Love Lifted Me – Book Tour

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Contemporary Christian Fiction
Date Published: June 11th
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Danger lurks around every corner for career military man and government, secret operative Nehemiah Bolden. When he continues to have nightmares of an assignment gone wrong, he decides it is time to retire from the military and find another career path. Just one thing stopping him, a ghost from his past.
Nehemiah meets an attractive woman while on vacation and has an overwhelming need to protect her. He soon discovers that meeting her is more than a coincidence. Over the years, he has kept her safe but now their pasts may put their lives in jeopardy again. They need to both trust in a love like no other.


“Angel, Keep your eyes open. The informant said we’d know him when we see him.”

“Copy that, Civic.”

Darkness filled the room and smoke seeped from the vents.  Someone was trying to make visibility near impossible. Nehemiah switched to his night vision goggles. He was perched just inside of the furnace room in the back of the hotel’s ballroom. He counted 22 hostages and four shooters.  The smoke was making it difficult for Nehemiah to keep his eyes on the target.

“Angel, come in.”

“Go, Civic.”

“We have a friendly to your 9 o’clock.”

Nehemiah heard her voice before all hell broke loose and shots rang out.

Nehemiah sat straight up in bed, drenched in a full sweat. Like every other night, the terrors woke him up at the same moment in the dream. He relived that tragic event, night after night.  Why him? Why her? He always questioned himself. Nothing could change the past, but the dreams continued to come.

Like clockwork, he went into the kitchen of his one-bedroom apartment in Portsmouth, VA and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. He sat in front of his television, but never turned it on. Nehemiah wanted to close his eyes, but every time he did, he saw her face, her eyes, and her blood.

Draining the contents of the bottle, he went back into his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Face to palms, he sat there for a few minutes, feeling weary.

“Come back to bed. It’s cold under these sheets,” a soft feminine voice said.

Nehemiah needed to stop this philandering he was doing. His actions went against every principle and every value he was raised with.

“I’ll be right there,” he responded.

What was her name? He couldn’t remember her name or where he met her. Yeah, it was time to change his lifestyle.

About the Author

Lisa Washington is a Contemporary Christian Fiction author and a serial entrepreneur. She is the co-founder of the Washington Way LLC, which is the umbrella company for Washington Way Publishing, Washington Way Travel, Washington Way Financial and Ms. Lisa Weddings.
Her first novel When You Least Expect It received an African American Literary Show Award for Best Christian Fiction. She has also published More Than You Know, which is the second novel of the Faith Series.
Lisa Washington was born and raised in Detroit, Michigan. After serving in the United States Navy, she then went on to obtain a Bachelor of Arts from Wayne State University, an MBA from Averett University and an MFA in creative writing from Butler University.
She now resides in Noblesville, Indiana with her family.
Contact Links
Facebook: @authorlisawashington
Instagram: @authorlisawashington
Purchase Links
  The Tudor Trilogy, Book One Historical Fiction Publisher: Presei Press Based on the true
The Perfect Date by Evelyn Lozada Buy-Book Link:   Synopsis: When a single mom ends
Eco-fiction, Political Fiction Publisher: Ecological Outreach Services Published: September 2018 Because Trees Have Consequences A
Women’s Fiction/Contemporary Romance Date Published: 6/18/2019 Sometimes love is just too powerful for one lifetime…


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The Cleansing by Richard Luciano – Tour

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The Cleansing

by Richard Luciano
Publication Date: June 2, 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Suspense, Thriller

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Purchase: Amazon

An island, swept into a whirlwind of murder and deceit.

A madman roaming the land picking off islanders, one by one.

In the quaint little tourist haven of Inishmore, off the coast of Ireland, local islanders are disappearing. Upon the death of his father, and with his mother’s health in question, a young Irishman decides to head back home to help his older sister manage the family affairs.

This simple endeavor, unbeknownst to him, is anything but, as the interference of a past love emerges. A love, whose affection to this day has the ability to stoke the settled embers which lay dormant all these years.

Passions rekindle and secrets unravel as this cocoon of lust and eroticism unfolds within a web of mystery, challenging not only the fate of his family, but the welfare of the island as a whole.

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About Richard Luciano

Richard Luciano is a writer from Connecticut. Richard has worked in the tech industry as a digital interface designer for most of his life, but also has a background in acting and writing. He’s written most of his life and is releasing his first novel called ‘The Cleansing’. The Cleansing takes place on the absolutely memorizing and awe-inspiring island of Inishmore Island in Ireland. Richard is the father of two very inquisitive and witty children. When Richard is not writing he indulges in his love for cooking and working on his cars.

Richard is always working on his next work so if you would like to stay informed with what Richard will be releasing next please feel free to go to his website,, and sign up to receive a notification. Or, feel free to stop by Richard’s website to leave him a comment, he’s very open to hear what you think about his stories.

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The Cleansing by Richard Luciano Publication Date: June 2, 2019 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Suspense, Thriller
  Mystery, Thriller Date Published: March 2019 Publisher: Black Rose Writing "The Last Van Gogh"
  Mystery, Thriller Elise De Jong/Sami Ali Book 1 Publisher: Penwood Published: May 2018 Imagine
  Mystery, Thriller Published: December 2018 Publisher: BookBaby   An Hmong “story cloth,” the Gadsden

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The Mad Lieutenant by K Webster & Nicole Blanchard – Blitz

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The Mad Lieutenant

The Lost Planet Series, Book Three
by K Webster & Nicole Blanchard
Publication Date: June 11, 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Sci-Fi, Romance

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Read for FREE in KindleUnlimited: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

Her voice brought me back from the darkness, but I don’t want the sweet relief she promises. Unlike the rest of the morts on my planet, I don’t want a mate. Especially not her.

She’s loud, boisterous, and doesn’t take no for an answer.

Unlike the rest of the alien females my brothers have woken from cryosleep, Molly doesn’t find my growls intimidating. The more I try to ignore her, the more she tries to befriend me.

I’d been taken captive once by the virus that nearly killed me. I bear its scars, not only on my body, but in my thoughts. No woman, not even one as beautiful as Molly, can heal me.

I don’t want her, but she needs me.

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The Vanished Specialist

The Lost Planet Series, Book Two
by K Webster & Nicole Blanchard
Publication Date: April 3, 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Sci-Fi, Romance

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Read for FREE in KindleUnlimited: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

My lilapetal is dying…and I can’t save her.
The woman who brought me back to life may not live long enough to see me truly happy.
All the tests, the experiments have failed me…and I have failed her.
If I don’t devise a cure to save my alien, I’ll spend the rest of my existence on Mortuus alone.

The others believe my mate isn’t strong enough to survive. That she can’t breed and should be put back into cryosleep until she’s healed.

But I won’t allow it.

I will defy the only family I’ve ever known to save her.
Even if it means vanishing into the unknown.

She is all that matters and no amount of her protests will keep me from doing what I must to keep her safe.

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The Forgotten Commander

The Lost Planet Series, Book One
by K Webster & Nicole Blanchard
Publication Date: February 13, 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Sci-Fi, Romance

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Read for FREE in KindleUnlimited: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

Our planet, Mortuus, is lost and dying.
A desolate place where a few lone survivors dwell.
My men have lost hope. Our future is bleak.
Longevity is a luxury we can’t afford.
The most we can hope for is survival.
We’ve all but given up when an opportunity presents itself.

Five females—a chance at a future.
Procuring these women went against everything I’d been taught, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
They’re ours now.
Asleep and made ready for breeding.
We won’t die out—lost and forgotten.
It’s our destiny to grow and once again inhabit our lonely planet.

I am Breccan Aloisius, the forgotten commander.
My people will have the future they deserve.
I’ll make sure of it.

My mind is made up…until she wakes and nothing goes as planned.

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About K. Webster

K Webster is the author of dozens of romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she’s active on social media connecting with her readers.

Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen.

About Nicole Blanchard

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Nicole Blanchard is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of gritty romantic suspense and heartwarming new adult romance. She and her family reside in the south along with their menagerie of animals.

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The Mad Lieutenant The Lost Planet Series, Book Three by K Webster & Nicole Blanchard
Sci-Fi Date Published: June 11, 2019 Da Vinci’s secret pales. Michelangelo concealed an explosive truth
Mystical Fantasy/Sci-fi, Occult, Supernatural Publisher: FriesenPress Can time become stuck at NOW or does it

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Kendall – Book Tour

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Romantic Comedy, Chick-Lit
Date Published: May 15, 2018
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She doesn’t have time for a relationship,
but maybe she could swing a one-night stand.
After all, he’s just a stripper,
so no need to worry about the future… or a broken heart.
Kendall has it all: a soaring law career, a bank account filled with cash, and an apartment overlooking the Chicago River. Her life couldn’t get any better; at least that’s what she thinks before she hosts a bachelorette party for her younger cousin, Ruthie.
What starts out as a low-key soiree quickly turns into an evening of debauchery when two strippers show up unexpectedly. During their act, Kendall can’t keep her eyes off the dark and stoic Giovanni. Fueled by too many Moscow Mules and ignited by the male form, her suppressed desire smolders.
With the prodding of her older cousin Freya, Kendall pursues a one-night stand with Gio. But when she realizes she wants more, Kendall is forced to reexamine her priorities as well as her lifelong definition of success.
Kendall’s story is the first installment of the five-book romantic comedy series THE LONELY SPINSTERS CLUB.


KENDALL SHIVERED AS she blindly groped for her blanket. Once she had a corner, she pulled it up around her neck. In the distance, a boat horn tooted a few short blasts. With that, her eyes fluttered open to the expanse of the predawn sky. Huh, was she on the balcony? Had she spent the night outside? She filed through her memories trying to locate the last one from the previous evening.

Bachelorette party… Moscow Mules… Thumper… Strippers.

“Oh no.” Kendall sat up and looked at the other chaise lounge. It was empty. “Phew.” Gio must have left during the night. So Freya should be alone too.

Kendall massaged her pounding temples before she stood. How could she have let herself drink enough to be hung over? How could she have been so weak? Oh the shame.

With her eyes at half mast, she shuffled back inside her apartment toward the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and downed the whole thing. She placed the empty glass in the cabernet-stained sink and turned around to inspect the damage. Not too bad.

Thank goodness, she had had the wherewithal to tidy up all the dishes before she fell asleep last night. She didn’t have the time nor the energy to clean before work this morning. Maybe Freya could vacuum before she moved the chairs and end tables back to their designated spots.

Kendall padded through the short hallway to the closed door of the guest room and rapped gently. “Freya? You alone in there?”

No answer. So Kendall turned the knob and braced herself for the worst. “Freya?”

Once inside, she saw that her cousin was, indeed, alone.

“Freya?” Kendall crept toward the bed and placed her hand on Freya’s shoulder.


“Are you awake?”

“What time is it?” Freya’s voice cracked.

“I’m not sure. Sorry to wake you, but I wanted to check on you before I left for work.”

Without opening her eyes, Freya lifted the covers and scooted over, making room for Kendall.

Kendall paused for a second, considering what had occurred between those sheets a few short hours ago. “Which side did you…”

Freya’s right eyelid blinked open. “Get in here, weirdo.”

Putting her head back down on a pillow for a few more minutes would be nice but…

“This side of the bed is clean. Hurry up and get in because I’m cold, and my arm is starting to hurt.”

Freya might be lying, but the pillow beckoned Kendall. She would take a shower in a few minutes anyway. In her current state, comfort should win out over disgust. Kendall submitted to her hangover, crawled under the blankets, and snuggled her cheek against the pillow.

“Tell me everything.” Freya’s voice was low and raspy.

“Nothing happened.” Kendall closed her eyes, and the pounding in her head quieted to a gentle tapping.

“Come on, honey, he was perfect. Especially for you. I saw the way you were looking at him.”

“Yes, he was perfect. But I refuse to sleep with a stranger or a stripper. Or a stranger who happens to be a stripper.”

“Did you at least make out with him?” asked Freya.

“No, I did not make out with him.”

Freya clicked her tongue. “Lost opportunity.”

“I can’t believe you slept with Lucas,” said Kendall.

“Lucas… that was his name. He was pretty perfect too. Much more attentive and skilled than Jim had ever been. Jim, that selfish bastard. One and done. He would never have spent hours making love to me like that young buck had done last night.”

“Not even at the beginning of your relationship?”

“Not even then. Sex was just another task on his to-do list,” said Freya.

“Huh. Well, then, I’m surprised you married him. I’ve always assumed he was better when you were first together.”

“Nope. Not better. I was stupid. For some reason, I thought he’d change.”

“You mean you thought you could change him,” said Kendall.

“Mm-hmm. He worked all the time and was always stressed. I’d hoped he’d learn to relax with me. I’d hoped I’d bring balance to his life. But he was never satisfied with his status or his achievements. He’d reach a goal but then start over again. And his goal post kept moving farther and farther away.”

Kendall understood that dynamic all too well. Her goal posts were on wheels.

“And after my second miscarriage—”

“Freya?” Kendall opened her eyes and studied her cousin’s face. “You had two miscarriages?”

“They both happened early in the pregnancy.” Freya’s eyes remained closed. “Too early to have already made an announcement, so it was easier to say nothing at all.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Kendall reached for Freya’s shoulder.

Freya opened one eye and pushed her hand away. “Stop it. I’m fine.”

“Was Jim there for you?”

“He tried to be, at least after the first one.” She closed her single eye. “But the second one was too much.” Her jaw tightened. “Fuck him. He’s such a child. I’m lucky I didn’t have his baby.”

“Freya, don’t say that.”

“After the second miscarriage, he worked even more than usual. I was such an idiot. I figured he was trying to distract himself.”

“But he wasn’t?”

“Not with work. He was having an affair.”

“What a jerk!” Kendall sat up.

But Freya pulled her back down. “And that’s not even the worst part.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s too early for the rest of this story. I wanna go back to sleep.”

Although Kendall wanted to hear the rest, she didn’t press her cousin. “I wish I could sleep more, but I have to go into the office. I’ll get up in a second.” Kendall’s eyelids drooped shut. “Oh, by the way, thanks for covering me last night. I would’ve frozen to death out on that balcony.”

“I didn’t cover you.”

“Really? Huh.” Did Gio cover me?

Freya put her hand atop of Kendall’s and half-heartedly patted it. “Before I drift off, I have a confession to make.”


“I invited the strippers to Ruthie’s wedding,” A smile stretched across Freya’s makeup smeared face.

“I doubt Tristan will approve of your entertainment choice.”

“No, silly. I invited them as our dates so we won’t have to listen to Grandma Bev berate us.”

“But… I already have a date for the wedding.” Under no circumstance would Kendall bring that stripper to a family party, especially when many of the attendees already knew he was a stripper. What would her mother think?

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Josh.” Kendall lied. She hadn’t considered bringing a date to the wedding let alone Josh. But surely he wouldn’t mind a free night out. No strings attached.

“I thought you two were just friends.”

“We are. I invited him as a friend, and I can’t uninvite him just because I found someone better.” Kendall’s head sank into the pillow as the weight of the covers pushed her body into the warm mattress. She’d stay here for a few more minutes, and then she’d get into the shower.

“Kendall, wake up.”

The smell of coffee filled Kendall’s nose as the sound of a vibrating phone filled her ears.

“Your boyfriend, Josh, needs to talk to you.” Freya stood next to the bed holding Kendall’s phone. “He’s called at least four times.”

“What?” Kendall sat up. “Oh no, I must’ve fallen back to sleep.”

“Do you want me to answer it?” Freya waved the phone over Kendall and smiled.

“Don’t you dare.” Kendall grabbed it out of Freya’s hand.

“Hi, Josh. What’s up?”

“Ken, where the fuck are you?” Josh whisper-yelled. “They’re both here. They’ve been asking for you.”

Her heart instantly pounded a fresh dose of stress filled blood to her brain. His words were the shot of adrenaline Kendall needed to jump-start her body. “Tell them I’m on my way.”

“I already told them you’ve been here all morning but went out on a coffee run. So you’d better get here fast, with coffee.”

“All morning? What time is it?”

“It’s eleven-thirty!” Josh had dropped the whisper part and yelled.

“Crap. I’m leaving now.” She hung up, jumped out of bed, and sprinted to her room. She changed her clothes and then ran into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and combed her toffee-colored hair back into a low ponytail. Since her bobbed hair was too short to fit into the tie, a thin layer of hair fell back down to her neck.

“You can’t wear your hair like that.” Freya stood in the doorway of Kendall’s bathroom holding out a can of dry shampoo. “Try this.”

Kendall pulled out the tie and sprayed her hair. “Better?”

Freya nodded.

Kendall inspected her reflection one last time and winced at her bloodshot eyes and dark circles. “Oh man. Do you have any magic sprays to make my face look better?”

“Eye drops and concealer might help.”

“Uh, I don’t have time. Sorry, but I have to run.” Kendall slipped on a pair of black flats and ran for the door. “Will you be okay here, alone?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Go.” Freya waved. “And tell Josh I can’t wait to meet him.”

Kendall pulled the door shut behind her. Her stomach churned as she raced toward the elevator. Crap, she had forgotten to take an antacid.

As she waited for the doors to open, Freya’s last word echoed through her throbbing head. And tell Josh I can’t wait to meet him.

Ugh, so that conversation about the wedding had actually happened? Kendall had hoped it was a dream. Now, on top of dealing with angry bosses and lies about her starting time, she would have to ask Josh about the wedding.

Luckily, traffic was light, and Kendall made it to the office in record time. But first, coffee. Starbucks was a block down, but The Bean Maestro was right next door. She had never tried this tiny independent cafe before today. It looked cute and smelled delicious. Plus, the line was never as long as the one at Starbucks. Indie coffee would have to do.

Kendall rushed into the shop and up to the counter. A college-aged girl with gauged ears and silver hair leaned against the glass pastry case looking at her phone.

“Hi, I need four large coffees. To Go.”

“Sure.” The girl put down her phone. “Do you want room?”

“Only in one.” Kendall held her credit card out.

“Cash only.” The girl pointed at the handwritten sign taped to the back of the register.

“Right.” Kendall rifled through her purse until she found a twenty. “Sorry, I’m a little stressed. I’m running late. I was supposed to be in my office three and a half hours ago.”

“I feel ya. Sunday mornings are tough.”

Kendall drummed her fingers on the countertop as the girl filled her order.

Once finished, the girl placed the four cups in a cardboard carrier and pushed it toward Kendall. “I marked the one with room. Have a good day.”

“Thanks.” Kendall raced toward the condiment bar and removed the lid from her coffee. She poured some more liquid out of her cup and into the garbage can. Then she added three packets of sugar and whole milk.

As she forced the lid back onto the cup, she glanced up at the corkboard hanging on the wall in front of her. A banner, reading Meet the Barista’s of The Bean Maestro, decorated the top of the board. Pictures of smiling hipsters populated the rest of the board. As Kendall’s eyes wandered from square to square, she was struck by the good looks of all the baristas. The maestro certainly hired a type.

But then her eyes stopped on the single image at the bottom. That barista was not a hipster. He was a stripper. Her stripper. The name on the photo read Giovanni Amante.

“Huh, is that what he meant by entrepreneur?” She leaned in closer to study the lines of his face. Although he wore a grin, his dark eyes glistened making him look almost melancholy. She had an uncontrollable urge to hold him in her arms and make everything okay. To think, they had been in such close proximity to one another this whole time but had never crossed paths before last night. Weird.

Kendall’s phone vibrated, so she dug it out of her purse.

Josh: Where are you?

Kendall: Have coffee. Will be up in a minute.

Kendall looked up at Gio one last time. Oh, how she wanted him. Maybe she couldn’t touch him and comfort him in real life, but she could have this picture of him. Kendall zoomed in and snapped a photo of the photo. Then she scurried away hoping the girl behind the counter hadn’t noticed.

As she rode the elevator up to the fifth floor, a wave of gratitude washed over her. Thank goodness for Josh. Most attorneys she had worked with in the past would never have covered for her as he had done. From here on out, she would have to be more careful. Another misstep on her part might tip the balance in Josh’s favor. She couldn’t mess up again. But, if for some reason Josh got the partnership instead of her, she would try to be happy for him. All things considered, he was a true friend.

The elevator doors opened. She poked her head out first to make sure the hallway was empty. And it was, except for Josh. He was standing outside her office door.

“Psst, Josh.” Kendall rushed toward him.

“There you are.”

“I made it.” She held up the cardboard carrier. “Black coffee. Take one.”

“Thanks.” Josh shimmied the nearest cup out of its square slot.

“No, thank you. I shudder to think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t called me this morning.”

“Rough night?” Josh smirked.

“Why do you ask?” Kendall unlocked her door and motioned Josh inside.

“You look a little rough around the edges. Was the party fun?”

“It was all right.” She selected the cup opposite the empty square.

“I’d called you a few times this morning before I finally talked to you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t have my phone with me.”

“The first time I called, your cousin answered. She refused to wake you.”

“I can’t believe her.” Kendall looked sideways at Josh as she sipped her coffee. “Did you two talk long?”

“Longer than I’d expected. She had some interesting things to say.” His grin stretched from ear to ear. “What’s this about a wedding?”

Kendall sighed. Freya was such a troublemaker. “My cousin, Ruthie is getting married in two weeks and—”

“And I’m your date? Funny, but Freya talked as if I should’ve known about this already.” Josh kept his eyes on Kendall as he sipped his coffee.


“Don’t worry; I played along.”

“I’m sorry to put you on the spot. I said you were my plus one to get out of bringing a… blind date.”

“Oh?” Josh furrowed his brow. “So, you’re using me.”

“On the contrary, I want you to come. I don’t know why I didn’t think of asking you sooner. We never hang out outside of work. It’ll be fun. Will you come? Pretty please?” Kendall folded her hands under her chin and begged. “You won’t have to worry about anything. I’ll pay for any expenses you might incur. Dry cleaning, valet, whatever. No strings attached. Just two friends, having dinner.”

“Just two friends having dinner…” Josh scratched his chin. “Hmm.”

“Well, maybe we could act as if we’re on a date for my grandmother’s benefit.”

“But it’s not a date.”

“Of course not. But would you mind driving? That’ll make us a more convincing couple.”

“Sure, I can swing that.”

“Josh, you’re a lifesaver.” Kendall picked up the cardboard carrier. “I’d better get these coffees to the bosses before they get cold.”

“I’ll walk with you.”


Daphne Hargrow is a romance writer, avid reader, and novice yogi. She has also published a few young adult novels under a different name. When Daphne is not writing, thinking about writing, or reading about writing, she watches YouTube conspiracy videos and dreams of the day when she, too, can join the ranks of the Illuminati.
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Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Romance Date Published: January 11, 2016 Yikes! Walking in on my husband
Doggy Style Rescue Me Series, Book #1 by Alana Albertson Publication Date: October 23, 2018
Doggy Style Rescue Me Series, Book #1 by Alana Albertson Publication Date: October 23, 2018
THE RELUCTANT BILLIONAIRE BRIDE USA Today Bestselling Author Roz Lee Series: Billionaire Brides Book 3


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Tales From the Beach House – Blitz

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Adult Fiction
June 14th 2019
Beautiful Arch
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from The Beach House is a satiric work of fiction that sharply captures the
“Man-Bites-Dog” world of contemporary South Florida. The Beach House, a
crumbling old motel, is home to a collection of eccentric residents. Amongst
their ranks; a tennis pro at the end of his game, a mortuary scientist whose
love life has flat-lined, a paparazzo photographer searching for scoops, a
bawdy duo fronting an improbable Ponzi enterprise, a beauty from “The Islands”
with a dark secret, a fried-out TV weather man who claims to channel God, a
middle school principal with a soft spot for Crack, a Rod Stewart cover artist
searching for redemption, and a waitress serving a side order of erotic
fiction. Each member of this cohort is in search of something – fast money, an
easy hustle, fleeting romance, enduring love, fame, power, dignity, happiness…
a place they can call home. As well as facing their own tender, tragic, and
often hilarious personal circumstances, this eclectic gang is compelled by
necessity to band together when a sinister developer threatens the very
existence of The Beach House.
from FloriDuh!
#1 Greyhound Departure                                     15
#2 Angel of Death
#3 Atlantic Crossing                                             53
#4 Dirty Laundry
#5 The Wolf’s Lair
#6 Mayor of The Beach House                            111
#7 The Barbados Triangle                                   126
#8 The Intersections of Florida Life                     142
#9 Mental as Anything                                         169
#10 Midwestern Sensibilities                               195
#11 Fifty Shades of Delray                                   219
#12 Walking on Lake Okeechobee                      237
Men from the North
Articulation of Particulars
Beach House
#12 Walking on Lake Okeechobee
Showers stood outside the front door of Apartment #12, drinking his morning
coffee. He drank only one hundred percent Hawaiian from the Ka’u region of the
Big Island. He never added milk or sugar. Any “junk” put into what he said was
the finest coffee in the world was, in his opinion, sacrilege.
was well versed in sacrilege; after all, he was a collared Man of God who often
told his flock that he personally channeled Jesus. From his elevated second-floor
corner position, Randy had a good view of the hive of activity around The Beach
House. Palm trees were bending in the force of strong, warm winds that were
blowing from the direction of the Everglades. A team of surveyors was measuring
up the property parcel with an array of fancy gadgets. A slow-moving and
confused-looking man from FPL was tagging and flagging the route of the gas
lines between the building and the street. A crew from Surf Way Developments
could be seen busily cleaning vulgar graffiti that had appeared on the
billboard advertising its new planned development – a large penis and balls in
flamingo-pink spray paint wasn’t exactly exuding the dream of luxury that would
soon be on offer in this locale. The swimming pool had already been drained and
cordoned off to save the Homeowners’ Association spending money on cleaning
services for the remainder of the building’s existence. All these events and
commotions only added to the general glumness and end-of-days feel circulating
around The Beach House.
the tenants had been served a thirty-days notice to vacate. Pete and Angel,
with their inside knowledge as owners, said it was almost certain that nothing
could be done to halt the sale, as it had been a binding majority of title
holders who had pushed through the deal. Paperwork had been processed, permits
pulled, and the City and State had all signed off on the condominium
termination and the replacement project. The city of Delray had been
overzealous in accommodating this development – no doubt seeing all the extra
dollars that increased assessment on the new building would bring to their
coffers. The State was also unexpectedly helpful. They hadn’t relished the
impending takeover of this dysfunctional Homeowners’ Association, as it would
have been real work for some happily underworked Tallahassee civil servants.
The owners were simply ecstatic to be rid of their real-estate headaches and
were united in satisfaction that the beasts that were Bessie and Gabriel, if
not slain, would soon become someone else’s problem.
people who lived at The Beach House and called that place home were, of course,
the real victims of this tragedy of events. Pete and Angel, not that they
wanted to leave The Beach House, would be paid out for their property and could
easily start afresh someplace else with the proceeds. Bessie and Gabriel would
be made homeless, but the consensus was that “you reap what you sow,” and this
entire mess was down to their crazy out-of-control antics. The remaining tenants
were in another situation altogether. With their bad credit, cheap rent deals,
police rap sheets, lack of references and short-term horizons, they would
struggle to find local digs where certain questions by landlords weren’t asked.
Tonight there was a residents’ meeting with the aim of attempting to halt the
redevelopment; but at best this was seen as a feel-good Hail Mary with little
chance of success and more likely just an excuse to have a party.
me Jesus,” were the strong and unchristian words that came from Reverend Randy
Showers’ mouth as he witnessed a fleet of police cars pulling up all around The
Beach House. They’ve finally nailed me, he thought. Randy, from his high-ground
vantage point, counted at least six vehicles, half marked, and the rest black
SUVs with blue lights bolted onto the roof. He slugged back the remainder of
his coffee knowing that, if he were lucky, he would be getting truck stop Joe
once they had hauled him to jail. Randy knew there was always a chance that
this day would come. Not only was there a likelihood that his past would catch
up with him, but there was also a looming menace that his present would bite
him firmly in the ass. At the very least, he was reassured that he was wearing
a pair of clean underpants and his hair looked good. A man with a C-list
celebrity resume and a local standing in the church community needed to look
cool and classy in the obligatory police mug shot.
a young, fresh-faced graduate with a liberal arts degree from a South Carolina
university, Randy, like many in his position, had no idea what job he was
equipped to do. After deep conversations with the careers department he could
only come up with a slush pile of jobs he had no interest in. Needing to pay
his way through life, he used his fallback good looks and his given name, and
signed himself up with a stripper agency.
was while working a bachelorette party, undressing as a character cop, that a
fortunate encounter would take place. On occasion, upon demand, he would give a
little “extra service” for a tip. It just so happened that the guest at this
party who had paid to play with his baton and cuffs was a high-flying female
television executive with local Charleston network WCIV. Upon getting up-close
and personal with his good looks and learning that Randy Showers was his real
name, the woman told him, “Do I have a job for you!” Randy was hired as an
on-camera weatherman for the local evening news. It didn’t matter that he had
no meteorological education or television experience. This job was all about
looking good in front of a camera and reading a teleprompter. However, the name
Randy Showers was the real clincher for this job, as it was the perfect catchy
byline for a primetime local television weatherman.
twenty-five years Randy was Mr. Weather in the Greater Charleston area. He
loved getting out of the studio for big events, such as standing on a beach and
being blown around in a hurricane, filing his report from a kayak floating on a
submerged street during a flood, or going on air shirtless during a heat wave.
For a man with zero formal training in this profession he was the consummate
local weatherman’s weatherman and won numerous regional awards. However, a local
weatherman is also expected to be a trusted pillar of the community, and this
part of the gig Randy only half-embraced. He was good at turning on Christmas
tree lights, opening new school libraries and being a member of that
bright-teethed WCIV team that delivered “dependable news”, but he had one major
off-screen flaw – he was a crazed womanizer with a chronic sex addiction. Randy
was amazed at just how much of a pull being a local television weatherman was
to the ladies. Interns, fellow anchors, women he encountered on promotional
appearances and generally anything in a skirt he chased. For twenty-five years
his employers somehow managed to pay no attention to the ethics clause in his
contract, and like a modern-day Don Juan, Randy thought nothing could ever put
a stop to his bed-hopping ways.
Randy kept his looks as youthful as possible with tax-deductable investments in
hair plugs, dental veneers and Botox, these weren’t enough to defy a changing
environment. It was a slightly sleazy and embarrassing affair that had been
brought to the attention of a new generation of station executives that would
lead to his downfall.
a Friday-night live weather report broadcast from a local High School football
game, Randy managed to lure and subsequently corrupt two teenage cheerleaders.
In his defense, they may have been sixteen but he swore they had the bodies of
eighteen year olds and were experienced in the ways of pleasing a man like a
woman of thirty. It was not the first time that Randy had descended on the
slippery slope of jailbait, but it wasn’t so easy in the modern era to get away
with it when the girls posted incriminating evidence on Facebook. Possibly it
was all used as an excuse by management to bring in a cheaper, younger guy. Perhaps
it really was a different era where feminist ethics were not only preached but
also practiced. The parents came to a deal with the station. Randy was released
from his contract, the cheerleaders were given hush money and the hope was that
the authorities and the women’s rights attorney Gloria Allred would stay well
away. However, there was a statue of limitations that had not expired, and in
the eyes of the law it was rape, and a payoff would not save him if the girls
ever chose to press charges.
many shamed criminals who had escaped hard time, Randy headed to Florida for a
fresh start. He knew he would never be hired as a weatherman again, as he was
too old and too many questions about his past would be asked. The only other
career that he had not tried that fitted in with his catchy name was that of a
porn star. Randy was realistic though, and his stamina and girth were just not
up to par. Not wanting to put to waste the investments he had made in that
artificial television smile and lush carpet of unnatural hair, he did the only
thing he thought he was suited for… he started a church ministry.
Showers, a name he could legally use after the religious crash-course
certification he found on the back pages of the National Enquirer, had a good
ring to it. He chose a poor African-American area of inland Palm Beach County
to start his church, as the black community was religious and would be
enthralled by a minor white celebrity priest. However, more importantly,
ebony-skinned women were not his thing, so he wouldn’t have to worry about
letting his dick interfere with God’s work.
premises he sublet an underused synagogue. Most of the Jews in that area had
moved to better parts of the county and this temple currently sat empty. He had
been running his Rainbow Church for just over two years and he would modestly
say in public that it had been a great success. In private, though, he would
admit that it was all a bit of a racket. Reverend Showers was little more than
a smarmy middle-aged snake-oil salesman who, if he weren’t selling God to the
gullible, would be selling those same people timeshares on the beach.
had one unfulfilled ambition – he wanted to make it big on a national level.
Back in his heyday he had applied for network weather jobs but was never
successful. He blamed these fruitless attempts on not having a diverse look,
never thinking it could have anything to do with a lack of scientific training.
So Randy viewed his new ministry as a way of finally becoming a household
celebrity. All he needed to take himself into the top division of
men-of-the-cloth was to perform a miracle. The one he had in mind was walking
on water, and not just any body of water but Florida’s own Lake Okeechobee.
Randy was certain that if he could make it appear that he was gliding over
Florida’s largest lake, the national attention would elevate him to the type of
riches that even network weatherman could only dream of. Randy was now devoting
all his time and money into making this illusion happen. He had reached out to
David Copperfield for help and was studying expensive manuals by magicians, as
he knew there had to be a way to make this miraculous feat occur.
was Randy’s consuming devotion to performing this miracle that could have been
another reason for his impending arrest, as he was guilty of theft and
embezzlement from his church. The donations that his devoted parishioners put
in his tray were diverted straight into his pocket. Admittedly, some of it was
used to keep the lights on at the church, but the majority was for his living
expenses and funding the continued exploration of performing his illusion.
the police descended on The Beach House, Randy’s main thought was what lawyer
he would use. The charge of statutory rape would be easy to defend, as he could
find one of those mud-slinging vultures who would paint a picture of those two
fresh-faced cheerleaders as the dirtiest harlots in the whole of Charleston.
The church embezzlement charges would be a little trickier to evade. Randy
hadn’t hidden the money trail very well, often paying for hair-restoration
treatment directly from the ministry’s checking account. Then there were the
escort girls who were on the church books. That would also be a problem. At the
start of his “Finding the Lord” phase, Randy had worked out that the best way
of staying out of trouble was to relieve any extra holy spirit via paid ladies.
the light of day, Randy’s activities looked uglier than a bag of hairless cats
and he might just have to plead guilty and strike a deal. Whatever happened, it
would be hard to escape from this monster of a self-created mess. What then for
him? A man who had fallen from grace for two heinous successive “lapses of
judgment” would be somewhat challenged to find a new place in the world. It
would certainly be hard to live off his connection with Jesus again, although
he would have name recognition and good looks for a man of his age so he could
always try his hand at politics. That seemed to be an eternally forgiving line
of work. Randy was amazed just how much clarity he was having in what was
likely to be his final thirty seconds of freedom.
the Author

 photo James Aylott Author Tales from The Beach House_zpsn2o8ohed.png

Aylott was previously a Hollywood paparazzo photographer and staffer at an
American supermarket tabloid. This is the author’s first work of fiction,
although he was often creative in his career of entertainment newsgathering and
hated letting the truth interfere with a good story. A prior resident of Delray
Beach, Florida he is currently embedded in St. Louis, Missouri researching his
follow up novel: Tales of Whiskey Tango from Misery Towers.
on the Apple Bookstore
print at any good independent book retailer via Ingram Spark.
$15.99 (ISBN: 978-0-578-47956-9) pp. 320
$3.99 (ISBN: 978-0-578-47957-6)


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