His Final Answer Virtual Book Tour

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Metaphysical Fiction

Date Published: September 15, 2024

Publisher: MindStir Media

 

 

This story is about the wrath of tragic grief and how self renewal is the
key for any future possibilities or reconciliation of the past.

Daniel Pallson is considered by most to have everything one could ask for
as one of the self made wealthiest people in the world, however in reality
since he tragically lost his son twenty years ago he has been one of the
emptiest people in the world.Since then he has shut everything out of his
life including his wife, extended family, faith in himself, spirituality and
most everything else except his business.

A long time American citizen and resident Daniel returns to his native
Iceland for a very important business project. While in Iceland he suffers a
life threatening event that does not allow him to leave the country any time
soon. His only best option where to convalesce is at his estranged brother
Jons ranch where they both grew up. Daniels wife Doris with whom he has been
separated from for years also comes from her home in Boston knowing this
could be life or death situation. Doris has been separated from Daniel for
about 6 years. To his complete dismay Daniel must now face not only his own
mortality but all he shunned all these years. What is his final
answer?

His Final Answer tablet

EXCERPT

A few decades ago, I saw a television interview with

one of my favorite actors, who I knew was suffering from

a major illness and didn’t have long to live. I knew he had

lost a child to a tragedy about twenty years ago, but I was

shocked at what he said that day. He said he never spent

one day without feeling devastated about his twenty-threeyear-

old son, and with tears he said he wanted to apologize

to those he shut out for so long because of his incomplete

grief. He had endless self-guilt, anger, and doubt about the

whole world after being a well-known optimist his entire

life. I thought how sad that was. For some reason, that stuck

with me enough to write about this years later, as I experienced

some of my best friends having to go through the

same loss of losing a child. I wondered how possibly they

could get through it. This compelled me to write a story

about it. Shortly thereafter, I met with Jennifer Curran to

work on the novel with me.

This book was written for that actor and all others

who have had to experience such an unimaginably painful

event. Actually, I think this novel can easily apply to many

cases of grief for loved ones who have lost others, whether

it be family or others. This book explains how never getting

better at any grief can rival the negative effects of the actual

tragedy of years ago. I think the protagonist covers what

we, the writers, mean with regard to this and much more.

There are other main characters who add so much to

this story. We know writing this book is as true as it gets, as

it has caused a impact in both our (co-writers) lives for

writing it.

 

About the Authors

Jennifer Curran

Jennifer Curran grew up in Stamford, Vermont, a small town with just 800
people. She is the eighth of nine siblings and was raised by a wonderful
mother and a father who was a World War II veteran. Jennifer excelled in
sports like basketball, softball, and skiing during high school, where she
also won the school patriot award.

Jennifer attended Boston University on an English scholarship. At nineteen,
she was discovered by Elite Modeling Agency while walking in New York. This
led to a successful international modeling career, taking her to places like
Australia and Paris.

After modeling, Jennifer returned to the U.S. and joined an off-Broadway
theater group in New York City. She later moved to California to follow her
passion for acting and writing. Jennifer is an avid poet and short story
writer and a certified member of the renowned Amherst Writers & Artists.
“His Final Answer” is her first novel.

 

Christopher D. White

Christopher D. White is a storyteller from the Midwest, raised in the
Chicagoland area of northwest Indiana. Known for his original narrative
films and documentaries, Christopher has a deep love for sports and all
Chicago teams. He even received a genuine Chicago Cubs 2016 World Series
ring as a part owner of the team.

Christopher graduated from Indiana University in 1981 with a business
degree and worked as a stockbroker in Los Angeles. At night, he performed
comedy in local clubs. His passion for storytelling led him to take a film
writing class at UCLA, which changed his career path. He was accepted into
the prestigious American Film Institute as a producing fellow.

Over the years, Christopher has written and produced films like
“Missing Brendan” and the Netflix series “Valhalla
Murders.” His first book was a tribute to the WWII generation. His
first novel, “His Final Answer,” marks his debut in fiction
writing. He plans to adapt his novel, “His Final Answer,” into a
film, to be shot in Iceland and Boston.

 

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Fallen Blitz

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Paranormal Romance

Date Published: April 4, 2025

 

 

He may be her salvation — if she’s willing to lose her wings all over
again.

 

Livia was cast out of heaven for the crime of falling in love with a human.
So what’s a fallen angel to do when she meets the man of her dreams? Falling
certainly has its perks.

Ty didn’t expect the angel at his party to be fallen or to have a murky
past. He also didn’t expect her to end up in his arms. Now he’s not about to
let the past stand in the way of their future.

 

EXCERPT

 

Parties are so lame.

Livia crossed her arms and stared at the people swaying before her. Hard
rock blasted from the speakers and rumbled the floor. She flicked a lock of
her hair over her shoulder. Dancing, laughing, and more than enough
drinking. She sighed. When was the last time she’d danced and laughed? Hell.
She couldn’t remember.

She wanted to dance, to wrap her arms around a torso thick with muscle, to
rest her head on a taut set of pecs and hear the heartbeat of a red-blooded
male like the one she’d drooled over in her history course. He’d mentioned
throwing an event. She wanted to see him, to see if he was actually like the
persona she’d created for him in her mind.

She snorted. Meeting a guy was probably not the best reason to attend a
costume party off campus, but who cared? It wasn’t like she had anyone
keeping tabs on her.

A young man dressed as a gladiator ambled toward her. “Hel-lo,
beautiful.” A wide grin curled his lips. His blond hair flopped over
his brow as he winked and pointed to her with his sloshing cup. “You
shouldn’t stand in the corner alone. Might get your wings dirty.”

Wings? She crooked one brow. She’d come as a Madonna look-alike, not an
angel. When she glanced over her shoulder, sure enough, her wings were there
— translucent, but there. Odd. “They’ll wash.” Her wings had been
ripped off over two thousand years prior. When – and how — the hell had
they come back?

“Yeah?” He wobbled on his feet. “Feathers work in a washing
machine?” He burped and his dark eyes widened. “I made a
funny.” He swayed again and splashed beer onto her bustier.

Livia gritted her teeth. This wasn’t the man she had in mind. Her dream man
didn’t slop alcohol on anyone — as far as she knew. Was the man in her mind
simply a figment of her imagination? An impossibility? Probably. She’d been
around far too long and seen more than her share of good men fall by the
wayside.

At least washing the beer stench out of her clothes wouldn’t be too
difficult.

“So, do ya wanna go make out?” He licked his lips. “I’m a
great kisser, and I bet you do wonders with those tits.”

“Go home, Brett.”

Livia’s blood turned to fire in her veins. The deep, gravelly voice set her
nerves on edge. If the drunken fool would just blow, she could at least see
the guy who’d come to her aid. If he was Tyler from history class, then even
better.

“Butt out, Ty.” Brett smacked his lips. “We were gonna have
sex. Me and those lovelies.” He reached out, hands hovering over her
chest. “Come to Brett. Again.”

Again? Who was this clown? “I wouldn’t have sex with you if you were
the last man alive,” Livia snapped and slapped his hands away.
“You spilled beer on me, and you’re an ass.”

“You’d know.” He swayed into her personal space and murmured in a
much less slurred tone, “I never forgot you.”

Never forgot her? What the hell was this guy drinking? She stared at the
drunken gladiator. Nothing about him really stood out. Still, at her age,
everything looked a little familiar. He couldn’t possibly be him. Isaiah was
dead. She’d seen him die over three centuries ago.

“Okay, time for Brett to go home. I don’t want shit on my carpet, and
she’s not interested.” The owner of the deep voice stepped out from
behind Livia and grabbed Brett’s arms. Her jaw dropped. This man was the
man. The man. Tyler Wilson embodied her innermost desires, and he was right
there protecting her.

Lean muscle filled out Ty’s tall frame. What would it feel like to have his
hands on her body? To run her fingers through his thick, dark hair and
listen to him murmur dirty things as they explored each other’s bodies —
what would it be like? A flash of bodies moving together and the look of
sheer lust in his blue eyes filled her mind. Oh, good God, it would be
almost heaven. Her pussy clenched and liquid heat coated her panties.

If he felt the heat, too. She couldn’t hope to be so lucky again. The
run-in with Brett or whoever he was had served as a cold reminder of what
she’d fallen for and couldn’t have.

Both men moved through the throng of people and disappeared. She should
stick around and find out if Ty was interested or if he was just keeping an
eye on his property. Not that she could blame him. Dumped beer could be
murder on a sound system. Not that her opinion mattered much. She was just a
partygoer like everyone else there. She folded her arms. Every moment she
waited, her conscience ate into her a little more. Waiting made her look
weak. It made her look needy. Was she needy?

Maybe. Damn.

No. She’d waited long enough. If he really wanted to talk to her, he’d have
come back. She turned and made her way to the apartment door and rummaged
through the pile of coats, looking for hers. Guys like Ty had women chasing
them in swarms. She’d been witness to that every time she walked out of the
Saunders Building. She wasn’t going to follow him around like a damned
puppy. Coat in hand, she turned toward the door. She plowed into a scantily
clad tiger giggling with a cowboy.

“Watch it,” the tiger snapped. “Nice wings, though. Costume
outlet, or did you get them online? I’ve been looking for some just like
them. I want a set. Michael, buy me some like that.”

Livia rolled her eyes. The truth was much too involved. Obscure always
worked. “I don’t remember.”

The cowboy tipped his hat. “Wanna join in?” He bobbed his brows,
and his gaze went straight to her chest. “We’re always looking for
more, and looking at those boobs, you’d be one hell of a third.”

“Michael! You said I was the only one,” she squealed. “No
more thirds.”

Michael shrugged. “Can’t blame me for asking.” He turned his
attention back to Livia. “You in?”

If they only knew what she’d done during her lifetime. “I’m good. No
thanks.” Livia ducked her head and stepped out into the hallway. She
didn’t look up until she hit the stairwell door.

Finally. Freedom.

Livia stopped on the landing and stared up at the sky through the round
stairwell window. Her heart ached. He was out there somewhere. The one man
to complete her. Was he still alive? Had she’d only imagined his death? Or
was she doomed to walk the Earth for the rest of eternity, alone?

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. It was foolish to pine for the
assumed dead, especially when they’d parted so badly. Still, Isaiah held her
heart and her life in his hands, just as he’d had for the last couple
thousand years.

Footsteps thumped behind her, but she didn’t bother to look up.

“Angel?”

About the Author

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author
of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing
since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary
and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her
works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her
characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s
been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best
Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the
bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as
well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but
football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends
of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

 

Author on Facebook

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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

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Warrior Queen Teaser Tuesday

 

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LGBTQ+ Steampunk Romance

Date Published: April 4, 2025

 

 

A volatile cauldron of magic, love, and the empire may be on the edge of a
precipice, but witches, humans, and automatons indulge in pleasures of the
flesh.

 

Victoria has been dubbed by her adoring public as their Warrior Queen.
Destroying her Continental enemies is nothing to the challenge she faces
now. For years, the Lunarians, goblins from the moon, led by the powerful
witch Mon Ilson, have been murdering humans and stealing the bodies for his
followers to “adopt.”

Beautiful witch Selena Whiteheart, Mon Ilson’s human agent on Earth,
is closely watched by Home Office Agent Harry Kincaid, whose loyalty to the
Queen suppresses his ability to show Selena his true feelings. Spiritualist
Miss Cordelia Warrington has been exploring the carnal attributes and
mechanical stamina of Adam, her automaton butler. Now Selena needs
Cordelia’s help, and allows herself to be entertained by the amorous
pair in a steamy ménage à trois.

Meanwhile, Agent of the Queen Rachel Clayton is instantly attracted to the
hauntingly handsome Major Guy Tremayne, hero of the Coronation Island
disaster. Can he be trusted? She throws all caution to the wind to find out.
At a crucial moment the Queen is cruelly betrayed and threatened with
assassination. Selena, Rachel, and Victoria all face difficult choices as
love and lust compete with their duty to the Empire.

 

Author’s Note: Enjoy Warrior Queen as a standalone tale or as part of
a continuing narrative.

 

 

EXCERPT

 

Thwack!

Thwack!

The sound of two cane sticks striking each other reminded me of how a scant
two hours ago the Home Secretary had slapped my posterior as he ravaged me.
Pressed for time he’d unceremoniously bent me over his Whitehall desk,
pulled down my culottes and drawers, grabbed my shoulders for leverage, and
drove his prodigious erection into me with frightful force. A few minutes
later he flooded my quivering cunt with his lava hot seed. It had been a
perfunctory fuck, short and sharp, and my climax perversely
satisfying.

My cunny still retained a fair quantity of his ejaculation, and I shifted
in my seat contriving to put pressure on my fleshy nether lips to keep it
from escaping. My apparently not-so-subtle contortions did not escape the
notice of the fine-looking man sitting opposite me. I’d quite
forgotten about him as I relived the morning’s carnal adventure. He
cleared his throat which brought me back to the here and now.

I was sitting in a Buckingham Palace anteroom, and I felt my cheeks warm
under the scrutiny of this ruggedly handsome and smartly uniformed officer.
When I’d first arrived, he’d introduced himself as Guy Tremayne.
He was in fact the famous Major of the Southern Royal Air Corps who’d
distinguished himself by leading the survivors of an airship crash on
Coronation Island, a frozen rock midway between Tierra Del Fuego and
Antarctica. Their inspirational struggle for survival on the barren island
was a true Boys Own Adventure. I’d read his file during my recent
convalescence and believed Major Tremayne to be a brave and resourceful
officer, respected by his men and superiors alike.

He had given me an elegant bow, took my proffered hand, and lightly brushed
his lips against my knuckles. To say I was instantly attracted would be an
understatement. He was the epitome of masculinity: well over six feet tall,
slim, and long legged. His hips were narrow, his chest deep, and his
shoulders broad. His sharply chiselled face was suntanned, and above a thin
black moustache his nose was pleasantly symmetrical. The palest of blue eyes
gave his countenance a strikingly mysterious and yet desirable aspect.

My cunny throbbed.

He was sitting as if he was on parade with his back straight as a board.
He’d started his career in the cavalry, and I couldn’t help but
imagine him in the saddle riding into battle, his sabre held high, its razor
edge glinting in the sun. He’d actually seen combat, and his curly
hair disguised the missing left ear, lost during a bloody skirmish in the
Punjab.

Thwack! Thwack!

“Do you singlestick?” I asked him, my mouth dry, and my voice
husky.

Thwack! Thwack!

The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. “Indeed, I do. The
sabre is my weapon of choice.”

Singlestick fighting had been a feature of English martial life for
centuries and cavalry men used it for practicing sabre strokes from
horseback. Though the sport had become highly regimented, it required fast
reflexes and strict discipline. I found it useful for developing forearm and
wrist strength.

Thwack! Thwack!

“Perhaps we should have a bout?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Thwack! Thwack!

My cunt throbbed lustily, and inside my blouse, my nipples ached. I licked
my bottom lip, slowly. “Are you residing in London?”

He threw up his hands. “Alas. I exist at the whim of the War
Department.”

Thwack! Thwack!

“Then we should arrange a time soon.”

“I believe I am free tomorrow evening.”

“As it happens, so am I.”

Thwack! Thwack!

We’d just concluded arrangements to meet at a restaurant in Chelsea
when the door to the anteroom opened, and a footman showed in a slim,
elegantly dressed woman. She was about forty years of age, with an
attractive oval face and perfect complexion accentuated by challenging hazel
eyes and provocatively painted red lips. Her luxurious auburn hair was
coiled expertly around her head in such a way that suggested considerable
length. The bulk was held in place with gem-tipped pins which glinted in the
harsh electric light. I imagined her standing naked, her hair cascading over
her ample breasts, reaching and discreetly hiding her mound of Venus. I
recognised her as the wife of a member of the House of Lords, and this
sensual impression I’d constructed was at odds with her reputation.
She was known as a straitlaced prude, active in charitable institutions and
a fierce and passionate advocate for women’s suffrage. On one occasion
she’d been seen at a rally striking a constable with a placard after
she accused him of taking undisclosed liberties.

I curtsied. “Lady Fogerty, I’m Rachel Clayton.”

 

About the Author

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development
consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by
night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is
concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags
of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.

 

Author on Facebook

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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

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Steven F. Seagull & The Missing Chips Blitz

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Children’s Book

Date Published: 06-13-2024

Publisher: Magnetic Lion Productions

 

 

The chipocalypse is the greatest mystery to hit the seaside town of Fry
Cove. Join Steven F Seagull on the adventure of a lifetime in this Pencraft
Best Book engaging read about courage, friendship and teamwork, which
reviewers hail as ‘an unexpected delight.’

Who stole the chips? Was it the Deny the Fry colony, who want all seagulls
to quit eating chips? Or was it the seagull mafia boss, Stefano Giacomo, who
has concocted a dastardly plot to convert all seagulls to pizza and pasta?
As part of the newly formed CIA (Chips Investigation Agency), our reluctant
hero, along with Charlie, Steven Colton, the karate chopping Bart, and
Steven Rhys pit their wits to solve the mystery.

Whether you’re a fan of whimsical tales or simply in need of a
feel-good read, this Readers’ Favourite 5 Star ‘war of the best
carbohydrates’ book is sure to leave you smiling.

 

Excerpt

Nervous, I flew alongside my dad, wondering what to expect. Fry Cove looked
so peaceful and calm from the air, hiding the chip chaos. Dad took me to a
rooftop on the edge of Fry Cove, where we found a hole and squeezed inside
the lair of his ex-crime fighting friend.

It was dark inside, except for the light coming through the hole. A seagull
emerged from a shadowy corner, smoke surrounding him in a cloudy haze.

“Who goes there?” he grumbled.

My dad held up his wings like he was surrendering.

“It’s okay, it’s me, Steven Petronius.”

A bedraggled seagull hopped forward, a twig drooping from the corner of his
beak.

“Hmph, long time no see,” he said. “How long was it since
we were both in the seagull police force?”

They slapped each other on the back, and began chuckling.

“This is Steven Sherlock,” my dad said. “He’s a
very old friend.”

Both of them tipped their heads back and cackled, “Ah, ah, ah, ah,
ah!”

“Remember the time we busted that American fries racket?”
Steven Sherlock said.

“Oh yeah,” Dad said. “Our finest hour.” He beckoned
to me. “This is my son, Steven Fitzgerald.”

The ex-detective’s eyes scanned me.

“A fine boy,” he commented. “What can I do for you? Is it
anything to do with the chipocalypse?”

“Still as sharp as ever!” my dad said. “My boy just
joined the newly formed CIA, or Chips Investigation Agency. Its mission is
to solve the mystery of our missing chips, and restore order in Fry
Cove.”

I gulped, my mind racing at the thought of the responsibility I had
accepted.

“That’s brave of you,” said Steven Sherlock. “Pull
this off, and you’ll be the hero of Fry Cove.”

I hung my head low, knowing I was far from heroic.

“Unfortunately, Steven Zeus put the Artful Dodger in charge of the
CIA,” Dad said, shaking his head.

“That fool,” Steven Sherlock scoffed. “So, it means you
need all the help you can get.”

He finished his twig, and stubbed it out on the floor.

My dad asked, “Have you got any old tools of the trade to get my boy
started?”

Steven Sherlock lifted a wing tip in a lightbulb moment.

“I have something that could help.”

He waddled to the side of the room, which received light from the hole.
Pulling out a drawer, he dipped in, lifting something out. It was shiny, but
dusty. He dropped it on the floor with a clunk.

“You’ll find this useful when looking for clues,” he
said. “It’s my old spy glass.”

He demonstrated by picking it up with one foot, peering through it.

“You can see many things not visible to the seagull eye. It makes
tiny things bigger.”

“That’s…great,” I said, not sure how it would
help.

“Hmmm,” Dad said. “What else do you have in your
arsenal?”

Steven Sherlock rubbed his wings together with glee.

“Glad you asked! I have the full Chip Stealing Investigation tools
here!”

He used his beak to pull a cord. A series of drawers and cupboards popped
out, revealing a full range of crime fighting equipment.  There was so
much technology, it made my mind boggle.

“Here, we have a sophisticated tool for analysing wing tip
prints.”

I stared at the equipment wide-eyed.

“While over here,” he added, “I have some special cement
for making casts of footprints, chalk for drawing around dead gulls, and a
poop splatter examination kit. It can also analyse ketchup, mayonnaise, and
even barbeque sauce smears.”

“It’s so…hi-tech,” I said.

“You’re in the best of wings,” Dad said. Turning to
Steven Sherlock, he added, “Where do you suggest my boy
starts?”

He pulled the cord again, and the equipment rolled back into its secret
location.

“Go to the places of previous chip sightings, and use the spy glass
to find clues. Take samples of any ketchup smears or small items that you
think are suspicious, then bring them back to me in these little
bags.”

He passed me some empty chip bags.

“Okay,” I said, my voice quite shaky.

“You can do this,” Dad said. “I believe in
you.”

It was time to show Fry Cove my capabilities, but could I live up to my
dad’s expectations?

 

About the Author

Kitty May Gruchelska

Kitty May Gruchelska loves creating fantastical worlds for her readers,
full of diverse and quirky characters. In a past life, she was probably a
cat because she likes tuna, dislikes water, and frequently knocks things
over, but luckily, she has nine lives. Kitty May teaches in a magical desert
kingdom full of sunshine, camels, and rice dishes. She loves travelling,
which also inspires her to write.

 

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Instagram: @kittymaytales

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There’s Something About You Olivia Bennet Virtual Book Tour

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Historical

Date Published: 11-26-2024

 

 

Two women. Two generations. A lifetime of secrets…

Sydney, 1989. When a secret trunk belonging to her enigmatic mother is
delivered, Olivia Bennet’s safe and predictable world is thrown into
disarray.

Inside the trunk, long-buried secrets tell of a different life that is
totally foreign to shy and unadventurous Olivia. Secrets she’s certain
her mother intended to stay hidden.

For the first time, Olivia has hope of finding answers about her father,
and along with it, her identity. But only if she has the courage to face who
she truly is.

Sydney, 1964. Amidst the vibrant backdrop of multicultural inner Sydney,
Rosemary Benito plans to leave behind her painful past and embrace the
freedom her new home offers.

While her exotic beauty attracts unwanted attention, if she works hard
enough in her new country, Rosemary can become whatever—and
whoever—she wants. She just has to make sure her old life
doesn’t catch up with her.

Neither woman can change their pasts. But if they’re brave enough,
they both have the power to determine their futures…

A poignant family saga full of love and loss that spans two generations.
There’s Something About You, Olivia Bennet, reveals the tender bond
between mother and daughter, the undeniable ties that bind generations
together, and the importance of belonging.

There's Something About You Olivia Bennet tablet

EXCERPT

Her mother had chosen the name.

Olivia. 

Her only connection to her ancestral home, where groves of olive trees reached towards the Mediterranean Sea. 

Elizabeth. 

Symbolic of a life trapped in secrets. 

Bennet. 

From Benito. ‘To be more Australian.’ 

Olivia Elizabeth Bennet. 

A name that held secrets. A reminder of the mysteries her mother had carried close to her heart.

Olivia was determined to make sense of them.

About the Author

Valerie G. Miller

Valerie G. Miller is an Australian author celebrated for her dual timeline
historical fiction, weaving heartfelt narratives that resonate across
generations. Rooted in her Italian heritage, Valerie brings rich cultural
nuances to her stories, crafting tales that celebrate family, resilience,
and the deep human need for belonging. Her short stories explore the
intricacies of human connection, capturing the tender moments that bind
people together and create a sense of home in each other’s hearts.

In addition to her writing, Valerie is training to become an accredited
book coach, sharing her passion for storytelling and supporting aspiring
writers on their creative journeys.

Originally from Sydney, Valerie now calls Brisbane home, where she lives
with her husband, daughter, and a lively household that includes her dog and
two cats. A lifelong lover of storytelling, she earned her Master of Letters
in Creative Writing in 2021, further honing her craft.

Valerie is never far from her next story, always keeping a novel and a
notebook tucked in her bag, ready to capture inspiration wherever it
strikes.

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