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review 2018-06-19 16:17
Review: The Valiant (The Valiant #1) by Lesley Livingston
The Valiant - Lesley Livingston

 Fallon is the daughter of a proud Celtic king, the sister of the legendary warrior Sorcha, and the sworn enemy of Julius Caesar.

When Fallon was a child, Caesar’s armies invaded her homeland, and her beloved sister was killed in battle.

Now, on the eve of her seventeenth birthday, Fallon is eager to follow in her sister’s footsteps and earn her place in the fearsome Cantii war band. She never gets the chance.

Fallon is captured and sold to an elite training school for female gladiators—owned by none other than Julius Caesar. In a cruel twist of fate, the man who destroyed Fallon’s family might be her only hope of survival.

Now Fallon must overcome vicious rivalries and deadly fights—in and out of the arena. And perhaps the most dangerous threat of all: her forbidden yet irresistible feelings for Cai, a young Roman soldier.

 

I stumbled over this book at the my library and I thought it sounded interesting and something new.

And I’m so glad I got it, I enjoyed it even more than I thought I would.

I enjoyed the concept, the story, the world building and of course the characters. I was never a big fan of anything Gladiator, but I really enjoyed this story  and oved the modern twist she put on the pretty well known historic roman time period. And what is not to love about female gladiators lol.

Most of the book is fast paced but there are some slower parts, but overall it has a great flow to it and you never get bored with the exciting new plot . There were a few things that came over confusing but later cleared up.

I really enjoyed that while some things can be taken to a second book (checked later and there is ) most things are nicely wrapped and we are not left hanging with a giant cliffhanger which was nice.

Overall this was a nice surprise book and I’m glad I found it, I listen to it ad the audio was also very enjoyable.

I rate it 4★ and looking forward to book two now that I know there is one.

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

Buy Links

 

Amazon *** B&N *** Kobo 

 

Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/index.php/2018/06/19/review-the-valiant-the-valiant-1-by-lesley-livingston
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text 2018-06-18 12:35
Blog Tour: Friends & Lovers Book Series by PE Kavanagh with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for PE Kavanagh’s Friends & Lovers Book Series. We will have info about the books and author, and a great excerpt from one of the books, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 

 


 

Collecting Secrets

(Book One) 

 

 

A grieving heiress. A celebrity psychologist. A decade of friendship. UNDONE BY ONE BOLD MOVE.

When Camille first met Jackson she was too young. Too innocent. Too traumatized.

Friendship was less than what she wanted, but all she could handle.

Ten years later and she’s a different woman. Strong, successful, brave. At exactly the wrong moment, one bold move threatens everything.

The safe harbor of Jackson’s family. The unconditional commitment of his friendship. The collection of secrets she never knew existed, Claims and confessions come hard and fast as Jackson and Camille navigate all that has never been said. Each step they take, closer to the truth and each other, demands another layer of secrets must fall.

Collecting Secrets is a steamy standalone contemporary romance with no cliffhanger. You will meet characters who will reappear throughout the series.

 

 

 

Buy Link

 

Amazon

 

Coming Home

(Book Two) 

 

 
For Ramona Barrett, a lot has happened in fifteen years.
Her maniacal grandfather finally died.
Her father sobered up and got his life in order.
She built an enviable life based on righting her family’s wrongs.
And the chubby, awkward boy who used to be her best friend is now a man she hardly recognizes.
 
Lucas Winston recovered from his law-school fiasco and is now the hottest chef in DC. The elite clamor for a seat in his restaurant, the power-hungry vie for connections to his powerful family, and an old friend demands a forgotten promise be honored. Everyone wants a piece of him.
 
Except Ramona. She can’t see that he’s never stopped loving her. That they are meant to be together. Even if he is about to marry someone else.
 
If you’re looking for smart, sexy characters in a layered, emotionally-gripping story, Coming Home will take you there.
 
This steamy, standalone contemporary romance has no cliffhanger, but includes characters you will meet throughout the series.
 
 
 
Buy Link
 
 
 

From Collecting Secrets

 

This was not the first time Camille had looked foolish, but it might have been the first time she didn’t care. Unable to find her room key or hold back the torrent of tears, she plunked down onto the ugly hotel carpet in front of her door and sobbed, loud and hard. With nothing but the back of her hand to wipe away the tears and snot, the scene quickly escalated from tragic to gruesome. Heartbreak was no stranger. But this break-up was beyond humiliating. How dare he? She had given him everything and he claimed it wasn’t enough. He’d stood in the cold marble lobby and yelled at her. Accused her of cheating. In front of everyone. Humiliation mingled with anger and desperation, halting any effort to pull herself together. They’d flown across the country to attend this wedding and now she’d be conspicuously dateless in a room full of happy couples. She tried to take a breath and choked on a new wave of tears. A soft crush of footsteps stopped in front of her, but Camille had no interest in lifting her head off her knees to look. “Hey, Cam. What’s wrong?” She knew that voice, as well as the gentle stroke of his hand in her hair. “Camille. You’re scaring me. What’s going on?” His worry pierced through her pain and, with great effort, she tilted her head up to see her best friend’s face inches from hers. His eyes flashed to fear. “Camille! What happened? Are you okay? Talk to me!” It took so much energy to form words. “Calm down, Jack. I'm okay.” “You don’t look okay. Did something happen with Charlie? Where is he?” The questions were coming too fast for Camille’s throbbing, blurry head. “He dumped me.” There, she said it. Out loud. The line of his lips flattened and his breath growled. Rage filled his expression. “That mother fu-” Camille shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “We flew all the way here and that bastard couldn’t even wait one more day.” Jackson’s mouth softened. “I'm so sorry.” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. She looked into the warm brown eyes of her closest friend, the man who’d been like a brother for the past ten years. This was how she knew him best – kind, caring, and sweet. She didn’t care how the world saw him. She had gotten to know the real man. “Let’s get you up and into your room.” He slipped his long arms under hers and stood her up. She fell into his broad chest, melting into the arms that enveloped her. “Where’s your key, love?” he whispered into the top of her head. She mumbled into his chest. “I couldn’t find it.” Keeping a firm grip around her with one arm, Jackson dipped down to pick her purse up off the ground. “Can I take a look?” “Of course.” She had no secrets from him. She winced when he had to unlock his arm from her waist to search through her purse. Of course, he knew exactly where she would have put the key: in the smallest zippered pocket. He waved it in front of the magnetic pad and the loud click confirmed his success. As expected, the room had been cleared of all Charlie’s belongings. His compulsiveness would have prevented him from forgetting anything. Camille stepped away from Jackson to look around, hoping to find a belt, or a tie, or even a tube of shaving cream. Any excuse to contact him again. But there was nothing, not even a stray hair. Charlie had almost snuck out without her knowing. If she hadn’t had to leave the restaurant to go to the bathroom, she would never have seen him, bags in hand, striding across the lobby. Jackson stepped in front of her, halting her examination of the room, and began wiping her eyes and nose with a tissue. “I'm a mess.” Only the slightest tinge of self-consciousness colored the moment. This was who they were and had always been. He pressed the tissue across her nose and she blew, like a small child. “No, Cam. You’re just hurting.” He balled up the tissue and flicked it into the small metal bin to his right. “I know you’re upset, love. But, personally, I'm glad he’s gone. He was never good enough for you. And he reinforced his complete lack of class by doing this here. I mean, he couldn’t have ended it before flying to Chicago with you?” Camille dropped her head, another rush of tears pressing against her eyes. His broad palms cupped her face, tilting her up to look at him. “Hey, hey, Cam. He has no idea what an amazing woman you are. There are better things in your future. I know it.” His shoulders lifted as he took a deep breath. Something about the look on his face locked her attention on him. When he touched his lips to hers, a first in their relationship, a tiny spark of surprise jolted her awake. When he pressed in, more deeply, passionately and deliberately, gripping her and parting her lips, there was no question a line had been crossed. A column of heat filled Camille’s body as his mouth explored hers. She could not have imagined anything as wonderful as that kiss in that moment. Until she remembered to whom that mouth belonged.

 

 

 

 

 

I believe that everything we experience exists as a story within us.

My journey as a writer includes the award-winning poem I penned at the ripe old age of seven, decades of hiding and doubt, and then finally… finally!... realizing that art needs to be shared. Storytelling is part of my heritage, even though I denied it for so long. The stories I created - true and imaginary - have saved me numerous times.

My characters come to me, like old friends excited to tell me what's new. They represent the world I see and the world I want to see.

More than anything, I care about recovery from life’s setbacks… getting back on your feet after life has brought you to your knees… and my characters fight the hard fight for the lives they know are waiting for them.

I’ve drawn my inspiration from the many flavors of my life experience. Once a sad, shy girl, I’ve also been an MIT-trained engineer, biotech executive, professional dancer, yoga teacher and business owner, school founder, spiritual counselor, entrepreneur, and author.

And I own a magic wand that I’m certain will work one day.

When I’m not typing, furiously trying to capture the stories that pour from me, you can find me loving my people to excess, globe-trotting to the next great adventure, and sporting bright red lips as a tango diva. And of course on my digital homes: pekavanagh.com and boldsoulcoaching.com.

 

Links 

 

 
 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!

 

 

Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/index.php/2018/06/18/blog-tour-friends-lovers-book-series-bu
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text 2018-06-14 12:35
Blog Tour: The Dead Game by Susanne Leist with Excerpt and Giveaway

Today’s stop is for Susanne Leists The Dead Game . We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


 

Linda Bennett leaves New York for the slower-paced lifestyle of Oasis, Florida. She opens a bookstore and makes new friends. Life is simple that is until the dead body washes up onshore. She is horrified to learn that dead bodies and disappearing tourists are typical for this small town. Rumors abound of secret parties held by the original residents in their secluded mansions. Once night falls, the tourist-friendly community becomes a haven for evil and dark shadows. However, this is only the beginning. Linda and her group receive an unsigned invitation to a party at End House, the deserted house in the forest behind the town, a mansion with a violent history. They are pursued through revolving rooms and dangerous traps, barely escaping with their lives, leaving two of their friends trapped inside. It is up to Linda and her friends to search out The Dead and find the evil one controlling their once peaceful community. Can they trust the Sheriff and his best friend, Todd? THE DEAD GAME has begun.

 

**Only .99 cents!**

 

 

 

Buy Links

 

 

Amazon *** B&N

 

 

Linda passed the empty tables by the tall windows when she felt her arm being tugged. Before she could react, she found herself being dragged through the open patio doors and onto the isolated garden path. She came face to face with the mighty Wolf and his trusted companion, Hayden. The grounds were deserted. Everyone had left the gardens, and she was all alone with the two wicked vampires. Wolf glared at Hayden. “Please let go of her arm; we are not animals. We never force ourselves on women.” “Chivalry among demons—I’m very impressed. Too bad your table manners and choice of dishes leave a lot to be desired,” Linda said. Her hatred of Wolf had just caused her to forget her low position in the food chain; she closed her mouth to stop herself from talking. In the future, she must remember that he was a vampire—the strongest one in the world—and that he could easily destroy her at any time. Wolf didn’t seem the least bit focused on her. “I didn’t come here to play parlor games with you. I need you to convince Todd to join with us. He can never be human or will ever be accepted by them. He belongs with us. He must stick with his own kind.” “He’s not like you in any way at all: he cares too deeply for people and is loyal to his friends. On the other hand, you and your kind enjoy killing too much and have no feelings whatsoever.” “Todd will never be accepted by humans or by his own kind. He will be an outcast with nowhere to go. He must join with us.” “Todd is human and will always be accepted by humans.” “Let’s kill her now, boss. She’s going to be trouble. I could take her away and no one will ever see her again,” Hayden said, grabbing hold of her arm again. Wolf strolled over to her with a wicked gleam surfacing in his eyes. “I have a much better use for her in the future. When she finally comes to her senses, she’ll realize that she will be better off with a real vampire with limitless powers than with a pathetic human. She’ll learn about intoxicating love and passion—not the games that humans play that pale in comparison. “Here comes the human. Let her go for now.” Linda was horrified to find herself wrapped in Wolf’s strong, muscular arms. She became hypnotized by his black eyes and tempted by his deep voice. He seemed perfect in every way. She only wanted to be with him. “I’ll be back for you.” Wolf held her tight against his body and whispered in her ear. “I love the way you stand up to me with your flashing blue eyes. Soon you’ll be mine, my beautiful ice queen.” Linda couldn’t move her body. She was stuck in some kind of trance…she couldn’t leave, didn’t want to leave if given the choice. His voice soothed her and made her think of love, passion, and great need: a need that could be satisfied only by him with his expert hands and mouth. She knew that one day she was going to be with him, to be joined with him. He lowered his mouth onto hers and drew her into a swirling haze of unexpected feelings and desires. His mouth fully covering hers introduced her to a new realm of pure pleasure. His powerful form enveloped her, making her feel feelings that were foreign and untried for her. She couldn’t get enough of him. Linda tentatively began touching his face and then his body with an eager and unrelenting hunger. She didn’t know what she needed, but she knew that she wanted and desired this beautiful man standing right before her. Her past life was washed out of her mind, never to be considered again. Linda begged him to take her with him tonight. In response, Wolf lifted her in his arms, as if she weighed nothing, and turned to leave the party. His beautiful face looked victorious and happy. His black eyes filled with passion. She hoped that it was because of her. He looked down into her small face and gave a hearty roar. While Wolf carried her in his powerful arms, a dark shadow swooped out of the house and flew directly at them. Linda was knocked out of his arms, and Wolf was thrown across the patio. She looked up to see who had attacked them. It was Todd, his eyes a deadly shade of green, standing there panting. Linda backed away in horror. Todd’s eyes cleared and returned to their original dark color. Then he looked at her. “Don’t ever be afraid of me. I’m here to protect you.” Then he was struck down by Wolf.

 

 

 

 

 

I have always loved to read. I grew up with Agatha Christie, Alistair Maclean and so many other authors who filled my imagination with intrigue and mystery. The TV show, Murder She Wrote, kept me entertained when I was not reading late into the night.

Over the years, my taste in books has expanded to include the supernatural and paranormal genres as reflected in my selection of shows, such as Supernatural, The Vampire Diaries, and The Originals.

My first book, The Dead Game, is a paranormal suspense/mystery. It brings fantasy and the surreal to the simple murder mystery. It has dead bodies and suspects. However, it also has vampires, vampire derivatives, and a touch of romance to spice up the mix.

 

 

Links

 
 
 
 
 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
 
 
 
 
Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/index.php/2018/06/14/blog-tour-the-dead-game-by-susanne-leist-with-excerpt-and-giveaway
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text 2018-06-13 12:35
Blog Tour: The Deadliest Blessing by Jeannette de Beauvoir with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Jeannette de Beauvoir’s The Deadliest Blessing. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


 

 

If there’s a dead body anywhere in Provincetown, wedding consultant Sydney Riley is going to be the one to find it! The seaside town’s annual Portuguese Festival is approaching and it looks like smooth sailing until Sydney’s neighbor decides to have some construction done in her home—and finds more than she bargained for inside her wall. Now Sydney is again balancing her work at the Race Point Inn with an unexpected adventure that will eventually involve fishermen, gunrunners, a mummified cat, a family fortune, misplaced heirs, a girl with a mysterious past, and lots and lots of Portuguese food. The Blessing of the Fleet is coming up, and unless Sydney can find the key to a decades-old murder, it might yet come back to haunt everyone in this otherwise-peaceful fishing village.

 

 

 

Buy Link

Amazon

 

 

Chapter One

 

The sunset was living up to expectations.

I’d parked my Civic—known affectionately as the Little Green Car—in the row of vehicles facing Herring Cove Beach, one of the few places on the East Coast where the sun appears to set into the water. As usual, the light was spectacular. It’s the light that made Provincetown what it is, the oldest continuously operating art colony in the United States: the light here, apparently, is like nowhere else.

Or so my friend Mirela tells me. She’s a painter, and is constantly talking about the light, though when it really comes down to it, she can’t explain exactly what it is they all see, the artists who live and work here. I know; I’ve asked.

It was late spring, and I didn’t yet have too many weddings crowding my daily calendar, so I was taking advantage of the calm before the storm of the summer tourist season really hitting when my spare time, like everybody’s else’s, would disappear altogether. I’m the wedding coordinator for the Race Point Inn, and while we do tasteful winter weddings inside the building, the bulk of my work is in the summertime, as Provincetown is pretty much Destination Wedding Central, mostly for same-sex couples but really for anyone who wants this kind of light. The sun was carving a path of gold right up to the beach, glittering and gilded, and I knew I was smiling, settling back into my seat with a sigh.

My phone rang.

Cell coverage is spotty out here in the Cape Cod National Seashore, and my experience is that it’s when you really need to reach someone that it’s not going to happen; on the other hand, when it’s something you don’t want to deal with, the signal comes through loud and clear. Murphy’s Law, or something along those lines. I sighed and swiped, my eyes still on the sunset. “Sydney Riley.”

“Sydney, hey, hi, it’s Zack.”

My landlord. This couldn’t be good. I mentally checked the date. Um, I’d paid my rent this month, right? “Hi, Reg.”

“Hey, hi. Listen, Sydney, I’ve got Mrs. Mattos here and she’s looking for you.”

Of course she was. I live above a nightclub, which makes for reasonable rent with free Lady Gaga thrown in at one o’clock in the morning; Mrs. Mattos is the eighty-something widow who owns the very large house directly across the street. Property developers are probably checking on her health daily as they wait for her demise; I can’t imagine how many million-dollar condos they could create in that space.

I take her grocery shopping to the Stop & Shop once a week and I’ve noticed, lately, that she’s finding more and more excuses to come over and buzz my doorbell. She’s lonely and probably a little scared and most of the time I try to help, but the silly season was already upon us and there was a lot less of my time available. Generally I try to wean her off daily visits by May, but we were already into the beginning of June now, and she was crossing the street rather than calling, a sure sign of distress.

Mrs. Mattos is frequently distressed.

Still, it must have been something out of the ordinary for her to have buzzed Zack, who owns the nightclub as well as the building and was probably peeled away from his never-ending paperwork to talk to her. Mrs. Mattos is usually a little nonplussed around Zack, who regularly paints his fingernails chartreuse or purple, and owns an extensive assortment of wigs. “She’s there with you now?”

A murmur of conversation, then Mrs. Mattos’ quavering voice on the line. “I just need you to come over, Sydney,” she said.

The sun was dipping into the water now; the show would soon be finished. Above it, scarlet and pink streaked across the sky. Some day, I told myself, I was going to be old and quavering, too. “Okay, you go back home,” I said. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Her name is Emilia Mattos, she stands about five-feet nothing and might weigh a hundred pounds. But every bit of her, like most of the Portuguese women in town, is muscle and sinew. I know her first name, but I’ve never used it; there’s a certain distance, a certain decorum the elderly Provincetown widows observe, and I respect that. Out on Fisherman’s Wharf there’s a collection of large-scale photographs of elderly Portuguese wives and mothers, an art installation called They Also Face The Sea; Mrs. Mattos isn’t one of them, but she could well be.

Back when Provincetown was one of the major whaling ports, ships stopped off in the Azores to take on additional crew, and a lot of those people settled back in town and sent for their families; by the end of the 1800s they were as numerous as the original English settlers. Nowadays there are fewer and fewer Portuguese enclaves, as gentrification switches into high gear and Provincetown’s fishing fleet dwindles; but the names are still here: Mattos, Avellar, Cabral, Gouveia, Silva, Amaral, Rego, Del Deo.

Up until about ten years go, a prominent advertisement in the booklet for the Portuguese Festival was for the small Azores Express airline, when there was still a generation in town that was from Portugal itself; you don’t see that anymore.

She was standing in her doorway when I found a parking place for the Little Green Car and got to our street. I’ve read in books about people twisting their hands; I’d never actually seen it until then. “Mrs. Mattos! Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

“Probably nothing,” she said, on that same quavering note. “Oh, I’m probably disturbing you for nothing, Sydney.”

“Not at all,” I said firmly, taking hold of her elbow and turning her around. “Let’s go in, and you can tell me all about it.”

She was docile, letting me steer her back in the house and into the big kitchen where most of her life seems to take place. She has a home health aide who comes in to help her with bathing and laundry, but she doesn’t let anyone touch her stove: not to cook, not to clean. And when I say clean, I mean clean within an inch of its life: everything in Mrs. Mattos’ kitchen gleams. Not for the first time, I lamented that she couldn’t make it up my stairs: if she expended about an eighth of her usual zeal, my apartment would be cleaner than it had ever been.

She sat down, still fussing with her hands. “I’m having construction work done,” she said, and stood up again. “I should show you.”

“What kind of work?”

“Insulation.” Her voice was repressive, as if she were delivering censure of something. We’d just come off an amazingly, spectacularly cold winter, with single-digit temperatures and a nor-easter that brought the highest tides ever recorded, so I suspected she wasn’t the only one thinking about making changes. “In the walls. Them people at the Cape Cod Energy said I should.”

“Okay.” I still wasn’t getting what was wrong here. “Do you want to show me?”

She turned and led me into the front parlor (in Mrs. Mattos’ house, you don’t call it a living room); I had to duck to get through the heavy framed doorway, and the ceiling here was about an inch or so over my head. She, of course, had no such problems. A loveseat had been pulled away from one of the exterior walls and a significant hole made. She didn’t have drywall, but rather plaster and lathing, as older houses tended to. “There wasn’t nothing wrong with it. The insulation before was just fine,” she said, resentful. “Seaweed.”

“Seaweed?”

She nodded vigorously. “Dried out. It’s what they used.” No need for anything else, her tone suggested.

“Okay,” I said again. “What is—“

“Go look,” she said, flapping her hands at me. “Just look.”

I looked. I pulled my smartphone out of my pocket and used the built-in flashlight. Wedged between strips of lathing was a box. “Is this it?”

Mrs. Mattos blessed herself. “Holy Mother of God,” she said, which I took for assent.

“Can I take it out?” I asked, eyeing the box. It looked as innocuous as last year’s Christmas present. Well, maybe not last year’s. Maybe from sometime around 1950.

Another quick sign of the cross. “Just don’t make me look. I can’t look again.”

I put my smartphone in my pocket and reached gingerly into the opening. Didn’t Poe write a story about a cat getting walled up somewhere? “Who’s doing your work for you, Mrs. Mattos?” It didn’t look as though they’d gotten very far in opening up the wall.

She was back to twisting her hands again. “The company wanted so much,” she began, and I nodded. Rather than getting a contractor, pulling a permit, having a bunch of workmen in her house and paying reasonable rates, she’d found someone to do it on the side. Someone’s unemployed cousin or nephew, probably. That sort of thing happens a lot in P’town, especially among the thrifty Portuguese. It explained the size of the hole, anyway: this was someone without a whole range of tools.

I pulled the box out—it was about the size of a shoebox, only square—and set it down carefully on the coffee table. Mrs. Mattos was looking at it as though something were about to pop out and bite her, like the creatures in Alien; she actually took a physical step back. This wasn’t just Mrs. Mattos being Mrs. Mattos; this thing was really spooking her.

I sat down beside the table and gingerly—you can’t say that I don’t pick up on a mood—lifted the top off the box. Sudden thoughts of Pandora blew by like an errant wind and I shook them off and looked inside.

Shoes; small shoes. Children’s shoes. Three of them, and none matching the others. It was wildly anticlimactic. “Shoes?” I said, doubt—and no doubt disappointment—in my voice.

“It’s not the shoes,” she said. “It’s that we shouldn’t never have moved them.”

I looked at them again. Old leather, dry and curling and peeling. But shoes? She was clearly seeing something I wasn’t. Had these children died some horrible death? Were these memories of lives that hadn’t been lived to their fullest? Something haunting, a song or an echo of laughter, moved through my mind as though on a whisper of summer air. I didn’t recognize the tune. “Mrs. Mattos?”

“It’s to keep them witches out,” she said, grimly.

“Witches?”

She nodded. “An’ now there’s nothing to keep ’em from coming in. And nothing we can do about it, neither.”

 

 

 

Jeannette de Beauvoir grew up in Angers, France, but has lived in the United States since her twenties. (No, she's not going to say how long ago that was!) She spends most of her time inside her own head, which is great for writing, though possibly not so much for her social life. When she’s not writing, she’s reading or traveling… to inspire her writing.

The author of a number of mystery and historical novels (some of which you can see on Amazon, Goodreads, Criminal Element, HomePort Press, and her author website), de Beauvoir's work has appeared in 15 countries and has been translated into 12 languages. Midwest Review called her Martine LeDuc Montréal series “riveting (…) demonstrating her total mastery of the mystery/suspense genre.” She is currently writing a Provincetown Theme Week cozy mystery series featuring female sleuth Sydney Riley.

De Beauvoir’s academic background is in history and religion, and the politics and intrigue of the medieval period have always fascinated her (and provided her with great storylines!). She coaches and edits individual writers, teaches writing online and on Cape Cod, and thinks Aaron Sorkin is a god. Her cat, Beckett, totally disagrees.

 

 

Links

 

Website *** Facebook *** Twitter *** Amazon *** Goodreads

 

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

 

 

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive content and a giveaway!

 

 

Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/index.php/2018/06/13/blog-tour-the-deadliest-blessing-by-jeannette-de-beauvoir-with-excerpt-and-giveaway
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text 2018-06-12 12:35
Blog Tour: Within the Walls by Dre Keeton with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Dre Keeton’s TWithin the Walls. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 

 


 

 

 

 

Perfect opposites in a far from perfect world.

Jackson and Lenah are from two different worlds. Lenah is among the elite in Sundale City. Jackson, on the other hand, is broke, Psycho Infected and has a criminal record growing by the minute. It’s safe to say, in another life, the two would never have crossed paths.

But when Jackson is assigned to work for Lenah in an effort to use his PI abilities for something productive, things get complicated.

As their worlds collide, they realize how much they’ve both suffered and struggled with the darkness the infection brought the world.

But the closer they become, the more dangerous things get. It isn’t just that PI and human relationships are forbidden, but Lenah's powerful fiancé has no intention of letting her go. And as people in the American Walled Cities start disappearing, Jackson and Lenah discover there's something even more sinister at play than her pending nuptials.

 

 

 

 

 

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Lenah Noseki strolled from the parking lot, bravely moving toward the cluster of protestors outside. They were a not-so-quiet ambush waiting for her as she made her way toward the hospital. “Back off!” she yelled at a horde of men and women who pushed into her, trying to block her way to the front doors of the building. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be there. It wasn’t like she was thrilled to be signing away her brother’s life. Just like them, she longed for the days before the infection. But this was life now. “I said, ‘Back off!’” Lenah shouted again as a group of women linked arms in front of her. It had only taken her seven years to get the hang of it, but she’d finally grown accustomed to the pushy nature of selfrighteous protesters. She’d learned the hard way that niceties like “excuse me” didn’t work for these people. They were too blinded by their cause to extend common courtesy. No, Lenah knew she had to wear her game face with this crowd. The irony was that she agreed with them, for the most part. She wasn’t a fanatic, but the infection sucked. Particularly on a day like today. But that didn’t mean she was going to stand in the street holding up traffic like a raving lunatic. Honestly, who had the time? Lenah wiped her hands down the sides of her pants, her palms sweating with anticipation as she moved further into the crowd, bursting through human fences and stepping over sitting protesters. The chaos was starting to get to her. She’d been a seesaw all morning—up and down on how confident she was with her choice. “Do you not believe in the sanctity of life, young lady?” A graying old man stepped into Lenah’s path. “Every life has the potential to bloom. Don’t give in to the will of the abominations. Protect your loved ones, and don’t offer them up on a silver platter!” he yelled at her as she tried to push past him. His wrinkled hands held on firmly to a sign that read “Don’t let our lives go over Psycho!” Lenah rolled her eyes and made an attempt to go around him, but he shifted, determined to complicate her morning. “Move it, old man, or the bloom of your life will end right here and now. No Psycho necessary.” Planting her feet, she narrowed her eyes at him, watching as surprise flickered across his features. He obviously hadn’t been expecting resistance. He stepped away, drifting back into the crowd, and she smiled after him, feeling like an accomplished badass. They didn’t usually run scared. Things typically turned into a screaming match, but she must have looked extra fierce that morning. Her high-puff ponytail and fitted overalls must have given all of the “don’t fuck with me” vibes she needed. She wiped at beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and the corners of her smile inched downward. There was a reason she was extra fierce today. She had to be. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she approached the skyscraping hospital. It was the only one in Sundale, big enough to take up a city block, and it triple-functioned as hospital, feeding center, and mental institution. She was already exhausted, and the hardest part of her visit hadn’t even started. She stopped in front of the large, PI-proof double doors and sucked in a deep breath. She shivered as she pulled them open and stepped inside.

 

 

 

 

 


Dre Keeton is the oldest of three children, a tequila enthusiast, and fueled by plants. One of her favorite things, aside from chatting with her dog, is creating fictional worlds that seem likely. Dre is an avid promoter of diversity in literature and seeks to mirror that in her own work.

 

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Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/index.php/2018/06/12/blog-tour-within-the-walls-by-dre-keeton-with-excerpt-and-giveaway
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