Author Archives: Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez

About Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez

My Niece and Nephew joke that I could open a used book store with all the books that I own. I love to read, that is my addiction. I can't go a week without going to a book store. I love crocheting. I love to write stories and poetry. I also love my family, even though they make me crazy at times. I am a huge Donald Duck Fan.

Grit & Grace Virtual Book Tour

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The Transformation of a Ship & a Soul

Memoir

Date Published: February 27th, 2025

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 

 

Deborah Rudell’s world unravels when the leaders of her spiritual
commune are exposed, arrested, and imprisoned for bioterrorism and attempted
murder. Crushed and adrift, she moves her family off the commune to create a
sense of normalcy. But when her husband seeks an opportunity to dismantle
and rebuild a derelict fifty-foot schooner, Deborah uproots their children
once again and joins him in Kauai. For the next five years, she dedicates
her life to restoring a boat.

Pouring herself into the work at hand can only distract her so much as
disillusionment about the cult’s lies and manipulation slowly rises to
the surface. While she grapples with emotional turmoil and contemplates a
new life path, Deborah sets out to accomplish something she never thought
possible: sailing across the Pacific to the Olympic Peninsula. Will the
dangers that come with navigating the ocean be too much to bear, or will she
find resolution and fortitude in the turbulent adventure?

Grit & Grace: The Transformation of a Ship & a Soul is one
woman’s account of conquering overwhelming challenges with tenacity
and ingenuity and ultimately discovering her inner strength.

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EXCERPT

Pacific Ocean – June 1992
     Even if I screamed no one would hear me over the sound of the waves and the fierce wind; a wind so strong my slender body couldn’t stay upright unless I held onto the boat. It was pitch black, and I was alone on the helm for the predawn watch aboard a fifty-foot wooden schooner. My husband slept in the cockpit, and three more crew members were tied into their bunks below.
     The compass glowed dim red in the blackness, preserving my night vision. It was the only thing my eyes discerned except the occasional foamy wave tops that glowed briefly with limey phosphorescence before being swept under the dark water of the next wave. My fingers, slick with rain and spray, encircled the spokes of the wheel as I adjusted our heading according to the pale numbers of the compass. I struggled to keep the needle on 000, our northerly heading, but the violent pitching of the vessel made it almost impossible.
     The end of June was supposed to be the ideal time to cross the Pacific from Hawaii to Washington, a time when conditions were the most stable. Yet here I was in forty-five knot winds. Technically, a gale.
     Harnessed to the boat, I clung to the wheel with my hands, to the decks with my bare toes, and to the compass heading with my eyes, my mind rapidly spinning out of control. Fear. Panic. Terror. We’ll be swamped, capsize, and drown.
     The sea was immensely powerful. Elixir was puny, fragile like a single piece of straw in a whitewater river. The masts will break off like toothpicks; we’ll tip over and sink. I imagined myself sliding off the boat, the cold water seeping into my foul weather gear, the waves holding my head beneath the foaming sea, breathing in the salty water, gasping.   

     My teeth clamped tight around a paper tongue. No saliva left. I tried licking saltwater from my lips, but I couldn’t swallow. What had I been thinking over the last five years of building this boat and deciding to sail it across the Pacific? How could I have ever thought it would be fun or exciting? How did I ever dare to presume I could learn to be at sea when conditions were less than ideal? Let alone in a gale?
     Unable to find any relief from the deafening noise and violent motion of the storm, I tried to search inside myself for ways to navigate extreme distress and control my panic. All I found were images of me floating face down in the dark waves, alongside the corpses of my husband and son as we drifted among bits of a broken ship. And it was only our third night at sea; we’d only just begun our long ocean journey north.
     What’s that? My mind alerted me. There’s something on the rail. I strained to see through the black night. No, nothing. Yet I sensed something there on the rail, despite the thrashing seas and the wail-scream in the rigging. Whatever it was, the beings I intuited on the rail caught my attention, gradually pulling my focus away from my terror and thoughts of drowning. I had read books about people in life threatening situations, during which they experienced visions or heard voices that assisted them to survive untenable ordeals.
     Angels? Could that be possible? Is this what is happening to me? Has my mind snapped from the intensity of my circumstances?
There seemed to be several of them, round and smushing together. A perception rather than an actual vision, they appeared to be joking with each other, laughing so hard they nearly fell off the rail. I am definitely going off my rails.
     It was as if they were enjoying the ride, and at the same time assuring me that, despite the enormity of the sea and the ferocity of the wind, the elements were merely frolicking. This communication was through a mixture of pictures, words, and feelings conveyed in a flash. Frolicking? Really? Wind at this speed rips branches off trees and causes cars to veer off the road. The extremes of the Pacific Ocean proved larger, stronger, and louder than any thunder and lightning I had ever experienced on the lake where I grew up in British Columbia.

      As a pink blush started to permeate the gray of early day, I could make out the rail, emerging from the dark in a rosy glow, materializing into something solid and real, absent angels or anything else. The boat parts were like apparitions emerging from a fog, once again becoming part of a whole wooden ship.

 

About the Author

Deborah Rudell

A college professor in San Diego, California, Deborah Rudell participates
in her city’s vibrant writing community. She is a graduate of Hay
House Writer’s Workshop and the Certificate in Memoir Writing program
at San Diego Writers, Ink. Her work has been published in the International
Memoir Writers Association’s anthology, Shaking the Tree: I Didn’t See
That One Coming.

Deborah lives with her black cat in a tiny house built in 1906 by a retired
sea captain, who carved a sailing ship into the front door. This is her
first book.

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Spoons Blitz

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Children’s, Self-Help, Grief, Loss, Illustrated

 

 

Spoons is a sweet story about enduring loss and finding hope. At some
point, every family will face the loss of a loved one, and the Spoon family
is no different. Children and adults can find comfort from the lessons in
this book and apply them to their own family stories.

About the Author

J. Corn and family

Throughout her life, J. Corn has dealt with grief: first losing her mom at
a young age, then her husband leaving her a single mother of two, and most
recently her father. The grieving process has taught her the importance of
talking about your loved one after they’re gone. No one should suffer alone
or in silence. Corn hopes that SPOONS will encourage families to share
stories about their loved ones, even when it’s dificult. She and her
children are active members of their community grief counseling center.
SPOONS is Corn’s debut book.

About the book Spoons is a sweet story about enduring loss and finding
hope. At some point, every family will face the loss of a loved one, and the
Spoon family is no different. Children and adults can find comfort from the
lessons in this book and apply them to their own family stories.

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Instagram and Threads: @jcorn.books

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Insatiable Darkness Audiobook Tour

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The Vigilant Series

YA, Urban Fantasy

Date Published: 12-31-2024

Publisher: Phenomenal One Press

 

 

EmVee didn’t know what to think about this new town her
father’s passion for boxing lured them. It was an unlikely location
for her to pursue her dream of going semi-pro. Just when she started getting
used to the school with gorgeous jocks and strange cheerleaders, the depth
of the danger her father’s choices dangled them in front of became
clear. EmVee hoped Silas and Kayson will be able to help her uncover the
mystery identity of the person who is threatening her family. The question
is, will she survive to expose the mystery.

 

Books in the Series

Insatiable Darkness (Book 0)

Caged Fire (Book 1)

Unbreakable Darkness (Book 1.5)

Scepter Of Fire (Book 2)

Break The Darkness (Book 2.5)

Rebel of Fire (Book 3)

Sword of Darkness (Book 3.5)

Blade Of Fire (Book 4)

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About the Author

 L.M. Preston

 L.M. Preston, a native of Washington, DC. An avid reader, she loved to
create poetry and short-stories as a young girl. She is an author, an
engineer, a professor, a mother and a wife. Her passion for writing and
helping others to see their potential through her stories and encouragement
has been her life’s greatest adventures.She loves to write while on
the porch watching her kids play or when she is traveling, which is another
passion that encouraged her writing.

 

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Promising Young Man Blitz

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Coming-of-Age

Date Published: February 11, 2025

 

 

ADHD Much?

Witty, defiant Oscar tells an unforgettable story of a misunderstood,
mistake-riddled teen. Of losing his sense of wonder. Of chasing a lie across
America. Of discovering the power of second chances.

Oscar Danielsson isn’t ready for the real world—yet. But
he’s 18 now, and everyone’s got expectations. Why not? With his
sharp wit and melancholy good looks, his future’s as promising as
anybody’s. Lie. He’s not like anybody. He’ll take his
bedroom over hanging out. Self-medication over whatever his shrink
prescribes for his ADHD. And it’s hard enough to get out of bed in the
morning, let alone write a stupid paper in time to graduate from high
school. If it wasn’t for his old spaniel, Enzo, he’s not sure he’d want to
stick around.

Just when he meets Bette, the weirdest cute girl on the planet, a scrape
with the law Oscar’s too out of it to remember sends him blasting down
America’s highways with his eccentric Grammy. Leaving Bette, Enzo, and all
his vices behind is torture. But he’ll do anything to ditch the shame. And
if they make good time, he can repay his debts to his boss, snag his
diploma, and slip back into bed like nothing ever happened. But that would
be another lie.

 

If you fell for Charlie Kelmeckis in The Perks of Being a Wallflower,
Sutter Keely in The Spectacular Now, or Theodore Finch in All the Bright
Places, Promising Young Man’s Oscar Danielsson will melt, break, and
then repair your heart.

 

Like “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephan Chbosky and
“It’s Kind of a Funny Story” by Ned Vizzini, “Promising Young
Man” explores themes of social anxiety, mental health, and the
challenges of navigating adolescence told from the perspective of a young
protagonist as he undergoes a journey of self discovery. Like Colin Higgin’s
“Harold and Maude,” Promising Young Man’s story is quirky &
intergenerational.

 

Praise for Promising Young Man:

“I love this book. It’s a page-turner… I found myself looking
forward to bedtime to read it.” —Jill Wine-Banks, author,
“The Watergate Girl;” MSNBC legal analyst; co-host, Webby-winning
#SistersinLaw Podcast

 

“Axel is a natural… writes with a flow and energy that is absolutely
compelling.” —Chris Canaan, Emmy Award-winning writer;
co-creator “Walker, Texas Ranger” (starring Chuck Norris);
screenplay, “No Good Deed” (starring Samuel L. Jackson &
Stellan Skarsgård)

 

“At times funny, at times raw, at times so poignant you’ll find
yourself tearing up..  It’s a story filled with wrong choices and
thwarted dreams but also hope, resiliency, and redemption…”
—Maggie Smith, award-winning author of “Truth and Other
Lies

 

“…deeply moving… absorbing… truly enjoyable” —Sarah
C. Maza, Member American Academy of Arts & Sciences, Professor of
History Emerita Northwestern University

 

“a powerful story of survival, resilience, and hope… One of the best
books I read in 2024.” —Nathan Chung (early reader),
Neurodivergent, recognized as a Top 50 Global Neurodiversity Evangelist, and
a D-30 Impact List 2024 Honoree

 

“a raw, compelling journey… as humorous as it is heartfelt… the
kind of book that sticks with you…” —Hollie Smurthwaite,
Author, “The Psychic Color Series”

About the Author

Elias Axel

A midwesterner through and through who writes to ignite sparks in every
quadrant of the reader’s brain and dreams of visiting all of America’s
national parks.

 

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Deuce Teaser Tuesday

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Riptide MC, Book 2

 

MC Romance

Date Published: March 7, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

First impressions and all that… Sophia tried to nail me with a tire
iron.

 

Sophia:

All I wanted was a decent guy who would treat me right and be a good dad to
the kids I’d like to have someday. My first two dates from the
“premier dating app” were total duds. Date number three gave me
the creeps in person. Turns out my instincts were spot on. He slipped
something in my coffee, threw me in the back of a van, and headed out to
sell me! Lucky for me, dad’s a doomsday prepper. Taught me mechanics,
hand to hand combat… all the things you teach your little girl if you
think the world is going to hell. So I pried the door open with a tire iron
and jumped out. And landed at the feet of a 6′ 6″ tatted up
biker.

 

Deuce:

When Rattler and I stopped behind a van at a railroad crossing. a woman
came hurtling out the back like an avenging angel. Blood dripping from road
rash on her arm, she still tried to nail me with a tire iron. Turns out a
trafficking ring abducted her, and she isn’t keen on the idea of being
sold to the highest bidder. She has guts, I’ll give her that. After my
old lady split, I thought I was done with couples shit, but Sophia makes me
rethink my life. Sophia’s mine, and if those assholes want her back,
they’re going to have to go through me.

 

WARNING: Deuce contains graphic violence and adult situations. There is no
cheating, no cliff-hangers and a guaranteed happily-ever-after. Enjoy!

 

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Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2025 Anne Kane

 

A fresh wave of dizziness assailed me, and my vision blurred.

“You don’t look so good.” George sounded concerned,
meeting my eyes for the first time since we’d met. “Some fresh
air might help. How about we step outside for a minute?”

“Good idea,” I mumbled. My tongue felt too big for my mouth.
What was happening?

I pushed myself to my feet, and George came around the table. Putting an
arm around my waist, he helped steady me as I stumbled toward the exit.
Thank goodness we’d picked a table near the door. The dizziness
worsened, and I was having trouble seeing.

“Can I help?” It was the girl from the counter. “Should I
call someone?”

By now, if George hadn’t been holding me up, I would have fallen flat
on my face.

“Can you get the door for us?” George sounded confident, like a
man who had things under control. “She just needs a little fresh
air.”

“No problem.”

She opened the door and I staggered outside, leaning heavily on George. The
fresh night air hit me in the face, but it didn’t make me feel any
better. My stomach started to churn. Add nausea to the list of
symptoms.

Someone wrapped an arm around me from the other side and helped George half
carry me across the parking lot. I turned my head, attempting to see who the
new person was but a fresh wave of dizziness assailed me.

“Parked the van over there away from the lights.”

That would be the new person. A guy. I didn’t recognize the voice.
Deep. Possibly sounding creepier than George. I tried to pull away but
whatever was happening left me too weak.

We stopped for a moment, and the creaking of metal hinges sounded loud in
the night.

“Up you go.” George grasped me by the waist. The touch of his
hands creeped me out, but I was too weak to protest.

“Careful. Don’t want to bruise her up. Hard to get full price
for damaged goods.” This comment came from the mystery man as I
concentrated on keeping the contents of my stomach where they
belonged.

“I know what I’m doing. Not like this is my first
time.”

I felt myself being lifted and placed down on a pile of material that
smelled like used motor oil. George’s presence disappeared, and I
heard the metallic echo of a door slamming shut.

I rolled over, and the sudden movement increased the nausea. I pushed
myself up on all fours, my head hanging down as I took deep breaths and
tried to steady myself. The smell from the questionable stuff under me did
not help with the nausea.

The floor shifted suddenly, and I lost my balance, falling to the floor. My
stomach heaved in protest, and I vomited up the bitter coffee along with the
lasagna I’d had for dinner before heading off to meet George.

Having emptied my stomach, I collapsed on my side, breathing heavily. The
nausea and dizziness retreated to a manageable level. I opened my eyes
cautiously.

I could see better now. It was dark, but as my eyes adjusted to the dim
lighting, I realized I was in some type of vehicle, and it was moving. I
recalled the words of the mysterious second man. A van – like a
delivery truck. There was a wall. I couldn’t get upfront to where the
guys were sitting. And I was damn sure I didn’t want to go where they
were taking me.

I pushed myself upright into a sitting position. Despite the lingering
dizziness in my head, one thing was abundantly clear. I needed to get out of
here.

I used a handful of whatever I was laying on to wipe my face, gagging at
the smell. Standing seemed like a bad idea, with the van lurching back and
forth. It needed a decent alignment. Or some new shocks. Whatever. Not my
problem.

I crawled to the back of the vehicle. I was still weak, but as my head
slowly cleared, I realized I must have been drugged.

The bitter tasting coffee. George must have slipped something in my coffee
when I went to get the rags to clean up his mess. Had the mess been
intentional to get me out of the way so he could spike my drink?

These guys knew what they were doing, and that spurred my need to escape.
There were two of them and one of me. Even if I managed to throw off the
effects of the drug, there was no way I could fight off two full grown men.
My imagination went into overdrive. I had to assume wherever they were
taking me was not public. They could do whatever they wanted and there would
be no one to hear me scream.

Fear-fueled adrenaline overpowered the remaining drug in my system. I
scrambled my way to the back of the van and clawed at the doors.

I screamed as loud as I could. Surely someone would hear me and go for
help. Or call the cops. People didn’t seem to want to get involved
these days, but surely a woman screaming from inside a van would get some
kind of response.

“Scream all you want. No one else can hear you,” George shared
with an repulsive chuckle.

Weren’t these delivery vans supposed to have a release on the inside
so people didn’t get trapped in them? I got unsteadily to my feet and
reached up as high as I could, sliding my hands down the doors. It had to be
here somewhere.

Two thirds of the way down, I found it. My heart sank. There was a latch
all right, but someone had broken it off. When I tried to push it, the latch
swung loosely around in a circle without any effect on the doors.

I screamed in frustration and banged on the doors until my hands felt raw.
Sinking down on my haunches, I let out a helpless sob.

I pulled myself together. I wasn’t going to just sit here and wait
for whatever sick plans these guys had for me. I crawled across the floor,
feeling frantically for something, anything, that I could use to pry the
doors open.

In the front corner, I found it. A tire iron. Gripping it tightly, I made
my way to the back of the van just as it lurched to a stop.

I could hear loud engines, other vehicles pulling up behind the van. I
screamed again. And again. Surely they could hear me, but I wasn’t
going to count on it.

Standing was a whole lot easier now that the van was still. I inserted the
sharp edge of the tire iron between the two doors and pried. Nothing
happened. I screamed in frustration and jerked harder on the tire iron.
Nothing.

I could feel time running out. Fear of what George and his buddies had in
store for me intensified with each passing moment. I had to get out of here.
No knight in shining armor was going to ride in on a white horse and save
me.

I moved the tire iron down so that it was in line with the broken release
and threw my entire body weight against it. For a second, it held fast. Then
the lock gave way with a loud screech of bending metal.

The doors burst open.

Off balance, and still gripping the tire iron with both hands, I fell out
of the van and landed on the pavement with a painful jolt. I rolled over and
staggered to my feet.

Less than a car length away, staring at me from the back of a shiny red and
chrome motorcycle, was the most dangerous looking man I’d ever
seen.

About the Author

Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little
rescue dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and
too many fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act
normal, but finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008,
and her fate was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage
Publishing and just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first
submission. Since then she has published more than thirty stories in a
variety of sub-genres, all with a happily ever after.

She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys
spending time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not
playing with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming,
playing guitar, singing and of course, reading.

 

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@changelingpress

 

 

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