Women’s Fiction – So Many Books

Book Tour–The Beautiful Misfits

A Bit about The Beautiful Misfits

Eighty-four seconds can change your life. Or destroy it. Josie Nickels is an Emmy-winning news anchor, poised to rise through the ranks of television journalism. On a bitter March evening on live TV, the pressures and secrets burbling behind the closed doors of her ridiculous Victorian mansion explode and the overwhelmed journalist spills family secrets like a Baptist at altar call. The aftermath costs her much more than a career. It robs her of a beloved son—a preppy, educated millennial trapped in the deadly world of addiction. Desperate for a new start and a way to save her son, Josie packs up her pride, her young daughter, and accepts a new job slinging cosmetics at a department store make-up counter with other disgraced celebs. In the gorgeous mountains of Asheville N.C., known for hippies, healings, and Subarus, Josie is faced with a choice for her son: Take a chance on a bold, out-of-the-ordinary treatment plan for her son or lose him forever. This heart-wrenching and, at times, hilarious novel, will delight fans of book-club women’s fiction and inspire and give hope to those with addicted sons and daughters.

Another Little Taste

“My darling son: The machines do the work. The breathing. If they go, you go. This much they said. This much I’m struggling to believe. In the weeks after you were born, I’d kneel at your cradle and watch you breathe. Every night after you fed from my body and lay dry and cocooned, I counted your breaths. I had to because sometimes you’d hesitate as if unsure what came next. One, two, three. One, skip, two. One, skip, skip. I’d nudge the cradle and startle you into another gasp of existence.

I did this every night until my knees grew raw on the cold hardwood floor and my sleep-starved eyes shut down. It seemed you were hesitant about this life outside of me, not sure you wanted the air that sustained, almost as if testing this world before it had a chance to do the same to you. Sometimes I never made it to my bed across the room.

I’d awaken in a spill of moonlight, clumped and aching beneath your cradle. Mouth dry and hanging open, foot kicking that oak siding just to keep you going. Now, more than twenty-three years later, I am doing it again. We’re back to this two-step, this tango, this breathing game. I am counting the rise and falls of your chest and gently tapping the metal railings of your bed. The machine breathes and releases. It’s a dance, a rhythm.

And a Bit about Susan

Susan Reinhardt grew up in LaGrange, GA. and Spartanburg, S.C.where most girls twirled batons, entered beauty pageants, and became debutantes.

Bucking the norm, Susan spent her free time water skiing almost every day, fishing, and pining for a ragamuffin boy who was always up to no good.

Earlier in her college years, she pursued nursing, but most of her patients were terminal and her mastery and frequency of giving enemas had her questioning this line of work, though she adores nurses and often wishes she’d have stuck with the field.

She recently took a part-time job caring for adults with disabilities and loves the work, figuring it would at least make up for past misdeeds and get her a better shot at the Pearly Gates.

Writing has always been her first love. And she became good enough at it to earn many dozens of awards, including three Best of Gannetts for her feature stories and columns. Along with a bunch of other junk that really doesn’t matter in the end.

What matters to Reinhardt is making people laugh. And think. And love others.

She is married to her second and final husband, country and genius lawyer Donny Laws who is bald but has a ponytail and loves to ride a bike. She has two adult kids, three steps, and a granddaughter.

She’s been on national TV, has modeled for one glossy magazine, and was the subject of a British documentary on aging and body image. She hopes that the documentary is lost and never resurfaces.

She once had a radio show called Susan Uncensored; a sold-out one-woman show called “From Hilarity to Insanity and Back.”

She no longer water skis but performs fairly decent front and backflips from a diving board and half-ass rides a unicycle and twirls a baton simultaneously.

Her hobbies include a vintage camper obsession and she’s owned three. Recently she’s settled on her 1968 Scotsman, which she hopes to paint pink and teal with polka-dots and haul on book tours.

She has two rescue cats who vehemently hate each other.

In her next life, she’d like to be a figure skater.

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Here’s where to go to follow the entire tour.

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Book Tour–My Name is Mary Magdalene

African American Christian Fiction, Women’s Fiction, Women’s Mental Health

Date Published: December 7, 2021

Publisher: Jess, Mo’ Books LLC

Stepping away from her comfort zone, author JC Miller orchestrates a written tapestry chronicling the fragile state of a woman on the edge of insanity.

Plagued by a lifelong curse of mental illness, Mary Magdalene finds herself spending her golden years in a mental asylum. Her once zealous life becomes minimized to an endless routine of over-stimulating antipsychotic drugs. That is until Salmone Abrams, a hidden jewel from her past, resurfaces and helps her remember who she once was—The Queen of Harlem. Madame Mary Mags.

Inspired by her jazz playlist, JC Miller’s current novella, My Name is Mary Magdalene, shakes the family tree while exploring the often-stigmatized topic of mental health. This fictional spin on the biblical account of Mary Magdalene and her seven demons travels from the late 1940s into the mid-1990s as Mary recalls the battles that tore her life apart. Fear, Lust, Entitlement, Greed, Misery, Dependency, Guilt—emotional baggage that once achingly held her down propels her to victory.

About the Author

JC Miller lives in the scenic Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania with her husband, children, and floppy-eared Bassador pup.

Raised by a single mother in the Bronx, JC pulls from early experiences to showcase the soul of urban survival through faith-based novels. She also dedicates much of her time uplifting women via her blog and creating content with partner and friend, MR Spain, through their publishing company, Jess, Mo’ Books LLC.

On her days off, you can find JC whipping up her famous Red Velvet cake and listening to songs from her impressive vinyl record collection.

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Release Blitz–Margaritas at the Beach House Hotel

The Beach House Hotel Series, Book Five

Contemporary Romantic Women’s Fiction

Release Date: June 24, 2021

Publisher: Wild Quail Publishing

An upscale hotel like The Beach House Hotel sometimes attracts surprise guests….

Ann and Rhonda continue overseeing their Beach House Hotel along the Gulf Coast of Florida and providing guests with a lovely experience of good eating, relaxation, and the privacy many of them require. When Vice President of the United States, Amelia Swanson, asks them for a favor, Ann and Rhonda agree without realizing it means protecting Amelia’s sister from an abusive husband and a nosy public, including their nemesis, Brock Goodwin, who hopes to gain something from the knowledge. But once they’ve said yes, there’s no going back.

Life continues at a busy pace with their families growing baby by baby. Nell, Vaughn’s daughter, has a baby girl; Rhonda’s daughter, Angela, has her second baby, a girl; and Liz, Ann’s daughter, is desperately trying to get pregnant. With all the tension and activity taking place at home and at the hotel, Ann and Rhonda meet in the afternoon when they can for margaritas and private talk. Rhonda, especially, needs Ann’s guidance in how to handle Katherine Smythe, Angela’s mother-in-law, and one of the most irritating people they know.

After they have what Rhonda calls a “near-death experience,” they come to realize how lucky they are. And when another wedding takes place at the hotel due to what Rhonda believes is her matchmaking skills, they celebrate life and margaritas at The Beach House Hotel in a whole different way.

This is a light-hearted, fun beach read with characters readers love. Be sure and read all the other books in this series: Breakfast at The Beach House Hotel, Lunch at The Beach House Hotel, Dinner at The Beach House Hotel, Christmas at The Beach House Hotel, and the upcoming Dessert at The Beach House Hotel.

Other Books in the The Beach House Hotel Series:

Breakfast at The Beach House Hotel

ISBN: 978-0996435017

ASIN: B00YD5X6NG

Lunch at The Beach House Hotel

ISBN: 978-0996863766

ASIN: B01F6LRPAA

Dinner at The Beach House Hotel

ISBN: 978-0996863780

ASIN: B01MFCEC1Q

Christmas at The Beach House Hotel

ISBN: 978-0998282459

ASIN: B075CBZ21S

Amazon

Excerpt

“Ready?” asked my business partner, Rhonda DelMonte Grayson, on this early April morning on the Gulf Coast of Florida.

I stopped typing on the computer and turned to her with a grin. “As ready as I ever will be.”

Wearing a yellow caftan that went with her hair, Rhonda waved me up and out of my chair with a grin that lit her face and had her dark eyes sparkling. “Then let’s get this show on the road! It’s not every day a vice president visits The Beach House Hotel.”

I rose and looped my arm through Rhonda’s, and we headed out to the front lobby to greet the latest VIP to come to our upscale hotel.

As we stepped outside to wait for our guest, the spring day greeted us with a kiss of sunny warmth. A soft breeze bobbed the colorful blossoms on the hibiscus bushes that lined the front of the hotel, softening the edges of the pink-stucco, two-story building that stood like royalty at the water’s sandy edge.

“Seems like old times, huh?” said Rhonda, grinning at me as we approached the entrance.

“I’ll say.” Five years ago, when we’d first opened the hotel, Rhonda and I had greeted our guests like this at the front steps of the hotel, welcoming them personally as much as possible. Hospitality, discretion, and service were the three things we still relied upon to maintain the hotel’s fine reputation. A warm welcome to the property was a must.

I studied her. When I’d first met Rhonda, I’d thought the large, colorful, bossy woman, who said exactly what was on her mind and had no sense of private space, was completely overwhelming. I’d thought I’d never make it through my first visit to her seaside estate—a visit made to please my daughter, Liz, who roomed at college with Rhonda’s daughter, Angela.

Now, even though my strict upbringing with my grandmother in Boston sometimes made me shudder at what came out of Rhonda’s mouth, I loved her like the sister I never had. And I’d learned her heart was as big as her irrepressible spirit.

Rhonda nudged me. “Here she comes!”

I ran a hand through my shoulder-length dark hair, flicked a speck of dust off my bright-blue suit jacket that matched my eyes, and drew a deep breath.

We headed down the front stairs of the hotel as a black limousine followed a large, black SUV through the gates of the hotel and drew up to the front circle.

As soon as the limousine came to a stop, three different people, two men and a woman, Secret Service agents, I presumed, jumped out of the SUV and assessed their surroundings before the woman went over to the limousine and stood outside the back door. One of the men faced out to the road while the other climbed the stairs to the hotel and stood guard there. Then a somber-looking man stepped out of the front of the limo and stood a moment, scanning the area. Satisfied, he stood by as the female agent outside the limo opened the back door, and Vice President Amelia Swanson prepared to climb out of the car.

A tall, striking woman in her late 40s with chestnut brown hair and blue eyes noted for missing nothing, Amelia Swanson stepped out of the limousine and smiled as she walked forward to meet us.

“Welcome to The Beach House Hotel, Madame Vice President,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Ann Sanders, one of the hotel’s owners.”

Strong fingers gripped my hand. “Very glad to meet you and to be here.” She turned to Rhonda. “And you must be Ms. Grayson.”

“Yes. We’re honored to have you stay with us,” said Rhonda, looking as if she didn’t know whether to curtsey or not.

“Let’s go inside where we can talk privately,” Amelia said.

“Please, come in.” I took her elbow and led her up the steps. The security agent who’d stood by the door headed indoors while another followed at our heels.

Behind me, I noticed the female guard pacing outside the limousine and wondered who or what she was protecting.

We entered the hotel.

“Come this way,” said Rhonda.

She led us to the small, private dining room we used for confidential gatherings. Sound-proofed, it had housed many private discussions that never left the room.

The vice president waited for one of the agents to finish his visual sweep of the interior, and then she motioned both men to stay back before closing the door, leaving the three of us alone in the room.

“Would you like a seat?” I asked, a little confused by all that was happening.

“No, thank you,” she said, smiling. “I’ve been sitting for a while and need to stretch my legs.” She studied Rhonda and turned to me. “What I’m about to tell you can go no further. Understand?”

Rhonda and I glanced at each other and spoke together. “Yes. We do.”

“I won’t be staying here but will instead be secretly traveling to Central America to try and rescue a woman from a revolutionary group that’s been holding her prisoner. I made the reservation here at the hotel because you’re known for being discreet. Tina Marks, that fabulous actress, credits the two of you with saving her life. So, if newspaper reporters ask about my staying here, it won’t seem out of the ordinary for you to decline to give out any information. A woman running from domestic abuse will be using my reservation in my place.”

“I see …” I began, but she held up her hand to stop me.

“This woman is my sister and the wife of the president’s brother.”

About the Author

Judith Keim enjoyed her childhood and young-adult years in Elmira, New York, and now makes her home in Boise, Idaho, with her husband and their two dachshunds, Winston and Wally, and other members of her family.

While growing up, she was drawn to the idea of writing stories from a young age. Books were always present, being read, ready to go back to the library, or about to be discovered. All in her family shared information from the books in general conversation, giving them a wealth of knowledge and vivid imaginations.

A hybrid author who both has a publisher and self-publishes, Ms. Keim writes heart-warming novels about women who face unexpected challenges, meet them with strength, and find love and happiness along the way. Her best-selling books are based, in part, on many of the places she’s lived or visited and on the interesting people she’s met, creating believable characters and realistic settings her many loyal readers love. Ms. Keim loves to hear from her readers and appreciates their enthusiasm for her stories.

To sign up for her newsletter, go here: http://eepurl.com/bZ0ICX

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Book Blitz–The House on Camp Ruby Road

Ghosts of the Big Thicket, Book One

Southern Gothic, Mystery

Publisher: Zimbell House Publishing

The House on Camp Ruby Road is the story of three generations of women living in the Big thicket of deep East Texas. It is a mystical place where Eden Devereaux, a college student in the early 1060s, is drawn into a haunting world full of damaged and grotesques people, reminiscent of Southern Gothic literature. After inheriting a crumbling southern homeplace in the Big Thicket upon the death of her mother, Eden must find out why she is entitled to it. But more importantly, who wants to make sure she doesn’t inherit it, and why.

The story weaves around three women; our heroine, who is searching for answers to a childhood dream; an elderly black woman who is living in the house and who holds the key to the mystery of the dream; and a young girl from the river bottom people, fleeing an unbearable life. They form an unlikely bond through adversity. Eden is aided in her search by handsome Jeff Callahan, who better understands the strange world in which she finds herself.

Will she be driven away by blood feuds, dark secrets, and ghosts? Or will she take a stand and claim what is hers? Through her true Texas grit and determination, she will find out the truth about who she really is, and who it is she truly loves.

Other Books in the Ghosts of the Big Thicket series:

The Girls of Cemetery Road

Ghosts of the Big Thicket, Book Two

Gothic, Mystery, Paranormal Women’s Fiction

There was something very dark about Kitrina Katim’s part of the Big Thicket. It had taken Libby, one of Kit’s best friends, in the dark of night when Kit was just a girl. Kit couldn’t imagine leaving her life and he best friends, the Sisterhood of Cemetery Road. But leave them, she did. And she did not return until ten years later when she was forced back to sell her parent’s house.

Nothing had changed, including Mad Maddie McPhearson, who lived down the road, always sitting on her front porch, always trying to make Kit’s life miserable. Miss Maddie, an angry elderly woman, owned Bellewood, an old Plantation house that was crumbling around her. Kit’s attemps at kindsness only fed the old woman’s hatred. But Kit didn’t understand why. Not then anyway.

It was that hatred that awakened dark voices in the thicket and threatening figures that terrified Kit. Was it Libby? Had she come back to them? Or was it something else, something horrifyingly familiar?

Would it be the Sisterhood, or handsome Colton or his brother Jackson, who would come to Kit’s aid when the time came to do battle with the dark forces that were slowly overtaking the Big Thicket?

The Voices at the End of the Road

Ghosts of the Big Thicket, Book Three

Coming July 2021!

About the Author

Twyla Ellis is a descendent of pioneers who came to Texas in the 1840s, while Texas was still a Republic. She grew up roaming the dense pine forest in the Big Thicket around Livingston, Texas, at the home of her grandmother, great-aunts and uncles, and cousins. Her family was one of the founding families of Livingston, and her great-great-great grandfather was the first city treasurer in the 1840s. She fell in love with the haunting feel of the Thicket; its sounds and sights and smells. Her goal is to make people aware of the mystique and uniqueness of this novel part of Texas, one of only four rainforests in the U.S.

She holds a degree from Howard Payne University and has taught English and Music, and has been a member of NEA, TSTA, and TETA. She was a statewide officer and conference speaker with TETA (Texas English Teachers Association).

She has run her own children’s party and event planning business as well as Remembrances Antiques and Gifts in the Houston area. She is certified in computer graphic design and free-lances in her spare time.

Nothing makes her happier than road trips with her family to interesting old Texas towns. She loves church, antiquing, fossil hunting with her husband and sons (they hunt, she writes), Big Bend, the Alamo (Don’t all Texans?), exploring deserted buildings with a camera, and especially, the Big Thicket of deep East Texas.

If she had to give you a one-sentence bio of herself, she would probably say, “That obnoxiously joyful, hug driven, southern relative that you’d like to hide in the attic, just might be me.”

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Release Blitz–Marybeth, Hollister and Jane

Woman’s Fiction, Cozy Mystery

Date Published: 9/28/20

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Some secrets draw people closer………after they tear them apart.

Marybeth and Hollister moved to rural New York to escape—both the city life and a checkered past. Their lives were unassuming, until they bought a grandfather clock. They just wanted something to fill the space under their stairs, but they got much more than they bargained for. What secrets could the clock possibly hold?

Jane was sent to Callicoon to find the Eagle diamond, which was stolen from the Museum of Natural History in the ‘60s and never recovered. Convinced she won’t find what she’s looking for, she grudgingly takes the assignment. When she arrives, things aren’t what they seem and Jane finds more than she ever expected.

Excerpt

Brenda Loring was far too small for the overstuffed capacious couch. She appeared uncomfortably absorbed by the cushions, hardly consoled. At first glance, she looked swallowed by the plush off-white arms. It could be assumed that her body had found a semblance of solace, but the truth was, there really weren’t any sacred places to turn for comfort; the fluffed-up cotton squares were far too affectionate and they consumed her behind their good intentions, providing only a pretense of succor.

Brenda sat up straight and reached for her glass; next was the cigarette. Comfort was better found in a nicotine binge and a scotch devoid of ice or water.

Brock was still not sure if he should believe her, even though she’d been insisting for months. “I’m not hallucinating,” she kept repeating. “I know what the hell I’m talking about. It’s all going to hell.”

His thoughts raced ahead as he watched her light the tip of her cigarette with a lit butt from an old dish with more ash than a crematory.

Brenda was birdlike but hardly unattractive, just sticky and twiggy, unlike his wife, who was a full hug, an eye level kiss. Brenda took a deep drag and looked at him through smoke.

“What a fuck,” she said. “Both of them. They are both fucks. I’m telling you, Devon has bought Glen off, paid him well to screw us over, though I don’t know why he would, disloyal asshole.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s hard to believe, can’t wrap my head around it, that’s all.”

Brenda leaned forward and crossed her tiny legs, shapely but thin. Her fingers seemed long as arms, her elbows stuck out like wayward bones.

“Peter has lost control of his people. He’s too old to run the organization. That’s what I think. I have my spies, you know, people who hate Devon and will tell me the truth when I ask for it. You think he’s above screwing his brother?

“Why let the organization go to shit now?”

“Why not now? I heard Peter was sick; maybe that’s why he’s losing control. Maybe it’s serious. Maybe Devon doesn’t want anything going to Peter’s idiot wife if he should die. Imagine Delilah in charge of the LVAJ? Ha!”

“I don’t think Delilah would want it. Advising Peter in business is not quite the same as running the entire organization. That’s a mammoth job.”

“Ha!” Brenda took a sip of scotch. “I wouldn’t underestimate her, Brock. She has a degree in art, after all. You sound like a misogynist, just because she’s blonde and beautiful. She’s far from stupid.”

“I didn’t say she was stupid.”

“Didn’t say she wasn’t either.”

“Look, you think we ought to go to Peter with this?” he asked, “he should know about our suspicions.”

“No, I don’t think we should go to Peter.”

Brock took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So, you’re saying the Prince was a phony, but what if he wasn’t?”

Brenda threw back her head and laughed loudly. He noticed that her hair didn’t move, so stiff it seemed to stand at attention. Her hair is obedient, he thought.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “The whole thing was a scam. I’ll bet my ass that the Yellow Diamond is sitting behind some asshole’s velvet pull in Saudi Arabia and nowhere near that little turd that calls himself ‘Prince Vizueta.’ She drew out the syllables of the prince’s name and made a face. “Prince of bullshit.”

Brock thought for a moment. “So, if the Yellow Diamond buy was a scam, what’s next?”

Brenda did all three things at once. It was quite impressive. She laughed and took a drag off her cigarette as she put the scotch glass to her lips and drank.

“I wish I knew.”

Brock stood up and looked at his watch. He hadn’t called home. It was after ten p.m. in San Francisco. Jane would be angry. One should make a point of calling home when one is suspected of having an affair.

“It’s getting late,” he said.

He’d spent months on the phone with Brenda, ever since she first uncovered what she believed to be a conspiracy. He wasn’t quite so sure. He thought she was a bit hysterical over nothing. Besides, he was cautious. He liked absolute proof. But with their constant phone calls, he couldn’t blame his wife for suspecting him of infidelity. Once Brenda got to Philadelphia for the Yellow Diamond Buy, she called him several times a day so she could give him the scenario of treachery; so she could share her anxiety as she nervously sucked on her cigarette and drew him into her fears like the nightmare fairy.

“Why don’t we wait for Devon’s next move, see where he’s going with this,” Brock said, putting Jane out of his thoughts, he’d deal with it in his own way. “No sense making a big deal out of something that could just be gossip,” he added. “Or paranoia.” He stared at her.

“Well, it’s been months since this phony prince put out a bid on the Yellow Diamond and went back to his phony country with it.”

“Right, and there hasn’t been anything since, no bids out on any precious stones at all.”

“But it doesn’t mean there won’t be,” she said. “I sense it in my bones that we’re being screwed with.”

“Look, if someone out there really has the Yellow Diamond other than the Prince, wouldn’t they have contacted Peter and told him he was being made an ass of, that you can’t purchase what someone else owns?”

“Why should they say anything? Anonymity is what matters to us, not friendship, you know that.”

Brenda stood up tall but barely reached his chest. She went to a wall of windows and looked out from her thirty-second-floor Manhattan condominium. The night was dark, but the city shone against the sky. It seemed like a false movie set, almost too perfect to be real.

She turned to face him. “Let’s confront Glen, find out what the hell is going on. If he knows we’re aware he’s a turncoat, he’ll tell us everything. When it comes right down to it, he’s a wimp and he’ll play both sides. Glen has no loyalty. “

Brock raised his eyebrow. “And you think Glen is going to admit he has his own agenda?” he said. “Just like that?”

“Where is it going to leave us if Devon takes over the American operation?”

“Under Devon’s employ, that’s where.” He realized Brenda was being too emotional; one of them had to be rational.

Brenda sat and puffed; taking deep drags and pushed the smoke out through her teeth.

Brock paced a bit around the room. “So, according to you, Devon paid the commission out of his own pocket? To make it all look legit?”

Brenda moved her head, barely a nod but he knew that’s what she’d intended.

“Right. He has a plan,” she said. “I just don’t know what it is. I mean, a phony bid? A phony buy? I don’t get it.”

Brock sat on the arm of a chair so thin it hurt his backside and he moved quickly onto the couch with false substance.

“It has to have something to do with discrediting Peter, that’s what I would guess. What else could it be? Devon has finally gotten sick and tired of sharing his customers.”

Brenda squashed her cigarette out. He was relived she didn’t relight. His throat felt raw from her smoke, and the nicotine stunk.

“Devon has thought this whole thing up, a fake prince, a ludicrous bid ─ and he sent it all to Peter on a silver platter. I watched Glen go through the motions of recovering the Yellow Diamond; it was clear bullshit.” She looked back out at her seven-million-dollar view. “I never saw the diamond with my own eyes; I never watched any money exchange hands. He had me answering the phone and reporting back to Peter all day while he said he was doing business.”

Brock wet his lips with his tongue. “Why would Devon approach Glen and not me, or not you, for that matter, if he’s plotting against Peter? I mean, why Glen?”

Brenda rocked her body just a bit. She was flirting, which was always her way, her constant affectation around men. Brock smiled, but only to himself. He’d never wanted any other woman but Jane from the moment they’d met. It was absurd that she now thought he did, especially Brenda, whose scantily fleshed out body reminded him of an adolescent boy. He wanted to flip open his cell phone and call his wife, just to tell her that her father was a bastard and the only thing he wanted from Brenda was assurance. If all this were real, it changed everything.

“Because you’re married to Jane and Peter was always more of a father to his daughter than he was. Jane would never let you betray Peter. And me?” Brenda winked at him. “My few one-night stands with Peter could be interpreted as loyalty, though God knows, I have none.”

Brock stood up. He towered over her and nearly reached her eight-foot ceiling.

“Listen, if what you’re saying is true, I want a takeover. I want no part of this war between Peter and Devon. Let them chew each other up. You and I together have enough contacts to go on our own.”

He stared at her. He was surprised at his own words, but he meant it. If he had wanted to work with Devon, he would have stayed in England. Devon was a mean bastard. He was also greedy; his split had been an absurd five percent.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Brenda lit another cigarette without leaving his gaze.”

“That would make us partners,” he said, “just you and me, I’m not opening this up to anyone else.”

“I’m yours,” she said, sending him smoke rings. “Peter is getting too old for this and Devon is a creep; we can’t trust him. This idiot ploy of his is going to splinter the whole operation, so let’s take our contacts and run.”

Brock slipped on his jacket. “Let me think this through,” he said. “I’ll be back in touch. Id this is real we’re bound to hear of another false buy very soon. If this is Devon’s plan, to discredit Peter, he won’t wait very long to send him more bullshit about a precious stone that’s surfaced.”

“Maybe art this time, who knows? What about Jane, will you tell her?” she asked.

“Of course, I tell her everything,” he said and paused at the door. “Not right away though, she might not like it.”

About the Author

I am an award-winning hybrid author of southern and women’s Fiction, including Dancing Backward in Paradise, The Story of Sassy Sweetwater, Where the Wildflowers Grow, Pleasant Day, Marybeth, Hollister & Jane and Lies a River Deep. As my alter ego, Olivia Hardy Ray my books include Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem, Annabel Horton and the Black Witch of Pau, and Pharaoh’s Star. The first novel I ever wrote, Dancing Backward In Paradise, won an Eric Hoffer Award for publishing excellence and an Indie Excellence Award for notable new fiction, 2007. The Story of Sassy Sweetwater and Dancing Backward in Paradise received 5 Star ForeWord Clarion Reviews and The Story of Sassy Sweetwater has been named a finalist for the ForeWord Book of the Year Awards. I have published in ESL Magazine, Christopher Street Magazine and I have also written early childhood curriculum for Weekly Reader and McGraw Hill.

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One Author’s Research

Most people mention THE GRAPES OF WRATH by John Steinbeck when they think of novels set during the Depression. That book certainly is a classic. However, my goal was to portray an entirely different, but equally accurate, setting for THREADS. Ma and Pa Yoder knew about the dust storms in the western U.S. depicted in THE GRAPES OF WRATH, but their day-to-day survival was different. It depended on getting rain for the field crops and garden during the summer months. Also, they needed a dry spell in early July to “make hay.” The daughters were tasked a myriad of garden chores, some, such as strawberry-picking lasting dawn to dusk. It wasn’t an easy life, and it’s not surprising the girls ate strawberries as they picked, particularly when they knew their bread supply was low, and chances were great they’d go to bed hungry.

Talking to my grandmother when I was a teenager piqued my interest in the Great Depression. My grandparents were farmers who had a huge garden, dairy cows, chickens, and pigs, yet they went hungry for a year. Farm prices had plummeted to nothing, so they were forced to sell everything, food supplies included, to pay the taxes and mortgage, in order not lose the farm. What a setting for a novel! When I wrote the book, I had no idea that the pandemic was around the corner. As it turned out there were so many parallels between then and today, that it was uncanny. Many readers of THREADS have told me that they escaped to an earlier time, connected with the characters, and ended up feeling so much better, knowing that this, too, will pass. I’m guessing the feel-good ending of THREADS helped as well.

The fictional Yoder family, like many real families on Midwestern farms in 1934, faced lots of other threats: horse thieves, a barn fire, and a drunken food thief, plus an over-arching concern about child molestation, words they hardly dared to use. Train riders were considered a threat, but Ma and Pa, generously decided to continue giving them bean sandwiches and sent them on their way.

I had a huge head start on the research, growing up on a small family farm much like the one in THREADS. There were five milk cows and a bull, plus chickens, pigs, barn cats, and a pet dog. I understood the layout of all the outbuildings including the chicken coop, milk house, granary, corncrib, silo, hayloft, and the indoor and outdoor barnyards. As a kid I had romped down the lanes, past the lilac bushes, past two natural ponds to the back forest. The only thing missing was the “crick.” Talking to relatives who grew up near the Rice Creek in rural Michigan filled that void.

As mentioned, I interviewed family members who had lived through the Depression on Michigan farms. Also, I listened to countless online interviews and read many articles about the rural Midwest during that time. Sometimes someone would simply mention one thing and it would set me off on a tailspin, creating a subplot. This happened when one of my aunts mentioned my grandpa wouldn’t let the Gypsies’ horses drink out of his horse tank. “Why?” I asked her. She didn’t have a clue. I finally read about the general mistrust of the Gypsy bands that set up camp during the summer months in the Midwest. Because they kept to themselves, many false rumors were spread, including those of stealing children and having diseased horses. In contrast, the Jewish peddler, Mr. Goldberg, was respected and adored by the Yoder girls. He made his living selling to the farmers, so interactions with him were warm and welcomed. His horse was named “Ferd,” the Yiddish word for horse.

I tried to stick entirely with historical facts. While the book is set on a Midwestern family farm, there are references to FDR, the New Deal, John Dillinger, distrust of banks, food shortages, and farm foreclosures. People had access to the radio and newspapers, so news was slower in arriving, but people had a thirst for current events. Also, I tried to keep everything authentic regarding circumstances around a farm, such as lack of electricity, running water, and telephones. We see Pa milking cows by hand on a little three-legged milk stool and plowing with a workhorse. We see Ma kneading bread and darning socks. The girls sew their own clothes with a treadle machine, walk to the one-room country school, and collect and wash dirty eggs daily. Always the girls were supposed to be seen, not heard. Spoiler: that didn’t always happen.

A Short Blurb

It’s a boring, hardscrabble life for three sisters growing up on a Michigan farm during the throes of the Great Depression. But when young Nellie, digging for pirate treasure, discovers the tiny hand of a dead baby, rumors begin to fly. Narrated by Nellie and her two older sisters, the story follows the girls as they encounter a patchwork of threatening circumstances and decide to solve the mystery.

A Little Excerpt

When I woke up this morning the first thing I thought of was that baby. What a dark, scary place for a baby to be buried. So alone, away from everyone. Where were its parents? Babies need to be held and cuddled and kept warm. Even dead babies need to be buried in the churchyard with purty flowers, not off in the cold, dark backwoods.

I keep thinking ’bout the Preston’s baby girl, such a sweet baby. I held her once when Mrs. Preston was sitting beside me on the davenport. The baby kept sleeping, then blew a little bubble and later I could feel her little fart that warn’t stinky at all. All the time she jist kept sleeping. When she finally woke up and fussed, Mrs. Preston picked her up and jiggled her and talked baby talk to her so she quit fussing. That’s how babies are posta be treated.

But thinking ’bout the Prestons made me sad, too. They lost their farm and had to move away to Mrs. Preston’s parents’ place in Indiana. Ma said we might never see them again. Ma and Mrs. Preston both cried when we said goodbye. Pa and Mr. Preston shook hands and Pa bit his lip. I’d only seen him do that once before, at my grandpa’s funeral.

And here’s an introduction to the author

Charlotte Whitney grew up in Michigan and spent much of her career at the University of Michigan directing internship and living-learning programs. She started out writing non-fiction while at the University and switched to romance with I DREAM IN WHITE. A passion for history inspired her to write THREADS A Depression Era Tale chronicling the stories of three sisters on a farm during the throes of the Great Depression. She lives in Arizona, where she loves hiking, bicycling, swimming, and practicing yoga.

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Author’s Website:

http://www.charlottewhitney.com

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https://www.instagram.com/charlottewhitney65/

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And, yes, there’s a giveaway.

Book Blitz–Beyond the Moon

Women’s Fiction

Publisher: Oghma Creative Media

Katie agrees to teach art techniques at the vet’s hospital to deal with the painful loss of her husband. She discovers her own buried strengths when Glen’s lost soul reaches out to her and they become close friends. Dealing with a damaged warrior is more difficult than she thought. But love makes no room for defeat, and their battles though hard won promise a life together if only they can persevere.

About the Author

Velda Brotherton has written for 35 years and turned out that many novels plus 15 published short stories and six nonfiction books.

She lives in the Arkansas Ozarks where she continues to write every day while enjoying wildlife and the surrounding mountains.

She has three children, three grandchildren, and two great grandsons.

At 84 she has no plans to retire and is currently working on several books. When I quit,” she says, “it will be with my still fingers resting on the keyboard.”

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Book Tour–Beyond The Surface

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Trisha Ridinger McKee will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other tours on the stop.

Ella is a middle-aged woman with a stagnant career, an exasperated teenage daughter, and a husband that has left to make a new life with another woman. Her first attempt at dating is a disaster, and in an attempt to refocus her life and rediscover her joy, Ella goes fishing. It is here that she meets Dennis, the older, captivating man that ends up saving her life and stealing her heart. But Dennis has a history, and Ella might just be in for the biggest heartbreak of her life if she can not get her emotions under control and face the demons from her own past.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Ella noticed he kept a distance, his gaze flitting around the room. She felt huge and plain in a cotton dress that made it easy to move around the still, humid air.

“You okay?” He was close again, his lips near her cheek, and she stepped away, unable to keep it all straight.

“Forget it.”

“El-”

“This was a stupid dress to wear!” she cried out.

Slowly, Dennis nodded. “Such a stupid dress to wear.” And he was right behind her, his hands drawing her against him. Leaning down, he whispered, “Because I can’t think straight seeing you in that dress. You look young and beautiful, the color brings out the green in your eyes. The fabric is thin enough that all I can think of is how very little is between us when I am against you like this. And when the sun hits you just right… the dress… El, the dress is a little see-through.”

She spun around, colliding into him, her large eyes seeking his in a panic. “What? Dennis, I was out running errands -”

“I know.” His lips teased the tip of her ear, stifling her words. “And I bet all the men that crossed your path are still trying to recover. So, when I suddenly get quiet and move away, it’s because I’m doing my best, El, to be a gentleman. Because something about you drives me crazy, and I forget myself. I forget how to be a civilized male, a proper adult.” His lips were suddenly on her neck, and her knees buckled.

About the Author:

Trisha Ridinger McKee resides in a small town in Pennsylvania where there is not much to do … except write. When she is not twisting words into stories, she enjoys fishing, reading, binge-watching true crime or cheesy horror, hanging out with her bulldogs, and finding new hobbies. She shares her world with a patient hubby and an amazing daughter. She finally gained enough courage to send out her writing in April 2019. Since then, her work has appeared or is forthcoming in over 50 publications, including Tablet Magazine, The Oddville Press, Crab Fat Magazine, Kzine, Commuterlit, J.J. Outre Review, ParABnormal Magazine, 4Star Stories, Black Hare Press, Thirteen Press, and more. She won Story of the Month from 50-Word Stories. Her short story Where We Meet has been nominated for Best of the Net Anthology 2019. Her debut novel Beyond the Surface is now available on Amazon.

Website: http://www.trishamckee.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/trishamckee

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/wordromancer/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authortrishamckee/

To Purchase: https://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Surface-Trisha-Ridinger-McKee/dp/B088N45M8M/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0

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https://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2020/06/book-blast-beyond-surface-by-trisha.html

Book Tour–The Voice of Reason

Women’s Lit

Date Published: June 1

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

There’s nothing like young love. But from the beginning, Amy’s wealthy, opinionated parents disapprove of Josh Everett. Josh is a high school drop-out working for his father’s modest construction company, when Amy becomes pregnant during her senior year of high school.

Her parents begrudgingly throw a lavish wedding for her and Josh to avoid the scandal of an unwed and pregnant teenage daughter. Freed from her parents’ expectations, Amy begins to thrive as a wife and mother. But Josh and Amy’s simple love story endures an unwanted plot twist when Josh is struck by mental illness and begins suffering from auditory and visual hallucinations.

Confused and scared, Amy does her best to hold her little family together. When his symptoms escalate and Josh lands in a locked hospital ward, Amy’s parents see an opportunity to sabotage the relationship. Unless Amy divorces Josh and returns home to them, they will move to take custody of the couple’s young son.

An embittered legal battle ensues, and Josh and Amy are thrown from hospital to court room. Time is running out as Josh grapples with what’s real and the couple searches for an accurate diagnosis. In order to save their family, they must face the biggest obstacle in their relationship and fight together against everything – and everyone – determined to tear them apart.

About the Author

Kat Clark is an award-winning writer with a degree in psychology and a passion for storytelling. She found writing on a frigid winter night while holed up with a crying baby, a travelling husband, and a precocious three-year old.

Kat has been a stay-at-home mom to her two sons for eleven years. She also homeschools and advocates tirelessly for awareness of and accommodations for special needs. Her free time is spent volunteering with various church ministries including working with children with a variety of needs. Her personal experience with mental illness and her previous work with the chronically mentally ill population sparked her determination to remove the stigma from mental illness.

Kat is a contributing author for The Mighty website. She also shares a You Tube channel (Sonny Mom INC.) with her son and a blog with her sister-in-law at http://www.killingjunecleaver.blogspot.com. She lives in the Chicago suburbs with her husband, two children, two large, obnoxious dogs, and two cats who hate each other.

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And here is a little taste of the story.

Josh Everett was twenty-one years old the first time the voices spoke to him.

That ordinary summer morning, he ran a comb through his shaggy, almost shoulder-length black hair as he checked his reflection in the small bathroom mirror. Later, he’d wish he’d looked harder; stared into the pool of his own eyes, attempting to see straight into his brain. Maybe if he’d watched closely enough he would’ve seen it happen; something misfiring deep within the recesses of his brain, an almost imperceptible ripple in the calm waters, a subtle precursor to the storm.

He hurried downstairs toward the aroma of coffee floating up to greet him. At the threshold of the tiny kitchen, he paused to take in the scene. Amy stood at the stove with her back to him. His wife’s long brown hair was secured behind her in a messy ponytail and one of his t-shirts almost swallowed her small frame. He watched her frying eggs, humming along with the sizzling of the oil in the pan. She scooped an egg onto a plate with a pancake and turned to slide it onto Caleb’s highchair tray. The baby pounded the tray with squeals of excitement, his thick dark curls bouncing on his head. At one and a half he still hadn’t uttered a discernable word, but he was always making noise and smiling.

Amy caught sight of Josh and broke into a grin. She made him feel ten feet tall just by the way she lit up when he entered a room.

RABT Book Blitz–Seeking Glory

Women’s Fiction

Publisher: Outskirts Press

2019 CIPA EVVY AWARD – Merit Award Women’s Fiction

Life is never static. Just when you think you finally have everything under control, that illusion is shattered…and the life you once knew has spun off in unimaginable directions. Seeking Glory is an eloquent novel that explores the complexities of family relationships. With themes of loss, recovery, estrangement, and reconciliation woven throughout, it tells the story of a woman who seeks to uncover the truth about her young granddaughter’s origins.

Kate takes custody of her young granddaughter Glory after the death of Ally, her long missing daughter but soon discovers that Glory is mute and seemingly traumatized. To help her, she must try to solve the mystery of her granddaughter’s origins. As she struggles to deal with her own and Ally’s past she finds she is not the only one seeking Glory.

About the Author

Patricia Hamilton Shook was born in Massachusetts and while she has lived there most of her life, she also spent twelve years in the San Francisco Bay area where she obtained a B.A.in Psychology and a M.A. in Developmental Psychology from San Francisco State University. Soon after her marriage, Dr. Shook returned to Massachusetts where she obtained a Ph.D. in Counseling Psychology from Northeastern University while raising the their two sons and working part time. Reading has been a favorite pastime since she first began combining letters into words on a page and while her chosen profession has provided many opportunities to write, she has always dreamed of writing a novel. In writing Seeking Glory she combines her professional expertise with an interest in spirituality and mysteries–along with a love of Cape Cod that dates back to childhood–to inform her debut novel Seeking Glory.

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