Coasters Rule Virtual Book Tour

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Fantastical Realism 

Date Published: September 26, 2023

An adventure of fantastical realism told through the eyes of
twenty-year-old college sophomore Sofia Sommers. Traveling to Grand Cayman
for spring break, Sofia and her childhood friend are looking forward to a
peaceful, relaxing week soaking up the sun and decompressing after mid-term
exams. Tragedy strikes and Sofia is rescued by the Coasters, a reclusive
tribe of merfolk led by the ethereal, mohawk-haired Empress Sundrea, who is
not only a benevolent leader, but a fierce warrior in her own right.

Sofia discovers her misfortune was the work of the Dwellers, a murderous
gang of mermen human traffickers hell-bent on creating their own deviant
gene pool and ultimately a bloodline of immortal disciples.

Come along with Sofia as she must decide whether or not to put her life on
the line and assist the Coasters in their endeavor to reclaim a
life-altering piece of their ancient history from the hands of Overlord
Mercaro and his barbaric band of Dwellers.

Coasters Rule tablet

EXCERPT

I sit at the edge of a slow, shimmering body of water, the approximate size of the plastic swimming pool I played in as a child. The liquid swirls in shades of mint and laurel green. The colors become watered down and transparent in the center. A bottomless spring sparingly feeds its growth. Patches of moss creep over the rocks along the pool’s circular border. 

The cave is eerily silent now. No motion, except for the subtle breaths upon my chest. I wipe sweat from a brow. My entire body throbs with pain. I am out of tears. My left foot is suspended above the ripples. They call to me. I know the future hangs, like my dangling digits, on my very next movement. 

The pool continues to whirl. I stare at its center. The water is hypnotizing as it coils along the rounded, weathered stone. Small swells roll over the edge and disappear into earth. I force my body to shift position. The weight on my heart is both comfort and agony. I realize I am now in shock as the pain subsides and is replaced by tingling and numbness. I pull my right leg out from under me. I lie flat with my feet suspended above the eye of the pool. It invites me in. All ten toes begin their descent . . .

 

About the Author

Dana Burkard

I am originally from Western New York and have lived my adult life in
northern New Jersey. For the last twenty years, I have been a stay-at-home
dad raising two independent and compassionate daughters. I self-published a
collection of prose entitled AFTERTHOUGHTS and am also a songwriter who
enjoys playing the bass guitar. When not writing, I love spending time with
my two rescue dogs and traveling to Comic Cons with my wife Lori.

 

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From Manger to Majesty Blitz

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Children, Religious

Date Published: November 19, 2023

 

Unwrap the magic of Christmas with ‘From Manger to Majesty,’ the
captivating story of Jesus that bridges generations, uniting adults and
children in the wonder of the season.

 

Here’s what makes this book an essential addition to your holiday
traditions:

🌟
Timeless Storytelling: Journey from the humble manger to His heavenly
majesty, reliving the miraculous story of Jesus’ birth in a captivating
narrative for all ages.

📖
Family Bonding: Engage in heartfelt discussions about faith, love, and the
true spirit of Christmas as you read together, creating cherished
memories.

🎄
Illustrative Wonder: Enchanting illustrations bring the story to life,
captivating young minds and resonating with adults, fostering a deeper
connection to the miraculous events.

📚
Perfect Gift: Share the joy and meaning of Christmas by gifting this book,
spreading the message of hope and redemption.

Experience the true essence of the season. Order ‘From Manger to Majesty’
today and embark on a Christmas journey that inspires, uplifts, and unites
hearts across generations.

About the Author

Latoya Shea

Being on her own after being homeless at the age of 13, Latoya has
experienced and triumphed over many obstacles.

Inspired by the many that has influenced her life, she has lived a life
dedicated to service and education. This has led her on a deep spiritual
journey and intimacy with God.

She has been known by many titles such as health inspector, veteran, nurse
Anesthetist, prophet, teacher, until she finally accepted her calling as
God’s vessel to do good and guide many back to Him as a Spiritual Life
Coach.

 

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Crime Paradise Virtual Book Tour

 

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Boise Montague, Book 3

Noir Crime/Murder Mystery

Date Published: December 12, 2023

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 

 

Three bodies. One suspect. Zero time.

 

Crime Paradise

All of whom are dead. 

With the dead women’s blood all over his
clothes, no memory of what happened, and no way for Boise to explain it, the
cops and the prosecutors think it’s a slam dunk. Boise knows he
didn’t do it, but no one’s willing to listen—so
he’ll have to find the killer himself. 

But whoever said the truth will
set you free never saw anything like this. The people behind it are
powerful, careful…and they want Boise out of the picture for good. 

 Soon, Boise will face not only present danger, but past pain, because the
deeper he digs, the more skeletons he finds. And some of those skeletons are
his own. But will he finally bury them—and the past—or will
those skeletons bury him instead?

 

Perfect for lovers of Agatha Christi, Michael Connelly, and Richard Stark,
bestselling author Gene Desrochers’ third book in the hardboiled Boise
Montague mystery noir series will take you on an adventure into the dark
side of crime, the darker side of memory, and the danger that comes to
anyone who ventures into a Crime Paradise. Get your copy now!

 

Crime Paradise tablet

EXCERPT

All I really wanted was to listen to the ocean, so I drank. The Jamaican girl with the nose ring offered me an already popped can of Old Milwaukee. Who could resist the good stuff.

Up to that moment, I could have argued that I was still a sober alcoholic. In fact, I was prepared to argue it to the death with Yarey once I located her. Then I thought, screw it, if I’m gonna be guilty, might as well do the deed.

The last thing I remembered her saying was, “You oughta grow your hair out. You’d look more manly.” She took my hat and propped it atop her head.

I’ve often wondered in the days and months that followed what might have happened if I’d resisted the urge to drink that beer. I swear, I only drank one. No one believed me.

I wouldn’t have believed me either.

The last time I passed out, I got kidnapped. This time, the consequences would be more dire.

 

***

 

A buzzing torched me out of a drunken sleep. My ear lobe erupted in pain. I smacked at the sting. Head ringing. On the shimmering sand, next to a shell, a dead horsefly. Nasty bastard, painful as a bee. The smell of charred wood and something else. Copper and hibiscus. Mouth tasted like I’d chewed on a Goodyear.

Water lapped. The temperature soared. The sun beat on me like a frat-boy with a paddle. My shoulder ached. Had Yarey really hit me that hard?

I crawled to the water’s edge, dunked my face, swallowed a mouthful of salty water and swished. The rubbery taste persisted.

When I touched the top of my head for my straw fedora, I only found damp hair. My unkempt, greasy, loathsome hair was more chic under a hat. I attempted to push-up myself out of the two-inch deep water. No dice. Aching shoulder, bad taste, exhaustion.

The ground trembled. A wave? I heaved my head a couple inches. Sand suctioned to my fledgling beard—really a sloppy growth borne of sloth. No wave. The subtle pounding continued, followed by shouts. A strong set of hands yanked me to my feet. I hovered on the edge of consciousness.

“Wha?” came my articulate interrogatory.

“Detective! Dis one ova here still kickin’!”

Splashing. Shoes smacking on the wet sand. Detective Leber’s bulbous head blocked the sun. The smell of his aftershave washed over me. I tried to speak, and wound up hacking.

I rasped, “Hey, Leber. You come to dance around the bonfire, too?”

“Jesus, Boise?” Leber fanned his face. “When was the last time you used mouthwash?”

“What day is it?” I managed.  

“The day after.” As he said this, the person holding me swung me around. A massacre. Some kind of staged thing. Couldn’t be real. So much congealed blood on mouths and throats and heads. Had to be corn syrup. Something … In the distance, through my black echo tunnel, I faintly heard Leber recite Miranda warnings.

“Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?” Leber looked up from a yellow index card reflecting on his Aviators. “Boise, I need you to answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“Me? No?”

“No?”

“I’m not …” I fumbled for words. My nether regions felt drafty. Then a release. The officer squawked, dropping me like a sack of ripe mangos. Leber swore. My cheek hit the edge of a broken seashell.

“Boise, where are your pants?” Leber sounded like an annoyed school principal.

“It’s so hairy,” the guy behind me bellowed.

I tried to look up, but couldn’t move my neck much. Warm urine bathed my thigh, then washed away with the next lapping wave. There wasn’t much in this world more satisfying than a hot piss after a hard night.

“I get hot at night. I probably just, you know, kicked ‘em off in my sleep. They by the fire?”

One of the officers said, “But you kept your shirt on?”

Leber muttered something to the officer, who grumbled and trudged off.

“Hey, Leber?”

“Boise, don’t talk. He’s getting your shorts.”

A shout from behind me. I sensed a lot of activity around the bonfire area. I tried to push up, but the downward slope into the bay foiled my plans.

“Hey, Leber. You’re pulling my third leg, right?”

“Boise, shut up. Don’t talk, man. You remember those rights? That one about remaining silent. That’s the kingfish. Just shut up. I don’t think you did this, but man, there’s a lot of physical evidence.” He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “A lot. We can’t even give you your shorts and we’re gonna need your shirt, it’s probably covered too, only darker, harder to tell.”

I stared at him, the question plain on my face.

“Evidence. They’re covered in blood.” He paused for a swallow. “We’re bagging and tagging them along with the three dead people here with you.”

That’s when my ass started to ache, and not in a good way. For the first time since being diagnosed, I prayed that my chronic colitis was to blame for the blood on my clothes.

 

 

About the Author

Gene Desrochers

Growing up in an 18-room guesthouse/wartime hospital in the Caribbean
isn’t for everyone, but it proved just the right atmosphere for
bestselling author Gene Desrochers to hone a sense of story, mystery, and
scene that would prove critical in his writing career. Born on a tiny dot
called “St. Thomas” (somewhere in the Caribbean), Desrochers
migrated steadily west over the years until he found a home – with a
wife who loves him, kids who are young enough to still think he’s
pretty cool, and a cat who tolerates him – in the continental United
States. He also found the time to earn a JD and become a practicing lawyer,
run a tennis club, and publish award-winning short fiction in publications
across the US and beyond. Now settled in the mysterious and exotic land
known as Los Angeles, Desrochers splits his time between the loves of his
life: his family, his writing, his tennis, and his ability to impress
strangers with his St. Thomian accent. Find out more about him – and
the worlds he creates – at his website, GeneDesrochers.com

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Out of the Way of Things Blitz

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Fantasy / Mythology / Folklore

Date Published: September 13, 2023

 

 

For as long as Win can remember, she has seen things that no one else can
see, horrific hallucinations that feel nearly real. After a decades-long
parade of visions, Win rarely questions her condition. When the
hallucinations arrive, she simply braces herself and waits for them to pass.
Every other aspect of Win’s life is perfectly ordinary and vaguely
disappointing: a mind-numbing job, mounting debt, and a lackluster social
life.

It all changes for Win in a moment, when a tragic vision brings her face to
face with a stranger who claims Win is more than an ordinary woman, mired in
the ordinary world. Her visions, more than terrifying fantasies, reveal
truths that only she can see, truths that others would do anything to
control. Win’s arcane ability endangers her as much as it empowers
her, and she finds herself hunted by a mysterious force. Her only option is
to leave the life she knows and seek out who she is.

With more questions than answers, Win enters a world where fairy tales and
folklore hide in the lives of everyday people. She must learn to live in the
space between otherworldly dangers and mundane reality. Win must decide
which monsters can be trusted, how she will pay her bills, and what she must
learn about herself to combat an unseen enemy, an enemy whose ambition
threatens the very fabric of reality.

Irreverent and comically dark, Out of the Way Things offers a fantastic
world, filled with mythic beings concealed in the shadows of the ordinary.
Kendall McNutt brings readers into a hyper realistic fantasy that asks us to
consider the possibility that all stories are true and that nothing is
impossible.

 

About the Author

Kendall McNutt

Kendall McNutt is a story enthusiast from way back. She has been authoring
stories since she could hold a pen. She loves stories in all forms, and
takes every opportunity to jump into them wherever they occur, in whatever
capacity is available.

Kendall lives in the Pacific Northwest, known for breathtaking landscapes
and Seasonal Affective Disorder. When she is not consumed by a story or
toiling away in the public education system, she can be found adventuring
with friends and family, or snuggling cats. Her cats. Not all cats.
Certainly not strange cats.

 

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Snow Teaser Tuesday

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(Hounds of Hell MC 2): A Hounds of Hell MC Romance

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: 12/15/2023

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

 

 

Emily — Most wonderful time of the year? Yeah, right. Business isn’t
booming at my bakery this Christmas and I’m behind on my business loan. And
if that weren’t enough, my SUV’s transmission is dying, my ex is in town for
the holidays, and our regular Santa broke his leg and can’t make it for the
annual children’s Christmas party. Somehow, we’ve ended up with a biker
playing Santa Claus this year and I think he’s the wrong man for the job.
Santa shouldn’t have all those muscles and tattoos. And I shouldn’t be
daydreaming about sitting in Santa’s lap.

Snow — I’m not a man with a sweet tooth — at least I wasn’t until now. If
I’d known about the gorgeous little baker, I’d have snatched her up years
ago. The little lady has a lot of problems this holiday season. For her,
I’ll play Santa Claus for the kids, and her ex will wish he got a lump of
coal in his stocking when I’m done with him. Emily will have a good
Christmas. I guaran-damn-tee it.

Snow tablet

 

EXCERPT

 

Emily

“Wait. What?” Emily Frost couldn’t have heard that right. The annual Christmas event they held in Mercy each year for the town’s children was two weeks away. “What do you mean Andy isn’t going to be able to play Santa Claus this year?”

While she listened to the elderly man’s wife explain why he wouldn’t be able to be Santa this year, Emily was fighting off hysteria. She understood that he’d taken a nasty fall and told his wife she was very sorry he’d broken his leg. Automatically, she asked if there was anything she could do. She did care. But she really wasn’t listening for a response.

What was she going to do?

Emily carried on the rest of the conversation as best she could, taking a deep breath when she ended the call.

“Fuck!” Her yell echoed through the quiet bakery.

Could things get any worse? She was blinking back tears as she finished counting the register and got all the goodies that hadn’t sold today boxed up. And there was a lot that hadn’t sold today.

The planning committee for the Christmas event was meeting tomorrow. Each member of that committee had jobs to do to make the event happen each year. Liza Austin and her husband owned a greenhouse in town. Each year they provided a beautiful wreath for the door. A live potted Christmas tree for the event was displayed in her bakery shop’s window throughout the holidays. Liza had a key to the shop to take care of the tree so it could be replanted later.

Myra Michaels handled the guest list, answering questions from parents and guardians about the event. She also handled donations that came in. Mina Dock had passed away this summer, but her granddaughter had moved back to town and was taking her place on the committee. Jade Dock and Emery Phillips oversaw setup, using folding chairs and tables Emery used at his bar, Sackett’s, for special events. They got out the decorations they used each year. Most had been donated by Jade’s grandmother Mina.

Emily had been a part of the committee since its first year, five years ago. Her job was supplying all the baked goods for the event and, with help, filling stockings with candy and treats for the kids to take home.

And she’d been the one who found their Santa Claus, Andy Wilder. Each year the elderly gentleman arrived as Santa and was just the best part of the entire event in her opinion. His warmth and sincerity made him a perfect choice. Plus, he could handle anything from kids scared of Santa, to those who were acting up and rowdy.

But he wasn’t coming this year. That was just the latest calamity this week and it was just Thursday night.

Where were they going to get another Santa Claus with two weeks to go?

Locking the door on her way out, she carried the box of goodies out to her SUV and got in. Emily crossed her fingers that the damn thing would start because it hadn’t been running right for the last several weeks. She knew her transmission was failing. What she didn’t know, since things had been so slow at the shop, was where she was getting the money to fix it.

In five minutes, she reached Mercy’s homeless shelter, delivering what she didn’t sell as she did every day the bakery was open. Heading for the back door, Emily rounded the corner and almost collided with someone.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered glancing up into gray eyes.

There were two men, both tall and wearing leather vests with their biker gang name on them, carrying a bed frame into the shelter. The one closest to the door was blond and nice-looking. The one she almost ran into? He was just as tall and muscular with a dark beard and mustache and almost entirely white locks of hair were in disarray on his head. She did a double take because hair that color didn’t usually go with a younger face. His eyes were pale gray and stunning.

The Hounds of Hell had long been a part of Mercy according to Liza, and she spoke of them fondly. Emily didn’t know much about motorcycle gangs and none of them ever came to her bakery. She really wanted to keep it that way. They were a little scary for her.

That gray-eyed gaze moved over her until the blond lost patience. “Snow, we still moving this frame?”

Snow returned his attention to the task, and someone else walked over to her.

“Emily, how are you?” Jade Dock asked. “Making your deliveries?”

Emily smiled. “I am. How are you?”

“Donating some things,” Jade said, watching the men carry the bed frame carefully through the shelter door. “At least I have some strong help to move them.”

Jade walked with her into the shelter. As she always did, Emily placed the box of treats on the receptionist’s desk just inside.

“Who’s your friend?” a deep voice behind her asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Guys, this is Emily,” Jade said, motioning to the two bikers who were apparently with her. To Emily, she said, “This is Hero and Snow.”

Emily shook hands with both, noticing the one she called Snow wasn’t too quick to release her hand. By the time he did, she noticed the blond had his arm around Jade’s waist. So they were a couple?

“I’d better get going,” Emily said. “It’s nice meeting you.”

“I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow?” Jade called as she walked back to the SUV.

When I get to tell the committee we need another Santa Claus, and we just have two weeks to find one? Yes, wouldn’t miss it.

“I’ll see you there,” Emily said over her shoulder as she reached the door. And as she headed back to her SUV, she just hoped the damn thing would start and not embarrass her in front of the bikers.

* * *

Snow

August Crowe, Snow to his MC, watched the petite blonde rush back to her SUV, the long braid of her hair dancing behind her. She looked so perky in her soft sweater and form-hugging slacks. He’d never seen an ass like that on such an uppity girl.

“Who’s that?” Snow asked Jade as he helped Hero get the old box spring out of the truck bed.

Jade watched her drive away in her SUV before turning back to Snow. “That’s Emily Frost. She owns Whisk and Whimsy in town. It’s a bakery.”

Frost, huh? That had Snow grinning. They sounded like a matched pair.

“Say that five times really fast,” Hero said from the other side of the furniture they were moving.

Figures. She looked like someone you’d find in a bakery, making treats. If he thought she’d give him the time of day, Snow would become a bakery patron real fucking fast. But from the look she cut him, he probably wouldn’t have a lot of luck.

“What meeting is tomorrow?” Hero asked Jade, holding one end of the box spring and guiding Snow who carried the other.

“Planning committee for the annual kids’ Christmas party,” Jade explained. “It’s only two weeks away.”

Jade had mentioned it recently. Doing an event for the poor kids in Mercy sounded like a good plan to him. If Miss Uppity was in on it, she had a good heart.

“If you need help with that, let me know,” Snow said. It earned him a look from both Jade and Hero, but he meant it. There had been a few times when he’d been a kid that he and his family wouldn’t have had food if not for the kindness of others. He liked the idea of paying it forward.

“Thank you, Snow,” Jade told him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hero shook his head as they reached the shelter door.

“What?” Snow asked. “Something wrong with wanting to help kids? Razor did say we should do some community outreach.”

“Not that,” Hero said. “The blonde. I’d forget that if I were you.”

“Why?” Jade asked. “Emily’s nice.”

“Maybe so,” Hero said. “But I’d be willing to bet someone in an MC isn’t exactly her type.”

“I might have said the same thing once,” Jade didn’t look convinced. “You can’t assume things like that.”

She had a point.

“So the party is for any kid in Mercy?” Snow asked as they maneuvered the box spring through the shelter door.

Jade followed them. “Technically. We have to leave it open for anyone to avoid singling people out, you know? The ones who really need help.”

“Good approach,” Snow said.

“I’m told each year we have a tree and decorations. There’s an older man who comes to play Santa Claus. There are treats for everyone and everyone gets a gift from Santa. We identify the kids who really need help and they get different gifts than the ones we give the other kids that show up.”

“Makes sense,” Snow said. “What do the poor kids get?”

“The smaller ones get a toy, some candy, and a gift card this year,” Jade explained. “The older kids get candy and a bigger gift card. Santa tells them they can’t open their presents until Christmas Eve. Liza said most of the time that works.”

It was thoughtful.

They set the box spring down, heading back out for the mattress.

“Offer stands,” Snow said to Jade. “Let me know if I can help. Even if it’s just setup.”

 

Hounds of Hell MC banner

 

 

About the Author

Jamie Targaet is the author of the Hounds of Hell MC. She’s anxious to
introduce you to this club of gorgeous, dominant men and the lucky women who
surrender to them. The ride is going to get wild at times, not going to lie.
But there’s thrilling action, scorching hot sex scenes, and all the
feels. 

Jamie writes erotic romance for Changeling Press, a little fanfiction on
the side, and she’s an aspiring horror writer in another life. She enjoys
time with her family (including the fur babies). She likes good horror
movies and shows, emo metal and classic rock, and time spent in other worlds
writing and reading. She loves hearing from readers and is looking forward
to hearing from you.

 

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

 

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