Tag Archives: Suspense Thriller

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Secrets of the Manor

Suspense Thriller

Date Published: December 26, 2024

 

 

In a busy outdoor market, in broad daylight, an apparently ordinary woman
is gunned down by a professional assassin. Twelve years later, the killer is
back with a new target – and a mysteriously sinister
employer…

 

What secrets could a father leave behind?

A gripping, high-stakes thriller that seamlessly blends espionage, mystery,
and intense suspense, The Third Estate: Secrets of the Manor will keep you
on the edge of your seat from start to finish.

Sophie Allard, a promising jet pilot cadet at a prestigious military
academy, finds her world shattered when she’s summoned to the
Commander’s office with devastating news—her estranged father
has died in a mysterious lab explosion at their family estate.

What begins as a routine investigation soon spirals into something far more
dangerous.

As Sophie delves deeper into the secrets surrounding her father’s
death, she uncovers hidden truths that threaten not only her career but her
life. Unraveling a web of deception and betrayal, Sophie discovers that her
father’s involvement with a powerful and shadowy
organization—the Third Estate—could hold the key to both her
survival and her downfall.

With an assassin hunting her every step and the enigmatic Grey Lady pulling
the strings behind the scenes, Sophie must navigate a perilous landscape of
secrets, lies, and danger.

 

This fast-paced thriller is perfect for fans of complex conspiracies,
strong female protagonists, and unpredictable twists. If you love novels
that combine action, suspense, and mystery, The Third Estate is your next
must-read.

Will Sophie uncover the truth—before it’s too late?

 

The Third Estate tablet
EXCERPT

Chapter 1

Thunderstorms prevented Kai Lovac’s flight from arriving on time at the Denver airport. He stared out the window at the fast-approaching tarmac, a welcome break from refreshing the in-flight Wi-Fi on his cell phone. Eternally unresponsive. The airplane taxied to the terminal at 9:00 a.m., ten minutes behind schedule. With the cramped legroom, constant jostling for elbow space with his fellow passenger, and being last on the standby list to board, Lovac cursed the mechanic who couldn’t repair his private plane in time.

He switched his phone off airplane mode. A litany of notifications assaulted his screen. One grabbed his attention: Local accident on Airport Road. Car won’t arrive in time. Sedan reserved at Savvy Rental counter. Usual details.

I’m never late, he thought. Never.

He deplaned via a portable stairway, nodding to the flight attendant who wished him a pleasant day. He checked the reservation on his phone and reviewed his itinerary.

A change. Why the new locker number?

Lovac merged onto the concourse train with his fellow travelers and exited at the central terminal. He proceeded up the escalator. After clearing a security checkpoint, he weaved in between the arriving and departing passengers. He blended into the background, always acutely aware of the people, objects, and circumstances of his surroundings.

The crowd thinned as Lovac traveled through baggage claim and approached the car rental area. He slowed his stride to study his environment. Six wall-mounted cameras and corner mirrors covered every angle.

Continuous surveillance. Security office must be nearby.

He passed two guards chatting near the exit. Their backs to the rental counter, they focused their attention on the TV monitor on the far wall. ESPN commentators, involved in a spirited discussion of the upcoming football season, drowned the murmur from customers waiting in line.

Not a threat.

He continued his evaluation as he joined the line.

Ten feet from the counter to the exit. Four seconds to escape at full sprint. Five if anyone is in my way.

Eleven people waited ahead of him, from elderly couples to young families with small children. Although no imminent issues had emerged, Lovac couldn’t shake his apprehension and hypervigilance. He studied the itinerary, calculated his movements, and weighed various options to shave time off his schedule. Without exception, he always kept to his schedule.

As a relaxing mental exercise, Lovac analyzed the two middle-aged employees at the counter, both more interested in their cell phones than the customers. He studied their mannerisms, posture, and reactions. The first, taller than her colleague, was five feet four, thirty-eight pounds overweight, dark complexion, with peroxide-blond shoulder-length hair pulled back. Her false eyelashes made her blue contacts pop.

She spoke with a thick New York accent. Bronx, Westchester Avenue area.

Strands of the second employee’s black hair had escaped her knotted braid and extended in every direction. She skewered her chewing gum with a six-inch-long acrylic nail and wrapped the gum in a tissue.

Nails: red. Right hand third fingernail chipped, fourth fingernail missing.

Her statements sounded like questions. California—Los Angeles.

The progress of the line slowed, and Lovac’s patience thinned. Someone tapped his shoulder from behind. Lovac tensed and turned to face a stout elderly woman peering up at him. “Could you help me with my bag?” she asked. “I can’t get it closed.”

With the skill and precision of a surgeon, Lovac manipulated the zipper and closed the suitcase.

“Thank you for your help. Business or pleasure?” She tightened the double knot of her fluffy bow used to differentiate her suitcase from the others.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you traveling for business or pleasure? I’m heading to the Springs to visit my grandchildren.”

He pressed his lips together for a moment. “Business,” he said quietly.

The woman removed a bag from her purse and popped a few peanuts in her mouth. “Do you travel a lot for your job?”

Lovac turned slightly, trying to avoid eye contact. “Some.”

She raised her voice and stepped closer, invading Lovac’s personal space. “How interesting. What do you do? A pilot? Traveling salesman?”

Lovac recoiled. “Risk management.”

She smiled. “Well, that sounds exciting.”

He turned to face the woman but stared past her. “Not at all. It’s just business.”

“My husband, Freddie, he’s a car salesman. My four grandchildren…” She riffled through her purse. “Now, where is that picture?”

Lovac, relieved to reach the counter, wished the grandmother a safe trip. He completed his paperwork, taking care to avoid the claws of the bubble-gum-chewing employee. Her fingernails tapped the computer keys in slow motion. The clock on the back wall emitted a deafening tone as the second hand clicked forward. Did the security camera, now focused on Lovac’s face, move? 

Taking forever. Why hasn’t she returned my driver’s license? 

“Sorry for the delay. Our copy machine is on the fritz.” She handed Lovac his identification. 

He walked toward the exit, quickening his pace. The sound of his footsteps striking the floor rang in his ears as the crowd’s noise changed from ambient background voices to silence. Lovac’s senses sharpened. The travelers scattered. He glanced at a mirror to view the commotion and noticed two guards racing toward him. His heart rate slowed and his eyes widened. He turned his head, studied the guards, and assessed the situation. He clenched his jaw. Twelve minutes behind schedule; time was not his ally. He weighed his options. 

Lovac put down his bag and turned to face the onslaught. 

They know, but how? Not possible. 

A guard lunged at him and missed. Lovac didn’t flinch. 

“That’s him,” screamed an older woman, pointing behind Lovac to the young thief who stole her purse.

Lovac stepped aside as the second security guard tackled a teenager, knocking him to the ground. The woman’s pocketbook dislodged from the thief’s grip and bounced off the floor, spewing its innards in all directions. One guard placed the boy in handcuffs and directed him toward the security office, while the other retrieved the purse and its contents. Lovac grabbed his bag and hurried toward the exit, blending into the crowd once more.

No more delaysStill behind schedule. Not acceptable.

Lovac located his car and drove out of the rental area, ready to start his assignment. Light traffic facilitated an uneventful drive. Before long, he arrived at his destination: a majestic stone edifice. With its three towering arched windows flanked by smaller ones, Union Station sat in the heart of Denver. The immense neon Travel by Train sign and an ever-precise clock, now reading 10:32 a.m., welcomed travelers. With trains leaving and arriving every few minutes, the station pulsed with activity.

He skirted the security post, passed a disorganized group of teachers and schoolchildren on a field trip, and arrived at the lockers. He found number 213, tucked in the corner of the bottom row. Lovac keyed 4308 on the touch pad, and the door sprung open. He removed a midsize black duffel bag and exited the station.

Eleven minutes behind, he explored the bag in the privacy of his car. He pushed aside the bag’s contents and opened a legal-size envelope containing Dossier 1627. He memorized the precise timeline with addresses, maps, and a description of his contact. Lovac studied the photo: a thirty-five-year-old white female; athletic build; five feet five; brown eyes; thick collar-length auburn hair curling at the ends. She resembled someone. A person from his past, but who? He searched the picture for a clue, a spark of recognition, a reason for his hesitation, but returned to the same thought.

Boring. Plain. Soccer mom. Why her?

The map guided him to a secure parking lot one mile west of his destination. Lovac squinted in the glaring summer sun. He put on sunglasses and walked to his location: a busy farmers’ market sprawled across a community park.

The blocked streets on the periphery fanned out in all directions, allowing for safe shopping. Small booths peddling food, flowers, clothing, and crafts filled his view. A local band played country music on a stage in the center of the festivities.

From the edge of the park, Lovac surveyed the nearby buildings to determine the best angle for his perch. He located the perfect spot—the right height, the right distance, the right level of privacy.

An excellent choice.

Once decided, his motivation to make his return flight kicked into high gear. He quickened his step. The shortest route to his destination passed by the Polaroid photo booth in front of the stage. His desire to stay masked in the shadows clashed with his need to make up time.

Still behind. No one will recognize me in this crowd. No one knows I’m here.

As Lovac approached the photo booth, the attendant raised his camera and smiled. “Would you like a complimentary picture?”

“No, thank you.” Lovac turned and lowered his head. He pulled the rim of his baseball hat to the level of his sunglasses.

I’m off my game.

He moved to his right and attempted to slip by a teenage volunteer blocking his path.

About the Author

D.R. Berlin

D.R. Berlin is an award-winning author, U.S. Army veteran, and General
Surgeon with a Bachelor of Science in Biology and a Writing minor from MIT.
A graduate of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, her career in
high-pressure environments fuels the pulse-pounding suspense and authentic
detail in The Third Estate: Secrets of the Manor. Berlin combines her
scientific expertise and love of storytelling to deliver a gripping,
intricate thriller that keeps readers on edge. Drafted as the unofficial
photographer of her children’s sports teams, she has been
affectionally dubbed the “Mamarazzi.”

 

Contact Links

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The Third Estate Blitz

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Secrets of the Manor

Suspense Thriller

Date Published: December 26, 2024

 

 

In a busy outdoor market, in broad daylight, an apparently ordinary woman
is gunned down by a professional assassin. Twelve years later, the killer is
back with a new target – and a mysteriously sinister
employer…

 

What secrets could a father leave behind?

A gripping, high-stakes thriller that seamlessly blends espionage, mystery,
and intense suspense, The Third Estate: Secrets of the Manor will keep you
on the edge of your seat from start to finish.

Sophie Allard, a promising jet pilot cadet at a prestigious military
academy, finds her world shattered when she’s summoned to the
Commander’s office with devastating news—her estranged father
has died in a mysterious lab explosion at their family estate.

What begins as a routine investigation soon spirals into something far more
dangerous.

As Sophie delves deeper into the secrets surrounding her father’s
death, she uncovers hidden truths that threaten not only her career but her
life. Unraveling a web of deception and betrayal, Sophie discovers that her
father’s involvement with a powerful and shadowy
organization—the Third Estate—could hold the key to both her
survival and her downfall.

With an assassin hunting her every step and the enigmatic Grey Lady pulling
the strings behind the scenes, Sophie must navigate a perilous landscape of
secrets, lies, and danger.

 

This fast-paced thriller is perfect for fans of complex conspiracies,
strong female protagonists, and unpredictable twists. If you love novels
that combine action, suspense, and mystery, The Third Estate is your next
must-read.

Will Sophie uncover the truth—before it’s too late?

 

About the Author

D.R. Berlin

D.R. Berlin is an award-winning author, U.S. Army veteran, and General
Surgeon with a Bachelor of Science in Biology and a Writing minor from MIT.
A graduate of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, her career in
high-pressure environments fuels the pulse-pounding suspense and authentic
detail in The Third Estate: Secrets of the Manor. Berlin combines her
scientific expertise and love of storytelling to deliver a gripping,
intricate thriller that keeps readers on edge. Drafted as the unofficial
photographer of her children’s sports teams, she has been
affectionally dubbed the “Mamarazzi.”

 

Contact Links

Website

Twitter

Pinterest

Instagram

LinkedIn

Facebook

BookBuzz

 

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

Apple Books

Walmart

 

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Fluke Moon Virtual Book Tour

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Not Raw Enough, Book 1

 

Suspense Thriller

 

 

Outer Banks exporter Seth Tinsley watches in horror as friends and fellow
businessmen die in bizarre accidents. His trade to an exclusive segment of
Japan’s Tsukiji Seafood Market inexplicably deteriorates threatening
an end to his exports. Seth is forced to step up the timing for the launch
of his new aquatic technology created by his unique start-up, SAAK Inc. Seth
gambles everything sure that his PELTS products will alter the hierarchy of
the worldwide seafood business—especially in Japan.

Grieving its dwindling ocean resources from over-fishing in the Sea of
Japan, they realized their culture continues to diminish from the loss of
Hirame, the iconic fish once essential to their most sacred rites and
traditions. Committed to reclaiming their culinary heritage, an ancient
Japanese warrior caste pursues the unique fluke caught in the abundant
waters of the Pamlico and Albemarle sounds.

A mysterious woman shows up as the Federal Seafood Inspector to the
Hatteras Islands, then begins an inquiry about Seth and his businesses.
Still struggling with so many unsolved murders and the loss of close
friends, Seth still doesn’t believe he is targeted by an international
conspiracy. When an Osaka trading company surprises him with a lucrative
buy-out offer for his Kill Devil Hills, NC export company, going against his
instincts, he accepts the puzzling buy-out offer.

Instead of collecting the rewards for the sale of his company, Seth ends up
alone in Japan, wanted for mass murder and an expendable pawn of the US
Government.

 

Fluke Moon tablet

EXCERPT

Reese had married well and most of the time, Big Red treated him like family. Tinsley’s going-down could open up some real opportunities. Might be the last time he’d have to act like he was actually working at this fisherman crap.

He squatted, picked up the square-stock black pistol from his gym bag and slipped the gun into the rear waist-band of his cut-off jeans. Reese could hardly wait to fire the “gently used” nine-mil Berretta he’d bought two days ago up in Norfolk from his reefer supply-guy. He twisted his head around to peek at his butt making sure the gun was perfectly concealed by the long shirttail of his black Metallica tank top. Satisfied with no bulge, he climbed the six- rung ladder up to the pier.

Reese blended perfectly with the gang―the players loitering around the bench at the center dock-hub area, all freakishly appearing like they’d answered a casting call as mascots for the Pirate’s Berth Marina.

 The clique liked to stay near the action, but not so close that it might involve anything like real work. They trolled more for easy hits like an impromptu tourist charter after all the quality boats had booked-out and sailed. Or maybe a quick dope deal, or at the very least find out a little of the inside poop on local goings-on.

 Realizing his good-time buddies ignored him, Reese barged through the middle of the group’s banter and parked his cooler in front of the man with a deformed hand sitting next to the pylon supporting the center-hub. Reese pried the cooler top open and handed out a round of nine A.M. beers.

Thinking his entrance fee paid, Reese primed the subject he was most interested. “So, Claw, what’s the scuttle-butt on those hot-tub murders? Thought for sure they’d fry Tinsley’s worthless ass this time. What happened?”

Claw squatted on an upturned five-gallon bucket leaning back against the pylon. He finished off his first beer, crunched the can into a small wad with his good hand, tossed the clump next to the cooler then waited for round two.

Reese snorted, dug another beer out of the ice and offered it short-armed so that Claw had to rise up off the bucket as he leaned out with his good arm to take it. After a long guzzle, the old man belched and now properly primed, spoke. “They made a mistake arresting him to begin with,” Claw said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Smart folks don’t cook. You know that, or your daddy-in-law would’ve been burned to a crisp long ago.

“Tinsley’s even sharper, bringing down that D.C. lawyer—one of Senator Belk’s partners. Old Belk still has some ass in these parts. Word is, Seth spent a ton of money. Musta been worth it though. Judge Doll had no choice but to let the jury bring in the not guilty.”

“Jury only took two hours, I heard,” said the shirtless man with fish tattoos on his back. “Tinsley hardly talked none. That D.C. guy did all his speaking for him.”

“And they just let him go — Scott-free?” Reese asked, raising his arms.

“Why not? He didn’t do anything,” Claw said. “I’ve already told you that once. They tried to show how he was into some kinky sex stuff and that he was balling every broad on the Islands. Didn’t count for nothing.

“Reckon Big Red had anything to do with all those rumors about Tinsley’s love life?” Claw glanced at Reese as he finished his beer, crushed the can and tossed the wad at Reese’s feet. He grinned and belched again. “Had to really piss-off ole Red that Tinsley walked.”

“That D.A. kept bringing up Seth as a lady’s man,” Fish Tattoo said. “But that D.C. Lawyer turned the trick with facts, showing that it truly had been an accident and how Tinsley called nine-one-one so quick, the lack of motive, and all the legal shit they do.

“Word is, both them girls actually died of heart attack―not drowning. That D.C. lawyer finally told the jury it was nothing but a locally financed rail-roading that wouldn’t float in any real court. Old Judge Doll had his bluff called, couldn’t keep steering it toward a guilty verdict and folded.”

“I guess heart attacks have become contagious now days,” Reese said turning away to conceal his anger, then spotted a familiar figure lugging an ice chest up the dock’s center walkway. Reese smiled and in a loud voice announced, “Hide your women, boys. Mad-dog killer loose right here on our docks. What’ do y’all reckon it cost to buy your way out of double homicide now days?”

Seth strolled on, carrying his cooler while keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Watch yourself, Reese,” Claw whispered. “You really shouldn’t get him riled up.”

Reese’s shrill voice punched into a demeaning tone as he tuned up his razzing. “Hey boys, it’s the wet killer, Seth. How’s jail life been for you? Find everything nice and tight?”

A few in the group laughed, encouraging another escalation from Reese. “We ain’t seen you down here in a month of Sundays. You been too busy selling off all your stuff while sitting in the poky, ain’t ya.”

After no response from Tinsley, now only ten feet away, Reese continued. “Hell, Tinsley, we don’t even know what the hell to call you anymore. Do you have a prison handle yet?”

Claw cautioned in a low voice, “Reese, hush your stupid mouth, he’s not a man to trifle with.”

Undaunted, Reese added, “hell, Sethy, weren’t that long ago, you were just another bum-fuck like the rest of us—out looking for a few croakers. Now you’ve become a local celebrity by croaking a few lookers.”

Reese jumped up and down shrieking in laughter as he turned to the group. He raised his opened arms in victory. “How’d you like that— croaking a few lookers!” He cackled again, “shit, I amaze myself sometimes. I ought to go on the damn Comedy Channel.”

Reese glimpsed a change in Claw’s expression and turned. Tinsley had set down the cooler and stood glaring at Reese from three feet away.

About the Author

Randall Boleyn

Randall Boleyn – Writing as a Reader.

When those first few novels transported Randall into the intrigue of other
cultures and the complexity of foreign lands, his life changed forever. He
wanted to experience those kinds of adventures and ended up traveling the
world doing international business while living his own bizarre experiences.
Realizing he wanted to create the same kind of stories he loved to read,
Randall coaxed the Muse by writing, studying and learning the craft. After
years of toiling with the words, the stories suddenly just seemed to happen.
It was startling! It was the same joy and surprise he had relished as a
reader in guessing how a plot might unfold affecting the characters’ lives.
He now writes with the eye and passion of creating that next great story
like he would want to read.

Randall now lives in the hills of the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia and
is focused on completing the Powers Meant for Gods trilogy to publish by
January 2021.

 

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Amazon

 

 

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Crossroads Virtual Book Tour

Crossroads banner

Crossroads cover

Suspense / Thriller

Date Published: January 23, 2023

Publisher: MindStir Media

 

She’s Paris Pennington.

 

A lovely workaholic about to be confronted with adversity and chaos, with
challenges leading her to restlessness, uncertainty, and questioning her
life choices and her current path. The fabric of her life begins to be
picked apart as people around her start dying.

A crossroad leads her to make a change and promises to fulfill her dreams
while an embattled personal war between past and present comes together,
testing loyalty and the forces of envy that may prevent tomorrow from
coming.

Rhonda Parker Taylor’s most exciting suspense thriller fictional character
ever.

Crossroads tablet

EXCERPT

He stepped forward. A thick, moldy smell engulfed him like a bad cigar lingering in the air. He swallowed hard and searched the scene. The girl’s long, thin neck was massively swollen. Her blood soaked into the ground. Her clothing was torn around wounds, and he knew that there was no hope for her. He pushed the image of her body out of his mind and turned back to his squad car. Quickly and methodically, he pulled out the yellow crime scene tape from the trunk.

 

About the Author

Rhonda Parker Taylor

Rhonda Parker Taylor is an American writer, entrepreneur, and academic
researcher. Rhonda Parker Taylor was born in Noblesville, Indiana, on
October 18, 1964. She is the second youngest of five children born to Anita
and William Parker, founders of a midwestern steel manufacturing company in
Noblesville. Rhonda spent her childhood in their two-story home surrounded
by cornfields and cows and attended Heritage Christian School in
Indianapolis. After graduating from Heritage, she attended Bauder Fashion
College in Arlington, Texas. After graduating from Bauder with a certificate
in fashion buying, she returned to Indiana. Parker initially found work at
Educational Financial Services in Indianapolis. Her friends and family
suggested that she try her hand as an author. Rhonda took their advice and
wrote her first book, Crossroads, in 2002. It took a decade for her to
publish it due to her academic explorations. She attended the doctoral in
business program at the University of Phoenix and received an MBA and a
bachelor’s in science management from Indiana Wesleyan University.
Parker’s writing ranges from educational to fiction. She is best known
for her study on emotional intelligence and as the multi-national leader
presented at the Union Global Compact Committee. She loves writing,
consulting, and teaching. However, she has spent her business life
encouraging others through career and academic development programs,
including being a campus president for National College and founder of
Intelligence Solutions. After years of assisting others in pursuing their
dreams, Rhonda follows her passion for writing as she lives a peaceful life
raising her three dogs and living with her husband, Dana.

 

Contact Links

Website

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Crossroads Blitz

Crossroads banner

 

Crossroads cover

Suspense / Thriller

Date Published: January 23, 2023

Publisher: MindStir Media

 

She’s Paris Pennington.

 

A lovely workaholic about to be confronted with adversity and chaos, with
challenges leading her to restlessness, uncertainty, and questioning her
life choices and her current path. The fabric of her life begins to be
picked apart as people around her start dying.

A crossroad leads her to make a change and promises to fulfill her dreams
while an embattled personal war between past and present comes together,
testing loyalty and the forces of envy that may prevent tomorrow from
coming.

Rhonda Parker Taylor’s most exciting suspense thriller fictional character
ever.

About the Author

Rhonda Parker Taylor

Rhonda Parker Taylor is an American writer, entrepreneur, and academic
researcher. Rhonda Parker Taylor was born in Noblesville, Indiana, on
October 18, 1964. She is the second youngest of five children born to Anita
and William Parker, founders of a midwestern steel manufacturing company in
Noblesville. Rhonda spent her childhood in their two-story home surrounded
by cornfields and cows and attended Heritage Christian School in
Indianapolis. After graduating from Heritage, she attended Bauder Fashion
College in Arlington, Texas. After graduating from Bauder with a certificate
in fashion buying, she returned to Indiana. Parker initially found work at
Educational Financial Services in Indianapolis. Her friends and family
suggested that she try her hand as an author. Rhonda took their advice and
wrote her first book, Crossroads, in 2002. It took a decade for her to
publish it due to her academic explorations. She attended the doctoral in
business program at the University of Phoenix and received an MBA and a
bachelor’s in science management from Indiana Wesleyan University.
Parker’s writing ranges from educational to fiction. She is best known
for her study on emotional intelligence and as the multi-national leader
presented at the Union Global Compact Committee. She loves writing,
consulting, and teaching. However, she has spent her business life
encouraging others through career and academic development programs,
including being a campus president for National College and founder of
Intelligence Solutions. After years of assisting others in pursuing their
dreams, Rhonda follows her passion for writing as she lives a peaceful life
raising her three dogs and living with her husband, Dana.

 

Contact Links

Website

Instagram

Twitter

Pinterest

Facebook

Linked In

 

Purchase Links

Amazon

B&N

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Crossroads Blitz

Filed under BOOKS