Trazer: Kids of a Stolen Tomorrow -Virtual Book Tour

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Young Adult Sci-fi
Date Published: 10/18/17
Publisher: YorubaBoy Books
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It’s the year 93 O.O., and Dara Adeleye is a student with a bright future and her life figured out. That is, until a chance encounter with a mysterious child changes everything.
Dara lives in a world shaped by the Miracle of Elegua, an intervention by the gods in the fate of an Earth on the brink of collapse decades before she was born. Exceptionally gifted as an artist, her day-to-day attentions are on excelling in school in order to rise above her lower-class upbringing and raise her friends and family out of the dreaded red vanes. But Earth is headed towards the brink again and it may just be the gift she doesn’t know she has that can save it . . .
Kristano Arvelo is a trazer–the term used for the graffiti writers of Dara’s time, a once-slang that originated in her home town of Todirb Wall. The aimless leader of a local group of trazers, he may hold a key to unlocking Dara’s hidden gifts. But it will come at the cost of the destiny she believed was hers.

EXCERPT

OLAIYA

570.0.

“SHO FE JE ashewo?! Eh? You wanna end up a prostitute? Ah, Omo de yi, ko kin gboro! You’re a disgrace! Sho gbo mi? You hear me!? A disgrace! (Hissing)0 ru igi oyin!” You should be embarrassed! Skipping class?! Vandalism!? You think you are going to bring shame on me and your papa?
Running around pelu those losers like you have no sense.
Have you no sense? Have some pride! It is my fault for allowing you to have such an easy life; a maid to clean up after you, no struggles to speak of. You’ve had no responsibilities. But I hear you now, omo de. From now on you will do the maid’s work, and she will be paid to see to it you do. And you will still complete your studies and excel. Sho gbo?! You hear me!? By the time you are done each day your arms will be too tired to deface property, your legs too tired to skip!”
Her mother’s almost musical application of vernacular moved rapid fire in between the cracks of the cane landing on her hands so that Grace Ife, as she would one day be known, whose cries came in rhythmic response to each lashing, had the odd understanding of what it meant to be a talking drum in the band at the parties she attended with her parents as a child. “Obinrin o ti ri aye li le! Mase sege si e lara!”
And her mother was true to her words that day, for Grace had never received a beating so thorough, until her father arrived later that evening, and having learned from her mother that she had been caught cutting class (exposed when Officer Babawale found her trazing the side of a condemned building earlier that afternoon) proceeded to lay into her with a series of insults so punishing, he needed not lift a finger.

TRAZER

And so the cane of his voice went, Wai-Wai-Wai-Wa punctuated by the neighboring tone of her wails. If there were any musicians worth their salt living in the adugbo who happened to be present during that interval, fortune had clearly favored them with so many great opportunities for inspiration, or, if they were shameless enough to press record, free instrumentals for their next set (they did not even have to open their doors). Grace suffered greater injury from the internal humiliation brought on by her father’s harsh words, for there was nothing more viperous than the tongue lashing of an angry Yoruba parent in Yoruba. Her greatest regret besides the trouble she was in was she hadn’t been able to somehow prevent the news from arriving until both Mama and Papa were home at the same time. Oh well.
As she washed the dishes and turned the house upside down, jolting all clutter and dirt from the corners in which they’d grown comfortable, her aches didn’t throb so much as knock, demanding to know when sleep was imminent, a query that would undoubtedly never make it to her parents. She completed her last homework assignment in time to shower and dress for school, and was more awake and alert in class than if she’d slept a full night. She was of the notion however, that her outer shell had disappeared-perhaps abandoning her to continue polishing the cabinets in the kitchen-and that she was a glorious apparition, unburdened of rude things like physical discomfort. As she received the results from her calculus exam, she barely acknowledged the instructor who muttered “Iranu. Nonsense … what a waste,” as he sent another green check mark to her panel:
100/100.
The ire of her parents and teachers was justified. Grace knew this. She was quite easily the brightest of her peers which was almost miraculous, considering many of Nigeria’s most luminous, most privileged-the one percent of the one percent-attended Gregory’s College.

About the Author

JOSEPH OLUMIDE ADEGBOYEGA-EDUN was born in Lagos, the then-capital city of Nigeria.  A great-grandson of  the First-Secretary of the Egba United Government, he was brought to the United States at age two when his parents came to study. Increasing corruption in the Nigerian government followed by the return of military rule thwarted their plans to move back and America became home. They set roots in Brooklyn, New York, a vibrant environment colored with graffiti and steeped in elements of hip-hop that left an indelible mark on the future author’s consciousness.

The cultural influences and experiences of his homeland and the city of his early youth have been a strong source of creative inspiration for the author. Trazer: Kids of Stolen Tomorrow is his debut novel, and the first entry in the Trazer Series. When not writing, Joe enjoys working on other projects with his creative partners  LenStorm, 7Woundz and Soundz, and exploring the breathtaking wilderness of the Chesapeake.

 

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IN FLAMES – Reveal

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IN FLAMES

by Jessica Jayne
Publication Date: July 23, 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Standalone

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SYNOPSIS

Gracelyn Riley married a firefighter and knew that came with risks. But she never imagined herself widowed in her early thirties with two children to care for on her own. Even though her marriage to Chad Riley had its difficulties, dealing with the last year without him has not been easy. Her brother-in-law, Matt, has been the rock that has kept her from collapsing or imploding.

As a fireman, Matt Riley had been at the scene when his brother, Chad, was killed. For the last year, Matt has suffered from survivor’s guilt and drank himself into oblivion. His sister-in-law, Gracelyn, supported him, lending him a shoulder to cry on. Her friendship has pulled him through time and time again until he finally sobered.

With the year anniversary of Chad’s death upon them, Gracelyn and Matt turn to each for support and comfort. What they didn’t expect was to realize that their feelings for each other go beyond the solid friendship they share. Can they overcome the guilt and the scrutiny of their family and friends to find love together?

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EXCERPT

The epiphany that had smacked Gracelyn on the forehead last night while sipping her wine and listening to Coldplay was what had brought her to the station this morning. Matt couldn’t just ignore her. They’d been through too much and had known each other for too long. He didn’t get to play decision-maker on this because how they handled the situation affected her, too. They were adults. It was about damn time they acted like grownups.

She inhaled a deep breath of crisp autumn air as she approached the entrance to the station house. Even though she’d convinced herself that this needed to be done, it didn’t make coming here any easier.

She heard the laughter of the guys from inside, and she smiled. This firehouse had its fill of shenanigans. The team had struggled greatly with the loss of Chad, so it was nice to hear the joviality behind the door. She used to stop in regularly during Chad’s shifts, but since his death, she’d only swung by a couple of times to drop things off. The building held many memories, too many. Facing them and the guys who had been like brothers to her husband had seemed like too much. Until now.

She knocked on the door, then twisted the handle and stuck her head around the corner. The smell of sausage, eggs, onions, and peppers assaulted her. Someone was cooking a hearty breakfast for the crew.

Four men stood in the kitchen. All eyes turned in her direction.

Matt leaned against the far countertop, holding a cup of coffee, his smile fading at the sight of her. He pursed his lips and tensed his jaw when his gaze met hers. Her skin tingled from his penetrating stare.

“Gracelyn,” Drew Anderson said with a smile. His voice broke the silence she’d dropped on the group.

Drew stood at the gas stove, flipping what appeared to be sausage patties. He’d been with the department for over ten years and had been one of Chad’s closest buddies. They’d played softball together and cards on some nights. As diehard Cleveland Browns fans, they’d commiserated every football season. He’d been a big part of Gracelyn’s and Matt’s support system after Chad’s death. For several months afterwards, he and his wife, Stacey, cooked meals and stopped by the house to visit, despite how hard Chad’s passing had been on Drew, as well.

“Come on in.” Drew waved her in with the spatula.

She stepped through the door and into the lounge area in front of the kitchen. On one side, a long, wooden table stretched with chairs haphazardly pushed in under it. Paper plates, napkins, and silverware sat in piles atop the table, waiting for the breakfast sizzling in the pans.

“Hey, Drew. Tim.” She nodded her head in Tim O’Leary’s direction before closing the door behind her.

“What brings you here on a Monday morning?” Tim asked. The toaster popped, and Tim plucked out two pieces of toast and set them on a plate.

“I need to see Matt.” She’d chosen her words carefully. If she’d said “wanted” instead of “needed” she feared Matt would find a way around it. Despite their current situation, he would never deny her what she needed.

“Lucky bastard,” the unfamiliar blond guy said. He must have been one of the new recruits or candidates, as they were often called. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, with shaggy blond hair, blue eyes, and the hard body of someone who worked out daily. He’d fit in quite well with the crew at the Mason Ridge Fire Department.

“That’s his sister-in-law, you asshat.” Tim slapped the guy on the head. “Gracelyn, this is our new candidate, Kevin Thompson. He’s training with us. Maybe he’ll even get to stay if we can housebreak him and teach him some manners.”

Drew chuckled. Matt’s tense face even cracked with a smile at Tim’s comment. When an emergency broke, these men were serious and organized. However, during their downtime, horseplay and hazing ran rampant. Giving the candidates a hard time was a favorite pastime of the veterans. Appeared to be Kevin’s turn at the roasting spit.

“Hi, Kevin.” She walked over to him and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” He grasped her outstretched hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a slight kiss to her fingers. “All mine.” He winked at her. His gaze roamed over her slowly while he kept her hand in his. A flush washed over her at being so intimately perused in front of the men that had considered her husband their brother. “It’s good to know you’re single.”

“Let her go,” Matt barked, setting his cup down hard on the counter. All eyes turned to him. He flexed his hands at his sides. A flush crept from his neck to his cheeks. He glared at the back of Kevin’s head before meeting Gracelyn’s gaze. Something flashed behind his eyes. Jealousy? Whatever it was, she’d never seen the emotion on his face in the past.

Kevin dropped Gracelyn’s hand. Then Tim popped him on the side of the head again. Everyone but Matt puffed out a laugh.

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ABOUT JESSICA JAYNE

Jessica is a born and raised small town Ohio girl, who moved to the Sunshine State after graduating from college. She graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in English. What college major could possibly be better than one that makes you read novels and write about them! Now she is thrilled to be able to share all the stories floating around in her head!

Jessica loves to travel and travel often! She’s a huge sports fan, especially college football and the Ohio State Buckeyes! She’s a wine-making (and wine-tasting) aficionado. She loves all music. And nothing is better than sunset at the beach!

In the journey of life, she also married a wonderful man and had three beautiful (and sometimes crazy) children. Life is always an adventure.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Newsletter | Goodreads | Amazon Author Profile

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Love, Immortal – Blitz

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Romance/Fantasy/Sci-fi
Date Published: April 1, 2018
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The Alchemy Initiative—a doomed scientist’s failed attempt to harvest human souls from the afterlife and bind them to complex machines—has been reinitiated. But it doesn’t take long to discover why the program responsible for making Ethan Remington the ultimate weapon was shut down when the spirit of the highly unstable and murderous Agent Drekker goes rogue, embarking on a sinister rampage in an attempt to claim the ultimate prize. That prize is Ethan—everything that Ethan has and everyone who he loves. No one is safe, especially young Hogan who has begun to display some frightening and incredible abilities. To stop this insatiable evil, Ethan may have to forfeit his humanity…and even his soul.
About the Author
Born and raised in a small sunny town in South Carolina, Eden finds thunderstorms to be inspiring. There are few things she loves more (except maybe cake) than curling up with a good book on a rainy day, often reading into the wee hours of morning when something really grabs her. Rather than being backed into a genre corner, Eden loves to blend elements of romance, fantasy, sci-fi, comedy, action, mystery and adventure into her novels.
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Reclaimed – Blitz

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Contemporary Romance
Date Published: May 30, 2018
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Beyond all else, Samira Foster wanted one thing: Elliot Dowling. He was her passion, her need. They were just kids but she knew it was real. The way he kissed her; the way he held her. Yet he’s the one thing that was denied her. The scion of a powerful and wealthy family, she’s now the head of Foster Acquisitions. But she doesn’t have it all. The pressure, the demands, the wolves. And she’s all alone. She needs someone. She needs him. And she’ll have him … even if it destroys her.
 Excerpt
Elliot slowly began to realize that, despite the adrenaline flooding his system, nothing had truly changed since he had walked away years ago. He had to fight not to reminisce of the days they spent together, whether it was at the park, the lake or hiking the trails while the world waited back in the city. She was still the perfect girl, and now woman, that every man dreamed of, and he knew that she had no business slumming it with the likes of him. Samira’s eyes started to glow in the same way they used to when she looked at him. She could see deep into his soul, all of his feelings, and right now he wondered if she knew the truth.
“I almost gave up hope trying to find you,” she said. “It’s been years since you disappeared. I was beginning to think I would never see you again. Then the name Dowling Holdings came across my desk and I heard you’d returned. Why didn’t you reach out to me?”
“I thought about it, but there’s things…”
“I know.” Samira nodded. Her smile faded slightly, but she suppressed the frustration that Elliot knew she must’ve been feeling. “I had my investigators do a complete work up on Dowling Holdings. The only thing they can’t tell me is why you left. Was it because of what your father did?”
Elliot shook his head, he was certain there were things no one could know, and truthfully said, “My father’s actions might have held something over me at one point, but that doesn’t shadow my decisions anymore.”
Samira looked confused, then sad for a split second. “Was it me? Did you not reach out because of something that I did?”
Elliot once again shook his head. “God no, Sam, you’re amazing!”
He watched something click in her head, and even though he had never told her what happened that night, she figured it out.
“It was my dad then,” she said. “He never approved of us; even if he never told me, I knew that he hated the thought of us together. Did he threaten you? Forbid you from seeing me?”
Elliot could not look at her. Samira’s face flushed with anger as she continued, “Two and a half billion dollars in profit last year from a holding company that you built yourself. If you can’t see how impressive that is, I would be shocked! That was your hard work and determination! If my dad was even alive, he would not have a leg to stand on to keep us apart.”
“Sam, I wanted everything to be just right, or at least, cleaned up…”
Samira stood up. “No, Elliot. I don’t believe you. Everything you’ve gone through, everything you’ve built, doesn’t matter. You’ve let him stand between us for all these years. He was my father, and no matter what he said, I was never afraid of him or let him run my life. You could have everything you want now, but instead you just keep trying to prove yourself to a dead man.”
Samira got up, clearly upset, and headed for the door.
Every part of him wanted to run after her, and take her into his arms again, but where would they go from here? He saw now how crazy it was to bring her back into his dark world again.
About the Author
Marcella Swann has been putting words on paper for as long as she can remember. After working for years in the hard-edged world of journalism, she now devotes her time to writing contemporary romance stories of strong-willed women who win the men of their desires.
As passionate about love as the beauty of a story well told, Marcella is a complete romantic and believes everyone desires their happily ever after.
A small-town girl from Louisiana, Marcella now lives in New York City and starts each day walking her Yorkie in the park. She also swings a mean kettle bell at the gym and loves Karaoke nights with her friends.
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Snafu Fubar: Nothing Heroic – Blitz

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Adult Humor
Date Published: Oct 2016
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*****WARNING*****
If you are easily offended, then this is NOT the book for you. Please put it down and back away slowly. However, if you have a warped sense of humor, please read on.
In the town of Lost Hope, Florida reside two heroes unlike any others. These champions of justice go by the names of Snafu Fubar and General Nuisance. Nightly they patrol their fine city to protect it from evil’s grasp. And by ‘patrol’ we mean they sit on a porch, appropriately nicknamed ‘The Fucking Nuisance Cave’, drinking beers, smoking cigars, and talking about sex.
Excerpt
   Meanwhile, across the street from the trailer park, in a convenience store that General Nuisance and Snafu Fubar frequented, a robber had just entered, brandishing a pistol.  He pointed it at the clerk behind the counter, a young boy who had not yet reached legal drinking age and who still had a zit party in full swing on his chubby face. “Put your hands in the air and give me the money!” The clerk looked confused for a moment and then shrugged.
    “I can’t do both.”
    “Huh…what?”
   The clerk rolled his eyes. “I can’t put my hands in the air and give you the money.”
    “Fine. Put one hand in the air and hand me the money with the other one.” The robber gestured with the gun.
   “OK, which hand?”
    “Right…no, wait a minute. Left.”
    “Left hand up or left hand get the money?”
     The robber banged his head against the counter three times and glared at the clerk. “Left hand get the money.”
    Ding Ding.
      The robber and clerk both looked toward the store’s door, through which a female customer had just entered. She was blond, with a great body and nice rack, but her face was ugly as sin. “Can I get twenty on pump five?”
    The robber stepped towards her, motioning with the gun. “Lie down on the floor now!”
   “What? Really? Have you seen this floor? I’d probably have a higher chance of survival if you just shoot me. I think I’ll take my chances!”
    The robber glanced down at the floor. “OK. Point taken. Just sit on the floor.”
    “Really wish I hadn’t picked today to wear stilettos and this damn mini skirt with no panties,” griped the customer. “I mean, if I’m going to catch an STD, I really wanted to do it the fun way.” She looked about as graceful as a giraffe on roller skates as she tried several maneuvers to get down on the floor without giving the clerk and the robber their own private peep show.
    General Nuisance met Snafu in the parking lot of the convenience store. They did the handshake, the fist bump, the high five, the gang sign, the chest bump and the butt slap — to which they both said in unison, “NO GO HOMO!” This, of course, made it perfectly acceptable for two grown men to slap each other on the ass.
    “Do you see what I see?” General Nuisance pointed into the convenience store that held his beloved beer.
    “Yeah, some idiot sitting on a disease ridden floor.  Hope she knows there are more enjoyable ways to catch an STD.”
    “I agree, but I wasn’t talking about her. Look again…a robber!”
     “Cool! You wanna hand out some Bronze Age justice?”
       General Nuisance poked his friend in the arm. “I got one better…Iron Age justice, huh, huh?”
    “Oh, that’s just stupid! What did the Iron Age have that the Bronze Age didn’t?”
    “Really? Asia was smelting tin and brass by then…you can’t top that. What was your Bronze Age doing? Cave men were still circle jerking on dinosaurs’ corpses.”
     “That’s the Stone Age, you idiot.” Snafu shook his head. “You can be so dumb at times.”
      While Snafu Fubar and General Nuisance debated over the kind of justice they were going to hand out, things inside the store took a bizarre turn.
     “Man, my drawer is gonna be off. I’m gonna have to overcharge all my customers tonight,” the clerk whined as he looked down at his till.
     “Shut up! Just get the money,” screamed the robber.
   “I don’t feel so well,” said the female customer, whose face was now a sickly shade of green. She burped once then farted. A moment later, she puked all over the floor and shit herself.
     “Crap! Now I’m going to have to mop the floor and man, I was really hoping to leave that for the morning shift. I mean I could kind of push everything under the candy counter. There’s a good chance no one would notice and I could just place a wet floor sign where she is at. Yeah…the more I think about it, I’m pretty sure that would work.”
      “Oh my God! Why are you taking so long?” The robber pointed the gun at the clerk again.
     The store’s door swung open. Loud rock music blared as Snafu and General Nuisance entered the store. “I’m here to kick some ass and hand out –“, Snafu sighed, “Industrial Revolution era justice!”
     “See?!? Was that so hard?” General Nuisance asked with a smile.
      The robber grabbed the clerk by his shirt collar. “This is why you should have moved faster. Both of you get down on the ground now…or the clerk dies.”
       General Nuisance and Snafu both looked down at the female customer who was now shaking and in the midst of some kind of convulsion. “Yeah, that’s just not going to happen,” Snafu said.
    “Son, put the gun down.” General Nuisance spoke as calmly as a man being threatened with sitting on a disease-ridden floor could speak.
    “How about I shoot you?!” screamed the frustrated robber as he pointed the gun first at General Nuisance then at Snafu.
     “Yeah, shoot those costumed freaks!” chimed in the clerk.
      “You stay out of this!” the robber yelled at the clerk.
     “Why are you rooting for the robber?” asked Snafu.
     “I don’t know…just seemed like we were connecting…I don’t get a lot of social interaction here.”
     The robber looked back and forth between the costumed vigilantes and the clerk. “Shit! I don’t know who to shoot first!”
     “Please God, let it be me! Bleck!” said the customer on the floor as she puked again.
     “Well, while you decide that, I’m going to grab a Slushee,” Snafu said as he strolled toward the back of the store.
     “Yeah. Me too. Let’s grab the beer and some beef jerky while we’re at it,” General Nuisance said as he patted the robber on the shoulder and walked past him.
     The robber snatched the money from the clerk’s hand and ran out of the store. “Ya’ll are fuckin’ crazy!”
     The clerk, looking as though he’d just lost his best friend or a beloved pet, leaned over the edge of the counter.
     “Call me…I mean if you want to hang out or something,” the clerk yelled as the robber made his escape. When he didn’t get a response, the clerk slumped back against his stool.
     “They never call.”
About the Author

Bob Dixon is a two-time Guinness World Record holder for the World’s Longest Cartoon Strip. He is the author and creator of a number of comic book titles for Pocket Change Comics, including Assassinette: The Mind Stalker, Psyco Duck, Jester’s Dead, The Holy Knight, Riplash, Shadow Slasher, and Warzone 3719. Bob has written two children books, Rooty the Tree Troll and Holiday Bunny; two young adult books, Mouch and Company: The Dream Psychic and Rags and Ruins; An adult humor book Snafu Fubar : Nothing Heroic; and is the co-author of Will Jones’ biography A Tough Call. Bob is also the Writer/Director of the movie Dr. Prozak’s Office. Additionally, he is a certified special education teacher who works with children who have autism and intellectual delays.
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