#excerpt – Page 8 – Avonna Loves Genres

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Famous in a Small Town by Viola Shipman

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN by Viola Shipman on this HTP Books Summer 2023 Blog Tour.

Below you will find a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!

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Book Summary

Fried Green Tomatoes meets Midnight at the Blackbird Café in USA Today bestselling author Viola Shipman’s FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN, a heartwarming story about intergenerational friendship and self-discovery, set in beautiful Northern Michigan.

In 1958, 15-year-old Mary Jackson became the first woman ever crowned The Cherry Pit Spittin’ Champion of Good Hart, Michigan, landing her in the Guinness Book of World Records, and earning her the nickname Cherry Mary. Nearly 80 years old at the story’s start, Mary runs The Very Cherry General Store, a business that has been passed through three generations of women in the family. While there is no female next of kin, Mary believes the fourth is fated to arrive, as predicted by “Fata Morgana,” a Lake Michigan mirage of four women walking side by side.

Becky Thatcher (yes, like the Mark Twain character), an Assistant Principal from St. Louis, has just broken up with her long-term boyfriend and heads to Good Hart for a healing girl’s trip with her best friend. When Becky drunkenly spits a cherry pit an impressive distance, Mary urges her to enter the upcoming contest, and wonders if Becky could be the woman she’s been waiting for.

Bursting with memorable characters and small-town lore, FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN is a magical story about the family you’re born with, and the one you choose.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62197591-famous-in-a-small-town?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=DazqmI3wX4&rank=3

Famous in a Small Town

Author: Viola Shipman

Publisher: Graydon House

Paperback Original

ISBN 978-1525804854

Price: $18.99

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN by Viola Shipman is a wonderful women’s fiction story with romantic elements that is full of Michigan summertime vacation nostalgia, generational family drama, the bonds of friendship, and the discovery and belief in the power of women all delivered with a cherry on top. This is the perfect summertime read, especially if you are a fan of all things tart cherry.

Mary Jackson became “Cherry Mary” as a girl of fifteen when she won the cherry pit spitting distance contest in her small hometown of Good Hart, not only beating all the men, but also obtaining the Guinness World Record. Sixty-five years later, she is now eighty years old, still undefeated and runs her family’s Very Cherry General Store and waits for the girl she was told in her visions would come to carry on.

Becky Thatcher has turned forty and feels stuck in a monotonous life, with nothing to show for it. She and her best friend, “Q” take off for a vacation in Good Hart to relive the fun childhood holidays she remembers with her grandparents. When Becky spits a cherry pit, Mary witnesses the record breaker and believes Becky is the girl she has been waiting for. While not the vacation she was expecting, Becky works under Mary’s wing and soon discovers peace and beauty in the small town and the belief that Mary may be right, and this is where she is meant to be.

Enchanting, emotional, and memorable characters and landscapes are all present in this story. It is summertime memories, trips with grandparents, small town nostalgia all intertwined with everything tart cherry. The strength and power of women is a recurring theme throughout. The sweet romance is a relatively small subplot in this story, but it is relevant to both main characters. I feel this is the perfect summertime read and I loved it.

I highly recommend this very cherry women’s fiction!

***

Excerpt

THE LAKE EFFECT EXPRESS

August 1958

“Good News from Good Hart!”

by Shirley Ann Potter

It was the spit heard ’round the world!

Our town is still atwitter over the news that the daughter of Mr. Peter Jackson was crowned the 35th Annual Cherry Pit Spittin’ Champion of Leelanau and Emmet County last Saturday. Fifteen-year-old Mary Jackson, an Emmet County high-school sophomore, was not only the first woman—uh, girl—to win the contest, but her stone flew a Guinness Book of World Records–breaking distance of ninety-three feet six-and-a-half inches, shattering the previous record set by “Too Tall” Fred Jones in 1898 at the state’s very first Cherry Championship right here in Good Hart.

News of her accomplishment has flown farther than her cherry pit, with reporters from as far away as New York and London anointing our town sprite with the moniker “Cherry Mary.”

I caught up with Mary at the Very Cherry General Store—our beloved post office/grocery store/sandwich-

and-soda-shop run by Mary’s mother and grandmother—to see how she managed such a Herculean feat.

“My mom taught me to whistle when I was a kid (“A kid!” Don’t you just love that, readers?), and I had to be loud enough for her to hear me when she was down at the lake. I think that made my lips strong,” Mary says. “And I started eating sunflower seeds when I was fishing on the boat with my grandma. She taught me how to spit them without having the wind blow them back in the boat.”

Mary says she practiced for the contest by standing in the middle of M-119—the road that houses our beautiful Tunnel of Trees—and spitting stones into the wind when a storm was brewing on Lake Michigan.

“I knew if I could make it a far piece into the wind, I could do it when it was still.”

While her grandmother was “over the moon” for Mary’s feat, saying, “It’s about time,” Mr. Jackson says of his daughter’s accomplishment, “It’s certainly unusual for a girl, but Mary isn’t your average girl. Maybe all this got it out of her system, so to speak. I hope so for her sake.”

The plucky teenager seems nonplussed by the attention, despite seeing her face all over northern Michigan in the papers and the T-shirts featuring her face—cheeks puffed, stone leaving her mouth—and the words Cherry Mary in bright red over the image.

“A girl can do anything a man can,” Mary says in between retrieving mail, spreading mayonnaise on a tomato sandwich and twirling a cherry around in her mouth, before perfectly depositing the stone in a trash can across the room. “You just gotta believe you can. That’s the hard part. Harder than spitting any old pit.”

Mary seems ready to conquer the world, readers. Cheers, Cherry Mary! Our hometown heroine!

*******

BECKY

June 2023

“Okay, Benjie, would you like it if Ashley did this to you?”

He scrunches up his face to stave off tears and shakes his head. “No.”

“Well, it’s not a nice thing to do.”

I study Ashley’s hair, then take her face in my hands. “It’s going to be okay. Trust me?”

The little girl nods her head. I give her a hug.

I walk over to my desk and open the bottom drawer . There is a large jar of creamy peanut butter sitting next to a bag of mini Snickers. The peanut butter is for emergencies like this: removing gum from a little girls’ hair. The Snickers are for me after I’m finished with this life lesson.

“Well, I’m just glad neither of you are allergic to peanuts,” I say. “Allows me to do this.”

I cover the gum stuck in the back of Ashley’s pretty, long, blond hair and then look at her.

“I promise this works,” I say. “I’ve performed a lot of gum surgery.”

She nods. Her eyes are red from crying, her cheeks blotchy.

“Why did you do this, Benjie?” I ask the little boy seated in the chair before my desk.

He ducks his head sheepishly, his brown bangs falling into his eyes, and murmurs something into his chest.

“I didn’t catch that,” I say. “What did you say? Remember it’s okay to express your emotions.”

He looks at me, freckles twitching on his cheeks. “I can’t say,” he whispers.

“Yes, you can,” I say. “Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”

Benjie glances toward the door to ensure that it is closed. “Tyler Evans told me to do it or he’d punch me on the way home.”

Being a grade-school administrator is akin to being a detective: you have to work the perp to get the truth. Eventually—no matter the age—they break, especially when a verdict on punishment is waiting in the balance.

It’s the last day of school. Benjie does not want his summer to be ruined.

I lean down and slide the gum out of Ashley’s hair. I go to my sink, dampen a cloth and put some dish soap on it, return and clean the rest of the peanut butter off her locks. I move to a tall filing cabinet and retrieve a clean brush. The filing cabinet is filled with bags of sealed brushes and combs, toothbrushes and EpiPens, certificates and old laptops. I run the brush through her hair. I hold up a mirror for her to see the back of her head.

“See, good as new.”

“What do you say to Ashley, Benjie?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you accept his apology?”

Ashley shakes her head no. “You ruined the last day of school. You’re a big ol’ meanie.”

“Ashley,” I say, my tone sweet but authoritarian.

“I accept your apology,” she says.

“You’re free to go,” I say to her.

“But you’re still a big ol’ poop head,” she says, racing out of my office, bubblegum-free hair bouncing.

I actually have to clench my hands very hard to stifle a laugh.

Big ol’ poop head.

How many times a day would I—would any adult—like to scream that at someone?

“Are you telling my parents?” Benjie asks.

“I have to,” I say, “but I’ll tell them why you did it, and then I’ll have a talk with Tyler.”

“No!”

“I have to do that, too,” I explain. “And I’ll talk to his parents as well.”

He looks at me, his chin quivering.

“We have a zero-tolerance policy here for bullying,” I say. “Trust me, Tyler won’t do it again. You have to stand up to bullies. You have to show them the right way to do things. Otherwise, they never change.”

In addition to being a detective, an assistant principal is also akin to being the vice-president of the United States. Everyone knows your name, everyone knows you’ve achieved some level of status, but nobody really understands what the hell you do all day.

“I promise it will be okay,” I say. “Just promise me you won’t do it again. You’re a nice boy, Benjie. That’s a wonderful thing. Always remember that.”

“I promise.” He looks at me. “Can I go now?”

“One more thing. You know you aren’t supposed to bring gum to school.”

“I know. But one of the moms was handing it out before school.”

Mrs. Yates, I instantly know. She wants to be the cool mom. She’s Room Mom for 2A, and, Mrs. Trimbley, the Room Mom for 2B, told me that competing with her this year was like being a contestant in Squid Game.

Benjie continues. “It’s Bubble Yum. My favorite. My mom won’t let me have it because it’s bad for my teeth.”

Benjie opens his mouth and smiles. He resembles a jack-o’-lantern. He’s missing teeth here and there, willy-nilly, black holes where baby teeth once lived and adult teeth will soon reside.

Too late, I want to say to Benjie, but he won’t get my humor. Only my best friend, Q, understands it, and my grandparents who made me this way.

I think of how much I loved chewing gum as a kid.

“Do you have any more?”

“Am I going to get in trouble again?”

“No,” I say with a laugh.

He reaches into the pocket of his little jeans and hands me a piece of grape Bubble Yum.

My favorite.

“Do you know what my teacher used to say when I’d sneak gum into class?”

“You snuck gum into class?”

He stares at me with more admiration than if Albert Pujols from the St. Louis Cardinals suddenly appeared with an autographed baseball.

“I did,” I say. “It was about the only bad thing I ever did. My teacher used to hold out her hand in front of my desk and ask, ‘Did you bring enough gum to share with the whole class?’”

“Did you?” Benjie asks, wild-eyed.

“No,” I say. “That was the whole point. She wanted to embarrass me. And it always worked. Teachers just liked to say that.”

I take the gum from Benjie. “This is just between us, okay?”

He giggles and nods.

I pop the gum into my mouth. It’s even more insanely sweet and sugary and tastes even better than I remember. My taste buds explode. I chew, Benjie watching me with grand amusement, and then—looking out my window to make sure the coast is clear—blow a big bubble. A massive bubble, in fact. It expands until it’s the size of a small balloon. Benjie continues to watch me in silence as a child today might do today trying to figure out how to use a rotary phone. After a few moments, the flavor subsides.

“Want to learn a trick?” I ask.

“Yeah!”

“If you ever get caught chewing gum, don’t stick it in a nice girl’s hair or swallow it. Learn to do this.” I narrow my lips as if I’m going to whistle, puff my cheeks and spit my gum into the air as if Michael Jordan were draining a game-winning three-pointer as time expired. The purple gum arcs into the air and deposits directly into a trash can next to a low-slung sofa ten feet across my office.

Benjie pumps his fist and lifts his hand to high-five me.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asks.

“Sunday school,” I wink. “My grandma taught me.”

***

Author Bio

VIOLA SHIPMAN is the pen name for internationally bestselling LGBTQIA author Wade Rouse. Wade is the author of fifteen books, which have been translated into 21 languages and sold over a million copies around the world. Wade chose his grandmother’s name, Viola Shipman, as a pen name to honor the working poor Ozarks seamstress whose sacrifices changed his family’s life and whose memory inspires his fiction. Wade’s books have been selected multiple times as Must-Reads by NBC’s Today Show, Michigan Notable Books of the Year and Indie Next Picks. He lives in Michigan and California, and hosts Wine & Words with Wade, A Literary Happy Hour, every Thursday.

Social Media Links

Author Website

Twitter: @Viola_Shipman

Facebook: Author Viola Shipman

Instagram: @Viola_Shipman

Goodreads

Purchase Links

HarperCollins: https://www.harpercollins.com/products/famous-in-a-small-town-viola-shipman?variant=40980279459874

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/famous-in-a-small-town-viola-shipman/1142722523

BookShop: https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-champion-of-good-hart-viola-shipman/18794129?ean=9781525804854

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1525804855/keywords=fiction?tag=harpercollinsus-20

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Torching by Kerry Peresta

The Torching

by Kerry Peresta

May 8 – June 2, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE TORCHING (Olivia Callahan Suspense Book #3) by Kerry Peresta on this Partners In Crime Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!

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Book Description

Mysterious fires. A haunting past. A secret file.

Three years ago, Olivia Callahan endured an assault that resulted in a devastating brain injury. She survived, but she couldn’t remember anything about her life or who she was. Now, she’s determined to build a bridge between the past she lost and the life she must reclaim.

When Olivia crosses paths with PI Tom Stark, she is drawn to the investigative field, and becomes his intern. She finds a heavily redacted, forty-five-year-old file locked in his desk drawer that mentions her mother as a young woman. Why had her mentor hidden the file from her, and why had he never mentioned a case involving her mother?

As Olivia moves forward with her fledgling career, a string of mysterious fires moves through the community, puzzling the Baltimore Arson Investigative Unit. One of the fires strikes Olivia’s beloved farmhouse in rural Maryland. Now, in addition to uncovering the secrets bound within the redacted file, she becomes convinced that the fires happening around the area are disturbing calling cards…and they’re meant for her.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123230539-the-torching?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=9ubnsNg1v5&rank=1

The Torching

Genre: Traditional mystery or Suspense
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: March 2023
Number of Pages: 323
ISBN: 978-1-68512-323-9
Series: The Olivia Callahan Suspense series, 3 | Each is a Stand Alone Novel

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

THE TORCHING (Olivia Callahan Suspense Book #3) by Kerry Peresta is a suspense filled P.I. mystery featuring Olivia Callahan who is three years out from a traumatic brain injury. This is the third book in the series, but it can be read as a standalone book. The Torching features her working in her new profession as a P.I., while the previous two books, The Awakening and The Rising while suspense/thrillers also are focused on her recovery and the rebuilding of her life as she works to discover who harmed her.

With the passing of her P.I. mentor, Tom Stark, Olivia discovers a 45-year-old redacted file that mentions her mother’s name. Her mother has never mentioned any past connection to Tom or Tom to her.

Even as she works to discover the secrets from the old file, she is the victim of arson. Several more fires are set in her community and after the fires, she receives a bouquet of flowers from someone with ties to the on-line Facebook group who follow her because of her fame.

Arson, political corruption, family secrets, obsession and murder all come together in this mystery.

I enjoyed the continuing evolution of Oliva, both personally and professionally. I feel all the characters are fully fleshed and believable, but I have read the previous two books and it does make it slightly easier to keep track of all the family and friends. I am a dog lover and love the addition of Marlowe, Olivia’s rescue dog. There are several mysteries all intertwined with surprising plot twists and gripping suspense.

This is an engaging addition to the series, and I am looking forward to seeing where the author takes Olivia next.

***

Excerpt

Smoke assailed us halfway up my long, winding, driveway. A dingy, gray film coated my windshield. I jabbed the brake to slow down, but my trembling foot slipped off the brake. Lilly gave me a look that broke my heart.

The surging, ballooning smoke hurled itself at us like angry fog. Visibility fell to near-zero the longer I drove. I slowed to a crawl. We inched along the lane until the strobing white-and-red lights cut through the smoke. I counted two fire engines and one black SUV on the lane as I approached. A couple of firefighters raced into my house. My door lay on the porch in three pieces, and an axe was propped against the wall. Each firefighter wore oxygen tanks attached to large, anteater-shaped masks. With their cumbersome, reflective-striped protective gear and masks, they looked more suited to step on the moon than inside my beloved Maryland farmhouse.

I brought my car to a shuddering halt.

We stepped out. I put my arm around Lilly.

Vaporous clouds of smoke cloaked my house. A couple of firefighters worked with giant, yellow firehoses. The men had divided themselves into teams, and the muted shouts told me some of them were behind the house. Flames leapt toward the sky from the backside of the roof. I counted six firefighters working on the house that I could see—plus the ones in the back. Tears trickled down my cheeks, and a terrifying thought struck—what about my cat?

“Lilly,” I said, my voice shaky, “Where was Riot when you last saw him?”

Lily’s face went white. “Mom…”

I grabbed her by the shoulders. “No, no…Riot’s smart. He will have found safety. I’ll find him. Stay here.”

I ran across the yard to a woman dressed in navy slacks and a white shirt with metal glinting on the front and official-looking patches on the arms. “I’m the owner,” I yelled over the whump of igniting flames, batting my way through smoke.

She shook my hand and identified herself as the public information officer. “Sorry to meet under these circumstances, but glad you were out of the home. We have it controlled. The team inside is checking to make sure it was contained. As far as we can tell, the seat of the fire is in the attic. Give us thirty minutes, okay? But ma’am, I’ll need you to stay back. Our investigator will be here soon. She’ll let you know when it’s safe to go inside.”

“My cat’s in there,” I yelled. “Can you have someone look for him?”

She spoke into a radio.

The smoke started to let up. Three hoses trained on the roof gushed out torrents of water. The huge flames stretching into the sky began to shrink. Radio chatter stuttered around the space. The firefighters stayed in constant contact, radios slung across their chests with a strap that held a mic.

These guys would not know where to look for Riot.

With an apologetic glance at Lilly, I skirted around the trucks, avoided the PIO, and dashed across the yard, up the front porch stairs, and into the house.

“MOM,” Lilly wailed through the billowy smoke.

Coughing, I ran inside. “Riot,” I screamed. “Riot, I’m here, buddy.”

I looked behind the couch. Underneath the dining room table. On top of his cat tree. Underneath the wingback chair. He wasn’t in any of his favorite spots. I plowed through the murkiness and melting sheetrock.

A bullhorn blared, “Ma’am. We need you to exit the building.” “Now!”

My throat was closing. My eyes stung like crazy. I needed to find him and get the heck out.

I scrambled into the kitchen and opened the lower cupboards, then the uppers. Searched the seats of the barstools, underneath the kitchen table. My heart thrashed like a wrecking ball in my chest. “Riot? I’m here, boy. Come on out,” I begged. A timid sound reached my ears. I waited. I heard it again, louder.

A shaggy, orange head appeared on top of the cabinets. I climbed up, grabbed him, and raced out the back door. The backyard firefighter team made group gestures that I interpreted as ‘get the hell out of here and let us do our job, ma’am’.

I zigzagged through the first responder obstacle course to my car, blinded by the strobing lights. Lilly spurted fresh tears and held out her arms for Riot. We watched in silence as the flames soared into the sky. After a while, we heard less commotion from the firefighters and the smoke around us grew white and wispy.

A very red-faced PIO barreled toward me. “I need you to stay out of the house until our investigator has completed the investigation.”

I wiped my sooty hands on my pants. “Your guys wouldn’t have found my cat. Riot would have been scared to death by the way they look. I didn’t have a choice.”

She told me the fire investigator had arrived, and under no circumstances was I to enter the home without her permission.

Lilly held Riot tight against her chest.

“Thought you hated this cat,” I joked.

“Whatever, Mom,” she said.

A small, thickset, woman with short hair approached.

“Mrs. Callahan?”

“It’s Ms. I’m the owner.”

“Good news, Ms. Callahan. The rear quadrant of the roof and attic sustained most of the damage. The firefighters are checking the ceiling of the second floor now, for hot spots. I think you got lucky.”

“It didn’t spread?”

She smiled her assurances. “They’re going to clean up here and have a final look around. They’ll let me know when it’s safe to go in.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Tasha Jackson, fire investigator. I work with these goofballs.” She grinned.

I shook her hand.

In the background, firefighters wrapped hoses. A couple of them worked the hydrant. Another walked the perimeter of my home. Instead of the burble of radios, most of them had ditched the headgear. A man got out of the black SUV and strode toward the PIO. After a few minutes of speaking with her, he approached me. He introduced himself as the Battalion Chief, told me he was sorry the fire had interrupted such an important occasion, and if there was anything they could do…to call the PIO. She wiggled her fingers at me, then went to talk to the camera crews and TV reporters that had crashed the scene. His expression somber, the Battalion Chief handed me his business card.

“If you need them, Red Cross services are available for three nights at a local motel and $600 gift cards for each displaced person. Please contact your insurance company immediately, they’ll do their own investigation.”

I gave him a blank look and took his card.

“Our investigator will talk about next steps, and ask you some questions to complete her report. Please remember not to go inside the area of damage alone, Ms. Callahan. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

With a sigh, I glanced over my shoulder toward my compact, office on the corner of Worthington Avenue and my property. I could stay in the office guest bedroom, and Lilly could stay at my neighbor’s house. “Yeah. We do. Is the…do you think the bedrooms in my house are okay? Can we get some clothes?”

He yelled a couple of names and asked them to check. They walked toward my house. The porch that stretched across the front of my house looked as if someone couldn’t decide whether to drown it or blow it up.

The public information officer waved off the reporters as she walked in my direction. One of the firefighters stared at me so long it became uncomfortable. I groaned. Was he one of them? A cult fan of the ‘Mercy’s Miracle’ persona? Why had I thought it was a good idea to write a book? After the publisher’s marketing department flew me all over the country for publicity events, the book hit the bestseller list and stayed there. The story of my survival and struggle to re-create my life had developed a rabid following.

I gave the firefighter a hard stare. He dropped his gaze. Reporters screamed questions at me from a distance. The PIO did her best to keep them under control.

I longed for a normal life.

My mind flew back. I closed my eyes, remembering.

The first few days, waking up in the hospital panicked and breathless and unable to move; the second week, when I’d begun to see flickers of light, the third week, when my fingers twitched and hope sprang to life. Neurology interns stealing in and out of my room at odd hours to see the ‘miracle’ restoration. I remembered my daughters’ first visits and the terrified looks on their faces when they realized I didn’t remember them. The fourth and fifth weeks, when physical therapists did everything they could to help restore my mobility and speech.

I could still visualize the reporters closing in on me. Waving their microphones in my face before I could even form a coherent sentence. I remembered watching my mom herding my daughters to my room on the fifth floor of the hospital, and the television crews that formed a tight knot around them as they made their way to the entrance of the hospital.

My youngest daughter had burst into my hospital room with an excited smile. “Reporters are dying to talk to you, Mom! Get ready.”

I rubbed my eyes and sighed.

Reporters were a plague to be avoided, now.

“Olivia? Are you okay?” The PIO looked at me in concern.
I blinked. “Sorry. Yeah. I’m okay.”

She held out her cell. “Create contact info for me?”

I entered my number, and my neighbor Callie’s, for good measure. The two firefighters that had inspected the bedrooms returned with a thumbs-up. “Bedrooms look good. Stairs are intact.”

The PIO smiled at me, tilted her head toward the reporters. “I didn’t realize you were that Olivia Callahan.”

I attempted a smile. She was trying to be nice. She had no idea that I hated the notoriety.

She handed me her card. “If you need anything. I mean it.” She left.

Lilly put her hand on my shoulder. “Mom? Everybody’s leaving. Now what?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. How do I accept this new reality?

***

Author Bio

Kerry Peresta is the author of the Olivia Callahan Suspense series. “The Torching,” book three, releases March, 2023, and books four and five in 2024 and 2025. Her standalone suspense thriller, “Back Before Dawn,” releases May, 2023. Additional writing credits include a popular newspaper and e-zine humor column, “The Lighter Side,” (2009—2011); the short story “The Day the Migraine Died,” published in Rock, Roll, and Ruin: A Triangle Sisters in Crime Anthology, articles published in Local Life Magazine, The Bluffton Breeze, Lady Lowcountry, and Island Events Magazine. She is past chapter president of the Maryland Writers’ Association and a current member and presenter of the Pat Conroy Literary Center, Hilton Head Island Writers’ Network, South Carolina Writers Association, Sisters in Crime, and International Thriller Writers. Kerry is the mother of four adult children, and spent thirty years in advertising as an account manager, creative director, copywriter, and editor. When she’s not writing, you’ll find her working out, riding her bike or kayaking, enjoying the beaches of Hilton Head Island, or cuddling her two cats, Agnes and Felix. She and her husband moved to Hilton Head Island in 2015.

Social Media Links

www.KerryPeresta.net
Goodreads
BookBub – @kerryperesta
Instagram – @kerryperesta
Twitter – @kerryperesta
Facebook – @klperesta

Purchase Links

Amazon

Goodreads

***

KINGSUMO GIVEAWAY LINK

https://kingsumo.com/g/xp3nxk/the-torching-by-kerry-peresta

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Boyfriend Candidate by Ashley Winstead

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE BOYFRIEND CANDIDATE by Ashley Winstead on this Summer 2023 HTP Books Blog Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

As a shy school librarian, Alexis Stone is comfortable keeping out of the spotlight. But when she’s dumped for being too meek—in bed!—she decides she needs to change. And what better way to kick-start her new more adventurous life than with her first one-night stand?

Enter Logan, the gorgeous, foul-mouthed stranger she meets at a hotel bar. Audacious and filterless, Logan is Alexis’s opposite—and boy, do opposites attract! Just as she’s about to fulfill her hookup wish, the hotel catches fire in a freak lightning storm. In their rush to escape, Logan is discovered carrying her into the street, where people are waiting with cameras. Cameras Logan promptly—and shockingly—flees.

Alexis is bewildered until suddenly pictures of her and Logan escaping the fire are all over the internet. Turns out Logan is none other than Logan Arthur, the hotshot candidate challenging the Texas governor’s seat. The salacious scandal is poised to sink his career—and jeopardize Alexis’s job—until a solution is proposed: he and Alexis could pretend to be in a relationship until election day…in two months. What could possibly go wrong?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62197594-the-boyfriend-candidate?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=XsvDK4ZlEV&rank=1

The Boyfriend Candidate

By Ashley Winstead

On Sale May 9, 2023

Graydon House

Paperback Original

ISBN: 9781525804960

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

THE BOYFRIEND CANDIDATE by Ashley Winstead is an absolute treat of a fake romance/rom-com contemporary romance featuring a shy, book loving school librarian and a foul-mouthed, audacious politician running for office. Opposites attract in this slow burn fake romance.

Alexis Stone has always preferred books over people and has a job she loves as a school librarian. When her boyfriend cheats on her for a second time and blames her, she is determined to change her life. She gets dressed up and goes out looking for a one-night stand. When she is hit on by an obnoxious drunk, the gorgeous man next to her at the bar rescues her.

Logan Arthur just wants some down time and stops for a drink after work in the bar by his office. He stands up to the obnoxious man hitting on the woman next him at the bar and finds he loves listening to her stories. As they go to leave, both find they want each other. But when a lightening strike starts a fire in the hotel, they find themselves outside, half dressed, and Logan takes off, leaving Alexis when the photographers start taking pictures.

Logan is single and running for Governor and the scandal of coming out of a hotel with a woman brings up his playboy history, so his campaign finds Alexis and proposes a fake relationship just until the election in two months.

I really loved the opposites attract dynamic between Alexis and Logan. They both learned from each other how to be bold and when to hold back, while both were trying to get beyond being hurt by others in the past. While there is plenty of romance, it is a slow burn with a love triangle thrown in three quarters of the way through the story. I felt the entire romance plot moved at a believable pace with no sex scenes until almost the end of the story, but plenty of chemistry between the H/h. The election and campaign issues added interest to the overall story, also. All the characters are fully fleshed and believable. This is an overall enjoyable read with fun characters, dialogue, and plot.

***

Excerpt

Alexis Stone Is Not a Mouse

I’LL SAY ONE NICE THING ABOUT MY EX CHRIS TUTTLE: the man was the entire reason I was here, standing at the entrance to the sultry Fleur de Lis hotel bar, wearing a red dress so plunging I kept it in the back of my closet for fear of scandalizing visitors, on the verge of reinventing myself. The memory of Chris and the still-fresh psychic wounds he’d left me were like a marching drum line urging me forward as I’d left my apartment, Ubered downtown to the Fleur de Lis, and cut a determined path across the lobby to the bar, a place with a reputation as Austin’s Grand Central Station of hookups. Unfortunately, now that I was standing at the entrance, the sight of all the laughing, drinking, dazzling people—dressed to the nines like me, but looking much more at ease about it—had me momentarily cowed.

I thought back to what Chris said the day I discovered he was cheating on me (for the second time): “I do have needs you can’t satisfy. You should really learn to be more adventurous in bed, Lex. You’re like a timid little mouse. It can get really boring.” Remembering those words, I straightened my shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. I was not a boring mouse—or at least I wouldn’t be one anymore. Starting tonight, I was going to be a new version of Alexis Stone: as bold and adventurous as my flaming-red dress.

I tried to soak in the beauty of the bar while beelining through the crowded tables, anxious to leave the peculiar spotlight of being the only person standing among a bunch of cozy, seated people. But then I realized new Alexis wouldn’t care if everyone’s eyes flitted to her as she walked across a room—in fact, new Alexis would welcome it, because she’d spent nearly an hour straightening and then recurling her hair into movie star ringlets, and maybe that effort should be appreciated. I forced myself to slow and look up at the bar’s gorgeous glass ceiling, shaded a twinkly blue thanks to the night sky. Real palm trees lined the circular perimeter, fronds reaching toward the stars. They made the bar look like a very urbane urban jungle, which actually wasn’t too far off the mark.

My older sister, Lee, and her friends liked to roll their eyes at the entire downtown bar scene, calling places like the Fleur de Lis “meat markets where you go to spend thirty-five bucks on a martini while beating back horny yuppies” (Lee’s words). They preferred the hipster bars on the east side of Austin, where the clientele was cooler yet dirtier (my words). I thought the Fleur de Lis was romantic, so it made sense to come here tonight for my critical but one hundred percent private mission: I, Alexis Rosalie Stone, was going to have my first one-night stand. I was going to sleep with a man with no strings attached, no stakes or expectations: just one night to do whatever felt right. Alexis the unadventurous bore? I’d killed her and buried the body.

The gleaming brass bar was crowded, but I managed to slip a shoulder between two men and catch the bartender’s attention. “Vodka martini,” I said, feeling a sudden rebellious compulsion to do anything that would raise my sister’s eyebrows. By the time my drink came, I’d completed a full three-sixty swivel in my barstool to survey the sea of men for potential candidates. How exactly did one negotiate a one-night stand? Did you lead with it in conversation so all your cards were on the table (“Hi, I’m Alexis; you might be interested to know I’m trolling for a stranger to ravish me”), or did you hold back, let your intention slip out at just the right moment (“I see you’re ordering an Uber home; could I interest you in going splitsies back to my place for a wild night of sex”)?

I braced a hand on the bar, taking a fortifying sip of my martini. Even if I made a complete fool of myself tonight—even if I was roundly rejected by every man I spoke to—coming here alone at least meant Lee and her crew couldn’t witness my flop, then use it to skewer me for all eternity like the jackals they were.

A whistle cut through the bar’s ambient noise, followed by a loud, “Now that’s a dress.” Out of nowhere, a man appeared and sidled up beside me. One look at him and my mind blurted forehead! Probably because his was shiny as a disco ball, framed by waggling eyebrows, and tilted all the way to the side. The next second, I realized his head was turned that way so he could get a clear view down my dress.

“Thanks.” I placed a protective hand over my chest and swiveled in the opposite direction. Hoping my body language would signal my disinterest, I took another sip of my martini and studied the empty corner of the room like it was fascinating.

No such luck. “I’m Carter Randall,” the man said, jutting out his hand. “What’s your name?”

My deep desire for him to go away warred with my silly lifelong compulsion to be nice. “Um…” I twisted back to shake his oddly moist hand and searched for inspiration. My gaze snagged, as his clearly had, on my dress. “Ruby…” The next word came unbidden. “Dangerfield. Ruby Dangerfield.” Curse my polite hardwiring that had me sitting here inventing a new name instead of dismissing him with something cool and clipped like, “Not interested.”

Carter gave my hand a little squeeze. He was twice my age, probably well into his fifties. Well-dressed, with a massive gold watch on his wrist, and—now that I squinted—a strangely sweaty face, like he’d just done a lap. Was he on party drugs? He used his sleeve to mop his forehead and I pulled my hand away, resisting the urge to wipe it on my dress. Carter’s eyes drifted down the length of my body yet again. “Well, Ms. Ruby. Can I buy you a drink? A stiff one?” He grinned.

“Oh,” I said. “That’s very nice. But—um—no thank you.” Inside, I burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Saying no to anyone, even a stranger, stretched the limits of my bravery.

“Aw, come on.” Carter leaned in closer and I scooted back so fast I nearly tipped over. “Look at you, sitting there in that dress. Clearly fishing for attention. Well, you caught me. Let’s get you drunk and see what happens.”

Apparently, I was going to get a lesson in how not to proposition someone tonight. But my cheeks were burning, because in a small way Carter was right—I had come here to put myself on display and find someone, just very much not him. Be the new Alexis, I urged myself. Stop prioritizing this stranger’s feelings and tell him to leave you alone. But I couldn’t—at the slightest provocation, old, sad, doormat Alexis had quickly jumped back in charge.

“I’m not trying to be rude,” I said carefully, feeling my heartbeat spike. “I would just like to be by myself tonight.” Well, shoot. Now that I’d committed to that, would I have to leave the bar so Carter didn’t catch me talking to anyone else later? My palms started sweating.

“One drink—” he started.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” came a voice, tinged with an accent I couldn’t place—British mixed with Texas panhandle? I nearly knocked over my martini. “She said no, mate. Get it through your thick skull and leave the poor woman alone.”

Carter spun to get a look at the man who’d interrupted us, and without his body blocking the view, I got a clear line, too. My stomach flipped over and released a conservatory’s worth of butterflies. Even wearing a look of contempt, the man on the other side of Carter was stop-in-your-tracks, tongue-tyingly handsome. He was around my age, maybe a little older—he certainly radiated an older person’s authority—with a head of dark curls cut close and tight, brown eyes that were currently blazing, and thick eyebrows arched, waiting to see how Carter would respond. He had on a dark suit like most of the other men in the room, but he’d taken off his jacket and hung it on the back of his seat. He was sitting hunched over his drink in a white dress shirt with the sleeves messily rolled back, wearing a dark slim watch that was the antithesis of Carter’s flashy gold one. The wrinkles in his suit, creases under his eyes, and day-old stubble gave the impression of a weary business executive after a long, hard day at work. His eyes flitted to mine for the briefest moment before returning to Carter, but the charge that ran down my spine was enough to root me to my chair.

Carter shifted his weight. Apparently, he was going to play the tough guy. “Why don’t you mind your business, pal?”

The beautiful, tired man rolled his eyes. “Oh, good. You’re one of those.” He got to his feet so fast his barstool made a screeching sound as it scraped across the floor. “Then let’s go ahead and get this over with, because I’ve had a shit day and I would like to kick your ass and get back home at a reasonable hour. So come on. You’re the one campaigning for Most Punchable Man in the Bar. Let’s have your prize.” The dark-haired man spoke calmly and quickly in his hard-to-place accent, like he invited people to get their asses kicked at least once a day. He made a little “come on” gesture that conveyed utter boredom.

People around us had stopped talking to watch. The extra attention only made me feel like I was going to melt into the floor at twice the speed. But if I had no idea how to respond to this turn of events—what to say or even where to put my hands—Carter was even more clueless. I could see his eyes dancing, doing quick calculations. On the one hand, Carter was thicker around the middle than the dark-haired man. On the other, the dark-haired man had revealed himself to be tall and well-built when he stood up.

“Nah, man.” Carter put his hands up. “We’ve got no problems. Just making new friends like you’re supposed to at a bar, for Christ’s sake.”

“Great,” said the dark-haired man. “Then kindly fuck off as suggested.”

Carter didn’t wait to be told a third time. As he hightailed away from the bar, a woman nearby muttered, “What a douche.” And with that judgment rendered, the room dialed back to a normal volume.

“Thank you,” I said to the dark-haired man. He waved me off with a grunt and settled back in his barstool, leaning comfortably over his drink, apparently hoping to resume his night like nothing had happened.

I stared at him. The adrenaline was draining out of my system, which left me feeling hollow. I should have been the one to tell Carter to fuck off. I should have had the guts, but instead I’d tiptoed around and this man had to step in and do it for me. How humiliating. It hit me like a ton of bricks: from the moment Carter arrived, I’d been unequivocally mousy. Exactly like Chris said.

***

Author Bio

Ashley Winstead’s 2021 breakout thriller, In My Dreams I Hold a Knife, was an Amazon Editor’s Best Thriller, an Apple Books Best Book of August, as well as a Library Journal, New York Times, CrimeReads, Parade, and Goodreads best or most anticipated thriller of the year. Her 2022 thriller, The Last Housewife, was a Library Reads pick, a Loan Star pick, an Amazon Editor’s Best Thriller, as well as a Cosmopolitan, Good Morning America, Good Housekeeping, Seattle Times, and Southern Review of Fiction best or most anticipated thriller of the year. Her 2022 romance debut, Fool Me Once, was an Amazon Editor’s Best Romance as well as a USA Today, PopSugar, New York Post, and Goodreads best or most anticipated romance of the year. Her work has been translated into more than a dozen languages and optioned for film/TV.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.ashleywinstead.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ashley.winstead

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ashleywinstead

Purchase Links

HarperCollins: https://www.harpercollins.com/products/the-boyfriend-candidate-ashley-winstead?variant=40743817412642

BookShop.org: https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-boyfriend-candidate-ashley-winstead/18794134?ean=9781525804960

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-boyfriend-candidate-ashley-winstead/1142080805

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Boyfriend-Candidate-Novel-Ashley-Winstead/dp/1525804960/

Feature Post and Book Review: The Viscount Who Vexed Me by Julia London

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE VISCOUNT WHO VEXED ME (A Royal Match Book #3) by Julia London.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!

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Book Description

Daring. Darling. Determined.

Next to the Season’s newest diamond, Harriet (Hattie) Woodchurch feels like a plain Jane. But that’s of no consequence, since Hattie’s plan for her future is to earn enough to live far, far away from her embarrassing family.

That is until Mateo Vincente, Duke of Santiava and newly minted Viscount Abbott, arrives in London. While the shy European’s spoken English is impeccable, his writing is less fluent. The ton is eager to meet the handsome bachelor, and so many invitations flood in that Mateo needs a correspondence secretary.

With her perfect penmanship and way with words, Hattie is recommended, and the two bond over books and the ton’s eligible ladies. But when Hattie’s friend Flora becomes smitten with the viscount, things get complicated. Flora is tongue-tied in his presence. To help, Hattie feeds her information about Mateo’s interests. Soon things turn around and Flora appears on track to become his duchess. Yet for Mateo, something’s not quite right. Conversation with Flora isn’t as scintillating as it is with Hattie…

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63028657-the-viscount-who-vexed-me?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=yMvc8S6f4R&rank=1

A Royal Match Series

Book 1: Last Duke Standing
Book 2: The Duke Not Taken
Book 3: The Viscount Who Vexed Me

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My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

THE VISCOUNT WHO VEXED ME (A Royal Match Book #3) by Julia London is another charming and witty addition to this historical romance series. Each book in the series has a royal who needs to find a mate and hopefully a love match with the help of a determined matchmaker and recurring characters working to assist. Each book can easily be read as a standalone with a complete HEA in each with the recurring characters introduced in each book of the series.

Harriet “Hattie” Woodchurch is determined to earn her own living and move very far away from her embarrassing family. While she has friends in society from her time in school, her father is a rich penny-pinching merchant and not a member of polite society and she realizes her life and circumstances will not be like her friends.

Mateo “Teo” Vincente, Duke of Santiava and now also the Viscount Abbott after the death of his mother’s father arrives in London to set his new inheritance in order. Society is excited about his visit and the knowledge that he seeks a wife, but he is not comfortable with the attention. When he needs assistance with his English correspondence, Hattie is recommended for the position. Teo soon finds he and his entire household are enchanted with his scribe.

As Mateo meets all the eligible debutantes, he finds that he is only truly himself with Hattie and Hattie is finding herself increasingly infatuated with the Viscount. The matchmaker still has a few things up her sleeve to assist this pair, if the Viscount is willing to find his voice and stand up for what he wants.

I adore this series not only because of the well written characters and situations that I never know how Ms. London will resolve them into a HEA, but also because the dialogue is always so witty and fun. Hattie is a determined young woman willing to work for everything she wants and yet she is also friendly and warm despite her difficult family, and it broke my heart every time her supposed friends hurt her. Mateo is complicated and a product of his father’s constant verbal abuse, but that makes it even more wonderful when he finally finds his own voice and power. I loved that his hobby and passion is baking. This book has no explicit sex scenes, but a steadily growing romance from the discovering of friendship to love.

I recommend this enjoyable historical romance and the entire Royal Match series.

***

Excerpt

Suddenly, a woman entered the shop in such a hurry that she set all the bells above the door clanging. “Mrs. Perkins!”

Mrs. Perkins, the shopkeeper, burst forth from the curtains covering the entrance to a back room like she thought the shop might be on fire. “What is it? What’s happened?”

The woman rushed to the front window where Flora and Queenie were, forcing them aside. “What in heaven!” Queenie cried.

“He’s there!”

“Who’s there?” Queenie demanded—she’d never been shy about seeking answers.

“Here?” Mrs. Perkins gasped and sprang to the window like a gazelle. “Where?”

The woman pointed across the street, and Queenie grabbed Flora’s arm. “Look!”

“You’re hurting me,” Flora said.

“For once, will you do as I ask?” Queenie demanded. “Look!”

Hattie watched the four ladies in the shop window, leaning forward and peering out over the glove displays, confused about what was happening. “Oh my. Oh my,” Flora said, then gestured wildly for Hattie. “Come here, come here, you have to see!”

There was not enough room for the five of them, and Hattie had to stand on her tiptoes to see over Flora’s shoulder. “I can’t really see,” Hattie said.

The rest of them ignored her. “Where?” Mrs. Perkins demanded, sounding panicked.

Mrs. Perkins’s friend pointed.

Hattie tried to make herself taller. The only thing she could see was a haberdashery across the street. Three gentlemen stood before it, chatting. “Is that it?” Hattie asked and sank down onto her feet again.

“Not them,” the woman said. “The viscount.”

There had to be at least a dozen viscounts on Regent Street on any given day. “Which one?”

“Which one?” Flora repeated, and shot a disapproving look over her shoulder at Hattie. “Viscount Abbott, of course.”

“Of course,” Hattie muttered. She didn’t know of any Viscount Abbott. Or why any of these women were interested in him.

“Who is also the Duke of Santiava,” Queenie said. Hattie blinked. Queenie rolled her eyes. “Why do you never know these things, Hattie? It’s as if you live in a cave.”

She never knew these things because she didn’t know anything. How could she? She didn’t exactly exist in the same social circles as Flora and Queenie. She knew what they told her, and they had not told her about this viscount.

Just then, Flora grabbed Hattie’s hand and gripped it so tightly that Hattie winced. Queenie pushed a display of gloves out of the way, and the four women surged forward, Flora dragging Hattie with her.

A man emerged from the shop, holding his hat in his hand. He was tall, with sun-drenched skin. His clothing fit him snugly, and it was apparent that he was trim with an athletic build. His dark hair brushed his collar, and when he looked up at something one of the other gentlemen said, he smiled. Only a little, but it was a smile that sparked through Hattie. That gentleman was quite possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life—elegant, strong, and astonishingly agreeable in looks.

No one spoke for a moment.

A carriage rolled in between the shops and stopped, blocking their view of the haberdashery. When it rolled away, the gentlemen were gone.

The ladies settled back. Queenie sighed and stepped away from the window, leaving the display of gloves knocked onto its side. The woman who had rushed in to announce the viscount sighting retreated to the back room with Mrs. Perkins. Hattie picked up the display and righted it in the window.

“You will be at the top of that list, Flora,” Queenie said with certainty.

Queenie was short and round, with soft gold curls that fell around her shoulders. She carried herself like a queen and acted like one on occasion, too. Flora was tall and lithe, her hair auburn. She was pretty by any standard. When Hattie was with the two of them, she often felt like the plain cousin come to town from the village. Her hair was a dull brown, her figure unremarkable.

Flora gave Queenie’s remark a high-pitched, breathy laugh that Hattie had never heard her make. “Don’t be silly!”

“Don’t be coy,” Queenie said. “You know that you will.”

“The list is quite long, I’m certain. What about Hattie? She might be at the top.”

“The top of what?” Hattie asked.

“Really, Hattie!” Queenie said, sounding annoyed. “How can you be so ignorant of all the news around town? The list of potential brides for the viscount, obviously.”

Hattie laughed. Loudly.

“I agree, it’s hardly a possibility,” Queenie said. “I don’t mean to offend, but he is the Duke of Santiava, and now he’s Viscount Abbott, as he is his English grandfather’s only living male heir. He’ll marry someone with a large dowry and from a titled family. Someone with proper connections.”

Santiava? Hattie vaguely recalled something about it. A duchy, she believed, on the Mediterranean Sea. Once a colony of Wesloria if memory served.

“He’s the sovereign duke, and quite rich,” Queenie continued. “But they say he’s a recluse. One must always be wary of the recluse.”

One must? Hattie hadn’t heard that rule.

“And unmarried, obviously,” Flora added as the three of them departed the shop.

“Won’t he choose a wife from Santiava?” Hattie asked as they walked toward Hyde Park.

“No!” Queenie scoffed, and Hattie was once again left wondering how her education could be so lacking. “He’s come here to claim his title and his fortune and, as everyone knows, be fitted with an English wife. It serves a small duchy to have an English or Weslorian duchess, you know, if they were ever to need the backing of a larger country in times of war or economic hardship. This would practically guarantee it.”

Queenie spoke with such authority about him that Hattie had to wonder if she’d consulted with the man himself. She was dubious that a marriage to Flora could guarantee anything of the sort. But she kept silent.

“Imagine, Hattie,” Flora said, “if you were the link to the might of the Royal Navy should that duchy need it.”

All Hattie could imagine was herself on a leaking, rickety boat. “I won’t be the link to anything, because I’m already engaged.” She smiled.

Flora and Queenie exchanged a look. “You haven’t told her?” Queenie said to Flora.

“Told me what?” Hattie asked, confused.

“Tell her. She can’t walk around without knowing,” Queenie said.

Hattie’s heart dropped. “Knowing what? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, Hattie… Mr. Masterson paid me a call,” Flora blurted. “I was going to tell you. I was waiting for the right time.”

“Well, this is hardly it,” Queenie drawled, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she’d just urged Flora to tell her.

But tell her what, exactly? That Rupert had called on Flora? How odd—they weren’t so well acquainted. “Mr. Rupert Masterson called on you,” Hattie repeated, to make sure they were indeed speaking of her Mr. Masterson, the owner and proprietor of the Masterson Dry Goods and Sundries Shop.

“He…he came to me in confidence.” Flora punctuated that remark with a look of sympathy.

Hattie’s gut began to do a strange bit of swirling. “Why?”

“He said…that he thought it best if you and he…” She paused, as if trying to find the words.

Elope? That was it! What other reason could he have for needing to speak in confidence to Flora? He must have sought her help. “Elope?” she asked at the same moment Flora said, “Should not pursue things further.”

No one said a word for a moment. Even Queenie kept her mouth shut. “What?” Hattie asked and stopped walking. This was stunningly incomprehensible. She pressed a fist to her abdomen to keep down the sudden swell of nausea. “What…what did…he…or you…say?” “Oh, Hattie, dearest.” They’d come to the park’s entrance, and Flora pulled her to a bench and sat her down. She took both of Hattie’s hands in hers. “I’m so very sorry, but there is no other way to say it, is there? He would like you to cry off your engagement. End it, I mean. He has come to the unfortunate conclusion that it must be done. But because he has the utmost consideration for you, he means to protect your reputation by having you write him and end it.”

***

About the Author

Julia London is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over fifty novels of historical and contemporary romance. She is the author of the popular Highland Grooms series as well as A Royal Wedding, her most recent series. Julia is the recipient of the RT Bookclub Award for Best Historical Romance and a six-time finalist for the prestigious RITA award for excellence in romantic fiction. She lives in Austin, Texas. Visit her at www.julialondon.com.

Social Media Links

Author Website

Facebook: Julia London

Twitter: @JuliaFLondon

Goodreads

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Where No One Will See by Felicia Watson

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for WHERE NO ONE WILL SEE by Felicia Watson on this Virtual Author Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!

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Book Description

Lucia Scafetti, a Philly private eye, has tried to move out of the shadow of her infamous crime family. She has her own business, her beloved dog Rocco, and she’s starting to date the cute lawyer down the hall. Her life is upended when her notorious hitman father disappears while in search of the diamond and gold coins he stole from his last victim. Lucia races to unravel the mystery of her father’s disappearance before a crooked and powerful cop beats her to it. Though Lucia’s allies are scanty and her enemies numerous, she tries to resist the questionable help on offer from her Mafiosi family. It looks like Lucia must finally decide on which side of the law she truly belongs, knowing the wrong choice could send her to prison – or an early grave.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/75555214-where-no-one-will-see?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=ohrMcyuRD5&rank=2

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

WHERE NO ONE WILL SEE by Felicia Watson is an exceptional P.I. crime mystery/thriller with romantic elements that grabbed me immediately and I could not put it down. The female P.I. protagonist is hard-boiled and yet very empathetic and dealing with a unique family. I am very glad I signed up for this book tour and was introduced to this character, story, and author.

Lucia Scafetti works as a P.I. in Philadelphia. Lucia and her dog, Rocco live in her basement office as she saves to buy her own home. She is working hard to make her business profitable even as she tries to live down the fact that all her relatives work for or have ties to the Mafia. Unexpectedly her hitman father shows up after his release from prison. It is rumored he hid a large diamond and eleven gold coins after killing the courier, but he disappears while searching for them.

Lucia suddenly has plenty of enemies and few allies. A crooked cop has been waiting for Lucia’s father to recover the missing items for himself, a rival Mafia family wants them, and a mysterious hitman may be on the hunt also. Lucia works to unravel the mystery, decide which law enforcement officials and family members she can trust, and stay alive in the process.

This story has everything that makes me a happy reader. A protagonist with sarcastic wit, determination, intelligence, loyalty, and a dog she loves, a plot that is action packed and perfectly paced, and realistic romantic entanglements. Lucia’s investigation is filled with surprises, but the ultimate surprise at the climax I was not anticipating at all. I love it when that happens. The ending is believable with what you learn about Lucia throughout the story, but I still felt it was not what everyone might be expecting.

I highly recommend this P.I. crime mystery/thriller!

***

Excerpt

It was a rather dull surprise for Lucia when the next day, Detective Pike called her down to PPD Headquarters to make a statement about the death of Paul Lugano, found in his car, killed by a bullet to the left eye. She told Colona and Pike what she knew about the murder, which was nothing – except it was further proof that Carlo Scafetti was still alive. She learned nothing new during the interrogation except that both murders had employed the same weapon and surmised that her father had somewhere picked up a Sig Sauer P226.

Upon leaving the police station, she noticed a black BMW E38. It was a distinctive car, especially in that neighborhood. She went over to the driver’s side and tapped on the tinted-glass window. When it slid down slightly, she leaned in. “Hey there, looking for me?”

Her cousin Micky eyed her impassively. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Please get in.”

She wanted to refuse but knew Dominic Vetere was a dangerous man – one only an idiot would trifle with. She wasn’t feeling particularly idiotic that morning, so slipped into the passenger’s seat, saying, “Good to see you, Mick.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

“You could if you lied, like I just did.” Okay, maybe she was feeling a little bit idiotic – but Micky’s pomposity was too tempting a target.

“You’re making jokes? Che cozz’?” He moved into her personal space, growling, “Don’t you realize you are in big trouble?” Lucia didn’t respond but started scanning the area to see if there were other cars of a suspicious nature in evidence. Micky took that as a sign to continue. “You know, if you had just stopped at Frankie, we could’ve looked the other way. That gavone was dragging the organization down and my Gabriella is better off without him. Which she will see in time. But Paulie.…” He shook his head, continuing, “He was a good soldier and D’Amico is not gonna’ let this go.”

“D’Amico thinks I killed Frankie and Lugano?”

“Yeah, he does. I’m warning you, do not try and play Salvatore D’Amico for a fool.” While Lucia was fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him, Micky continued, “Because you’re family, I might be able to make a bargain with him and get you out of this. I need to give him something though, so you have to hand over the diamond and coins to me right—” She couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter, causing Micky to snap, “You still think this is funny?”

“I shouldn’t but…I do think it’s funny how you all got your tongues hanging out for those damn things that are probably in some European collector’s vault. And that my old man has you all chasing your tails like this. He’s outsmarted everybody and is probably having a good laugh about me taking the heat for it.”

“Lucia – your father is dead.”

“No, he’s not. The proof is staring everyone in the face. He’s killing everyone they send for him.”

Micky gripped the steering wheel and threw his head back against the seat. He whispered to himself, “Managgia, Patsy was telling the truth.” He looked back at her and spoke very deliberately. “I know you don’t like me, I know you don’t trust me, but I think you know I am not a stupid man. You can believe me on this: Carlo Scafetti is dead. Hai capid?”

Doubt about her father’s status creeping into her mind for the first time, Lucia stared at Micky. She started shaking her head. “No. You’re wrong. These killings…it has to be him. My father isn’t a stupid man, either. He’s just hiding out.”

“He’s not. I’m sorry.” He reached over and clasped her briefly on the shoulder. “I’ll tell D’Amico it doesn’t look like it was you. He’ll trust me on this matter. I can do that for you, at least.” He stared at her for a moment before asking, “And you have no idea where the diamond and coins are?”

“How could I? My father never had them, Micky.” He shook his head in disgust whether at her supposed naiveté or subterfuge she wasn’t sure and didn’t care. She categorically refused his offer to drive her back to her office and exited the car in a hurry.

During the subway ride back home, Lucia ruminated on the situation. She still believed her father was responsible for the murders, but Micky was right about one thing – she knew he was no fool. What was going on? How had her father managed to convince so many people that he was dead? She knew what Bac would say: stop assuming and start looking. And the place she needed to look was at the piers, where Lugano tended to dispose of bodies. She didn’t believe she’d find much of anything. Colona and Pike had to have already been there, but it was time to see what they might have missed.

***

About the Author

Felicia Watson started writing stories as soon as they handed her a pencil in first grade. She’s especially drawn to character driven tales, where we see people we recognize, people who struggle with their mistakes and shortcomings, acknowledge them, and use that knowledge to grow into wiser human beings.

When not writing, Felicia spends her time chasing after her not-so-brilliant, but darling and beloved dogs, is chased by her truly brilliant, darling and beloved husband, is known to friends and family as an amateur pastry chef, and still finds time for swimming and her day job as a scientist.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.feliciawatsonwrites.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/FeliciaWatsontheAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/FeliciaTes?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/felicia-watson-aaf9819a-530d-4ff8-bbfe-8b7545a0a582

Blog Post/Feature Post and Book Review: Ghostly Games by Christine Feehan

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for GHOSTLY GAME (GhostWalker Book #19) by Christine Feehan on this blog tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!

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Book Description

Gideon “Eagle” Carpenter is used to rolling with the punches life has thrown at him. It’s the only thing that’s kept him alive. He and his team of GhostWalkers have seen and experienced it all. He does his best to live with all the sins written on his soul. Then he hears the laughter of a woman with the ability to erase—even for a few precious moments—the darkness of his past.

Laurel “Rory” Chappel has always been a nomad. She’s accustomed to taking care of herself, despite the physical challenges she lives with. She thinks she’s too weak to find real love, but that doesn’t stop her interest in Gideon from turning into a full-on addiction. He’s all rough edges and danger contrasted with a tenderness that makes her feel safe. Still, after a life spent in motion, she’s not sure she knows how to stay in one place.

Gideon hopes he can persuade Rory to take a chance on him with every electric touch. But soon, life conspires against him, forcing the GhostWalker to risk everything to protect the woman he loves….

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62888153-ghostly-game?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=7Py7Wvmqbg&rank=1

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My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

GHOSTLY GAME (GhostWalkers Book #19) by Christine Feehan is a slow burn paranormal romance in the long lived GhostWalker series featuring genetically engineered soldiers and the mates that are made to match them. I have read many, but not all the books in this series. Each book is easily read as a standalone paranormal romance with a secondary mystery/suspense plot with characters and their talents from other books included without the need to read them all in order.

Gideon “Eagle” Carpenter is recuperating from his last mission which almost killed him as he saved a fellow GhostWalker. He is always the protector, but never believes he is worth saving because of the terrible things he has done. As he is meditating on his roof, he hears a woman’s laughter that pulls him out of the darkness.

Laurel “Rory” Chappel is a wanderer and never stays more than a few months in any one place. She supports herself by bartending and is amazing in her abilities. She does not date because she believes her severe asthma makes her too weak for anyone to be interested in her for the long term.

When Gideon enters the bar Rory is immediately interested in the dangerous looking man who makes her feel safe, but she is not sure she can settle down in one place and she feels Gideon is hiding things from her. Gideon soon realizes Rory is a GhostWalker and he is determined to protect her from the danger around her and get her to stay.

This is a change from the other books I have read in the series. This book has a very slow burn romance due to Gideon’s healing injuries at first and then Rory’s in the latter part of the story. They work more on emotional issues and trust between them where the other books have a lot of steamy sex scenes between the H/h. The two mysteries/suspense plots are a police investigation going on around Rory and her friends in her apartment building which puts them all in danger and there is also Gideon and the other GhostWalkers wondering if Rory is a danger to them sent by the doctor who created them. For me, this was a good addition to the series, and I was happy Gideon finally met his match, but the police investigation did not feel fully developed.

Overall, I enjoyed this return to the GhostWalker series. They keep me coming back for more.

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Excerpt

“I’m not getting the GhostWalker vibe off her,” Gideon said, his eyes on the woman talking to one of her many male customers.

It didn’t matter that her hair was piled on her head in a sloppy knot that was falling out tendril by wayward tendril; it was obvious she had masses of hair, and it was dark cherry red. The real deal. Cherry red. He’d never seen that color of hair on anyone before. Every time she moved under a light, it blazed into vibrant life. It was difficult to keep his eyes off her.

She had those eyes. A deep green. Emerald? Jade? No, emerald for certain. Her eyes sparkled when she talked to her customers. She looked directly at them even when she was mixing drinks, her rhythm never faltering. Sometimes she would laugh softly, the sound musical, turning heads no matter how low it was in the noise of the crowded bar.

“You’ve been here several times over the last couple of weeks, Javier.” Gideon made it a statement. It would be difficult to get anything past Javier.

Gideon had held out as long as he could. The doctor hadn’t given him permission to come see Rory in person, but he couldn’t resist the compulsion any longer. Javier wasn’t happy about it, but he’d come along to ensure Gideon didn’t tear open any wounds. In other words, Gideon thought a little ironically, babysitting.

“I’ve watched her closely,” Javier admitted. “I can’t see any indication that she’s a GhostWalker, other than she has extraordinary reflexes. Her bartending skills are amazing. She’s fast and can handle multiple orders. She doesn’t seem to forget faces or names. On the other hand, I’ve followed her home every night, and she doesn’t run or exhibit any kind of behaviors or skills a GhostWalker might under cover of darkness. She walks, Gideon. Even if there’s a threat to her, which, on more than one occasion, I shut down.”

Gideon didn’t like that. The bartender everyone called Rory was a very attractive woman, although she didn’t seem to notice that she was. She didn’t flirt with her customers so much as genuinely try to connect in a friendly, positive way. If a man asked her out, she gave him a grin but refused gently.

Gideon liked the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and her generous mouth. It would be easy to fixate on both. “You did a background search on her?” Javier was a genius with computers. Gideon knew Javier had. He’d read the report multiple times and committed it to memory. He hoped Javier had updated it.

“Not much to find. She moves around a lot. Lost her parents early. Put herself through bartending school and uses that to earn her way. She doesn’t stay in one place very long. She goes to a state, travels within that state for a little while and moves on to the next one.”

“Anyone following her?”

“Not that I can find.”

Gideon slid his fingers around the neck of the beer bottle and rolled it back and forth. “I’m really drawn to her, Javier, more than any woman I’ve ever been around. The chemistry for me is off the charts. That doesn’t happen. Not like this. Not just with the sound of her voice. Her laughter. Now, watching other men around her, my attraction to her could be a little on the dangerous side, and you know I’m really not that man.”

Javier studied him, one eyebrow arched.

“Not over a woman,” Gideon clarified. “How can I trust it? You know Whitney pairs us. Would he pair someone who isn’t a GhostWalker just to experiment?”

Javier shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past the bastard to do anything, but what would it matter even if he did pair the two of you? Look at Kane and Rose. They’re happy together. Whitney didn’t make that happen. He might be able to make you attractive to each other, but he can’t manipulate your emotions.”

“And if she’s a plant?”

Again, Javier shrugged. “Then she’s an enemy, Gideon, and I’ll kill her. Whitney doesn’t get to have spies in our home.”

Every cell in Gideon’s body instantly rejected Javier’s casual threat. “Not happening, brother. I wouldn’t be able to let you do it,” he admitted. “That’s another black mark to put in the column against her.”

Excerpted from Ghostly Game by Christine Feehan Copyright © 2023 by Christine Feehan. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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About the Author

Christine Feehan is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Carpathian series, the GhostWalker series, the Leopard series, the Shadow Riders series, the Torpedo Ink series, and the Sea Haven novels, including the Drake Sisters series and the Sisters of the Heart series. She also writes stand-alone romantic suspense novels set in the California backcountry.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.christinefeehan.com/index.php

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/christinefeehanauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCFeehan

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/christine-feehan