently, he might have translated the warning messages about ice in the area, the unsinkable ship would have remained afloat, and James Cameron wouldn’t have won the Oscar for a hopelessly insipid movie.
If Christian Lacroix had added jet beads to his pared-back coat dresses and peplum skirts, his ’09 Fall Collection might have been the buzz of the season; instead, fashion editors and snarky bloggers lamented the loss of his talent.
One seemingly insignificant snowball-sized mistake starts its journey down the mountain, and before you know it, a shit avalanche is descending upon you.
About author Leah Marie Brown:
Leah Marie Brown has worked as a journalist and photographer. An avid traveler, she has had adventures and mishaps from Paris to Tokyo. She doesn’t buy cheesy tee-shirts or useless bric-a-brac, but prefers friendships and memories as souvenirs from her travels. She lives a bike ride away from the white sand beaches of Florida’s Emerald Coast with her husband, children, and pampered poodles. She is hard at work on the next novel in The It Girls series, but loves to hear from readers. Please visit her website at www.leahmariebrown.com Follow Vivia on Twitter @Chic_Traveler and Pinterest as Vivia Perpetual Grant, Perpetual Virgin.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31669
http://www.leahmariebrown.com/
https://twitter.com/leahmariebrown
https://www.facebook.com/leahmarie.brownauthor
WORKING IT: amazonkindle, Apple, Google, Kobo, Nook
COULD THIS BE LOVE: amazonkindle, Apple, Google, Kobo, Nook
NOT SECOND BEST: amazonkindle, Apple, Google, Kobo, Nook
SPOONING DAISY: amazonkindle, Apple, Google, Kobo, Nook
by
June 5, 2016
Cozy Mysteries
Hello and welcome to my place! I am delighted to bring you Lyrical Press’s Cozy Mysteries today with authors Lynn Cahoon and Janet Finsilver.
The authors will be awarding digital copies of all books on the tour to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please click on the banner above to visit their other tour stops for more chances to win, and don’t forget to leave a comment!
Tea Cups and Carnage, by Lynn Cahoon, Mystery
The quaint coastal town of South Cove, California, is all abuzz about the opening of a new specialty shop, Tea Hee. But as Coffee, Books, and More owner Jill Gardner is about to find out, there’s nothing cozy about murder . . .
Shop owner Kathi Corbin says she came to South Cove to get away from her estranged family. But is she telling the truth? And did a sinister someone from her past follow her to South Cove? When a woman claiming to be Kathi’s sister starts making waves and a dead body is found in a local motel, Jill must step in to clear Kathi’s name–without getting herself in hot water.
Excerpt:
Limping home, I saw Greg’s truck parked at City Hall. I went in through the side door that took me to the police station. Amy kept going, heading home to shower before returning to her job as city hall receptionist.
Greg stood by Esmeralda’s desk and raised his eyebrows when he saw me. “Rough workout? I’m glad I was too busy to go today.”
“Oh, you’ll get yours. Don’t think demon trainer didn’t notice you were gone.”
“Okay. So why are you here?” He pushed a curl back out of my face. “Too far to walk home after the workout?”
“You’re just mean, you know that right?” I sank into the couch. It did feel amazing just to veg for a second or two. Okay, so Greg could have been right about my real motives for the impromptu visit. “Actually, I wanted to know about your call-out last night. I’m assuming this was a murder and not an old guy dying in his sleep.”
“And you deduced that from?” He watched me closely.
Shrugging, I sank deeper into the cushions. No wonder Greg didn’t mind sleeping in his office every so often. The couch was amazing. “No one blabbed, if you’re thinking of blaming Toby. You didn’t call, and you’re still wearing last night’s clothes.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. I guess I’m more transparent than I thought. We don’t know much about the murder, except the guy checked in a few days ago under a false name. Of course, the motel doesn’t ask for any verification or even a credit card. Cash only out there.”
“So he’s not a local.” For some reason, this made me feel better. Sure, it was sad someone had died, but people died all the time. I just didn’t want it to be one of my friends.
“Not that I can tell. But I think it’s the biker who’s been racing up and down Main Street. He fits the description.” Greg shrugged and grinned. “And, there’s a bike parked outside his room. Yep, I’m a trained investigator, I notice these things.”
“Big guy?” I thought about how the elderly woman had almost been smashed by the rider just a few days ago.
“Nope. He’s tall, maybe six feet, but if he weighs more than a hundred fifty soaking wet I’ll buy you dinner.” Greg groaned as he stood and walked across the room to his desk. He pulled me to standing. “I hate it when you do that.”
“Do what?” Now that I was upright, my stomach growled reminding me I hadn’t eaten all day. I dug into my tote and pulled out a protein bar.
“Trick me into telling you more than I should.” He pointed to the door. “Out of here. I’ve got work to do.”
I took a bite of my protein bar as I walked out. Pausing at the door, I turned back to look at him. He was already typing into some document. “I take it I won’t see you for dinner?”
“Not tonight. But I’ll be over on Sunday at the latest.” He paused. “Are you working the festival that day?”
“Just the morning shift. We’re closing the main store and only running the food truck that day.” I adjusted the strap on my tote, feeling the weight on my screaming shoulder blade. I walked out of the office and wondered how bad the murder had been. Just because it was a stranger that lay in the morgue, didn’t mean someone from South Cove hadn’t been involved or known the guy.
Or why else would he have been here?
About the Author:
New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Lynn Cahoon is an Idaho expat. She grew up living the small town life she now loves to write about. Currently, she’s living with her husband and two fur babies in a small historic town on the banks of the Mississippi river where her imagination tends to wander. Guidebook to Murder, Book 1 of the Tourist Trap series, won the 2015 Reader’s Crown award for Mystery Fiction. Visit her at www.lynncahoon.com
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author...
https://twitter.com/LynnCahoon
https://www.facebook.com/LynnCahoonAu...
Buy links:
TEA CUPS AND CARNAGE: amazonkindle, Apple, Google, Kobo, Nook
MURDER AT THE MANSION: amazonkindle, Apple, Google, Kobo, Nook
Murder at the Mansion, by Janet Finsilver, Mystery
Fortunes, fineries, and foul play . . .
It’s whale-watching season in Redwood Cove, and B&B manager Kelly Jackson’s battening down the hatches for the tourist rush at Redwood Heights—a Victorian-style estate owned by her boss. And due to recent jewelry thefts, her duties include keeping track of the many dust-covered artifacts spread throughout the property. But when Kelly finds Sylvia Porter’s lifeless body, menial tasks don’t seem so terrible.
Enlisting the help of a ragtag group of brainy retirees, aka the “Silver Sentinels,” Kelly’s on the hunt for clues hidden behind the mansion’s glamorous façade and for a killer who may want to make history of her next!
Excerpt:
“Welcome, everyone. My name is Lily Wilson, and I’ll be leading the tour today. If you have questions, please don’t hesitate to ask them. There’s a sign-in sheet on the check-in counter. We’ll be starting at one o’clock, which is in five minutes.” She turned in my direction and said, “I’d like to introduce the manager of one of Resorts International properties, Kelly Jackson. She’s in charge of Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast.”
The members of the group smiled an acknowledgment. A short man in a denim shirt and khaki pants raised his hand. Lily smiled at him and asked, “Is there something you’d like to know?”
He pointed to the entrance to the parlor. “What is that shield above the doorway?”
“Redwood Heights was built by Reginald Brandon. That’s the family coat of arms,” Lily said. “There is an official Brandon crest on file. However, Mr. Brandon wanted to design his own to reflect life in the West. On his shield he chose to put the silhouettes of two rearing stallions, symbols of strength. Rifles instead of swords crossed over the top of them—the weapons of that era. Tall redwood trees filled in the area behind them and were the source of his wealth. You can see his motto for loyalty and honor on the banner.”
I enjoyed her explanation. It added another dimension to an object that had just been an interesting piece.
A tall woman with a long brown braid down her back pointed to a picture. “Is this Mr. and Mrs. Brandon?”
“Yes, that picture is of the Brandons,” Lily replied. “The woman in the picture is the second Mrs. Brandon. As with many wealthy families and historic estates, there are questionable stories in their past. Redwood Heights is no different.”
“How so?” asked the woman.
“We don’t have any pictures of the first Mrs. Brandon. She was the belle of glittering New York high society who found herself in remote Redwood Cove. She disappeared not long after arriving. Some say she ran off with a lover. Rumors cropped up that she took a sizeable amount of Brandon’s money, changed her name, and left to enjoy San Francisco’s growing attractions.”
The cadence of Lily’s voice took the story beyond a runaway wife. Her tilted head and arched eyebrow led you down a path of mystery and intrigue. The visitors moved a little closer.
Lily leaned toward them and whispered, “Some say she never left at all.” Her words lingered in the dead silence.
Everyone was still—frozen in that past time. Goose bumps popped up on my arms. Someone coughed, and the spell was broken.
“After a time, Brandon married again. They had no children and, alas, the house went to a distant cousin.”
I’d been mesmerized by the tale. Snapping out of it, I looked around. Sylvia still wasn’t there.
“The tour will meet in the parlor. Restrooms are down the hallway to your right,” Lily instructed the group.
I walked up the carpeted stairs to the second floor, running my hand over the smooth oak railing. It had taken hundreds of polishings to develop the fine patina and rich glow.
Sylvia’s room was the first door at the top of the staircase. I knocked quietly. When there was no response, I knocked harder. She must really be a sound sleeper. I tried the door, but it was locked. I rushed downstairs, retrieved her room key, and glanced at my watch. If Sylvia hurried, she’d still have time to make the start of the tour. Arriving back at her door, I knocked again.
“Mrs. Porter, it’s Kelly. The tour is starting in a couple of minutes.” I got no response, so I unlocked the door and peeked in. Sylvia was sitting in front of her dressing table, her back to me.
I opened the door a little farther. “Mrs. Porter?” I stepped inside the room. In the filtered light from the curtained windows, Sylvia’s image reflected in the mirror. Her eyes were closed, and her head rested on her shoulder. She must have dozed off before making it into bed for a nap.
My attention was drawn to a brooch on the left side of Sylvia’s blouse as I approached her. I hadn’t noticed it before. It was a lovely piece—a large egg-shaped pearl surrounded by a burst of red.
I touched Sylvia’s shoulder. No response.
“Mrs. Porter?” I gently shook her.
Sylvia’s head rolled forward and hung down. Her dangling hair covered the side of her face.
I gasped, and my heart began to pound. I looked more closely at her. The burst of red wasn’t part of a pin—it was blood.
About the Author:
Janet Finsilver and her husband live in the San Francisco Bay Area. She loves animals and has two dogs—Kylie, a Rhodesian ridgeback, and Ellie, a boxer/coonhound mix. Janet enjoys horseback riding, snow skiing, and cooking. She is currently working on her next Redwood Cove mystery.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31695
https://www.facebook.com/janetfinsilverauthor/
https://twitter.com/JanetFinsilver
Buy Links:
TEA CUPS AND CARNAGE: amazonkindle, Apple, Google, Kobo, Nook
MURDER AT THE MANSION: amazonkindle, Apple, Google, Kobo, Nook
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Monday Musings Part Two: Be a Nobody
Be a Nobody
What do I mean by ‘be a nobody’? Everyone wants to be a someone, right? Isn’t that a good thing?
I’m not talking about being without drive or purpose. What I’m talking about is not having a position to defend. It doesn’t matter what other people think or do or say. What’s important is what we think, do, and say. Only we can affect our lives. Only we can change ourselves, and we cannot change anybody else.
At the end of the day, words are just that: words. They only have the power we give them. If I’m always trying to protect myself, or my sense of who I am, I can’t ever be truly there for anyone else. When you get right down to it, being a somebody is a selfish way to live. I’m always going to be holding back in an attempt at self-preservation.
In doing that, I miss the essential tenet that the more we give, the more we get. Life is far easier once we relax and stop fighting. We have more energy to put into the important stuff, and end up with more drive and purpose than ever before. With the core difference that we don’t identify ourselves with a particular role or way of being.
This is incredibly freeing. Had I identified strongly with my job as being who I was when I lost my leg and everything changed, I would have been in a real mess. My whole identity would have been lost along with my limb. That’s no way to live. It’s far easier to be a nobody. Being a nobody means I get to be everybody. I don’t have to live my life trapped in a box.
When it comes right down to it, we are who we tell ourselves we are. We make up our story. Nobody else can do that for us. Even if we have people around us telling this and saying that; we have to repeat those things to ourselves for them to become our reality.
For years, I suffered from serious lack of self-esteem. I believed what I’d been told for years. Not until I recognised that I’d turned from victim to perpetrator—from hearing the negativity to feeding that negativity to myself—could I do anything about it. First, I had to see the stories I told myself, and then I had to learn to see them without judging them. Only at that point, could I stop telling those lies to myself.
I’m a stronger person for it. I no longer have an unconfident ‘me’ to defend. I am content and confident enough to be a nobody. We have to watch with care the stories we tell ourselves. Choose your world with care. After all, that’s what makes our lives what they are. In the wise words of zen:
‘We make our own world and then we live in it.’
If you missed last week’s Monday Musing, you can find it HERE
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May 31, 2016
Take Me to the Willow
Hi guys! It gives me great pleasure today to host author Shelly Brimley and her book, Take Me to the Willow! For the other stops on Shelly’s Goddess Fish Virtual Book Tour, please click on the banner above.
One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Please do leave a comment to support the author, as well as for more chances to win the giveaway!
![Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000037_00031]](http://www.harmonykent.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/MediaKit_BookCover_TakeMeToTheWillow.jpg)
Historical Fiction
In defending his life-long friendship with Charlie, Will may have inadvertently had a hand in the growing chaos that leads to the horrifying night when his familiar world is shattered.
When Will Wright, the eighteen year old son of a small-town Arkansas sheep herder in 1905, begins reading his mother’s journal, he is inspired by its startling content to start putting his own experiences to paper for posterity. An unsophisticated but principled young man, Will is becoming increasingly aware of the hatred that exists in the world. When he begins his own journal, Will can’t know what events are to take place in the next five years – from his mother’s battle with a life threatening illness, to his embarrassments of learning how to be in love for the first time, to witnessing Charlie’s fate at the hands of the bigoted townspeople. While part of him wishes the pain in those pages didn’t exist, he knows that the original purpose for keeping the journal has been realized – to show his kin how he became the man he is. He will probably never go back through and read again the pages he’s written, but someday, someone will, and they will see that along with the hurt, Will’s life had been one that knew true joy, absolute love, and undying friendship.
Excerpt:
“Men and women are different,” Will, he said.
“I know that,” I said.
“Now don’t interrupt me, son!,” he said, his voice rather abrupt and a bit on the nervous side. “Just let me say what I got to say.”
“Sorry, I said,” feelin’ startled.
Daddy scratched the back of his head and started again.
“Men and women are different,” he said.
We’ve already covered that, I thought to myself but didn’t dare share that with him.
“And when they come together as husband and wife for the first time, it’s real important for the man to be sensitive to the woman so she feels comfortable… because the woman might feel uncomfortable if the man ain’t sensitive,” he said.
I just sat and listened, not sure where he was goin’ with it. He didn’t seem to be goin’ anywhere except around in circles. All I could seem to grasp was that I’m supposed to be sensitive — about what… I had no clue. And Hannah is gonna end up feelin’ comfortable or uncomfortable – I’m not sure which. And speakin’ of bein’ uncomfortable, Daddy looked like a lone rabbit in a coyote’s den. I don’t believe he looked at me the whole time he was talkin’, just fidgeted and looked at the ground.
“You understand?” he asked.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I had no idea what in tarnation he was talkin’ about. So I just nodded instead.
“Uh huh,” I said.
“Good,” said Daddy as he put his hat back on and stood up to leave.
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “This was real helpful.”
Daddy stood there for a minute, not sure what to do next. He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and at one point, I thought he might shake my hand, but then he just said, “Alright then”, and went back in the house.
Shelly Brimley was born in Flagstaff, AZ, where she lived most of her life until moving to Mexico to study abroad. After graduation, Shelly did some volunteer work in Africa and completed her graduate degree while working in an adolescent drug treatment center. After acquiring her Master’s degree, she worked as a counselor at a residential shelter for children who had been smuggled and trafficked into the USA from different countries around the world. She also taught English to adult refugees before resigning to raise her children. Shelly wanted to use her experience working with others as a source of inspiration in her writing, offering a voice for those who are not typically heard or considered.
Website link –http://www.shellybrimley.com
Author Facebook-https://www.facebook.com/shellybrimleyauthor
Goodreads-https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28183223-take-me-to-the-willow
Amazon – On sale for only $0.99 until May 22
http://www.amazon.com/Take-Me-Willow-Shelly-Brimley/dp/0997081600
My review can be found on Goodreads and Amazon UK.
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Set for Summer Giveaway!
Summer is nearly here. Time to kick back, relax, and enjoy the sunshine.
Not feeling ready? Need supplies?
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Subscribe to one or all. You decide.
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May 29, 2016
Friend of the Devil and Advice for Writers!
Hello and welcome to my blog today! It gives me great pleasure to host author Mark Spivak. Not only does he bring us a great sneak peek of his book, Friend of the Devil, he also gives advice for writers!
Not only all that, but Mark has a giveaway running, where One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Please do leave a comment for more chances to win! Mark’s other tour stops can be found by clicking on the banner above.
Advice for Writers
Mark Spivak
Ernest Hemingway was once asked if he had any advice for young writers, and he responded this way: “Let’s say that he should go out and hang himself because he finds that writing well is impossibly difficult. Then he should be cut down without mercy and forced by his own self to write as well as he can for the rest of his life. At least he will have the story of the hanging to commence with.”
Papa’s advice as a bit drastic, of course, but it probably contained a kernel of truth. Learning to write stories that other people want to read can be a very long and painful process. It takes years, usually decades, and is filled with false starts, frustration, rejection, and finally the tendency of the world to withhold recognition when you do master the craft. In the meantime, everyone around you is enjoying the visible fruits of success: drinking Champagne, skiing in Aspen, driving a Porsche.
Obviously it takes a formidable degree of persistence to become successful as a writer. The truth is that the rejection never stops, and it never really becomes easier. The 2000th rejection hurts just as much as the first one, particularly considering that most writers are sensitive people who don’t take rejection well in the first place.
If you want to be a writer, everyone will tell you not to give up, and they are absolutely correct. Getting to the end of the journey requires a remarkable level of persistence, the ability to push on when you feel you can’t do it anymore. Never give up. If you persist long enough, you will master the craft. You’ll learn how to tell a story that people want to read. And most importantly, you’ll experience a se
nse of satisfaction so profound that it will heal all the rejection you encountered along the way. That’s an amazing feeling, and something worth fighting for.
About the Author:
Mark Spivak is an award-winning writer specializing in wine, spirits, food, restaurants and culinary travel. He was the wine writer for the Palm Beach Post from 1994-1999, and was honored by the Academy of Wine Communications for excellence in wine coverage “in a graceful and approachable style.” Since 2001 has been the Wine and Spirits Editor for the Palm Beach Media Group; his running commentary on the world of food, wine and spirits is available at the Global Gourmet blog on www.palmbeachillustrated.com. He is the holder of the Certificate and Advanced diplomas from the Court of Master Sommeliers.
Mark’s work has appeared in National Geographic Traveler, Robb Report, Men’s Journal, Art & Antiques, the Continental and Ritz-Carlton magazines, Arizona Highways and Newsmax. He is the author of Iconic Spirits: An Intoxicating History (Lyons Press, 2012) and Moonshine Nation: The Art of Creating Cornbread in a Bottle (Lyons Press, 2014). His first novel, Friend of the Devil, is published by Black Opal Books.
Website: http://www.markspivakbooks.com
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4659831.Mark_Spivak?from_search=true&search_version=service
https://www.facebook.com/mark.spivak.3
Amazon author page URL: http://www.amazon.com/Mark-Spivak/e/B007QASMAC/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1458677775&sr=1-2-ent
Barnes and Noble Author URL: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/mark+spivak?_requestid=552756
Friend of the Devil
Thriller
In 1990 some critics believe that America’s most celebrated chef, Joseph Soderini di Avenzano, cut a deal with the Devil to achieve fame and fortune. Whether he is actually Bocuse or Beelzebub, Avenzano is approaching the 25th anniversary of his glittering Palm Beach restaurant, Chateau de la Mer, patterned after the Michelin-starred palaces of Europe.
Journalist David Fox arrives in Palm Beach to interview the chef for a story on the restaurant’s silver jubilee. He quickly becomes involved with Chateau de la Mer’s hostess, unwittingly transforming himself into a romantic rival of Avenzano. The chef invites Fox to winter in Florida and write his authorized biography. David gradually becomes sucked into the restaurant’s vortex: shipments of cocaine coming up from the Caribbean; the Mafia connections and unexplained murder of the chef’s original partner; the chef’s ravenous ex-wives, swirling in the background like a hidden coven. As his lover plots the demise of the chef, Fox tries to sort out hallucination and reality while Avenzano treats him like a feline’s catnip-stuffed toy.
Excerpt:
He perused Chateau de la Mer’s large and mostly incomprehensible menu. Changed every few weeks, handwritten in Avenzano’s elaborate cursive before being photocopied, it closely resembled an annotated Medieval manuscript. Finally, he acceded to the staff’s offer to prepare a tasting menu for him, accompanied by the appropriate wines.
He was presented with a sculpture of dried vegetables in the shape of a bird’s nest, filled with a combination of wild mushrooms and chopped truffles, bathed in an intensely reduced demi-glaze. The carrots, zucchini and peppers had been cut into paper-thin strips, intertwined and allowed to dry, yet retained a surprising intensity of flavor.
He consumed a dish of tomato, basil and egg noodles, bathed in a light cream sauce, perfumed with fresh sage and studded with veal sweetbreads.
He ate an astonishing dish of butter-poached lobster, remarkably sweet and perfectly underdone, flavored with sweet English peas and garnished with a ring of authentic Genoese pesto.
He was served a slice of Avenzano’s signature Bedouin-stuffed poussin—a turkey stuffed with a goose, in turn stuffed with a duckling, in turn stuffed with a poussin, or baby chicken, with a core of truffled foie gras at its center, covered with an Etruscan sauce of chopped capers,
raisins and pine nuts. This dish had been the source of much controversy over the years, since it bore a close resemblance to a Louisiana terducken. It predated the terducken, however, and was supposedly inspired by a creation first served to the French royal court. For good measure, Avenzano had added influences from the cuisine of the Middle East.
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Monday Musings Part One: Right Here, Right Now
Right Here, Right Now.
Have you got that Monday feeling? The one where the whole rest of the week looms ahead, and you wish that Friday would get a move on and get here already. Perhaps you felt like that on Sunday night?
I’m one of the lucky few who enjoys work; being self-employed helps. And, still, I prefer my days off. How much more so any of you folks who hate your job.
The trouble is, if we spend all week looking for Friday, we miss the precious time we have right now. The older I become, the faster time goes. I swear my watch has sprouted jet engines. These days, all I seem to ask is, ‘Where did the time go?’
Each time I feel like the world’s going too fast, it reminds me how little time I have left. Already, I’ve used up forty-three years of whatever allotment I have. And I don’t want to waste it. I’ve stared death in the face more than once, and I’m not ready yet. I have so much more life to live. However, if I know only one thing, it’s that we don’t get to choose when we go. When our time’s up, it’s up. End of.
Luckily, time doesn’t exist. We made it up. If you’ve ever sat quietly, you’ll probably have spotted this already. Have you noticed that when you have something unpleasant to do, time drags. And the opposite is true: when you’re having fun, time flies. Strange, considering that your watch or clock ticks away the seconds at the same rate, regardless.
The only thing that’s different is our perception. And this is good news. It means we have a choice. It means we’re not enslaved to time. This is the key to stopping the clock and being Right here, right now.
Sure, time has its uses for keeping us on schedule for trains, meetings, and all that stuff. However, we have to realise that it doesn’t have any intrinsic reality. To live a life outside of time is to live a life free.
I used to plan everything. Seriously, it bordered on OCD. I lost count of the number of times the universe laughed at my carefully calendared plans. It took a long time for me to understand in a blood and bones way that I wasn’t in the driver’s seat. Each time we breathe in, we assume we’ll breathe out, but it’s not something we can take for granted. Likewise, every time we fall asleep, we trust that we’ll wake up, but nowhere is that guaranteed.
While this all might sound negative, it’s a useful reminder to enjoy ourselves right now. A prompt not to wish our precious lives away. I might not like Monday too much, but I can’t change the day of the week. What I can do is to make the most of it. In the wise words of Zen:
‘Every day is a perfect day.’
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Memorial Day Facebook Hop!!!
Welcome to the Memorial Day Facebook Hop,
hosted by Love Kissed Book Bargains!
With tons of prizes from almost 100 authors and bloggers, including Amazon gift cards, it’s a great way to spend Memorial Day!
Don’t miss out! Visit one, or all, to participate. Easy entries.
Meet some new authors! Discover some awesome blogs.
Most of all … have fun!
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The Memorial Day Hop starts here:
***HarmonyKentOnline-Facebook***
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