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#BlogTour #GuestPost ~ Across Great Divides by Monique Roy @MonWriter1 @NeverlandBT

Across Great Divides is a timeless, World War II story of the upheavals of war, the power of family, and the resiliency of human spirit. When Hitler comes to power in 1933, one Jewish family refuses to be destroyed and defies the Nazis only to come up against another struggle—confronting Apartheid in South Africa.

Sixteen-year-old Eva and her twin sister, Inge, witness their lives in Berlin change before their eyes. Their best friend, Trudy, betrays them when she becomes a member of the Hitler Youth. A valuable family heirloom, a beautiful emerald and diamond pendant necklace, is confiscated by the Nazis as they harass Jewish families and businesses.

Their younger brother, Max, a member of the underground resistance, sees even greater danger ahead.
Their father, Oskar, refuses to leave his beloved Germany and believes Hitler will eventually fail.

They finally flee Nazi Germany with the help of the underground resistance —a young German man, a nun, a countess conspiring against the Nazis, and a winegrower secretly hiding Jewish children.

War continues to follow them until they arrive in Cape Town, South Africa. The family hires an impoverished colored woman, Zoe, as their maid and shields her and her daughter, Zola, from the dangers they face in the slums and from the horrors of Apartheid, which are all too reminiscent of Nazi Germany.

Across Great Divides illuminates a Jewish family in Germany in WWII caught in significant 20th century travesties: the Nazi occupation of Europe during World War Two and Apartheid in South Africa.

Meet the Author
Monique Roy

The inspiration for my historical novel, Across Great Divides, came from growing up in a family that sought unceasingly to find peace. Writing was always a strong passion of mine. As a child, I used to pen imaginative stories in a journal that my parents gave me. I always knew that I wanted to and had to write a novel about how my European Jewish grandparents fled Nazi Europe and landed up in Cape Town, South Africa, where I was born.

Knowing that there were so many unique and amazing stories already published about Jews fleeing Europe during World War II, I knew that the South African twist in Across Great Divides was an unusual one. Long ago, my grandfather gave 13-typed pages to his five grandchildren, describing their life in Europe from the time Hitler came to power. My parents, two brothers and I emigrated from South Africa to Dallas, Texas in 1980, and unfortunately, my grandparents were never able to sit down and tell us their story. The pages that illuminated my grandparent’s story were a great inspiration and provided a good starting point for my story. My grandparents passed away many years ago, so I was unable to ask them important questions of how they fled Europe, how they attained visas, how they felt when they lived in apartheid South Africa, and many more questions that I struggled with and desired to know. Instead, I was forced to dig much deeper, into my own creativity and the resources available to me, to create a fictional story that was essentially based on truth of how a Jewish family refused to be destroyed and defied the Nazis only to come up against another struggle—confronting apartheid in South Africa. Across Great Divides is a timeless story of the upheavals of war, the power of family, and the resiliency of human spirit.

The novel connects two of the 20th century’s great travesties: the Nazi occupation of Europe and apartheid in South Africa. The book is a hauntingly beautiful story of faith, family, and redemption, centered in one of the darkest periods in human history. This is a tale of one family’s struggle to survive in a world tainted with hate, capturing the raw emotion of the time, and the power of love that held them all together.

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Enjoy our selection of New Releases / Free & Bargain Books this week! @beckvalleybooks

Sharing the Love of Books
Enjoy our selection of New Releases / Free & Bargain Books this week

Authors please feel free to add your own books
Readers please free to add your own finds
(any genre except erotica welcome)

This weekly link up is hosted by Beck Valley Books & these awesome book loving blogs…
Monday
Life as Leels | IrishdaisylovesRomance | Book Babble | All Romance Reader
Tuesday
It’s My Side of Life | Celticlady’s Reviews | First Time Mommy Adventures | Bound 2 Escape
Wednesday
Beck Valley BooksA Library of Reviews | Cinnamon Hollow Reviews
Thursday
Miki’s Hope | Taking Time for Mommy | Nicki’s Nook
Friday
Ebook Addicts | I Love Romance | A Bit Bookish | Mother Distracted | Colorimetry
Saturday
Totally Addicted to Reading | 3 Partners in Shopping | Angie’s Angle I Creat Purty Thangs | Wishful Endings
Sunday
Lynchburg Mama | LibriAmoriMieiAli – The Dragon Slayer | Wondermom WannabeMy Bizzy World |
Deal Sharing Aunt 

For Pre-orders post – PRE-ORDER / genre / title /author

For New Releases post – NEW / genre / title / author
For Free Books post – FREE / genre / title / author / end date
For Bargain Books post – SALE / price / genre / title / author / end date
(Strictly no Erotica please.  Steamy romance is fine but watch those covers people, incase any underage child is viewing it!)

Here is this weeks awesome selection!



Would you like to share our linkup on your site? click here
Would you like to become a weekly host? sign up here

Come back and check out the new selection every week x




#BlogTour #Excerpt ~ Ice Cold Alice by C.P. Wilson @bellshillwilson @bloodhoundbook #BlogHounds

Welcome to my stop on the blog tour today. Isn’t that cover eerily stunning!? Whenever I decline a book for review due to time pressure I always immediately regret it, while I couldn’t read this in advance of the tour I will certainly be adding it to my TBR. I have heard some great comments about it in the blogging community.

They thought that they had all the power, until she took it from them.

A killer hunts abusive spouses, blogging about their sins post-kill. Soon the murders and the brazen journaling draws the attention of Police Scotland’s CID.

This killer works with surgical preparation, precision and skill, using a unique weapon of her own and never leaves a trace of evidence behind.

Edinburgh’s DI Kathy McGuire, nearing the end of her career, begins the hunt for the murderer as a media frenzy erupts. But McGuire might have met her match…

What has led this killer to take the law into her own hands?

Is the woman accountable really a cold-hearted killer or a desperate vigilante?

Purchase Here

About the Author

C.P. Wilson writes Psychological Thrillers. Ice Cold Alice is due for publication by Bloodhound Books on April 20th, 2017 and is currently being adapted to a screenplay.

Wilson is also the author of ten works of fiction in multiple genre and one non-fiction memoir under the name Mark Wilson.

Wilson currently teaches Biology in a Fife secondary school, is one half of a parent-team to two very active children, and mentors independent authors. He writes in his spare time, in lieu of sleep.


Wilson’s short story ‘Glass Ceiling’ won first prize in May, 2015 on Spinetingler’s Short story competition. dEaDINBURGH: Vantage reached the quarter finals of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award in 2014 and was a finalist in the Wishing Shelf Book Awards, 2015.

Links:

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Ice Cold Alice, by CP Wilson, is the first volume in a Psychological Thriller series featuring ‘Tequila Mockingbird’, a serial-killer who hunts abusive men. The following excerpt is a sneak preview of the opening chapter of Book 2, currently titled Alice in Anger. The preview introduces a horrific new adversary for Alice.

Chapter 1

Salt and iron sting inside your nose, waking you from the deepest of sleeps. Still drowsing, you breathe the scents of the room in more deeply. At the humid-coppery scent neurones fire, relaying panic to your central nervous system. A single moment passes, during which your mind has put the pieces together but has yet to inform your consciousness. You rub the side of your cheek and temple against something soft and warm. With the motion, the limits of your body become perceptible. Awareness of your skin, your limbs and the silence around you trickles in. Your naked skin feels clammy, sticky with something warm but cooling in the flow of a draught crossing the room. Comfort crests and is instantly shattered as your brain fits the disparate pieces of sensory input into a single sharp conclusion.
Blood.
Your hands shake almost imperceptibly. The gentlest of tremors borne of excitement or fear or exhaustion, you do not know and scarcely care.
Some rarely explored, dormant section of your mind cries, not again, but the pitiful denial barely registers in your conscious thoughts.

Your eyes slide open as though of their own volition. Bright light pierces, causing you to narrow your eyes until they’re almost closed once again. Eyes slits, you sit to swing your legs over the edge of the sofa, resting your bare feet on a wooden floor. Sticky, viscous liquid pools around your toes. Eyes widen instantly and the room comes into dreadful focus.

Sat at the end of a very large couch, you crane your neck, directing your gaze to your left. Three people sit on the couch along with you. Two kids… your kids… and their mother. Your wife is naked. The kids have their underwear still in place, an inadequate scrap protecting a dignity that no longer matters to anyone aside from yourself.
Blackness edges in around your vision. With great effort you force your eyes to focus. Sliding off of the couch you come to your knees, facing the bodies of your family. The blood on the floor sloshes at your knees and splashes up onto your thighs.
Abbie, your wife, sits with her left arm around your son, her fingertips brushing the shoulder of your little girl. On Abbie’s thigh, crimson smears where your cheek had lain. The twins, nine years old, have their chins laid on their chests, their lifeless corpses slumped in a seated position, similar to their mother’s. Cody’s face looks peaceful, he could be sleeping if it weren’t for the slackness of his expression. Keira’s is a mask of fear. Without intending to you reach out to hold her little face in your hands, attempting to rearrange her unfamiliar expression. Her upper-body slumps forward at your tentative touch. Keira falls into your arms.
A bestial moan escapes from you as you lift her into my embrace. Cradling your daughter in the manner you had when she was still an infant, you scan Julia and Cody’s faces and bodies.
Abbie has a wide, long cut across her throat allowing blood to flow down to pool in the fabric and padding of the sofa until it has dripped to collect underneath, spreading out across the floor as a macabre indication of how long they’ve lain dead.
Each of them bears a small incision high up on the right of their abdomens. A surgical cut, their body wounds look to have bled little. A deliberate shift of Keira’s legs, hung over your right forearm, nudges her against her brother. The movement causes his body to fall forward, bringing his mother with him.
They crash heavily onto you and Keira, all loose-limbs and dead momentum. Under the unmoving mass of your entire family pinning you to the floor, you are abruptly distracted by frantic screaming. It takes you several long moments to realise that the despairing, shrill noise is coming from your own throat. You shove feebly at Keira, conflicted between wanting their corpses off of you, and not wanting to hurt her little body, the pressure you exert is laughable. Mercifully, you feel the blackness edging once again. This time, you accept its embrace as an old friend, leaving the indescribable agony behind.

#BlogTour #GuestPost Q&A~ Meet Me at Wisteria Cottage by @Teresa_Morgan10 @HarperImpulse

I’m thrilled it’s my turn on the blog tour today for #MeetMeAtWisteriaCottage  Teresa has kindly answered some questions about the book below.

A Cornish Escape
After her house is set on fire and her love life is left in tatters, Maddy Hart can’t believe her luck when a friend offers her the temporary haven of Wisteria Cottage. Overlooking the turquoise blue waters of the Cornish coast, the fresh air feels like a fresh start for her and her broken heart.
Peeking out of the cosy cottage windows, Maddy’s surprised to see her gorgeous but insufferable neighbour Harry Tudor has been employed to landscape the garden. But as the wisteria winding its way around the cottage begins to bloom, an unlikely friendship starts to blossom…

Purchase Here

About the Author

Teresa F Morgan lives in sunny Weston-super-Mare, trying to hold onto her Surrey accent where she originates from.

For years she persevered with boring jobs, until her two boys (and a budgie called Rio) joined her nest. In an attempt to find something to work around them, and to ensure she never endured full time boredom again, Teresa found writing.

Family holidays in Cornwall have lead to the scenic Cornish coastline and the city of Bristol being the back drop for Teresa’s novels.

She’s at her happiest baking cakes, putting proper home cooked dinners on the table (whether the kids eat them or not), reading a good romance, or sitting at her PC emptying her thoughts onto the screen.

Teresa loves writing contemporary romance, stories with a touch of escapism and creating heroes readers will fall in love with.

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I love the quick examples of how to describe the book hero/ines Twitter style! Over to Teresa ……

Describe your hero in 140 characters?
Helpful, kind, thoughtful but troubled ex-fireman, now landscape gardener with a hot body. Fancies his neighbour although won’t admit it.

Describe your heroine in 140 characters?
Fiery, artistic and desperate not to turn into her mother. Finds her neighbour insufferable, constantly flaunting his shirtless torso.

What’s so special about your hero that makes your heroine fall in love with him?
Harry becomes Maddy’s rock, I suppose. He’s helpful and kind, as well as incredibly sexy. He was supposed to be the reluctant hero, but the firefighter in him has to help people.

Why do you like writing romance?
I love experimenting with relationships and the conflicts between a man and a woman trying to make a relationship work.

Which of your characters is your favourite, and why?
Valerie. She’s based a little on my dear writer friend Mary, who passed away recently. Mary had a passion for champagne, and was incredibly wise, a great fount of information and advice. I will miss her terribly at our RNA chapter.

What things inspire you to write? Location, music, film or even in a book?
With this novel, Cornwall inspired me. I’ve holidayed in Polzeath for the last twelve years, and I based Tinners Bay on the small seaside town. It has a gallery, and I remember a friend owning one years ago, in Woolacombe, where I used to holiday as a child.

Are you nervous about friends reading your book?
Yes always! I’m so worried people will hate it. It’s so lovely when I get told they thoroughly enjoyed the escapism. It’s what I wanted to achieve with my books. Third book published, and I still have that mixed feeling of elation and anxiety. Not sure if it will ever go away.

 

#BlogTour ~ The Last Faith by Karmak Bagisbayev #Extract @AuthorightUKPR @gilbster1000 @Authoright

“The Last Faith: a book by an atheist believer” provides a clear and convincing answer to all the questions listed above. The answer which will cause the reader to reconsider many established moral principles and notions about the world around us. The answer which will help the reader to understand the nature of human actions, dilemmas, dramas and passions, in their true light. The answer which will elucidate the current stage in the development of human civilisation and offer unexpected predictions for its future.

“The Last Faith: a book by an atheist believer” is aimed at a wide audience and does not require any specialised knowledge. The author’s thoughts and reflections are presented here in the form of a fictional conversation with God which unfolds over the course of just two hundred pages. The author (PhD in Physics and Mathematics) gives concise and clearly expressed explanations and evidence for his ideas. He cites abundant examples from the world around us which are drawn from his extensive travels through Russia, America, Europe, Africa and Central Asia.

All this makes for an accessible and enjoyable read.
Purchase  Amazon UK

About the Author

 Karmak Bagisbayev was born on the shores of Aral Sea in Kazakhstan, graduated from Novosibirsk State University and currently holds PhD in physics and mathematics. He has worked and travelled throughout Europe, the United States, Africa and Asia. This is his first book.

Extract

“People and animals come together in herd-communities with their own kind exclusively to a single end. Each individual strives to preserve their own genes but achieving that alone can become extremely difficult or even impossible.
It is easier to find a partner for the realisation of the basic instinct as a member of a herd and so ultimately, the prime principle in play is still the Law of Gene Preservation. It is easier to defend oneself from a more powerful enemy as a member of a herd. A pack of hyenas, for example, can face down a powerful predator like a lion, whereas an individual hyena would have no chance. In a herd it is easier to hunt and gather large sources of food, which it would be impossible for a lone animal to find. This is the case for lions, wolves and all other herd predators, including mankind.
The unification of human beings into ever larger communities, beginning with tribes and clans in prehistoric times, then nations and states in the Middle Ages, continues today in the process called world globalisation. The reason for globalisation is the same as it was a thousand years ago. It provides the best conditions for preserving one’s own gene.
However, the communal existence provided by the herd develops a code of collective behaviour among its members which is required for this type of coexistence to be possible, namely, mutual support and assistance, as we saw in the examples of the elephants and dolphins.
The human collective behavioural code has acquired a particularly complex form but despite all this, the species preservation instinct instantly disappears when it is no longer necessary or when it conflicts with the Law of Gene Preservation, which remains the dominant factor in any set of circumstances.
Usually the entire herd serves to preserve the gene of the dominant family, helping to raise its offspring. But as soon as a non-dominant male tries to realise its own Law of Gene Preservation and approaches the harem of the dominant male, it will be immediately expelled from the herd or even killed by the dominant male, who fearing the intrusion of a foreign gene into his harem first and foremost perceives a threat to the preservation of its own gene. Young sexually mature males tend to drop out of the herd, exercising their own right to gene preservation. No herd can prevent them doing so, however strong their bonds.
Here you can see, that the Law of Gene Preservation is primary, and the species preservation instinct is secondary.”

#BlogTour ~Forward to Glory: The Tempering by Brian Paul Bach #Extract @AuthorightUKPR @gilbster1000 @Authoright

Butterbugs is a nobody, a nothing. But that’s not why he’s compelled to drive to Hollywood and hurl himself upon the mercy of the cinematic capital. His only dream is to act. Without any plans, resources or friends, he throws caution to the wind and embarks on a journey to the City of Angels. The trials that result pose only one question: will Butterbugs remain a non-entity, or will his big dream come true?
Facing the movie monolith’s prospects alone, Butterbugs attempts to perform dramatic scenes in front of the homeless and amongst the inebriated. Living in his car, and with dwindling reserves, he searches for opportunities, takes on a hazardous scaffolding job, and makes desperate pleas to bankers for clemency. Isolation leads to alienation, from fringe existence to bare survival, all in a city which cradles high achievement and bottomless failure. Despite his rough start, Butterbugs is strangely attractive to other outcasts turned possible allies: Heatherette – a mysterious force for good whom he weirdly rejects, and who in turn, rejects him; Starling – the thief who tries to love him; ProwlerCat – who might indeed save him, though it is far too early to know for sure. At one of his bleakest moments, Butterbugs receives his first sign of hope that his dreams remain alive: a screen test and the chance to be an extra in a major production. But now, with his first opportunity in hand, nothing seems as it should, except his going forward.
Abundant with movie lore and invention, Forward to Glory I: Tempering by Brian Paul Bach is an ode to the cinema and the bewitching power of entertainment.

Purchase Amazon UK

About the Author

Brian Paul Bach is a writer, artist, filmmaker and photographer; he has worked across the entertainment business, in theatre, music and as an academic. He now lives in central Washington State with his wife, Sandra. His previous works include The Grand Trunk Road From the Front Seat, Calcutta’s Edifice: The Buildings of a Great City, and Busted Boom: The Bummer of Being a Boomer.

Website

TEMPERING
Act I.
of
The FORWARD TO GLORY Quartet

Argument
Butterbugs, the chief protagonist in this four-part saga – of which TEMPERING is the first – is a nobody from nowhere, who comes to Hollywood to try his chances at acting in films. His initial experiences are forbidding and dispiriting. After some artistic success performing dramatic scenes for derelicts and street people from the tailgate ‘stage’ of his station wagon, which also serves as his home, he runs out of money and is starving. As his vulnerabilities increase, he is nevertheless being watched over by a mysterious young woman, Heatherette. Will his quest for artistic success and freedom end in colossal failure? Or will there be a breakthrough?

In Chapter 9: ‘An Enigma Awakes’, Butterbugs has just arrived in Los Angeles. He knows no one and is totally without a plan, so he finds an obscure alleyway and camps out in his car. Upon awakening at an unconventional hour, he surveys his surroundings.

Then he gazed out, and saw her.
She was Heatherette, who tarried within the biggest of the Yniguez Terrace mansions, once owned by Sookie Bupp, the noted child star of the Silent Era. In the silence of the evening, the young lady viewed the darkling skies. She was an arresting presence, viewable by anyone who might occupy a routine residence in her alley, as no veiled barriers were present in such a proven-to-be-obscure zone. Even though the starry colonies of Beverly Hills and Mazamah Close were far off, the Bupp mansion was an indicator of ancient filmic heritage. Heatherette’s family had been in pictures for six generations, and because of this, there was a semblance of the surreal about her.
Butterbugs stared at her now, as she stood there on the rear verandah’s fourth floor terrace.
It was her longstanding but casual assumption that the forest of Gothic pinnacles and Armenian domes of the surrounding skyline might conceal her from any alley dwellers known to camp along there. She was perfectly aware of the changeable presence of drifters, and if she saw some derelict, passed out in the weeds by the postern, she would make sure they were still breathing and retire, knowing they’d soon be gone. When the mood moved her, she would sneak scraps of crisps and veggie burgers from her own poor-fare table, to be left for any and all eligible denizens. The safe-harbor vibes along here were recognized and highly appreciated by the homeless, who never abused them. Peace reigned as a way of life.
With such a history, how could she, up on the terrace, possibly know that Butterbugs was at this moment peering at her through those layers of bird waste that had been visited upon the DeSoto’s lowering roof? Fortunately for him, the gesso-like crap made for a camouflage of sorts, and the growing twilight was helpful.
Though Heatherette was completely nude and stultifyingly attractive way up there, Butterbugs aimed his super-vision eyes solely on her upper person, cropping to a frame that took in her tresses and face. From this distance, both appeared somewhat vague, yet magnetically intriguing. Witnessing this gift of beauty was a brand new event for him. In fact, he couldn’t even be sure that the image up there wasn’t a continuation of his half-conscious arctic fantasy: a cinematic, entirely credible hallucination, experienced communally by the now-doomed explorers captured within his dream-scope. A benevolent Ice-Angel of Death, come to take her weary charges away into the final fade-out, perhaps…? After all, at this stage of the picture, the characters are in the latter stages of exposure, and since their demise is imminent, their labors are mercifully reduced to fleeting fantasies, a farewell visit to their innocent families back home maybe, before the Angel calls. Yet, within the reasonable perspectives of his ‘movie’, he viscerally felt heat, not cold. Another benefit of being close to the end of a freezing-to-death scenario: the fireside comforts of home. Merciful, nice, and toasty.

Later, in Chapter 25: ‘Sensations and Ideas’, Heatherette, who has anonymously facilitated Butterbugs in participating in the filming of an important sequence, encounters him and seeks his response to this, his first appearance in front of a camera.

She saw him through the viney overgrowth that dominated the great cast iron fence lining the alley at the back of her estate. Somewhat nervous, she hastened over and called out.
‘Butterbugs! You’re here. I’ve found you again!’
Taking notice, Butterbugs paused in his progression to his headquarters and drew near, he on one side of the barrier, she on the other. The day was mellow, and the sun passed gently through the bars, framing his face amongst the withered leaves in a manner, to her mind, of a 19th-century engraving.
But she found his face rather blank, his responsiveness flat. Nevertheless, she decided to be cheerful.
‘Butterbugs! So nice to see you again. How did it go?’
‘What?’
‘How did the big shoot go?’
‘Oh. That.’
She gave a social laugh.
‘The big shoot! I know it was only an ‘extra’ gig…’
‘Yes. Well, it went OK, I guess.’
Now she was confused.
‘Did something go wrong?’
He didn’t answer.
‘I know there’s about a two week pay lag, but if you need –’
‘I’m tired.’
‘Of course you are. It must’ve gone on for some time.’
He behaved dimly, drearily.
‘Anything else?’
‘No, I guess not.’
Now he looked plainly disinterested. In fact, he was rather bound up in himself. He didn’t want to tell her much of anything. Such as, that he was virtually out of money. That the King Bill Bank branch, where he had so resoundingly impressed everyone, had finally, despite his fine performance the other day, jerked his privileges due to lack of income, and without a whisper of assets. And that he had hardly eaten anything in some indeterminate time. Finally, that he felt like dog waste – in more ways than one.
‘I just thought we might talk. You know, sort of a ‘check in’, as you might say. Thought I’d share some things with you.’
Now he looked like he wasn’t even listening.
‘New ideas!’ she added, trying to facilitate him. ‘They are quite intriguing. But if today isn’t a good opportunity, let me know as soon as you are able. Just ring the gong or give a call. I’ll be waiting.’
Strange, this blankness from such a fellow.
She was still ready to engage him, even now.
Nothing.
Goodness tended to rule her heart, but she was not unreceptive to the idea of being peeved over his lack of a responsive or even civil performance. Why, he hadn’t even bothered to thank her for her effort to get him the extra gig, nor did he have one whit to say about that mysterious card that got him in the door.
On top of that, he simply drifted off to his car, moving out of her carefully framed composition, that had been so endearing.
It might be said of Heatherette that flaws in her character were unknown, but in this instance, consideration and reason got short shrift in light of the fact that she interpreted his behavior as rudeness. If she was hasty in her decision to retreat across the garden and to the house (back of hand on forehead), and to not head directly through the pilasters and venture into the alley, to catch up with him and at least attempt to confer with him in depth, so as to help him, to seek answers, and get to the bottom of his obvious funk, then perhaps it could be said that right now, having encountered what she encountered, Heatherette had reached a limit of sorts.
Kindness was good, but maybe impatience and withdrawal were prudent as a safety measure, to protect her from further ingratitude and humiliation.
Perhaps it was rash, but a line kept going over and over in her mind.
‘It could be that he is not the one. It could be that he is not the one. Not the one. Not at all. You know?’

From this point, Butterbugs’ Hollywood existence devolves into a critical mass of uncertainty, though the tide will turn in FORWARD TO GLORY’s second Act: EXPOSITION.

Thus, the themes for each of FORWARD TO GLORY’s four Acts: I. TEMPERING [the Actor’s struggles], followed by II. EXPOSITION [the Actor’s rise], III. APOTHEOSIS [the Actor’s climax], and concluding with IV. BEYOND FIN [the Actor’s legend].

Enjoy our selection of New Releases / Free & Bargain Books this week!

Sharing the Love of Books
Enjoy our selection of New Releases / Free & Bargain Books this week

Authors please feel free to add your own books
Readers please free to add your own finds
(any genre except erotica welcome)

This weekly link up is hosted by Beck Valley Books & these awesome book loving blogs…
Monday
Life as Leels | IrishdaisylovesRomance | Book Babble | All Romance Reader
Tuesday
It’s My Side of Life | Celticlady’s Reviews | First Time Mommy Adventures | Bound 2 Escape
Wednesday
Beck Valley BooksA Library of Reviews | Cinnamon Hollow Reviews
Thursday
Miki’s Hope | Taking Time for Mommy | Nicki’s Nook
Friday
Ebook Addicts | I Love Romance | A Bit Bookish | Mother Distracted | Colorimetry
Saturday
Totally Addicted to Reading | 3 Partners in Shopping | Angie’s Angle I Creat Purty Thangs | Wishful Endings
Sunday
Lynchburg Mama | LibriAmoriMieiAli – The Dragon Slayer | Wondermom WannabeMy Bizzy World |
Deal Sharing Aunt 

For Pre-orders post – PRE-ORDER / genre / title /author

For New Releases post – NEW / genre / title / author
For Free Books post – FREE / genre / title / author / end date
For Bargain Books post – SALE / price / genre / title / author / end date
(Strictly no Erotica please.  Steamy romance is fine but watch those covers people, incase any underage child is viewing it!)

Here is this weeks awesome selection!



Would you like to share our linkup on your site? click here
Would you like to become a weekly host? sign up here

Come back and check out the new selection every week x




#BlogTour ~ The Traveller’s Daughter by Michelle Vernal #GuestPost @MichelleVernal @HarperImpulse

It’s my pleasure to welcome Michelle to the blog today. I just adore the cover of this book it has a real dream like quality. So much so that it has now been added to my TBR. It’s that age old situation ‘judging a book by it’s cover’. You will have to await my review! Michelle has kindly written a guest post which can be seen below. I’m afraid I did giggle at her predicament and totally understand the reception from the French lady .. I have experienced the same 🙂 x

Her mother’s secret…

For fifty years Rosa kept the secrets of her past hidden from her beloved daughter, Kitty. The hurt and pain, the guilt over what she’d done, was something she could never face. But now the time has come to share the truth of Kitty’s heritage…

Her daughter’s discovery…

Kitty never knew anything about her mother’s early life. But after her death, the discovery of Rosa’s journal opens Kitty’s eyes to a whole new world—a family she’s never known and a love she’s never dreamed of…

The fate of a family…

Now Kitty must travel to her mother’s homeland, but after fifty years, can the sins of the past be forgiven? Or will history repeat itself? With a decades-old family feud threatening her future, can Kitty put right what once went so wrong?

Join Kitty on her journey as she follows in her mother’s footsteps from the south of France to Ireland, discovering who she is along the way in this beautiful tale of forbidden love and fancy cupcakes!

  • Paperback: 272 pages
  • Publisher: HarperImpulse (1 Jun. 2017)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 0008226520
  • ISBN-13: 978-0008226527

Purchase Here

About the Author 

Michelle Vernal is an author with Harper Impulse UK who loves a happy ending. She lives near the Southern Alps in New Zealand with her family and three black cats. One of whom was invited to live with them, two of whom were not but decided to move in anyway. Her novel The Traveller’s Daughter was shortlisted for an award with Love Stories UK before being picked up by Harper Collins UK. It was released in ebook format on 24 March 2017 and will be released in paperback throughout all major UK books store on 1 June 2017. It is being distributed in New Zealand bookstores from the 1st of October 2017. Her latest novel The Matchmaker is due for release later in 2017. To date, Michelle has published four novels all of which are written with her trademark humour and warmth.

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Guest Post

Do you ever think that there are some things in life that could only happen to you? Or in this case, happen to me oh, and to Kitty in The Traveller’s Daughter too. I’m talking bee sting on the bottom cheek, the upside of which is that the experience provided me with a scene for my novel. That’s the only upside. Long story short, hubby Paul and I, along with our two boys were driving home to Christchurch, after a family holiday in Queenstown when we stopped off at a park. The boys needed to burn off some energy on the swings and slide, and just before we all piled back in the car, I decided to duck into the public toilets.

I wasn’t alone in my cubicle, but this did not become apparent for another five minutes. By that time we were on our way again having just hit the open road’s 100km speed zone when all hell let loose. Somehow while I was indisposed, a bee took up residence in my pants. It was quite happy there too until I squirmed in the passenger seat and it took action. Obviously, the bee came off worse than me, but the extreme swelling of my left derriere cheek was no laughing matter although there were those that didn’t grasp the gravitas of the situation. Paul, for instance, was calling me his wife with three cheeks, and I had to go to the doctor who was trying to keep a straight face as she wrote an antihistamine prescription.

In The Traveller’s Daughter, Kitty’s in France and in desperate need of the Ladies. If you’ve ever visited France, you’ll know the public toilet situation is dire. It’s something we learned first-hand on a trip to the South of France a few years ago when driving down the motorway in our hired Fiat. Like Kitty, I announced I needed to spend a penny. The boys were hungry, so Paul who was doing a sterling job of driving on the wrong side of the road turned off at the next exit. We bumped along country roads that were inexplicably treeless. The day before we’d been admiring the leafy arbors overhead. It wasn’t as if I needed a forest, one tree with a decent amount of foliage would have done. Things were beginning to get desperate when we spotted a cluster of buildings and veered into the carpark. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a lovely tourist stop with all the amenities but rather a random in the middle of nowhere furniture shop and a hairdresser’s that were both closed, but the Patisserie at the end of the block was open.

We bought rolls and Paul, and the boys sat outside to munch them down while I, with knock-knees and a look of wild-eyed desperation, went back into the Patisserie. In my best Pigeon French, I asked the rake-like woman sweeping the shop with an angry vigour as to whether I could borrow a toilet. She gave me an unnecessarily curt ‘non’ for a reply. I suppose it must make one a tad snarky maintaining that chic French thinness when one sells eclairs and what not for a living. There was nothing else for it; I decided spying a large dandelion in the vacant lot next door. I ignored ol Lemon Lips and her broom, eyeballing me as I went about my business, but I couldn’t ignore the bee I spied buzzing nearby in the tall grass. I got my pants back up lickety split not keen for the right cheek to be exposed to the same trauma as the left had been. Kitty, however, was not so lucky. Paul, as though making a French version of the Italian Job was revving the Fiat and hot footing it over to the car I jumped in, and we made a quick get-away.

#PromoBlitz ~ Life & Love by @taneishalagrant #Giveaway @RABTBookTours

Poetry
Date Published: 14 April 2017
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Love is a journey. Step 1. Fall in love. Step 2. Experience conflict. Step 3. Move on and heal or heal together. Is love really like this formula though? It all seems so simple.
This volume of poetry is broken up into similar sections where Taneisha LaGrant takes you on the journey of falling in love, fighting to stay in love and learning the most important discovery of it all. The key to what’s missing can’t be found in everyone else but it can be found in this volume of poetry. Stay tuned until the end and you may discover the most important aspect of love there ever was to be discovered.
Excerpt
 Section I: In Love
Love is staying true to who you are, yet having the ability to give to someone else. It’s not because they forced you to but because you desire to serve them, and they desire to serve you. The submission between two equal parties, knowing each other’s needs along with the desire to grow closer together, while still maintaining unique individual identities. Love is becoming one and still maintaining a sense of self with no jealousy or envy of the other person.
Another excerpt choice:
 Mental Stimulation I
Naked, bare, and unashamed,
Is that what you wish for me?
I’m not talking physically,
What would happen if I did?
My wavelengths have wavelengths,
After you’ve discovered all there is to discover,
Would you still be curious?
Or want more,
Or would this dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Would the land be prepared for harvest and fertilized harvest?
Or be scorched,
By the burning sun…
About the Author

Taneisha LaGrant is a poet from Gretna, Florida. She obtained her English degree from the American Military University. Taneisha currently resides in Washington with her husband and two children. In her spare time when family matters and writing isn’t taking over, Taneisha can be found reading a new romance novel, watching a comedy, running and on occasion playing video games with her husband.

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#PromoBlitz~ Sweet Water by @lenanorthbooks @RABTBookTours

YA Romantic Fantasy
Date Published: March 31, 2017
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Jiminella “Jinx” Sweetwater is a genius. She’s a scholar, an inventor, hardworking and loyal, and well known in the scientific circles around the University in Prosper City.
Being smarter than everyone else might seem like a good thing, but it isn’t. At least, it isn’t to Jinx who has two friends, a small condo, and no life.
After a fight with her best friend Wilder, it just gets worse. Someone breaks into her home and when her parents show up in all their hippie-like glory, Jinx has had enough and escapes to a small village by the sea.
Suddenly, Jinx finds herself involved in village life, living with the unpleasant Mrs. Fratinelli and trying her best to juggle all the things that seem to end up on her plate. And then there’s calm, cool and gorgeous Dante – Snow’s boyfriend, who seems to see right through the shields Jinx has put up around herself, straight into her mind.
Other Books in the Birds of a Feather Series:
Birds of a Feather, Book 1
Publisher: FAB Publishing
Release Date: December 14, 2016
 YA Paranormal Romance, YA Fantasy, YA Urban Fantasy
Wilder’s wonderful grandfather is dead, and so is her mother, but Grandpa Willy gives her one final gift in his will – the knowledge that her father is only her step-father.
Once she meets Hawker, the scary man who turns out to be her real dad, her life takes an unexpected turn. She finds out about a heritage she never knew she had, and secrets from the past are uncovered as she fights to save her part of the world from destruction.
And then there’s Mac, with his green eyes and a soft voice that flows through her like sweet honey. He’s there to help Wilder when she needs it the most, and as she struggles with how to fit into the group of people around her dad – having Mac in her life becomes more important with every bad thing that happens.
“Wilder” is the first in the Birds of a Feather series and a spin-off from the Dreughan trilogy. It’s set in modern time and can be read stand-alone.
Excerpt
 
I kept swimming, but it was mostly to keep me floating while I tried to decide what to do. Go back seemed the best option, so I turned, but my arms felt like lead, and I was suddenly so tired. The cold water was affecting me, my head hurt, and my mind was spinning. I took a deep breath, but a wave filled my mouth with water at the same time, and suddenly I was under the surface, sinking. I tried to think as I was coughing and clawing my way up but it seemed impossible. Once I got my head above the surface, I coughed up more water and tried desperately to get some air into my lungs.
Then a bird shrieked just above me. And then another one. When I raised my head, two large shadows were circling me, and I recognized Wilder s hawk. And Snow’s Osprey.
I moved slower and watched them for a while.
“If I don’t make it, tell them that I’m sorry. Tell them that I tried,” I rasped out.
I was so tired, my head hurt, and I couldn’t seem to get enough air into my lungs. The birds shrieked again as if they tried to force me to not give up, so I pushed myself to continue swimming, although I didn’t move forward much, and my strength was disappearing fast.
“Go left, Nellie. Go with the current.”
The voice came from nowhere, and I looked to the sides, but all I could see was darkness. Then I realized that it was inside my head.
Dante.
“Trust me,” he said. “Go with the current.”
I didn’t have to think. I trusted him, so I stopped swimming without hesitation, and concentrated on staying afloat. Moving with the soft sweet water through the night felt like a dream, and I wished I could close my eyes, just a little while. Then I heard the Osprey shrieking on my left side, again and again.
With an effort, I turned my head and there it was. A dark shape loomed, and it was close. Gathering my last strength, I started moving my arms and legs, stroke after agonizing stroke. It felt like forever, and I wasn’t sure I’d manage to veer off fast enough, but finally something grazed my leg. I did one more stroke and felt the bottom of the river under my feet.
Then I crawled up on the island and lay there, face down. Breathing. Alive.
I wasn’t safe, but I would be, and I was injured, but I’d heal. I lay there for a long time without moving, but I didn’t care. Eventually, someone would find me. The birds knew where I was so someone would come up the river from Marshes, and they’d find me.
Several minutes passed, and all I could find in me to do was breathe deep ragged breaths of the fresh, cool night. Slowly my left hand curled up, grabbing a handful of muddy soil from the river bank as if on its own accord tried to hold on to solid ground. Dante had told me what to do, and I knew that if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have made it. Then I started crying.
A soft chirping sound made me slowly open my eyes. Wilder’s beautiful black hawk sat next to me with its head tilted as if it tried to assess how I felt.
“I’m good,” I whispered. My voice was hoarse, so I cleared my throat, and tried again. “Tell Wilder I’m okay.”
About the Author
The proper way to put it here would probably be to describe how I love to play with our two big dogs, adore my fantastic daughters and how much I love to read.
Another way would be to use my imagination and then I would be a super powerful warrior woman, think Xena the warrior princess (though with less tacky clothes). Or when I think of it, maybe I’m actually more of a Hercule Poirot (sans the suit and moustache). Or maybe I’m like Aragorn, strong and cool and then I might get to meet Gandalf! Or I could be Bella’s pretty cousin and snap Jacob up in a second (yeah, I’m so not team Edward), or wait, maybe I could be like one of them heroines in historical novels who swoon all the time. I’ve always wanted to swoon…
Well, I guess you get how my mind is working (or not working, some say). Anyways, I like to write. Stories, adventures, romantic and happy stuff mixed up with sorrow and hardship, and bit of laughter here and there because the way I see it – life is way too short to go around feeling grumpy.

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