D.E. Haggerty's Blog, page 69

Promo Blitz! Till The Rivers All Run Dry by Jim Lester #historicalfiction

Coming of Age, Historical Fiction

Date Published:  July 27, 2016

In 1941, when thirteen-year-old Ricky Parker’s family is uprooted from their home in Arkansas and relocated to Venezuela, Ricky thinks his life is over. But what he finds in a rough and tumble oil camp on the banks of Lake Maracaibo is the adventure of a lifetime. An adventure filled with Nazi spies, treachery, betrayal, true love, and even murder.

While touching on issues that remain relevant today, such as racism and America’s reliance on foreign oil, this coming-of-age novel is a page turning, high-octane suspense tale of star-crossed young lovers set in exotic wartime Venezuela.

 Excerpt

One Friday evening right before the Fourth of July in the summer of 1941, I answered the front door and my whole life changed.  

Two men in suits stood on the porch. One of them was an older fellow, wearing a cheap brown suit and a high starched collar that was wilting from the summer heat. The band in his rumpled fedora was stained with sweat. He had a droopy mustache that was part black and part white and an Adam’s apple that looked about the size of a baseball.   

The other man was younger and had on a nicer suit. He removed his hat and showed off a thick head of blond hair. His face was pasty white, and I knew right off that he’d never done a lick of farmwork in his life.  

“Is Mr. Chester Parker at home? We’d like a word with him if it would be convenient.” The younger man sounded like Mr. Hunter who taught English over at El Dorado Junior High, where I had just finished the seventh grade. They both talked real educated and proper-like. 

“I reckon he’s out back,” I said. “Y’all come on in and I’ll get him.” I looked past the two men on the porch and saw some angry-looking dark clouds gathering off to the east, promising a summer rain.   

The two men stepped into the living room. The older man removed his hat and scratched his bald head.  

Before I could fetch Daddy, Mama stepped into the living room from the kitchen. She was wearing her big red apron that was dusty with flour from making the biscuits for supper. She had a dot of flour on her nose. “Who is it, Ricky? Did you . . .” She pulled up short in the doorway and drew in a quick breath.  

“Howdy, Dixie,” the older man said. “How you been?”  

Mama eyed the man like a dead garden snake she’d found on the back porch. “Evening, Mr. Taggert. I reckon I’m fine.” Mama’s tone filled the living room with a chilling frost.  

The older man ignored Mama’s coldness. “This here is Mr. George Quinn. He’s from Washington. We need to have a word with Mr. Ches if we might.”  

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Washington? What on earth would some stranger from Washington, DC, want with my father?  

Mama wiped her hands on her apron. “Ricky, run on out to the shed and fetch your daddy. Be quick now.”  

I scampered back through the kitchen and out the screen door and sprinted across the yard to the shed. I found Daddy hunched over his worktable lost in thought, staring at the parts of a radio he had spread out in front of him.   

Daddy could fix anything as long as it was mechanical. Big machines, little machines. It didn’t make any difference. My father could fix all of them.  

His pipe was clinched tight in his teeth and the sticky sweet smell of his burning tobacco filled the tiny shed.  

“There’s a pair of fellows in suits here to see you,” I said, a little breathless from the run across the yard. “I don’t think they want you to fix anything. I think they just want to talk.”   

Daddy smiled and stood up from the worktable. “Then I guess we better go in the house and see what’s going on.”  

My father was a tall man, skinny as a rail as the saying went. He had black hair slicked back with Brylcreem. Some folks said he looked Italian, but that was mainly because he’d spent so much time out in the sun that his skin was all brown and leathery looking. He always wore a blue work shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows even in the summer.   

Daddy had been a drilling supervisor at Murphy Oil and a real good one from what everybody said, but one day back in ’39 something happened out on one of the rigs and Daddy came home, put his lunch pail on the high shelf up in the pantry and announced that he’d never work for Murphy or any oil company again. And that was that. 

My father didn’t do much but hang around the house for a few weeks. He’d sit at the kitchen table and take old radios apart and put them back together. Finally other folks started bringing him their busted radios and percolators and mix masters and stuff to fix and Daddy cleared out a space in the old shed out near the chicken coop and went into the small appliance repair business. 

Daddy never hurried anywhere. Even after I told him about the two visitors, he ambled across the yard as if he were just heading up to the house for a drink of water.  

Back in the living room, Mama had served ice tea to the two men, who were sitting on the blue sofa when Daddy and I came in. They stood up and shook hands all around. Mama brought Daddy a glass of tea. He drained half of it in one gulp.   

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Ches,” Taggert said.  

Daddy nodded. “What can I do for you?” He sounded unfriendly and I could tell my father didn’t have much truck with the Taggert fellow.  

The first plunks of the summer rain hit the roof. The smell of Daddy’s tobacco overpowered the living room.  

Taggert and Quinn sat back down, balancing their hats in their laps. Mama leaned on the doorsill, wiping flour off her hands with her apron.  

“Mr. Ches,” Taggert said. “We need to talk some business if you have a few minutes.” Daddy shrugged.  

Taggert turned and looked at me. “Son, why don’t you run outside and play for a while. This won’t take long.”  

“It’s raining,” I said, indicated the front window where the summer storm was pelting the glass. 

Taggert gnawed on his lower lip.  

“Come on, Ricky.” Mama came to Taggert’s rescue. “Let’s you and me run out to the henhouse and fix up those stalls like we been promising to do since school let out.”  

I didn’t want to leave the living room. Something was going on. Something big. You could just feel it in the air. You could see it on Daddy’s face, hear it in Mama’s voice. This was important. And I had to go out and fix up the stalls in the henhouse. I was not happy.  

But I went.  

By the time Mama and I hammered all the loose boards back into the chicken stalls, replaced the straw, swept out the walkway, and went back to the house, Taggert and Quinn were gone. 

Daddy sat in the chair in the living room, staring out the window at the rain. The drops pounded the glass and ran down the panes in fast flowing rivulets.   

It was getting dark, but Daddy hadn’t turned on any lights. He just sat there in the chair, smoking his pipe and staring out the window. He didn’t even turn around when Mama and I came back into the house. He just sat and stared and smoked. I’d never seen him look like that.   

“Daddy? Are you all right?” I stood in the doorway to the kitchen, fighting back that awful sense that something was bad wrong.   

My father didn’t say anything. Blue smoke drifted out of his pipe and floated toward the ceiling. The room got darker and darker.  

Two weeks later, he and Mama and I took a train down to New Orleans, got on a big ship, and headed for Venezuela.   

About the Author

Jim Lester is the author of two previous coming of age novels-Fallout, which Booklist called ” a fast paced, clever coming of age story, Salingeresque in spirit and The Great Pretender, which received consistently excellent reviews on Amazon. He is also the author of the sports history book Hoop Crazy: College Basketball in the 1950s.

 

Spotlight on Princess of the Light ~ On Sale now for 99 cents! from @NNP_W_Light #paranormalromance #sale

Mary’s the Princess of the Light but her only hope is to make a pact with her enemy.

 

Title: Princess of the Light

Author: N. N. Light

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Release Date: September 2, 2014

Blurb:

Mary Miller receives a startling visitation from Gabriel, the Messenger of God. The Archangel reveals an astounding truth–Mary is the Princess of the Light and even more amazing, her destiny is to battle Lucifer’s army of demons and restore the balance of good and evil on Earth. It’s getting harder to fulfill her new role and keep her identity secret while juggling her personal life, and when Than, Lucifer’s second in command, amps up the attacks on her, she knows she needs help.

Joe Deacons is everything she’s ever wanted in a man. And as providence would have it, in a moment of great need, he’s the Warrior of Light–the one who can help her defeat the forces of darkness.

Not so simple when they confront Lisbeth, a demon hell-bent on usurping Than and Lucifer himself. When Lisbeth wages war and several innocent people die, Mary must form an alliance with her enemy in order to destroy her. But will this be a grave error or the choice that saves their world?

Book Cover Graphic Artist Credit:

Illustration : streamy digital

Model : VictoriaAndrea

Photo : shutterstock/depositphoto

 

 

Excerpt

I sunk into the water, and let the suds and scent of lavender engulf me. The stress of the day finally began to melt away.

My body jolted.

I was in the middle of the desert. There were grass huts and women with hajjis walking quickly around me. Something whizzed past my ear, and a deafening explosion rocked me off my feet. I instinctively curled my body in a fetal position.

I listened for the screams to start, but it was eerily silent. I glanced around, but all I saw was water.

I was still in the bath. What had just happened? Was that a vision? Had I fallen asleep?

My headache was a dull thud now.

A knock on the washroom door made me gasp. I sat upright in the tub and heard my roommate, Amber, call in, “Mary, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just must have fallen asleep.”

“Hey, Amber, what time is it?” I looked down at my pruney fingers and wondered how long I was in the tub.

Amber said, “It’s five thirty.”

I leaned forward and turned on the hot water. The bath water had gotten cold while I had drifted off.

I leaned back as the warm water ran over my toes and closed my eyes, wondering what I should wear tonight. I wanted to look beautiful for Joe. I began to picture every outfit in my closet, and tried to imagine his reaction to it.

A shiver ran down my back and I faintly hear the water splash over the edge.

I opened my eyes and tried to scream. All that came out was a reverse gasp, and I pulled my towel in to cover my body.

A small child was in the tub with me. He couldn’t be older than five. Blood was running down his face, and his body was covered in sand mixed with congealing blood. He was clinging to my towel, and I didn’t know whether to let go of it or yank it back from him. His dark hair was wet with fresh blood. My heart filled with sadness and I quit trying to scream.

As I clung to my own towel, I didn’t know what was happening or what I should do.

The little boy raised his head and more sadness poured into my heart. His eyes were dark pools of grief and despair. They pleaded with me, begging me to help.

How? I mouthed silently.

I jumped when he began to move slowly toward me. He lifted one arm and spoke in a language I didn’t recognize. I knew I didn’t know exactly what his words meant, but I knew what he was saying: He was hurt and needed help.

The closer he came, the more my fear eased and the pain increased. He reached for my arm. His hand was bloodied, and it sent a jolt of electricity and agony throughout my body. I tried to pull away, but his grip was locked on my arm. His eyes turned black and murky, and a voice not his own spoke.

“Princess, help my people,” it said.

I shook my head.

“Let go!” I tried to scream again.

The little boy disappeared, and I jumped out of the bathtub, wet towel still wrapped around my body, and crumbled to the floor. The blood was smeared all around me, and I looked at my arm. The blood was still there, too.

I whimpered, scrubbed at my arm until it was raw, and yet I could still see the blood.

 

E-book Sale:

During the month of September, Princess of the Light is on sale for the super-low price of $.99 USD. 100% of the proceeds during this time will go directly to our local food bank to help feed children and families in need. This is the first time Princess of the Light has ever been this low and who knows when it will be this low again.

 

Grab a copy here:

Smashwords ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon.com ~  Amazon Canada ~ Amazon UK ~ Kobo ~ Indigo ~ Apple ~  Paperback ~ Goodreads

 

About the author

N. N. Light is the husband-wife writing team, commonly known as Mr. N and Mrs. N. Mrs. N. has been creating stories ever since she was little. Her grandfather remembers when she was two years old, she would stand at the top of the stairs and tell him a story filled with emotion (and in a language foreign to him) with her hands on her hips. Let’s just say she was a born storyteller.

They’re blissfully happy and love all things chocolate, books, music, movies, art, sports, trains, history, cooking and baking. Their mantra is to spread the Light.

Most of the time you can find them on Twitter or getting new ideas on how to spread the Light on Pinterest. They’re a proud member of ASMSG, Independent Author Network and Marketing for Romance Writers.

In addition to being authors, they’re also book promoters/reviewers, social media marketers/influencers and the owners of N. N. Light Author Promotions. They both love books, have ever since they were young. Matching up books and readers is something that gives them great pleasure.

100% of the proceeds of Princess of the Light go directly to food banks (US and Canada) in order to feed the hungry and help those in need. With only 7,500 books sold, N. N. Light will be able to set up a monthly endowment for the local food bank.

They’d love to connect with you either via email or via these various social media sites:

Website  ~ Blog ~  Goodreads ~ Twitter ~ Pinterest ~ LinkedIn ~  Google+ ~ Amazon Author Page ~ Independent Author Network ~  iAuthor

 

 

After The Funeral Podcast Promotion ~ Closed Casket by @sophiehannahCB1 #cozymystery

After The Funeral Podcast Promotion – Closed Casket by Sophie Hannah

Listen to After the Funeral by Agatha Christie

A Free Serialization of the Complete Audiobook in Eight Parts

Presented by Sophie Hannah

Throughout the serialization, Sophie informs listeners on the crucial distinction between the truly impossible and the deeply unlikely, points out the magic of a very personal motive, and explains her belief that “the best stories are the ones that would only ever happen once.”

Hercule Poirot is called on to investigate the murder of a brother and sister, in this classic Agatha Christie mystery now available in an updated edition with a foreword Sophie Hannah.

“He was murdered, wasn’t he?”

When Cora Lansquenet is savagely murdered, the extraordinary remark she had made the previous day at her brother Richard’s funeral suddenly takes on a chilling significance. At the reading of Richard’s will, Cora was clearly heard to say, “It’s been hushed up very nicely, hasn’t it. But he was murdered, wasn’t he?”

Did Cora’s accusation a dark truth that sealed her own fate? Or are the siblings’ deaths just tragic coincidences?

Desperate to know the truth, the Lansquenet’s solicitor turns to Hercule Poirot to unravel the mystery. For even after the funeral, death isn’t finished yet .

 

In 2014 Sophie Hannah received wide-spread acclaim for penning an all-new mystery featuring Agatha Christie’s legendary hero Hercule Poirot, The Monogram Murders, an instant bestseller. Reviews were outstanding, praising Hannah for her command of the character and voice. So when the time came to write a new story, Sophie knew there was only one way she would write another book—even though she enjoyed writing the first so much—she knew she would need to have an idea that was clever and compelling enough to think, ‘This feels very Agatha-ish. Poirot MUST solve this case.’

And then it came to her, “…as if by magic (that really is how it felt!) an idea landed in my head. A motive for murder. It was incredibly simple—so simple, it almost seemed too obvious—and yet I didn’t think it had been done before.”

The Monogram Murders: The New Hercule Poirot Mystery

Series: Hercule Poirot Mystery

Paperback: 320 pages

Publisher: William Morrow Paperbacks; Reprint edition (June 9, 2015)

ISBN-13: 978-0062297228

“I’m a dead woman, or I shall be soon . . .”

Hercule Poirot’s quiet supper in a London coffeehouse is interrupted when a young woman confides to him that she is about to be murdered. Though terrified, she begs Poirot not to find and punish her killer. Once she is dead, she insists, justice will have been done. Later that night, Poirot learns that three guests at a London Hotel have been murdered, and a monogrammed cufflink has been placed in each one’s mouth. Could there be a connection with the frightened woman? While Poirot struggles to put together the bizarre pieces of the puzzle, the murderer prepares another hotel bedroom for a fourth victim.

So now Sophie Hannah returns with an all new Poirot story, CLOSED CASKET on sale September 6, 2016!

Closed Casket: The New Hercule Poirot Mystery

Series: Hercule Poirot Mysteries

Hardcover: 320 pages

Publisher: William Morrow (September 6, 2016)

ISBN-13: 978-0062458827

 

 

Lady Athelinda Playford has planned a house party at her mansion Clonakilty, County Cork, but it is no ordinary gathering. As guests arrive, Lady Playford summons her lawyer to make an urgent change to her will – one she intends to announce at dinner that night. She has decided to cut off her two children without a penny and leave her fortune to someone who has only weeks to live…

Among Lady Playford’s guests are two men she has never met—the famous Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot, and Inspector Edward Catchpool of Scotland Yard. Neither knows why he has been invited…until Poirot starts to wonder if Lady Playford expects a murderer to strike. But why does she seem so determined to provoke, in the presence of a possible killer? When the crime is committed in spite of Poirot’s best efforts to stop it, will he be able to unveil the true reason behind Lady Playford’s drastic change of heart, and ultimately, identify the killer?

About the Author:

Sophie Hannah is the internationally bestselling author of 10 psychological thrillers, which have been published in more than 20 countries and adapted for television. Her novel The Carrier won the 2013 Specsavers National Book Awards Crime Thriller of the Year. Sophie is an Honorary Fellow of Lucy Cavendish College, Cambridge, and as a poet has been shortlisted for the TS Eliot Prize.

Author Links

Webpage – Blog – Facebook – Twitter

Purchase Closed Casket – Amazon – B&N – HarperCollins – Books-A-Million – IndieBound

Purchase The Monogram Murders – Amazon – B&N – HarperCollins Publishers – Books-A-Million –IndieBound

Tour Participants – Spotlight Tour

September 1 – The Book’s the Thing

September 1 – The Cozy Mystery Journal

September 2 – Shelley’s Book Case

September 2 – Celticlady’s Reviews

September 3 – A Holland Reads

September 3 – The Broke Book Bank

September 4 – Brooke Blogs

September 4 – 3 Partners in Shopping Nana, Mommy, &, Sissy, Too!

September 5 – The Bookwyrm’s Hoard

September 5 – Readsalot

September 6 – Queen of All She Reads

September 6 – Carole’s Book Corner

September 7 – Pulp and Mystery Shelf

September 7 – Socrates’ Book Reviews

September 8 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book

September 8 – Island Confidential

September 9 – StoreyBook Reviews

September 9 – Bea’s Book Nook

September 10 – Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews

September 10 – The Power of Words

September 11 – Cozy Up With Kathy

September 11 – LibriAmoriMiei

September 12 – Jemima Pett, Author

September 12 – The Girl with Book Lungs

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Click Here Find Details and Sign Up Today!

 

Promo Blitz!! The Lindsey Lark Series by @CricketRohman

Romantic Mystery, Women’s Romantic Fiction

Published: May 2016

With a little mystery and a little romance, WANTED: AN HONEST MAN captures the bittersweet growth of a young woman trying to make sense of her turbulent life.

Lindsey, a beautiful, talented teacher is a fighter and a positive thinker, but after the man of her dreams betrays her, then steals her beloved dog, she struggles. Strange, threatening phone calls begin to haunt her. A stalker, perhaps? Though she doesn’t want to be alone, she isn’t ready to go looking for new love, but men find her anyway.

A handsome college student involved in some tricky human research gets into trouble in more ways than one. His inherent propensity to play detective, though helpful at times, seems to attract Murphy and his darned Law far too often … and now his eyes are on Lindsey. Will his heart follow?

 Praise for Wanted: An Honest Man:

“Charming … unexpected … emotionally charged!” – Amylynn Bright, author of Finish What We Started

 Purchase Links

Amazon ~ B&N ~ iTunes ~ Kobo ~ Smashwords 

Romantic Mystery, Women’s Romantic Fiction

Published: May 2016

 Mysterious, romantic, and sprinkled with a few heartwarming students and a delightful dog, LETTERS, LOVERS, & LIES captures the importance of persistence and the power of love.

Jake and Lindsey are in love, but so much stands in their way. Letters from a dead man. Unwanted advances from a transgender acquaintance. Separation and jealousy. A few things in the couple’s favor? They are smart, multi-talented, and they love to laugh.

Lindsey Lark, keynote speaker, goes on tour while her boyfriend, Jake, writes a detective novel. Sounds simple enough, but a mystery soon dominates their lives when bizarre notices of her ex-husband’s funeral arrive. Foul play is suspected and murder is on someone’s mind.

Lad, a retired Secret Service agent, is Lindsey’s right-hand man for the duration of the tour. He’s handsome, he’s a man of few words, and, as the list of threats lengthens, he takes on the role of bodyguard, much to Jake’s dismay.

 Praise for Letters, Lovers, and Lies:

 “Cozy mystery lovers and romantic drama buffs will enjoy the twists and turns as Jake and Lindsey rush to solve their personal whodunit before it’s too late.” – John Reinhard Dizon, author of The Nightcrawler Series

Purchase Links

Amazon ~ B&N ~ iTunes ~ Kobo ~ Smashwords

 

 

Romantic Mystery, Women’s Romantic Fiction

Published: May 2016

 Thrilling, romantic, and sprinkled with humor, HIT THE ROAD, JAKE! reinvents the ‘buddy movie’ concept with the written word … and a pretty woman.

Jake and Lindsey were good at tracking down offenders responsible for petty theft and blackmail, but when new mysteries turned personal—slashed tires, spattered blood, steamy love letters, a stolen pet, everything changed. Who was this enemy that secretly harassed them from town to town? Jake called in some favors and managed to finagle the DNA testing of several blood samples. The results were shocking, and the dangers they faced became deadly.

Practically newlyweds, the couple thought they’d created the perfect win-win plan. While traveling between Tucson and Estes Park in their RV, Jake would solve embarrassing mysteries that schools wished to keep under wraps, and Lindsey, being the ‘cover’ for their presence, would conduct workshops for teachers. Then all hell broke loose.

 Praise for Hit the Road, Jake!

“Cricket Rohman really nails it! She gives her readers a ton of depth in both the story line and character development. A great, fun read!” – Lala Corriere, author of Bye Bye Bones: A Cassidy Clark Novel

Purchase Links

Amazon ~ B&N ~ iTunes ~ Kobo ~ Smashwords

Excerpt from HIT THE ROAD, JAKE!

No pillow talk or sweet words were uttered. Lost in our own tiny space on the planet, we were too breathless to speak. Then, another surprise . . . in one swift and masterful movement I found myself gazing up at Jake’s loving face, which was framed by pine tree branches and glimmers of sunshine. He’d made it to the top without skipping a beat or the rocking rhythm, and so we continued. Oh, the sounds of love. The heavy breathing, the not breathing, the moaning, the groaning . . . the groaning? The groaning wasn’t us.

I tapped Jake on his back and whispered, “Jake, I hear something.”

“Me, too, my forest nymph babe, and I’m loving what I’m hearing.”

“Then you are not hearing what I’m hearing.”

“It’s probably just another deer or . . . wait, I heard it. That was neither a deer nor a squirrel.”

That was no longer a funny word, still interesting to Wendell, but not funny to us. The groaning, the creaking, was like something from a monster movie and it was getting louder and closer. We noticed that the dog was sitting, staring specifically in one direction. He didn’t look terribly anxious, but he was, without a doubt, alert and listening to the noise, too.

Our magical moment was gone. We’d find it again some other day, but for now, we needed to get back to the safety of the RV. A low-pitched squeaking noise that reminded me of fingernails on a chalkboard (really big fingernails) joined forces with the groaning for a few seconds. The combination sent chills up my spine. Wendell’s bravery waned and he whimpered. He had no frame of reference to make sense of all this. Well, neither did we. If Jake or I had been sitting on the ground, Wendell would have suddenly transformed into a lap dog. No laps were available so he merely leaned up against me. I gave his ears a rub and a tickle, just the way he liked it. We were all feeling tense.

“Jake!” I didn’t need to yell, he was only a couple of feet away hurrying into his clothing, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to run. With his pants now on, he was ready to comfort me and the dog before taking on the woodland monster. We knew the general direction the sounds were coming from, but still we saw nothing.

 Then came the snapping, the splintering, the crashing. We stood paralyzed . . . it took a few seconds for us to comprehend the source of those sounds. The ground beneath us trembled with each impact. Boom! Thud! Thump! Then, it was over. What followed was an eerie, profound silence.

A dead, medium-sized pine tree had fallen in the forest and taken two smaller trees along with it. We all ran over to get a closer look at the phenomenon.

“You heard all that, right?” Jake had regained his sense of humor.

“Yes,” I answered, now able to smile, too. “Three trees fell in the forest and I heard them all.”

“But you know, we’re lucky that I selected that spot over there for our nap.” He pointed in the direction of our bed of pine needles. “Or this could have ended badly. We could have been killed.”

“But it didn’t. We’re still here, alive and well. And I am very thankful for that.”

“Let’s go home. I need another nap.”

About the Author

 Cricket Rohman grew up in Estes Park, Colorado, and spent her formative years among deer, bobcats, coyotes and beautiful blue columbine. Today she is a full-time author writing about the great outdoors, teachers, dogs, love, laughter, and life’s little mysteries—think romantic suspense.Prior to writing, Cricket’s career path included the following adventures: actor, singer, audio/video producer, classroom teacher, school principal, and U of A, College of Education assistant professor. All of the above led the way to her first three novels, WANTED: AN HONEST MAN … LETTERS, LOVERS, & LIES … and HIT THE ROAD, JAKE!

All three books are works of fiction. REALLY! (Well, except the part about the dog; she really had a dog like Wendell, the mastiff, who appears in every book.)

Contact Information

Website ~ Twitter ~ Facebook

 

 

Spotlight on Vial Things by @LeahClifford #ya

Leah Clifford is back with a BLOODY good young adult novel that you don’t want to miss. And at $2.99 – there’s no reason to!

 

Vial Things Synopsis

As an eighteen-year-old resurrectionist, Allie knows staying vigilant means staying alive. The blood of the resurrectionists is heavily regulated, only used with the express permission of the group’s leaders for fear of being discovered. She’s taken every precaution–self-defense classes since childhood, extensive weapons training with knives, and even going so far as to befriend a homeless boy named Ploy, who unknowingly trades a few nights a week on her couch in exchange for being a human tripwire to those after her blood.

But as Allie and Ploy’s feelings for each other grow, and a hunter starts taking out the resurrectionists of Fissure’s Whipp, Allie begins to realize even her best laid plans won’t be enough to keep both Ploy and herself safe.

Protecting a girl he shouldn’t love, from a threat he understands too well, Ploy must face his past to save his future in Allie’s world–a world where bringing back the dead can cost you your life.

Add To Goodreads

BUY NOW FOR $2.99!

About The Author

 

Leah Clifford was born and raised outside of Cleveland Ohio. She has an affinity for all things weird and creepy as made evident by her oddity shop Petite Grotesque and her previous young adult novels, A Touch Mortal, A Touch Morbid and A Touch Menacing.

You can find her on Twitter

Promo Blitz ~ Between You and I by @BethDCarter #erotica #excerpt & #giveaway

Contemporary Erotica Romance
Date Published Aug 11, 2016

A broken engagement left Madeline Shawl feeling like a shattered woman.  When she meets Hunter Caligari, he seems to be the perfect man for some friends-with-benefits action.  But when the easy affair turns into something more, it threatens her comfortable grief.

The passion of the younger man nearly infects her until Hunter tries to articulate it with the three words she refuses to hear. When she pushes him away, wounding his heart, she finds her own broken all over again.

Still, Madeline struggles to leave the past behind and accept that when Hunter said, “I love you,” he wasn’t just speaking for himself.




Excerpt

“I had a great time,” Hunter murmured.

Madeline wet her dry lips with her tongue. His head moved fractionally closer.

“Me…” She had to clear her throat from the huskiness coming through. “Me too.”

He smiled and their gazes met. Locked. She had this sense of free falling, just plunging head first into an unknown abyss. Had she ever felt like this with Kevin? With him everything had been easy. Simplistic. Nothing like what she was feeling now, with Hunter. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, and she leaned into it, absorbing his heat. His eyelids narrowed a bit and his attention shifted to her mouth. All sorts of delicious tingles spread through her body because she knew he was going to kiss her. God! She wanted to kiss him back so much it was an ache deep in her gut. His head descended and her eyes fluttered shut just as the first touch of his mouth on hers brushed her lips. So gentle, like the dewy wisp of butterfly wings, and she wondered if he had kissed her at all.

She opened her eyes. The desire pooling in his blue eyes brought a gasp to her lips. His head descended again and this time, he held nothing back. Wild. Erotic. He slid his tongue over hers, tangling, dancing, and sending delicious sensations vibrating over all her nerve endings. Hot and smooth, tasting of everything dark and velvety. She’d never experienced a kiss quite like it before.

And she wanted more.

About the Author



I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate highrollers.  I try to write characters who aren’t cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box.  I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love.

I’ve been pretty fortunate in life to experience some amazing things.  I’ve lived in France, travelled throughout Europe, Australia and New Zealand.  I am a mom to an amazing little boy.  I’ve walked a red carpet event and visited the USS Voyager. I hate washing dishes but I love cooking. I hate washing clothes but I love wearing them. Writing my bio is difficult because I never know what to say so I hope you like this one.  My favorite color is red but I look best in black (it’s slimming).  I hate people who don’t pick up their dog’s crap in public places, people who don’t use turn signals, and I really hate people who are rude and condescending. I especially hate discrimination in all and every form.  And although I love holding a book in my hand, I absolutely adore my ereader, whom I’ve named Ruby.  I love to hear from readers so I’ve made it really easy to find me on the web.


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Read an entire chapter of Recipe for Lust by bestselling author @authoraliceward #romance

Title: Recipe for Lust

Author: Alice Ward

Published: August 19th, 2016

Genre: Romance

Recommended Age: 18+

Synopsis

When Claire, a young and ambitious cook, decides to audition for Extreme Cuisine, she has no idea just how much her life will change in just nine weeks. Having just gotten out of a long term relationship, she is ready for a new chapter, and maybe even a hot fling or two. Though she’s never been formally trained as a chef, Claire holds her own in the competition which pairs amateurs and professional chefs side by side. Her biggest surprise comes when her celebrity chef crush, Scott Maxim, becomes a fellow competitor. Sparks fly between the two both on and off the screen, and her crush quickly grows for the kitchen bad boy.

As the competition continues, everything seems to be going well for Claire. She holds her own in the competition and gets along with the other chefs, including Shep Thompson, Extreme Cuisine’s host and chef to the stars. As Claire’s relationship with Scott grows, however, her other cast mates begin to get jealous, especially Shep. Shep is quiet and kind, and Claire hardly notices his advances until he takes out his jealousy on Scott in the competition. Tension between the three grows, and the drama it creates angers the other competitors who think Claire is receiving special treatment.

Claire is pulled away from the competition when she gets news that her pregnant friend, Kennedy, has been hospitalized. Claire joins her friends in Boston, but is shocked to learn that Shep has followed her there out of concern that she may not return to the show. The two get even closer over one steamy night.

Claire decides to return to the competition, but with only a few weeks left, secrets and betrayal begin to surface. She realizes that nothing is what it originally seemed. With all revealed, Claire faces her biggest challenge yet: beating the professional chefs at their own game.

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Excerpt

“Welcome to United Airlines.” A woman with a tight blonde ponytail and a name tag that read ‘Sara’ greeted me at the counter.

She took my ticket and waved to another employee who quickly jumped to her side. “Please escort Miss Walker to her terminal,” she ordered and gave me a warm smile.

The boy — his name was Thomas according to his name tag — was friendly and eager to help me through the security counter. The line was long, and I was worried that I’d spent too much time saying goodbye to Lauren, but he quickly ushered me through to the side where there was no wait.

Wow, I could get used to first class.

We approached the terminal riding a gold cart, which Thomas had commandeered at the security station. He handed me my purse and carry-on and moved quickly to the counter where another blonde with a tight ponytail stood. Her face looked sour, and she seemed unimpressed that I had arrived in such style. “You’re free to board whenever you like,” she said, her tone clipped and efficient.

Thomas, on the other hand, was still eager to please and extremely friendly. “There are refreshments available onboard, or if you like, the first class waiting area is just down that way.” He pointed down the long corridor.

Other passengers who had obviously been waiting for their turn to board looked at me with resentment. I wasn’t prepared to come across so pompous and just wanted to board. “I’ll go ahead and board now. Thank you, Thomas.” I shot the sour blonde a fake smile.

She took my ticket and motioned for me to pass. I held the stub in my hand and walked down the long tube that was supposed to resemble a hallway. I felt my nerves rattle as I took each step. I hated flying, especially alone. What was I doing?

“Right this way, ma’am.” A perky brunette with a bob hairstyle greeted me at the entrance of the plane. I followed her as she guided me to the left, a section I’d never seen before. It was magnificent, better than I ever imagined. The seats were slick black leather and were equipped with massage options and had the ability to stretch out into a bed. I was in my own cubicle-like area, no other passenger to sit next to and listen to stories about their family, or their illness, or God forbid, their cats.

“Can I get you a drink?” the woman asked.

“A mimosa?” I asked, uncertain if that was an option.

She smiled and nodded before disappearing. On her return, a tall glass topped with an orange slice was quickly handed to me. Yes, I could get used to this.

The flight was amazing, even taking off and landing seemed easier in first class. I wasn’t sure if it was the feeling of being packed in like sardines in a flying can that usually stressed me out, but this was easy and made me want to travel more. I was ready to see the world.

The first class passengers were allowed to exit the plane first, giving the coach passengers their first glimpse of the pretentious asses that enjoyed hot towels, fruity drinks, and enough space to stretch out during the flight. I felt bad as I walked past the couple with two small children, both of which were puffy eyed from crying and out of their seats begging to be let off the plane. “I’m hungry!” one screamed, while the other sucked vigorously on his thumb with tears still wet on his face. No, I didn’t feel bad for them, at least not as badly as I felt for the ones around them who endured that endless chaos.

I ducked into the nearest restroom and rinsed my hands under the water. Even in first class, I still felt clammy from being on the metal deathtrap. My face looked refreshed, a slight glow shining on my skin from the excitement, or fear. Either way, it suited me well.

The crowds of people pushed me through the airport towards the luggage claim. The conveyor belt started, and suitcases rolled towards the waiting crowd. The woman who had the two children on my flight smiled as she leaned in and grabbed a torn suitcase that looked like it came from Goodwill. Her two kids were climbing on the belt, trying their best to take a turn on what must have looked like a fun ride. I watched as the dad effortlessly pulled each one down and showed no expression on his face as he repeated the procedure each time they climbed back up.

Finally, my suitcases appeared. I grabbed them and walked towards the front of the airport. A woman with thick rimmed cat eye glasses and short black hair stood holding a sign with my name. I walked towards her. “Hi, I’m Claire Walker.”

She extended her hand and smiled. Her hair style and glasses made her look older from afar, but now up close she couldn’t have been more than twenty-five; no older than me. Her tone was perky and her demeanor bubbly as she shook my hand. “I’m Gretchen, the production assistant for the show. Welcome.”

It took no time for her to take one of my bags and start walking towards the exit. “These are your only bags?” she asked without stopping to hear my answer.

“Yes,” I said as I almost ran to keep up with her.

“I’ll be taking you directly to the hotel. From there, you’ll be checked in where you can settle in your room, freshen up if you wish, and then promptly return to the lobby where you’ll be introduced to the other contestants and be briefed on the show.” Her lips moved as quickly as her feet.

“That sounds great. Anything I should know beforehand?”

She stopped at the sidewalk, let a tall man with gray hair take the bag from her hand, then motioned for him to take the one I’d been lugging around as well. Her glasses pushed down from her eyes to her nose, and she looked me up and down. “Like what, dear?”

I had no response. I didn’t know what. That was basically what I was asking, wasn’t it?

“Anyway, everything you need to know will be clear at the briefing,” she said.

Gretchen climbed into the back seat as the driver held the door open and then looked to me as if I were holding her up. “You coming, dear?”

Dear? I didn’t like that. She was the same age as me, maybe younger. The dear seemed to be condescending.

I climbed into the back of the black Lincoln and looked ahead as the driver pulled away from the airport.

Gretchen shuffled through papers and ignored the fact that I was sitting right next to her, eagerly waiting for information on the show, on the procedures, on anything really. It was obvious she wasn’t into small talk, and she was too busy to worry herself with my concerns, so I slouched down into the leather seat and stared out the window as we drove through the large city.

“We’re here,” she announced.

I opened my eyes, not realizing I’d fallen asleep and hoped I hadn’t snored, or drooled. I wiped my mouth. It was dry, thank God.

Gretchen was already out of the car and the driver had my suitcases pulled from the trunk as I stood for the first time on Austin’s soil. Well, maybe not soil. It was a beautiful cobblestone drive, but soil sounded so much more poetic and soothed my frazzled nerves.

The bellhop took my bags and rolled them on a gold metal cart inside the hotel. The lobby was impressive with its marble columns and large white plush sofas and dark wood furniture. Gretchen was already at the check-in desk and filling out paperwork for my room. “She needs your identification,” she said quickly and returned to the forms.

I pulled my driver’s license from my wallet and handed it to the woman behind the counter. “Here’s your key, ma’am,” the woman said with a strong southern accent.

Ma’am. I wasn’t sure I liked that any better than dear.

I took the key and felt my stomach ache with anxiety. Gretchen’s bubbly but to-the-point personality quickly pulled me out of my attack and brought me to a place of order.

“Your room is on the fifth floor. There’s a vending machine right outside your door, and you have exactly thirty minutes before you’re to meet back here,” Gretchen ordered as she pointed to the large sectional sofa in the corner of the lobby.

My room was equipped with a large king-sized bed, marble countertops in the bathroom, and a view of the city’s skyline. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

After wasting several minutes scoping the place out, I realized I’d better get myself freshened up and back down to the lobby. I pressed my clothes with my hands and ran a brush through my hair before exiting the hotel room I’d been assigned. A large man with a bald head was bent over at the vending machine outside my door. His pants were falling down to show the crack of his ass, and as he stood to apologize for being in my way, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was one of the contestants.

I smiled graciously and moved towards the elevator where a hand reached out and slapped the side to keep it from closing. “Thank you,” I said without seeing who I was thanking just yet.

“Not a problem,” a voice replied. A familiar voice.

I turned towards the stranger who sounded so familiar, and my heart fluttered in my chest. I knew I must be staring, and there was no doubt that my mouth was hanging open at the sight of one of my favorite chefs.

“I’m Aiden Maxim, nice to meet you,” he said with a charming smile.

I wanted to scream. Jump up and down. Fangirl him for hours on end. “Yes, I know who you are,” I admitted, proud that my voice sounded clear and professional.

He smiled, and his eyes roved down my body. They felt like snakes slithering against my skin as I pressed myself hard against the elevator wall. He had been a regular on my favorite cooking show for a couple years at least, and his bad boy persona was what kept many women tuning in when he was a guest. Now, here he was, in the flesh — tattooed and muscle-bound flesh — introducing himself to me, like I wouldn’t know who he was. Aiden Maxim. Wow!

“But yet, I don’t have any idea who you are,” he said with a crooked smile that did interesting things to my lower belly.

His eyes were still on me, smothering me, caressing me, causing me to become more and more anxious.

“I’m Claire,” I said, my voice becoming shakier the longer I was in his presence.

My palms were sweating as I rubbed them together in front of me. “Are you part of the show?” I asked, figuring he may be a host or a guest chef.

“Yes, one of the contestants,” he said proudly.

“C-contestants?” I stuttered, my shakiness now replaced with pure fear in my voice.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“I thought this was an amateur cooking competition?” I asked, hoping I had misunderstood him.

“They decided to switch things up and add some professionals, semi-professionals, and amateurs together,” he said. “Better ratings, ya know.”

Yeah, better ratings, my ass. This would be a televised slaughter. And great, I get to be a part of it all!

The elevator door opened, and Aiden motioned for me to exit first. A gentleman was underneath that onslaught of tattoos and wolfish grin. Nice.

Even though it was a few minutes early, people were already gathering near the large sectional sofa that Gretchen had designated as the meeting spot in one of the private conference rooms. Some of the faces were familiar, some not. My stomach flopped as I moved towards the group, wondering if I should just run back to my room and call Lauren and Asher to send me another first class ticket home. I enjoyed that part of the trip. The rest of this production I’d gotten myself into, I wasn’t so sure would be as enjoyable.

Gretchen appeared with a clipboard and wasted no time getting right to it. She went around the room to each contestant and read a short bio. I was relieved when I realized that there were more amateurs than professionals, but some of the names that were read off gave me chills. This was the real deal. No more playing in the kitchen, it was time to get to work.

“We’ll have you each create an intro for the show. Just be yourself and tell us a little about why you’re here, what you do for a living, why you love cooking, why you want to win, whatever comes to mind.”

Panic set in at the thought of being pushed in front of the camera so suddenly. As each person took their turn, I realized they were all as nervous as I was, or at least many of them were.

“Aiden Maxim,” Gretchen called out.

Aiden had been behind me, something I wasn’t aware of until he placed his hand on my hip as he passed by. He winked, smiled in that sexy crooked smile of his and whispered, “Wish me luck, sweetheart.”

Even his swagger was cool. He stepped up to his spot and looked completely at ease in front of the four cameras aimed at his face. He spoke without any sign of pressure or nervousness. I listened, soaking up every last word — how he used to help his grandma in the kitchen, how he’d dedicated his life to feeding the poor, and how he planned on opening his own culinary school for underprivileged children with the winnings from this show.

Adrenaline rushed through my veins as I watched him make love to the camera. “That was perfect,” Gretchen said with a smile. It was obvious as her eyes lingered on his chest that she found him attractive. How could anyone not find Aiden Maxim attractive? He was hot, a bad boy with a big heart, and he could cook.

My name was called, and my fingers went numb. My throat felt tight, and my heart raced. Oh God, I don’t know if I can do this!

About the Author

 Alice Ward is an Amazon Bestselling author who loves to write hot & steamy contemporary romances.

Reading and Writing romance is her passion and she writes with her true heart.

Living in Miami, the beach is her favorite place to relax with her laptop and write her next spicy romance.

However, when she is not reading or writing romance, she also enjoys being with her beautiful family.

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Check out an #excerpt of Smoke and Mirrors by @Jess_Haines #yafantasy

Smoke and Mirrors

Jess Haines

Young Adult / New Adult Fantasy

Date Published: May 1, 2016

Synopsis

A girl who uses her illusions to fool the world into thinking she’s just like all the other magi.

A dragon who sees through her lies.

Together they just might survive a world that wants to control or destroy them both.

Kimberly may wield ultimate cosmic power, but even a mage has to pay the rent. No one will hire her for her magic talents until she’s got the credentials, so she’s stuck in a crappy rent controlled apartment with her mother, yearning for treats she can’t afford at her part time job in a café, counting down the days until she graduates the secret Blackhollow Academy school for magi. Only then will she have the certificate she needs to land her dream job in a coven.

The problem? She needs a familiar to graduate.

As an illusionist, she doesn’t have the ability to summon or create a familiar of her own. Her only option is to convince a supernatural creature to let her bind it instead. Since having a powerful Other at her beck and call would guarantee her a place in a coven after she graduates—and legendary treasure hoards are an added bonus—she thinks binding a dragon as her familiar will solve all her problems…

Because sometimes a girl needs a dragon, not a knight.

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EXCERPT

 Viper made a soft hissing sound of irritation between his teeth, pulling back from her. “Cormac has no vision. I know what I want and I’m prepared to offer anything to get it. You have but to ask.”

Well. There was one thing. Her cheeks flared crimson and she squirmed a bit before stuttering out another question, swallowing back her embarrassment.

“You keep a hoard like a dragon, right? I don’t suppose you would consider loaning me a little? I swear I’d pay it back.”

His head tipped to one side, and he looked her up and down anew. She suspected he was just noticing her frayed cuffs and cheap shoes. He’d been so intent on getting whatever it was he wanted out of her that he hadn’t paid attention to the package it came in until now. When she caught the very slight curl of his lip, there and gone in a flash, embarrassed heat filled her cheeks.

Feeling both dirty and humiliated, she ducked her head. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this.”

“Come now, I’m sure it’s not that hard. All it takes is a yes.”

“No,” she said, this time with a bit more vehemence. Cormac was right. There was something off about Viper, and never mind what a perfect ass she’d just made of herself. Worst of all, that flash of disgust showed he obviously had no respect for her. At least Cormac never made her feel tolerated. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll find some other way of getting what I need.”

He slowly rose to stand, heaving a sigh as he settled back on his heels.

“That’s unfortunate. This would have been much easier if you had agreed.”

Kimberly would have asked what he meant by that, but the look in his eyes froze her in place.

His eyes burned a molten gold as he spread his arms, which were expanding and shifting at an alarming rate. Faster than she might have thought possible, he was growing, his clothing melting and skin disappearing under a layer of metallic scales. Nearby, people were noticing, shouting and screaming in fear as they stampeded in every direction to escape the shapechanging Other in their midst.

When he ceased growing, from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail, he was over thirty feet long, with a wingspan half again that size.

Kimberly sat immobile, unable to so much as squeak in terror as the beast before her lurched back to arch its neck and spread its wings, barbed tail lashing as it growled at her. One thick, talon-tipped paw lashed out, flattening her on the grass and squeezing the air out of her lungs. It gave an awkward, one-legged hop forward to catch its balance before clenching its claws to dig deep furrows in the grass and close around her waist and legs, pinning her.

Then those wide, ribbed wings began to flap, the sun playing off the tones of brass and copper and gold. The ground fell away, people scattering before the airborne monster.

And Kimberly could do nothing but pray, staring up at this great beast that had her in its claws.

She’d gotten what she’d asked for. Now she would have to pay the price.

 About the Author

I’m a displaced New Yorker with a penchant for the silly, the obscure, and the fantastical. These days, you can find me in the Tampa area. I’m currently working on the H&W Investigations urban fantasy series and the Blackhollow Academy young adult/new adult contemporary fantasy series. Find out more about my books, drop me a line, or join my mailing list at www.jesshaines.com!

www.JessHaines.com

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Interview with Jordaina Sydney Robinson, author of Beyond Dead #cozymystery

Today I’m super excited to have Jordaina Sydney Robinson, author of Beyond Dead, join me on Readsalot. She very graciously agreed to answer a few questions.

 What inspired you to write cozy mysteries?

I just love mysteries in general. Cosy mysteries usually have humour and a little romance in them as well which just ticks all the boxes for me. That’s what I love reading so it makes sense to me that those are the stories I love to write.

Who would you pick to play the character of Bridget Sway in a Hollywood adaptation of Beyond Dead?

I already know this actually because I was talking to someone about it the other day. Until then I’d not given it much thought. Bonnie Wright (who played Ginny Weasly in the Harry Potter films). Have a little google for how she looks now – I think she’d be perfect.

Describe Beyond Dead in 140 characters (also known as a tweet).

I’m not on Twitter so I’m a bit ignorant of how that works – do spaces count?

Beyond Dead is a ghostly whodunit with a hint of romance, a heap of dead bodies and an healthy dose of sarcasm!

Describe Bridget Sway in 1 word.

I’ve seen people describe her as “fearless” or “sassy” but, for me, the word that describes her best is “herself”. And I mean that as in if you were to ask me who she was I would say she was just herself. That’s who she always is, flaws and all.

I see there are currently two Bridget Sway novels. Can we expect more? And when can we expect it?

Yes! The third instalment in the series, A Little More Dead, will be released early winter this year. I’m not exactly sure when the fourth book will be out because I have two books in a new series coming out at the start of next year. Maybe autumn 2017.

Would your characters in Beyond Dead want to hang with you?

Ha! Probably not. Well, maybe Petal would but then Petal likes everyone.

What’s your favorite part about the writing process?

When you finish the first draft and everything has fitted neatly into place and it all makes sense. I hang onto that feeling for as long as possible because I know as soon as I go back to edit I’ll realise that, actually, it didn’t all fit together as well as I’d thought!

What’s the most amusing thing that happened to you while writing Beyond Dead?

There’s not really anything all that amusing that’s happened to me while writing Beyond Dead that’s directly connected to it but I seem to be one of these people that amusing things happen to in general. Or things happen to me that other people find amusing, I should probably say.

Have you ever written something you absolutely hate?

Yes. Of course. I think every writer has. But then you take some time away and go back to it and realise that actually it wasn’t that bad after all. Although I’ve looked back at some of my really early writing recently and just cringed at how bad it was.

BEYOND DEAD by Jordaina Sydney Robinson

Beyond Dead: A Bridget Sway Novel

Paranormal Cozy Mystery

1st in Series

Self-Published

Print Length: 306 pages

Publication Date: March 5, 2016

ASIN: B01CMJIBJ8

 Synopsis

Dead less than twenty-four hours, with a job that doesn’t pay, a fashion disaster for a uniform and more afterlife rules than she can shake a stick at, Bridget Sway thinks it’s as bad as it can get. And then she finds a dead ghost stuffed in her locker.

Since the police are desperate to arrest her for murder, Bridget’s new best friend convinces her the only way to save herself from an eternity in prison is to solve the murder themselves.

With a handsome parole officer watching her every move, an outlaw ghost befriending her and two persistent mediums demanding her attention, solving the murder is not quite as easy as it sounds. And when “murder” turns into “murders” Bridget needs to solve the case … before she becomes the next dead body stuffed in her locker.

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 About the Author

Jordaina Sydney Robinson grew up and, despite many adventures further afield, still lives in the North West of England. For fun she buys notebooks, gets walked by her husky puppy and sings really loudly and really badly while driving her trusty old Seat, Roger. If you want to find out just how bad her singing is then you can visit her official website at www.JordainaSydneyRobinson.com and ask her.

 Author Links

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Why I’ve been incommunicado – Part 2 – July #expatlife #MondayBlogs

In my last blog post, I explained why I’ve been incommunicado – or at least part of it. If I recall correctly, I left things off as I returned to Istanbul. I can’t help but share the actual trip as well. In the first place, I was totally convinced my baggage was overweight. How in the heck did that happen? Well, it turns out that after two decades of living in Europe, I’d forgotten what Wisconsin ‘summers’ are like. Everyone in Holland complains about quick changing weather. *Snort* They. Have. No. Idea. And apparently I’d forgotten as well. Because to travel to Wisconsin in June, you need to be prepared for absolutely everything. A high school graduation outside in sunny 70-degree weather and the next day of rain and wind and a high of 40 degrees. Yeah, my clothing selection – admittedly hurriedly made in Istanbul – was not meant for that.

I ended up doing some clothes shopping (shocking I know). But my flight from Amsterdam to Istanbul was on one of those airlines that love to charge you extra for heavy baggage. If you pay for that extra baggage at the airport, it’s obnoxiously priced whereas buying in advance is actually reasonably priced. So, to prevent any scares at the airport, I went ahead and bought extra baggage in advance. Of course, the website didn’t register my payment. Instead of a relaxed check-in, I ended up running around like a crazy person because being able to pay at the check-in counter would be way too handy.

I landed at Sabiha Gökçen airport with my nerves in a serious state of anxiousness. Would they let me in? And if they didn’t? How in the heck would I get out of here? And what about my luggage? Of course, the immigration line that day lasted about two hours. Two hours feels like freaking forever when your nerves on fire. Of course, the immigration officer didn’t even look at me and just stamped my passport.

I took a deep breath and walked to baggage claim only to see someone taking off with my luggage. I ran after him screaming “Yok! Yok!” Because I have no idea how to say “stay away from my luggage you thieving bastard” in Turkish. As soon as the man saw me running at him like a Mac Truck, he released my luggage and took off.

After a surprisingly boring taxi ride, I was back home in my own bed. I now had a little more than a month before the move from Istanbul to The Hague. We rent our furniture in Istanbul so it’s not like I had to pack – much. This was going to be an absolute breeze! I didn’t want to start writing my third novel in the Death by Cupcake series, but I could totally get a lot of blogging and marketing done in July, right? Ah, but there’s so much more to moving – especially an international move – than packing.

Instead of spending the month of July writing blogs and keeping up on social media, I spent the time doing the various administration tasks that come with moving to a new country. For example, the health insurance system in the Netherlands has changed drastically since we left and I spent a good part of a work week researching and comparing. Not exactly the exciting tasks one associates with living abroad!

Of course there was the piano situation to solve as well. The piano had been stored in our container in Trier (by the way – don’t ever do that. Just trust me on this). I spent days researching companies to move the piano. You can read all about my trials and tribulations here. Spoiler alert: I’m on week four in The Hague and the piano is still sitting at the bottom of my stairs

And then there’s our adorable dog who was definitely making the move with me. In addition to timing blood tests and vaccinations for our travel, we had the added terror of actually getting the dog to the vet. We didn’t have a car in Istanbul and taxis refuse to take dogs. No worries, right? We’ll just walk to the nearest vet. As if. In the kilometer from our apartment complex to the vet, we have to pass no less than three packs of dogs. And trust me, those dogs like to defend their territory. It doesn’t help that our dog is a total wimp as well (we love him anyway).

In the end I sorted out the things I could from afar and jumped onto a plane with my husband, my dog and 90 kilograms of luggage. To be continued …