• Home
  • Reviews
  • Ratings
    • 3 Stars
    • 3.5 Stars
    • 4 Stars
    • 4.5 Stars
    • 5 Stars
  • About Us
  • REVIEW POLICIES AND DISCLAIMER
  • Our Rating System
  • Contact
  • New Releases

TheBookBellas

  • Home
  • Reviews
  • Ratings
    • 3 Stars
    • 3.5 Stars
    • 4 Stars
    • 4.5 Stars
    • 5 Stars
  • About Us
  • REVIEW POLICIES AND DISCLAIMER
  • Our Rating System
  • Contact
  • New Releases

BLOG TOUR & EXCERPT – GOOD RICH PEOPLE by ELIZA JANE BRAZIER

January 27, 2022

Today, I’m happy to be a tour stop on the blog tour for Good Rich People by Eliza Jane Brazier. Thank you Berkley for inviting me to participate!

 

About the Book:

 

Lyla has always believed that life is a game she is destined to win, but her husband, Graham, takes the game to dangerous levels. The wealthy couple invites self-made success stories to live in their guesthouse and then conspires to ruin their lives. After all, there is nothing worse than a bootstrapper.

Demi has always felt like the odds were stacked against her. At the end of her rope, she seizes a risky opportunity to take over another person’s life and unwittingly becomes the subject of the upstairs couple’s wicked entertainment. But Demi has been struggling all her life, and she’s not about to go down without a fight.

In a twist that neither woman sees coming, the game quickly devolves into chaos and rockets toward an explosive conclusion.

Because every good rich person knows: in money and in life, it’s winner take all. Even if you have to leave a few bodies behind.

 

Purchase Links:

 

 

My Review:

 

You wouldn’t think you would be able to do a lot of things until you do.

What a wicked delight! I read this mash-up of Parasite, You and American Psycho in just two days which for me, is a thrill in itself!

This dark, smart psychological thriller features alternating points of view between the main protagonists Lyla and Demi. The short chapters made this a tense, fast page turner, with sharp wit and sarcasm sprinkled throughout.

Lyla married into incredible wealth. Her husband Graham is handsome, alluring and borderline sociopathic. He disappears every weekend ostensibly for golf but who knows. He and his equally wealthy and narcissistic mother Margot draw Lyla into their wicked psychological games, all for the sake of their own entertainment and boredom. But Lyla is unable to walk away from the family even if she wanted to.

“I put up with him for the reason everybody did. Because beauty and money are God, and Graham is more beautiful, and has more money, than anyone I’ve ever known.”

These people barely acknowledge their staff and think of everyone else as beneath them. Lyla can’t comprehend how she will be able to play the game with Demi, their new tenant in one of the homes on their magnificent estate. Graham and Margot demand it. There must be a winner and a loser. But Lyla has no other way to survive. She can’t walk away from the wealth.

”I tell myself not to be greedy. I tell myself this is enough. When has that ever been true.”

Margot is aloof and cruel and certainly not mother of the year. She worships Graham and fawns over him but calls him a very bad boy and even tried to pay Lyla off not to marry her son. Margot definitely paid off Lyla’s own parents to stay away after Lyla married Graham. And they have.

The book is set in Los Angeles and does not gloss over the homelessness and drug addiction spiraling out of control within one of the most beautiful cities in the country. Graham, Lyla and Margot literally don’t even see literally what is happening right in front of them in the streets of L.A.

Demi doesn’t want to return to those rough streets. She has been destitute her whole life. But she happens to be the new tenant in the magnificent Herschel family compound. She will be the next player in the family’s twisted “game.”

He won’t destroy me, not by accident, not by design. I’m smart. I can keep up with him. I can’t give up. I need to stop thinking about it.

This surprising, sexy thriller is filled with jaw dropping twists and yes, extremely unlikeable characters. (Side note: even though he’s done some really cruel and dishonest things IRL, Armie Hammer is all I could see for the role of the very decadent Graham!) I thoroughly enjoyed this book and want to read Eliza Jane Brazier’s first book, If I Disappear. I love the way her mind works!

Many thanks to the publisher for providing an advanced reading copy via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

 

Excerpt:

LYLA

I get so bored sometimes, I think I will do anything to stop it. I decide to make Graham dinner. He blames me for what happened.

We don’t have anything in the kitchen except Mo‘t-dozens and dozens of bottles that Graham’s mother, Margo, keeps giving us, daring us to celebrate.

I decide to make spaghetti because it’s European and I think I can manage it on my own. The housekeeper got spooked and left, so we’ve been ordering in. I need to hire someone before Margo does, but I like how our house looks with a little dust. It looks like people actually live here.

I go to my closet to choose an outfit for the market. Everything in my closet is shades of gray. I’ve always wanted a signature color. Margo’s is white. Graham’s is blue. He says it’s a power color. All of my underwear is blue.

I select a gray cashmere top and gray cashmere bottoms. Not the same shade of gray, because I don’t want to look like an insane person. I accessorize with the exact right amount of diamonds and the hot pink gator Kelly bag I won in a game with Margo.

I stop to check my reflection in the full-length mirror. Sometimes I am scared by how beautiful I am. Every inch of me is buffed and primed. My face hangs exactly right. My muscles are taut and organized. I am scared because I don’t want to lose it: the shaped nails, the tip of my nose, the sapphire glow of my eyes. I am sad because I want everyone to see it, but I don’t want to see them. I want them to know how lucky I am but I don’t want them to have access to me. It’s a real problem.

I pass through the living room on my way out. It’s Monday and light is streaming through the wall of windows, onto the travertine dining table, the gold bar chairs, the carved silver accents. The house is decorated to Graham’s taste because I don’t have any. I acquired his taste the day we got married. It was easier that way. Marriages fail because people are different. I want to be the same. Look the same, feel the same, have the same appetites. I want to cross the stars for us.

I pass through the courtyard on my way toward the gate. The flowers stink. The fountain gurgles uselessly, like a body choking on its own blood.

Our house looks like a handful of glass tumbling down a hill. Our front facade is modern, stoic, but when you step inside, the house stretches, open-plan, back and back forever, until it reaches a wall of windows. What you can’t see from inside is the structures, the plinths underneath that hold it up, allow for the illusion of those never-ending floors.

In the hills, people will build anywhere. The more perilous the precipice, the more insecure the foundation, the more they need to build something on it. It’s a challenge, a victory of money over matter.

Our house is built on the edge of a cliff.

And underneath it, between those concrete plinths, is a hidden guesthouse. It was built to hold up the house above. Margo once used it to store her exotic shoe collection, but now we use it to store a person.

I exit the gate and lock the door behind me. I can see Margo’s tower above, chiseled to a point. Margo’s house is like a castle, with all the requisite wars and rumors of wars. Graham says one day we’ll live there, when he inherits everything, but I have no doubt that Margo will live forever to spite me.

I sometimes wish we would move somewhere, start our own life with our own money. But there is a little-known fact about people with money: They are beholden to people with more money. So although Graham could afford his own house and his own life, his mother has more money. His mother has money that makes our money look poor.

When you’re rich, you can control everything. Except the richer.

Graham is afraid of losing his mother’s money. Maybe even losing his mother-who knows? So we live in a glass house beneath her fortress, in a tidy alcove in the hills above Los Angeles, the ugliest and most beautiful city in the world, depending on where you’re standing.

There is a little village square with a market just three blocks away but I have to drive. The streets in the hills are narrow and uneven and there are no sidewalks. Only mad people walk in LA. For my birthday, Graham gave me a gray Phantom. It’s terrible to drive in the hills. I’ve scraped the back end four or five times and cracked the rear lights but Graham won’t fix them because he thinks it’s funny.

It takes me ages to get it out of the garage and even longer to navigate the narrow streets of the hills because inevitably cars appear going the other way and I have to honk until they back up. People are such assholes.

I finally make it under the stone archway that signals the village. It’s designed to look like a European enclave, all stone streets and storybook architecture. It really just looks like an abandoned fairy tale.

When Graham and I first moved in, we walked to the village market together at dusk to buy a bottle of red wine. The memory itself has very little to offer-it was dark and we were holding hands-but what I remember is not the night itself, but the promise of the future contained in it, how I thought that we would do this again, perpetually: walk beneath the arches in the semidark, kiss in the stone corner of the vintage boutique, pretend we were a couple out of time. I remember saying, This is so magical. It’s like we’re somewhere else. It’s like Disneyland!

Now I drive beneath the arches and I think, We never came again. Not once. Graham works. We order everything in. If I ask him to go for a walk, he says, Are you kidding? Rich people don’t walk. Their shoes aren’t designed for it.

I get to the market and find handmade pasta, but the sauces are all wrong. There is a clerk beside me filling the shelves-a teenager with a constellation of zits from his ear to his throat.

“Excuse me?” I hold out the priciest pasta sauce. “Why is this so inexpensive? Is there something wrong with it?”

The attendant looks flummoxed, like he has never been asked such a question. “Uh . . . I’d have to ask.”

“Do you have anything more expensive?”

He blinks. “Uh . . . you could buy two?”

“You should make it from scratch.” A familiar woman approaches from farther down the aisle. I’ve probably seen her in the neighborhood. I turn to face her. She has three necklaces around her neck, so I know she’s crazy. One is a star, one is a circle and one is a cactus. I’ve seen the star necklace before, but it’s a popular design.

“Me?” I can’t believe she’s talking to me. Her under-eye area is clogged with mascara dust. She has wrinkles but she is probably younger than me. She just doesn’t have a good doctor.

“It would be more expensive if you bought all the ingredients separately.” She crosses her arms. She carries a shopping basket, but it’s empty.

I set the pasta sauce back on the shelf, stamp my foot, throw up my hands. “I have no idea what’s in pasta sauce!” I say, like nobody does.

“I can help you”-she shifts her hip-“if you want.” She purses her chapped lips. Those three necklaces glitter with menace. But Graham would be so impressed if I made my own pasta sauce. Even more impressed if I had someone make it for me.

The corner of my Kelly bag is digging into my side, so I adjust it. “Oh, would you? I would so appreciate it.” She nods eagerly. I indicate my cart. “Would you mind? It’s so hard to carry a bag and push a cart.” I frown.

She hesitates, face closing. She doesn’t know what it’s like having to carry a Kelly bag everywhere. It’s not like I can just put it in the cart!

She sighs and swings her plastic basket into my cart. I follow her to the produce section. She finds me the priciest tomatoes, precut garlic, red onions. It’s a good thing I’m there, because one of the onions looks dirty and I make sure she swaps it out. As she shops, she explains to me how to mix everything together. Of course, I don’t pay attention. I hate listening to people when they talk.

“Got it?” she asks when all the ingredients are in my cart.

“No,” I say blithely. She shifts from foot to foot. “I’ll never get it! We used to have a housekeeper who did all this, but we had to let her go,” I lie. “She was very religious.” That part is true. She suggested we were all going to hell. I privately thought hell couldn’t be worse than Margo. At least in hell you don’t have hope.

“I could help you,” the woman says, “if you want.” She adjusts her empty basket. “I’m actually looking for work.”

I find myself considering it. She seems to know her stuff, and I do need to hire someone before Margo does. It looks like I would be doing the woman a favor. Her hair is knotted. Her eyes lack sleep. Her nail beds are dirty and uneven. She’d be very lucky to work for us. There are far worse places to be.

Her necklaces remind me of something, but I can’t remember what.

Maybe it’s someone I used to know.

Or maybe it’s me.

Categories : 4 Stars, Fiction, Psychological Thriller, Reviews, Thriller Tagged : Eliza Jane Brazier, Excerpt, Good Rich People

BLOG TOUR + GIVEAWAY – DIGGING UP LOVE by CHANDRA BLUMBERG

January 7, 2022

 

Author Interview: Chandra Blumberg

 

As a debut author, what are some things readers should know about you?

I was born in Michigan and moved to the Chicago area shortly after college. I’m the mom of four amazing children. I love to bake and I’m always on the lookout for new recipes to try, and though they often turn out less-than Pinterest-worthy, my baked goods almost always taste great.

Lifting weights is another one of my passions. I enjoy the physical challenge and the boost from achieving new goals. I also love to travel and explore, whether it be other countries or nearby towns. One of my greatest joys is finding new places to visit and experience for the first time.

And of course, I love to read! I devour books from a wide variety of genres, from science fiction to mystery, historical fiction to fantasy, but romance captured my heart and never let go.

Describe your novel Digging Up Love in just one sentence.

A commitment-phobic baker who plans to escape small-town life for Chicago hits a roadblock when an enormous dinosaur bone is unearthed in her backyard, and she falls hard for the paleontologist sent to excavate.

Including dinosaurs as a major part of the plot is unique in a romance novel. What inspired you to include dinosaurs (or at least their bones) in your story?

My kids love learning about dinosaurs, so between books, shows, movies, and time spent visiting museums to see fossils, dinosaurs have been a big part of my life for awhile now, and that might be part of what sparked the idea. Plus, I’ve been a fan of Jurassic Park since I was a kid, and I thought it would be really fun to write a romance with a paleontologist love interest.

As I was drafting the novel, I remembered reading a news article about mammoth bones turning up on a farmer’s property in my home state of Michigan, and I thought: what if it had been a dinosaur bone? There haven’t been any dinosaur fossils discovered in most of the Midwest, so that offered a lot of possibilities to explore.

Was there a moment when Quentin and Alisha’s story really came to life for you?

I wrote a sketch of a scene where a woman was on a date with a paleontologist at the Field Museum in Chicago. He was super enthusiastic about showing her the fossils, and they had this flirty, fun dynamic with a lot of banter. There was immediate chemistry, and I wanted to dive deeper into their story. At one point in the scene, the woman tripped, and her response was, “Whoopsie-daisy.” So I had this young woman who was using this sort of old-school exclamation, and I thought, why would she say that? Well, maybe she was raised by her grandparents. And the story evolved from there.

Was there a time during the writing process that you were really surprised by the story or your characters?

I was sharing an early draft of the story with critique partners and one of them mentioned how Quentin was a paleontologist like Ross from Friends, and my reaction was total shock. I used to love watching Friends, but for some reason—maybe my age at the time I watched it—even though Ross was one of my favorite characters, I had no idea what he did for a living. I decided to include my reaction into the book, because how could I not? Ross is such an iconic character, and here I had totally blanked on another paleontologist in pop culture.

Digging Up Love is very much a small-town romance, but it also includes scenes in Chicago. What made you choose to include both settings in your novel?

I knew I wanted a city-meets-country love story because it offers so many interesting and fun dynamics. Since I grew up in a fairly rural community and participated in the county fair, 4-H, horseback riding, and so on, I had that experience to draw from. I also enjoy living in the Chicago area immensely and wanted to incorporate elements of the city as well.

What do you most want readers to take away from reading Digging Up Love?

First and foremost, a happily-ever-after. While this book delves into some deep issues, this is Alisha and Quentin’s love story, and I want to leave readers with all the swoony feels! I hope to tug on readers’ heartstrings and make them laugh in the next moment. I also wanted to depict a heroine who is unapologetically into lifting heavy weights, and to include body positivity in the narrative. I hope the sense of love, both romantic and in relationships with family and friends, comes through in this story. Ultimately, this is a book about finding joy and the person who makes you feel happy and fully loved.

***

 

Digging Up Love Excerpt:

 

About forty yards behind the house, Mrs. S sat on her trusty motorized steed. Granny stood next to her, the top of her blonde bob a good foot shy of the reflective orange safety flag jutting up out of the back of the seat.

Opposite the women, a backhoe perched motionless on the edge of the crater like a mechanical gargoyle, motor silent. Granny was holding a whispered conference with Mrs. Snyder, doused in her trademark rose-scented perfume so strong it could penetrate a gas mask.

Alisha slinked up to the women like an uninvited guest at a funeral. She couldn’t help but address them in a hushed tone. “Hi, ladies.”

Mrs. Snyder let out an almighty yelp and revved her engine. The scooter lurched forward toward the edge of the hole. Alisha dove for the kill switch, and Granny wrapped both arms around her friend’s ample waist, the heels of her Wellington boots making furrows in the grass. The scooter skidded to a halt like a clown car dumping its occupants at center stage.

Alisha collapsed on her knees, panting. “So sorry, Mrs. S!”

“Janet.” Fanning her flushed face, she leveled a beady gaze at Alisha. “If I’ve told you once, I told you a thousand times. Call me Janet.” She adjusted one of her clip-on earrings, blue-veined hand trembling. “‘Mrs. S’ makes me feel about a thousand years old.”

Alisha nodded just to pacify her. The switch would be impossible. Mrs. Snyder was Hawksburg’s answer to Mr. Feeny: a seventh-grade math teacher, religious ed catechist, and after retirement, a high school substitute teacher. No sense in arguing, though.

She pushed off the freezing ground and turned to Granny. “What’s this I hear about a skeleton in our new swimming pool?”

Pulling the sides of her coat around herself, her grandma said, “I was gonna tell you when you got home, sweetie. But you never get much time to yourself. I didn’t want to interrupt your visit with Simone. And I doubt it’s anything. Janet just said we should be sure.”

Surprise, surprise. Mrs. Snyder had called in the professionals, not Granny.

“I’m sure we’ll have this whole thing resolved today.” Granny patted her arm in reassurance.

Alisha relaxed a bit at her grandma’s touch. The Blake women looked nothing alike. Her grandma was a fine-boned peroxide blonde and fair as winter moonlight. But temperament wise, they were a match. If Granny wasn’t fussed, everything would be fine. But still . . .

“So there is a bone?”

Granny nodded. “A big one. See for yourself.”

Obediently, Alisha took a step forward to peer down into the pit. The man—and it was a man, after all—crouched in the mud, squinting against a battered digital camera, wasn’t wearing the khaki uniform she’d expected.

Instead, a dark-gray zip-up hoodie showed the curve of strong biceps and wide shoulders. He sat on his haunches in worn-in jeans and brown work boots. A cobalt-blue beanie was pulled down over his ears, accentuating the line of a straight, clean-shaven jaw. Definitely not middle aged either.

This was fine. Totally fine. Well, he was fine, that much was certain.

Keep it together, Alisha.

No worries. She tugged at her cropped leather jacket. She was perfectly capable of sending a fit young scientist packing.

Just then, he rested the camera on his thigh and looked up at them through the snow, his gaze as dazzling as a burst of sunshine after a storm.

Alisha’s knees almost gave way. Up until this moment, she would’ve put weak knees right up there with Bigfoot in the realm of myth. But the man’s electric gray-green eyes short-circuited her nerve endings and left her legs wobbly as Bambi.

He pulled his full lips to the side, gaze unfocused, clearly deep in thought. Then he dropped those striking eyes to the ground and stood up, rubbing a hand absently along his chiseled jaw. Her stomach turned itself inside out. It wasn’t every day she encountered a man who looked like her fantasies incarnate. But the biting wind and snowflakes swirling through the air hit her like a bucket of ice water. Not a daydream, then. Which begged the question, What to do now?

The textbook definition of a sexy scientist stood a few feet away, smack-dab in the middle of her grandparents’ future swimming pool. Chills that had nothing to do with the freezing temps collided with the heated flush of a heart gone into hyperdrive. A magnetic tug drew her a step closer, vying with a hysterical urge to turn tail and run.

Heavens to Betsy, cool it, Blake.

Without another thought, Alisha took a breath and jumped into the deep end.

***

 

About the Book:

 

Title: Digging Up Love
Author: Chandra Blumberg
Release Date: January 1, 2022
Series: Taste of Love, Book 1

Alisha Blake works her magic in the kitchen, creating delectable desserts for her grandfather’s restaurant in rural Illinois. Though Alisha relishes the close relationship she has with her family, she can’t help but dream about opening a cookie shop in Chicago. She may be a small-town baker, but Alisha has big ambitions.

Then a dinosaur bone turns up in her grandparents’ backyard. When paleontologist Quentin Harris arrives to see the discovery for himself, he’s hoping that the fossil will distract him from a recent painful breakup. Instead, he finds Alisha—and sparks fly. The big-city academic and the hometown baker seem destined for a happily ever after.

But Alisha is scared to fall in love. And Quentin’s trying to make a name for himself in a competitive field, which gets even more complicated when the press shows up at the dig site. For love to prevail, the two may have to put old bones aside—and focus on the future.

 

About the Author:

 

Chandra Blumberg is a Michigan native who loves writing funny, heartwarming love stories about characters that feel real and relatable. When it comes to her writing process, getting to that happily ever after is half the fun.

After majoring in English at Michigan State University, Blumberg moved to the Chicago area, where she enjoys exploring museums and the beauty of Lake Michigan in all seasons. When she’s not writing, she’s usually making a mess in the kitchen with her kids, lifting heavy barbells at the gym, or traveling with her family. Digging Up Love is her first novel.

 

Buy Link:

 

 

Author Social Media Links:

 

Website: www.chandrablumberg.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/chandrablumberg.author
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chandrablumberg/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/chandrablumberg
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21413895.Chandra_Blumberg

 

 

Rafflecopter Giveaway:

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Categories : Blog Tour, Giveaway, Multicultural Romance, Romance Tagged : Chandra Blumberg, Digging Up Love, Excerpt

Blog Tour Excerpt – THE HUNTING WIVES by MAY COBB

May 21, 2021

 

About the Book:

 

The Hunting Wives share more than target practice, martinis, and bad behavior in this novel of obsession, seduction, and murder.

Sophie O’Neill left behind an envy-inspiring career and the stressful, competitive life of big-city Chicago to settle down with her husband and young son in a small Texas town. It seems like the perfect life with a beautiful home in an idyllic rural community. But Sophie soon realizes that life is now too quiet, and she’s feeling bored and restless.

Then she meets Margot Banks, an alluring socialite who is part of an elite clique secretly known as the Hunting Wives. Sophie finds herself completely drawn to Margot and swept into her mysterious world of late-night target practice and dangerous partying. As Sophie’s curiosity gives way to full-blown obsession, she slips farther away from the safety of her family and deeper into this nest of vipers.

When the body of a teenage girl is discovered in the woods where the Hunting Wives meet, Sophie finds herself in the middle of a murder investigation and her life spiraling out of control.

 

Excerpt:

 

I FIRST DISCOVERED Margot on Facebook shortly after moving back. Via Erin. Even though Erin is an earth mama through and through and doesn’t care much for the socialite scene, because of her volunteer work, she sometimes runs in the same high society circles as Margot.
A few days before Christmas, Erin was tagged in a splashy post with twenty or so other women. A post about a Christmas party— specifically a “Mommy and Kiddos Dance”— benefiting the local children’s theater.
Almost instantly, my eyes found Margot in the lineup of all the women and kids in the group.
She was dressed in a black, one-shoulder evening gown with a slit up the leg so high it reached the top of her thigh. A diamond choker clasped her neck, and her dark hair was smoothed back, shiny as a new penny.
I found myself drawn to her, my eyes studying her sculpted thigh, her slender wrist. But more than anything, it was her expression that jolted me. Her fuckme eyes, but also, while everyone else was flashing giddy grins, Margot’s mouth was pressed into that same smirk she wears in nearly all the other photos I’ve seen of her. That smirk of irreverence that lets me know she is different from all the others in the photograph.
I took a sip of the chardonnay I’d been nursing all evening and swiped through the comments. The first was Erin’s:
That was SO fun! Mattie had a blast!
Followed by a stream of others that echoed Erin’s sentiment: Yasssss!
We should do this every year! SO fun!
Then one from Margot:
Ladies, paleez. There wasn’t enough booze in the joint to make the night bearable.
I grinned. I noticed her comment had racked up the most likes—nearly forty—and that people were still hitting the “like” button while I was looking at it.
I dragged the cursor and hovered over her name, which in and of itself sounded beguiling: Margot Banks.
I clicked on it. But her profile was set to private. A locked door. The standard Facebook message glared at me beneath her profile pic: To see what she shares with friends, send her a friend request.
But I wasn’t ready to do that just yet.
All I could gather from her profile were scant biographical details:
Age: Thirty-eight. Three years older than me.
Birthday: August 20.
Friends: 3,121. Jesus.
Her profile pic: Margot in oversize shades with the tease of a smile curling on her lips. Her arms wrapped around a dashing man. I clicked on the photo. The caption simply read: “Me and the hubs.” The person tagged in the photo was Jed Banks.
I knew of that name, not because I’d ever met Jed, but because the Bankses are Mapleton royalty. The local library, for one, bears their family name.
I clicked on it; his profile was public. But clearly untended, like those of most males his age. Just stale birthday wishes to him from last fall, none of which he ever replied to.
I scanned through a few of his photos. Dark, wavy hair, olive skin. Roman-god handsome. Every bit as much of a scorcher as Margot.
I headed back to Erin’s page, dug around, and found a handful more of mutually tagged posts with Margot.
One from last Easter at the Piney Woods Country Club. A ladies’ luncheon.
The sun-soaked dining room filled with women of all ages, sitting at long tables adorned with pink and yellow tulip bouquets. Margot sumptuously dressed in a white sundress dotted with red poppies, her expression exuding an air of boredom.
The comments section was ripe with the usual: Fun, fun, fun! Lovely day, Ladies!
And also sprinkled with some religious comments: We serve an awesome God! He is risen!
Then Margot’s:
Yes, fun. But if one more person in this godforsaken town tells me to have a blessed day, I’m going to commit ritual suicide.
I nearly spit my wine out reading that, I laughed so hard.
This very thing had actually become an injoke between me and Graham. “And how many times were you blessed today?” he began to ask me shortly after we moved here.
“Was it this rabidly religious when you lived here before?” he asked me.
No, no it was not. It seemed that in the past twenty years, the town had gone full-tilt-boogie fanatical. Jesus signs in front yards. Perfect strangers inviting us to their Sunday church services under the guise of “being led by the Lord to ask” us.
So when I read Margot’s comment, she felt simpatico.
I found myself looking forward to checking Facebook to try and catch posts she was tagged in. And thinking about her more and more, wondering about her life, which seemed so much bigger than my own. And yes, digging her name out of the phone book and locating her house. It wasn’t envy, though; I didn’t want to be her.
It was so much more than that. I wanted to be near her. For her to notice me, too. The idea of it took my breath away. It became powerful and even consuming.

 

About the Author:

 

May Cobb is a freelance writer from Austin, TX who won the 2015 Writer’s League of Texas Manuscript Contest. Her writing has appeared in Austin Monthly and the online edition of JazzTimes. Big Woods is her debut novel.

Categories : Blog Tour, Suspense, Thriller Tagged : Excerpt, May Cobb, The Hunting Wives

Excerpt + Review: THE NIGHT SWIM by MEGAN GOLDIN

August 8, 2020

 

About the Book:

In The Night Swim, a new thriller from Megan Goldin, author of the “gripping and unforgettable” (Harlen Coben) The Escape Room, a true crime podcast host covering a controversial trial finds herself drawn deep into a small town’s dark past and a brutal crime that took place there years before.

After the first season of her true crime podcast became an overnight sensation and set an innocent man free, Rachel Krall is now a household name―and the last hope for thousands of people seeking justice. But she’s used to being recognized for her voice, not her face. Which makes it all the more unsettling when she finds a note on her car windshield, addressed to her, begging for help.

The small town of Neapolis is being torn apart by a devastating rape trial. The town’s golden boy, a swimmer destined for Olympic greatness, has been accused of raping a high school student, the beloved granddaughter of the police chief. Under pressure to make Season Three a success, Rachel throws herself into interviewing and investigating―but the mysterious letters keep showing up in unexpected places. Someone is following her, and she won’t stop until Rachel finds out what happened to her sister twenty-five years ago. Officially, Jenny Stills tragically drowned, but the letters insists she was murdered―and when Rachel starts asking questions, nobody seems to want to answer. The past and present start to collide as Rachel uncovers startling connections between the two cases that will change the course of the trial and the lives of everyone involved.

Electrifying and propulsive, The Night Swim asks: What is the price of a reputation? Can a small town ever right the wrongs of its past? And what really happened to Jenny?

 

Excerpt:

 

Hannah

It was Jenny’s death that killed my mother. Killed her as good as if she’d been shot in the chest with a twelve-gauge shotgun. The doctor said it was the cancer. But I saw the will to live drain out of her the moment the policeman knocked on our screen door.

“It’s Jenny, isn’t it?” Mom rasped, clutching the lapel of her faded dressing gown.

“Ma’am, I don’t know how to tell you other than to say it straight.” The policeman spoke in the low-pitched melancholic tone he’d used moments earlier when he’d pulled up and told me to wait in the patrol car as its siren lights painted our house streaks of red and blue.

Despite his request, I’d slipped out of the back seat and rushed to Mom’s side as she turned on the front porch light and stepped onto the stoop, dazed from being woken late at night. I hugged her withered waist as he told her what he had to say. Her body shuddered at each word.

His jaw was tight under strawberry blond stubble and his light eyes were watery by the time he was done. He was a young cop. Visibly inexperienced in dealing with tragedy. He ran his knuckles across the corners of his glistening eyes and swallowed hard.

“I’m s-s-sorry for your loss, ma’am,” he stammered when there was nothing left to say. The finality of those words would reverberate through the years that followed.

But at that moment, as the platitudes still hung in the air, we stood on the stoop, staring at each other, uncertain what to do as we contemplated the etiquette of death.

I tightened my small, girlish arms around Mom’s waist as she lurched blindly into the house. Overcome by grief. I moved along with her. My arms locked around her. My face pressed against her hollow stomach. I wouldn’t let go. I was certain that I was all that was holding her up.

She collapsed into the lumpy cushion of the armchair. Her face hidden in her clawed-up hands and her shoulders shaking from soundless sobs.

I limped to the kitchen and poured her a glass of lemonade. It was all I could think to do. In our family, lemonade was the Band-Aid to fix life’s troubles. Mom’s teeth chattered against the glass as she tilted it to her mouth. She took a sip and left the glass teetering on the worn upholstery of her armchair as she wrapped her arms around herself.

I grabbed the glass before it fell and stumbled toward the kitchen. Halfway there, I realized the policeman was still standing at the doorway. He was staring at the floor. I followed his gaze. A track of bloody footprints in the shape of my small feet was smeared across the linoleum floor.

He looked at me expectantly. It was time for me to go to the hospital like I’d agreed when I’d begged him to take me home first so that I could be with Mom when she found out about Jenny. I glared at him defiantly. I would not leave my mother alone that night. Not even to get medical treatment for the cuts on my feet. He was about to argue the point when a garbled message came through on his patrol car radio. He squatted down so that he was at the level of my eyes and told me that he’d arrange for a nurse to come to the house as soon as possible to attend to my injured feet. I watched through the mesh of the screen door as he sped away. The blare of his police siren echoed long after his car disappeared in the dark.

The nurse arrived the following morning. She wore hospital scrubs and carried an oversized medical bag. She apologized for the delay, telling me that the ER had been overwhelmed by an emergency the previous night and nobody could get away to attend to me. She sewed me up with black sutures and wrapped thick bandages around my feet. Before she left, she warned me not to walk, because the sutures would pop. She was right. They did.

Jenny was barely sixteen when she died. I was five weeks short of my tenth birthday. Old enough to know that my life would never be the same. Too young to understand why.

I never told my mother that I’d held Jenny’s cold body in my arms until police officers swarmed over her like buzzards and pulled me away. I never told her a single thing about that night. Even if I had, I doubt she would have heard. Her mind was in another place.

We buried my sister in a private funeral. The two of us and a local minister, and a couple of Mom’s old colleagues who came during their lunch break, wearing their supermarket cashier uniforms. At least they’re the ones that I remember. Maybe there were others. I can’t recall. I was so young.

The only part of the funeral that I remember clearly was Jenny’s simple coffin resting on a patch of grass alongside a freshly dug grave. I took off my hand-knitted sweater and laid it out on top of the polished casket. “Jenny will need it,” I told Mom. “It’ll be cold for her in the ground.”

We both knew how much Jenny hated the cold. On winter days when bitter drafts tore through gaps in the patched-up walls of our house, Jenny would beg Mom to move us to a place where summer never ended.

A few days after Jenny’s funeral, a stone-faced man from the police department arrived in a creased gabardine suit. He pulled a flip-top notebook from his jacket and asked me if I knew what had happened the night that Jenny died.

My eyes were downcast while I studied each errant thread in the soiled bandages wrapped around my feet. I sensed his relief when after going through the motions of asking more questions and getting no response he tucked his empty notebook into his jacket pocket and headed back to his car.

I hated myself for my stubborn silence as he drove away. Sometimes when the guilt overwhelms me, I remind myself that it was not my fault. He didn’t ask the right questions and I didn’t know how to explain things that I was too young to understand.

This year we mark a milestone. Twenty-five years since Jenny died. A quarter of a century and nothing has changed. Her death is as raw as it was the day we buried her. The only difference is that I won’t be silent anymore.

 

My Review:

 

“I’m Rachel Krall and this is Guilty or Not Guilty, the podcast that puts you in the jury box.”

A clever structure elevates ‘The Night Swim’ to a gripping story about a 20-year-old crime that destroyed a family, told in a parallel with the current rape trial being covered by Rachel Krall, the new darling in the world of true-crime podcasts.

Rachel is covering the North Carolina trial of a local young superstar who has been charged with the rape and sexual assault of a teenage acquaintance. Stop reading right now if you have sensitivity to rape and assault because this book goes into excruciating detail about not only the trauma and pain of the actual assault, but also the humiliation of the rape kit and police investigations after. It is gripping reading, with tension building at every turn.

“The idea that guilt must be proven beyond a reasonable doubt dates back to the eighteenth-century British jurist Sir William Blackstone, who wrote in his seminal works that underpin our legal system: “Better that ten guilty persons escape than one innocent person suffer.”

<Studies show that rapists tend to be repeat offenders more than other criminals. They go on to rape again, at a rate of around five rapes in their lifetime. That means the ten guilty rapists who escape, to paraphrase Sir Blackstone, might go on to rape another forty innocent women. I wonder what Sir William Blackstone would say about that?”

Alternating with Rachel’s narration is that of Hannah, whose older sister Jenny died a violent and mysterious death 20 years prior. Hannah has reached out to Rachel as her last hope of solving the tragic death of her beloved older sister. The details are horrifying and heartbreaking but somehow Rachel knows that she must try and help Hannah, who has been sending Rachel mysterious emails and letters.

This book is not for the faint of heart and I went in blind, not having read the synopsis. I was expecting a thriller like ‘The Escape Room’ which I loved! This book is much more of a true crime story, but is wonderfully written and will please all fans of this genre.

(Thank you to the publisher for providing an advanced copy via NetGalley in return for an honest review.)

About the Author:

MEGAN GOLDIN worked as a correspondent for Reuters and other media outlets where she covered war, peace, international terrorism and financial meltdowns in the Middle East and Asia. She is now based in Melbourne, Australia where she raises three sons and is a foster mum to Labrador puppies learning to be guide dogs. The Escape Room was her debut novel.

Categories : 4 Stars, Contemporary, Crime, Mystery, Reviews, Suspense Tagged : Excerpt, Megan Goldin, The Night Swim

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT: The Switch by Beth O’Leary

July 18, 2020

THE SWITCH by Beth O’Leary releases in the U.S. on August 18th but you can read an exclusive excerpt below!

 

About the Book:

A grandmother and granddaughter swap lives in this charming, romantic novel by Beth O’Leary, hailed as “the new Jojo Moyes” (Cosmopolitan UK)

Eileen Cotton’s husband of sixty years left her four months ago, and good riddance. After all these decades of sleepy village life, Eileen is ready for an adventure. She’d like a chance at real love, too – and she wonders if maybe the right man is up the road in the big city…

Eileen’s granddaughter (and namesake) Leena lives in bustling London, where she is overworked, overscheduled, and overcaffeinated. When Leena collapses and her office sends her on a mandatory vacation, she wants to escape to her grandmother’s inviting, picture-postcard little village.

So they decide to switch lives.

Eileen will take Leena’s flat, Leena’s laptop, and Leena’s glitzy twenty-something London lifestyle. She’ll learn all about dating apps and swiping right, the best coffee shops, and paper-thin apartment walls. Leena can have Eileen’s sweet cottage, her idyllic Yorkshire village, her little projects to help her neighbors, and her nice, quiet life. But neither finds that her new life is exactly what she’d imagined.

Will swapping lives help Eileen and Leena become more truly themselves, and can they find true love in the process?

 

My Review:

 

I throughly enjoyed reading Beth O’Leary’s The Switch, a warm and delightful book about Leena, who has just been forced to take a two month leave of absence from her job, and Eileen, her grandmother who needs a little change in her life. They both agree to swap lives, with Leena moving to her grandmother’s charming Yorkshire village and Eileen taking on the big city of London. Such a cute idea! What I thought would be a breezy and light read turned into much more, with the author tackling subjects such as grief, self-esteem and even domestic abuse. There is a wide cast of characters of all ages which all added lots of flavor to this absolutely charming romance.

And I am thrilled to read that Rachel Brosnahan will star in the making of ‘The Switch’ for the big screen! You can read more HERE

I am looking forward to reading Beth’s other book, ‘The Flatshare’!

(Thank you to the publisher for providing an advanced copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.)

Excerpt:

“Grandma … what if we swapped?” I say. “What if I came up and looked after all your projects, and you had my flat in London, and I stayed here?”

Grandma looks up at me. “Swapped?”

“Swapped places. You do the London thing! Try dating in the city, have your adventure … remind yourself of who you were before Grandpa Wade. And I’ll come up here. Switch off for a bit in the countryside, try to—to get my head around everything that’s happened, and I’ll look after your little projects, and … help Mum out if she needs it. I’ll do whatever it is you do for her, you know, any errands and stuff.” I feel a bit dizzy, all of a sudden. Is this a good idea? It’s quite extreme, even by my standards.

Grandma’s eyes turn thoughtful. “You’d stay here? And be there for Marian when she needs you?”

I can see what she’s thinking. She never says as much, but I know she’s been desperate to get Mum and me talking again ever since Carla died. As it happens, I think Mum is coping a hell of a lot better than Grandma thinks—she certainly doesn’t need to be waited on hand and foot—but if Grandma needs to feel I’ll do everything she does for Mum, then …

“Yeah, sure, absolutely.” I twist the laptop her way. “Check it out, Grandma. Four hundred men just waiting to meet you in London.”

Grandma pops her glasses back on. “Gosh,” she says, looking at the pictures on the screen. The glasses come off again and her gaze drops to the table. “But I have other responsibilities here too. There’s the Neighborhood Watch, there’s Ant and Dec, there’s driving the van to bingo … I couldn’t ask you to take all of that on.”

I suppress a smile at Grandma’s grand list of responsibilities. “You’re not asking. I’m offering,” I tell her.

There’s a long silence.

“This seems a bit crackers,” Grandma says eventually.

“I know. It is, a bit. But I think it’s genius too.” I grin. “I will not take no for an answer, and you know when I say that, I one hundred percent mean it.”

Grandma looks amused. “That’s true enough.” She breathes out slowly. “Gosh. Do you think I can handle London?”

“Oh, please. The question, Grandma, is whether London can handle you.”

 

About the Author:

 

Beth O’Leary worked in children’s publishing before becoming a full-time author. She is also the author of The Flatshare. She can be found on Instagram @BethOLearyAuthor and Twitter @OLearyBeth.

Categories : 4 Stars, Blog Tour, Contemporary, Fiction, Reviews, Romance Tagged : Beth O'Leary, Excerpt, The Switch

Exclusive Excerpt: SONGBIRD by CECILIA LONDON

April 13, 2020

Songbird by Cecilia London

Series: Standalone though technically is #7 in The Bellator Saga

Publisher: self-published

Release Date (Print & Ebook): April 14, 2020

Length (Print & Ebook): 80,000 words

Subgenre: Women’s Fiction/Mainstream Fiction with Strong Romantic Elements

Warnings: content warnings for death, violence, psychological trauma

Pre-order now:
https://books2read.com/u/3yEdRZ

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3a09cfH
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B085T2172L
CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B085T2172L

Book blurb:

 

Christine Sullivan isn’t an easy person to love. She knows how the world sees her – aloof, standoffish, cold…perhaps even bitchy. After a lifetime in politics, including a stint with an expat government in exile, President Sullivan has taken her share of body blows, but now she’s back in Philadelphia…a widow, a recovering Republican, a former public servant seeking a quiet, private existence.

On her to-do list – rebuild her relationship with her estranged daughter and invent the rest of her life. She has her best friend Caroline, her brand spanking new condo, and her ever frustrating Secret Service detail to keep her company. That should be enough for anyone, right?

Until Alexander Guardiola comes along… liberal, emotionally unguarded, younger. A lot younger. Everything Christine isn’t. And isn’t ready for.

But opposites attract, don’t they? And hearts and minds can always be changed…

 

Exclusive Excerpt:

 

How did humans ask other humans out? I had no idea of the proper etiquette. Even if I could hazard a guess, the protocol might have changed from what it was back when I’d never, ever considered doing it. I spent a good few days plotting out imaginary, perfectly conducted conversations before I decided to pick up the phone and wing it. Of course, he answered on the first ring.
I cleared my throat. Good, give off that female stalker vibe. Brilliant. “Alexander?”
“Yes.”
“This is Christine Sullivan. We met at your father’s retirement party last week.”
“I remember. I’ve been waiting for your call.”
Oh sweet tapdancing baby Jesus, his father told him he gave me his number. I wanted to slide off the couch and melt into the floor. Or throw myself histrionically onto the glass coffee table in front of me. Was I supposed to make small talk? Lead into it? Just get to the point so I could decide whether I was destined to scare him off or not? Small talk. I hated small talk. I should have written down some questions to ask if discussion slowed.
Yes, I’d been asked out on a lot of dates when I was younger. But I’d turned most of them down. Perhaps I was too driven, too singularly focused, too scared by my relationship with my father to even think of voluntarily spending time with men I was certain would only try to clip my wings. I’d dealt with plenty of them in a professional setting, used my feminine wiles once or twice to get what I wanted, but other than that, I was unfamiliar with the practical application of flirting.
“Are you still there?” he asked.
I’d been silent for so long he thought I’d hung up. Hopefully I hadn’t been breathing heavily. This was already a disaster. “I am.” Was I supposed to say something else? “Um, I was wondering if you’d like to get a drink sometime.” Smooth, very smooth. “Or dinner. Maybe dinner. We could—” We could… do what? Discuss foreign policy? I sounded like a dolt. I felt like a dolt.
“Are you trying to ask me out?”
The smile in his voice soothed me somewhat. “Yes.”
“I’ve never been asked out by a head of state before,” he said.
“Former,” I corrected automatically.
“Of course,” he said. “Although I must say you’re a much more attractive head of state than our current president.” He paused, and for a minute I thought he might have hung up. “Not politically,” he said quickly. “Physically. Not that I have any problems with Bailey’s policies. I mean, I voted for him, and I’m pretty liberal in terms of my belief system. And I don’t mean to imply that I find you attractive solely because of your physical appearance because I’m sure there’s much more to you than your looks or even your politics and I’m royally messing this up, aren’t I?”
Maybe I wasn’t the only nervous one. It couldn’t have been fun for him to have to sit through a talk with his father in which said father basically told him that the woman he’d been pining after for months had the hots for his son. “You’re fine,” I said. More than fine.

 

About the Author:

 

Cecilia London is the pen name of a native Illinoisan currently living in San Antonio, Texas. She’s filled several roles over the course of her adult life – licensed attorney, wrangler of small children, and obsessed baseball and footy fan, among others. An extroverted introvert with a serious social media addiction, she is the author of The Bellator Saga, an epic, genre-crossing romance series, and its spinoff, Songbird. You can most often find her causing trouble on Twitter or, less frequently, on Facebook.

Connect with Cecilia:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorclondon
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorcecilialondon/

Categories : Contemporary Romance Tagged : Cecilia London, Excerpt, Songbird

Exclusive Excerpt: THE INFINITE ONION by ALICE ARCHER

March 19, 2020

One cranky man-child. One snooty artist recluse. Total trouble.

The Infinite Onion by Alice Archer

Publisher: Shine Even If

Release Date: March 31, 2020

Length (Print & Ebook): Print: 388 pages

Subgenre: Contemporary gay romance

Pre-order now: alicearcher.com/book/the-infinite-onion

 

Book synopsis:

 

The truth is harder to hide when someone sharp starts poking around.

Grant Eastbrook hit the ground crawling after his wife kicked him out. Six months later, in Seattle without a job or a place to live, he escapes to the woods of nearby Vashon Island to consider his options. When he’s found sleeping outdoors by a cheerful man who seems bent on irritating him to death, Grant’s plans to resuscitate his life take a peculiar turn.

Oliver Rossi knows how to keep his fears at bay. He’s had years of practice. As a local eccentric and artist, he works from his funky home in the deep woods, where he thinks he has everything he needs. Then he rescues an angry man from a rainy ditch and discovers a present worth fighting the past for.

Amid the buzz of high summer, unwelcome attraction blooms on a playing field of barbs, defenses, and secrets.

 

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT:

 

OLIVER

I tried to catch Grant’s eyes. Big, dark eyes, but not Bambi-big, and not innocent. I watched him examine my home with a frown and a protective hunch of his shoulders. His greasy black hair stood up in the back. Bits of bright grass hung from the backs of his pant legs. Between his eyes, a worried crease pointed down to an assertive statement of a nose, straight except for a slight bump near the top. He was taller than my six feet by quite a bit, with long legs, and muscles that made me think he did a lot of walking. Dark eyebrows scrunched with concern. His untrusting gaze landed on me.

Whatever Grant had seen as he looked around my home had a different effect on him than it had on Kai.

“What the hell is this place?” The question almost sounded rhetorical, like Grant didn’t need me to respond in order to know the answer, and the answer was that I was a nutjob.

Kai slapped a hand over his mouth and said from behind it, “Uncle Grant, you said hell.”

I nudged Kai’s shoulder with my elbow and whispered, “So did you,” which made him giggle.

To Grant, I said, “You must have put on the wrong pair of glasses this morning, Ophelia, if you can’t recognize heaven when you’re standing right in the middle of it.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“I might,” I said. “Or I might not.” It had been a long time—years—since I’d gotten on anyone’s nerves. Or enjoyed it so much. For some reason, Grant didn’t like me, and that thrilled me. Strangers didn’t often stumble into my corner of Vashon Island. Especially not ill-tempered specimens I yearned to paint pictures of. I hoped Grant and Kai lived on Vashon at least part of the year. Maybe then I could persuade them to visit again.

“Do you want something hot to drink?” I asked.

Grant shook his head, his face hardened in a staunch no.

Ah, well. Maybe it was for the best. The man would be a prickly project for sure.

 

 

About Alice Archer:

 

Alice has questions. Lots of questions. Scheming to put fictional characters through the muck so they can get to a better place helps her heal and find answers. She shares her stories with the hope that others might find some healing too. For decades, Alice has messed about with words professionally, as an editor and writing coach. She also travels a bunch. Her home base is Eugene, Oregon.
Connect with Alice:
Website: www.alicearcher.com
Newsletter sign-up: www.subscribepage.com/executivedecision
Facebook: facebook.com/byalicearcher
Twitter: twitter.com/byalicearcher
Instagram: instagram.com/byalicearcher

Categories : Contemporary, Contemporary Gay Romance Tagged : Alice Archer, Excerpt, The Infinite Onion

Excerpt: WILD, WILD RAKE by JANNA MacGREGOR

February 26, 2020

 

ABOUT WILD, WILD RAKE:

 

Wild, Wild Rake, the next sweeping, emotional, witty, and sharp romance in the Cavensham Heiresses series from beloved author Janna MacGregor.

Her first marriage was an epic fail.

Lady Avalon Warwyk never did love her husband. Arrogant, selfish, and cruel, it’s a blessing when she’s widowed and left to raise her son all by herself. Finally, Avalon can live freely and do the work she loves: helping fallen women become businesswomen. She’s lived these past ten years with no desire to remarry—that is, until Mr. Devan Farris comes to town.

Can he convince her to take another chance at happily ever after?

Devan Farris—charming vicar, reputed rake, and the brother of Avalon’s son’s guardian—is reluctantly sent to town to keep tabs on Avalon and her son. Devan wishes he didn’t have to meddle in her affairs; he’s not one to trod on a woman’s independent nature and keen sense of convictions. But she’ll have nothing to do with a vicar with a wild reputation—even though he’s never given his heart and body to another. If only he could find a way to show Avalon who he really is on the inside—a good, true soul looking for its other half. But how can prove that he wants to love and care for her. . .until death do they part?

 

 

Excerpt from Wild, Wild Rake by Janna MacGregor

Avalon read the first line in the letter from her son’s guardian, Gavin Farris, the Earl of Larkton. By all appearances the words resembled something innocuous, purely designed to lull a person into thinking it contained real concern with a touch of whimsical affection.
My dearest lady, I do hope this finds you and your intrepid son well.
“Avalon, did you hear the news?” Seventeen, on the cusp of eighteen years of age, Avalon’s sister, Lady Sophia Cavensham, looked up from her embroidery and smiled. Her gaze darted to her friend Miss Penelope Rowley, the one and only niece of the wealthiest gentry landowner in the shire. Though she was two years older than Sophia, Penelope had become somewhat of a fixture at Warwyk Hall over the last six months since she’d moved to her aunt and uncle’s home. The two women were inseparable.
Penelope let out a dramatic sigh then collapsed in a swoon across the pink-and-gold brocade sofa. In the process, she kneed the table, upsetting the delicate pink china cup and saucer. “Oww.”
Avalon tried to ignore their chatter. The Earl of Larkton’s correspondence had increased in frequency over the last several months. The weekly letters were turning into biweekly posts. Each one wanted more and more control over the Warwyk estate and more decision-making control over her ten-year-old son, Thane Pearce, the Marquess of Warwyk. She doubled her concentration on the letter as she read the entire first paragraph.
The purpose of my correspondence is to inform you that I’ve appointed a new vicar for the village of Thistledown. The man comes with impeccable standing and experience. In addition, his educational training is second to none. He’s a protégé of Lord Bishop Marlowe.
“He’s extraordinary.” Sophia’s dreamlike whisper floated through the air like a dandelion seed.
“He’s . . . simply exquisite.” Penelope’s voice joined Sophia’s in a chorus of dazzled fascination.
My dear Marchioness, it’s my pleasure to announce that my brother—
Avalon swallowed the sudden onrush of bile that marched up her throat. It couldn’t be. Fate was not that hateful.
“Mr. Devan—” Sophia sighed.
“Farris.” Penelope finished the sentence and slowly drew her hand against her forehead as if saying his name caused her to faint.
“No. Not him.” Avalon murmured the words aloud. The sanctimonious prig had arrived to make her life a living hell. Avalon grimaced to keep from casting her accounts. Now she was just exaggerating like the girls. She wasn’t really physically sick, but the news could make a person ill. “When did he arrive in the village?”
Clueless as to how the news affected her older sister, Sophia scooted to the edge of the crimson-and-white striped club chair that sat adjacent to Avalon’s matching one. “Two days ago. Penelope and I just happened to be walking in front of the vicarage when we saw the Earl of Larkton’s coach arrive. The new vicar followed behind on horseback.”
Penelope nodded vigorously as if Sophia’s story needed affirmation.
Avalon wanted to roll her eyes. The two women “never just happen” to do anything. They orchestrated and connived everything from shopping to men. God save anyone who crossed their paths. If one of the girls took a shine to any of the ton’s marriageable men, then London’s finest would soon understand what it meant to be hunted.
As the girls continued their chatter, Avalon devoted her full attention to the rest of the letter. Better to finish the horrid task, then take a long walk through her gardens. Though it was January and bitterly cold outside, a brisk hour of exercise would help Avalon clear some of her unease at the news that Mr. Devan Farris had invaded her village.
I’ve considered your request that the young marquess continue his studies at home, but at the age of ten, his interests would best be served by attending Eton sooner rather than later. That’s where boys turn into men. Your suggestion that he attend Harrow won’t do. His father had insisted that I promise he attend Eton. However, since his Latin skills are somewhat lacking, I’ve decided to hire my brother, Mr. Farris, to tutor him in the subject.
Her blood simmered at the words. The earl’s declaration was nothing more than gilding the lily. Everyone within fifty miles of London knew that Devan Farris sought to marry an heiress. Until he found one, the fortune-hunting vicar thought to use her son’s marquisate to pay double for his services. Since her son’s estate paid for the vicar’s wages, Mr. Farris would receive another wage from the coffers for tutoring lessons.
But what really brought her blood to boil was that the smug vicar would be nosing into her business, and that wouldn’t do at all. She and only she ruled the parish with a fair and impartial hand. No one, including Devan Farris, would upset her world.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Janna MacGregor was born and raised in the bootheel of Missouri. She is the author of the Cavensham Heiresses series, which begins with The Bad Luck Bride. Janna credits her darling mom for introducing her to the happily-ever-after world of romance novels. Janna writes stories where compelling and powerful heroines meet and fall in love with their equally matched heroes. She is the mother of triplets and lives in Kansas City with her very own dashing rogue, and two smug, but not surprisingly, perfect pugs.

Buy the book: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250296016

Author website: https://www.jannamacgregor.com/
Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/JannaMacGregor
Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JannaMacGregor/
Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jannamacgregor/
Author Goodreads:

SMP Romance Twitter: @SMPRomance or @heroesnhearts
SMP Romance Website:
https://heroesandheartbreakers.com/

Categories : Historical Romance Tagged : Excerpt, Janna MacGregor, Wild Wild Rake

Exclusive Excerpt: THE TWO-DATE RULE by TAWNA FENSKE

February 25, 2020

I am thrilled to share an exclusive excerpt from The Two-Date Rule by Tawna Fenske!

Title: The Two-Date Rule

Author: Tawna Fenske

Publisher: Entangled (Amara)

Release Date (Print & Ebook): February 25, 2020

Genre: contemporary romance / romantic comedy

Tropes: Afraid to commit

 

Order Now:

 

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-two-date-rule-tawna-fenske/1130016188?ean=9781640637436#/
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-two-date-rule
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0826NDDWT
Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-two-date-rule
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/43263311-the-two-date-rule

Book Blurb:

 

Willa Frank has one simple rule: never go on a date with anyone more than twice. Now that her business is providing the stability she’s always needed, she can’t afford distractions. Her two-date rule will protect her just fine…until she meets smokejumper Grady Billman.

After one date—one amazing, unforgettable date—Grady isn’t ready to call it quits, despite his own no-attachments policy, and he’s found a sneaky way around both their rules.

Throwing gutter balls with pitchers of beer? Not a real date. Everyone knows bowling doesn’t count.

Watching a band play at a local show? They just happen to have the same great taste in music. Definitely not a date.

Hiking? Nope. How can exercise be considered a date?

With every “non-date” Grady suggests, his reasoning gets more ridiculous, and Willa must admit she’s having fun playing along. But when their time together costs Willa two critical clients, it’s clear she needs to focus on the only thing that matters—her future. And really, he should do the same.

But what is she supposed to do with a future that looks gray without Grady in it?

From Tawna Fenske:
The Two-Date Rule is all about finding the sweet spot between planning for the future and living in the moment.

 

Excerpt:

On the morning of their last day on duty, Grady shouldered his pack to start the eight-mile trudge out to the pickup point. He’d never been so eager to get home, to climb in a warm shower and let the water sluice down his body while his hands trailed down someone else’s. Willa’s, specifically. How had that happened? How had his fantasies gone from a rolling slideshow featuring a dozen different women to a replaying GIF showing only one?
“Cheeseburger.”
Ethan’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. Adjusting his pack, Grady picked up the thread of their usual banter about what they were most eager to get their hands on when they got back to civilization.
“Notorious IPA from Boneyard Beer,” Grady said. He actually craved wine more than that, but the guys would give him shit for naming something too highbrow.
“A hot shower that lasts twenty minutes,” added Bobby.
God, that sounded nice. Only in Grady’s mind, Willa was there with him, her breasts dappled in droplets and her hair slicked back—
“Yo, Grady.” Tony grinned. “You’ve got that look again.”
“What look?”
“The one that says what you’re looking forward to has green eyes and won’t go out with you more than twice.”
Busted. “I’m going straight to her house as soon as I get home,” he admitted.
“Going out?” Ethan asked.
“Nope.”
“Because that would be a date,” Tony supplied.
The guys snorted and guffawed as they kept right on trudging.
“We’re staying in and ordering takeout Thai,” he said.
Tony snorted. “Is that what the kids call it now?”
The other guys laughed, though Ethan gave a pained groan. “Pad Thai. Or no, pizza. That’s what I want.”
Grady glanced at his watch, counting down the hours until he could get to the one thing he wanted most.
By the time they reached the pickup point, they were all exhausted. Dusk was falling, turning the sky purplish black. While the other guys made small talk with the volunteer driver, Grady checked his watch and wondered how late Willa would be up. He should go home and shower first, maybe get a good night’s sleep before turning up on her porch.
But when the truck pulled into town, he knew he couldn’t wait that long. He had to see her.
It was ten p.m. when he trudged up the driveway to Willa’s doorstep, dirty and bedraggled and so exhausted, he could barely stand. But the thought of seeing her again burned like an ember in his chest.
Her front door flew open before he even knocked. “You’re back.” She blinked at him in the porch light, green eyes luminescent as her hair fell loose around her shoulders.
“I’m back.” He reached up and fingered the dainty little strap on her blue and white sundress. She was wearing the silver star necklace but maybe no bra. Fatigue gave way to something more primal as she moved aside to let Grady slip past her into the house.
“I missed you,” he said as his arms went around her.
“I missed you, too.”
Stevie sniffed the leg of his jump suit and backed away, but Willa grabbed Grady by the lapels and pulled him to her. The kiss was fierce and hungry and left them both gasping as they backed down the hall together. Somehow they made it to the bathroom, crashing into walls and knocking a hairbrush off her counter with a clatter.
“Strip,” he ordered, though he was already doing it for her as she leaned down to turn on the water. The pretty cotton sundress went first as he tugged it over her head and tossed it on the bathroom counter. He was right about no bra, and her panties went next as he hooked his fingers under the lace and dragged them down her thighs.
Since he was down there on the ground in front of her, he wrapped his arms around the backs of her legs and nuzzled the warmth at her center.
“Grady.” She gripped the top of his head, swaying as he licked into her. “Oh my God.”
“This,” he murmured, slipping his tongue inside her. “This is what I’ve been craving.”
Not pizza or wine or any other comforts of home. Just Willa, slick and sweet on his tongue, gripping his fingers as he slid them inside her. Her hips moved in a slow arc as she fucked his hand, his face. Tongue buried inside her, he peered up to see her head thrown back in ecstasy, her breasts quivering with every panted breath.
“Holy shit,” she gasped as she clutched his hair and came hard around his fingers.
He palmed her ass, bringing her down slowly. He could do this all night. Every last ounce of his fatigue had fallen away, and he stood up and reached for her hand.
“Shower,” he said, hand under the spray as he bent to adjust the temperature. “Please tell me you’ve got condoms and I don’t have to run out to my truck.”
She grinned and pulled back the shower curtain. “Right there in the soap dish. I was ready for you.”
“Thank God,” he said and pulled her under the spray.
He knew he should take it slow, that he owed it to her to get familiar with him again. They’d been apart for two weeks, and besides that, they weren’t officially together. But as he pressed her up against the wall of the shower and rolled a condom on with one hand, he couldn’t think about anything but being inside her.
“Grady, hurry,” she gasped as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
He drove into her in one slick stroke, making them both gasp. Then he held still, waiting until her eyes opened and she looked deep into his.
“This isn’t a date,” he said as he began to move slowly, in, out, with languid strokes that made her groan. “But someday you’ll give me that second date. And then a third and a fourth and do you know why?”
Christ, why was he talking like this? About future plans, something he avoided like the fucking plague.
Willa’s response was a strangled gasp, not a word at all. Grady tilted his hips, hitting that spot he knew would drive her mad.
“This is too good for just a handful of dates,” he growled. “Too good not to last longer.”
She cried out, and Grady drove in again, pounding until she screamed and dragged her nails down his slick back.
He let go, too, shutting his eyes as the water sluiced down their bodies and his legs quivered with exhaustion and his heart nearly exploded.
It crossed his mind to tell her then. To say he wasn’t talking about sex, that that wasn’t what this was about.
But as she came down and smiled at him, he forgot everything including his own name.

 

Author Information:

 

When Tawna Fenske finished her English lit degree at 22, she celebrated by filling a giant trash bag full of romance novels and dragging it everywhere until she’d read them all. Now she’s a RITA Award finalist, USA Today bestselling author who writes humorous fiction, risqué romance, and heartwarming love stories with a quirky twist. Publishers Weekly has praised Tawna’s offbeat romances with multiple starred reviews and noted, “There’s something wonderfully relaxing about being immersed in a story filled with over-the-top characters in undeniably relatable situations. Heartache and humor go hand in hand.”

Tawna lives in Bend, Oregon, with her husband, step-kids, and a menagerie of ill-behaved pets. She loves hiking, snowshoeing, standup paddleboarding, and inventing excuses to sip wine on her back porch. She can peel a banana with her toes and loses an average of twenty pairs of eyeglasses per year. To find out more about Tawna and her books, visit www.tawnafenske.com.To learn more about all of Tawna’s books, visit www.tawnafenske.com

Author Website: http://www.tawnafenske.com
Author newsletter subscription form: www.tawnafenske.com/subscribe
Author Instagram: @tawnafenskebooks
Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Tawna-Fenske/e/B004MAAQY4
Author YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/tawnafenske
Author Twitter: @tawnafenske
Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TawnaFenskeBooks
Author Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4633448.Tawna_Fenske

Categories : Contemporary Romance, Romantic Comedy Tagged : Excerpt, Tawna Fenske, The Two-Date Rule

Sneak Peek Excerpt: THE RICH BOY by KYLIE SCOTT

February 19, 2020

The Rich Boy - SP banner

The Rich Boy, an all-new sensational slow burn romance standalone from New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott is releasing March 9th, and we have the first sneak peek!

TheRichBoy EBOOK

Sneak Peek

“All of Me” by Billie Holliday comes on and we neither stop nor speak. We just keep moving to the music. My hands creep up to the back of his neck where his skin is bare and warm to the touch. His eyes are the most amazing shade of hazel. Like some lovesick fool I could stare into them for hours. I don’t think I’ve slow danced with someone since high school. Don’t get me wrong, there have been memorable times in my adult life. I’ve been given roses and taken to dimly lit restaurants. But being here with him is quickly becoming peak romance.

Next is “Lover” by Taylor Swift and we dance on. He doesn’t try to kiss me so I don’t make a move either. There’s no need for more just yet. Doing this, being this close, is beautiful. I want about a hundred more moments like this with him. Possibly a great deal more.

When the music stops we gradually still. And there’s this moment when it’s just me and him and the city around us seems perfectly silent. How good it is to simply be in his arms and to have the full focus of his attentions. To know that maybe, just maybe, I’m safe here with him. The chambers of my heart fill up with him, one by one, and it’s both wonderful and terrifying.

“That was nice,” he says in a low voice.
“Yes, it was.”

He looks down, taking in the way our bodies are pressed together. “Baby Jesus would be appalled.”

“I do so hate disappointing infant gods.”

“You know, fifty years from now we’re going to look back on tonight and you’re going to regret not taking the opportunity to feel me up,” he says. “Just going for it and grabbing my junk like you own it.”

“Oh my God, Beck.” I laugh. “That was such a perfect romantic moment and you just killed it.”

“I did?”

“Dead and buried.”

He scratches at his head. “Well, shit. I was only being honest.”

“Of course you were.”

With a smile, he takes a step back. I miss him immediately. The heat and the feel of him. The warm and familiar scent of his body. Maybe I should have taken him home last night. Though this slower pace has a sweetness and heat I can’t help but enjoy. Despite the crazy things that come out of his mouth and the insane cravings he inspires in me just by existing. Damn the man.

“So,” he says.

I break out in gooseflesh from the way he looks at me. As if not only am I the only woman in the room (which I am), but quite possibly on the whole damn planet. As I’ve mentioned before, his attention is addictive.

“How about I get the mopping done and then take you on a second date to the diner?” he asks. “See if I can’t bring the romance back to our burgeoning long-term relationship.”

“A second date, huh?”

“It’s a big step, I know. But I think we’re ready. What do you think?”

I nod, my stomach turning upside down. “Let’s do it.”

Synopsis

I’m the type of girl who’s given up on fairy tales. So when Beck – the hot new busboy at work – starts flirting with me, I know better than to get my hopes up. Happily ever afters aren’t for the average. I learned that the hard way.

But how can I be expected to resist a man who can quote Austen, loves making me laugh, and seems to be everything hot and good in this world?

Only there’s so much more to him than that.

Billionaire playboy? Check.

Troubled soul? Check.

The owner of my heart, the man I’ve moved halfway across the country to be with, who’s laying the world at my feet in order to convince me to never leave? Check. Check. Check.

But nobody does complicated like the one percent.

This is not your everyday rags-to-riches, knight-in-shining armor whisking the poor girl off her feet kind of story. No, this is much messier.

The Rich Boy - PO

Pre-order you copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2O54ogZ

AppleBooks: https://apple.co/2O3wB80

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/RichBoy

Nook: http://bit.ly/38Igu7K

Kobo: http://bit.ly/3aLkJBe

Google Play: http://bit.ly/3aJlVVX

Add THE RICH BOY to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2sv6LlG

Be notified FIRST when The Rich Boy is live: http://bit.ly/2TOOivT

Kylie Scott author pic

About Kylie

Kylie is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013, 2014 & 2018, by the Australian Romance Writer’s Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages. She is a long time fan of romance, rock music, and B-grade horror films. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet.

Connect with Kylie

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2XujcZh

Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2GngiQq

Facebook: http://bit.ly/2OiXx3I
Twitter: http://bit.ly/391pjJM
Instagram: http://bit.ly/2EUrx11

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2Imusk3

Pinterest: http://bit.ly/2S7cc32

Book+Main Bites: http://bit.ly/2ETz5RQ

Stay up to date with Kylie by joining her mailing list:
http://bit.ly/2TOOivT

Website: https://kyliescott.com/

Categories : Contemporary Romance Tagged : Excerpt, Kylie Scott, The Rich Boy

Next Page »

Categories

  • 2 Stars
  • 2.5 Stars
  • 3 Stars
  • 3.5 Stars
  • 4 Stars
  • 4.5 Stars
  • 5 Stars
  • Action Romance
  • Adult
  • Adult Coloring Book
  • Adult Romance
  • Adult Suspense
  • Alpha male
  • Alpha- hero
  • Angsty
  • Anthology
  • Audiobook
  • Author Interview
  • Author Signing
  • Autobiography
  • BDSM
  • BDSM – Dark and Angsty
  • Biker
  • Billionaire Romance
  • Biographical Fiction
  • Biography
  • Bisexual Romance
  • Blog Hop
  • Blog Tour
  • Book Blast
  • Book Blitz
  • Book Launch
  • Book Tour
  • Charity
  • College
  • College Romance
  • Coming of Age
  • Contemporary
  • Contemporary Erotic Romance
  • Contemporary Fiction
  • Contemporary Gay Romance
  • Contemporary Homoerotic Romance
  • Contemporary M/M Romance
  • Contemporary Queer Romance
  • Contemporary Romance
  • Contemporary Western Romance
  • Courtroom Drama
  • Cover Reveal
  • Cowboy Romance
  • Cozy Mystery
  • Crime
  • Crime Romance
  • Dark
  • Dark and Twisty
  • Dark Contemporary Romance
  • Dark Erotic Romance
  • Dark Erotica
  • Dark Humor
  • Dark Romance
  • Diverse
  • Domestic Fiction
  • Domestic Suspense
  • Domestic Thriller
  • Dominant
  • Dystopian
  • Enemies to Lovers
  • Erotic
  • Erotic Humor
  • Erotic Romance
  • Erotic Romantic Comedy
  • Erotic Suspense
  • Erotic Thriller
  • Erotica
  • Erotica/Sci-Fi
  • Events
  • Family Drama
  • Family Saga
  • Fantasy
  • Fashion
  • Feminism
  • Fiction
  • Fighter
  • Financial Thriller
  • Forbidden
  • Giveaway
  • Gothic
  • Gothic Romance
  • Guest Post
  • Hispanic American Literature
  • Historical Fiction
  • Historical Romance
  • Holiday Fiction
  • Holiday Romance
  • Horror
  • Horror Romance
  • Human Sexuality
  • Humor
  • Legal Thriller
  • Lesbian Romance
  • LGBQT Science Fiction
  • LGBT
  • LGBT Romance
  • LGBTQI
  • Literary Fiction
  • Literary Saga
  • M/m
  • M/M Contemporary Romance
  • Mafia Romance
  • Magical Realism
  • Mature YA/NA
  • MC Romance
  • Memoir
  • Ménage
  • Mental Health
  • Military Romance
  • MM Romance
  • MMA
  • Movie Star Romance
  • Multicultural Romance
  • Mystery
  • Mythology
  • Nature
  • New Adult
  • New Adult Contemporary
  • New Adult Contemporary Romance
  • New Adult Romance
  • New Adult Romantic Comedy
  • New Adult Romantic Suspense
  • New Release
  • Non-con
  • Non-Fiction
  • Novella
  • Office Romance
  • Organized Crime Thrillers
  • Own Voices
  • Paranormal
  • Paranormal Romance
  • Political Romance
  • Post-Apocalyptic
  • Prequel
  • Psychological
  • Psychological Thriller
  • Release Blitz
  • Reviews
  • Rock Star
  • Rock Star Romance
  • Rocker
  • Romance
  • Romantic Comedy
  • Romantic Erotica
  • Romantic Suspence
  • Romantic Suspense
  • Romantic Thriller
  • Romantic Women's Fiction
  • Satire
  • Sci-Fi Romance
  • Science Fiction
  • Second Chance
  • Second Chance Romance
  • Self-Help
  • Serial
  • Series
  • Shifter
  • Short Story
  • Single Dad
  • Slow Burn Romance
  • Small-town Romance
  • Speculative Fiction
  • Sports
  • Sports Romance
  • Sports-Hockey
  • Spotlight
  • Spotlight Tour
  • Standalone
  • Student-Teacher
  • Suspense
  • Taboo
  • Tattooed hero
  • Teaser
  • Teaser Tuesday
  • Thriller
  • Time Travel Romance
  • Trailer Reveal
  • Uncategorized
  • Urban Erotica
  • Waiting on Wednesday
  • Western Romance
  • Women's Fiction
  • Women's Studies
  • Young Adult
  • Young Adult Contemporary Romance
  • Young Adult Fantasy
  • Young Adult Fiction
  • Young Adult Romance
  • Young Adult Thriller
  • Young Adult Time Travel
  • Young Adult-New Adult

Stay Connected

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • RSS
  • Twitter

Recent Favorites:

Search The Book Bellas

New Posts Delivered Straight To Your Inbox

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 37 other subscribers

Recent Posts

  • HELLO BEAUTIFUL by ANN NAPOLITANO
  • PINEAPPLE STREET by JENNY JACKSON
  • SOMEONE ELSE’S SHOES by JOJO MOYES
  • MS. DEMEANOR by ELINOR LIPMAN
  • WOMEN ARE THE FIERCEST CREATURES by ANDREA DUNLOP
Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy

Archives

Find us on GoodReads

Goodreads: Book reviews, recommendations, and discussion

Grab our Button


Tags

4 stars 4.5 stars 5 stars A.L. Jackson Aleatha Romig Alessandra Torre alpha male BDSM Bella Jewel Blog Tour Book Blitz Book Launch Cat Porter Chelle Bliss contemporary romance Cover Reveal Erotica Erotic romance Excerpt Giveaway Jane Harvey-Berrick K. Bromberg Karina Halle Katy Evans Kristen Ashley Laurelin Paige Mara White Nelle L'Amour New Adult New Releases Pam Godwin Penelope Douglas Penelope Ward Pepper Winters R.S. Grey Release Blitz Review Reviews S.L. Scott Skye Warren Tarryn Fisher Tessa Bailey Tia Louise Vi Keeland Young Adult

Copyright © 2023 · Annabelle Reloaded Theme