Tag Archives: books

Liquid Friday with Joseph R Kennedy

This week we are featuring author, Joseph R Kennedy and his new book: Nanecdotes: Confessions of a Thirty-Day Novelist  , a must read for any one who has been involved with NaNoWriMo.  By the way, Nanecdotes is available for free only today November 16th and next Friday November 30th, so do not miss this opportunity to get your laughs and a cocktail (sorry that one is not free) for your Liquid Friday.

Before we test our sense of humor, let’s hear from Joseph R Kennedy about his favorite cocktail for tonight:

I usually have whisky neat, but one of my favorites is the Irish coffee recipe from the Dead Rabbit in NYC, which is across the street from my job. Once the weather turns to winter, I look for having these, and I always get on New Year’s Eve on my way home from work.
INGREDIENTS
3 ounces freshly brewed coffee (I prefer Sumatra)
1¼ ounces Clontarf or Bushmill’s Irish whiskey
Bushmill
½ ounce demerara syrup
Runny whipped cream, for garnish
DIRECTIONS
In a 6-ounce tempered glass, stir together the coffee, whiskey and demerara syrup. Top with runny whipped cream and serve.
Ok, so lets grab a glass of this delicious sounding cocktail, kick our legs up and relax with Joseph R. Kennedy’s book:
My book Nanecdotes: Confessions of a Thirty-Day Novelist is out on Amazon as an eBook, and the paperback will be available soon. I wrote a number of humorous quips about NaNoWriMo, and other writers told me if I put it in a collection, they would buy it.  I included one in the blurb related to wine.
Blurb:
In a world where authors pledge to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November, what could go wrong? Everything!
Characters who argue with their creators. Midnight desperation libations. Muses that inspire folly and fear. All are included in this collection of anecdotes … and a song!
Discover the wackiness of authors trying to write 1,667 words every day for a month.

nanecdotesRecycling: Most of the year.
“Honey, can you please put all the empty wine in the recycling. There’s like five of them just this week. They are picking up glass tomorrow.”

“Okay. I am a writer you know!”

Recycling: November
“Honey, can you please put all the empty wine in the recycling. There’s like fifteen of them just this week. They are picking up cardboard tomorrow.”

“Okay. I am a NaNo writer, you know!”

Nanecdotes: Confessions of a Thirty-Day Novelist is a collection of humorous quips inspired by National Novel Writing Month and thirty days of writing madness. All profits will be donated to support NaNoWriMo.
About the Author:

Joseph R. Kennedy is a long time I.T. Professional who is a part-time writer, and genealogy enthusiast. His current projects include a collection of quips, usually involving Josephwriting and anything involving literature, with an occasional nod to sports, genealogy, and the horror that is NJ Transit.

He is also an advisory board member for the New York Nineteenth Century Society, and a history enthusiast.

When not writing or reading, he can be found in various libraries or archives looking for Dead Kennedys, or doing steampunk related activities, like making a rocket jet pack.

He is a father of two adult children, lives in Northern New Jersey, and works in New York City.

Contacts:
facebook: https://www.facebook.com/roughhead/ (plenty of quips on here)

Liquid Friday with author Chris Redding

This week we are featuring author, ghost writer and coach Chris Redding and her new paranormal romance shape shifter novel Destiny of a Gargoyle: Book One When Gargoyles Love.

But before we immerse  ourselves in the magic of her novel, we must hear from Chris Redding about her favorite cocktail for tonight:

Long Island Iced Tea is my favorite! Why that drink? Because when I was a bartender it was my signature drink. People came to the bar to ask me to make it because they’d heard mine was good.

Recipe:

 

  • Shot of Vodka
  • Shot of Gin
  • Shot of Triple Sec
  • Ice

Fill the rest of the glass with sour mix then a splash of cola.

 

 

Blurb:

Donal Foley was born in a time when magic ruled the Earth.

Gargoyles protected fairies from goblins. His family was a group of elite gargoyles who were assigned to protect a specific fairy. His father’s dereliction of that duty cursed his sons to become stone and wait.

Now reawakened in the twenty first century where no one believes in magic how is he going to convince his fairy that she is one and that she is in danger from a goblin?

He must do that without falling in love with her.

 

Excerpt:

The next morning, Meg was still wondering what mistake she’d made. What had she said that sent Donal running out of the bar?

She ended up taking the day off and now she was doing things that she normally had to attend to on weekends. Picking up dry cleaning and shopping for underwear were so much more pleasant when everyone else was at work.

Since she lived by the University of Pennsylvania and Drexel University, students streamed past her with backpacks and cups of coffee. Ah, to be young again.

Her first stop was to the supermarket for some food. With her canvas bags in hand, she entered the doors of the local supermarket, but something made her look behind her. She had the feeling someone was watching her.

 

She didn’t see anyone, except a young man who seemed out of place. And he looked like Donal. She blinked, but he was gone.

 

About Chris:

Chris Redding lives in New Jersey creating otherworldly stories. When she isn’t writing, she walks and does yoga. She is also a ghostwriter and a writing coach.

 

Eat Dessert First

And here is the second story from Eden’s Garden.  Eat Dessert First is a light LGBT romance short read for your enjoyment.  Available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.

Blurb:

Lelo has the ultimate friendship in Sasha. A person that cares for her, supports her, makes her laugh and enjoy life. Will she risk it all and follow her heart for a chance at romance? What if Sasha doesn’t share her feelings, doesn’t understand and walks away? Is it worth risking the friendship?

Excerpt:

My pulse quickened as Sasha took my hand and led me into her freshly decorated bedroom. Libraries had only slightly larger collections of history books than she had amassed. Every wall of the room from the floor to the ceiling was lined with them. I felt EatDessertFirstCoverJPGunworthy and stood there in a sort of rapturous awe akin to a religious experience.

“When I move, I’m giving these to you, Lelo,” she laughed but her cheeks didn’t light up the way they used to.

“Don’t you want to read them again?” My question made her look up at the ceiling. As familiar as I was with the gesture, I didn’t understand her tears. We shared everything, even embarrassing things like our first dates and the first time we had our hearts broken. Silent tears were strange creatures that kept the distance between us, but they had become increasingly familiar over the years.

When I first moved to Somerville, in second grade, Sasha was my first friend. I was her only friend. We painted each other’s nails and shared the same stick of bubble gum. There was a certain shyness in her soul that beckoned me like a moth to a flame. The fire in her made me burn with a curiosity to know everything. We began our kindred search with history books.

Twenty years and seven address changes later we were still best friends. We posted book reviews and critiques, sent countless emails, and spoke on the phone daily, though seldom saw each other. Her father was stationed in Los Alamos and we were both finished with college. She wanted to be closer, so I found an apartment for her. With my best pair of Keds on, I helped move carefully sealed boxes out of the van and into the freshly painted apartment. We sat on the floor and ate Chinese food unfolding the food containers into plates.

“You want me to help you unpack?”

“I’ll drive you nuts with my library OCD. Everything has to be in the correct order or I’ll spend hours fixing it,” she laughed pointing to numbers on the boxes. I knew all of her nuances. There was nothing more I wanted than to tell her everything I felt in my heart, but the fear of losing our friendship stopped me.

“You sure? I can count, you know.”

“No, I’m good. It will wait until tomorrow,” she said, laying her head against my shoulder. Her silken tresses brushed against my neck and I wrapped my arm around her waist, holding her so close that I could feel her heart beating like a hummingbird’s. My gut told me something was wrong, but I was too afraid to find out what it was. Silently, I prayed that she would confide the torment of her soul, but the hush only grew between us until I said goodnight.

Liquid Friday with author Reyna Favis

This week we are featuring  fantasy/supernatural suspense  author Reyna Favis and her novel Soul Scent: A Zackie Story.

But before we venture into the Halloween spirit of her supernatural world, lets enjoy a drink that Reyna personally recommends:

The Drink:  Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster

I first encountered this drink reading Douglas Adams’s “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” and I was smitten. It was described as “like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon, wrapped ’round a large gold brick.” It has also been described in the novel as “the alcoholic equivalent to a mugging; expensive and bad for the head.” Yum.

Ingredients and Instructions:

Fill a 28-oz. hurricane glass with crushed ice. Add the following in order:

1 oz. Everclear® (The ice should sizzle.)

1 oz. Bacardi® 151

1 oz. apricot-flavored brandy

1 oz. triple sec

1 oz. lemon juice

1 oz. orange juice

1 oz. pineapple juice

1 oz. Tom Collins mix

Stir, then top off the glass with ice. Drink. Slowly.

WOW!  My only comment is that if I were to drink this slowly, I’ll never get to check out Rayna’s book.  So how about grabbing a  Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, kicking back and relaxing with her book in hand.  Now we can start indulging!

The Book Blurb: 

Troubled psychic Fia leads a double life. As a ground pounder for Search And Rescue, she finds the lost and vulnerable living and brings them to safety. As a servant to an ancient and indifferent Psychopomp, her mission is no less crucial – to help the suffering dead cross over to the afterlife. Her worlds collide after a distraught woman with a gun disappears into the woods and the rescue becomes a body recovery.

When a frantic hammering erupts from the empty SAR team trailer, Fia appeals for help to Cam, irascible Brit, mentor and Psychopomp aficionado. But nothing is what it seems and a straightforward case soon goes sideways. Will Fia and Cam be able to uncover the shocking truth behind the final act of a desperate woman and free her tortured earthbound spirit?

Book Excerpt:

“Can you tell me about the baby?”

Cam lifted a shoulder and then stared at the bottle in his hands. “Not much to tell, really. It was 1975 and I was working a job in Kings Worthy.” Glancing at me, he elaborated. “That’s in England. It’s a very old place. It was listed in the Domesday Book – you know, the survey taken in 1066?”

I bristled a little. “By William the Conqueror after the Norman Conquest. I know. I was a history major, remember?”

Nodding, Cam took up the story again. “Anyway, I was busy trying to lay the ghost of a Victorian clergyman who had taken up residence in the old church. At the same time, there was an archaeological dig taking place in the churchyard. They were interested in the old Anglo-Saxon burials and they eventually unearthed the skeletal remains of a young woman.” He took another drink and affected nonchalance as he continued the story. “Lying between the long bones of her legs, they found the skull of a full-term infant, but the fetal leg bones were still clearly within her pelvic cavity.”

“A coffin birth?” My eyes went wide at this thought.

Cam nodded again. “It happens. A pregnant woman dies and is buried and because of pressure from the gases that build up during decomposition, the dead fetus is expelled from the equally dead mother.” Looking down at his hands again, Cam picked at the label on the bottle. “Anyway, shortly after this find, the cries of a baby could be heard coming from the graveyard. It so disturbed the archaeological team that no one wanted to dig anymore and the work came to a grinding halt.”

“And did it also disturb you? Cam, I can tell this is difficult to talk about.”

Cam rolled his eyes and exhaled deeply, his words were clipped. “Yes, right. It bothered me a great deal. The baby was an innocent and completely blameless, yet she was left to suffer horribly for centuries.”

“But wasn’t the mother with the baby? How did you finally help her to move on?”

“I went into the churchyard with Zackie late one night to find the baby. The mother was nowhere to be found, so I assume she crossed over shortly after her death.”

“She left the baby?” My mouth hung open, aghast at the thought of just taking off and leaving an infant.

“She probably didn’t know the baby remained. In her time, the belief was that unbaptized infants went to Limbo, so in all likelihood, she died assuming that the baby would find its way and be taken care of.” Cam shrugged again. “Who knows? All I know is that earthbound souls of infants are a rarity, so most of the time, they move on with no difficulties. Something went wrong for this one.” Cam frowned as he stared into the middle distance for a beat. “But, you know, as soon as she saw Zackie, she quieted and stopped crying. Getting her to go through the portal was a breeze compared to the clergyman. I had to work another two weeks before the clergyman moved on.”

About Reyna:

REYNA FAVIS holds a Ph.D. in biology and brings a scientist’s critical eye to the unseen world, imposing logical consistency and mechanistic detail to the unexplained. A proud and militant introvert, Reyna exerts her power as mistress of the dark arts of introversion through her blog, Introvert Broadcasting Network. When not writing, she responds to callouts as a canine handler for search and rescue. She lives in Warren County New Jersey with her husband, a search dog and a coterie of pets.

Click on the Social media links to follow Reyna:

 

Liquid Friday for National Breast Cancer Awareness Month

By K.M. Fawcett:

Roses are Pink. Our books are, too. We’re fighting breast cancer, With a little help from you!   Thank you for having me on the blog today!
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month and nine paranormal romance, fantasy romance, and sci-fi romance authors (including me, K.M. Fawcett) have banded together to fight against breast cancer with the Future is Pink! project. Ten percent of proceeds from these pink-covered books sold during the month of October will be donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation <https://www.facebook.com/nationalbreastcancer/?fref=mentions>

Please join us in the fight by reading your way into the future where everything is pink! Alora’s Love Potion by Rosalie Redd Salvation by Lea Kirk Building a Hero by Tasha Black Crazy for Carly by Crystal Dawn Captive by K.M. Fawcett Avenger Mine by T.M. Slay Terran by Cara Bristol Bound by Water by Monica La Porta Not His Werewolf by Annie Nicholas

Click here for more information about the authors, their books, and where you can buy them:

http://www.tashablack.com/pink.html

Why did I join the Pink Project to help raise money for Breast Cancer Research? In 2014 my doctor found a lump in my breast. At first, I was confused. How could there be a lump? I had no family history of breast cancer and no risk factors other than being a woman. Unfortunately, there have been other types of cancers in my family so trying to remain calm until the biopsy results came back proved difficult for this writer with a vivid imagination. I won’t lie. I was scared. When they told me the biopsy was benign, I cried with relief. Unfortunately, not all stories have a happy ending, which is why I chose to join the Future is Pink! project and help raise money for breast cancer research. I am grateful for this opportunity to do a small part in the fight for a cure. Thank you for supporting our project. Together we can make a difference!

Captive (The Survival Race #1)

Abducted and caged with a sexy alpha gladiator claiming to be her mate, officer Addy Dawson must breed warriors for the Survival Race–a deadly blood sport where the last man alive wins. To rebel means torture, or worse. Unwilling to be the beasts their captures desire, Addy and Max risk everything for freedom and soon discover that when they’re together nothing in the universe can stop them.

 

Social Media Links: Website: www.kmfawcett.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/km.fawcett Twitter: https://twitter.com/KMFawcett Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6456914.K_M_Fawcett

Bio: K.M. Fawcett is the author of the thrilling sci-fi romance series, The Survival Race, and co-author of the fantasy romance, Beauty and the Curse. She enjoys stories filled with adventure and strong, kick-butt heroes and heroines. Ranked 4th degree black belt in Isshinryu Karate and 3rd degree in Ryukonkai (Okinawan weapons), K.M. and her husband own a karate dojo in NJ. Please visit her on Facebook, Twitter, and at kmfawcett.com.

 

Website: www.kmfawcett.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/km.fawcett Twitter: https://twitter.com/KMFawcett Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6456914.K_M_Fawcett

 

Liquid Friday with author Isabella May

This week we are featuring author and co-founder of popular online women’s magazine, The Glass House Girls Isabella May and her debut novel: Oh! What a Pavlova.

But before we dive ourselves in this mind boggling novel, we must hear from Isabella May about her favorite cocktail suggestion for tonight.

The Piña Colada. All too often it’s associated with Del Boy Trotter from Only Fools and Horses, but could a cocktail be more exotic whilst retaining its status as a classic? I’ve yet to come across a contender. 

A well-constructed Piña Colada (think the Waldorf Astoria’s cocktail bar in New York… or more recently, the offering I sampled at La Bulla Bar in Estepona, Spain), should do three things:

1) Harmoniously blend pineapple, Rum and coconut. Optimum balance is key.

2) Be served simply. Less is more… and a plethora of swizzle sticks, tinsel-coated straws, starfruit slices and umbrellas will not cover up poor mixology!

3) Transport me immediately to a lush Caribbean beach.

Oh, look! It’s time for elevenses…

 

And now without further delay lets dive into Oh! What a Pavlova:

 

Blurb:

Kate Clothier is leading a double life: a successful jet-setting businesswoman to the outside world, but behind closed doors, life with Daniel and his volcanic temper is anything but rosy. Some days – heck, make that EVERY day – cake is her only salvation.  Slowly but surely, the cities she visits – and the men she meets – help her to realise there IS a better future. And the ley lines of Glastonbury are certainly doing their best to impart their mystical wisdom… But will she escape before it’s too late?

 

Excerpt:

The Piano Bar was a tradition embedded firmly in the top ten of Corny Things to do in Bologna. Whilst the melange of confection and liquor was a feast for the senses (Steph was already cooing over the Zuccoto Semi-Fredo, mentally noting how she could re-create its perfection), the clientele were mainly tragic, brash or both. For a woman, it was a dodgy place to be. People were packed concertina-tight across the width of the bar, so that for someone as petite as me – and sadly we’re definitely only talking height – it could take several hours to wend your way through the maze of conversations. Bottom pinching wasn’t unheard of, pickpocketing either.

 

But for all that, there was something so compelling about gradually making your way up the stairs, drink in hand, to the famed lounge to feign sophistication whilst something wretched was being hammered out on the keys of the electronic organ, and an overenthusiastic, glitzy, blue-rinsed lady belted out a number from the golden ages, warbling pitifully whenever she hit anything higher than a top E.

As Henry handed me the umpteenth mixer of the evening, I turned a little too quickly, bashing straight into a tall middle-aged man.

“Hey watch it,” he said, flicking drips of liquid marmalade off his rugby shirt.

Oh, okay maybe he wasn’t quite middle-aged. I quickly decided that for a Silver Fox, he wasn’t all that bad looking either.

I felt a sharp tap on my back.

“It’s nearing midnight” said Daisy, as I turned to see my well-meaning colleague had started tapping at her watch as well. “We really ought to head back to the hotel. The morning only heralds Day Two, after all.”

Thanks, Daisy. That was close. I chanced to look over my shoulder, but thankfully he’d gone.

Steph and I followed the advice of our elder, ditched our glasses and turned to say our snappy farewells to the men, who were far too inebriated to understand what our plans were anyway.

“Ah choof off then, why don’tcha?” said Sebastian, at which point I don’t think I’d ever seen him look more like Eton Mess. “Talk about boring… it’s not even officially Thursday yet. Geez guys,” he pointed at Henry and Adrian, “you two really need to train your staff to last the distance.”

We snaked our way to the exit where Silver Fox stood, running his fingers through his hair whilst chatting with a group of men. Something told me – and my pulse – it would be impossible to slip past undetected.

“We meet again,” he said, as I chanced to unsuccessfully squeeze past him, my bust making more than ample contact with his shoulder.

“Hey, I’m so sorry about earlier,” I said with a giggle. “My boss will insist on topping me up every five minutes.” I was too merry to wonder whether that came across as a sexual double entendre.

Silver Fox, amused, seemed to have forgotten the soaking already. And I sensed that all too familiar book-fair-affair-twinge in my stomach as he studied me intently and his grin widened.

“So, I’m guessing you’re a P.B?”

I ignored yet another sharp tap on my back and gave him my ‘excuse me?’ face.

“A Publishing Babe,” he said, laughing cheekily.

Christ, how corny.

“Steph’s managed to hail us a cab, Kate. Time to say goodbye to your friend,” said Daisy, revealing my true identity.

“Well, that’s you told. See you around… Kate,” he said.

“Maybe you will,” I smiled, emphasizing my final word far longer than was necessary as Daisy tugged me out the doorway.

But the fresh air seemed to sober me immediately. As we sped back to the hotel, and Steph and Daisy pondered our four male colleagues’ likely actions over the encroaching hours, I lay my head against the taxi’s window, saddled with remorse.

You can’t keep doing this to him.

 

About Isabella:

Isabella May lives in (mostly) sunny Andalucia, Spain with her husband, daughter and son, creatively inspired by the sea and the mountains. When she isn’t having her cake and eating it, sampling a new cocktail on the beach, or ferrying her children to and from after school activities, she can usually be found writing. As a Co-founder and a former contributing writer for the popular online women’s magazine, The Glass House Girls – she has also been lucky enough to subject the digital world to her other favourite pastimes, travel, the Law of Attraction, and Prince (The Purple One). She has recently become a Book Fairy, and is having lots of fun with her imaginative ‘drops’! Oh! What a Pavlova is her debut novel… and her second novel, The Cocktail Bar, will be published 13th February 2018.

 

You can follow Isabella May on her website and social media here:

www.isabellamayauthor.com

Twitter – @IsabellaMayBks

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/IsabellaMayAuthor/

Instagram – @isabella_may_author

 

Liquid Friday with J.T. Ellison

This week we are featuring J.T. Ellison, a New York Times bestselling author of psychological thrillers and her newest release: Lie to Me.

But before we indulge ourselves in this mind filling novel, we must, just must hear from J.T. Ellison about what is her favorite cocktail for tonight.

Whenever I have something to celebrate, and even
when I don’t, there’s nothing I love more than a
champagne cocktail. Simple, timeless, delicious. It’s
one of my go-to drinks, especially in steamy
summertime.

Champagne Cocktail
(makes 1 champagne flute)

Ingredients:
  • 1 Sugar Cube
  • Bitters
  • Brut Champagne
  • Maraschino Cherry,
    or a Twist
Directions:
  • Place the sugar cube in a chilled champagne flute.
  • (Angostura or Peychaud’s—I like mine soaked,
    YMMV).
  • Fill the glass with brut champagne or another
    bubbly (Cava or Prosecco make excellent CCs!), pop
    in a cherry or a lemon twist, and enjoy. Ching-ching!

So lets kick back and relax with this scrumptious cocktail in hand and finally check out Lie To Me.

Blurb:

Domestic noir at its best. Readers will devour this stunning page turner about the disintegration of a marriage as grief, jealousy, betrayal and murder destroy the facade of the perfect literary couple. New York Times bestselling author J.T. Ellison takes her exceptional writing to a new level with this breakout novel.

They built a life on lies.

Sutton and Ethan Montclair’s idyllic life is not as it appears. They seem made for each other, but the truth is ugly. Consumed by professional and personal betrayals and financial woes, the two both love and hate each other. As tensions mount, Sutton disappears, leaving behind a note saying not to look for her.

Ethan finds himself the target of vicious gossip as friends, family and the media speculate on what really happened to Sutton Montclair. As the police investigate, the lies the couple have been spinning for years quickly unravel. Is Ethan a killer? Is he being set up? Did Sutton hate him enough to kill the child she never wanted and then herself? The path to the answers is full of twists that will leave the reader breathless.

Excerpt:

PROLOGUE
IN WHICH INTRODUCTIONS ARE MADE
You aren’t going to like me very much. Oh, maybe in your weaker moments, you’ll feel sorry for me, and use those feelings of warmth and compassion and insightful understanding to excuse my actions. You’ll say to yourself, “Poor little girl. She couldn’t help herself.” Or, “Can you blame her? After all she’s been through?” Perhaps you’ll even think, “She was born to this. It is not her fault.”
Of course it’s my fault. I chose this path. Yes, I feel as if I have no choice, that I’m driven to do it, that there are voices in my head that push me to the dark side.
But I also know right from wrong. I know good from evil. I may be compelled to ruin the lives in front of me, but
I could walk away if I wanted.
Couldn’t I?
Never mind that. Back to you.
Truly, deep down, you are going to despise me. I am the rot that lives in the floorboards of your house. I am the spider that scuttles away when you shine light in my corner, ever watching, ever waiting. I am the shard of glass
that slits the skin of your bare foot. I am all the bad things that happen to you.
I steal things.
I kill things.
I leave a trail of destruction in my wake that is a sight to behold, wave after wave of hate that will overwhelm you until you sink to the bottom of my miserable little ocean, and once you’ve drowned I will feed on your flesh and turn your bones to dust.
You’re mine now. You are powerless against me. So don’t bother fighting it.
I hope you enjoy the show.

WE FIND A BODY
The body was in the woods off a meandering state road that led into a busy, charming historical downtown. It was completely obscured from view, deeply hidden, under several pine boughs and a thick layer of nature’s detritus. Synthetic clothing was melted to the flesh, making it difficult to tell the body’s race or gender at a glance. Closer investigation showed hair that was long and a curious shade: not blonde, not red, possibly chemically-treated. The left hand held evidence of rings, possibly a wedding set, and so the body was eventually determined as female.

The shroud of melt and bough had not stopped the forever daisy-chain progression of decay. Instar maggots and adult flies delighted in their found treat. A genus party started soon after. Diptera and Coleoptera were evident three days in, paving the way for the coming colonization of Calliphoridae. Though the body was burned beyond ready recognition, the insects didn’t seem to mind; it was simply a barbecue feast to them.

Outside of this natural progression, the body lay undisturbed for two days. Birds of prey flew in long, lazy circles overhead. Cars drove past less than fifty yards away, drivers unknowing, uncaring, that one of their own lay rotting nearby.

Three Days Gone, a stray but severe thunderstorm knocked free several of the funereal branches, allowing the body to be exposed, pelted by hail breaking through the leafy canopy. The heavy rains wet the ground and allowed the body to sink deeper into the muck, where it canted on its side.

Four Days Gone, the body was ravaged by a starving coyote, forty-two razor teeth shredding everything available.

Five Days Gone, the body disarticulated, the fire and the heat and the wet and the insects and the coyote and the natural progression of things breaking it down quickly and without thought to the effects this would have on the loved ones. The idea of a non-intact body was sometimes more than people could take.

Six Days Gone, they found her.

SOMETHING’S MISSING
Franklin, Tennessee
Now
Ethan found the note ten minutes after he rolled out of bed that Tuesday, the Tuesday that would change everything. He came downstairs yawning, scratching his chest, to… nothing. Empty space, devoid of wife.

Sutton always began her morning at the table with a bowl of cereal, a piece of fruit, and a cup of tea and read the paper, scoffing at the innumerable typos—the paper was going under, paying for decent copyediting was the least of their worries. A bowl full of cereal, a glass of milk and a spoon would be laid out for him, the sports page folded neatly by his seat. Always. Always.

But this morning, there was no evidence Sutton had been in the kitchen. No newspaper, no bowl. No wife.

He called for her. There was no answer. He searched through the house. Her bag was in her office, her cellphone, her laptop. Her license was stashed in her small wallet, all her credit cards present and accounted for, a twenty folded in half shoved behind them.

She must have gone for a run.
He felt a spark of pleasure at the thought. Sutton, once, had been a health nut. She’d run or walked or done yoga every day, something physical, something to keep her body moving and in shape. And what a shape—the woman was a knockout, willowy and lithe, strong legs and delicate ankles, tendons tight and gleaming like a thoroughbred. A body she sculpted to match his own, to fit with him.

Ethan Montclair couldn’t have a dog for a wife, no. He needed someone he could trot out at cocktail parties who looked smashing in a little black dress.

And not only looked good, but sounded good. He needed a partner on all levels—physical and intellectual. Maybe it was shallow of him, but he was a good looking man, drew a lot of
attention, and not only did he want his wife to be stunning, he wanted her to be smart, too. And Sutton fit the bill.

He knew they made a powerful, attractive couple. Looks and brains and success, so much success. That was their thing.

After Dashiell, she’d bounced back into shape like the champion racehorse she was, though later, when their world collapsed, she’d become tired and bloated and swollen with medications and depression, and she no longer took any interest in being beautiful and fit.

That she’d decided to start running again gave him hope. So much hope.

Spirits lifted, he went back to the sunny, happy kitchen and got his own bowl, his own milk. Made a pot of tea, whistling. Went for the stevia—no sugar for the healthconscious Montclairs, no, never.

That was when he saw it. Small. White. Lined. Torn from a spiral bound notebook, a Clairefontaine, Sutton’s favorite for the smooth, lovely paper.

This… thing… was incongruous with the rest of their spotless kitchen. Sutton was above all things a pathological neatnik. She’d never just leave something lying about.

All the happiness fled. He knew. He just knew. He’d been all wrong. She hadn’t gone running.

He picked up the note.

Dear Ethan,
I’m sorry to do this to you, but I need some time away. I’ve
been unhappy, you know that. This shouldn’t come as a big
surprise. Forgive me for being a coward. Forgive me, for so
many things.
Don’t look for me.
S

She was gone.
He felt something squeezing in his chest, a pain of sorts, and realized that his heart had just broken. He’d always thought that a stupid, silly term, but now he knew. It could happen, it was happening. He was being torn in two, torn to shreds. No wonder there were rites warning against this
What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.

God was ripping him apart in punishment, and he deserved it. He deserved it all.

He didn’t cry. There were no tears left for either of them to shed.

He put the note down carefully, as if it were a bomb that might go off with the wrong touch. Went to their bedroom. Nothing seemed out of place. Her brush, her makeup case, her toothbrush, all lined up carefully on the marble. Her suitcase was in the closet.

He went back downstairs to her office, at the back of the house. Doubled checked.
Her laptop was on her desk.
Her cellphone was in the charger.
Her purse was on the floor next to her chair.
Her wallet inside, the smiling DMV photo that made her look like a model.
Like a zombie, he moved back to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and got out the milk. Poured cereal in the bowl. Dropped the stevia into his tea. Sat at the empty table, stared at the spot where his wife’s head should have been.

What was he supposed to do now? Where could she be? He ran through the possibilities, the places she loved, discarding one after another. Surely he was wrong in his thinking. Surely she’d simply run away, to one of her friends. That’s where she’d gone. Should he call Ivy and see if Sutton was camped in her kitchen, instead of his? Should he give her some time, and space, like she asked?

She left without her things, Ethan. Sutton’s lifelines are her laptop and phone. It’s her office, her world.

A dawning realization. Sutton hadn’t shaken the depression, not completely. She was still prone to fits of melancholy. She might have done something stupid, crazy. She’d tried once before, after… Oh, God. Her words. Perhaps she was telling him exactly what she’d done.
I’m a coward. Forgive me. Don’t look for me.
He threw the bowl of cereal across the room.
“Bloody fucking hell. You selfish, heartless bitch.”

About J.T. Ellison:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author J.T. Ellison writes standalone domestic noir and psychological thriller series, the latter starring Nashville Homicide Lt. Taylor Jackson and medical examiner Dr. Samantha Owens, and pens the international thriller series “A Brit in the FBI” with #1 New York Times bestselling author Catherine Coulter. Cohost of the EMMY Award-winning literary television show A Word on Words, Ellison lives in Nashville with her husband and twin kittens.
Follow J.T. online at Facebook.com/JTEllison14, on Twitter @thrillerchick, or on Instagram @jt_thrillerchick for more insight into her wicked imagination.

Praise
“[An] exceptional domestic thriller from bestseller Ellison… this standalone may be Ellison’s best work to date.”
—★ Publishers Weekly, starred review

“Wonderful … a one-more-chapter, don’t-eat-dinner, stay-up-late sensation.”
—Lee Child, #1 New York Times bestselling author of NO MIDDLE NAME

“Fans of GONE GIRL will gobble up this thriller about a marriage from hell, which moves at a blazing-fast pace and smoothly negotiates more twists and turns than the backroads of Tennessee. J.T. Ellison will keep you guessing every step of the way to the surprise ending!”
—Lisa Scottoline, New York Times bestselling author of ONE PERFECT LIE

“LIE TO ME twists you up, throws you into nail-biting action and unexpected revelations. Belt yourself in for this roller coaster ride.”
—Catherine Coulter, #1 New York Times bestselling author of ENIGMA

“LIE TO ME brilliantly combines a domestic noir thriller with a searing portrait of two writers trapped in a web of lies, betrayals, and murder. Sharply written and masterfully plotted, full of  hard truths about the creative life and modern marriage, Ellison has written her finest novel—a breakout page-turner certain to win her a wide audience.”
—Jeff Abbott, New York Times bestselling author of BLAME

“A wickedly good thriller about a picture-perfect marriage that is anything but, LIE TO ME has it all: murder, lies and betrayal. J.T. Ellison will have readers hanging onto the edge of their seats with her latest cunning tale.”
—Mary Kubica, New York Times bestselling author of EVERY LAST LIE

“Secrets, secrets, who has more secrets? Writers or wives? With more surprises than a kitchen sink casserole, in LIE TO ME, J.T. Ellison lets us in on what goes on behind the closed doors of both.”
—Helen Ellis, New York Times bestselling author of AMERICAN HOUSEWIFE

“Ellison knows how to deliver gripping psychological suspense… Appearances can be deceiving, but Ellison’s writing is not.”
—Library Journal

“…An astonishing and satisfying ending that makes for a fantastic reading experience.”
—RT Book Reviews

“[An] immensely readable domestic thriller… lush prose.”
—Booklist

Featuring Caridad Pineiro book cover reveal for One Summer Night

I am pleased to feature a great author and friend Caridad Pineiro on my blog.  Here is her newest book One Summer Night from the At the Shore series.

Blurb:

Maggie Sinclair has tried everything to save her family’s business. Her options are dwindling, and she needs someone who can turn things around—fast. Problem is, the only person who can help her is trouble with a capital T. The Sinclair and Pierce families have been feuding for nearly 30 years, but that hasn’t stopped Jax Pierce from noticing Maggie. And he likes what he sees—a lot. But getting involved would mean risking his family, his inheritance, and above all, his heart. Can Maggie and Jax keep their simmering attraction at bay—or will mixing business and pleasure bring nothing but heartache?

Excerpt:

With keen interest, Owen Pierce took note of the three women as they hurried away from the dais and into the Sinclair mansion.

“Put your eyes back in your head, Bro. She’s nothing but trouble,” Jon warned in low tones.

Owen bit back the retort that if anyone knew about trouble, it was his brother. Jonathan had always marched to a different drummer and had set out on his own as a teenager to explore what he wanted out of life. Now a successful entrepreneur, he had captured the media’s attention with his innovative designs and daring adventures. That left Owen to shoulder most of the burden of the family’s real estate business, as well as deal with his father’s anger over Jonathan’s latest newsworthy escapade.

He envied his brother’s carefree spirit and determination, especially as Maggie Sinclair marched back onto the patio with her friends, an angry bride, and an obviously inebriated groom. Both the bride and groom looked far from happy as they approached the elaborate multi-tiered wedding cake that had been wheeled out to the middle of the makeshift dance floor.

He worried the bride might plunge the long knife she held into her new husband, but luckily for the newlyweds, Maggie directed the blade toward the cake.

Jon playfully elbowed him. “Seriously, Owen. She’s not for you. Father declared the Sinclairs off-limits ages ago. He would have a stroke if he thought the two of you were involved.”

Involved with Maggie Sinclair, Owen thought and sighed with regret.

In a way, he’d been involved with her forever. He’d like to chalk it all up to a sloppy, hurried, and stolen kiss at eighteen and the allure of forbidden fruit. But since that kiss, he’d watched her mature into a smart, beautiful woman. One who was willing to work hard for the town and business she cared about as well as friends and family. With every encounter, he’d grown more intrigued with the person Maggie had become.

But his father had come down hard on them about mingling with the Sinclairs right after Maggie’s mother’s death. For years, they’d been unable to come to their Sea Kiss home, and even when they’d returned, they’d done so without their father, who refused to be so close to the family he thought had wronged him.

Not that Owen expected that Jon would kowtow to such rules, since his brother was the kind of man who didn’t hesitate to take what he wanted.

He arched a brow and met his brother’s blue-eyed gaze, which glittered with a mix of undisguised challenge and amusement. “Do you think you’re the only one entitled to a little adventure in your life?” he said.

Jon chuckled. “My kind of adventure is way safer than what you may be considering.”

“Why’s that, Li’l Bro?” he asked, appreciating the sight of Maggie in a dusty-rose gown that hugged dangerous curves. Her chestnut-brown hair fell to her shoulders in soft waves and framed ice-blue eyes and a sassy, sexy face that snared his attention every time he saw her.

Jonathan took a last sip of his champagne and barely stifled another laugh. With a shake of his head, he replied, “Because all I risk is an occasional broken bone, but that…”  He jerked his head in Maggie’s direction as she stepped back beside Connie and Emma.  “That will break your heart.”

Behind the Scenes Tidbits for the At the Shore Series:

 

Purchase Links (click any of them):

Amazon Kindle,   Amazon Paperback,  B&N,  iBooks,  Kobo: Coming Soon!

Caridad Bio:

 Caridad Pineiro is a transplanted Long Island girl who has fallen in love with pork roll and the Jersey Shore, but still can’t get the hang of tomato pies. When Caridad isn’t taking long strolls along the boardwalk to maintain her sanity and burn off that pork roll, she’s also a NY Times and USA Today bestselling author with over a million books sold worldwide. Caridad is passionate about writing and helping others explore and develop their skills as writers. She is a founding member of the Liberty States Fiction Writers and has presented workshops at the RT Book Club Convention, Romance Writers of America National Conference as well as various writing organizations throughout the country. You can connect with Caridad at www.caridad.com. You can also find Caridad on:

Twitter at https://twitter.com/caridadpineiro
Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Caridad.Author
Pinterest at http://pinterest.com/caridadpineiro/
Goodreads at https://www.goodreads.com/Caridad_Pineiro

Want to receive Caridad’s newsletter with exclusive content just for subscribers and special giveaways? Just visit http://bit.ly/2cbxlYw to sign up. Caridad values your privacy and will not share your e-mail or personal information.

Liquid Friday with author Kyna Bryn

This week we are featuring author Kyna Bryn and her inspirational novel Broken Not Shattered.

But before we reach out for her new work of fiction let us find out what does Kyna suggest for our readers this Friday night?

My drink would be Fireball, straight up. I choose Fireball because it is strong and goes down smooth.

fireballThat is right, no recipe needed!  According to their website: “Fireball tastes great by itself, you could practically stick a straw in and drink right out of the bottle.”

So hey, why not?  All we got to do tonight is grab a glass of this hot sounding Whiskey and forget ourselves in the pages of Kyna’s book, Broken Not Shattered.

Synopsis:

Broken Not Shattered is a fiction, based on a true story. It is a brokennotshatteredstory about one woman’s journey through life. A story of horrendous obstacles and terrible injustices. Broken not Shattered reflects the molding of a true warrior of God. From the day she was born, Zara Banks was in a struggle for survival. After being exposed to abuse and neglect, as well as becoming a mother herself, Zara struggled to understand her purpose. She continued to question how God could let so many horrific things happen to her. In the end, it drove Zara away from Him but God had a plan for her all along.

     Zara went through trials that seemed to rival that of Job but, through every trial, she emerged stronger. Facing a millionaire who tried to take her only child, suffering from the abuse of her past and being a full-time employee and single mother, Zara became a stronger woman who overcame adversity worse than most of us can dream of. She emerged from the flaming depths of hell that continued to surround her in life. Broken not Shattered proves that you can come out of the darkness in life stronger, healed and with a greater relationship with God than you could ever imagine possible.

About the Author:

Born in Michigan, Kyna Bryn is a mother, aspiring author and woman who has done it all. From being a waitress, to owning her own kyna-brynbusiness, Kyna has become a self-made, educated woman who does not let anything hold her back. After overcoming many challenges in life, Kyna Bryn has now dedicated her life to inspiring others to know that their past does not define their future. Hurt or broken, used or abused, Kyna focuses on lifting others to know that they are not alone and have the power to be victorious and not victims.

 

 

 

Liquid Friday with Author Norah Bennett

This week we are featuring author Norah Bennett and her book Everything I’ve Dreamed Of.

But before we embrace this wonderful romance novel let’s find out what drink does Norah recommend for our readers.:

“So the drink I picked is called the Brandy Alexander. My main character bakes a lot, and what’s better than an alcoholic drink that tastes like chocolate to go with all the baked goods?! Plus brandy is always a good relaxing drink.”

INGREDIENTS

  • Ice
  • 1 1/2 ounces Cognac
  • 1 ounce white crème de cacao
  • 1 ounce heavy cream
  • Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg

INSTRUCTIONS

 

Fill a shaker halfway with ice cubes. Pour in the brandy, creme de brandy-alexandercacao, and the half-and-half. Shake well and strain into a cocktail glass. Sprinkle the grated nutmeg over the top. Tip: grind a fresh, whole nutmeg over the top of the drink and it’ll have more flavor than ground nutmeg from a jar.

So lets kick back and relax with this scrumptious cocktail in hand and finally check out Everything I’ve Dreamed Of:

Blurb:

Kate Willowbrook dreams of a life filled with beauty –– a man who loves her, friends, and a home. At eighteen, Kate’s dreams are replaced by nightmares when she witnesses a crime. Kate runs, everrything-ive-dreamed-of-evernightpublishing-dec2016-finalimagenever settling down or trusting anyone. Ten years later Kate discovers the small town of Lakes Crossing and Noah Reed.

When Noah’s wife is killed in an accident, he buries himself in work and family obligations, believing he will never find love again until he meets Kate. The more he learns about her, the more he is drawn to her and his protective instincts kick into overdrive.

Noah is everything Kate has ever dreamed of, but his take-charge attitude is scaring up old demons she fought hard to bury. If they can’t find a way to strike a balance that satisfies both their deepest needs, they could lose their second chance at love.

Excerpt

Kate pierced him with her green eyes. “I’m certain there’s no shortage of women who would be happy to go out with you. Why me?”

Noah’s cocky grin faded into a soft smile that stole her breath. His eyes darkened as he focused on her. She could feel the heat creeping up her cheeks again, and she couldn’t believe she asked him that question. She didn’t even know why she did, except that she wanted to hear his answer. If she let herself fall for this beautiful man, with a killer smile and the softest brown eyes in the world, she’d fall hard everrything-ive-dreamed-of-evernightpublishing-dec2016-vistaprint-mugs_panoramic-wraparoundand fast. If she were just a toy to him, one that he got bored of and discarded after a while, she’d be devastated. She had lost so much already and survived, but Kate wasn’t sure she could survive his games. If she allowed herself to hope and dream of a life with Noah but then lost it all, she’d crumble, and no amount of superglue would put her back together.

Kate waited for his answer, her eyes locked with his and he didn’t let her down.

“Yes, I won’t deny that I’ve dated other women and there are those who wouldn’t turn me down for a date, but they’re not you.”

Noah reached for her hand, and she let him feel the tremble that ran through her as he engulfed her small hand in his. He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, never taking his gaze off her.

“You say you’re not special to anyone, but that’s not true. see

dandelion on a blue background

something special, someone special. I know we don’t know each other very well, but if you give us a chance to change that, together, we may be something special. We won’t know unless we try.”

Kate’s breath hitched, and her heart squeezed. Jesus, the man had a way with words. How did he know what she needed to hear? Now she understood what Roberta Flack meant when she sang, Killing me Softly. He was clawing at the door to her heart, and she didn’t think she was strong enough to resist him, even knowing that she may get shredded if she let him in.

Kate dropped her gaze again as they began to fill. Her breathing was ragged, and her heart broke its confines and was on the run. Whether it wanted to be caught by Noah or not, Kate wasn’t certain.

Special. 

Kate had waited thirty-one years to hear someone call her special. She struggled to rein in her emotions and push back the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks. She wanted to go out with Noah so badly it hurt. She wanted to get to know him and to be a part of eido-touchhis world, but she was terrified. Good visited her very few times in her life. The instant it arrived, she began preparing for its departure. Good was a temporary visitor and a fickle one at that.

“Come on, Kate. I can sense you’re afraid. I swear I’m a nice guy. I’ll do my damnedest not to disappoint or hurt you. Take a chance. Take a chance on me.”

Kate heard the vulnerability in Noah’s voice. She explored his handsome face, a face she was sure she would never tire of admiring. All traces of his earlier cockiness vanished. Instead, it was replaced by a rawness, an earnestness, a tenderness she’d never seen before. That was the look Kate would remember for a lifetime. Years from now, she would say that was the exact moment she knew, if Noah Reed asked her, she would be his for a lifetime.

Kate let out a slow breath and with a soft smile, she whispered, “Okay, Noah Reed. I’ll take a chance … a chance on you. I’ll go out with you.”

About the Author

Norah lives a double life. By day she is a suit-wearing, prim and image1-jpgproper, professor, administrator, researcher, and lecturer. By night she is a PJ wearing dreamer and writer of books that make people sigh, smile, cry, laugh, fall in love and believe in second chances.

Norah lives in Andover, New Jersey with her husband of thirty years, a cranky geriatric maltipoo, and an obnoxious cockatoo who runs the house and terrifies all its inhabitants.

Norah discovered the joy and escapism that comes from reading at the age of twelve and swears books saved her life and her sanity. Through reading, she has travelled the globe and learned all kinds of equally useful and useless skills such as the proper way to eat a pomegranate, carve a watermelon, or bathe an elephant. These are skills she has passed down to her two daughters who are incredibly supportive, but often wish she had a wider scope of hobbies.

Norah has a long publishing history in academia, but she started writing fiction recently. In July 2016 she published her first work of fiction, R.I.L.Y. Forever with Evernight Publishing and in January 2017 her second book, Everything I’ve Dreamed Of, was also published by Evernight Publishing. Currently, she is working on her third novel, Six Months. Digital and print copies of her books can be purchased at Amazon https://www.amazon.com/R-I-L-Y-Forever-Norah-Bennett-ebook/dp/B01IFH66CK/

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